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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

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White Boulder Christmas

Day 5 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Stu Redman x fem!reader

Summary: You experience your first white Christmas in the Boulder Free Zone.

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Warnings: spoilers for The Stand (the book & the miniseries), fluff, angst, vague description of injuries.

A/N: The Stand is one of my favorite books of all time and I think about Stu a concerning amount, so I am very excited to try writing for him! He may be OOC but I'm planning to keep writing for him so I can improve. I used Gary Sinise's portrayal of him in the 1994 miniseries because he was amazing (I could talk about the 1994 adaptation and the book all day so if anyone has requests, feedback, or comments please please please send them to me!!)!

The last 200 miles into Boulder are the hardest. You thought the trip would be easier once you crossed the state line into Colorado. It isn’t. You haven’t seen another person in days, you’re tired, and the dreams are getting more intense. As the sun sets on a state you always wanted to visit - granted, it seemed more enjoyable before the virus, but it’s still beautiful - you break into a jog as you see the flickering lights of civilization. The town is tiny, and the only reason you know where you are is the small sign reading “Kiowa Creek Church.” Trying the doorknob of what used to be the municipal police station, you sigh as it opens easily. You thoroughly check the building before setting your backpack down, leaning it against a cell door to keep it open, and collapsing onto one of the cots.

“Boulder, here I come,” you whisper to the dilapidated ceiling before drifting to sleep, visions of corn fields and black crows invading your mind.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up, there’s a wet nose pressed to the pulse point under your jaw. You jerk away from the unexpected and unwelcome touch, raising your hand to your neck. As you turn your body, you see a dog wagging its tail as it looks up at you. Your eyes widen as your hand falls into your lap before you squeal and lean forward to hug the dog.

“Kojak!” a deep voice yells outside.

“Is that you?” you ask the dog, scratching behind its ears as you stand. “Are you Kojak?”

When he hears his name, Kojak’s tail wags harder as he walks beside you, sitting at your feet as you gather your things.

“C’mon, Kojak,” you summon, snapping as he trots to your side to walk beside you.

The main door is barely open, proof that Kojak pushed inside to find you. Opening it the rest of the way, Kojak bounds out before you, stopping on the porch and looking between you and a man standing in the middle of the dirt road separating the buildings of Kiowa, Colorado.

“You find him yet?” another man, taller and younger than the first, asks, turning the corner.

“Kojak here found me,” you interrupt, waving shyly.

The younger man smiles a crooked grin that makes your heart drop as you forget why you’re in this deserted town in the first place.

“Well, then perhaps I owe him a thanks. I’m Stu Redman, this is Glen Bateman, and you’ve met Kojak,” he introduces, climbing the first step as he extends his hand to you.

You place your hand in his, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Where are you going?” you ask, your hand still in Stu’s.

“Boulder. You?” Glen answers.

“Boulder,” you inform with a firm nod. “Not that I really had much of a choice.”

Stu smiles again and says, “Did any of us? I’ll assume you’ve met her then?”

“And him,” you add.

Stu drops your hand and steps off the stairs, gesturing with his head for you to join him.

“We have room for one more, right, Glen?”

You look down at Kojak, squatting to pet him again so Glen doesn’t think there is any pressure to say yes.

“Would it matter what I said, East Texas?” Glen replies; you’re thankful you can hear the teasing in his voice.

“East Texas?” you parrot, looking up at Stu.

“Born and raised in Arnette. Seems to have stuck.”

“Just like Kojak seems to be stuck to you,” Glen says. “What’d you do? Feed him?”

“No, he found me. I was asleep. I’m just glad to see another dog!” you exclaim cheerfully.

“Just the dog?” Stu clarifies, his brows raised playfully.

“Just the dog,” you agree, shaking your head as you smile.

“Well, then, who’s ready to get to Boulder?” Glen asks, pulling his backpack straps over his shoulder.

“Me,” you and Stu say together.

He slips his hand into yours to help you stand up, and you instantly know that the last 100 miles will be the easiest yet because you’re not alone.

✯✯✯✯✯

Stu turns to you, and you look away, harshly wiping the tears from your face. He steps to you, gently grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands away. He drops his head to catch your eyes, but you refuse to look at him.

“I won’t say bye,” you mumble, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just giving you a hug to hold me over until we see each other again when I get back. Can you do that?”

“Only if you promise to come back.” You finally look up at him, and he releases your wrists to cup your face.

“I can’t make that promise.”

“And I can’t keep fighting without you.”

“I promise to do everything I can to come back to you. That’s all I can do for now.”

You bite your bottom lip and nod, your face in his hands. “I love you,” you whisper.

Stu’s eyes are glassy, but his smile is anything but sad as he looks at you. “That goes right back to you, ma’am,” he replies, leaning his forehead against yours after kissing it. “Wait for me?”

“Forever.”

You can’t stay with the other girls and wave them off because you know you’ll end up chasing him. Stu likewise doesn’t turn around when Larry does, instead keeping his eyes on the horizon as he promises himself and anyone else listening that he will do everything he has to do to get back to you. After he finishes the fight, he'll return to you, even if he can barely stand and has to fall into your arms.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Teddy, can you put me on the volunteer rotation for December?” you ask after a free-zone meeting. “It’s been the same people since we got here, and it’s almost Christmas, they deserve a break.”

Teddy smiles as he scribbles your name on a piece of paper before slipping it back into his pocket. “Absolutely. And thank you, they’ll really appreciate that.”

When you get a call the next day asking you to take a security post at the border of the Boulder Free Zone, you jump on the opportunity to help (and try to get your mind off Stu). The women in town are busy trying to do something small for Christmas but are worried that the scouts won’t be back in time, so there’s a debate as to whether or not it should be delayed until they return. In the anonymous vote, you chose to wait because you can’t imagine celebrating anything without knowing where Stu is. For tonight, though, you focus on your surroundings, not Stu’s crooked smile or East Texas accent. Or the moment he told you that he loves you.

Because of the low number of volunteers, the shifts are long. You’re five hours into a twelve-hour night shift when the first snowflake lands on your nose. You look up to the sky, unfamiliar with snow, especially in December. Within twenty minutes, snow is powdering the ground and continues falling, getting heavier each minute.

“A white Christmas,” you say quietly to yourself.

Then you laugh. Although your first white Christmas is in the Boulder Free Zone, surrounded by fear, fighting, and uncertainty, those little snowflakes are piling hope into your heart that everything will turn out fine.

Shaking your head, you return your attention to the night to protect your new family and temporary home, but you keep smiling as the temperature drops and the once-hopeless world turns white just in time for Christmas.

As the first rays of sunlight peek over the horizon, barely visible through the snow clouds, you hear an engine rumbling in the distance. The radio has been silent all night because no one else heard anything. As the noise gets louder, you’re positive someone is racing toward the Boulder Free Zone. You raise your rifle, looking through the scope to aim where the road twists around the hill. As the truck approaches the curve, it suddenly stops, and the engine dies. The night goes quiet, the sound of two doors closing the only proof you didn’t imagine the truck. When the first figure enters your sight on the scope, you drop your gun and run toward him.

“Tom!” you yell, fumbling to get your radio out of your pocket.

Tom looks up and says your name twice, first as a question, then an exclamation of joy. He drops his voice again to say, “He hurt his leg real bad.”

You look to your left and see the one man you’ve been waiting for since the moment he left.

“You waited,” Stu says, smiling as you rush to him and wrap your arms around his waist.

His arms loop over your shoulders and grip you tightly, pulling you against him like he’s melting into you.

“Let me radio for help,” you say into his chest.

Pulling back, you call Teddy and tell him that Stu and Tom are back before requesting a truck. He doesn’t answer with a yes or no, but the radio is full of cheers, yells, and crying, so you assume someone is on the way. Turning back to Stu, you let him lean against you and look down at his leg.

“Are you alright?” you ask quietly.

“I’m great now,” he answers, meeting your eyes when you look up.

“M-o-o-n, that spells great,” Tom says beside you.

“Is it just you two?” you whisper to Stu.

He nods, tightening his grip on you slightly.

“They saved our lives,” you add.

“It’s not just us,” Tom calls, “there’s one more. Laws, yes!”

You glance up at Stu, who furrows his brows. He catches on quickly and whistles. You look past him as Kojak runs around the corner and straight to you.

“Kojak!” you cheer, reaching down with the hand not supporting Stu. “I’m so happy to see you, buddy!”

“You didn’t get that excited about me,” Stu grumbles.

You look up at him and begin to say something, but the sound of a truck approaching cuts you off. The headlights on Teddy’s truck fall on you as he parks, helping Stu into the passenger seat while you, Tom, and Kojak get in the back. You can’t see much of him, but you watch Stu the entire drive to the hospital, holding Kojak as you smile, glad to have your boys back.

Once you get Tom home and settled, you and Kojak return to the hospital, checking on Fran before taking your seats in Stu’s room, Kojak on the end of his bed and you at the window, watching the snowfall. When Stu wakes up, he smiles at Kojak before looking around the room.

“First time seeing snow?” he asks.

You turn when you hear his voice, smiling as you walk to his side. “No. But it is my first white Christmas,” you answer, slipping your hand into his. “I’ve always dreamed of a white Christmas. Dreams change though.”

“Meaning?”

“I would trade a white Christmas for a Christmas with you,” you admit shyly.

He kisses your knuckles before shifting in the bed, inviting you to sit beside him. You watch the snow and each other as you talk about your Christmas traditions pre-Captain Trips. The doctor comes in to check on him several times and gives you updates on Fran as well. When he finds out he can be released in a day or so, he starts walking through the hospital on his crutches, taking you and Kojak with him, determined to walk on his own by Christmas.

✯✯✯✯✯

December 22, three days before Christmas, you and Stu are walking out of the hospital with no crutches needed. He suddenly pulls his hand from yours, and as you turn around to ask him what’s wrong, a snowball hits you in the middle of the chest. Your jaw drops as you look at Stu, two more snowballs in his hands.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” you call dramatically, kneeling to make a snowball.

“You love me,” Stu yells.

“Luckily for you,” you reply as you throw a snowball, hitting him in the shoulder.

As you exchange snowballs, laughing and yelling with more joy than you thought was possible to feel given the previous year, you’re glad Christmas is on schedule. The people around you need it more than ever.

“Ow!” Stu yells, falling backward into a snowbank.

You drop your snowballs and run to his side, kneeling beside his uninjured leg. “Did you hurt your leg again?” you ask.

He raises a hand to your bicep and rolls over, pushing you into the snow as he hovers above you, smiling.

“You’re okay?” you ask, breathless. Stu nods, and you release a sigh before shaking your head at him. “You scared me.”

His eyes are locked on yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. More than I can say.”

He leans down and kisses you, smiling against your lips as he slips his gloved hand between your head and the snowbank beneath you. Your hands rise to his shoulders as you pull yourself toward him, shivering against him. He breaks away, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before standing and helping you up, your hand secure in his as he walks you home.

There’s a small Christmas tree in your front window, and Stu smiles when he sees it. Kojak meets you at the door, circling your legs as you take your coats, hats, and mittens off.

“Stu?” you ask as he stands, wiping his hands after starting a fire. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“I couldn’t leave you. Especially now that I know you’re celebrating your first white Christmas,” he responds, walking to stand in front of you, the Christmas tree on one side and the warmth of the fire on the other.

“So, what now? I mean, what happens after Christmas? Are you going home, East Texas?”

He cups your face, just as he had before leaving, and smiles when you lean into his touch, his warmth. “I don’t care where I go,” he answers, “As long as you’re by my side for this Christmas, and every Christmas after.”

“Even if they’re not white?”

“Say you want them all white and we’ll go wherever you want, ma’am.”

“I want to go wherever you are,” you state, wrapping your fingers around his wrists.

He drops his hands and grabs your waist, pulling you in to kiss you. He whispers against your lips, “We’ll figure it out after Christmas.”

You nod against him, waiting until you break apart to say, “I love you.”

“I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, and I will love you until there is no such thing as a white Christmas.”

You smile, ready to say more, but his actions speak louder as he pulls you in again, Kojak curling up at your feet as the snow grows heavier and Boulder turns white, just in time for your first Christmas with Stu.

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #stu redman x reader #stu redman #the stand #stephen king #fem!reader #stu redman fluff #fluff

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risingpeaksrp · 2 years

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Good evening ghouls and boys, you are all cordially invited into the Devil’s Haunted Castle for a little Samhain celebration like none other.

Outside the castle there are booths set up for local shops to sell their Halloween themed goods and tricks. It is free access to join into the fun, such as the corn maze, bobbing for apples, caramel stations to turn your bobbed apple into a treat, face paints, pumpkin craving, open candy and drinks bar, as well as the clearing with a DJ booth for dancing.

