#so he found a village in need of a priest and started drinking to forget | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-lady-writes-what · 4 years ago

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21. Hizashi Yamada and Shouta Aizawa

Theme: Fox spirits/gods

Kinks: Threesome, double penetration, biting, marking, praise kink, oral (receiving), breeding kink (if you squint), polyamory/polyandry

Sorry this is a little late. My brain was like, I know I said I was going to make these short one-shots but how about we make them bigger?

(The gif has nothing to do with the story, obvi)

Masterlist

You climbed up the many steps leading to the shrine. This was your last resort. The humiliation induced by your vicious ex-boyfriend still left gashes in your heart. Your curse was that you fall in love too quickly and are blind to all faults until it's too late. Your most recent misadventure in love had been so cunning, so cruel that you wasted three years of your life with a man who was, in the words of your best friends, a massive cunt. Manipulative, emotionally abusive, but the cherry on top was the rumor he spread about you having an S.T.D. you'd gotten while cheating on him. Mind you, he was the one with the sexually transmitted disease. You were spared because you hadn't slept with him in recent months. The sting was a deadly blow to your self-confidence and trust in men.

After months of battling depression and anxiety, your aunt suggested a remote village trip and visit this exact shrine. Upon arrival, you were acutely aware of all the women either paired off or visibly pregnant. You noticed this at arrival. It was small at first—a lot of couples paired off, two by two like swans. Then, when you approached the marketplace and asked for directions, you noticed how the shopkeeper was pregnant, along with her sister and sister-in-law. There weren't many single men or single women as far as you could tell. Even a male couple looked happy.

You wanted to burn this town to ashes.

It was insulting, really. You came all this way just to have happiness and love shoved in your face while you, the miserable wretch, were forced to pine. You tried not to scowl as happy couples passed you by. Keeping your eyes focused ahead of you was all you could do to avoid knocking the smiles off their faces. Now, here you were, mounting the steps to a shrine shrouded by pines and red maples. Leaves rustled on the steps, which drew your attention. Fallen leaves littered the stairs and the shrine's sacred grounds, but that seemed awfully unauspicious. Was there no groundskeeper, no shrine maiden, no priest to clear them away? As you reached half-way up the hill, you noticed the smell in the air. Not a bad smell, but it was pervasive all around. The scent invaded your senses. It smelled a lot like jasmine and patchouli. You didn't think much of it and thought it was just someone burning incense at the shrine.

Two masculine figures lounged in the garden. One looked indifferent while the other moped. The latter was blonde; it matched the protruding fox ears on his head and the fluffy, swishing tail patting his thigh. He rested his head on the lap of the former, who appeared much like him except his hair, ears, and tail were black as ink. This one wore an indifferent expression. He looked out into the garden as he made a mental list of all the things he had to do around the shrine. Weeds had encroached where they weren't wanted during the summer and now choked the garden. Fall arrived early this year and made the trees shed their leaves too soon. The steps, as well as the grounds and roof, were covered in maple leaves. The inside needed moping, shining, dusting, and replacing oil lamps. There was still the matter of the hole in the sanctuary's ceiling that needed mending. But was there any human around to do it? No. The last priest died over fifty years ago. Shouta, the black fox, and Hizashi, the blonde fox, had been left alone to answer the whims of pilgrims.

It was almost thankless work. Ensuring happy marriages, love matches, and fertility was hard work when one was forced to clean their own shrine. As long as they were tied to this spot, Hizashi and Shouta had no other choice. The only thing more embarrassing than a shrine-god having to clean up his own shrine was a homeless one.

"I'm starting to miss the old man," said Hizashi. "He was so much fun to drink with. At least he had a sense of humor. Unlike the other fuddy-duddies, they tried to send us."

A few months after the last priest's death, his congregation tried to settle another to take his place. The successor was stern and took his job too seriously for Hizashi's liking. 'He's too dull,' Hizashi used to complain. Shouta wasn't much of a fan either, but it was more due to Hizashi's constant sighs and complaints that drove him to chase the priest away. Shouta ensured that no other settled down for too long. As far as the pair was concerned, the priest who died fifty years ago was their last worthy priest.

"It's so boring and lonely up here. There's no one to play with," Hizashi complained.

Shouta rolled his eyes. Hizashi was in one of his moods again. Boredom took a toll more on him than his 'co-worker' and sometimes lover. It was easy to get bored of making love for fifty-odd years while still working a thankless job. Only occasionally did some old lady or grateful newlywed came to offer incense and drop a donation. Whenever there was money, even a scrap, either Shouta or Hizashi would venture down the hill to mingle with the humans for a little bit. Men or women often flirted with them, but they couldn't decide on a partner they could both enjoy. Instead, everyone was declined.

"Maybe we could call up Nemuri and see what she's up to?" Hizashi suggested.

Shouta gave a flat answer. "No."

Hizashi pouted and went back to his pouting.

"You're no fun," said Hizashi.

"I know." Shouta petted Hizashi's ears to placate him.

Suddenly, a shudder rippled through both of them. They looked at one another. A smile quickly spread across Hizashi's face.

"We have a visitor!" He jumped up at once and dusted himself off.

"We have visitors all the time," said Shouta, but this was a lie. Visitors became fewer after the summer once pilgrims got their desire.

"But did you feel that, Shouta? A poor, miserable, broken-hearted young woman just crossed the path of our statues, and she's heading this way. Don't you feel it? Oh, the poor dear?"

The shrine-gods knew the hearts of all those who entered. It was their specialty to work in all the matters of the heart and the bedroom. Sniffing out broken hearts was a talent they both shared, but Hizashi was the more sensitive one. A fractured heart held an aura that most humans couldn't detect by sensing it alone. Sometimes it was a trifling matter. This time, however, Hizashi felt far more significant pain. Betrayal called out to him like a widow. He hadn't even seen the woman's face but could smell her despair, hate, and ache from miles away. She needed help.

Shouta felt it too. He pitied the human and wondered what brought her to that state. His curiosity was peaked, which didn't happen very often, if at all. Her presence was a sad one, and it threatened to taint the whole shrine with her negativity. Negativity drew hungry ghosts and pesky imps like moths to a flame. All of that meant more work for him. Aside from wanting to protect what little dignity his shrine had left, it was his duty to help this miserable wretch.

"Can we introduce ourselves, Shouta?" Hizashi's bright green eyes twinkled with mischief, hope, and something else Shouta could not easily define.

Shouta weighed the pros and cons in his head. By the time he came to a decision, he could hear the woman walking into the courtyard. Her voice was carried on the autumn wind. She was curious too, likely wondering why a shrine was seemingly left abandoned and in disarray. It would be rude to let her go forlorn after a trek up the hill.

You passed under the second torii gates and a second pair of fox statues. There were no lion-dogs as you saw in most other shrines, but this one had a strong love for foxes apparently. You looked at the water in the pavilion used for ceremonial purification. You cringed at the slightly brackish water and used very little to purify your hands. As soon as you got to the nearest restroom, you were going to scrub your hands raw. Walking down the narrow path leading to the inner sanctuary, you kept noticing very odd things. The shrine was in massive disrepair with cracks, debris, and brackish water. It wasn't a complete eyesore, but something did not feel right. There was not a soul you could find; loneliness pervaded every inch of the place. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked on. You found the spot where wishers and pilgrims wrote their prayers on wooden plaques to hang them up. While there were plenty of rustling in the wind, they weren't very many. You scrawled your desire for a loving partner, happiness, and to forget the man who wounded you so deeply.

You hung the plaque alongside the three dozen blowing in the wind. You went further ahead to pay your respect at the small public shrines built on the side of the shrine's complex. There were only two buildings. One foot across, seven feet long, and six feet tall, they were impressively big for small shrines. These were the only buildings uncovered by leaves and pines branches. You marveled briefly at their pristine appearance. In your bag, you brought along the incense your aunt prescribed. You retrieved two sticks of carnation incense and dipped the stick end in the bowl of sand. You lit the incense, clapped your hands twice, and said a prayer. You did this twice at both shrines.

You turned your back to face going all the way down the hill again when you spotted something at the corner of your eye. At first, it seemed like your mind was playing tricks on you. Out of the corner, you thought you saw a ball of glowing blue light flicker in the window of the main shrine. The main shrine was off to limits to everyone but the priests and shrine maidens. This was where the kami, the god, was housed and worshipped by the clergy. You turned to see if what you saw had really been there. Another flash of blue flickered in the window and then another. You swallowed hard, but curiosity pinched at you. You wanted to know. With a quick glance around, you wandered over to the main shrine.

You cut over the grass and walked into the oratory. There were no voices or footsteps other than your own. You called out to anyone who would be listening, yet no one answer was given. Your voice carried down the halls. However, just because no one answered, it didn't exclude the idea altogether that no one listened. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you drew closer to what you assumed was the forbidden connecting hall that led into the inner sanctuary, which was supposed to be off-limits to the public. As far as you could tell, no one was around to stop you or tell you no.

You took a deep breath and crossed the threshold. Your heart pounded inside your chest. The halls were so dark you had to grope around just to find a wall. You tried to turn around and head out only to get yourself more lost. It was as if you were stuck in a maze. Every direction looked the same, and turning around seemed to make matters worse.

In desperation, you called out, "Hello?"

Still no answer. You trekked further in the hopes of running into someone, anyone, and get them to show you the way out. You hoped that they had a flashlight on hand. You would barely make out your hand in front of your face if you held it up.

Another flash of blue had you whirling on your face. You whipped your head in that direction. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt a pair of eyes bore a hole into the back of your head. It didn't feel like something glaring at you, but the sensation frightened you nevertheless. You took off in the direction of the blue flash. Yet another appeared up ahead, further along than the previous. You started running after it. More appeared, and each grew more distinct in shape and color than the last. You managed to get close enough to hear the hiss and flicker of its fire. You stared at a ball of blue flames with its tongue licking the air. It disappeared into nothingness and reappear off in a different direction.

You found it hovering in front of a set of shoji doors. It disappeared once more. Lights flickered behind the rice paper. You pried your fingers against the seams and pushed the door open. Lamps lined the walls. They burned with pale blue and white flames behind their screens. You approached with caution and gripped your bag straps tight.

Wooden floors creaked beneath your feet. You mentally cursed yourself for dragging your shoes inside the holy place, but the longer you glanced around the room, the more it seemed that this was not an ordinary shrine. The room had a lower portion accessible by three steps, and a red mat covered much of the space. A shrine rested on the floor on the other side. In each of the four corners was a vase that held carnation flowers. Somehow, all the flowers were in perfect condition and thrived in the forgotten space. You stepped carefully towards the shrine when you felt something behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. Not something, but someone and just a someone but someones. It wasn't the fact that you finally met another person at the shrine or that they were men that gave you alarm. It was the ears sticking out on top of their heads, the tails swishing back and forth behind them, and the regal manner in which they bore themselves. The one in a black yukata folded his arms across his chest and looked quite serious, probably because you were trespassing. The other man wore a red yukata, but he appeared far more friendly than his companion. He smiled broadly at you as if you hadn't just broken one of the most sacred, unspoken rules about behavior at a shrine. You swallowed hard and bowed from the waist.

"I am so sorry for intruding, sirs. I-I didn't mean to intrude…I got lost and couldn't find my way out. I'll leave immediately if you just show me the way. I promise I'll never come back and disturb another shrine so long as I live!"

"Easy there, little sparrow. No need to get riled up," said the friendlier one.

Slowly, you raised yourself up. You looked at them again, still bewildered by their ears and tail. They were either the strangest priests you were likely to ever come across, or they were—

"What business do you have here?" Asked the more somber fellow.

"I-I" You choked on your words. "I had a boyfriend who did rotten things to me. I was hoping to, to, um, to…" Your voice trailed off.

You were too distracted by the fox ears on their heads. They looked too real to be fake, but how was that possible?

The blonde one snapped his fingers.

"My eyes are down here, love," he chuckled.

Your cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Please, if you could just tell me how to get out of here, I'll leave you alone."

Your first instinct would be to bolt for the door. When you glanced behind them, the doors had been shut when you remember having left them open. Were these demons standing in front of you? Is that why the shrine seemed so empty?

"Leaving so soon? But you haven't even heard our proposal yet?" Said the blonde.

Your brows furrowed. "P-Proposal?"

The black-haired fox-eared man slipped something out of his yukata sleeve. It was your wood plaque you left hanging outside. His ebony eyes gleaned over your wish and read it aloud.

"I don't know who will answer this, but I want to find true love, a life partner who will never stick a knife in me and twist. A man, or frankly anyone who will love and care for me. Please bring me happiness and make me forget about the man who abused me for three years. Is this your wish, Y/N?"

Your face drained of color. "How do you know my name?"

"We have our methods. I'm Hizashi. The dour one is Shouta. It's lovely to meet you."

"W-what are you?" You ventured to ask.

"We're the shrine gods. It's been lonely up here for a while now. The priests haven't been to our liking for the last fifty years, so we're forced to take care of the place ourselves, which is rather insulting if you think about it," said Hizashi.

"And…what are you the gods of?"

"Love, fertility, happy marriages, love-matches, all that fun stuff," answered Hizashi.

"Are you the reason why every other woman I met in town is pregnant?"

Hizashi answered, "Of course. We've been blessing this region with successful pregnancies for centuries. There hasn't been but a handful of miscarriages in all these years thanks to us."

"We're not the cause of the pregnancies if that's what that face is for, Y/N. We just ensure that the infant comes to term and reduce sterility in men and women," said Shouta, who had apparently been studying your face very closely.

Your blush darkened.

"Otherwise, this town would be full of half-fox spirits roaming around, wouldn't it?" Hizashi laughed.

"Okay…" You thought for a moment about what you were going to say next. This was all too surreal, but this was better than feeling miserable. "But what do you want from me?"

Hizashi and Shouta exchanged looks. A soft smile crept upon Shouta's face.

"We'll grant you your wish. On a few conditions," Shouta began. "As you can tell, our shrine is in dire need of—what do you humans call it nowadays? T.L.C.?"

"Tender love and care?" You said.

"Yes. That. Our shrine has been in disrepair for some time, but as much as the villagers enjoy making offerings, they aren't too keen on cleaning it. As you can imagine, it's rather embarrassing cleaning up your own shrine," Shouta continued.

"So, what you're saying is that you'll get me a decent boyfriend if I clean your house?"

"We can do better than, little sparrow," said Hizashi.

You felt his eyes wander your body. You couldn't help but shiver. Out of fear or anticipation, you couldn't tell at this point. You might have been hallucinating for all you knew.

"How would you like to be the wife of a god?" Hizashi laughed again. "Or two?"

"W-Wife? I just wanted a boyfriend who loved me. I don't remember asking for polyandry. Besides, why would you tie yourselves to someone human and mortal."

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," said Hizashi.

"What do you say? Help us repair the shrine, and you'll have something better than a boyfriend. It sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?" Asked Shouta.

"Yeah," you said incredulously. "A little too good to be true. What's the catch?"

"You would have to live here and 'maintain' the shrine's cleanliness and reputation. We could get someone to teach you to perform the kagura dance. Learn a few things that would make you useful around the shrine and to the villagers. A shrine maiden, for all intents and purposes."

That did even things out. You weren't tied to your apartment, especially since it still had the ghosts of your past boyfriends lingering in there. You didn't go to college, and you hated your job. Becoming basically a shrine maiden and marry a pair of fox-gods seemed like a step-up from your hum-drum life.

"Hypothetically, if I agreed to all that, how would we go about making it official? Are we to have a big wedding? Does Ōkuninushi* have to be involved? Is there supposed to be a ceremony we have to follow?" The questions tumbled out of your mouth one by one in your unusual state of mind.

"So many questions. To answer all of them in one go, here it is. All you have to do is enjoy yourself," said Hizashi.

Before you could ask what he meant, Hizashi closed the gap between you. His mouth was suddenly on yours, and his hands settled on your backpack's straps. Your load was unburdened by your shoulders. Hizashi's hands ran through your hair, holding your head hostage. You heard Shouta's footsteps come along beside you. He worked your shoes off your feet and your socks as well. When he arose, Shouta's hands found your waist. He snatched your head away from Hizashi to kiss you himself. From there on out, it was a frenzy of hands, mouths, and tongues teasing you.

The first thing to go was clothes. Hizashi and Shouta worked together to get rid of the annoying layers that kept them from feeling up more of your skin. Your autumn outfit suited the chilly weather outside but was ill-fitted for their current needs. Their hands peeled off each layer of clothing until you wore nothing but your bra and panties. Somewhere between removing each item of clothing, one of them summoned an extra-large tatami mat out of thin air. You landed softly on the sleeping mat, cradled between them. Their kimonos were disposed of in the same manner as your modern clothes, with one exception. They were both utterly naked underneath their yukatas. Your blush spread down to the top of your chest at the mere sight of their hardening members.

"You look so pretty blushing like that, Y/N," said Hizashi.

He took his place between your legs. Hizashi playfully snapped the hem of your panties. He seemed to enjoy your small yelp as the elastic snapped against your skin. Shouta sat on his knees and pulled your back flush against his chest. He unclipped your bra and tossed it aside. Hizashi pulled at your underwear until the fabric tore. You opened your mouth in protest, but all the words stopped in your throat to make room for the moan. Shouta palmed your breasts and tweaked your nipples into stiff peaks. Your ruined panties were forgotten as soon as Hizashi settled one of your legs over his shoulder, and he ran his long tongue along your slit.

"It's been a while since we've laid with a woman. You'll have to forgive us if we're a bit rusty," said Hizashi.

Hizashi ran his tongue along your slit again and hummed at your taste. His tongue dove between your folds and pinched your clit. Meanwhile, Shouta kept at his administrations to your chest and kissing your shoulders. You arched your back when you felt the tiniest pinprick of sharp teeth graze your skin. Shouta smirked at you and gave you a nice look at the fangs he had. Hizashi had the same situation going on. You could feel his teeth carefully caress your sensitive bits.

"Do you like my teeth, Y/N?" Asked Shouta.

You bit your lower lip and nodded.

"Then you're really going to like this." Shouta lowered his head to the spot where your neck met your shoulders.

He bit down, but not hard enough to draw blood. His hands continued to tease you while his mouth and teeth left dozens of love bites all over your neck. Hizashi pulled his head up from between your legs. He watched for a moment how your face twisted in ecstasy as Shouta marked your lovely skin. It didn't take long for the idea to get in his head that he should do the same. Hizashi brought his teeth against your inner thigh and nipped. He repeated the process over and over until both of your legs bore his teeth marks and hickies. You squirmed for them. Heat traveled in two directions, to your head and your lower belly. Hizashi resumed his task of fucking you with his tongue and added two fingers to help him in this endeavor. Soft squelches from you gushing over him was enough to make you never want to leave.

"You're so pliable, and your breasts are breathtaking," Shouta sighed next to your skin. "Are you about to cum, Y/N?"

You bucked your hips to the rhythm of Hizashi eating you out. Slowly, you nodded. Your fingers clutched Hizashi's head, mindful of his ears.

