#wonder if I would cry if my mother died. I might. I don’t know. I want to be like Luna lovegood. to be able to say anything and everything

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Chapter 1 | Coriolanus Snow

Summary: as penance for your brother's sins, Coriolanus demands that you are sent to his household to work his debt. But Coriolanus does not expect to burn so strongly for you and finds himself addicted to having you as close as he can keep you.

Chapter 2

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: enemies to lovers, explicit reference to sex, hair pulling, talk of ownership (bc we all know coryo has a complex), swearing, this is shit low key, coryo is a little shit but you know of course he is :P

Author's Note: this is the result of my assignment procrastination and now I am posting it at 2:30AM :)) this hasn't been beta read and actually it might seem a little disjointed but pls lmk if you have feedback for me if I end up carrying on with this series? lots of love!!

It is a debt to be paid, that’s all it is. 

Easy enough for them to say. After all, it was you who suffered from the mistakes of your family and not them. They may as well have left you to the streets of the Districts with nothing more than a shattered dignity and the tears that trailed down your cheeks. 

Shit. Crying wasn’t going to do anything and while you never intended to present yourself as weak to anyone, there was nothing you could do to stop the angry tears that welled in your eyes. You wondered if your parents truly pained to see their daughter cry or if the tremble in your mother’s lip was nothing more than a pretence. 

Your father stared at the ground by your feet. “It wasn’t supposed to come to this.”

“But it did. Are you really going to sell me off to–”

“We aren’t selling you off. Stop saying that,” He snapped. “Maybe all you will have to do is dust a few shelves and brew a pot of tea every now and then. It cannot be that bad.”

The glare you sent his way was full of malice and rage. How could he say that? You were better than that, smarter than that and the thought of being reduced to who knows what that man had in store for you - they may as well have cut your tongue out and made you a slave. Knowing that your family, whom you loved endlessly, were so sure of bartering you away to a man like Coriolanus Snow caused a dull ache in your chest. 

It seemed hard to breathe through the betrayal, the air thick with deceit and heartbreak. Had you known what your father had been planning, you could have left and found a way to survive without the comfort of your family home. 

“What Coriolanus has offered has saved us,” Jericho stood leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at you, his little sister who would have died before leaving him to such a fate. “Just think about it! Would you rather him send our entire family to the fucking Districts or have us hanged? I fucked up. I know, and I’m sorry but this is the only option we have.”

There was a tense silence. Jericho had ruined everything with no chance of repair and it was you who had to pay the price. You knew what happened to rebel sympathisers and Jericho had damned the future of your family. What was happening in the Districts was wrong, you agreed with that but there was something inherently stupid about putting the people you cared about at risk just to send a few thousand dollars to some hopeless rebels. 

You blinked as you tried to make sense of it all. “Explain it to me. I don’t understand.”

“Coriolanus is not only my friend but he’s just become President,” Jericho said. “We made a deal. This is part of it. Pay off my mistakes with hard work and time. You have no clue how generous that is.”

Friend? Generous?  You would have laughed if you could. You briefly wondered what the other part of their deal was but didn’t focus on it for long. It would be of no use to ask a question you would get no answer to.

“All he wants is something to hold over your damn head, Jericho. Paying off your mistakes with my work? Making his bed and wiping his ass is not going to fix what you did. People have been executed for far less.”

Your father cleared his throat. “It’s our only option. We have no money and a ruined reputation. The family name holds the last of our power and without that little power we have left, your brother and I would lose our jobs. It’s a miracle we haven’t already.”

“Coriolanus wants to dangle you over our heads? Fine. If that’s what it takes for him to spare our lives.” Jericho’s voice was so rough. It was the first time he’d been anything other than gentle towards you and you felt a heaviness at the sight of him so distressed. 

There was not much left for you outside of the empty empire that your father’s father had built for your family. At least you still had each other and despite the situation they’ve forced you into at the end of the day, you all loved each other to death. It would have been a death sentence but you could have left instead, could have found a life for yourself somehow. But how could you live with yourself knowing that you’d damned those you love because of your pride?

So reluctantly and tearfully, you nod your head and silently agree. 

Coriolanus wondered whether he was making the right decision by giving Jericho a second chance. If it were anyone else, he’d have had them hung without a second thought. Hell, he’d even had Sejanus executed at the end of his time in District 12. But Jericho and his family were different. 

If there was one person in his life that Coriolanus could call a friend, it was Jericho. It wasn’t that Coriolanus trusted him, no. There was not a soul in this world that Coriolanus could truly trust, not even Jericho who had been by his side for the entirety of his life. It was a moment of weakness, an inexcusable lapse in his judgment to make that deal with him. 

But it was also a moment of selfishness and a decision made with nothing more than foolish curiosity. You had always been there, in the back of the picture and unnoticed by everyone apart from him. There was not a person in this world who infuriated him more than you and the two of you had spent years bickering and pestering one another. Charming, intelligent Coriolanus Snow who had the entirety of the Capitol wrapped around his finger had always been instinctively cruel to you. He was never your friend. While he had never actually done you wrong before now, you were never really fooled by his deceiving charm. 

Coriolanus was now twenty three but when it came to whatever distorted plot he was planning, he felt juvenile. You were the perfect leverage. Your brother and your father were the perfect pawns. As much as he convinced himself that having you in his possession would mean he would have invaluable power over Jericho to do exactly as he wanted within his twisted court, the idea of having you in the palm of his hand and under his control was exciting. 

He was never one for meaningless entertainment. But what was the harm in indulging himself this once?

You had changed since the last time he’d seen you. It had only been two years but he would never admit to his surprise at just how different you had become from the cowering little girl he remembered you to be. 

Coriolanus’ office was as big as your dining room back home but you felt claustrophobic under his gaze. His eyes were hellfire as he silently stared at you, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers under his chin. There was little you could do but stare back at him, anxiously tapping your foot on the marbled floor.

Shakily, you broke the silence. “Why am I here, Coriolanus?”

“Your brother has committed a crime,” He drawled, fingers tapping on the rich mahogany desk in front of him. “That’s why you’re here.”

“You know what I mean, asshole.” You scowled at him. It wasn’t smart to talk to him in such a way, you knew that. He is President, after all. The memory of your brother’s warning to be careful flashed briefly in your mind. 

Eyes narrowed, Corialanus considered putting you in your place. He wouldn’t tolerate disrespect. Not from anyone let alone you. Instead, he somewhat answered your question. “You’re going to stay here. Do whatever the hell, doesn’t matter.”

In any other instance, Coriolanus would have detested the sight of you gaping at him, stumbling over your words as your wide eyes confidently held his own. You had changed. Or maybe he had just been blind to the perfect curves of your body or the way you looked at him, so submissive yet so stubborn. So tempting. 

He’d condemn himself before ever admitting to his thoughts. 

“What?”

If he were to be honest, Coriolanus didn’t entirely know himself. But he took pleasure in the way you seethed. “I’ll give you work. But I won’t let you back to that treasonous family of yours until I have what I want from them.”

You could hit him. If he weren’t the king of Panem, you would have. “You’re keeping me prisoner?”

“No,” he stood from the table and in two strides, he was in front of you. So close that you could smell his cologne mixing with the smell of laundry detergent on his clothes. You shuddered. “Maybe. Call it what you want. You can do what you want, eat what you want, wear what you want, you can visit home on the weekend. I don’t care. But when I give you a task, you will do it.”

Coriolanus’ eyes were an icy blue inferno as they held yours. The light hit his painfully perfect face so that it almost seemed as if he were shining. Struggling not to lose your breath, not to lean into him and feel him, you held your head high. “Fuck you.”

A gasp fell from your lips as Coriolanus’ hand found the back of your head in an instant, fingers weaving into your hair gently before closing into a tight fist and pulling back so that you were forced to look up at him. The tightness of his grip on your hair ached and left you dizzy, longing for his hands to find more of you with the same fervour. Suddenly, you were burning from head to toe, a fire setting on your skin as he held you roughly against him, so close that you felt the feather light tickle of his breath when he spoke. 

“Is that how you talk to your superior?” Coriolanus’ voice was low, dripping with a dominance that commanded respect. He was devastatingly beautiful. The curve of his nose, the strength in his jaw, the soft fall of his hair and the soft shine on his lips that you so badly yearned to feel. You cursed yourself for thinking such a thing. “This is my house. My country. You are here because I said so, because I own everything. Everything. Including you. You’d do well to remember your fucking place while you’re here, pretty thing.”

The fire in your blood was rage. It was anger, it had to be. Despite your better judgment, you whispered once again, “Fuck. You.”

His jaw ticked and with a strong yank, you were flush against him. The pounding of your heart was violent and you were sure he could feel it against his chest but you were stuck under his burning gaze. Coriolanus was angry. And you couldn’t help but think that it suited him. 

Coriolanus was strong and hard against your body, tense as he held you so intimately yet so roughly. 

Fuck, you couldn’t even think. What was happening? 

“Corio-”

“Quiet,” Coriolanus commanded. His deep voice, raspy with lust and with rage sent shockwaves down your spine. “Fuck me, huh? I could have you begging on your knees, crying for my cock all day and all night and you would never deserve it. Be careful, angel, because I can ruin you.”

Another gasp fell from your lips and Coriolanus took pleasure in the way you squirmed against him, thighs pressing together as you felt the flush of his words through your body. So reactive. Somehow, you fit perfectly against him, so that he could feel every little tremor he caused in your body, every goosebump that he placed on your skin. His eyes never left yours, his resolve solid as iron. 

Your mouth watered at the thought of all the things Coriolanus could do to you. Thoughts you had never imagined having, especially not for him. It overwhelmed you - he overwhelmed you. But all you had to do was glance at the file on his desk, the file with your surname plastered onto the front and you were shoving him off of you. 

The rise and fall of your chest was heavy and you had the sudden urge to punch the sultry smirk right off of Coriolanus’ face. That was not okay. Right now, you didn’t even want to think about the way your body reacted to his, they way you would have let him have his way with you right there and then. 

“Just-just what the hell am I doing here, Snow?”

Coriolanus swallowed. He didn’t have an answer that he could share with you even if he wanted to give you one. “Making up for the sins of your family. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

“Fine. But-”

“That’s enough,” Coriolanus firmly stated. He turned his back to you, flexing his hands that were curled into fists at his sides. “Candice will show you where you will be staying. I’ll find you when you’re needed.”

#AHHHHHHH #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #the hunger games #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fic #tbosas #tom blyth #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow angst #smut #coriolanus snow #🥀 #📝

[slices-of-naranja]

Hm. Leo Valdez and Nico bonding over religious trauma.

Everyone points out that Nico would be Catholic since Italian, y’know, yeah, makes sense. But Leo Valdez is Texan, Mexican, and his Tía Rosa literally called him a demon when he came to live with her after his mother died (if I remember correctly). His first response at Camp Halfblood was to ask if God with a capital G was real. (Which, fair, a lot do that, but still).

Brother could make fire with his hands, experienced the worst tragedy of his life because of it, and just lived seven years not knowing what the fuck was up with that??? Being called a demon at eight years old, after all that he went through, by a religious Mexican lady would definitely have a lasting effect. (Speaking as a Catholic Mexican).

Like, you’re not gonna tell me that some part of him didn’t secretly believe that. That it wouldn’t keep him up at night, wondering what the fuck he was. That he didn’t look back at his fucked up childhood, at the lava and brimstone in his veins, and not think “What if she’s right? What if I’m going to hell? What if I am a monster? A demon?”

Killing is a sin. Murder is a sin. And whatever the fuck he was, whatever kind of horrid creature he is, it wasn’t getting into Heaven. Don’t tell me he wouldn’t cry at the sight of a nun. Get nervous when his fosters would take him to church. Whisper silent prayers to be fixed, to have whatever was broken inside of him, whatever he was being punished for, to stop. To maybe stop existing at all.

I’m willing to bet that when an eight year old knows for a fact he isn’t human, fire flowing through his blood, and gets called a demon because of it during the worst time in his life, when not being human caused the death of someone he loves, it might stick with him. He might believe the words thrown at him.

So, yeah, I think Nico and Leo would get along.

Also- literally not in the headspace to articulate this correctly but I hope u see my vision.

#Leo valdez #Leo valdez angst #heroes of Olympus #hoo spoilers #heroes of olympus spoilers #nico di angelo #really hope I ain’t making half of this up #I only vaguely remember the Aunt Rosa stuff

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 3: Pyre

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

GIF by @hotdcentral

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. You struggle with the passing of your mother.

Hello! My apologies for the wait. My laptop broke, so I had to go get a new one. It took me a bit to set it all up how I like, and then I had a busy time of it at work + a bit of writer's block. I hope the chapter makes up for it! Keep in mind there are some untranslated bits of HV in here, but I'll make a post + link transcribing all that for those who want. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for giving this the go-ahead!

TRIGGERS: character death, exploration of child grief, dysfunctional family dynamics.

It is very quiet now that Mama has died.

Brella is quiet. Septa is quiet. Ana and Peony, the maids who come to make your bed neat again and pick up all the dresses you’ve worn, are quiet. Ser Harrold is quiet—but then, he usually is. None of Papa’s guards seem to want to make a sound now. Neither do Papa’s Councilmen, like Lord Corlys or Lord Lyman, who you sometimes see walking down the halls with very sad looks upon their faces.

You wonder if, when Mama died, she took a part of all these people with her.

She has taken a part of Papa, and of ’Nyra, too. Suppertime is so very quiet that you are afraid to breathe in case everyone can hear it. They both just stare at their plates, eyes puffy and red like yours are when you cry, which means they have been crying, too. They eat their food like someone else is moving their mouths, and when they swallow, it looks like the most painful thing in the whole world.

Papa and ’Nyra haven’t spoken to you since the day of the tourney. You try not to be sad about it, but it’s hard. Now that Mama has gone away, they are your family, and it hurts that your family won’t look at you or say anything to you. It’s almost like they have forgotten all about you.

“They’re grieving,” Alicent tells you, taking your hand in hers as you walk towards the Sept. The stairs are very hard to climb, so she had to help you up, and it was nearly like having Mama again when she pulled you into her arms and held you tight. “Their sorrow has made them blind to all else.”

You don’t really understand what she means. “To me, too?”

“Hm?”

“Their sorrow. It’s made them not see me?”

Alicent stops. Something very soft and sad makes her face droop, and she bends down so that she can look you right in the eyes. “Oh, Princess. They see you. And they love you. But your mother”—she takes a breath that sounds shaky—“she was very important to them. They miss her very much.”

“I miss her, too.” You wonder when Mama will return. How long is ‘never’? No one has ever explained it to you. Hopefully it is soon.

“I know you do.” Alicent stands and grabs onto your hand again, leading you toward the table where so so many candles are.

The room is very hot, all the little fires making you sleepy even though it is only morning time. There are two stools right before the table, and Alicent kneels on one. You try to do the same on the other, but it means you cannot see the candles anymore.

“How about you stand on it instead, Princess?” Alicent asks. She lets you hold onto her shoulder so that you can get up on the stool like she said, which makes it much easier to see. Then, she folds her hands together in front of her chin and bends her head, so you do the same.

It isn’t very interesting to stare at your fingers at first, but after a while, it’s nice. You count all the little folds in your skin—there are a lot—and trace the edges of your thumbnails with your mind over and over. Time goes funny, and you cannot remember why you were ever sad before you came here.

It might be minutes or hours or days before Alicent speaks. “Would you like to light a candle? For your mother?”

“Why?” you ask, frowning. Is candle-lighting how to get Mama to come back? Will she see the light and know it’s me and return with baby Baelon? Is that why so many people pray in the Sept?

Alicent picks up a candle that hasn’t been lit. “To remember her. You light the candle and… she’ll see it.”

“From where?”

“From one of the Seven heavens.”

“Where’s that?”

“I… do not know.” She stares at the candle like she is trying to light it without moving. “Somewhere far away. My mother is there, too.”

“Oh.” She sounds very sad, so you reach out to grab hold of another unlit candle. “Can I light this one? For Mama?”

That makes her smile just a little. “Of course, Princess.”

Alicent takes one of the lit candles and tilts it into yours, making sure not to spill any of the hot wax on you. You hold very still, because fire is dangerous which means you can get hurt, even though you touched it once and it didn’t feel like anything but warm. The little string at the top catches fire, burning orange and gold and swaying gently.

She lights her own, too. “Now, you place it on the altar, like so.” She carefully sets both candles down and closes her eyes for a moment, and you think she must be thinking of her own mama.

You nudge your candle back to where you took it, watching the flame dance about. I lit a candle for you, Mama, so you can see it. Do you? Do you see me?

Where are you, Mama? When are you coming back?