The castle, that seemingly has appeared out of no where in the night is sitting on the edge of town near the paths that lead to the old mines, is largely built, dark grey stone with large gargoyles perched high above looking down darkly at the guests. The castle itself sits between the safety of home and the dreadful scene of the recent seven. Through the start of the night the castle doors will be sealed shut till the main event, all are asked to dress up for the event as there will be a costume contest that the winner will be revealed by the end of the event and presented with a spooky prize.

ooc info

Every household in the town of Creation Peaks has been delivered an invite to this event and all are compelled to join in even against their better judgements. Costumes are mandatory, the more creative and horrible the better. Your character can be working a booth from their business or running about the fun. It is unknown who is the benefactor of the night and everyone is whispering about it.

This event will go on from 10/21 till 11/03, you may take the weekend to close any on going threads but as of Monday we ask it only be event threads.

#risingpeaks.event001 #vampire rpg #supernatural rp #original rp #oc rp #vampire rp #supernatural rpg #magic rp #tvd rp #horror rp #town rp #witch rp

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somethinginthethunder · 2 years

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hi:] i requested the dolores x cheesy reader a while bac nd i loved it:] cld i req a dolores x dense reader this time? i need more dolores contentt

``dolores and a dense reader``

notes: this is perfect because i'm literally so dense

warnings: none :) except dolores might be ooc :(

—

-since her 5th birthday dolores has known to be a bit of a gossiper

-the kind of one that can't keep a secret for more than 5 seconds

-she used a lot of vague language though, which wasn't very useful to you.

-see, you were someone who was not very good at noticing the little things. a lot of the times you just had to straight up tell people that they had to say it bluntly or you're gonna be asking a lot more questions than you should be.

-for example, she was telling you about how one of the girls in town liked this guy, but you couldn't fully figure out what she was saying.

-you were sitting on her bed with her, the door shut so that nobody was able to come in and scold her for gossiping.

-"i'm telling you, (y/n), she likes him a lot!" she said in a hushed tone.

-you were silent for a moment, trying to figure out in which way she was saying it. "do you mean... like... romantically or platonically?" you asked slowly, tilting your head to the side.

-"wh-" her face contorted into that of confusion. "romantically? you think i'd hide with you up here just to tell you about a really good friendship?"

-"that's not what i was suggesting! you were just being really vague!" you insisted, turning to look back at her as she just shook her head in disappointment.

-it was even worse when she fell in love with you

-instead of confessing right off the back, she tried to drop a lot of obvious hints.

-spoiler alert: it didn't work.

-it was almost infuriating how many times you failed to understand what she was trying to tell you.

-"so... (y/n). i don't have a date to take to the festival," she said to you one day, walking beside you as you picked the corn from the fields.

-"aw, same! it sucks, huh?" you sympathized, putting down your basket to give your arms a rest.

-"oh, great!" dolores would answer, relieved you didn't have a date. "well, um, maybe we could go together, then?"

-your face would light up at the idea, nodding enthusiastically. "yeah, of course! we can be dateless together!" you joked, bumping hips with her as you kept tending to your crops.

-no reaction whatsoever.

-it had gotten so bad to the point where she was completely convinced you didn't like her at all. there was no chance that after this many hints you still wouldn't know, right?

-it really got to her

-she sulked for a bit but wouldn't tell anyone, sitting in her room one afternoon.

-when you knocked on her door and opened it to see if she wanted to come hang out with you she wasn't in the mood, telling you she was tired

-and hey, you were dense, but you could sense when she was ever feeling under the weather. so you shut the door behind you and set on the edge of her bed.

-"what's wrong?" you asked, putting all your attention on her.

-"the person i'm in love with," she hesitated, wondering if she should even bother telling you. "they don't like me back."

-this statement took you by surprise.

-"what?" you almost shouted, murmuring a quick apology when you realized how sudden that was. "that's ridiculous. why wouldn't anyone like you? you're... incredibly pretty, smart, funny, adorable, and have amazing fashion taste. not to mention you're talented at like... everything?"

-your words would only bother her more. eventually it got to be too much.

-"how can you say that when it's you?" she whispered, a tone of anger in her voice. "i've been dropping so many hints and you just... you never let me know anything in return."

-your heart stopped when she admitted it was you. part of you felt elated and the rest had you feeling dumb.

-"wait, what? you were dropping hints this entire time?!" you exclaimed, leaning against her and grabbing her by the arm out of desperation for answers.

-your sudden movements surprised her, making her turn her head to look at you. "you didn't even notice? i know you're dense but i didn't think it was that bad!"

-there was a moment of silence and she was almost regretting even allowing you into her room. that was until you burst out laughing, a look of genuine happiness on your face.

-"hey, don't blame it on me! all this time we could've been together if you could have just gotten the guts to say it!"

-the laughter and joking would lift her mood in an instant, her jaw dropping in mock-offense as she'd sit up in her bed, throwing a pillow at you.

-"i literally asked you out on three separate occasions and you didn't even bat an eye!" she whined.

-"i thought you just liked hanging out with me as a friend!" you retorted, laughter still falling from your lips.

-"i can't believe i tried that hard and you still didn't even notice."

-"yet you still love me!"

-"yeah, i do..."

#dolores x reader #dolores madrigal x reader #encanto #encanto x reader

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the-crows-typist · 3 years

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Time for the 3rd installment of our Valentine’s Event with none other than, Vil Schoenheit and the word: Kiss requested by @twstdaydreamer This was very fun to write and I hope all of you enjoy this as much as I did.

CW: Alternate Universe: Cinderella and The Beast, OOC, Dark past, and discussion of the death of a loved one.

This ficlet features characters singing certain songs so links will be provided for added experience.

While some lyrics are gendered, the reader still remains gender-neutral.

Word count: 7843

Other works: Chocolate Feat. Jade, Cards Feat. Floyd

A Heart from Me to You

There once was a house as beautiful as those who lived in it. Its Lord and Lady produced a beautiful heir who, at a young age, strived for beauty unequaled to anyone in the mortal plane but at the price of the beauty of his own heart. One day, an old woman with a face aged approached the manor to seek shelter from the blistering snow…Only to be turned away with looks of disgust. This angered the lady, removing her form to reveal herself as a powerful goddess who cursed all who lived in that house with an enchanted rose.

This selfishness was what brought upon the family’s curse that when night fell should the family follow. The beautiful boy suffered from the curse the most, in his transformation did he end up killing those loved.

Now, cursed and alone, the beautiful boy lived in a husk of his own home waiting the days for the earth to take him whole.

“How tragic.” You whisper, sitting by the fire with a book on your lap. You enjoyed break times by the fire and being able to read by your lonesome especially when the winters became bitter in Pyroxene. You closed the book just as the head maid came in.

“Oh look at you, you’ve got cinder marks in your uniform. Come here. You must be careful, dear. The cinder marks are harder to wash off than you think.” She said and wiping the still fresh marks off your sleeves. “It was getting cold,” You explained. “But I’ll be careful next time, I promise.”

“Please and thank you.” She smiled at you the way a mother would to her child. “Come along, Vil will be coming home soon. We should go ahead and greet him.” You follow her towards the door just as you thought about Vil. His father was a famous actor that traveled but it wasn’t often that the two of them were in the same house at the same time.

“Welcome back, Vil.” Said the maid and you, bowing your head. “How was the trip?

Vil Schoenheit stood before you, his winter coat shining with fresh snowflakes and noise a sore red. “It went as it should. May I ask for some hot tea with honey?” You could hear the pulled-back shiver in his voice. “Bring it to me in the bath.” His footsteps were quick even in those high-heeled shoes.

“Can I leave it to you?” The head maid asked. “I still need to finish cooking dinner.”

You nod your head and smoothing out your uniform, ready to take on another task as well as the scrutinizing eye of one Vil Schoenheit.

Three knocks on the door and Vil halted in his actions. “Come in.” You opened the door, pushing the tray carrying tea and small biscuits carefully into the warm room. Vil had already exited the tub and dressed in a robe. Just as you had been taught, you poured a cup of tea mixed with honey and presented it to him.

“Thank you.”

Vil was a beautiful being, he really was. The way his body was sculpted and toned made you think he was carved out of fine marble by the finest artisans. His gaze towards you made you realized you were staring too long. “I-I’ll be on my way, Mister Vil. Please enjoy the night.”

“You’re the new one here, aren’t you?”

Vil set down the cup and stood up, the robe seemed to act like a flowing dress that flowed at the floor as he drew closer and closer to you. “I believe you’re the one whose mother passed last autumn.” You nodded your head with a sigh, remembering the stressful days after your mother was laid to rest.

Times were hard for you and your family, after the sudden passing of your mother, all of you had to make ends meet whenever and wherever possible. Your step-father, Mozus Trein, got a position as a professor in a known school while your step-brothers, Angelo and Donovan, set for the Rose Kingdom.

Angelo became a baker’s apprentice while Donovan became a tailor for an apparel shop. You stayed behind in Pyroxene, snagging yourself as a position as part of the staff of the well-known Schoenheit family. While the pay was good, appearances needed to be kept at all times thus why the head maid was often uppity with you especially on your first days.

“Yes.”

“I offer my condolences to you and your family.”

“Thank you…” You say and you look down at your shoes, your chest feeling heavy and empty at the same time. “But the tears have already been shed. All I want to do now is take care of my father and help my brothers.”

There was a smile on his face and he reached over, patting your shoulder with a damp hand. Up close he smelled of clean soap with a hint of citrus. “You have a strong foundation to keep yourself stable. That’s what I want in the people who work here.” He pats your shoulder again with eyes of judgment. “But these marks on your uniform…”

Ah, crap.

“I stay by the fire during my break times.” You admit quickly and Vil only shakes his head. “It would do you good to stay further away. These cinder marks are unsightly.”

“I will keep that in mind, sir.”

He pulled back his arms and turned around as you were about to take your leave. “By the way, I would like to reiterate something while you’re here because I know the other staff will neglect to tell you this one important detail.”

The mirror before him reflected his serious expression, you gulped feeling as if you broke a rule. “When the sun begins to set. Don’t go to the second floor.”

“What’s so special about the second floor?”

All of you ate on a table, the head maid serving up some warm cream stew. “Ah, that.” You gave your bowl to ask for seconds and she much obliged you. The old lady smiled to herself. “Nighttime is the only time Vil can rest,” She explained. “He’s quite the light sleeper so even the softest of sounds will wake him up.”

The look in her eyes was distant and smile knowing as she handed the bowl back to you. “Do you need anything else? We still have some sweet corn and roasted chicken,” she asked, pushing some more food for you to take. You sip at the hot morsel of food after shaking your head. “No, I’m fine.”

The howling winter winds that rattled your window was something you could never shut out of your mind. For as long as you could remember, you had always sought refuge in the beds of your family whether it be your annoyed yet caring brothers or the understanding tiredness of your parents.

Your mother was the best at calming you, though. She always knew exactly what to do…She was your first teacher, your first friend, your primary protector after the split and she became all the more lively after meeting Mozus, your step-father. And while life adjusted itself perfectly for you and your new family, it didn’t hesitate to strike tragedy at the calmest of times.

Your mother, after all the years she had been fighting and keeping her sickness at bay, succumbed one day in front of your step-father. Even with all the magic remedies and medicines in the world to keep her alive, there was no reversing what had already been done.

“I love you.” She said on her death bed, Trein’s hand never leaving his wife’s. “I love all of you very much. I’m sorry I had to leave so early.”

You and your brothers dealt with the grief differently, all three of them going off to their little corners for days and never showing their faces to you. It was days after the funeral when you saw your father cry, holding a picture of your mother close to his chest.

Since then, you and your brothers always needed to remind each other that they needed to be strong for their father’s sake. Angelo and Donovan spared no time in snatching every opportunity that they could while you stayed behind.

Vil’s words to you repeated like a record in your head, reminding you of how he viewed you. “You have a strong foundation to keep yourself stable.” The winds rattled and you brought your knees to your chest. Was your resolve, your foundation as strong as Vil saw??

Cutlery colliding against each other broke you out of your thoughts and startling you back to reality. Slipping out of bed and into your shoes, you made your way into the kitchen with your hands holding your coat tightly for warmth. The plates clattered amongst themselves and you hear the tap opening and closing.

You listen in the dark, waiting for the next noises. The footsteps were erratic and almost cobbled, the clicking of plates loud and sudden as if something was trying to walk. Had someone tried to break in? You hear the door to the living room open and shut and you poise yourself to follow but grabbing a nearby frying pan to defend yourself.

Opening the door, you hear the pair of footsteps climb up the stairs and you begin to panic. Vil’s room was up there! Whoever it was, was targeting Vil. Your movements hesitated, remembering the rule Vil himself told you.

“When the sun begins to set. Don’t go to the second floor.”

The dead of night had already come and everything around you was dark save for the lamps that provided little help in the snowstorm. You hesitated to move, weighing the options and their potential consequences. Should you stay and let Vil rest knowing a thief was roaming the halls or should you break the rules and protect him with all you had?

