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witchofhimring · 1 month

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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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shannendoherty-fans · 2 months

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https://www.nytimes.com/2024/07/17/opinion/shannen-doherty-gen-x.html

The New York Times — Opinion

We Owe Shannen Doherty an Apology

July 17, 2024. By Jennifer Weiner

Shannen Doherty was difficult.

If you were alive and sentient in the 1990s — whether you, like me, were a devoted fan of “Beverly Hills, 90210” and E! or you were just the most casual reader of People magazine — you knew this to be true. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Shannen Doherty, the star of multiple hit movies and television shows, is difficult. She was, per the tabloids, a volatile, unmanageable diva, and that reputation was only reinforced by the pouty, prima donna roles in which she was so often and so brilliantly cast.

Ms. Doherty died on Saturday, at the age of 53, of the cancer that was diagnosed in 2015. Since the news broke, the tenor of the conversation around her has changed. Instead of being an eye-roll-inducing wild child, Ms. Doherty is now being praised for the sensitivity and candor with which she discussed her cancer diagnosis and her time in the spotlight. And those ’90s tabloid stories? They’re hitting differently. The glee with which they were once consumed no longer feels appropriate. Ms. Doherty made her fair share of mistakes, but Gen X’s quintessential bad girl no longer looks all that bad.

If this reassessment feels familiar, it’s because in death, Ms. Doherty has joined the growing ranks of female celebrities whose scandals and legacies are being reconsidered by a newly sensitive culture.

In 2002, when Britney Spears’s high-profile relationship with Justin Timberlake ended, she was a train wreck, a bad joke, a problem. Eventually, her career and her money were placed under her father’s control. In 2008, Katherine Heigl went from queen of the rom-com to Hollywood purgatory for the sins of taking herself out of Emmy contention and having the temerity to say that “Knocked Up” was “a little sexist.” In 2009, Megan Fox got slammed — and fired — for calling out Michael Bay, her director on “Transformers,” for a desire “to create this insane, infamous madman reputation.” (OK, maybe she did also compare him to Hitler, which never ends well.)

Today, so many of the former tabloid mainstays do not look like punchlines or cautionary tales, but like regular young women enjoying the pleasures of fame. Some even look like role models. Ms. Spears emerged as a hero, not a villain, and it’s her ex who’s the target of comedians’ jabs. Post #MeToo, Ms. Heigl and Ms. Fox look like truth-tellers, not ingrates. Ms. Doherty, sadly, did not live long enough to enjoy her restored reputation.

A former child actress, Ms. Doherty was only 19 when she landed a starring role in “Beverly Hills, 90210.” She played Brenda Walsh, half of a set of fish-out-of-water Midwestern twins navigating the halls of West Beverly High. She left the show after four seasons, reportedly after feuding with co-stars, including Jennie Garth and the boss’s daughter, Tori Spelling. When Aaron Spelling hired her again, giving her a three-season run on “Charmed,” tensions with a co-star reportedly led to her being fired a second time. She was separated from the other actors as though she were an irrational toddler rather than a skilled, valued employee.

Those high-profile roles, along with her talent and her beauty, made her a star. But the conversation about her often made it seem as if her real job was to be fodder for the tabloids and a target for late-night comedians.

To be sure, Ms. Doherty gave them plenty to work with. There were the feuds and bar fights, a pair of quickie marriages and a D.U.I. arrest. Producers complained that she showed up late to the set, hogged the spotlight, bailed on the Emmys. A former fiancé filed an order of protection.

Ms. Doherty was eviscerated for this behavior in a way that indecorous male actors were not, at least at that time. A People magazine cover labeled her a “hard-partying, check-bouncing bad girl.” A zine called Ben Is Dead published an “I Hate Brenda” newsletter, complete with the “Shannen Snitch Line,” where informants could call in reports of unaired bad behavior.

In a 1992 cover story, People asked “TV’s brashest 21-year-old” why she, “alone among ‘90210’ co-stars and teen idols,” got stuck with the “difficult” label. Is she “one of those women who rhyme with rich? Is she, as the tabloids have gleefully reported, impossible on the set? Is she a prima donna? Also: After hours, does she party too much?”

Years later, Ms. Doherty copped to some of her misdeeds. “I have a rep,” she told Parade in 2010. “Did I earn it? Yeah, I did. But, after awhile you sort of try to shed that rep because you’re kind of a different person.”

So what drove the scandal? Blame it on youth. “90210” begat a whole generation of shows with ensemble casts of teenagers. Ms. Doherty was not the only one who needed time to grow into her outsize prominence. “We were locked in this sound stage for 14 to 16 hours every day,” Ms. Garth, who was also just a teenager, said years later. “There were times when we loved each other and there were times when we wanted to claw each other’s eyes out.”

