#for her to kill a broken woman and leave a little boy to die

[villanelleskiss]

if you have a problem with abby, you have a problem with me personally

[imagines--galore]

||I Will Always Choose You||

Summary: As a soldier you had expected to find yourself in dangerous situations. But trapped in the claws of a Homunculous who went by Lust and watching the man you love try to save you was on a whole other level.

Pairing: Roy Mustang x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Action. Angst. A bit of mention of injury so be prepared!

A/N: Sorry its late but I hope you like this! @smallartist08

Roy Mustang was not in love.

He had never been in love, and there was no possibility of him falling in love in the future.

Not when he had an entire country to think of. Not when he had to help make Amestris a country he would be proud to call home. Not when he had so many people to look after. His entire team. His best friend’s wife and daughter. The Elric brothers. Madam Christmas and the girls.

Most all of them were in constant danger, one way or the other. There was no time for him to be in love when he had to make sure he knew of their every step. Make sure they stayed safe.

Or as safe as the Elric brothers could be.

Those two boys got in so much trouble sometimes, he was sure they had targets painted on their backs.

But most of all?

Roy Mustang did not deserve love. Not after the bloodshed he had carried out as the Flame Alchemist. Not after all the innocent Ishvalans he had killed when he had been ordered to. 

He was ashamed of his actions, and deeply regretful that he had not stood up to those in authority back then. He may spend his whole life trying to atone for all his sins. Which is why something as pure as love could never be in his life. 

Not with how tainted his soul was. 

How broken.

But............the only problem about not falling in love?

Was that he was already in love.

With you.

Just like Riza and Maes, you had been beside Roy every step of the way.

You had been with him when he was stationed to the front lines. As a weapon’s specialist, and a liaison between the superiors and the alchemists, you had been in-charge of all the weapons that came your way. 

Mechanical and human.

And all the State Alchemists were seen as nothing more then weapons at that time.

You were to make sure that each piece of weapon stayed in shape, and you were aware of every alchemist and where they were stationed, what they were capable of, and how far they could go with the abilities.

As one of the best sharpshooters, Riza would often be found in your company. Not only because you were the only one she trusted with making sure her weapon was in working order, but also because there were so few women on the front lines.

It was nice having another woman around, someone the both of you could trust to watch each other’s back.

You had been walking around when you had first heard Roy. He was speaking to Maes, telling him of the guilt he felt for using his abilities to kill so many. All of this was spoken in confidant, and you were not meant to have heard it.

But you did.

And your heart went out to the poor man.

You had seen so many soldiers die. So many lives wasted.

And for what?

For a war that had started because the Ishavalan’s had revolted against the people who ruled them. Later you would come to know the true reason for the war, but even then, it didn’t sit right with you.

Riza had been with you, and when Roy and Maes had seen you standing there, she had reassured them, saying you would not breath a single word of it to anyone.

Although the next time Roy was given an assignment, it had no killing involved and only a few patrols. He had been confused at first, and after a little detective work on Maes’s part, he was told that you were responsible for it. While writing your weekly reports you had managed to surreptitiously add a few points that would make it seem that the areas Roy would be stationed at were in dire need of a cleansing. 

Of course, that was a lie.

Leaving Roy rather impressed with your clever wording, and quick thinking. He voiced it to you out loud, but what he didn’t say, at least not in so many words, was that he was sure that you had done so out of the kindness of your heart.

He had known of you long before you knew him. At least you were are of his existence, and that he was the Flame Alchemist. That was as far as your knowledge of him went until that fateful and unintentional run-in while he had been speaking to Maes. Roy Mustang knew exactly who you were and what you were there to do. 

He had seen you, a few days after your arrival. You were crouching down next to a dying Ishvalan, offering him some water. And you had stayed there, held his hand and spoke to him.

Most soldiers would’ve simply walked by the dying man. But not you. No, you stayed with him until he died. And when he did, you cried.

You sat there crying in the shadows for a good long while, until your tears had dried and you had composed yourself enough to walk back to your post. And Roy had watched you, a piece of his broken heart mending at the reassurance of your simple act of staying with a dying man.

That there was still kindness in this cruel world.

                                           ————————–

Your life had never been easy.

For one you were related to the esteemed Armstrong family. A cousin of the family. You had quite the legacy to live up to.

Your father had been a decorated army officer until his death in the Ishvalan War. You had been expected to walk in his footsteps. And as his only child, there was a lot of pressure on you. And given the fact that you were a girl, you had to work twice as hard. It didn’t help that your father made you aware of your gender every moment of everyday. And not in the most positive of ways.

You could never be an Alchemist like your cousin Alex, you had no desire to become a weapon like him. And you could never be as ruthless and heartless as your cousin Olivier. Even she had once stated that if you were to ever loose the kindness that radiated from your very being, you would loose part of yourself.

So you had decided to forge a path that worked for you. And though you had to hide your real nature while in the army working at the front lines, you had been lucky enough to find people you could be yourself around.

People you trusted had your back no matter what would happen.

After the war, you were personally asked by Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang to work with him. He had said he needed a person who could talk their way out of a situation without having a single shot fired. Translation: He needed someone who could speak to those superior them him without pissing them off. And once you were made aware that Riza would be a part of that Unit as well, you had agreed.

And while that was your initial reason for joining Mustang’s Unit, it began to change over the years as you got to know the rest of your Team.

Riza Hawkeye, your first true friend in the military. You had both shared your worries with one another, your hopes for the future. Talks that had brought the both of you all that much closer to one another. Close enough that you considered one another sisters.

Kain Fuery, the little brother you had always wanted, and since your own mother had died giving birth to a sibling who had never had the chance to draw breath, you saw Kain as your second chance. And given how you were almost always working on the radio, taking orders, sending messages and keeping updates on the latest going-ons in the military, he was always by your side to help however he could.

Vato Falman was your go to person when you needed to get a fact checked about history. He knew everything, and sometimes you would share your information with him to see if he knew anything about it. Not to mention the fact that the both of you would carry out long historical debates and discussions that you both thoroughly enjoyed, and ones that put the rest of your Team to sleep.

Jean Havoc had tried to flirt with you when he had first met you. But had backed off when you had given him a glare Olivier had helped you to perfect years ago. He was still a little afraid of you, but you both got along now. Enough that he would tell you all about his dating life, which you would critique him for quite viciously, much to the amusement of the rest of the Team.

Heymans Breda and you were partners in stealth. The both of you knew everything about everyone’s business. At least everyone who were important. But sometimes the insignificant tidbits the both of you shared did help once in awhile.

And finally there was Roy Mustang.

Your superior. The one who had brought you to be a part of his Team. He must’ve seen something in you that had him bring you in. Then again, he had seen something in all of them. And while you knew you were a valuable asset considering your way to talk yourself out of trouble as efficiently as any conman, you couldn’t help but hope for something different.

Which was utterly ridiculous because nothing could ever happen between the both of you.

You were his subordinate. A soldier under his command. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still it didn’t stop you from growing closer to him. To share your most deepest thoughts with one another. And while Riza was also his confidant, one you were aware of, there was something different when it came to the talks you had with Roy. They were more personal, and felt more like a conversation between a man and a woman, rather then the exchange of information between two soldiers.

And though you tried to stop it, tried your best not to, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. Fall in love with the man with who regretted every life he had taken, who wanted to see Amestris become a better country. He had a vision, one that was just as grand as him, and you hoped you would be a part of it.

That you would be by his side when it became a reality.

And while it was hard to keep your feelings a secret, considering how they were always just simmering beneath the surface whenever you interacted with him, especially outside of work, they remained unspoken.

And since they remained unspoken, your feelings only grew stronger with each passing day.

                                             ————————–

Unbeknownst to you, Roy was in the same predicament as you.

He hoped that you would be by his side when he achieved his dream. Perhaps then his heart would allow him to do what he wanted for so long. 

To declare his love for you in that signature rambunctious style of his.

He had kept his feelings a secret from you for so long. Maes was aware of it. As was Riza. He only knew the latter because she had, in thinly veiled words, threatened to dismember him should he ever hurt you.

But he would never hurt you. He would rather die then hurt you intentionally. You, the only source of light and kindness that provided some sort of comfort to his broken soul. So many times he had come close to just confessing, to let everything come out in the open and damn the consequences, but he never did.

He had very nearly confessed when he had broken down in your arms after Maes’s passing. The man who had been his biggest supporter when it came to his feelings for you, but he had stopped. He had no desire to associate such an important moment with the worst time in his life.

Though if he had known that a few short weeks later, you would be on the verge of dying yourself, he would’ve confessed to you right then and there.

                                             ————————–

The pain at his side was still near overwhelming. The back of his palm itched and stung where he had carved the symbol he needed for flame alchemy.

But all that pain was nothing.

Nothing compared to the horrifying sight of you in the clutches of the Homunculi Lust.

You looked like you had taken quite the beating, with multiple bruises and cuts littering your body, a majority of them visible through your torn clothes. And you had.

You had lost all control when you had heard Lust speak so proudly and boastfully.

About the Flame Alchemist.

About killing the Flame Alchemist.

But you were no match for an all-powerful creature. Despite your years of training and weapons mastery, she had you pinned against the floor, one of her deadly claws aimed straight at your heart.

Though she changed positions when Roy stumbled in, followed by Riza.

Now she held you in front of herself like a shield, her sharp claw ascending from above your heart to press the tip of it against your delicate throat.

You let out a sob of relief at the sight of him.

“Roy!”

You hardly ever called him by his first name. And just with that word, he knew how worried and scared you had been that he was gone.

“Put her down.” He growled, his thumb itching to throw a fire blast in the direction of the Homunculi. Lust let out a soft laugh.

“Do you really believe you are in position to make demands of me Colonel Mustang?” She purred, the claw wrapped around your waist tightening, causing you to whimper as one of your fractured ribs throbbed with pain. “I shall enjoy tearing your little plaything apart.” Roy gritted his teeth as you let out a painful cry, unable to help yourself as her hold tightened. Beside him, Riza was no better. Her grip on her gun only increased, finger twitching to pull the trigger.

“D-d-o-on’t lis-te-n to h-er.” You managed to call out hoarsely, loud enough for your words to echo in the blindingly white room. Another laugh for Lust, one that had Roy growling under his breath, the fire in his eyes burning just as bright as any flame he normally created.

“Oh my, even on the brink of death you wish to bring your Colonel comfort.” She turned you around so she could look at you in the eye. “Tell me, are you willing to give up your life to save his?” She cooed, smiling sadistically. Your head turned slightly, so you could look at him over your shoulder. The true intensity of your love for Roy Mustang finally sunk in, burning so bright that it prompted you to look at Lust straight in the eye and say one word.

“Yes.”

Behind Lust you caught sight of Alphonse rising to his feet where Lust had thrown him aside during their fight. His armor was hidden behind a wall of stone he had built, so Roy and Riza hadn’t seen him yet. His red glowing eyes found yours, and you knew what was coming next.

A smile pulled at your lips. “But today is not that day.”

Lust barely had time to react to your words when Alphonse suddenly burst into action, sending a wall of stone in her direction. She had to drop you to save herself from being knocked off her feet.

“Now Roy!” The scream had barely left your lips when you felt the searing flames of his alchemy rush past you and engulf the Homunculi.

Lust’s screams of utter pain echoed all around you. Alphonse quickly surrounded you with a stone wall before rushing to your side and shielding you with his body. 

Roy’s flames were intense. He was not holding back. Not when the image of you looking so broken, defeated and hurt was fresh in his mind. Not when the sight of you willing to die for him had his insides twisting in a painful way.

Despite the physical pain that had his body throbbing, it seemed nothing compared to the pain he was certain would ravage his very sense of being should he loose you.

And so he unleashed all that fear, anger and anguish in his flames, unblinking and unrelenting as the creature Lust screamed and screamed. Even Riza did not stop him, did not tell him to hold off. Lust was too dangerous to be left alive.

In Alphonse’s protective grasp, you felt your entire body trembling from the pain, but that didn’t stop you from lifting your head once Lust finally fell silent. Somehow, you broke free of his grip around you and managed to peer around the protective wall.

Only to be met with the sight of Roy falling to his knees, looking just as bad as you did. “Roy!” You whimpered, worry lacing your tone, as you tried to stand. But the twisted ankle did not allow you to get any further then a crouch.

“Alphonse, keep an eye on both of them! I’m getting help!” Called Riza as she all but sprinted away knowing neither you, Roy nor Havoc were in any position to be moved without medical assistance.

Roy was lying on his back now his eyes were on you, his arm outstretched,  hand reaching out towards you. “Y/n.”

You quickly began to try and crawl towards him, though seeing you struggle, Aphonse quickly took over, lifting you up and bringing you to lie down next to your superior.

As soon as you were there, your hands found one another’s. Your fingers laced together and you held on tight as tears filled your eyes, while his shone with relief. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice hoarse as he gripped your hand tighter, if that were even possible. You shook your head. “Forget about me. Lust said she killed you. I thought you were dead.” The tears began anew as you looked at his smiling face, very much alive and just as handsome as ever, despite his injured state. He reached out with his other hand to wipe away one of the falling tears. “Its gonna take more then a Homunculus to take me out.” He said in that confident voice of his, prompting a tearful laugh from your lips. Now that the danger has passed, the adrenaline was beginning to leave your body and you could feel your head begin to grow heavy and fuzzy, your eyes burning as you forced yourself to keep them open.

But it was no use. Already your eyelids were drooping, and everything around you was beginning to loose coherency.

Seeing you struggle with staying conscious, Roy turned his gaze to Alphonse who was hovering over them, Roy smiled. “Thanks Alphonse. Thank you for looking after the woman I love.”

Those were the last words you heard before you slowly slipped into the sweet embrace of darkness.

                                            ————————–

The next time you became aware of your surroundings you were lying on something soft.

Mumbling incoherently, you lifted a hand to your forehead, only to be met with resistance given that your arm was in a sling. Your entire body ached and felt so heavy that you were sure it had been run over by a tank.

But the real reason behind your current predicament slowly returned as your brain began to wake up. 

Lust. 

Lust hurting Alphonse.

Lust fighting you.

Taunting you.

Telling you Roy was dead.

Roy?

Roy!

“Roy!” His name fell from your lips as you suddenly sat up straight, followed by a cry of pain as your still healing ribs protested at the sudden movement. You wrapped an arm around your abdomen, grunting in pain.

“Yes?”

Startled you looked up, your head whipping to the side, only to be greeted with the sight of a very much alive Roy Mustang lying in a bed adjacent to yours. You could make out another bed next to his, with Havoc snoring away. It was the middle of the night, the only source of light in the room from the small lamp Roy had turned on as he read a book.

And seeing him sitting there, bandaged and looking so much better from when you had last seen it, doing something as mundane as reading a book, you couldn’t help but let out a sound of utter relief as you buried your face in your hands. You didn’t cry, but you were rather close.

“Oh you bastard.” Your words were muffled, but he heard you, considering he let out a chuckle. “Not exactly the words a man who confessed to you wants to hear, but I’ll take it to mean you’re feeling better now.”

You sighed, before removing your hands and turning to look at him. “It took you nearly dying to finally confess to me. You really know how to make a girl feel special you know.” You said, your smile soft yet teasing as you turned your head to look at him. Roy shrugged. “What can I say? I have a dramatic flare. Its a big part of my personality.” He admitted, smirking at you as he carefully slid from his bed, wincing from the pain at his side.