You bolted up the stairs without a second thought and the frying pan clutched tight, panting as you got to the top and looking wildly and trying to listen for the familiar intermittent footsteps. You turn to your side with you hear another door opening and closing and suddenly all the lessons you’ve learned grappling with your stepbrothers come back to you in a flash.

You inch towards the room in the door, turning the knob to open the door with a soft creek that makes your insides cringe. In the middle of the room was a floating flower protected by a glass dome, it was red-pink petals shimmering and lightings its vicinity in the same color.

It was mesmerizing to look at.

Setting the pan down to your side, you walked towards it with your hand stretching out to touch the dome that protected it. You dropped the pan entirely to take the dome off the rose, its glow, even more, hypnotizing up close. Just as your finger touched its soft petals, the window to your side blew open in a torrent of cold wind and unfurling the curtains that moved like the waves of a dark sea.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”

From the darkness within the room, a pair of purple orbs glowed and a growl preceded a warning voice. The intermittent footsteps of a convulsing mannequin were not far off and its happy face brought a lick of terror to your heart.

The creature of the night crawled forwards, its sharp teeth jutting out of its mouth and form menacing and mangled. The windows were soon closed and the curtains dropped to the ground with your foot stepping on the soft fabric.

“Give me the dome.” The monster’s long claws reached out for you and before you stepped back, you slipped; hitting your head on the soft material behind you, the howling winds and the piercing orbs fading to black.

“…I told you not to come in here.”

You stood by the door of your step-father’s study with eyes facing the floor. Angelo and Donovan standing on either side of you. The yellow light gave off a sleepy and exhausted feeling in the realm of books and writing materials. In the very center was a diorama of your family, toys he wanted to surprise the kids with.

And now, the surprise was ruined.

You could feel shame boil in you, it had been only a few months since your mother remarried and you had new brothers to play with…And now your new dad was upset with you. “Come here.” He said, the man suddenly on one knee, your brothers coming over to him in a hug and you followed soon after.

“All of you, such curious little mice.” He said, patting each one of you on the back. “Next time, I want you to ask for permission before you enter the study, alright?” There was a laugh behind you, your mother smiling to herself while she leaned against the doorframe with a blanket over her shoulders. She never got used to the cold she was born in.

“Promise me that.”

“Yes, daddy.” All the children say.

And as you relished the warmth of your new father, something wet trickled down your cheek. Your brother, Angelo, was always the sensitive one of your step-siblings and would not hesitate to stop the sibling tomfoolery the moment things go awry. He held you close, his tears accidentally running down your cheek when you moved, while Donovan sat in the corner with shoulders hunched over. What was once your father’s sleepy study was now the empty hallway of a hospital.

The wind rattled against the windows of the hospital, your mother had succumbed to the sickness on a cold day. And your father was getting everything ready for the eventual end.

“Kids.”

Trein came out of the room, looking older than you remembered. “Your mother would like to talk to you.”

When you turned away from your brother’s embrace, you were seated on the side of your mother’s bed. Her body was sickly and the cold messed with what life remained in her. She smiled at all of you and your eyes began to sting.

“I love you.” She says, her eyes looking so tired. “I love you all very much.” And soon the tears began to fall from her face. I’m sorry I had to leave so early.” You blinked at the hand you held, your mother’s hand soon replaced with Donovan’s as he pulled you from your seat. In his suit, he looked more solemn and his usually long and wild hair was tied back with a ribbon.

“Let’s say goodbye.” He told you and tugged you to the coffin where your mother laid. “Where’s dad?” You turned your head, your hand now vacant and the space behind you a void of nothingness. The door of your father’s study slightly ajar and the familiar yellow light spilling through.

Your steps were echoed and slow, approaching the room slowly. When you were by the door, you peaked through the cracks; your father kneeling on the carpet and holding a figure to his chest. The diorama you once played with in your youth was set up on his table, your mother’s figurine nowhere in sight. There was a held back sob, Trein’s body shaking under his mourning robes.

You took a step back, letting him grieve in his own time.

You knew better than to come in there without permission.

You woke up with a start and a sudden sting to the back of your head. Above you was a chandelier you had no memory of seeing in your quarters and a bed your hands never recognized. Your chest heaved when you pushed yourself up the bed only to be pushed down by the head maid.

“Stay down.” She says, holding your shoulders. The light of the new day filtered through the large window of Vil’s room. Vil stood by the rose with his back facing you, holding the dome to himself just as your breathing leveled and normalized. “You hit your head pretty bad last night,” She explained and felt for the bump that made you hiss.

Last night…

“Was last night real?” You asked, your sudden burst of energy was off-putting especially when you remembered the events leading to the memories you wished to never relish again. “That rose. Was it really glowing? A-and that monster—!”

The dome was placed onto the rose with a loud clack, the glass roughly hitting the marble surface. “T-that’s beside the point!” The maid scolded. “Vil warned you never go to the second floor after the sunsets! Not only did you disobey one of the rules given to you, you hit your head while doing so.”

You bit back a hiss of guilt and opened your mouth to try to retort at your apparent rebellion.

“Elena.”

Vil’s voice was soft yet strict, eyes calm yet sharp. He regarded you for a moment while leaning against the marble table. “Let them be for the day, they’ve hit their head too hard.” You felt yourself shrink under his gaze. “See to it that they have little heavy activities as possible and prioritize that the bump is given care immediately.”

Elena bowed her head, her upset anger still very much apparent.

“Yes, sir.”

Elena’s nimble hands making quick work of dirty dishes. Your head had been bandaged with a compress pressed to where you hit your head. You stared at your meal with little appetite before poking at the grilled fish. “Miss Elena, why does that rose glow?”

The clattering of cutlery stopped and the head maid only sighed, shaking his head. “Always the curious one, aren’t you?” She turned around, leaning against the sink with arms crossed. “That’s one of Vil’s most treasured possessions. An heirloom that came directly from his grandfather then to his father then to him.”

Elena’s eyes looked to the side as if to remember. “I should know. I was there for every passing down. Vil is highly protective of it.”

It might have just been a coincidence, you thought to yourself, that the story you read by the fire had mentioned a rose but that was all there was to it. You ate your breakfast quicker after that. “I’m sorry for my behavior.”

“Next time, listen to your instructions.” She said, taking the plates from you before you could even move an inch to help her.

The feather duster slid against the books, your toes tipping to reach up for the shelves above your head. From there, you took your damp rag and swiped it across the polished wooden table. Yup, this was pretty much not so labor-intensive but it would get painfully boring unless you had some entertainment to go with you so you sang a small song taught to you in your youth.

“A dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep.” Your mother loved to sing this song to you and soon, to your new family. Trein especially loved it when they danced together in the living room when the children were ‘seemingly’ asleep. “In dreams, you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep.” You closed your eyes, feeling the memories of the past come with the melody of your song. You remember the first time you snuck out of bed with your brothers to see your parents slow dancing together. “Have faith in your dreams and someday your rainbow will come smiling through.”

You’ve never seen your mother smile so peacefully nor did you ever see her hug someone so intimately before Trein, in fact, you’ve never seen her do any of those things with your old dad. She was happy. “No matter how your heart is grieving...”

You only wished to see that happiness last longer than it should have. If only things stayed the way they did. “If you keep on believing…”

You envisioned your mother holding you close, singing to you one last time. Just like how she did when could still hold you to your chest. Just one last time…

“The dream that you wish…will come true.”

Sighing, you leaned against your broom saddened by what you made yourself remember. “Oh, I’ll never get my work done at this rate.” You say, taking your equipment with you and almost running out the library with a huff. Next to the fireplace, Vil lay on one of the long couches away from sight. It was only when you went out that he rose from his seat and hunched forward to let his hair cover his face.

He stayed silent, relishing the sound of your voice in his head.

During your break time, you decided to stay outside with a group of mice that decided to keep you company. You never understood why but the small animals around your area always seemed to be kind and almost human-like. When one mouse decided to sit by you while nibbling a small piece of leftover cookies did you begin to speak your thoughts.

“Is there something being hidden from me? Or am I being too nosey?”

One mouse approached you, listening to you at your feet. “I know last night wasn’t a dream, I know what I saw.” You say then feeling for the bump on his head. “It was real, I just know it.” There was a small squeak, one of the female mice touched your hand with her small paw as if to say words of reminder.

‘You’re stressing yourself out.’

Grimacing, you pushed yourself up and patting your uniform off the crumbs and dust. “I know.” You tell them and the mice look up to you in curiosity and concern in their beady little eyes. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. I’m a strong mouse just like you! I’m sure I can get to the bottom of this, I just…Need to find a better opportunity.”

The mice squeak in affirmation which makes you giggle. “Ahah, I’ll have to figure it out as I go along.” You tell them and look to the house, knowing that you had to get back in quickly. “I should get going, I’ll come back with some good food tomorrow.” You wave at the mice who give sounds of greeting as you leave.

What you saw on the second floor was real. You know it is. And you were going to prove it. You stopped by one of the mirrors, fixing your appearance quickly. “Huh?” Your hand touches the surface, small cracks brushed by your tips as if someone had driven something sharp into it. Looking up at the sky, you smelled frost in the air. Strong winds would accompany the night again, it seems.

The accompanying snowstorm was as fitting as it ever gave you a feeling of stealth. You always wanted to be a kind of spy when you were younger and here you are living the dream, though some nice gear and some goggles would have helped greatly. The wind blows and rattles the windows harshly when you brought yourself up the stairs.

“Tale as old as time, true as it can be. Barely even friends then somebody bends unexpectedly.”

You walk to the door you saw the beast. Placing a hand on the door to listen. “Just a little change. Small, to say the least. Both a little scared Neither one prepared. Beauty and The Beasy” Hesitantly, you open to turn the door to hear more of the beautiful voice. The room was dark and only the glowing rose giving light to the room around it.

“Ever just the same, ever a surprise,”

A mannequin hunches over a familiar huddle of fur and purple light. The movements of both almost unearthly yet the voice passionate and real…And so familiar. “Ever as before and ever just as sure as the sun will rise.”

The winds rattle harshly again and the beast bundles into a ball in Vil’s bed, the mannequin’s hands shakenly placing its hand on the shivering being. “Tale as old as time, tune as old as song. Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change; learning you were wrong.”

You open the door a little wider and watch the scene unfold. Somehow, it wasn’t your place to interfere at such a moment so vulnerable. “Certain as the sun rising in the east, tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the Beast ”

The shaking beast’s form calmed itself and the mannequin leaned down, its monotonous face pressing against the mass of fur. A kiss goodnight. The cold of the wind blew through, the mannequin looking at you with its painted eyes. The silence was light and your eyes never leaving each other. Taking a step back, you pulled the door with you until it was shut. Everything was finally coming together.

Vil was the beast.

Breakfast was quiet and the wraps on your head were taken off. Elena made no move or sound to acknowledge you as you ate. “So the beautiful boy cursed by the goddess.” You could hear her hand grip the wet plates tightly and you knew what was coming but, at this point, you didn’t care if you got scolded. “It was Vil, wasn’t it?”

“You were given specific instructions never to go up there at night.” She said sternly.

“It’s him, wasn’t it?” You press again.

“Why are you so pressed on this? What good will it do for you?”

“The mannequin was you, wasn’t it? You were singing to that beast.” Elena fuming, slammed her hand onto the table and that was what made you pull back. “Don’t call him that.” She says and sighs, pulling away from you and straightening her back. “The next time I see you on the second floor, you are out of this house. Do you understand me?”

She takes your empty plates and splashes them into the water. Her breath was harsh and her skin almost sickly looking. A cough leaves her lips and her shoulders shiver. “Would you like some tea?” You ask softly and her shoulders hunch over.

“Yes, dear. Please.”

Just as you took the teapot from the cabinet, she spoke to you again. “Please follow that rule this time. Don’t make this harder for Vil than it has to be.”

You open the kettle and reach for the leaves, hearing the old lady cough.

You were back in the library before the sun began to set and adding wood into the fire for warmth. The snowstorm hadn’t let up since the last night and you were afraid that your quarters was not enough to warm you through the night. Using the heating pair of tongs, you adjust the wood in a way that it would burn properly and not caring if the cinders would cling to your uniform.

During the coldest of nights, you and your mother would love to cuddle by the fire and sleep until the morning. It only became a festive event with the addition of your brothers and your father. She loved the heat, the sleeping feeling it gave her and she loved it the most when Trein held her close.

Your shoulders sag, that was probably the only time you’ve ever seen him at peace. After that…Shaking your head, you push those memories away. You had to be strong, you had to be for the sake of your family. Reaching up, you swat the tears from your face. Your tears had already been wept the day she was buried.

“Stay too close to the fire and your uniform will get singed.”

Vil stood behind the couch, a warm blanket over his shoulders and hair despite being messy made him look immaculate. “I have a request.”