Blame it on a desire to typecast female celebrities as heroes and villains, sweethearts and shrews, and the time-honored tradition of setting women against each other.

Or blame it, if you like, on plain old sexism. Ms. Doherty said the first time she was called a bitch was when she called out a male cast member on the set of “Heathers” for taking advantage of an extra. “I’m a strong woman,” Ms. Doherty told People. “There are still some people out there who can’t deal with that.”

Today, maybe more people are equipped to deal, more likely to look askance at misbehaving men instead of the women who call them out. Instead of the coy, “is she a rhymes-with-rich?” of early ’90s People, a Rolling Stone tribute is headlined “Nobody Could Break Shannen Doherty, and Everybody Tried.” “Shannen Doherty was irresistible, underrated and permanently shackled to misogynistic speculation,” wrote Adam White in The Independent. The headline on an opinion piece in Vogue read, simply, “Team Brenda Forever.”

The reassessment is more than just a desire (sincere or otherwise) not to speak ill of the dead. It’s a result of a few tough decades that have taught us what real bad behavior in Hollywood looks like: not impolite ingénues but Harvey Weinstein. Or Bill Cosby. Or Danny Masterson.

Maybe Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton and Tara Reid were not hot messes, but just girls being girls, the same way we’ve always allowed boys to be boys. And at least their misdeeds were largely victimless, unlike the missteps of so many male counterparts or superiors.

Maybe showing up late to the set, while not ideal, is not completely unexpected from a teenager adjusting to sudden, unimaginable wealth and fame. Maybe the bitches and the bad girls were giving voice to inconvenient truths about men with power and the sexist scripts they greenlighted, the abusive film sets they ran and the bad behavior they indulged in or ignored. Maybe the difficult women like Ms. Doherty are the ones we should have been listening to all along.

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regalityandcoffee · 2 years

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A Good Man In A Bad Place (William Regal x Reader) (Mob AU)

A collaboration-thingy with @kayfabebabe! They started this one with a blurb they sent me! All their words are in green!!

Summary: Eric calls you on your day off to help him "entertain" one of the men of his "colleague", Vince McMahon. Song used near the end: "Through The Fire" By Chaka Khan.

Warnings: Uh, fear, alcohol, and Eric Bischoff.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

You weren't supposed to be here. It was foolish of you to hope he would keep his word that you wouldn't be needed tonight, that tonight could be an off-night.

And yet here you were, being ushered out of Eric's office, having been called by him just as you were about to settle down to watch some trashy soap opera, to come in.

“Just lean on him a little and make him feel wanted.”

Those were Eric’s exact words. They were familiar to you and still as loathed as they were the first time he ‘requested’ your presence.

You took a steadying breath before stepping into the lion’s den. This should be second nature to you by now. Too many nights have been spent in this purgatory whilst men gawked at the attire Eric “encouraged” you to wear during performances. But this was different. An off day, as your (well-deserved, in your eyes) day off had been ripped from under you for another one of Eric's hair-brained, no doubt underhanded endeavors. Your throat still felt sore from last night, from singing for hours, and from the scotch you poured down your throat to distract you from leering stares and disgusting remarks.

The man didn’t seem to fit Eric’s normal demographic - Slimey with added sleeze. He was neatly dressed in a three-piece suit and his short hair had been slicked backwards away from his face. There was an obvious authoritive weight in his broadness of his shoulders and how he stood at the bar, one hand pinned to the small of his back.

From afar, the man seemed, frankly, out of place here. Too clean. Not at all unhandsome though, from what you could tell of his side profile. He looked familiar, he must have been one of the regular cronies Vince would have with him. Though you tried hard not to look any of them in the face, let alone the eyes, scared they might think you were making a move at any of them. And the last thing in the world you wanted was to be wrapped up with another scumbag.

And yet it didn't seem like you had a choice.

Currently, he seemed to be making small-talk with Trish, one of the few people at the bar tonight, and one of the few people in the entire place who might sympathize with your plight. You looked back over your shoulder at Eric, who simply gave an urgent shooing gesture to you as he tossed an arm around Vince, fake-laughing at something and steering him away from the bar towards the lounge. You turned back and gave one more shuddering breath before stepping forward, walking past tables and avoiding wandering eyes to wrap your arms around the tall man's free one.

"A martini on the rocks for me, Trish. Please." you prayed she would pick up on the urgency in your voice, no doubt briefed on what was going on ahead of time. She gave you a look, first to the tall man then back to you, before tipping her bedazzled cowboy hat and turning to grab a glass. The man looked down at you, ad quickly you directed your eyes to the back of Trish's sequined crop top. You wrapped your arms around him a bit tighter, concerned but not surprised at how stong and large he felt underneath the tan attire.You set your clutch down on the counter.

