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002yb · 8 months

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"How did you find me?"

Because it's been a lifetime for both of them. Because Jon was there one day and gone the next - taken someplace where Damian could never follow. Jon was missing and Damian couldn't find him, help him, save him.

Because Jon was a bright-eyed boy stolen away before he was beaten to be something less and forged into something more. He's different in all the ways that matter and all the ways that don't.

For all the relief Jon feels to be home, he's resentful that he was brought back to a place he doesn't fit anymore.

It's painful. It's distressing. And Jon wants to be that warm, kindhearted, foolhardy boy he was before - adaptable and adventurous, untouchable and invincible because youth is that way, but Jon thinks that boy burned and all that's been left behind is brittle obsidian - sharper than steel and easily broken.

"From your heartbeat."

Because seven years is too many, but even a lifetime couldn't be enough for Jon to forget it.

His pulse. His breaths. The way his feet strike the earth. His smooth-spoken articulate, the click of his tongue. The way he mourns and the stillness that follows it.

"You know my heartbeat?"

Intimately. Ardently. Jon listened for it across time and space and circumstance - only Jon could never tell if it was something he genuinely heard or if he clung so hard to his memories of it that he was able to delude himself into thinking it was there.

"Yeah." Jon breathes, eyes closing so that he can listen for it again - so it can be all he hears.

"What is it like?"

"Steady. Strong." Jon tells Damian around a fond, melancholic smile. Vulnerability might blindside Damian always and forever, but it's been a lifetime for both of them and Jon is - everything has changed and he hasn't found the good in it yet; he's home, but he doesn't fit anymore. "I missed it."

There's a beat and it's not so much that Damian's heart stutters so much as it settles. Because Damian knows. He feels it, too.

I missed you.

"I don’t know yours." Damian admits after a few beats more. "I only know what it is to be without it."

"What’s it like?" Jon asks.

City lights pollute the sky, but far below where they stand on a high-rise, the yellow-gold glow from windows and the flash of traffic stops and taillights feels as beautiful as any star. The noise is easy to let fall away. All Jon hears is the wind and the slow breaths Damian takes that keeps his heart thumping strong in his chest.

"Lonely."

Terribly.

Dreadfully.

"And now?"

Damian turns and finally they make eye contact again. There's a pensiveness to Damian's expression as they take one another in. Making note of all the things that changed because Jon is different now. He feels different in all the ways that matter and all the ways that don't. Jon is home, but he doesn't fit.

The way Damian has to look up, up to meet Jon's gaze is wrong. For all Jon wanted to grow and torment Damian for being the smaller of them, Jon finds no joy in it now.

It feels like something was stolen from him and he mourns it. Anger burns hot through his veins, like ice in his lungs. It's as twisted as Jon feels - tormented until it's something unrecognizable; rage and wrath and anguish. Grief.

Jon wants to go back to that time he was young and brash and untouched by the unfairness in the world. A lifetime has passed and he doesn't know how he fits. He is not steel; he is volcanic glass and every breath he takes feels like it pierces his lungs and Jon is meant to be strong, but all at once the world is unbearably heavy and-

Damian drops his head to Jon's chest and - oh. Everything settles.

"A beat too quick, but strong. Resilient." Damian tells him and Jon blinks hard against the burn in his eyes. There's a lump in his throat that he can't swallow past and if Damian feels the hitch in Jon's chest - he says nothing of it. All Damian does is rest his head over Jon's heart, counting the beats until Jon lets go of his tentativeness and uncertainty and brings his arms around his friend and holds him close, closer until Jon can take Damian's steadily beating heart into his own chest - so that no more lifetimes will pass where he can't feel it. Damian's own arms reach around Jon, his too broad shoulders and the too large span of his back. Damian heaves a sigh and clicks his tongue and Jon doesn't need to see it to know that Damian's scowl has stayed the same. "Never let me be without it, now that I know."

A watery smile pulls at his lips as Jon breaks forward over himself - trying to be small where he is not. He nods, unwittingly lifting Damian off the ground despite Damian's grunts of protest if only to be closer to him after a lifetime apart and marvel the ways Damian has changed - the ways he hasn't.

Jon doesn’t feel himself after everything. Safety and security is something stolen from him - he doesn’t know how to go back to the life he lost. It’s overwhelming, so he closes his eyes and feels Damian's heart beat against his and lets it be his anchor.

@pechaghtlecha

#super sons #damijon #jondami #pechaghtlecha #was thinking about all the damijondami feels you inspire with your masterpieces of art and ahhhhhhhhh i wanted to write something for you #hopefully this is okay ;U;#thank you so much for sharing such loveliness with everyone~#･:*:･(*////∀////*)･:*:･#words

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diazsdimples · 2 months

Note

Prompt: forehead kiss

😘

When Eddie gets home, he can tell something is wrong. Usually, if he has a shift without Buck, his boyfriend will be waiting for him at the door like an enthusiastic golden retriever. Today, however, the house is completely silent when Eddie opens the door.

Worried, Eddie puts his duffel down, kicks off his shoes, and pads down the hallway.

"Buck?" he calls out, listening for signs of life, with concern mounting when he hears none. "Baby, you home?"

Eddie turns the corner into the lounge and there he finds Buck, or what he assumes is Buck as all he can see is a mound of blankets on the couch. There's a small sniffle and the mound shakes, shifting as Buck turns and pokes his head out from his cocoon, revealing his bright red, tear streaked face, and mussed up blond curls.

Quick as a flash, Eddie rounds the couch, dropping to his knees so he's at eye level with Buck, and takes his boyfriends face in his hands.

"Mi amor, what happened? Are you okay?"

Buck sniffs pathetically, rubbing his eyes with the back of his fists, and drops his head back against the cushions. " 'M fine" he croaks, his voice cracked and raw from crying.

Eddie swipes his thumbs across Buck's cheeks, wiping away his tears, and taps his nose with his forefinger. Buck always looks so vulnerable when he cries, giving Eddie the overwhelming urge to wrap himself around Buck and snarl at anything that comes near. He's never been protective or possessive with past relationships before but with Buck, it's different. Buck has such light, such unadulterated joy that Eddie can't help but want to shield him from all that's bad, to be the armour that surrounds Buck, taking the blows instead.

"Sweetheart, you can talk to me. What's going on?" Eddie asks, dipping his head to keep Buck's gaze on him, forcing eye contact. "Please, I want to help."

"It's silly," Buck says with a shaky laugh. "Don't want you to laugh at me."

Eddie tucks a finger under Buck's chin, gently lifting his head upwards. "I would never laugh at you, I promise. Please, tell me?"

Buck shifts so he's sitting upright a bit more. "I was looking at a the card Chris made me when I passed my recertification test, you know, before I had the PE, and then I found the Father's Day card he made me this year and looking at them side by side, seeing how much his handwriting has changed and how he doesn't draw stick figures with ridiculously long legs anymore, but draws actual, real people, it just made me really emotional to think that he's not that tiny 7 year old you introduced me to anymore. Like I said, it's silly."

Eddie can't help but smile at his boyfriend's confession. He himself had been going through similar, mourning the loss of the little boy that would ask him about dogs knowing if they were dogs, and how he used to be able to carry him around all the time. His son is growing up, and it's taken him a moment to get used to it.

"Hey, that's not silly at all. It's an unfortunate part of being a parent, watching your baby grow up, and you mourn who they were when they were little but you also get to watch them flourish and become little adults." Eddie reaches forward and brushes a strand of hair from Buck's forehead. "This is a very normal part of parenting, amor."

"If it's normal then why does it suck so much?"

Eddie laughs as he scratches Buck's head, noting with satisfaction that Buck leans into the touch, his tears not coming as fast anymore.

"Life sucks sometimes," he says sagely, quoting Buck from not two nights prior when Christopher had asked them why he wasn't allowed a PS5 in his room. "But, we get through it together, right?"

Buck's lips quirk upwards in the ghost of a smile, and he nods. "Yeah, I'm glad I've got you, Eds."

Eddie leans forwards and kisses Buck's forehead, inhaling in the scent of the strawberry shampoo he insists on using, a scent that feels so perfect and so much like home to Eddie. "You've always got me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against Buck's forehead as he speaks.

He presses another tender kiss to Buck's forehead, then to his temple, the tip of his nose, and very gently to his lips. "I love you."

Buck nuzzles his nose against Eddie's, before tucking his face into Eddie's neck, circling his arms around his waist. "Love you too, Eds."

They stay like that for a while, tangled up in one another like they're two pieces of a puzzle, made to fit perfectly together. Eddie rubs his hand up and down Buck's back, feeling every bump of his spine, scratching between his shoulder blades, tracing his ears with the tip of his fingers. Buck relaxes in his arms, going soft and pliant as if his body is putty and Eddie's touch is moulding him, bringing him back to the shape of his regular self.

After a while Eddie pulls back and smooths his thumb over Buck's cheek. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I think I will," Buck replies, and Eddie knows, as long as they're together, they can face the world. And there's no one he would rather have at his side, than his Buck.

Fuck around with me and ask things!

#james answers things #buddie snippet #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #manifesting this for anyone who needs a forehead kiss today #pretend I am smooching you all on the head #911 abc #911 buddie #911 fanfic #911

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inklore · 2 years

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the flames of undoing

premise: aemond would ruin you. build you up for a fall that would strip you of your virtue, and give him the power he craved to make you his; if only the fall didn’t feel so magnificent.

pairing: aemond targaryen x (f)reader

word count: 1k+

warnings: fingering, unrealistic activities on top of a dragon, cheating (reader is already betrothed to someone else), dirty talk, light choking, ‘if i can’t have her no one can’ type beat, insinuated possessive!aemond, readers house is not specified.

note: hate this evil little shit but my thirst for him clearly reaches no bounds so please do not speak to me about it. i’d let him wed and bed me in the same breath he kills everyone i know and it’s sick!

The hour is too late for a lady to be out. An hour in which lady’s only find themselves in the mix of compromising situations, and no good implications from the gossipers who take comfort in the nightfall. Ruin the only thing that can come from slipping out of your room without a guard to trail beside you. A lady such as yourself should know better—you do know better, having been taught as much; “your virtue is all you have as a woman” your mother had preached.

The convincing it took for the prince to have you twining your fingers with his as you followed him through the desolate corridors, had been little.

Nor had the convincing to get you to climb atop his dragon; Vhager giving a look enough to have your fingers trembling against her ropes.

“Do you trust me?” Aemond’s pull of your attention stolen away from the beast with a knuckle under your chin, and the twitching of a smile at the corner of his mouth; your dress feeling just a little more tight, humid, the fear of your conviction and lady-like-ness gone with such a little movement—there would come a day you mourned yourself for falling for such touches from the prince.

But tonight it only felt right.

Your trust had been cemented in your curt nod and reassuring smile; in the way Aemond had held your back as you swung a leg over to mount the dragon, as in the way he had situated himself behind you wrapping an arm around your torso to speak softly in your ear, “hold on”.

The gravel of his tone sends a pricking down your spine. All second thoughts become lost to the wrath that could come from the two of you being caught.

The heat of the summer night a flush different to the warmth you feel from Aemonds front pressed to your back. Nor did it hold a light to the coolness of the air whipping against your cheeks as Vhagar rose above the clouds. The sight alone enough to make you feel a child-like joy; the flickering lights of fires down below masked in a fog.

Closing itself off from the two of you.