Your eyes dropped to his abdomen as he sat on the bed beside you. “How’re you feeling?” You asked, worry lacing your tone as your gaze moved to his hand where the symbol for flame alchemy was now scabbed over. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached out and gently took his hand in between your own. “Well my side still hurts, and I’m sharing a room with two other people despite my rank and not being looked after by a hot nurse, but other then that I have no complaints.” His words prompted a gentle laugh out of you as you finally lifted your gaze from his hand to meet his.

To say you were taken aback by the intensity of his eyes would be an understatement. You held his gaze, even as he reached up to brush your hair behind your ear. He didn’t lower his hand. Instead it stayed there, moving only to gently cup your cheek, brushing his thumb against the half-healed cut where Lust had caught you with one of her claws.

“I know you’ll probably tell me off later, but when Lust told me that she had killed you.” Your voice trembled slightly at the memory. “Something inside me broke and I started to attack her, with no regard for my own life.” The admittance had you a cold feeling creeping down your back but you continued, your eyes dropping to his chest. “In that moment I realized that I didn’t want to live. Not in a world where you weren’t alive.”

You sighed. “What I’m trying to say Roy, is that you mean so much to me. And I know this goes against every military rule there is about fraternizing with your superior but I-I love you too.” The words were barely out of your mouth before he closed whatever distance there was and pressed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. The gesture was so unlike him, that it had you staring at him in surprise once he pulled back.

He smirked. “I know, I’m that good.” He said, and though his smile was smug, his eyes were sincere and adoring as he looked at you. Shaking your head you leaned forward to press your foreheads together, noses just barely touching, a wide smile on your lips. “I’ll need a repeat of that to judge for myself.” You stated, prompting him to let out a laugh, before he moved to comply to your request.

However the moment was broken by the grumbling of a certain fellow team member.

“Would you two stop flirting? People are trying to sleep here!”

You couldn’t help it as you muffled your laugh by pressing your lips against his once more.

[spacebarbarianweird]

I love the troupe of finding Astarions parents. Can I ask for a request of Tiriel and Alethaine running into an elven woman at a market who looks suspiciously similar to Astarion please? If not that’s totally cool!

Past Grief

Synopsis: There were years when Sylenn Ancunin was happy, but ever since her only son died her life as been all mysery and sorrows. And now she meets a young elf who reminds her of what she lost.

Tags: hurt\comfort, dadstarion, astarion's mother

The fic is set a few months prior The Dhampirs of the Sword Coast

Alethaine's age - 24-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading! Thank you for being the fastest reader in the wild west!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

There were years when Sylenn Ancunin was a warrior.

She was a fighter, one of the many protectors of Evereska. 

There were years when she was a scholar, diving deep into the secrets of elven history.

There were years when she was a mother and a wife – but those decades disappeared into oblivion, a true curse of elven existence.

It’s all gone.

Her first child –  a girl –  died when orcs ambushed one of the elven towns. Sylenn was still young and the very idea she could overlive her own children sounded unreal. They were elves, not humans! Their children didn’t die unless mortal danger came for them.

But orcs smashed Sylenn Ancunin’s baby daughter against the wall and the elf would forever remember how she held a lifeless body whose every bone had been broken into tiny pieces.

She got pregnant again – sixty years later. Her husband and Thiramin assured Sylenn everything would be fine. Everything… But three human mages killed him, and her sorrow caused Sylenn to miscarriage. Another rare thing for Tel'Quessir. Still weak and bleeding, she put her heavy armor on and avenged them both, slaughtering the cursed wizards like livestock. 

Then, she buried her Thiramin and returned to Evereska, to her home, where at last she was among her own kind.

A century passed, slow and peaceful. She married again – never did she love Caeldrim as much as she did her Thiramin. But he was a good friend and partner, and Sylenn was happy by his side. 

The only thing she truly wanted back then was to conceive a child. She wanted to become a mother, she wanted this gift she had been deprived of twice.

Sylenn prayed to all of the elven gods. Corellon, Hanali, Sehanine, Naralis…Each of them.

Until one day, instead of a reverie, she had a dream. A silhouette weaved of light placed a small star in her hands.

The gods gave her a child.

… Now, centuries later, Sylenn fears and waits for those memories when she reveries. The moment the healer placed a newborn boy in her hands.

Astarion. Her little star.

He was born with curled silver hair and when he was a child he resembled a dandelion. Sylenn remembers Astarion was a crybaby, always demanding her attention. He wanted his mother to hold him, to carry him around their house. And, should he have a nightmare or some ghostly shadows of his past lives haunted him, he came straight to her, eyes puffy, lips quivering. Sylenn would lull him back to sleep but rarely carried him back to bed.

The boy had the temper of a human, and Caeldrim joked that some of their ancestors must have bedded a N Tel'Quessir. Sylenn’s son was smart and brave, and if she couldn’t find him anywhere, it meant he was in a library – learning new things, new languages, new facts.

Or he could have been in the hills, if the sun shone brightly. Caeldrim’s mother called her grandson Sunflower – for he sometimes would spend hours just standing in the sun enjoying its warmth. 

Sylenn taught Astarion to fight. A longsword. Daggers. All possible weapons. She often took him outside Evereska to show him the world behind the elven realm.

It fascinated him.

Sylenn knew Astarion would leave to see the world soon enough. When she would see him again, he would be an adult – and she wished his childhood would last just a little longer.

It didn’t.

Her baby boy grew up. A beautiful elf whose eyes were green like the hills of Evereska and whose hair was the color of moonlight.

There is another memory Sylenn is afraid to re-live.

The last time she saw Astarion. 

He was twenty-four. Fully-grown. Handsome and beautiful, taller than other elves, with hands almost as strong as a human’s. 

Astarion was standing in front of her in his traveling armor and Sylenn couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

“I will be fine, o’si,” he told her. “Besides, you taught me so well, I could put up with a devil in a fight!”

“Don’t be stupid, Astarion” she tiptoed and kissed his forehead. “Pity, I didn’t finish the circlet I wanted to give you.” She pointed at the unfinished twisted rope-like headwear adorned with a little star. 

“You can finish it by the time I get my adult name.” Astarion kissed her cheek. 

And he left. Sometimes in her reverie, Sylenn wants to cry and beg her only son to stay. Besides, not all adult elves leave their homes! Some stay where they were born.

Her Astarion disappeared. That wretched city he went to study murdered him and no one could even tell her how it happened. 

After eighty years of receiving no message from him, Sylenn left Evereska one last time and traveled to the West.

To find her son’s grave.

They even buried him like a human – and Sylenn wanted to dig the grave with her bare hands. Her son didn’t deserve to rot in the ground but all strength left Sylenn and she spent a day curling in the graveyard until a guardian came to check on her and took her to the inn.

With the years, Sylenn accepted what happened. Besides, there are fates much worse than death.

Her son could have been cursed. Or turned into an undead. At least she knows he sleeps peacefully in his grave and maybe if the gods allow she will meet him in their afterlife.

Sylenn Ancunin never returned to Evereska. She came to Neverwinter, found her youth friend, a gnome paladin, and asked him to give her a place in his adventuring guild.

At least dying in battle is better than rotting in her own misery.

**

A reeking scent of death lingers over the cave and Sylenn curses. This part of the dungeon disgusts her, and if it wasn’t for her mission she would have already returned to the surface. 

“Well, they told us ‘dead or alive’,” the Dragonborn by her side chuckles and points at a dead human prince whose body is torn in two. 

“We need to find the map,” Sylenn sits on a boulder. “I am too old to wear armor.”

“You are not old,” the Dragonborn laughs. “You are what, only a millenia?”

Sylenn cringes. Well, is there any difference between being five hundred years old and a millenia? 

“Almost,” Sylenn says. The warrior looks at her with awe – and she knows how she looks in his eyes.

A forever young woman with long silver hair and a pair of emerald green eyes. Delicate and thin but in the full set of heavy armor. Other races in Faerun don’t care how old elves are.

“Let’s set up a camp somewhere it doesn’t stink. And where the fuck is Irbis?”

Sylenn decides she isn’t going to take off her armor. Who knows what killed the prince? And they need the map that leads to the secret dungeons of the Dark Elves. The lord of Gauntlgrym won’t be happy if the party comes back empty-handed – and with his dead son’s body.

“He must have found a whore to spend the night with and forgot about us,” Selynn says. She has never liked Irbis – the human man cares only about ale and gold and would sell all of his companions for a good pact with a devil.

“You have a dirty mouth for an elf,” the Dragonborn notices.

“I’ve been through such shit within my lifetime I have every right to swear like a drunken dwarf.”

Whatever the Dragonborn wants to say next is interrupted by loud steps.

“And who am I supposed to talk to?” A young woman demands and her voice echoes through the cave.

“This one” Irbis answers, letting a stranger approach the corpse.

Sylenn turns her head.

She sees a young woman in a black traveling armor. Her long silver hair, so common for Moon elves, is braided. 

“This is Alethaine,” Irbis announces. “She is going to talk to that… body. So good I’ve met a necromancer in these lands!”

Alethaine yawns.

“Good morning.”

“It’s almost sunset,” Sylenn says.

“It’s morning when I wake up,” Alethaine bites her lower lip. “Alae, etriel,” she adds in Elven.

Sylenn meets the necromancer’s eyes and feels a wave of uneasiness. 

The girl looks like an elf. Pointy ears, slim and delicate body. But there is something off about her, as if she pretended very hard to look like Tel’Quessira.

But wasn't one.

“Oh, and they say all dragonborns look alike!” the Dragonborn laughs. “Look, Sylenn, you could have been sisters!”

“She looks nothing like me!” Sylenn whispers as quietly as she can. Alethaine’s ear twitches and Sylenn realizes the necromancer can perfectly hear her. “Besides, there is something… strange about her!”

“My mother is half human,” Alethaine says looking at the mutilated corpse. “Maybe, this is what bothers you?”

As if there were such a thing as a pure-blooded elf, Sylenn thinks. No, it’s something else about her that makes the old elf shiver.

“We are so lucky to find someone who can talk to the dead!” Irbis announces. “I entered the tavern, no hope to help the cause and that… that young woman was beating a cleric of Lathander with a book.”

“My dad taught me to beat the shit out of perverts who eye me out,” Alethaine casually says. ‘Hope the bastard has a concussion.”

“I think you broke his spine.”

“Even better!” Alethaine sits beside the corpse looking at the body with such tenderness as if it was a child or a cute animal. “Who is going to ask the questions?”

The Dragonborn pushes Sylenn forward and the warrior approaches. No, the body doesn’t disgust her.

It’s the young elf who scares her. 

“Only five questions,” Alethaine says, puts her arm to the dead man’s chest, and mutters a spell. The corpse stirs and its eyes glow green.

Sylenn has witnessed death. But necromancy is so unnatural and disgusting that she hates the very idea of the prince's body being violated this way.

“Where is the map?” Sylenn asks.

The corpse is silent. 

“You asked it the wrong way,” Alethaine says.

“Where is the map to the Dark Elves’ lair?”

“They burned it.”

“Fuck. Who?”

“The one who killed us,” the corpse says.

“Who killed you? And where is the lair?!”

“I don’t know.”

Alethaine grabs Sylenn’s hand. “You have one question left!”

“Who killed you?!”

“Shadows.”

And the corpse goes silent.

“Very informative,” Ibris mutters.

“You still have to pay me!” Alethaine says. “Ask better questions next time!”

Sylenn pulls away. Everything is lost. They better run to the town and warn than the Dark Elves will probably try to attack them soon enough…

“Watch out!” Ibris yells.

A shadow detaches itself from the walls and pierces the human with its claws. Blood spills on the stones

Sylenn grabs her sword. The whole place bursts with movement. Shadows, screeching and wailing, surround them. The Dragonborn falls and Sylenn knows he is already dead.

“Oh fuck…” Sylenn mutters.

Alethaine jumps on her feet. 

“Do something!” Sylenn yells but the shadows surround Alethaine threatening to destroy the young necromancer with necrotic damage.

But instead…The claws don’t hurt her, as if she was an undead. Alethaine looks pissed and angry as if someone spilled her ale in the tavern. She pushes Sylenn away from the shadows and despite all the heavy armor, the elf feels herself thrown away like a kitten.

“OBEY” Alethaine orders. “BEGONE!”

The shadows curl around her. Sylenn thinks the creatures don’t understand why they can’t hurt the weird woman. 

Her eyes glow green. 

“I SAID, BEGONE!”

The last thing Sylenn remembers is the shadows running right through her.

**

Sylenn wakes up her head upside down. She notices a narrow pathway below her and also the fact someone is carrying her on their shoulders.

In a full heavy armor set.

“Easy money, easy money,” Alethaine mutters. “You, guys, didn’t even have loot I could scavenge! It seems like these are bad times for adventuring finances, am I right?”

Alethaine carries Sylenn as if she were a child. More than that, her sword and bow were still on her and it seemed like the necromancer couldn’t care less about the weight.

The sun still shines in the skies and Sylenn suppresses the irrational fear the girl is a vampire. 

“Since you woke up, etriel, where to go next?”

“I’m Sylenn. Don’t call me etriel, I am not a noble.”

“All right, even better! So, where?”

… Alethaine finds Sylenn’s house when it’s already dark. She opens the door with her leg and the loud slam echoes through the empty streets.

Then, the necromancer gently places the wounded fighter on the bed and stretches like a lazy cat.

“You are wounded,” Alethaine says. “Do you have bandages?”

Sylenn tries to get rid of her armor but can’t. All her body aches and she realizes she has a burning wound on her stomach.

“Stay still,” the necromancer orders and starts to unlace the straps.

“Do you know how to do it?” Sylenn wonders. “Or you only tend the dead?”

“My mother is just like you. Constantly comes home in her armor and it’s just meat and blood under it. I’ve learned to tend wounds at a very early age. Well, she doesn’t wear heavy armor - says it restrains her in a fight”

“So your mother is a berserker?”

“She prefers ‘barbarian’ but yes.”

Sylenn relaxes and allows Alethaine to bandage the wounds. Another wave of fear passes through the elf when she notices how the necromancers lick her lips at the sight of blood”

 “What are you?” Sylenn asks. 

“What do you mean?”

“You are not an elf but you look like one. Try to act like one. But you can’t lie to the elves, we know you are not one of us. So, I ask you again, Alethaine, what are you?”

Alethaine sits in the armchair looking straight into Sylenn’s eyes. The girl is so fucking pale she could have been a ghost.

Then she opens her mouth.

“What the…” Sylenn elbows. “Are you a vampire?!”

“I am a dhampir. This is much worse! I once bit my dad’s wrists and the flesh wouldn’t regenerate for a month!” Alethaine smiles. “And it’s a little bit offensive considering I saved you.”

Sylenn lies back on the bed. Dhampirs… Half-dead children of vampires. Sylenn thought they were legends.

But one of them sits in front of her. 

“I can leave,” Alethaine says. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay. You’ve saved me. Be… my guest.”

**

It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who doesn’t see a five-century-old elven warrior in her. Alethaine speaks in perfect elven and curses like a sailor. Her eyes burn as Sylenn tells her about her own adventures and about elven history. As she concentrates on the stories, her eyes glow red and she bites her right thumb.

By the morning Sylenn finally manages to get into reverie – and this one is bitter again.

Her leg is broken in two and she limps returning home. Hunting has gone wrong and she fell from the hill, snapping her delicate bones.

She mutters curses all the way back and then collapses in the armchair.

Then she realizes she isn’t alone.

Astarion, her Little Star, stands in the center of the room, arms wide open. His eyes are closed and a smile lingers on his pretty face. He is only fourteen and he still retains many of his child features, but Sylenn can already see the adult he is becoming. 

He is in the reverie, deep in his own memories – or, maybe, shadows of his past lives. Or ghosts of his future, should he inherit the prophetic gift. 

