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thegreengnome · 1 year

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Can you write an angst where Daemon’s wife gets very sick after giving birth to their first child.

I hope you don't mind that I changed it from their first child to their third. It just fitted better with the story. I hope you like it!

What was once a moment of joy and pride was now a moment built entirely on fear.

After birthing two children, this birth was relatively easy. While of course still painful it was quick. Quicker then the previous two.

Y/N had birthed a healthy girl, and even at this early age Y/N could tell that she would cause endless restless nights for both her mother and her father but she did not care because at that very moment all Y/N felt was love – pure love.

Her husband held the babe in his arms. His eyes never leaving his new-born daughter, perhaps he would have noted the colour slowly leaving Y/Ns face, but he was busy examining every inch of his precious daughter’s face, her tiny fingers, her tiny toes and the silver lashes above her grey eyes.

Only when the babe had finally fallen asleep from the day’s excitement did Daemon finally look towards his lady wife.

“Y/N” the colour was gone from her cheeks, her vibrant eyes now dull. In only a matter of time a sheen of sweat had covered the young mothers face and neck.

“Y/N” Daemon repeated several times more with another level of urgency to his voice. He shouted to the guards stationed outside startling the young babe from her sleep.

A flurry of people rushed into the room, guards, servants and finally the master pushing his way to the front of the room.

Daemon had never felt more useless then in that moment. He had fort in wars- killed men twice the size of him but he could easily admit that this was the most terrified he had ever been.

For the next few moments, Daemon took nothing in. his wife lay still – too still as the Maester worked around her.

She would not end up like his dear cousin Aemma – he would not allow it!

Y/N was his wife, she belonged to him no one else. Especially the gods.

The babe squired in his arms begging for his attention. The poor thing had no idea that her mother lay in her birthing bed, the Maester hovering over her.

“What is happening to muña?” the voice of Baelon squeaked from the now open door to his parents’ chambers, his young brother Aemon peeking out from behind.

Even with all three of his kids trying to gain his attention he still could not take his eyes of his wife.

He seemed to only snap out of the trance when the wight of the new-born was removed from his arms. His niece Rhaenyra had gently ushered her cousins out of the room but not before throwing her aunt a watery smile.

“My prince” nothing “My prince” Daemon moved his eyes towards the Maester taking note of the way he wrung his hands in nervousness.

“My prince. It seems the princesses has a case of birthing bed sickness”

“What does that mean?” Daemon gritted out

“The princesses will need constant care for the next couple of days, only then will we know if she will live towards the end of this time, I have given her some milk of the poppy to get her fevering down. The next few days are crucial”

“The next few days…” trailing off Daemon could see his wife’s too still body out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes, my prince. If she survives the next few days then we know that the worst is over”

“If” standing up from the chair, daemon steps closer pushing his finger into the Maesters face “There is no if... you will help my wife or you will die screaming”

Xxx

The simple movement of Y/N eyes fluttering open seem to be painful as a tired groan escapes her chapped lips.

“Thank the gods” finally in focus, Y/N took in the man sitting to the right of her. Her husband looked tried, even unhinged.

“Dae-mon “the princess attempts to lift herself up only to be stopped by her husband pushing her down gently.

“Do not move, my heart”

Pushing the hair from her face, Daemon cups Y/Ns cheeks. His thumb rubbing back and forth, soothing both the princess and the prince.

Memories seem to rush back at Y/N, the birth, the beautiful babe in her arms and then nothing “Our child. Where is she?”

“With her very doating brothers’ I would wager. They have hardly left her side”

The soft smile that graces Y/N face melts the prince’s heart. It had been far too long since he had seen it.

“You scared me”

The tears seemed to have a mind of their own as they spilled over Y/Ns face “That was not my intent, my love”

The beautiful baby girl would be their last child together as Daemon feared history repeating itself, and Y/N was right. Their daughter caused much mischief and mayhem throughout her life but she also brought more love and laughter into their family of five.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader #hotd #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond x you #daemon x you #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon fanfic

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officialleehadan · 2 years

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Glass Temper

ity on Cliff

+++

Meira did not think much of the noble ladies of the north.

Oh, her soon-to-be mother-in-law was a delight, but she was an elf, not a human, and a queen to boot. That meant something rather different where behavior was concerned. The rest of the ladies were, in a word, frankly absurd.

For one, they seemed to shy away from doing anything for themselves. Meira always had maids of course, but her dresses didn’t require three people to get them on. She drew her own bath, accustomed to the ever-hot baths of Glassbyrn. She went down to the kitchen when she wanted a snack, rather than wasting a servant’s time.

All of that seemed to make her profoundly scandalous.

Then of course there was the way she talked to the tradesmen who came to the castle, often accompanied by Anseraen, who was madly in love with glassmaking. He was already planning to make more of the memory-bubbles for his parents and brothers. With Meira to help with the glass, he could pull memories from his family and give them their own eternal reminders of Haeleri. There were portraits of her around, but the memories were better.

Meira’s willingness to work the glass herself was apparently the final straw for the ladies, who had already been whispering about her behind her back. The princes did their best to stifle the rumors of course, but there was nothing for it. The court would have their gossip, and Meira was presently the most interesting thing going on.

Mostly it was manageable. Cut glass was as valuable as jewels, and her gowns were in the style of her own people, but were more than ornate enough to keep anyone from turning their noses up at her. Her hair styled well, her skin and teeth were good. All in all, it was hard to find a flaw with her appearance, except for her glass-scarred hands, which Meira simply wasn’t bothered by.

But the barbs still hurt.

“Yes,” she said, out of patience when she passed the latest, scandalized bunch of whisperers. She was dressed for the workshop today, because that was where she had been, helping Anseraen with his project for his family. The undyed cotton was very soft, but it was marked with the stains and holes. She carried her leather apron in one hand, and her hair curled out of her braid. “I am dirty, and my hands are scarred,. They got that way by making beautiful things.”

There was a wave of horrified silence following her words and Meira just glared around her indiscriminately. The ladies around her stared, apparently utterly shocked that she had bothered to notice their whispers, let alone that she had brought it up in public. Meira didn’t care if it was inappropriate. She was tired of being the target of their small-minded mockery.

“I am not the same kind of lady as you,” she continued, irate enough to make something of a spectacle of herself. Anseraen appeared in a doorway, but stayed quiet. Like her, he was in his work clothes. He raised a brow to ask if she needed help, and she shook her head a little. This was for her to handle or they would never respect her. “and amid my people, it is not fashionable to be useless. Would you care to demonstrate skill, just one, that is not purely ornamental No? I didn’t think so.”

She was snapping a bit. That was alright. It was time they saw she had some teeth.

“Moreover,” she said, gaining steam. Anseraen was starting to smile, so she assumed she wasn’t going to have problems with his family over her outburst. “Glassmaking is complicated, and takes years of study. That I am good at it speaks for my dedication to my craft. The glass of my city made my family royal, and we hold with the traditions of our home. So, if any of you squalling chickadees care to show an ounce of value amongst the lot of you, you can make your apologies to me in private. Until then, I am certain you can keep your tongues from wagging where I can hear them!”

With that, she resumed her path through the castle, and determinedly ignored the whispers that sprang up in her wake. Whispers that got much louder when Anseraen joined her from his hidden doorway. Before she could greet him, or indeed say anything at all, he bent and kissed her, slow and thorough. Meira’s knees went weak and she looped an arm around his shoulders to stay upright.

“Gracious,” she gasped when he pulled away, entirely smug with himself. “What was that all about?”

The court around them had gone utterly silent again, no doubt torn between astonishment and confusion. It wasn’t common to show such open affection in this court, nor was his open, and very apparent approval of her outburst. The court might think what it wanted, but Anseraen wasn’t about to say a word about it.

“I am not allowed to kiss my betrothed?” he asked with the kind of smile that threatened to make Meira’s knees go weak again, all on its own. He and his brothers took after their father’s eyes, but they took their fine features from their elvish mother. “Particularly when she is reminding my parents’ court of the fine traits that made me fall in love with her in the first place?

“I should have known you would be a wicked flirt, once you stopped looking so sad,” Meira told him and smiled. It was a joke between them, from when they had first started courting. It hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt like an age already. “Stop scandalizing your courtiers, my love, and let me change for dinner. I don’t want to eat with your family reeking of the workshops.”

+++

City on a Cliff:

Glass Shadow

Glass Heart

Glass Fire (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Light

Glass Wishes (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Bubbles

Glass Moon (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Question (Subscriber Only!)

Glass Water

Glass Cascade

Glass Welcome

Glass Whispers

Glass Temper (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

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j-graysonlibrary · 8 months

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The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two Chapter 25

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 98k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: With another Xiang in the mix, for the first time in history, Pangu decides to reevaluate his methods and his place in the world. Along with taking his little sister Heidi as his last disciple, he also chooses to take the more political path in his efforts to end the discord throughout the land—particularly within Terra. (And gaining favor from the handsome Lord of Ultimos does not hurt.)

Heidi butts heads with everyone in the group, save Raine, and tensions are higher than ever. There are failed love confessions, in-group fighting, and demons from Kira’s past but that all comes to a head when they meet a servant of Shakti who is more than what she seems.

Could it be that the Mistresses of Shadow are more nuanced than previously believed? Or that the strict dichotomy between light and dark are, perhaps, a touch exaggerated? That and more begin to plague Pangu’s mind and his faith wavers…

Full chapter 25 under the cut

Chapter XXV:

As the sun crept up, breaching the tips of the trees and warming the air, the horses started to slow. For once, it was not the group—sleep deprived or hung over—that was dragging their feet but, rather, their mounts. They had noticed ever since retrieving them from the stables before dawn. While sluggish, the horses still kicked up to a decent trot but now they all begged for a break before plan.

There was no reasoning with the animals. If they were tired, they were tired and they would not continue for even a few more minutes.

So, at the first decent clearing along the path, Pangu and his disciples stopped and let the horses relax. The break was unplanned and too early but they would have to make the most of it as well.

Raine was rather chipper and suggested a sparring match to which Baiya happily complied. Heidi joined them as well but Kira actually passed on the offer. He branched off from the group and joined Pangu instead who was sitting on the ground, beside his horse, pouring over the map.

“What are you doing?” Kira asked and squatted down next to him.

“Looking for any shorter paths,” the Xiang answered without looking up.

With a hum from the back of his throat, Kira nodded. “I see you are eager to get back to Ultimos.”

“Of course. Viren could be in serious trouble.” Pangu sighed when he realized that they were on the shortest, fastest path already. Any shorter routes there would take them through uncharted mountains or into ravines. There really was no other way. “It is useless, however.”

Kira watched him fold up the map with a huff. There was a lot more weighing on his mind outside of Viren’s letter and he was sure he did not plan to speak of those issues to anyone. But Kira knew what keeping things inside could do to a person so, even if the Xiang would reject the help, he had to try.

“Have you spoken to Baiya since the night at the woodland inn?” He opened with as he shot a glance over at the other disciples. They were embroiled in their training so there was no chance of them overhearing.

Pangu hung his head and sighed. “No. He surely does not want to talk to me again if he does not have to.”

“That is not true.”

Their eyes met. “How do you know?”

Kira smirked. “I know that bastard. Better than I’d like. Just because you told him you cannot reciprocate his feelings does not mean that those feelings of his disappeared. They were not so conditional, Pangu.”

“Well my feelings are conditional,” he said without really meaning to.

The Terran disciple raised an eyebrow. “And by that you mean…?”

Pangu shook his head. “Nothing. I cannot say, at least.”

“You think I would tell?” Kira scoffed at the idea.

“No.” he kept shaking his head. “There are other eyes and ears than ours. I feel them on me all the time.” When Kira gave him a worried look, he clarified, “The spirits.”

“…Is that why you told Baiya you did not love him?” The pieces began to fall into place and Kira felt a knot form in his stomach. He was not so sensitive to the eyes of the spirits but, now that they were speaking of it, he did feel a looming gaze from behind them.

“I cannot say,” Pangu responded which sounded a lot like a ‘yes’ to him.

Kira frowned. “Well...I certainly wish they could give us a little privacy now and then.”

It was not especially funny but Pangu still chuckled. “They must watch me and grade my performance. Already, I am sure I will have another scolding from at least one of them soon, if not my mentors themselves. I am sure, even if Sha-Parvati blocked their eyes at the village, we have spoken of the event enough to tip them off about it. They would have figured out the missing parts anyway. This and what they already know of my mind will surely have consequences.”

His words were so fatal and Kira found himself worrying as well. What sort of punishment would the spirits and Tiandi dish out? Another scolding, only harsher? Or the removal of Pangu’s powers? Was that even possible?

“Should we all have reason to worry?” Kira decided to ask, both to get a handle on the situation and to genuinely know—would this affect all of them or just the Xiang? Of course, he was still just as worried if it only affected Pangu and he would do what he could to assist but understanding the scope would, hopefully, help him be ready for it.

Pangu shook his head. “I should be able to absolve you all. At least Raine and Heidi…sorry.”

“No. That makes sense.” Kira snickered. “I already know I am not on good terms with the heavenly folk. And there is no shortage of reasons for Baiya to be on their shit list as well.”

“I just wish there was a way to appease them without blindly following whatever they say.” Pangu looked up to the sky and sighed. “I can no longer accept their words without questioning them.”

“Surely that pisses them off more.” His second disciple rested his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “But you have to think for yourself and make your own choices. Otherwise you are just a fancy puppet.”

That was what Pangu was worried about. That the Xiang, every one of them before him, was just a puppet and that those who had chosen to live for themselves, in any capacity, had met a terrible end. Really, even if they had gone along with Tiandi’s every word, they had died too early anyway.

It was difficult to remember the times when he, himself, was eager to die for the cause—to go down in history as a great Xiang and die before he reached thirty.

“Hey,” Kira spoke suddenly and lightly slapped his arm, “Raine told me a joke last night. Wanna hear it?”

The sudden shift made Pangu laugh. He had also been the one to suggest a joke to Raine so he was fairly curious as to what the man had managed to come up with. “Sure.”

Kira stood and helped Pangu up as well as he repeated the set up, “How do you tell if someone is hungry or horny?”

Pangu nearly choked. “Raine told this?!”

His disciple cackled. “I know, right?”

Really, the joke did not even need a punch line when that was the start, coming from Raine’s mouth. Just imagining it was enough.

***

There was only one major stop before they were coming upon Ultimos again. It had been over a month since they had left but it definitely felt longer, especially when they approached the city walls.

Smoke rose into the air and the sounds of screams came from all directions. The area outside was already, clearly, in disarray with wooden barricades, crudely crafted, to block out any incoming traffic. The blockade forced the Xiang and his disciples to dismount before making it to the stables and continue on foot.

Pangu could move all of the barricades away with air but his horse was too stressed about the mess and the loud sounds to continue. Even if he could have, technically, pushed on through, he decided to spare his steed. Plus, if things were as volatile inside as they seemed, he did not want to risk his horse being hurt.