"Then," Shouta whispered the next part in your ear. "Cum."

Hizashi worked faster, pumping and licking your cunt. You grabbed for Shouta as pleasure ripped down your spine. Hizashi and Shouta shoved you face-first down the precipice. Your walls clenched tight around Hizashi's fingers and tongue while your jaws hung open. No one else could make you moan as loud as you did. And likely, nobody else ever will.

When Hizashi came up for air, his mouth and chin were drenched your essence. He leaned up, but instead of kissing you, he planted his lips on Shouta's. In turn, Shouta licked Hizashi's mouth to get a taste of you for himself while he was at. Shouta reached down and played with your clit while making-out with Hizashi briefly. You felt their members stand proudly against your body, and your inner walls clenched at the thought of one or both filling you to the brim.

Shouta and Hizashi kissed one more time. Hizashi peeled you off of Shouta just long enough for the latter to stretch out on his back. You were turned around. Shouta gestured with a 'come-hither' crook of his finger, and you crawled towards him. His hands grabbed your hips, made you straddle him, and pressed the blunt head of his cock against your slippery, wet cunt.

"Are you ready?" He asked. It was child's play holding you up like that with his cock more than ready to impale you.

You nodded your head. Shouta slowly, carefully pulled you down on his cock. It stretched you open again. You sank down on him until you were fully seated. You tried not to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. Shouta then grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down. Hizashi was right behind you, fisting his cock. He wasn't as big, but he was just as long. Hizashi placed his other hand on the small of your back. You felt his cock probe the area where Shouta was already preoccupied. Something clicked in your head. Shouta grabbed and clutched your hands. Beads of sweat ran down the side of your face while Hizashi brushed his cuck against your cunt.

"Look at me," said Shouta. "Look at me. You're going to be fine. We'll make you feel so good."

"So very good," Hizashi cooed.

You tightened your grip on Shouta's hands. You stared at his face as Hizashi pushed forward, stuffing you close to the point of damage. You were well-lubed up to take both of them, but in practice, this was your first time having two men fill you at the same time. Inch by careful inch, Hizashi pushed into your cunt. When he was fully seated, he let out a long sigh.

"I can feel both of you against, and it feels so good." Hizashi shuddered.

"Can you move?" Shouta asked Hizashi.

"Give me a minute."

You were given a few minutes reprieve, and in that time, you felt your lower belly swell. You felt them stretch you to impossible measures. Though tears stained your cheeks, you never felt more pleasure. The mixture of both pleasure and pain blurred the lines. It wasn't long before you were being pushed and pulled in either direction, their cocks fucking you deep.

Wet skin slapped against skin. The men you were sandwiched between grunted and moaned your praises at your ability to take them both so deep. There weren't any words you could say with any cohesion. Words became meaningless when being fucked into oblivion. Hizashi and Shouta worked in tandem. When one pulled out, the other plowed right in. Both cocks kissed your cervix as they drove themselves, and each other, wildly into your cunt. You felt fluids rush between your legs that mingled with your sweat. You squeezed Shouta's hands and buried your face in his chest.

Higher, higher, and higher still, you were flying. You bit Shouta's chest as their cocks thrust in and out. Your brain turned into mush at this point. All you cared about was getting fucked on their cocks forever. Little else mattered beyond that.

"I'm close," said Shouta.

"M-Me too," said Hizashi.

"Then let's finish it."

Without another word, they started to drive faster than before, and you thought it was impossible. Shouta returned your bruising grip and rammed upwards to meet Hizashi's downward thrust. They both moved quickly and headed towards coming undone inside you. You felt it too. Your walls spasmed and fluttered around both their cocks, though the stretch made it hard to tell. They shifted into an erratic pace rather than a smooth move. Their cocks drove harder into your cunt. Animalistic grunts filled the room as both Shouta and Hizashi slammed home. You screamed your climax just at the same time they did. You kept screaming while ropes of cum warmed your belly. You were moaning into Shouta's chest as you felt buckets of their seed filled your womb. There was nothing for you to wonder about why they were the gods of fertility and pregnancy.

Hizashi pulled all the out first. He massaged your shoulders while Shouta lifted your hips off him. Hizashi's long fingers dabbed some of the cum dripping down your thighs and pushed it back inside your weeping pussy.

"You gotta keep it in, ya, little sparrow. You want to be a good wife to your husbands, don't you?" Hizashi cooed.

*Ōkuninushi- mentioned in both the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki as the god of nation-building, agriculture, business, medicine, love, marriage, and fortune

#kinktober #kinktober week #my hero academia fanfiction #kinktober my hero academia edition #reader fic #hizashi yamada #present mic #presentation michael #present mic x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #erasermic #erasermic x reader #poly #I'm also sorry it's ridiculously long

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juliandev0rak · 3 years ago

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Willa Clary 🌿

the creative magician with a shadowy past

Introducing…

Full name: Willa Clary

Meaning:

Willa means “resolute protection” and “will, desire”

Clary is a family name running back many generations, it originally relates to the word “clerk” or “cleric”

Gender: female, she/ her

Birthday: May 3rd

Age (start of story): 27

Orientation: bisexual

Magic: manipulation, telepathy, animal communication/ zoolingualism, clairvoyance, psychometry, potion making

Occupation: magical apothecary owner, farmer, artist

Familiar: Mira, a field mouse

Love interest: Muriel

Shippable?: shippable!

Theme song: Thistle & Weeds- Mumford & Sons

full playlist

— ALIGNMENTS —

Zodiac signs:

Sun: Taurus

Moon: Cancer

Rising: Pisces

MBTI: ISFP

Element: earth

Major Arcana: Strength

UPRIGHT: strength, courage, persuasion, influence, compassion

REVERSED: inner strength, self-doubt, low energy, raw emotion

Minor Arcana: the Queen of Cups

UPRIGHT: compassionate, caring, emotionally stable, intuitive, in flow

REVERSED: inner feelings, self-care, self-love, codependency

Magic:

— Telepathy: Willa can communicate her thoughts to others through her mind, and she can hear other’s thoughts in return. However, she can’t read minds and hears only what the other person wishes to communicate to her. This power works best with people she is close to and only within a near range

— Manipulation: Willa is able to force others to follow her commands, only those with strong magical abilities can block or avoid her control. She can either place a thought in someone’s mind or verbally communicate her wishes. This is not a power she chooses to use anymore, but it sometimes occurs accidentally in moments of strong emotion

— Zoolingualism: She can communicate with and understand animals of all kinds, both through verbal and telepathic communication. She has some difficulty understanding aquatic animals, and is best at communicating with animals she has a close bond with

— Clairvoyance and Psychometry: Willa has high sensory perception and is able to detect things about people’s pasts and futures by touching them or through psychometry: touching objects owned by those people. These powers only work with people she is close to, and not with any regularity. She also gets flashes of her own future, but she has no way to divine the past or future on her own— the images come to her as if by chance

— Potions: She works at an apothecary and makes potions to heal a variety of physical and mental ailments. She grows her own herbs and plants for these potions, and while she is not adept at using her magic to physically heal wounds, her healing potions are renowned for their potency

Other abilities: Willa is an accomplished artist and loves to paint scenes of nature as well as portraits of her loved ones, she also knits and sews and makes most of her own clothing, she can sing well and is an excellent cook, she has a green thumb and enjoys gardening and cultivating plants

— PERSONALITY & PREFERENCES —

Personality:

Willa is often outgoing and cheerful, and nearly always has a smile on her face. She loves to make new friends and has no trouble interacting with strangers or crowds. She was very shy and withdrawn as a child, but as she grew older Willa grew into her confidence and enjoys being around others. However, she is an introvert at heart and prefers to surround herself with a smaller inner circle and needs frequent alone time to recharge.

Willa is kind and gentle, seeking to help others whenever she can. She seeks harmony and often finds herself as a peacemaker in times of conflict. Willa cares deeply about those she loves and is loyal nearly to a fault. She can be very stubborn, and when she’s decided on an opinion of someone it is difficult for her to change it. She likes to be right, and she likes doing things her own way. Willa can be a bit particular, but it comes down to her stubborn belief that her way is the best way. She likes to help others, and can sometimes help too much and risk suffocating or being clingy with her loved ones.

While she has a wide assortment of acquaintances, her inner circle of close friends and family are her focus and she is always willing to drop anything to help them. Though she loves to help others, Willa is very independent and does not like to rely on others. She can be impulsive and loves to try new things, often jumping from one hobby to another without finishing previous projects. Willa can also be a bit impatient, but has learned that good things come to those who wait.

Mental health: Willa faced traumatic events in her childhood and she suffers from nightmares and occasional panic attacks as a result

Likes: soft yarn, fresh bread, cold mornings, sunny afternoons, empty canvases, swimming

Dislikes: greed, eating meat, wearing her glasses, shadows

Fears: hurting a loved one, being trapped (physically or emotionally)

Quirks: she nearly always has dirt or paint under her fingernails and on her clothes, she needs glasses to help her with reading but frequently misplaces them and hardly ever wears them

Favorite food: strawberry scones

Favorite drink: hot cocoa

Favorite flower: daisies

Favorite color: sage green

Most likely to: paint on the walls

— APPEARANCE —

Height: 5′1 / 155 cm

Eyes: very light blue-grey

Hair: light red / strawberry blonde, wavy, shoulder length and usually half pulled back from her face in a bun or a little pony tail

Other: fair skin with many freckles, lots of calluses on her hands from her work

Color theme: sage green, mustard yellow, brown, cream, pink

Fashion sense: Willa likes to be comfortable and wears mainly knit items she’s made herself. She wears lots of sweaters and skirts as well as floral dresses and occasionally overalls if she's gardening or working. She prefers light, warm toned colors and makes most of her own clothing. Her favorite clothing item is knit socks and she loves to create intricate patterns of flowers or even animals when she knits them. She wears comfortable boots during the day, and has a pair of yellow rubber boots for when she’s out in the garden.

— FAMILY & BACKGROUND —

Family:

Torin Clary - father - alive | relationship: strained

Una Clary - mother - alive | relationship: strained, nearly nonexistent

Finnegan Clary - older brother - alive | relationship: very close

Eoghan Clary - younger brother - alive | relationship: close

Fiadh Clary - great aunt - alive | relationship: close

History:

Hidden on the cliffs of the Rosmare sea lies a small village called Armara. Under a near constant deluge of rain, a small community thrives on farming and fishing. Willa’s family has always lived in Armara, and they always will. The family farm goes back through many generations and it has always been expected that Willa will be there to see it through the next.

Born to Torin and Una Clary, Willa is the middle child of three and the only daughter. When she was little, her older brother Finnegan was her best friend and she spent her days following him around the farm and learning how to take care of the animals. At three years old Willa told her mother that the sheep could talk, and her mother laughed— thinking it was simply childish imagination. But Willa insisted, the sheep really could talk, and so could the cows and the pigs and even the birds who nest in the trees. Her mother often found her talking to the farm animals, seemingly carrying on full conversations. As she got older, her parents tried to break her from this “childish fantasy”, it wasn’t real and there was no place for fantasy in Armara.

When she was six, Willa’s younger brother Eoghan was born. From birth he was perfect, everything their parents had hoped for in a child. He was kind, quiet, and more than content to do farm work and listen to his parents unlike his older siblings. Finnegan had always been a dreamer, never content to stay in one place or live the simple life laid out for him. He spent his time writing poetry and music, and dreaming of going somewhere —anywhere — other than Armara. Willa took after Finnegan, and she spent most of her childhood longing to be somewhere else.

Willa found this escape in her dreams, which were vivid and even frightening at times. She often had dreams about a city, a place she’d never seen in real life. In her dreams Willa was an adult, grown up and able to do strange things, magical things. She tried to copy the magic when she was awake, lifting leaves without touching them, changing the color of her hair to whatever she wanted, and she found that the powers she had in her dreams were real. Willa showed her parents her newly found powers but instead of being excited, they were terrified.

Generations before Willa was born, Armara had been a place steeped in magic. People worshiped the old gods, they used magic freely and passed it on to others, they lived at peace with nature and with the spiritual forces of the land around them. But over time the old gods faded away in favor of a new one and magic was branded as witchcraft, wickedness, evil. Those who practiced it weren’t welcome in the village, and by the time Willa was born Armara had become a deeply superstitious place. The name “witch” was given to anyone different, and the only way to thrive in Armara was to fit in.

So Willa was told to hide her magic, to never show it to anyone and to forget she had ever had it. She spent every Sunday morning at the old stone church with the rest of the village listening to a priest talk about the horrible fate that would befall anyone who chose to practice witchcraft. Aside from attending church, Willa’s parents tried to keep her away from others, always afraid she’d slip up and reveal her powers to someone else.

Inevitably, one of her neighbors spotted Willa practicing magic behind the barn, and the whole village was caught up in the panic. Her parents were told to send her away, out of Armara to somewhere she could be “safe” and learn to repent from her wicked ways. Her parents refused, but Willa was ostracized and forced to stay away from the others. She was no longer allowed to play with any of the other village children lest her evil was contagious. Willa was a witch, and witches didn’t belong in Armara.

Despite her relative isolation, Armara was a beautiful place to grow up. Willa had her animal friends and her brothers, and she made her first real friend when she was 9, a girl named Isolde. Her parents didn’t understand her and the village hated her, but she continued to study her magic in private, learning the bounds of her abilities. She continued to have dreams about the city, and she often asked her parents if she could someday travel to find this city. Every time they forbid her from leaving— Armara was her home, she had a duty to the family and the land. Willa felt trapped, she wasn’t accepted in Armara but she couldn’t leave.

One night under the light of a full moon, Willa went into the woods after dark, something she had been warned against since childhood. The people of Armara did not believe in the old gods anymore, but they still feared their power which was said to be strongest in the woods. The villagers did not worship the old gods, but that night Willa did. She prayed to the spirits of the wind and the trees, she dipped her toes in the freezing cold stream and prayed to the spirits of water, but no one answered. Finally in desperation she began to pray to the shadows, the very darkness around her, and she got an answer.

“What is it you want?” the shadows asked.

“Nobody ever listens to me!” Willa cried, “I want a way out of here.”

The deal was struck, though Willa did not know then how dearly she would pay for her new found power. When she returned home she found that suddenly, everyone listened to her. She asked for something and found three hands holding it out for her, she told her mother she wanted to go into town and, for once, was allowed to go. Her wish was everyone’s command and at first the power was intoxicating. But one day, she found that the unlimited power she’d been given could have grave consequences.

Willa had an argument with her younger brother Eoghan, a simple sibling squabble over whose turn it was to do a chore. She generally got along with her brothers, they were among the only people in Armara who didn’t look at her in fear or derision, but Eoghan was mad. He called Willa a witch, a term only those who hated her used. Willa was angry and hurt, and when she shouted, “You shut your mouth Eoghan Clary!” she didn’t expect her magic to take over. Willa watched in horror as Eoghan’s mouth snapped shut, his lips pulling together like they’d been sewn closed. She tried everything to fix it, commanding him to open his mouth, telling him to speak, but the magic stuck.

As the days went by with no change, her family panicked. Eoghan’s mouth was still stuck shut and it was only a matter of time before he died of thirst or hunger. So Willa went back to the woods at night to beg for the shadows help once more. She didn’t want this power anymore, she only wanted her brother.

“What will you give?” the shadows asked.

“Anything.”

When she returned home Eoghan’s curse had been lifted, but she found her parents even more furious than before. Eoghan had nearly lost his life as a result of her magic, so it was decided that Willa must be sent away. She had wanted out of Armara, but when faced with the prospect of leaving her family behind, Willa was terrified. She begged them to stay, but she had lost her power of manipulation and her parents were resolute.

The next morning, Willa went to pay her friend Isolde a visit before she left. When she knocked on the door, Isolde’s grandfather opened it, his tear-streaked face shocking Willa. She learned that her friend had died suddenly the night before, healthy and alive one moment and gone the next. Though there was no proof, Willa knew her deal had caused this. A life for a life, Eoghan had been saved in exchange for Isolde’s life.

The next day, on her 15th birthday, Willa’s parents sent her off to a city called Vesuvia to live with her Great Aunt Fiadh. Fiadh was her grandmother’s sister and many years earlier she’d been sent away by her own family under similar conditions. Witches were not allowed in Armara, but it seems they were welcomed with open arms in Vesuvia. When she arrived in the city, Willa realized that this was the place she’d been dreaming of for so long. She loved Vesuvia, she finally had a chance to practice her magic in a place where people accepted her.

Willa flourished in the city, though she missed the nature that had surrounded her at home and the family she’d had to leave behind. Away from Armara, she began to heal, and though the guilt of what happened with Isolde didn’t go away, it was easier to deal with in a new place. She met a new friend, a magician named Asra, and began to learn how to control her powers. When the plague came to Vesuvia, she knew she needed to help as many people as she could. Willa still felt as if she had sins to atone for, and she couldn’t ignore the suffering around her even as Asra and her Great Aunt Fiadh begged her to leave the city.

When Willa contracted the plague and passed away, Fiadh ventured back to Armara to share the terrible news. Finnegan travelled back to Vesuvia with her and they held a proper funeral and mourned Willa together. He decided to stay in Vesuvia with his great aunt, and when Willa was miraculously brought back to life, Finnegan was there to help her recover.

As she got her memories back, Willa remembered the deal she’d made and the terrible price she’d paid to obtain power. She never forgave herself for what happened, and vowed to never use her powers again. But over time, and with the help of her friends and family, Willa began to move on and learn to control her powers again instead of running from them.

Post-canon, Willa still runs the apothecary shop with her Great Aunt Fiadh, but she spends most of her time out at her farm in the forest. She’s done enough world-saving for one lifetime, and enjoys a quiet life of creativity and spending time with her loved ones. Though her life is mostly peaceful, Willa still finds herself wary of the woods at night and she sometimes feels as if the shadows are watching her.

Five facts:

Willa uses her magic to enchant her knitting with protection and warmth charms

she carries her sketchbook with her everywhere and often stops to draw a passing stranger or a pretty flower in inspiration strikes

she’s a vegetarian

she’s left handed, which was seen as a bad omen in her hometown, her mother tried to train her to use her right hand but she refused to change

Willa knits sweaters and hats for the animals she cares for, and she lets them pick out the yarn

notes: my sweet flower gal :’) i love her

thank you as always to @leila-of-ravens for the bio template and to all of my lovely mutuals who have loved Willa along with me 💗

#willa my dearest darlingist girl #🐭🌼🍓#willa wednesday #my cottagecore pinterest board has been Thriving because of her #she's fantasy irish and fantasy catholic #in case that wasn't clear lol #her bio started getting so long but i decided to just leave it all in so y'all are welcome lol #might fuck around and make a deal with eldritch spirits in the woods #willa: fucks around willa: finds out #apprentice willa #willa clary #finnegan clary #eoghan clary #i want to make an Armara lore post sometime in the future bc i had a lot of fun thinking about the village #i also want to write the full fic about her deal 👀 someday..