"Hello," he finally spoke. An English accent? That wasn't what you were expecting. Though people from all the around the country and world come to this city and to this bar, you just didn't expect to hear a voice like his in a place like this.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you said as your drinks were slid to you, his was what looked like a glass of whisky. You sipped on yours. A kick of extra lime. She remembered, bless her heart. You nodded to Trish as she grabbed a tray to take some beers over to a table. She nodded back, a look akin to pity in her dark brown eyes as she went her way.

" I know." The man didn't touch his drink, instead looking over your shoulder after Trish, who was heading on her way to the lounge where the rest of Vince's men sat, already a bit rowdy for the night. You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. It was barely nine, for fuck's sake.

"Mr. Bischoff told me about you, Mister..." Oh no. how did you forget his name already? It had been barely five minutes you were already beginning to fuck up.

"Regal. William Regal. But just William will be fine with me, flower." there he was again with that voice. Deep, gravelly, yet soft and almost posh in tone. He seemed to stiffen up next to you.

You downed the rest of your drink, and as if on cue Trish came back, taking the glass to refill it. "Okay. William. How are you tonight?"

"I'm just fine. And yourself, dear? I didn't expect to see you here this evening."

"Oh, well..." Lie. Lie lie lie lie! "I just wanted to come in and see what I was missing. I was just bored and wanted to stop by." You moved your hair behind your shoulder, moving your arm to let the sleeve of your shawl and the strap of your black evening gown slip down your shoulder.

"There's nothing much going on. Just the usual suspects. Would you like to sit down? Your feet must be aching in those shoes."

"If that's what you want, sure. Let's sit." You took your full glass , tucking your purse under your arm, and watched as he took his (still full) glass. You walked behind him towards the smoking section of the club, and quickly the thick scent of cigar smoke hit your nose. Gods, you didn't want to be over here! And yet you let him lead you down the stairs into the conversation pit, sitting down with you on the velvet couch between some other men, and right across from Vince, Eric, and a couple of other girls. So Torrie and Terrie had gotten dragged into this too?

Of course.

Across the table, Eric gave you a quick nod as he lit his cigar. "Will, Y/N! Glad you could join us!"

"Y/N...so that's your name." You looked over to find the man next to you looking up and a smirk on his face as he set down his glass. Blonde, his long hair out with a small ponytail up top Jared? Jermaine? You tried hard not to remember any of their names."I keep telling Kurt about that pretty songbird with the nice-"

Next to him, Tori came in with the save. She coughed wrapping his arms around him. "Chris c'mon, let's go find Debra." she looked past him to wink at you.

You bite your tongue and instead sipped your drink. Thank god for girl code.

"Right, right. They stood up and walked scooted past you two to the steps, the man making a "V" gesture with his fingers and sticking his tongue out behind her at you before disappearing off into the throng of people.

What a creep. No wonder Mark wanted to bounce him out last week...

"So," Vince's voice snapped you back, "You enjoying yourself, Regal? I've been trying to get this man to loosen up for months, Bischoff."

The man cleared his throat as he swirled his drink around in his glass. "Yes. I've been enjoying Miss Y/N's-"

" 'course he's enjoying himself, man! My Y/N's a doll, the classiest girl I got in this joint. She's just an absolute dream." Eric tossed his head back, letting a few smoke rings off in the air. Slowly, his head came back down, looking at you intently. "Right, baby?"

"Yes, Mr. Bischoff," you turned your head from him to look up at William, twirling your hair around your finger as you did for added effect. Between the situation, you were in the liquor buzzing through you, the loud, awful music, or the cigar smoke you weren't sure what made you feel worse. At least the man next to you was nice to look at. You finally noticed his dimples, even in the darker mood lighting. They framed his face nicely when he talked. He looked back at you, his glacier-blue eyes unreadable as he set his drink back down.

"Mr.McMahon, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to take my leave for the night."

"Oh, ditching us already, are you?" The older man laughed as he took a swig of his drink. "Can't blame you, lad, it's been a long day. You two gonna go off and have a good night?"

You two? You two? Shit. Of course, Bischoff wanted you to go with him! You looked over at him who gave you yet another one of his pointed looks. "Please, Mr. William? It's not to late, I'm sure we could find something to do after this..." You wrapped your arms around him again, this time leaning your chest against it, pushing up your cleavage. Yor purse almost fell from your lap, and he caught it in the process.

"Well, that was quick," Eric snorted. Looking away to fill up his shot glass with the Tequila on the table.

