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torchwood-99 · 2 months ago

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Can you please develop more on what in your opinion makes Éowyn originally doomed by the narrative? I agree with the idea, I'm just curious as to what traits or parts of her narrative makes her doomed according to you!

In her first scene, she comes across as almost spectral.

First time we see her, she's stood in the shadows behind a decaying old man and his creepy, snake like advisor. Her nickname, the White Lady, conjurs images of phantom "white ladies", which are staples of supernatural mythology, and are usually found in rural places, and are associated with tragic histories and unrequited/doomed love.

When she is dismissed, she leaves, she doesn't speak, but goes silently from the room, and she passes judgement on those she passes. She looks on Theoden with "cool pity", and recognises the power in Aragorn. A pale, voiceless, woman, dressed all in white, passing judgement on those before her, before silently gliding from the room, like a wraith or spirit.

To further reinforce the ghost like imager, she is cold; "thought her fair and cold, like a morning of pale spring that is not yet come into womanhood." She looks on Theoden after his recovery with neither joy or love but with "cool pity".

Whereas warmth usually holds connotations with life, the cold conjurs images of corpses and the grave. Even the use of "spring" in her description, a season associated with life, birth and new hope, is described as "pale". The combination of "spring" (life) and "pale" (death), conjures an image of something that is at once living and dead.

A lot of our view point characters look on her with unease. She is repeatedly described as "stern", and the only time that stern façade cracks is when she shows emotions that are discomforting for other characters.

Her hand shakes when she serves Aragorn the cup, and Aragorn senses her attraction and is deeply concerned about. The intensity of her desire, and Aragorn's unspoken unease, makes for an aura of discomfort and dread.

The only time Eowyn shows "life" is when she's trembling with passion for Aragorn, a passion unrequited, or when her eyes are sparkling with visions of war and death.

The first time her stern face truly cracks, and she lets the feelings show, is when she breaks down in tears, begging Aragorn to let her ride with him. She's either frozen or weeping.

Everyone who observes this is deeply distressed. They find it painful to watch a proud and stern woman break down in tears and beg, a sensation the reader shares with them.

Aragorn himself is deeply pained and troubled by his concern for Eowyn. 'Only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore.'

Aragorn later admits in the Houses of Healing that his concern for her haunted him after their parting, and that nothing caused him so much fear on the Paths of the Dead as his fear of what may come to her.

In the same chapter, Aragorn likens her to a lily. Lilies themselves have connotations of death, and also harken back to Elaine, the "lily maiden" who died of heartbreak after being forsaken by her love, Lancelot.

So Eowyn is a figure of death, despair and tragic love. She is white, cold, lily-like, and is looked on with grief by many who perceive her. And not just grief, but discomfort. They don't just notice her distress, but are distressed by her.

When Merry meets her, he notices she seems to have been weeping, an image that is uncomfortably at odds with her stern manner.

Even Theoden, who cannot be credited with being that tuned in to Eowyn's feelings, notices she is unhappy, asking her how she is, and commenting twice on her obvious distress.

When Merry meets her in her guise as Dernhelm, he shivers, because he feels he is looking at someone with neither hope nor will to live. Their journey to the Pelennor passes in silence. Eowyn is a solitary figure, cut off from all those around her, riding to her death.

This culminates in Eowyn laughing at the Witch King, who brings despair to all who face him, because at this point she has literally nothing to fear from him.

The scene in which she faces him is written as a death scene. She fights him valiantly, but his destruction seems to be her own, and the consequences of her apparent death (Eomer's reaction) are severe.

Her tragedy appears compounded when Theoden bids her farewell, unaware she was with him the entire time, which rather sums up his fond, yet blinkered attitude towards her. She gives her life defending the dignity of a man, who is only half-aware of her existence.

Eowyn is mourned. Eomer rages against the heavens at her passing, and the riders of Rohan speak of their regret that she followed them without knowing. She is carried alongside Theoden, and it is only Imrahil's sharp perception and respect for her beauty that causes him to notice she is still alive, taking them all, and us, by surprise. Up until this point, Eowyn has been doomed, and she seems to have met her doom, heroically so.

But there's still a spark of life in her, still a weak breath in her lungs, and that's enough for her to be saved, and taken to the Houses of Healing. It's just a faint sign of life, barely noticeable, but it's life, which means there's hope.

As we look into Eowyn's mindset, we begin to see why she is such a tragic figure.

The first time she is addressed by name, she is being sent from the room. Her orders to take charge of the people of Rohan, which should be something of an hour of triumph and honour for her, feels almost insulting, in how her uncle would rather throw his crown to the people to take for themselves, than name her as an heir after Eomer, and then forgets she is even a part of their house, until Hama reminds him.

Our final scene of Eowyn in Two Towers is of her as a solitary figure, left alone to guard an empty hall, watching as the men ride away beneath their sparkling spears, a striking contrast between the camaraderie and fellowship we witness between the men riding out together.

That Eowyn is loved and respected by many, as revealed by Hama and her ability to safely lead the people to Dunharrow, despite their reluctance, compounds the tragedy, because she is not entirely alone and overlooked, but the people she wishes to been seen by, the people she holds in esteem, Theoden and Aragorn, rejects. Theoden, unthinkingly, by forgetting her worth until it is spelled out for him, and Aragorn in being unable to accept her love, or her offer of service.

Eowyn's driving conflict, the one that seems central to her character, is not even with the villains who everyone else is banding together to fight. She is part of that fight against them, but her personal struggles stem just as much from her conflict with her own family, her own people and her own society, as they do with the threat of Mordor. Victory over the Mordor does not necessarily mean victory for her, we know for Eowyn to be spared her doom, she can't just be rescued from the enemy that everyone else is fighting. She is trapped, caged, and would rather ride out and die, than live to see herself fade.

“What do you fear, lady?" [Aragorn] asked. "A cage," [Éowyn] said. "To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.”

That whole exchange between Aragorn and Eowyn reveals that above all else, beneath her stern facade and dreams of valour, Eowyn is absolutely seething. She is burning up with rage and frustration, and it is not just her enemies she is raging at, but her allies.

Her narrative starts to turn in the Houses of Healing. Not only is Aragorn able to bring her back to life, but it's clear that despite her unhappiness, Eomer's love for her is still a comfort and a source of happiness. When she wakes up, her first words are joy of seeing her brother there. For a character who until this point has been a figure of sorrow and loneliness, for her to speak so instinctively of joy at the presence of another is momentous.