The candle doesn’t answer. It just sits there, the little fire bobbing about and then finally falling still. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. When you are done, Alicent helps you step off the stool, and you leave the Sept with the candles still lit behind you.

Just outside, you find Uncle Daemon waiting for you.

While ’Nyra and Papa are grieving and Papa’s Council are planning and everyone else is doing whatever it is they do away from you, Uncle has been making sure that you are ‘well’ by telling you stories and teaching you more High Valyrian and sitting at the table to watch while you and Brella play with your dolls together. He never stays for a long-long time, but it is still very nice.

“Farewell, Princess.” Alicent lets go of your hand and turns to curtsey to Uncle, who bows his head but says nothing, just stares with a not-exactly-kind look on his face. Then, she leaves, her footsteps fading away and then dropping as she goes down the stairs. You listen until the noise disappears entirely.

Uncle’s brow raises. “What were you doing in the Sept with only Hightower’s daughter for company? Where’s your sister?”

He never calls her by her name. You wonder why, sometimes.

“She took me because ’Nyra is napping again from crying so much, and I was by myself. So, we went to the Sept so I could light a candle for Mama,” you say quietly. “So that she’ll see it and come back.”

At that, he softens. He crouches down so you can see his face more clearly. “She’s not coming back, sweetling. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why not?”

“She…” He grunts. “Do you remember the stories about Aegon the Conqueror, and his sister-wives Visenya and Rhaenys?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Right.” He rises, gripping you below your arms and lifting you high so that he can carry you away from the Sept. It makes him uncomfortable, though you don’t know why. “Tell me what happened to Rhaenys.”

“She tried to—to get Dorne to say that Aegon was their King, so she rode Meraxes to them.” Uncle hums approvingly, so you keep going. Your voice wobbles with each step he takes. “But they were angry at her for burning the grass and the trees and the buildings and the people and the sheep and the horses and th—”

“Yes, yes, she lit Dorne aflame.” Uncle rolls his eyes. He bounces you extra hard in his arms so that it feels like you’re about to fall, and you squeal and wrap your arms tight-tight around his neck so that you don’t. “Leave the boring bits out. Tell me the rest.”

“She—Dorne took a big, big arrow and hit Meraxes in the eye, and Rhaenys and Meraxes fell all the way to the ground from up high and died.”

His lips twist at the way you say the last word. “You’ve been paying attention. Good girl.” You’re out in the courtyard now, away from the Sept. It isn’t any louder out here, which is strange, because it is usually always loud and full of people. “Did Rhaenys ever return to Aegon and Visenya?” he asks, moving towards the doors that lead to Maegor’s Holdfast where your rooms are.

“No…” you say, unsure. You don’t think she did. “Why didn’t she go back?”

Uncle sighs, slowing down so he can look at you properly. “That’s what it means to die, sweetling. Rhaenys didn’t go away. When she hit the ground, her body ceased to function. She stopped seeing, feeling, thinking, moving, breathing. She became… nothing.” Your belly twists. You don’t like what he’s telling you, not one bit. Whatever your face is doing, it makes Uncle keep talking. “It’s like your dolls—you can touch them and see them, can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“But when you speak to them, do they speak back?”

“No.”

“Do they have beating hearts?”

“No.”

“Do they eat or piss or shit?”

You gasp. “That—that’s naughty, kepus!”

He rolls his eyes again. “No, they don’t. They’re things, not people. And your mother… she’s no longer a person. She’s a body; one we must put to rest today.”

The funeral is soon. Uncle has been reminding you lots and lots, and when you asked, he said a funeral is what people go to so they can say goodbye to the person who has died and put their body back where it is meant to go. And because Mama is a Targaryen like you and Uncle and Papa and ’Nyra, her body has to be put on fire so that she can go back to the wind.

She’s not a person anymore. She’s a nothing. It scares you.

You sniffle. “But… I don’t want her to be gone like Rhaenys did. I want her back.”

“I know.” Uncle hugs you then, pulling you so close that your nose gets stuck in all his hair. When you breathe in, all those hairs go up inside your nostrils and make them itch. You hope he never lets go. “I know.”

Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet.

You keep saying it over and over in your head, just like Uncle had said. He is the only one who would tell you what is going to happen at the funeral, because he knows that you like to know things even when you’re afraid of them. It makes you feel better, makes you feel a little less scared.

Uncle never told you how many people would be here, though.

Everyone comes to watch you and ’Nyra and Papa and Uncle walk through the Keep to the carriage—the maesters, the maids, the pageboys, the lords and ladies that like to stay in the city—but they stay silent as you pass. You wonder if pressing yourself against the wall and thinking really hard about being made of stone will turn you invisible, which is when you can’t be seen. You wish you could. There are too many gazes on you, and it makes all the hairs on your arms and legs and neck stand up. Uncle has to press you forward when you slow down to look for an escape.

You sit in the carriage beside ’Nyra while Papa and Uncle sit at the front, because Papa is the King and Uncle is his heir. She is very pale, almost blending with her hair except for her red eyes. You slip your hand into hers and she squeezes hard, but you try not to show her that it hurts. She looks less sad holding onto you, so you don’t mind at all that her fingers pinch.

It is the first time in a long time that you have been able to see any of the people outside the walls of the Keep. Before Mama died—before Mama’s belly got too big and she had to stay in bed—she used to take you just beyond the gates to where the really poor commonfolk would line up every sennight on the day of rest to get their alms, which Mama says is an important part of being good. She would say that you have to give coin and food and whatever else the people might need so that they are well and happy, because that means they will support the King’s reign and be peaceful. You don’t know what that means, but Mama is always right.

You miss it—giving people things, letting them pat your cheeks or your hair and calling you the People’s Princess. Because Mama is Queen and giving alms is what the Queen is meant to do, no one else could take you when she stopped going out of her chambers. And, when you went with her, the people were always very loud and cheerful and smiling, and they thanked you with tears in their eyes when Mama let you give them the pouches of coin yourself.

As the carriage takes you through the city today, the commonfolk are quiet.

None of them are smiling, or happy. They watch on as the horses take you through the streets, and some of them even cry when they see the long box that the cart ahead of you is carrying. It is the biggest, nicest box you’ve ever seen, made with dark wood and borders that look like real gold, glinting in the sun. Uncle told you that the box has the bodies inside it, the ones of Mama and baby Baelon.

You think that the people miss Mama very much. Maybe they miss her almost as much as you do—but not the same amount. You think you miss Mama most of all, even more than Papa or ’Nyra, because at least they have Lord Otto or Lord Lyman or Lord Corlys or Alicent or Betha Strong or Ser Harrold to keep them company. All you have is Mama and sometimes Uncle, and now Mama is gone.

After a while, the carriage starts to take you up and up, which means that you are almost at the point where you will need to stop and get out and walk the rest of the way. This is because the horses cannot pull so much weight up Visenya’s Hill. Uncle said it would be hard for you to walk, being so small when the hill is so large, but that you have to so that everyone can see how brave you are. “Targaryens don’t show weakness,” he says.

He is right—the walk is hard. At first, when you get out and take ’Nyra’s hand and start to follow Papa up the hill, it isn’t so bad. But then, it gets steeper and steeper, almost so steep that you feel like you need to use your hands to climb the rest of the way. Your legs burn so much that you want to cry, but you don’t. Uncle said you cannot be carried, either, so you don’t ask ’Nyra to pick you up. You must be brave. You must be brave.

By the time you reach the top, the men who were made to carry the box have opened it up and taken out the things inside. There are two funny-shaped objects covered in brown cloth lying in the middle of the pyre that has been built for the funeral—one is big, bigger than you, while the other is very small. They are the bodies of Mama and Baelon, and you have to hold on tight to the memory of Uncle’s words to keep from running over and trying to shake them awake.

“What remains of them will be set upon the pyre, yes—but remember, they’re not people. They’re just skin and bone and meat now. You must let them burn as all Targaryens burn.”

’Nyra’s hand feels like ice around yours as a man in a strange dress with a hood comes forward, past all the lords and ladies and past Uncle and Papa to stand right in front of the pyre. Two other men wearing dresses that look almost the same go with him, but stay one step behind.

“Tubī Arryno Lentro Dārie Aemme se Targārio Lentro Dārilaros Baelon perzyrty mōrqittot…” he says. You don’t know all the words, but you think he must be talking about the way Mama is a queen and baby Baelon is a prince, which seems silly to mention now that they’re not real anymore. “Sȳndor zijosy rēbarose, Dāria Aemma eglio ilvot trēso Dārilaros Baelon zȳhos gūros se tegot…”

Syrax is standing on the very top of the hill above everyone else. Because it would be very rude to look around at the others—Papa’s Councilmen and Alicent and the men who live on Dragonstone, your family’s special home, and Princess Rhaenys too, who is very scary, as well as so so many people you don’t know at all—you keep your eyes fixed on the dragon, admiring how pretty she looks in the sun. Usually, she makes lots of noise and is very mischievous, which is another word for naughty, but today she is quiet like all the rest. You wonder how she knows about funerals when she cannot speak in Valyrian or the Common Tongue or any other words that people can understand.

“Targārio ānogro rȳ ōrbrar ojāris, sētenondi hen ībī iemnȳ nȳmas,” the man says. His dress has what looks like an eye sewn on the chest, which seems an odd thing to want to wear. No one else in the Keep wears eyes.

The two men behind him step up with jugs in their hands, and they walk around the pyre pouring what is in the jugs over the cloth. It turns the brown even darker brown. After they bow, they move back, and no one speaks for a while.

Finally, the man with the eye on his chest says one last thing. “Hen perzȳ sīdas. Va perzȳ āmāzissi. Hen prānot istas, vapār drējī mōrī iksis.”

Something about fire, you think. Maybe he is saying your House words in High Valyrian. Fire and blood.

It is silent then, nothing but the sound of the wind whistling filling your ears. Everyone is still, from the lady with the kind eyes that remind you of your own on the other side of the pyre to the funny men to the side. No one speaks. You wonder what is supposed to happen now.

Uncle puts his hand on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in ’Nyra’s ear. “They’re waiting for you.”

At first, you think she hasn’t heard him—she doesn’t move or do anything at all, just keeps staring where Mama and baby Baelon are. You nearly jump when her fingers tighten on yours. “Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna, lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī rhēdos pendan.”

My brother lived, father found happy. It makes no sense, but Mama told you once that it is rude to listen to other people’s conversations, so you try not to listen too hard.

Uncle speaks too low for you to hear him, to which ’Nyra replies with something you do understand. “Trēsy dōrī kesan.” I will never be a son.

She sounds very, very sad. Poor ’Nyra, you think. I will never be a son, either. I’m just a daughter, a girl, like you. Maybe Papa would be happier if ’Nyra or you had died instead of Baelon, if your body was wrapped in the brown cloth on the pyre and you weren’t real anymore.

’Nyra lets go of you. She looks to Papa, but all he is doing is staring at the pyre where Mama and Baelon lie. Her face is very red, which means she has been crying. When she steps forward, Uncle takes your hand and pulls you back to stop you following her. He is warm, so you try to hug onto his leg in a way that doesn’t make you weak like he told you not to be.

Syrax makes her chirping noise, all of a sudden paying attention to what her rider is doing. ’Nyra tries to speak, but it doesn’t come out. “Dr…”

She looks at Papa again, so you do too. He still hasn’t looked away from the pyre. You wonder if he knows you and ’Nyra and Uncle are even here, because he hasn’t so much as glanced at you since the night he came to your rooms and told you that Mama and Baelon had died. Not once.

“Drakarys.”

Syrax rumbles, and then begins to climb down toward all the people. For a moment, you’re worried she might try to eat someone, but the Dragonkeepers are here with their spears to stop anything bad happening. She opens her mouth, and fire comes bursting out.

The pyre lights up, and Mama and Baelon disappear in bright-white-orange.

“Mama?” you whisper, eyes stinging and throat feeling strange, like you want to be sick but not. “Mama?”

The only thing that you can hear is the sound of burning.

Papa bends his head, and ’Nyra looks away. You think that you may be the only one who keeps watching the fire as it takes your Mama away from you forever.

(When you are grown, you will not remember this day. You will not remember the ache in your bones or the wind in your hair. You will not remember the faces of the commonfolk you passed along the way, or the sorrow in Rhaenyra’s voice when she called down dragonfire upon the hill. You will not remember the cold that leached into your blood as you stood beside what was left of your family, a slow freezing that will take its toll over the days and moons and years of your existence.

Even so, the sight of the bodies on the pyre and the smell of burning flesh will remain etched into the very fabric of your person forevermore.

At night, you will sometimes feel as though ash clings to your tongue, the taste of rot lingering in your mouth. In dreams, you will see brown cloth and a faceless babe wiggling beneath wrappings as it burns to nothing. You will wake in a panic, near to choking on the air you cannot seem to make yourself breathe, looking about wildly in search of the horrors that had plagued your slumbering thoughts. Melancholy will follow you, lurking just beyond reach, haunting, nameless.

But you will not remember this day.)

After the funeral, Uncle Daemon leaves.

You don’t know why, because he didn’t say goodbye and no one will tell you anything. When you ask ’Nyra, she tells you she doesn’t “want to talk about him” and walks away with Alicent. You ask Brella, but she just says, “Not right now, Princess.”

You don’t ask Papa, because he is still grieving for Mama and baby Baelon. For you, that means he doesn’t want to tell you about anything at all. But whenever someone says Uncle’s name in front of him, he gets very, very angry and storms off with his boots making a lot of noise on the ground, so Uncle must have done something very naughty.

A big ceremony is happening today, though, which makes it harder to be sad that Uncle isn’t here. ’Nyra told you that Papa has decided to make her the heir, even though Uncle is supposed to be. Maybe that is why he left. It has been very busy in the Keep because everyone came for Mama and Baelon’s funeral, but they are being made to stay for the ceremony so that they can swear fealty to Papa and ’Nyra. And, for the first time ever, you have a special role, too.

“… promise to be—to be faith–faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhae-nyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall def—defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without de-ceit. I sw–swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

Alicent claps, smiling. “Well done, Princess! Much better!”

’Nyra comes out from behind her screen wearing a pretty red dress, like the colour of the dragon with three heads on your House sigil. “Just try not to stutter so much, little sister.”

“Trying,” you say grumpily—the words are hard—but ’Nyra isn’t paying attention. Instead, she is looking into the mirror as Alicent helps her with the laces at the back, staring at herself in a way that doesn’t look very happy.

Alicent stops and hugs her. “You will be fine. This is what you were born for.”

“I wasn’t, though,” ’Nyra says, frowning. “Was I?”

They both go quiet, so you say, “You look very nice today.”

That makes ’Nyra smile, finally. “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for Alicent to finish lacing up her dress and helping her with her gold cape and jewels. When she is done, ’Nyra leaves the room and Alicent moves toward you so she can take your hand. “Come, Princess,” she says. “Let us walk to the Great Hall together.”

When you get there, the room is full of people. You wonder if every single lord and lady in the whole of Papa’s kingdom is here, all together in this one place. It is only because you are a princess that you don’t have to stand with all of them, and Alicent leads you over to Ser Harrold so that you can stay next to him by the Iron Throne. There is even a little chair just for you there, in case your legs get tired.

“Princess,” Ser Harrold says. His voice is funny, like a growl, and it makes you giggle every time you hear it. And, every time you giggle, he smiles, which makes all the wrinkles on his face deeper, which is even funnier. He does it again now.

A big bang at the door has everyone go very quiet.

“Presenting—Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen!”

No one speaks when ’Nyra comes through the doors all by herself, chin lifted straight up and walking down the middle of the two groups of people. Everyone stares at her, even Papa, and you think that it’s only right that they do because she looks so so pretty today. She curtseys to Papa at the bottom of the Throne, and then turns to face the people.

Without a word, Lord Corlys comes forward and kneels. “I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named…”

You decide to sit in the chair while you wait. All the lords here have to say the same words you do when they pledge fealty, but you are going last because you’re the most important person to say it, which is what Alicent told you.

Lots of men and some ladies come up to the front to kneel and say the words to ’Nyra while Papa watches. It takes a long time, so you spend it looking around at all the different faces and dresses and coats that you can see. There are all sorts of things sewn onto the chests of people’s robes—you see a black stag on a yellow coat, a yellow lion on a red one, a grey wolf on a white one, a flower, a bird, even some boring ones like plain stripes or dots. Some of the ladies are wearing dresses that look very strange—the neck comes far far down so you can almost see some parts that are not proper for a lady to show. When those ones say the words, most of them are actually saying them while looking at Papa instead of ’Nyra, which is very rude because today is all about ’Nyra and not Papa. No one tries to make them stop, though, so maybe only you notice it.