Everyone took out their weapons as they charged on to the entrance, shoving away all obstacles until they came across a line of archers—both outside and on the perimeter wall.

“Halt!” One of them barked, “No one comes in and no one leaves until we have the city secured.”

“My friend,” Raine said as he stepped forward, “We are honored guests of Huan Viren Ai—whatever issue is happening inside of these walls, we wish to help.”

The soldiers exchanged glances but none dropped their bows. “He is with him,” one of them muttered while another said, “Traitors.”

Pangu’s heartbeat spiked and he sent out a wall of air, pushing those on the outside up against the wall and those on top of the wall down into the rock. He kept them in place as they rushed past, entering the city with ease. As they came in, he released his hold but not without tossing them all forward—sending the soldiers from the top of the wall out and onto their comrades down below. It was quite a fall but they had cushioning.

Inside, the usual lively atmosphere of Ultimos was completely gone and the market side stalls and friendly vendors were either absent or in ruin. A few areas were caught up in flames and Pangu spotted a merchant, dead behind his cart.

“What is happening?” Heidi asked as she whipped around, trying to take it all in.

“They believed we were traitors,” Baiya recalled with a frown, “Either Viren has implemented a plan that backfired or some of his people turned on him.”

“Seems like there was more than just his shitty uncle plotting against him,” Kira said.

It was worse than Pangu could have predicted and his stomach twisted into knots but he could not be slowed down by it. “Come on, we need to hurry to the palace.”

The task was far easier said than done and it already did not sound all that easy. To begin with, the distance from the main entrance of the city to the palace was a half day’s trip on foot and, on top of that, there was no telling how many soldiers were between them and their target.

Every street was filled with enemies but a glimmer of hope found them as well. Other soldiers, ones wearing almost indistinguishable armor from the attackers, were fighting back. “Traitor!” They both shouted at each other as they went to blows.

The sight became more common the further they penetrated the city and, alongside them, some of the civilians had taken up weapons and joined in.

“For Lord Viren!” An elderly woman yelled before dropping down from her balcony and landing on a soldier. She wrapped her arm around his neck and, despite the clear disadvantage she had, she still took him to the ground.

Pangu ran over to her, both worried about her health and impressed by her dedication. “Ma’am, that was incredible.”

“Oh, it is nothing. I used to be a fierce soldier in my day.” She raised her head with a smirk and took his hand to get back on her feet. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at him, however, “Hey…are you the Xiang?”

“Why would you think that?” Pangu asked, nervous by her sudden change in expression.

Her eyes flickered to Raine. “You have a Kyrie soldier with you and that lady over there is blowing people away with the wind.”

Those were pretty damning observations. “Yes. I am on my way to Viren.”

A huge smile broke out across the woman’s face and she gripped his hand even tighter. “You really did come…” She practically bounced as she shouted, “Everyone! The Xiang is here!”

It was a little more attention than Pangu wanted but, rather than drawing more enemies to them, it did something else. A few more arrows started to fly their way, sure, but the soldiers on Viren’s side started to fight with more fire behind their swings and they created a path forward.

“Hurry, Xiang!” One of them shouted as he held off attacks from three different soldiers.

Heidi pushed one back as they passed and Baiya set another on fire while Kira sucked the last one’s foot into the pavement.

They ran, helping out where they could, but otherwise not stopping—it was clear they could not afford to. Screaming and crying echoed all around them and blood filled their peripherals but they could not waste any more time.

The help started to thin the closer they came to the palace and their run slowed into a jog and then they stopped altogether. A troop of archers was perched at the entrance, taking down anyone who tried to sneak in. Bodies from allied soldiers laid on the ground, shot full of arrows and piled on top of each other. One had even attempted to climb the wall by the looks of him and was shot as he was halfway over.

It was an abysmal sight but they had nothing to fear. Pangu shot up a barrier as the first volley was given and the arrows bounced off of the pall and clattered to the ground around them.

“Kira, throw a knife. Heidi, take care of the rest,” he instructed.

Kira tossed a small throwing knife and it landed in the neck of one of the archers. He did not need to follow the attack up with any more knives since Heidi took it from the body and whipped it about the air, cutting and slashing until none were left to shoot at them. About twenty bodies slumped and fell from their perches, clearing the way into the final courtyard.

But, of course, the space was soon filled by foot soldiers who charged them with their weapons drawn. Pangu had no patience to fight them one by one so he took in a deep breath and stretched his hands out, pushing along a vicious current of wind.

The soldiers’ feet kicked as they were lifted into the air. Some attempted to fling their weapons but Heidi took care of that and sent them in the opposite direction. Once they were far enough to the side, Pangu set them down and Kira stepped forward, stomping his foot down and creating a crack in the foundation. It grew in size until it was entirely impossible to jump from one side to the other.

Still, Pangu collected the spare wooden barricades from around the courtyard and swept them over with a gust of wind, blocking the edge of the ravine closest to him. Baiya snapped his fingers and they all lit up.

Raine watched the series of events, realizing there was not much he could do to help with his element. “Well, looks like you all have this covered.”

Kira and Baiya snickered but nothing else was said until Pangu started to run toward the palace.

“Let’s go,” he kept it short and simple.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

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amethystpath-writes · 2 years

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P2 Worser Fate

(NOT A PR0MPT)

can you continue worser fate? :)

I can, indeed, anon <3

Part 1 here

******

Villain didn’t ask for another cup of coffee, nor did he ask for Hero’s presence at all. Of course, she was required to appear at work, but what she did there, Villain didn’t care. It was a shock to Hero. When was Villain ever not in need of something useless, even if it were taking his anger, or whatever the hell it was, out on her?

After days of this trend, Hero decided action was necessary. She’d barge into his office and- and what? Demand he start demanding her again? Villain would like that too much; she just knew he would.

Why? Why did he do this to her? The taunt, the jest, the current act of ignoring, it all seemed worthless. It was all a load of actions Villain gained nothing from besides amusement and a very mentally drained Hero, whom he wouldn’t even see because she had other things to do outside of work! (Take a breath, Hero.)

Before she knew it, Hero was walking into Villain’s office, without a care of knocking. “You do not get to do this to me.”

Why shouldn’t she have been surprised to watch him lower a newspaper? Why wouldn’t he go on with his daily routine of being a lousy ass and reading the newspaper all day while he was at work instead of- Hero didn’t know- paying his employees? What did he even read the paper for anyways? All there was to see was a bunch of petty crimes- crimes that Hero, lest anyone knew it was her, stopped…most of the time anyway. Damn Villain, that’s all she had to say.

“Are you going to tell me what ‘this’ is, or should I guess?”

If Hero’s ears weren’t red with anger before, they were now. “You know what. Parading me around the workplace as your little servant, making sure everyone can see the chicken with her head cut off, just to keep me around and ask nothing of me at all!”

“I can ask you for something all you’d like, servant.”

Her cheeks went as red as her ears, as red as bricks, as red as strawberries, as red as…you get the idea. Hero swallowed, and the way Villain smiled at her sent a chill down her spine. She swallowed again, then blinked.

“Why?” Hero demanded, gathering her senses. “I’m your assistant, not your damned lover.”

“I never said you were.” Villain abandoned the paper on his desk and folded his hands together. “But it’s cute you considered my words that way.”

“Stop calling me cute.” She stomped a foot on the floor with a sharp clack. “And you did. You insinuated it.”

He laughed at this- took a sip from the pristine glass of water on his left. “I can’t help where your imagination wanders, Hero.” Villain leaned back, resting both arms on the sides of his chair, and crossed his legs beneath his desk. Lousy. Careless. Not the head of a company, but a mischief from the street.

Hero could almost see it, could almost ask him to confess the secret she knew had to lie beneath the surface.

Demand, not ask. Get out of that habit. It was too easy to submit when it came to Villain. Even if it weren’t for him being her boss in the work field, it was his eyes- the hooded laziness of them, the frown- which twitched into a deranged line of amusement, into cracked lips and a laugh, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut her own if he ever whispered beside her ear. It was all so famili- No. No, he would never do that!

“Come sit across from me, Hero. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking this conversation is over, and that I’m leaving. Now.” She turned a heel, but was forced to stop when her new-found nemisis spoke.

“You found me,” Villain said. “You sought me out in my office with no more than a bashed door against my wall and that beautiful, twisted look on your face. You’re adorable when you’re mad, you know that?” Before she could answer, or argue, he continued. “You came back deliberately to be demanded.”

That wicked smile, damn it. Damn it to oblivion, to non-existence.

“You like being told what to do,” Villain persisted, and he stood from his chair, made his way to Hero as she stood frigid in the open doorway.

His hand on her cheek was alarming, but it was…it was comforting in a way she disdained. Hero blinked, looked at the stretched arm before her, leading to a shoulder, a neck, a chin, a cheek…she never looked so closely at her boss before, even moments ago when she attempted the idea of him whispering in her ear, something which happened before without her realising it- until now. “You’re Villain.”

Aloud, she’d never admit to loving the spark which flittered in his eyes at hearing his name in the streets. Internally, her heart throbbed faster, her core heated like a furnace, and her head pounded with such a fury she thought she might faint.

“Close the door, Hero.”

******

Distant continuation here

@chaoticgoodandi @tobeornottobeateacher

#NOT A PR0MPT #Worser Fate #continuation requests should go to my ask box!#tag list requests or removals should go in the comments of this post or in my ask box (make sure to turn off nonny or say your username!)#word count unknown because I finished this on my phone #risky I know #if you guys understood how many stories you’ve missed out on because I wrote on my phone and lost it due to mysterious causes #you’d have my head. Take it from someone with experience- write on an easily salvagable document. Not a tumblr draft or a note on your phone #you guys may decide what you think the ending led to 😶#hero x villain #hero x villain story #hero x villain drabble #hero x villain snippet #heroes and villains #creative writing #fiction #imma bite the bullet and go ahead and write this tag-#enemies to lovers #hero #villain #continuation request #request #request fill

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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Can you write promp 15 to Shuu tsukiyama :) Thank you I love your writings.

I love my writing as well😉. No, but seriously guys. If it wouldn't be for my passion to write, I would have gone on a hiatus the moment I found out that I was being shadowbanned.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, clinginess, manipulation, paranoia, mentioning of kidnapping, catcalling, sexual harassment, blood, killing, Shuu being a sadist to the victim, eccentricity (?)

Prompt 15: “Shh princess… don’t cry over this scum, he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

"Kanae!! What happened to her?!?! Why is she crying?!?!"

You hadn't wanted to burst out in tears like this, but replaying the scene in your head over and over again like a movie had caused you unimaginable frustration and embarrassment. Now you remembered why you hated people so much, they were all just greedy and disgusting jerks. Calling you such nasty names in public and daring to go as far as following you. If Kanae wouldn't have been there with you, you didn't even want to imagine what might have happened to you.

"My poor princess! What happened?! Tell me!"

Furious tears were falling down your face, even though you had wiped them away already countless times before. You were not in a very good mood at the moment, you felt quite etchy at the moment. And that was what caused annoyance washing over you when you heard Shuu's cooing words, taking quick steps towards you to comfort you somehow. You knew what would come now. Another smothering session of his. Something you didn't need in the least bit right now. What you needed was time. Alone.

You still tried to stay as calm as possible, not wanting to make a huge scene that would only gain you more annoying attention. All the servants were honestly so much like their master, they all appeared to be overly dramatic when it came to you, the only real exception was Mirumo.

So when you suddenly stepped back from Shuu, lips pressed together and a mixed look out of sadness and anger on your face, you knew that you had hurt him. It was all too obvious judging from his wide eyes, confusion and pain already reflecting in them, and the way he had frozen when you had suddenly put a distance between you two. The hand, which he had extended, was staying in the air, shaking slightly. As always, he was overreacting.

“(y/-y/n)…What did I-“

“You did nothing Shuu. You didn’t do anything. I just wish to be alone right now. So I ask you to do me the favor and leave me alone for once. If you don’t, I might say things to you that will hurt you and which I don’t mean. Don’t test my patience for now.”

You were surprised by your own tone of voice, you sounded extremely rude, annoyance dripping from your voice like venom. It was hard to keep a calm and collected voice under such conditions. But for the reason of you having been well raised and well treated by the people in this place, you wanted to return the favor by doing the same.

You just stormed past both, Kanae and Shuu, without saying a single word, chewing furiously on your lips whilst the voice of the man kept ringing in your head. You felt like you wanted to smash something to relieve yourself of the ocean of emotions inside of you. Today had been the wrong day to convince Shuu with the help of his father to let you out without him.

“Master (y/n)!”, you heard Kanae yelling after you, followed by a thud sound that caused you to turn around shortly, feeling slightly startled by the sudden noise. But you were left feeling a bit surprised when seeing that your company for the last few hours had gone done to her knees, forehead pressed against the floor of the mansion and bowing deeply down in front of you.

“I can never forgive myself for not being able to help you. I failed you! I’m so sorry! It’s all because of my own foolishness and incompetence that you had to go through all of this!”

Her voice was shaking and you guessed that she would break out in tears at any moment, she was just as theatrical as your partner was.

“Kanae, it’s not your fault. We were under too many people, you couldn’t have done more than you did already. And that was already a big help. Also, please don’t refer to me as your master, I don’t like it when I’m being called this way. I see you as a friend, so that makes things always a bit awkward when you call me your master.”

Only the fading and fast footsteps of yours were heard in the silence which followed afterwards, leaving two people left dwelling on what had just happened. Shuu, who was staring with still shocked eyes at the stairs where you had just walked up, and Kanae, who was still remaining in her humble position. Somewhere upstairs the rather loud slam of a door was heard, indicating that you had just entered your room.

“Kanae…What…happened?”

Even her master seemed to be left flabbergasted by this sudden change of events, although tears were already starting to fill his eyes. It was not as much because of your rejecting behavior towards him, although that had hurt as well. No, it was because someone had upset his little dove so that she had cried and he hadn’t been there to protect her.

“So eine Scheiße!”, the girl suddenly shouted furiously and frustrated, slamming her head against the floor harshly as if wanting to punish herself.

By now she had bursted out in tears, drops splashing to the ground. “What am I good for when I couldn’t even keep her safe and this-this disgrace away from her?! Now she is angry! Please forgive me Master Shuu. You chose me because you trusted me to protect her, but I was the wrong person to choose.”

The last few sentences of her were told much more softer than the previous ones, only proving to Shuu that Kanae felt beyond miserable for what had happened. But it didn’t answe his question! It only made him more anxious.

What had happened whilst he hadn’t been there?! Who the duck dared to make his lovely darling cry?! Who?!

“Would you just please tell me what happened?!”, he yelled at the servant, his string of patience snapping right then and there and leading him into raising his voice.

Kanae flinched when hearing him shouting at her, the panic in his voice overwhelming her even more. It was all because of her that her master would have to go through the same pain as you as well. How should she even start explaining what had happened without him losing it right away?