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

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...& Steel for Humans (Geralt x fem!Witchress, Part 2.)

Series description: The Butcher of Blaviken has a long and famous past, thanks to his friend Jaskier. Yet, neither of those dies easily and it still lurks behind Geralt like a shadow after all those years. History, neither unfriendly relationships, doesn't die easily.

Part summary: After a talk with your old friend, there is one thing - a contract which is supposed to keep you rich for at least other ten years. But there are things you are not going to like about is.

A/N: Honestly, Dijsktra is one of my favourite in-game characters and I sincerely hope that he will make an appearence in the Netflix series. That mf is so fun honestly.

Tagging: (tell me and I will add you :)) @osgon-azure @davnwillcome

Word count: 2.1 K

Master list: H E R E

To your good luck, Dijkstra was very clear with the place of his staying - that fat rat was hiding at the Novigradian Bathhouse. You never held anything against Dijkstra - he was being a dick? You told him. That man knew famous non-humans like Geralt and even legends upon men, like Vernon Roche or the Redenian King Radovid. And he didn't hesitate to shove those connections into other people's faces. And you were one of them at that point.

So naturally, it didn't mean anything good when Dijkstra not only contacted you but knew where you were staying at the time. Novigrad was just three days of a slow ride on your horse and you didn't have anywhere to rush. Dijkstra only informed you, very kindly you must've said, that he would like to speak to you once you reach the city walls. It was for an important matter of saving lives or what.

Yeah, you weren't over your heels because of his demand. But you stopped in front of the famous bathhouse two days after the whole werewolf situation with a cape in your face. It wouldn't be exactly clever to walk around one of the biggest cities of the Northern Kingdoms just showing your face to everyone around you. Novigrad was looking just as you remembered it - it was dirty, it stank, beggars were on every corner and elf prostitutes only. That was the thing you didn't like on Novigrad. You had to be either a demon of a shapeshifter to cover that you're a non-human or you had to be a prostitute to be a non-human living in this city.

The cult of Eternal Flame was going nuts there. One of the priests even noticed that cats were hissing at you and that dogs ran away when your warhorse was driving through the streets and tried to verbally insult you and on top of that, he was calling you a heretic and a sinner. Instead of pinning him to a wall with your sword as a warning, you scoffed at his words and continued to Passiflora where you turned left. Not too long after that, you were standing in front of the bathhouse.

A bald man took your house, saying his name is Happen, and lead it to the nearby stable so the people there would take care of the poor animal. It needed some proper rest and some clear water, you couldn't deny that you weren't able to give your horse this kind of comfort on your travels.

To be honest, from the first moment you stepped in, you knew that the bathhouse stank. You hated those lingering, sweet smells that usually settled on the tip of your nose. Bathhouses usually used these scents because the humans found it more relaxing. Yet it was like a catalyzer for your damn nose - that was maybe for the first time in the last years when you sneezed. And it was damn uncomfortable.

Finding Sigismund wasn't exactly challenging - that man couldn't be ignored with the bright colors he tended to wear and with the size of his body. One of his legs also wasn't exactly in the best shape, so the limbing was quite easy to recognize when he was on the moe. At least to witchress's ears, it was unique.

Once you entered his office, you could see him sitting behind a table, going through some papers. You were quiet, so it took him a while to notice a caped person standing in the corner of the room. His face lit up with a smile that wasn't soothing nor comforting; he looked like a dick if you had to be honest.

"It is always a pleasure to see old friends. Have a seat with me, come on." - He said when you took the hood off and your face and white hair could be finally seen. You snorted when you sat down, taking a few grapes without even asking Dijkstra a word. He was quickly pouring you some of the sweet wine he had on the table but both of you knew that your lips won't even touch the drink.

"We aren't friends, Dijkstra. And also, it is never a good sign when you can find me without too much of trying." - A short answer to his greeting could be heard while your eyes scanned the books in his bookcases. Law things, political archives, some of the Novigrad's biggest family chronicles, nothing too extraordinary or interesting. Yet the Gwent packs caught your eye, so you took the Northern Kingdoms deck and started to go through it, looking at the cards with interest.

"Well, it didn't take too much of an effort to figure out that a witcher is in the Mire West currently. People talk and news spread quickly, don't forget about that. Especially quickly when you know who to ask for details." - The man slowly leaned into the chair behind his back while you turned your attention back to him, eating the grapes slowly.

"You torture people, you don't ask for details, Sigismund, don't you try to make me laugh because I am not in the mood for jests. You're just as much of a bitch as I am." - You smiled ironically, being tired of his little welcoming games. - "What is it that you need? Don't tell me that I came all the fucking way to Novigrad from Mire West just to see your fucking handsome face. And lemme tell you, you are fucking ugly."

At that, Sigismund laughed and shook his head. You two couldn't be exactly considered friends since everybody knew that you don't like Sigismund one bit. That wasn't too hard to understand - Sigismund was a spy who couldn't be trusted. But you two couldn't be even called enemies, since most of the time, you both stood at one side of a case - if you ever decided to take a stand in anything political.

"I have a friend in need and I told her that I will try to ask you for a helping hand." - He looked you in the eyes. Sigismund had a job... For a witchress? With that, you rose your eyebrows and furrowed. - "She offers you a ridiculous amount of coin - for searching and killing the source. And also invites you for a damn dance and pays for your stay Novigrad, no matter which inn you'd name." - He told very seriously so you could understand that Dijkstra isn't in a mood for games either.

"Damn. That must be a real matter of life and death if they're putting so much coin into it. What is going on?" - You asked and stole another grape from the small silver plate, putting the deck back on its place. You liked the grapes, they were sweet. Dijkstra surely had to offer them in Passiflora, the whorehouse just a while from Saint Gregory's bridge.

"No-one knows. We only know that whatever the fuck it is, it breaks trees and rocks like small wooden sticks and that it cooks humans for dinner. We dunno much more than what I've told ya." - Dijkstra told you and your face got even sourer than before. This wasn't just some ordinary Vampire, nor a Fiend. - "It lives in the mountains east from Novigrad and the Vegelbuds are rather concerned with it. No matter what in the horse's ass it is, it already massacred two villages."

Again, you pushed yourself more into the plushy chair Dijkstra had offered you. This wasn't a matter you could laugh at. Whether you liked it or not, it was more than fucking serious. Women and children were killed, men could be eaten or stomped to death.

"Bullshit. There ain't no monster who can destroy a whole damn village just because it wants to in Redenia. There ain't one like that on the whole Continent. Before you jump in with Fiends, they are too lazy for any that." - You started slowly and put a strand of your hair behind your ears.

"Dijkstra, honestly, I ain't a dumb bitch. You're the mediator between me and the Veganbrods or what the fuck is their name and I know that you'll have a lot of money from this. But no witcher, squirrel, or human will take this fucking job. This ain't a job. This is suicide." - You said, looking him in the eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, I just love how honest you can be with me. This ain't a one-man job, of course. We already have some... Takers who are gladly willing to accompany you." - Dijkstra said in a solid-sure tone.

"If it's Letho of the Viper school, tell him to fuck off right away. I hope it's not a sorceress either, I can't stand these bitches either. Lambert would be a nice company, tho and I wouldn't mind me an Eskel either." - You said honestly with a small smile. Yeah. You knew how did your witcher brothers work on their contracts, you knew you would get along with them and if there would be anything that would go bad, they would have your back.

You liked Lambert the most of all the witchers you knew - it didn't matter if they were from your school or the Griffin school or the Vipers, you just liked Lambert the most. There were rumors that you and he had some kind of a relationship - whether it had ended up or was going on. And any of that wasn't confirmed either denied by any of you. When people asked you, you both just smiled and changed the subject.

"It's not Lambert, unfortunately, but it is someone you know, which is some good fucking news. And it is someone you don't like, I have to say - one of them sings all the fucking time and the other one is a grumpy moron who had fucked up my leg. But don't think about that. Business is business, darling, it's not about liking someone. It's about money and surviving the fucking trip to the mountains." - Dijkstra looked you right in the eyes. You sat there in silence, watching the man with a dead serious face.

Of course. Of fucking course. Your partner for the trip, who you had to believe with all your will power, the partner who was supposed to be someone you should be able to trust with whole life, that man was supposed to be the white-haired moron. And his possibly gay friend. You looked at Dijkstra, having that daring look on your face.

"I can still say no, you ugly bastard." - You said honestly. At that, the idiot sitting opposite of you started laughing.

"No-one denies your right to deny - only your financial state and the reputation you have around Novigrad and other big cities now. Tell me, Y/N, you and the other witchers have some kind of a competition which should determine who is the worst person of you all?" - Dijkstra asked, having you speechless for a moment. - "Because according to my people, you have the leading position now. The incident with Stjepan got pretty known here over the last few days. And I know you like to keep your honor clean."

"I had never hurt a woman or a child. And that's it." - Was the sentence you said coldly as ice.

"People heard otherwise. Almost dragging the children out of the bed, abducting them so you can bring them to your witcher school as payment and all of that came with your promise of the next generation of witchresses... Oh Y/N, you know that one small rumor can completely ruin your business, huh?" - He leaned in, closer to you, watching your reactions. You hated Sigismund but there was one thing that needed to be said - he was a damn good businessman.

Why did that hiding rat want you to take the contract? You had no idea. But even though you didn't want it for some reason, he knew how to make you take it.

So it was said and done - you were supposed to travel to the mountain alongside Geralt of Rivia and his small musician puppy Julian. But not before a grand ball held at the Vegelbud family residence three hours away from Novigrad. Which, on the other side, you were excited about.

#the witcher #andrzej sapkowski #the world of the witcher #geralt of rivia #witcher lambert #witcher eskel #witcher leo #sigismund dijkstra #sigi reuven #jaskier #geralt of rivia x reader #Geralt of rivia x female! Witchress

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krreader · 6 years ago

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BTS scenario → meeting each other as enemies (the aftermath)

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; various au’s ; language genre: angst ; fluff previous: x

a/n: of course I did, especially because they all had so much potential for an aftermath lol. I hope you all like it!

kim seokjin

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)!” your little sisters ran into your office, you quickly hiding the plans of your next heist.

“What did I tell you about coming in without knocking?!”

“You want to come downstairs. Right now,” the older one said.

But the younger one couldn't hide her excitement, “The prince is here!”

Fuck.

How the hell did he find you?! You had bought a house in another village with the money you had made off the crown, so did he somehow trace it back to you? No, that was impossible. The guy you sold it to had gone on a ship, there was no way the prince or king could have seen him.

Nevertheless, you got up and smoothed over your blouse before following your sisters downstairs, the prince sitting cockily on the couch with his guards standing behind him.

And despite of you having worn a hood, from the smile Jin was showing you he knew damn well who you were.

“Quite a lovely home you have here.. it's not often commoners can afford houses like this.”

“Oh, our sister is very skilled in her profession. She's selling things to merchants you know? Trinkets!” your little sister beamed with excitement and pride.

“Trinkets, hm?” Jin licked his lips and got up from the couch, walking over to you until he was right in front of you. He could see you were nervous but trying to keep it together for your sisters, “I'd like to see those trinkets, if I may.”

If he wanted to arrest you or kill you on the spot it might be best if he didn't do it in front of your sisters. So you gulped down hard and nodded, “Follow me, please. Girls, go outside. I'll be with you in a moment.”

They seemed to hate that, both of them wanting to be around the prince, but one look from you was enough for them to follow your instructions.

“They're two very well behaved girls. You raised them on your own?” Jin asked once you were in your office.

“Our parents died years ago. I tried selling trinkets at first, but..-”

“But crowns make more coin, I understand,” Jin laughed, “Don't be nervous, I'm not here to arrest you. I'm actually here to make a proposal.”

“Of what sort?” you asked, leaning against your desk with your arms crossing in front of your chest.

“Years ago my mother's amulet was stolen,” Jin pulled out a hand drawn picture of it and gave it to you, “According to my people, it was spotted in another kingdom not far from here, on the neck of the youngest princess. My father wants to invade it, but my mother said it would be reckless to invade a kingdom for an amulet, no matter how much it meant to my mother. So I thought we could use another approach..”

You stared at him for a moment then you snorted, “Prince Seokjin.. are you asking me to steal something for you from a princess?”

“We'd be even after that. You do this for me, you'll have my eternal gratitude and that of my entire family. And whatever you or your sisters would need, you'd get.”

It was risky. You didn't know much about other kingdoms so you'd have to plan it all perfectly before executing the plan, but thinking about how your sisters were cared for for the rest of their lives.. that made you ultimately say: “You got yourself a personal thief, your majesty.”

min yoongi

“You know, when you brought me here I was convinced you were going to kill me,” Yoongi said over a drink with the boss and a cigarette between his fingers, “But this is.. not what I had expected.”

“Let me be honest with you, Yoongi,” your father said, you sitting at the bar and playing with your knife, just to intimidate Yoongi a little more, “Everyone knows you out on the streets. Everyone knows what kind of man you are. But.. you're just a street rat.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi took a big gulp of his drink and snorted.

“You could be more.. if you join me.”

“Join.. you?”

“What the fuck, dad?” that got your attention, crossing the room until you were next to him, “That wasn't the plan.”

“Plans change, my love. And I see potential in the guy. With the right guidance.”

At first you had thought he meant himself, taking him under his wing like he had done with so many others, but he just continued smiling at you.

“Oh, fuck no.”

“Come on, sweetheart, I said it before, you're the best in the business, you could teach him the ropes and you could help each other. You'd be the perfect team.”

Yoongi was looking at you, then at your father, wondering what would happen if he said no to it all. Probably death, so he'd like to prevent that.

“Sure, why don't you call a priest here, we could get married too.”

“A marriage,” your father thought for a moment, “That's actually not a bad idea, either.”

“Dad, that was a joke!”

“I know,” your father finished his drink with a laugh and looked at Yoongi, “So.. what do you say? Work with us. Work with my daughter. Help each other.”

Yoongi could see that you hated this as much as he did, but both of you knew you had no choice in this.

He’d die if he said no, you’d lose the respect your father had of you for not following his demands.

“Alright. I'm in.”

“Fine,” you sighed too, “If I have to.”

jung hoseok

“Update: There are still no news about the culprit of the break-in of the national museum. One of the most expensive paintings it held had been stolen two weeks ago with no trace of who did it. Authorities are struggling with finding any leads and..-”

“Babe.”

You took out your headphones and smiled up at Hoseok when he held out a cocktail.

“Thank you.”

He sat down on the beach chair with you, “Any news?”

“Same as always. No idea who it was,” you grinned, taking a sip from your drink and leaning back, your hand brushing over his naked shoulder, an engagement ring and now also a wedding ring sitting on your finger.

“We should have done this a lot sooner.. teaming up with each other.”

“Well, neither of us knew about the other one's business, so that would have been hard, but I agree,” you chuckled, “See where it got us.”

“It's beautiful, right?” he turned his head, staring at the ocean and the sun that was going down.

“Yeah,” you leaned forward and put your chin on his shoulder, “Just as I always imagined it.”

kim namjoon

The apartment felt so empty without you. With every passing day that you weren't here, he regretted letting you go so easily.

So what if you had shot him? He should have at least tried to get you to understand that everything he did was for your safety and that of his child..

..the child that was probably born by now.

He often wondered whether it was a boy or a girl..

Personally he would have liked a baby girl. His friends and family members had always said that having a boy is the greatest pride a man could have, but he disagreed. He would have loved a girl that looked like you. That was as beautiful and as kind as you.. and maybe as lethal.

Namjoon chuckled a little as he stared into his glass at the thought of you with that gun.

God, he never would have assumed that you had that in you, but he had truly underestimated you.

With a sad smile he raised his glass to the picture of you with your baby belly that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Today four years ago was the official date that your child should have been born. And since he didn't know any other date..

“Happy birthday, sweetheart. I hope wherever you are you know that I love you, despite not knowing you. I hope.. I hope your mother isn't telling you differently. And I hope.. I hope she knows that I love her too, even if I couldn't show her.”

And with that he drank and drank and drank, until he fell asleep in front of the toilet after having thrown up.

It became a ritual. Each year, the same day, this is where he ended up.

And it would continue this way till the day he died.

park jimin

He had spent the last five months with you, had gotten to know you, had started to like you, until he had fallen in love with you.

And falling in love during the apocalypse was the worst thing that could happen to you. Because he knew that it was a weakness.

You and him had found a military camp yesterday, amazingly fortified with weapons, food, water.. and they had accepted you into their little community.

You had been over the moon, thought you might finally be able to rest a little, but that's not what Jimin wanted.

When he had first met you, he was determined to bring you to the military, the same military that they were at right now so that they could make a cure with your help.

But when he heard what they said the night before the surgery, his priorities changed.

“She won't survive this,” a doctor said to the general, “We need everything we can get from her and our painkillers and anesthetics aren't enough to help her get through it.”

“We all need to sacrifice something..”

Jimin knew it was selfish. Fuck, after all, he had been the one who wanted to get you here, but now that he heard you wouldn't survive..

“Where are we going?” you asked sleepily as he dragged you out of the camp in the middle of the night.

“I heard someone talk about another camp, a bigger one,” he suddenly stopped and turned around, cupping your face and smiling at you, “It'll be better there.”

You were half asleep, but you trusted him with your life so you smiled, “Okay.”

He couldn't lose you.

He just couldn't.. even if it was so fucking selfish.

kim taehyung

“Aww, isn't she a pretty one,” the shop owner smiled from ear to ear when your baby daughter smiled at her in your arms, “She looks just like her father.”

“And he never lets me forget it,” you said with a laugh as you grabbed the bag filled with food, before you left the store to walk back home.

That's when you heard two people talk about it.

“Haven't you heard the story yet? They were the children of two of the most influential families this area has. One was supposed to kill the other as a sign whose child is the stronger one, but then they found their men dead and the boy and the girl gone.”

“That's an old story. It's been two years..”

“Maybe.. but they haven't stopped looking for them.”

“Do you think they'll ever find them?”

“I doubt it. They're currently riding south and as you know, there's a lot to the south, so I don't think they'll ever find them.”

South. South is good, because you were far away from the south.

You immediately told Taehyung when you were home who smiled with a nod.

“See, I told you they wouldn't find us here.”

“I'm still worried,” you looked down to your two children playing on the floor, “We have too much to lose now.”

“Stop worrying, (Y/N),” he pulled you close and kissed your forehead, “We'll protect them. You know we can.”

Maybe.. but he sometimes underestimated your fathers and what they do to people who stab them in the back.

jeon jeongguk

It had been an ambush.

An ambush that you usually were able to deal with alone, but they were too many and you were on your own, trying to make sure that the mage wouldn't run away at the same time.

But of course he did.

The second Jeongguk saw a chance, he ran for it.

And he would have succeeded, would have been far away, if it weren't for your screams.

He turned around and found a knife in your stomach and an arrow in your leg.

You'd never make it.