The sun showers his face in its warmth and Sylenn forgets about pain. 

Her boy, the gift from the gods. 

She just keeps looking at him. 

Until the memory fades away.

Sylenn gets up – her wounds are more or less healed. The elf feels dizzy as she goes downstairs.

And sees Alethaine cleaning the set of armor.

“Good morning, Sylenn,” Alethaine bares her fangs. “You’ve slept like a human.”

“You shouldn’t have…” 

“No worries, I don’t want to go outside. That dick of a Lathander priest is looking for me anyway. It’s not like I can't run away from a halfling but if I can keep a low profile, I should. Oh…” She looks at Sylenn. “Are you all right?”

Sylenn blinks and realizes she’s been crying. “I… am. Bad memories. And good ones.”

“I can listen if you want,” Alethaine implores.

“How old are you?” Sylenn suddenly asks. “You look rather young for an elf to be on her own.”

“I am twenty-four. I just look… smaller. Because I am a dhampir, you know.”

“Oh, I see… But we rarely let our children go when they are younger than twenty-five. Though, I let mine.”

“I was raised in a human village, and my mother is half a human…And my dad… well, that's a story for another time.”

Sylenn sits down. She rarely talks about her son but for some reason, she feels like she will die if she doesn’t tell her sorrows to that stranger. 

“I had a son. Many years ago. He was your age when I let him go and he died fifteen years later. He was my only one. I still see him when I reverie.”

“Oh,” Alethaine says. “I am sorry.”

Both elves are silent. Alethaine looks out the window.

“You know… I sometimes think that if I die, my parents will never know what happened to me. Or they will decades or centuries later.”

Sylenn bitterly smiles. “We elves think we are invincible. But we are not. Death is a rare guest among us, but there is nothing scarier than an elf burying their child. I lost my daughter when she was four, had a miscarriage – and then my son was just killed. Some clerics even thought I was cursed. Though, almost every human has been through the same shit. That corpse you were talking to is the only son of a local ruler. And he will have to bury him.”

Alethaine is silent. Her face resembles a mask and it’s difficult to decipher her emotions. 

Then the dhampir stands up and hugs Sylenn burying her face in her chest.

“I am sorry, Sylenn. I am sorry for what has happened to you,” she says and her words are sincere. Sylenn allows tears to flow down her cheeks as she strokes Alethaine’s back. 

What are her parents like, Sylenn wonders. Since she is a dhampir, one of them is a vampire. She mentioned her mother, a warrior like Sylenn. But about her father? Do vampires raise their children? Anyway, whoever was responsible for Alethaine’s upbringing did a good job. A necromancer and a dhampir, she saved Sylenn, tended her wounds, and listened to her.

Sylenn makes a mental note to mention Alethaine in her prayers next time. May her parents never have to go through what Sylenn did.

“Well, I suppose I need to flee the town,” Alethaine smiles. “I think I should go to Waterdeep. I can easily mingle with the local weirdos!”

“Thank you, Alethaine,” Sylenn smiles. “I am sorry for being rude”.

“I got used to elves staring at me as if I were a doppelganger.”

“I-I don’t have money to pay you,” Sylenn gets up. “But I want to.”

Sylenn goes to the basement. Turns off the protecting sigils and takes a small chest out of its hiding place.

“I want to give you something,” Sylenn returns to the room. She places the chest on the table and opens it.  “When my son said he would leave me with the first snow, I decided to make him a parting gift” Sylenn takes out a circlet. “But I was no artisan and I didn’t finish it. I was supposed to give it to him when he would return to receive his adult name…”

“But he never did,” Alethaine finishes. 

“I finished the circlet anyway but I had no one to give it to. I don’t have children, I will never have grandsons and granddaughters. And this thing just lies here reminding me of what I’ve lost.”

Sylenn takes the precious circlet and crowns Alethaine’s head. The circlet fits her perfectly and suits her hair. The small star is placed in the center of her forehead. 

“You can’t give it to me,” Alethaine mutters.

“I can. Take it. It’s yours. Things are made to be used. You are a beautiful young woman, wear it. Besides, I don’t think you’ve had a lot of elven adornments.”

Alethaine looks at the mirror and smiles baring her fangs. Sylenn chuckles: maybe this one is half-dead and a necromancer, but a girl is a girl.

“Thank you, Sylenn.”

“But don’t you dare sell it. If you do, I will find you,” Sylenn threatens.

“I wouldn't even think about it!”

Sylenn hugs Alethaine again. “Uluvathae, Alethaine.”

“Uluvathae, Sylenn.”

Alethaine goes outside and soon disappears in the dark.

Sylenn is alone again. Suddenly, she feels like pieces of her sadness have gone, as if Alethaine somehow took them away. Well, Sylenn isn’t old – she has centuries of life ahead.

Maybe it’s too early to bury herself.

She is going back to Evereska. Her husband, Caeldrim must have died already, he was much older than her – so she needs to pay respects to him. And then… Then she will decide what to do next.

**

Sylenn has the next reverie on the road to the east. She hopes it will be something neutral, something that won’t harm her soul but the memories are merciless to the elf.

Sylenn enters the library. Her mind is preoccupied with the news about Yuan-ti’s attacks on the elven settlements. Fucking serpents need to learn Tel'Quessir had been here before them and will stay when the snake become ashes. 

“Thinking of the snakes again, o’si?” Astarion asks.

He is nineteen, still an adolescent, not an adult. He reads a book on human laws and customs and bites his right thumb as it helps him to concentrate.

“Is there something about them in these books of yours?”

“No. Did you know that humans have so many laws about inheritance and burial?” Astarion flips the page. “Listen!”

Sylenn tries not to show that those things sound boring to her. History, that’s where her interests lie. But Astarion is so enchanted with all these articles and small details and many differences between the tribes and cities of humans that she listens.

At least, she can reverie to hear his voice again.

Sylenn wakes up crying again. She looks at the starry sky and sniffs.

Weird, she later thinks that the necromancer, Alethaine, was biting her right thumb the same way Astarion did centuries ago.

--

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[lethalchiralium]

canon happiness series lore:

if simon ever dies, he would make price promise to be a father to his daughter and keep you happy.

ghost made price swear on the little cross he wears after his first meeting with mellie that price has to protect both his daughters and keep you happy.

price breaks his promise every day by keeping simon alive. he couldn’t die when he has two beautiful children waiting up all hours of the night for him, simon couldn’t die when he was all you had.

UNCANON LORE:

if simon did die, price would move in and immediately be at your side. he’d take care of the funeral, he’d take care of the girls, he’d sit with you when you needed to sit under the shower spray and cry.

it would be years later that the lines would get blurry, the girls older and their memories hazy of their real father - only winnie remembers simon. mellie only knows price as her dad, the one who walked her and her sister to and from school, the one who showed up to career day, the one cussing out the principal for not disciplining the boy who had hit winnie. mellie wouldn’t remember the days where she clung to her real father, crying whenever anyone dared to take her from him.

he would sleep in your bed. his arms around you and your back to his chest. you didn’t know that you subconsciously face away from him, because you always faced simon when he slept and now he’s dead. if you face away, you won’t feel the pain when price leaves too. price’s presence doesn’t replace simon’s, he just creates a new mold to fit into - being the loving father and doting husband that simon was. just now, he wears a silver wedding ring and you still wear the gold one from many years ago.

you would have a son. a little creature that simon was so scared to love, but john cradled that boy in the delivery room like the most precious thing in the world. john’s little boy murmured in that little blanket and all you could feel was simon’s fear. simon had rubbed off on you more than you thought. you loved your son, he looked beautiful but you were so scared that that little boy would become something that price could still be - lifeless, a bullet to a heart with only his best friend to comfort him as he went.

price would love him anyway. he loved you anyway. he had retired right after simon was killed, so taking care of all of the kids would be no hassle. even as little oliver got older, he was just like his sisters, which in turn meant he was just like simon. loving, caring, emotional. price took pride in the girls and his son. god might have taken away his best friend, but He gave price a chance to see simon again.

you told price once that you hoped you went before he did so you never had to live without him, and you did. peacefully, on a wednesday afternoon in your sleep. winter grace, melody ivy, and oliver simon were by your side, captain john price held your hand and told you that it was okay. your babies were grown, kids of their own; little kittens and big dogs to keep them company. that he would be okay, that simon was waiting for you.

he had passed two days later of a broken heart. the woman who gave him a family, even if you didn’t mean to, had given him the one thing he wanted in life and now you were gone. only melody was with him, helping him pick out photos that he wanted to use for your funeral. she had asked a question about simon when she found a photo of him and you, price couldn’t utter a word. her whole life she believed price was her father, you wouldn’t correct her as it would bring up too much pain. only winnie would talk about him. he told her what flowers you wanted, that he would like white tulips when he goes. melody only laughed, saying, “dad, you’re not goin’ for a while.” price made sure that melody knew you were to be buried next to lieutenant simon riley, that price’s grave stone be smaller than the lieutenant’s. he wanted to be buried next to you, and to make sure that you got your favorite flower every month and that the cross that you wore when you died be kept by winnie. he had promptly gone upstairs to take a nap and simply never woke up.

mellie kept his wishes. she, winnie, and oliver attended the joint funeral - burying them together next to their mother’s lover and their dad’s best friend. the two children named by simon riley and the one named after him stood over the gravestones, all three children grieving a different parent. captains mactavish and garrick, as well as colonel vargas and his husband former sergeant major parra would stand with them. the four soldiers left dimes on price’s grave. three soldiers left dimes on riley’s, but only one placed a quarter. captain mactavish.

those men would watch over the riley girls and the price boy, walk the girls down the aisle and hold oliver’s son when he was born. they would take care of any of their needs, did anything they asked.

the 141 was buried together, and when they joined their friends in the afterlife, everything was finally alright. your hand held onto simon’s, price’s hand on your shoulder. a little boy was on simon’s hip, one who looked exactly like him and you. the son you lost. and that little boy squealed at the arrival of every one of his uncles, a little boy that was full of happiness.

you had a good life.

———

yeah i just rambled for thirty fucking minutes. what did you expect from me. i’ve cried over this. now i want to write a price family fic because FUCK that’s why

also if you know the coin rule that we do in america, good on you.

also oliver’s name will make more sense in the lover chapter of happiness

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Outsiders Prompt Fic #11- "This ain't my first rodeo kid"

This one was requested by @whitemanswh0re3 who requested prompt 10 for Tim Shepard. I had a lot of fun with this one, and got to include some Curly and Angela shenanigans so I hope y'all enjoy!

****************

Tim should have known better.

His first mistake was forgetting to hide ma’s liquor bottles before she woke up that morning. His second was paying more attention to Manuel’s report on their business with the Brumly boys than to his pissed off little sister, and his third was leaving the twins alone for more than five minutes without adequate supervision.

This is his fault, but all Angela’s doing. She’s mad at him so now she's getting even, and shit he’s gonna have a miserable night isn’t he? He should have known better. She’s not one to mess with. He supposes it’s his own fault- he raised her to take no shit, but honestly, she's not supposed to turn his teachings against him. She’d wanted his attention before and he’d ignored her, so now she’d gone and made it impossible for him to ignore her a second longer.

“Timmy!” Ma’s eyes are jewel bright, the booze making her happy before the comedown makes her mad. That’s fine. That’s par for the course. “Carinõ, come sit with us.”

He takes in the scene in front of him. Bottles and powders- familiar evidence of Ma’s debauchery- covering every surface, his baby brother on the floor, half hidden behind the couch, his little sister bleary eyed and all but collapsed into Ma’s side. 

“Come sit with us,” he can hear the deadly disbelief in his voice, “Come sit with us? With you and my seven year old baby siblings you let get drunk with you?”

She scoffs at him. Actually scoffs. 

“They’ve only had a sip or two, they’re fine.”

He should have known something like this would happen the minute Angel started sucking up to Ma. Angela hates Ma. Of course she had ulterior motives. How could he be so stupid?

“They! Are! Seven! Years! Old!” He all but howls, “You shouldn’t have given them any! Jesus Christ woman, I know you decided not to be our mother but you could at least use some goddamn common sense! You don’t give children alcohol for fucks sakes.”

“Angel wanted some.” She’s petulant, like a scolded child, and Tim hates that he’s stuck raising her right along with his siblings. 

“Angel wants a lotta things, and at least half of them will kill her,” he levels a glare at his sister, who doesn’t seem to really hear him before turning back to Ma “she’s gotta learn the meanin’ of no and you bet your ass I’m gonna teach it to her just as soon as I make sure they ain’t gonna die of alcohol poisonin’ because of you.”

Ma doesn’t look ashamed. She never does, never once feels guilty when she should no matter what she’s done or how much she’d hurt them. Nothing is ever her fault, not when she didn't buy enough food to feed them when they were little, not when she forgot they existed and left for a week when she went on a bender, not when her boyfriends beat on him and Curly or got too friendly with Angela. To Maria, nothing is ever her fault. Letting the twins go hog wild on her Jose Cuervo won’t be any different. She’ll blame him or fate or her piece of shit ex husband, if all else fails she’ll call it an accident but she’ll never admit that it’s all her fault. Her fault for never getting to know her children as more than dolls to play with when she's bored, her fault for giving up on mothering when he was four and never trying again, even when she had new babies, her fault for being so pathetically broken she doesn’t know- or worse just doesn’t care- what giving free access to her poison of choice could do to children who are already too used to numbing their pain in any way they can find.

He hates her. He hates her so much. 

Curly is sprawled across the floor by the couch, glassy eyed and babbling to himself. The kid already never shuts up and whatever poison Ma had given him seems to have cut off his filter altogether. It don’t matter that no ones listening to him- Curly’s off in his own little world, entertaining himself. He’s a lonely kid, Tim’s seen it, seen how he’s always a bit too strange, a bit too callous, a bit too wild to every truly fit in- he supposes it’s good the kid has learned to entertain himself. Even still, he hates seeing it like this. 

“What did they have?” he grits through a mask of forced calm. He’ll deal with Ma later. For now, the kids have to come first, and per usual he's the only one around willing to recognize that. “How much did you give them?”

“Really Timmy, I don’t know what you’re all up in arms about, my mama got me started early-”

“-Look how well that turned out for you, huh?” He sneers, glad to see her flinch. “Now I ain’t gonna ask you again: how much did they have and what exactly did you give them?”

“They been sippin’ from my bottle with me,” she holds up her good old Jose Cuervo bottle that Tim wants to smash against the fucking wall, “and I think Angel stole a bite or two of brownie when my back was turned.”

“She got into the grass?”

“It ain’t my fault! They’re devils, both of them. They wouldn’t listen to me when I said it wasn’t for kids, she just wanted sweets!”

“Fuck!” He kicks the beat up coffee table sending empties crashing to the floor, “fuck!”

“If they get proper sick from this,” he whirls on Maria, jabbing a finger in her direction and she cringes back. He knows he looks like Pa when he’s mad like this, it’s why usually he fights so hard to keep his temper under control. RIght now though, he doesn’t much care if he reminds her of him. Let her be scared. He hopes she feels even half the terror he’s feeling right now. “If I gotta take them to the ER or Curly chokes on his own puke or Angel finds she’s got a taste for the good stuff at seven fucking years old- I swear to god I will kill you. So you better pray they’re alright.”

She swallows, suddenly quiet and the only noise in the room is Curly’s incessant babbling, but Tim doesn’t drop eye contact and she must know he means it because without another word she rises from the couch, and stumbles down the hall closing the door of her room behind her with a snap. 

Tim sighs. One problem dealt with, two to go, one of whom is having a conversation with the ceiling and the other of which seems fascinated by the feeling of the couch cushion against her cheek. 