“Mast-I mean (y/n)…She has been catcalled! And I was unable to take proper care of this threat! Watching this bastard…It was disgusting! Enraging! This rotten mouth of his…The things he called after her, I wish I could have gouged his tongue out! And he even had the audacity to follow her through the city, using every opportunity he had to spit more gross words out! And (y/n) had to endure all of this without losing her self-restraint. She even had to stop me. She stood her ground without breaking down in front of him. She was so admirable. I should have taken an example on her.”

The confession of the truth hurt, having to go through it all again hurt. Her master’s darling had been so brave, so perfectly in control of her emotions, so empathetic to rather let herself get humiliated instead of risking to let Kanae get triggered and reveal that she was a ghoul in the center of the city. And (y/n) still saw her as a friend! She was so kind. No wonder Master Shuu was so madly in love with her.

After that the ghoul waited for some reaction from him, shouting, yelling, crying, lashing out on her, anything. But nothing came. Instead another silence befell both of them, coming with a creepy feeling. An almost paralyzing feeling that made the violet-haired girl stay on the ground. The air felt like it was weighting her down. She knew this feeling.

Fear.

"So you're telling me that ma chérie is crying because some walking useless trash thought that he could use her and play her for his own entertainment?"

His voice was beyond spine-chilling, spoken like a true lunatic. His voice sounded for the most part quieter than expected, though it was trembling slightly. But what made her body nearly forget to function out of terror was the icy blood lust in it, like he was on the brink of insanity.

Barely, only barely did Kanae manage to lift her head, enough to catch a glimpse of his face. It only made her break out in cold sweat more. She thanked the heaven that he wasn't looking at her right now, instead staring in the empty space, a murderous grin on his face. His eyes were wide, reflecting the craziness inside of him perfectly. Just by looking at him was enough for Kanae to know that he was tearing the culprit in his mind currently to a bloody and deforedly mess. Her master was thinking like her, she had planned on doing the same. But she hadn't looked that unnerving.

"As much as I would love to torture and rip this waste of oxygen right now, this will have to wait. My princess needs me right now."

The sudden change in his whole personality was delightening yet also the slightest bit stunning for Kanae to witness, how he went from psychopathic sadist to his normal dramatic and lovesick self.

"W-wait! C-can I do something, anything to make somehow up for my failure?", Kanae stuttered out, stopping Shuu from crossing the stairs with huge steps. She had to do something, she felt truly feeble.

Shuu noticed her still majorly guilty expression, giving her a small sympathetic smile. "Don't work yourself up to hard over it now. (y/n) was only right. You would have only done much worse if you would have let lost control then and there. You already did a better job than I did in keeping composure. For now just tell the others to prepare dinner, (y/n)'s favorite. And also..."

The sudden drop in Shuu's voice and his face was a dead giveaway what he wanted to say next. "Let's meet later outside when my darling is sleeping. I believe we have something to take care of, don't we?"

That alone was enough to make Kanae stand up, the anger and feeling of helplessness scratching her feeling of self-esteem. Her master knew that she had a score to settle as well after having only been able to watch. She felt grateful that he took that into reconsideration even though she had let this happen in the first place.

"It would be my pleasure to be from any help. I feel honored that you still chose me."

"Why are you here? I think I told you I want to be alone.", you shot out after Shuu had simply knocked and entered your room without permission, giving you nearly no time to wipe away all the tears on your cheeks. You hated crying in front of people, you hated looking weak and vulnerable and being it as well. That's why you always wanted to be alone when you felt like crying.

"You expect me to just stand away when my dove clearly needs someone right now?! You were just sexually harassed and want me to leave you alone?! Forget it!"

His reaction was what you had seen coming, the paranoia coloring his face being all too obvious and he looked distressed as well. Shuu wasn't good in handling something like this at all, not when it had you being in any sort hurt involved.

"Go away. I look terrible right now.", you just said without replying to what he had just said, though this had been a rhetorical question. You didn't look very good right now, tears smearing all over your face, your eyes reddened and puffy and your nose running due to all the crying.

"That doesn't matter to me. For me you look beatiful no matter what, even if you cry."

Despite feeling upset, you managed to let a chuckling scoff out when you heard the man saying this, still not being completely used to his more cheesy lines. But right now he probablly had the intention to cheer you up.

"Good grief, you're really too much. Let go of me.", you replied slightly ironically in between your sobs when he suddenly just clinged to you, wrapping you up in his arms. It wasn’t uncomfortable though, his hug was warm and managed to soothe you a bit.

You actually shouldn’t feel this way, not in the arms of the man who used to torment and hurt you out of pure and utter sadistic fun. Back then it had just been horror for you. And only thanks to his well-mannered father things had changed for you, only then. You owed Mirumo for that more than you could effort, but his only request had been staying, knowing the attachment his son had for you would never perish. But at the same time you had the feeling his father had helped his son as well, causing you to get along with him better and better until you had started to forget where acting stopped and where real feelings were showing.

“Shh princess…don’t cry over this scum, he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

He had a point. That asshole had wanted to get under your skin which was the second reason you had stayed strong in front of him. But you were human as well, you had feelings which could be hurt. You were currently hurt which was why you needed some sort of comfort right now and Shuu provided it. Maybe a bit too much.

You estimated that you needed about five minutes until you had calmed somewhat down, though the after effects from your crying session still shook your body every once in a while. But you felt the tiniest bit less shitty.

“I think I’m feeling better now. Thank you…Shuu.”, you told him softly, feeling your cheeks warming up the tiniest bit.

He just let out a content ‘hmm’, his chin resting on your shoulder and his one hand playing with your hair a bit. He didn’t look like he had any intentions to move despite you giving him the look. You had a rather silly bad feeling.

“Do you want to let me go?”

“Never. At least not until the dinner is prepared.”

“Shuu.”, you protested slightly, pushing him a bit against the chest which turned out to be good for nothing. He didn’t budge. Instead you could almost see with your inner two eyes on the back of your head that he was grinning upon your attempt to remove him.

“Oh well. I’ll let him have it his way. He deserves it.”

Kanae was walking, as quietly as possible, nervously back and forth. She would never blame her master for anything at all, but maybe she just felt extremely uneasy right now that she wanted to leave desperately. Tokyo was huge and finding one single man would be hard, though she remembered the few broken pieces of informations she had heard when the man had been taken away from some other people who seemed to know him.

“I have to avenge (y/n) or else I’ll never be able to feel like I deserve this happiness.”, the girl thought bitterly, intending to bring suffering over this piece of garbage.

“You seem rather impatient. Believe me, I am just as eager as you are, though we shouldn’t waste too much time with this sad excuse of a man.”

Kanae quickly turned around, anticipation shining from her eyes when she saw Shuu appearing from the shadows, already having put on fitting clothes and holding his mask in his hand.

“I apologize, I simply couldn’t bring myself to leaving my princess alone. She looked too gorgeous to not marvel over. That’s why I want to speed this all up, I want to return to her as fast as possible. It of course doesn’t mean I intend to let this person easily of the hook.”

He chuckled a bit, for a few moments softness dominating his face when recalling the sweet memories of his darling sleeping peacefully. But in the blink of an eye he changed, the lust to kill someone taking over him and twisting his face into something entirely else.

“Kanae, do you know where we should start?”

His voice was terrifying, his feelings and intentions dripping freely from it and a malicious glint shining in his eyes. Not like Kanae minded, her own face being overshadowed by her negative feelings.

“Yes, I do have an idea.”

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere shuu #yandere shuu tsukiyama

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twsttheory · 3 years

Text

⚠️Chapter 5 spoilers⚠️ Chapter Recaps and Predictions for Future Dormitory Chapters.

Pardon me for being a little slow but I have just realized a trend? Aside from the fact that Twisted Wonderland seems to be a very “Screw society” game, the take-away of every Twisted Wonderland arc reflects the morals the of their respective Disney classic, except the villains are the ones experiencing it.

Heartslabyul:

Just like Alice in Wonderland, the first plot of the first Chapter centres around the idea that rules are not always meant to be followed. However, as I have mentioned in a previous post, many have theorized that the story of Alice in Wonderland is the journey of a child towards adulthood, during which they begin to realize their individual personalities. The Queen of Heart’s tyranny thus represents societal rules and expectations. In the first chapter, this is not illustrated by Riddle’s strictness. Instead, it is illustrated by the expectations and rules that Riddle’s mother has imposed on him. Riddle will then learn that not everything his mother said is correct, and will grow to have his own opinions. We even see him screwing up the mont-blanc. His mistake is very... um... him though.

Savanaclaw:

Following the Heartslabyul arc is the Savanaclaw arc. Again, the plot is similar to that of The Lion King. Both Leona and Scar are the second-born, and the fact that their brothers have a son makes it impossible for them to become kings. This has lead to Leona’s somewhat inferiority complex. The lazy lion proceeds to come up with a plan to overthrow the more powerful Malleus in the Magift competition, but fails because of the Heartslabyul gang. No matter what he does, not everything goes according to plan. This is where “Hakuna Matata” becomes important. In the Lion King, it is taught to Simba, the protagonist, but in Twisted Wonderland, it has become a lesson that Leona has learnt. Life is not fair, but instead of choosing to dwell on that concept and suffer, you could choose to be happy instead. Despite not being able to become King, Leona is still very intelligent and very much capable, earning the respect of his dorm members and many more people.

Octavinelle:

Fish arc covers the topic of bullying, which many of us have experienced. In this chapter, Azul strives to become more powerful as a result of bullying, and has thus grown to become a very talented mage. His collection of contracts is similar to both Ariel’s collection of human objects and Ursula’s collections of those who failed to pay their debt. All these collections are but material collections, and in Azul’s eyes, his collection is a measure of his worth, as seen from when he declares that he will be useless if Leona were to destroy the contracts. What both Ariel and Azul were missing was as a matter of fact not their material collection. Instead, it was love for Ariel, and friendship for Azul. Jade and Floyd gave him friendship, which he did not have as a victim of bullying, and I’m pretty sure that he realizes that both their presences are more valuable than mere material contracts. I am also certain that Jade and Floyd think so too, although they say otherwise.

Scarabia:

Scarabia arc’s overblot goes to Jamil, you poor boy. Because of his position as the Asim family’s servant, he believes that as long as he is in the presence of Kalim, he will never be able to be who he really is. Aladdin also thinks that he cannot be with Jasmine if he isn’t royalty. However, we all know that Jamil has more to offer as an individual. He is intelligent and powerful, and will remain intelligent and powerful despite his position as a servant. Aladdin is loved by Jasmine despite being a non-royal. Scarabia’s chapter centres around the idea that an individual’s potential and worth is not defined or limited by their status or position, as Jamil has surely proven to us.

Pomefiore:

The recent Pomefiore arc is also very relatable and nothing less than outstanding, highlighting the importance of “beauty” in more than one way. This chapter straight up tells us that ballet is not restricted to girls, and it has already earned my respect. What’s more outstanding is its emphasis of effort. Vil is shown to be frustrated because of being in Neige’s shadow. GIVE HIM THE LICENSE TO BE FRUSTRATED HE WORKED SO HARD! Despite his hard work, he is less popular than the cheery and pretty Neige. In the VDC, Neige’s cover of a children song grabbed more attention than the song he poured his sweat, blood and tears over. No one cares about the effort behind the scenes, and all the praise goes to the final product. In Snow White, the Evil Queen will never be the most beautiful, because she is ugly inside. This could apply to this chapter. Despite being more successful, Neige, unless stated otherwise, lacks the diligence and hard work that Vil has put into his craft.

Ignihyde:

All right folks this is where the predictions starts. The recurring theme of this game is conflict against society. From this, I will predict that Idia and Hercules will share a common theme. People call them monsters. Hercules is called a monster because of his inhuman strength, while Idia’s case will most likely be because of Ortho. Idia is undoubtedly a genius engineer, and since Ortho is a cyborg, there are chances that he was once a human but died, and is turned into a cyborg by his brother. Idia creating him from scratch is not likely because he already mentioned a “previous Ortho”. Because of this, Idia is feared by many people as well. However, if this theory were to be correct, it would mean that the story will follow the moral in Hercules that underlines the importance of staying true to oneself and that people will love you for who you are. Hercules definitely stayed true to himself, and in the end, instead of being labelled a monster, he became loved by many. I’m sure that it will be the same way with Idia, although I am not sure about the situation that will help incite this.

From how he encouraged Riddle to break away from his mother’s rules in the first chapter,, it is highly possible that Ace would play a role in helping Idia express his mad scientist vibes. If Ace does not help Idia, he will probably still play a big role alongside Ortho, as they are both younger siblings. From ghost marriage, we can also see Ortho’s ability to call Ace out on his bullshit. Ace is a child full of lies, and his true personality may also not be what he displays every day. With Ortho’s advance “Your body sayin you lyin boy” technology, I think that we could finally see a change in our dumb ginger boy’s personality, as well as gain some juicy insight into the Trappola household. Epel is also a plausible factor, seeing that he has embraced his cute and wild side in Chapter 5. However, if the story were to follow the same pattern as in Chapter 3 with Jack and Octavinelle, Epel will most likely only help the main character, and Vil would help with the dorm leader in question. But we’ll see about that.

Diasomnia

Sleeping beauty is a story where love is a powerful force. In the dorm that is very family orientated, there is no doubt that love will be a common theme in this story arc. However, just like Pomefiore, the first year also has to play an important role in the story. Sebek, unlike waka sama, is probably mortal. Another theme in sleeping beauty is that growing up presents all sorts of existential crisis. I am pretty certain that Sebek’s existential crisis would come in the form of fey vs human. Power vs mortality. How will Malleus overblot then? Following the pattern, it would likely be because of a problem that contrasts to their first year. As Sebek gets to know the idiot combo, he will gain more friends, and Malleus might find his most loyal guard taken away from him, or it may come in the form of Sebek or Silver, or both, objecting him in some way. If both happen to be proven wrong, it is still likely that he will overblot because of something that involves his loneliness or lack of understanding of mortality. It could even be caused by seeing Sebek and Silver grow up, and suddenly be hit with the realization that they both may one day leave his side or pass away, and that the main character, who does not fear him at all, will also one day return to their world or die, leaving him behind once again.

The conflict will probably then be resolved by the understanding that despite all this, he has friends. Lilia, Sebek, Silver, the main character, and perhaps even Ace and Deuce, and Idia and Ortho for good measure, are people precious to him, and it is important for him to treasure the time that he has with them.

That’s all for today! These are probably not accurate, and I’m sure that Yana Toboso is at least 10 dimensions away from me when playing chess, but it is fun to compare the storyline with their respective classic film. Either ways, only time will tell how the story progresses. So I’ll keep an eye out for any previews! Thank you for reading!