“What is it?”

“You can sing, correct? And sing well.” Ah, you’re not sure if you could answer that one wholeheartedly. Gulping, you nod your head. “I can sing, yes, but well, not really—.” Vil’s huff was hard and eyebrows furrowed. “Do not hide what good you have. It will not grow unless you expose it.”

“O-of course.” You nod your head and Vil closes his eyes. You noticed bags, his skin slightly paled. “Are you here because of the storm, Vil?” Nodding his head, Vil sank down next to you with a sigh. “The windows become too loud at night…I don’t like the sound of it.”

“I understand. I’m not much a fan of it myself.”

“We’re veering off-topic.” He looks to you, “Can you sing for me? At least for a moment.” The windows rattle and he closes his eyes again. You move, patting your lap for him to rest on and he gives you a look. “My mother used to do this to me. It beats having to lay down on flat ground.”

He is hesitant at first but follows after a few minutes of pondering. He lays on your lap, getting himself comfortable and you adjust the blanket on top of him. “Any requests?”

“Anything that will help me sleep.”

The winds rattle and his shoulders hunch. “Alright.”

“Oh, sing sweet nightingale. Sing sweet nightingale high above me.”

Vil’s eyes open ever so slightly, his violet eyes staring in the fire. Any moment, he would transform into the beast of the night. A curse passed down from generation to the next and yet, you stayed to sing. “Sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale high above.”

Elena had not been feeling well recently, her old age and the blistering cold made for one bad fever that she needed rest for. And while Vil was understanding of that, the winds that rattled the windows never ceased to let him sleep.

“Oh, sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale.”

But that soon changed when he heard you sing in this very library. It reminded him of the soft coo of a dove and the warmth of a wool blanket. “Oh, sing sweet nightingale sing…” His eyes felt heavy and soon his body became weightless, he yearned for the days he could walk out in the sun without fear of the night that was to come.

He yearned for the day he would no longer be afraid…

He yearned deep within his heart.

“Sing sweet nightingale…”

A black beast laid in the place where Vil once was, its gnarly teeth the same purple as Vil’s eyes. Your hands brushed the black fur as the fire crackled and spat cinders from within. The beast, no, Vil’s body laying peacefully on your lap. You move, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and his body only moving to keep warm against you.

“High above me…”

The enchanted rose glowed dimly, its first petals beginning to fall to the countertop beneath it.

Your eyes open and the wood that once fueled the fire was reduced to ashes. Elena stood over you while Vil, in his human form, slept peacefully on your lap. The two of you shared glances and you immediately opened your mouth.

“I didn’t go upstairs this time.”

She knelt, adjusting the blanket over the sleeping boy’s long figure. You noticed how his body looked in this position, not too lanky and not too toned…but skin so pale from the days he never went out. Come to think of it, he never usually went out unless he needed to. And when he came back, he would stay in for long periods before taking his leave again.

Suddenly, you thought about his parents and wondering if they knew of his situation. Where were they? What happened to them??

Were they affected by the curse as well?

“I’ll bring the breakfast here,” Elena says. “You stay here and watch over Vil.”

Vil had no qualms about eating in the library, given that the fire was warm and the meal was hot. It helped after the bad snowstorm that passed the house for days. You noticed he had a small appetite and a big penchant for drinking lots of fluids. Well, he is a model so you don’t blame him for following the strict regimens.

“You have a nice voice,” Vil says, putting down his cup. “Thank you for last night. I hope that my beastly form wasn’t much of a problem to you.”

Shaking your head, you quickly swallow the stew you were eating. “No, no, it’s quite alright. I’m happy you think that but…About that form.” You feel Elena’s gaze on you and you force yourself to bite back a lingering question.

Vil himself was also silent. “If they’re going to stay here then they should know.” Elena’s shoulders relaxed but her expression remained unsure. “Vil, are you—.”

“I know a person with ulterior motives when I see it.” He looks over to you with a small smirk and boy does it match the messy hair and too droopy clothing. “What we have with us is nothing more than a curious little mouse.”

And you don’t whether that was an insult or a compliment but your squinting eyes only fueled his laughter, those shoulders of his bopping under the protective blanket. “Then what I saw…”

“Everything you saw was real, down to the very last petal of the rose.”

You knew it! You were right!! A smile graced your lips and you sat back against the chair you sat on. Vil took a sip and proceeded to ask more questions, some of which you didn’t have a direct answer to. “Now that you have all the information you need, what will you do with it?”

You looked down at your plate, mulling it over. “Nothing.” You answer. “You called me a curious mouse with no ulterior motive so I’ll do nothing with it.”

Vil hid his smile behind the cup of tea and Elena only sighed, a small burden lifting from her shoulders as the two of you spoke casually.

Vil was moved to the second floor, letting him rest on a real bed. You look around the room, seeing it with proper lighting for the first time. All the mirrors were covered in cloth, some cracked. The paintings that hung on the wall looked immaculate, beautifully painted…Except for one figure whose face was splashed with black. Your brows furrowed, trying to identify who this person was.

“I assume you still have more questions, little mouse.”

Vil sat up, motioning you forward to sit on the edge. “Who is he?” The family’s portrait hung as a centerpiece, you could identify a baby Vil, and his parents sitting across from each other…But that one person standing over them; you couldn’t make heads or tails of it with all the black paint in the way.

“My grandfather.”

A long sigh left Vil, his finger tucking a hair behind his ear. “Before my father went into acting, he was part of the family business led by my grandfather.” He closed his eyes, imagining the warm shop that housed many items and the many people coming in and out to buy supplies. A small Eric would clumsily put grocery items into a paper bag and wrap it, his father looming over him as he collected payments.

“He was strict when needed but his anger knew no bounds when it was released.” Vil slid down onto his bed. “Running a business is difficult, I understand that, but these fits were often quite scary to witness.” Staring into the rose’s glow, the light formed shadows of a figure hunching over a screaming beast. “It led him down a path of ruin, they went out of business and struggled during the bad brunt of the storm season.”

“He wasn’t the best at controlling his emotions, was he?” Vil shook his head at your question. “Not by a long shot. That was the very same anger that led to all this in the first place.” He looked up at the painting with contempt as if the painting stared back at him the same way. “Try as he may, my father could never outrun the curse…Even after I saw born.”

You remembered the book, the story you read by the fire. “Then…”

Vil’s hummed a laugh, eyes blinking slowly. The shadows formed by the glow of the rose moved to a scared family and a shaking figure holding a shadow of the rose. “He yelled at the wrong people, made enemies of those with magic far stronger than anyone could ever imagine.”

The shadows drew dimmer, the beastly form taking shape, roaring at the rose with all its fury and behind it was a weeping family. It all dissipated like a breaking film tape under Vil’s sigh.

Now, cursed and alone, the beautiful boy lived in a husk of his own home waiting the days for the earth to take him whole.

Your heart felt heavy, remembering the last line of the story. “I’m sorry.” That was all you could say to him but he hunched his shoulders with a dismissiveness. “What happened has passed. As you said before: the tears have already been shed.” The rose’s petals fall to the floor below it.

“Is there a way to reverse this?”

“An open heart.” he looked over to you with a smile unable to be read. “That’s all.”

You hung your head, unable to say anything. Vil only wraps his blanket around himself tighter while you stare at the glowing rose until its ethereal color was seared into your memory.

There was a splash of water, Vil sits in the tub with you preparing his robe and other items. “The snow should have receded by now. We could take a walk if you’d like.” As days passed through the house, you and Vil had grown closer. Now that either of you had nothing to hide, the tension that once felt between you was almost nonexistent.

“It has been a while since I’ve gone out. Some sunlight would do all of us good.” He said, leaning back on the tub with eyes closed. “A day in the sun…”

“Indeed. It would be nice to feel some warmth.” You learned that you and he weren’t very different. Both of you loved music, loved the theatre, just anything to dance to. And you also found out that Vil himself had a wonderful singing voice, almost like velvet.

“All those days in the sun, what I’d give to relive just one. Undo what’s done and bring back the light.”

You found out that his mother passed when he was young and his father, Eric, raised him all on his own after his mother was out of the picture. He was Vil’s first teacher, first friend, his support clutch in understanding why he was the way he was. “Days in the sun will return. We must believe—.”

“As lovers do…”

Your voices mingled together and while embarrassed to admit it, you had listened to it to his movies while cleaning. He may have caught you a few times, though. “That days in the sun…Will come shining…Through…” His deep beautiful voice echoed through the chamber, you imagined hearing it in a large theatre. Oh, you were certain Vil would love to do that.

“I always wondered why you never tried theatre.” You didn’t need to turn around to know his expression. “Do you think I’ll make it there, little mouse?”

“You’re Vil Schoenheit, son of Eric Venue. Of course, you will!”

A comfortable silence followed his laugh while you continued to face away from him. The Zen between you two almost unbreakable in the warm bathing room. The flower’s glow dimmed in the emptiness and losing more petals that piled beneath it.

With the music playing in the back, Vil watched from the balcony after getting his fair share of sunlight after the storm had passed. The voice of his father was rich and melodious as his role of a man finally falling in love after years of isolation.

He watched as you trudged around the snow before going back to his room, not once looking at the dimming rose and straight to his television. “I was the one who had it all,” His father sang. “I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth too late.” The first time he had transformed into the beast he knew today, he had scared the recently hired help.

“I’ll never shake away the pain.” They were very cruel with their words, to the point that it was Elena, of all people, who told them to leave the house. Though the terror had left, it left Vil with uncertainty and fear of his appearance.

Eric’s character peered out the window just as the heroine pulls out a horse, the determination not hidden from even the viewer. “I close my eyes but she’s still there. I let her steal into my melancholy heart, it’s more than I can bear.” And now you took that place. From the get-go, Vil knew you have gone through hardships of your own. He could see it just by looking at your steeled expression and the aura you held on your shoulders.

“Now I know she’ll never leave me even as she runs away.” Not only had you defied the rule twice, your curiosity only spurred you further on with your investigation. And even when you had all the information you needed and cracked the code, you did nothing with it. “She will torment me, calm me, hurt me, move me…Come what may.”

Vil stands up just as Eric’s character runs up the stairs, the spiraling staircase almost hypnotic from above. “Wasting in my lonely tower, waiting by an open door.” He comes back to the balcony and opens the door, seeing you and Elena hauling in the bag of chestnuts. “I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in…” The two of you catch each other’s line of sight.

“And be with me for evermore.”

As the two of you smiled at each other, the rose begins to wilt and hunch over with each petal falling from the stem. The smell of spring drew close, Vil took a deep breath in then sighed it out. When he closes his eyes, all he ever sees are the days he’ll spend with you.

And the envisioning of a grand theatre, the same one he first saw his father in. He begins humming a small tune, thinking of the harmonizing violins, the beautiful costumes, and designs. The rose wilts more, only one petal remains on its dying stem.

The days had passed all so quickly, the winter giving its way to spring them to summer. You stood in front of the theatre, your family next to you. Trein takes you by the hand “Shall we?” entering the grand theatre, you and your sibling marveled at the beautifully crafted designs, the plush seating, and the long curtains.

“It’s beautiful.” Said your father, his smile soft. “Thank you for bringing us here.”

Angelo and Donovan pushed along, overly excited for the play. “Come on, come on.” One of them says. “It’s about to begin! Let’s sit down.”

The lights dim and the curtains open, droves of characters coming in their beautifully crafted costumes. You see Vil in his costume, waltzing with another character in yellow. The horns placed onto him were just as beautiful as him yet, after seeing his breast-like form…It never stood a chance.

The stage dimmed when he took the stage, a single rose in hand. His voice was loud, pure, perfect as he sang the song of a man who found love after years of isolation. His expression perfectly encapsulating the sadness he had felt.

“I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light.”

You remember the very first moment he bore his heart to you, the moment he asked you to sing for the very first time. “Though she’s already flown so far beyond my reach, she’s never out of sight.” Gone were the days he hid within the confines of his room and gone were the days he needed to hide out of fear.

“Now I know she’ll never leave me even if she fades from view!”

He twirls, his eyes searching the crowd until he finds yours in the crowd. “She will still inspire me, be a part of everything I do.” The background behind him changes, the spiraling staircase he walks one moved at his every move until he reaches the balcony, leaning his hands to sing his heart out with a hopeful look. The both of you stare at each other as he sings his heart out, saying the words he wanted everyone to hear with a voice he no longer feared. “Wasting in my lonely tower, waiting by an open door.”

He breathes, the wind and strings instruments beginning their strong ascend in a crescendo of harmonizing and accenting melody. “I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in.”

The rose glows in his hand and he hunched his back, readying himself. “And as the long, long nights begin.”

Vil looks up into the light, his expression one of pure passion and love. “I’ll think of all that might have been.” And the grip on the rose tightens but only for a moment.