Isolating your forms from the rest of the landing. From prying eyes. Every rule and lessons on ways of being only significant down there, counted elsewhere but above the skyline where it was only you and the prince.

Vhagar’s figure is enough to block all else out—her power enough to extinguish them all to ash. Leaving only you and Aemond.

To be together without leers and directions on courtship, duties, marriage.

To rule how the prince saw fit. A rule that you’ll come to learn should have stayed as a thought above the clouds.

The feeling of serenity, of being in the hands of a prince that held more than just your girlish heart in his powerful and able palms, moving through the wind and sticking to your body—your insides—like a fast acting poison.

A poison that has all sense of your good virtue replaced with something tempting burning low in your belly.

You understood now. The power one felt when riding a dragon.

Of having a warrior in your corner; pressed to your back, willing to strip you of any and all if it meant your loyalty aligned with his. If it meant you were his.

You knew of loyalty and where yours lied, just as you knew whose hands your heart pounded in.

Betrothals wouldn’t change that.

You belonged to Aemond.

It’s why you don’t stir when he moves a palm across your belly. Or when he pushes the fabric of your dressings up your thigh, giving the cool air and his fingertips access to your core.

You spread further to give him room, your back pressing further into Aemond. The back of your head finding his shoulder when the first press from the pad of his finger is spreading your lips, and nestling itself on your clit.

The moans you let out only heard by Aemond. The breeze of the sky swallowing any noise that could travel meters below; illicit noises meant only for your prince.

“Have you let him touch you?” The warmth of his breath against your ear makes you shiver. The “mmm” Aemond groans against your skin when you shake your head, landing in that pit of fire below your belly—atop of your aching center as his fingers continue to give you pleasure.

A pleasure you’ve only ever explored with yourself in the comfort of your own chambers.

Aemond was ruining you, building you up for a fall that felt too magnificent to not let yourself be taken over by.

You wouldn’t wish it to be anyone else to aid you in your undoing.

The way Vhagar is moving through the sky has the metal of the seat jostling your hips in a thrust that assists in the throb you feel at your entrance.

“Do you get yourself this wet for anyone else?”

“No,” your throat feels too raw to speak, too scratched from your moans; from his name on your lips. “Only you my prince.”

You can feel the hardness between his legs as your backside rubs against him. Can feel his chest heave heavier and deeper, see his knuckles straining on the handle of his dragon. His undoing having come and gone long ago, but continues to edge him to that sinful desire to fall from that build up of pleasure.

The growls mumbled into your neck when his teeth scrape against your skin—his words of if you were grounded he would bed you right, build you up until your wetness allowed him to push inside the tightness of your cunt with ease—make your eyes roll back.

“Ñuhon.”

Valyrian. Mine.

“When you finish on my fingers it cannot be taken back. You will belong to me.” His free hand leaves the safety of its hold to grip below your jaw—the bite of the pressure making you cry out. “I’ll burn the entirety of your house to have you. Nothing will stop me.”

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen one shot #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fic

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wisteriaw0rld · 10 months

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-ˋˏ ༻rengoku x reader༺ ˎˊ-

||synopsis: You waited years in the afterlife to see Rengoku again. He finally comes but he comes way earlier than you yourself had expected. He was finally in your arms again but at what cost?

||pairing: rengoku x gn! reader

“oh my heart it breaks, every step that I take.” -Lana Del Rey

You didn’t know how to feel. The love of your life was here with you again. Standing right in front of you with tears in his eyes. Part of you wanted to cry out of sadness. He didn’t deserve to die. The other part of you wanted nothing more than to hug him and cry tears of joy. He was finally here with you again. But it wasn’t fair, was it?

Demons were horrible creatures. They had been the reason you were in the afterlife in the first place. All because Rengoku couldn’t make it in time to save you after your village had been attacked by upper moon two.

He didn’t make it and for the three years you had been gone, he blamed himself for your death. He remained positive as always. Just as you wanted him to.

“Y/n…?” Rengoku’s voice broke you out of your small trance as he had been staring at you as if you would disappear in seconds. Your bottom lip quivered as you stared back at Rengoku who was a few feet away from you.

“You didn’t deserve death.” You muttered as tears brimmed your eyes. Instantly, Rengoku ran over, enveloping you in a tight hug.

It didn’t take long for you to hug him back. The tears finally fell from your eyes as you let out choked sobs, clinging onto your lover tightly.

“You didn’t either..” Rengoku whispered, tightening the hug as a sad smile formed onto his face.

A million thoughts races through your mind. The night your village was attacked, your whole family passed away. After your death, no one was there to mourn you expect Rengoku and Senjuro. They were the only people that knew you as everyone else passed away the same day you did.

When you had died, only one person lost you. And you were able to comfort him before you died. You told him to continue living happily without you. But the one person that crossed your mind was Senjuro. He had lost both you and his brother. It made your heart ache.

Rengoku pulled away from the hug, looking at your pained expression. “He’ll be okay. He’s strong. I taught him how to be strong.”

More tears escapes as you knew he was talking about Senjuro.

Rengoku was finally here with you again. But it wasn’t fair. You felt horrible having him in your arms again. Conflicting feelings. You felt horrible but relieved. The mixed feelings were eating away at your mind.

Taisho Secret!: Senjuro, despite being absolutely devastated at his older brothers death, knew his brother must be happy to finally be with you again. And Senjuro was happy knowing his brother can now stop blaming himself for your own death.

a/n: something old I found in my drafts that I decided to post since I was too busy to finish requests today!

#demon slayer #demon slayer x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba #x reader #demon slayer fluff #x y/n #rengoku x reader #rengoku fluff #rengoku senjuro #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you

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thel0llip0p · 3 months

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A World Without Sonic

a sonadow prime ficlet, you can guess what it's about.

**disclaimer: i'm not a writer and I did not proofread it lol. this was the idea for my next comic but i got lazy to draw it so i wrote it out instead for now.

tags? sonadow , character death/mourning, platonic shadamy, mention of: tails, knuckles, rouge, big, eggman

____________________

Shadow finds himself in the last spot he was in right before the prism shattering, his arms held out and empty where the blue hedgehog once was, feeling disoriented for only a split second.

The cave!

Wasting no time, the black hedgehog dashes away making his way up to his destination. His heart racing wondering if Sonic made it alive and intact. A pit in his stomach grew on his way over, fearing the outcome. Like Schrödinger's cat, unfortunately there was only one way to find out, whether he liked it or not.

He makes his grand appearance at the mouth of the cave, and without thinking calls out

"Sonic!"

"Shadow??"

His heart dropped. At the scene, Eggman and Sonic's friends all staring blankly at him, both parties equally confused. But sonic was nowhere in sight.

This left him no choice.

"Chaos Control!"

and he disappeared just like that, along with the Paradox Prism.

___

Warping to a secluded location unbeknownst to anyone except himself, he sheltered the prism.

I guess this will have to do for now.

Against his will, he supposed he'd have to be the guardian of this thing for now, not unlike a certain echidna and the master emerald but he knew he couldn't entrust the prism with anyone else other than himself.

Now that the prism was taken care of for now, he could finally think about the burden on his mind.

Sonic...

Did he really not make it ?

He refused to believe that the bundle of blue joy was no longer in existence. He couldn't leave things at that, this warranted further investigation.

He needed answers now.

And he first person that came to mind was...

____

"I really... don't know who you are talking about?" Tails pondered with a hand to his chin. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, Shadow?"

"The name Sonic doesn't ring a bell? Really? Your blue hedgehog best friend? Try to remember."

"I feel like, it's supposed to be familiar but I don't really know. Nothing comes to mind. Sor-"

"Never mind, then."

Shadow walked away.

"Umm.. okay?" Tails shrugged him off, thought left a little dumbfounded.

On to the next one..

_____

"Hey redhead, where's your blue friend Sonic?"

"What did you call me?!" Knuckles didn't take so kindly to the nicknames and much less being interrupted during his midday nap.

"Where's Sonic?"

"Don't know 'im"

He sighed defeatedly and took his leave.

______

Tails didn't know. Knuckles didn't know.

Big and Rouge didn't know either.

Of course Sonic isn't going to be anywhere. He's not here. It's like he never existed. And even knowing this was venture was fruitless, he felt the need to ask everyone anyway, as if he was holding out hope for something.

How stupid. This behaviour wasn't like him.

And there was only one last person left, the only person who could possibly understand even a tiny bit how he felt.

____

"Oh Shadow nice to see you around. You don't normally stroll around so casually, did you need something?" Amy, oh so very cheerful as always.

"Have you seen Sonic?" Shadow was straight to the point.

"Sonic? Ummm.." she gave it some thought. She felt like she was supposed to know who that was and although she didn't, it did make her heart flutter a bit. "Is he your friend?"

"No, he's not my friend, just someone I'm looking for."

"Oh... well I noticed you've been asking and searching around endlessly. He must be someone important to you."

"...Yeah, I guess so." He melancholically looked off into the distance.

The two of them were sitting on a hill with a nice view of the green hill landscape.

"If you don't mind, can you tell me more about Sonic? Who was he? What happened?"

"He... was a hero, your friend.. everyone's friend.." he trailed off.

"..And I couldn't save him."

Tears began to well as he began to recall his last memories of their adventure together. A surge of pain growing in his chest and his suppressed feelings beginning to surface.

Amy turned to Shadow, concern on her face. He was normally never vulnerable with anyone but in this moment, for some reason he felt like he could confide in Amy with this. Even if he couldn't delve into detail.

"He sacrificed himself to save the universe, and now he doesn't exist and no one remembers him... except me." He did his best to hold back his emotions.

She listened to him with sympathy in her eyes.

"A world without Sonic, is not the same world at all. I can't imagine a world without him, and here I am. Here's not here anymore." Brushing away the tears, he turned away to hide his face from her.

Amy wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug.

"It's okay Shadow. I'm sure it's not your fault.

Knowing you, you probably did everything you could to try to save him. And surely Sonic is thankful for your effort."

He wanted to believe her but his emotions only welled further.

"It wasn't enough... I wasn't enough, and now he's gone. Forever."

She stroked his back, trying to comfort best as she could.

"As long as you remember him in your heart, he exists and lives on in your heart."

At this point , Shadow was basically crying into her shoulders, and although it was extremely embarrassing he couldn't help himself. The tears flowed like rivers, mourning the loss of the only hedgehog he saw as his equal, rival, possibly friend?

How could he live on like this ? First Maria, now Sonic.

His feelings of remorse, hopelessness and sorrow overwhelming him.

When would it end?

Amy's embrace brought him comfort, but oh how he wished he was in Sonic's instead.

He felt his sense of self drifting away until everything became black.

"Shadow?"

"Shadow ?"

Amy's voice tried to reach him but her voice sounding increasingly faint.

____

"Shadow ?"

A familiar voice...

"Hey you okay?"

"Nngh"

Slowly opening his eyes, he saw emerald green eyes looking down at him and a blur of blue and sunshine.

"S-sonic?" A sudden wave of relief came over him.

He sat up. "You're okay?"

"Of course I am?

He realized he had been sleeping on Sonic's lap? And oh, there was remnants of tears on his face?

"What was that about? Bad dream got ya?" Sonic teased as he layed back against a palm tree, hands behind his head.

Shadow sighed. "Guess you could say that," rubbing the back of his neck.

"I dreamt... you didn't make it back to Green Hill and everyone had forgotten about you. It's like you never existed."

