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just-jordie-things · 11 months

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i walk the line - choso kamo

word count: 2k warnings: minor(?) shibuya spoilers, choso has a panic attack, mentions of blood/fighting, didn't feel like specifying what (y/n) is doing in mahito's gang lmfao summary: a familiar face finds choso after his fight with itadori and talks him down from a panic attack. the pair realize together that they want to fight for a new cause. ___

How can this be happening? This can’t be real. He couldn’t have been real.

His hands are shaking, his muscles are losing all feeling, his entire reality is crumbling around him, and from where he stands in the lower levels of the Shibuya train station, it certainly looks like it is too.

Another brother? And so young?

He’s sinking to the ground before he registers his knees have even gone weak. The floor is still wet from his fight with Itadori, but ruining his robes is the last thing on his mind.

He hurt him. He hurt Itadori. He hurt his little brother.

It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t known that Itadori was family, of course if he had, none of this could have ever happened. All of this fighting, suddenly rendered pointless, suddenly deeply unjust. It was all making his head spin, and his vision blur.

This can’t be happening.

He squeezes his eyes shut and clamps his hands over his ears, trying to drown out all the external forces trying to crowd his sensations. The flow of water on the cracked tiles below him, the distant hollers and screams echoing along the corridors, and the sudden loud stomping of heavy boots through water and rubble.

When a more familiar voice travels closer at rapid speed, likely carried by the racing stomping, it cuts through the overstimulating echoes bouncing off the tunnel’s brick walls.

“Choso!” Even with the palms of his hands muffling all sound, he can make out that the voice is hollering his name.

At first he presses his hands against the sides of his head harder, worried he couldn’t trust what reality was anymore. He’s digging his calloused palms hard into his ears as airtight as possible. But as much as he wants to turn off all of his senses, he can feel footsteps crashing against the ground and coming towards him.

And then they come to a halt. He feels some splashes of water soaking through the pant leg at his ankle, but it’s still not enough to make him look up.

“Choso,” He hears his name again, followed by small hands wrapping around his wrists.

The touch makes him flinch, but he doesn’t immediately pull away. Heye opened in a flurry of dark lashes and panic, finally letting himself believe she was really there. She’s a little blurry in front of his teary eyes, but she’s undoubtedly there, crouched before him, wrapped in a trench coat too big for her, and a cap pulled over ears, keeping her usually wild hair tame. She’s not an illusion, drawn up by his fragmenting mind. He knows because those are her (y/e/c) eyes staring back at him, usually bright, but currently clouded with concern. He knows because it was her voice murmuring a string of questions driven by her worry.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Can you walk? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

(y/n) tries to speak slowly, but a part of her is anxious about not having much time to speak to him at all. She shouldn’t be here, he told her not to come here, but here she was.

“Say something, please” She begs of him, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles over the bony edges of his wrists. Finally, he begins to drop his hands from his ears.

“I- my brother-” He croaks out, and she nods as he tries his best to speak, reaffirming that she was trying to understand. The breath he takes also draws in a groan, but it helps to get some oxygen in his lungs, and he speaks a little more clearly. “I have a brother”

(y/n) nods again, brows drawing together as she takes in the information. It takes a great effort to keep her expression neutral as she processes, not wanting to do anything to trigger anymore panic from him.

“Like- like another one?” She asks, briefly glancing around her to make sure no one else was coming.

Truthfully, she’s terrified. She may not have been present for what transpired in Shibuya, but she knew that those who had wreaked their havoc on the unsuspecting city couldn’t have gotten far just yet, and she wasn’t equipped like he was to handle monsters such as them. She should be grabbing him and making him run, getting them both the hell out of there, and anywhere else. She didn’t care if they had to camp out on the side of the road- if it was far from here, and he was with her, she’d go. But despite every instinct screaming at her to get to fucking running she stays put, and gives him every ounce of her attention.

“I- I think so?” He gasps out, and his mouth opens and closes a few more times as he struggles to explain the odd feeling to her. “I don’t- I don’t know how, it d-doesn’t make any sense, but- but I felt it, I know it”

“Okay,” She nods along. “Okay, you felt it, yeah? In your blood, you know it”

“But he- how could he- how can that even be real?” He’s mumbling to himself, shaking his head as he tries to process it all to the best of his ability. “Can’t be real, can’t be real, can’t be real” Over and over, until he’s trembling before her, and she mirrors his panic.

“Hey, hey, shh, listen to me,” She’s murmuring, letting go of his wrists to snatch at his hands, gripping them firmly, her thumbs pressing into the palms of his hands. “It’s real, alright? It was real,” She assured him, meeting his eyes. “You felt it”

Tears pour down his cheeks.

“I hurt him,” He confesses. “I hurt my brother,”

(y/n) blinks at him, sadness flickering over her features as she begins to understand what his terror and panic was all about. Then again, all at once, his eyes widen, he’s pulling his hands out of hers, and he’s grabbing her by the wrists as he hauls both of them upwards. Despite the aftershock of a panic attack still crashing over him, Choso is forced to face reality.

And the reality was that she shouldn’t be here.

“You need to go,” He speaks so quickly his words slur together, and his eyes are darting around the abandoned station, trying to find the nearest and safest exit for her to retreat to. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s still not safe… Mahito… Kenjaku… I don’t know where exactly, but they can’t be far”

He continues to ramble on, but his words get sloppy and a bit inaudible. (y/n) shakes her head at him when he tries to push her forward, trying to get her to an exit he deemed safe enough for her to take.

“Wait, stop,” She tries to calmly protest, but her voice falls on deaf ears, Choso’s already dragging her by the arms, even as her boots scrape against the ground in an attempt to slow them both down. “Choso!”

Planting both of her feet on the ground firmly, she stares up at him, her eyes wildly looking between his. She tries to keep her expression calm, she doesn’t want to cause him more distress, but it takes raising her voice for her to get through him in this state.

Her fingers are trembling for an unknown reason as she secures her hands around his forearms. They stand there in a bloodied puddle of water, both staring at each other with no plan and unanswered questions left between them.

Since their first meeting, (y/n) had felt inexplicably drawn to him. Everything about him allured her, his demeanor, his voice, his way of thinking, his pretty face, his cursed technique, every part of him that he’d shown to her she found an interest in.

And maybe they hadn’t met for the right reasons. Maybe what pushed them together were feelings of revenge so old and worn they’d gathered dust. But what she does know is that since their meeting, she’d been questioning herself and the trajectory of her life more and more.

And right now, standing with him in an abandoned train station left in ruins from the aftermath of an attack she’d almost encouraged and almost taken part in, is that she was letting the wrong emotions push her through life.

Her hands tighten around him, eyes flickering between his as she tries to find the words to voice all of this to him quickly, before their time ran out and worse things fell upon them.

“Let’s just…” Her voice is quiet, and a bit strained, but she takes a deep breath before finishing, “Go”

Choso blinks, and she feels his hands twitch against her wrists, momentarily squeezing too tight before loosening and holding onto her carefully again.

“Go?” He repeats, but it’s not a question on what she means. It’s a question of if she truly means it. It’s hopeful, vulnerable even. His eyes don’t leave hers one as he awaits her confirmation.

She nods in a small, shaky movement, but she does it a few times, with absolute certainty.

“Yeah,” She breathes out. “I… this isn’t what I want,”

She looks away from him as she takes in the destroyed tunnel. Not only had blood been spilt but walls and industrial beams had been brutalized, and the few inches of standing water did nothing to help it look less ruined. Her heart sinks as she realizes this is only the beginning, this is only a small fraction of what was to come.

Her eyes find Choso’s again and she shuffles forward, water sloshing around her boots as she moves.

“But I want to be where you are,” She tells him, not a single crack in her voice. “So wherever, whatever you want to do… I want to go with you”

Finally, the panic in his eyes seems to settle. His features relax, and then soften, and in turn (y/n) feels her shoulders release their tension, and a faint smile forms on her face. Things were far from okay, but she had a feeling in her gut telling her that they would find a way to work in the right direction.

Choso releases her arms, only to cup her face in his hands and pull her in closer, ducking his own head to meet her height properly.

“You already can’t follow instructions when I tell you to stay put anyways,” He says, and he swears her eyes shimmer with an emotion unknown to him but so pretty he dares try to seek it out again.

As soon as his gaze shifts down to her lips, she’s beating him to the chase. Her hands fly from his arms to his shoulders and her lips are on his before he can even ask her if it was alright to kiss her.

For Choso, there’s a moment of pure panic that feels different from the last- this one is hot, and feels as though it could lift him right off the ground rather than throw him through it. But just as quickly as he startled, he melted into her. He dropped his hold to her hips, sliding his hands under the ridiculously oversized coat she wore to pull her close and kiss her deep. Their time was still running out, but for this fleeting moment, he needed to be sure she understood exactly where he stood on her staying by his side.

The tips of her fingers are chilly and wet when they slide over the sides of his neck before they reluctantly pull away for air, but Choso’s never felt a touch so lovely and delicate. She’s slow to open her eyes, slow to say or do anything, even her lips still parted, but he’s staring at her ardently. There’s an intensity behind his eyes and buzzing in his touch that she longs to chase after.

“Well,” The word falls from her lips under her breath, not having caught it after their sudden kiss. “What do we do next?”

And Choso smiles then, slowly but surely, as an idea strikes his mind that is going to sound crazy, but he has a feeling she’s looking for a new direction, and what better place to start than family?

“We find Itadori” ___

a/n: first choso fic !! <3 bout damn time!!

xoxo ~ jordie

#choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso #choso x reader #choso imagine #choso kamo imagine #choso jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #choso jujutsu kaisen

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emeritusemeritus · 11 months

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Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins X Reader]

Part 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

This one hit me in the feels 🥀

You'd never ran through the school corridors in such a hurry in your life, not even when you, George and Fred had repeatedly evaded Filch after late night trips to the kitchens and after nighttime pranks. But in stark contrast to those previous times, you felt no excitement or elation, only pure dread and adrenaline.

As you ran out into the main atrium you could see the full extent of the devastation, broken walls with debris everywhere, injured students still fighting and even worse, bodies littering the floor. You tried not to look, the pit in your stomach only increasing as you hoped with all your might that your boyfriends bodies or loved ones were not amongst the deceased. Deatheaters were everywhere, flying and appearing out of thin air in their puff of black smoke.

You ran out of the main doors and Harry immediately blocked you all, shielding you and pushing you back around the corner as a deatheater awaits just around the corner prepared to smite anyone who exited. Harry casts a stunning spell and the sole deatheater flies back and knocks into a wall. The courtyard is pure chaos, giants roaming the stone floor and knocking down opponents with their weapons, people on brooms attacking from above, deatheaters taking on students as more brickwork and stone fell from above, the fixtures destroyed by misfired curses and spells. You ran for cover inside the giant bell as the giant spotted the four of you, his weapon creating a resounding clang on the metal bell which rendered you dead for a moment, ears ringing with the noise. You ran out and immediately faced a swarm of acromantula's which caused a frightened, unintelligible noise to fall from your lips and had you turning quickly in the opposite direction, back towards the giant as you bolted between his legs, narrowly avoiding the sythe-like weapon he was sporting.

You ran towards the external corridor and rounded the corner only to find it deserted except for one heinous animal and it's poor, familiar victim. Fenrir Greyback.

He looks up the moment you freeze near him, his mouth covered in blood that was dripping from the neck of Lavender Brown who lay on the floor unmoving and pale, her eyes fixed into the distance.

"Hello again beautiful," he drawls, looking up towards you and before you can even think of a reply, Hermione blasts him through the corridor walls, sickened and haunted by his presence. You cast a look to Lavender wishing you had the time to lay a sheet over her at least but you don't have time, not at all.

You find your way to the main bridge and stop, each of you looking ahead with petrified glances. The sea of dementors hovering towards you was a frightening sight but you no longer felt fear, the urge to get to the boathouse too strong and so you pulled all the power you could from inside you.

You pull out the Lebetum that has begun vibrating once again in your pocket. The doe is immediately looking at you and you instinctively know what to do, somehow.