“Waiting here…For ever—.”

Vil lets the rose float out of his hand and ascends up to the center of the room.

“—More!” The flower burst into a rain of petals that add to his last note and accompaniment of the instruments.

The last petal of the glowing rose falls, the stem falling on a pile of dried rose petals following the applause of the crowd. Vil regains his breathing, his eyes listless as he stares up at the ceiling when the music ends, the curtains fall, and the lights go out.

You pass through the crowds of colors and thrills, looking for the familiar mop of blond and purple hair. “Vil!” You yell out to him just as he comes to view in the sea of people. His arms are ready to take it in, “You were amazing out there!”

The sun begins to set during the embrace, Vil’s face continued to smile at you and soon giving a solemn bow to your father and brothers. “Mr. Schoenheit, it’s a pleasure to meet you. That was a wonderful performance.” He says, smiling at him with eyes trained to your hands holding the actor’s. Ah, gets it.

“Thank you, Mr. Trein. I’m glad you liked it.”

“Vil Schoenheit, you’re needed for a picture.” Says one of the stage crew and Vil reluctantly pulls away. “Coming. I’ll see you later?” He asks you and you tip your toes to him, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “I’ll wait outside. Bye Vil.”

You run out of backstage and yet he had a feeling that finding you won’t be that much of a problem. He touches his lips. “So this is love…” He whispered to himself and made his way to his troop, readying himself for the pictures.

#works from the typewriter #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #g/n reader #valentines event

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thesweetestkimberry · 3 years

Text

feliz navidad !

parings: hanta sero x latina!reader

summary: it’s christmas eve! and you and sero want to celebrate the holiday in a familiar way.

warnings: latin reader and latin sero hc, mexican food, a bit of spanish, a few curses on my part, ooc,

notes: MORE NOTES AT THE END OF THE WORK- happy holidays everyone! here’s a little something to keep my fellow, midnight present openers, company!

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

“sero stop eating the filling!” you scold, shaking his head with the handle of the spoon you were holding, turning it back around to continue spreading the masa on the corn husk.

he winced at the pain and rubbed his head, the bits of the filling de puerco around his mouth.

“sorry babe! i cant help it though, it’s really good.” he says eying you as you wipe the food off his mouth with a napkin. he hummed at the attention and placed his hands on your hips,

“you look beautiful, you know?” he says, making you blush, looking down at your food stained apron and christmas outfit. “i don’t think it’s all that.” you mumble, going back to preparing the tamales, adding the filling and rolling it up.

sero suddenly connected to the speaker the two of you had brought, the loud music scaring the shit out of you.

“turn that down! it’s late!” you scold, watching him stumble to lower the volume, “sorry, but it’s too quiet.” he says almost unapologetically. you flicked your santa hat back into its proper spot and continued working.

both of you were kinda right, it was a bit late, about 10 o’clock, and due to the two of you being the only ones up in the dorm’s kitchen, it was pretty quiet.

but why were the two of you up so late? well, it was christmas eve! that usually wouldn’t warrant the actions, but you and sero grew up with the tradition of waiting till midnight to open gifts.

also the two of you had missed home and the cultures, so you thought, why not bring home here?

so it was just the two of you, making tamales in the dimly lit kitchen. he handed the ready ones to you while you placed them into the large pot you were going to cook them in.

“don’t burn yourself.” sero teases, noticing how you need to stick your arm in to place them. nudging him with your foot, you both laughed and carried on.

not long after, the champurrado was ready. searching some for sero and yourself, you two sat on the couch. staring at the brightly lit christmas tree, a fuzzy blanket over your laps, and a warm drink in your hands really set the mood.

without a word, sero turned to look at you, smiling and lowering his head to kiss the tip of your nose, making you giggle and rub your nose against his.

after about a half hour, the two of you lightly jumped in surprise when you heard the elevator doors open, turning to see who walked out, you both laughed.

“what’s so funny?” a sleepy kaminari asked, rubbing his tired eyes and squinting at the two of you.

“nothing.” was all you two could respond before he bound over to the two of you, holding over the back of the couch and sitting in between you.

“whatchu guys doin 'up?” he piped up, snatching the drink out of your hands and taking a few questioning sips. “this is pretty good!” he exclaims.

“you want some?” sero asks, laughing at his friend who nodded excitedly and made himself comfortable under the blanket and against your side.

kaminari had whipped out his phone quietly, your peripherals picking up him typing a few words before shoving it back in his sweatpants pocket.

he only smiled at you with faux innocence when you glanced down questioningly at him.

right as sero came back with another mug, the elevator doors opened up again, this time revealing kirishima and bakugou. kiri looked way happier than bakugou did, he looked like he was ready to bow up all of you.

“what are you two doing up?” you ask him, laughing knowingly when kirishima holds up his phone, revealing a message from kaminari.

“now, we could ask you two the same question.” kirishima asks, throwing bakugou onto the other couch. you heard a quiet, “i’ll get more drinks” from behind you, making you laugh.

“well, it’s christmas eve, and sero and i are used to waiting up till midnight to open gifts.” you explain, watching kirishima and kaminari’s eyes light up.

“woah! you mean you don’t wait till the morning?” the blonde asks, bouncing in his seat, however careful as to not spill the hot drink.

“pretty much, we also made some food.” sero says, this time bakugou perking up, “what kind of food?” he asks gruffly.

as you went to go check on the tamales, the elevator doors opened up again, this time revealing the entire deku squad.

yes, even iida.

��what?..” you trailed off, “kiri.” they all said holding up their phones. you giggled, “you want some?” you ask them as they run over to see what you were serving for drinks.

“oo that smells good!” midoriya, uraraka and asui all exclaimed, todoroki and iida curiously looking into the pot of tamales.

“what are these?” shoto asks, “they’re called tamales. they’re corn dough and filled with corn and beef.” you explain in a simple way.

not even 5 minutes later, the whole common room was full of your classmates, all dressed in their pj’s and their custom christmas hats. everyone was either sitting on the couches, on the floor around the three with a christmas movie playing, or helping you in the kitchen.

once sato arrived with his baking stuff, you got to work on making various pan dulces to go along with the hot chocolate and champurrado.

everyone was chatting and even singing a few different versions of christmas songs that made you all laugh. at about 11:40 a voice rang out that made you all freeze.

“what are you all doing at this hour?” aizawa’s voice boomed, effectively scaring all of you. before you could stand up to take the blame, sero placed a hand on your shoulder and stood.

“uh, mr. aizawa, this was all me, i got homesick and, sir it’s christmas eve,” he says, getting nervous under his teacher’s glare, “i’m aware.” aizawa cut him off, making him stutter.

you looked up at him reassuringly and took his hand, “and for us it’s traditionally celebrated on christmas eve, and the opening presents starts at midnight.” sero finished explaining, his charming grin slightly wobbling.

the tired man groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. with a defeated sigh, he waved his hand and looked up at all of your waiting faces, “fine, continue. but you all are cleaning up.” he says as you all cheer, that’s when he smells the food in the kitchen.

you smile at him as you approach, offering him his awaiting cat mug and a pan dulce, “merry christmas mr. aizawa!” you say cheerfully, smiling even wider when he takes the offerings.

all might also burst in at some point, the two teachers now with their own santa hats and christmas snacks.

you and sero were so preoccupied with one another that you didn’t notice uraraka floating above the two of you, her giggles and the whispers in the room alerting you.

looking, you and sero saw she was holding a bundle of mistletoe above the two of you.

“feliz navidad, hanta.” you say lovingly, sighing in content when sero’s hands come to cup your cheeks.

“feliz navidad, mi amor.” sero says with equal amounts of love as he leans down to press a kiss on your lips, both of you smiling when you hear the cheers and whistles of your classmates.

“hey, it’s midnight!” a voice says, the two of you pulling apart and staring at one another while the sounds of joyful voices, wrapping paper tearing and laughter.

“happy holidays everyone!!”

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

hello again! thank you all for reading and sticking with me up to now, if you’re new here, hello!! requests are open and comments are always appreciated!! don't be afraid to say Hi either! or ask some questions if you want,, happy holidays everyone!

#latin sero #mha hanta sero #sero hanta x reader #bnha x reader #hanta sero x reader #mha x reader #seroxreader #hanta sero imagine #bnha

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angelic-slasher · 4 years

Text

i’m sorry

summary: the day michael comes back home is like no other. with plans to end your reunion, it all goes downhill in an instant.

warnings: rape, violence, character death, agonizing gut wrenching heartbreak, suicide, ooc!michael

word count: 1,794

October 31st is the day you dread. It was Halloween. And Halloween was not your favorite holiday. Haddonfield, Illinois was small, so every single child was out trick-or-treating. You read newspapers about Michael's disappearance from Smith's Grove Psychiatric Ward. It was blessing the police never came to the Myers' old childhood home. You had stayed behind, knowing Michael was going to come back. And when he did, you were ecstatic to greet your childhood best friend.

He looked broader and extremely tall, close to seven feet tall. His blonde hair was dark and longer, as well as his full beard. Michael hasn't recognized you at first as you stood there, small and timid, his height towering over you.

"Remember me, Mikey?” You spoke quietly, his confused as taking in every detail of you.

The sound of his old nickname leaving your lips made his eye widen. He slowly stepped towards you, his large boots thundering against the dirty wooden floor. His large, dirtied hand raises up to your face. You're close to tears as his fingertips trace the small scar above your eyebrow. You remembered how you got it.

It was during Halloween years ago. You and Michael were sitting in your treehouse munching on candy corns and bite sized snickers. You had trouble unwrapping a lollipop and ended up punching yourself in the face, your small ring nicking you on your brow bone.

Michael's fingers slid down to your cheek, moving his hands further down until his knuckles came in contact with your collarbones. It was silent. You stared up at the mammoth man. His fingers curled around the dirty, gold necklace around your delicate neck. He opened the locket easily with his thumb. Inside was a picture of you and Michael at age 8. When he finally looked into your glistening eyes, he dropped to his knees and buried his head against your stomach.

You let out a sob mixed with a wet laugh, readings streaming freely down your rosy cheeks. You held Michael's head and dug your fingers in his grimy hair. Michael's hands held your hips as pulled you closer.

"Oh, I've missed you so much, Mikey,” you whispered.

"Y/N,” he grumbles, standing to his full height and peering down at you.

His voice was gruff and deep and manly, unlike the young and high pitched voice you were used to hearing back then.

"Did you miss me too?" You shyly asked, your hands slowly and hesitantly cupping his cheeks.

MichaelMs shoulders slouched and his head bowed so his face reached your hands. His eyes closed as he took in your gentle touch. Your hands were small and warm and soft and felt like home.

"Missed you,” he mumbled, eyes squeezing tight as he moved passed you and into the basement.

He looked around at the broken down area and the broken floorboards. He knelt down and pulled up a floorboard. Inside was his beloved mask and crusted kitchen knife. You followed him and stood at the doorway, watching as he pulled on his mask, clutching the knife tightly in his hands. He stood up straight and walked towards you, breathing heavily, waiting to hear you protest. You knew where he was going. You knew what he did as a child. You kept it a secret. And you'd do it again.

"Be careful, Mikey,” you whispered.

You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down to your small height. You pressed your lips against the lips of his mask and gave him a quick kiss. You blushed and quickly released him, but he stayed still and stared into your eyes.

"Come back to me, okay? I lost you once. I don't need to lose you again,” you mumbled, feeling intimidated by his intense gaze.

Michael straightened his back and lifts his hand to stroke your cheek. "Promise."

You smile and watch as he left through the back door. You hand reached up to your neck as you cradled the locket in your palm. You smile. You finally got your Mikey back.

►◄

It was nearing midnight. You had been on the rotten couch all day worrying about your precious Michael. You anxiously tapped your foot and fiddled with the hem of your red dress. You wore it just for Michael, only because his favorite color was red. You immediately shot up from your seat when you heard the front door open, followed by footsteps. However, there were more than one pair of footsteps.

"Look at what we got here, boys. Little pretty dolly trespassing."

A man stands in the doorway of the living room, behind him was three other men. They all looked in their mid 40s with trucker caps and dirty clothes. The leader stared at you and smirked.

"You—You shouldn't be in here,” you stammered, taking a step back with your hand outstretched in front of you as they took a step forward.

"Why? Cause of the boogeyman?" As the man said the word 'boogeyman', he take a large step forward, making you take many steps back.

He chuckles, as well as his buddies. You were trembling in your flats. Where was Michael? You prayed in your head as the men inches closer to your frozen body. The leader stood too close and sniffed your hair, gliding his hand down your arm.

"She's mighty fine. Ain't she, fellas?" He asked, earning approving grunts from the other three men.

You went to charge, but one of them grabbed you and hauled you up. You screamed and began beating at him from behind. Your legs kicked as the other men laughed. You were thrown into the wall, your face slammed into the dry wall. You fell to the floor as you felt blood leak out of your nose. You felt hands grab your wrists, pulling you across the floor. You screamed and cried as one of the men behind you held you down.