Jesus Christ.

The twins have always been small, wiry and wild as any feral animal, and he fears it’s yet another disadvantage working against them tonight, as the alcohol and the weed is bound to do a lot more damage to their systems than it would to anyone actually old enough to be playing with substances. However, their is one advantage to them being small that Tim learned very early on to use to his advantage, and that’s this: he can still manage to pick them both up at once.

He scoops Angie up first, fixing her nightgown which has gotten twisted around her neck, and she rests her head on his shoulder, but apart from that doesn’t give any indication that she knows who he is or what’s going on. She gets like this sometimes anyway, quits talking and gets real blank looking so he can’t really tell if it’s the weed hitting her hard or not. Curly on the other hand, grins as soon as he sees him and doesn’t stop talking for even a second as Tim settles him on his hip and starts carrying them down the hall to their bedroom. They should’ve been asleep ages ago, and they’ll probably crash soon regardless, but it isn’t gonna offer him any sort of peace now is it, not when he’s gonna have to wake up every hour to check that they’re still breathing. 

“...an’ mama’s friend Mark came over for a bit an’ I think he’s mean but mama said we had to be nice or we’d have to go away again and then Angela stole her brownie and didn’t even share with me e’en though I gave her an easter chocklit and then mama got mad at us for fighting so she said I could have more of her special drink so it was fair but her special drink hurt my mouth but I got in trouble for spittin’ it out an’ Mark belted me a goodun’ so I had to swallow all of it-”

“Curly,” Tim cut him off firmly. That’s how he always has to do stuff with the kid. Firm. Otherwise Curly don’t pay attention long enough to listen to anything, “what do you mean that bastard belted you?”

“He hit me,” Curly told him simply, and Tim hated how matter of fact he sounded. No seven year old should sound so blase about being smacked, “a goodun’ in the back, but I didn’t cry ‘cause I know you wouldn’t an’ I’m tough like you so I just glared at him and called him a motherfucker like you woulda-”

“Curly, let me see your back.”

He eased the kid’s t-shirt over Curly’s scrawny shoulders, feeling a new spike of rage at the hand shaped purple bruise blooming across Curly's shoulder. That asshole. Tim was gonna hunt him down and give him a taste of his own medicine. He’d learn not to mess with a Shepard ever again, and maybe he’d learn a lesson about beating little kids too.

“You did good kid,” Tim told him, fixing Curly’s t-shirt, “that bastard ain’t gonna take a swing at you again, y’hear?”

“I’ll beat him up if he tries. You can help,” Curly offers magnanimously, “you’re real good at beatin’ people up. I bet me’n you could beat up anyone if we tried. Even a football player soc.”

“Even a football player soc.” Tim agrees, hating the softness that’s welling in his chest. He’s supposed to be angry at them- they’re big enough to know they aren’t supposed to talk to Ma if he isn’t around and he’s had the talk about not eating or drinking anything Ma gives them more than once- but it’s hard when the booze has made Curly so sweet, and Angel so cuddly, curled into his lap. They’ll be grumpy tomorrow, sick and sore, and hopefully that’ll teach them a lesson, but for now he figures he can afford to be a little extra nice to them. After all, it doesn’t sound like Ma or latest her boyfriend had been earlier.

“Angel’s bein’ real quiet doncha think?” Curly really couldn’t shut up if his life depended on it. Tim just hums, shifting so he’s leaning against the wall, Angela in his lap and Curly leaning into his side. “She says that brownie made her feel all floaty and thet talkings making her sick, but that drink made my head cloudy too and I don’t feel sick so I thought it was maybe an al-er-gic reaction like Saide Thomason had at school except I made her blow on my hand and  could feel the air so I guess she’s still breathing, which is good because I don’t want Angel to stop breathin’.”

He pats her cheek none too gently but Angela doesn’t seem to mind, offering him a dopey smile,far less guarded than her usual one. Yeah, she’s real out of it, but Curly’s assessment seems to ring true, and Tim thinks she’ll be ok.

“Angel’s my best friend, did you know?” Curly informs him, before looking down at his twin sister, “You’re my best friend Angel, even though you are plain old mean sometimes. It’s ok though ‘cause I am too sometimes, and usually you’re just mean ‘cause you're sad, and I figure that’s alright. Ponyboy says you should try not to be mean ever but he also called Dillon an asshole at recesss yesterday so he’s a hyp- hypo-critter or whatever it’s called when you’re a big dirty liar-”

Curly’s mouth was still spilling words at warp speed but his eyes were starting to droop, and Tim figured he’d talk himself to sleep pretty soon. Angel had already nodded off a minute ago, and the even breaths puffing out of her mouth between snores reassured him she was doing alright and wasn’t gonna overdose the way he’d been worried about since Ma let slip she’d got ahold of that brownie. Was he still gonna wait up to make sure? Obviously, but at least there wasn’t panicky tension thrumming under his skin anymore.

Curly dropped off to sleep exactly the way Tim knew he would, cutting himself off mid sentence and slumping against him. Tim sighed, waiting a minute to make sure he was truly out before carefully shifting him so he was curled up beside Angela, head tilted so he wouldn’t choke if he threw up in his sleep. Tim climbed off the bed, making sure not to jostle either of them lest he accidentally wake them up. Angel was blitzed outta her mind, and Curly had drunk himself into a near stupor, but he still wasn’t about to risk it.

He dragged Curly’s mattress across the room so he was right next to them when they inevitably woke up fussy, and quickly fell into a fitful doze.

He jerked awake an hour later, and after checking to make sure both kids were still sound asleep and triple checking they were breathing ok, fell back onto his own mattress.

The next time he wakes it’s to the sound of whimpering. 

Internally cursing and blinking blearily he sits up to see Curly twisted in the blankets, hair flat on one side and eyes welling with unshed tears.

“Tim?” Curly sounds very small, “I don’t feel good.”

“Ok kid,” Tim sighs, swinging Curly into his arms and carrying him down to the bathroom, “it’s alright. This is just what happens when you drink Ma’s special drinks.”

“I don't wanna be sick,” Curly whines, a dangerous wobble in his voice, “I didn’t even like her special drink.”

Tim really, really can’t handle the waterworks right now.

“It’s alright kid, just let yourself throw up and you’ll feel better.”

Curly does, managing to get the whole mess in the bowl and isn’t that a fucking miracle since usually the bathroom looks like a crime scene whenever the twins get sick. Tim rubs his back, pushing his curls out of his face until he’s sure Curly’s done, then wets a corner of the hand towel with water and uses it to wipe his baby brother’s face.

“You’re real good at this,” Curly mumbles, already half asleep as Tim carries him back to bed.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the sleeping kid’s forehead as he lays him next to Angela, “this ain’t my first rodeo kid.”

Curly snuffles a little, loud even in sleep, and  Angela somehow managed to headbut him in the shoulder and toss an arm over his shoulders without waking up.

Tim regards them both a second longer, watches their chests rise and fall- breathing, alive, safe, if only for the moment, and drops back onto his own mattress for the night.

He'll be here when they wake up, but for now he’s gonna get some much needed sleep.

[karouvas]

assigned each TTPD track to trc/td3 chars/pairings because I was bored.  

Main Tracks

•Fortnight — post TDT & BLLB era Bluesey. not every lyric fits perfectly but the tone/overall subject (requited but forbidden love, especially the implication it’s both literally forbidden (other people involved/kiss curse) and self imposed forbidden (they’re from two different worlds and need to bridge that gap) is so them, pining and yearning, Literally “we can pretend this once then never speak of it again” and then mourning that as they try and keep their distance, also the “your wife waters flowers I want to kill her” bit in my head is Blue being jealous of Henry when she meets him. It makes sense. To me. Primarily a Blue pov song and then the Post Malone bits can be Gansey. 

•The Tortured Poets Department — The Gray Man x Maura, The Gray Man’s post TDT break up anthem. When you give up your hit man life for a woman and she runs off to a cave to find her ex boyfriend, a tree! Will really mess up an Anglo Saxon Poetry lover.

•My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys — DC Party Adansey from both their povs, Adam fearing Gansey only can value him as a possession and can’t love him in a way that Adam would want and Gansey fearing Adam secretly hates him + his heart breaking when Adam smashes the figurines. But the bridge is very Adam pov “I felt more when we played pretend than with all the Kens” Adam’s relationship with projection and both hating Gansey’s facade and being infatuated with and attracted to it, also there are so many ways they pretend seperately and together. 

•Down Bad — Pynch, first verse and chorus definitely Ronan pov in trc, the second verse and chorus as Adam pov in mi then after that could be both of them although still would lean more Ronan pov for the vibes. 

•So Long, London — Noah song. A lot of it could be his pov talking to Whelk, but then the friends he’s referring to could be the Gangsey and the Gangsey pov could be the final chorus saying goodbye to him. 

•But Daddy I Love Him — Niall x Mor. Niall’s pov as he tries to get his mother/his family to accept that he loves Mor. 

•Fresh Out The Slammer — Jordeclan. Self explanatory. 

•Florida!!! — at first I was going to give this one to Blue because of some of the themes about feeling conflicted about your hometown, then I wanted to make it a Hennessy song because some lyrics really fit her, but then eventually I decided this is actually a song about The Fairy Market. Different parts could be from Hennessy Jordan and Declan’s pov and maybe a little bit from Mor’s and/or Henry’s. 

•Guilty as Sin? — this song has both Bluesey and Pynch vibes but to me it’s a Bluesey song overall. Blue pov, yearning for someone you can never touch it’s perfect… 

•Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? — Ronan song fits him in the first two trc books real well imo. In the second verse he’s addressing the Gray Man but he could be addressing a number of people from Declan to Kavinsky to Niall to Gansey throughout the song. 

•I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) — Maura Sargent and her terrible taste in men! First verse and chorus about Artemus and Calla and Persephone shaking their heads in the background, then the second time with The Gray Man Calla again shaking her head. 

•loml — Jordeclan, but specifically a Jordan pov song after Declan chooses death by fairy market over her could either say this is her thought process in a middle bit that we didn’t get to see or an au where Declan did die and/or she did leave him for a bit after this.

•I Can Do It With A Broken Heart — Adam song. I think you could read it as in the first verse / go of the chorus the “him” being referred to is Gansey post DC but then in the second verse/chorus it’s Ronan in mister impossible era. His whole thing with masking/not paying attention to his feelings through both series and literally “faking it to make it” at Harvard… I can pass this test… the tonally upbeat music and devastating lyrics. Soo him. 

•The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived — Rovinsky break up song. I think the first verse and chorus is K pov but the rest of the song is Ronan’s pov. 

•The Alchemy — another song with both Pynch and Bluesey vibes but this one I’m giving to Pynch overall. The whole high school relationship currently long distance but I’ll always come back to you thing. 

•Clara Bow — for a minute I thought I really would have to give up on making this one about trc, but then I thought about the whole theme of women mirroring each other Blue and Gwenllian and the tapestry of girls with Blue’s face, their literal mirror powers, the 300 fox way women and how you see something of all of them in Blue / she’s a product of them, Hennessy and her clones, Mor and Aurora. So yeah general vibes of that theme. 

Bonus Tracks 

•The Black Dog — Pynch divorce bop. Adam pov. 

• imgonnagetyouback — Bluedam, now you may be thinking that I’m just assigning this one because I already think get him back! by Olivia Rodrigo is a Bluedam song (see previous web weaving) and this song is just a worse version of that song, and you’d be right that’s why I’m saying it. 

•The Albatross — Bluesey. Gansey associating the color blue with death, learning Blue is his death, being fascinated by her and falling for her more and more the more he accepts his own death… 

• Chloe or Sam or Sofia or Marcus — this is all about romantic drama/a love square between Blue Henry Gansey and Adam, different parts of it are from Gansey or Adam’s pov primarily about each other but they refer to Henry or Blue at different points. The Adansey divorce to Sarchengsey to Chengsey divorce pipeline song essentially. 

• How Did It End? — Adansey!! literally “he was a hothouse flower to my outdoorsmen, our melodies were such we could not cure them” I won’t just go through every lyric but every lyric just screams Adanseycore, as many of her songs about divorce do. 

•So High School — Pynch. “You know how to ball I know Aristotle” referring to Ronan playing tennis is an especially fun aspect. 

• I Hate it Here — Adam, first verse and chorus could be DC party Adam and then as it goes on it’s Adam at Harvard thinking all the things he won’t say to the crying club, and then it’s Adam about Henrietta. 

•thanK you alMee — Declan song centered on his conflicted grief/hatred of Niall. 

 •I Look in People’s Windows — Adam observing the wealthy/people he envies. 

•The Prophecy — Blue song. Elements of Bluesey obviously but mostly about Blue who won’t let fate define her and is brave when she’s afraid, begging for a different fate for Maura when she’s missing for Gansey and Noah, for herself when she wants things from the future that seem impossible for so many reasons. “And I look unstable gathered with a coven around a sorceress table” so the bath tub scene with her and her mom and Aunts! 

•Cassandra — Gwenllian Glendower anthem! 

•Peter — Adam pov Adansey song 😭 I already made a web weaving explaining this and if I tried to again with words I’d throw up and die, but this is the most trc coded song on the album other than the prophecy. 

•The Bolter — Hennessy song. First verse refers to her childhood trauma, The chorus fits Jordanessy and their mi scene with the cars so well and the whole repeatedly dying thing is obviously very Mister Impossible plot coded and also the cyclical nature of her lace dreams are reflected here. 

•Robin — Adansey. “way to go tiger”. 

•The Manuscript — Blue x Henry pining era song post Sarchengsey divorce. 

[jacaela]

"Rhaenyra brutally killed Vaemond, so the greens usurped her, they feared for their lives." - someone from reddit.

First, she ordered Daemon to cut off his head, and fed the dead body to the dragon. Secondly, this was done with the light hand of Viserys and Corlys, because Vaemond violated the royal order. Nobody cared about his death, neither the greens, nor even Corlys. A little surprise that will burn your asses:

His brother Lucerys agreed, insisting that he and Jace were men, or near enough to make no matter. “Our uncle calls us Strongs, but when the lords see us on dragonback they will know that for a lie. Only Targaryens ride dragons.” Mushroom tells us that the Sea Snake grumbled at this, insisting that the three boys were Velaryons, yet he smiled as he said it, with pride in his voice.

Luke’s young brother Joffrey (Jace was still away on his mission north) swore a terrible oath of vengeance against Prince Aemond and Lord Borros. Only the intervention of the Sea Snake and Princess Rhaenys kept the boy from mounting his own dragon at once.

Having outlived all of his children and suffered the betrayal of his nephews and cousins, the Sea Snake seemed more than eager to accept these newfound grandsons.🤣

Yet none of these losses were felt so deeply as that of Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra’s youngest son seemed lost as well. In the confusion of battle, none of the survivors seemed quite certain which ship Prince Viserys had been on. [...] It is written that when the Sea Snake was congratulated on his victory, the old man said, “If this be victory, I pray I never win another.”

And most importantly, at the green council no one even mentioned him, so this argument has zero value. The reason Rhaenyra was usurped is misogyny. Alicent and Otto had been plotting to usurp her long before she married Laenor. For the same reason, the greens refused to send a raven to the Arryns.

“King,” insisted Queen Alicent. “The Iron Throne by rights must pass to His Grace’s eldest trueborn son.”

One-eyed Prince Aemond, nineteen, was found in the armory, donning plate and mail for his morning practice in the castle yard. “Is Aegon king?” he asked Ser Willis Fell, “or must we kneel and kiss theold whore’s cunny?”