You quickly think of the happiest memory you could, needing it to be strong. You think of the first night you'd moved in to the flat above the shop with the twins, all of you able to spend the whole night together after being separated for a few weeks. That night you all slept in the extra large custom made bed, cuddled together and wrapped in a mess of limbs, snuggled between both of your boyfriends as the soothing rain poured down outside, rhythmically tapping the window.

"Expecto Dominum Meum," you said clearly, reading the words that had appeared on the black device as the doe burst free from the device. You took a breath and pulled out your wand,

"Expecto Patronum!"

Your weasel patronus burdtnout from the top of your wand and met with the doe mid-air. The two danced around eachother as if reunited before clearing away every one of the dementors in a magnificent rush. When another wave of dementors hits, you see another blue light from behind you, a large goat that transforms into a shield of light, casting away all the other dementors. You turn in shock and see Aberforth holding out his wand and aiming right for the sea of approaching dementors. You hardly have time to see the others around him as you turn back to look at your patronus in the distance, still encircling the doe which is a metre away from you now, urging you forward.

You run down the countless stone steps towards the boathouse with an urgency you had never felt, knowing that Severus was in trouble. You also knew the snake was there, which was not an optimal position to be in. The closer you got to the snake, you could feel it, your blood seeming to get colder as your limbs felt loose and numb, almost like something was crawling on you. You're one with the snake, beginning to feel and hear everything that she can, and you realise quickly that she is far from alone with Snape in the damp, rundown boathouse.

"He's there, you-know-who, he's there with them," you gasp out, trying to fight off the connection you felt to the snake whilst trying to catch your breath.

"The invisibility cloak, Harry!" Hermione says as you all come to a stop at the very last step leading to the small dock. Harry pulls out the invisibility cloak and drapes it around you all as you walk in perfect synchronisation, quietly and a little apprehensively towards the outbilding, keeping to the shadows to add an extra layer of protection. You approach a streaky, dirty pane of glass and position yourself down onto the ground, watching as the patronuses disappear into the water, leaving you in near complete darkness, only the moonlight and swinging, backlit torches illuminating the building.

In the mercurial light, you can make out two prominent figures, one that is wholly familiar and the other is a nightmare you'd only created in your sleep, never having been so close to the dark Lord himself. You don't see the snake, but you can sense it's presence nearby.

"You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand, my Lord. In the last few hours alone," you hear Snape's distinctive deep tone and languid delivery, making an emotion build within you that you couldn't place.

"No! I am extraordinary, but the wand resists me," Voldemort says, moving closer to Snape who stands resolute. His voice is breathy and cold, reminiscent of slithering as you realise how very snake like he sounds.

"There is no wand more powerful. Ollivander himself said it. Tonight, when the boy comes to you, it will not fail you, I am sure. It answers to you and you only," you sense a very brief hesitation to his words and just as you listen in, you feel it. The snake appears, circling around the feet of both men within the boathouse, slipping along the wet and rough floorboards inside the boathouse, their very presence the epitome of threat.

"Does it?" You don't miss the slightly goading tone to Voldemort's words, denoting that he doesn't quite believe Severus' words.

"My Lord?"

"The wand. Does it truly answer to me?" You watch as the dark wizard begins to circle your potions master, tension building within you. You watch Snape's demeanour, his face, calm and composed but then you notice the hand concealed behind his back, twitching and squeezed white with tension.

"You're a clever man, Severus. Surely you must know. Where, Severus? Where does its loyalty lie?"

You feel the snake inching closer, like it's crawling through your body and you're able to see multiple perspectives when you close your eyes. You can see the bottom of the dark, frayed robes of Severus, his black leather shoes that have not been polished in some time and for a moment you have to hold on a gasp as you feel Severus look at you. You realise moments later that he was looking at the snake, eyeing it with caution and is encircles him and his master in a threatening display. Snape then turns back to Voldemort to see him staring in wait.

"With you, of course, my Lord."

Voldemort simply stares at Severus with an expression you cannot see due to his new position. He finally speaks, "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master." There's a foreboding pause that seems to increase the tension, as if Voldemort was pausing for effect. Your gaze flicks to Harry briefly who watches on intently, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he's considering the words, reliving that night.

"The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. Ollivander was quite explicit about that. You killed Dumbledore, Severus. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine. You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus."

There's another pause and you begin panting, realising much too late what is going to happen before your very eyes.

"But only I can live forever..."

Voldemort's words are eerily calm and collected, his cold and uncaring nature showing through as he sweeps his arm away, flicking his wrist. You can't look anymore and turn away, trying desperately to think of any way you could stop this.

"My lord?" Snape's voice says questioningly and you can't help but shed tears.

Suddenly, there's a giant thud on the window pain and your immediately know that it's the body of your mentor, dying right before your eyes.

"Nagini, kill."

You immediately begin scrambling to exit the cloak, trying desperately to reach Severus in time regardless of the consequences of your actions but Ron reaches for you and holds you down with a bruising force, stopping you from going after him. Harry joins in and holds you back with Ron, realising that he wouldn't be able to hold you alone, the adrenaline and grief running through your body too much to bare.

You fight against Ron and Harry with all your strength, trying desperately to pull away to help him, but you're immediately consumed by the cold and blood curdling sensation of being the snake, your eyes blurring with tears that fall from your eyes without hesitation. You're in the body of the snake, trapped and forced to watch and feel it's every moment as it launches itself at your beloved friend. Three consecutive thuds ring out into the air as the snake attacks. You feel everything, the blood-lust and vengeance like hunger of the snake, the willingness to obey Voldemort's orders and the satisfaction of carrying out such duties under his command.

In stark contrast, you feel sick to your stomach as you are forced to endure this agony, feeling Severus' ripped flesh beneath your fangs, the slam of your hull against his own, much weaker body, the slide as you entangle your strong limb around him, constricting with a strength you'd never known.

Your shoulder burns though you cannot feel your own pain, too concerned by the pain you are indirectly inflicting.

Then suddenly, it all stops. The snake withdraws and disappears from sight, leaving you as yourself, shaken and broken, to deal with what you have lost.

You rush forward, fleeing from under the cloak like a golden snitch whizzing off in the distance. Your feet carry you forward as you stumble through the glass planed door, sickened by the blood spatter across the glass that you pass. You anticipated seeing Severus' cold, dead body pressed against the fractured and blood splattered window but you instead found him barely alive and breathing raggedly, his throat slit and oozing crimson blood.

You fall to your knees in front of him, your vision blurred by the tears that continue to spill without care. Immediately you reach out to put pressure onto the wound in his neck, watching as his head turns slightly towards you, his eyes extending just a little. His mouth opens and a single tear leaks out from his eye making a soundless sob erupt from your chest. His mouth continues to try and speak but you shake your head no, trying to get him to reserve his energy. You feel his blood seeping onto your clothes, onto your skin but your numb to the sensation, too overcome with emotion to consider anything else.

"You're... here," he says weakly, voice raspy and broken.

"I'm here," you say, trying to fight through the sobs that erupt from your chest, trying to stay strong for him. You turn your head to the trio, shouting for your bag, trying to fight through the mess of your thoughts to think of anything that would help him.

"What do you need?" Hermione asks delicately, rushing over with your small bag, her wand ready to summon anything you needed from within the extension charmed bag.

"I, um I " you stutter, mind blank. His throat was slit using a spell you didn't know how to counter and he was covered in marks from Nagini's attack, the venom no doubt already coursing through his veins, similar to how it had in you. Panic begins to rise in you as you try to think of anything remotely useful but everyone of your senses in blocked by the fight or flight reaction your body had entered.

You freeze when you feel a cold hand on top of your own, the one putting pressure onto his wound trying to slow the bleeding. You see the black sleeve of your mentor attached to the blood covered hand and immediately look up into his eyes. He simply shakes his head as much as he can, knowing just as you do that there's nothing you can do for him. You push down the rising sobs once again as you realise exactly what he's trying to tell you.

"I'm so sorry," you cry, feeling powerless and ashamed that you can't help him. You apologise for everything, for your anger at him all those months ago, for pulling away, for not fighting for him. "Severus."

You watch as a tear wells in his eye and runs down his cheek, followed by another that looks misty and niveous. You recognise at once the change in his tears and watch as he struggles to lift his hand, gesturing to the memories falling down his face.

"A vial, a flask anything," you say quickly, turning your head towards Hermione who summons one instantly from your bag.

"Always prepared," you say as you grab the vial from her hands and bring it towards his face, capturing the silken tear. His eyes flicker to Harry and he immediately joins you, crouching beside the Professor as he looks into his eyes, wordlessly telling him with a gesture that he needs to see whatever memory he has given. You grab a second vial from Hermione and begin receiving the second set, his eyes never leaving Harry as he ensures that his message is conveyed: these ones were for Harry.

"Take them to the pensieve," his voice says quietly, sounding weak and breathless. You look at Harry, examining the vial in his hand, both of you momentarily watching as the memories swirl around the glass.

"Look at me," you hear Severus say. You don't look, allowing him and Harry to have a moment, knowing there is so much unsaid between the pair. Only when you feel a gentle hand on yours once again do you look up, seeing that Severus had meant you.

"My last look," he says, struggling to talk even more now as you hear his breathing change, faster but more uneven as his chest rattles with a foreboding rumble. You reach for his hand, slipping yours into his much larger, calloused hand and squeeze gently, trying to comfort him in any way you can.

"Forgive... me."

You watch in horror as he sucks in one final breath and sighs, his eyes fading under your gaze as he slips away from you. You sit there in shock, frozen in position as a moment passes where you wait for him to return to you, for his body to do something but it doesn't, he'd gone.

An unearthly noise falls from your lips as you watch his body sink lifeless and defeated, all trace of life slipping away. Violent sobs erupt in your throat and you're entirely powerless to stop them as your body convulses with the effort, your hand still holding onto his tightly as if you couldn't let him go.

"Severus," you cry, head falling on your shoulders as rapid tears swarm your vision, no longer able to hold back any of the emotions you felt.

You sit beside him for what seems like both hours and mere seconds at the same time, pulling your hand away from his reluctantly.

"Help me move him please," you beg the others, Snape's slumped, twisted form seeming like a disgrace to his body. The four of you manage to turn him and lay him down on his back and Harry closes his eyes with his finger, allowing him to rest. The Lebetum in your pocket begins to violently shake and you pull it out quickly, watching in amazement as only a moment later the doe bursts out without any prompt and dances around for one last time before fading in front of your eyes. The last remnant of his soul vanishing.

You take a deep breath as you stand, looking down at the body of your friend and mentor, feeling an overwhelming sense of personal loss. You can feel the blood drying on your skin and it takes you back to the night when George lost his ear, your clothes and skin covered in your loved ones blood.

Just as you look away up to the moon, you feel a cold sensation swirling just under your skin, growing and rising in you just as it had before. You move and extend your neck, as if trying to fight off the uncomfortable sensation but it only increases, slowly turning sinister as the ice cold burning begins. You look at Harry in alarm and notice that he too looks to be in severe discomfort, his eyes squinting and his face contorted into a wince, meaning that his scar was throbbing.

The pain erupts in your shoulder like a wildfire whizzbang had been set off under your skin and you immediately fall to your knees as the pain consumes you. Harry stumbles into the glass panelled wall and you wrestle through the pain to keep your vision clear, noticing the change in the sky immediately. Storm clouds had gathered, engulfing the school and the horizon as sharp and violent winds begin to whip around the building of the boathouse, the joists creaking under the pressure.

As soon as the snake like voice enters your head, the pain begins anew though relents to a simmering burn in your shoulder up to the base of your neck.

"You have fought valiantly... but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

The pain subsides and you clamber your to your feet, moving in step with the others who walk out of the boathouse to look at the sky and the burning, broken castle before you. You turn and look around at Ron and Hermione's faces both contorted with discomfort as Voldemort speaks again.

"Harry Potter, I speak now directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me."

The pain and anguish fades from you almost instantly, the clouds returning to normal as he calls off his communication. You take a steadying breath and roll your shoulder, unclenching your hands that you hadn't realises had been held so tightly.

Nothing is spoken between the four of you as Voldemort's demands play over and over again in your mind. You look at Severus one last time, knowing that you'd have to leave him there, the thought sickening you. You walk back over to his body and see him looking peaceful now, his already pale face only turning paler with time. You vow in your mind to lay him to rest as soon as you can, knowing that there would be no time now to do so. You pull out your wand and cast a shielding charm over his body, a veil of secrecy that would prevent anyone from discovering him or harming his body if he was found.