"Otis, shut her up!!" The leader bellowed.

You felt a hard punch land across your jaw. You whimpered and tasted copper from the blood leaking from your gums. The leader kneeled in front of your body and forcefully spread your thighs. You kicked and screamed, earning another hard punch.

"Pete, for God's sake, hold her damn legs!" The leader yelled as he began unbuckling his belt.

"Please don't do this. Please, please, please,” you sobbed, feeling your underwear being torn apart from your battered body.

You felt bruises form on your arms and thighs, as well as your face. Otis punched you more times as the leader painfully thrusts into you. You scream echoed the house as he went brutal and quick. Your toes curled in pain as the size of him tore you apart. Your throat was raw and burned as you screamed for help. A hand smacked over your mouth to silence your screams.

It must've been an hour later as all men finished their many rounds. Your vaginal area was bloody and torn. Your face ached and was caked with blood and cuts. Your inner and outer thighs had deep bruises from fat fingerprints. You were too tired to to scream. You were too tired to cry.

"What do we do now?" Otis panted as he stood up and buckled his belt, wiping the beads of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand.

"We kill the bitch,” the leader states, pulling out a long hunters knife from his back pocket. "She knows our faces and names. Might as well finish the job."

He leans down between your spread legs.

You licked your dry lips, and with another breath, you whispered, "Fuck you."

The leader sucked his teeth and shook his head. "Such a shame...you were so pretty."

Your mouth fell open at the feeling of a sharp knife harshly pushing into your stomach. Then the knife was being pulled out before he stabbed you in the chest. Your eyes widened and you gurgled, blood leaking from your mouth. As he stood, he sent one last look at you and scoffed at the tear falling down your temple. Your eyes were trained on the ceiling as you felt your body begin to numb out. You heard screams from behind you coming from the men. You didn't know why. You didn't care. You were dying.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the leader being thrown across the room. Then, Michael was into view, stabbing him in the chest and lifting him into the air. He wrapped a large hand around his neck and retracted his knife before slamming it into the leader's chest many brutal times. He fell to the ground with a thud. Michael stood before him, breathing heavy, chest rising and falling quickly.

"M—Mich—Michael..” you wheezed.

He turned around and spotted you, bloody, battered, and slowly losing life. He dropped his knife, and it fell to the ground with a clutter. He made his over to you and knelt down. He spotted the bruises on your thighs and ripped off his mask angrily. Your hand shook as you reached for his.

"I'm s—sorry, Mi—Michael. I'm so—so sorry for not v—visiting you. I'm sorry M—Michael,” you weakly whimpered, eyes falling shut at the pain you were starting to feel, not from the stab wounds, but from your broken heart at the thought of leaving Michael forever.

"Shhh,” he whispered, lip trembling as they formed a snarl.

The loud roar he released is one of heartbreak and pain. His voice cracked as he cried heavily. He rocked back and forth and cradled your hand to his chest.

"I lo—love you, Michael M—Myers,” you whimpered, tears escaping your eyes as you let out a final wheezing breath.

Michael releases another deep roar, tears now streaming down his cheeks. He let go of your bloody hand and looks at you. He kisses your lips gently and touched your check, as it was wet and warm with blood. He looks around at the mess of dead bodies and felt his chest hurt. Michael shakily stood and walked over to where his knife was. He bent down and picked up the weapon. He looks at the bloodied blade and walks over to your lifeless body. He stared down in pain and pressed the tip of his knife to his chest.

"I love you too,” he whispered and pushed the knife as deep as it could go into his chest.

Michael grunts at the sharp pain as he falls to his knees with a heavy thud. He lays on his back and breathes in and out shakily as he reaches for your limp hand. He clutches tighter as he hears police sirens from outside his childhood home. Michael's bleeding out quicker than he imagined. He's happy; happy that he could be with you forever.

#tw: rape #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael x reader #halloween 2007 #halloween rob zombie

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ofheroesandvillains · 4 years

Text

Hearth - Geralt OS

Words: 2k Warnings: Uh…nudity? Suggestive themes? Nothing really. Summary: Domestic Geralt with his girl. This just popped into my head a few hours ago and it just ran away from me. Maybe a little ooc, or maybe he’s just comfortable? Who knows?

(Credit to whoever made this gif...good lordy.)

Geralt must have travelled between Ard Carraigh and Ban Gleán a hundred times in his life. It was a long road, a quiet road, trailing through forest and field, with few travellers that never paid him any attention beyond a smile and a nod. He liked this road. He liked what it led to more.

The deep wound in his side stretched with each of Roach’s steps, sending jolts of pain to what felt like every nerve ending he had. Fortunately, the toxicity was beginning to sap what little energy he had left, and soon he’d feel nothing at all. Were he a normal man with a hole in his side and the pain tolerance of a mouse, he would have died hours ago, slumped over on the side of the road for the Nekkers to enjoy.

But, as townsfolk so often liked to remind him, there was nothing normal about him.

A shrill and abnormal shriek sounded, echoing through the forest that loomed far off in the distance. The sky had grown dark little over an hour ago, and though he usually knew better than to travel so long without rest, these were extenuating circumstances. Roach grunted and shifted nervously beneath him.

“Easy, girl.” Geralt gave her shoulder a reassuring pat, the words alone taking far more effort than they should have.

They were close now. To safety, to food, to warmth, to gentle hands and lips that were soft to the touch. Geralt’s eyes slipped shut and he exhaled a long and weary breath. A full moon bathed the road in its faint blue glow and the wind whistled between stalks of wheat and corn that stretched on down a short dirt path.

Even in his current state, he could see a flicker of candlelight up ahead. The small cottage didn’t look like much, but to him it was as close to home as he would ever come. Roach, seemingly realising where they were, hurried along the path in a trot that had Geralt gritting his teeth.

The thick wooden door opened and a black and white sheepdog dashed out with an excited bark, tail wagging as Roach came to a stop. She followed soon after.

Geralt tried to muster a smile, it must have looked more like a grimace because the joy in her eyes dimmed and concern soon replaced it.

“Collie, in!”

The dog stopped sniffing at Geralt’s boots, and did as he was told - in good time too, because the witcher could feel his body slipping from the saddle and into hands too weak to hold him up. But hold him they did.

Somehow he found himself inside as well, resting on soft furs by the fireplace as a damp cloth was swiped over his face. His vision faded into blurs of movement; deft hands removing his armour and cutting through his ruined tunic, a familiar face and soothing voice keeping whatever part of him was still conscious company.

His fingers ached to reach out, to feel her skin beneath their tips, to reassure him that she was more than a hallucination cooked up by his exhausted mind.

She showed him mercy, her hand moved to rest gently against his clammy forehead and he finally allowed himself to let go. Whether it was the words she’d chanted or the drink she’d poured down his throat, he didn’t know. All he did know, was that he was safe.

———

He healed remarkably well. The sutures were tidy, as he expected them to be, and the white honey she’d given him had worked quickly to combat the toxicity of his potions. Geralt’s eyelashes fluttered open and he groaned.

The room was familiar, the scent even more so, and the thought of its owner had him straining to sit up.

A cool palm pressed against his bare chest and he eased himself back down, eyes travelling along her arm and up to meet her own. He heaved a deep breath and wondered if she could feel the way his heart tried to race beneath her hand. The small smile on her lips told him that she could.

“Not just yet.” Her voice was soft and though he fought against it, he found his eyes slipping shut once more.

When he awoke next, it was to the smell of stew and the sound of a rooster’s crow. His hand grazed his side and found a new scar, another to add to his collection - still tender, but healed over during the night. His joints were stiff as he sat up, and he could hear her quietly humming from her place by the hearth.

She felt his presence instantly, casting a smile over her shoulder and eyeing his bare torso. First his wound, then the rest of him.

“What a lovely sight to wake up to.”

Geralt’s lips curled into a soft smirk.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

She placed the wooden spoon atop the small pot and stood. He was across the room in an instant, hands on her hips and forehead resting against her own.

Her fingers trailed across the hair of his navel and up to the fresh pink scar that marred his right side. She stared at it, trying in vain to hide the worry in her eyes.

“Sometimes I think you do this intentionally,” she murmured, “just for the attention.”

He hummed. “A small price to pay.”

The smile his words earned was genuine, if a little exasperated, and she pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. She caught his hands the moment they slipped to the ties of her dress, and he drew back with a frown.

“You’re still healing,” she chided, and he raised a brow.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

He tugged her into another kiss and she groaned at her own weakness.

“You always lose this argument,” he chuckled against her lips and she turned her head away with a smile.

“You smell like Roach.”

Geralt paused, sniffed, and then shrugged.

“Fair,” he conceded. “Speaking of-”

“She’s in the stables with Lucy, fed them both earlier this morning.”

“Hm. What would I do without you?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Die, probably.”

He laughed, and it warmed her heart to hear it after so long.

“Come. You need a bath.”

He begrudgingly let her take his hand and pull him into the adjoining room. The metal tub was already full of water, and he had to admit that it was a welcome sight.

She pressed a hand to the surface, and in a matter of seconds Geralt could see steam rising from within. He watched as she emptied vial after vial into the water, a familiar mixture of scents wafting through the room, but he didn’t care to identify them, not when she made her way back over to him and loosened the ties of his breeches.

She eased them down his legs, and he almost groaned at the sight of her on her knees before him. As if reading his mind, she shot him a teasing smile.

“Off you go,” she gestured to the tub and stood.

Geralt grunted, but did as he was told.

His teeth clenched against the heat as he eased down into the water. She perched herself on a stool behind him, washcloth in hand.

“Lean forward.”

She began with his back, rubbing soothing circles into scarred skin until it was clean and pink. Geralt watched as the filth from his body drifted through the water and vanished before his eyes. Her spellwork had always been impressive.

“That’s new,” he mumbled as her fingers moved to comb through his hair.

“We’d have no water left with the state you always come back in,” she teased.

Geralt smiled, eyes drifting shut as she massaged his scalp and rinsed the dirt that had accumulated there.

“You better not fall asleep, you haven’t eaten yet,” she warned.

“I would have eaten more than just stew if you weren’t so insistent.”

She giggled. “Always so randy after a hunt.”

“It’s the adrenaline,” he said. “And the fact that I know what’s waiting for me under that dress.”

She swatted at his shoulder, and he caught her hand.

“Join me.”

“Will you keep your hands to yourself?”

“Probably not,” he shrugged.

“Well, at least I found an honest one…”

She untied the laces at the front of her dress and stood. One arm slipped out of its sleeve, then the other, and he watched each inch of skin reveal itself to him as she peeled her dress down past her breasts and over her hips. It fell to a heap on the floor and Geralt sat up straighter, knees bent and parted for her.

She settled between his thighs, a hand on each of his knees as she sank into the water. Little waves licked at her skin, and like a bee to honey, his fingers followed, sliding up her hips until they settled at her waist. The tenderness in his side became inconsequential, a minor hindrance as he drew her closer.

There was no elixir that could make him feel this, no mage that could capture in any illusion the euphoria that came with the feeling of her bare skin pressed against his own.

He held her close to his chest, one thick arm framing the underside of her breasts, and his nose nuzzling her hair as it settled into the crook of his neck.

It almost felt sacrilegious to have his fingers, worn and scarred by years of killing, caressing her skin with the tenderness of a healer. He used to believe that his hands, covered in blood and dirt and grime, had no place being anywhere near her. But he refused to imagine that weak, normal man - the one that he wasn’t - holding her like this. He wouldn’t allow it, and she would never entrust her body to a man who didn’t also hold her heart - a man that wasn’t him.

Her gentle fingers entwined with his own, and she pressed a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles. Geralt’s arm tightened around her waist and she sighed contentedly.

“Will you stay for a while, my love?” She whispered, her free hand massaging the tense muscles of his thigh.

His chest grumbled beneath her as he groaned.

“For as long as you need me.”

She hummed, a hint of amusement in her smile when she tilted her head back to look at him.

“Forever then?” She murmured against his lips, and he caught hers in another searing kiss. It had been months, and he poured every last ounce of longing he’d felt into that one kiss. Always was something he couldn’t give her just yet, but forever was hers a long time ago.

His eyes were dark when they parted, pupils blown wide and fixed on her own with an adoration he’d show no other. She traced his swollen lips with a finger and he smiled.

“Just say the word…” Geralt whispered, taking her hand and holding it to his cheek.

“I will. One day, when you’ve seen all of the world and your heart is full. The day you want to stay.”

He frowned, guilt clouding his mind at the very thought of her believing he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I always want to stay.”

“Yes,” she smiled, warm and fond and far too wise for her age. “But this time it won’t just be for me. It’ll be for you.”

---------

Short one, kinda random...hope you liked it? I don't know why I stress so much about writing Geralt, but I do haha!