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nonbinaryeye · 3 years

Text

Forsaken Scholar and Beholding Sailor

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 6 - Entity Swap

One of them spends most of the year travelling all around the world seeing all its wonders. The other one stays locked in the Institute. It is not that hard to guess which one of them serves to the Eye and which one serves the Lonely…

Read on AO3

…

Peter Lukas loves traveling around the world with his ship. What could be better and more fitting for a servant of the Eye than to sail through the seas as he pleases, discovering all the hidden secrets of the most forgotten places on the Earth, gaining forgotten Knowledge and Seeing all the wonders the world has to offer with his own Eyes. And the most importantly of course – also feeding his patron with different flavours of the worries, fears and traumas people are experiencing in the different countries.

As amazing as it is to cross over the ocean all the way there and back, one of his favourite places is still the city of London. It is not because the sight of the city would be that amazing or wonderful – far from it. However it is one of the most monitored cities in the world and how could the soul of a Beholder not appreciate that? Knowledge that he cannot even cross a street without dozens of cameras – from ATM, from nearby stores, the traffic ones– turning its Eye on him, it's truly delightful!

It is strange though how he chose from all the places to build his Institute here as well. True, in two hundred years London certainly changed a lot but it was hardly quiet, peaceful or abandoned back then. As always Peter is curious about his intention and as always he sees it as one more reason to not to tell him anything.

Whistling he approaches the Magnus Institute – quite a big building in the middle of the city – which you could somehow still easily miss if you did not know exactly where to look for it. He opens the door with an elbow as both his hands are preoccupied carrying a big box containing few things he picked up on his travels.

Peter never felt the particular need to hoard the artefacts. He is the servant of the Eye. The point is therefore to See to witness everything with his own Eyes. There is no need for that. Though lately he always makes sure to grab a few interesting or possibly cursed objects. It would be rude to show up after such a long time without appropriate gifts.

“Hello, I am here to see my husband!” he announces loudly to the receptionist. She winces and looks around in fear that someone will blame her for such a loud visitor. As always there is still no one around.

“I… uhm… who?” she hesitantly turns back at Peter who is cheerfully smiling.

“You know, James-… no, I think it is Elias now… Elias Butcher? Boucher? Budget? I don’t know why he always has to pick the worst names.”

“Uh… do you mean… Elias Bouchard?”

“Yes! That sounds about right… even though… are you sure it is not Butcher?” Peter grins while the woman on the reception desk continues staring at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t know Mr Bouchard is married.”

“Oh, you didn’t? That is very unfortunate for you then. He hates when people know too much about him.”

“What you mean by it… uh… I- I will announce to you…”

“It is alright! I will find my way. See you around.”

Peter winks at her since his hands are still full and whistling again he turns around leaving a mildly confused, mildly terrified woman behind.

The Institute is a maze. Full of corridors leading in the same direction and full of others leading to dead ends. Full of offices which seemed way too big for just one person but too small to fit there two. Full of empty rooms or doors with no room behind them. One could easily get lost there. Even a basic task might take hours considering how far away all seems all the basic utilities form each other.

What luck that Peter Knows the way very well and in a couple of minutes through a few shortcuts he stands in front of the door leading to the office of the Head of the institute. Or at least he thinks these are the doors… They all look exactly the same and of course that there is no sign, no plate with name trying to give any guest any sense of space.

He kicks in the door a few times and when he hears nothing he tries to open it again with his elbows. To his surprise the door is not even locked!

“Hello Jonah!” Peter cheerfully greets the man who is frowning at some documents on his desk. On the first look he seemed to be the least remarkable person that ever lived – he is of rather small posture, dressed in a boring grey suit matching the colour of his eyes and hair that lost the bright ginger colour quite some time ago. But one cannot always trust the first impression as he also appears to be in his forties and claims to be named Elias Bouchard.

From all the people Peter ever met, Jonah Magnus is the most fascinating and charming one. It has taken Peter a while to get through his dull and cold demeanour but once he has he could no longer unsee his sharp wits and occasionally even a bit nicer and sweeter side.

“You are here already? Haven’t you left like yesterday?” Jonah does not even look up and Peter cannot help himself but smile over the familiarity of his act.

“It has been three whole months! Have you not missed me, oh fog around my lighthouse, cliffs around my port, barnacle-”

“No for a fact I was very happy without you and your ridiculous names of endorsement,” he sighs dramatically but corners of his mouth twitch a bit upwards.

“I did miss you. I was writing you that on the postcards.”

“Yes I know. I could not miss the overflowing mailbox. Once again I beg you not to send me anymore of them. I don’t even know where to put them…”

“Have you not say the last time you are throwing them all away?” It is always cute to see Jonah’s pale skin to colour with blush.

“Yes! Yes I am. That is what I meant. My bin is overflowing with them.”

“Feel free to throw them away, I will send you new ones!”

“That is exactly what I beg you not to do!”

Peter decides not to tease Jonah any longer; he is starting to look a bit exasperated and he knows better than to push his buttons too much. One time when Peter crossed the limit of Jonah’s tolerance, the servant of the Lonely filled the office with fog. It took the servant of the Eye a few minutes to get out and when he did he found himself in front of the Institute with doors locked. He would rather not repeat that. And so to offer peace Peter finally puts the box down on the desk. By the sound it makes it is clear that it is much heavier that one might guess by the ease with which the sailor has carried it.

“I am bringing you gifts!”

Jonah looks unimpressed. “I am not interested. Please could you find some other place to throw all your useless crap in than my institute?”

“I thought your institute is supposed to research the supernatural? I am bringing you cursed and priceless artefacts to study and all I ask in return is your love. Should you not be more grateful?”

“First of all your price is too high. Plus I have plenty of things to study for decades since you must bring me something every time…”

Saying that the institute’s approach to supernatural research is specific or interesting would be an understatement. As far as Peter knows Jonah Magnus started the Institute way back in 1818 shortly after learning about the Fears. Jonah pretended he was only interested in studying the supernatural even though he already had a scheme in mind regarding how to serve his chosen patron. He decided to lure in scholars with the promise of achieving great discoveries. Then he made sure to make their life just a lonely misery with them sacrificing their life in pointless study isolated from society.

Peter also knows Jonah was somehow acquainted with his ancestor Mordechai Lukas, who decided to sponsor his project in exchange of sharing all the knowledge and discoveries the institute will create as a byproduct of making scholars lonely. The deal lasts till now and that is how he and Jonah met at first… But that is all Peter knows about his past as Jonah is not usually very talkative concerning his past.

Forsaken has granted him a long and lonely life to serve its cause. Though lately Peter is doing his best to sometimes interrupt the lonely part of it… He changes name from time to time for legal reasons. Not that it is even necessary as no one ever looks into the institute and its matters way too closely. And if someone really even notices its existence and starts asking way too many questions it usually only leads to their mysterious disappearance.

“You can always hire more people to sort it out? I sometimes doubt you really have any employees at all. I rarely run into anyone…”

“That is exactly the point. I do not really want to risk they could meet. Now regarding your gift…”

“Ah well as much as it pains me if you do not truly want it…” Peter put on a theatrical look of tragedy and grabs the box again. Jonah raises his hand to stop him. Their fingers brush and he is as cold as ever.

“It is fine… since you have already brought it here. Just put it in the artefact storage on your way out. Someone will get to it eventually.”

Peter lets go of the box again rather grabbing Jonah’s hands into his leaning closer over the desk. Jonah is still doing his best to look unbothered but when Peter kisses his hands he cannot help himself but smile over the silly behaviour of his partner.

“We can always get a divorce if you despise my affection so much, my beloved husband.” Peter gently strokes the golden ring on Jonah’s finger.

“No need. Time spent together with you is so short when you live as long as I do that it hardly matters anyway.”

“It hardly matters to you. It still matters to me, my dear Jonah.”

“I could not care less, Peter,” Jonah grabs his collar and finally pulls him into a kiss.

#Their alligment might have changed but their relantionship is very similiar #Fear Entity Alignment Swap #tma #magnus archives fan #magnus archives fanfic #peter lukas #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #lonelyeyes #lonely eyes #lonelyeyesweek #lonelyeyesweek2021 #mEye fanfic #mEye post

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decks-writing-blog · 3 years

Text

I am the King!

The Hand of the King stood across the way, looming large and intimidating in front of the smoldering remains of the throne. He wouldn’t move from there no matter how long Behead hung around out here. Or at least his patience for standing around was always far greater than theirs. Even during the instances they’d done their best to taunt him, he hadn’t responded. Like the real pain in the ass he was, he’d only move once they entered into his arena trap. Where he’d ‘kill’ them again as he’d done many, many times before.

Beheaded had killed him a few times before too but not in a long while and they didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell this attempt either. Their health flask was empty and their body was far too damaged to survive more than a blow or two from his massive blade. It was annoyinglosing so many times to him, especially in a row. Did he even remember any of it though? No one ever seemed to comment on the fact that the island was stuck in a time loop so was Beheaded the only one who remembered or knew? Other than Time Keeper anyway, presumably the one responsible for the looping and thus had to know by default. Or was it common knowledge and thus not something worth mentioning? … Perhaps they should try to ask someone sometime.

Speaking of asking about things though, a handful of runs ago they’d finally managed to defeat the Giant. He’d called them ‘King’. It had been odd but they’d quickly put it out of their mind. In part due to their frustration with losing to the Hand again, ruining their good mood gained from beating the Giant. But now that they were thinking of it again as they sat on the ground in a small pool of their current body’s blood, staring across at the impassive Hand, why had he called them that?

They had no memories outside of this time loop but they’d already determined they’d probably once upon a time been human – or at least created from a human body – based off stuff they’d found in the Undying Shores. But the King? How likely was that in truth? Impossible for them to say for sure since they didn’t know about what might or might not have happened to him before everything completely fell to ruin. But it didn’t really matter to them much either way. Except for the fact that if they hadbeen the King that would mean the Hand of the King had been their Hand. It would also explain their irrational anger at the sight of the ‘King’ on the throne. … But wouldn’t having seen him there contradict the Giant calling them ‘King’? … He hadn’t seemed very alive though, not reacting at all to anything so clearly something was up there. Plus the whole time loop thing made for some pretty weird happenings. So it was still possible Beheaded was the King and thus the Hand was theirs.

It’d be pretty neat to have a big strong fellow like him be at their beck and call. Or at least firmly in their command. … What did hands of kings even do? Were they some kind of special servant guard, second in command, or something else? … It didn’t matter, there’d be no killing him this time no matter what so maybe reigning him back into their control – even if it was only for this loop if he didn’t remember in future loops – would be a fun alternative. It would certainly be something different to do anyway; a brief break from being sliced to bits and slicing monsters to bits in turn.

Carefully, Beheaded, stood back up. They took one step closer to the Hand but stopped. How would they reign him back in when they couldn’t speak to tell him they were the King he was supposed to be the Hand of? Did they have something to write on that they could toss his way? … No. Nor did they have anything to write with other than perhaps their own blood. So how would they communicate? …

Well if they trying to be ‘friendly’ anyway… They took another couple steps closer, putting them near the edge of where his arena would start. Then they lifted a hand in their best attempt at a friendly wave. A foreign gesture to them, probably from even back when they’d been a human, if what they’d surmised about what kind of person the King had been was true.

The Hand didn’t respond of course but that was expected. However his stance seemed to finally change a little as Beheaded lifted up their crossbow and made of show of putting it on the ground. Next, they pulled their backpack off and made another show of taking out their shield and traps and placing them on the ground next to the crossbow. And just for good measure, they dropped the backpack too before splaying out their arms, palms open, as they strode closer.

This was a stupid idea, disarming themself like a fool before approaching such a dangerous foe. But they’d have ‘died’ even if they’d gone in ready to fight like they usually did. So really the only thing at stake was their pride and dignity, which, considering how many times the Hand had ‘killed’ them with seeming ease already, wouldn’t be thathurt by another such event anyway.

Proving once and fall all that the Hand was still sane, he allowed Beheaded to slowly stride close to him without jumping out to attack like he normally did. He finally moved when they were about three quarters of the way across the arena towards him, lifting a hand in a gesture to stop. It grated on their nerves to do so but they obeyed, dropping their arms to hang limp at their sides as the Hand now started slowly approaching them.

He stopped a foot or so a way, within striking distance for him but safe from them, as if they could actually do anything to him anyway. “What?” His voice was deeper than they would’ve thought but understandably full of suspicion and anger as he glared down at them. Interesting how even though his eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet along with the rest of his face, his gaze could still be felt.

Beheaded bristled under it because who was he to look so disdainfully down at them? Only because they’d already come this far, they refrained from lifting a hand to flip him off, instead they lifted their index finger in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture. Then, fighting every instinct they’d gained during these many, many and increasingly more dangerous and violent run throughs of the island, they turned their back on him and crouched down. They were bleeding freely from multiple wounds, their clothes stuck uncomfortably warm and wet to their body with it, making getting enough on their finger tip to write on the ground with easy.

“I was not aware you were even capable of trying to communicate,” the Hand said as they wrote. Again, they were tempted to snap around and flip him off, with both hands this time, but they refrained once more, hating it and kind of regretting attempting this. But it was too late to back down now and he should apologize profusely to them once he knew the truth. … Or if he believed their lie, assuming the Giant had been incorrect in addressing them as ‘King’ or straight up lying, either was possible.

As they finished dotting the exclamation point, they looked over what they’d written so far. ‘I am the King!’ Perhaps they should’ve gone with all caps to make it more impactful, too late now though. Now should they write more and offer an explanation? … They didn’t really have an explanation though other than the Giant had called them ‘my King’ a grand total of once. Which wasn’t a lot to go on and they weren’t sure it was true themself. So their message was fine as it was.

They hopped back up to their feet, turning to face the Hand again. Taking a step to the side, they gestured for him to come closer and read their message. He hesitated for a second or two, just glaring at them before stepping closer to look down.

Immediately his stance shifted. Beheaded began moving before he’d even started lifting his lance but was still a bit too close and not quite fast enough to get out of its range before its end was slicing diagonally through their chest.

As always the ‘death’ blow was the most painful. They started disconnecting from it and the now useless body even before hitting the ground. The thud of the body landing in the dirt helped jostle them the rest of the way out. They pulled the last of their tendrils out and…

An armored boot stomped down on them, flattening them into the dirt and blocking out their vision. Then, adding insult to injury, the boot ground roughly down into them. Rude and utterlyuncalled for! Seriously what kind of asshole did that kind of thing?

There was nothing Beheaded could do about it though. So for now, they used the bits of themself smooshing out around the boot to pull the rest of themself out. A task made more difficult by his weight pressing down on them but they were slippery enough that they could still do it rather quickly. They naturally sprang back up into a blob.

They glanced back at the Hand, glaring down at them and holding his now bloody lance at his side. Even just being able to flip him off would be nice. But they couldn’t so before any more harm could be done to their dignity, they turned their gaze away and quickly rolled off. They’d be back though. And when they returned, they were going to make him pay for being such an ass.