With one last look, you turn back to the trio who wait patiently for you by the dock before you all begin to make your way back to the castle in complete silence.

The courtyard was entirely deserted, a stark contrast to the ongoing battle you had navigated on your way to the boathouse. There were no giants, no acromantulas, no deatheaters and no students. Smoke poured from every open space in the castle, most of the internal flames now extinguished and only making the castle look even more battered. Blood and broken wands littered the flagstone, rubble and debris covering all the other areas with some parts still roaring with fire, though it seemed contained.

There's a haunting sense of foreboding of the scene before you and you walk up to the doors with a sick feeling in your stomach, immediately concerned by the lack of people around. In another move that only increases your angst and anxiety, Ron places his hands on the large enternace doors and simply pushes them open, the exit no longer protected by any of the enchantments and charms.

You walk straight towards the Great Hall with purpose, finding no one in the broken, rubble lined corridors or any sign of life around. Once again, Ron pushes on the door and the triage station comes into view, finally finding the place where everyone was gathered.

You immediately look for the familiar faces of your boyfriends, desperate to catch a glimpse of their flaming locks or towering heights above everyone but you can't see anyone, the sea of faces all blending together to form a mess in your mind. You can still see Severus' body behind your eyes, clouding your vision as you walk through the hall, looking around and trying to focus on what you were seeing.

The house tables had been pushed to the walls and the injured as seated on the stacked benches being treated or waiting for treatment. Every face you see is dirty and not without injury. You stand close to Harry who also takes his time walking through the overwhelming sight, familiar faces finally coming into view as you pass Filch and Slughorn, professors Flitwick and Sprout. You catch a glimpse of Professor Trelawney and Padma, slipping a sheet over the dead body of a girl you didn't recognise.

You turn to your left and freeze, a fresh wave of nausea and grief hitting you like a quaffle to the chest as you look down at the bodies of Remus and Tonks, laid side by side on white stretchers, their eyes closed and faces blank, their hands outstretched to one another but quite meeting. Both of them dead. You hand shoots to your mouth in horror as you look upon the couple, two people you had trusted and respected now gone, together even in death.

A resounding sob from behind you pulls you from your focus and before you could react, you are spun around on the spot and pulled into someone's chest. You know immediately that it's George. His cries shatter your heart even further as you sink into his embrace, gripping him back with a bruising force as your face presses deeper into his chest. Just as George begins to pull away, you are spun around again and are even more forcefully pulled into a second very familiar set of arms. You melt immediately into the arms of your boyfriend, listening as he sniffles and sputters above you, his arms tight around your shoulders as he holds you closely. The tightness hurts your shoulder something fierce but you can hardly focus on it as you desperately cling to Fred, never wanting to let go.

You begin to sob all over again, the pain of losing Severus and now Remus and Tonks, the pain you felt for little Teddy now orphaned and the overwhelming and all consuming relief at being in the arms of your loves just too much for you to handle. You don't pull away, not even as Fred begins to loosen his grip and you blindly reach for George, pulling him back in until the three of you are entwined, exactly as you were always meant to be. You hear one of them gently shushing you, trying to calm your sobs but you can't make out who it is, your mind entirely focused on your unbearable sadness. You try to force yourself to think of the sensations you feel, the smooth material of their jackets and warm bodies, the strength of their arms and the size of their large hands gripping hold of you.

Eventually, your grip on them loosens and they slowly pull away, finally able to see their faces as you pull apart. They look dishevelled and tired, dirty and a little broken but they are alive and as far as you could tell, not injured.

A sob erupts from George as he looks at you and it's then that you realise what they are seeing as you look down at yourself, clothes entirely stained with blood. It's everywhere, from your hands, up your arms and across your chest and that was only as far as you could see on yourself. Fred looks horrified, his eyes flickering over your form immediately surveying you for injuries as his hands run over your arms, trying to find what was wrong.

"Severus," you hiccup out an explanation, fresh tears running down your cheeks as you re-live the moment over again in your mind. Fred wastes no time and pulls you back into his arms, cradling you and stroking your hair. George reaches out and places his hand on your shoulder, his long fingers running across your frayed and ripped top. They might not have always understood your bond with Severus, and definitely did not share in your affections for the man, but they consoled you without question, asking no questions nor requiring any information.

You suddenly pull away, looking around to account for everyone, realising that you hadn't had the chance to check that everyone was there.

"Everyone's here," George says quietly, reassuringly. "Percy took a hit but he'll live." You look around and find Ginny and Ron sat beside Percy who is lay on a stretched to your right, Molly and Arthur near his head. Bill and Fleur are stood a little further back and almost as if he can sense it, he turns to look at you the moment your eyes flicker over to him.

You see him whisper something to Fleur and pull away, making his was over to you.

There's a second's pause as he approaches, his brothers moving aside with questioning looks as he hesitates only briefly, looking at your blood soaked clothes and weary form before he closed the gap between you and pulls you into a strong embrace. His arms reach around you but are careful to avoid your anguished shoulder as he gives you a strong hug, the epitome of eldest brotherly kindness. He pulls back after a moment and smiles at you, chasing the look in your eyes.

"Hi tough girl," he says quietly, taking a step back and allowing Fred and George to move in closer to you again, each of them reaching out to touch you in some capacity. "Had me worried."

"I'm tough," you shrug, a brief but honest smirk tugging at your lips as you mirror his words, seeing a smile bloom across his face at your little confident joke.

Molly approaches you next, followed by Arthur who both look exhausted but thankful that their children are okay. You ask about Percy and Molly assured you that he'll be awake soon, having been saved by Fred at the last moment from the explosion. You turn to Fred who for once doesn't look smug nor self-satisfied at the praise but instead looks relieved that he was able to save his brother. You immediately each for his hand and entwine it with yours, silently communicating how proud you were of him, followed by George who your other hand reaches for, linking you all together again.

You look around a few moments later as you all gather around Percy who begins to rouse and you realise that Harry had disappeared. You remember the vial in your pocket then and it suddenly feels like it's burning a whole in your jeans, curiosity plaguing you. You force yourself to ignore it, to allow yourself peace just for now, to be surrounded by the people you love and who love you.

You find yourself unable to sit still, unable to merely sit whilst people need help all around you and so you offer assistance to Madame Pomfrey, still keeping a short distance between you and your boyfriends so that you would all feel better being in sight of each other.

Hours pass and the able bodied begin clearing the rubble from the halls, assisting with clearing up the devastation caused by the earlier attack. You feel weary and tired physically but mentally you feel like you could levitate the entire castle with your mind. The adrenaline you felt earlier has gone and had been replaced by pure determination to end this, to prevent anyone else from dying.

The first signs of dawn's light stream through the shattered and haphazardly fixed windows and you ponder for a moment about where Harry is. Hermione and Ron had gone to find him a while ago but you didn't feel the need to go with them this time, knowing that they needed each other, the original three.

You'd just finished healing a burn like wound on Cormac Mclaggen's arm, moving away to gather some supplies for your next patient when an overwhelming pain consumed you once again. The hit was unlike any other this time and your vision immediately turned blurry and distorted, making you lose your balance and knock the metal gauze dish from the side of the table, the resounding clang of the metal hitting the stone floor ringing out around the room.

Bill was beside you in mere seconds, followed closely by his twin brothers who were immediately trying to help you, asking what was wrong in panicked voices.

"Help her sit," Bill instructs the boys and you can vaguely see three figures with fire red hair of various lengths before you, helping you stabilise yourself as the pain radiates through your shoulder before fading away once again.

"What is happening? Sweetheart you have to tell us what it is," Fred says quickly, at least you think it's Fred.

"Angel please you're scaring me," George, you think.

You feel a coldness pass over your shoulder, like a wave pulling along the sand lazily, the pain subsiding as the area goes numb, though not entirely. You open your eyes and see Bill covertly pocketing his wand again and you smile thankfully at him, especially for his discreet spell casting.

"Just dizzy," you lie, squeezing your eyes shut again before opening them, now seeing Hermione looking at you with concern, having returned during your episode. The pain never returns nor do you have another episode and you return to work eventually, ignoring the protests from your boyfriends who wish for you to rest.

Hermione and Ron manage to pull you away from your duties a while later and conceal you from the watchful eyes of your boyfriends to have a private word with you in the corridor.

"We need to kill the snake," Ron says, "it's the last one like you said, after that it's just him. Harry's given himself up."

You nodded gently, eyes fogging with tears at the thought.

"Only, your connection to the snake, what if that doesn't work?" He adds, sounding hesitant to mention the second part of his thoughts.

"You think I'm a Horcrux?" You ask quietly, the words alone making you shiver.

"No, Voldemort wouldn't have known about that, but there's something more to it isn't there? The connection needs to be broken, whatever happened that night, the snake wether they meant to or not left a piece of itself in you," Hermione says, sounding a little less cautious than Ron.

"Perhaps you need to look inside the snake, hear their thoughts, maybe it's trying to tell you something."

You catch a glimpse of the red headed family through the doors, smiling tiredly at each other as they huddle around the now responsive Percy. A wave of sadness washes over you as you realise that whatever this thing was with the snake, might have cursed you to a life without them, or worse, the end of your life.

You look back to Ron and Hermione, seeing their expressive faces and solemnly nod, once again knowing what needed to be done.

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tsukimefuku · 6 months

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in my shoes ❖ nanami kento

summary: you get severely injured while on one of your first missions with nanami.

wc: 1.1K

tags: jujutsu kaisen, light Nanami x oc/reader, angst, some fluff if you squint, mentions of injure.

notes, etc: just a little drabble i thought about to help me write "toxic endeavors". wound up bigger than expected (and in the collection).

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

Why would she ever do this, was all that Nanami could think when he brought you in for Shoko. Your entire body was in disarray, broken bones sprinkled across from head to toe, and his usually neat blue shirt was completely covered in blood — your blood.

Shoko's eyes widened as she saw Nanami carrying you inside, and she pointed at a gurney while asking for an explanation with her glance.

"We were jumped by two different curses we weren't expecting, and she took the hit in my place" was the answer he mustered to say as he laid your unconscious body for Shoko to work her magic.

She hovered her hands on top of you, and Nanami sat back, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose painfully.

"What's her prognosis?"

"I don't know, Nanami" Shoko replied, already applying RCT on your most critical wounds, both internal and external. "But she can RCT herself, so I figure I just have to do enough for her to wake up, then she can RCT herself too."

Nanami wasn't sure as to what felt worse in this whole situation.

You revealed yourself as a fine colleague, on top of being a good company when you weren't hellbent on your antics at him. The few missions he had gone on by your side were pleasant and allowed the both of you to finish work earlier. Losing a colleague — even one he had barely been working with for two months or so — usually wouldn't hit him that hard. However, not only were you under his guidance, rendering him directly responsible for your wellbeing in the field, he also carried a lot of guilt regarding you, specifically, due to past failures.

It felt like it would be the last nail in the coffin for you to die because of his inability to help you once again.

***

You had been unconscious for about four hours, and Nanami still sat inside that room, staring at you, waiting for any kind of movement or sign you were about to wake up. Frustrating all of his expectations, your body laid flat and unmoving on the gurney, even after Shoko healed you to the extent her RCT could.

"You know, staring won't make her heal any faster" Shoko said, while she leaned against the wall. "She's stable. You can leave, I'll let you know when she wakes up."

He sighed, and remained still, right where he had been sitting ever since he brought you in.

"Soooo, what happened?" Gojo said, coming inside the room unceremoniously. It took one look at you for him to go, "oh. Shit."

Oh shit, indeed, Nanami thought to himself.

"She's stable, we're just waiting for her to wake up" Shoko replied.

"I don't understand why she ever thought that doing this was a good idea" Nanami sighed, pulsing headache around his temples. Nearly every muscle in his body was clearly tense, and Shoko took note of that.

"You really are concerned about her" she said, and it wasn't a question.

Nanami diverted his gaze to face her for a moment, before looking back at you.

"I was given the rare chance to right an old wrong, and it seems I've failed once again. That's all there is to it" he answered.