"Oh you missed me so much you started crying in your sleep? Aww-"

Shadow grabbed his face with his hand, squishing his cheeks "Shut it, you." And kissed him.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

And the two resumed their peaceful afternoon by the beachside.

#sonadow #sonic prime #sonadow prime #fanfic #fanfiction #sonadow fanfiction #platonic shadamy #dropping this here and forgetting abt it bye #u kno its bad when an artist writes fanfic

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orphic-musings · 7 months

Text

The pain we wrought from words unspoken…

Characters: Karlach x gn! reader, Wyll x gn! reader, Halsin x gn! reader, Aylin x Isobel, Bex x Danis

Genre: Angst, fluff (but not for you)

Warnings: hurt no comfort, misunderstandings, spoilers for the end of act 2, implied reference to death (character)

Summary: After an arduous battle everyone is celebrating and taking a much needed reprieve. Except you, whose heart has a hole that is home to loneliness and grief. Is there no one to comfort you?

Notes: Omg i am back and with a BALDUR’S GATE FIC!?!!??! yes i have been taken by this game too and it has me in a chokehold and forced me to write for it. im sorry it had to be angst it makes me so sad maybe i will write comfort pt. 2 if people want it! pls enjoy :-) (sobbing) lemme know if i missed any warnings also not proofread aha

Karlach:

Aylin had her arm around Isobel the whole night. You recall earlier how she had lifted Isobel into the air and spun her around, nothing but mirth and pure love in her eyes. The action had brought a genuine smile to your face. To see something so joyful and pure after so much torment and toil was a gift, an uplifting you didn’t know you needed. But it came with a bittersweet pang. Everyone was busy chatting away at camp, spirits were high as everyone had a much needed moment of reprise after the defeat of Ketheric. Though you still wore a smile, your heart faltered.

“Holding up, Soldier?” A warm and familiar voice appeared behind you, and you turned to be met with an equally warm smile. You nodded, returning the smile, a genuine one.

“I’m so glad to see everyone reunited and safe, it seemed like such an impossible reality before, but now….” You turned back to the Selûnite couple in a loving embrace as your sentence trailed off. Karlach’s eyes followed, but then she looked at you. Your eyes were faraway, and your smile seemed almost sad.

“Alright there?” She asked, concern in her voice. Ever conscious of the feelings of others, she could pick up on any hint of bitterness or longing in others. She knew it all too well.

“It’s just, seeing all this love… I should be so happy, I am! But it still hurts. It must be nice to mean that much to someone.” You didn’t face her as you spoke. Despite your calm voice and your content, peaceful face, she sensed a deep hurt behind your words. Her mouth opened, and her hand instinctively reached out to grab your shoulder, but she stopped.

You mean so much to me, I cherish every moment we spend together. I could forget myself in your smile, forget the world in your eyes. Just one look at your face can quell all my rage. I would spend every hour I could with you, I would not hesitate to defend you and protect you. I want to be with you. Is what she wants to say. But instead she turned away with a solemn silence of her own.

You didn’t react to her silence, times are hard, and love seemed like a luxury. You stood like a statue as she slipped away, mourning internally her prescence, as she ripped herself from your side unwillingly.

Fighting Zariel’s war was easier than fighting her feelings in that moment. But any moment could be her very last. For someone who would rather live and die in the present, fully and without regrets, she feels a hypocrite. But imagining the hope of being with you, the joy you might have from knowing how much she needs you and cherishes you, was too much to bear. She couldn’t stand the thought of taking that all away from you. It’s a lesser evil to keep it from you, to keep it from herself, in the first place, than to have fate cruelly crush it all. At least that’s what she told herself as she faced the wall of her tent, away from your own dejected form, with hot tears in her eyes.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Wyll:

It seemed a miracle that you managed to save all the tieflings, and the gnomes on top of that. And even more so to defeat Ketheric Thorm, and at last promise safety and rest to all in the shadowlands. But any praise or recognition went over your head as you reeled in the aftermath. It felt surreal, and almost like it happened too quick, and you were still having trouble processing it. Even as you walked around Last Light Inn to rejuvinate your mind.

“You’re alright! My gods you’re alright!” You heard a voice call, and as you rounded the corner you saw two Tieflings in a tight embrace. You recognized Danis as one of the prisoners you had rescued, and pride swelled in you momentarily. As you watched the reunion in tender delight, you failed to notice a presence join you.

“A joyous sight. It makes me feel better about all the toil thus far.” Wyll’s voice spoke beside you, smooth and clear. It made you smile, even as you felt the sweet atmosphere waver, threatening to leave behind a cold emptiness.

“A shame it seems so scarce these days.” You said, watching the couple wander off into the warm inn. His face fell as he noticed the melancholy in your gaze.

“Indeed. I only hope those who have love, and hope, hold onto it dearly.” You merely stared off into the distance, unmoving and unresponding. It wrenched his heart, but he remained with you. It somehow felt like the least, and the most, that he could do. He wished you would turn to him, so he coukd see the light reflected in your eyes. But you couldn’t, for the price of love and hope was one too high for you to pay, in your mind. And despite your proximity, there was a perceptible distance between you.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Halsin:

The camp was brimming with relief, chatter sounding from every corner as parties discuss the aftermatch of the fight at Moonrise towers. Many people had joined you after the fight, since it had really only begun, and your companions had proven themselves capable of leading the cause. But you were mostly grateful for the presence of those who had helped you make it that far, namely the archdruid of Emerald Grove. Halsin was relieved, and content as well. He had fulfilled his century long quest, and the lands were now safe. And so were you.

“What now? You’ve got what you wanted, after all.” You asked, unsure if he would stay now that his task is finished.

“I have. But perhaps there is more that I want.” He replied, a smile on his face. You felt the warmth of his words, and you almost let it invade your senses, but you shook it off. Curiosity threatened to get the better of you, even if you werenmt sure you wanted to know the answer. But before you could stop it the words had left your mouth.

“What is it that you want?” He paused to glance at you, the smile never having left his face.

“Not what,” he began, his gaze shifting past you, “but who.” He let out a sigh after that, like it was good to get it off his chest. But your heart fell. You had known you shouldn’t have asked, but you needed to. Just in case of that small possibility.

“Ah.” Is all you managed in reply. After a beat of silence you turned and left abruptly, the intense beat of your heart felt like it was punching your ribs. Halsin’s smile faded as he watched you walk away. Had he said something wrong? No, he realized, he had merely misread the situation. You didn’t feel the same way, you couldn’t have. He felt silly in that moment, and laughed it off as he had done with the other rejections in his life (though they were few). But he could not shrug off the pain that wrenched his heart.

The next day the camp felt uncertain again. Comforting, yes, but uncertain. The party would be on the road again, and many things could change until they next made camp again. But the heaviest thing hanging in the air was your silence, your distance. It was to be expected, he reasoned, after the awkward encounter, but he hoped it didn’t mean you couldn’t still be friends. The very thought caused his throat to tighten.

But you couldn’t even bear to look at him. Of course such an experienced, handsome and capable man such as him wouldn’t have a soft spot for you. Thinking about it now made you ill. You couldn’t be near him, because all you thought of in his presence was how lucky someone else was to have him. And as you journeyed down the road to Baldur’s Gate, your distance grew. So much that it caused an uncomfortable wedge in the group, a palpable bitterness that soured the air.

Every night sorrow would muster in the two tents on far sides of the camp. Frustration, tears and regret proliferated there in those moments, planting seeds of woe to be reaped when the dawn broke. And the cure for sickness was only right where they dare not look.

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97keanu · 8 months

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Vampire!Jonathan who becomes Dracula's sole interest, his possession. He is all Dracula has wanted in a companion of the dark, and so, he makes Jonathan a vampire. The Brides of Dracula at the castle envy this sudden attention, and with their help, Jonathan only spends a year being tortured as a fledgling who refuses to feed the way Dracula wants him to do.

Human!Reader who has not heard from her beloved in over a year, who has mourned her loss. You dress as a widow, despite the two of you never having the pleasure of marriage, the black gowns and veil typical now. You never really wanted to accept that Jonathan was truly gone, but you knew that you could not wait any longer. You must mourn something, hope was no longer an option. You noticed the looks in town, and your father urged you to be done with this, to go on to marry someone anew. But Jonthans picture by your bedside, and his letters in your nightstand, haunt your waking hours. You dream of darkness, blackness, and fear. You feel devoid of all joy without him and at the loss of what never was. Of what was almost.

Vampire!Jonathan who has lost everything inside that damned castle, including, to him, his soul, who still finds a way to crawl home to you. He never forgot it was for you that he took the cursed job, wanting to impress your more wealthy father so that you two may marry. Now, he has come back less than a shell of a man, something evil, twisted, a hunger that is never full lingers inside him. He finds himself in a tunnel of darkness, with you as his only light to cling to as he traverses his way back to England in anyway possible.

Vampire!Jonathan who shows up, covered in blood, delirious from the trip home, and weeping to see you again. He can't believe he actually made it, and you can hardly believe how pale he has become. His hair is twinged with white, the stress of it all having been preserved after the vampiric change. You, of course, invite him in, pratically begging as you pull him inside, unaware of how dangerous your fiance has become in the year away from you. Tears streak your weary eyes as you see him for the first time in so long. You can hardly stand from the sudden emotion of it all, reaching out with begging hands, asking "why?" and "where?". He can hardly speak to answer your flood of questions, only throwing himself to you, his savior of the dark.

Vampire!Jonathan who falls into your arms, and finds himself at your neck, you, who is worried sick from his disappearance. He hasn't fed in days, and he hardly can, or wants to, remember when he last did. As you console him, you don't realize how stiff he's become at first. His body is ridged from how tight his muscles are, from how he is stopping himself from biting into that soft, supple neck of yours. You smell absolutely delicious. He has never smelled something more enticing in his undead life. None of Dracula's poor victims that he shared with Jonathan came anywhere near as good as you do. His hands clench around your arms, his body moves deeper into your neck. You feel that fear again. The kind you feel in your dreams. His fangs throb with want, his hunger manifests a low growl in the deepest part of his being. He must draw away from you, back into the dark of the doorway, and out of the light. The act itself could only be accomplished by Jonathan from the love he has held on to for you. You catch a glance of his eyes, the crimson in them clear. You gasp, stepping back into the light of the parlor.

Vampire!Jonathan who is gone in an instant, and you, who is left wondering if you had some how seen a ghost after all. You would think so too if you hadn't felt his grip on you, his face pressed to your neck. What happened? You simply close the door after a while, heading up to be. Jonathan watched through your windows in the chilled night as you do so, still barely containing the horrible thoughts of returning inside to your warmth and taking what he hungers so deeply for.

Human!Reader who somehow falls asleep that night and has her first dream in over a year. You clench your soft, white sheets in your sleep, sweat glistening in the pale moonlight. You dream of fog, mist that is so thick you're utterly lost. And finally, you see it. Those red eyes, and when you go near it suddenly you are swept up into a strong pair of arms, too strong. A mouth is back at your neck, and you want to scream out as the fangs plunge in. You wake in the morning, breathless and mouth tasting metallic. You wonder if the strange visitor was real. Your throat holds lost warmth and the weight of a stone.

#jonathan harker imagines #jonathan harker x reader #johnathan harker x reader #jonathan harker #johnathan harker #dracula 1992 #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #my writing #my imagines #♰halloween 23

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home-of-renn · 1 year

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Can you imagine if the Addams family were the first people Danny's ever met to truly view death as something beautiful and serene??