And he shouldn't care, after all, you wanted to turn him in, wanted to ruin his life and maybe even his death.

But Jeongguk was kind.. or maybe just naive.

Without your amulet, he was able to free himself from the handcuffs, casting one spell that made everyone he wanted to drop down and hold their throats from how they couldn't breathe, before he ran over to you and helped you up and away.

It was only when he was sure you were alone again, that he wanted to tend to your wounds, but you stopped him.

“I want to help you. I promise.”

You wanted to say something, but you only let out a painful moan.

You didn't have much of a choice. You'd either die from the knife or by his hand. But the look in his eyes made you trust him and so he cast another spell, a healing one this time.

And you were surprised how quick it worked. The wounds of your leg and your stomach disappeared like they never were there in the first place. The pain was gone as quickly as it had come and you felt.. good.

“You saved me,” you breathed out after you had stared at the closed wound for a while, “Why?”

“I never use my magic for evil purposes. I defend myself when I have to, yes, but I mostly just want to help people.”

Maybe listening to your higher-ups without asking any questions wasn't always the right thing to do. Maybe just handcuffing him and wanting to turn him in without questioning him wasn't a good idea. If he was as dangerous as your bosses had claimed, he wouldn’t have done this. He would have left you to die and he would have never batted an eyelash because of it.

But you'd make up for it.

“Go.”

“What?”

“I'll tell them you died during this ambush. I'll tell them I burned you. I'll make sure they'll never try to find you again.”

“Why?” Jeongguk furrowed his eyebrows.

“Because you showed me that not every mage is bad. And I owe you one.”

Jeongguk didn't have to think for long. This was the best chance he'd ever have to escape and live in peace.

He accepted it and he did.

But he also never forgot who he owed it to.

And you never forgot who you owed your life to.

#bts imagine #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan reaction #bangtan boys #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #requests

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joygaroz · 6 years ago

Text

There You Are

[2/7] [Day Nine: Rice Wine] [4/7]

SPANISH VER: FFNET

She could feel something was wrong when she came back to the room and faced the two people of imposing postures. They had remained silent the moment she came into the room and she was left to wonder if she had come at a bad time.

“Forget the tea, Sakura. Go get my wine box above my shelf”

Before said indication, the girl blinked surprised that she mentioned that sheltered and personal space of the high priestess.

“Yes, Sakura. That one” her mentor sighed, taking one of her hands to her face so she could pinch the bridge of her nose with her pointer fingers in order to relax.

Sasuke seemed entertained with the development of the scene from his relaxed position resting against the counter, however, after noticing how he rested against said furniture, Tsunade directed her attention to him.

"Let’s say I volunteer to help you find what you seek, how do you plan to make use of that help?”

“You’re the high priestess, you know about more than one story regarding my clan”.

“And all of them end in a blood bath where innocent lives are sacrificed”

Frowning, Sasuke objected:

“I intent to change that”

“By sacrificing the soul of a white witch?”

“By inking my soul with that of the witch”

Tsunade seemed taken aback before such declaration. Her mind quickly making the connection of his intentions after listening to him.

“I see, so you’re not looking for the alternatives of your clan after all”

Observing how little by little Tsunade went on responding favorably to his intent, Sasuke confirmed the high priestess’ suspicions by continuing explaining:

“If I could link my soul to that of the white witch, the possibility to gather my kind and impose order over those wrecked souls, would not only help my species, but also to mortals themselves”.

In silence, the blonde priestess walked behind the counter to hide the rest of the objects that were located on it.

Sasuke reluctantly withdrew his coat off the furniture and placed it over his lap, finding a seat in one of the stools near the area Tsunade was emptying.

He was about to question what were her intentions when the girl of pink locks entered again to that room. Soon after, she walked to the main door and locked it. Before that, Sasuke reserved to only observe with curiosity.

“Since Sakura arrived to the outskirts of the village, I could sense there was a strangeness to her” Tsunade explained as she placed the wood box right at the center of the table.

It looked like an inoffensive box, made of wood and saved between books to some clusters, laid the wine bottle the priestess had mentioned.

It was only until Tsunade started to place on the counter the contents of that box that he realized the precedence of said objects.

Area maps, scrolls in extinct languages, emerald gems and branches of cherry blossoms. This was the archive of Sakura, the girl who had arrived to that small protected village in search of aid.

“I’ve been studying the origins of Sakura, all of them indicating that her village was eradicated by the same beings you seek to confront” Tsunade explained, spreading one of her scrolls so they all could appreciate it and, before her words, both Sakura and Sasuke raised their gazes only to meet with the other.

“You’re one of them” Sakura whispered, her face showing how her mind quickly worked to gather the information implied after that explanation.

Sasuke, although surprised, couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s cleverness. Surely one of the traits why Tsunade had decided to keep her under her care.

“However, none of the registered information on my files indicates they could survive after a bite or even poison an immortal being” the elder continued explaining and, before this new information, Sasuke’s eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

“There’s no register of such precedent either” the dark-haired male agreed “Are you sure the bite was made by someone of my kind?”

Nodding as response, Sakura, who was located on the other side of the furniture, collected her pink strands and took them to the other side of her shoulder in order to reveal her long neck and fair skin profaned by two marks perfectly aligned in the joint between her shoulder and her neck.

Still wallowing in concentration, as a reflect movement he led his hand to cover his face -or rather, his nostrils. Since even if that was a subtle move, her fragrance wasn’t for someone like him. Swallowing, his mind tried to compose itself after such improvise.

“There’s a possibility, though” Tsunade continued after a second to make sure Sasuke regained his composure. “To try the theory that brought you here”

Removing the scroll from the table, Tsunade displayed a book in a different language, one Sasuke was rather very familiarized.

“All these species that assaulted and eradicated Sakura’s previous home were just neophytes. Falling to their desires without the ability to control their instincts and maybe not as resistant as the founding clans”.

“They all wore crimson eyes, but, according to Tsunade-sama’s records, only a vampire of high status could wear the three tomoes on their eyes” Sakura continued, eager to find out more about the kind that had chased her away of her previous home.

“The tomoes could be worn by any clan of my species, it is not a matter of blood, but rather a matter of maturity” he discarded the girl’s suspicion while he shook his head. “But that does not make them any less resistant to human blood, but rather, they’re on that experimental phase where their hunger is related to their physiological search of the kind of blood that it compatible to their diet”.

Sakura made a face trying to suppress her disgusts, Sasuke ignored it and Tsunade clarified:

“Would it be like carrying out an allergy test?”

“But no vampire is allergic to human blood, not even the oddest. There must be something else that is poisoning them after trying her blood”.

“What about her magic ability?” Tsunade ventured.

“A human foreign to the Senju clan with magical power?” Sasuke questioned incredulous.

“But Tsunade-sama, I’ve never executed any conjury. How could I possibly—”

“You have not had the need to make them since your hands absolve it once you try to heal”

“Absolve?”

“White magic, the ability to heal and amend” Tsunade clarified, certain of her suspicions “Not even a priestess of my clan has managed to execute healing conjures without the aid of herbs or symbolisms. Contrary to the white magic that only requires the will of its carrier, only possible if the person inherits the magic abilities from an immortal being”.

“But” Sasuke interrupted, contemplating the facts Tsunade had just recited “, these abilities can only awaken if the human gets to establish contact with an immortal being. Like the neophyte’s bite.”

Sakura, who had remained petrified at the end of the table, processed the information laid before her.

“A white witch…” she murmured to herself, still unable to believe what she was listening.

“As I suspected, those barriers were not only to protect your village, but to avert her from my kind’s sight” Sasuke said.

“The only thing I did was protect the mortals endangered by the other species” Tsunade continued, denying the vampire’s suspicion.

“But she is not just a human, if she is a white witch, she must have the descendance of an immortal” Sasuke discerned.

“Or a Senju” Tsunade completed.

Sakura, who processed the avalanche of information, closed her eyes while she denied before opening them and voice out the doubt that had her agitated:

“So, are you saying I am an objective to them?” referring to the vampires, and in general, to all the immortal beings outside those protective barriers that Tsunade had made.

With their attention returning to the unusual girl of pink hair, Sasuke explained:

“A healer, or white witch, is idealized as the perfect partner to my kind” he empathized he referred to his kind, that information that had caught his attention and that, after Sakura listened to his words, only made her blush lightly at his choice of words since ‘partner’ could be interpreted differently according to its context. “Whoever manages to link to a white witch, gains the recognition as the strongest of our clan”.

“But it the link doesn’t work, both bodies start to degenerate” Tsunade added.

“Both!” Sakura exclaimed alarmed, soon turning her face in the direction of her mentor in search of help, to which the high priestess could only answer with an apologetic look.

“Through all this time I’ve been looking for a way to reduce the adverse effects to that bite, but I’ve run out of options” the high priestess explained, and then, turning her face to the immortal contemplating these revelations, she extended the bottle of wine to him.

“Maybe it’s time for you to take your alternative” they heard Tsunade say at the time she took him out of his absorption and observed the bottle of liquor before him with attention.

Of course, he thought. Wine rice.

To link two souls, it was necessary to drink the same wine rice. Old ancestors linked their souls together with this symbolic liquor far earlier than religions, far earlier than the sacred writings.

Hence, it was an oath that prevailed as unique to those unions without distinction of species, gender or preference.

This was a knowledge that the legendary priests transmitted with the passing of time to heir disciples for generations, until reaching Tsunade’s knowledge, one of the high priestesses with the greatest knowledge in that kingdom.

However, by sharing this information, it took them a little to both prospects believing this would method would work to ese their worries.

She, a supposed healer of unknown precedence, and him, a first-generation vampire of one of the oldest clans to exist in the world.

Both looking for something in common: survive.

And, the only way to survive was to swear under the effects of the wine rice, that their souls belonged to the other. Their blood, would do the rest.

#ssm19 #ssm19d9 #ssfic #ssfanfic #ssfanfiction #sasusaku #joy writes #vampire ss #AND THE AU CONTINUES~~

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tes-trash-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Maybe this is because I read Ender’s Game and hated it, or maybe this is because I generally hate most war fiction floating around that can be summed up to “we good, they bad, they dead, we win”, maybe I just hate lazy colonization fiction in general. Either way, it’s started an itch about Ysgramor, the Return, and the circumstances surrounding the extinction of the Snow Elves.

So that’s exactly what I’m going to rant about tonight.

TW: Everything.

Part 1. The Circumstances Surrounding The Return, aka Saarthal

So, it’s established in Nordic lore that Saarthal was the first Atmoran city to be constructed. As to where the other Atmorans that braved those seas before Ysgramor’s initial arrival went, your guess is as good as mine. Tamriel was always a safety valve for malcontents and yearners, and there certainly were humans there before the Harbinger. Strangely enough, there doesn’t seem to be remains of the potential villages in Skyrim. Same as the Snow Elven cities that surely dotted the landscape. Hm.

I digress. Saarthal is, for the intents of this rant, the first real city. For reasons lorekeepers are divided on, the Elves attacked. Modern consensus is that the Atmorans discovered the Eye of Magnus, and the Elves wanted it. Elven lorekeepers argue that the attack was a result of various provocations from the city. Either way, the city was sacked, in spite of the city’s best efforts to fight back. Tragic, no matter which way you parse it. So much that Songs of the Return asserts that Ysgramor’s grief was such that he cried tears of ebony, and his son forged Wuuthrad with those tears. On a boat. Using lighting as a forge, and the seawater to cool the metal. All that, and he still managed to get that lovely detail of a caricatured Elf screaming in pain!

Three mourning people, and already their thoughts are not on how to go home and lick their wounds, but how to best kill Elves. Not a single thought to maybe arguing for peace in their homeworld, instead they braved the war torn Atmora to gather warriors.

Violence is not an answer. It is a question, and already Ysgramor’s was shouting a hearty “Yes”.

Part 2. The Return, or Fantasy Manifest Destiny

So in spite of Atmora being a war torn hellhole, Ysgrmaor and his two boys go back. He commissions boats, and finds able warriors to sail with him.

I feel like I don’t need to tell you how expensive boats are. I guess I’m trying to say is the dude had money, or enough social capital to have them commissioned. Either way, he ignored the ongoing war in his own home to wage another across the sea.

“But tes-trash-blog! These were people who have been traumatized! This is their grief talking, and grief does things to you!”

And yet. From Songs of the Return, Volume 2:

“Yngol, the elder, was the brave strategist, bringing his learnings to bear on the battlefield that his enemies would be defeated before they even know the battle had begun. Ylgar, the younger, was possessed of an unwavering spirit that drove his singular prowess to overwhelming feats in war. Together, the mind and the arm, they were capable of sowing a destruction most thorough and glorious to any foe who stood before them.”

So… Three perfectly peaceful, grief-stricken and traumatized folks, but one was strategic enough to “end a battle before it began” and the other was basically a berserker. And yet the Night of Tears was a massacre of innocent civilians. Ysgramor felled a number of Elves during the attack, but they were all innocent civilians.

A goddamn Word Wall says not to ask for peace for peace is weakness, but hey. They were innocent, peaceful people, their hands forced by “treacherous Elves”.

They apparently found battle, “though none remain to tell what those battles entailed”. How convenient. They took slaves, and cut out their tongues.

This is all under the banner of grief, of anger. It’s seems a bit too systematic to be purely emotional, and Songs of the Return even says the Companions were shrewd and sharp. They knew what they doing, but let’s assume they were purely acting out of grief. Let’s assume they only wanted vengeance. Let’s assume their only goal was revenge against those Elves for killing their kind.

Surely they stopped there.

Spoiler alert: they didn’t.

Part 3. A Homicidal Maniac Drives A Race To Extinction. What Happened Next Will (Not) Surprise You

The Elves are dead! Vengeance is complete! Surely Ysgramor, now fully vindicated and no longer hearing the screams of his dead friends, can rest.

Well.. No. As it turns out, he and the rest of the Companions didn’t stop. They went as far as Black Marsh where they killed Argonians, to Elsweyr where they met, killed, and skinned the Khajiit. They even reached Hammerfell, where they met round eared folks. But they were different, so they too found war. It almost seems like grief and trauma and what have you were flimsy excuses to drive an entire culture to extinction.

It almost seems like those Five Hundred Atmorans were a war-hungry bunch, bent on colonizing. The Songs of the Return only ever continues to echo this sentiment, with talk of “rightful claims” and “bringing the light of the proper gods to the heathen land of elves and beasts.”

It’s fantasy Manifest Destiny, plain and simple. It’s a genocide of an indigenous people, and the invasion to other lands because “we good, they bad”.

At best, this is a story of people going mad with grief and rage, and being unable to reconcile that pain. Given that the Companions are still a highly respected faction in Skyrim, one can assume they never learned their lesson.

Part 4. So Where Does This Leave Us?

KA Applegate said it best, in regards to the controversial ending to her Animorphs books:

“Here’s what doesn’t happen in war: there are no wondrous, climactic battles that leave the good guys standing tall and the bad guys lying in the dirt. Life isn’t a World Wrestling Federation Smackdown. Even the people who win a war, who survive and come out the other side with the conviction that they have done something brave and necessary, don’t do a lot of celebrating There’s very little chanting of ‘we’re number one’ among people who’ve personally experienced war.”

And John Kessel doubles down on that in his essay “Creating The Innocent Killer”, which I highly recommend:

“Ender gets to strike out at his enemies and remain morally clean. Nothing is his fault. Stilson already lies defeated on the ground, yet Ender can kick him in the face until he dies, and still remain the good guy. Ender can drive bone fragments into Bonzo’s brain and then kick his dying body in the crotch, yet the entire focus is on Ender’s suffering. […] As Elaine Radford has said, ‘We would all like to believe that our suffering has made us special—especially if it gives us a righteous reason to destroy our enemies.’

But that’s a lie. No one is that special; no one is that innocent.”

Substitute Orson Scott Card’s self insert Gary Stu with Ysgramor, the names of his enemies with Snow Elves. Go ahead, I’ll be right here.

Genocide is genocide, be it caused by grief or rage or land dispute or magic eyeballs.

And yet that pride over genocide, that elevation of Ysgramor is one of the Nord’s more defining traits. They’re a proud, boisterous people who frown on magic because it’s the work of “weaker races”, who honor the Companions even though they’re basically mercenaries with a genocide fetish (see: The Silver Hand, the Glenmoril Witches), who drink and get rowdy and are so goddamn proud of their axes. It’s an open carry nation that makes it abundantly clear that outsiders aren’t welcome. They are descendants of killers, as are most races in Tamriel, but they never let you forget it. Hell, the more popular skald song is “The Slaying of the Falmer Princes”. In game, you can barely walk into a tavern without hearing a bard say “Kill Ulfric!” or “Kill the Invaders!”. The latter is pretty ironic, if you think about it.

Once I heard someone somewhere say, “Well, the Elves deserved it.” I can’t remember where, it may have actually been an argument in real life, but they refused to say anymore. I assume this is what all arguments for Ysgramor and against the Elves boils down to.

So. Did the Snow Elves deserve extinction? Did the Elven civilian at modern day Fort Greenwall deserve to be cut down? Did his daughter, who wasn’t even born when the Night of Tears happened? The women and priests deserve debasement and slavery? What of those whose tongues were cut out from their mouths, those who were crushed under black quarry stone while forced to build Windhelm?

Or is “they deserved it” just an excuse, a candy pill to swallow so the offender can avoid bitter truth?

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exquisitley-obsessed · 6 years ago

Text

Pieces of People - Part 11

Summary: Vampire y/n returns to Mystic Falls after finding out her friend Stefan Salvatore has gone off the rails with blood, what she doesn’t expect to happen is find out her deep-rooted connections with the Mikaelson family, in particular – Elijah.

Word Count: 3372

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of blood.

A/N: I’d just like to thank everyone who’s still reading this and liking and commenting it means the world. Don’t forget – if you want to be notified every time I add to this story just message me or comment asking to be added to the tag list <3

MASTERLIST FOR THIS STORY,

MASTERLIST

“What the hell happened?”

“Okay, don’t get your protective boyfriend pants in a twist, she’ll be fine,” Damon mumbled as y/n slumped drearily into his side.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Y/n mumbled as the distorted image of Elijah swam around her eyes. But, of course, no one was listening to her.

“I’d still like to know.” Elijah’s spoke with finality and power, his arms itching by his sides to reach over and hold her, touch her even.

“There may or may not have been a small problem with a bunch of vampire-hating council members with a freaky priest leader. And y/n may or may not have been bled to death in a barn filled with vervained air, slap bang in the middle of nowhere. But don’t worry,” Damon was gently shuffling y/n’s unresponsive feet up the front steps, “She’s fine now.”

“She doesn’t look fine.” Elijah moved after Damon, taking in the image of y/n’s blood-soaked clothes and the veiny blood splatters across her skin. It hurt. It physically hurt him to see her like this. To know what agonising pain she must have been feeling less than a few hours ago when he had simply been sitting around at home.