When it is your turn, Ser Harrold taps you on the shoulder. All of a sudden, you feel very scared. So many people are looking at you now, and it makes you feel small and weak like you’re going to be smacked if you do anything.

But you must be brave. If Uncle were here, you’d want him to be proud of you.

You kneel in front of ’Nyra a little closer than everyone else did, but you think that no one will mind very much because you are her sister. Besides, your legs are feeling very shaky, and you might fall over if you have to go any further.

For a moment, the words won’t come out and you panic, but ’Nyra smiles. It is the only smile she has shown the whole time, and it’s just for you.

You find the words.

“I promise to be faith-ful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without… deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

You rise up, feeling like water is rushing in your ears, almost like it does whenever you have to take a bath. A sound like a heartbeat is all you can hear as you walk back to your spot, but you don’t sit down. ’Nyra said that you have to stay standing for the final part, the words that Papa has to say.

Your sister turns around to face the Iron Throne and bends her head to Papa. He says nothing.

Then, Papa stands, his sword Blackfyre in his hand and pointing down into the ground. “I, Viserys Targaryen, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm”—so many titles go after his name, you think, glad that you only have ‘the People’s Princess’ after yours—“do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne.”

Everyone bows their heads, so you do, too. When ’Nyra turns around, all the lords and ladies and knights and guards clap.

Beyond the noise in the hall, you think you can hear a dragon roar.

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#terms of endearment │ daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfiction #matt smith #dance of dragons #house targaryen #fire and blood

[saltwatergirl6]

Good morning, a request please from Percy x reader (siblings, not romance) How does Percy react if he discovers that he has a younger twin?His sister was stolen as a baby and grew up in Camp Half-Blood,What will Sally do when she sees her daughter again after so long?

saludos desde la cabaña 3 🐬🐙

faraway reflections

pairing: percy jackson x jackson!reader (platonic)

a/n: i absolutely love this request, i hope it’s something you actually enjoy. 🤍

wc: 1.6k

the lord of the sky has made many mistakes in his godly immortal life, especially one of them always stood out. the name of the mistake was

thalia grace.

after the second world war, the oath of not having demigod children has been made and has not been broken for decades, the children were terribly powerful and caused trouble to the universe multiple times, so not having them was the only solution to cause less destruction and war.

zeus was the first to break the oath, for which he received quite the backlash from his elder brothers, hades and poseidon. meaning that his demigod child (which he didn’t have much care for) was constantly in danger by the two major gods.

but turns out that poseidon was next, when he met a woman who changed him for the better, breaking the oath didn’t seem to be much of a problem for him.

but there wasn’t one demigod child.

there was two.

twins, a girl and a boy, which caused much more problems than one could have.

the king of olympus didn’t take this lightly, he decided to get his revenge by doing the worst, separating the twins, but poseidon insisted on keeping the younger twin alive, but the punishment was to sally jackson, the woman poseidon fell in love with.

sally never got to know her daughter, it was told that she didn’t make it, only her son did.

but she was very much alive and safe, in camp half-blood.

when percy turned 12, the monsters started appearing more often, which meant that it was time for him to finally visit the place that sally has tried to keep him from, camp half-blood.

——————————————————————————

there weren’t many greek demigod children who didn’t have a childhood or some sort of time outside camp half-blood, but you were a special coincidence.

you were basically born and raised in camp half-blood, without a clue on who any of your parents were.

when you got to the age where you could understand such a devastating story, chiron told you that your mother died in childbirth and your father was unknown to everyone.

the guilt you carried was not something an ordinary 12 year old girl should’ve experienced, but like the brave girl you were, you sucked it up, not wanting to show a single sign of weakness to the ares kids who have despised you for quite a while.

percy jackson always wondered what life would be like if his twin sister had survived, if he had someone who was experiencing the same thing as him, life would’ve been so much easier for him.

poseidon, lord of the sea, the earthshaker, the mighty major god has never experienced such guilt in his life. some might say gods are absent of any emotion, but being alive for such a long time has made it much easier to hide their emotions well.

but seeing his little girl silently cry in the hermes cabin every night has broken his heart.

but everything changed the night that sally, percy and grover were driving to long island.

“wait so, my dad is like, one of those guys you told me about? like a greek god?” percy asked curiously, still not believing it.

neither sally or grover answered anymore.

“uh, i don’t think i’m supposed to say this because a certain god might zap me to death, but i have something big to confess.” grover randomly blurted out.

“today can not get crazier, so go ahead.” percy answered, still freaked out about how much has happened that day.

“so percy had a twin sister, right?”

“uh, how do you know that?” percy asked.

“she’s alive, i think.” grover said, trying to form sentences so the bomb he just dropped on the mother and son wouldn’t sound as crazy.

sally stopped the car, grover and percy hit their heads to the backseat.

“excuse me?!” sally yelled out.

“her name is y/n, the only thing chiron actually told me about her is that her last name is jackson and she’s 12 years old, she has been at camp like since birth, i think. ms jackson, keep driving, please.” grover explained, casually.

shock was written on sally jackson’s face, she decided not to say anything, maybe this girl was a coincidence, her baby girl couldn’t be alive, she was gone, but a spark of hope was planted in sally’s heart, her dreams of not losing her daughter were somewhat possible again.

that was before she got turned into dust in the hands of the minotaur.

_______________________________________________

percy woke up into a random room with a lot of beds in it, the room had the aura of the sun, somehow, everything was decorated in warm tones, except for the comforting light blue sheets on every bed, a girl was standing in the doorway, staring at him.

she had the same black hair as him, her sea green eyes were focused on his, she looked like him.

she slowly walked up to him.

suddenly every memory flashed all at once, greek gods, long island, grover being half-a-donkey, the minotaur, his mother.

oh, and his sister being apparently alive.

“hey, i’m y/n.” you said softly, in a comforting voice, instantly calming him down.

“where am i?” percy asked, confused.

“camp half-blood’s infirmary, wait, did your satyr fill you in on this place?” you asked, slightly worried that you’d scare him away.

“the whole olympian god thing? kind of, yeah.” percy responded, it still felt like a fever dream, and the fact that he was talking to his twin sister for the first time in his entire life didn’t make it easier.

“i’m sorry about your mom, by the way.” you looked at him with genuine support in your eyes.

“our mom.” percy corrected.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m your brother, percy jackson.” percy said, extending his hand for you to shake, he felt bad to drop this all on you, but you had to find out from him, not from anyone else.

“that-, that’s not possible, i don’t have a brother, i don’t have a family, no one.” you were in denial, after 12 years, without a sign of family, this was gonna happen? it wasn’t possible.

“i’m sorry you had to find out this way, but you had to know somehow, grover told me about you being alone for all these years, it isn’t fair to you.” percy flashed a smile to you, but your sweet reunion was interrupted by chiron, camp half-blood’s activities director and your best friend, annabeth chase.

“good morning, percy, i see you’ve met your sister.” chiron said, in a casual voice, as if this whole thing wasn’t the craziest thing you’ve heard in your entire crazy life.

“mr brunner, what? you’re a horse.” right. percy was new here, he had no clue, you remembered that right now.

“a centaur, my boy, you can call me chiron.” he corrected, not feeling offended at all. “now, i think you two should sit down for this.”

______________________________________________

a few days have passed, you and percy have gotten claimed at the same time after bullying clarisse and her brothers just like she had tried to bully you two in capture the flag. it was slightly sad that percy had gotten claimed within the first week of being here, but you had to wait your whole life.

it all fell into pieces, poseidon was your father and now you were going on a quest, because apparently you and your brother stole the most powerful weapon in the universe.

maybe zeus should’ve hid it better? besides, you were never known to be sneaky.

______________________________________________

after the most exhausting summer of your 12 years of life, you were going home.

you never had a place to call home, aside from camp half-blood, you didn’t have your mother waiting for you to come back from summer camp, but now you do.

your mother, sally jackson, saved herself from the underworld, she was probably just as amazing as percy and your father, (who you finally spoke to, by the way) described her to be.

it was never in your nature to be mad at someone for long, so you quickly understood your father’s reasonings on why you were cast out of your family, even though the beginning of your life wasn’t great, percy promised to make it better in the future, with a welcoming family and no smelly gabe. (he was quite jealous that you never got to experience life with smelly gabe.)

“are you sure she’ll like me? what if she thinks i’m too weird to be her daughter, i mean… dad called her a queen.” you ask for the millionth time, feeling doubtful as you waited by thalia’s tree.

everyone knew thalia grace’s story, the brave hero who sacrificed herself for her friends, who still protected every demigod even if she was dead, even though some didn’t admit it, everyone aspired to be what thalia was, a true hero.

maybe our definition of heroes were a completely different thing, but thalia still was someone to remember.

_______________________________________________

there she was, your mother, the woman who gave birth to you, standing with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.

you couldn’t help but tear up and by the looks of it, she couldn’t either.

“my baby.” she said softly as she pulled you into a tight hug, like if she let go, you’d get lost again.

“hey mom.” you whispered.

“uh, guys, i’m here too.” you laughed, a genuine, happy laugh escaped your mouth.

you were ready for this. a new life, even with all those dangerous quests coming up, you knew you’d be way more powerful with your family, a loving mother and the most amazing (annoying) brother you could ask for.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #frank zhang x reader #connor stoll x reader #travis stoll x reader #leo valdez x reader #jason grace x poseidon!reader #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #jason grace

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Bone

@jegulus-microfic January 16 Word count 536

Grimmauld Place was a mess. His mother had turned to madness in the end. After his father had died and she realised she was alone, she’d snapped. Hence, the state of every single room. 

Regulus had asked James to help him clear some of the mess up. 

“I’d ask Sirius, but he’d just throw everything out.” James had agreed straight away. The fact that Regulus was asking for help meant a lot. 

They started upstairs, thinking it might be better to work from the top down. 

“Godric, she did a right number on Sirius’s room,” James called as he surveyed the piles of rubbish, clothes and other random items. Regulus popped his head around the door. 

“Yeah, no. She hasn’t been in here. This is all Sirius.” James felt his jaw drop. Sirius had always been messy, but this was beyond what James thought he was capable of. He closed the door and joined Regulus in his room. “Sirius can sort that out himself when he comes back,” Regulus said to James as he sorted through the items in the boxes he’d just pulled out of his cupboard. 

Amongst the things was a tiny cauldron. James picked it up. 

“This is adorable.” He smiled as he wondered why on earth Regulus would need such a small cauldron. 

“It’s from my first potions set,” Regulus told him, pointing out the equally tiny vials of potion ingredients. James looked them over. He recognised most of them and could guess what most of the others contained. One vial he picked up and shook. 

“Why would a child ever brew a potion that requires a bone?” Regulus shrugged, returning to sorting his belongings into keep and throw piles.

“It wasn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill potions set. Don’t forget who my family are.” James carefully put the vial back down. 

“At least tell me it isn’t human.” He grimaced, wishing he’d never noticed it. 

“Really, James. Even my parents wouldn’t give a 6-year-old a human bone to brew with. I think it’s rabbit or something.” This oddly didn’t make James feel any better. Regulus rolled his eyes and swept all the vials into the bin bag with all the other rubbish. James stared at the bag, even though he could no longer see the bone, he knew it was still there. 

“Oh, for crying out loud, James, it’s going in the bin. Stop thinking about it.” But he couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny, raven-haired, curious boy learning how to brew his first potion. 

“Do you think—I mean, if we ever— erm,” He struggled to find the right words. 

“What is it, James?” Regulus asked, concerned at the stuttering mess James had suddenly become. James took a breath and tried again. 

“Not that we have to, but if we ever have a child, can we get them a little set like that? Sans rabbit bone, perhaps.” Regulus walked forward and wrapped his arms around James’s body. 

“You’re adorable, you know that.” He laughed into James’s chest. “But, yes, when we have a child, we will get them a potions set.” James couldn’t keep the stupid grin that covered his face off it at those words for the rest of the day.  

#january 16 #jegulus #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #regulus x james #james x regulus #regulus and james #bone

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 5 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Sister Michael

She drives a DeLorean. She does judo on Fridays. She likes a good statue and despises the French. Her full nun name is Sister George Michael, after the guy from Wham!. She is the fiercest nun you’ll ever come across and, if you’re attending Lady Immaculate College, she’s the woman in charge. So whatever you do, if you’re feeling anxious or worried or just need a chat: don’t come crying to her.

joined the nunnery for the free accommodation?

she does love a good statue it has to be said

She is the headmistress of a catholic school <3

sister michael so reminds me of the nuns who taught me. they're tough and sometimes a little harsher than a woman who dedicated her life to god should be but they're also wonderful people. i had a nun teacher who was 60 years old and would do handstands. another nun (also in her 60s) told me god was nonbinary. another was really mean and made me cry. (so did the handstand nun.) while the catholic girls school is The Catholic Experience, the school wouldn't have been the same for me or the derry girls without at least one nun who seemed to have sprung up out of the ground fully formed, ageless.

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler Propaganda:

good lord where do i start. in the animated series he converts logan to catholisism and then fucks off basically thats the main thing he did there. i think one time they tried to make him a demon to explain how he looked but everyone hated that. he sold his soul one time to help his friends out after he died. he and logan have a weird little gay thing. he was a priest one time but he was made a priest by a fake bishop from a religion that hates mutants iirc so he just wasnt a priest. like 3 people have written him in a way i like and one of those is my friend just talking about how they view him.

wow marvel loves making catholic characters dress/look like demons

Kurt is a mutant who was born to mystique who looks a LOT like a devil (technically is half one but that cannon truth isn’t real go back to bed), his mother dropped him off a cliff when he was born and he was picked up by a Romani group/circus (fuck old comics man) however he then narrowly escaped being sold to a freak show and found himself in a small German town. There he met a kind priest, who showed him God, and he quickly grew attached to the idea- However, it wasn’t long before people began labeling him a demon and soon the whole town was against him with pitchforks and fire. Cornered and injured, Kurt thought this might be the end for him- maybe he would see heaven so long after finding it- but he was then saved by Charles Xavier who invited him to the X-Men. AND ITS BEEN SO MANY YEARS AND HE HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THERE. SO MUCH. SO GOD DAMN MUCH. BUT THE MOST AAAA THING TO ME CONCERNING HIS FAITH HE WHEN HE LITERALLY DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN BUT THEN BECAUSE OF DRAMA WITH HIS FATHER HAD TO BRING HIS FRIENDS IN WITH HIM FROM THE BEYOND. THEN WITH ALOT OF TROUBLE THEY FOUGHT HIS FATHER AND THE ONLY WAY KURT SAW TO STOP HIM WAS IN A MOVE THAT STRIPPED THEM BOTH OF THEIR SOULS AND PUT THEM BACK ON EARTH. SO KURT CANONICALLY HAS NOW LOST HIS ABILITY FOR ETERNAL PEACE, LOST HIS VERY SOUL, TO SAVE PEOPLE- AND ALSO TOLD NO ONE NOT EVEN HIS GAY LOVER WOLVERINE.

Nightcrawler is a mutant vigilante who looks like a classical demon. He can’t even go to church without people panicking and trying to exorcize him. Despite it all, he’s so full of faith and hope and compassion, and he wants to believe the best of everyone. Also, he’s bffs with an extremely angry Jewish sword lesbian. That has nothing to do with anything, but it’s important to me that you all know that.

What if you were a devout christian and literally looked like the devil? He nearly became the pope, which was a plot by some supervillains that also involved faking a rapture? There is nothing like comics I swear to god.

A catholic who is half demon I don’t think I can better explain a struggle than that. But his character is so relatable to people who feel unwelcome with their congregation because of something that is a part of them but still feeling a connection to the faith. Kurt actively engaged in his faith and shares how his faith helps him through all the things he has faced in life and how he found a home with those of the church who leave the judging to God.

so they made kurt a priest briefly before deciding to retcon it, resulting in nightcrawler actually being part of a plan by villains to promote him to pope then reveal to the world that the pope is a demon. wild.

I have a side blog and a tattoo about him and i really really want him to win

Wisecracking devil-appearing devout Catholic with the Best superpower (teleportation)? HECK YES

German Catholic circus acrobat who looks like a demon & can teleport through a hellish alternate dimension with a puff of sulfur. Character of all time.

hes catholic and his dad is the devil. what could be funnier than that. also hes my silly little guy.

Nightcrawler is the world’s most fun catholic priest. I first was introduced to this kindhearted teleporting acrobat while he saved a boat full of stowaway refugees from inter dimensional pirates with swashbuckling gusto!

#cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #kurt wagner #x men #nightcrawler #marvel #xmen #x men comics #marvel x men #r5 #the derry girls #derry girls #sister michael

[cowgurrrl]

Everyone I’ve Never Met

Pairing: Ellie Williams x platonic fem!reader

Summary: “You can put your strength down. I’m sitting here with you at your kitchen table. You don’t need to say anything.” - Eden Robinson, Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted aka you tell Ellie the truth [2k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angsty angst angst, tumultuous parent/child relationship, references to what happened in Salt Lake City, talks about Anna, grief

She looks shocked when she opens the door to find you there. You smile and glance inside her little house, doing your best to keep the peace. 

"Can I come in?" You ask. She doesn't nod or say anything. She just turns on her heels and leaves the door open for you. You walk as though you're entering hollowed ground, gentle and quiet, so you don't disturb anything in her home. It's clean enough to support life, although you wish she would let you take her laundry from the corner it's piling up in. She stands awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, and you smile at her again, hoping for a glimpse of that innocent girl you saw so much of five years ago. "How's Dina?"

"Why are you asking about her?" She clamps up.

"Just curious," You try to soothe her, but her shoulders are still by her ears. You take a deep breath and hold the thick file in your hands. "I know you're mad, but I've been working on something for a while and wanted you to have it." You say, placing it on the table next to her.

"What is it?"

"There were some people who owed me favors back in Boston. They were able to get me some information about your mother," you say. She looks confused but opens the folder anyway. "It was a shot in the dark. I didn't know how much they'd be able to find, but-"

"How were they even able to get all this stuff?" She asks as she sifts through the stack of papers. There's more than you thought there would be. Letters from patients that Anna helped, scraps of newspaper with her handwriting on them, a half-finished silly lullaby called Ellie's Belly. You wanted to cry when you read it. Few obstetricians practiced after Outbreak Day; even if they did, they needed the equipment to do sonograms. The likelihood that Anna knew she was having a girl before she gave birth was slim to none, but she still wrote this for her Ellie. Your heart hurts when you think about how much she loved the daughter she never got to raise. 

"Anna Williams had a lot of people who loved her. When she died, people were devastated. Made them cling to what they had left a little tighter. What did you know about her before this?"

"I knew she was a nurse and was friends with Marlene, but that was pretty much it. I have her knife and a letter she wrote me," she trails off as she picks up a faded Polaroid. She shows it to you hesitantly, like she's afraid you'll rip it up. "Is this her?"

"It was in with Marlene's stuff. I don't know if this was before the Outbreak or after," you glance between her and the smiling redhead, forever frozen in time. She looks kind with big green eyes and a big, toothy smile. She can't be more than twenty-two in the picture, and you wonder how far away she was from getting pregnant. "You look just like her." For half a second, Ellie grins. Her fingers trace the outline of her mother's features. You wish she were here. You wonder if you two would've gotten along, but it seems hard to imagine that you wouldn't if she's the woman who brought Ellie into the world. 

"Did you… were you able to find anything about my father?" 

"Nothing concrete. Some people said he was a FEDRA officer. Others said he was a smuggler passing through. She never said anything to anyone about who he might be," You watch her shoulders slump a little, and your fingers twitch to squeeze her. You don't. "I'm sorry." You say instead. She shakes her head and shrugs.

"It's fine." She says. It doesn't feel fine, but you nod anyway. You take a few steps toward her front door, suddenly feeling like you're intruding. 

"I can leave you with all this. I know it's a lot to take in."

"Wait," she stops you, looking up from the tiny ghosts of her mother, and the air seems to get trapped in your lungs. This is the most she's looked at you since she found out. "How is he?"

"He's okay. He misses you. We both miss you." 

"I miss you, too. This whole thing... it doesn't just have to do with you two. There's more that I'm trying to figure out."

"I get it. If you have any questions, I'll do my best to give you answers." 

"Thanks," she walks over to her cabinet and pulls down a big bottle of whiskey. You both sit at the table as she pours two healthy drinks. Joel probably wouldn't approve of you two drinking before patrol tomorrow, but you don't care. The silence is less uncomfortable now and feels the most normal in months. She sloshes the drink in her glass, a pensive look taking over her features, and you lean back in your chair to watch her. 

"I can hear you thinking." You say. She puffs air out of her nose in a quiet laugh and looks at you.

"Am I that obvious?"

"No, I just know you," it spills out of your mouth, and she chews the inside of her lip. "What's goin' on up there, kiddo?"

"Tell me what really happened that day." She says. You take a big sip of whiskey as you remember waking up in the Firefly hospital. A lot of it is still blurry, and you're not sure if things will ever get clearer. You don't know if your brain is protecting you from the horrors of that day or if you genuinely blacked out. What you can remember is bloody and riddled with shell casings, broken glass, and bodies. So many bodies.

"You're not gonna like it."

"That's not what I asked."

"Marlene and some Fireflies were in the room with us when we woke up after the smoke bomb went off. We wanted to see you, but she told us you were going into surgery and explained that they would crack your skull and pull the Cordyceps out of your brain to get what they needed for the cure. Just like that," you shake your head. You didn't realize how angry you still were at Marlene for deceiving all of you, for making you think she had a future when she never intended to let Ellie walk out of the hospital. "Something snapped in both of us. They pointed guns in our faces and were told to escort us out of the hospital and to the highway, but the Firefly soldiers walked us right past our stuff. They never had any intention of letting us live, so we did the only thing we knew how to do."

"Kill?"

"Survive," you correct, remembering the blind rage that overtook the both of you that day. "One of the guys grabbed me, and that was all Joel needed. I don't remember much else, but I know we made it out with you. I know we did horrible things and killed people because nobody mattered to us as much as you did. As much as you still do."

"Why did you choose me? You could've helped save the world. They would've hailed you and Joel as heroes, but now you're just here."

"During that first year, you became our world. You made us laugh and worry and love for the first time in years. It became an unspoken agreement that you were more important than us, that if it came down to saving you or either of us, we would always pick you," you say. "So that's what we did. We picked you. We saved our world. Fuck everyone else." 

"So many people have died because there isn't a vaccine. Riley, Tess, Sam," she takes a breath as she looks at that polaroid again. "My mother."

"And making one wasn't going to bring them back."

"So, you don't regret it?"

"I regret lying to you and how it's affected us, but I don't regret saving you."

"My life would've had meaning. You fucking took that from me."

"There was never any proof that the cure was going to work. They were experimenting. That's all they were ever going to do. Once we realized that, there wasn't a chance in hell that we were going to let them do that to you," you say. "If you were going to die in that hospital, we were going to die right alongside you."

"Maybe that would've been better." Hardened eyes bore into yours as she says it. She's unflinching, precise, and hits you right where it hurts. You’ve seen the same tactic in how she kills, in how you and Joel kill. The similarity makes you want to throw up.

"Maybe," you nod. "But, I would do it all over again, even knowing what I know now." Ellie shakes her head and takes a big sip of her drink. The silence that fills the space between you is unbearable. You want her to scream, to yell, to throw a tantrum. You want her to unleash all her anger so you can love her anyways. You want her to see that even as she yells and hates you, you'll still stand there and say, "I can take it. I'm not afraid of you because I know you and I love you.”

You don't know that you can ever forgive Marlene for putting so much weight on fourteen-year-old shoulders. Ellie was a kid. A kid with immense guilt who felt like the only way her life could have meaning was if she died because everyone she has ever loved had died. Even if you had the chance to go back and ask Ellie's opinion, you still think you would've done what you did. A teenager in that headspace is not the right person to make decisions about their mortality. But just because she's alive and has a new life doesn't mean the weight Marlene gave her is gone. If anything, it's gotten heavier, and she's gotten quieter. 

She rubs her eyes and bounces her knee under the table, a habit she picked up from you. She's exhausted and looks like she could start crying at any second. "I trusted you." She mumbles, sounding so much like the Ellie you met all those years ago. Your throat feels raw as you stare at her.

"I know," you say. Your voice is soft but not quite apologetic. "Ellie-"

"You were right. It's getting late, and we both have patrol in the morning, so you should go." She says, standing from her chair to put her empty glass in the sink. With her back to you, you look up at the ceiling to force the tears back into your eyes. You clear your throat and stand, but she doesn't turn. 

"Try to get some sleep," You say in place of "I love you," and she hums from the sink. Anna's smiling face watches you leave her Ellie's house and walk back out into the freezing night, feeling emptier than when you showed up. You glance through her window and find her still standing at the sink, clutching her stomach as her chest moves quickly. It looks like she’s having a panic attack. You want to go back in to soothe her, to hug her and tell her everything will be okay, before you remember that you probably caused the attack. You feel like you just got punched in the stomach as you go against your better judgement and start walking home.

You wonder if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of your lives— watching her life unfold behind glass, unable to do or say anything to make her feel better. At least, she’s alive, you try to remind yourself, but is it really living if she’s not sleeping, eating, or letting herself feel anything? Is it a life if she’s mourning every time she should’ve died but didn’t? Is it a life if you’re watching her slowly kill herself from behind glass, your desperate screaming falling upon deaf ears?

Or did the most important part of all three of you die in that hospital and you’re walking corpses? Does digging into a wound to find and name the bullet make the pain any better?

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(June stop getting philosophical at the end of every fic challenge)

#ellie williams #joel and ellie #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #anna williams #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us x reader #platonic Ellie Williams #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess

[aanoia]

Would you be interested in doing “Broken one” by raelyn with James? Just like a readers who’s home life isn’t awful she has her mom and her mom is amazing. But when it comes to love she just doesn’t have a good foundational understanding unlike James potter who grew up amazing

obviously I loved this request so much and I hope I did it justice. It actually really hit close to home with me, so I'm really glad I got to write about it.

Broken One

James Potter x reader words; 1,626 song; Broken One by RaeLynn warnings; divorce (if you need to talk, reach out. this is something I know personally so I'd love to be someone you can trust about it.) the disrespect this world has for never letting me know about this song until now smh if you have a song request, or a normal request (bc i definitely get those out in a timely manner) just use my inbox. I love doing requests :) this one might be a little confusing to read, lmk if it is haha

We grew up so differently

You had one house, one backyard, one Christmas tree

The difference was obvious between the two of us. Maybe only I saw it, maybe the entire world did. All I knew was I came from a broken home of divorce, my dad was a cheating drunk and my mom, although amazing, was mostly emotionally unavailable. James on the other hand, had parents who loved each other unconditionally, they rarely fought and acted like teenagers in love. 

You didn't split your time, didn't wonder why, like me

“This came from your mother.” My dad said, walking into the kitchen and handing a letter to me.

“Thanks, dad.” He nodded briefly, giving me a tight lipped smile.

“Do you want anything to eat?” He asked. “I can make eggs.”

I smiled teasingly, “You gonna burn them again?” Dad took a swig of his beer and laughed.

“I’ll try not to.”

I smiled and carefully opened the letter. It was from James, so I assumed he forgot it was my dads week and sent his owl to my moms. I smiled as I read the letter, he’s such a sweetheart.

When I met your mom and I met your dad

Damn, it's cool to see that love can last

I watched with a smile as James’ parents danced together in the kitchen, completely forgetting the dinner they were making for us. 

“Are you alright, love?” James asked quietly, not wanting to bother his parents.

I nodded, “I’ve just never seen something like that before.”

James pressed a soft kiss to my lips, “Soon that will be you and I, yeah?”

I smiled against his lips, “Yes.”

'Cause I never knew 'til I was loved like that by you

“Ohhh, Y/n! I’m in love with youUuUUuuUUUuuuuuUU!” James sang loudly in the common as I died with laughter.

Sirius joined as his backup vocals and air guitar and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Will you dimwits shut up, please? I’m getting a migraine.” He asked and James just sang louder, his vocal chords straining.

You could've seen too much work

All the missing pieces

Someone who's gonna leave

'Cause I come from leaving

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“No.” James said, crossing his arms.

I furrowed my brows, “No?”

He nodded and shrugged, “No. You don’t get to finish your sentence because I don’t think I’m gonna like the ending.”

“But Jame-”

He booped my nose and I pulled my face back in surprise, “No. And it’s Jamie to you, missy.”

Could've seen my past

Took a look at my baggage

And packed yours up and run

“You can cry, you know?” James said softly, sitting beside me on the porch of my moms house.

Tears filled my eyes at his words, “I should’ve had you meet them separately. I’m such an idiot.” I whispered, my voice cracking.

James pulled me into his side, “You’re not an idiot. They're the only idiots here. This was important for you, they should’ve been able to put aside their differences for you.”

But you saw a home in a girl from a broken one

“I want this one.” James said and I side eyed him.

“James, I love you. But this one sucks.”

James scoffed as our real estate agent (do they even have those?) laughed.

“That’s all right. I have one more for you two.”

“It’s perfect.” James and I said in sync.

She has my eyes and has your nose

I let out a wet laugh as my baby girl was handed to me. I gently pet her head, a few tears falling down my face.

“I think that was more painful for James than it was for you.” James’ mom said and I laughed as he grabbed my hand, ignoring the teasing.

“I’m at a loss for words.” James whispered honestly and I smiled at him as he stared at our daughter.

“Hold her.” I whispered back and he shook his head.

“I’ll hurt her.” He worried.

“You won’t, my love. Hold our little girl.” I said, carefully lifting her into his arms. He held her carefully, as if she was a fragile flower.

But thank God she never has to know

What it's like to grow up picking sides

“This is a recipe for disaster.” I muttered as James bundled up our daughter in her snow coat. 

“No, it’s not. Relax a bit, Y/n/n.” Sirius responded and I glared at him.

“Don’t kill my kid or I’ll do worse than kill you.”

He grinned, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“She’s ready!” James proclaimed proudly and the two ran out the door. 

I hesitantly followed behind them and watched as they swung her over a large pile of untouched snow. A small smile graced my lips as her laughter filled the air, before it was silenced as she fell into the snow. Instead of it catching her she just went right through. She began laughing again under all the snow and James hurried to get her out while Sirius was howling with laughter. Even a few laughs left my lips.

You could've seen too much work

All the missing pieces

Someone who's gonna leave

'Cause I come from leaving

“Shh, you’re okay, my love.” James whispered into my hair as I cried softly, clutching tightly onto his shirt. “Hey, beautiful, look at me.” He lifted my chin and I struggled not to bury my face in the crook of his neck again. “Hey, we are not your parents, all right? Not your parents.”

Could've seen my past

Took a look at my baggage

And packed yours up and run

I held tightly onto my son's hand as we weaved through the train station, trying to get to platform 9 ¾.

“Are you ready for this, Jean?” James asked our daughter who nodded nervously.

“I think.”

“Well, I know.” I chimed in and she smiled.

“Yeah. I am ready.” She corrected herself.

“First year of Hogwarts, and then in two years it’ll be you Harry.” I said, squeezing my sons hand as he smiled up at me.

“Ah, here we are.”

“Uh, dad, this is a wall.” Jean deadpanned and I laughed.

“Not just any wall, smartas-” I glared at James and he cleared his throat. “Alec. You walk through it to get to platform 9 ¾.”

“Huh?”

“Come on. Together.” I said and grabbed onto Jean’s free hand. The four of us as a group walked through the wall and were greeted with the familiar horn of the train. Jean went rigid and I looked down worriedly. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“I’m scared, mama.”

“No need to be scared!” A voice said from behind us and we turned around.

“Yeah! We can be best friends!” Two identical ginger boys said with large smiles.

Jean smiled, “Okay! I’m Jean Potter.”

“I’m Fred.”

“And I’m George. Or am I Fred?”

“Am I George?”

“What?” James said and I laughed.

But you saw a home in a girl from a broken one

“Ugh, Sirius is a dick.” James said as he walked into our room.

“Then why are you forcing me to let him live with us?” I asked with a teasing smile, setting my book down.

“Because I love him.” James laid his head in my lap. “But I love you more.”

Yeah, my raising wasn't perfect

But the girl you saw was worth it

“I feel so old.” I said, sitting down at the kitchen counter after dropping off Jean and Harry, Jean entering her fourth year of Hogwarts and Harry his second.

“You are, my love.” James said, kissing my cheek and grabbing some milk.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

You could've seen too much work

All the missing pieces

Someone who's gonna leave

'Cause I come from leaving

“Just go, goddamnit! Leave!” I yelled at my parents who were arguing over who got to see this kids for Christmas. “I mean, for fucks sake, get out of my house!”

“Y/n, that is no way to speak to you pa-”

“I think it’s time for you two to leave.” James said calmly after taking the kids to their rooms, walking over to the door and opening. I breathed heavily, my bottom lip trembling as they walked out angrily. 

Once the door closed my shoulders deflated and I sighed in defeat. James silently brought me into a tight hug, quietly telling me he was there and everything was going to be okay.