Sam doesn't count - she's goth and collects skull-shaped buttons and is intrigued by the spooky and the occult. But her fascination is superficial in that she's still alive and will never understand the true meaning of death until she herself makes that final journey. Like most people Danny knows (including himself), she was raised in a society in which death is viewed as a dreadful finality.

Danny avoids the topic of his death/resurrection - so does everyone around him. He didn't want to die, it just happened. He died but he's still here and now he's a mistake that can't be undone.

Sam, along with everyone else who knows, shares a sense of guilt that weighs them down and leaves unspoken words festering between them. It's heartbreaking, but there isn't anything that can be done about it. So sometimes they'll crack a joke and have a laugh and Danny will make an inappropriate number of puns for the given situation, but for the most part they all avoid the elephant in the room.

The Addamses are a whole different ball park.

They speak openly about his liminality and take every aspect of half dead existence in stride. Jazz has made a number of unsuccessful attempts at getting Danny to open up. She's patient and Danny loves her - but the Addamses don't approach it like there's anything wrong with him.

They understand that Death is the greatest equalizer and that without it life has no meaning. Truth be told, the Addamses are a family filled with joy. They respect death and in doing so are able to live their lives to the fullest. There is no fear of the unknown, just an understanding that not all things require an immediate answer and that not all things need to be known just yet.

They speak about Death and the deceased with reverence - without grief or mourning. They see the joy even in death and it's completely different to anything Danny has ever encountered. In Amity, death is a constant reminder. Restless spirits are looming threats that haunt every corner and darkened alleyway. In Amity Park, ghosts are nothing but harsh reminders of what's to come.

But the Addamses speak of death as if it were any other milestone and not the final stretch of a home run. Like moving out for the first time or starting a new job - some things can be scary, but dying is nothing but a change of scenery and becoming a ghost is but a pit stop along the way.

Of course, ghosts don't form from people who lived fulfilling, happy lives. They’re formed from pain and suffering so deep it becomes ingrained into your soul, leaving it tethered and unable to move on.

But what is an Obsession if not a chance for peace? A final opportunity for all those who never had the chance in life.

They don't prefer Phantom over Fenton, but they don't shy away from his ghostly side.

Doorways spirits aren't meant to be - but Danny is and will ever be the only one. He's a paradox that not even Clockwork can undo, too knotted and tangled to ever come loose.

The Addamses don't pretend to understand him - if anything they have as many questions as he does. They lend him books from their library and let him star gaze on their roof.

They treat him like something that was meant to be, and Danny had no idea how much he needed it.

#dp #home of renn #dp x addams family #dp x the addams #DP x Addams #danny fenton #danny phantom #the addams #the addams family #dp x the addams family #drabble #sam manson #dp crossover #danny phantom x the addams family #dribble drabble #dp ficlet

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saphirered · 2 years

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hiii idk if you know the musical Wicked, but I was thinking of an imagine surrounding the song “Not That Girl” with Vax or Percy?

Wicked is soooo good I love it! Hope you like what I cooked up for this one! Did go with a at twist and happy ending though so hope you don't mind. 😘

Percy laughs. Like a proper unburdened laugh. Those have been a rarity for him for many years but finally he is free. Finally he has his love in his arms. Together they are spinning across the dance floor, surrounded by the many who watch them, or dance with them. The halls of this castle no longer drown in the blood of others, instead they shine clean and bright in the candlelight. There is joy once more despite all past horrors. He didn’t think himself capable, to live a life without that constant pain and anger, and while he still has so much grief to go around, it’s more bearable. He doesn’t feel guilty for being happy, and instead finally feels he’s worthy of it, he’s worthy of the beautiful half-elf in his arms. He’s worthy of her smile. He’s worthy of her kiss and her attention. He’s simply worthy. It took him some time to get there but he can finally believe it too, and take her word for it. She is the best thing to ever happen to him.

From that same floor, polished and shining, along the strings of that same music that bounces with the beat of a heart and lulls along the limbs of the restless in beautiful symphonies, there stands another, watching the happy couple as they look at each other lovingly. They deserve this. They have fought for this. That’s what you keep telling yourself. You tell yourself you’re happy for them, and you are. You truly are but you too , are haunted by the memories of a past and your demons have not yet been vanquished by a lover bright. All your life you were told you’d be the one at his side. Your entire existence was built around these chains that constricted you, to live up to that expectation, that destiny. You were supposed to be the one in his arms and you are not. It is not jealousy that fuels you now. No, you do not burst green with envy. You do not long for the Lord of Whitestone. You long for love. You long for the life you were promised and to see that it will never be yours, that hurts, for what is your path now? Where do you go? Where do you belong if not here at this castle? You mourn what could have been, but it does not do well to dwell on such things.

He loves her so, but you’ll never be her. You can’t be and you don’t want to be but that does not make the ache of what could have been go away. So you watch, like so many others, watch them dance, watch them be in love and be happy for them, even if your heart clenches. You dream that maybe someday you will be lucky to find that kind of love, find someone who stares at you like that, who holds you like that, shields you from this world when it becomes too much. He is exactly all those things you’d wish for, but he is not the one for you. So you smile. You smile until your mourning of the life that could have been becomes too much because he loves her so and tell yourself something different. You tell yourself the things you were promised are not what you were born for after all. You’re not meant for the rose and pearl. And thus you slip from the crowd, slip from the beautiful halls, away from the light and into the shadows. You look back at your old life just the once, and you miss the warmth the further from that glow you get. You long to go back but you can’t. You’ll refuse to be stuck in a castle you do not belong. You will never be what you need to be there and you owe it to yourself to just be you.

At the bottom of the stairs Vax’ildan has settled down. Behind him he hears the music, and chattering of the fancy and the fooled. He knows that life all too well. Knows what he was once pushed into, and what he broke free from. He’s not cut out for that life and while he will humour his friends, by attending these gatherings when he needs to, or simply to spend time with them, he can only put up with so much before he’d rather slip back into the shadows. Let the people who glimmer in the candlelight shine. He is perfectly content not being there. But sometimes he wonders; what if he had not discarded that part of his life? What if he had done as his sister had, had tried to fit in and not given up? Would he be dancing with them right now? Would he be clinking glasses over empty promises and charming smiles? Would he have enjoyed it? He doesn’t really know the answer to that. Instead he’ll sit outside on the stairs, in his fancy clothes playing with the dagger he’d kept hidden to distract himself before he made himself scarce.

“You look lonely.” A voice behind him speaks and nearly makes him jump out of his skin. He drops the dagger and it clanks against the stone, beginning to bounce down as his eyes fall on you. You look positively radiant, so much so you catch his breath and he forgets where he is, what he’s doing. You quickly reach out your hand in the air and the clanks fall silent. A translucent hand brings the dagger back to his side as you take some more steps down. Vax shakes himself off.

“I-uh. The company inside didn’t really suit me. What’s your excuse?” It came out a bit more hostile than he intended, given the way you flinch.

“I needed some air and a change of scene.” You speak as proper as ever but that flicker of pain that crosses your features when you look back at the grand castle does not go unnoticed to the rogue, even if you managed to sneak up on him before. You stand there for a few seconds before you take another step and then another. You place the dagger back by his side and dispel the mage hand you summoned to catch it with the flick of your wrist.

“Sorry.” You mutter under your breath even though you know not what for, when you’re about to pass the rogue.

“Come sit with me.” The offer was an impulsive one, Vax will admit but something within him screams. It’s done so before but he’s quelled it then. Now he loosens that restrain simply for one reason; you look lonely too.

“Are you sure?” He gives you a look that answers your question enough and so you look at the step, then at your clothes and the step he’s seated on again.

“What? Scared of some stains on your pretty clothes?” He jokes and you simply plop yourself down. He knows you’ve never been scared to get your hands, or clothes dirty for that matter. He’s seen you crawl through swamps and soil and gore plenty of times. No matter what, you’d always manage to look stunning to him. He’s never shared these thoughts of course because he knew where you came from, he knows where you’re meant to go. He’s not meant for a life like yours. He may once have been among rose petals and gilded halls but that’s not the life he resigned himself to. That’s exactly why he sits on these steps now. You are meant for a different life and he can never be the man that drinks champagne over talks of politics. He’ll never be the one to smile through the bullshit of others. He will never get his steps right of those fancy waltzes no matter how quick and light on his feet he may be. You belong among the shining gems. Not in the shadows with him.

Sometimes Vax wonders, though. He dreams of what a life with you might be. Would he be standing next to you in this life of extravagance? Would he be on that dance floor now with you in his arms, swaying back and forth with a crowd more akin to an audience, ignorant to the performance you’d have to put on in favour of enjoying his time with you? Would he pick you up in your fancy clothes and carry you through the halls to make you laugh? Would you laugh? Would your smile be so bright it would make him feel warm and wanted inside? Would you love him so? Could you love him so? It is not meant to be because you belong up there among the golden ones while he lingers in his shadows, away from the light. His heart aches for what might have been had he chosen the same life as his sister. Where might he be now? Where might you be now?

“You look sad.” You state when you see his frown, and the distance of thought in his eyes as you observe the rogue. It’s an innocent statement, and you seem to reflect his mood in your own voice.

“It’s nothing.” He brushes it off. You always know exactly how he feels. He can’t hide anything from you. No matter how hard he tries, for better or worse. And so a sad smile graces his lips. “You shouldn’t stay too long. They’ll miss you in there.”

“Do you wish for me to leave?” You ask concerned. It nearly breaks his heart how you sound as if you’ve offended him.

“No! No. Please, stay, if you want to. I invited you to sit after all. I just mean, they’ll notice you’re gone. Just don’t feel like you have to because you don’t want me to sit here on my own.” When you visibly relax Vax feels like he can finally breathe again. You relax into your spot; shoulders drooping, and posture slouching just a little, leaving enough of a trace of what you were born into and were you a child, you’d have been scolded for it. You’re at ease. Or as much as you can be. He counts himself lucky to be one of the few people who you feel comfortable around to do so. But then he notices on your features; an expression that mimicked his own and he frowns once more, but not for his own thoughts, and instead for what might run through your own head, whatever it is. You shouldn’t feel sad. You deserve all the happiness in the world. You once claimed you enjoyed nights of dancing and dining, that they never failed to bring a smile to your face but tonight, that seems a forgotten dream.

“You look sad.” He repeats your own words from earlier but fills them with compassion and kinship, fills them with kindness and acceptance because while he’d rather you’d be smiling happily, he understands that sometimes sadness is just as much part of life. You are no stranger to pain and neither is he. Sometimes you just have to be reminded you’re not alone in this and he will gladly show you he’s there for you when you need him, because at the end of the day, even if your life is not meant for him, he still cares about you and still wants you to have all that is good in this life of yours because you deserve happiness. You deserve it. You’ve more than earned it.

“Normally, I might have pretended to smile and dismiss the pure notion of sadness in the eyes of others. But I don’t think I can muster the strength nor courage to do so tonight.” You admit hesitantly. Layer by layer you are shaking off the burdens that were placed upon you. Perhaps this is the start of it; to be true to who you are, who you might be without these comforts you’ve grown accustomed to but were they comforts in the first place? Or have they always been chains?

“It takes just as much strength and courage to say the words you just said.” It’s a simple statement. Not a counter argument. Just an acknowledgement. You take a deep breath as you feel his eyes on you. You opt for staring at the skyline, if only not to break apart now. Vax continues. “You have lived a life shaped by others. You’ve been raised among shining gems and have become the brightest of jewels in turn. But I know it comes with many downsides. I ran away from that kind of life for a reason. I admire you for staying.” He speaks from his heart, true feelings without deceit or some kind of twisting fanciness compelled by the rules of social engagement.