“Well, we both know she’ll be right as rain once she’s downed a few blood bags, so why don’t you hit the road and just give her some space for tonight.” Damon had already opened the door and was gently pushing y/n inside, out of Elijah’s sight.

“Wait,” Elijah’s stopped the door from shutting in his face, looking at y/n and nowhere else, “Y/n…” He mumbled. Gently, she swung herself around, gripping onto the wooden door frame with white knuckles. “Just…tell me what you want.” Elijah murmured, completely forgetting that Damon was even in the same world as them.

“What I want?” Y/n hummed, her eyelids dropping with every second and her entire body weight pushed up against the wall, “I want to have a shower.” She finally coughed out after a few long moments, “I want to drink a couple blood bags and then I want to get out of these…clothes. I want to put on some fresh pyjamas and I want to go to bed.” Elijah’s hand slowly retracted from the door.

“But I want to see you tomorrow.”

It caught him off guard. The soft words that danced from her lips and seemed to almost pierce right into his heart like some kind of knife of hope. Suddenly, he found himself looking into her eyes and getting lost. He found the feeling of his chest swelling as every cell of his skin burned to touch her, to take her clothes off for her. Why was it so easy to feel this way around her?

“I’ll um…” Y/n mumbled, her eyelids fluttering further and further closed, “I’ll come around to your house first thing and we can…talk.”

“Okay.” His voice was warm and comforting almost lulling her to sleep right there and then. “Okay y/n,” She began turning away, gripping onto Damon’s arm tightly as she moved towards the basement, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Damon gently guided y/n in the direction of the hallway before he turned back to the door. The two men shared a look. A mutual understanding passing between them.

And then Elijah curtly nodded, and Damon shut the door.

After having at least 12 hours of nice long sleep, y/n finally emerged from her crisp clean sheets feeling like a new woman. She had spent the entire morning, or should I say afternoon, taking her time with getting ready.

She spent a near hour in the shower, feeling the hot water wear away knots in her muscles. Remembering how weird it had felt last night, to watch as the water ran from rich rouge to watery red to powder pink. Feeling the worry and stress of the entire day melt away down the drain with that bloodied water.

Then came breakfast: honey and toast, sweet tea, fresh fruit picked from the garden. All in all, it was a luxurious and well-deserved morning. And the knowledge that she would soon see Elijah, Elijah who had looked so hurt, so pained, so angry by the site of her bloodied clothes. Elijah who even Damon was now telling her to forgive. Just…Elijah.

It was mid-afternoon by the time y/n found herself walking into the Mikaelson’s oversized home. The warm winter sun tumbling through the patterned glass, painting shadows of flowers, cherubs and nude women onto the marble floor.

Reaching up, y/n began slowly twisting her heavy scarf from around her neck, watching with curious eyes as the nude women seemed to almost wink in the sunlight. The moment was so peaceful. It seemed only fitting that it would be Klaus who ruined it.

“Love!” Klaus’s voice called out, snapping her out of her trance and into a slightly defensive position. She always felt like that around him, “I didn’t know you would be joining us too.” Y/n furrowed her brows.

“I didn’t know there was something to join?” She took a tentative step towards him and then watched with surprise as Stefan emerged from around a corner, “Stefan?”

“Y/n,” Stefan could simply mumble back, the same air of question mirrored in his eyes.

“No, no, this is good!” Klaus called out in his usual way, walking straight over to her. “You of all people should be here to hear what I have to say. I mean after all…” Klaus cocked his head, the same lazily cocky smile drawn across his lips, “The vampire hunters, the tattoos, the key…it did all start with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that now love. All you need to do is come with me and Stefan, we’re going to have a little chat over dinner.” Klaus twisted around and grinned slightly sadistically at Stefan who appeared highly uncomfortable.

“Actually, not to disappoint…but I was here to meet another Mikaelson.” Y/n hummed, already moving past Klaus. Whatever he had to say, it could wait the five minutes she needed just to see his face.

“I hope you don’t mean me.” Rebekah’s elevated voice sung through the stone hallway, her heels accompanying the noise. “I’ve had enough of your surprise visits for one week.” She stopped by a stray wooden table at the base of the stairs, re-positioning the flowers so the more pinkish ones sat at the front. Y/n opened her mouth to respond but Klaus got there first.

“Oh yes of course!” He cheerily called out, his hands clapping together, “Rebekah told me all about your little threat.” He hummed, his hands folding behind his back as he gave her an infuriating smile. Y/n took a deep, shaky breath.

“Do you really think that you are in any position to be cruel to me right now?” Her voice was quiet and calm, a complete change from Klaus’s overzealous one. A silence settled for a moment as his features fell.

“Maybe not.” He hummed, “I understand you were here to see Elijah…” Y/n remained guarded despite how soft his voice seemed to get, “But I would be honoured if you would accompany me to dinner, here…tonight.” He outstretched his hand slightly as if he was literally offering her this opportunity. Eyeing it with wariness, y/n took a delicate step forward, her features turning vulnerable.

“I need your word Niklaus.” She may have been quiet, but she was strong, “I need you to promise me, that by the end of tonight, I will have my memories back. Each…and every last one of them.” Klaus didn’t move. His eyes flickered over her facial features delicately before he grew tall and let his hand fall to his side. Leaning in he slowly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers skating across her skin in a way that caused goose bumps to ripple across her body. For a moment, the thought that he might actually kiss her crossed her mind, but then his lips brushed along her cheek as he whispered into her ear.

“I promise you, y/n, that you will have your memories by the end of tonight.”

The dinner was painful. Sitting across from Stefan and picking at her food every now and then, y/n had to listen to the constant bickering between Rebekah and Klaus as they dissolved into some meaningless argument about a meaningless subject.

“Can we just…please get to the point.” Stefan groaned into the palms of his hands at some desperate point. Y/n at that moment had been swirling the rouge wine around in her glass, seeing how far she could get it to reach the top without spilling over.

“Ahh yes.” Klaus leant back, throwing his napkin onto his half-finished meal, “The very reason why we’re all here.” His eyes flickered deviously around the table until they came to rest back on Stefan. “We’re here to discuss a certain vampire hunter that I have chained up and the certain tattoos that adorn his arm.”

“Oh, skip the theatrics Nik.” Rebekah hissed into her wine glass.

“Very well.” Klaus nodded curtly, “The first time I saw the vampire hunter tattoo was back in the 12th century, in y/h/t.” Y/n could already feel Klaus’s eyes on her as she glared directly at her untouched meal, “They were on the arm of a certain man named Alexander. Well known in his village to bring about vampires he had caught and burned them in broad daylight for everyone to see.

“Well, of course, this put me and my family on edge slightly, but we had a way of ensuring that he would never get to figure out what we were. A spy on the inside I believe they call it.”

“Who?” Stefan interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him. Klaus’s eyes flicked up to Rebekah who sat uncomfortably across from him.

“Why Rebekah of course. But the thing is, she really ended up falling in love with the man.” Klaus looked pitifully down, a playful smirk pulling at his lips, “Me and the rest of my family, of course, needed even more reassurance than our liability of a sister…so I decided to go after a family member of the hunter. The only one that was still around, that is.”

“Who?” Stefan asked again, leaning back in his chair as he divulged into the story.

“A sweet little flower girl who went by the name of y/n. Or in other words…”

“Me.” Y/n was glaring at Klaus now. He was enjoying this.

“Yes…you.” Klaus smiled darkly.

“So, wait,” Stefan, leant his elbows onto the table as his eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, “That’s how you two know each other. Klaus was using you to get information on your brother.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t using you…but Elijah was.” It was as if Klaus had reached over and slapped her in the face. The audacity of him toying with this information, the information that made y/n feel as though she had been missing a piece of herself her entire life – and he was playing a game. She wanted to hold him up against a wall by the throat, feel the blood under his skin begin pumping faster as the air became restricted. Wanted to watch as his skin flushed, and his eyes bulged as he hissed at her everything she needed to know. That’s the thing about being a vampire – intrusive violent thoughts were all too natural.

“Elijah wasn’t using her Nik.” Rebekah said softly after a moment, her eyes staying on the grinning form of Klaus, “Don’t be cruel.”

“Oh, yes…of course!” Klaus leant back, “He wasn’t using her. Turns out all my siblings are as unreliable as my little sister.

“I told Elijah of the flower girl by the name of y/n. Told him to check her out, watch her for a few days and then tell me if she was a possible lead. Turns out in those few days Elijah had somehow convinced himself that y/n here was too sweet and kind to be dragged into this mess, that she was to be left alone on his orders.”

“Let me guess,” Stefan sighed, “You’re not one for orders?”

“No, I’m not.” Klaus’s eyes were fixed on his plate but soon, his vision seemed to mist over as he was taken somewhere far away, “But I was when it came to this. Over time me, Elijah and Rebekah would spend the majority of our time with this Alexander and his little sister, y/n.

“Elijah was right. Y/n was just a girl caught up in something that was so much bigger than herself. She just wanted to sell flowers to feed her family, befriend all those that stepped foot in town…fall in love with the good man.” Klaus and Rebekah made brief eye contact for a moment, “She was to be left out of it.”

“But as you can probably tell by y/n being here,” Rebekah spoke up her eyes fixed on her brother, “That didn’t quite go as planned…did it Klaus?” Klaus’s upper lip sneered for a moment before he seemed to catch himself and calm down.

“No.” He said dully, “It didn’t.”

“What happened?” Y/n asked flatly. Klaus glared at her.

“Rebekah. Why don’t you tell them?” Rebekah sighed long and hard.

“One night when I was with Alexander, he…staked me…with a knife dipped in the ash of the white oak. And then…”

“And then proceeded to stake the rest of your family, didn’t he Rebekah?” Klaus said. “Your entire family line almost ended because you couldn’t pick the right man.”

“Not to interrupt,” Stefan sighed, “But I thought the stake didn’t work on you.” He said to Klaus who grinned in response.

“It doesn’t. I woke up surrounded by the foul creatures and killed them one by one…until I got to Rebekah’s dear Alexander. I strung him up on the wall, his own knives pinning him through his muscle, and then I made him watch his worst nightmare before I punctured his heart with the knife he tried to kill my family with.”

“Watch his worst nightmare?” Stefan asked, but y/n already knew what he was going to say, and already felt the hot, angry tears burn behind her eyes.

“I made Alexander the vampire hunter watch as I turned his dear baby sister, the only family he had left, into the one thing he hated above all.” Klaus’s eyes remained lowered, “The one thing he was programmed to kill.”

No one needed to say the word, but everyone was thinking it. Y/n was gripping onto the edge of the table so hard that it had begun to splinter under her fingers, cracks in the wood snapping across the entire table. She quickly pulled her shaking fingers into her lap, feeling the rage splinter through her body.

“You mean to tell me.” Even her voice was shaking, “That I died…that I turned into a monster…that I can’t have kids. So that you could get back at my brother.” The silence in the room was thick and heavily uncomfortable as both Rebekah and Klaus seemed to dip their heads in shame.

Abruptly, y/n was on her feet, her chair screeching behind her and falling onto the floor. Immediately, the guards at the side of the room shifted slightly, but with a wave of a hand from Klaus, they returned to their post.

Y/n’s chest rose quickly and with ferocity as she slowly began to remember the night that this had all happened. She saw the look in her big brother’s eyes as he watched Klaus gripping her from behind. Hurt, betrayal, anger. She felt the hot blood from Klaus’s wrist being choked down her throat. The blade that pressed against her human and vulnerable throat. The fear of not understanding what was happening. Of seeing her brother pinned to a wall by knives. Of just wanting to go home.

“Y/n.” Someone said but they were far away, or maybe she was.

In an instant, y/n had hurled a detailed whiskey glass against the fireplace, not even looking long enough to watch as the glass fractured and shattered across the rich carpeted floor.

“Y/n!” It was Klaus saying her name this time. Her anger peaked.

“No!” Her voice cracked as she swung around to glare at him, “You don’t get to…” She could hardly breathe through the feeling of her chest swelling, “Do you know how long I’ve lived not knowing how I became like this?” She felt the tears brimming in her eyes, “How many different scenarios I’ve thought of? And now…now it turns out that turning me into a vampire was a second thought? Was fucking collateral damage in a world that I wasn’t even a part of! Are you fucking kidding me?” She felt as though she was losing control.

“Y/n-” Klaus tried again. But it was no point. He had already done enough.

“Shut up.” She spat, her hands on her lower back as she paced across the fireplace, glaring at anyone and anything, “You don’t get to talk. To explain yourself…because guess what, there’s nothing to explain, is there? You slit my throat, you turn me into a vampire, you ruin my life and you don’t even think about it. Because that’s what you do. You fuck up and then you think.”

Klaus was a still as ice. Standing with a napkin still intertwined with his fingers as he looked at her with glassy eyes. Maybe she was being cruel, or maybe she was just being honest. That’s the reality of Niklaus Mikaelson.

“You screw me over and then have the audacity to play games with me and my life 900 years later. Because that’s just who Klaus Mikaelson is. Well, guess what?” She was right in his face now, her top lip pulled back and her eyes filled with nothing but disgust, “I’m not Caroline, I’m not even Stefan, and I’m not going to pity you, Klaus, because you fucking reap what you sow.”

Pulling back for a moment, y/n covered her face with her hands. Trying desperately to catch her breath once more. Dragging her fingers gently down her face y/n finally met Klaus’s pained eyes and found that she didn’t…she couldn’t care.

“All I want…all, I want…is for you to give me my memories back.” She took a step closer to his broken stature, “And then for me to never have to see you again.”

There was a pause. And for a moment, y/n couldn’t even remember that Stefan, Rebekah or even Elijah existed in the same world as her and her hatred for Klaus.

“All right,” Klaus whispered delicately, his tongue clicking over the words. “I will do anything you ask.” His voice was calm and clear, cutting through all her erratic and blazing thoughts, “Anything…to try and make up for the mistake I made all those years ago.” Somehow his fingers had found their way to her face and soon he was gently brushing away angry, hot tears that y/n didn’t even know were there. And then he was looking in her eyes.

“Remember your life before you became a vampire. Remember your family and your little village. Your friends and your flowers. Remember how it felt to meet Elijah for the first time, what he looked like with his ridiculous, long hair. Remember the lifetimes worth of pain I put you through on that one night, how it felt to watch your friends and family bathed in blood. Remember the next 50 years after that. The time you spent with the Mikaelson family. The places you visited and the people you met. Remember that you fell in love and that you were loved dearly by those around you. Remember the last conversation you had with each of us.”

“Remember me telling you to forget.”

The last thing she saw were the tears that trickled down his cheeks. The look in his eye as he too seemed to be taken back to the past. A complicated time full of complicated feelings. And then she felt as though she was falling back, moving through time to somewhere that felt both new and old at once.

And then. She remembered.

next part

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dfroza · 4 years ago

Text

“Was it from heaven or from people? Answer me now.”

A question mark asked about a sign given to point someone to believe that is seen in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament book of Mark:

[Chapter 11]

Now, as they were approaching Jerusalem, they arrived at the place of the stables near Bethany on the Mount of Olives. Jesus sent two of his disciples ahead and said to them, “As soon as you enter the village ahead, you will find a donkey’s colt tied there that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it to me. And if anyone asks, ‘Why are you taking it?’ tell them, ‘The master needs it and will send it back to you soon.’ ”

So they went and found the colt outside in the street, tied to a gate. When they started to untie it, some people standing there said to them, “Why are you untying that colt?”

They answered just as Jesus had told them: “The master needs it, and he will send it back to you soon.” So the bystanders let them go.

The disciples brought the colt to Jesus and piled their cloaks and prayer shawls on the young donkey, and Jesus rode upon it. Many people carpeted the road in front of him with their cloaks and prayer shawls, while others gathered palm branches and spread them before him. Jesus rode in the center of the procession, with crowds going before him and behind him. They all shouted in celebration, “Bring the victory! We welcome the one coming with blessings sent from the Lord Yahweh! Blessings rest on this kingdom he ushers in—the kingdom of our father David! Bring us the victory in the highest realms of heaven!”

Jesus rode through the gates of Jerusalem and up to the temple. After looking around at everything, he left for Bethany with the Twelve to spend the night, for it was already late in the day.

The next day, as he left Bethany, Jesus was feeling hungry. He noticed a leafy fig tree in the distance, so he walked over to see if there was any fruit on it, but there was none—only leaves (for it wasn’t yet the season for bearing figs). Jesus spoke to the fig tree, saying, “No one will ever eat fruit from you again!” And the disciples overheard him.

When they came into Jerusalem, Jesus went directly into the temple area and overturned all the tables and benches of the merchants who were doing business there. One by one he drove them all out of the temple courts, and they scattered away, including the money changers and those selling doves. And he would not allow them to use the temple courts as a thoroughfare for carrying their merchandise and their furniture.

Then he began to teach the people, saying, “Does not the Scripture say, ‘My house will be a house of prayer for all the world to share’? But you have made it a hangout of thieves!”

When the chief priests and religious scholars heard this, they began to hatch a plot as to how they could eliminate Jesus. But they feared him and his influence, because the entire crowd was totally captivated by his teaching. So he and his disciples spent the nights outside the city.

In the morning, they passed by the fig tree that Jesus spoke to and it was completely withered from the roots up. Peter remembered and said to him, “Teacher, look! That’s the fig tree you cursed. It’s now all shriveled up and dead.”

Jesus replied, “Let the faith of God be in you! Listen to the truth I speak to you: Whoever says to this mountain with great faith and does not doubt, ‘Mountain, be lifted up and thrown into the midst of the sea,’ and believes that what he says will happen, it will be done. This is the reason I urge you to boldly believe for whatever you ask for in prayer—be convinced that you have received it and it will be yours. And whenever you stand praying, if you find that you carry something in your heart against another person, release him and forgive him so that your Father in heaven will also release you and forgive you of your faults. But if you will not release forgiveness, don’t expect your Father in heaven to release you from your misdeeds.”

They came again into Jerusalem, and while Jesus was walking in the temple courts, the Jewish rulers—the chief priest, certain religious scholars, and the elders—approached him. They came up to him and asked, “What right do you have to say and do these things? Who gave you the authority to do all this?”

Jesus replied, “I too have a question to ask you. If you can answer this question, then I will tell you by what power I do all these things. Where did John’s authority to immerse come from? Was it from heaven or from people? Answer me now.”

They stepped away and debated among themselves, saying, “How should we answer this? If we say, ‘from heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Then why didn’t you respond to John and believe what he said?’ But if we say, ‘from the people,’ we fear the crowds, for they’re convinced that John was God’s prophet.”

So they finally answered, “We don’t know.”

“Then neither will I tell you where my power comes from to do these things,” Jesus replied.

The Book of Mark, Chapter 11 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 3rd chapter of the book of Job where Job complains of his suffering:

[Job Cries Out]

What’s the Point of Life?

Then Job broke the silence. He spoke up and cursed his fate:

“Obliterate the day I was born.

Blank out the night I was conceived!

Let it be a black hole in space.

May God above forget it ever happened.

Erase it from the books!