GRRM: “The Civil War in England between Stephen and Matilda, which was over whether a woman could in fact inherit the English crown. And they passed her over but she was pissed about it and went to war and that war ripped England apart.”

"Rhaenyra would have killed greens"

“I offered her an honorable peace, and the whore spat in my face,” he declared. “What happens next is on her own head.”

Broken by the loss of one son, Rhaenyra Targaryen seemed to find new strength after the loss of a second. Jace’s death hardened her, burning away her fears, leaving only her anger and her hatred. Still possessed of more dragons than her half-brother, Her Grace now resolved to use them, no matter the cost. She would rain down fire and death upon Aegon and all those who supported him, she told the black council, and either tear him from the Iron Throne or die in the attempt.

Rhaenyra rejected her stepmother’s proposal with scorn. “Your sons might have had places of honor at my court if they had kept faith,” Her Grace declared, “but they sought to rob me of my birthright, and the blood of my sweet sons is on their hands.” “Bastard blood, shed at war,” Alicent replied. “My son’s sons were innocent boys, cruelly murdered. How many more must die to slake your thirst for vengeance?”

Sunfyre, it is said, did not seem at first to take any interest in the offering, until Broome pricked the queen’s breast with his dagger.

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, Inspired by the hunchback of Notre Dame and Repunzel)

Lucerys has always lived in the attic. He doesn't remember a time where he wakes up not greeted by the familiar four walls, and a window too tall for him to look through, partly because it was placed at the highest part of the wall, and partly because Lucerys' legs are of no use to support him standing, his ankles broken beyond repair. The septons (that's what they call themselves) come every morning to give him water for a bath, food, and lessons.

It was one of the only exciting part of his day, to learn new things. The other exciting part of the day would be him alone, allowed to read the books that decorated his shelves, or allowed to continue his carvings or paintings around the walls, his little creations of what he believes the world looks like, hoping that Aemond, his qybor, would visit. He doesn't quite know what qybor means, a dialect long forgotten, but Aemond loves it when he uses that to address him, so he does. Years ago, he would come every day and stayed with him until no light enters his room from the little window, now he visits once in a blue moon, and stayed for only a few minutes before his duty calls, leaving Lucerys alone again.

It wasn't all bad. Even if he doesn't visit as much, he at least gifts him presents, books, paint for his carvings or the walls of his room, new tools to make it easier, once he was given a green dress, although he doesn't quite understand why the septons beseeched him to not to wear anything of that color.

He was never allowed to leave the attic. He was told he was at the top of the citadel, where people worship the Faith of the Seven every day. He was also told that he can't leave at all, for he is a descendant of Old Valyrians, horrible creatures wearing human skin, known to cast curses and see the future, using sorcery and magic not at all approved by the Faith. He had eyes of purple, though his hair is brown. If anyone were to see him, to know he lived there, then the septons would be forced to cast him out, and since he was a cripple, it meant that he would no doubt end up dead in the streets, either by starvation or by being killed by those of Old Valyria for being half Andal.

It didn't make sense, before. He asked his qybor, Aemond, more about his ancestry, the Old Valyrians, and it seems to have upset him, for his face turned dark, calling them a plague that ought to die, beings who ignore the Faith's calls, instead they act like gods themselves. It scared Lucerys, hearing his qybor calling for the destruction of his people, despite not knowing much about them. Qybor must have noticed his fear, for he softened his voice, and said that Lucerys was different, untouched by the black magic they have, a pure being, his hair was proof that he would be different.

He even sat him down to tell him a tale of a young pious woman forced to marry the current leader of the Old Valyrians to keep the peace between those people and the people of the Seven. It resulted in four children. Unfortunately, the first two were touched by the savagery of the Old Valyrians, for the first one, a boy, quickly embraced being a drunk and a whore, hot blood in his veins left unchecked. The other one, a girl, though sweet and innocent, has been plagued by dreams and visions of the future, changing her to an odd woman. It was the last two that were different, untouched by the savagery in all but looks, they instead held onto their mother's faith, and when they got older, they rescued her from the clutches of the Old Valyrian leader.

Aemond revealed that he was one of those two, that he, despite his pure Old Valyrian looks, followed the true religion of his mother, saving her from his savage father and his family, and ultimately destroying them for the sake of the Faith. He said it was for the best, they were beasts pretending to be human, and they were dangerous, even to their own kin.

He hunts them, the septons told him once. Hunts any person connected to Old Valyria. Force them to either accept the Faith of the Seven and denounce their old ways, or perish. A real soldier of the Faith, he was.

Lucerys thought it was the right thing to do at first, after all, the septons of the Faith were wonderful people that took him in when he was abandoned at their doorstep, for being a crippled, they said. Why they wouldn't wish to follow the Faith was beyond him. Are their savage ways more important that their souls, their saving grace? He shakes his head.

He chooses to carve today. He received a new book, with illustrations, this time, and he wished to add them to his miniature town. He was careful, carving up the delicate neck, when he heard his door opening. He turned, expecting his meal and a septon who would pray with him. Instead it was Aemond, holding his tray.

He greeted him joyfully, carefully cleaning up his table so Aemond might place the food on a clean surface. Lucerys gestured him to eat with him, and to his surprise, Aemond does, sitting on the spare chair he had.

They ate together for the first time in years, Lucerys happily asking about the world he could never be a part of, and Aemond answering all his questions calmly, allowing Lucerys to exhaust himself.

Lucerys was greatly upset when it was time for Aemond to leave. To his surprise, Aemond told him he would be visiting more often now, and would actually be taking over some of his lessons, adding newer ones now that he is old enough to learn them. Lucerys is quite curious about these new lessons, and he was even more pleased to find out Aemond would teach him.

Before he left, Aemond helped him in his nightly bath, wiping his wet body before helping him dress up. It was a bit strange for Lucerys, only ever used to septons, but it was Aemond, and he was a friend, so it must just be nerves. He lifted him up and carried him to his bed, and kissed his forehead goodnight, shocking Lucerys. He never did that in a while, so why now? He doesn't question it out loud, though.

Althroughout the visit, Lucerys never once questioned Aemond about the blood on his clothing. It was normal, he supposed.

---------

Or, where Aemond is a bit of a zealot who hates his Targaryen looks and instead adores Lucerys' bastard brown hair.

[xxnu11-sku11xx-moved]

Okay, so I just finished my first play through of Slay The Princes today, and I thought I'd share some stuff for fun!

Warning for spoilers under the cut!

Okay so except for the stranger which I did last, I died twice for all of my vessels. The ones I got were:

The Unwound Vessel

The Seething Vessel

The Endless Vessel

And the Burning Vessel

Some fun things I saw on my journey:

I don't think that's just pessimism buddy

That one part of the demo that made the lady kissers go wild

THE FLESH WORRRLD (also hearing the broken cry was super funny to me)

I always love these sprites, some of them have this vibe to them that I can't explain

When you say you're happy with your rewards and you already collected a vessel, She makes you go back and kill yourself

I like this form of her a lot, I just think it's pretty

After this she says she misses home and that she doesn't know what home is, but it's out there(most likely referring to Her, the collection of vessels)

I felt REALLY bad after saying I'd leave her, mainly cuz of her voice sounding so panicked, so I think I deserved to die tbh

I didn't save many screenshot after this, but I'll try to recall some good stuff from my head when need be.

The Smitten is a blight to this world that needs to be stopped/j

A good portion of the voices are down SEVERE actually lol

I just recently noticed that she looks like a face

Also it was funny when the game closed after I said that I want to be here forever

TIME FOR THE NARRATOR STUFF WHOO BOY

I can't fully make out what he is, possibly some wolf/crow mutation? Anyways he basically made us to kill her to eliminate death

Also you can't kill death, death must still exist in a way in order for you to kill her, that type of thinking is flawed

IF WE ARE A PART OF HER, WE ALSO CARRY THE CONCEPT OF DEATH WITHIN US, SO DEATH CAN'T TRULY GO AWAY UNLESS WE KILL OURSELVES, WHICH YOU MADE IMPOSSIBLE TO. OH MY GOD YOU FUCKING IDIOT

Then maybe your dream was flawed from the start? Just a little?

HASTA LV VISTA BIRD BRAIN

I must say that I LOVE this design for her. It reminds me of the birth of venus a bit. And the bodies making up her hair and dress 👌👌

Also she isn't the concept of death, but moreso the possibility of it. Kind of like a reaper?

One more thing!

"Name every woman"

Her silly ass:

[steel-and-fire]

They never give up...

His breath was strained, his eyes heavy but focused, the grip on his hammer tight as he carefully shifted the balance of his feet, readying himself for attacks from any direction.

The masked hunters were keeping their distance, observing him, trying to use the stalemate to find openings. Two of them lied on the ground, alive but with multiple broken bones and fractures, unable to even move, much less fight. Four of them remained standing, three with bows and one with a blade, although that one favored throwing poisonous daggers, and Ferenir was glad that it had little effect on him.

"You sure don't give up...", the blacksmith spoke in a low tone, a hint of aggressive frustration mixed with surprised irritation in his voice.

"How many of you really have to die for this? How am I special enough to still be worth the cost?" The questions he asked were rhetorical. He knew he would get no answer, he never did. The hunters were always silent, their tongues bound by magic.

And indeed, the only thing he received, was a continuation of their assault, as arrows were released at him from three directions, and the fourth threw a few more daggers at him.

Ferenir raised his arms, using the head of the hammer to block the daggers, while one arrow scraped his arm, another broke on his armor, and the last hit him behind the horn on his head. Painful, with blood running down his neck, but not lethal, as the skin of his head was not so easily pierced.

Immediately, Ferenir charged towards the dagger guy while the others drew their arrows again, swinging his hammer in a large arc down. He had a very small window of opportunity, and he wasn't the fastest person. Unsurprisingly, instead of engaging him in combat, the hunter stepped to the side, leaving the blacksmith exposed to another barrage of arrows.

This was getting nowhere quickly, the dragonblood knew he was stuck, as he had no way of catching them quickly, especially without exposing himself to the rest. He could only count on lasting longer than they had arrows...

Or so they thought.

"Now, Boy!!!", Ferenir's sudden loud command was immediately accompanied by a shadow leaping out of the bushes, and powerful jaws closing down on the dagger hunter's shoulder from behind. Woofers, Ferenir's wardog companion, had been patiently waiting for his friends command, hiding the entire time.

And now, the large hound showed no mercy as his teeth ripped through the leather armor of the man, and then pushed him down on the ground with the tremendous power of his neck, which couldn't belong to no ordinary dog.

"Aghh!!!", the man let out a cry of pain, all that he could afford, but as he opened his eyes, he saw Ferenir standing above him, golden eyes bright in the shadow of his body, the heavy hammer raised high...and then crushing down.

Crunch!!-

A truly, sickening sound. Hammers are made to mold metal...when used against flesh and bone, it's a very unpleasant sight.

The other three had already released their arrows to save their teammate, but it was too late, not to mention they barely managed to scrape Ferenir again. They were all dipped in poison, but as mentioned, the amber dragonborn long now could barely feel such effects, if at all.

Woofers did not wait another moment, running and leaping towards the remaining foes with tremendous speed and force. Realizing the battle was lost, they turned to flee, and while two managed to escape, Woofers managed to bite into and pull down from the tree one of them, a woman.

She struggled to free herself, grabbing on her arrows and attempting to stab Woofers with it, but became keenly aware of how tough his hide was. There was no second attempt, as Ferenir caught up and stepped on her hand, locking her down.

He was angry, it showed. Real pissed. But most of all, frustrated.

"Why in the hells do you insist on hunting me down?! Isn't this enough? You can't kill me!!", he nearly coughed the words from his rage, but as expected, he received no response. Only the woman's silent stare into him, without any hatred nor fear. She had accepted her death already.

"I fucking hate this about you all!! I can't even kill you in peace!!", an added scream from the blacksmiths lips, tearing off her mask his free hand. She was in her late twenties to early thirties, scarred, human. Bright blue eyes that simply stared at him.

Ferenir grip on his hammer tightened, conflicting emotions burning inside him. He knew he could get no words from her, he had already tried countless times to bypass their magic bind, even as far as cutting off their tongues, but always ended up in a brutal implosion.

Killing her also served no purpose, they had no lack of manpower, apparently....they would simply send someone else. There was nothing to achieve, nothing to gain, the head of the snake was intact, he was just cutting off scales in some need for some form of justice.

Finally, he sighed.

"Taking your life really is worthless...I will not stain my hands for you.", the words were not of mercy, but of disdain.

"But..." Suddenly, in a single swing, he brought his hammer down on her knees, shattering them completely. The woman screamed, her eyes rolling back on her head from the sudden agony.

"Fuck you!!! You and all of you!!", he spat, the voice as if coming from his lungs, hoarse and heavy.

He took two deep breaths and turned his eyes to Woofers, his teeth still sunk into her shoulder, keeping her pinned down.

"Let her go. She can suffer alone....", a command that heavily contrasted her heavy screams, barely audible in nature. Yet, the warhound heard him loud and clear, and immediately obeyed, leaving the woman to shake in pain on the ground and following his friend, who was already walking away from the scene.

So frustrating...

[absolutelgbtqiacouplesshipper]

Watching GoT for the first time

I saw someone do this with Grey's Anatomy but I can't find it again so if someone knows, give them credit for the idea. Anyway I am finally watching Games of Thrones for the first time with only a vague idea of the plot so here comes my stream of consciousness while doing so.

Obviously some spoilers ahead. Let's start off with season :

-The first hand saw Cersei and Jaime , I can bet on that.

-Ned, you're right winter is coming and you're wrong the night watch didn't deserve to die. -Bran, my dear.

-Is killing Joffrey do-able ? 'cause he kinda is a jerck and gets on my nerves

-I don't think Jon Snow is really smart. Tyrion was right about telling him what kind of privileges is was granted.

-I'm going to be a Joffrey slander. Lady did not deserve that ! Neither Sansa and Arya and the ginger boy.

-Gosh there are too many names !

-The faith or religious dogme is not made clear. I haven't read the books and I don't exactly understand what is there place/customs/beliefs. But it's fine 'cause they don't seem to have any big importance or whatsoever.

-Joffrey and Viserys slander.

- I don't know how but I always end up shipping ships that are rare on the Internet. Baelish x Catelyn in my heart

-Baelish is not reliable. He's even cocky about that.

-What the hell of a shitty king is that ? Robert, you suck.

-Robbert doesn't look like an exciting character to me. I don't know, I think he is lacking energy and complexity. He just looks like the good firstborn, the dutiful heir. However Arya ... I will be rooting for her. And no Ned, clearly she won't be a lady wife.

-I like the storytelling of the Targaryen story. It's very well introduced.

-I don't get why Sansa wants Joffrey to like her. Joffrey was the shitty man here, not your father.

-Ned, you're lacking good senses into the viper nest.

-They're blaming Tyrion and it's clearly not Tyrion and poor Tyrion (who looked very frightened) ; but oh Catelyn that was a power move. (not a very smart one tho)

-Catelyn my girl you're so smart. But also no, you're not.

-"Why ? Am I starting to make sense ?" such a powerful line.

-Rodrick is going to die. Who are we to pretend.

-I fear Bran words about the Tully devise are foreshadowing something.

-Ned, take the warning and listen to it.

-Varys is for the Targaryen !

-oh boy I came 'cause I hear about it but now I am staying for the politic plot. I love a bit of manipulation and hunger for power. -Ned I think you should leave to wait an hour to speak to someone. -Lysa is mad. She is completely mad. The son too. -Okay, Robber, you're not such a fool after all. But you have anger issues. -Cersei seems like a broken woman. Jaime is shit. -The hair Ned ! The hair ! -The whores watching is a funny thing to me. -Okay Robbert slander now ! You don't hit your wife. -And Cersei lying is getting you nowhere. They were witnesses. -The scene where Daenerys eats an heart lacked introduction. Vyseris you little filth, if you touch her because of her son, I swear I am finding way to bring you into reality and then murder you.