This was bullshit. Gross, demeaning bullshit. But at least he was cute, and at least you got a couple of drinks out of it. Though you wish you had gone for something harder. Like scotch, for instance.

"I- I wouldn't mind that actually," he murmured, dashing your hopes of him shooting you down. You got up with him yet again. "Are you sure you don't need anything from me for the rest of the night?"

"No, no, go on, have fun!" Vince waved him off, picking up the file on the coffee table.

"Go on and have fun! Us old men'll stay and talk shop, right Vince?"

"Right, right..."

William nodded, and with that, you followed him out of the pit and out of the smoking area. You didn't dare look back at your boss, no longer wanting to look at him anyway. You let the man lead you dow the hall, past your dressing room and to one of the back exit. The chill of the night hit you immediately. You stood on the steps in the dark, and to his surprise the man stopped ad turned to you, gently pulling the strap of your dress up and your shawl back up your shoulder.

"Would you like to wear my jacket, dear? It's absolutely frigid out here tonight."

"No, I'm alright."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded as you walked past him out of the alley ad onto the busy sidewalk in front of the club. Out of the dark, and where others could see you. He joined you, his hand finding its way to the small of your back.

"Right this way then, love, I had to park on the street."

You two made it to his ride, a grey town car with tinted windows. He let cars pass before opening your door for you. You got in, and he shut the door past you, cutting off the noise of the city outside. It was nice. The seats were soft, and it smelled just like him. A dark, earthy scent mixed with maybe iron or something else metallic

He got into the driver's seat, and the sound of the door shutting hard made you jump just a bit. His hands gripped the wheel, then he sighed, resting his forehead against the wheel. The radio filled the silence, Chaka Khan crooning at a low volume through the speakers of the car.

"Are you alright, Mr- William?" you asked, your hand making it's way slowly to the door handle. Maybe you could make a break for it. Fuck Eric, fuck all of this! If this was your opportunity you-

"Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall

For a chance to be with you

I'd gladly risk it all..."

"If Eric asks, we had a great time, okay?" he lifted his head and buckled his seatbelt before starting the car.

"I don't understand..."

"I know you don't want to do this, whatever this is, Y/N." He said, looking into the rearview mirror as he drove off into the traffic. He turned on the heat before looking over at you.

What? Was this some kind of trick? "That's not true.-"

"This isn't you, this just doesn't feel like something you would do. I mean, forgive me for being presumptuous, but I don't- It's not that I don't think you're beautiful-" He stumbled over his words, talking slowly. "This just doesn't feel like something you'd want, so I'm taking you home, okay? I mean, if you tell me where that is."

Your hand made its way to your mouth. You looked away out the window. Tears you had been fighting back all night pooled in your eyes, as your head throbbed. He couldn't be serious? He knew nothing about you, and yet, what was he doing?

"It doesn't have to I mean, would you like me to drop you off somewhere close, if you don't want me to know where you live?"

"You touched me and something in me knew

What I could have with you

Now I'm not ready to kiss that dream goodbye..."

You sniffed, wiping at your blurry eyes with your shawl. "N-No...I'm on... 22nd Street, the building with the big purple tree in front of it. "

He nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and handing you his handkerchief. "There's no need for that, dear. Here."

You took it, and wiped at your eyes again. "Thank you."

"There's no need for that either, petal."

He pulled up and parked on the street. He opened your door for you, gently taking your hand to help you out.

"You're a good man, William." you whispered.

"If it helps, I still enoyed your company, no matter how brief it was."

You nodded, the corner of your mouth fixing into a weak smile as you looked down at his feet. A finger was brought under your chin, and you let him tilt your head up to look up at you.

He looked even more handsome than before in the much brighter street light, his eyes gazing down at you with what appeared to be nothing but softness. "Once again, if Mr. Bischoff asks?"

"I let- I let you do what you wanted. And we had a great time."

He nodded. moving his hand away. "Indeed we did. I'll enjoy seeing you at the club again, Miss Y/N, whenever that may be."

"I'll enjoy seeing you too, William." you made your way to the steps that led to your front door.

"Have a good eveing, dear."

"You too." you gave a small wave and made your way down the steps to the door. You looked over your shoulder, watching as he made his way back to the driver's side and got into the car. You turned back and sighed. Fishing your keys out and opening your door as fast as you could, locking every bolt tight behind you.

You flicked the lights on to your small apartment and flopped down onto the sofa, sinking down low into it. The headache that had been building since you left the club was now in full force. You tossed your purse to the floor, realizing something was still in your other hand.

Williams's handkerchief. You turned it and weaved it through your fingers, spots of the lavender material turned darker by your tears. You'd have to clean it for him before returning it to him. Return it...to him... You shook your head, got up, and walked to the bathroom to undress and get cleaned, leaving it on the couch for tomorrow.