This joy seems well justified, as not only do we witness the extent of Eomer's love, we also see a change in Eomer, and his perception of his sister.

Her sufferings, and the causes of her sufferings, are finally acknowledged. But they aren't acknowledged as some ephemeral, intangible thing, caused by a broken heart and some vague sense that she's just "doomed", but as the result of a set of specific circumstances that naturally caused her great feelings of despair and hopelessness. Eowyn isn't tragic because "she's Eowyn and she's doomed", but because of Grima's manipulation, and the constraints inflicted on her because of her sex.

That Gandalf compares Eomer's lot to Eowyn's, and points out to Eomer the freedoms and opportunities he had which she did not, further emphasises that it was Eowyn's circumstances that made her so tragic.

Eowyn wasn't "just doomed" and Eomer wasn't "just not doomed". Had their roles been reversed, Eomer could have ended up in similar straits.

Eomer hears this explanation, and a change occurs. He looks on Eowyn differently, and starts rethinking their whole lives together.

In the causes of her suffering being recognised, there is now some hope for her recovery. Her "ailment" has been "diagnosed", and it's much easier to find a "treatment" and a "cure", when there is a "diagnosis". There's a practical solution to Eowyn's suffering, and the person closes to her is brought one step nearer to seeing it.

Eowyn remains in the Houses of Healing, something she sees as frustrating, unnecessary and pointless. She doesn't want to live, she doesn't expect to heal, she thinks herself fit enough to ride and die, and that's what she wants to do.

Eowyn still sees herself as doomed by the narrative, but the narrative and the cast no longer see her as such. She is kept in the Houses, she is encouraged to rest and to heal, she is encouraged by Faramir to have hope, and gradually she starts to thaw.

She also becomes more gentle and vulnerable. Her youth is dwelled on, and her former concerns about living forever in a cage for a moment lapse as she focusses on a more trivial worry that Faramir thinks she's childish. When she scales down her request from permission to ride to battle, to be allowed to walk the gardens and look east, she speaks as a "maiden, young and sad."

In becoming more vulnerable, she becomes more approachable. She is no longer the ice maiden, a spectre, but a living person, with worries large and small, and Faramir is able to smile at her and offer her consolation.

The requests she makes during her "thawing", to look east and not be confined to her bed, signals a slight, perhaps unnoticed by her, return to hope. East is, as Faramir remarks, where their hopes lie. In looking east, she is looking towards hope. Furthermore, her second request, to not be confined to her bed, is something that Faramir can provide a practical solution for. She can have a chamber facing east, and she can have freedom to walk the gardens.

He almost speaks to her like a conciliator, or a negotiator. He talks her down from asking for death, to having a chamber looking east, and freedom to walk the gardens and take in the sun, in return to her agreeing to 'stay in this house in our care, lady, and take your rest," . That he phrases it gives the sense she has agency, he isn't saying "you will stay, and you will have a chamber that looks east, and you will walk in the sun", but instead he says if she agrees to stay, this is what they can do for her.

Therefore, the choice to stay, the choice to walk in the sun, the choice to heal, is put back into her hands, and in accepting Faramir's offer, she accepts the chance to heal.

Both Faramir and Aragorn are struck by pity when they meet Eowyn, but Aragorn's pity makes him hold her at arm's length. He maintains a distance between them, he turns from her and rides away. When he does try to "reason" with her, he only makes things worse, twisting the nail into Eowyn's frustrating circumstances.

Faramir feels pity for Eowyn, but he also feels kinship. She isn't some strange, removed creature. He doesn't look at her and see someone who is doomed. Nor does his treatment of her isolate her, as the treatment of so many others have.

He speaks of the pair of them as a unit, right from the start. He notes that both of them are "prisoners" of the healers, he tells her that both of them will be able to fight the end, if it comes to them, if they rest, and that the hours of waiting are something both of them must endure, and that both of them have passed through a shadow, and in from kinship, he expresses a belief that he might find comfort in her presence.

Eowyn's isolation and lack of agency are key causes in her despair, so it is understandable how this man, who makes efforts to understand her, to get to know, to befriend her and to make a connection with her, is such a balm, and manages to cause such a turn around in her arc.

Through her friendship, and later romance, with Faramir, she opens up, and arguably becomes more emotionally resilient, neither freezing her emotions, "cold and proud", or breaking down, weeping or begging. She shows uncertainty and fear in more moderate, casual ways, instead of pushing them down until they burst out of her.

However, she is still Eowyn. She is still proud (Faramir describes her as looking queenly), she is still proud, strong willed and sharp tongued. Even in her happiness, when she agrees to marry Faramir, she teases him for his people's snobbery, and she refuses the Warden's attempts to "release" her into Faramir's care, by instead asking to stay at the Houses of Healing.

She doesn't go from Ice Maiden to Fragile Flower. Instead, in grasping her future by the hands, in choosing for herself what she will do and where she will go, in deciding her own fate, her own role (that of healer), she shows that she is as strong willed as ever, and Faramir, who re-iterates twice; when speaking of his plans to marry her and go to Ithilien with her, that they will only do so if she is willing.

Eowyn also makes it clear to Faramir that while she will return to him, she has other duties and priorities that will keep her. That is, the rebuilding of the Mark. She has to go, she will come back. A striking contrast to her first introduction, when Eowyn is told "go", then told "stay", as it pleases those around her. She now has freedom of movement, she now chooses when to go, when to stay and when to return.

That Eowyn speaks of how she must go back, must look on her country and help her brother, also indicates that Eowyn sees her own worth and importance. She values herself and feels valued.

At Theoden's funeral/Eomer's coronation, Eowyn plays an integral role in the ceremonies. She presents Eomer with a golden cup and gives the signal for the cups to be raised to drink to the new king. This in itself indicates the esteem in which Eomer holds Eowyn. However, she has arguably been a cupbearer before, and it hasn't been a role that has brought her much joy. While it is a position of prestige, and shows she is a valued member of the household, it's not enough. Luckily, here, she isn't just there to oversee the celebrations of others, but to be celebrated herself.

Eomer ends the ceremonies by announcing her betrothal to Faramir. His justification for doing so is because of Theoden's love for Eowyn, which he uses to argue that Theoden wouldn't begrudge Eowyn's announcement being made at his funeral. He also notes how great the gathering before him is, greater than has ever been seen before. That Eomer wants to announce his sister's happy news before such an assembly, speaks of how much he wants to honour her.