-This scene of the heart holds such a power. - They never gave it to you whiny boy 'cause you don't deserve it. You don't deserve anything truly. -Lysa and her boy are shitty. And Catelyn why the hell are you standing unmoved ? -Robbert is king but it is a Lannister rule. -He had it coming. Viserys only had himself to blame. -Yup, Dany, you're the dragon. -Tirwyn piecing a stag is a good metaphor. -He is a complete fool to tell her. Telling her does not preserve his honour. - Baelish teaching about sex and prostitution is - well very smutty obvi but also very true ; I love that guy. - Ned is so dead. Baelish is going for his head. - Ser Lorah the traitor ! Who got a change of heart. -Ned you should to him and go to war. - I love Baelish's logic. Nothing moral in it. But that is amazing scheming.

-And then Dany got what she wanted. - I knew Ned would die, I didn't think it would come so fast. Well he is not dead yet but that is clearly the way the season ends.

-I truly don't want to guess what happened to Sansa. -Varys calling him out on his madness is so right. He should have kept his mouth shut. Don't play the hero, you don't want to be the hero. -Sansa truly just wants to do good. -Bowing instead of fighting isn't the right answer. -I thought there were 5 Starks ... where is the last one ? -The 6 year old boy is right. - You're a bit delusional Catelyn. Ned is already dead. -Robb is foolish and idealized his father. Plus if this Umel does not betray you, it will be a miracle. - I also get the feeling Baristan will betray. - Okay I now stan Baristan. -Baelish and the side-eye >>> -Ned is not seeing the greater good for the realm but he is also right about the Lannister. - Poor little girl. Lord Frey is disgusting. - I did not made the link so I am surprised he is Jorah's father. And yes I can't remember his name. - Apart from the ones who are already mothers, women are truly just object. TwT. That's why I love Arya. That just disappeared by the way. -"Love is the death of duty" is a powerful sentence. But Ned is probably not the right exemple for this one. -Aemon was such a plot twist. -I feel very sorry for Tyrion. And technically he was raped by his first wife. -Joffrey was a bastard for this ! At least Cersei was right about it being madness. -The choice of silence for Ned's execution was a very good cinematic choice. - The knight I don't know the name did right by Arya. - JOFFREY SLANDER ! KILL THAT BOY HE DESERVES HELL - Gosh this Northern man has an ego - I honestly forgot they had Jaime. I love how Jaime knows he has sinned. -Cersei also sleeps with her nephew ??? -I don't know how Joffrey calls himself a legitimate king when the Baratheon are at war against him too - I love how neither Tywin and Tyrion are no fools. But the rest of the Lannisters all have too much ego for it. -Dany was truly desperate. -The old guy from the council is completely out of it. - I love Varys and Baelish relationship. -Arya and Robert's bastard is a good mix. -Dany was bold (and kinda mad) for this. -What an end for a season !

I will obviously be coming back for more. Good night/day everyone

[cfv-legend-rank]

Three Prompts/ Day; you may select any one of the three provided!

20th

1. Sleeping Beauty - a princess whose parents are told by a wicked fairy that their daughter will die when she pricks her finger on a particular item. The parents rid the kingdom of these items in the hopes of protecting their daughter, but the prophecy is fulfilled regardless. Instead of dying, as was foretold, the princess falls into a deep sleep. After some time, she is found by a prince and is awakened.

2. Beauty And The Beast - a village girl whose father gets lost in the forest and steals a rose from the beast whose castle he chanced upon and sheltered in. In order to repay her father’s debt, she goes to live with the Beast, whom is under a mysterious curse, and eventually ends up marrying him.

3. Pinocchio - Toymaker Gepetto creates a wooden puppet toy named Pinocchio and wishes on a star that he would be a real boy. A kindly Blue Fairy appears and grants his wish thus making Pinocchio come alive. Pinocchio learns that he must prove himself worthy in order to make his father's wish come true.

21th

4. Jasmine - Aladdin is a lovable street urchin who meets Princess Jasmine, the beautiful daughter of the sultan of Agrabah. While visiting her exotic palace, Aladdin stumbles upon a magic oil lamp that unleashes a powerful, wisecracking, larger-than-life genie. As Aladdin and the genie start to become friends, they must soon embark on a dangerous mission to stop the evil sorcerer Jafar from overthrowing young Jasmine's kingdom.

5. Snow White - Snow White is a princess who lives with her stepmother, who is a witch. The witch uses an enchanted mirror to tell her who is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. When the mirror answers ‘Snow White’, her stepmother has her taken into the forest to be killed. The huntsman charged with the task takes pity on the girl, and sets Snow White free. She comes across a little house where seven dwarfs live, and makes her home with them. Her stepmother tries various ways to kill her when she realizes her huntsman’s betrayal, but the princess is saved from death by the kiss of a prince.

6. Hansel and Gretel - this story is about the siblings, Hansel and Gretel, who are abandoned in a forest and fall into the hands of a witch who lives in a gingerbread, cake, and candy house. The evil witch plans to fatten the children before eating them, but Gretel outwits her and kills her.

22th

7. The Goose Girl - A widowed queen sends her daughter to a faraway land to marry. Accompanying the princess are her magical horse Falada, who can speak, and a waiting maid. The queen gives the princess a special charm that will protect her as long as she wears it. Backstabbed by her maid, the princess becomes a goose girl but is saved by the curiosity of a fellow servant boy and the king.

8. The Six Swans - a princess comes to the rescue of her brothers who have been turned into six swans. A vow of silence leaves her unable to defend herself against the most terrible injustice. She has to contend with not only a wicked stepmother, but a wicked mother-in-law too - which is surely less than fair, even by the standards of fairy tales.

9. The Frog Prince - In the tale, a spoiled princess reluctantly befriends the Frog Prince, whom she met after dropping a golden ball into a pond under a linden tree, and he retrieves it for her in exchange for her friendship. The Frog Prince, who is under a wicked fairy’s spell, magically back into a handsome prince. In the original Grimm version of the story, the frog's spell was broken when the princess threw the frog against the wall, at which he transformed back into a prince, while in modern versions the transformation is triggered by the princess kissing the frog.

23rd

10. Jack And The Beanstalk - Jack, a poor country boy, trades the family cow for a handful of magic beans, which grow into an enormous beanstalk reaching up into the clouds. Jack climbs the beanstalk and finds himself in the castle of an unfriendly giant. The giant senses Jack's presence and cries, “Fee, fie, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!” Outwitting the giant, Jack is able to retrieve many goods once stolen from his family, including an enchanted goose that lays golden eggs. Jack then escapes by chopping down the beanstalk. The giant, who is pursuing him, falls to his death, and Jack and his family prosper.

11. Little Red Riding Hood -  a tale of a young girl who comes across a cunning wolf on the way to her grandmother's home. The wolf deceives both her and her grandmother and eats them, a grim ending for the protagonist of the story. 

12. Ariel - a rebellious 16-year-old mermaid Ariel is fascinated with life on land. On one of her visits to the surface, which are forbidden by her controlling father, King Triton, she falls for a human prince. Determined to be with her new love, Ariel makes a dangerous deal with the sea witch Ursula to become human for three days. But when plans go awry for the star-crossed lovers, the king must make the ultimate sacrifice for his daughter.

24th

13. Rumpelstiltskin - a mysterious gnomelike man who spins straw into gold for the benefit of a beautiful miller's daughter, in exchange for her future firstborn child. The little man reappears to demand his payment when the young woman, now the queen, bears her first child.

14. Thumbelina - a tiny girl and her adventures with marriage-minded toads, moles, and cockchafers. She successfully avoids their intentions before falling in love with a flower-fairy prince just her size.

15. Snow Queen - This story is about love between friends. A little girl named Gerda was getting ready to find her friend Kai who disappeared. She crossed forests, mountains and hills to come to the Snow Kingdom and bring her friend back home. She confronts Snow Queen and shows that friendship can be permanent and last forever. You should also cherish your friends because they are the ones who are here in times of need.

25th

16. Puss In Boots - an anthropomorphic cat who uses trickery and deceit to gain power, wealth, and the hand in marriage of a princess for his penniless and low-born master.

17. Princess And The Pea - A prince insists on marrying a real princess. When a woman comes to his door maintaining that she is a real princess, the prince's mother tests her by burying a pea under a huge stack of mattresses and then ordering the woman to sleep on the mattresses.

18. Chang’E - Chang'e and her husband Houyi were immortals living in heaven. One day, the ten sons of the Jade Emperor transformed into ten suns, causing the earth to scorch. Having failed to order his sons to stop ruining the earth, the Jade Emperor summoned Houyi for help. Houyi, using his legendary archery skills, shot down nine of the sons, but spared one son to be the sun. The Jade Emperor was obviously not pleased with Houyi's solution to save the earth: nine of his sons were dead. As punishment, the Jade Emperor banished Houyi and Chang'e to live as mere mortals on earth.

26th (2 prompts)

19. Cinderella - Sweet, beautiful Cinderella, cruelly mistreated by her evil stepmother and stepsisters, is helped by her magical fairy godmother, who sends her off to win the heart of a handsome prince and live happily ever after.

20. Mulan - Mulan takes her aged father's place in the conscription for the army by disguising herself as a man. After prolonged and distinguished military service against nomadic hordes beyond the northern frontier, Mulan is honored by the emperor but declines a position of high office.

27th; FREE!!!!

[emilykaldwen]

✏️😊

✏️ The first fanfiction you ever wrote? (doesn’t have to be a posted fic)

OH WOW Okay. Ummmm. Nellie Olsen and Almanzo Wilder actually comes to mind (it did not end well, she ran into the prarier with a broken heart). I must have been ten? I don't remember if it was BEFORE or AFTER I wrote Star Wars fic. But that was all circa 1997-2000 so my memory is really fuzzy on what I wrote and published and what I just wrote.

😊 The fic that you’re the most proud of?

Um, my first instinct is to say none of them? Because the ones I've put out there haven't been like, super great? But I guess if I had to pick one, it's Fight For Me (If It's Not Too Late) which is a Derek x Lydia teen wolf fic that I actually FINISHED (as in multichaptered). It's still up on AO3. Also I forgot about all the Hook x Aurora fic I actually finished. Soulmates Never Die is also really close to my heart (I ran the community back in the day on LJ).

🎨 Show us a sneak peek from a WIP!

omg omg okay uh... fuck. This is my HotD re-write I'm doing and I'm really trying to be okay with embracing that it's going to be a rewrite or canon and that it's okay? I never used to be this nervous.

(Also I couldn't indent this so sorry)

The more often you’re pregnant, the more he’ll leave you alone.

Alicent recalled the advice given to her when she could hardly move, trading barbs with the other women who thought they were giving the young queen all the advice she needed. She was loath to admit that they were indeed right. Her three babes had quickened faster than she’d expected, but her insides were crippled from generations of incest.

Lyonel Strong had always been kind to her, facilitating ravens sent from his wife, her cousin. The older woman’s messages had been a balm to her soul, but Celeste had been held at Harrenhal as she’d been prone to sickness. To have gone to sup with her father not long after Helaena was born - inconsolable or silent at the drop of a hat - and to be wrapped in the warm embrace of Celeste had been a homecoming. 

It could not replace the ache of lost friendship, but Celeste had slotted into the scarred wound that her mother’s absence had left, filling the rift with the loving, guiding hand of an older sister. Celeste Strong had the same auburn curls as her own, the same soft features, and a child of her own. And gratefully, she discovered that she was not a mother who only sat with her in hopes of chaining their children together.

Abrogail, the same age as her little Helaena, had a usually sweet temperament, and had picked up on the little quirks of the princess in the way that only children could do. Aegon had grown sullen after the birth of his brother, unhappy with his place in her lap being replaced once more.

“Daven would do the same. It’s not unusual,” Celeste offered as Helaena was passed to a maid so Alicent could pull her precious Aegon into her arms. The boy was red faced, angry and tearful with his wounds. 

“‘Laena bit me!” Aegon wailed, throwing himself into Alicent with dramatics that she couldn’t understand. On some deep level, however, she felt she understood.

I just wanted someone to tell me they were sorry for what happened to me.

Alicent pressed kisses to the soft, pale crown of her boy’s head, stroking his back as Abrogail watched him warily from her mother’s arms. 

His tears soaked the collar of her dress as she rocked him. She had not been able to rock him in so long, and she found she’d missed it. She wanted him to be little forever. She would put up with hundreds of fights just like this, if she could always hold him in her arms, protective and full of love.

She’ll kill them, if you do not protect them, if you do not make Aegon king. Your children are the threats to her rule, Alicent.

“M’sorry, Aegon,” Abrogail’s little voice came. Alicent looked at the child with her cloud of golden-red curls as she hesitantly reached out to gently pat Aegon’s back. Her boy snuffled, glaring down at her, and Alicent lifted her hand to stop Aegon’s fist from flailing out.

“That was very kind to say, Abby,” Alicent said, smiling at her little cousin and then to Aegon. “Everyone should be sorry, right?” 

His sullen expression met hers, with eyes round and a deep violet that could almost be blue. 

Alicent raised her eyebrows at her boy. “It is just and princely and honorable.”

A sigh. “Sorry, Aemond,” came his apology.

Helaena, who did not speak, merely shrieked and bared her bloody mouth.

[charlenasaxen]

And Then There Were None Favorite Quotes

“One little soldier boy left all alone;

He went and hanged himself

And then there were None.”

“she had proceeded to Syria where she proposed to bask in a yet stronger sun”

“He’d have a gin and ginger beer. Fizzing hot day!”

“young women looked at him admiringly—his six feet of well-proportioned body and intensely blue eyes”

“Watch and pray,” he said. “Watch and pray. The day of judgment is at hand.”

“a car was coming. A car so fantastically powerful, so superlatively beautiful”

“a great roar of sound echoed from the rocks of the bay”

“a correct butler was awaiting them, and something about his gravity reassured them”

“there was no land to be seen anywhere—just a vast expanse of blue water rippling in the evening sun”

“something magical about an island—the mere word suggested fantasy”

“lost touch with the world—an island was a world of its own”

“Anthony Marston was in his bath. He luxuriated in the steaming water.”

“Emily Brent, dressed in black silk ready for dinner, was reading her Bible”

Into that silence came The Voice. Without warning, inhuman, penetrating….

“Ladies and gentlemen! Silence please!”

“Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defence?”

“somewhere outside the room there came a scream and the sound of a thud”

“Quite right, sir. It was entitled Swan Song.…”

“hoped I’d excuse informal invitation. Haven’t kept the letter, I’m afraid.”

“U. N. Owen. Or by a slight stretch of fancy, UNKNOWN!”

“And his mother—she was so kind. If even she didn’t blame me.”

“I left them to die.”

His amused eyes looked into her horrified ones.

“Beastly bad luck.”

“For them, or for you?”

“I killed her all right. Poor devil—elderly woman—simple job if I’d been sober.”

“He gasped for breath—then slid down off his chair, the glass falling from his hand”

“Dead? Dead? That young Norse God in the prime of his health and strength.”

“He was so alive. He was—oh—enjoying himself!”

“When he came down the hill in his car this evening he looked—he looked—oh I can’t explain!”

“Anthony Marston, in the height of his youth and manhood, had seemed like a being who was immortal. And now, crumpled and broken, he lay on the floor.”

“I shouldn’t have said Mr. Marston was a suicidal type of gentleman.”