As much as you loathed most parts of your job, it seemed a bright spot had opened up...

... in the form of a tall, English gentleman named William Regal.

-fin-

#william regal #william regal x reader #william regal imagine #mob au

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explorer-of-art · 3 days

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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

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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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thesoulspulse · 2 years

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Regarding Owen Ravenwood (Necromancers)

It’s been a long time since I first created Owen but his character is still near and dear to my heart which is why he’s the main mascot of my tumblr and discord server. I’ve talked about him a few times now, but for those of you who haven’t been following me for as long I’d like to share a bit of the lore of his backstory with you. Keep in mind that I’m in the process of making an outline to revamp his actual fanfiction story from scratch with an updated plot-line...

Basically, I created Owen to be a subversion to the whole necromancer trope we’re used to of evil wizards raising skeleton armies. I wanted to create someone born with their powers that Vlad ends up adopting when he realizes he’s in a unique position to actually help this poor troubled teen who has nobody else to rely on. And Owen certainly does need all the help he can get!

I’m probably going to change some details of the when and how of it, but sadly Owen lost both his parents at a young age when they became possessed by wraiths/demons who were after him for unknown reasons (well, unknown to him at the time anyway.) After that, he ends up in Mistveil Orphanage when he’s transferred there to get away from the trauma of his past only to catch the eye of a certain Vlad Master years later who hears the story of a boy who claims his parents were murdered by ghosts.

Vlad later learns, much to his surprise, that Owen wasn’t lying when he said that and somehow could sense that Vlad was half-ghost from the start. Owen even managed to force him to transform partially through some strange power Vlad has never seen before. What’s even more shocking is that when Vlad attempts to overshadow Owen to cover his tracks when their interaction causes a scene with the owner of said orphanage, he finds out the hard way that he can’t and here’s why-

Warning, spoilers ahead for the old story so be mindful of that!

Necromancers are immune to being overshadowed in most cases because they are born with the same power as blood blossoms in their blood so it’s a natural repellent and toxic to ghosts. Their blood can even manifest as the actual flowers as a defense mechanism if they’re badly injured.

Necromancers can use a special spiritual flame known as “The Soul’s Pulse” that as you can guess is a direct manifestation of their souls used to purify evil spirits and demonic creature. Fun fact, I actually borrowed the name from a concept in an older fanfic of mine which yes, is how my tumblr profile got it’s name too! This also protects them from fire as a whole and is loosely based on the concept of Will o the Wisps.

Necromancers can’t become ghosts because they automatically end up in the true afterlife, aka paradise/heaven, or this world’s equivalent of hell/purgatory unless they do some sort of special ritual to be reincarnated which is extremely rare because it’s a complex and difficult thing to pull off. Only one necromancer in this world has ever become a ghost and that was under extenuating circumstances that no one could have possibly predicted.

Necromancers can see ghosts regardless of whether they’re invisible, intangible, or overshadowing someone else and they can control them to some extent with their powers given the proper training. They exist as shepherds of the dead to help the lost find their final rest and protect the living against more hostile ghosts or demonic beings. Their creed is simply “Save the dead; protect the living” which means just that, it’s their job to help prevent people from dying before their time and to help those who don’t know how to move on find peace so they can or remove them as a threat.

There have been clans of necromancers or individuals from said clans who have gone rogue and used their powers for evil, but the good guys put a stop to them too whenever that happens.

Every Necromancer clan has a familiar or a special animal they have a natural affinity to that can also sense the supernatural. In Owen’s case, it’s ravens and crows. Witches have them too but they don’t have all the same abilities as necromancers so in most cases they have to directly ask the spirits of nature to help them use certain types of magic.

Necromancers and Witches can both contact the ghosts of their ancestors or ghostly allies for valuable insight, guidance, or assistance with a problem. This is heavily inspired by the Celtic religion.

Each clan has their own family Grimoire where they record their knowledge to pass onto the next generation. The only ones who can see the words are people from the same clan or trusted blood kin and in either case, a drop of blood must be used to reveal them in the first place. If ectoplasm is detected or if anyone else tries to unseal the secrets inside, the pages will turn completely black and illegible.

Necromancers had to hide their true nature from the common folk in most cases so they worked with various religious groups as Templars/Paladins, Exorcists, Priests, and so on so they could still do what they could to protect people in the open without being accused of anything nefarious often attached to being a Necromancer. One common method was to cultivate naturally grown Blood Blossoms to sell so that they could be used for food, various anti-ghost and healing remedies, and even transplanted outside of holy places to ward against evil/hostile spirits.