Eomer certainly appears to have taken Gandalf's words on board. When he makes the announcement of Eowyn's betrothal, he says that Faramir asked for her hand, and Eowyn granted it, full willing.

He doesn't say anything about whether or not he gives his permission, (as her king and head of family, he probably was asked, but considering Eowyn and Faramir made their plans to wed with total confidence, you get the impression this was a matter of form, they were going to marry, Eomer disagreeing would be a complication, not a defeat), but instead emphasises how Eowyn has agreed to marry Faramir, full willing.

The final image we have of Eowyn can be a foil of that image of we have of her at the end of her first chapter in Two Towers. Once more, she is bidding farewell to a loved one as they depart Edoras. However, this time, she is embracing Merry before he leaves. She gives him a gift, that speaks of the bond of friendship that is now between them, and a remembrance of the time they rode together to battle, comrades in arms.

Compared to her formal parting from Theoden in Two Towers, this parting is full of warmth and intimacy. She and Eomer both hug Merry farewell, and when Merry leaves, Eowyn is left with both Eomer and Faramir, the two people she loves best, Faramir himself putting off his own duties in Gondor, to be near to Eowyn as she does her duty in Rohan.

Even the parting of Eowyn, Eomer and Merry, which could be a sad thing, is softened with Tolkien concluding "and so they parted for that time".

Their parting isn't forever, it's just for the moment. They will see each other again. Compared to the jarring juxtaposition of the brotherly army riding out, to Eowyn left alone to guard an empty hall, which created a sense of dread and foreboding, the final lines here at this parting fill us with warmth, with them all embracing, and leaves us with a promise that this parting isn't forever, and that the friends will all be reunited soon.

So, to summarise, Eowyn at first appears "doomed by the narrative." She is cold, stern, ghost like, and carries an aura of tragedy and dread.

Her doom she seems to carry through to fruition, and she is mourned accordingly, but the smallest spark of life remains in her, and in the causes of her despair being acknowledged, in the people in her life reaching out to her, making an effort to understand her, and in her and those around her making practical changes, the characters actively defy the narrative that has apparently doomed her, and together, through their combined efforts, Eowyn escapes her fate

Eowyn feels hopeless and trapped, and the people around her struggle to relate, and in fact many of them contribute; some un-knowingly, some knowingly (fucking Grima), to her depression. It first looks like a force greater than herself (the narrative) is causing her despair, and it cannot be overcome, but will instead lead to her destruction.

But actually, there is hope, and there are practical measures that can be put into place, to help her overcome her despair. Medical treatment, a support network, and a greater understanding from herself and from others of what she is going through, enable her to defy the narrative and find happiness.

#LOTR #Lord of the Rings #Eowyn #Eomer #Faramir #Aragorn #Merry Brandybuck #Theoden #Gandalf #this got long

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lbibliophile-sw · 2 months ago

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A new type of General

Also on AO3 [215w] @corrieweek - day 5: fix-it @clonefandomevents - CG bingo: Senator AU

After the War, the Vode have many decisions to make, redefining themselves as both individuals and a group. One of the more important of these is choosing a Senator; their hard-won voice in the Republic they were made to serve.

In the end the choice seems obvious.

Most vode assume Commander Fox will take that role. The commanders were trained to lead, and Fox was trained to lead from Coruscant. It only makes sense that he would continue in that duty.

Those who know Fox better, his batchmates and most of the Guard, expected Fox to choose anything but that. Surely he’s spent more than enough time dealing with difficult Senators for any lifetime? But then again, Fox was never one to let go easily.

Only the other Corrie Commanders truly understand. That the War might be over, but their war is just beginning. And Fox has not spent the last three years gathering ammunition only to walk away now.

There is a certain smile that the Senate will come to recognise. One that says ‘we might have been voiceless, but we weren’t blind. Now that we have a voice, what if I shared what we saw?’ It’s not blackmail, not quite. It doesn’t need to be.

Senator Fox takes to take to the battlefield.

#corrie week #CG bingo #commander fox #senator fox #ficlet #bingo fill

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erenevune · 1 year ago

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Ngl with HW2 out I'm kinda anxious for how the DCA fandom gonna go from here cause like. We now have a few more aspects of Sun and Moon personalities, but I'm worried that'll become the main only thing and all the previous soft and anxious and caring etc stuff will vanish and he'be reduced to an asshole only. I don't think this confirms he canonically hates kids or his job or that he's only a jerk.

I know it's up to interpretation but like, I'm just gonna be kinda really sad if this aspect of them is the only thing focused on now and people forget other stuff or just erase how we thought of them before, you know? I'm all for seeing a bit more sass in Sun and stuff, but he still sounds nervous/anxious in certain voiceless I've heard so far, not to mention how he acted in Ruin trying to fix them both while Moon was in pain and stuck and Sun was afraid and stuck.

And like, I still don't think he hates kids I think he's just kinda a bit done. And he even welcomes us back after a jumpscare and stuff, he recognises us! Sure sometimes he sounds tired or kinda like "ugh you're back" but it makes sense he wouldn't wanna deal with more shit after hours lol. Honestly loved his attitude about the crafts it was funny. Not even upset about the shredding because like. It's not like I made that for him, that was an activity I was asked to do so there'd be no reason for him to keep every crafts that gets left behind lol. And he was being so dramatic about it too. He gave me so many vibes of he was finally given the chance to run crafts how he wanted without having to pretend to like every single one like normal. It was fun seeing him sassy and a little rude lol. And bear in mind, despite him calling us a bad kid we are supposed to be an employee in training in a simulation game, where it also needs a "bad ending" if you fail the task. And he's on a time crunch for us to get these projects done before Moon comes out which is when he starts sounding more anxious again. Also wouldn't be surprised if he was a little affected by the virus, especially since it glitches out what your supposed to be making occasionally.

Maybe it's silly to be worried like this idk

#fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf hw2 #help wanted 2 #fnaf hw2 spoilers

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katyawriteswhump · 1 month ago

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omega found, omega lost #4

Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr On AO3

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 4/5; WC: 2356; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, nightmares.

for whumptober prompts day 19: blood trail, abandoned cabin, one way out. day 20: emotional angst, and day 22: bleeding through bandages, day 26: nightmares, and day 27: voiceless (yes, whoops, that's a lot of whump!)

Chapter 4: "I have no mouth and I must scream"

Then came the shout: “Alpha—get away from the Omega. Come out now, and if he’s unharmed, we’ll spare you.”