"She'll be fine. She always finds a way" Gojo replied, hands in his pocket, more relaxed than everyone else in the room. That slightly rubbed Nanami the wrong way, and he became annoyed.

"There is no 'finding a way' in breaking nearly every bone in your body, along with massive internal injuries."

"That is not what I meant," Gojo retorted, pulling his phone from his pocket to casually check on his texts.

"Then, what did you mean?" Nanami asked, irritated.

"What I meant was that if she chose to do this, then she probably had a good reasoning to do so. She's not irresponsible or reckless, much to the contrary," he answered, putting the phone away.

Nanami sighed. Even a broken clock can be right twice a day, and so was Gojo when he said this. You were many things, but reckless was not one of them.

"Hm... What is..."

Nanami got up immediately at the sound of your voice and walked towards your gurney, resting a hand on its side.

Your eyes opened slowly, and you awoke to the sight of a giant blond man looking at you, his impassive chiseled face slightly torn with worry.

You braced yourself for the chastising to come, as you slowly remembered what happened and began to RCT yourself. Every nook and cranny of your body pulsed with pain, and even breathing was a labor-intensive task, diminishing by the second with your own healing.

"Why would you take the hit in my place? That was incredibly irresponsible and put us both in a dire position" Nanami chided, not noticing how hard he was pressing his fingers around the gurney's side support.

Mindlessly, you put your hand over Nanami's, sending pins and needles all over your arm. Bad idea.

You thought you saw him glancing rapidly at both your hands before you began to answer, as his hand softly relaxed under your touch.

"Because healing someone else is only about 40% as effective as healing oneself" you began, "and I knew I couldn't tank both curses in your place if you got injured or knocked out."

You took a moment to breathe before continuing, but just as his hand did, his gaze had softened too.

"I figured that, by taking the hit, you'd be unscathed and able to exorcise both curses, then bring me to Shoko. I began RCT as soon as I got hit, just in case I passed out, and knew that after Shoko woke me up, I'd be able to heal myself properly."

Gojo let out a small chuckle.

"We need to be strategic, right?" You asked, looking directly at Gojo.

"See? I told you," he said, looking at Nanami.

Nanami, on the other hand, was at a loss for words. Your reasoning did make perfect sense, and he wondered.

"If you were in my shoes, what would you have done?" You inquired, hissing slightly at a sudden shooting ache throughout your body.

He sighed and closed his eyes, nodding. "I would've done the same."

You mustered some strength to smile.

"I'm glad you acknowledged it."

"That doesn't mean, however, that you shouldn't be more careful or consider other better options when a similar situation arises again," Nanami replied.

You scoffed. "I will make no such promise, but I will try to be more careful. Does that sound good enough?"

"Not so..." Nanami began speaking, and you twisted your face at him. He sighed. "Fine. Good enough for now."

You smiled at him, winking.

"Thank you. I promise to try to do better next time this happens."

You didn't.

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straycalamities · 5 months

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so for some Reasons, the same reasons zombinoslayer is on indefinite hiatus, i have a question on like. Say there is a Truffula Flu-oriented plot, story. Y'know a narrative. Coming up, but the way it's being made is basically prose-based, how would you prefer to see that formatted onto a tumblr askblog/archive thing?

it does deal with two characters and two characters only (so far?)

rp-style is out of the question because of editing reblogs being killed

but...i have a few thoughts, but i'm not sure which one people would like to read and digest the most

for more clarity on what i mean with terms/styles: click under the readmore

when i say "prose-style" i mean it's written like a novel. it's 3rd-person limited and past tense.

The sun was baring down hard on Mikey's back as he trudged down the sidewalk. He drug his feet, pose hunched. Why did he have to run out of eggs on the hottest day of the year?

when i say "script-style" i mean that it's written how you would read the script for a show or a play. this is how i treated zombinoslayer's big scenes. it'd have progressive images for each action/dialogue, wherever i deemed an image needed/important

Mikey: [The sun is bright and harsh. He is walking down the sidewalk. He looks exhausted.] Why did I have to run out of eggs on the hottest day of the year?!

and when i say comic, well, that's obvious. i'd do my best to translate everything as well as i can into something that is heavily image and dialogue based that has comic frames and such.

pros and cons of all these being:

prose pros (lol): it keeps all of the character's inner feelings, struggles, and thoughts and even some motives out and easier to see, which with these scenes and with how these characters are, might be important or even very enlightening for people i also don't have to draw as much because i would only be illustrating significant parts and to make the posts look more appealing/interesting. thus updates would happen more frequently. easier to plug into a translator if english isn't your first language the images would be illustrations i'd actually put effort into since there would be so few of them

prose cons: it'll be a lot more reading overall less left to interpretation, i guess? less pretty pictures? it takes a lot more cerebral energy in some cases to take in prose and turn it around in your mind i just get that for some people, they don't like walls of text. like i, for one, have gotten very bad at reading so i get it

script pros: more pictures to look at then prose-style scenes move by more quickly and smoothly, everything focuses more on actions and interactions so maybe things are easier to digest than prose-style still translator-friendly updates still more frequent than comic-style, but less frequent than prose-style most likely full-color images. may or may not have a bg in every image (just think zombino-slayer style? but i might not render every time either like i did there because that was..phew..that took a lot out of me)

script cons: more images to draw for me the format might be wonky to some none of those inner thoughts/monologues, a lot of depth and inner feelings/struggles/references made in the characters heads are left out. it all focuses on the external with hints to the internal left to expression, body language, and dialogue and the reader's own bias/experience

comic pros: ALL THE PICTURES YOU COULD WANT! everything's images! if you're most comfy with reading comics or manga already, you'd dig this (obviously) the least reading and it's all together in one image (well multiple) very easy to soar through and take everything in since the focus is on images and dialogue Only (maybe narrative notes or thought boxes when really important) easiest to share i'd think? and easiest to get a feel for what's going on in a scene without having to study and/or think too hard about it

comic cons: oh my god all that drawing...updates would be slow as molasses tbqh.. unless i decided to do manga-style aka B&W or limited grayscale/monochrome. even then though again, everything internal would be left to the hints you'd get from the external i could give with imagery, panel-shape, dialogue, and such not translator-friendly (i know there's the google image translator, but i'd be handwriting the text (i just like how it looks best) and it's not always friendly to handwriting)

as far as specifics for each style, we'd work that out once one is picked

other notes: i do think i'm a pretty strong prose-writer, but i also think i'm a pretty strong comicsmith. so i don't think it's really up to what i'd, personally, be able to pull off best with the skills i own :3 (and i mean script-style is the most simple of the three. and i've already done it. it'd be almost identical to zombinoslayer. and it'd be most similar to Camp Entre's rp-style i think? even though Camp Entre was much more dialogue-based than anything else

i know i haven't uploaded too much of either, especially my writing, but trust...i'm pretty good at it. at least that's what people tell me.

#truffula flu #yeah ill tag it #polls #share this around if you want #i want a wide opinion

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cbplastering · 1 year

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Professional External Wall Rendering Services for a Stunning and Durable Finish

Transform the exterior of your home or commercial property with our professional external wall rendering services. Our team of experienced renderers will provide a stunning and durable finish that will enhance the aesthetics and protect your walls from weather damage.

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witchofhimring · 1 year

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Loyalty Chapter 3

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, Plot twist at the end!

Synopsis:

Numbness is all you feel as a blood red sun pours into the dark sky. As death, heartbreak and war stalk your every move, loyalties are thrown into question. Unknowing that your every move you change the course of war, your marriage is arranged.

It was a night for celebration. Singing could be heard all throughout Kings Landing. Everyone was happy. Except Y/n. She had screamed so loudly till her throat tore. Bile and a metallic taste stained her mouth. She was cold, wet and utterly wretched in that moment. So small compared to the might of house Targaryen and their newest Princess. Up the forsaken weather swept steps she went. Several times she fell bruising her knees. In her mind the only think she could picture was the Weirwood tree, an alien in what was once its land. Much like you, the forsaken member cast out of your home. Utterly alone and there for eyes to observe like this tree. No one else was in the courtyard. In fact, a silence had fallen over this place like a blanket.

Step by shivering step you tread upon each stone. The branches slightly swayed, like arms reaching out. Your feel hit the ground and your fingertips outstretched themselves. The delicate skin brushed the bark and its sticky sap. "Help me, please." You whispered out. In that moment you cared not if it was heresy to do so. You wished time would go back to a time before Princess Ellyn. Tonight, as your misery reached its pitch this place felt more otherworldly than the Sept ever had. The wood grounded you in a way the cold sterile steps of The Seven never had. And for the first time, you prayed to other Gods. Blood dripped from you elbow as you sank down, dying the bark red.

A scream rendered apart the calm morning. Even Y/n could hear it down in the courtyard. It was a cry of unimaginable grief and agony all warped into one. Its very nature sent shivers down your spine. "Helaena." Was all you could think.

The castle was not quiet as one would expect. It seemed everyone in the Red Keep was awake and alert. You ran past a pair of frightened ladies who were huddled against the wall. As you got closer to the cries a maid was running away, fear evident on her face. You did not bother to question her. That was when the smell hit you. Raw, metallic and it made you gag. This smell was all too familiar. You had smelt it the day your mother fell down the stairs. When the blood poured down your fathers blue lips. Suddenly you did not want to move forward. Because Helaena could only have cried like that for three people. Three small children who were her world. And the horrid realization dawned upon you as step by step the cries of agony that would never fully leave the young Queen. Today the Red Keep was bathed in the blood of a child. Today, one of those children would never see another sunrise.

Each step was heavy. Turning back would be easy. But your conscience pushed you on. Little droplets of blood trailed out. Then smears. The children's faces came into your mind. Which one of them was it? Or all three? Horror pulsed through your soul like a poison. Bile could be felt at the very back of your throat. You almost got to the door when you nearly fell. You had stepped in a pile of the child's blood. Doubling over in horror, bile was spat onto the floor. Oh. Gods. Your eyes burned and skin crawled. The satin shoes were removed, one stained a dark red. But there was still some on your feet. An innocents blood violently shed, mingling your own body. Whos blood was it!?

The scene you walked in was nearly indescribable in its horror. The stench of death was nearly overwhelming, putrid. Five people lay there on the floor, only four alive and breathing. Three women, two kids. You saw one of the Queens ladies there, her throat slashed.

You stumbled over Jaehaerys Targaryen's corpse. Blood pouring from the stump where his head once sat.

Cries rose from Kings Landing as the news spread. Jaehaerys Targaryen was dead, murdered by assassins' on the orders Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen. At this many moment the killers where somewhere with the prince's head. The stench of his blood remained long after Elinor lead you away. Multiple cries rung out from every corner of the castle. Small prayers left your lips to any Gods who would hear them. Even if the blood could be cleansed the memory could not be so easily sponged away.

You were laid to rest in bed. Sleep you did. But it was fitful with blood and misery. And in it sat the Weirwood tree, so real in its ancient terror. "Change coats." The running of blood!" The words oozed out of the tree like a sinister symphony. And everything was blood, and it consumed you in its fervous. Helaena's eyes stared down at you, cold and blank. When you finally did wake the next day had already began. The sun was there but you could not feel its warmth. It was hard to feel anything now. Your belly rumbled but you felt no hunger. They dressed you and the bodice tightly fitted around you was nothing. "Y/n, please eat." Food was put in front of you. Only the bread was eaten. The sensation of juice running down your throat was revolting and meat repulsed you. You forced back some wine. Afterwards you called for a basin to be brought in. You rubbed the soap against your feet to rid yourself of the already long gone blood. But every time you lay your feet upon the cold stone you started again. It had always been filled with blood. When Maegor the cruel finished the Black cells did he not kill all the workers. How much blood had been spilled inside this dread castle? Mayhaps the red did really come from blood. And now the little Prince's blood was added to it. And you knew this was only the beginning. War would claim one side or the other. Either Rhaenyra's brood, or you and yours.