#my writing #dead cells #the beheaded #the hand of the king

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antihero-writings · 3 years

Text

Hereditary Loyalty

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Summary: Do demon’s reside in the left hand after all? If so, Gilbert’s in need of an exorcism. || Exploring some of Gilbert’s internal monologue in chapter 78, and how current events relate to Break's warning earlier in the series.

Notes: This was written for @phmonth2021‘s prompt for Golden Trio week, Day 2: Obsession. (Sorry it’s late!)

I’ve always wanted to explore what Break said about his loyalty being an obsession at this point, so that’s what this prompt made me think of.

I will likely need to edit and/or add to this, so forgive me for any little typos!

Your comments and reblogs mean the absolute world to me, especially for less-well known series like this one! So I'd really appreciate if you'd leave me one!!

As Gilbert lay, half asleep on the bed, the sound of a bullet ricocheted off the walls of his mind. It echoed, growling louder, gaining momentum, as it traveled back and forth.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you this…How can you be so devoted to your master? That loyalty of yours…No, should I call it your obsession? Saying it’s whole hearted might sound pleasant to the ears, but the way I see it, it’s simply abnormal.”

“Believe whatever you want. Regardless of what you say I—!”

“Let me give you a word of advice. A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade…and will someday pierce those you hold dear. Open both eyes wide. That is, if you don’t want to end up like me.”

Those cursed words. The whispers of the bullet on its merry go round.

He’d taken them as an insult, then. Told himself Break wasn’t completely sane, after all. His devotion was indeed wholehearted, pure, and he wasn’t going to lose anything else.

They were a warning. A prayer for his well being. Not some misunderstanding or otherwise creepy proclamation. Break was too sane for any of their good.

Gilbert understood now. And he hated himself for understanding. Hated Break for being right. Hated himself for not listening. Hated Break for giving him something to not listen to. Hated the truth most of all, for just how nightmarish it was. All this had no right being real.

The gunshot rebounded again, and he dug his nails into his palm. His left palm. Always the left. Always the pain. Always the truth. The horrible memory. Though it would have been true without the memory.

Do the demons reside in the left hand after all?

He’d fired many bullets in his lifetime. Too many, perhaps. Some at targets. Some at Chains. Some at people. Some at the Baskervilles, who were somewhere in between. And he wasn’t always sure the decision to fire was right.

But those shots—even those situations a bit too ambiguous to be sure—didn’t echo for longer than a night.

This one. This one he knew would echo throughout his whole life if he wasn’t careful, or was simply a little too careless.

But there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all. He was bound and broken to Glen Baskerville, because that’s what he was: a Baskerville. Etched into his name, the fabric of his flesh, his being. So here he was, spending the night on the dark side.

Not Oz. No. Never. Never. Never Oz.

“Shoot him.”

His left palm was bleeding now.

His Master. His best friend. His dear light. He’d swallow and bathe in dark if only for a sliver of light. He’d never, never, never hurt his precious—

“A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade…and will someday pierce those you hold dear.”

Oh but it wasn’t a blade, was it? It was a bullet. There is a difference, yes. Blades are quiet. Far less risk of tainted memory.

Loyalty. But it wasn’t his loyalty to Oz that became the bullet, it was that towards Glen.

“Is the one you need really Oz Vessalius?”

Damn him. Damn him for trying to help. Damn Gilbert himself for thinking him nothing but a useless clown.

How can I know if I’m not with him?

He loved Glen, once. Looked up to him. Idolized him. Cut and polished as his successor, his copy. And, once upon a time, he didn’t mind.

This loyalty was more than pure and blind devotion. He knew that now. It was something far more deeply ingrained. Something that branded and stained, and may just maim. He loved Glen from the start, yes. He was kind. A good king. Even as a child Gilbert could tell that.

But at some point he couldn’t tell what was his true feelings, and what was the magic curving its way inside him like puppet strings.

Where was the oath written again?

No prince should be permitted to disobey his king, after all. Even those whose relation was bloodless. Hereditary loyalty.

Couldn’t we do this without anything attached? Can’t we let our bodies move according to the request of our souls?

So his loyalty towards Oz…was it something pure, or something that immured him? He always thought it his most honorable quality. He was his steadfast servant, his chivalrous knight. But perhaps he only latched on because he was puppeteered and programmed to be a creature of service.

“That loyalty of yours…No, should I call it your obsession?”

Maybe this was how things were supposed to be after all. There was no such thing as love or fate, or dreams. Just the strings, the spiderwebs. We’re all cocooned, waiting for the poison to kick in.

What was he thinking? How could he think he didn’t really care for Oz? How could their adventures, their time together really mean nothing?

He loved Glen too once. And he couldn’t tell if even that was real anymore.

Glen’s successor, his copy, his soul, his left hand, his wings—

Raven.

The one thing he stole from him. The contract half-fulfilled then. Promises broken. Promised that couldn’t help but be fulfilled. The one thing that would ever belong to him. A chain half-connected. The ship might just drift out to sea that way.

Raven, whose seal lay in his left hand. His ever cursed left hand. His symbol of Glen, still.

“You will be bound by your left hand again.”

He felt like his face might break as he tried to keep both the tears and laughter that simmered beneath the surface from boiling over.

Break wasn’t the only one who’d tried to warn him.

He hadn’t understood then. Hadn’t understood anything at all.

Raven. One of Glen’s four black-winged Chains. The first. The first drop of four poured into the vessel. A ceremony cut in half by the sound of screaming, and the smell of smoke.

Raven who he created his legal contract with because he thought he could save his master. Raven whose seal saved his master’s life and sanity. Raven who took them from Cheshire’s dimension, who protected him and Break from the Baskervilles.

Raven, who had only helped since he’d made his contract with him. Raven who he shared a connection with. Raven whose name he even took at times. A name he took once to save himself the pain of his master knowing who he really was.

Raven who perhaps could be of some good now.

He sat up.

Oz wasn’t merely the reflection of Jack. And Gilbert wasn’t merely the reflection of Glen.

Maybe Raven wasn’t a symbol of Glen’s tyranny either. Maybe he was just the opposite. Maybe Raven belonged to him. Maybe Raven’s fire was exactly what he needed to break the unbreakable.

And there is at least one benefit to being a Baskerville.

He looked at his left hand.

“Open both eyes wide. That is, if you don’t want to end up like me.”

He smiled, half mad. He had kept his eyes closed for far too long, and he knew even before he walked into the rain that he might just end up like Break after all.

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stormcallart-blog · 4 years

Text

|| A Sliver of Moonlight ||

Life is pretty boring serving for the slowly decaying villa in the countryside in Toussaint. It's when a Witcher comes clamoring into your life that it all changes. Grabbing a few herbs from the city shouldn’t be that bad, right?

Geralt x Reader, Mature content: depictions of injury, gore, violence, animal death, unresolved sexual tension.

This is based off of the Witcher 3 DLC, but no real spoilers! I just love the vibe of it so much. Tbh this is old, wrote it about a year ago but love it so much that I thought I’d post it. Not too sure if I’d do another chapter, but maybe if the mood strikes!

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The estate known as Corvo Bianco Vineyard had been your home since you could remember. Your parents had grown tired of the cold in Skellige when you were but a babe and had made the journey to the endless heat and beautiful landscapes of Toussant. Years had come and gone and with those years so did the owners of the Vineyard. You went from plucking grapes to planting olive trees to tending the grounds as the owners made one financial mistake after another. Where once was beautiful herb gardens there was now only crumbling leaves and rotting wood, the stables were now empty and the once beautiful main house began to peel and fall apart. The last owner had dumped all his coin into just keeping the Vineyard afloat and when he couldn’t anymore handed it off to the Duchess, who luckily saw it fit enough to still need the workers.

No longer needed for picking the Vineyard stock you were tasked to look for herbs for the cooking staff. Even with spending most of your days in the sweltering summer heat searching for various herbs you were thankful, especially since you had gained a new found interest in Alchemy. How a certain concoction could heal wounds or cure illnesses fascinated you to no end and you were desperate for more of that knowledge.

When the whispers of the Beast of Toussant emerged you were hesitant. Whispers of the beast deep in the cellars of Corvo Bianco spiked your interest a little too much. All the workers on the estate stayed far away, sometimes in the night you could hear it scrape its claws against the stone, sending shivers down your spine. Your novice knowledge of alchemical things made it impossible to even research any kind of repellent against the beast, not like it would help since not a soul knew what the beast actually was.

One warm night it came, hissing and slashing through the Duchesses guardsmen as it barreled back into its den as you watched shaking from your chamber. It was terrifying as it moved, slashing and gnawing at the duchesses men as if they were nothing more than paper. All hope seemed lost until a man clad in black with a sword so bright it seemed to hold the moon, silver no doubt, made his way after the monster. His hair as white as his blade and yes, you were sure of it, even from your bedroom there was no mistaking those golden eyes. A Witcher.

Never before had you seen one, your heart leapt at the thought. They were master swordsmen and even better alchemists , expert monster hunters in every way. You had no doubt he would be the one to slay the monster of Toussant .With bated breath you waited for the silver haired man to emerge victorious, tapping your fingers against the windowsill in nervous excitement. Just when you thought maybe the Witcher had fallen prey to the beast a flash of white hair stepped out into the moonlit night once again.

However before you could get a good look at him he was gone from sight, riding off on a dark horse into the warm night air. You sighed, noting the amount of bloodshed and work that awaited the villa in the morning.

That night you tossed and turned, dreams filled with the man they call the Witcher.

After the gorey cleanup you stomached with a handful of other workers the following day, all was quiet. No beast stirred from the depths of the vineyard and it seemed like life would continue just as boring as it had been before you set eyes on that White Wolf.

You heard it from one of the kitchen maids first. A new owner was on their way with the deed to Corvo Bianco! It was hard to remember the last time the estate had ever been governed, which made you both nervous and excited at the same time. Curious of the new owner you wanted to get a good look when they came striding down the street.

Busying yourself with some wild mint that grew from the picket by the road you waited, peering up every few minutes to keep an eye out. The sounds of hooves beating against the stone pulled you from your harvesting as you watched in awe as he neared. The Witcher. The Witcher was head of the estate at Corvo Bianco? Your jaw clenched to keep from hanging as he strode by, yellow cat-like eyes regarding you for merely a second before he continued towards the main house. So it was true!

Your fellow workers were… less enthused about the new owner. Most just scoffed and went about their work, while others tossed around names you’d never heard before but were sure they were not meant endearingly towards the Witcher.

You found him interesting. Knowing very little about them you were less inclined to see them as sub-humans as most others seemed to suggest. If anything he just seemed… exotic. And there was no denying that what you had seen of him so far was attractive.

The smell of fresh mint tickled your nose, peering down to see you’d driven your nails into its soft leaves, pushing the smell into the air. Surely the main quarters kitchen would need some for dinner tonight, a perfect excuse to learn more about the Witcher. The servant entrance was easy enough to slip into, silently greeting the cook who pushed her finger against her lips as you entered. Laughing softly you both listened in.

The Majordomo introduced himself but you weren't prepared for what came next. The deep timbre of the man who spoke nearly knocked you sideways from just a mere greeting. That was definitely … not what you had expected, but not that you were complaining.

The rest was fairly boring conversation which explained the updates needed for the estate to which the Witcher stood silently and listened.

“He’s called the White Wolf.” The cook whispered with a cheeky grin, “ Arrived in Toussaint only a few days ago on orders for the Duchess.”.

“Imelda, you are shameless!” You teased as she smiled, “How do you find this out so quickly?”.

“Advantages of working in the main house kitchen, my dear. ” she said with a wink. “Here child, take this bowl of fruit and set it in the dining room for me , would you?”

Squinting at her smile you took the small bowl of fruit from the table, taking a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into the center room. Walking around you saw the Majordomo first, dark circular glasses facing you. The Witcher had his back towards you, listening as the Majordomo spoke, shoulders square and standing much taller than you first would have thought. His silver hair was shoulder length and lay against the metal chain padding across his broad shoulders. You must’ve been staring because the Majordomo coughed, shocking you out of your daydreaming, prompting the Witcher to turn to see the disturbance.

His golden irises met your own, the slits of his pupils striking as they flared in the firelight. It was impossible to speak while caught in his gaze as he examined you silently. His light brows furrowed , proud nose flaring as he peered down at the fruit bowl you undoubtedly had in a death grip. His grizzled face split into a wry grin as his armored hand reached into the bowl and plucked out an apple. “Thanks.” He spoke flatly, holding the apple up with a slight nod of his head.

You didn’t speak, you couldn’t. You felt trapped, entranced even. Instead you nodded back before hastily placing the bowl down on the dining table.

“I’d like to work on revitalizing the herb garden first.” The deep thrum of the Witcher’s voice bounced off the barren walls. The very mention of the herb garden had you turned on your heels to meet the steely cat-like gaze once again.

The Majordomo nodded excitedly as the Witcher handed over the coin, “That is a good start, sir!” he added in cheerfully, “Y/N here is our closest thing to an herbalist, surely she wouldn’t mind picking up the necessary ingredients.”

The Witcher's creased eyebrows flicked slightly in a mute expression of surprise, “So you know herbs, hm?” his gritty voice almost seemed amused.

“Y-yes.” You spoke finally, a small smirk lined his features, peeking out over a white beard. He let out a chuckle that seemed almost cold, “So tell me then, how does one harvest Ribleaf?”.

The question almost made you laugh. You weren’t professionally trained but certainly not that much of a novice. It surprised even you how confidently the words left your mouth, “Cut from the bottom of the stock, try to pluck or remove from any other point and it’s practically useless.”.

If the Witcher was impressed he was damn good at not showing it. “Very good.” His deep voice bellowed in an even tone, eyes studying you even still. “I’ll leave it to you then.” Was all he managed before he turned for the exit.

Hastily you turned to exit through the kitchen, so caught up in thought you didn’t catch the Witcher’s eyes trail after you as he exited into the sunlight. Imelda was already smiling as you closed the door behind, trying hard not to laugh at your flustered expression, “So? How is the famous White Wolf?” she said lightly, stirring the soup she’d been working on.

“Almost as intimidating as staring down a Gryphon.” You breathed out, mind still reeling from that look. Whatever Imelda said next was lost on you, mind still lingering on the golden irises that seemed to read your mind. Could Witchers read minds? Gods, you hoped not. It was amazing how quickly the workers began tending the Herb Garden as soon as the White Wolf forked over the funds. The Majordomo followed suit and bid the Witcher farewell before the armor-clad warrior mounted his steed and took off into another great adventure no doubt. You heaved a heavy sigh, almost jealous that his life seemed so filled with adrenaline whilst you sat around most days picking ingredients or tending to the ground's needs. The Majordomo turned to you quickly, withdrawing a list from his little notebook, “Ah, there you are! Here is the list. Please go into town and gather these seeds and plants from an Alchemist.” he finished by dropping a good sum of gold into your open palm , eyes widening at the weight in your hand. You had never held so much gold in your life.