Eddie jumped up, insides wrenching at the small distance between he and Steve, while Steve was so sick. He glanced around, loathing even to rip his eyes from the Omega.

Was there any other way out of the cabin? Could he somehow haul Steve over one shoulder and flee? He’d never wanted to be a clod-headed beefcake kind of Alpha. Right now, it could be helpful. If they could get out. He assessed only the one door and two windows, the closest of which was now shattered and letting in a sleety gale.

An impotent growl escaped him. He grabbed for his damp pants, hoiking them on. He might make it out alone, but he couldn’t leave Steve at the mercy of a baying pack. Even Steve’s own pack. Eddie trusted them less than ever. Was this it… was he gonna die?

All this streaked through his head in a few seconds. He’d not even started to properly lose his shit, before another shout boomed from outside:

“What the heck are you morons doing throwing rocks? What you gonna do next—burn the cabin down?”

Eddie recognised that rumbling voice. Jim Hopper, chief Alpha of the Hawkins pack. Yeah, Wayne always claimed he was a reasonable guy. The idea of handing over Steve to anyone, however trustworthy, gouged like a jackknife in Eddie’s gut. He dashed to the unbroken window, squatted down, and glanced out.

A couple of Alphas—oh, yeah, and Steve’s Beta dad—prowled the thawing snow, carrying rifles and sticks.

Nope. No sneaking out that way.

“You gonna open this door, Alpha, or do I kick it down?” Hopper hammered on the flimsy wood.

“I’m coming.” No choice. No damn choice.

Eddie dragged his shirt on, slunk to the door, pulled the bolt aside. Hopper barged in, and Eddie stood his ground between the larger Alpha and Steve—shoulders squared, fists clenched, his lips peeling back from his gums and his incisor-fangs quickening. He expected the larger Alpha to grab him or go straight for Steve. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna defend the Omega, only that he must.

Should he really make a dash for that shard of glass and slash it at Hopper’s throat?

Hopper’s attention latched straight onto Steve, and he made no sudden move. He closed the door behind, before the rest of the pack could swarm in, which was unexpected: “Christ, tell me he’s alive, Munson.”

Eddie was stunned enough to let Hopper pass.

“Yeah, he’s… he’s alive, okay?” Eddie hurried back to Steve’s side. “I found him caught in a hunter’s trap, and he was bleeding and scared and really, really cold.” Christ, in the minute since he’d unwound his body from Steve’s, the Omega’s lips had turned a worrying shade of blue. “Look, you gotta get him to a hospital. The rest of your pack can…”

Eddie trailed off, mouth hanging open. Stop thinking like a knot-head Alpha and think like Eddie Munson.

He wasn’t gonna beg to be torn to pieces, especially for so little ends. That said, Hopper appeared to have no intention of chewing his head off, at least not literally. Eddie shoulders and spine sagged, and his head drooped: “How many of your goons are out there?”

“There’s a dozen Betas and three more Alphas, all howling for your blood.” Hopper huddled Steve in the blanket and scooped him up into his arms. Eddie bristled at his own helplessness and a tinge of jealousy. “We didn’t even need the blood trail to follow! He’s letting off scent like he’s gone into heat, and we scented you too. Did you knot him?”

“No! I swear on my life.” His sudden fear for Steve proved the most painful stab yet. “You can’t let them punish him, man.”

Hopper effortlessly jostled Steve up a little, so Steve's lolling head rested against his shoulder. “The Omega is the least of your problems, Alpha. If it wasn’t for your uncle, I’d rip your throat out myself, apart from… this is as much my damn fault as yours.” Huh? Eddie hadn’t been expecting that. Nor Hopper’s guilty glance down at Steve. “I should have kept him glued to my side last night. Look, you better get outta here pronto.”

“How?” Eddie flapped his arms around wildly, reverting to the feckless teen he’d been only a couple of years before. “There’s only one way out.”

Hopper chuckled dryly. “Your old man knew different when he hid out here. There’s a panel behind the stove. Took me ages to figure how the crafty old dog gave me the slip. Go. Hide. I’ll draw them away. Make sure nobody torches the place.”

Eddie obeyed, hating it. What choice did he have? While he sensed Hopper had Steve’s best interests at heart, he churned with anger at the whole damn world, and at himself.

Fuck, he was such a terrible Alpha. This proved how unready he was for a soulmate, let alone fatherhood and shit.

He had to let Steve go. Others could take better care of him.

As he hauled aside the stove, he dared not glance over his shoulder, in case he shed an incriminatingly un-Alpha tear.

…

Steve had been sick and hurt. Of that part, he was sure. But he’d been okay.

Eddie’s warm scent and body had enveloped him. The brush of Eddie’s soft lips had comforted him. Then he’d been ripped from that safe cocoon and hurled straight into Hell.

Barbed fangs glinted in an inky blackness, and the beast pounced, fangs piercing deep into Steve’s leg. It lifted him in its jaws and shook him violently, before smashing him into the icy ground, a hunk of dying meat.

He couldn’t hear his own scream after scream after scream. The exposed nerves and tendons in his ankle screamed louder, mocking his silence. The stench of his blood clotted in his nose and clogged up his throat, already shredded by his useless cries and thickened by terror.

Can’t breathe… can’t… can’t…dying… dying… dead? Eddie… Alpha... Please help me… It hurts… Eddieeeeee!

A wall of darkness slammed down. He floated, lost, mercifully senseless. When the dreams kicked off again, they weren’t all so bad. He was in a dingy cellar, chained to a damp brick wall, and… Okay, this was exactly how Tommy H claimed he’d wind up, some rogue Alpha’s plaything.

Steve was fiiiine with it.

Eddie was there, his body slamming Steve’s flush to the bricks. He nuzzled Steve’s throat tenderly, dragging his tongue over Steve’s mating gland. Steve’s every sinew strained toward him, trying to purr and rub into him. He couldn’t glean Eddie’s delicious scent. Violent shudders dragged him back from the cusp of getting slick.

“Eddie?” he whimpered. “Eddie, please? Where are you?”

When Steve finally opened his eyes for real, he squeezed them tight again before daring to peep.

He was in a hospital room. He’d gotten an IV drip attached to his arm, and other scary wires had been attached to his chest, poking out of his hospital gown. His heart lurched, and a green line spiked on a bedside monitor.