“Sometimes I’ve found myself wondering what would have happened if I had run away. Tonight I just find myself wishing I’d never stepped into a gilded life at all. How did you do it? How did you know your decision was the right one?” Your voice tremors. You’re troubled, it’s clear to see. Vax slowly brings his hand over to yours, placing his palm over it as he wraps his fingers around to hold your hand, giving a reassuring squeeze. He thinks about his answer for a second. Just a second.

“I didn’t know it was the right decision. Sometimes I still wonder if it was, or what might have been if I hadn’t. I think I might have been up there.” He nudges his head towards the castle. “With the others. With you. I might have been dancing and drinking among ‘esteemed company’ even though we both know they’re a bunch of fucking drunkards with too much coin in their pockets.” That brings a smile to your face and lets a light chuckle escape your lips. You look more relaxed this time, and while the sadness still lingers it feels as if some rush of joy remains within. You curl your own fingers around his and squeeze lightly.

“You’re not wrong.” A moment of silence passes. “If it matters, I think you made the right call.”

“How so?”

“Because unlike you, I’ve watched the life set out for me crumble in the end, and be resigned to a futile purpose no longer necessary nor wanted. I don’t belong up there. Not anymore.” There’s the sad again. You look at your clasped hands so Vax turns sideways to face you better. Lifts his fingers beneath your chin and turns your gaze to look him in the eye.

“Hey, it’s your life. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s we get to choose where we want to be; up there between jewels and champagne, down here under the stars and moonlight, or anywhere else we choose to be. Life doesn’t end here nor there. You matter and you are wanted. I know you are. Even if you can’t see it yourself, I see you.” He speaks from his heart. You do not need twelve scholars on social encounters to have taught you that because you feel it in your own heart. You feel like you belong again. Neither here nor there. You belong here right now in this moment and you know, you made the right call walking out here because in a way, the air feels less stuffy and you feel the chains lifting little by little.

“I think those are the most truthful words I’ve ever heard someone say.”

“I think that’s sad.”

“I know it is. But it’s true no less.” Vax rises to his feel, never letting go of your joined hands.

“Come on?” He asks more than anything. You don’t find it within yourself to question, let alone refuse and simply allow him to pull you to your feet and further down the stairs until you stand on even ground once more, the sounds of the party in the distance still audible. He’ll admit he’s acting on impulse and stupidity but that’s exactly what this calls for. He faces you, takes a step back, lowers his head and bends his knees in a curtsy.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?” Vax asks awaiting your answer patiently, not moving a muscle. Some training has stuck with him, even after all these years. Perhaps that was because it was not some teachers and governesses that taught him this. No, his mother did. She taught him how to dance, and while it were no palace waltzes, she taught him the proper etiquette. That’s why he cared to remember them because every time he practiced them it made her smile. He knows you enjoy dancing, be that your fancy and practiced routines, or simply letting loose in the tavern when everyone is a little too deep into their cups.

“I-… yes…” You breathe. And with a smile of his own he rises to look into your bewildered eyes. He crosses his arms at the wrist, lets his palms face upward for you to place yours within.

“Now, tonight we dance the dance of peasants. No more melancholic string quartets. Just let yourself go. Think you can do that?” You give him a thoughtful look, as if you’re debating but he know it’s your lightheartedness coming through and he feels relieved. he feels his heart leap when you take a step closer and place your hands in his with a smile.

And so you spin and twirl and jump and step to the beat of your own drums. You laugh and chime and sing songs of the taverns, and whatever else you might have picked up on your adventures. Vax has rarely seen you like this, this alive, this unrestraint because with every time he twirls you, every time he wraps his arms around you, you seem to grow lighter, less burdened by the weight you didn’t even realise you carried. And finally you are free from the chains that bound you. Like him, you have found your freedom in the shadows. It took him a long time to realise the shadows aren’t so lonely, and only now he realised, perhaps you didn’t belong in the gilded halls. That doesn’t make you less of a perfect diamond. You were simply to precious to be among the many jewels and your beauty truly shines here under the moon, not because of some fancy appearances or good manners but because you smile and laugh and dance to your heart’s content. No longer do you worry about what others might mean or think or say or do at every turn. You can simply be free. Thanks to the rogue who showed you what it means to live instead of just be alive.

It comes to him as a surprise when by the end of the night your lips find his cheek and you mutter a thank you. His cheeks stain crimson when you say you hope this will not be the last of these kind of nights and if it’s up to him, he’ll offer you this every night to come, just to see you happy. You deserve happiness. He’ll hand it to you at every opportunity.

#critical role x reader #vox machina x reader #vax’ildan x reader #vax x reader #vax'ildan #critrole x reader #critical role #critical role fanfic #legend of vox machina #tlovm x reader #vox machina #critical role fanfiction #critical role imagine #percy de rolo x reader #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia

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queerprayers · 1 year

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hello :)

i am debating in participating in lent (my 1st time) but how do u do lent actually? thx :)

Welcome, beloved! You've given me a lovely excuse to write about Lent. Whether or not you choose to have a Lenten practice this year, I hope I can help!

I talked about Lent a little yesterday here. I'll write about fasting and ideas for practices today, so you can check out those posts for more specific thoughts. I also know that discussions surrounding fasting are triggering for some people, and want to confine those thoughts to one post that's easier to avoid. Please know that avoiding that topic is perfectly valid and your Lent can be holy and fulfilled without it (and will be more holy/fulfilled by avoiding something harmful to you).

Lent is the season before Easter commemorating Jesus's forty days in the desert, spent preparing for Holy Week and Easter. Western churches begin Lent on Ash Wednesday (tomorrow) and Eastern churches begin on Clean Monday (the 27th). Many Christians choose to set this time apart by changing something about their lives/practice, which often includes giving up something. Some denominations have communal guidelines that people participate in.

Lent is not a time to engage in disordered/self-harming/destructive behavior. We cannot give in to the temptation we might have to spend Lent punishing ourselves. There is a difference between sorrow and misery, healthy guilt and unhealthy guilt, self-discipline and self-punishment. We can mourn without self-destruction, we can address our flaws without spiraling, we can prepare ourselves without wasting away. It might take practice, and Lent may be the time for us to figure out that balance.

(Lent also isn't a new year's resolution, or a self-help book. Bettering ourselves is holy to God all year. And Lent may be the time to start a habit/practice. But are you preparing yourself for the crucifixion? Or just working out.)

So how do we do Lent actually? We might participate in communal practices, like fasting guidelines and worship, but many of our Lenten practices are personal. We choose Lenten practices as commitment, as liberation, as sacrifice, as solidarity, as mindfulness, as witness, as prayer, and most of all, as preparation. The easy answer of "how to do Lent" is to make these forty days different than all the others. Generally there are two ways of doing this: giving up something in your life, and adding something to your life. I especially value when these things go together! Giving up something creates space (time/resources/energy)--what can you now do with that space? (Ex: What will you do with the money that you usually spend on a latte?)

As Jesus experienced in the wilderness, sometimes we have nothing but God. Many people choose to give up things during Lent to bring them closer to that state of simply existing, of having nothing but God. What is something you feel like you can’t live without? What would your life look like without it? What do we have when we have nothing but God? (Everything.)

Dear God, I am so afraid to open my clenched fists! Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to? Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands? Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me. (Fr. Henri Nouwen)

We fast in Lent to feast in Easter (sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically). I don't mean throw away our goals, and sometimes we begin practices in Lent that we want to continue throughout the year, because Lent is preparation for life as well as death. But I think some things should be set apart for Lent. And if you have trouble feasting, be cautious fasting. If you always deny yourself joy, how is doing that for Lent any different?

A point that's been very important to me: We know that Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness preparing for death. I know how to plan and prepare for death. I've had a lot of practice. Sometimes I forget that he was also preparing for and planning his life, and this is just as important. Some Lents are spent in the wilderness preparing to live. We are not just preparing for the crucifixion. We are preparing for the resurrection.

You say you're debating participating in Lent, so I wanted to make clear for anyone who doesn't end up with a Lenten practice: You're welcome here, and you're welcome at Easter. John Chrysostom has a lovely Easter sermon about this. However you arrive at the resurrection, it's for you. If you do nothing, if you give in to all your flaws, if you forget that Easter's coming and don't prepare: Easter will come, and it comes for you. Lent is something we can only do willingly, and it is not part of everyone's practice. I think it's immensely important and valuable, but please know that life and joy are available to you regardless. God's feast is for those who feast all year, as well as those who fast. I prefer to come to a feast hungry, but we don't turn away the satisfied.

We don't practice Lent because we have to, we do it because we want to mark time with somber contemplation as well as joy. We do it so when we get to Holy Week and Easter, we have been present and aware of what we're getting into, so we arrive empty and yearning. We don't change our lives to deserve anything, but because we want to be better, because we care. Because the worst person on earth can still experience God, but does that mean we should let ourselves be that person? (The atheists I know understand this more than me: to do good without promise of eternal rest, to love without divine command, to care for the dust that we are without believing we're anything more. May we also do good without expectation of reward and without fear of punishment, and love not just because we're commanded to but because we choose it. May we choose Lent, not just let it happen.)

Whatever Lent looks like for you this year, I wish you fulfillment and the knowledge of God's presence. Remember, this is a season, which means this is not your last chance. Next year has a Lent, too, and all the years after that. Maybe this Lent you'll spend deciding what to do for next year's Lent. Lent being a season also means that you can begin it whenever you wish. If, twenty days into calendar Lent, you begin a prayer practice, you have experienced Lent. Forty days is a remembrance of Jesus's experience, not a magic number. And always, no matter how much we prepare, may we let Easter catch us off guard and surprise us, as it should.

<3 Johanna

#asks #my pastor as a kid would read that chrysostom sermon every easter at the asscrack of dawn in the graveyard #and i would be freezing and tired and wish we were inside #but now i would do anything to experience that again

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dreamhot · 2 years

Text

the end of an era !

i don't think i'm necessarily in the space to put together the most cohesive post at the moment - as everyone can attest to, there's been a lot going on, and i feel as though there's only so much one can do to process everything in such a short span of time. for the time being, i felt it necessary to say something, at least:

regardless of how things shake out, i will never regret my involvement in the community. i've met so many kind, talented, incredible people, and either individually or as a group we have accomplished some amazing things. a fractured base doesn't undo the sheer unifying power of passion and creation, and nothing can take that from us. and i stand by the causes for which i've fought, because i still believe that, at its core, this community was built on love.

that being said, of course i'm hurt. i'm disappointed. how can you not be? whether or not the full extent of the allegations are true, there's still been a breach of trust, and it's not easy to heal from that sort of thing. it's a sense of mourning, in a very real way. some may be able to walk away from this situation without much baggage, and some may carry that pain for a long time. you're valid, regardless of which outcome awaits you. please just know that you're allowed to feel what you're feeling. just because it's online, involving someone you don't actually know, it doesn't mean it can't affect your emotions.

for that reason, i support and encourage anyone who needs to take a step back - or leave entirely. you need to take care of yourself first and foremost. the emotional toll may be real, but this doesn't have to consume your life either. focus on what brings you comfort and joy. this may have been a big part of that, but there will always be other things to love, to share, to get so damn excited about you don't even know what to do with yourself. a shock like this can't take that from you. and you are not lesser for having been involved to begin with. focus on the good memories, if you need to - but don't let this make you regret anything. no cc is worth that.

in the interest of full disclosure, i've not fully decided what i'm going to do yet. owing to certain circumstances, i am choosing to wait for more information. for the time being, this blog will remain up but inactive, and while i'll reopen my inbox for the day in case anyone needs to say anything, it will be closed after the fact. mutuals are free to ask for my discord, with the understanding that i've not forsaken the content entirely as of yet. i just wanted to be honest about that much.

no matter what happens, you guys were the best of it all, and i can't thank you enough for making my time in this fandom as exhilarating as it was. i've been pushed both creatively and emotionally, and i feel as though i can still walk out the other side feeling like a better person for it. be kind to yourselves and others. sometimes that's the most important thing, yknow?

love you all <3

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yanderes-galore · 2 years

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Yandere!Kyojuro Rengoku with Demon! Darling? That would be interesting...