Could've seen my past

Took a look at my baggage

And packed yours up and run

But you saw a home in a girl from a broken one

“Oh, you old bag. Shut your face.” I croaked from beside James’ hospital bed.

“You be quiet, you wrinkly tomato.” He retorted.

“Kick the bucket all ready.”

“Mom!” Jean scolded, holding her toddler in her arms.

“What? It’s gonna happen soon for both of us.” I reasoned and James laughed.

“You age like fine wine.” He complimented.

“You age like a banana.” I gently kissed his cheek. “I’m gonna miss you, but if I have to spend another minute in this hospital because you’re too stubborn to die I will kill you.”

He smiled and motioned me closer. I obliged and he kissed me like we were young. Passionate and loving. His monitor flatlined mid kiss and his grip on my hand lessened. I smiled sadly as a single tear fell from my eyes and landed on his cheek.

“It was his time.” I whispered. Two days later I laid in the same bed and took my last breath, the only thing on my mind was seeing James again.

Yeah, you saw home sweet home

In a girl from a broken one

taglist (if you want to be added ask in the comments);

@loving-and-dreaming (your request but still) @1lellykins @poetrypirate

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter x reader #hp marauders #marauders

[detroit-grand-prix]

letzte rose - prologue

Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff Royal/Historical AU

Summary: The year is 1849 and one of Europe's Great Powers, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, is on the cusp of burgeoning unrest. Parliament is trying to seize more authority while the provinces are fighting for more autonomy. An increasingly conservative chancellor seems to hold all of the power these days, as Emperor Christian I has become practically a recluse in recent years. But, a night at the opera has the potential to change everything.

Notes: I've been toying with the idea of some sort of Susie/Toto historicial AU for a while, but @totowlff approached me about this royalty AU and it's been impossible to get my mind off if it. She wrote most of this chapter (I edited it pretty heavily) and the chapter outline we have so far, and I'm really excited to see how it develops. Thank goodness for her pretty much encyclopedic knowledge of old European monarchies! I hope you like it, too. We are striving to make it as historically accurate as it can be, minus the fact that obvious major "characters" have been replaced.

There are certain moments when a person knows that their life will never be the same.

For Toto, it was a warm night in May of 1812, when he was just 15 years old.

He didn't remember anything exceptional about that night before he was woken up in the middle of a dream he was having.

A little confused, it took him a few seconds for his sleep-filled eyes to focus on the face of Karl, his Kammerdiener. Holding a small candelabra, his expression hid something that the young archduke could not puzzle out as he rubbed his eyes.

— What…

— I beg your pardon, sir, but your mother requested His Imperial Highness’ presence in her chambers.

— But why? — he asked, as he pulled his covers back and sat up in bed.

— Unfortunately, I don’t know, Your Highness — Karl replied, placing the candle on the bedside table — I’m just following the orders I received.

After helping him to his feet into a robe, Toto’s valet walked him through the halls of the Hofburg. Toto wondered what could be so important that she would get him out of bed in the middle of the night and walk halfway across the palace to Amalienburg, where the apartments of Archduchess Johanna of Austria were located. However, as he approached his mother's quarters, he noticed there was an awful lot of staff milling about, especially for the middle of the night. “Something is definitely wrong”, Toto thought, as his mother’s valet opened the door for him to be announced.

From then on, everything became a blur. The slow steps towards the anteroom. The sight of his mother sitting in one of the armchairs, her wet eyes indicating that she had been crying. Her deep breath before saying the words that changed his life forever.

— Long live the Emperor — Johanna said, before bowing deeply in front of him.

Toto left his mother's room a few minutes later, in complete silence. Accompanied by Karl, he headed back to his own quarters feeling completely numb.

That night, it wasn't just his grandfather, the old Emperor Rudolf VI, who had died. In a way Toto had, too. Toto, the boy who loved numbers, who protected his family with all his might and who liked to race horses was gone too, along with the boy who thought his destiny would have had the courtesy to wait a few years.

From the moment his grandfather’s death was pronounced, there was only His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty, Christian The First, By The Grace of God.

Distrust was his constant companion, especially in the early days of his reign. Whispers about how he was too young and inexperienced for the role filled the palace halls with uncertainty. In the opinion of many, including politicians and the court, Toto should entrust matters of governance to the hands of those who understood the empire’s politics and go back to playing with his horses.

However, it was not in his nature to leave his responsibilities to others, especially to men who only thought about themselves and their own legacies. Toto wanted to govern for his people, for the people who looked to him and his family as a model to follow. Over the next nine years, he took over the reins of his own country, assembling a cabinet capable of forging a new Europe. Toto would always remember the relief on his mother's face when she spoke about Napoleon Bonaparte’s death in exile, definitively ending his reign. 

— Your aunt will be immensely pleased to know that, finally, the devil is in Hell like he deserves to be, and he won’t be coming back this time — Johanna said with a wide smile on her face, during Toto's daily visit to her apartments.

— I don't know if that's the most appropriate way to speak of the dead, especially considering that he was, in a way, part of our family — he observed, pursing his lips. In order to reestablish peace between Austria and France, Toto's grandfather arranged for his other daughter, Elisabeth, to marry Napoleon. The union produced a single son, named Alexander, who became the presumptive heir to his father's ambitions and a major headache for the great powers. However, his proximity with his maternal family was the allegation that Chancellor Metternich said in the meeting with the other chancellors to convince them that Toto’s cousin was not a political threat to Europe.

— Alexander will always be a problem, especially considering that you still haven't resolved the issue of your marriage — his mother replied, brushing a dark curl away from her face.

— I just turned 24, mama…

— When I was your age, I was already married and had both you and your sister — she replied, as Toto shook his head — And there's no point in making that face, you know you have a duty to this country.

— Yes, my duty is to govern it. That is what I am primarily focused on.

— And what good is governing if you don't provide security for your subjects, my son? Nothing gives a nation’s people more security than knowing they don’t have to worry about any bloody succession crises. You don’t want what happened in Britain to happen to us, do you? Even your grandfather couldn’t feel at ease until you were born...

— Considering that Lili already has a son, I’m not overly concerned about who my successor will be — Toto said, with a small smile. This made his mother jump from her seat, giving her son a venomous glare.

— I think this should worry you even more, since your sister is younger than you and has already done more for the future of this family’s dynasty. Something about that statement annoyed Toto deeply. Slowly standing up, he turned away from his mother and walked towards the window, taking a deep breath. He couldn't be fragile, not now, not in front of her.

— If the matter concerns you so much, mama, I give you leave to resolve it — he said. His voice was solemn, but indicated clearly that he was done discussing it.

It took a few years to find a suitable match, but in 1825, at age 28, Toto was standing in the foyer of The Hofburg, greeting his new wife for the first time as she arrived from Munich. She was a Bavarian princess from the house of Wittelsbach named Stephanie. The marriage was arranged at the behest of Johanna and performed per procura before she and Toto had even met. They had exchanged a few letters, and Toto had seen her portrait, but this was the first time they were meeting.

With a shy smile and her blonde hair hidden under her wide-brimmed bonnet, she was clearly scared by it all, especially given how tightly he was gripping his hand.

— Nervous? — he asked her quietly.

— A little — Stephanie replied, nodding to some courtiers that were lined up to see her arrival in the palace for the first time — Let's just say I wasn't expecting...

— All these people?

— No, I'm talking about, well… Your Majesty.

— Was the portrait I sent not true to life? I told the painter not to make my nose so much smaller than it is, but they never listen to me — Toto said, as the air around them filled with quiet chatter and the clinking of military medals as highly decorated courtiers bowed in respect as the imperial couple walked by. 

— Actually… I’d say that you are much more handsome than they made you look in your portrait — the princess said sweetly, her cheeks flushed.

It was with that sweetness that Stephanie entered Toto's life and heart. He didn't know how to feel about her at first. She was beautiful, certainly, and kind, but was Toto in love with her? Hardly. Love wasn't the purpose of their marriage; people like Toto didn't get the privilege of marrying for love.

As time went on, though, Stephanie proved to be a measured and gentle sort, who had no trouble taking on her role as the Empress of Austria and winning over the hearts of the courtiers and public, and eventually, she won Toto's heart as well. It took a few years for their family to grow, but the entire country celebrated with the arrival of the long-awaited heir, a boy named Benedict. Two years later, a little girl followed, and they named her Rosa, contrary to Johanna’s wishes, who had hoped for the girl to have her name.

For years, The Hofburg was a place full of light and joy, and Toto ruled a thriving empire from within it. With his family together, he was sure that nothing could shake him, not even the biggest challenge.

Until one bitter February day in 1836, Stephanie whispered his name as she closed her eyes for the final time. 

All of the light and joy that filled the palace was buried with her in the Imperial Crypt.

#f1 fanfic #f1 au #f1 historicial au #f1 royalty au #series: lezte rose #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x susie wolff

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (24)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 /Part 19 /Part 20 / Part 21 /Part 22 / Part 23 /

Last Checked:—-

Moonlight Kisses-Buttercupbadass (ao3) Summary: Sometimes you think you have everything you ever wanted then the one you can't live without walks in your door. Much Too Far To Go Alone-dracoisalooker76 (ao3) Summary: "We all get addicted by something that takes away the pain" (Belle Aurora). Modern AU. Grey's Anatomy Inspired. Not a Walk in the Park-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta try desperately to keep the peace as their daughter Lily is getting ready for a date and their sons are giving her a hard time. Not One Moment-C_r_roberts (ao3) Summary: I wonder if he knows. Does he know how grateful I am to have him–the real him–back in my life? He tempers my temper. He makes me laugh, even when I don’t want to. He makes me feel safe, even when the entire world feels dangerous. And most importantly, he makes me feel good again. Alive, even. With Peeta, I want to keep living. Growing together. Canon-compliant. Of Buttercup and Mistletoe-Alliswell (ao3) Summary: Bring out the popcorn and hot cocoa, because this one is just chock full of Everlark Christmas shenanigans! One Moment More-dracoisalooker76 (ao3) Summary: "He stumbles up, a tiny little thing in clothes a size too big that are obviously hand-me-downs from his two brothers, and when he stands beside Katniss I see that they’re the same height. Effie Trinket is trying but she can’t hide the look of devastation she holds, clearly upset that Peeta isn’t eighteen and handsome and able to get her out of this mess." When the mine accident does not occur, the Everdeens are forced into a different sacrifice.  One New Message-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Peeta and Katniss are Tumblr mutuals who have told each other nothing about each other irl, especially not their real names. Little do they know that Katniss is set to inherit her family’s big chain bakery business that’s slowly encroaching on smaller bakeries like Peeta’s family’s corner shop. Open Window-burkygirl, Peetabreadgirl, Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Peeta Mellark's quiet life is changed forever when a mysterious woman moves in upstairs, filling his world with music. Based on the OTP Prompt - Imagine your OTP as neighbors. A tends to sing at night and normally B would complain but their voice is really nice and they often find themselves comforted by it. One day, A’s songs start becoming more and more depressed and sometimes they’d stop because they were crying. B gets worried and starts talking to A to cheer them up/find out what’s wrong. Turns out A’s partner cheated on them/family member died/whatever and they’d started feeling a little depressed. A and B become close friends and after a while, A starts singing love songs at night. Operation Toast (an Everlark Text Fic)-Alliswell, AlwaysEverlark, JHsgf82, MegaAuLover (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta haven’t seen each other since High School...until their friends decide it’s time for them to acknowledge their old feelings. Paint a Sky and Stars-authoresskika (ao3) Summary: Post-Epilogue Canon; "Difficult as the baby might be, Peeta wants him to enjoy the same sort of holiday magic his big sister gets. But therein lies the problem of a fretful infant: what does he want for but his mother's breast and a comforting embrace? His needs are infinitely basic. So how on Earth can those be made special enough for a gift?"

#t #teen and up masterlist #masterlist #everlark #everlark fanfiction #thg #thg fanfiction #thglibrary masterlist

[what-gs-watching]

"Why is no one having a good time? I specifically requested it."

Here’s a thing: my husband used to watch a ton of tv, all the time. Always had something on in the background. But then he got sucked into TikTok and his attention span broke, so I’ve been watching most things myself.

He just put together a snack to wind down from his work day, and came back in for a glass of milk. I’m on the couch and as he swished by he said “I just turned on Brooklyn Nine-Nine”, which in and of itself was surprising, only to continue “and remembered he’s dead…” and I let out a wail I’ve been mostly ignoring. 

Andre Braugher, I’m so sad that you’re gone. Brooklyn Nine-Nine is one of my absolute favorite comfort shows, and I’m not sure how I’m going to stand it now, for a while. Captain Holt is iconic, you can’t watch that show and not fall in love with him. 

And now it’s just…sad.

Nine-Nine is another one of those shows I started watching religiously while it was airing on cable, the entirety of the reason being Andy mother-effing Samberg. I have been in love with him (and the Lonely Island, which we should talk about eventually) since that crazy man joined SNL and so nothing was going to tear me away from his randon sitcom. I came for him, obviously, but I stayed for everyone else.

Including, and mostly, Captain Raymond Holt. 

I’m not gonna lie, he might be the most realized, well-defined character on the show. The man has layers. Gay, black cop who finally becomes captain of his own squad. Deadly serious, married to a professor, proud dog dad, lover of rules, hard grudge-holder, extremely literal and blunt, with the weirdest sense of humor. 

Most of the best moments of this show involve Holt. There’s an entire scene wherein the squad is put on the night shift and it’s fucking with everyone’s relationships and someone suggests his bad mood is because he needs to  bone down with his husband. His reaction has me crying every single time.

He has a dance-off with a kid on the street. He goes undercover as a straight person and does it hilariously. He gets incredibly, heavily, disturbingly invested in the Halloween heist game Jake sets up each year. He creates a ridiculous balloon arch for a wedding and gets deeply attached to it, and is infuriated by the fact that everyone thinks it’s weird as hell. He has the most fantastic arch rival relationship with an old partner, to the point where he plans to deliver a scathing eulogy when she unexpectedly dies. He learns the choreography set to Salt ‘N Peppa’s “Push It” and performs it to distract Amy while she’s giving birth. 

It feels like a lot of characters on tv are two-dimensional, but good lord, Holt was in full technicolor, and it’s obvious the reason it works so well is because Andre Braugher was a master of his craft. He WAS Holt, for a lot of people, including me. No one else could have stepped in and created that man. 

Throughout the show, Jake treated him like a surrogate dad because his own father (lol at Bradley Whitford in that role) was a dumpster fire, and it was really sweet. He just wanted validation, and acceptance.

In the finale, he tells Jake, "On my first day here, I asked Jeffords to tell me about everyone, He told me you were a great detective, but the one thing you couldn’t figure out was how to grow up. Well, I think you’ve finally figured it out. Over the years, you’ve sometimes referred to me as something of a father figure, but I want you to know, if I had had a son, and he had turned out like you, I would be very proud of him.”

I have a dad of my own, he’s wonderful and I love him and we have a great relationship, but y’all, Holt can be a surrogate dad for me too. He can be one for everyone. He always had a pearl of wisdom and he supported the entire squad in absolutely everything, and he was just an excellent human. Who was FUNNY and multidimensional and just…dope. 

He’s one of those perfect characters. And they don’t come along that often. So I guess the point is, thank you, Andre Braugher, for bringing him to life, and giving us the gift that is Captain Raymond Holt. I’m glad we still have him, even if we don’t have you.

#brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #captain holt #captain raymond holt #andre braugher #andy samberg #what g's watching #comfort show

[walkawaytall]

Audiobooks for which I think the narration vastly improves the book consumption experience:

The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green, narrated by John Green - this is John’s first non-fiction book and his narration of the book imbues the text with the right balance of emotion. I cry every time I listen to it, especially the chapter “Googling Strangers” (a version of which you can hear on the podcast that the book kind of spun off from for free if you want). I think John was the perfect narrator for this book and I can’t imagine anyone else reading it. In case you’re wondering, my favorite chapter is “Bonneville Salt Flats”.

The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins, narrated by Tatiana Maslany — Tatiana is an actress (I mainly know her from an arc on Heartland and a couple of episodes of Parks and Rec, but she was apparently the main character in Orphan Black and has done a bunch of other stuff) and this really comes through in her narration — in a good way. She’s a fantastic voice for Katniss’ inner monologue and I don’t find her read of other character’s voices distracting or confusing in any way. Granted, I knew the stories before listening to the audiobooks, but I enjoyed these so much that, not only did I buy them so I would stop using up Hoopla borrows on them, I also have suggested them to like ten people this year and looked to see if Tatiana had narrated anything else that I might find interesting (she hasn’t done any other audiobooks from what I can tell, which is a real shame).