How did he get here? Last thing he recalled was Eddie… the cabin… Oh, Christ, what was real and what wasn’t? His head throbbed so hard he feared his skull would crack, and his stomach felt like somebody had punched it.

“Eddie,” he croaked, though nobody was around to hear. “Eddie.”

The next time he stirred, daylight stung his eyes. His mom stood at the door, talking to a doctor, “Mom?” he whispered. She didn’t turn her head. “Mommy?” Okay, that was shameful. “Please… mom? Where’s Eddie?”

His voice couldn’t compete with the penetrating hum of the strip-light.

I’m an Omega, not a pushover.

Yeah. Right.

Holy crap, he couldn’t leave the house alone without screwing up, bigtime, and his voice was little better than that of a ghost’s. Tuning into the doctor’s conversation didn’t exactly help:

“Mrs Harrington, you must understand—your son bled through bundles of fresh bandages after we brought him in, which made little sense. When he was found, he was sick, but his injuries had started to heal. He was never hyperthermic, yet he GOT WORSE. The bleeding has finally stopped, but his vitals have never stabilised.”

“Could he be pregnant, Doctor? Should I book him into an Omega Clinic?”

“It’s hard to tell with Omegas. I wouldn’t want to subject him to any invasive examination, let alone have him moved while he’s so sick.”

“But…”

With pup?

Steve’s blood simmered beneath his clammy cheeks.

And now his mother talked of the Omega clinic. Would she really dump him in that horrible place again, though they’d had to drug him to the eyeballs to survive it? And why, oh why, must he picture Tommy H, cackling in his face?

Did my soulmate fuck me and ditch me? Or was the whole soulmates BS all in my ‘air-brain little head’? Did Eddie knot me and skip town?

Okay, he’d literally been asking for it. He’d begged Eddie for dick and opened his legs to him like a ‘wanton little hussy.’

Was Tommy right about him? Tommy was right! His mom, too?

“I’m no Omega specialist,” the doctor was saying. “However, at this stage, the best remedy may be to find this rogue Alpha your son has been crying out for.”

“Yes. Hunt down that lowlife dog and destroy him for ruining my son.”

Steve’s panic ripped through him like a floodtide. His shallow breaths refused to sooth his clenching lungs, and his skin broke out into a cold sweat. By the time the doctor’s attention slid his way, he was full-on flipping out.

The next few moments passed in a terrifying blur. He fought the suffocating blankets and yanked the wires from his arm and torso, before more than one set of strong hands pinned him down. A sharp prick on his arm was echoed by the cool glide of a needle into his skin. Cool air flowed from the mask placed over his face. He drifted into dreams and that murky basement, wandering it like a spirit.

“Eddie,” he murmured, “Where are you?”

…

Three days.

Three fucking days.

That was how long Eddie had skulked in this dingy brick basement—pacing to keep warm, punching the bricks, wringing his battered hands, and all but ripping his hair out. He’d passed hours squatting in a corner, holding his drooping head.

Christ, he should get the fuck out of Dodge.

Perhaps distance could kill this agony. This crushing misery at knowing Steve was dangerously ill and being unable to see him, let alone do anything about it.

Yet Eddie wasn’t going anywhere, which was lunacy. None of his designs for life included mating a high-class Omega who’d grown up, basically, in a palace. Oh, and Steve’s mom had put a price on his head.

Ten thousand dollars. Dead or Alive. Seriously, where was he living—the Old West? Medieval Europe?

“Why me?” Eddie was muttering, over and over. The soft tap on the basement door set him snarling.

Okay, it was his and Wayne’s secret knock, based on an old Def Leppard guitar riff. Damn, Eddie was skittish as a goddamn Omega. Wayne descended the rickety wooden stairs, and Eddie leaped up, sweeping his heavy unwashed hair from his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Had a visit from Hop and Steve’s dad.”

“Shit!” Eddie buried all eight fingers in his uncombed tresses. “Did they follow you here?”

“What sorta fool do you take me for, son?” Wayne chuckled, squeezing Eddie’s super-taut bicep. Eddie teetered suddenly on the brink of throwing his arms around his uncle and bawling his eyes out. Anything to release the tension thrumming through his every vein. “Wouldn’t have mattered if they did. Hop talks the talk about ripping your throat out, nothing more. I swear to God, he begged for your help.”

Eddie met Hopper around the back of the hospital, near a delivery entrance for the kitchens. On sighting him, Eddie stopped dead, smacked his boot heel loudly onto the ice-hardened asphalt.

The older Alpha’s lips peeled back, hostile vibes billowing from him. Then Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned:

“Okay, Munson, stand down.” He hurled some scrubs at Eddie. “Gonna smuggle you in. Apparently, your Omega pepped up no end on learning we were trying to contact you on the sly. Even the docs are bleating on about the soulmate bond—it’s the worst case of rejection sickness in living memory. So, yeah, let’s move. We’ll deal with the nuclear fallout in the morning.”

Eddie pulled on the scrubs and tied back his hair, using a scrunchie he was pretty sure Hop had swiped off his daughter. He followed the Chief through the quiet corridors, struggling to get his head together.

Soulmate bond. Rejection sickness. Some doctor had more or less prescribed Eddie as a cure? He snatched a swift, fortifying breath.

You got this, Munson. Make your Omega well again, and everything else is gonna be child’s play…

…hahaha, seriously? You gonna rob a bank or something?

Screw it. Perhaps he would.

After they’d passed through the dark kitchens, Eddie sensed something off. He’d smelled Steve over a mile off in a snowy forest, and yet… Okay, maybe that was Steve’s musk he detected, heavily interwoven with others,’ and faint beneath the tang of chemicals.

It was way too faint and soured with a bitter tang that set Eddie’s guts flipping.

He shoved past Hopper and sprinted up the corridor. He followed his nose up several flights of stairs. Along a dark corridor, he almost collided with an angry nurse, then he rounded a corner and slammed into Steve’s dad. Eddie braced the Beta and shook him, taken aback by huge, scared hazel-brown eyes, startlingly like Steve’s: “What is it? Is Steve okay?”

“I-I don’t know. He’d been on the mend since I promised to find you. I came over to break the news you were on your way… and he’s gone and discharged himself.”

...

Chapter 5.1 (it's gonna be fine, okay!?!)