“Do you wish for me to go now?” You tried not to sound ungrateful, for any chance to go into town was a welcomed one, but half a day's walk nonetheless.

“Preferably while the day is still young.” He spoke with a high dialect.

“Of course.” You said without a pip of disobedience, you’d walked those roads before and with a knife strapped across your thigh you were confident you could make it there and back.

You grabbed a sizable satchel and placed a good amount of gold in several hidden pockets, just in case. Luckily it was much cooler this morning than it had been all week, the smell of grass and ripening fruit blowing through your tresses as you set off up the hill. The walk to Beauclair was long and uneventful. You stopped briefly here and there to take a break or spotting a herb that was marked on the list , finding it easier to pluck than spend the extra gold for it in town. The Quiet of rolling hills slowly gave away to idle chatter of the city, smells quickly turning sweet to sour, always was a stark contrast to the countryside life. You enjoyed the capitol but the rose-tint seemed to fade quickly while within its walls. Spotting the Alchemists shop sign you weaved in and out of beggars and Duchesses men alike, Rich and poor mingling into a sea of endless faces. There was only one word for the crowds of people, overwhelming.

The shop was a cozy hideaway, empty save for the shopkeeper and her wares. The smell of incense wafted into the air , its smoke crowding at the ceiling, mingling with the earthy smell of plants. Greeting her plainly you read off the list and examined the herbs thoroughly before making a sale, walking back into the late afternoon sun a few gold coins lighter but with quite a sizable workload to haul back. The thought crossed your mind to stop by one of the taverns and have a refresher before returning, with your own coin of course, but you knew if you waited much longer night would fall on your journey back and that’s the last thing you wanted.

All tension faded with the chatter as cobblestone streets gave way to dirt roads and open fields once again. It was nice to breathe without feeling boxed in. Your steps were slower this time, sweat rolling down your temples as the bag seemed to only gain weight with every passing minute. You stopped, pulling the small glass container of water you’d stored away and took a few refreshing gulps before totting the satchel over your shoulders and continued on. At this pace you may not make it back to Corvo Bianco before nightfall and the thought alone made your stomach sink.

It was an arduous journey back home, cursing yourself for picking up a few extra things as the leather strap bit into your shoulder. You guessed you maybe had another hour to go before you could finally unburden yourself, but dusk was nipping at your ankles. Trying to take your mind off the weight you looked out into luscious fields, grateful that the journey had been void of monsters when you saw it. The long stalks of red poking out in a lone field was like an oasis in the desert. Eyes lighting up you stared in disbelief, taking a few extra seconds to confirm what you’d seen. It was Winter Cherry. One of the rarest herbs to come across, something not even the Alchemist shop had in stock. Your heart swelled, remembering the many benefits you’d read not so long ago on your last trip to Beauclaire.

Hoisting the bag higher you set out towards the plant, long blades of grass tickling your ankles and knees, the patch of land long forgotten. You withdrew the blade from your stocking strap, thumbing the blade over the leaves of the rare plant, remembering that the Alchemy book had mentioned it had to be cut from the root or otherwise it would be completely useless.

The blood red petals swayed , knife cutting clean through its roots and you bubbled with pride. This certainly was a treat, a rare find to add to the new herb garden, the Witcher would be undoubtedly impressed. Your excitement was snuffed out in an instant when the blood-curdling howl echoed in the night.

“No.” You whispered, hands beginning to shake as you hastily stuffed the Winter Cherry into the already full satchel, nearly tripping over your own dress as another howl screamed into the now Twilight sky, blade still in hand. “No, no, no!” You continued as you made for the road, as if it was a safe haven from the gathering wolves. The sound of rustling dry grass began to double, triple, before you were keenly aware there was no getting out of this. Heart pounding in your ears you turned, oval eyes reflecting through yellowing foliage as the soft crunch of grass slowed, the animals circling in.

“Come on you bastard.” You growled in your own way back, knowing there was no way out but like hell if you wouldn’t try your best to fight them off. As if responding to your threat the first one lept, jaws snapping and snarling as it went. Dodging to your left it missed your arm by just a hair, the hot breath of the beast tickling the hairs of a limb that could have easily been its next meal.

The next time you weren’t so luckily, the second wolf snapping down hard on the skirt of your dress, yanking you almost completely over as it ripped and tore at the material. Swiping the small blade wildly the animal retreated, eyes still trained on your every movement. Heavy breaths left your dry mouth, adrenaline pumping through every vein as senses heightened. You were going to die.

The third wolf was too quick, coming toward you from the side as you focused on the others. Its Black fur barreled towards you, ferocious teeth biting through your thick dress and into your thigh, ripping a shriek from your throat as it sunk its razor-like teeth into the meat of your leg. You swiped at the wolf, jutting the knife into the scruff of his neck as it whimpered and recoiled, but the damage had been done and now you were merely a game to the hungry canines.

“FUCK OFF!” You howled, which startled them momentarily before the first one jumped you again, pushing you to the ground , shoving your fist into it’s open mouth just in time to keep it from getting a killing blow. Its fangs scrapped at your knuckles, sharp claws digging into your soft skin. A faint sound of a horse barely registered, knowing no matter how proficient the rider, there was no way of saving you. The only thing you could do was take one of the wolves down with you. The wolf atop you bit down, teeth sinking into the flesh of your arm as you let out a pained cry, its pack surprisingly absent. The cries you heard were not your own and soon the wolf that pinned you down with your fist in its mouth seemed dazed, drunk even, eyes glassy as the moon reflected off its dark eyes. It’s jaws relented, your blood now oozing from open wounds. Puzzled at first you seized your only chance, ramming the pathetic blade into the top of its skull, piercing thick pelt and bone. The wolf swayed, eyes rolling back as its blood soaked your hand, pushing it off just before it pooled over your already ruined garments.

Your head was swimming, jolting up as you frantically searched for the other two wolves only to find an empty field and a man.

A man with hair as silver as moonlight.

Adrenaline left your body quickly, eyesight dotting with bright white before fading to black completely.

It was all a blur, the hard motions of a horse galloping faded in and out for you, unconscious to the strong arms that encased you.

You awoke with a start, instead of dry grass beneath your touch there were soft sheets instead. A bed? "Oh, you're awake." The deep rustling voice spoke from the corner , nearly startling you out of the bed. Everything hurt and you peered down at the bandage around your thigh soaked in blood. "How'd i-" you barely managed before the White Wolf intervened, "lucky for you I was on my way back here and heard you off in the distance. Witcher sense does wonders. Have to say you put up quite the fight.". Was that… praise?

"Thank you." You managed, wincing as you sat up against the headboard, "how long was I out?"

He shrugged with heavy shoulders, "Long enough to haul you back here give a few hours or so. It's well past midnight by now. What the hell were you doing in the middle of nowhere at nightfall?" He seemed irritated by that.

You sighed, "getting herbs from the alchemist." You stated plainly, hoping he picked up your satchel, otherwise it would be all for naught. Warmth spreading across your cheeks realizing he had carried you unconsciously and rode all the way back to Corvo Bianco with those large hands around you.

"You won't find an herb shop in a field." He spoke plainly but with just enough sarcasm for your brow to quirk.

"Majordomo sent me into Beauclaire to get supplies for the herb garden you ordered. I found some Winter Cherry in the field and that's when I was attacked by wolves. Was that… a joke?" You should have been more formal, but seeing as you were laying in his bed with half your body bare, it seemed almost pointless to be.

He chuckled, "An attempt at one at least. Witchers have subdued emotions, call it a blessing and a curse." He sat back in the wooden chair he had propped in the corner, " Shame, Winter Cherry is useless unless-"

It was your turn to interrupt "Unless you cut it off at the roots." He looked to you with a hint of a smile.

You gaped, so that's why he seemed so calm and collected. That was definitely something you weren't expecting. "I should have been quicker on the walk back. But I'm glad you were there, otherwise I might've had to kill all those wolves on my own."

He let out a half laugh as did you, Geralt always appreciated a strong woman and you were fastly becoming more and more interesting to him with each passing moment.

"Geralt." He muttered as he stood, metal from his armor clinking and the wood of the house creaking under his shifting weight.

"Hm?" You asked inquisitively as he neared, drawing your legs closer , confused at what he was doing.

"My name." He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves, "I need to check those wounds.".

You nodded, giving him permission to touch you, giving your name with a wince as his large warm hands unbound the bandage around your thigh. You watched Geralt transfixed, breath catching at just how high up his fingers traced since the bite had been dangerously close to your hip. He seemed to feel you tensing at sweeping touches , golden eyes looking up to yours with a muted smirk across such handsome features. "It tickles." You lied and he only let out a small puff of air that hinted at humored before continuing. It was amazing watching a Witcher work. He'd rooted through his belongings finding ingredients for the healing salve without needing any type of recipe. Casually mixing ingredients that, had you attempted, would have surely given you a headache.

"So" your name rolling of his tongue made it hard to concentrate, "you're a bit of an alchemist?" He spoke casually as he transferred the salve into a large bit of wax paper.

"Afraid not, I know but a few things from experiments and what little I've read while in Beauclaire."

Geralt hummed at that, " Well it looks like you'll survive. I've made some salve that'll help heal the bite , but it's only enough for one or two days. Put it on in the evenings and when you run out come back. Maybe then I'll even teach you a trick or two." The last part made your heart leap as he rebandaged your wound, blood now completely stopped. "Thank you for saving my life." You said as you stood, leg in agony but unwilling to show any more sign of weakness.

"I got you into this mess, only fair I should rescue you from it." Geralt replied coolly, eyes transfixed on your heart rate that had thumped harder as you stood. You were in pain but far too stubborn to show it. He liked that about you.

"Goodnight Geralt." "Goodnight. "

You turned to leave, hobbling across the main house stairs and towards your quarters which luckily weren't too far. The plants you'd brought back were already laid on in the garden and you thanked the gods that geralt had brought back the satchel so that your near death had not been for nothing.

Finally in your quarters you bathed and added the salve , teeth clenching at the sting of it sanitizing the wound. You were pretty much asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Dreams emerged from the fog of your mind that night. Large scarred hands gently skating across your legs, pulling up your nightgown forcing a weak whimper from your throat. A deep rustling of a laugh accompanied with cat-like eyes as slightly chapped lips graced your skin. It was heaven , feeling the white beard scrape along your neck, sending you into a moaning fit. "Stop that, you're injured." His voice playfully mocked as you squirmed under him.

…"Geralt" you awoke with his name on your lips. Eyes wide and hand slapped over your mouth you scanned the room. It was bright, so bright. Almost midday by the way the shadows casted along the floor of the small room. The biggest mistake was moving, which nearly had you wailing in pain from the tender wound. Removing the covers it had bled through only a little in the night , of which you were thankful.

When finally dressed and on your way to the main house you waved off concerned workers as you hobbled by, far too tired to give them the entirety of the story of what happened the night before. Instead you stepped into the kitchen and shut the door with an exasperated sigh.

#geralt x reader #the witcher #the witcher 3 #reader insert #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #one shot #maybe??

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passable-talent · 4 years

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Heyyyyy I love how y’all write zuko! Could I ask for an imagine where the reader is zuko’s servant and is very shy and docile, and one of the guards on his ship tries to intimidate her but zuko goes in to defend her. Thanks 💗💗💗💗

as this was requested nearly two months ago, it is a relic of another time. that’s why I’m excusing the female pronouns. but be aware- incoming asks now get deleted if they ask for female reader in any way. yes, I’m being a hardass about it

You had the fortune of being born a firebender. Sadly, that was where your fortune ended. You were born into the lowest class of the fire nation- the servant class. You couldn’t do much to bring honor to your name, other than to do your best to serve whatever household you were placed into.

You weren’t very good at that, either. You were so bad at it, in fact, that when it came time for the young prince Zuko to take a ship and head off to find the avatar, you were given to him almost as a joke, as though you would make his life harder, instead of easier.

You were determined to prove them wrong. So every day, you did your chores dutifully. You purified salt water from the seas to make it into drinking water, and used some of it to wash the sheets and clothes of the crewman, the prince and general of course being treated first. Then, as it was lunch by the time you’d finish, you would help the cooks distribute lunch to all of the crewman.

Then, in the afternoon, you would assist both the prince and anyone else in the crew with anything they needed. Usually, you fetched parchment, or maps, or new candle wax. You helped distribute the evening meal, and after dinner you finally had time to yourself.

Most nights, you wandered to the bow of the ship, and practiced firebending.

You didn’t have much need for the skill. You weren’t gifted, and it wasn’t as though anyone expected you to help fight any sort of battles, as you weren’t a soldier. You didn’t plan on fighting any Agni Kais, and your bending was already good enough for mundane things, like lighting candles and thawing crewmen who stepped the wrong way in front of the avatar’s waterbending friend.

By all accounts, there was no need to train you any further.

And yet, you did. You had a passion for firebending- not for the fighting, and the martial arts, but for the way it made you feel. You loved the noise of the flame, and the energy that coursed through your bones, and the heat of the fire. You loved the warmth and the light that it spread. Though you had no teacher, you trained the best you could, practicing forms you had witnessed General Iroh teaching prince Zuko.

You hadn’t gotten in trouble yet. You didn’t know why you would, after all, you were off duty after dinner, but still you feared that somehow you were breaking a rule. Yet you thought that maybe the night watchman was less concerned with your shenanigans than whatever else their duties were. Maybe you had been reported, but hellfire was yet to rain upon you. There was no way to know.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves and began your forms again, your shoulders square and torso strong but your footwork lacking.

“May I?” asked a voice behind you, and you turned to see General Iroh, sitting down at his Pi Sho table.

“General,” you said, turning toward him and bowing deeply. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I’ll see myself to bed right away-“

“No, Y/N,” Iroh said, “it seems I am the one who has interrupted you. I sometimes enjoy a late night tea, and look at the stars. Don’t let me stop you.” You paused, shocked, but soon offered him a grateful smile and returned to your movements.

You faced the bow of the ship, and struck forward with both hands, knuckles vertical, making fire frame the point of the bow. Then, you jumped, launching upward and letting your body drift sideways as you struck your hand and foot in opposite directions, sending arcs of flame. You were supposed to land on your feet, but you stumbled sideways, and took the fall to your hip, then hands.

“Your technique is strong, but you need to focus more on your footwork,” General Iroh said, making you stiffen up. You hadn’t realized he’d been watching you- much less that he would critique.

“Much like earthbenders, firebenders can gain control from their connection to the ground. Keep your stances strong, and mind your center of gravity. This will help you control your flame.” You turned to the General and bowed again, a small smile on your face.

“Thank you, General,” you said, and began the set anew.

And so it became a pattern. General Iroh would often take naps in the afternoon, so that he could sit under the stars with you and help you learn. You couldn’t ever thank him enough, as he had no need to do this for you. Regardless, your skill began to strengthen, slowly as it was.