The Truly Devious Series by Maureen Johnson, narrated by Kate Rudd - I also went looking for anything else narrated by Kate Rudd and was not disappointed — she’s narrated over 500 books, including some of John Green’s novels. But the Truly Devious series is just really fun. It’s a YA murder mystery series. The first three center around the same mystery while the next two (and I assume any subsequent additions) are standalones with the same central cast of characters. Kate does an excellent job of reading the engaging source material and I think I have enjoyed every book I’ve heard her read; I just also happen to really like this series.

I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy, narrated by Jennette McCurdy — I think for a memoir as heavy as this one, it only makes sense for Jennette to read her own words. The book is great, her narration is great, but it’s probably not for everyone. Jennette’s story of becoming a well-known child actress at the behest of her mother only to realize once her mom died of cancer that their relationship was abusive is somewhat harrowing, but there is hope woven in as well.

Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott, narrated by January LaVoy — this book is really good but it also gutted me (I won’t spoil anything, but do maybe look up content warnings prior to consuming) and January LaVoy did a really good job. If her name sounds familiar to my Star Wars peeps, it probably is: she read the audiobook for Bloodline, some of the stories in the From A Certain Point of View series, and the new recording of The Courtship of Princess Leia (lol) among others, but she has also narrated loads of non-Star Wars material. Loved this book, loved her narration of it.

Special mention:

The All Souls Trilogy by Deborah Harkness, narrated by Jennifer Ikeda — this is a special mention because I do not actually suggest these books at all. The first one starts out fairly promising with a seemingly interesting and strong main character who suddenly loses all of her personality and agency the moment she meets a hot vampire, and it’s not because she’s being compelled or anything interesting like that. By the end, the only “character” I really liked was the house that Diana’s aunts owned? (Well, I also spent a chunk of the first book hoping that the weird number of times Matthew warned Diana that his stallion bites would turn out to be foreshadowing that the horses were all vampires, but that unfortunately never panned out.) Anyway, these books are not good but I am convinced I kept listening to them even after swearing off the series after the first book because of Jennifer’s narration. And then they switched narrators for the weird little follow-up fourth book about Phoebe becoming a vampire (Time’s Convert) and I wasn’t able to finish it. (And that is not me saying that the narrator of Time’s Convert isn’t good. She narrated Leia, Princess of Alderaan and also did the Leia chapters in The Princess and the Scoundrel, which means I have told multiple people that I wish she would have read the whole book rather than switching off with whoever did Han’s chapters. She’s a fine narrator. What I’m saying is that Jennifer Ikeda was good enough to keep me listening even when I hated what was being read to me while another perfectly fine narrator couldn’t do that, and that’s saying something.)

#these are in no particular order #but I do really really love #the anthropocene reviewed #audiobook #audiobook review #books #book review #the hunger games #suzanne collins #tatiana maslany #truly devious #maureen johnson #kate rudd #i’m glad my mom died #jennette mccurdy #thistlefoot #gennarose nethercott #january lavoy #jennifer ikeda

[adzeisval]

Leave Me Alone

Alma Bonnet gets into a fight with her father. Also on AO3.

“Alma, darling, I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Stede said. 

Alma rolled her eyes, “Dad, please. I know what I’m doing.” 

“You might think that you do but you are still quite young. And…I’m not so sure sailing is a good idea for a young woman, what does your mother think of this?” 

“She hates the idea, but I thought that you would understand,” Alma said. She was getting frustrated with her father. Why didn’t he understand that she was going through the same thing he had years ago? She wanted to be at sea, why the hell should she give up on that dream just because she was a girl. 

“Alma, there must be something else you want to do?” 

“I thought you would understand,” Alma said. 

“I do understand wanting to be at sea, I really do but I just want you to be safe and I’m not sure you can be safe in this lifestyle.” 

“Because I’m a woman?” 

“Because you’re my daughter,” Stede said. 

“You see me maybe twice a year! You don’t know me and you’re barely my father and right now I fucking hate you!” Alma yelled. She saw the way her father’s face fell and she felt bad right away but she was still angry over the whole thing. 

“Alma…” 

“Leave me alone,” she said. She stomped off to the other side of the ship and realized that it was very stupid to get into a fight with her father when they were in the middle of the ocean when there was nowhere else to go. 

Alma didn’t understand why her father didn’t want her to go to sea. Didn’t he understand her desire? And didn’t he know quite a few women pirates? He was too worried because she was his daughter but he was never fucking around was he? He had no ownership over her. 

Alma sighed. She shouldn’t have yelled at him, she supposed, but she wasn’t going to apologize. Not yet anyway. They were a couple of days from the end of the trip and she figured she’d stick to her quarters and other parts of the ship and try to stay out of her father’s way. 

It seemed like it was working for the first day; Alma stayed out of Stede’s way and Stede didn’t come and try to find her. 

The second day though something happened. There was a knock at her door. 

“Alma?” 

“Edward?” She opened the door and peered at the face of her somewhat step father who looked very worried. 

“Hey Alma, ugh, just need to let you know your Dad’s ill.” 

“What? What’s wrong with him, when did this happen?” She wondered if that was why her father didn’t seek her out the day before.

“He’s got an infected wound uhm…” 

“It’s bad?” 

“Yeah, kinda yeah, Roach is working on it but…you might want to visit him,” Ed said. Alma nodded. She didn’t know what to say. 

Stede was laying on his and Ed’s bed and covered in sweat and tossing and turning about. Ed looked concerned. Roach looked concerned. Her father looked horrible. 

“Dad? I…I’m here.” 

Stede moaned but didn’t wake up or say anything. 

Alma looked at Roach, “Is he going to be alright?” 

“I don’t know Alma.” 

Alma stayed there and held her father’s hand. She’d never seen someone so ill. She’d never seen someone get that ill, that fast. She’d never seen Roach look so worried before. Ed looked like he was about to cry at any given moment, though that wasn’t really that unusual. 

Alma stayed until it was time for dinner and then went to bed in a bit of a daze. She’d never…well she’d thought about her father dying before; he was a pirate after all, but it was always such a distant thing. She thought she’d find out days or even months after it happened that her father had been killed in battle or hanged as a pirate. And it would be horrible and sad but it would be distant. She didn’t ever consider it might happen right before her eyes. 

And she’d said such horrible things to him the last time she saw him. What if he died before she could talk to him again?

She was only with Stede a few minutes when everything hit and she had to run away from it all. She pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed. What the fuck was wrong with her? Her father was going to die thinking she hated him! 

Alma had been crying for some time when she heard someone approaching. 

“Leave me alone, fuck off,” she said. She heard a startled sort of chuckle and looked up to see Izzy Hands standing there. For a brief moment she understood why her father was afraid for her on a ship. She was sure she was safe on the Revenge, even from someone gruff and scary like Izzy. 

“Sorry…” she said.

“Nah, don’t apologize for cursing, do that all you fucking want,” Izzy said.

“Did something happen with dad?” 

“He’s about the same,” Izzy said sitting down near her. 

“I…I…told him I hated him,” Alma said, voice shaking. She didn’t want to cry in front of someone like Izzy. 

“Sometimes we get angry and say things we don’t mean. It hurt your dad but I think he knows the truth,” Izzy said, “When he wakes up he’s going to be ecstatic to see you and he’ll probably feel bad for worrying you and Ed. And everybody.” 

“If he wakes up,” Alma said miserably. 

“I believe he will. Your father is a stubborn bastard,” Izzy said. 

“I feel so bad about what I said,” Alma said. 

“I know. You can’t take the words back, but you can apologize and try to make up for them.” 

“I’m a horrible person.” 

“You’re not. A horrible person wouldn’t regret their words. You lost your temper. Happens to a lot of people. I lose my temper too. I’m working on it.” 

“You yell a lot,” Alma agreed. 

“Usually I’m just trying to get the crew to work but yeah I’ve said some horrible things and then regretted them. Ed still loves me,  because I’ve made the effort to apologize and do better. And fuck I’m not perfect, no one is.” 

Alma nodded. 

“It’ll be alright Alma,” Izzy said. 

“Thanks Izzy,” she said. 

Izzy was right and Stede started to recover from the infection. Alma was there when he woke up and couldn’t apologize for how hard she was crying. 

“Oh darling it’s alright,” Stede said. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I don’t hate you, I love you. I’m sorry.” 

“Shh love, we’ll be alright,” Stede said and Alma believed him.

#whumptober2023 #no.17 #leave me alone #ofmd #fic #stede bonnet #izzy hands

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

“I think I can kinda feel something working. It’s stronger now that Ewan’s around. Can you feel it too?”

Theo rocked back on his feet and placed another cupcake in his mouth. Things were going slowly so far-too slowly. At this rate, they would never find out if Ewan was related to Adam and Remy. He’d be at home in bed for the night before any signal got back to his stalkers.

“Your dad makes the best cupcakes. Like seriously, these are amazing.”

After their encounter with Roman in the kitchen, Theo had “accidentally” liberated a plate of cupcakes intended for the dinner. The frosting was intricate, homemade and incredibly addicting. Adam would ask for the recipe if he thought there was an actual chance of him replicating the delicious treats, but only Roman it seemed had the skill to pull them off. Saturnia might learn it in time given her skill set, but for now, Roman was the only way to access the desserts he had become known for. Stealing a whole plate of them was so amazing a find that it almost overshadowed their important work. 

Once they’d found a tea set stocked with expensive tea in the queen’s old rooms, the two boys began to relax. This clandestine operation was on track so far and aside from some slow magic slowing them down, things were going okay.

“So these were the rooms of Queen Celeste? The witch who tried to kill Death along with the Strangetown cult...er, I mean coven? This is an amazing suite! I wonder what else she had stored around here?”

Adam lowered his eyes to the floor, obviously distracted by Theo’s words. Far too late, Theo realized that he was speaking dismissively about the “restructuring” the Strangetown coven had had to undergo. The coven his mother was single-handedly keeping together because of her brother’s actions.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Adam,” Theo said quickly. “I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay being here where one of the leaders of the coven lived? I just assumed that because it was empty, we could-”

“It’s fine, Theo,” Adam reassured his boyfriend. He sipped his tea quietly for a moment. “That all happened before I was born. I never knew any of them, but my mom was devastated when they died. I still catch her crying sometimes when she thinks she’s alone. She probably couldn’t be here in this room, but it doesn’t really bother me. Well, actually no. It makes me sad. Sad and angry that my uncle and her friends could do that to her. The world can be a really horrible place sometimes.”

“You’re telling me,” Theo laughed awkwardly. “I get it. Thank god my grandmother is dead, or whatever did happen to her. At least I don’t have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for her in dark, secret corners. Having some closure makes things easier for your mom, I’d imagine.”

“Yeah, that definitely helps.”

After a long pause, Theo asked the question that had been plaguing him for a while.

“So what happens if this guy is your long lost brother? Does anything change?”

“I guess Winterfest plans change,” Adam sighed, picturing having to spend an extended period of time with the annoying Ewan. “We see him on family dinner night maybe? I don’t know. My dad’s not that hard to get a hold of, Theo. If his mom really wanted to let my dad know she was pregnant, then I can’t see why she couldn’t have done that. I mean, even Queen Claudia can be reached reliably through the right channels and my dad isn’t anywhere near as important as she is. This whole thing felts weird.”

“Ewan feels weird,” Theo agreed. “Can you sense some of what I’m feeling when he’s nearby? It’s like he’s empty, magically just nothing. I’ve never met someone like that before.”

“Hmmm, I can maybe feel a little bit of what you’re feeling, yes. It’s not as intense as I thought it would be.”

Theo nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, my parents always acted like blood connections were this horrible, dangerous thing,” Theo confided. “I think probably because their connection was so damaged and warped by the end that it was dangerous for them. If anything, this pact is barely a magical trickle of energy. It’s boring and ineffective. Next time we try a harder spell.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

Adam chuckled while Theo flushed with embarrassment.

“Yeah, I mean maybe, if you want to...I’m not really expecting- well that is-”

“Relax Theo, I’m teasing you,” Adam laughed, easing Theo’s anxiety. “Maybe there will be a next time, maybe there won’t. I’m okay with either if everything is safe. We make a good team.”

Theo poked at the crystal that they’d brought with them and a suspicious amount of salt he’d taken from the kitchen when his father was distracted by the mystery of his missing cupcakes. Adam was obsessed with crystals, probably more than even a practicing member of the Crystal Cove coven was. He had an anxiety soothing crystal (which Theo thought was a scam for how useful it was at soothing Adam’s worries), a crystal to relieve headaches during exams, a crystal to find missing items in their dorm, a crystal he used to predict pop quizzes (which Theo was also skeptical of) and a crystal for enhancing spells. There were probably many other crystals that Theo had yet to find, along with stones from their many walks in the forest that he insisted were “special”. This crystal was supposedly going to enhance the blood pact and kick it into gear so they could finally get a clear answer about Ewan...if it worked.

“Well, here goes nothing.”

Theo flipped to a certain passage in his text book and read the latin inside, calling for their blood connection to be increased to solve the question their pact was formed to answer.

For a minute, nothing happened and Theo poked once more at the crystal in front of him angrily.

“Do you see anything? I think maybe I do. Is the room getting more blue to you? The walls look blue now.”

Theo paused to consider Adam’s words. The walls maybe did look oddly coloured all of a sudden. He could feel a strong pounding noise echo through his head. Almost like a drumbeat urging him into action.

“I have to go find Ewan,” he exclaimed, standing too quickly and faltering. “This is working, or at least I hope it is. Something is happening. I have to go!”

Adam stared nervously as Theo bolted from the room. His head did feel a little funny, but nothing like Theo was describing. If he were to write a paper on the experience for class, he would have to assume the pact was working as intended. Theo was using the spell on himself while receiving information on the bloodline that Adam was broadcasting, so it was reassuring that Theo was having the stronger reaction. If Adam had been as driven as his boyfriend to go find an answer to their question, he would have to assume that the connection made between them was faulty and that he and Theo had merged incorrectly. Not only did this information make him worry less about their spell work, but he was also incredibly proud of his boyfriend. Very few people could do blood magic and even fewer could do it correctly. Theo was going to be one of the standout students in their age bracket without any doubt.

“Can I have a pink one? I really like the pink kind.”

Victoriana stared at the collection of treats before her, her eyes lighting up at every selection. Roman had outdone himself, likely to impress the ruling monarch of the largest country and her family. Well, Victoriana was very impressed. She had already tried two different pastries and licked the spoons in the frosting mixing bowl clean, clearing a path to the cupcakes. Each one was a work of art with dazzling designs and specially designed toppings and if she’d been left unsupervised in the room, they would have all been eaten long before her mother had joined them.

“You don’t want to ruin your dinner,” Roman chided softly. “I worked hard on that too and I think you’re going to like it.”

“Does it have peas in it? I don’t like peas. I could just skip the peas and eat a cupcake now. I can’t spoil something I’m not going to eat.”

Roman smiled at the preteen, seeing so much of Theo and his girls in the young princess. If he had a dollar for every bargain Theo had tried to make to avoid eating vegetables, he wouldn’t be worrying about supporting his restaurant like he was.

“Sorry princess, but your mom’s the boss and she says no skipping dinner for cupcakes. You can help me start the cake icing if you want though. It should be- oh, goddamn it!”

Roman swore far too loudly for a dignified palace when he stumbled and watched the cupcake in his hands fly through the air, ruining a solid twenty minutes of work.

Theo ran down the stairs, not even hiding the fact that he was running from within the forbidden area of the castle.

“Remy! Remy!”

Remy looked irritably at Theo as he stormed into the room, thankfully sparing her the need to think of something mundane to talk about with their target.

“Theo, thank god. What took you so long? Were you and Adam making out somewhere when you know that you had a prior commitment? I can’t stand this anymore. It’s not even possible that I’m related to this guy, he’s an asshole.”

Ewan didn’t look surprised to hear Remy’s frustrated confession and ordinarily, that would have sent Theo spiraling to think up a new story. But now?

His heartbeat thundered in his temple as he tried to make sense of the scene before him. Remy and Ewan sat on a couch, barely hiding their disdain for each other. He blinked and saw an entirely different scene before him, one he could hardly fathom.

Blood pulsed through their veins and Theo could feel Remy and Ewan’s heartbeats as strongly as his own. Remy’s blood pressure was rising with her anger. She was born in Pleasantview, he could see her ties to the land, where she’d began. Her paternal great-grandmother’s name was Remy and they both had black hair and the same freckles. He could see both Remy’s in his mind as clearly as if they were standing side by side before him. Her maternal great-grandfather Adam Thompson stepped into view as well as her paternal great-grandfather Prince Adam Walter. Their names seeped out of them, ebbing into Theo’s mind. The two Adams joined hands and pointed at Theo’s now glowing hand that had been linked to Adam Darktide and suddenly an image of his own Adam stepped into view. Blood called to blood and names called to names; everything was connected.