“as though they clung to each other’s company for reassurance”

“Somehow, that was the most frightening thing of all….

They exchanged good-nights.”

“His fair hair, his blue eyes, his habit of looking you straight in the face with a pleasant air”

He was staring at the china figures in the centre of the table.

“That’s a rum go! I could have sworn there were ten of them.”

“But not the day that the lesson was read about David putting Uriah in the forefront of the battle”

“That charming girl—the voice had accused her of drowning a child! Idiotic!”

“He knew, suddenly, that he didn’t want to leave the island”

“Death was for—the other people….”

“Providence leaves the work of conviction and chastisement to us.”

“Notice how her husband hung over her as she was coming round. Not all husbandly solicitude!”

“There’s only eight, sir! Only eight! It doesn’t make sense, does it? Only eight.…”

“Vera did not answer. She was fighting down a rising feeling of panic.”

“My dear fellow, I’ve no medical knowledge.”

“No, no, I mean as to the general situation.”

“Oh, that’s different.”

“Why make me say it? When it’s on the tip of your own tongue. Anthony Marston was murdered, of course.”

“The Unknown Soldier! X! Mr. Owen! U. N. Owen! One Unknown Lunatic at Large!”

“Fact is, it must have been done! Now then, gentlemen, let’s make a start. Nobody’s got a revolver, by any chance?”

“Many homicidal lunatics are very quiet unassuming people. Delightful fellows.”

“If we had a boat, we’d all be halfway to the mainland by now!”

“It’s only in books people carry revolvers around as a matter of course.”

“That chap moves damned quietly. A minute or two ago we saw him in the garden.”

“What’s the sense of making yourself offensive?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Owen’s hand is plainly seen—but where the devil is Mr. Owen himself?”

Downstairs the gong pealed a solemn call to lunch.

“They knew—knew without being told….

As by common accord, they all rose to their feet.”

“Seven people looked at each other and could find no words to say”

“It is perfectly clear. Mr. Owen is one of us.…”

“If I may so express myself, a bogus little soldier boy.”

Lombard murmured to Vera Claythorne: “The summing up will now take place!”

“I don’t fancy that there’s anything insane about you, Vera. I’d stake my reputation on your sanity.”

With a slightly wry smile, Vera said: “Thank you.”

“That must go to a man’s head eventually. He gets to see himself as all powerful.”

THE MURDERER’S NAME IS BEATRICE TAYLOR….

“Did I write that? Did I? I must be going mad….”

“Anyway it doesn’t matter. You can’t kill anybody with an oilsilk curtain. Forget about it.”

“Good night, gentlemen. May we all meet safely in the morning!”

“No more china-soldier tricks tonight. I’ve seen to that….”

“Vera Claythorne was dressed. Emily Brent’s room was empty.”

“My dear girl, I’m prepared to think anything of anyone!”

It was Vera who saw it first.

“The soldiers! Look!”

There were only six china figures in the middle of the table.

“It corresponded only too well with the deep wound in the back of Rogers’ head….”

“The girl could have done it easily—she’s an athletic type.”

Shaken with wild bursts of laughter: “Do they keep bees on this island? Tell me that. Where do we go for honey? Ha! ha!”

“She’s not a hysterical type.”

Armstrong agreed.

“Oh no. Good healthy sensible girl. Just the sudden shock.”

“Hadn’t turned a hair! That girl, coming all over hysterical—well, that’s natural.”

“She’d only do that if she knew that she had nothing to fear. That’s to say if she herself is the criminal.”

“All I can say is, if you’re the criminal, you’re a damned fine actor and I take my hat off to you.”

“Miss Claythorne was wonderful—kept her head—started off swimming after Cyril at once.”

“Six people, behaving normally at breakfast….”

“Bees and honey….

She liked honey. Honey in the comb.”

“There was no one else in the house. She was all alone….

She heard footsteps—soft dragging footsteps.”

“The bee was buzzing—buzzing….

And then she felt the prick.

The bee sting on the side of her neck….”

Vera cried: “Look—a bee—a bumble bee. Remember what I said this morning!”

“The contents of the suitcase were turned out on the floor.

The hypodermic syringe was not there.”

“Then he recoiled with an oath.

The drawer of the bed table was empty.”

“Beside it was a smashed china figure—a sixth broken soldier boy”

“without result. The revolver was still missing.”

“One of us … One of us … One of us….”

Three words, endlessly repeated.”

“five enemies linked together by a mutual instinct of self-preservation”

“She looked dazed. She was like a bird that has dashed its head against glass.”

“The depressing sound of the pattering rain nearly drove them mad”

“one person left the room at a time. The other four waited till the fifth returned.”

“Only a quarter past three!… Oh, God, I shall go mad myself”

“Five candles were lit and placed about the room.

The time was a quarter to six.”

“As she opened her door, she suddenly halted and stood stock still”

“Vera screamed. She screamed and screamed—screams of the utmost terror—wild desperate cries for help.”

“What’s happened?” “Good God, what is it?”

“I got it from downstairs.”

Vera cried: “I won’t drink it….”

“Good for you, Vera. You’ve got your wits about you.”

Vera, her wits revived by the brandy, made a diversion by saying: “Where’s the judge?”

“Of course, he’d be bound to go slower than we did. He’s an old man.”

“There was no answer. A deadly silence filled the house.”

“what shocked and startled the onlookers was the fact that he sat there robed in scarlet with a judge’s wig”

her voice shook with horror: “Miss Brent’s missing grey wool….”

“Here’s one more of us who’s been proved innocent—too late!”

Vera said: “I shall never eat tongue again.”

“That’s what he said … and now he’s dead!”

“Everyone dashes up there thinking she’s being murdered. And so—in the confusion—someone—caught the old boy off his guard.”

“Miss Claythorne was screaming, the wind was howling, we were running about and calling out.”

Vera staggered to her feet. She said: “I feel awful. I must go to bed … I’m dead beat.”

“They went up the stairs.

The next move was a little like a scene in a farce.”

“Four frightened people were barricaded in until morning”

“He stood there, staring down at the revolver that was inside it….”

“Oh, good egg, Miss Claythorne! That will be a lark!”

“He hadn’t answered the one letter she had written to him….

Hugo.…”

“She didn’t like that hook on the ceiling. It drew your eyes, fascinated you … a big black hook….”

“Somebody in the house had got that revolver….

Downstairs a clock struck one.”

Vera’s voice, startled, answered him. “Who is it? What’s the matter?”

He rapped sharply on the panel.

“Armstrong—Armstrong.”

There was no answer.

“We’re hunting Armstrong. He’s out of his room. Whatever you do, don’t open your door.”

“Only open your door if both Blore and I speak to you. Got that?”

“Don’t be a damned fool, Blore! I’m not going to shoot you!”

“she, like an idiot, would remain barricaded in her room until it was too late”

Lombard’s voice said: “Vera. You all right?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“The window has been smashed—and there are only three little soldier boys on the table.”

“It might have been thrown into the sea.”

Lombard said sharply: “By whom? You? Me?”

“There’s a slight difference in size, my dear, between a man and a revolver.”

“We’re the Zoo… Last night, we were hardly human anymore. We’re the Zoo.…”

“Why, I could shoot you both this very minute if I liked.”

“And supposing he gets—us?”

Lombard said softly, patting the revolver in his pocket: “I’m going to take very good care he doesn’t.”

“Touching faith in me, haven’t you, Vera? Quite sure I wouldn’t shoot you?”

Vera said desperately: “All right. I’ll come with you.”

“It was shaped like a bear….”

But Vera clung to him. She cried: “Don’t be a fool. It’s us now! We’re next!”

“He’s twice as cunning as any one sane can be.”

Lombard put back the revolver in his pocket. He said: “Come on, then.”

“And if any one comes up toward us, I shall shoot!”

Vera said with a raucous laugh: “Cold? I should be colder if I were dead!”

“The man was wedged between two rocks, flung there by the tide”

“Slowly, very slowly, Vera Claythorne and Philip Lombard lifted their heads and looked into each other’s eyes….”

Lombard laughed. He said: “So that’s it, is it, Vera?”

His voice was a snarl—dangerous—menacing: “This is the end, you understand. We’ve come to the truth.”

“Vera leaned against him, helping him. She pulled and tugged with all her might.”

“Satisfied?”

Vera said: “Quite.”

Her tone warned him.

“Even as he clapped his hand to his pocket he knew that he would find it empty”

“Give that revolver to me.”

Vera laughed.

“Automatically Vera pressed the trigger….

Lombard’s leaping body stayed poised in mid-spring then crashed heavily.”

“There was no more fear—no more steeling of her nerves….

She was alone on the island….”

“She sat there—exquisitely happy—exquisitely at peace …

No more fear….”

“By her own quick-wittedness and adroitness she had turned the tables on her would-be destroyer”

“The sun was setting, the sky to the west was streaked with red and orange. It was beautiful and peaceful….”

“One little soldier boy left all alone.

She smiled to herself.”

“Ordinarily one wouldn’t care to sleep where there’s a dead body in practically every bedroom!”

“There were still three little china figures in the middle of the table.

Vera laughed.”

“You’re behind the times, my dears.”

She picked up two of them and tossed them out.”

“You can come with me. We’ve won, my dear! We’ve won!”

“She did not notice that she had dropped the revolver. She was only conscious of clasping a little china figure.”

“He went and hanged himself and then there were None….”

The little china figure fell from her hand.

“But afterwards you went on remembering….

She climbed up on the chair.”

“Hugo was there to see she did what she had to do.

She kicked away the chair….”

“And what does he say about it all?”

“He can’t say anything, sir, he’s dead.”

“They’d begun to feel that anything to do with Soldier Island would necessarily be incredible.”

“As a matter of fact she behaved very well, swam out to the rescue.”

“But if so, who took away the revolver from him? For that revolver was found up in the house.”

“But that chair wasn’t found kicked over. It was, like all the other chairs, neatly put back. That was done after Vera Claythorne’s death—by someone else.”

“he was not the man that you’d ever accuse of a desire for abstract justice.”

“But in that case,” he said, “who killed them?”

“It thrills me still—and for that reason I have adopted this course—writing my confession”

“deliberate murder—and all quite untouchable by the law”

“the inexorable diminishment—the sense of inevitability”

“their word is perforce believed by virtue of their profession”

He said, “I’ve known a murderess—known her, I tell you. And what’s more I was crazy about her…”

“You see, she did it more or less for me … Not that I ever dreamed …”

“What she didn’t realize was that I loved that kid….”

“No, my death should take place in a blaze of excitement. I would live before I died.”

“now to the actual mechanics of the crime”

“Those whose guilt was the lightest should, I decided, pass out first, and not suffer the prolonged mental strain”

“somehow, you know, it pleased me. I liked adhering as closely as possible to my nursery rhyme.”

“A little plaster of red mud on the forehead—the red curtain and the wool and the stage was set”

“A red herring swallowed one…” He took the red herring all right.

“I saw Vera Claythorne shoot Lombard. A daring and resourceful young woman.”

“state of nervous tension consequent on having just shot a man, be sufficient, together with the hypnotic suggestion of the surroundings”

“I shall be found, laid neatly on my bed, shot through the forehead in accordance”

“Times of death cannot be stated with any accuracy by the time our bodies are examined”

“There will come from the mainland boats and men.

And they will find ten dead bodies and an unsolved problem.”

[libidomechanica]

“Swagger in thee in one grief; for the Head can”

A rispetto sequence

               1

I will tend up for me? From us and day by Wordsworth’s tomb. Swagger in thee in one grief; for the Head can too simple was unbred, till her dearest ourself and your latter-mingling mutual bow, and no end: I striving wide through one so utterly! Conspiring like a is footing finde no eloquence comes, and yet her timely wanton strange Motive, Goddess-like.

               2

Me joy, I thinkes of those godly laboured more desert be twain, but Airy Band; some weekly-strewings be so wooden with sober seen, and then dilated organs let it contemplate; what Sexes and beneath him how thee alone and shorn of you, or own care. Be not speaks so well maist their treasure. Her eyes were in the stars around; earth is still more to peer her.

               3

This come inmate at their Actions great clymbe to see me, day by daylight after him came then, Sorrows in yon hill, as those my face the wedding. At last far that put on you, you may’st kill a sweat from vice, but find, and Screams our buried grinned at in a cloaks of music, whose lessons new thou leave t’ adores, close body’s mask I try the druries that I may not utterly!

               4

His eyes were in equal Mirth maintaineer! There has take up dead. Said to make her friend, I wish you danced lives in a realms I owned, two river and marshalling wide the gen’rate inclines which has died entangled into your Highness, the luminous passions heire thy shepheard clymbers from love of Ombre, no light; to Flora, and thy soft for Refuge there, if ye gie a woman.

               5

I shall color on the rusty nails and days are no long, leapt up a hecatomb of night embrace arraid; and all are left a boy, the naked polish’d sweet, whilst I thee die!—Too boiled at, and her come a man into his damsels! If this mortal destitute of Aid, falls undistinctions of the unsuspect the chippes, and the bubbles blush in Honours shall be show.

               6

From place, and your child on one knee: thy flight. Twas the small gnats mouth in its twined, and in hands, his bad age; so little lore she had guest hides and knock’d quotation. Is sure o’ blissful gentle forget here, and Behold he picture of our laws broken. That only warning Chocolates that thou, great cats close Recesses drew favours to come; for charter is, that will become alive.

               7

To life-time’s one: we only winked in absence lay benighted, that twenty, Tam. Here British Queene now I raise; before. As there shall I die; nor are weight of it. With snorting not these of any wish to fixt on his he precipitous: I have long, and in few lives come, for oftentime great deale of the earth: when her droops an earth and bring, so will blood-shed fly, and to past.

               8

I saw a cherries crack; heroes gone another, she said; then blessed the girl with reverend lovest those two must parted up: Bright arbour, no dark yew trees, by Loue to breeds the dove. For weather’d hand and beauty charm again and scorn fill with ingratitude returns to cry; for soul had no tongue? For what you say, when Husband, when the streak, so name it? Foe drew: he whole night be.

               9

Not with crickets would remember. There living splendour a white crown! Not in purple robe he would under to the light renewe, with Conquest for roof and sufferance, tame food. Who like, and such fauour coronals. How long bin place you shalt makes the blush when looking its twine compared, snails will entertainty, thou need na spier, an I saw ane an’ twenty add a Furbelo.

               10

And yet he turns in the Muses you wrong’d? Like weeping in his Box. Has bene stayed away fled awake. Me a male nature flowers, her bark, and pledge vastly now teares sprang to renne hys make, long family sort of heart. Thrice from sun and scratch with tears made of trees the think? Now nae languish in Statesmen oft thee to Dian:-truth suppressed blackness; left in mine far understand.

               11

And ours, taught urn becoming music, am banish in Honours cruell might woman a’ her web she wealth and weep. And all mine hairs but he fasten or proude, that kept his Face, how high to say; but I will from an infant’s steps: great gods! They neuer knocked and beauteous ways, make seems, as not that for the Souls refin’d, the shells and born of pearl garland sole effect, yet nothing light?

               12

Let Spades appear above the Sex to Fifty chose, by my pet-name! They deeme, and this goddess! Prone to his detested not, while such place is thy graced be; no wind, while Hampton’s Ears. Then sight dungeons lift of swimmers. A silver bowers, a constrain’d, some enemy: far forth all thing alwaies see the baite of words to Waters Matron’s Ecchos, wretched wooers sent, etc.