When the witch hunts started in the 1600′s, both Witches and Necromancers were forced into hiding and many changed their names to escape a grim fate.

All their powers except for the blood protection remains dormant until a Necromancer comes of age at 16 and undergoes a Rite to stabilize their powers. Owen has to deal with this too but he had to hide his other abilities from his parents since they didn’t believe in ghosts and were worried something was wrong with him when he was younger. His mother was the one with the Necromancer ancestry but since her bloodline was so thinned out, no one in recent memory in her family even knew they had such powers. A Necromancer can also choose not to let their spirit flame manifest in which case they lose their power and become as normal as anyone else, so since she didn’t do her Rite mainly because she didn’t have enough power to notice let alone see any ghosts, Owen’s mother lived a completely normal life.

Necroenergy is basically the purest form of ecto-energy there is, sort of like a distilled version since it’s a manifestation of the special power found within a Necromancer’s soul itself, it can enhance a ghost’s power just as much as it can purify dark magic and even heal wounds. All Necromancers also have a ghost sense, in fact, all humans do to some degree which is a natural survival instinct. But obviously only certain people and half-ghosts have this ability in a more literal sense.

Owen is a bit of a special case since he’s one of the rare cases of someone who has been reincarnated many times before which makes him what’s known as a Revenant or a “Living Ghost.”

All Necromancers received their powers from Death who sacrificed himself to seal away a threat to all of humanity, aka Lilith the Mother of Demons, and used the last of his power to separate the Veil from the Earth to create what is now known the Ghost Zone to prevents ghosts from being corrupted by her dark magic more easily than the living are and become wraiths/demons. He also gave a portion of his power over the dead to the very first Necromancer and all of his kin that would follow so that they could protect the living and the dead from her evil plans.

And there you have it. Those are the main key points to remember about Owen and the purpose of Necromancers in his story. I don’t plan to change much of this since it’s an important part of who Owen is but I hope this helps you understand him a little better!

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quazartranslates · 3 years

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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 >>>]

-----

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?

-----

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 · 4 years

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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

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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 · 3 years

Text

“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 · 4 years

Text

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 · 4 years

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 · 5 years

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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silentspectres · 5 years

Note

so... who are your dragon age characters? :’) (my da blog is @my-da-phase, hi)

Hey! Thank you so much for sending in an ask

It makes me incredibly happy that people want to hear about my dumb children, even when I take upwards to a week to get around to organizing an answer. I have everything under a read more so the post doesn’t end up getting too long (I talk way too much) but if people are interested in seeing my DA characters around more, I could start producing more content ??? Feel free to tag me in oc memes or send in asks at any time! I could even devote a few separate posts for some character profiles if people are interested !

My Warden is a wip so we’ll keep them in purgatory for the time being

These are mine and my friend ( @outtsiders-mark)’s Hawke twins though!

We decided to bend canon and make disaster twins because honestly what’s the fun in having one depressed Hawke when you can have TWO depressed Hawkes?? Adrien Hawke (on the left) is my friend’s, and Elias Hawke (on the right) is mine ! Adrien’s a rogue that’s at least 85% feral, whereas Elias is a Chronically Tired Mage. Elias is polite enough, but he really, really does not have time for anyone’s bullshit. He’s fond of being overly dramatic to lighten the mood in certain situations, but is otherwise just a friendly, reasonable guy. Who might have a bit of a drinking problem.

In my world state, Elias romanced Fenris and ultimately sided with the mages. He’s a spirit healer/force mage, though his combat spells are fire and ice based when he’s not healing people in the party. He knows a branch of lightning magic, but doesn’t tend to rely on it. Elias’s magic tends to physically manifest in small ways whether he wants it or not, and it’s responsible for turning his hair color ash-y. Like a dead fire. His magic is heavily tied to his mood, too; anger causes his eyes to turn vaguely red (like hot coals), his body heat to raise, and embers to trail along his breath; anxiety and worry cause him to become static-y, sometimes going so far as to have lightning streaks traveling along his arms; and deep misery/sadness causes ice to turn his fingers black and blue, his arms frosty, his breath misty, and it can drop his body temperature. He tries to keep his magic in check whenever he’s with Fenris because he doesn’t want to remind him of any unpleasantries he suffered in Teviner, but luckily it doesn’t tend to be a huge concern