I feel bad for Darling, if anything.

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku with Demon! Darling

Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Yandere-like behavior, Isolation, Blood mention, Mentioned murder, Imprisonment, Dismemberment, Obsession, Death, Mourning, Forbidden love (?)

- This concept could go in two ways that would give you a higher survival rate.

- You were someone close to Kyojuro that got turned into a demon or you're a tamed demon like Nezuko.

- This concept could also be a combination of both.

- Either way, Kyojuro would have a hard time killing you if you're someone he knows.

- You never deserved this... there's just so much blood and you're so feral and confused.

- You barely even recognize him when he enters your home.

- His blade is out, golden eyes staring at you sadly when you try to lash out at him.

- He could kill you right then and there.

- But the Hashira can't bring himself to do it.

- "Just what happened to you...."

- When you were a human you brought him so much joy.

- If he was Yandere then or not doesn't matter, now he's left with a choice.

- Put you out of your misery...

- or try to salvage what he has.

- As he's obsessed with you he may try to fix this.

- It'll take time, effort, and some preparation...

- But Kyojuro believes he can fix your morals.

- He refuses to think you're like the other demons.

- You're still the one he loves, no matter what you become.

- "I won't let you give into your instincts. You'll be good as long as I'm here to snap you out of it!"

- It's strange to everyone when others find out the Flame Hashira has a demon pet.

- Even stranger and concerning when they learn said demon was one of his closest peers.

- Just what was he thinking?

- Didn't he hate demons just like all the Hashira?

- While that was true, he's never had anyone close to him become a demon.

- Much less show mercy on him.

- You looked as if you didn't entirely want to hurt him.

- You even allowed him to cover your mouth and hide you away from the sun.

- You were good for him and Kyojuro felt he had a chance to take care of you without you hurting anyone.

- Even if you tried to, he wouldn't let you get far.

- If you killed people he can't excuse that.

- With a sad smile he'll use his least painful breathing technique to put you out of your misery.

- Later on he mourns your loss with a small ritual, keeping you close to his heart and mind.

- "If only I worked harder...!"

- If you are just disobeying him but not hurting others, then he won't kill you.

- Yet he will use his sword to chop your limbs off.

- He knows the damage isn't permanent so he keeps you in a dark room until you heal and learn your lesson.

- He hates doing something like that to hurt you even if you're a demon.

- However he needs to show he can keep you in check if he wants to keep you.

- The other Hashira are already eying him funny....

- "Ignore them, dear... I still love you even if your humanity has withered."

- The best outcome is if Kyojuro decides to take you out of this world.

- This is because you barely have free will when he keeps you.

- You're gagged/chained, locked in a dark room, and only ever able to see him.

- He'd like to train you to fight other demons and protect the weak, but it will be a long time before that.

- For now Kyojuro is more concerned with protecting you and others around you.

- He loves you but fate is just so cruel to you...

- You may be something he detests, but he still knows that it's YOU who he's obsessed with. Not the demon you became.

- "My heart still says to help you. I don't plan on giving up on you, dear."

#yandere demon slayer #yandere kyojuro rengoku #yandere kyojuro #yandere kny

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celticcrossanon · 1 year

Text

BRF Reading - 20th of April, 2023

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 19th of April, 2023

Question: How does King Charles feel about his son, Harry?

Note: I do not like King Charles, so take that into account when you read this. That being said, I was surprised by this reading, as it indicates a level of indulgence and favouritism that I did not think Charles had in his behaviour. I always though he was more balanced when it came to his treatment of his sons.

Interpretation: Charles can see most of Harry's bad behaviour, but Harry is still his golden child.

Card One: The Chariot, reversed.

Upright, the Chariot is a card about moving forward to meet your goals, while avoiding any obstacles in your way. Reversed, it is about being stuck and not able to move away from your current position. It can also represent aggression, a lack of willpower, and being obsessed by your goals.

The dominant energy of this card is of 'stuckness', indicating that Charles sees Harry as being stuck in his current marriage and his current lifestyle. Harry may want to leave but not know how to change things, or he may be content with being stuck in his current life, or lack the willpower to break out of it. The reversed Chariot card can mean that you are not in control of things, so Charles may see Harry as being dominated by another person (e.g. his wife) or by his addiction to drugs, and therefore not in control of his actions.

The Chariot is the card for the sign of Cancer, the star sign of Camilla, William, and Diana. Harry does seem to be obsessed with his mother in an unhealthy way, and also vindictive towards his brother and his stepmother, so according to this card Charles sees those behaviours in his son quite clearly.

In the picture on the card, the chariot is being driven by Ares/Mars, the god of War. This is a force of aggression. The Chariot in reverse has no direction, so this represents Harry's aggression that he takes out against his family, but without having any real goal other than destruction for destruction's sake, at least in Charles's point of view. He appears to see Harry's aggression towards his family as similar to a toddler having a temper tantrum, and he deals with it accordingly.

Card Two: The Wheel of Fortune

This card is about the Wheel of Fortune turning and either lifting you up or pushing you down. Here the energy is of being lifted up, of having good things happen to you, of being successful. It is a wishful energy rather than a solid energy, so I am taking it as Charles wanting his son to be successful overseas rather than Charles wanting to turn the Wheel of Fortune for his son and restore him to his previous position of rank and honour, but it could be both. It also shows that Charles is aware of how far Harry has fallen from his previous position in the family.

This card has the meaning of fate, as the wheel turns for everyone, and I am getting some energy of Harry's current position being seen as his fate, in an 'you made your bed and now you must lie in it' way, as well as Charles wanting to help him out of that bed as soon as possible. The best I can express it is that fate (and his own actions) have put Harry in a bad situation, but Papa Charles will make it all better for him as soon as he can/is allowed to.

I drew a clarifier for this card and it was the Eight of Cups in reverse. Upright, the Eight of Cups is about grief, loss, mourning, and walking away from a bad situation. In the reverse, you are stuck and you can't walk away from the situation, so this is the energy of 'stuckness' from the Chariot in reverse being repeated in this card. Combining this with the Wheel of Fortune card, I get that Charles is waiting for something to release Harry from his 'stuckness', while at the same time being willing to assist in that release if he can, while also wishing that Harry could be successful in his own right.

Card Three: The Sun

The Sun is the most positive card in the deck. Joy, good health, optimism, good fortune - these are all represented by the Sun and also what Charles wants to give Harry. Harry makes Charles happy, as the Sun is a card of happiness and children (as it traditionally shows a child in the picture).

Looking at the picture on this card we see the god Apollo, the favourite son of Zeus, the literal 'golden boy' as he was the god of the Sun. This tells me that Harry is Charles's golden boy, the child that will always be forgiven and loved, the child that Charles always wants to see happy. Charles wishes Harry nothing but good - success, abundance, joy, wealth, love - these are all represented by the Sun card and are all things that Charles wants for Harry.

Underlying Energy: The Two of Cups

This is a card about relationships and about choices in relationships, Charles wants to continue his relationship with Harry, he wants to repair the relationship and go back to their father-son relationship (which is what I would expect from a parent towards a child), He does not want to be in conflict with Harry and he still has a special place for Harry in his heart. He still feels very close to Harry and he would love to have Harry as a working royal (as the Two of Cups is also about working together in a successful partnership).

The card shows the god Eros rescuing Psyche from a monster. Like Psyche in the card, Charles sees Harry as bound and in danger, but in Charles's eyes this danger comes from Harry's wife (the Two of Cups is usually about romantic relationships). Charles wants to come in like Eros in the card and rescue Harry from his marriage (perhaps as he wanted someone to rescue him from his marriage with Harry's mother?). Again there is this theme of Charles rescuing Harry.

Suits

Three major arcana cards and two Cups. the main reading is all major arcana cards, which shows that Harry and the issues around him are big issues for Charles and are prominent in his thoughts. The Two other cards drawn are Cups, the suit of emotions, so when he thinks of Harry it is all about the emotions for Charles (i.e. no logical thought is involved).

Conclusion

Charles can see most of Harry's bad behaviour - his aggression towards his family, his attempts to destroy the BRF, his obsession with Diana - but he seems to be unaware of the serious effects of this behaviour, treating it as undirected rage, like a child's temper tantrum. He sees Harry as stuck in his current life and addictions, and he appears to blame Meghan for that. He wants to help Harry out of his current situation and there are indicators that he does want to restore Harry to his previous status as a working royal. Harry has a special place in Charles's heart and Charles has not abandoned their relationship. He wants Harry to be successful, well loved and popular. Harry is his golden child who can do no wrong, and he is likely to continue to indulge Harry in the future as he has in the past.

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kozzax · 5 months

Text

The Festival of Hope.

Held once a year, over the span of three days following the anniversary of L'Manburg's Doomsday. Organized by the Captain, and by the ex-King. Surrounding the crater of what was once a thriving nation, and filling its valley with joy and community once more.

A celebration of everything L'Manburg stood for.

It's been ten years, now. Ten years from the first Festival-- a small affair, the attendees primarily those who had once lived in L'Manburg, gathered to mourn and honor their past home.

Now, the Festival is a bustling event. Players from across the entire server come to take part in the festivities, to celebrate and honor the spirit of that which brought so many of them together. Children in Snowchester are allowed these days as a holiday from schools, and encouraged to visit the crater. Las Nevadas opens a miniature casino for the adults. It is built up to with delight and excitement, as a reminder of the community that once existed.

You have come to the festival, a young child who can not remember the days of L'Manburg but who has grown up with the stories of its existence. As far back as you can remember, you have visited the crater to pay respects to its legacy.

This year your parents have determined you old enough to attend on your own, and as you step up to the edge of the crater to leave your offering-- a small bundle of wildflowers, picked out of the snow and kept safe and alive for almost a week now, bundled up in warmth and sunlight within your home --you can't help but notice a tall man staring into it.

You've seen him around Snowchester before. He has dirty-blond hair, and he's drumming his fingers and talking to himself as he watches the crater. He's wearing a blue sweater that doesn't quite fit him right. He looks... sad.

You offer your flowers to him, instead. He shakes his head.

"It's just-- I can't believe after all this, people still-- They still care about it all," He says, gesturing to the piles of gifts and offerings left at the edge of the crater. "They remember it. They care about it. It's--"

He doesn't seem to know what to say next, and you can see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"It wasn't all for nothing. It fucking-- it meant something. He was right. It meant something."

You stand there for a moment with him, letting the world be quiet, before placing your flowers where you'd meant for them to go. He smiles at you, then, reaching out to ruffle your hair with a laugh.