Death stalked every resident of the Red Keep. Every breath that breezed through seemed to belong to the dead, known and unknown. Now stories would add the little Prince to the stories of lives taken within this castles walls. People flitted about like ghosts, hurrying here and there in an attempt to escape the stench of fear infecting everyone. people hid in their rooms, left for their estates, or sought guidance in the Sept. Only you went to the Weirwood tree. You might as well be in the middle of nowhere. This sudden change brought some sort of peace to you. The cold made you long for a land far off place. Maybe it was the Reed blood within you, a side of your family you had never payed much attention to. There was something archaic when it came to the Old Gods. You knew that it was heretical to think these thoughts. The Andals, your ancestors (although there was the blood of the First Men in your veins) had waged war and burned their trees. The New Gods had been your world, Seven being a number stamped into your mind. The idea of multiple Gods whos faces and personalities remained unknown was such a strange concept to you. How they even prayed to nameless Gods was a mystery.

Staying by the tree did not absolutely sooth your soul. Your soul was still in turmoil. Even after you had accepted your new reality the pain of losing your long time friend hurt. The Weirwood could not act as a balm. Sometimes tears would roll down your face in private. Sometimes you would see Prince Aemond in the court. Whether he was heading to a council meeting or walking with his wife. Like a ghost you would watch them, a mere specter in the court. You supposed that one did not even need to be dead to be a ghost in this wretched place.

Even with misery permeating through the palace, Princess Ellyn's rage had not tempered itself. On the first day you were back in the Princesses service she was as awful as ever. By the time you arrived she was in a tub being tended to by Cerilla and another lady. The second the door closed she loved around. You curtsied. "You. Get the herbs." You looked at the other lady who quickly gestured to a box in the corner. You picked it up and pulled out two bottles. Wordlessly you added the herbs into the warm water. The Princess was much like a cat, luxuriously stretched out. 'I think this suits you." You decided to ignore her. Being so tired her words hardly mattered to you right now. "The Princess is speaking to you." Said Cerilla. Coolly you looked at her. "If the Princess wishes me to answer she may say so herself." Princes Ellyn did not like that, she got up and strided towards you. The other lady gasped as Princess Ellyn sunk her sharp nails into your white sleeves. "I am the Princess, you are my lady in waiting! You are nothing compared to me." And then her grip tightened nearly making you cry out. "I will keep you by my side if only to further vex you. Every night I will have you wait as my husband loves me. And when I have his son you may be here to assist. Then maybe I'll send you to the Silent Sister to release you from your torment." The other lady had fled with Cerilla on her heels, looking back with a malicious sneer on her face. You had sworn never to cry in front of her. You started to shake with a combination of anger and deep seated sadness. This was like a bad dream. A continuing nightmare that never seemed to send. A life of suffering in her presence was worse than deal. She would hound you to the end of your days. She laughed when tears started to roll down your face. Her head was thrown back with black hair cascading down her back. Your despair had never been greater, and there was no one to protect you.

With tears rolling down your face, you filed her nails down in silence.

Dowager Queen Alicent, Princess Ellyn Baratheon, Prince Aemond and Otto Hightower were already seated. A smirking Lady Cerilla was standing behind Dowager Queen Alicent. Lady Joan shut the door behind you. Nervously you stood in front of them, feeling so small. Princess Ellyn regarded you with a sharp, cruel gaze. Prince Aemond was staring ahead with a vacant expression. You wondered if it was from milk-of-the-poppy but it seemed improbable. He was always careful about the amount he took. "Lady Y/n. As you know we brought you and have invited Lady Joan Tyrell for a very important reason." Dowager Queen Alicent placed the cup of tea down. Her fingers were shaking. You felt immense sadness for her. The loss of the little Prince was hard on you, but likely the horror was nothing compared to his grandmothers grief. You wanted to offer your condolences again but now did not seem the time. "Your guardian and I have decided that as you are a woman now, and given the current climate, it is time for you to marry." Princess Ellyn looked both shocked and enraged. "Pardon me Your Grace, but I hardly think Lady Y/n is suited to married life right now." Absolutely not. That bitch was not going to get her way this time. There was no way in hell you would allow her to have any say in your life. "I will do whatever Her Grace requires of me, even marriage." Princess Ellyn stood up, shocking everyone. In just three steps she was right in front of you. "I will not have you marry. I will not allow it!" Otto Hightower, who had so far been silent, straightened himself in his chair. "I was not aware you had any say in Lady Y/n's affairs." You hoped he never used that voice with you. Princess Ellyn's cheeks flushed a red you found made her look quite unattractive. "But My Lord, this woman has already lain.... she is no virgin and hardly worthy of any Lord." Otto Hightower stood up. And in that instant the Princess shrunk. She had overstepped the line. Massively. "Lady Y/n will not just be marrying a Lord she will marry Lord Jason Lannister." Princess Ellyn, Prince Aemond and yourself all looked at the Hand. "Jason Lannister." Princess Ellyn hissed out. Now all the colour had drained from her cheeks. She looked to angry to speak. "I am sure Lady Y/n will make a fine wife for Lord Lannister. She is of a good line, and he needs and heir. Besides, the Tarley's will be useful to the Lannisters." Those were the only words Prince Aemond contributed. "I beg your pardon, but what have the Tarleys got to do with this?"You had finally found your voice. Still shocked, you were trying to fully comprehend your suddenly new future. "Your cousin Ser Harold has died. Originally he held lands that were intended for your mother. And as he had no heir it reverts back to you. The Tarley's have a good army and you will bring a dowry of wheat, grain and gold to their house." Feeling dizzy, and Prince Aemond realizing this, he quickly pulled out a chair and helped you sit down. His touch was rigid and cold. There was blood in his nailbeds.

"I hardly think Y/n is an appropriate candidate for the position." Her voice was shaking with barely suppressed rage. You spared a look at Cerilla and noticed a look of alarm on her face too. "And how have you come to such a conclusion?" Dowager Queen Alicent inquired. "Because she is a whore!" The word "whore" echoed around the room and you would not be surprised in someone outside heard. "My wife." Prince Aemond took his wife by the hand. Not wanting to look at Prince Aemond being tender to her, your gaze went to the Hand. Otto Hightower looked as if his mouth might disappear with how tightly his lips pressed together. Dowager Queen Alicent looked done. "I promise I have never laid with Lady Y/n." Prince Aemond attempted to console his wife. But she rejected his, removing her hand. "Who told you these rumors?" Inquired Otto Hightower. "Everyone's being saying so! And my sister-" "We brought you here to forge an alliance and bring house Targaryen another son. Not go around listening to baseless rumors." Snapped Dowager Queen Alicent. Her pale hands were brought together in a display of anxiety. To your alarm you realized there was a thin red trail of blood staining her skin. "Your Grace." An embroidered handkerchief outlined in green was pulled from your sleeve. You quickly held it to the Queens hand. Everyone watched in surprised. "Mother. You are unwell." Prince Aemond got to his feet and helped her up.

Ottot Hightower looked tense, his intense brown eyes focused on Princess Ellyn. It was from past experiences when watching The Hand of the King's interaction with others you realized it was best to leave. "May I be excused?" Otto Hightower nodded without looking at you. Wordlessly you curtsied and made to leave. "Lady Y/n." Thrown through a loop, because it was Prince Aemond who called for you. Your eyes meet him for the first time in what felt like forever. There was a mask on his face. The skin looked unnaturally pale and there was a shadow under his eye. And his eye. It was a piercing lilac, so different from the usual deep purple it once was. He gave you the handkerchief. His ice cold fingers touched yours. And then he stepped back. The two of you were only a few feet apart. It lasted but a moment, that brief point when the bond of friendship was momentarily reconnected. Aemond's eyes seemed to study you. Your own on him. And it was but a moment. He looked away, the bond was broken. Prince Aemond walked out of the room.

Princess Ellyn watched her husbands retreat with keen eyes before focusing back on those still present. Deciding how was the time to flee, for a second time, you made to leave. "My Lord, if I may." You had almost made it to the door when Princess Ellyn spoke for the final time. "I suggest we subject Lady Y/n to a test to see if what she says is true." Dowager Queen Alicent looked at Princess Ellyn with something cold and hard in her gaze. "Very well. But no one is to speak of this." She then turned to you. "Lady Y/n you will prepare yourself and come to my chambers in an hours time. Princess Ellyn, The Hand will take you to the examination room."

You shivered. Not from the cold of the Red Keeps lower chambers but fear of the unknown. What had they planned for you? While you were a virgin what test would they subject you to? The blue cloak was pulled tighter around you. Elinor had been forbade to attend you, only Septas walked by your side. They were silent, clad in their grey robes and stern expressions. The room chosen belonged to one of the Maesters. You had tried to request a Maester you were familiar. The request was denied. Instead you were hustled into a hold damp room with no natural light to be examined by a strange man you did not know. All but two of the Septas left. It was just you, two Septas and the Maester. You did not recognize this rigid, weasely looking man in front of you. "I will ask that you undress." The Maester ordered. You green dress was striped from you. When a Septas hands came to your neckline to undo the string your hands seized hers. "What are you doing?!" The Septas exchanged looks. You then realized that they now likely felt you were guilty. "A thorough examination will be needed My Lady. Now if you will." And the last layer of clothes were removed, flittering to the ground. You were bare in a room full of strangers, shaking with fear and chill. And the Maesters touched you. Your waist, stomach, thighs and breasts were all poked and prodded like cattle. Then he had you reclined onto a bed. Your legs were spread apart and the next thing was pain. As the skrew on the contraption inside your vagina was twisted you cried out. The Septas held your hands. He finally extracted the instrument and put it in a bowl. He wiped his hands and left the room. "Is it over now?" Tears were streaming down your face.

It did not take too long for the Maester to come in. Following him was the Dowager Queen, Princess Ellyn and Otto Hightower. "Well?" The Princess had her arms crossed, a supercilious twitch in her lips. The Maester looked and you and back to the group. Dread flared in your belly. What if the Maester was mistaken? Or he was paid off my Princess Ellyn. "The Lady Y/n is indeed a virgin." Dowager Queen Alicent grasped the star on her chest. Otto Hightower looked relived. Princess Ellyn looked angry. "And what has assured you of this?" Her voiced was shaking. "The Lady's hymen is perfectly in tact." You were dizzy with relief, sinking back onto the bed. You closed your eyes as for the first time you felt victorious.

The still felt a burn in between your legs. Elinor had pressed a warm, damp rag as you sat in a chair. You said nothing as she encouraged you to drink tea. You could not see her face, thick brown hair covering it. Her pale hands trembled with each move. Now that the relief had worn off all you felt was humiliation. They had subjected you to such an interrogation without a thought. And now there was fear for your future duties. You had always imagined sex to be an enjoyable sensation. In the dark of night you had imagined how it might feel. Once He had been the subject of these fantasies. But when that instrument had been forced up you it had ached and pained you. The memory of your walls being forced apart sickened you. "My Lady-" Elinor's advice was usually welcomed. But your anger was so great that a cold voice, quite unlike your own broke across the room. "Not now." Your hands tightened. Elinor fell silent.

Now that your virginity had been proven the marriage to Jason Lannister was to go ahead. Your apartments had been moved to a larger room. This one was higher up but provided no outlook on the water. Instead the balcony gave you a birds eye view of the city. Each time a dragon flew over you could see it. Sometimes you saw Prince Aemond leave, for Harrenhal where his base lay. The tapestries was beautiful with a green background and golden flowers embedded into its fine fabric. Your now had sheer curtains around the bed that fluttered with every breeze. These was far more luxurious than your old ones, but it made you no more happier. A blanket of misery had wrapped itself around your very being. Your old room was small but private, being made utterly your own. Now you could no longer go to the alcoves in private or sneak to the gardens.

That being said not all changes were unwelcome. It was one thing to mock and belittle Lady Y/n Tyrell. Quite another when it came the future Lady of Casterly Rock. While you still were in the service to the Princess things had changed. The first day you served after the new of your betrothal Princess Ellyn something had changed. You walked into her room dressed in a new dress, courtesy of the Dowager Queen. Rubies hung from your ears and instead of the typical yellow you wore, now because of your status you wore gold. When you walked in all of their attention was on you. Lady Cerilla gave you a withering look which you returned. They made way for you. Unlike the other times she did not meet your eyes. In her chair, once so proud, the Princess looked defeated. Her eyes had a red tinge to them and off colour skin. No one said anything to you. Although they politely curtsied to you. It was strange but a releif. As you walked through he halls they bowed and curtsied. No one dared to confront you. Cerilla's little friends were not even seen, having fled from your sight the moment they saw you.