Please like and reblog if you’re feeling kind 🥰 it’s so very much appreciated ❤️

tags: @wheneverfeasible @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian

@strawberryyyenthusiast @stripey82

If anybody else fancies reading more, I would be happy to tag :) Or follow #katya's omega whump

My endless outpourings of Steve whump can be found on AO3 here :)

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iridescentscarecrow · 11 months ago

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thinking about reze's vocality. how both denji and reze are mice caught in a trap.... how she engages with her self through him... "that's NOT normal," she says but then she's an assassin, a gleeful burning hypersexual thing, inhabiting her glass shard bomb self with a morbid sort of delight... because it's her choice then, isn't it? if she's enjoying it? and yet she's so sickly aware of what's happening to her. she's never physically vulnerable... she purposes her own Body with ease, tearing it apart with a smile on her face... she has no shame at her nakedness and yet. there's such vulnerability in her expression... that glimpse of emotion we get is rawer than her mere physical self... she tells him she'll protect him; she recognises her own circumstances in him and she gives him a choice, a choice she wants but can never vocalise,,, this girl who's been sharpened into all edges and wants the country mouse's world through this city boy's heart.. she transposes her voice onto his and he says no!... and so she bites off his tongue!! his vocality. she holds his tongue over hers... she superimposes his voice over hers and crouches down to bloodily kiss him again. rendering him voiceless through this violently sexual act. does it hurt? she asks. she knows it hurts, because of course she does. she's sorry. and she holds his hand and disables him oh so gently and makima holds her hand and disables her oh so gently and the rat trap snaps shut.

#awful in a way that specifically caters to me.#chainsaw man #csm meta #reze #crow.txt

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bretongirlwrites · 1 year ago

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‘He will not come,’ said I at last.

I saw the sky half composed of dark and fleeting shadows, which none of them resolved into dragons; the night was falling fast and cold: and naïve, I hardly thought it suited fire and blazing scales: hoped that it did not though he’d sat proud all these centuries, in such extraordinary wilderness. The wind whipped wild about us, more daggers than I’d ever felt it, and in perfect defiance of my Voice. I swallowed and looked again and said:

‘I do not believe he is here. I do not know where he is.’

The frosted plains did not shiver; nor revealed in constant snowfall, prints of recent visitors. Delphine kept her hand tight on her hilt and came to stand almost at my side.

‘If he is gone,’ said she, ‘it is surely to return; and if he means to surprise us, it is in anticipation of a trap, an anticipation we are more ready than he is, to meet.’

‘And if he brings friends?’ said I.

‘And have we not!’ said Delphine: ‘and have you not Dragonrend! and are we not Blades and dragon-slayers!’

And are we not few! I thought: and are we not so few, as not to rouse the Greybeards! and is my voice not lost in ice-gales! and is not one of us a man with arthritis in three fingers!

‘He knows I have Dragonrend!’ said I: ‘and if he feels threatened, he will not come; rather he will retreat, and plan some assault which we cannot escape; and find allies, –’

‘And are you not,’ said Delphine all lost in some battle-speech she could hardly pronounce, so full-blooded was the storm about the peak and finding confidence in the night: ‘the damn Dragonborn?’

Bring him down, she’d said, and the rest shall all scatter. You saw the same in Windhelm, when Ulfric fell…

Ulfric’s throne had not been so indomitable as this, which we could hardly approach, and which in darkness became so treacherous, that we feared to be buried in some unmelting snow-drift: and Ulfric after all, had not been – despite all the snowberry sauce – the size of a dragon. The thing ought to be simple: and I had slain so many dragons, that one more ought not to be some great deepening stain upon the list: and he after all, – trusted me.

‘He must not come,’ said I quite by mistake, – and when the wind most graciously snatched my words from Delphine’s earshot, I must wish to be snatched away likewise, and blown off the mountain, – ‘o I do not know if I can, –’

‘Yours was the victory, in Sovngarde,’ said Delphine, ‘of the Soul-Eater, the World-Eater. Confidence!’ and she put her hand so gently upon my shoulder, and her fingers so nearly into my hair like Agnete when I’d been young, – that I shivered and wanted to return it, – that I felt her trembling thrill go likewise into shared blood. She spoke one or two other words which in their stock-phrase reassurance, covered a might of fire and ice; and when she thought I’d gone into her command, she let go and raised her sword.

‘He’ll come,’ said she, ‘damn it all, he’ll come! And we, sworn Blades, shall, –’

A cloud had come so entirely upon the heavens, that the distant thunder parted pitch-darkness, and blinkered those remaining tentative stars which blinked beyond. A thing which went so thoroughly into the earth yet burned with fire I hardly recognised: a Voice after all, I’d heard yet never ferocious: a Voice I’d met before with matching Voice, and which now, changed, I still must match. O the Voice of Paarthurnax!

‘We, sworn Blades, shall stand against him,’ said Delphine, – who’d shuddered at the roar, I knew not with what sentiment: ‘Sky Haven expects every one to do their duty.’

‘For Sky Haven!’ cried Esbern: sword stiffer than his fingers.

The Temple so distant, the wind so biting, the night so horrid! o night which snuffed out a final star and spread not its auroral banners and betrayed and angered and such as I had never known it, – came upon us, – in glimmerless scales and blackened voiceless fire! –

#oc:julienne #breton girl writes #skyrim #oh gods. oh GODS. what am i writing. this is supposed to be my 'relaxing before bed' time #none of this is relaxing!!

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natequarter · 10 months ago

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potential flaws of an english spelling reform:

the biggest problem is dialects. not only does english have a shit ton of dialects, it has multiple prestige dialects. this isn't necessarily a problem for reforming inconsistent consonants, but rather for those goddamn vowels

think about all those splits and mergers! mary-marry-merry. trap-bath. strut-foot. etc. you fundamentally cannot reform english without making it either a) dialectical b) wrong for 90%+ of speakers or c) a dysfunctional mess, which is pointless because english is already that

specific sound changes like yod coalescence and rhotic (or tapped) r can pose a big problem as well. even though we don't pronounce r in all dialects, we generally note it down: warm, car, etc. how do you reform spelling for both rhotic and non-rhotic accents? and yod coalescence. nobody ever brings this up, because rhotic r affects american english (and some british accents, though some have different r sounds entirely) and yod coalescence affects british english, and most youtubers making spelling reforms are american in my experience, but many english people don't pronounce, say, due/new/tune like americans do: /j/ comes in so that due is a homophone of jew in british english, which it may not be in american english. if you reform new to be spelt as noo, then that fails to reflect the pronunciation of new as /njuː/. but i digress