Geralt Tag List:

@dinchenrockt @notyouraveragemochii @alwayshave-faith @no-shxt-sherl @szhead31

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher #geralt fanfic

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jeeperso · 3 years

Text

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc part 2

"I’ll sell this ruby." Marshall decides to keep an eye on Jonni. “What? I was’t gonna use it to hit on revolutionary girl!” Several stone arches leading nowhere, strange cubes, a motar and pestel. "Wizards showing off on who has the most over the top ride. sigh" "Uhm...I'll wait outside. Not going inside a giant head's mouth." "Totally understandable." "Feel free to make yourself at home by the way, we got water, wine, ruminating powder." OOC: Grab some ruminating powder, we can make out like bandits in other domains. It's raining desiccated corpses. Jonni: “Not me.” Marshal grabs something sturdy to use as cover to help people escape the raining men. Jonni uses Marshall as something sturdy. "DIBS I CALL DIBS!" "I'm going to assume this is a Necromancer thing and not comment." "I've been working on a biodome project outside town, I'm trying to restore life to this land, unfortunately I require kind of a lot of corpses to do it." "Before he died, he feared Hazlik grading his project. It is pleasing death is no escape for him." OOC: Ooo, we could join a cult! They usually have food! And weird sex acts! You meet two lovely ladies at the local tavern. “Ladies,” Jonni says. “I made the corpse that made all those other corpses.” "Neat." “What I’m saing is, now that you’re here, my fireball is not the hottest thing in the room.” "So, our place or yours?" Edmund will, though he would contact Jonni and Marshall with his whispering voices to see if they were free. You hear passionate moans for about ten minutes... ”Okay, think I wore them out. Lemme get cleaned up.” Edmund: *covers his face* “You got the cash, we got the crash.” "JUST NORMAL SIZED RATS YOU'LL BE FINE." “So… burn down the building and walk away?” "Jonni. You can't burn down every problem." "That is not a challenge." Jonni: “I’m sure something will survive the fire.” “I say we unlock the basement, deal with that first. Work our way up. Otherwise it’s just gonna annoyingly taunt us every time we kill its minions." "Did I just hear the door ominously slam and lock?" [sarcasm] “Oh, yeah, that’s gonna stop us.” ...the second you touch the door, a bolt of electricity goes through you. "Okay... that's more than Rat nonsense." “Aaaand talking’s out the window,” Jonni says hitting the door with Eldritch Blast. The door is made of heavy steel, your blasts hit it, but only dent it. "They have very sturdy doors in this farm..." As you blast a hole in the wall, you see something tumble out of the wall, it looks like a heavily gnawed skeleton. There is also a small, loaded crossbow. “Nyx, got you a present!l" Gorbash: "If we see that couple again I'm going to beat one of them to death with the other." The light also lets you see the rats for the first time. And their flowing craniums which shows their brains. Gorbash: "I think I remember these things... sort of...They taste decent spit-roasted." You hear a voice in your collective head. YOU NOT LEAVE. MEAT. HUNGRY. WE PLAY. THEN YOU DIE. LIKE OTHERS BEFORE YOU. Jonni: “We play. You burn.” "They are rage, brutal, without mercy. But I...I will be worse. Rip and tear, until it is done." “I’m telling you, we burn down any house we aren’t familiar with. It’s the only way to be sure.” "Next time I say a job with just rats will be simple, please someone remind me about this incident." Jonni uses the Create Campfire cantrip 147 times. They blink, then push back you [sic], seeing the house burning to the ground. "Good news...you don't have to worry about rats, or dust." "Um. you probably wont accept 'they made us do it' as an excuse will you?" Marchal: "Enh." *gesture with side eye at Jonni* “You may live.” "Oh we've been dead inside for years." "The rats would breed an army to wipe out every first level commoner in 10 KM." Edmund:"Gorbash...you're not going to eat that, are you?" Gorbash: "I'm feeling nostalgic recently." Edmund: "It might have a parasite!" Marshal: "Gorbash can eat my cooking. Any parasite that survives his stomach deserves living there." "How bad could a mill slug be?" OOC: Makes you run out of cards. "Doing the right thing is its own reward.........when an actual reward isn't possible..." Jonni: "Nerd." "And..-Jonni got to burn down a house...so its cathartic." Jonni: "Okay, now that is a reward.” "I say we check out the bulletin about losing contact with a nearby farm, maybe it will turn out to be this farm and thus easy. Wait, forgot I said that. By saying that I just jinxed us, that is how it has been going lately." Jonni knocks. “We are powerful wandering troubleshooters here about your posting. If anything here is trying to use you to lure us here, say so now or your house and lives are forfeit.” "She's had a ... rough day." Jonni blows up a near by stump. “How big and what does it do? Fire breath? Lightning Vision? Ice farts?” "How much salt do you have?" "70 feet long from tip to tip. And its obsessed with my windmill." "Sounds like your help will be greatly appred-- 70 feet!?" “Gonna need a lot of salt.” "That is the 2nd biggest slug I've ever heard of." "Fecking thing comes over and tries to mate with it every time I run it." "I can see how an amorous 70 foot slug can put a damper in your work..." "That sounds incredibly troublesome and very disturbing to witness." “Halflings are DTF. Shame she’s married to a dude.” "Like I noped out of there after they served me a wad of butter between two slices of bread." "Ah, the diet moon waffle." "So...buttered toast?" "No like a hamburger with a huge stick of butter in the middle." "And that's a DIET moon waffle?" "The proper moon waffle requires thick salted caramel and what is called liquid smoke." OOC: Alright, everyone who got below a 13, you get a strange and disturbing dream. “No! No I can’t. Not again! No more Big Bang Theory marathons!” "I've heard of nightmares from eating food...but TALKING about food giving nightmares?" "Standard Fundertainment advertising space." "...they want us to know we have made enemies of their entire species now." "They can get in line." OOC: First you get the ruminating powder, then you get the power, then Jonni gets the women. OOC: Its ravenloft, like 90% of the houses are creepy. OOC: Then we just classify it as urban renewal project. OOC: Bad news, Jonni is tired. Good news. Her favorite toy fully recharged. OOC: .... oh god I just got it. Instead of a Toe with corns.. its a corn with toes...

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

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spinchip · 4 years

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@calypsolemon sorry if they’re ooc! I don’t write for them at all orz, enjoy a little thing

The thing about supermarkets, in Koko’s experience, is that they are at their most tolerable at 1 o’clock in the morning. There’s a grocery store a few blocks away from her apartment that’s 24 hours, and no they may not stock the brand of apple juice Lloyd likes best- he had a definitive ranking, one he and his little friend Jay had come up with on a summer afternoon with nothing else to do- but they have his second favorite, and Koko can almost guarantee that the stores near empty in the wee hours of the morning, and the bored looking woman who normally watches the self checkout is too spaced out to care that she’s the one at the kiosk.

Once upon a time, walking into a supermarket in broad daylight would have won her adoring gazes- the Lady Iron Dragon, buying frozen corn dogs! Now all it got her was wary stares and hushed whispers, Garmadon consuming her past completely. When Lloyd had been too young to leave at home, and she’d gone out with him in the kiddy seat in the cart on tuesday afternoons, people avoided them so noticeably she grew to resent shopping during the day.

Also, shopping at night severely reduced the risk of running into old acquaintances, she’d long since grown tired of people she knew in highschool prying about her ex husband.

Koko does her shopping mostly on autopilot, crossing things off her list mindlessly. When she comes to the self checkout, she doesn’t bother with a greeting to the woman standing there, pushing her cart up to the machine without a second thought.

She’s just finished scanning through her groceries when a voice calls out, “Lady Iron Dragon..?”

She’s too surprised at the title to notice she knows that voice, spinning around to come face to face with someone who is most certainly not the regular girl who watches the registers. Her hulking form, the blue skin- but instead of her normal armour and helmet, she was wearing… a blue vest and khakis.

“Dogshank!?” Koko is half afraid her eyebrows will fly off her face with how much she's raised them, surprised beyond belief at this chance meeting.

Dogshank smiles broadly, eyes lightning up at the sight of Kokos face, “It is you! Wow, it’s been years- you look great.”

If Koko’s life wasn’t already as weird and messed up as it was, she probably would have been ready for a fight at the mere sight of her old nemesis. As it stands, she’s mostly just startled and, honestly, a bit glad. Dogshank had been a fair and formidable opponent, their playdates fights had always been something Koko found herself anticipating with a smile on her face. Of all the people she could have run into, Dogshank was the least expected and by far the most pleasing.

“I- wow, I really wasn’t expecting to see you here!” Koko admits, “You work here?”

“I do, crime doesn’t pay like it used to.” She jokes, “I’ve been out of the game for a few years now, trying to find something that works.”

Sometimes Koko forgets that she’s not the only one who grew up, staring in wonder at her old friend, “That’s really great to hear, Buttercup.”

Dogshank ducks her head at the pet name, “So, how have you been? How’s your son?”

“I’ve been really good, yeah.” She tucks a stray piece of hai rbehind her ear, suddenly hyper aware of her old yoga pants and t-shirt attire, “Lloyd, he’s great, he’s such a good kid. Raising him has been just… wonderful,” She sighs, a smile stretching easily across her face at the thought of him. When she snaps back into reality, Dogshank is looking at her with such a soft expression it makes her cheeks flush.

There’s a pause in the conversation, no topics coming easily to mind but neither of them wanting the moment to end.

“It was really good to see-”

“I’m so glad i ran into-” Koko accidentally cuts across her, both of them talking at the same time.

Dogshank laughs, waving her hand, “I’ll go first. It was really good to see you again, my Lady.” She bows as if Koko were royalty before straightening, fetching a pen out of her pocket and pulling out a small notepad, “Actually- here, here, let me give you-” She scrawls her phone number out on the paper, handing it to Koko confidently. “So we can catch up.”

Koko can’t help but grin at the paper in front of her, clasping it to her chest, “I’d like that.”

Dogshank smiles, and when Koko leaves that night, she’s only reassured in her assessment that the grocery store is best at 1 o’clock in the morning.

#ironshank #spinchip fic

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miasma-of-fear · 2 years

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[ So, gang. What if. What if I moved Jon (and Edwin) over to my multimuse so I'm not accidentally neglecting him? I'm not making any decisions just yet, and it would take a dick year to move everything over, but I figured I ought to mention it as a possibility ]

#Whispers From the Corn : OOC

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angelcorebabyowo · 4 years

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Title: Honeydew

Warnings: Brief mention of suicidal thoughts

Summary: Lydia, Johann and edward get ready for a party and it's all OOC because yeah

"I don't even want to go!" Johann complains adjusting his poet's shirt and flopping down into the window bench with a huff as Lydia just as quickly starts to brush through his unkempt hair, he even closed his eyes whenever the strokes got gentler. He typically didn't go to parties unless he was performing and he, sadly, wasn't invited to do that this time. Honestly, the only reason he agreed to go was that it was considered rude to ignore an invitation from the mayor so he felt as if there wasn't really even a choice. Maybe he should just fake sick to get out of it, that wouldn't be all that bad, just a simple little head cold.

He sighs softly and leans back into his sister so that he wasn't jerked around as much, he was a bit tender-headed so it made it easier on both of them now that he wasn't wincing every three seconds. "It'll be perfectly fine babes, don't stress so much. You'll get gray hairs if you do it too much." Lydia warned with a small grin, her unnaturally sharp canine teeth looking unnatural amongst the normal ones. A few years ago she dragged everyone into sharping them but she continues to do it every time they run down even slightly. It would be weird if she didn't make it look so damn good " Although I bet you'd love that, huh?"

"Oh, you better believe it" Johann joked sticking just the tip of his tongue out of his mouth by habit. That wasn't a lie, he always fantasized about the thought of having grayish-silver hair at a young age and everyone in the family knew it and would make fun of him at every chance they could. He knew it wouldn't be a good look or actually enjoy it but it still made him laugh every time so he didn't really think that far ahead on the subject. His dad had gone completely grey by the time he was 30 and Edward, his brother, was starting to already so signs of it at the ripe age of 16 so it was possible that he could develop early on as well. "Could you imagine me being completely grey by my 20th birthday? You'd have to start calling me sir in a sign of respect!"

"You get no respect, none" Lydia laughs and stops brushing Johann's hair for a quick second before starting to do the very loose twist with her fingers. It was one of the easiest hairstyles she knew that could be done in half an hour or less. "Put it in a bun or just leave it down? Either way, it's getting twisted because I've already started."

"Maybe in a bun? " He mumbles leaning more onto the window and looking out at the city the setting sun was hitting just perfect to cast a somewhat orange and pink glow on the tops of certain buildings. He assumed his apartment complex was one of them do to the height alone. He sometimes wanted to just sit on the ledge and watch the sunset that way, one false mood and he would plummet ten stories down before landing in the pool below. He wondered if he'd still be alive by that point.