He turned his eyes to Ewan, who was still eerily staring at him. His name was Ewan MacLeod and he’d been born in Pleasantview to Lynette MacLeod. Two Remys and three Adams turned to welcome him into Theo’s sight. 

“Ewan.” Theo whispered the word into life and watched several new lights spark into existence like tiny beacons of flames. Prince Ewan and Ewan Jr Goldman appeared, but Theo looked past them. That wasn’t the branch of the Maricourt-Darktide  family tree he was interested in. No, he wanted Ewan G Lind Maricourt, Adam and Remy’s father. 

The Maricourts were a secretive family and several members had just a single G hung in their name, seemingly just to frustrate those who sought out their true names. If Theo concentrated, using his connection to Adam, he could get a sense of the vague shape of the G starting name, but nothing came clearly into vision. It was an interesting tactic for self defense, one that Theo envied. Adam didn’t know the name either, which just raised more questions for the teen. Did the children named with the mysterious G name know what it stood for? Did they learn it before they passed on the name to their children or had the true name been lost to the centuries? Was just “G” accurate enough to provide protection against blood magic if no one knew the actual true name or did “G” become the true name if no one remembered what it stood for? This was a question Theo vowed to raise with his teachers later on. There was so much to see and learn with blood magic and he’d barely scratched the surface of his abilities. Why had he never tried practicing his spells on this scale before? Surely this must be how Life and Death saw the universe, each little spark igniting a chain reaction until the entire universe revealed its secrets.

Theo somehow pulled himself away from the Maricourt naming dilemma to the Maricourt family dilemma. It wasn’t easy. He could stare at the interconnections in his world for centuries and still not learn it all.

He watched as Ewan G Lind Maricourt settled back into view, holding his hand out towards the burning brilliance of Adam and Remy. A spark floated by them echoing Miruna’s name and Theo let it pass. He was getting closer. His own voice called out to him, repeating the name he’d used to create the pact in the first place.

“Ewan, uh, Maricourt?”

It wasn’t exact. Every Ewan in Adam’s family tree rose again to obscure his view. He squeezed his eyes shut, focused as hard as he could and repeated the name. The blood in his veins boiled as the magic rebelled against him. A sharp pain burned its way into his mind, but it was becoming clearer. His target was Ewan MacLeod, child of Pleasantview, child of Lynette and child of Ewan G Lind Maricourt.

Theo gasped at the strength of the connections before him. Ewan MacLeod blazed beside his siblings with the intensity of a star. He had been telling the truth all along; he was Adam’s brother.

His teachers would tell him to stop there now that he had his answer, but Theo was hooked on the revelations before him. Curious, he turned his attention inward. He might never get another chance to see himself like this, or at least not until he was almost graduating school. It was eerie seeing his own existence stretched out before him.

Theodosius Ulysses Bellamy, born in Arkhelios in a small section of land surrounded by dark churning water. Darkness surrounded him. He could feel the weight of the curse he had been born with just as intensely as he remembered it. It tied him to Abraham Helios Sr and the death that awaited him by a demon’s hand, to the curse seared into the flesh of Romanus Bellamy. Death and hatred surrounded Theo, clouding his vision. He felt the slow burning hatred of his ancestors, ancestors who harboured this hatred for Theo as well. They wanted him dead. He was supposed to be dead.

“Theo? Are you okay? You’re kind of creeping me out here.”

Remy’s words of concern faded into the background, irritating the young teen but not penetrating the haze he found himself in. There was something strong pulling to him and he needed to follow it with every molecule in his body, safety be damned. An image of his great-uncle Hunter Bellamy floated towards him, slowing him down. Hunter had been born Theo Helios and Theo himself had been named to honour this fact. He never really saw Hunter Bellamy due to his terrible relationship with Roman, but Theo could still sense his connection to the man. Their true names were both Theo which joined them both in blood and by name. Theo didn’t know the first thing about Hunter or his life, but the connection between them was strong.

He could feel the warmth of his father’s light burning in the castle down the hall, calling to him. Just as Ewan and Adam and Remy circled their father, Theo was called to his. Pain jolted through him as the memory of his curse wrapped around his body, seeking re-entry. This wasn’t right, the curse had been broken years ago, or so he’d believed. This all consuming darkness hadn’t left him. It called to every part of him, longing to be reunited. He had developed as a fetus with the darkness pressing itself into his very being; he could feel the inevitability of its return in his very soul. It had been a part of him that was amputated, but a still a part of him all the same.

Theo removed himself from the room somehow, whether by walking or teleporting or even just magically floating away from the Darktide family, he couldn’t be sure. He could hear laughter calling to him even stronger.

The princess was laughing at his father, who now had cupcake smeared along the edge of his coat and a frustrated expression.

The words Romanus Bellamy called to him, intertwining with the brilliant light standing beside him that spelled Victoriana. Victoriana had many names and many titles, but she was young and unguarded enough for Theo to see past those, far closer to her true name than he should ever be. Through Adam’s connection to his newly discovered half-brother, Theo had learned more about Ewan’s identity. He had a devastating suspicion about why he could see through the titles of the crown princess of Pleasantview. Of why she shone so brilliantly next to his father. He had gone searching for an answer to Adam’s family mystery and revealed a crushing answer of his own by accident. Just when he thought that his respect for his father couldn’t get any lower.

Theo was the half-brother of the future monarch of Pleasantview. His father had been hiding this secret all this time; hiding this shame. When was Theo going to find out about this? Was his father ever planning to tell him? Did his other father know?

He could feel the darkness that surrounded him pull him closer. It brushed against his eyes, swirling in his nostrils as he inhaled the anger and hurt and fear he had been made for. Perhaps this was why his teachers urged him to not actively practice blood magic until he was older. He remembered vividly being overwhelmed as a child when he ran away from home and tried practicing blood magic untrained. He had almost died back then. Maybe the curse he’d spent his entire life running away from would kill him now. It didn’t matter, not really. 

Theo could faintly hear the sound of his father’s voice call to him, but it was too late. He was underwater, drifting away into the comforting embrace of the curse that had been custom made just for him. He couldn’t feel the anger anymore; he couldn’t feel anything really. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was the sound of Adam’s voice, calling him desperately back to safety.

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios adventures #adam darktide #sim: Adam Darktide #Ewan MacLeod #roman bellamy #sim: theo bellamy #theo bellamy #Victoriana Goldman #sim: Victoriana Goldman #Remy Darktide

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Familiar Faces - Dinner and Discoveries Part 3

Summary: Elijah Gilbert has been haunted by dreams of other lives as long as he remembers, but now with the appearance of the Salvatore brother he may finally get some answers.

I figured I should put this here.

---

Elijah wakes up the next morning feeling surprisingly well slept, a night without a dream was rare. The surprise of it made it several minutes before he remembered what had led to it.

He’s already dressed in the cheer uniform, when Elena joined him in the kitchen he was already apologising when she interrupted to apologise herself and tell him she was quitting the team.

He blinked at her, that would explain the lack of matching outfit.

“If you're sure,” he shrugged, “but Aunt Jenna’s going to be disappointed we’re not going to match.” he told her before asking, “ so what happened after i went to bed?”

“Oh right, are you ok?” she ignored his question to scan him for any sign of visible sickness, 

“Best sleep i’ve had for awhile, i’m guessing my body hit a wall on the sleep i've been missing.” he explained “Who was at the door?”

“Caroline, and Damon.” she answered with a shrug, as she started making her coffee.

“Really.” he said, taking a long drink of his tea to cover the way he had tensed, “What for?”

“Caroline invited herself,” Elena told him, “it wasn’t too bad we got to know Damon, i don’t think he’s all bad, just messed up after Katherine died i think.”

“She died?”

“Yeah a fire, he said it was recent,”she said as she sat across from him at the table, coffee in hand, “he also didn’t know about their brother.”

“What?” he choked on his tea, ‘how don’t you know your younger brother died?’ he thought an odd emotion growing in his chest, he ignored it and focused on Elena.

“He knew but not at nine, he thought he was older. Apparently he thought their dad had sent him away.” Elena explained before adding “I don't think Damon and their dad got on.”

Elijah didn’t respond, instead cupped his hands around his mug, ‘understatement’ he thought.

Burn scar that was always on Dam’s arm.

Hiding as they shouted, until the sound of flesh on flesh, throwing himself to the floor with a loud cry, a room away, because it made father stop, and kept Dam with him. 

—-

Elijah doesn’t hate red, not quite like the unexplainable hatred of White.

Complete explainable considering the years EJ was surrounded by it

He just understands there can been too much red, such as the uniform he wore, the outfit was far thinner and tighter than any he normally wore, the absence of his preferred layers and his bare arms, had him wishing he had joined Elena but he was aware that if they had both quit Caroline would be unbearable and while he sister could ignore her guilt trips elijah’s wouldn’t be so lucky.

He had let Elena go ahead to explain her choice to Caroline going to his locker to leave a book. Which meant he was crossing the field alone.

“Looking good Gilbert!” He heard called before he managed to make it to the girls, turning he wasn’t surprised to find Grant from the football team heading towards him with two of the others following.

“Where’s the skirt?” Marcus asked, Elijah wondered if he was aware of his mother’s affair

“On the girls, while I could no doubt pull it off, it was decided I would be too much of a distraction.” He smiled at them, while petty insults weren’t enough for him to respond with airing their families issues, it was alway nice to have the upper hand even if they didn’t.

“Leave him be guys, it's the closest he’s ever going to come to a proper team uniform.” the last in the group laughed.

“That might bother me if I was as insecure as any of you,”he told them “thankfully i know i’m more than the ability to throw and catch a ball.” he explained, smirking as their grins dimmed “i’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

When he managed to join the girls it seemed seeing him in the uniform Caroline had pushed at him the day before was enough to pull her from her pout at Elena’s quitting.

“Why is it sleeveless?” he asked the thing that had been bothering him since he left the house, most the other guys’ cheer uniforms had sleeves and longer shirts that didn’t rid up as much

“To match us.” Caroline tells him brightly.

“Could be worse.” Tiki smirked, eyeing him, before he could say anything Bonnie finished for her.

“Shorts.”

“Ok i accept that,” he admitted for all he was confident he could pull off a skirt or shorts he felt cold at just the thought “but why?” he added as he stretched his arms above him, raising the hem on the shirt with it to show his stomach.

“To match us.” Caroline repeated, “I designed it, you’re, like, the first boy on the team in years. I needed to update it.”

Caroline looked so fond and proud of her work he smothered any further complaints, and the idea of a crop top version flashed through his mind.

He’ll be happy with what he got.

—

Elijah didn’t normally jump into a fight so quickly but after the wood and knowing the tension between Jeremy and Tyler, he was moving the moment Vicki’s voice caught his ears when he noticed Tyler’s absence from the team line up.

He’s not sure what he blames on his actions when he arrives to see Tyler’s arm in Stefan’s grip.

Jermey on the ground behind them, his eyes caught his bloodied nose before he moved.

He punched him, his fist going smacking against Tyler’s cheek hard enough that for a moment Stefan was the only thing holding him up.

“JEREMY NO!”

He looked back to where Jeremy was in time to raise his hand to catch the broken glass.

It burned, sharp and painful.

‘I’m sure the grand Elijah can take more.’ Sir- Mr de Martel gloats, the bloodied knife in his hand.

Then several things at once happened, Stefan let go of Tyler and stumbled back, Matt arrived to grab Tyler, Jeremy realised who he had slashed and Elena arrived.

“Shit!”

“ELIJAH!”

“I didn’t-”

“Jeremy!”

“Great choice on sleeveless.” he heard himself say as he stared at the open wound across his hand and wrist, Caroline let out a surprised little laugh.

“This wasn’t why” she muttered.

“The pair of you need-” Elena said little between them, Jeremy’s bloodied face, his bleeding hand held up.

Elijah watches his blood drip, the jagged wound cut across his palm and down his wrist, for a minute he's not outside, he’s in his room barely containing his giggles as he watches the red swallow white.

“He’s the one who got involved.” Jeremy snapped, pulling Elijah back as he  yanked his arm away from Elena, his attempt to use anger to cover the guilt was clear to Elijah even as the pain in his arm was confusing him on where he was.

Focus of Jeremy he reminded himself, suddenly feeling angry.

“Tyler could have pressed charges, anyone else might have.” he hissed as he pressed the cloth, that he had gotten from a quiet Bonnie, into his hand and forced it to curl despite the pain and grabbed Jeremy with his good hand before he could flee. “I've been leaving this to Elena but are you really so stuck in your own head?” He found himself snapping, words too loud to be said with an audience. 

He ignored that voice in his head telling him ‘not now’, as he noticed Caroline, Bonnie and Stefan still close, Tyler and Matt further away with the team, but he was tired of watching Jeremy spiral and keeping everything to himself, waiting for him to talk when all it had gotten was Jeremy believing he had shut himself off.

Terrified, he'd start seeing the street version of himself willing to do anything for another fix, an escape, in Jeremy.

They wanted him to be open so they could deal with it.

“Selfish,” he snapped when he found Jeremy staring at him, “you’re not the only one that lost them. Elena, Aunt Jenna, me, but you're the one who’s decided to self-destruct and make it more difficult for the rest of us.” 

“You don’t-”

“You want us to stop caring, not going to happen.” he bit out cutting Jeremy before he could say anything else stupid. “You want to go down, I'm following you.” he told him, bringing the bloody hand between them, the open wound on his wrist was still bleeding steadily, “Let’s count this as the first, because if you keep this up it won’t be the last scar I gain.” he said with confidence, a odd feeling filling him, like he had done this before. Jeremy stared at him with wide eyes.

He let go of Jeremy after that, letting him storm away.

“You need to take tonight off.” Caroline told him before Elena could start fetting.

“I can still hold a banner,” he tried but gave in at the sight of both Caroline and his twin looking at him in disapproval. “Fine, let me bandage it and I'll sit on the sidelines.”

“We need to have it looked at.” Elena started.

“You might need stitches” Stefan added, Elijah blinked at the reminder that he was still there, he looked over to find Stefan staring at his dripping wrist intensity.

“You need to go.” he told him, almost glaring at him, “the games’ about to start.” he turned to Caroline and Bonnie and added “ you too.” to hopefully stop it from looking like he had a problem with Stefan.

Stef wouldn’t hurt him- it hurts- sharp pain in his neck.

A century was enough to gain control. A part of him that understood what was going on, that had seemingly accepted vampires were real.

Clearly that part was mad and needed to be ignored.

They left and he allowed Elena to pull him to the first aid station where the nurst was set up in case of any injuries.

“What you said to Jeremy-” Elena started to ask.

“I shouldn’t have said it in front of everybody.” he sighed,

“How long have you been holding all that in?” she asked leaning into him

“Since after the funeral, when he snapped at you and you still covered for him to aunt Jenna.” he confessed.

“I thought you didn’t care.” Elena told him and it hurt, he was trying to make it easier on them not worse.

“Sorry I thought it would be easier if I didn't.”

“On who?” she asked

“Myself, you, Aunt Jenna.“ he admitted,

“We’re all gone about this wrong, Jah.” she told him,

“I don’t think there’s a right way to grieve, Na” he replied

“Definitely not Jeremy’s way at least,” Elena added after a moment, shaking the sober mood with it.

“Yeah,” he nodded “we can agree that’s worst.” he winced as he opened his fist, pulling the cloth from the cut and unleashing more blood

“Stop playing with it.” Elena yelled, slapping his shoulder.

He smiled as was about to complain when he noticed the necklace around her neck.

“Wh-where’d you get that necklace?” he asked, not quite stopping the stutter, Elena he thinks blames it on the cut, blood loss or pain, it didn’t matter when she frowned but answered anyway.

“Stefan gave it to me, are you sure we shouldn’t get you to the hospital, at least let me call Aunt Jenna.”

“No” he shook his head “No, you go ahead to watch the game, i’ll call Jenna once the nurse has looked at it.” he smiled when she gave in and left him.

He stuck around just long enough to get his hand and wrist bandaged, leaving as soon as he could to find Stefan.

He knew that necklace, had been drawing it since he was a child, but it didn’t belong to his dreams of the ‘sick child’ or any possible Salvatore.

It was from the strange timeless ones before them, on the neck of a sharply smiling blonde girl. 

It was sketched in painstaking detail in the back of every notebook.

That necklace belonged with the language he shouldn’t know and the runes he couldn’t read.