May the day of my birth be buried in deep darkness,

shrouded by the fog,

swallowed by the night.

And the night of my conception—the devil take it!

Rip the date off the calendar,

delete it from the almanac.

Oh, turn that night into pure nothingness—

no sounds of pleasure from that night, ever!

May those who are good at cursing curse that day.

Unleash the sea beast, Leviathan, on it.

May its morning stars turn to black cinders,

waiting for a daylight that never comes,

never once seeing the first light of dawn.

And why? Because it released me from my mother’s womb

into a life with so much trouble.

“Why didn’t I die at birth,

my first breath out of the womb my last?

Why were there arms to rock me,

and breasts for me to drink from?

I could be resting in peace right now,

asleep forever, feeling no pain,

In the company of kings and statesmen

in their royal ruins,

Or with princes resplendent

in their gold and silver tombs.

Why wasn’t I stillborn and buried

with all the babies who never saw light,

Where the wicked no longer trouble anyone

and bone-weary people get a long-deserved rest?

Prisoners sleep undisturbed,

never again to wake up to the bark of the guards.

The small and the great are equals in that place,

and slaves are free from their masters.

“Why does God bother giving light to the miserable,

why bother keeping bitter people alive,

Those who want in the worst way to die, and can’t,

who can’t imagine anything better than death,

Who count the day of their death and burial

the happiest day of their life?

What’s the point of life when it doesn’t make sense,

when God blocks all the roads to meaning?

“Instead of bread I get groans for my supper,

then leave the table and vomit my anguish.

The worst of my fears has come true,

what I’ve dreaded most has happened.

My repose is shattered, my peace destroyed.

No rest for me, ever—death has invaded life.”

The Book of Job, Chapter 3 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, April 10 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A post by John Parsons about the “sufferings” of this life:

Sometimes suffering comes not from any lack of faith, but in the midst of faith, or even because of faith, since the LORD often uses affliction as the means of upbuilding the soul and developing spiritual resilience and maturity (Prov. 3:1-2). In light of God’s sovereign power over all things, and God’s great love for you, regard your suffering a blessing from your heavenly Father to help you grow (Job 5:17; Psalm 94:12; 119:71). Persevering in the midst of your struggle develops patience and humility, teaching you to know your own nothingness and to utterly rely upon the goodness and mercy of God. Over time, suffering strips away your illusions, so that nothing remains except the naked heart and the treasures of faith. Only then does the heart find its blessing in God alone.

People tend to believe whatever they want to believe until they are faced with reality, and therefore God orchestrates tests and challenges to awaken people from their illusions and to help them realize their need for deliverance. Such afflictions are sometimes called the "troubles of love" (יִסּוּרֵי אַהֲבָה). Thus we read in the Torah how the people groaned because of their slavery and then cried out to heaven for help: "And God heard their groaning; he remembered his covenant ... and God saw the people of Israel, and God knew" (Exod. 2:24-25). God knows our profound need for Him. Affliction teaches us that wishful thinking is unable to sustain the weight of reality, and only God Himself can truly save us...

I am amazed that pagans cling to the idea that their lives have real value despite their rejection of transcendent worth and beauty and goodness as revealed in the Jewish Scriptures. Their everyday assumptions are lifted from the Judeo-Christian tradition, yet their underlying logical and semantic foundation is quite simply an illusion…. I’d like to listen to them justify the reason for getting out of bed in the morning using just the language that is entailed by their metaphysical assumptions. If seriously questioned, especially in light of the traction of their own personal heartache and disappointments, it is doubtless that they, like Nietzsche, would find themselves going insane as they attempt to (re)define the most meaningful aspects of life....

Where it is written, “The troubles of my heart are enlarged; bring me out of my distresses” (Psalm 25:17), we understand that it is God who hems us in and limits us (the word “troubles” (צָרוֹת) derives from a root (צַר) that means to limit or constrict), for the purpose of “bringing us out" of our distresses, just as God brought our ancestors out of “Egypt” (i.e., from mitzrayim: -מ, "from," and צַר, "narrow places") so they could experience freedom and newness of life.. The first step of lasting deliverance (יְשׁוּעָה) is to believe the revelation: “I AM the Lord your God,” which begins the healing (Exod. 20:2). We are then set free from our bonds to surface appearances as we trust in God’s Presence, since we now understand everything in relationship with the sacred Ground and Source of all life (Acts 17:28).

Regarding the cry of the heart: "How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily" (Psalm 13:2), the sages remark that just as long as we take counsel in our own soul there will be despair, since only after we realize that no further counsel can help us do we give up and confess our need for God's salvation. Therefore deliverance comes as we trust in the LORD with all our heart, and do not rely on our own understanding (Prov. 3:5). [Hebrew for Christians]

4.9.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

April 10, 2021

Privileged Suffering

“For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake.” (Philippians 1:29)

Paul wrote in the previous verses that we are to conduct ourselves as though our only citizenship was worthy of the gospel message that we proclaim, and that in doing so we should be committed to a mindset held together by the Holy Spirit. Then, he encouraged us not to be “terrified by your adversaries” (Philippians 1:28).

Such adversaries—from the devil himself (1 Peter 5:8) to business (Matthew 5:25) and family problems (Luke 12:13)—are part and parcel to those who would “live godly in Christ Jesus” (2 Timothy 3:12). We should not be surprised when such challenges come; rather, we should be alarmed if all men “speak well of you” (Luke 6:26).

Curiously, Paul wrote that we are “gifted” (Greek verb charizomai, same idea as the related noun charis) with this privilege, in the interests of our Lord Jesus, to “suffer for his sake.” The apostles understood this paradox as they left the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem “rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name” (Acts 5:41).

Peter wrote that we should follow the example set for us by the Lord Jesus, “who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously” (1 Peter 2:23). In fact, we should “rejoice” when asked to share in the same kind of sufferings that our Lord endured, and whenever we are “reproached for the name of Christ” we should be happy, “for the spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you” (1 Peter 4:14).

Privileged suffering indeed! James wrote that we should “count it all joy” (James 1:2) when we are tested. Those times increase our faith and allow us to demonstrate our allegiance to Christ. HMM III

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kingmaker-thac0hno · 4 years ago

Text

The Kingdom of Thornvale: Brasse’s Brewery and Biergarten

The month of Calistril, 4711 Early in the month of Calistril, The Lords of Thornvale post their monthly edict for all to see, comiting to the construction of a brewery and mill along the banks of the Shrike river near Haven. Herr Brasse is clearly excited, and the other villagers are eager to have more of his tasty brews. Many are eager to focus on something other than their growling stomachs.

Shortly after hearing the petitions of their subjects, the Lords of Thornvale convene a meeting in Havenhall to discuss recent events. Evrin springs forward to give a rousing speech to the crowd on the noble principles the Kingdom was founded on, but it sounds more like a reprimand to the folk gathered. He then turns to the three accused militia and makes his ruling for punishment. The sharp intake of breath can be heard audibly from the crowd gathered, and the men's faces turn white. They're escorted outside, and their punishment meted out before the crowd.

Near the end of the punishment, a commotion from the gathered villagers arises, with many of the commoners trading harsh words. "Serve's em right!" shout some. "How they supposed to protect us on empty bellies?" yell others. "Take the justice from their hide!" and "You have what you hold!" echo in the streets. It's clear that the village is split evenly, with many of the former brevic subjects favoring punishment, while many of the native riverlanders seeing nothing wrong with what had been done. [Persuasion: 7 vs. DC 20] The commotion nearly spills into an all-out brawl until Saryn speaks up.

His honeyed words soothes the gathered villagers, while the three ex-militiamen are taken away. Promises to deal with the cause of the recent slayings are met with nods of approval, though some in the back yell out "Oathbreakers Die!", a reference to the river freedom of the same name. Still, the crowd seems appeased, at least for a while. The mention of a council of commoners sets them chattering, and calls for individuals to be nominated nearly drown out Saryn himself. It is clear they will take some time deciding. [Persuasion: 20 vs. DC 20]

While Armauk leads Haven's collection of wild horses west, Karis and Saryn set off east, journeying at least part of the way together. While Karys continues on to Varnhold, Saryn stops to speak with the Sootscale Kobolds. Chief Sootscale welcomes his old friend and recounts stories of the Seven Veils festival several months ago, smiling as he does so. He listens intently as Saryn articulates his proposal to join the Kingdom of Thornvale. The Chief takes his time in responding.

"The Sootscales owe you much, this is true. But If I bow to you, how will my clan still look up to me? Stronger together, this I know. But I will not give up my throne. Make me a Lord of Thornvale, and I can agree. As equals, you and me. " The Chief looks at Saryn, and for a moment the dragon nature of his kin shines in his eyes. "But I ask one thing in exchange. The purple shaman, who has caused me much shame. I want his head. Deliver it to me, and we will make our pact before Aspu and Dahak." [Persuasion: 11 vs. DC 10]

Meanwhile, Stone Walker and Evrin remain in Thornvale, each tending to little details of the kingdom. Nole, Revna, and Angus are grateful for some relief from their duties, taking time in Havenhall to share drinks with some of the loggers in town. Most of the villagers are starting to accept the little gnome as well, and see his services increasingly handy.

Armauk, having arrived at Bennet Plantation, has a good conversation with Periwimple about cattle and ranching, where the seasoned farmer lays out some facts. "I'm no rancher, Lord Priest. If you're asking me to look after a herd of cattle, I'll do my best, but me and the boys here can't cultivate these Fangberries and manage a free-range herd all at once. I certainly don't have any feed to keep them penned in. Plus, most of these boys are city boys from Restov and are just learnin' how to keep the dang bushes alive, so I'm spending much of my time now teaching them what I can so they're useful come spring. If you're going to go north for more folk and you want cattle, then I'd say look for a seasoned vaquero lookin to start his own ranch, then dangle him an offer he can't refuse."

The next few days, Armauk spends working with the horses, who appear much more receptive out away from the village, though it does appear that they would adapt better from longer, consistent training [Handle Animal: 16 vs DC 15]. One evening, after poking around in the woods, Armauk discovers the old Thylacine pacing the perimeter of the plantation, no doubt drawn by the smells of food. After a brief chat, and an offer of some jerky, the animal follows the half-orc back to the farm, and continues to follow him on his journey [Survival: 19 vs DC 10].

At some point early in the month, Saryn returns to Haven, passing through as he heads west. Stone Walker joins him on a trip out to the new Bennet Plantation, where they join up with Armauk and spend some time looking into the woods near the murder site. Poking around, Saryn notices no sign of fey presence in this part of the wood [Perception: 21 vs. DC 10], though Armauk does see old wolf tracks heading south from the body, which simply disappear after about a half mile [Survival: 24 vs. DC 10]. Stone Walker, snooping about, notices a few broken tree branches nearby, and some human footprints in the now-covered ground, heading east for a bit before they vanish among the windswept hilltops of the Kamelands. [Investigation: 12 vs. DC 10]

After many days of travel, Karis finally arrives in Varnhold. [Survival: 13 vs. DC 10] The trip, while easy, was cold and the mountain pass especially so. The warm fire of Varnhold's largest inn is a welcome sight, and Karis is able to wander though a thriving, bustling town. The town is well-fortified with palisades, towers, and a large wooden fort on the eastern side of the Kiravoy River, which the town straddles. A well-armed garrison defends the town, which seems to have built a fairly successful economy around mining in the nearby mountains. While it's not difficult to see that Varnhold's strength clearly outpaces Thornvale's, Karis is unsuccessful in identifying any potential targets in the chain of command, aside from a brief glimpse of Lord Varn himself, spotted on the battlements of the fort. [Investigation: 9 vs. DC 20]

After several days, Karis departs for Restov and returns under the disguise of a troubadour, revisiting the same inn. The proprietor of the inn is happy to have a new entertainer, and the crowd thoroughly enjoys his tales of Haven and Thornvale, of worgs and the Stag Lord. Most nights, he is able to sleep and eat his fill from the coin passed to his hat, with plenty extra for his pocket. [Performance 19 vs. DC 15]. Murmurs among the revelers seem to indicate a newfound interest in travelling west once the weather turns. After a few days of spreading the good word, Karis heads west to Haven, braving the cold and snow once again.

By mid-month, Armauk has set off north to Restov with a wagon and some villagers tired of the tensions in Haven. They take few provisions, but many furs, choosing to hunt as they head north [Survival 20 vs. DC 20].. After a brief stop near the site of Oleg's Trading post to plant a sign pointing south reading "KINGDOM OF THORNVALE, CITY OF HAVEN", the small group arrives in Restov near months' end, thankful for the comforts of a big city.

By now, Saryn has headed deep into the Narlmarches to visit his fey friends, who are receptive and attentive during his visit. While Tyg and Perlivash act their usual selves, he leaves the meeting feeling something amiss about the whole conversation - jovial words, but very little content. After leaving, Saryn discovers a small bundle tucked in his pocket that was not there before. Unwrapping the tiny leaves reveals several small pieces of bark carved to look like tiny eyes and ears. Turning to look back at the two faeries, they're nowhere to be found. The entire encounter weighs on the ranger's mind during the journey back to Haven as he hunts along the way. Distracted by the turn of events, the hunt does not fare well [Survival 13 vs. DC 20]

Returning to Haven, Stone Walker starts work on a true town clock, though the weather and lack of sufficient parts make his work difficult. By the end of the month, Stone Walker realizes he has made virtually no progress, and may have to scrap his prototype and start anew. [Intelligence: 5 vs. DC 15].

In Restov, Armauk visits the Temple of Erastil and his old friend Bolgar, seeking to gain the merchant's aid on a trip home. Bolger replies candidly. "It's mid-winter. Such a trip would be a loss for me, as the farmers out there have nothing to trade in return. If you truly want my company, then I'd be happy to go along, but I cant afford to send a caravan out knowing it will lose money." Bolgar does help with some contacts in town and arranges for the sale of furs and ale.

By the end of the month, the militia shows some marginal improvement, though it is clear to Evrin that many more months of dedicated training needs done before these villagers could properly wield a sword. Notable, too, is the absence of the three men punished earlier in the month. It's clear that they've departed Haven, and a few others with them.

With construction of the brewery and mill, the village has a grand-opening celebration, and Herr Brasse breaks out his final small cask of Moon Radish Beer ( stashed away for just such an occasion). The drink invigorates the crowd, helping them forget the struggles of recent months, and they all look forward to the coming of spring.

Turn 8; Pharast, 4711 AR

Petitions:

The villagers approach with their nominations for the Council of Commoners: Herr Brasse, and Veshka Varnashu

Early in the Month of Pharast, Odis and several of his men from the bandit village arrive in Haven. They look around and eventually approach the Council of Lords with an inquiry. One of the children from their camp has gone missing, and they had hoped he was in Haven. They request that should news of his location arise, they would be grateful if it were passed along. They are curt, but polite, and leave quickly.

Cedrin reminds the Lords that Pharast is an important month for farming and agriculture, and suggests it would be wise to allow their subjects plenty of time to prepare for planting week near the end of the month.

Edicts:

You may issue one edict for the month of Pharast

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ayma-nidiot · 5 years ago

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In the White Light - Prideshipping fic Chapter 20

Also on AO3.

Author’s note: I wrote most of this chapter whilst drinking wine, so forgive me. Probably explains why there’s strong YGOTAS influence in this chapter, particularly with Rex and Weevil.

I’m also sorry for the slow updates. Not only am I swamped at work, but the duel portrayed in this chapter was very hard to write, and definitely the most important duel in the fic.

Also there is minor blood in this chapter. But nothing graphic.

Also, for inexplicable reasons, Kaiba and Rex has become my new BROTP.

Chapter 20 – Torment in Hell

“It’s quiet…” were Joey’s first words upon return to the palace. “Too quiet.”

“You sure this is the best time for clichéd movie references, Wheeler?”

“Besides,” spoke Yami Yugi. “You forget that the attacks were mostly concentrated in the villages. Plus I think this silence is a sign of peace.”

“Guess again, pharaoh!” Téa walked a further bit behind the rest of the gang. “Someone’s hurt!”

“What?” Yami Yugi rushed over to where Téa stood – the nearest medical ward – and his heart sank to learn that Mahad had been gravely wounded. “Gods… Mahad! What happened to you?”

“Pharaoh…” Mahad coughed up a bit of blood. “Isis… We were suddenly attacked by two strong men… I… I had never seen the likes of them before! I bought time for Isis so that she may escape to the nearest village… I hope that she’s okay… and that she found Karim or Shada.”

“Master… Master, please don’t die!” Mana pleaded with tears.

“Mana… I’ve taught you everything I know. Take my place as a High Priest on the royal court… And if you can defeat the man who took my Millennium Ring… It’s yours.”

“I don’t even care about that, Master! …Master? Oh… Oh no…” Mana took Mahad’s staff from his cold hands. “I promise. I will serve the royal family to the best of my ability in your place.”

“We better find the bastard who did this!” Joey proposed. “Huh? Pharaoh?”

“If only I hadn’t left the palace… If only I had doubled the guard at the palace, then Mahad would still be alive…”

“Babe, it’s not your fault. Nobody could have predicted this, given what we know about the enemy.”

“My love, I’ve realized something. If we are to put an end to this war, then we need to kill the two men who did this. If they were strong enough to kill a High Priest, then I can only imagine what they would do to the common citizenry.”

“Funny you should say that, pharaoh.” Tristan looked to Rex and Weevil. “Because I don’t think you’ve finished interrogating these nimrods.”

“You’re right… Say, guys?”

“What do you want?” The events from Anubis’ chamber still fresh in his mind, Weevil cast his gaze to the side. “I’ve already told you all that I know.”

“But surely the two guys you dueled serve a master,” Yami Yugi continued. “Did they happen to mention anything of the sort?”

“Actually… Come to think of it, one of them thanked their master for lending them a rare card…” Rex recalled. “Or something like that.”

“What was the card?”

“It was… Uh… Dank Necrofear.”

Weevil bonked Rex on the head for that answer. “Dark Necrofear, you dino brain!”

“‘Dark Necrofear…’”

Yami Yugi’s eyes opened wide when he started to surmise who this “master” was, but a sudden voice pulled him from his thoughts. “If you want to have at my ultimate monster, then I’ll gladly oblige, pharaoh!”

Though Yami Yugi, in his heart, wanted to partake in this challenge, Kaiba stopped him. “You have your own mission, and that’s to find your true name. While you do that, let me handle this ‘master.’”

“By yourself? Are you certain?”

“I’ve got the ‘power of the gods,’ remember?”

“That’s what you said in your past life!”

“Ugh, this isn’t the best time to argue!”

“Kaiba… Is this about what Anubis said? That we can’t be together because I belong in the past, and you in the present? So… Does this mean you choose KaibaCorp over me?”

“…Just go, before my heart breaks any more than it has already.”

“Then… May the power of the gods be with you.” In tears, Yami Yugi left through the back entrance, beckoning for his friends to follow.