"A buns always a safe option." She whispers interrupting his thoughts and gently putting his hair in a bun before taking a step back to look at her handiwork "Its a little high but I think you should be good. That way it's nearly a safe bet, not one person would recognize you."

"Do you think Avi would still recognize me though?" Johann questions as he looks into the vanity mirror and puts on a fix inspired mask. He forgot why he picked a fox, maybe do to their cunning abilities or something along those lines. He'd picked it out when he first got the invitation weeks ago so all memories seemed to just fade from him.

"Avi would recognize you even if you didn't have a face or hair, now stop being a love-stuck puppy and both of you finish getting ready. " Edward interrupts walking into the room. How no one heard him walking down the hall with the obnoxiously loud heels was beyond everyone. He was also wearing his mask already. A cream scaled one with a few black scales mixed into it as it added ' Flavor '

'Snake' was the first thing that came to Johann's mind whenever he first saw it all those weeks ago, and even today his mind couldn't stop from going to that place no matter how many times Edward insisted it was a dragon inspired one. Johann still wondered what kind of snake it would even be, maybe just a simple corn snake. Edward wasn't that mean, after all, he wouldn't pick something venomous after all.

"I am ready." Johann insists pointing to his outfit, the only thing he had to do was change into some dress pants and he'd be off to go.

"I was talking about both of you. More specifically Miss. "I'll do it later" over there," Edward says, he had a point after all. Lydia wasn't even remotely ready to go at that point. Her hair was pulled into an over-the-top and eye-drawing hairstyle and her nails were done to perfection, but other than that her clothes were just basic pajamas "go get dressed before we leave you at home."

Lydia smirks before patting Edward on the cheek in a taunting manner. "Talking mad shit for someone who got his license suspended."

"Johann can! Right, you can still drive?" Edward questions flopping down onto Johann's bed with a loud sigh as the bed creaks under the new weight. He winced at the sound but overall didn't say anything about it.

"I'm 15 years old and haven't even taken the exam yet"

"Didn't ask how old or if it was legal just asked if you knew how."

"I refuse to let either one of you drive my car," Lydia says before walking out of the room to actually go get ready knowing that the other two would actually leave her behind.

"Our car!" Edward calls before leaning over and closing the door fully and sighs loudly again before laying up against the headboard already messing up his golden capelet and neon blue shirt. He really couldn't stand not being the center of attention for a single second, he always dressed like that so it wasn't that far of a bet after all. "We have ten minutes before it starts but you know the saying-"

"Arriving fashionably late is better than arriving on time, shows how little you care." Both of them say at the same time although while Edward sounds cheerful Johann just sounds even more tired then he always does as if he was trying to drag it out for as much as he possibly could. Johann sat at the vanity trying to figure out how he was going to cover up the bags under his eyes that, even with the mask, were extremely prominent. he eventually just settled on leaving them there as it seemed to add character to the entire look. (He was going for a renaissance era poet who just lost his husband due to some mysterious illness. He seemed to actually be hitting all of the points except for the crying but no way was he going to cry in front of people.)

They sat in silence now, it wasn't awkward, in fact, it was more comfortable than anything. Edward was doing something on his phone and Johann was trying not to have a panic attack because he was actually going through with this while struggling to fit pants that were a little too tight on. Alright, so maybe it wasn't all that comfortable but it was close enough to it.

After about 20 minutes Lydia rushed in with a smile wearing bother her outfit and mask on. It was a multi-colored short yet puffy dress that fell off the shoulders and a mask that looked suspiciously like a peacock with the number of feathers that seemed to be hastily glued on. "All they had at the store was the plain ones so I had to glue the feathers and sequins on myself so now it looks as if a 3-year-old designed it!" she complained before going over to Edward and promptly laying down on top of him with an over the top sigh. "Woe is me."

"Well whose fault is that L? We offered you to come with us weeks ago but Noooo, you needed to wait till the last second like some sort of troublemaker," Edward says pushing her off and then promptly standing up and rubbing his eyes slightly and throws the keys he had been hiding in his pockets to Lydia with a pout.

"Off we go come along little children!" Lydia says before walking out the door again, the sound of her boots echoing through the mostly empty hall. The only thing in them was a few paintings of fruit painted in over the top and crazy colors and a single statue at the end of the hall that they won at an auction a few years ago for like a thousand dollars,

It wasn't worth it.

"We're the same age!" Johann argues running after her trying to put on some of his slip-on shoes as he walked. It didn't fit the look but no way was he also going to wear heels, that was pushing it too far for him at best.

"Stairs or Elevator?" Edward askes whenever all three make it out of their apartment building and into the main hallway "I'm taking the stair because no way am I getting Vored by an elevator"

"Stop being so mean to me!"Edward whines but gets in the elevator anyway with a pout and it started to go down, Lydia was babbling about how much fun tonight would be and her brothers both groaned in unison.

"That's baby talk. Grown-men take getting eaten like a champ." Lydia says with a small laugh before hitting the button to take them to the main lobby "Johann baby, what are you taking?"

"I'm already in pain so I'll just take the elevator, fuck walking down 10 flights of stairs. "Johann says pushing his way into the elevator and gently holds on to the railing. "Ed gets in here, I refuse to sit next to you if you walk down down disgusting!"

If this was going to happen all night then what a fun one it would be.

#yes their step siblings in this #thoight it would be fun #taz edward and lydia #taz johann #fanfic #originally on ao3 #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance

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alternislatronemhq · 4 years

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Congrats, EMILIA, you have been accepted to AL for the role of OC OPHELIA ROWLE (FC: Imaan Hammam). Ahhh, wow, Emilia, I absolutely adore Ophelia already! Your application was wonderful and you’ve built an incredible character. I can’t wait to see her come to life in the midst of our plot! Your writing was absolutely beautiful and I’m delighted that you’re joining us!! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — Emilia age — 19 pronouns — She/ Her timezone — EST activity level — As of now I have a lot of free time and can be very active, especially on weekends.

IC Overview

name — Ophelia Rowle faceclaim — Imaan Hammam, Jessica Parker Kennedy, or Rania Benchegra age — 26 gender — Female sexuality — Bisexual

patronus — A coyote. Just like her patronus, Ophelia could be dropped just about anywhere and find a way to make it out on top. And yet, also like the coyote, Ophelia is often misunderstood and painted as a villain.

boggart — She despises the fact that it’s her mother. Then again, a shiver still runs up her spine every time she thinks about that woman. She can never forget how her voice boomed like thunder when she was angry, nor the sound of glass shattering when thrown against a wall. Ophelia sees all the qualities she hates in herself stem from her.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

+Resourceful

Ophelia finds a way to get things done. She uses quick wit to evaluate situations; to puzzle together the bigger picture and see things for how they are and how they could be.

+Industrious

When Ophelia works towards a goal, she’ll be damned before she allows someone to stand in her way. Years of having her ambitions trampled on by her father in favor of her older brother have left her diligent and downright ruthless in order to get what she desires.

- Guarded

Ophelia resembles a bear trap: get too close and she’ll snap shut, but not without taking a piece of you with her. She finds comfort within the walls she’s built up, careful not to let anyone inside. She’ll inevitably disappoint them, anyway.

- No Self-Esteem

Nothing she does is ever good enough. Ophelia tends to push herself to the absolute limit in order to prove her worth, but it will never satisfy her. She has to do her best, to be the best and she cannot accept that she’s only human. It’s only a matter of time before she breaks.

character biography —

Born in Louisiana, her earliest memories were dotted with the warmth of the summer sun and only contrasted with the polar blue of her mother’s eyes and the chill of her father’s indifference. By the time she’s five, Ophelia’s all too familiar with the metallic taste of blood in her mouth from biting her tongue too hard. Pureblood girls should be seen rather than heard, according to her mother. One off hand comment about thinking marriage is ‘icky’ and Ophelia winds up jinxed with a mouthful of soap bubbles. A life long aversion to the pink-speckled Bertie Bott jelly bean and a reluctance to argue with her mother follows. She has three older siblings, only her brother Otto makes time for her.

At eleven she stands dead-center of a gordian knot. Ophelia stares back at the four statues in front of her, insides fluttering. The whole school is looking at her from the balcony and the dark wood paneling of the entrance hall feels as though it’s closing in. She looks up to the balcony, and there he is. Her brother’s smile is crooked and good-natured. Two statues move forward: Wampus, who favors warriors and Horned Serpent, who favors scholars. Ophelia will later wonder how her life would have been different if she had joined Wampus. Either way, she prospered in Horned Serpent, her keen mind soaking up all she could get her hands on to read. Ophelia’s grades were outstanding, but it wasn’t enough. The best and only the best was all she would accept. Anything less was a failure. Ilvermorny became her home; a place where she could flourish. She was safe behind the castle walls, even as whispers of war sailed in from across the Atlantic.

She’s fifteen when Otto is disowned. His smile was still crooked as he cursed their family name with a mouthful of blood. Ophelia watched from afar with her other siblings as her mother’s silvery voice contorted into a roar more akin to a Hungarian Horntail than a five-foot-two woman. She flinches whenever an impossibly straight red jet of light hits the young man in the chest. He goes down with a cry of unbearable pain and Ophelia’s mind drifts to Christmas, only three days away. She’s always loved the holiday. With the twinkling lights and the annual parties, or when their family tolerates each other long enough to sit at a family dinner. Now, all she sees is her brother begging for mercy on the floor. She doesn’t like the holiday season after that ever again.

England is foreign to her. The craggy cliffs of Dorset where her cousins reside are so far away from the muddy Mississippi River. But she steels herself and pulls through because that’s what she has to do. Her aunt and uncle talk about their Dark Lord with all the fervor of the religious zealots back home. He’s a messiah in their eyes, giving their hatred for no maj-borns a platform. Ophelia hears him speak at a party a few days before she turns sixteen. He’s charismatic, she’ll give him that, but there’s something about him that makes her want to turn tail and run for the hills. At Hogwarts she’s sorted into her second house with a snake as its mascot. Slytherin house is not as warm as Horned Serpent, and it is not her home. More than often she finds it hard to sleep in that cold, damp dungeon. But this is her life now, and she adapts. For the next two years she claws her way to academic success, but stays notoriously aloof to her fellow peers. There are times she feels as though there is something wrong with her. She feels empty inside, as if someone took a melon baller and scooped out everything good about her.

She doesn’t return to America when she graduates. War gives her reasons to burn bridges, makes it easier for her to claim, ‘oh, I’m busy’ and move on with her day. Ophelia gets her training as an auror and right off the bat her family disapproves. It goes against her childhood teachings of ‘seen, not heard,’ and arguments are futile. No matter how many times she claims it’s to get a foothold in the Ministry, her family finds it a waste of her time. She could do much more as a servant to the Dark Lord (by this time his name has become synonymous with the taste of bile and a retch of disgust). It’s too late anyways, Ophelia already has her mind set and by God she’d like to see them try and stop her. She will be the servant of no one, thank you very much. Her outlook on the Order isn’t much better, though. So what if they get rid of Voldemort? There will be another like him. And another after that, and so on and so forth. Maybe she’s just a cynic, but history continues to prove her right. What makes this time different? Not a goddamn thing. But there’s a part of her that wants them to prove her wrong— a first in her life, given she hates being wrong. The part of her who remembers her brother smiling with a mouthful of blood in a final act of defiance. Because Ophelia is cynical enough to know there will always be another Dark Lord, but the determined bit of hope left in her heart knows there will always be more willing to fight against him. Will she be one of them?

plot ideas —

I think Ophelia needs someone to see through her air of indifference. She needs someone to prove to her there’s much more to life than power and control. It doesn’t matter whether it’s romantic or platonic, she just needs someone she can trust. She’s set such unrealistic standards for herself that she’s completely convinced that she’s not good enough. It’d be interesting to see how she could react to someone accepting her flaws and all… or at least calling her out on her bullshit.

Something steeped in political intrigue is right up her alley. Perhaps something sways her from her neutral position and she gets wrapped up in it. Maybe one side offers her something she desires or the other twists her arm into helping them. Even if it’s something as simple (and potentially hilarious) as sleazing it up with people in high positions of power, I really think she’d thrive in that kind of situation.

extra —

Headcannons

She’s never been in a serious relationship before besides a few noncommittal flings. Ophelia’s never really been good at keeping friends, either, because she holds them at such a far distance. She turns into a bumbling mess when it comes to talking about feelings.

Ophelia, unlike her family, doesn’t give a damn about blood politics. She only values hard work and intelligence in others.

Despite being in not one, but two houses with serpents as their mascots, Ophelia’s actually terrified of snakes. When she was a toddler, her oldest brother tossed a corn snake into her cradle and she’s hated the things ever since.

#al:accepted #harry potter rp #hp rp #marauders era rp #marauders rp #ophelia rowle

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