Why couldn’t he be normal? 

—-

Stefan was so sure of him, Damon was going to have to correct him

“Salvatore!” the coach called “What the hell? We've got a game to play!.” giving Damon a perfect opportunity to show Stefan right away, and he was about the tell stefan just that when another voice joined it.

“Stefan!” Elijah Gilbert panted as he ran towards them.

 Damon watched Eli, at seventeen living, breathing, healthier than Damon ever used to let himself dream, came jogging up to them.

“Gilbert, i’m talking.” the Coach who owed his continued breathing of Elijah alone shouted. 

He had seen the photos but it was something else to see him in the flesh, Alive, it almost hurt but in a good way.

“Where did you get the necklace?” Elijah asked as he arrived in front of them, eyes on Stefan alone, Damon would feel insulted if it didn’t give him time to stare without issue, to take in and memorise what his little brother would have grown into, did grow into.

“Gilbert!” The coach tried again, and Damon, once again reminded himself that killing one of his littlest brother’s teachers in front of him was a bad first impression, human’s didn’t take it well.

Stefan deserved the hell he had promised him, Elijah hadn’t done a thing.

Except die.

“Your hand.” Stefan’s worried words pulled his attention to the white wrapping  the teenager’s wrist, he narrowed his eyes but reminded himself he'd have time for that sort of thing later.

Wouldn’t do to scare Elijah away if he didn’t have any of his memories of them yet.

It was unlikely though as Eli’s dreams had started haunting him around five if not before and he just couldn’t explain them.

“No-” Elijah shook his head and grabbed Stefan with both hands, ignoring the stinging pain he had to have gotten from bending the wrapped hand “Where did you get the necklace?”

“Why does it-” Damon watched as Stefan looked at the boy in confusion until movement caught his eye and he moved.

“Gil-” he cut the coach off with a hand around his throat when he reached for the boy. The boy apparently didn’t notice, the necklace was too important to him it seemed.

Where had Stefan found it for it to cause this reaction.

“It predates you.” he heard Elijah hiss, the boy sounded confused and angry at his own words.

“What?” Stefan asked in confusion, which Damon would agree if he didn’t have an idea what was going on.

“You’ve seen it in your dreams?” he asked, his smile fading when Elijah turned to look at him. 

“Dam.” Elijah looked at him with recognition, before his eyes rolled back and he fainted. 

—-

Elijah had just enough time to take in a familiar face, and eyes he knew were blue despite the dim light, before the black spots he had been ignoring swallowed his vision.

—-

Damon watched as Stefan caught Elijah before he could hit the floor.

He didn't let himself feel too worried, Elijah’s heart was beating steady, he’d likely pushed himself too much looking for Stefan after whatever had caused the cut he could smell under the bandage.

‘Dam’ Elijah had called him, he remembered already, even if it was only a little Damon would bring the rest of his memories back.

But that was for later, now with Elijah out cold, there were no witnesses, he thought with a smile, the coach was still struggling in his hand.

“You were saying something about my humanity…” he said, getting Stefan's attention from where he was trying to wake Eli and pulling the coach closer “really then what's this?” he asked, and tore through the coach’s throat.

“No!” Stefan shouted uselessly but kept hold of Elijah twisting to put himself between them.

“Anyone, anytime, any place.” he gloated as a reminder..

“Even him.” Stefan asked, nodding to the teenager he was holding up.

‘It was odd to see his little brother and littlest brother the same age.’ he thought.

“Of course not.” he admitted allowing himself another look at Elijah, almost peaceful in his sleep, “I have plans for our lost little brother.”

“They're not the same.”

Oh poor Stefan, he thought, Isn’t he?

—

Stefan carries Elijah away from the school and the coach’s body, he wasn’t going to leave him there, couldn’t risk him being linked.

It wasn’t hard to slip into the Gilbert’s house and Elijah’s room to lay him on his bed, forcing himself not to look at anything and taking scratches from the angry black and white cat while barely avoiding the teeth from the smaller black one when he pulled Elijah’s phone out to text Elena that he went home. 

Mr. Tanner was dead because he had pushed Damon on his humanity.

“Anyone, anytime, any place.”

Lives didn’t matter to Damon, he couldn’t be left to do as he wanted, even if he still contained a hint of humanity. The way he had moved when Coach had reached for Elijah, the look in his eyes when he looked at Elijah.

“I have plans for our lost little brother.”

Eli had already been killed by one older brother, he didn’t need the other destroying the life of some poor kid that looked like him, in his memory.

—-

Elijah woke up in the middle of the night for once not due to strange too-real dreams but due to abnormally loud snarled hisses and growls.

He blinked as sat up, surprised to find Kit and Luci weren’t snarling at each other but both at the empty window.

“What got into you guys?” he asked as both cats turned at his voice, Luci came straight to headbut his chin, digging his claws into his thigh, while Kit began to settle down and curl in his lap.

He sat for a moment before giving up on staying awake and fell backwards onto his pillow with a loud sigh, Luci took the opportunity to settle on his chest and neck, he was asleep again within seconds.

He never noticed Damon Salvatore standing outside the widow.

—-

Defeated by a pair of cats, ‘Stefan should employ the felines to guard Elena’ Damon thought as he listened to Elijah fall back to sleep. Getting into her room had been simple, he hadn’t expected he would have been chased away by a pair of overgrown furballs when he tried Elijah’s.

‘Your lucky Elijah likes you’ he glared through the window.

Two pairs of reflective eyes looked back, from where they curled on top of the sleeping boy.

#tvd #fic #Elena Gilbert #Bonnie Bennett #caroline forbes #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #Elijah Mikaelson #tvd fanfiction #au- Familiar faces #the vampire dairies au #fanfiction #the vampire diaries

[buttercupsandboys]

The Pickpocket - Alfie x Reader ❄️

Hello and Merry Christmas! 🎄 This is my super last minute contribution to @raincoffeeandfandoms Christmas Fic Event!

I haven’t written in a while (it’s been so long that I can’t even get onto Tumblr from my laptop 🙈) so I’m posting this from my phone. So please excuse if:

My writing is a bit rusty

The formatting is horrible (will try and fix later!)

Request: Alfie x Reader, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mild smut and angst (I hope!)

Summary: Sometimes life doesn’t go as planned, but with big risks come big rewards.

Word count: 2150

Camden Town, 1907

She wasn’t Jewish, and his mother would never approve, but fuck, she was beautiful.

Y/N had large eyes, like a puppy, framed by long thick lashes. Eyes you could lose yourself in.

And Alfie did.

She was a thief. A pickpocket and a good one too. But seeing as what Alfie did for a living wasn’t exactly legal, he didn’t hold it against her.

It didn’t hurt that she stuck to her own people.

In fact, Y/N seemed to find a certain joy in stealing from the Sunday crowds as they emptied from the churches like rain from the heavens.

Alms for the poor, she liked to say.

At nineteen, Alfie wasn’t a virgin, which meant he knew enough to worry for his young friend.

Although, in truth, he wasn’t sure about her age. Life on the streets made people cold, hard and brittle beyond their years.

But then Y/N’s eyes…

Those big, beautiful eyes would be a blessing had she been born to a wealthy family. He imagined her sheltered and protected while batting those long lashes at a line of potential suitors.

But there was no wealthy family.

There wasn’t any family.

Which left no one but Alfie to worry when those innocent eyes would get her into trouble.

Someone would take her.

Or maybe one day, too many pockets would turn up empty, and she would make a choice he didn’t like to think about.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Alfie grumbled as he watched Y/N slip through the crowds like sand through an hourglass. She flashed a wide grin as she approached, slyly presenting him with a silver pocket watch. He wasn’t impressed. “I saw him, Y/N. He was a big fucker. You’re taking too many risks, pet.”

“The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward,” Y/N teased, slipping a hand along the inside of his arm. It wasn’t proper, but it always made him stand a bit taller. “Don’t go soft on me, Alfie.”

He scoffed. “Someone needs to go hard on you. That’s the problem.”

Y/N stopped and spun around, looking him straight in the eye despite their considerable height difference.

“And that’s gonna be you one day, Alfie?”

He shifted uncomfortably, straining against his trousers, and wondered if Y/N knew what she did to him.

“Damn fucking straight.”

He saw her the next morning, dancing in the snow.

“It’s fucking cold, Y/N.”

“It’s fucking beautiful, Alfie.”

The holidays were approaching, and while neither cared much for tradition, there was no denying something in the air.

A festive spirit, you might call it.

As Alfie watched her catch snowflakes with her tongue, cheeks pink from the cold, he wondered if he could scrape together enough for a gift.

But Y/N would sell whatever he brought her.

Bread then.

“Alfie! Alfie, open up.”

Alfie groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His small flat was bitterly cold despite his mum’s attempt to warm it before leaving for the day.

He rolled over and decided to ignore the knocking.

“C’mon Alfie, it’s me. Hurry up.”

Sigh.

“Yeah, alright. Just a fucking minute.” He lumbered across the room and yanked the door open. “The fuck you want, Ollie—“

The words died on his lips when he saw her.

Y/N was half-conscious in Ollie’s scrawny arms, her eyes glassy and skin flushed. Alfie rushed forward to take her from him, cradling her small body against his broad chest and wrapping her in his warmth.

“I had a delivery this morning and saw her down by Bonny Street. I didn’t know where else to take her.”

Alfie cursed under his breath. “She told me she had a place to stay for a while with some girls by the docks.”

“Maybe she found trouble?” Ollie offered.

“You think?” Alfie snapped.

He tried to keep his temper under control, but he could feel it bubbling under his skin. He was angry at Ollie, angry at himself, angry at the fucking world. She was alone and sick, and what the fuck could he do for her?

“She needs a doctor.”

“You’re just full of helpful advice this morning, ain’t ya?”

They both knew there was no money for doctors.

Alfie pulled back his blanket and gently laid her on his bed, brushing a dark curl from her forehead. Y/N slowly opened her eyes.

He tried not to lose himself.

“There you are, sweetheart. How ya feeling?”

Y/N smiled softly but didn’t respond. Her eyes closed again, and his heart dropped. She was fucking freezing.

Ollie left for work as Alfie gathered blankets, his coat, anything and everything he could find to warm her, which wasn’t much. He stoked the fire and held her hand, silently urging her to wake up.

But then the shaking started.

“Y/N,” Alfie murmured, running his strong hands over the threadbare blanket, cringing at her tremors. She was so thin and so, so cold.

He knew what he had to do.

Hoping his mum wouldn’t surprise them by stopping home between jobs, Alfie stripped off his shirt and climbed into bed. Y/N curled into him, burying her face in his chest, her breath coming in shallow pants against his bare skin.

Alfie froze, panicking because she felt so right, but everything about this was so wrong, and he wanted so badly for her to wake the fuck up.

Because what would he do if she didn’t?

He closed his eyes and gave in, threading his fingers through her hair, pressing her closer, breathing her in.

They laid that way for hours, his heart swelling as she alternated between cold sweats and feverish chills.

And he prayed.

Her fever broke just before midnight. A Christmas miracle, she would call it. Somehow Alfie managed to scrape together enough for a room where Y/N could stay while she recovered.

The next day, a job went south.

Alfie was given a choice: serve his sentence or serve the Crown.

He enlisted shortly after.

France, 1917

The line wrapped around the block, and it should have disgusted him. It would have once; men lined up like cattle to rut with a few tired whores.

But after three years on the front, what was a cheap fuck next to the blood and the mud?

Nothing shocked him anymore.

Still, Alfie thought about leaving. He only had three days leave for the holidays, and he was bone fucking tired. The thought of a warm, clean bed was almost as tempting as getting his cock sucked.

Almost.

With a sigh, he dragged his muddy boots down the lane until a buxom Frenchwoman, looking equally weary beneath her thick makeup, accepted his money and directed him down the hall.

“Twenty minutes, monsieur!” she called out after him.

Alfie nodded but didn’t look back, keeping his eyes down as he opened the creaky door, grimacing at the smell of sex and stale cigarettes. He prayed she was quiet; he was in no mood for mindless conversation.

“A-Alfie?”

His head snapped up, and he froze.

She was older, but her eyes were exactly the same.

He tried not to lose himself.

“Y/N?” he whispered as his mind rushed to catch up. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.

Alfie stepped forward, and his fingers reached for her, but it was like a dream, like reaching for the stars. His hand fell to his side when she didn’t answer.

“Y/N?” he repeated, his tone harsher than intended.

“What do you think?” she finally snapped, stepping forward and looking him straight in the eye despite their considerable height difference. “Why do you think I’m here?” she asked, softer this time.

Alfie had the decency to blush, feeling like a fool as he put together the obvious. One of his greatest fears had come to life. He wanted to apologise but thought better of it.

“Take a seat, pet. Let’s talk. It’s been a long time.”

“Talk?” Y/N laughed, and his heart ached because she looked so much like the girl he once knew. “You only get twenty minutes, Alfie. The madame is a strict one. Best make the most of it.”

“Fuck off, Y/N—“

She cut him off by stepping forward, gently tracing the scar on his cheek, still fresh, the skin raw and angry.

“You’re exactly the same, Alfie,” Y/N whispered, pushing the straps of her flimsy gown down her shoulders, wiggling as it slid over her hips, leaving her bare.

Alfie swallowed thickly, unable to look away.

“Always trying to take care of me,” she continued, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw, her breath warm, familiar. “How about this time, you let me take care of you.”

He groaned as their lips met, still fighting with himself. After all these years, he still dreamt of her, still thought of her small body pressed tightly against his.

Not like this, though.

But nothing shocked him anymore.

Y/N pulled his shirt over his head, and when he felt her bare skin against his, he stopped thinking. Nothing mattered, nothing but this.

After ten years, they had twenty minutes.

His calloused hands—the dirt embedded in his knuckles, under his nails, no matter how hard he scrubbed—traced down her spine to cup her bottom, pulling her tighter as his lips traced hers. Y/N whined against him, a sound full of so much longing his heart nearly broke, but then she found him, sliding her hand down the front of his trousers, and he caught himself matching her, note for note.

It had been so long since he touched anyone without intending to take their life. Now he was here with Y/N, and she was stroking him, sliding his trousers down his narrow hips as she led him to the bed. Alfie fell on top of her as she wrapped her legs around him, open and inviting, giving all of herself and asking nothing in return.

He cried out when he entered her, burying his face in her shoulder, his eyes stinging because it had been so fucking long. Now he finally felt at home—and how the fuck was he supposed to go out and fight a war after this?

But Y/N seemed to understand.

She wrapped him in her arms, arched her hips, and whispered the words he needed to hear. And when it was all too much, when the pleasure overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t hold back his release any longer, she fucked him through it, cradling his body, accepting him, scars and all.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, the clock ticking.

“Y/N,” Alfie said when his heart finally slowed enough for him to speak. “After the war—“

“Alfie, no.”

He raised his head, feeling confused, and ignored her.

“Y/N, when we get—“

“Alfie, stop!”

She pressed a thin finger against his full lips.

“Don’t make me any promises,” she whispered. “Hope only makes it worse.”

Alfie opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Their twenty minutes was up.

Camden Town, 1921

Fuck, he hated the cold. It irritated his sciatica, and he had no choice but to lean heavily on his cane.

“Ollie!” He barked, feeling old beyond his years. “Make it fucking quick.”

Alfie checked his watch and grumbled under his breath about the time before slipping it back in his pocket. He was eager to return to the bakery—a shipment was going out—but Ollie insisted they drop off their annual donation in person.

On account of Hanukkah and all...

But Alfie wasn’t in the festive spirit.

What the fuck was this idiot doing?

It was late. The shipment was delayed, and Alfie was in a foul fucking mood. He wanted nothing more than to hurry home to his big empty bed and sleep off the day.

But someone was dancing in the streets, holding up traffic.

He pressed loudly on the horn and cursed.

“Ollie!” Alfie roared.

His assistant popped his head around the corner, somewhat hesitantly, knowing his friend-turned-boss and recognising his bad temper.

“Yes, Alfie?”

“Have you seen my fucking watch?”

Ollie raised a brow in confusion. “Your watch?”

Alfie exploded. “Yes, Ollie. My fucking watch. It tells the time.” He patted his pockets helplessly. “It’s always fucking here, and now it’s not.”

Ollie opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a melodic voice floated in from the hall.

“It was a bit risky. You are a big fucker.”

Alfie’s jaw dropped as she walked through the door, Ollie taking one look between them and making a quick exit.

“But you know what they say,” Y/N continued, slowly walking around the desk and smiling. “The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.”

She had large eyes, like a puppy, framed by long thick lashes. Eyes you could lose yourself in.

And Alfie did.

The end ❄️

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