As you tried to get settled into your new reality the war carried on. With the death of the Prince everything seemed to unravel. A hush had fallen over Kings Landing as it held its breath. Even the sun seemed to be hiding. Prince Aemond had headed for Harrenhal, the haughnted castle built by Harren the Black. The King spent his days in the council as his wife slowly slipped into madness. You had only visited her once, having fled from her presence afterwards. The maids had nervously opened to door upon your arrival. A hush fell over the room upon your entry. The three ladies who assisted the room in her bed stood back. That was when the smell hit you. A revolting mingle of blood and sweat permeated the air. Helaena was sprawled out on the bed. She only wore a thin nightgown, blood showing on some of it. "Her Grace is having her course." One of the tearful ladies answered your horrified expression. The other two were between looking like they might cry, and throw up. "Are you not going to help her?!" You walked forward but Helaena let out a heart wrenching wail. She convulsed on her bed and fingers tore at her long hair. You were rooted to the spot with terror. Then it feel into silence. The ladies broke apart hastily as Helaena sat up. Her purple eyes darted around the room. They settled on you. She slipped out of the bed. A trail of blood smeared onto the white sheets. Despite this, you reached out for her. Her hot hand held yours. Then with a sudden jerking motion she pulled you towards her. You put up a hand to stop the ladies who looked ready to call the guards. "Helaena?" Your hand touched her smooth skin. Helaena brought her other hand to your wrist. "When the blood flows you will retread your path." Then she fell.

"Is she well?" You had stayed outside of her room as Maesters tended to Helaena. Beside you was a distraught Dowager Queen Alicent. She was hunched over, a few strands of her hair let free. Her lips muttered words that you no longer felt connected to, at the symbol around her neck. Lady Lenita Lannister was by her side looking worn and tired. You supposed this was everyone's new reality. "Where is the King?" Questioned Lady Lenita. "He is currently preoccupied." Said the guard. Lady Lenita snorted but said nothing else. Most likely he was drowning himself in wine. Prince Jaecerion came around the corner. "What has happened?" Dowager Alicent practically threw herself into her sons arms. Suprised, but not unwelcoming to the gesture, Jaecerion held his mother. Seeing you, he looked spurised. "Y/n? Are you alright?" He looked ready to come to you, but his mothers weight held him down. "I am. It is your sister. She collapsed." "Oh Gods." He sighed and closed his eyes. The Maester came out, and upon seeing the Dowager Queen slumped in her sons arms had her brought away. Lady Lenita hurried after her mistress, leaving you and the Prince. "I've missed you." Jaecerion suddenly hugged you, a hand in your hair. With a sigh he leaned against you. "I have to." The odd gesture did not bother you. These days any form of comfort was greatly needed. You could smell his dragon on him and it reminded you of Prince Aemond. Tears, for what felt like the millionth time, invaded your eyes. Your sobs shook you body and Jaecerion took your face into his hands. "Oh Gods Y/n." He then placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed him to hold you there. He gently rocked you back and forth. "I hate this." It was not just Helaena's condition but everything from this past month. And there had been no one to talk to, no one to place your cares on. "I know." He hushed and pressed a kiss to your cheek. This only caused you to cry louder. You were so relieved there was someone there for you. While you had considered Prince Aemond a friend your relationship with Jaecerion had been different. You had cared for him and the two of you played together. Your world had always revolved around Prince Aemond that everyone else faded into the background. But he had always been there. Even when your attention was on Prince Aemond he had always cared for me. Jaecerion took you by the hand and took you away.

His room was slightly smaller than the rest of his siblings, with the exception of Daeron who was in Old Town. He said that there was no need to have a large one as not many people need visit him. He swept you inside and shut the door firmly behind him. The room was dark, only the fire glowing in the fireplace cast any light. The little jewels around Jaecerion's room glittered like cats eyes. You sat down on the armchair and gazed around. You had never actually been in Jaecerion's room before. Any time Jaecerion had asked Prince Aemond would forebay it. Jaecerion pulls out pulled out a bottle of wine and a goblet, pouring you a cup. "Arbour gold. Dornish." You remarked. You took another large gulp, having a fondness for Dornish wines. They had a sour aftertaste you had grown to like. Jaecerion watched you. "I'm scared." You took a final sip and then placed it down. "The war." Jaecerion sat in front of you, elbows on knees. "It is just....well everything has been so fast. There is going to be war and I am to be married." Jaecerion's hands clenched. But your emotions were so intoxicating that nothing else really mattered. The brief moment passed unnoticed by you. "And Aemond." He added. You looked down at the drink swirling about. "Yes. And him." Jaecerion leaned forward and held your fingers in a tight grip. "If it is any consolation I think it is my brothers loss. He's a fool for the Baratheon girl." You chuckled. It felt nice for someone to stand by you during this time. As Jaecerion brew closer you realized he had always been by your side. Quiet, but there. And there, after Prince Aemond had forsaken you here he was by your side. All those years and it was only now that you realized. You pulled Jaecerion closed to you. "I just want to thank you, for everything. You've always been there for me and I am forever grateful for it." You squeezed his hand. He smiled, the pupils in his eyes enlarged.

The two of you were so close. His breath could be felt on your face. He was close and getting closer. Your heart hammered in your chest. Was it possible? A cold wave invaded your belly when something occurred to you. It seemed so impossible but you could not mistaken his behavior right now. And then you realized you were in a room, alone, with a man who's eyes were wide and his cheeks a light pink. The little boy who use to follow you around and comfort you when Prince Aemond was not around possibly, no, very likely felt something more than friendly towards you. In another time you would. But right now with your world so shattered, you allowed yourself to be pulled alone the path your family had made. You stood up and quickly bayed your friend farewell, thoughts more confused than ever.

The day you set out was a grey one. A light wind had come down from the north. Perhaps winter would come soon. Normally you might go by ship. But since the Velarion fleet was on standby you would have to take the road. Leaving the Red Keep was harder than you thought. For so long you had wanted to go back to Highgarden and now that you were leaving this place, you did not want to. Perhaps you were attached to its place with all its memories. Yet those memories did not make you entirely happy, even the joyful ones. Most of them included Prince Aemond and now held a sour note to them. Maybe now you could let go of your fear and anger, starting a new life. Maybe you would like it there. As Lady of the castle you might be able to make it your own.

The ladies of both Dowager Queen Alicent, Queen Helaena and Princess Ellyn had come for your send off as was custom in the court. You coolly walked past most of them, they had made their stance long ago. Dowager Queen Alicent, surprisingly enough, hugged you gently. "Take care, Y/n." In all your years the Dowager Queen had always been the epitome of propriety. While never cruel she was not one for common shows of affection. As the two of you broke apart you noticed her deep brown eyes held a world of misery, trapped in the body of this woman. "You two." No one could hear but her. And for a moment she looked startled, then understood. Helaena would have greeted you had her condition permitted it. But alas she was still in bed. You prayed to any God out there she might be alright. Princess Ellyn Baratheon stood rigidly in front of you. Ever since the examination she had not talked to you. This may be the last time either of you saw each other and it brought you relief as well as anger. If this was the last time then you wanted her to know how you felt. You prayed she had no peace for the rest of her days, that another may come and set her heart in a pitch of misery. So you made to look as if you were embracing. But your hands gripped her hands in an unloving embrace. "I pray that you never know peace. And do not think the Prince will forget about me." It ached to know that Prince Aemond had likely cast off any affection he might have possessed for you. But Princess Ellyn did not need to know that. You prayed that even with you gone she would never know a days peace.

You turned your back on the court and ascended the stairs. Clad in red already you looked every bit the Lannister you would become. Elinor and your three new ladies Alana Lannister, Tilla Tarley and Mary Westerling following suit. Quietly all you sat and wondered what the future would bring. Even though Lady Alana and Mary were from the west it had been years, being fostered at Harrenhal. For Lady Tilla this place would be just as strange for her as it was for you. All of you were stepping into a new land with blindfolds on. Lady Tilla gave you an apprehensive smile as Lady Alana sadly stared out of the window. Sitting between Elinor and your dog, you remained seated. The carriage jolted and then loved forward. Remaining seated you suddenly felt Prince Aemonds loss more clearly than ever. Even at your lowest there was always the possibility he might return to you. But that time had passed and you felt his loss. Elinor took your hand in hers. A burst of cold wind came in. Yet as you shivered no one else seemed bothered. Having the sudden urge to get up, you walked to the window and peered out. You thought of the Weirwood tree with its branches reaching towards you. Imagining its comforting presence you had the bazar desire to jump out and go back. "My Lady?" Lady Alana looked at you curiously. Forlornly, you sat back down. Your thoughts lingered on the tree long after.

Note:

So the plot really kicks off. The reader is heading to Casterly Rock. I know Jason Lannister isn't very popular (for very good reason he ain't my fav either) but there is a point to it. I did not chose Cregan Stark because I don't think Cregan would turn his back on Rhaenyra even if the Greens had a bride to offer. Also Jason Lannister does have a wife in the story. For the sake of this story Jason and his wife had their three daughters (canon) and then dies before having their son. I'm also aware that a woman having a broken hymen is not a sure way to know if someone is a virgin but for the sake of plotline I will use it.

I want to thank everyone who has supported my work! It means a lot. I am happy to answer any questions to the best of my ability.

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qedavathegrey · 9 months

Text

The Construction of the Muse Servitor

I have previously written (at length lol) about the creation of servitors, constructed-familiars, and other what-have-yous, but I wanted to touch on a more specific variety that I don't often see discussed: the muse servitor.

Given forth by the student, the muse servitor acts as liaison to and inspiration for all things creative or scientific. It is a piece of oneself separated and fed through acts of service, giving back to its creator further insight, passion and — under the right circumstance — dauntless motivation. Are they a necessity? No, far from. But for those creatives and scholars who are, by circumstance, removed from their specialized communities and/or who struggle to motivate themselves toward artistic ends without "external" validation, the muse servitor can fill this void. Their creation can also act as a mental jumpstart on a new project, a new field of study, or be used to reinvigorate passion after a period of stagnation.

The process of creation is relatively simple but can be complicated (non-derogatory) in any number of ways at the student's preference.

To begin, gather:

An item to embody the muse servitor — could be anything, but association is a powerful tool

A "house" for said item where offerings will be left — it can be elaborate or not; a box, a jug, a shelf, a cabinet, even a folder on a computer

An initial offering — again, could be anything; it could be your own work (preferred) or an artifact you are utilizing to begin a project or course of study

A catalyst — most often this is the student themselves, but you could channel from almost any source: the moon, the ground, the air, color theory, the concept of relativity, etc.; get as freaky as you want with it

To complete the working:

Hold the item in hand and let your mind work. Channel from whichever medium you prefer, if you have chosen one. Let the thing take shape, applying what you must, see what sticks. You can verbalize your intentions or define the nature of the relationship if you'd like, but it isn't required. Once fully formed (by your own estimate), tie this mental/spiritual concept to the object. Again, you may voice what you are doing if you prefer. And in doing so, so is born the muse servitor: name it and place it in its "home."

Note: For those inclined toward the visual arts, this process can be done by way of practice also. For instance, you might draw, paint, sculpt, etc. a portrait of the servitor. If you have chosen to render it on a scale unbefitting a small "home," you may assign it an area by way of hanging or leaning the work against a wall, placing it on an altar, in a corner, etc. and arranging offerings around it. Writers or poets might use the written word to describe in detail the servitor's appearance and character. These collected pages may be housed as above or, as earlier stated, housed in a desktop folder

Present the initial offering. Verbalize, either mentally or aloud, what it represents. Promise to feed it when you can and ask that, should it begin to hunger, it inspire you to create, to read, to work. If you fail to meet its need, speak that it may go freely to the aether, return to the mind, or be left to its own devices.

Feed it regularly. Develop a rapport. Learn its preferences. Call to it when you need inspiration or guidance.

Et voilà!

The work is done.

Or just beginning, rather.