As soon as the “Dweeb Patrol” had gone out of his sights, Kaiba exited the palace through the main entrance. He would have cried, too, if a somewhat familiar face hadn’t given him a not-so-warm welcome. “Huh. How disappointing. To think that I would be dueling the pharaoh, and yet I’m just dueling the present-day form of Priest Seto instead. But I guess you’ll do for now.”

“It can’t be… Yami Bakura! And…” Kaiba looked to the other man, with his spiky blond hair and tattooed, tan skin. “Yami Marik! But how? I thought you were dead… Is it occult nonsense again?”

“Nah, I’d just call it the power of the gods, gifted to only the most powerful in this country. Oh, and you can call me Bandit King Bakura. That is my real name, after all.”

“I remember you well from Battle City.” Yami Marik stepped forward.

“Likewise.” Kaiba was ready to activate his Duel Disk any second now.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you plan to challenge us all by yourselves! I said I remember you well from Battle City, but last I checked, I placed second while you barely placed third!”

A high-pitched shout interrupted this verbal fight. “Waaaaaait!”

“Hmm…” Bandit King Bakura eyed the intruders – Rex and Weevil – carefully. “Ah, yes, now I remember. These are the twerps who helped me recover my Millennium Ring.”

“Wait, is that Bakura? And… Who’s this, a Super Saiyan?” It took a while for Rex to process what was going on. “Hey, Kaiba, you gonna duel these guys?”

“Yeah, and you better stay back, rabbit stew!”

“Why you…” Weevil didn’t like hearing his boyfriend being addressed by that name. “I’ll show you!”

“No, baby, let me.” Rex had no qualms about calling Weevil a pet name in front of company. “I want to show Kaiba how I’ve improved since our last duel.”

“Wait, we’ve dueled before?”

“But of course! It was during a tournament you hosted before you lost to Yu- I mean, the pharaoh.”

“What tournament? Do you know how many tournaments I’ve hosted, rabbit stew? How many twerps like yourself I’ve crushed?”

“Argh, stop calling me that!” Rex had already fully activated his Duel Disk. “I’m tag dueling with you, and that’s final! We LGBT folk should stick together!”

“I don’t see how that has jack shit to do with anything, but I suppose I’ll humour you.” Kaiba looked to his two foes before starting up his own Duel Disk. “Don’t expect me to cover your ass, though. Also, you have a very poor taste in men, to have chosen a dung beetle like Underwood.”

“Yes, don’t let this ‘rabbit stew’ slow you down!” Bandit King Bakura summoned four stone tablets with his DiaDhank. “I’ll take the honour of first move. I summon Archfiend Heiress in attack mode! I’ll set a card, then turn it over to you, Kaiba.”

Hah! Kaiba marveled at his starting hand – Ancient Rules, Blue-Eyes White Dragon, White Stone of the Ancients, and Staunch Defender – as well as his newly drawn Karma Cut. Already, I’m halfway done gathering all my Blue-Eyes White Dragons! “I play the spell Ancient Rules to Special Summon my Blue-Eyes White Dragon! I’ll set two cards… before I unleash a White Lightning upon your Archfiend Heiress!”

“It’s all good…” Bandit King Bakura seemed chill, even though he had just suffered 2000 points of damage. “Because I activate my Heiress’ special ability to add an Archfiend card to my hand… and I choose Summoned Skull!”

“Good work, ‘partner!’” Yami Marik drew a card after this half-hearted congratulations. “I’ll set a card, then I summon Dark Jeroid in attack mode! Now say goodbye to 800 of your attack points, Blue-Eyes! I’ll end it for now; it’s your turn!”

“Who, me?” Rex was so entranced by the early heavy hitters that he barely remembered to draw a card – or to look at his starting hand. Oh! I already have the Creepy Coney… Since Blue-Eyes White Dragon is on the field, I’d do well to play it. “I’ll set a monster and another card. Turn over.”

“I’ll use one of your favourite spells, Kaiba, to Special Summon Summoned Skull from my hand! Thanks to Dark Jeroid, my Summoned Skull has enough power to wipe out your ‘mighty’ Blue-Eyes!”

Hmph… I’m not worried, Bakura. I’ve got ways to get Blue-Eyes out of my Graveyard. “You’ve activated my trap, Karma Cut! I’ll discard my White Stone of the Ancients to banish your Summoned Skull from the game!”

“Grr…” Bandit King Bakura was now open to a direct attack. “I’ll set a card before ending my turn.”

“Did you say ‘ending my turn?’ Good! Because thanks to my White Stone of the Ancient’s special ability, I can Special Summon a Blue-Eyes from my deck during the end phase! I know what you’re trying to pull here, Bakura, and let me tell you this: I am not going to let you summon your Dark Necrofear. …I’ll set this card, then with my newly summoned Blue-Eyes, I’ll attack Dark Jeroid!”

“You may be too smart to let him summon Dark Necrofear,” Yami Marik spoke as he drew a card. “But I know your dueling partner’s ‘strategies’ all too well. He shoots first and asks questions later! You cannot hope to defeat us like that!”

“Are you done?” Rex snarled. “Because I want to have my turn too, you know!”

“Oh, I will be soon! After I activate my Nightmare Wheel, weaken the Blue-Eyes White Dragon with it, then Special Summon my Zoa with Ancient Rules! Now, Zoa, attack that Blue-Eyes!”

“Leave my Blue-Eyes alone! Reveal trap card, Staunch Defender! Your attack is redirected… at rabbit stew’s set monster!”

“Heh! Even though my Creepy Coney is sent to the Graveyard, I still activate its special ability and you suffer 1000 points of damage, Super Saiyan! I also have a trap of my own, Dimension Equilibrium! Not only is your Zoa banished from the game, but I can also Special Summon my Creepy Coney from the Graveyard!”

“Oh!” Bandit King Bakura and Kaiba declared at the same time.

So… Rex stared at the plain white rabbit that stood on the battlefield. That’s my animal form? “I play the Pot of Greed I just drew, then I use Book of Moon on my Creepy Coney. I also thought I’d take the time to mention that you’re defenseless, Super Saiyan.”

“My name is Marik!” Yami Marik roared.

“I don’t really give a frog’s fat ass what your name is, since you’re going to die anyway… thanks to this Bracchio-Radius I just summoned. I equip it with Raise Body Heat for good measure, then it’s time for a direct attack!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that! I activate Counter Gate!” Bandit King Bakura declared. “Your direct attack is negated, and Marik gets to draw a card. You better hope it’s not a monster… Or else.”

“Th-Thank you.” Yami Marik displayed an unusual show of tenderness as he drew a card.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I just want to defeat these fools at all costs.”

“Anything you say… At any rate, thanks for the Normal Summon! I summon the card I just drew, Archfiend Empress, to my side of the field!”

“Then it’s my turn!” declared Bandit King Bakura. “I summon Giant Orc in attack mode! I’ll then play my spell, Mystik Wok, and tribute my Orc so that I can gain 2200 Life Points!”

“Shit… You just sent a third Fiend to the Graveyard, didn’t you?”

“That would be correct, Kaiba! I banish the Fiends in our Graveyards to summon my favourite monster of all… Dark Necrofear!”

“Yiiiiipe!” Rex fell on his butt upon seeing this familiar monster.

“You’ve got every right to be scared, because the monster I plan to attack is your Creepy Coney!”

“Hmph. You still suffer 1000 Life Points of damage, though.”

“I’m sure he’s well aware of that.” Kaiba spoke impatiently as he began his turn. “I’ll set a monster, then I banish White Stone of the Ancients from my Graveyard to take a Blue-Eyes White Dragon from there.”

“That’s it? Then, I’ll summon Revival Jam in defense mode! I’m sure you remember this monster from Battle City preeeetty well.”

“Yeah, I remember it. I remember it well enough to remember its flaws!”

“Go, Archfiend Heiress! Get rid of the Bracchio-Radius! So, who’s the defenseless one now, rabbit stew?”

I won’t be… I hope the “heart of the cards” thing Yugi keeps on talking about is real… Rex beamed when he drew his Red-Eyes Fusion. Oh, it’s real, all right! “I use my Red-Eyes Fusion card to Fusion Summon one of the strongest cards of all… Red-Eyes Slash Dragon! And though I may look like a dumb bag of bricks, I know better than to attack Dark Necrofear. So I’ll just get rid of Archfiend Empress instead!”

“Very cute that you’ve actually learned your lesson for once. But now I’ll set a card…. Then I’ll attack with Dark Necrofear!”

“What? But her attack-”

“Is exactly the same as the Blue-Eyes White Dragon! Which is why I’ll attack that monster, so that I may Special Summon it to my side of the field! Then before I end my turn, I’ll set a card that I think the two of you will like… Hahaha!”

Dear gods, that better not be what I think it is! Kaiba thought. “I summon Maiden with Eyes of Blue in attack mode! That will be all.”

“My next turn will be just as simple! I’ll play the Pot of Greed I just drew, then set two cards.”

“Huhuhu… Weevil, he said ‘pot.’” Rex turned to look at his boyfriend, who during this entire duel, remained standing.

“Oh yeah… Hehehe. There’s a lot of that in this duel, I’ve noticed. Hehehe.”

“Oh my gods, just draw a damned card already.” Kaiba closed his eyes and face-palmed.

“I summon Hydrogeddon in attack mode, then I’ll attack Revival Jam with my Red-Eyes Slash Dragon!” spoke Rex.

“Apparently, you’ve never seen this monster – or the trap you just activated, Enchanted Javelin! I gain 3000 Life Points, then pay 1000 of them to Special Summon Revival Jam in defense mode.”

“Good work, partner.” Bandit King Bakura revealed his face down card – the one that nearly won his modern incarnation a spot at Battle City – Destiny Board. “I’ll play another Pot of Greed, and set two cards.”

Before Rex could make another pot reference, Kaiba spoke while he drew his next card, “Don’t even think about it, rabbit stew. I’ll tribute my Maiden with Eyes of Blue to activate the special ability of this card – Sage with Eyes of Blue! With these two cards combined, I can Special Summon two Blue-Eyes onto my side of the field! Now, Blue-Eyes, attack Blue-Eyes on Bakura’s side of the field so it returns to my Graveyard!”

“Sorry, Kaiba, but it’s not going to be that easy! I activate two traps – Enchanted Javelin and Jam Defender! Now I have a grand total of 6200 Life Points, and you’ve got no choice but to attack the Revival Jam!”

“Did you forget that I have two Blue-Eyes already? Now my monster returns to my Graveyard, and your Nightmare Wheel is history!”

“Not a problem, not a problem…” Yami Marik laughed. “I’ve got all the Revival Jams – and Life Points - in the world, and I’ll summon one from my Graveyard, one from my hand in defense mode!”

Largely unaware of Yami Marik’s strategy, Rex summoned Jurrac Gallim in attack mode. “Hey, hey. If you don’t attack eventually, then you’re gonna run out of cards, buddy! I’ll attack you directly with both of my monsters, Bakura!”

“You mean my Revival Jams?” Yami Marik corrected.

“Hehehe, I’d knew you’d try that. I can still Special Summon another Hydrogeddon from my deck, if the one I have on the field destroys a monster.”

“Maybe you’re not a total dimwit after all! But then again, neither am I. I now have three letters of my Destiny Board in play, in addition to the trap I just set.”

Leaving himself to a direct attack? It may be risky, but… “I’ll direct attack Bakura with one of my Blue-Eyes!”

“Shouldn’t have taken the risk, Kaiba! I use one of my favourite traps, Counter Gate! …Now I summon Abominable Unchained Soul to my side of the field.”

Yami Marik waited a while to see if Kaiba would kamikaze one of his Blue-Eyes, then began his turn. “If I were you, I would have sacrifices one of your Blue-Eyes! Because if you did, you could prevent me from summoning my ultimate monster to your side of the field! I sacrifice your two Blue-Eyes to Special Summon Lava Golem! Prepare to suffer for the four turns it will take for my monster to sap your Life Points!”

“That is if my Destiny Board doesn’t destroy him first!”

Shit… This duel… Rex couldn’t still his shaking hand as he drew Dark Effigy. These guys are so much better than me! Even my strongest monster is nowhere near tough enough! Maybe I should have just let Kaiba duel by himself… I’m only weighing him down.

“Rabbit stew, this isn’t the time to give up!” Kaiba snapped Rex out of his despair. “Look more carefully at your cards, and at your Extra Deck! There’s a special ability somewhere there!”

Hey, he’s right! Rex looked at a powerful silver card in his Extra Deck. I’ve never seen anyone Synchro Summon before, and what better time than now to do it! “The Destiny Board… The Lava Golem… It’s all going to end. Prepare to suffer as the dinosaurs did when they went extinct! I Synchro Summon… Jurrac Meteor!”

“What?” Kaiba, along with the other duel participants, had never heard of technique before. “‘Synchro Summon?’”

“I’ll tell you all about it later! Now every card on the battlefield is destroyed! But there is one survivor… My Jurrac Gallim comes back from my Graveyard, and it’s ready to attack you directly, Bakura!”

“Oooooh, I’m so scared!” The Bandit King sounded cool, but in his mind he cursed Rex for ruining one of his favourite strategies.

“You’re just going to end your turn like that? And with no set cards, either?” Kaiba smirked. “Then I’ll summon Assault Wyvern to attack you directly!”

“You think after the third time, you’d have known better than to attack one of us directly! Because now, my Battle Fader’s special ability activates! I can Special Summon it from my hand, and in so doing, end your battle phase!”

“And if you thought we were done torturing you… Well, that’s where you’re wrong!” Yami Marik played Monster Reborn. “I revive Archfiend Empress from my Graveyard! But before I attack, I’ll power her up with my field spell Archfiend Palabyrinth!”

Shadows danced across the battlefield now, adding to the backdrop of a pointy castle.

“S-So? I ain’t afraid of no ghosts!”

“Well, you will be when I destroy your Jurrac Gallim, and discard a card to negate its special ability! Now then, let’s see your last line of defense before I send you to hell!” Yami Marik taunted.

“I… I…” Rex summoned Dark Effigy and played Banner of Courage before turning back to Weevil. “Sorry, Weeves, but… Just know that I love you. Try not to cry too much when I’m gone, okay?”

“Rex…” Weevil started to feel burning butterflies in his stomach. “No… No, it can’t end this way!”

“Will you stop with the pessimism? Gods!” Kaiba growled. “I reveal my face-down card, Double Summon, and let you use it! Surely you’ve got something good in your hand that you can summon, right?”

“…” Rex bared both hands, indicating that they were free of cards. “In my next turn, Archfiend Empress will attack my Dark Effigy… Then that will be it for me.”

“Are you serious right now?” Weevil spoke in a distorted but calm voice. “Is my boyfriend really that weak? Whatever happened to your famous phrase ‘my duelin’ dinos will tear you to shreds?’”

“Weeves?” Rex froze in place when, after turning around, two spider’s legs jutted out of each sleeve of Weevil’s shirt and shorts. “No way… Don’t tell me that you’re a shapeshifter too?”

“Marik…” Weevil spoke through the black pincers that had replaced his mouth. “Let me teach you a lesson. If you mess with my beloved Rex Raptor… Then you’re only inviting yourself to an endless torment in hell!”

#yugioh #ygo #prideshipping #shrimpshipping #fanfiction

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moonwitch-grimoire · 7 years ago

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Thursday December 21st 2017, Yule & Winter Solstice

Final day of Sagittarius, 6:39 pm, Waxing Crescent Moon

Today’s Post includes:

Yule traditions

old gods vs monotheistic gods

balance of dark and light

wheel of the year

some Yule stuff to do

Blessed Yule and Happy Holidays, brothers, sisters, and angels on earth!

As avowed, today shall begin my chronicles, logging magic knowledge and my personal activities. Where possible i will provide resources, and a lot of my information can be found elsewhere on my blog in other posts!

As usual I didn’t wake up into 4:20, which is a lit more distressing than it is funny, actually, and since I’m lazy, i ordered a pizza and watched the latter half of a Thor movie, WHICH got me thinking about winter and it’s gods!

History Time:

As I’m sure many, but probably not all, of you know, Yule and Christmas and Hanukkah all contend for time in December (though i don’t see why we can’t all just get along) But they all used to be during different times! Yule used to be in mid January, Christmas was late spring, and....i actually don’t know about Hanukkah, so I’ll do some research and get back to you (or you can drop me a line and teach me!) After Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity in the first century, it spread through the empire, and once it was made the official religion of Rome, people started spreading the good word (for better or worse).

What the priests and monks did was migrate the real date of Jesus Christ’s birth to winter to better line up with the Yule Festival, the Druid Alban Arthuan, and Saturnalia, which had previously been the Empire’s Winter festival celebrating Saturn/Kronos, lasted for 7 days, and let all classes and races interact equally in ancient Rome and it’s colonies. By grouping the ‘Wild Northerners’ festval and the old Roman festival together with the new official religion of the Empire, the Christian church managed to ease a transition of power through the late 1st century and dark ages.

So what does this tell us? Other than a lot of aggressive anti-whatever-religion-i-am-not stuff, multiple festivals were celebrated in winter. It was a time of feasting, peace, and revelry where everyone was seen as equal and good, which is a comforting thought. There was a whole lot of meat to feast on, since feed for the animals was short, there was no war or battles (George Washington is an outlier and should not be counted), and the night was long, which meant everyone was inside around their fires and candles, with nothing to do but eat.

This meant there was singing and dancing, lots of drinking alcohol, laughter and games, and, my personal favorite, story telling. People would gather in the largest house in their village, or in their family’s main house, the town hall maybe, and feast and celebrate. Obviously in places like Egypt where there was no snow, things were a bit different, but as Yule was a mostly northern Germanic and Scandinavian festival, we can comfortably exclude the Egyptian’s (for the moment). This was a time of unity and connection. Check your weapons at the door, give the poor money and food, unite in revelry and sing loud enough the ceiling shakes.

Saturn (or the Greek Kronus/Chronos) was the center of the festival Saturnalia, as he was the titan king of time. Demeter and Persephone would also receive tithes, as Proserpine was in the underworld with old Pluto, and Demeter was moping in the overworld. It was a time of renewal and rebirth, sacrifices for a return of the light and quick return to spring. The Norse Aesir also got their fair share, Loki among them, as he was both the snow they fled and the fire they thrived on. Odin, as cheif of the Aesir and the Allfader was of course top of the list, leading men on the hunt and sitting at the head of the table for feast. Thor and his goats got involved, and everyone prayed and worshiped the sun goddess, in hopes that she would be reborn and return. And the Christians celebrated St. Thomas day and the relocated birth of Christ festival

Traditions:

Yule was chiefly a festival for rebirth, the end of the old year and birth of a new one. As the Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year, early cultures who lacked knowledge of a round Earth found the briefness of the sun distressing if not downright terrifying. So they worshiped their sun deities while placating their winter deities and hoped and prayed. Lucky for them the days got longer shortly after after even if the winter carried on.