It did mean, however, that you were much more tired in the mornings. When you got up to clean up from breakfast one morning, your drowsiness was so strong that you managed to stumble when delivering Lieutenant Jee his tea. You apologized profusely, and immediately offered to get him another cup, regardless of the shard of porcelain stuck into the center of your palm, but it seemed that he wouldn’t hear it.

“You should’ve never been placed on this ship,” the lieutenant jeered, “It’s ridiculous that the good crewmen of this ship are burdened with not only a moody teenager as a captain, but also a clumsy teenager as a servant.” You looked to the side, hoping that maybe you would garner Iroh’s pity, and he would come to your rescue. But instead, you saw him walking away, showing utter indifference to your situation.

“We’re not the banished ones! Why are we being punished?” As he raised his voice, you tucked your chin down, hoping to diffuse his anger with your submission, complacency.

“My apologies, Lieutenant, I’m sorry-“

“You should be sorry. You’re nothing. To think that you’ve even been trying to be a firebender. You’ll never be more than you are- a useless servant.”

“Leave them alone,” said Zuko, emerging from the interior of the ship. Behind him walked Iroh, and you realized that the General had gone to fetch the prince.

“If you think that Y/N is useless, I’d love to see how you manage a day without their help. You may be a lieutenant, but you show no respect.” Lieutenant Jee turned from the conversation, seemingly chased off, and Prince Zuko turned to you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and you realized you’d never seen a side of him so caring. Slowly you turned over your palm, revealing the shard still stuck into your hand, and the trail of blood it had dripped and carved.

“Come inside, I’ll get you to the medic,” he said, and you followed him into the ship. However, he took you nowhere near the medic’s chambers, instead pulling you into his own. He had you sit down in front of his desk, and gathered a bandage from a nearby storage chest.

“If he says anything like that to you again, tell me,” the prince ordered you, and you nodded, casting your eyes to the floor. You never thought you’d be in his chambers- let alone when he’d just saved you. He sat in front of you, gently taking your hand and turning over your palm so that he could slowly pull out the shard of cup you’d smashed into it. Gently, he used a wet cloth to wipe the blood from your hand, his palm placed over your knuckles to hold your hand in place. Then, he wrapped your hand, and though you knew that your body carried the heat of a firebender, you couldn’t help but think that his hands felt so warm.

“My uncle said that you’re a promising firebender,” Zuko said, seemingly struggling to make conversation.

“I’m trying to learn,” you answered, voice small. You still felt so out of your element, being in his chambers.

“I could pardon you for an afternoon, so you can train with me. If you want.”

“I don’t think I’m good enough for that,” you said quickly, astonished he’d even offer.

“Well, when you’ve learned more. Maybe then.” You nodded, and he tucked your bandages into place, a small metal clip keeping them from unraveling. You stood up quickly, and bowed to him.

“Thank you,” you said, before rushing from his sight.

You couldn’t help the blush that rose on your cheeks, nor the way your heart pounded. You never thought he’d even known your name- and now he offered to train with and protect you.

Maybe the prince wasn’t as emotionally closed off as the crew seemed to think. Maybe there was something in his chest, something that you might even be able to reach.

Maybe.

-🦌 Roe

#imagines #reader insert #angst #atla imagines #atla imagine #atla fluff #atla iroh #atla zuko #atla #avatar x reader #avatar reader insert #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #avatar iroh #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar zuko

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nasir-simp · 3 years

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Azula’s Trauma

Okay, so I know that she was born psychotic (says so in the comics) but she still went through a lot of trauma that made it worse. So here’s me listing the reasons why she went off the rails.

Azula’s odds were never in her favor since she was born. She loved fire bending as a kid and would rather use a sword than play with a doll. It’s very to understand what she’s thinking and her emotions if you just payed attention. In some cases you could say she that she’s more on one side of the spectrum than others. She’s not very empathetic to begin with but she never knew better. No one really taught her how or that what she was doing was wrong.

1. She was already at a disadvantage seeing as Zuko’s older than her. That too, she was also a girl. But doors opened for her when Ozai realized how gifted of a fire bender she was. Also remember, Zuko didn’t know that he was born with the gift of fire bending.

This was the beginning of his envy towards Azula. She got his father’s love so easily while he had to try so hard to even get a shred of his recognition. This caused him to start distancing himself from Azula. Being Ozai’s prodigy wasn’t easy on her. Her mother probably thought of her as a monster to some extent. (Yes she loved her but that thought was always at the back of her mind.)

It also didn’t help that whenever Zuko cried her mother automatically assumed that Azula had something to do with it. Her mother should understand that it’s normal for siblings to make the other cry even if it’s their fault. It’s just normal sibling rivalry. This probably led to Azula resenting her own mother. Even with this newfound resentment towards her, she was still a child that wished for her mother’s love. Or for her mother to even glance at her the way she does Zuko. Because of this she tried to find parental love another way, through Ozai.

2. Being brought up by Ozai is much different than being raised by Ursa. He probably thought Azula battle strategies instead of reading bedtime stories. He probably taught her that mercy was for the weak, an example of that would be Iroh. Before she even met him, she already had a bad impression of him. The impression only went downhill when he sent her and Zuko gifts. Zuko got a blade while she got a doll.

Ozai must have told Iroh something about her, because if he knew her he would have known that would want a blade as well. It would make more sense for Azula to receive the blade, the girl who trains 24/7, rather than the boy who feeds turtle ducks in his free time instead of practicing. It was at the moment that Azula thought that no one really understood her but her dad, Ozai. But even he didn’t understand her, he just only saw of her as a child soldier.

All he ever id was encourage her ruthlessness towards other and to disconnect from other’s emotions to avoid being ‘weak’. It must of felt so good to finally be favored over Zuko. Ozai favored her while Iroh and Ursa favored him. The maids and servants probably had more of a liking towards Zuko since she never treated them as well as Zuko. But REMEMBER, Ozai taught her that kindness was a weakness not a virtue. Azula got hooked on the approval that comes with impressing Ozai which caused her to train harder and be better than Zuko.

This isn't how a child should be raised though, they should know the they are loved no matter how talented or talentless they are. You have to remember, she is still a child!

3. But, she had two friends that helped her gain the normalcy of childhood, Mai and Ty Lee. They were her best friends, she felt as if she could genuinely enjoy life instead of being trained like a soldier that's going to be shipped off for war. When Mai had a crush on Zuko all of Azula's insecurities probably entered her again. Afraid that Mai would soon favor him more and soon only hang out with him. The only thing that helped her feel grounded was the fact that Mai was shy and that it was highly unlikely that she would ever act on those feelings. She would still be on her side like always, or so she thought.

4. Now we'll talk about the Agni kai between Zuko and her father. Outwardly she seemed happy that Zuko was going to be banished and let's be honest, she probably was. But there's a chance that she knew he was still her brother and hoped that he wouldn't kneel in front of Ozai knowing that would just make him an embarrassment. With Zuko kneeling, she lost all of the little respect that she had for him because you're not supposed to show mercy to your opponents no matter what. Whomever it may be. Even with this lost of respect she must have felt happy knowing that with his banishment, there would be no competition for Ozai's attention. And with him, the uncle who knew nothing about her also left.

The years following Zuko's abandonment led Azula to perfect her fire bending and become a master. That too, also gaining a neverbefore seen fire color, blue. There's not much to say about this time since we don't know that much. Continuing on, when Zuko came back and joined the trio including Mai and Ty Lee, she probably felt the happiest she's ever been in a very long time. When it came down to the decision between Azula or her uncle, Azula must have felt fantastic to have someone favor her, even if it was just Zuko. To be someone's first choice, the words are indescribable.

During the beach episode we see a new side of Azula. We see her realize how different she is from everyone else. She desperately tries to fit in but it wasn't what she was trained to do. she must have been isolated from kids her own age besides Ty Lee and Mai during her childhood with Ozai. She was trained to conquer cities like Ba Sing Se, capture the avatar, be a master fire bender. This is what's natural for her, not making some boy like her. During the fire pit scene we see Azula open up towards the group saying how her mother thought of her as a monster. They all reacted quite calmly, not really jumping in with words of encouragement to make her feel better. Subconsiously, Azula must have known her friends shared the same thoughts as her mother. But she never really thought they would leave her seeing as they were friends, right? This scene is also where we see Azula show genuine emotion other than ruthlessness and it's directed towards Ty Lee. Ty Lee told the group that she always felt shadowed by her 6 other sisters. You could see the emotion flash through Azula's face. Azula related to Ty Lee on an emotional level because she went through the same thing, but instead it was with Zuko.

5. During the prison break when Azula was trying to stop the avatar from escaping, it probably broke her heart to see Zuko with him. Helping the avatar to escape goes against everything she was taught. But that wasn't what broke her, it was Mai betraying her. Sure she knew that they finally got together after Mai harboring the crush on him for years but she always thought that Mai would stick with her. She thought that Mai liked her and actually thought of her as a friends instead of the monster that everyone paints her to be.

6. The final crack on her heart though, was Ty Lee. When Ty Lee chi blocked her to let Mai escape, it broke her. Her eyes of pain were evident as she fell. Seeing the two people she trusted most on the other side when she thought they would be beside hers. Ty Lee was the only person who she never had a doubt on. It wasn't even a doubt that Ty Lee's loyalty could even be wavered. She trusted Ty Lee with her life. With the treachery of Ty Lee, Azula knew she was alone in the world. This final betrayal is what caused Azula's mask to crack. That crack let her insanity finally shine through.

7.While training with Lo and Li the only feedback she received from them was that she had a hair out of place. That hair symbolizes her mental health. Throughout the show her hair gradually becomes messier and messier. The messier it is, the more cracked her facade of well being is. The last time we see her on the show is during her Agni kai with Zuko. This is where her hair is the most messy. To quote Remus Lupin,"Finally the flesh reflects the madness within."

8. Even at Azula's worst she still held her own at the Agni kai during Zuko's best. But when she knew she was going to loose, she shot lightning at Katara with Zuko getting in the way just in time but rendering him useless. Once Katara bested Azula by freezing her in water to wrap chains around her arms, we hear Azula schema in defeat. The best way to describe it would be to call it a panic attack. Watching Azula breakdown hurts so much because it's so realistic. Her screams are heart wrenching and it hurts knowing what she went through. And she's only 14, a child! She's just a kid, a kid who went through too much that no one should ever experience. She went through too much for her to ever have hope. She went through too much to ever have the odds in her favor.

To conclude, Azula is a child who's broken on the inside and out. She's never stood a chance. She may have been born lucky but she wishes that she was never born.

#azula #ozai is an asshole #zuko #azula deserved better #uncle iroh #mai #ty lee #betreyal #trauma

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scarlettroubles · 3 years

Text

HPHM fanfic WIPs

I’ve actually been writing some fanfics for Eileen’s story as well as some Ryder Family lore for a while now but because of school I haven’t been able to get around to finishing any of them so I thought it would be cool to show you all some sneak peaks so enjoy!

In the Face of Fear chapter 2: of Faceless Strangers and Empty Halls

(The continuation to this fic)

She does not remember how long she has stood in this queue. Hell, she doesn't even remember what she's in line for anyway, not really. Logically she knows it's to get some important documents approved of before carting it off to the next sorry sod who was stupid enough to land themselves in this God forsaken place too. But she honestly couldn't bring herself to care. Politics, desk jobs, rules? She never cared for them really. Not even once.

She hated office work. Tulip had always found it dreadfully boring and the people who actually bothered with the crap even more so. So why did she take one?

The red head found herself racking her brain for answers as she waited oh so painstakingly for the queue to move and for her to be done with all this boring crap and lock herself in her boring little cubicle and bury her head under a shit ton of useless paperwork that, if she were lucky enough would hopefully suffocate her before this job did. But one look ahead of the line was enough for her to discern that it wouldn't be budging any time soon.

Why did she take this job? She hated the Ministry. Hated how suffocating rules and laws were. Sure, some were needed but that did not change the fact that Tulip Karasu did not like being restrained. So why the hell was she here? Working a dreadful job that was sucking the life out of her. Working for dreadful people who knew not the meaning of fun and only the meaning of responsibility, paperwork, and order and snuffing out the flame of good ol' fun chaos before it could really take spark. In a dreadful queue that was far too long to be normal with people and coworkers whose faces she always seemed to forget.

So why? Why here? She saw what this job did to people. How strict it made her parents. How high their expectations of her were and how they wouldn't accept anything less than perfect from their daughter. Despite most of the fog that clouded her tired mind she could still remember it so clearly... The promise she had made to herself so long ago. She had promised herself that she would never work here and would never be like her parents. Not if she could help it.

Did she finally resign to their wishes? Bowed like some obedient little servant and catered to their every whim? Had her fear of what she would do once she left Hogwarts finally override her logic?

Why did schools even do that? Why did the world do that? Telling students to make up their minds on what career to choose from such an early age? Tulip has seen what happened to the people that were unlucky enough to land themselves in a job that sucked the life out of them. She remembers how sometimes the most brilliant of students ended up having their spark extinguished as soon as they left school. Left to reminisce on their glory days and what could have been. The very thought of it made her tighten her hold on the documents in her hands.

Because everybody needs to know what they want to be at an early age. Everybody needs to know their place. They just have to have a place...

It was one of Tulip's greatest fears.

Ending up in a job that gave her zero satisfaction. A job that would end up isolating herself from everyone and everything because nobody wants to be friends with a traitor. A no good friend that turns on the other for their own gain. That's why Merula left-

Tulip was snapped out of her thoughts when she suddenly felt the sharp edges of the stack of documents she was carrying dig annoyingly into her side and moved to adjust them. Checking each one carefully to see if they've been ruined in any shape or form.

The last time she had presented a stack of reports that were ever so slightly crumpled and not properly organized to fit the pencil haired bastards ridiculously high standards she had been given such a withering gaze by her superior that she had felt herself visibly shrink just the tiniest bit. But the want to smack the arrogant sod and prank him mercilessly was stronger.

How she wished she could pull out a heap of dungbombs or any other joke shop product and just reign full chaos upon this hellhole.

She looked up and, to her relief the line had actually moved significantly. In fact, She was only three heads away from being in the front of the line. Huh, that was...Weird.

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Regrets of a Useless Man

(Context: A story told from Edward Ryder’s perspective and explores how he grew up mentored by his father, to becoming an Auror and meeting Julianna and to the tragedy that caused the Ryder Family to spiral down a path of grief and neglect).

Useless.

Edward remembers how often that word was hissed at him with such venom in his youth. How hard it would make him physically recoil, and if it wasn't the venom behind the words that stung, it was the pain and shock from the slap that would often follow next.

He remembers so clearly the sound of hand meeting cheek echoing so loudly within the Hunter's room of the Ryder Family Manor that day, and how the shadows in the dark room, the dancing fire in the hearth and the countless portraits of long dead ancestors were the only things to lay witness to it.