You notice that in his other hand, he's holding a pair of taped-up glasses. He sends you back to the festivities before you can ask about them.

"Don't fucking worry about me, bitch. I'll be back down eventually. Go have some fucking-- fun, or whatever."

He's smiling, still. There's something sad about it, but-- you turn to head back down, anyways.

You join in with a game some of the other kids are playing. You're soldiers, revolutionaries, fighting for their independence and freedom. Wooden swords and paper sashes become your battle gear, as you laugh and play with each other.

And, as you play, a grown fox offers to join in. He says you can't be soldiers without an enemy to fight. Without someone you can stand up against. And so he takes up the role of the bad guy, with an over-the-top laugh and a sly grin on his face. He seems to be having fun. You know you are.

When he's defeated, he tells you you fought well. You're not sure you did, but he's playing with you and nobody else is willing to be the bad guy, so you guess he's alright. Still, as he walks away, you hear him mutter something under his breath.

"Good kids. Clearly their parents didn't leave them for some dumb war. Maybe-- maybe this isn't so bad, after all."

You forget about what you heard quickly enough, though, as you're swept up in the excitement of reenactments. This has always been one of your favorite parts of the Festival: watching as the stories of L'Manburg are told through theatrical productions. You know them all by heart.

As you watch, this year, you can't help but overhear comments from some of the other attendees. A pair of people-- a woman with pink hair, and a man wearing a headset --keep up a humorous, if not... entirely kind, commentary throughout all of it.

"They always forget to talk about the anteaters," The pink-haired lady insists during the initial revolution, half-snickering as she does so. "We had to sit through that rant so many times. You'd think they'd remember it."

"Yeah, or the time they counted rations wrong and we were left eating fucking coconuts for a week. D'you think that's where Fundy got the idea for his campaign name?" The man replies, a matching grin on his face.

You don't know quite how to feel about their commentary, but-- at the very least it's funny, and you've heard the stories enough times to enjoy them. They seem to be having fun, too, and-- isn't that the point, of it all?

The man laughed at anything involving Jack Manifold, Tommyinnit's friend, and the woman seemed to pay no attention to the story of the baker-warrior Niki Nihachu. You aren't quite sure why. You always liked those stories, but-- well. Nothing's perfect for everyone.

The festival continues. You find yourself enjoying every moment of it, as you play games and sing songs and listen to the tales of L'Manburg. Here and there you spot the Captain, guiding people around and ensuring everything is moving smoothly. Her wool is dyed with L'Manburgian colors, as it is for every year.

You catch up with her properly, once, and ask her for a story. A real story about L'Manburg.

She tells the tale of a knight, too slow to protect the country the first time and too slow to protect it a second, but finally able to protect its legacy. She talks of how the knight set the captive heroes free, by protecting their legacy in their place. She talks about children, finally allowed to just live, because the knight swore to never let Doomsday happen again.

You don't quite understand how it connects with L'Manburg properly, but she's called away for the closing ceremonies before you get the chance to ask for more stories.

And as the final day comes to an end, you attend the closing ceremonies the same as everyone else.

They're led by Eret. They're always, always led by Eret. Every year, she tells the story of her involvement with L'Manburg, and of her work to repent for what she did to them so very long ago. And every year, he closes the speech with a simple enough request: to remember.

To remember what the country stood for-- freedom, and peace, and hope, and community.

To remember what happened to it-- to never let it happen again.

To remember their errors-- so that you can be better.

This year, ten years after the first Festival, she adds a new statement to her closing speech. A statement that you don't... quite understand the weight of, though the surface of it makes enough sense.

"I remember everything. I regret hurting my brethren, I have always regretted it. I know that you will never forgive me. I do not deserve to be forgiven. But I hope that-- that I have given you some amount of peace. The chance to live your own lives, comfortable and quiet and happy. I hope that you can heal. I hope that the ideals we fought for stand strong, and true."

Were you to look at the entire audience, you would have noticed the people you've been speaking to this entire time staring at Eret. The sad man with the sweater, holding his brothers' glasses tighter than ever. The fox just letting a soft laugh out, muttering under his breath that he'd forgiven her a long time ago. The woman with the pink hair and the man with the headset, exchanging thoughtful glances with each other and murmuring between themselves.

And with that, the Festival of Hope is over. The attendees begin to disperse, and you move back towards the transport to Snowchester with the rest of the kids you came with.

You're excited to see your family again. To go back to your quiet little community, and tell them all about your time at the Festival. About all the people you met, and the stories you heard.

To live your life, safe and happy and comfortable.

Just as they'd always hoped the people could.

#my writing #dsmp #c!tommy #c!puffy #c!eret #c!niki #c!jack #c!fundy #this is nothing. but also . i think it's everything #i just think that they should be allowed to heal #and that lmanburg would never be forgotten #and that. puffy and eret at the Very least would fund a festival to remember it #and that the players for the most part. wouldve wanted to fade into the background #i think they deserve to fade into the background. to live calm lives.#i think That's what eret's last gift to them wouldve been #what puffy would've offered after everything else failed #a chance to just. be.

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ranchracoon · 7 months

Text

Devour Ch. 19 All Fun and Games Pt. 1

Bela’s POV

The castle is haunted. With how little my sisters and I make our presence known, we could be mistaken for the ghosts that roam the castle; I’m sure the maids enjoy the break from being chased and tortured. Nothing brings me joy anymore, even the Moroaicǎ are moving more sluggish than normal, a simple push to their head knocks them over whereas before they would at least put up a fight. Mother tried to talk to us; Daniela refuses to leave her library with the exception of meals and her entire aura is a walking gray cloud. I still report my duties to Mother but avoid her gazes of concern and redirect her questions. Cassandra is handling it the worst; Daniela or I must bring her meals now after she killed three maids.

Something churns inside me, a low rumble inside my chest twitches and buzzes: Mother is calling. I lift into the air and become air itself, I swirl and twist around each corner, I know exactly which way to go until I reach her office. With one knock on the door, I hear her allow me to enter. I take a deep breath then walk through the threshold, holding my hands behind my back.

“Yes mother?” I ask.

“Bela….Mother Miranda has called for all of us to attend a meeting and she requested that you and your sisters be present this time.”

“Why?” My voice quivers with annoyance but I collect it in time before she notices.

She lets out a long sigh, “she has just now been informed on the state of the village as have I which would explain our lack of…replacements. She wants you three to accompany me, that is all she told me.”

“I understand mother.” I reply.

“Bela?” She asks softly, she turns her head over her shoulder to look at me.

“Yes Mother?”

She stands and rotates fully to look at me, her look sympathetic but firm, “I know this is painful for all of you, and I hate to say it but I have given you all enough time to mourn. It has been months Bela. Daniela will not speak more than a few words to me, and Cassandra refuses to leave her room. I can only imagine how she must look now, but we do have a reputation to uphold.”

A sudden surge of anger boils up inside me, “reputation?! Is that all you care about? How would you feel if it had been the baroness that was killed?!”

Mother’s eyes widen, as do mine, I lower my head and cower down, “Mother I-I’m sorry.”

She breaths out another sigh and pinches her nose with her thumb and pointer finger, “I know you did not mean anything by it. I will let your little outburst slide this time Bela, please gather your sisters and meet me in the main hall.”

“Yes Mother.” I say and disappear.

The feeling of weightlessness is a welcomed relief, I am without my physical and emotional burdens. Pure instinct overcomes everything else and for a moment I feel a different kind of hollowness as the air whips around me. I land on my feet in front of Cassandra’s door, I examine the collected dust and spider webs that decorate her hall since the maids have all but abandoned this section of the castle. I knock firmly on the door. No answer.

“Cassandra, Mother has requested us to join her.” I say flatly.

“Go away Bela.” Her voice croaks.

“We don’t have a choice. Mother Miranda has called for us.”

“Fuck Mother Miranda.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Just leave Bela!”

“Fine.”

I drop into a mass on the floor, the stray parts of myself slither through the crack under the wooden door, it always tickles a little when I recollect but the sensation no longer makes me giggle. My jaw drops as I look around Cassandra’s room for the first time since she first locked herself away all those months ago. It reeks. Why are her floors sticky? When was the last time she showered? She is laying on her bed clutching that same cloak to her chest as if it’s the only thing that kept her alive. Her golden eyes have dulled as she raises her head to glare at me, they no longer hold that shimmering glow from before. She appears like a small child from how malnourished she is, her cheekbones prominent under her paler skin with sunken in eyes. I sigh and cross my arms; she lays her head back down and hisses pathetically.

“I don’t want to go either Cassandra but we can’t disappoint Mother again.”

“Just leave me alone Bela..”

“Get your ass up, off that bed and into the shower. I also need you to drink something, I don’t care what but something so mother doesn’t see you like this.” I growl.

“Or else what?” She glares.

I growl again and walk around her bed; I suck in a breath at seeing the cloak once again, my chest constricting. I swallow the lump in my throat then grab Cassandra’s shoulders and throw her off the bed onto her grimy floor. While she got back onto her feet, I take the cloak in my hands and hold it away from her as she reaches for it, I use one hand to hold her back. She used to be the strongest of all of us, this would have been a piece of cake for her, but clearly, she is too weak to swarm or fight back. She releases a pitiful whimper; she must have cried her tear ducts empty because nothing comes out but she wipes her eyes anyway.

“Give it back Bela!” She whines.

“No! I miss her too Cassandra but this is not healthy! Look at you! You can barely stand on your own two feet. Take a shower, feed, and meet the rest of us in the main hall now!” I order.

Cassandra sniffles and looks away with a shaky sigh before she walks away into her bathroom, she slams the door closed; it would have broken the frame before but now it barely makes a shudder. I glance at the torn cloak and feel my own tears in my eyes. I sniff and place the cloak on her bed then wipe my eyes as I leave the bedroom. When I open the door I pause, Daniela is standing there with a bottle in her hand. She looks down toward the floor, her eyes don’t meet mine.

“I was on my way to bring Cassandra something to eat…I heard you two talking. I’ll leave this in there and join you.” She whispers.

At least she still looks somewhat normal and healthy. I give her a slight nod before I fly away from her and Cassandra’s room. I quickly stop at my room. My bed stands there untouched, as does most of my room for I spend my time in any place other than here. I scoff, here I was condemning Cassandra for how she is acting yet I still can’t sleep in my bed and opted to curl up in the chair in the cellar. I stroll into the bathroom and splash my face with cold water then dry it off with a soft huff. I stare at the girl in the mirror, she certainly isn’t me. This girl looks defeated, sleep-deprived, and broken whereas I am confident, strong, and independent. At least I used to be.

When I arrive in the main hall Mother glimpses down at me before she looks away toward the stairs. Daniela joins us next, she tugs her hood over her head and keeps her eyes on the floor in front of her. I missed her glowing attitude, how she always had something to make us laugh, she was always a walking beacon of light that guided us away from the dark and now here we are: completely consumed by it. Cassandra takes longer but eventually she too appears from her swarm, she has blood all over her face. I sigh in relief to see she has fed and looks moderately better, her cheeks can’t be seen through her skin anymore, and at least she is close to clean. Mother kneels in front Cassandra without a word, she reaches out and wipes her mouth with the handkerchief in her gloved hand. When Mother stands and start to walk, we follow in silence.