frankly, a lot of spelling reforms are just ugly. please stop

some parts of english do currently reflect the etymology of words. it's a lot harder to see the relationship between oblige and obligation if one is spelt eblàij and the other is spelt obligàshen

people really like getting rid of the letter c and using k/q instead. why? what do k and q do that c can't? get rid of the digraph qu, get rid of k, use c to represent /k/ and use s for /s/ and z for /z/. k and q are rubbish letters

bringing back or finding new letters isn't necessarily useful. yeah, sure, you can revive þ, but is there a need? we already have p/b/d, which all look very similar. adding the thorn in is just confusing, and the digraph th doesn't need a reform. it would be cool to differentiate voiceless and voiced dental fricatives, but a) ð is the superior letter, and b) th literally works fine. nobody is complaining about this except conlangers! th, ch, and sh are all valid digraphs; all you need to do to fix them is eliminate tch, make th/ch/sh have consistent sound values (e.g. spell chandelier as shandelier), and the problem is solved

overall, there is often a desire to eliminate or introduce letters perceived as 'useful' or 'useless,' but the letters people want to introduce might be confusing to people who are dyslexic or don't recognise it, or the letter people want to remove is... literally fine, and could easily be solved with an accent or two

nobody ever accounts for stress patterns. english has very inconsistent stress patterns, but we could fix this by sticking an accent over stressed letters like in spanish. let's say circumflexes, because circumflexes are cool. attâck. rêquisite. insîstent. ôrange. refûte. obviously these are random examples, but you can easily clear up the issue of stress in this way

some spellings reflect grammar, not pronunciation. this is a bit like the problem of etymology: we spell the endings -ing and -ed to make them regular. -ed isn't necessarily pronounced as it's spelt; it usually ends up sounding more like a /t/ or a /d/. but we spell it like that to make constructing the past tense easier. of course, you could always reform it to -t or -d. then you could have words like laughd, or screamd. but people don't tend to think about that

people need to be able to learn your system! any orthography which becomes transformed or, god forbid, a different script, is going to be impossible to implement. we have too much literature in our current spelling. it would be expensive and unpopular. any change must be something within our limits

ultimately, i think the only plausible spelling reforms are of english's consonants/stress patterns. vowels are just too variable, but we could probably standardise some of those godforsaken silent consonants, irregular stress patterns, or inconsistently spelt consonants without fracturing england as we know it or just scaring the shit out of our audience. reform isn't impossible. it just isn't operable in the way many people want.

#🗡️#linguistics

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crimsonlyinglilly · 27 days ago

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No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

Here's Day 27 of @whumptober 2024, late again

back to Freedom in Fur

follows Guilt Set 2x06 of The Originals

---

Elijah struggled to open his eyes to glare at the chains that once held him.

The weakness mother’s spell had caused him, or as he was forced to accept had returned to him as he recognised the familiarity of the aching exhaustion his body felt, had left him in a losing battle to remain awake.

And in his sleep he was running from the beast she had forced him to realise he was and the howling shadow he was starting to think was the death he should have died at six.

It was hard to deny Mother tale as he had felt the link, one he wasn’t aware of, to Niklaus break during the spell. She had left afterward, leaving him alone to feel his strength sap away. To remember the faint memories of illness before Niklaus’ birth or realise the memories of aching chest with every breath and shaking limbs weren’t from a bad illness but his normal life.

She had returned later to give him the choice of a new body and he had refused, even when she unchained him to show how weak he had become as he had followed into her arms and hadn’t been able to push her away.

She had laid him on the floor gently, claiming regret at being forced to do this to him and trying to convince him to agree to her plan, to steal another’s body, in return he had aimed cruel words at her weak points, smirked as he enraged her.

Even made physically weak and useless he always knew where to strike with his words.

Of course, her apparent regret failed to remain after that and she threw more unknown truths at him, forcing him to remember his worst acts, things he had hidden from himself.

He had killed Tatia.

The horror and his denial had proven too much for his weakened body and he had passed out.

When he had woken next and he still refused, she rambled about the child he once was as he had laid there helpless before she had muttered another spell and slit his throat to force him to relive his monstrous acts.

When he had woken after that it was his mother watching him asking him if he had come to accept her deal. He once again refused but found it difficult to get the words out, even that zapped the little strength he had and he fell back into the dark.

To the woods, to feeling young and small, to facing the worst of himself and running from a hunting shadow.

That was the start of the cycle that now had him glaring at the chains above him as he felt his strength fail him again, he was barely aware of Esther and Finn in his brief moments of consciousness.

There was a level of horror in this he wasn't allowing himself to think of, because if he did he'd give in and accept. It wasn't the uselessness his current state left him feeling like, or the bone deep exhaustion and aches, or the helplessness as he could do nothing to escape her soft touches.

It was the lack of an end, even with the weakness he could not die without a white oak.

Neither he or Niklaus had been aware of the link but now broken Elijah was very aware of its absence and the knowledge there was no fixing it.

He had been a parasite surviving off Niklaus’ strength and was without it he was being used a bit to lure Niklaus to Esther.

He starts to catch some sort of noise from outside, his supernatural senses still working even as everything fails, but he finds himself drifting off despite it.

—

Elijah found himself in his mind, the white hallway of many doors, a familiar red door standing stark among them.

“You've come to me.” His own voice called he could hear the cruel smirk in his voice. “That makes this easier.”

He looked up at the cold amused expression of himself.

A low growl came from his other side making him look from the bloody beast in a suit to the shadow that had been chasing him.

A large black wolf snarled, teeth bared.

He threw himself forward and through the plain white door unsurprised to find himself in the woods again, he didn't stop and kept running.

—

Klaus’ concern of a dead man’s return vanishes when he finds Elijah, unchained and still on the floor. Without hesitation he found himself on his knees beside him and lifting his brother up to wake him, looking around to find nothing keeping his brother down.

“Wake up, brother.” he called, placing a hand on his brother’s cheek, something about the picture was wrong even as his mind failed to find what it was. “Elijah. I'm here.” he added as gently shook him.

“He won't wake.” the soft words came from behind him as he froze, turned to look as Esther stepped towards them “And even when he does he’ll be too weak. Which gives you and I one last chance to discuss my offer.”

Klaus swallowed his rage, furious at the sight of her, at her confidence as he carefully laid Elijah back down.

even when he does, he’ll be too weak.