In order to preserve the power of nature subdued under all that snow, people would bring in evergreen boughs, winter plants and greenery to decorate their homes, which is now the boughs of holly, trees, and garlands we know so well. The survival of life was crucial and these evergreen boughs gave both hope and joy, since everyone knows there’s nothing quite like the smell of a pine tree.

The giving of gifts started relatively simpler than presents, but as a gift of money, food, clothes, or some other item someone needed desperately. Inviting the poor into the homes of the rich to feast and be warm and safe in this dark time was a tithe to your fellow man and to the gods. This was especially prevalent in Scandinavian culture, since Odin was known to walk about disguised as an old man and they who brought him into their home would be richly rewarded on good fortune or more practical payment.

Story telling. In a time where there were little to no roads, freezing weather, and only the rich had horses, donkeys or steeds of that kind, travelers were considered stupid, brave, or both. In the old days, many of these travelers were bards and storytellers. They too were invited in, bringing familiar tales everyone knew but the very youngest, always with a new element or twist, or else tales of far away from different lands. In exchange for a warm bed and a good meal these bards spun tales of the gods, heroes, magic, and adventure.

The gods and God:

Being Omnitheist (a tale for another day), I have a very peculiar look at how the old gods and the Abrahamic gods interact. but looking at it from a step back, we can all agree to some extent that Christianity moved throughout the empire pushing out the old gods to make way for He Who Is Three (the Christian God). For better or worse, those are the facts. However, clearly, we haven't forgotten them and they are still with us. No one is the good guy or the bad guy, no one god is to be blamed for what has happened (though I think some of the tricksters and lords of chaos and conflict are in the line of fire for recent events) And Yule, of all time sis when people should band together in acceptance and love. I guarantee, your personal deity will not damn you to punishment if you hug someone with different religion this holiday season.

The Balance of Dark and Light:

In my opinion, the saddest truth of the universe is that no matter how much we wish it, we cannot have joy without sorrow, happiness without pain, or Light without Dark. The world must stay balanced, not necessarily perfectly balanced in a single position, as this generated stagnation such as the Egyptians experienced. In order for the motion of the world to continue, there must be loses followed by victories allowing the scales of Dark and Light to tip and lean, never upending themselves but never still.

Furthermore, Dark is not always Bad, and Light is not always good, but again, that is a tale for another day.

Yule is a time of balance, of rebirth, it is the darkest time of year when the world is (supposedly) buried in snow and cold, the darkness hounding every moment and shows the end of time. And the beginning. This is a time of unity, compassion, camaraderie. Now is a time for love and acceptance, rich and poor, old and young from every culture, religion, background, race, and place. Soon a new year will come, bringing fresh flowers and sunshine and beauty and light. But for now we band together, Halfway through the dark.

As For Me:

I gave up on Christmas a long time ago. I won’t tell anyone to stop celebrating it and i will not forget what it’s supposed to celebrate but for my Christmas has too many dark memories, now more than ever. But Yule! my souls sings the praises of winter and snow and shadow. Yule is my chosen winter festival, though some may choose to celebrate them all! So tonight, for the first time in longer than i care to admit here’s my game plan:

post this long ass post

set up my alter and light candles for my gods (more below)

cleanse in moon water and smoke, both myself and my space

rebuild and reinforce my wards (Tale For Another Day)

Worship (TFAD)

play (more below)

My alter is actually my bedside table. i do use it as such, however, as soon as i lay my alter cloth there, it becomes a sacred space. Tonight, my alter will have acorns for rebirth, a small oak branch that fell on my head once, a pumpkin from Samhein, a variety of crystals including bloodstone (which is good for yule) and moonstone (because i love it). my candles will be white tea lights, here used for purity and peace, and some moon water and fruit as an offering to the gods of winter, rebirth, snow, and spring.

by ‘play’ i mean revelry in as classic a form as i can. I have chocolate lava cakes in the fridge, there’s pizza in there and my room mate is also cooking. I’m going to listen to some old timey music and watch a couple movies about witch craft and yule magic. I can give out a list of that stuff if y’all’d like to know what i have in mind. I’ll do a little casting on myself. I’ll probably sing and read a bit and maybe convince my friend to go walk with me and play Pokemon GO. That may seem out of the mood, but going outside in the night, feeling the yule energy and saying hello to every tree i pass is something I feel is important. Catching the 10 new Hoenn region Pokemon they just released is just an added bonus.

Above all Yule is a time for rebirth. Now is when you wanna cleanse and rework your wards, shields and protective spells. It’s a time for new ideas and concept, staring a new journey! Now is a good time to start new projects and become a better you. I have faith in you.

If you read this far, you’re a champ! Lots of love this Holiday season and Blessed Yule!

Blessings upon you from whosoever you choose to accept them from and merry meet again!

-Echo Celani

#chronicles #text #yule #winter #winter solcitice #long text post #old gods #long post #under the cut #happy yule #yule festival

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thecourt-rpg · 8 years ago

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LUX EMMELINE FINTAN is a FOUR HUNDRED FIFTEEN (NINETEEN) year old FEMALE VAMPIRE that uses SHE/HER. They are known for being COURAGEOUS, HOPEFUL & APPROACHABLE. Unfortunately, they are also known for being IMPETUOUS, TEMPERAMENTAL & ARTLESS.

Their face claim is ELIZA TAYLOR, and they currently live in THE WINTER COURT as a MEDICAL DOCTOR.

Trigger warnings for murder, imprisonment, and abortion.

The youngest child of an innkeeper, Lux is said to have entered the world laughing. The instant darling of her family, she was a pleasant, amiable child from the start, hardly ever crying, and effusive in her affections. Despite the fact that she didn’t grow up to be as purposeful and dutiful as her eldest brother, nor as beautiful and graceful as her older sister she was the beloved and cosseted favorite of all who knew her. She grew up surrounded by love and cheer, both of which she returned tenfold, her delight in life and every new day enough to lighten even the darkest mood.

Curious and welcoming, she made fast friends with those who stopped at her father’s inn, and mourned when they left. Capricious by nature, her tantrums were just as all-consuming as her happiness, her leanings not allowing her to feel anything half-way, but those outbursts were rare, and easily fixed with a kind word and a smile, her tears wiped away by her brother who made it his life mission to keep her content.

Close to all in her family, she was devastated when her parents died in a carriage accident when she was just thirteen, leaving the inn and his younger sisters in the care of her brother, who was barely out of childhood himself. The tragic event mellowed her down somewhat, and inspired in her a spirituality that was most contrary to her free spirit. But she loved attending the sermons in her village, their priest a calm, quiet man himself, who didn’t take much joy in preaching about fire and brimstone and focused instead of inspiring love and acceptance in all. She sang the hymns, and listened to the sermons, but it was clear she wasn’t born for a monastic life, too fidgety and impulsive to stand still for long, even in her devotion. She never did quite understand when she took things too far, and she proved astoundingly obstinate in believing she was right against all evidence to the contrary – or common sense. In fact, she exhibited a complete lack of the latter. She also possessed an utter obliviousness to any social signals that her behavior might inconvenience someone. If caught in one of her better moods, simply being asked to cease would be enough for her to change tack, but if she was already feeling quarrelsome, the request would cause her to stomp off in a sulk – a turn of events not often regretted by the “offending” party.

She spent her days helping her siblings with the inn, and others in the village, as well, and she developed a fascination with the village healer, who taught her about curative herbs. Often, she’d forget herself picking plants for cures, and come home long after the sun had set, her hair a tangled mess of briars, dress splattered with mud. Her more self-possessed sister despaired at such behavior, but her brother wouldn’t think to chastise her and allowed her every liberty she desired. Nothing bad could befall her in their tranquil corner of the world, peaceful and remote.

Until one evening, she had tarried so long in her exploration of the woods near her hamlet that by the time she startled, once more aware of her surroundings, night had fallen. Her arms full of flowers, a daisy chain hanging lopsidedly on her head, she hurried home, twisting an ankle in her distraction. Hobbling, she continued on her way back, convinced someone would come for her to help her return.

Someone did come, a guest from the inn, whose cups she had filled with the best red they had, and whom she badgered with questions of all the other places he’d visited and, thinking herself safe, she welcomed her knight with a delighted beam, trustingly leaning on his arm to take the weight off her injured foot. She wanted to tell him about her day, the things she’d seen, and point out the few constellations she knew by name, taking too long to notice that the affable man she’d once pestered for news of the world out there had turned into something darker. He had a curious looking scar on his neck, one she hadn’t noticed before, and, curious, she asked him how he got it. The story he’d told her sounded more like a fantasy, a nightmare, and Lux, thinking he was merely trying to tease a credulous village girl, had laughed, for she did not believe in monsters.

And then, he tried to bite her, just like the creature in his tale, and she screamed, fighting him, feeling his fangs tear at her skin. She tried to run, the pain her foot forgotten, but he caught her easily, so humiliatingly easily, and his teeth found purchase in her neck, keeping her in a death grip no matter how hard she thrashed against him. She had been afraid then, but mostly angry, outraged that someone would betray her trust in such a manner, and that kept her struggling for too long, pumping more of her blood in him. Her limbs felt like lead, yet she still twitched, still resisted, her sorrow at having to leave the world bitter on her tongue. She thought he was her friend, and perhaps she’d even said that out loud, one final effort that wrung her will from her, the ground meeting her for the first time feeling cold and unwelcoming, the smell of dead leaves filling her nostrils.

Dry sobs wrung from her weak chest, and she tried to fight once more when he forced his cold wrist against her mouth. She hadn’t known what he had done, wasn’t even aware she’d drank his blood in her struggle to get away, and when it was finally silent, her killer having fled in the night, she tried to crawl back home, knowing she couldn’t make it, but unwilling to give up. She had her siblings to worry about, she needed to tell them what had happened, needed to tell them goodbye, she had so much still she wanted to tell them, but could barely keep breathing.

Her brother found her with the sunrise, near death, blue with cold, and rushed her home. Her eyes burned, her skin tender to the touch, but regardless of the pain she was in, she did not die. The days that followed were lost in a haze of feverish dreams and hallucinations, Lux reliving her attack over and over again, too weak to flinch away from the creature her mind conjured, but still, she did not die.

Her sister dressed her wounds, the priest recited his prayers, her brother sobbed helplessly in a corner, and she mewled, terrified, whenever the sun shone on her bed too brightly. The pain stopped as violently as it had started, and she opened her eyes one evening and was fine. Just famished. Her stomach cramped as she tried to get out of bed, no weakness in her limbs from her convalescence.

When her sister came, she brought with her a maddening noise, a thumping, rushing sound that made Lux’s mouth water. She could imagine the path of the veins in her body, could almost see them, blue against the stark alabaster of her skin. She shied away from her, afraid to even look, and started shouting when her sister rushed to comfort her. The food she’d brought her, weak broth and some breath had no taste and did not sate her. The hunger was driving her mad, she couldn’t stand being around them, and they didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, what was happening to her.

She didn’t know herself, but knew that if it went on for much longer, she would do something horrible, so she fled from her bedroom, barricading herself in the inn’s cellar. Her brother ran after her, tried to plead with her to open the door, tried to force it open when that didn’t work, but she pushed against it and, miraculously, it held. He couldn’t come in and gave up trying for long enough for her to block the door from inside, shoving shelves and boxes against it. She could hear the scuttling of rats, and she could even see them, despite the dark, and she fell upon them, ravenous, sinking her teeth into their writhing bodies and drinking them dry. Her hunger sated, she could feel like herself once more, could feel horrified at what she’d done, at what it meant. She didn’t know what to do, and, as she always did when that was the case, she turned to her older siblings, allowing them in.

Their revulsion was a bitter pill to swallow, but they did not shy away from her. Her sister collected the dead rats to throw away, and she finally allowed her brother to wrap his arms around her. She could still hear his heart beating, the rush of his blood, but she no longer felt the urge to hurt him, and she wept, terrified of what she’d become and what she could do. It was nevertheless clear to all of them that she was still herself, that the change she went through did not take away her soul, and they decided to hide her, tell the rest of the village she had died, bury and empty coffin, and keep her contained in the cellar until they could find a solution.

Her brother finally listened and installed locks to hold her in, and she was not to be allowed out under any circumstance. When the rats disappeared, he brought her animals from outside, cats and dogs, sometimes even pigs, and she tried not to feel guilty about the effort that must take out of him. Lux could still pray, and the little cross her sister brought once did not burn her. She prayed she could feel her heart beat again, she could feel the light of the sun without hurting, she could look on her siblings without imagining what their blood tasted like, but for all the hours she spent in supplication, she was not changed back.

Her sister eventually moved away, married a rich merchant who’d fallen in love with her beauty and her even temper, and who did not turn out to be a monster like Lux’s had. Her brother stayed with her, not allowing her out, not even at night, and she never asked him to, too guilty for the burden she’d become to weigh him more. But after a few years, she insisted he move on as well, find a wife, get a new family – he needed help running the inn after all, and she couldn’t do anything to ease his problems.

Together, they decided to move her, for no one else would understand what she had become, and she followed him to her new cage, meek as a lamb, spending the rest of her days in isolation and boredom, his the only face she saw whenever he brought her animals to feed on. She’d lost count of the years she spent imprisoned, could only see evidence of their passing in the changes in his face, and she fell in a near catatonic state as he went on with his life, siring children and keeping her a secret.

Until one day, he’d brought with him another person, a young girl, barely her age when her parents died, solemn and quiet, and looking like him. His daughter, Helena, was to continue looking after her when he eventually died, and Lux flinched at the notion, trembling and enraged at this arrangement. She couldn’t continue burdening another generation, her curse had taken too much from her brother as it was, and it finally occurred to her that she had not aged a day since her attack, and that, despite her dimmed light, she could still summon up the energy to live.

She couldn’t spend an eternity in her cage, no matter how willingly she had entered it, and told the girl as much when she came to visit her alone. Together, they decided Lux would leave, rip the door off its hinges to make it look as if she escaped, and never, ever come back. She kept her promise, no matter how much it pained her, left without saying goodbye to her brother, did not go in search of her sister. She ran away like a thief in the night, and although he looked for her, he could not hope to catch up to a girl who could finally run as fast as the wind.

She hid away in large cities, avoiding small villages, prowling the streets at night and feeding off rats, afraid of other humans and what she might do to them. Until one night, a tormentor, perhaps thinking her an easy target, attacked her, pulling a mean looking knife and holding it to her throat and Lux snapped, feral and fierce and stronger than he could ever hope to be despite her numerous privations. He was the first life she took, sucking him dry and leaving him lying in the dirt, and as she looked on his scarred face, his mean, small eyes, empty of life, she felt no remorse, and no more fear. She was done being a victim, she was done being weak and frightened, and meek. He’d deserved to die for what he’d tried to do to her and she would not waste precious time mourning worthless lives.

She stopped being a waif from then on, started looking into a methods to improve her life, to become stronger. She set up a business, looking after the poor, easing ailments and even performing abortions, putting to use what she’d learned while she was still alive, and learning more so she could sustain herself. She looked into learning how to fight, arming herself with more than just her fangs, but still, she rarely fed on humans, and killed rarer still.

Moving from place to place every few years to hide the fact she wasn’t aging, she kept up a transitory, but altogether more wholesome existence. Something of her openness returned, the ease with which she liked to help others, accepting little payment in return. Her friendships never lasted long, and she never said goodbye before moving on. The world changed around her, and she adapted, and survived.

Eventually, she took up less unsavory jobs, a typist, nurse, call center operator, finding it easy to get the night shifts. Society evolved enough that she could even go to college, and she chose medicine, moving from one large city to another, where she could lose herself in crowds. She started feeding from blood bags, but stayed away as best she could from social networks, trying to keep her unchanging face off the grid. Every thirty years or so, she’d go to college again, obsessively sticking to medicine, but changing specialties with the advance of science.

Something akin to contentment returned to her, though her soul still felt bruised, all relationships lacking luster as she exalted the memories of her siblings to icons. She had recently moved to London, ready for another fresh start, taking a day off from the madness of the city to lose herself in the wilderness of Somerset, when she stumbled upon a most unusual scene – a creature with wings, blinking in and out sight as it wound through the trees. It looked like a person, but not quite, their ears were pointed, and whenever they flashed a grin, she could see their sharp canines touching their lower lip. Intrigued, she followed them at a safe distance, silent and unnoticed and saw them vanish into what appeared to be thin air.

Desperate, she burst forth, wanting to talk to them, wanting to know what they were, and if there were others like them. She ran around every tree in the meadow she lost track of them in, growing more panicked with each second. She didn’t know what she did, or how she did it, but on surrounding an ancient oak, she suddenly found herself in a winter wonderland, the landscape around her an unbroken field of white. Lux had no idea how to get back, even though she wandered about the place she had landed in, trying to figure out what had happened. Eventually, she had to give up and picked a direction at random, in search of some sign of life. She had fed recently enough that she wasn’t too worried about it, yet, but still, she did not know how far away from civilization she was, or if civilization even existed anymore and she picked up the pace until, finally, she broke into a full run. Her trainers were not made for snow, and she’d lost count of how many times she’d slipped and fell by the time she caught sight of a settlement.

More relieved than anything else, she hurried over and was shocked to see even more of those creatures with wings, and most of them seemed to know what she was, as well. It had taken her decades to stumble upon the word ‘vampire’ and longer still to wrap her mind around it, so the casualness with which they greeted her confounded her. A kind soul sat her down and explained to her where she was, and even pointed her to a blood shop so she could feed. Having no money and very few things of value on her person, Lux accepted the first job that was offered, which happened to be in the very same blood shop she fed from. For a few months, as she settled down and wrapped her mind around the ins and outs of the Court, and tried to learn more about her new home. Although thankful for the hospitality of those who’d first helped her find her footing, she left her shopkeeper job and returned to the more familiar profession of doctor, but remained in the Winter Court, part of her scared to travel, should she take a wrong step and find herself once more in the human world.

At Least Three Potential Plots for Your Character

FIGHTING A HARDER BATTLE – Lux is impulsive and has a tendency to punch first and ask questions later. One of these days, she makes a mistake, not because her opponent can give back as good as they get, but because they didn’t deserve it. Despite her hot-tempered, prideful attitude, she isn’t one to back down from admitting she’s done wrong, and apologizing.

TRUST ME I’M A DOCTOR – she’s always been drawn by those that are generally shunned, even if it’s often her rebelling against the norm, rather than any innate kindness – however, whichever her reasons, she is genuine in her desire to help all those who ask for it. Whether it’s to lessen a pain, or stitch a cut, her attention is easily caught and does not look to help only those who can repay the favor.

DISTRESSING DAMSEL – Lux had always loved physical activity, and she keeps a steady workout regime, even though she doesn’t really need it. She goes for runs daily, at unusual hours, either at the crack of dawn, or in the middle of the night, following the winding, difficult trails in the winter woods. One time she crosses paths with something dangerous, only to have it turn out that they aren’t quite as dangerous as her.

#eliza taylor #supernatural rp #supernatural rpg #city rp #city rpg #lux #fintan #vampire #winter character #character

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