The moon is non-existent in the sky but the stars sparkle in the moons absence and our night vision is enough. Summer whisps on the breeze, it carries the smell of blossoms and decay from the rotting corpses in the village. I shot a look at the village, it’s merely a pile of rubble now from the rampant lycans. The first warm night we were allowed to hunt for Y/N, Daniela and I overturned everything in sight for some sort of clue, anything that would tell a different story. We only found more clothing scraps before we were run off by a horde of lycans, their numbers have only doubled since the attack. I pay attention to the gravel beneath my feet, I stare in front of me until we reach the broken-down church that overlooks the former village. We enter through the moss-covered double doors and stand around Mother in a half circle. I’m on her right, Cassandra and Daniela are on her left. A murder of crows and feathers puffs Mother Miranda into existence; her signature golden mask adorns her face but her eyes give away her tiredness.

Donna sits to the far left, and Moreau in the far corner on the left side of where Heisenberg should have been but the bench remains empty. Mother scoffs under her breath as she holds her cigarette holder and lights a cigarette in it. She breaths in deeply and exhales before crossing her ankles, over a half hour passes before Mother Miranda sighs with impatience. I shift from one foot to the other, I really do hate standing still for so long without a break.

“Very well, it would appear Heisenberg will not be joining us tonight, despite being the subject of tonight’s meeting. I had hoped I could discuss with him about his lack of control over his mutts. I apologize for the delay on this issue, Eva has been a handful as she is beginning to teeth, I digress though. Alcina, I’m pleased you brought your daughters; I would like them to help exterminate the lycans in the village. If they are capable.”

“They are more than capable Mother Miranda.”

Creaking above us makes me look up to see said lycans gather around the caved in ceiling of the church. Daniela and Cassandra notice it too and lock eyes with me, all three of us chittered in an attempt to get our mother's attention who hushes us under her breath. Something is very wrong, we can feel the tension shift in the air. A booming laugh and the double doors being swung open surprise all of us and make us look toward the entrance. Heisenberg carries his hammer over his shoulder and exhales a large cloud of smoke from his cigar.

“It’s about time you showed up! Here I thought the tall lady was bad about making grand entrances. We started the meeting without you!” Screeches Angie who waddles over to him.

He scowls at the doll and swipes her away with his boot, she gasps and floats up toward his face.

“Get out of my face you demented thing before I smash you into sawdust.” Heisenberg threatens.

“Bite me Heisenbutt!” She screams.

He places his cigar in his mouth and grabs the doll from the air, she opens her wooden mouth to bite but a scrap of metal encases her whole head. Her screams are muffled by the metal and soon more scrap joins to encase around her whole body, she falls to the ground and stops wiggling around. The tiniest gasp breaks the following silence, I jerk my head to Donna who has her hands up, even with her face covered I can tell she is frozen, unsure what to do. My attention is drawn back to Heisenberg who scoots the doll off to the side with his boot then postures his chest.

“Now that she’s taken care of, please excuse me for my tardiness, your highness.” He pulls his hat off and does a dramatic, swooping bow toward Mother Miranda, “I do hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

Mother Miranda scoffs in frustration, “we were talking about your lycans running loose over the village. They have killed off everyone and left the village in a state of ruin. No one is left.”

“Well, you’re still here. For now.” He snickers.

“Pray tell, what do you mean by that?” Mother asks sarcastically.

Heisenberg smirks, “I’m not here to talk about what used to be a village, I am here to kill you super-sized bitch, and your little pests too!” He points to Mother and us, “then I’m going to turn precious, little Eva into an orphan.”

“Not if I have anything to do with that!” Mother abruptly stands with her claws outstretched.

“Ah, ah ah!” Heisenberg reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a lengthy dagger, “you should really hide such important things better.”

Mother freezes. My eyes flash from her to the dagger with wide eyes, on cue two armored lycans surround Heisenberg, growling and huffing. More lycans appear behind him from seemingly nowhere. My sisters and I share a concerned look, all of us reach down toward our sickles.

“You can’t take all of us!” Shouts Moreau.

“You’re right my fishy friend. Hence why I brought back up.”

Heisenberg tosses the dagger to one of the lycans behind him, the dog shakes his head and carries the dagger proudly. The air shifts. It becomes thick, heavy, and somehow hotter than before as if breathing in a warm liquid. All of us hold our breath as Heisenberg raises his arms open and twists toward the front doors as two more armored lycans push through and keep them open. My eyes start to burn with tears, I draw in a breath and quiver with a muffled sob as the woman we all thought was dead comes through the door. She stands next to Heisenberg without a word, without looking up, nothing. Her hair is longer, unkept, and she is covered in dirt and soot, her clothes no longer have color except black and a brown I know all too well as dried blood. She wears a metal muzzle that travels over the top of her head and down her back with crimson colored glass over the eyes.

“You said she was dead!” Screams Cassandra.

Daniela and I startle from the sudden shout but arrive to her side and grab her, our swarms melt into each other to keep her back. Her swarm fights with ours, flies bite each other and miniature splatters of darken blood drip over the ground. She isn’t at her full strength but it still requires both of us to fight her back, she reforms and growls. She’s seething with anger and that bloodthirsty glow returns to her eyes.

“I never said she was dead. I simply brought you a cloak and you came to that conclusion on your own.” Heisenberg retorts.

He places the head of his hammer against the ground and retrieves a long, black, rod from the other side of his jacket. After a dark chuckle the tip sparks to life with electricity, he tilts it toward Y/N who now flinches away from it.

“Get ready for the grand finale!” He shouts.

“No!” All three of us scream.

The tip touches Y/N in the chest, her scream isn’t loud, rather it’s strained and muted from the muzzle. She drops to her knees, the metal around her begins to shift with her, it grows and molds with her body, her clothes rip like thin paper, now we can truly see what Heisenberg has done. Metal coats her body like an exoskeleton, the muzzle melded around her maw, her claws have sharp, metal attachments that lengthen them, metal implanted into her skin, up her arms to her chest where a large, glowing, red light sits. The same metal cages her legs and has similar attachments to her back paws. She unleashes an earth-shaking howl, her teeth flash in the limited lights from also being replaced with metal.

Lycans fall from the ceiling, many of them surround Mother Miranda who explodes in a ball of black sludge, when the sludge slips away she is not in her usual, ceremonial garb, rather her legs are a bundle of roots, her hands stretch out into lengthy claws, and her wings are big enough to block the starlight. Heisenberg charges from his stance and swings his hammer at Miranda, Moreau vomits acid at the lycans, Y/N charges toward Mother and body slams her through the wall.

“Daniela, get Donna out of here! Cassandra, we need to get that dagger from whichever lycan has it and not let it touch mother!” I order.

“What are you going to do?” Cassandra asks as she cuts the neck of a lycan.

“I’m going to help Mother.”

The three of us nod in understanding. Daniela swarms away and grabs Donna before swarming toward the doors of the church. Cassandra flies over the crowd of the lycans until she finds the lycan with the dagger, she reforms and bulldozes through them like a hot knife through butter. Heisenberg and Mother Miranda destroy the other half of the church and travel into the woods. Mother Miranda uses her powers to root Heisenberg but lycans overpower her and give him an opportunity to break free and strike her. I glide through the hole to find Mother and Y/N tearing at each other; Mother’s dress is torn and stained in black sludge, she trembles and unleashes a powerful shriek of anger as her back burst open to gigantic, white wings.

I have to act fast. I’m nearest to Y/N, she really is as large as mother until something unexpected happens. Now Mother sets free another roar followed by the rest of her human form dissolving and being replaced with a dragon-noid creature with mother’s upper half on top. Mother smashes Y/N into the ground as her gigantic mouth crushes down on Y/N’s shoulder. In return Y/N howls and kicks her back paws against Mother’s stomach, black sludge spurts out from the deep claw marks and she screams. She lands with a thud on her feet and makes eye contact me, quickly she maneuvers to block me from Y/N, I grunt from the impact of her weight against the ground.

“Bela! Get out of here!” She orders.

“No! You’ll kill each other! We have to get that thing off, this isn’t her!”

Mother snarls and rears up on her hind legs, as Y/N is about to swipe Mother brings her feet down and pins her again, this time she uses her back legs to pin Y/N’s back legs too. Using this opportunity to swarm between them, I must remain half-formed to avoid being knocked over from Y/N trying to wrestle free. I punch my sickle against the bright light in her chest, I hammer against the extended metal from it along her chest; all that did is chip my sickle.

“It’s not breaking!” I yell.

Y/N wildly shakes her head and snaps her teeth under Mother’s giant mouth on the neck. I yelp from shock, something from one of them smacks my top form and sends me from their bodies. They continue to yowl, snarl, and cleft into each other, turning the ground a mixture of mud, blood, and black sludge. The metal is too strong to be cut, but maybe it can be dissolved.

“Mother! Please don’t kill her! I’ll be back!”

Mother only rumbles in response as I dust myself off and fly back to the barely standing church. Heisenberg and Mother Miranda can’t be seen but I still hear their yells and shrieks from deeper in the woods. Cassandra is surrounded by piles of dust and crystalized bodies, the dagger just within grasp as she combats lycans on all sides of her. Daniela isn’t far off behind her, Donna nowhere in sight, but the person I need is. Moreau. I slither through the horde and appear next to Moreau, careful not to step in the massive puddles of acid and vomit as I assist him in any mutts that pass through.

“Moreau! I need your help! The metal on Y/N is too strong to cut, I need you to try your acid to dissolve it.”

“I’m a bit busy right now.” He replies after vomiting again over a group.

“HEISENBUTT!” I know that high pitched screech.

Hundreds of dolls armed with scissors, knives, needles, anything with a point waves into the church in a sea of chitters and giggles, with of course, Angie at the very front of it. Donna comes into view near where Angie had been tossed, now free from her restraints Angie can lead her army. Dolls submerge Moreau and I; they stab viciously and clear a path for us to move through.

“Come on.”

I grip Moreau’s hand and drag him through the path. He isn’t as fast as me but he does his best to keep up as we follow the trail of destruction to find Mother in the middle of the village. She’s laying on her side, Y/N hovers over her with one paw on her dragon-noid chest and the other in the air about to strike her exposed, tentacle form.

“Now Moreau, now!” I scream.

He retches and projects his acidic vomit, landing directly on Y/N’s back and some splattering on Mother who wails in pain. Y/N shrieks and flings herself onto her back, her body convulses and her claws slash at her shoulders, she strikes her back against anything in her path to remove the acid. I seize Moreau and use every bit of my body I can, I surround his body, each one of my thousands of selves lift Moreau to keep up with Y/N. She rolls onto her back, and reveals the bright light on her chest. Moreau vomits again, it’s not as stream-line like before, this time he projects it upward and makes it rain down over her. Her entire body singes and smokes; the acid is working but at what cost?

The red-light blinks multiple times until it fizzes out and melts off Y/N’s body, leaving a track of seared fur and skin in its wake. The air hangs with the stink of burnt flesh, I let Moreau go gently who recomposes himself and grumbles as Y/N batters around until she collapses on her stomach. Both of us stand there, I sigh in relief when I see her chest sluggishly rise and fall. I look over my shoulder and Mother is back in her human form; I run to her and embrace her hand while her other holds her stomach.

“Are you okay Mother?” I ask worriedly.

“I will be…clever of you to use acid.” She grimaces and tightens her hold on her still bleeding stomach.

“You need to rest. I’ll check on Y/N.”

“You’re sisters? Where are they?” She grunts out.

Before I can answer her, lycans begin to run out of the church in every direction they could while whimpering and yelping as manic dolls float after them.

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