“What have you done?” he asked calmly as he checked over his brother’s body, there was blood from his capture and from a slit throat but everything was healed, there appeared nothing to keep his brother unresponsive, “You promised me Elijah's safe return.”

“I broke the link between you.” Esther answered, making him blink at her.

“What link?” He started before the ghost from outside returned to his mind “is this all a trick, just like that ghoulish atrocity outside claiming to be my father, back from the dead?

“Your father's return is real.” she told him, and he hated the shiver of hope that grew inside him, hope and pain, weakness he couldn’t have now, with his family in danger, Esther and Finn aiming for Hope, Elijah-

Something was off with Elijah beyond his unresponsiveness and he didn’t know what it was.

“I pulled him from the Other Side before it collapsed,” she spoke again, pulling his attention from Elijah “and left him in the Bayou to join the wolves. And, I used the execution of one of his own to draw him here, where I knew he'd find you.”

“To what end?” he hissed, “Besides my torment?”

“ I brought him here to be the father you never had.” she appealed to him as he stared up at her in disbelief and rage, ignoring the burning of his eyes “To teach you to be the man you always longed to be. Once you are remade as a werewolf, you can join him.”

He forced himself to stand up and step away from Elijah Esther’s words making it hard to think past the rushing sound of his blood and pure incensed rage.

All his life she made him live a lie, to protect herself, left him to face Mikael’s cruelty, made him into a vampire and sealed half of himself away. And now she was offering the Father she kept from him to make up for killing Hayley taking and torturing his brother, going after his daughter.

The best parts of him and Esther had targeted them and she thought the gift of a long briefed longed for daydream would make up for it.

“His return changes nothing.” he told her slowly as he stepped closer.

"It changes everything. It is my gift to you, Niklaus. " she started unaware that every word just grew his hatred for her.

A gift? a man he didn't know because of Her to replace his Daughter. Elijah blooded and still, left on the floor, deaf to him, no doubt having under suffered her.

"This offer is your last chance at salvation." his mother-Esther just kept talking, "Reject me now, and you will live out your endless days unloved and alone. Do not refuse me out of some ancient spite--"

"Not spite. Hatred." he interrupted her. "A pure and perfect hatred that's greater now than the day I first took your life!" he snapped his voice raising as he spoke.

–

Elijah managed to open his eyes again back to the stone and chains, muffled words got his attention before Esther's frustrated voice carried itself to him before it was cut off by a thump.

“BECAUSE YOU CAME FOR MY CHILD! MY DAUGHTER! Your own blood!” roared a voice he knew too well.

Niklaus, he tried to speak to find himself voiceless, the word getting stuck in his throat, for a terrified moment he feared the weakness had spread leaving him mute before he realised it was his body struggling to breathe.

“You- don't- understand!” Esther choked out and Elijah allowed himself the pleasure that he wasn’t alone in his struggles even as he noticed his eye lids getting heavier.

“MY. CHILD!” Klaus shouted the words bouncing off stone and Elijah hated that even that volume wasn’t enough to keep him awake.

“Niklaus! I ha-” Esther gasped as she tried to argue but Elijah heard no more as he fell back into the woods before he could get either of their attention.

—

Klaus ignored the pain in his head, tightening his grip around her throat.

“You declared war when you came after my family.” he told her, taking a breath and all he smelt was copper from his nose bleed “And, for that, I will make you suffer as only I can.” he smirked as he listened to her wheeze, “After all, I am my mother's son.” he sneered as he threw her to the ground, barley glance to her struggling to catch her breath before returning to the more important person.

He lifted Elijah careful and left without another look at her.

It’s only as he steps out the crypt that he finally noticed the thing about Elijah’s stillness that had bothered him, Elijah breathing was wrong.

Even in his sleep Elijah’s breathed, unnatural for him and his siblings but it was worse than that, Klaus could feel each hitched breath under his hand, hear his brother’s lungs laboured as they struggled.

He was torn between returning to Esther to demand answers and getting Elijah as far from her as possible.

It was the small movement that made his mind up as Elijah woke for a moment looking at him, his lips shaping his name. Elijah lost consciousness again before either of them managed to say a word.

He bypasses the rest of the compound to arrive in Elijah's room, laying him carefully on his bed.

He leaves his hand on his brother’s head, running figures over his hair and waits on the tiny hope that the change in position would fix his brother’s unnatural breathing.

It doesn’t and he finds himself snarling at his own weakness- uselessness as Elijah sleeps on.

“What's wrong with him?” Hayley asked when she returned to the compound to find Klaus hovering over his brother, still sleeping on the bed, still struggling to breath.

“I don't know.” he admits to her barely looking away from his brother’s chest, the blood stained white chest rising and falling inconsistently “this may be another attempt to force my hand to join her beside my father’s return.” he added

“Mikael?” she asked her hand on his shoulder forcing him to look from Elijah to see her.

“No.” he corrected, she blinked.

“Your- blood father the-” she started slowly.

“Wolf,” he finished for her, the sheer unthinkable foolishness of his mother’s plan bringing a bitter chuckle as he rethought of if, it was either laugh for break something and Elijah would disapproved of the latter, “yes she thought him enough to buy my-”

“Niklaus” a barely there whisper made them both freeze and they spun.

In the blink of an eye, they both of them were by the bed.

“Elijah!” They called in time with each other as they found him awake on the bed. Both gave him space to sit up, but Elijah made no attempt to move; instead he just stared at them, as if even that took too much effort.

What had Esther done? Something shuddered inside Klaus like terror.

—

“Get him.” Elijah wheezed, chest aching with even that much.

“What- Elijah what has mother done to you?” Niklaus demanded, his hand on Elijah's cheek.

“Your father.” he choked, exhaustion swallowing him already, “He knows. help.”

“We will” Hayley promised as her hand curled around his own limp one and wished he had more time, more strength to return that comfort, but he knew he was running out of both so he kept his eye on Niklaus’.

“Link.” He managed before he lost his battle to stay awake, unseen to Elijah, Klaus’ eyes widened.

---

Elijah stumbled over a branch and started running as he found himself in the woods, the lighter sound of his little brother giggles echoing from in front of him.

“You cannot catch me, Elijah!” Niklaus shouts young and bright.

Elijah feels like he had forgotten something.

#whumptober2024 #No.27 #Voiceless #the originals #fic #elijah mikealson #fanfiction #the vampire diaries #tvd fanfiction #the originals au #the vampire dairies au #tvd #esther mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #AU - Freedom in Fur

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