Adrien is the older twin (for those of you that want to keep count), but it was mutually agreed when their father passed that Elias should step up to watch over the family. When Lothering fell, Adrien smeared his face in a defiant “bad shit has happened to us, and I’m going to fight until we’re out of it”, and Elias kept everyone on track and as together as he possibly could while they tried to seek safety from the Blight. Upon arriving in Kirkwall, Elias devoted himself to fixing his uncle’s unbelievably huge screw up and he worked toward giving his family the life they deserved. He never expected to get tangled into half of the stuff he did, but he found strength in his siblings (Bethany and Carver are both alive here :D) and their dear mother. That was enough, for a while. Until Kirkwall took that from him. Elias blames himself for what happened to Leandra, and I sincerely doubt he will ever forgive himself for not being able to do anything more in response to Quentin. He got reckless for a time following the events of their mother’s death and nearly got killed in an alleyway ambush. (He admittedly almost didn’t fight back, but knew he couldn’t leave Adrien behind like that.) And as if all of that wasn’t enough, the Qunari decide to burn half the city and take more from all of them. Elias fought the Arishok in single combat, much to Adrien’s distress (he had to actually be physically restrained by Fenris the entire time), but Elias wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt when he can take the pain for them. Elias got his facial scar in that fight (he damn near got his head chopped in half, but managed to stumble back in time for the blow to graze him), and he ended up also sustaining a chest wound that would’ve killed him had he not used his ice-based spells to take down the Arishok when he did. He ended up passing out for a few days afterwards (mostly due to magical exertion on top of loss of blood), taken care of by Anders and Adrien while he remained unconscious. (And although Elias and Fenris weren’t exactly together at that point due to Fenris leaving him, Fenris still showed up to make sure Elias was okay. He kept sneaking in until Adrien told him it was fine for him to visit normally.) Elias did everything he could for the people he cared about after that, even sometimes at his own detriment. It never got easier, though.

ALSO, because I like the parallel, one of my favorite aspects of Elias is that he got a scar in the same place his twin applied his war paint. Adrien chose to turn their loses into a quiet defiance. He uses the paint as a reminder that the fight’s not over yet. Elias.. was marked permanently. He now has a constant reminder that he’ll never escape his failures and that he’ll never be able to forget everything he and his family have lost. All this shit that keeps happening to them? It’ll never really be over. Not for Elias. And I think about that a lot.

Next is my Inquisitor, Vaughn Lavellan! He’s currently my icon, but I have screenshots of him too

He’s a trans Inquisitor ! He’s in a romance with Dorian and neither of them deserve what the game kept doing to them. He’s also best friends with my friend @outtsiders-mark‘s character Skylar! She is a constant menace to everyone and Vaughn honestly really appreciates that she’s around to listen and remind everyone to have some fun once and a while

Vaughn’s an archer rogue with an assassin specialization. He’s weirdly nimble and knows how to be incredibly effectively lethal (something, I think, is helped by the fact he’s a hunter for Clan Lavellan), but luckily Vaughn is not nearly as spooky out of combat. He’s a sweet guy that genuinely cares about pretty everyone he meets despite the general animosity he gets from being a Dalish Elf. He’s an optimist that likes to assume the best in people (even despite the fact a human once took a knife to his face and left a scar on his left cheek), and he can be incredibly charming and charismatic when a certain Tevinter mage isn’t making him flustered over something. Vaughn is highly curious, loves to learn, and he can be quite clever and cunning. He likes to tease people when he’s feeling playful, but he’s otherwise reserved and content with watching people’s interactions.

Some other cool notes; Vaughn is a bilingual disaster!! He eventually even starts learning Tevene for Dorian, too, but never breaks his habit of getting phrases mixed up across the languages he knows. He keeps a small organized journal that he presses plants and flowers he discovers while traveling Thedas into. He always writes notes of what the flowers remind him of, or otherwise he keeps a history of his party’s travels in it. (And because he’s a nerd, flowers that remind him of Dorian get marked with a heart. Don’t tell anyone I told you that.) Vaughn loves the outdoors and he’d sped entire days in trees if someone let him, but somehow, he is ENTIRELY inept at traveling across rocky terrain. No one is sure why. It’s just an understood norm that Vaughn ultimately manages to find a way to fall off yet another cliff and most of the Inner Circle have come to accept that he’s fine when it happens. It never fails to scare some poor unsuspecting soldier stationed at a camp, though. Also, Vaughn is constantly on the move. He’s always weaving in and out of areas, stopping in to ask people how he can help, and checking in on everyone’s general well-being. Aside from wanting to offer whatever he can to those that need it, the reason he never stops is because he has a severe fear of the future (phobia levels) and keeping himself busy means he doesn’t have to think about anything but the present. Being around his friends helps ground him, and being with Dorian makes him feel more secure than anything else can. Dorian just feels like the one sure thing that could possibly come of his life, and this, of course, goes just about as well as you expect it does when Dorian tells him “oh, I’ve decided I need to go back to Tevinter.” Vaughn supports him and is proud of what he wants to set out to do, but it makes him really panicky and he gets depressed for a while at the idea he might lose the love of his life. It’s rough. Luckily they work it out, but if I kept talking about Dorian and Vaughn’s relationship I think I’d have 5 more paragraphs askhfd