The day had started off simple enough. His father had brought him to the library for his afternoon studies on magical combat and magic theory. Edmund had forced the studies onto him when he was just 7, and Edward was now 12. Today though, Edward found it difficult to focus on reading the ink written words on the paper before him, he instead thought of the words his father said to him the day he had first started bringing him into this room every afternoon to ready him for what he claimed to the then 7-year-old, was his destiny.

"Your mother may think I'm being too harsh on you boy, but a child must learn sooner or later if he is to make his way in life. And you, Edward, my son…You will bring this family to glory. You will take back what once was mine... You will make me proud."

His father had made it his goal to have Edward become the next Head Hunter of the Hunters of Artemis. The group of bounty hunters and other unsavory individuals who were tasked in hunting down those The Ministry could not. Members were either recruited by the group's leader or were sentenced into joining it by The Ministry if they deemed the criminal guilty but useful elsewhere other than filling the empty cells up in Azkaban.

The title of headhunter used to be his father's. Back when Ryder was up against Ryder during the Wolves Rebellion. Edward remembers bits and pieces of the bloodshed. Their family's civil war had only recently ended after all. And although Edward was still young when the war was at its peak, he was there to see the ending of it.

His father had lost a duel to the death for the title of headhunter against his own uncle and just when he was about to be killed, he was saved by his younger brother, Octavius Ryder, who would later become the next headhunter and finally put an end to their Family's civil war. While Octavius was hailed a hero by his family, Edmund Ryder was left crippled and was left to depend on a cane for the rest of his life.

"Edmund's leg wasn't the only thing that was left crippled, his pride and soul got crippled too."

His uncle Octavius had once told him that. And he knew it was true. Edward had seen the photos of his father back when he was younger. Before the Wolves Rebellion and before being damned to rely on a cane for the rest of his life. Edmund Ryder was a fierce and strong man. A man whose tall stature and commanding presence left his enemies either fleeing from the sight of him or hesitating to raise their wands. Knowing the moment they did, they would probably end up dead. But now though? Now Edmund Ryder was just a bitter old man who resorted to chasing his glory days and what he thought was rightfully his through his eldest son.

It was rather pathetic of him, to be honest.

"Get your head out of whatever childish fantasy you've ludicrously conjured, boy!" His father's sharp voice cut in. Snapping Edward out from his thoughts. He met his father's heated stare and could only sheepishly duck his head in apology. Silently hoping his father would let it go, just this once. He was a child after all, he could be allowed to be one every now and then couldn't he? But in Edmund's eyes, being a child meant close to nothing. He was just another soldier to train.

Edmund looked hard and long at his eldest son before letting out a huff and stood up from his seat. grabbing for his cane, he motioned for his eldest son to follow him. Edward looked at the door and calculated in his still youthful mind if making a mad dash for the door and hiding ‘til his mother came back from whatever social gathering his father had set up for her would be worth it. He knew it would not though. The first time he tried to escape his studies and sneak off to play with his siblings it hadn't ended well for either of them.

And so, the child silently got up and dutifully followed his father out of the room and into the halls. He could feel the eyes of the animated portraits his family had kept for centuries dig into the back of his skull and Edward so very badly wanted to shrink and hide away.

"You need to be reminded of what is at stake here, Edward." His father said as the steady clank of his cane meeting the floor echoed within the Manor with every step he took forward before taking a sharp left. And with that left, Edward knew exactly where his father was taking him to.

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Expanded Ryder Lore: The Wolves Rebellion

(Sometimes, all it takes is a few words for a family to turn against one another.

When the Ryder family finds themselves being requested an audience with a man named Gellert Grindelwald, Esteban Ryder and his brother, Orion Ryder decide to entertain the man and accept his request, not knowing that by doing so, a fight for the title of head hunter would soon take place. A fight where each family member would find themselves asking if they’d rather be a dragon or they’d rather be a wolf).

The Wolves Rebellion refers to a civil war that happened within the Ryder Family during the 1920s and lasted until the 1940s. It is regarded as one of the most bloody civil wars that happened within the Ryder family and nearly led to the House’s extinction.

The fighting came about because of a speech. Not just any speech but one given by none other than Gellert Grindelwald, regarded to be one of the most feared and most powerful dark lords of his time. Grindelwald was just coming into power and was seeking out allies and followers all over the world in order to rally an army large enough for war. He had already managed to sway a majority of the influential pure-blood families in Europe to join his side, and was now looking for new allies in the British Isles.

He had the Malfoy's, the Black's, and the Parkinson's families in his palm in an instant. As the dark lord was mulling over what family to sway to his side next, one name had managed to pique his interest, The Ryder Family.

The Ryder's were a feared and well-respected family known for their ferocity in battle and for their loyalty. Grindelwald had heard stories of the Ryder's toppling down many dangerous adversaries and mighty beasts, one of them being the very beast they had as their house crest, a dragon. But that wasn't what really got the dark lords attention, no. What got it were the rumors. Rumors of the family having a unique short of magic which came in the form of instinct. Instincts so strong they knew when to block a spell from an enemy before it was even shot, instinct that helped warn them of danger before it even took place, and as a seer, an ability that granted the man the ability to see visions of the future, Grindelwald was all too eager to see if the rumors were true and to see just how useful and alike his ability was with theirs.

And so Grindelwald sent a letter to the Ryder family, requesting to have an audience with them. The Ryder's were definitely ticked off by such arrogance, but the head of the family at that time, Esteban Ryder and Head Hunter, Esteban’s younger brother, Orion Ryder, had been hearing of this man for months now and decided to entertain him and accepted his request if not to just satisfy their own curiosity about this strange wizard from Germany.

The dark lord was welcomed into the Ryder Family's home in a show of good faith however Esteban, surrounded by his hounds and seated with his wife and 4 children by his side, demanded that the man get straight to the point about what he wanted. Grindelwald obliged to the man's demand and told them. And told him they did for not even a minute later did the Ryder's find themselves entranced by the man's honeyed words.

As the man spoke of his vision and dream for a world where wizards and witches could be free and didn’t have to hide in the shadows, Esteban took a look across the room and let his eyes take in the faces of the rest of his family members, he felt a wave of unease wash over him and settle at the bottom of his heart as he saw the hunger that swam in their eyes that only grew larger with every pretty word and lie that left the dark lord’s mouth.

For when the Ryder’s fled to the British Isles following Adrian Ryder and his family’s betrayal back in the 17th century, The family of hunters suddenly found themselves being hunted. The Ministry had been informed by the new fledgling American wizarding government, MACUSA of the Ryder family’s possible involvement with scourers and of their bloody history of hunting down mercenaries and dragons, and so The Ministry did what they did best. They killed those who they feared and nearly had the entire family exterminated like rodents. It was only when the Minister of Magic realized that the Ryder’s would be more useful to him alive than dead did he decide to spare them and cease the bloodshed. The Minister had the Ryder’s and their hunters swear loyalty to The Ministry and the once proud family of dragons found themselves reduced to loyal hunting dogs.

Grindelwald knew damn well about the Ryder’s being reduced to such a sorry state and having their freedom stripped away from them so fucking easily. And cleverly used it to get them on his side. He told them, “why should you all be muzzled and treated like dogs when you are something so much mightier than that? You are dragons, and dragons do not cower in front of anyone.”

Grindelwald thanked Esteban and Orion Ryder for their time and bid them farewell, and as the dark lord left the family to contemplate on his words, he also left with them a seed. A seed of doubt and malice that would soon sprout and dig it’s vile roots within the Ryder family that would cause them to have a power struggle that would leave body after body in its wake.

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Two Lesbians and a Baby

(Context: A short story that takes place in the AU Eileen and Merula end up together during the Second Wizarding War).

“I thought you said not to get attached to the baby.”

Merula jumped in surprise from the voice behind her, causing her to jostle the baby cradled in her arms. She took a quick look down to make sure it was still sleeping and not getting ready to scream itself hoarse for having its nap interrupted and was relieved to find the little thing not making a fuss like it normally had these past few weeks of taking care of the insufferable thing.

The cursebreaker let out a sigh of relief. Glad that she didn’t have to deal with the nasty bugger before turning her attention to her wife and giving her her best withering glare. The kind that made most of her pathetic coworkers back at Gringotts cower beneath the powerful witch’s gaze. But Eileen, who had been married to Merula for 2 years and had known the Slytherin for far longer merely chuckled into her hand, completely unaffected by the threats and death glares her wife sent her at this point which was something Merula wasn't all too happy about.

“Have you gone mad Ryder? Of course I haven’t gotten attached to this pathetic, smelly little hell spawn!” Merula huffed as she straightened her posture and looked up at her dearly detested bastard of a spouse.

Eileen merely gave the shorter woman an amused look as she stared up and down at the way the Slytherin was unconsciously angling her body to better shield the baby from any potential danger. Her eyes softened as they landed onto the still sleeping bundle in her wife’s arms which only caused Merula to feel annoyance start to claw up her throat.

“If there’s anyone who’s getting attached to this thing it’s you! You’ve been acting all soft and dopey eyed these entire two weeks of caring for this brat! Honestly, the way this thing has gotten you wrapped around it’s tiny little finger is pathetic even for you, Ryder.’ Merula spat out venomously.

"Oh, and you haven't? I've seen the way you look at the little fella when you cradle him in your arms, or the way you give him one of your rare gentle smiles the few times you managed to wrangle a giggle out of him. Or how when he wakes up in the middle of the night and it's your turn to take care of him, you grumble about it but sing him back to sleep anyway. You may deny it but you secretly love caring for this little bundle of joy that you lovingly call a 'hell spawn'.

“Face it Merl, you're completely enamoured with this little guy."

#eileen ryder #edward ryder #merula snyde #tulip karasu #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery mc #hogwarts mystery #the ryder family #ryder family lore #keep in mind I'm still new to writing ya'll #its only in this fandom that I finally got the nerve to well #write and actually post that writing so yeah #hope u all liked it #I made #an entire timeline for the ryder family #just to keep track of the lore and eileen's story #as well as a family tree just so I could write the wolves rebellion lore #my writing

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this-idiots-left-eye · 3 years

Text

Hereditary Loyalty

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Summary: Do demon’s reside in the left hand after all? If so, Gilbert’s in need of an exorcism. || Exploring some of Gilbert’s internal monologue in Retrace: LXXVII/Chapter 78, and how current events relate to Break’s warning earlier in the series.

Notes: Okay so apparently I totally forgot to post my phmonth fics over here on this blog?? 🤦🏼‍♀️

This was written for @phmonth2021‘s prompt for Golden Trio week, Day 2: Obsession.

I’ve always wanted to explore what Break said about his loyalty being an obsession at this point, so that’s what this prompt made me think of.

I'll put links to this fic on Ao3 and FF.net in a reblog!

Also, fyi, I've started a Pandora Hearts series on my Ao3 so that those who only want to follow me for ph can do so!! So if you like my ph fics, please consider following it!! I post for ph more than any other fandom!

Your comments and reblogs mean the absolute world to me! Especially for less-well known series like this one! So I’d really appreciate if you’d leave me one!!

As Gilbert lay, half asleep on the bed, the sound of a bullet ricocheted off the walls of his mind. It echoed, growling louder, gaining momentum, as it traveled back and forth.

“Believe whatever you want. Regardless of what you say I—!”

Those cursed words. The whispers of the bullet on its merry go round.

He’d taken them as an insult, then. Told himself Break wasn’t completely sane, after all. His devotion was indeed wholehearted, pure, and he wasn’t going to lose anything else.

They were a warning. A prayer for his well being. Not some misunderstanding or otherwise creepy proclamation. Break was too sane for any of their good.

Do the demons reside in the left hand after all?

But those shots—even those situations a bit too ambiguous to be sure—didn’t echo for longer than a night.

This one. This one he knew would echo throughout his whole life if he wasn’t careful, or was simply a little too careless.

Not Oz. No. Never. Never. Never Oz.

“Shoot him.”

His left palm was bleeding now.

His Master. His best friend. His dear light. He’d swallow and bathe in dark if only for a sliver of light. He’d never, never, never hurt his precious—

“A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade…and will someday pierce those you hold dear.”

Oh but it wasn’t a blade, was it? It was a bullet. There is a difference, yes. Blades are quiet. Far less risk of tainted memory.

Loyalty. But it wasn’t his loyalty to Oz that became the bullet, it was that towards Glen.

“Is the one you need really Oz Vessalius?”

Damn him. Damn him for trying to help. Damn Gilbert himself for thinking him nothing but a useless clown.

How can I know if I’m not with him?

He loved Glen, once. Looked up to him. Idolized him. Cut and polished as his successor, his copy. And, once upon a time, he didn’t mind.

But at some point he couldn’t tell what was his true feelings, and what was the magic curving its way inside him like puppet strings.

Where was the oath written again?

No prince should be permitted to disobey his king, after all. Even those whose relation was bloodless. Hereditary loyalty.

Couldn’t we do this without anything attached? Can’t we let our bodies move according to the request of our souls?

“That loyalty of yours…No, should I call it your obsession?”

Maybe this was how things were supposed to be after all. There was no such thing as love or fate, or dreams. Just the strings, the spiderwebs. We’re all cocooned, waiting for the poison to kick in.

What was he thinking? How could he think he didn’t really care for Oz? How could their adventures, their time together really mean nothing?

He loved Glen too once. And he couldn’t tell if even that was real anymore.

Glen’s successor, his copy, his soul, his left hand, his wings—

Raven.

The one thing he stole from him. The contract half-fulfilled then. Promises broken. Promises that couldn’t help but be fulfilled. The one thing that would ever belong to him. A chain half-connected. The ship might just drift out to sea that way.

Raven, whose seal lay in his left hand. His ever cursed left hand. His symbol of Glen, still.

“You will be bound by your left hand again.”

He felt like his face might break as he tried to keep both the tears and laughter that simmered beneath the surface from boiling over.

Break wasn’t the only one who’d tried to warn him.

He hadn’t understood then. Hadn’t understood anything at all.

Raven. One of Glen’s four black-winged Chains. The first. The first drop of four poured into the vessel. A ceremony cut in half by the sound of screaming, and the smell of smoke.

Raven who perhaps could be of some good now.

He sat up.

Oz wasn’t merely the reflection of Jack. And Gilbert wasn’t merely the reflection of Glen.

Maybe Raven wasn’t a symbol of Glen’s tyranny either. Maybe he was just the opposite. Maybe Raven belonged to him. Maybe Raven’s fire was exactly what he needed to break the unbreakable.

And there is at least one benefit to being a Baskerville.

He looked at his left hand.

“Open both eyes wide. That is, if you don’t want to end up like me.”

He smiled, half mad. He had kept his eyes closed for far too long, and he knew even before he walked into the rain that he might just end up like Break after all.

#gilbert nightray #pandora hearts #jun mochizuki #mochujun #mochizuki jun #gilbert baskerville #xerxes break #oz vessalius #mochuzuki #oswald baskerville #glen baskerville #the baskervilles #Pandora Hearts fanfiction

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