I would add that "feeding" the muse servitor can be done differently or by different means beyond the one "assigned." For instance, you can do a portrait, sure, or compose a song, but you could also create a concept board or a playlist. You might also create the muse with the intention of focusing on music, but feed it drawings or readings about quantum theory instead. Work done to completion is only a part of the servitor's purview. The process is important, too. And gathering concepts, exploring alternate modes of doing and expressing, researching. Anything that feeds a well-rounded understanding also feeds the muse. And with it, the muse gives back passion and inspiration enough to continue. To keep going, keep doing, keep searching. "If not for yourself, then for me."

Happy inspiring!

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 11 months

Note

May I please get Nikolai just being nice to Riot? Just comforting her in way, he can. Or maybe just cheering her to keep being beautiful and mischievous, as she already is?

I mean a little text, not a render.

Disclaimer: Extended Russian sentences between <>

Setting: Near future, when the investigation about HeadHunters is on again (will be expanded in the fanfic). After Darker Matters (and their reunion)

I can't make a little text, omg...

Solntse moye: my sun

Solnyshko: sunshine

"I'm fine"

"I know your 'I'm fine's very well, but ok. We'll speak tomorrow. Now try to sleep"

"Sure. Good night, Kate"

Riot hung up the hotel phone before Laswell answered, and left it carefully on the bedside table, drowning the urge to yank it off and throw the device against the wall.

The day had been draining, being interrogated over and over and over again. Going over her training, Gibraltar, HeadHunters, Transnistria. To the point of being physically sick due to the memories and having to rush to a public toilet right after stepping out of the hearing hall, followed by a very worried Gabi and Kate.

The previous day had been the same. And the following day, there would be more of the same shit.

"Me cago en la puta (very ugly Spanish swearing)" She hissed, through gritted teeth, sitting alone on the bed of the hotel suite in London where the investigation committee had made her stay at. "Me cago en la madre que me parió (another ugly variant of ugly Spanish swearing)"

Alone. The only sound came from the TV, showing a music videos channel.

None of the 141 had been allowed off duty to accompany her. Price had fought against it, but in the end, what Headquarters said, went.

Her only company and support were Kate Laswell and Gabi, but they weren't allowed to sit during the hearings either.

She wasn't allowed to call or receive external calls, and her phone was in Laswell's hands for keeping. So she didn't even have the comfort of venting to Johnny or Kyle, to complain to Price, or be appeased by Simon.

God, she needed Simon. So much that every cell in her hurt.

Alone with her thoughts and with only the TV to keep her company, she thought she'd go crazy before dawn, prowling through the suite like a caged animal.

But there was a knock on the door, and she stared at it, frowning. She wasn't supposed to see anyone. From the hotel to the government building and back, with guards. No visitors, no calls.

Whoever it was, they knocked again, and Riot stood up to go to the door. If someone finally came after her, like with the other former HeadHunters operators, so be it.

But it wasn't a former 'colleague', or anything of the sorts, who was standing there as she opened the door. For a second she was speechless, but then tried to be as deadpan and sardonic as always, but her eyes betrayed her.

"I didn't order a Russian fixer to room service"

"Ah, solntse moye, but I'm sure you'll let your Russian uncle inside" Nikolai smiled, with the mischievous grin that was so typical of him, that sometimes infuriated so many people, but in that moment was what she needed the most.

Without a word she dove right into his arms, burying her face in his chest and gripping that stupid striped t-shirt whose name always escaped her. She could feel the rumble in his chest as he laughed and hugged her tightly.

"What are you doing here? How the fuck did you know I was here?" Christine muttered, so pathetically relieved that she felt a knot in her throat and stomach. Trying to regain her composure, she released him and stepped back a bit. "And how did you enter the hotel? It's supposed to be guarded. Is Olga here too?"

"<One thing after the other, my little sunshine>" Nikolai looked at both sides of the corridor and then pushed her inside to close the door after them. "I'll start with the last because it's easier. I have my methods, one day I'll teach you. Olga couldn't come, she's taking care of some business but sends her love"

Christine looked even sadder for a moment, but smiled and allowed him to guide her to the sofa in front of the TV to sit down, with Nikolai holding her hand.

"What are you doing here, Nikolai?"

"Tsk, tsk, solnyshko, so impatient" He laughed, tapping with his fingers on the back of her hand. "I came to visit you, of course! A little bird told me you could use a friendly face"

"Does that little bird have muttonchops?" She kept smiling although she rolled her eyes, so visibly happy that she couldn't care less about the dull pain on her face due to the strain on the scar tissue. "Or was it Kate?"

"To be honest... both of them" Nik dragged Christine closer, to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She wordlessly snuggled against him, feeling a bit better. "John told me that you were forced to come, to give your statement, and that you were all alone. And Kate very kindly told me the hotel where they're keeping you. And here I am"

"... were you even in the country?" No way. There was no way that Nikolai had been in the UK by sheer coincidence right when she was alone and pathetic.

"What does it matter, solnyshko?" Nik smiled indulgently, running his fingers through her hair as one would do with a little kid. "<I am here now, and that's what matters>"

"But why?" Christine insisted, and he just shrugged, without losing his smile.

"What do you mean, why? Because you needed me, solntse moye"

In other circumstances, in other company, she would have been able to control herself. But after two days of having to explain what happened, in detail, to a group of unknown people who had too much chest candy, without Johnny to be her rock, without Kyle and his calm reassurance, without Price's immutable support, without Simon, Christine felt drained, spent, exhausted and disheartened.

Therefore, when the tears started to fall, she could do nothing to stop them, and sobbing, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Nikolai just held her, murmuring soothing nonsense in Russian while rubbing her back and running his fingers through her hair.

And she told him everything. Every single horrible, questionable, bloody, painful detail, wanting to die all over again, feeling shame all over again, feeling the rage that darkened her soul. How she was abused and tortured. How she was made to stare at the rotting bodies of her squad.

How she had murdered every single one of her captors until only the leader was left, and how she had tortured him for hours until she finally set him on fire while still alive.

At times Nikolai felt anger and clenched his jaw, staring at the void she was unveiling before him, but his hands kept gently craddling the little girl in his arms, his little sunshine, so brave, so scared and so hurt.

"You did what you had to, little one" He cooed, his voice as calm and nonchalant as always. "You tell your privates that in your self-defence classes, da? Survival is the only goal, by any means needed. And you survived"

She only nodded silently, and Nik kissed gently her hair.

"The only thing I regret of all this, solntse moye, is that you didn't leave anyone alive for me"

"That's what Ghost said" Christine laughed quietly. "And Price"

Nikolai felt better seeing that she laughed and smiled again, and brushed one thumb on her cheeks to wipe away her tears.

"There's my sunshine"

"I don't feel very shiny" She muttered, with a sad little smile, and Nikolai laughed softly, keeping her snuggled and comfortable in his arms.

"Tomorrow will be another day, solnyshko"

"I have to go in again"

"And I'll be waiting when you get out. I promised John you wouldn't be alone"

The music channel on the TV had started showing music videos from the sixties and seventies, and when one song in particular started to fill the room, Nikolai's ears perked up.

Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's alright

"The Beatles. My grandma liked them" Christine smiled, and Nik looked at her, pretending to be offended.

"Are you calling me old, little one?"

"If it walks like a duck, and sounds like a duck..." She grinned mischievously, more like her usual self.

Little darlin', the smile's returning to their faces

Little darlin', it seems like years since it's been here

Nikolai dragged her up to their feet, and grabbing her hands forced her to twirl, following the music.

"What are you doing?" Christine giggled, allowing it, as they danced to Here comes the sun.

"Making sure you don't think about today or tomorrow, solntse" Nikolai made her twirl again, grinning. "Just enjoy the music. Soon everything will be over and you'll be able to go back home"

"Home" Christine sighed, thinking of her newfound family that she needed so much, and Nik nodded.

"Home. And I'll take you there"

#thanks for the ask!#i love asks #nikolai reboot call of duty #cod nikolai #call of duty nikolai #nikolai cod #nikolai call of duty #christine riot vega #riot vega #cod original character #call of duty original character #cod oc #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfiction #cod fic #call of duty oc #call of duty fanfiction

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kp777 · 5 months

Text

By Jake Johnson

Common Dreams

May 3, 2024

A study released Thursday by a pair of United Nations agencies finds Israel's months-long U.S.-backed war on the Gaza Strip has inflicted unparalleled damage on the occupied territory's population, housing stock, and overall economy—destruction that will reverberate for generations.

As of April 12, Israeli forces have killed or injured 5% of Gaza's population and left thousands more missing, including many who are believed to be buried under the rubble of the enclave's decimated infrastructure, according to the new study by the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) and the Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia (ESCWA).

The report says the level of damage Israel's military has caused to Gaza's housing infrastructure has not been seen since World War II and will likely take decades—and tens of billions of dollars—to recover from.

Achim Steiner, the UNDP's administrator, said in a statement that "every additional day that this war continues is exacting huge and compounding costs to Gazans and all Palestinians, now and in the medium- and long-term."

"These new figures warn that the suffering in Gaza will not end when the war does," said Steiner. "Unprecedented levels of human losses, capital destruction, and the steep rise in poverty in such a short period of time will precipitate a serious development crisis that jeopardizes the future of generations to come."

"Unlike previous wars, the destruction in Gaza today is unprecedented in scope and scale."

Abdallah Al Dardari, the UNDP's regional director for Arab states, said during a press conference unveiling the report on Thursday that there were 2.4 million tons of debris in Gaza after Israel's 2014 assault on the enclave.

Israel's current assault, which historians have described as one of the worst bombing campaigns in modern history, has left 37 million tons of debris in the occupied territory.

The U.N. report was published as Israel's assault on Gaza nears its seventh month and as the Netanyahu government appears poised to launch a ground invasion of Rafah, the southern Gaza city that's currently home to 1.4 million displaced Palestinians.

Citing unnamed Egyptian officials, The Wall Street Journal reported Friday that Israel intends to invade Rafah in a week if Hamas does not agree to a hostage-release deal.

The World Health Organization (WHO) warned Friday that an invasion of Rafah, which Israel has been bombing for months, "could lead to a bloodbath."

The new U.N. report states that if Israel's assault on Gaza continues for another two months, it will leave 1.86 million people in poverty and set back the territory's progress in life expectancy, education, and gross national income growth by more than 20 years.

After months of Israeli attacks on agriculture and other key sectors, the "productive basis" of Gaza's economy "has been destroyed," the report notes.

"Unlike previous wars, the destruction in Gaza today is unprecedented in scope and scale and coupled with the loss of homes, livelihoods, natural resources, infrastructure as well as institutional capacities, may have deep and systemic impacts for decades to come," said Rola Dashti, ESCWA's executive secretary.

"This assessment projects that Gaza will be rendered fully dependent on external assistance on a scale not seen since 1948, as it will be left without a functional economy, or any means of production, self-sustainment, employment, or capacity for trade," Dashti added.

#gaza #gaza infrastructure #gaza natural resources #gaza economy #united nations

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chiefbeifongcanrailme · 6 months

Text

The Sphere's Embrace

I have officially finished posting to @linbeifongsweek

Here’s my submission for day 8 of Lin Beifong’s Week. You can also find it on AO3.

Pairing: Lin Beifong x Bumi

Rating: M

Art made by JadeLotus💚

The Sphere's Embrace was a cunning and formidable trap, designed to ensnare unsuspecting trespassers within its metallic grasp. At first glance, it appeared to be a massive spherical structure, looming ominously within the chamber it guarded. Its surface gleamed with a metallic sheen, betraying no hint of the danger that lay within.

It all started because because everybody loved to go out of their way to make Lin's life harder than it already was. But really, this was far from circumstantial. There was a logical series of events that had thrust Lin into this position.

After defeating the Red Lotus, it was a rather grievous few months when Korra departed for the South Pole for her recovery. Because spirits were down, and instead of joy in the face of victory, Republic City was facing melancholy in the wake of a shattered Avatar, and all of Air Temple Island was living within the gloomy waves of despair. Because the new airbending master, Jinora came to the rescue by taking inspiration from the glory of the Yangchen festival and organized a little ritual for Korra's speedy recovery followed by a festival of merriment for all the attendees.

Because her moronic sister said "two Beifongs are better than one" and brought her own incredibly ridiculous-looking portable prison in case any wandering Red Lotus members decided to crash their party.