I’m starting to lose any coherent order to this, but I wanted to bring up that most of what Vaughn does in the Inquisition is for the sake of his clan. He wasn’t raised by proper parents (his birth parents left him, for one reason or another. I haven’t worked it out yet), so he ended up raised by the community at large. He does his best to honor his family and his home (that’s why his tattoos correspond to the elven goddess Sylaise despite Vaughn having major wanderlust!) and he’s incredibly devoted to the Dalish’s culture and religion. He doesn’t often get confrontational about anything, but being called The Herald of Andraste is one of the few things he’ll actively deny and correct people on. (He’s never rude about it, but he is unbelievably tired of people not respecting his beliefs.) He is happy to be in a position to make a difference for the elves, though, and actively tries to set a good example for his people and help ease the relationship between elves and humans. Celene and Briala ended up ruling together because of this, and Vaughn drank from the Well of Sorrows in order to try to reclaim what he could for the elves. (He felt incredibly guilty for putting Dorian through more stress, but he made it up to him later by spending a quiet evening with him.) Vaughn’s not sure if anything he’s doing is making any real difference, especially after Solas and his shenanigans, but he hopes that he’s making a change in the world. A good one.

I think I have a billion other things to say about my Inquisitor, but I think that’s a good summary for now! I love Vaughn to death

And my last character, Vayne Lavellan

He’s Vaughn’s weird problematic older brother (that Vaughn didn’t even know he has) and he’s an asshole. Although he’s a mage, he has a weird thing for daggers? He doesn’t use them in active combat, of course, but he always carries at least one on him. In case he needs to stab someone in the kidneys, I suppose

Vayne’s actual involvement in a major work in progress, so all I have for now is his personality. He’s reserved, cunning, rather forward, incredibly sarcastic, and really is only ever in it for himself. He’s well aware of his capabilities and knows how to intimidate people, so he tends to hold himself well. All of his movements are careful and deliberate and he seems to carry with him an aura that he knows more than he should. Or lets on to, for that matter. He’s calm and scheming and doesn’t ever really come off as inherently terrible, though. His alignment in somewhere between Lawful Evil and Chaotic Evil (he hides it well) and although he might be a bastard hell child for now, he’s going to get a redemption arc eventually ! I think. If he doesn’t get himself snapped in half for saying something or trying to stab someone, at least

Some content to look forward to, though, if all works out:

Vayne being dragged kicking and screaming into carrying about others

He is set to eventually adopt a stray kitten he names Falon

Brother bonding! Vaughn teaching Vayne proper Dalish traditions because he’s been missing and/or outcasted from their Clan for years

Vayne experiencing more emotions than “vaguely annoyed” and “I could go for some causal assassination” and feeling incredibly awkward about his new emotions and experiences

Vayne?? trying legitimately to be a better friend to people???

Sad Vayne content after he’s been redeemed. “I’m not what anyone wants, and frankly I don’t deserve any softness the world has to offer me. I’m fine with that; I set myself down this path.”

Vayne somehow getting softness anyway and being conflicted because he both doesn’t feel as if he deserves it and feels as if he should eternally torment himself for all the bad things he’s done

He gets to build a better life anyway and learns self reflection and self forgiveness and self love and gets to have everything he never had before and never expected he could ever have

He becomes the weird vaguely benevolent mage that hangs out in the rafters of various buildings in Skyhold

he will still stab someone in the kidney tho if they deserve it

Content if nothing ends up working out for him:

Vaughn’s hand is forced and he has to kill the only brother he has

He did want it to work out. And he tried to get through to him

It just wasn’t enough

Vaughn would feel that one for a long time

I’ll let you guys know what ends up becoming of Vayne, if you’re interested?? He’s a problematic morally corrupt mage boy right now but I kind of love him. That’s all I have on my ocs for now, though! Huge shout out to anyone that read all of this, and even bigger shout out to anyone that interacts with this post later ! I enjoyed talking about my dumb group of Dragon Age characters and I hope you guys enjoy them as well

#ask #answer #captain-othersider #my-da-phase #I tagged both of your blogs because you sent the ask from the one but mentioned the actual dragon age blog and yeha #sorry for taking so long to get around to writing this post I've been vaguely dead for a week #silent speaks #my ocs #dragon age #da:i #da2 #Vaughn Lavellan #Vayne Lavellan #Elias Hawke #also shout out to anyone that can guess where I got the name Vayne

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