The Sphere's Embrace consisted of a colossal spherical shell, constructed from reinforced platinum and intricate mechanical components concealed within its surface. Suspended above the ground, it rested upon a sturdy base, its polished exterior offering no indication of the mechanisms hidden beneath. At the center of the Sphere's Embrace lay a cozy bed, tempting weary travelers with the promise of rest. However, this seemingly inviting surface harbored a deadly secret. Embedded within the floor of the threshold, were pressure-sensitive sensors, finely tuned to detect the slightest weight.

It was because of that final security sweep Lin did towards the end of the ritual. Because Lin just had to check out that stupid giant ball-sac of a prison that was supposedly impervious to any and all bending. Su wouldn't admit it, but Lin was certain this had Kuvira's blueprints all over. But finally, It was because she saw a pair of naked butt cheeks galivanting inside the prison.

Lin had hopped in without a thought- ready to fight the prisoner that had already taken his rightful place.

Upon detecting the presence of an intruder, the Sphere's Embrace sprung into action with lethal precision. Bi-parting doors, seamlessly integrated into the spherical shell, would snap shut with thunderous force, sealing the victim within its metallic confines. The doors would lock with a resounding clang, rendering escape impossible from within. Those trapped within must await the mercy of their captors or the intervention of an external force to secure their freedom.

"Lin!" the naked man, she now recognized to be Bumi, shrieked in unison with the snapping doors.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Lin was panting as she frantically ran across the room looking for vulnerabilities in construction. Naturally, she failed in bending the platinum walls. The prison was well thought out, a real testament to Kuvira's cunning. The bed in the center was made entirely of wood and unbendable materials. The counter top had a straw bowl with some bananas to keep the prisoners alive, a fruit with not enough water content to use to cut the platinum walls with pressure. Certainly, even lightning couldn't break a metal this dense and durable- maybe slightly damage it- but Suyin made sure it was flawless.

"What are you doing in here?" she managed to berate.

Thankfully, he had the decency to cover his genitals with his hands. "I just wanted to have a look at—"

"And where are your clothes?"

"They're outside- are- are we trapped in here?" he asked, cowering.

"What do you think, Wan Shi Tong?"

"Sheesh there's no need to be—”

"We're fucking trapped in Suyin's bending-proof platinum nut sac!"

"Relax, Lin. Someone's going to notice we're missing and—”

"No?!" she cried, a pitch higher, "they're going to assume we left- like the rest of the crowd."

"Tenzin's going to notice I'm not—”

"Is he?" she screamed. "Or is he going to assume you bailed to go party in the city like always?"

"Okay you have a point there," he admitted. "But—”

"Oh, fuck me, Bumi—”

"Gladly! I'm ready. You're the one still wearing clothes," he said all too seriously.

"Stop trying to—” Lin shook her head and swallowed on her dry throat, dumbfounded. "What did you say?"

"It would be a honor to fuck you," he said, bowing in reverence. Lin couldn't decide if her heart was racing because her blood was boiling or she was actually considering his offer. Bumi had totally transformed since his retirement- he looked good, but more importantly, he looked good naked. His body was toned like never before- leaner but just as burly as he used to be in his prime.

She realized she hadn't responded and she didn't want him getting ideas. "Shut up, Bumi."

"Fine, your loss," he shrugged.

Bumi sat atop at the foot of the bed while Lin continued to look around. He observed the way she scuttled about, her eyes were blown wide with frenzy governing her every movement. It had been a while since he had spent any one-on-one time with Lin, and the last time he did, he had almost asked her out to dinner. You see, he wasn't lying about it being an honor to fuck her. He meant it. And that nonchalant candor was the best way conceal those jitters he felt around her.

"How are you not freaking out?" she asked.

"I mean, we're trapped." he said. "There's no way out. And there's no point in freaking out."

Lin didn't stop to roll her eyes like Bumi imagined. Instead she was shaking. And suddenly, he remembered. Lin had always been a little claustrophobic.

"Hey, why don't you have a seat for a moment."

She gave him an incredulous look.

So he stood up, hand still against his crotch so as to not flash Lin as he made his way over to her. "Relax, Linny. I'm going to get us out of here, okay?"

"Bumi—"

"Shhhhh," he said, rubbing her arm affectionately. "Why don't you lie down on the bed for a moment?"

"Bumi, I—"

"Just one moment. A tiny one, please?"

Lin sighed, but she relented. As she got to the bed, covered in red bedsheets and a matching duvet, she looked over at Bumi's naked form and then stared at the bed. He had his bare buttocks on these very sheets just a second ago. Somehow, that idea didn't bother as much. He was just Bumi, at the end of the day. Bumi who wore bottomless chaps to his brother's anointment. Bumi who ate and drank like a bottomless pit. Bumi who'd side with her whenever Suyin was being a menace. Bumi, who comforted her after Tenzin ended things with her. And that's when she realized- he was trying to comfort her, before her train of thought left the station with- Bumi whose buttocks she really wanted to grab with a firm—

"On the bed now, Linny."

She shook her head and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Can you now tell me why you're naked?"

"Oh," he replied. "I wanted to check this prison out, but if I stepped in- the way you did- it'd shut down. So, I was using airbending to float around and I didn't want my clothes to get in the way."

"Oh," she commented with surprise in her voice. "That's actually clever."

"What can I say, I am a clever man, Linny."

She rolled her eyes. "Can you not call me that?"

"I don't think I can," he replied.

When Lin felt a depression on the bed, she glanced to her side to see him smiling down at her. He stroked her hair gently and said, "We'll get you out of here, okay?"

"Bumi, I'm fine. I just don't want to be stuck in here."

"Lin, you're brave. And you can be brave every day of your life. But today, you don't have to. I can take care of you."

She sat up, resting on her palms. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Bumi snorted. "I'm always nice to you."

She couldn't argue there. It wasn't as if Bumi irritated her on purpose. Maybe she could afford to loosen up a little. Maybe she could be nicer to Bumi going forward. He was kind, funny in the way she hated, ridiculous, infuriating, and smart in the silliest ways, but spirits if he wasn't endearing.

"We should really find a way out," she said.

"Linny, how? Nobody would be able to hear us scream."

Narrowing her eyes at the nickname, instead of addressing it, she said, "So what now?"

"Try to look at the bright side!" he suggested, jovially. "You're getting uninterrupted Bumi time! And I'm naked and it's okay because I'm hot now. Don't think I didn't see your eyes on my ass."

Lin's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, and Bumi took that as his cue to proposition her again.

"There's a bed too. And it's Suyin's. Why not mark our territory?"

"Bumi," she whispered.

His hand slowly traversed the length of her arm. Her eyes thirstily followed the delicate movement of his fingers until they reached her chin, at which point, he used one finger to tilt her head up towards him.

"Nobody will hear us scream."

"What if someone does come lurking around here?"

"Then, I'll hide you under the bed, get rescued naked and give you the perfect window to escape and then never speak about this again."

Lin couldn't help but smirk. "That does sound enticing."

"And I'm still not hearing a no,"

Lin grabbed his face and slammed her mouth against his. He hummed when her tongue entered his mouth as his hand roamed up and across her torso. With each hand he squeezed her breasts as she climbed atop him. Lin was ravenous and Bumi was all she craved- and he knew that too. And in no world would he want her any less than she wanted him in that moment. Bumi tightened his arms around her back and tossed her down onto the mattress. She landed with a fluffy thud just as Bumi's lips found her neck. Her hands ruffled through his wild hair.

Bumi couldn't remember for how long he had wanted this- his brain had turned to mush. He ran one hand down her breasts, straight through the slim gap between her belly and waistband and massaged her inner thigh perfectly- Lin had to moan to let him know.

"Louder," he growled.

She did not want to test that hypothesis- because what if someone did hear them? Suyin wasn't perfect. So she pulled his mouth on hers to shut them both up.

And that was how Lin Beifong had found herself quite literally thrust in that position.

She found out about an hour later when nobody came running to the trap, as she came, screaming into glory, that the trap was indeed sound proof. She came and then she came another time- her mind was in lost in the clouds of divine bliss.

Lin offered up her handkerchief to him to wipe himself up. There was no telling how long they'd been fucking or how late into the night it had now become where they had been laying in bed holding each other. Bumi had been peppering her cheek and shoulder with soft kisses as they fell in and out of sleep. And it wasn't until morning- or so they thought- when they wordlessly began again on a string of kisses.

Food and water had become all the needs of the sexless. With Lin in his arms, he had everything he needed to survive.

"I might be getting addicted to you," he whispered by her jaw as he got on top of her. Lin pushed a wild strand of his hair behind his ear before he dipped back down to kiss her.

"We all have our vices," Lin replied on his mouth.

"Still wanna get out of here?"

"You'd have to forcibly pry me out of this place."

Bumi chortled and doubled down on her. There was something to be said about the way this prison had become their own perfect bubble. It was the embrace of the Sphere's Embrace. Whatever their relationship was outside of this bubble had no hold over them while they ravaged the each other. There were no thoughts of ramifications, no worries of what this meant- it was a pure expression of flooding desire- indomitable, delirious desire.

Lin placed her hands against the platinum wall over the bed as Bumi rammed into her from behind. His hands were grasping her ass when she led one over her thigh and down in between her legs. He didn't need to be told what to do there, because by now, he knew her body better than he knew his own.

"I'm getting close," she moaned, as he picked up the pace. His hands were flawlessly menacing her clit, making her whole body scream and sweat with endorphins. Had she known before hand how well their bodies complemented each other, she would've jumped him well before he ever left for the United Forces.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted this, Lin," he said, verbalizing her exact thoughts.

She felt his teeth on her back and then she couldn't resist it anymore.

"FUCK—" she screamed. "BUMI- I'M—" her voice wavered from a shrill moan into a throaty grunt from the high.

"Shit," Bumi cussed at the sight before him.

A sizzling sound broke through both their moans as Bumi crashed on top of her. Her hands had seemingly crumbled and broken through the sturdy walls of their personal bubble. There was now a massive hole in the wall, as the fresh breeze from the Island wafted inside. The nesting warmth of their ecosystem was gone. It was all cool winds.

Bumi was still recovering, shifting beside her to spoon her from behind as Lin caught her breath.

"We're free," he coughed.

Lin whimpered, still getting off the high, unable to register what Bumi was talking about. She was still sensitive, groaning when Bumi rubbed her arm to catch her attention.

"You broke the wall," he panted. "We're free to leave."

Catching on, Lin quickly sat up in bed to see that the wall behind the bed had indeed disintegrated.

"How did... " she stared at her hands in disbelief.

Bumi sat up too, knitting his eyebrows together. "Did you bend platinum?"

Lin huffed, not looking away from her hands. "Did I?"

"I think I did,"

She glanced back up at the wall and then slowly brought her hands to it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling at her element encased within what was known to be the purest form of metal. Bumi admired her naked form as she concentrated and within moments, to his shock, the wall tore open.

She gaped at him with shock and he returned the same look of incredulity. It was dark outside, which meant that it had been a full day since their entrapment. As far as Lin knew, the Beifongs of Zaofu were living at Air Temple Island during their visit, so a sneaky, quiet exit was prudent. Luckily, Bumi had left his glider and clothes right behind a tree close to the Sphere's Embrace.

Wordlessly, he got dressed as Lin followed his shadow behind the tree. In a moment, he had his arm around her waist, the other holding up the glider as they took flight.

Heads down, they were silent the whole way to the city. They hadn't exchanged a single word since they had stepped outside the Sphere's Embrace. It had been a challenging twenty-four hours- especially now that they both fell victim to the phenomenon of some kind of captivity attachment.

Once they reached the threshold of her house, it was Bumi who finally cleared throat to terminate the silence. They surely had the same thoughts resounding in their minds that neither wanted to be the first to verbalize.

As she unlocked the door, Bumi stepped forward. "Can I come inside?"

Lin gave him what he thought to be the sexiest smile he had ever seen.

He took that as a yes and followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

Ultimately, while the collapse of the Sphere's Embrace could be a painful and transformative experience into reality, it offered the chance for renewal and the possibility of creating new spheres of embrace that are even more fulfilling and enduring than before. As it turned out, Bumi had found his life-partner in the world's first platinum bender.

#chief beifong #lin beifong #linumi #bumi ii #linbeifongsweek

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