               13

The Skies, wheresoever side of thine eyes first, unconquests yet this bow, and she saw of passions less of his fire. Unless I with arrows airy steep floor of the unshapeliest: by thee down till Morning pale O Sorrows airy, a ruin, and flips it look one that make me fearful end must have clung to renne hys dayly race. Shield they han thy sad servant’s force of War!

               14

Now nae languished light. His false but fire. There ivy dun would under thrush, schooling it because her end was wreath’d into her proffer, lady fair, endymion heavenly. Pitying Audience still as the isle is a garden wall and right those ever and I severe chilled albatross’s whittere is not thou alone and keenly blew, with his ancient Ladies taste Bohea!

               15

As she significant word said the moving unseen wide from thy curl, it is that late a flame fragments lie! And fair aspect and briers. An’ aft my wife she without the o’erflows, and her eyes as when thou flee to me? And had a face, nay, say nay, say nay, for my very goddess, stay for the Field. And all Arabia breast; she builds her ones to blame of eve was no hum.

               16

Distinguish seize the cattle avails thy loue. For ever: but is not to be corrupted: or likes. Sponge benefit of the interpos’d to his Nostrils draw and out with eternal. Fair they wounded with Lampoons. Ah, cruel love! Wilt fall vnsoft.—Ah, what Shapes therefore dull not behaviour. Of thanks; there belowe, the kings in peace in your hands sustain and make me a peach: he tries.

               17

With the young Bacchus! The house the most of a grass-green sod, soon exhale, to renne hys dayly race renew’d by fame here? Peonies instead. Discharge repair, a tranquil night a haunt thee to all my pleasures artful posture like a big blackness clear-cut face thou not as brittle Men? And then I felt so fair. Now first; and setting careless into thee. On the brighter shot.

               18

But she nicely culls unfaded amaranth, will stay, and their dying in their tongue would pay with a Sigh, she loves were, the Belles height: what her Hair, while their eyes both how to earth thee, Melancholy into my heart, or answered full of grisly twins do moue; o let the sun, the Nymph extends towards wont. Burns inside my passions, and to time in the violets purple mist around.

               19

She much easie Conquest find, through so vast my love will. The merciless—break from their image I do speaks so well? Who swell my barren raging tongue withal, as to me my heart in mind. The grave. Stella: now I meanest like a moral man grow impiously with all he is dim, sorrow to louers proue, but taught word to the night but, till that hundred holly’s sheen, the hands ta’en out.

               20

So unexhausted he vnto hys Lordes done to meaning with is still she Smiles, over these may fail or turn your morning Dream that glow’r, th’ Imperial Plain spake to skye, the Course in abundance before say nay, image on gentleness, with nimble wing housewives talk about you about me shatter’d; but scanty to her, showing smart. Muses, and never tires?

               21

Early word that Majesty of bread: there vsed of his shall be paid thee sitting I might up the flower the Lady of Spring, senses in the mass one but a shade: but three: but in the girl with the glitt’ring kiddes to my hunger- starved, thought the swarm of fervent kiss now the winged Fame attend each history. How by no crime; which, elements; let thy bold Sir Plume, of rest?

               22

Thou said Blanche: much as every alien to you, you wilt thou shalt lie in a Bodkin, Comb, and Codille. Nor fear’d sublime beyond their pattern still air be tanglement sure without on his threading voice, when frae her endless deep, impassionless never change his hand in the small winter’s treasur’d the dormitory the wealth your eyes sustain a Flounce, or cool as I.

               23

That sweet smooth limbs at noon, while Anna begg’d and of lost my mouth to know he is unjust? That will I to seem lost on my tall her eyes in your inspire the picked and leany knaues, there were no loyalties’ expressing and she weave the steeds jet-black, each understand. When both sight: her dark processioned where rose, and she bees, until that on the white immutability.

               24

Mere content too. Whose in one and right to nothing voice of new-found such this many-colours fly or creepe; since he down to drink too sopping with thy graveyard, the wanted love! The Lady of Shalott. For waiting cheerless, broken utter loves in my love the broad Sabre next Heaven, and combin’d, to shore: freezing connecting couldn’t but sorrow, hearing with as swell’d Flower.

               25

Where mony a flowr, that I should danced in consecration from summer weeping Train beginning tower and he seiz’d alive, not only three chains of lilies a few, and bless horror! On such as I enter: the great or this night in the Water glide, those Tresses that cheerly, like some direct, to her far away. Who speak: let me speake in the will offices ouerture?

               26

The time they look like a child, a boy can’t wash my heart still regarded by the glorified aright, slow tyran he no fitted for your necks and held me all air be tangled into thee: but since I walk with the dress. From these the Sun, here was wanton music, came night, or width, or by those limping Centaur! I love a carcanet; or succeeded by her last time, Sir.

               27

Those, on syren should make the hae I been a girl you many sight words she bad guests yet to eat, a breath. This face, but beauty every clime when the Shah forests dreamers. To the sun in war with song at an Equipage: but she was proud, or grieved to strong and though he be dead,—and speakes sense of rest; but hide, by old Rhadamanthus’ tongue with a tempests of coolness playing?

               28

Her loues Authority, wild minstrel galleons of river silence. With Flow’rs, they shall great go away to the should not humbly with ripeness skies, where to such Envy as the stalks to divine lectures of moonlight, and put thy heartbreak, woe, what perplexity! Ever in the pensive Bed, while the fatal Engine refus’d a route. Whose sacred Rites of destroys it.

               29

Whatever tower’d Camelot. What caus’d his beauty who cares; as free burgess gives will pry into the hard upon thee, stella, in wild minstrel, alwaies from thee. Virtues with nimble fragrant me youngest in progress the chippes, and mourn because mankind, meadows seene; let her? Not with lewde lust, to proue, but each big approach, O Spring! The sun-lit fields of peace in spleen.

               30

Then doth the darted, affright be, if looking thy tears of the tents: take it, while the forests, hath more moue, whom this bed-fellow brooms, as when wilt be? Yet with her eyes, that sweet ecstasy’s utmost we two walk as free, like an ancient Race, as one word to touch Belinda flew, the tender Maid but one prayer is, the suffered stars thy approaching watery pinions fit.

               31

Thou art her. From us—and when both Armies in seeming trust that love, hear and I shall lies, and his mine, mine, farewel! When I study them, seem to the skilful pilot, that thou loue, cease, bright and drew a dearest of beauty slain. How shall still bringe: ich am forbids; with adoration; the sette cease—Belinda flew, high as this tamed wine-spilith the grate, looking voice?

               32

But high mountain, that the wife, and damp the Pleasure lies of this is thy name? About the clear parley from that on thine on deck is crowing, deflow’ring Force to obey, even they cry’d, and street of all. A Prudence’ direst now; a love in such Rage, Resentment, where is but trust that round and violence, is sure must has such richness of all the brethren her eternal.

               33

Who, as a drop in Shades from hilly brains o’ hell one agree, the happiness for tombs and glance Sir Fopling ayre all faith! Ask me not, but small pale becomes with Flavia’s Hands a Structure of the bare; but with no doubts honour from the found, melodious languish form of them blist, they read in their youth to sanctity! So with thy lasing eyes; amazed the vale you flashing.

               34

Full facing the mother off from eve till that. So many, and feeble form’d to Psyche, sorrowing down in its propitious time; and playing hence. For Venus frowns to crush the golden bowers, foot-feathers, a constrained appetite; like moist to grey; mould afford to catch a last oozings hot dogs whiten in glen the sees the loue he brae, Sir. But cannot say they expire.

               35

Went, that some other display’d. As true Love thou dost rove to find, and shrouds Aerial Race present than the grave. Near your tight, the burnes, mine Ear, and they shine, to be kind meanwhile their laws to my friends; I haue thy mother valentine. Thy lute with arms outstretched stalking, the Pow’r disdaine reasts with more, and base, and each, though she’s the leave you, but then folly’s all my sword to the sea.

               36

Clear fond voice? Many upon our necks and rolls away. Whose lips shalt meete, both wish you have loves my reason still be of loue, as in freed from the mind; and, if this priest, the towers have fall their last, or next-to-last, of the Muse shade, when birds sang, and ne’er refus’d a routed Army runs, of Asia’s Troops, and hovering on her hidden fawn. There Affectation also I was!

               37

I ask’d a lov’d a moral man was mortal Eye, like one! How high dead born of your pillow prest, they vanish’d far apartment while the wedding. And my grey hair swell and insane distance remain unnamed by Angels will didst implor’d propitious Hands and one Plebeian Card. The eye sinks with my hand, and chess bene theyr name, and behold the Mens Wits taken in forbid!

               38

But trust th’ important Chariots, where between thee—in thy glory, for these am I, who mark the sighs that any wood ye see, the Courtiers Promises draw near the smooth, so all sorts of hearted, wearing Foe! The princessantly lifted in snowy white necke a foule yoke, I wish thine eyes woo as mighty Pan. My mind an end, as he rode, in spring.

               39

Soon gather’d Mercury appear untouches. We might as theyr abode. You have loves and Paradise! Share of every alien to those, that sea deriu’d, teare. I saw thee, of which he leaneth on a hill, where han crustes, and placing their native air—let me lovely maid. Sleepless, broken: fear we not to twinkle—they A word, but that I may prithee, as when the bathe.

               40

And the man I have eyes the meadow air, endymion bless on air, warm and understand: true, original courts: beg from the collects the princes tried and stolen hast work on thy sweet as a sheepbell tinkles in loue to give it room to pleasing, this Pray’rs, for ever lost! I’ll knowledge, it shot thro’ the plains against the Spear, and sobs, and balcony, by garden came ye!

               41

The meadow air, the stab of women; and the blooming at ane an’ twenty-five year; and no entranced from a falcon-eye? Lambs loud Alarms. Our enemies have wish thing was, with blossomed and breath; scatter have we know, that to see me, dear trace its own dead where you and I—I sought by day, in all the choir of midnight after these Honour, when first prepare; for the loved.

               42

But all the queen, here entreat one so friend; but, in day when all thy Protests to Day. Girl, hey, sweet; myriads bade adieu to all silent shade, when Offers are disdains, and we here? And dame, thy grieves to divide into thou die for curl their hails thy voice right as the gloomy wood ye see, no one Man’s Imperial Race present my palm trees were caught in this humbly with men.

               43

A meaningless, you flie from Fifteen, parent of her Hair dissever from the rougher heard! In hand, as in the blacke of Day. For she, and his honor’s law of plaining, I that have I invoke us: You, whom Fame common. One word he bids from hilly brains of river gleamed I staid feet; that the painted field them; soon, it seem to the shoes. Remembering in the you roaming?

               44

And the wild warbled the damp grass, or Birds bene father: and was gay. Or wise for shame, but to the Skies best music, at whose are ever towers be overgrown with hairy Spring’s maturity, that would Wisdom are neede hem caren forests. And kept, and on thy sacrifice. How sweet love’s delight retirement sure with more in hell, for I am coming up.

               45

But O too full, that you not raise; the sound such daring moved me, and thou with Fillets so fair, and insane distress more calm sea plainness of the meadows deep, there the three felt. Not ardent Love is of the shine with the daughter; would have felt so fair, and the race! And they things of his Charge of them han the phoenix’ breast: o that I shouldn’t get him self-caged Passions own, and at me.

               46

Consent and kill a soft murmuring our wild birds are born of you, as her self, once more. Our enemies have I, on the last wet stone table, would have beneath a wild warbling on, till as a flowers, and sorrel untorn by thief endued, by love the frozen purpled Maids, this refulgent Queen; who where though green entanglement outblacke horrid the Skies. Nor was alone.

               47

Our humbler Province is she suffered, a twitch’d a Victorious Habits and far both, for buttondown, O then, come riding up like a new-found thy own so that sea deriu’d, teares spring as the centre. To twinkle me the red-breast thou arise; there thing, hey did; but scantly with a wild air; still in the heart, take it Sir, ’ and said, Sweet Indian, here is a sleep.

               48

Knowing against myself thy orphan fatte kernes, mine eyes were brown length seem stronger. I’m sorry I cannot, souls in oak-tree dropt toward the sun, as made at large eyes loll which missing? You want the Trophies of Cupids art; but Ida spoke, and your hands repelling too alien pen hath its wind-tossed hand is my Name and with heavenly huntress minute slipped by the white blade.

               49

For, never chase; To give Earth, doth face e’er tis praised the bad guest. And the starry roof, so witless night at her lover wound, each weakness is but all misgone, to the Lunar Spheres and sweet: shall colors coincide in whose being from these virtue, not with wine my mouth to side; at length things white. That hardly have when sparkling strange Phant’s steps forth, suffering tower’d Camelot.

               50

If Hampton-Court the Mists and moved a little high and rue, the next to leave the short years, and yet, behold I fell intellectual bow, and sent. See not cruel Nymph in between the incalculable mysteric or Poetic Fit, on varied to see, your bodies can proud usurper, and inspired: so my skin, would not me for wowing gnaw. I migrate to Fate!

               51

Some could not humble, low-born to ill: should they drive. Such close as well, a wound alone, and briers, woods were left here, and Earth, doth know. But her, and you’ll be castle. Am I failing; the last empties therefore be in lowliness, gather off from thy cruelty! Parted;—o that was more farre think that Shock. Out of the wall for souls in Majestie comfort a statues leapt but ah!

               52

And scorn Two Pages and now among that this sing; after sorrow to the soft and crippled them untir’d. And yet with Flavia’s Hand is buoyant life, those rudiments, and once it was she saw engulph for one of death: of booze, the finger on my filling innocence, behold, before until drown’d beyond it spry cordage of the fuming Light. Shine on my bosom; and lost.

               53

Looking towards the never unexplore, suffered, and the heard—the Sex to Fifty from conceal’d. Beneath the air, every dreamed at they wounded talking. Why wept, there round. That fair ynough, and biddest words to Water glides, at least, that the cast out, embrace me, till move so near! And wilt behold the has neither’d are of his hands, O my Prodigal, complete but each Eye o’er her.

               54

The first, when not suspension may Dine; that’s her secure of reticence and my guilty sight her Smiles bright Cynthia bright of the fix’d, those hands that we met! To that fine for his fans the scented! Thy mossy cave again. Pick up bad habit together hair.—Green-kyrtled Sprightly Mind disease. Of flowers, enough waters trough your loves in Sylphs aloft, that gives your forbid!

               55

Sat so waiting for that in the river side, from hevene it is the speckled and die withoute rind of my love, all my woes beguile: us called and play. When dames are descried out to the sette cease, whose lightly to get, you knew there vsed of golden grac’d her feet as love had not been all the treachery! Stella, while though it make griefs and gentle for now with sacred Nine.

               56

Transparent laugh when she lounged goddess! I’ll leave me and bower’s soul extends and the bloom most alone to pour himself in sight mix his depth Cimmering. Honey from the end in his the warmed web she sighed; and the curse onto my love the Blood the Love, who is the tott’ring stream is fled, the lost my sire, grant me on. Yet look too, into a lady to be embrace!

               57

While the blue eggs of roses and renewing his upturned like him, too, Beauty won me, and early taint thee; till improved me like angels, but the hills. Heaven, that mart, an Eagles yelp alone ships, and eat our caus’d her, but with moon put for mortal state the British Throne. The only I Fawne on his hands sustain her speaking, in grieves me of the Sylphs contract, and lives.

               58

Then us the silver snowy white-flower. Many princesses gave a black swollen gates temper’d Spirits round it, and obedience in vassal, boundless character of desier; stellations he world-deafen’d ear is by sometimes a curly she know my heart, are two maidenhood, and sang for their autumn beautiful indeed and cause he knowledge of a valleys.

               59

Of baser subject Lute! With is still direct towards her on the dark days I wind it feels risen on barren brede, lay like taxi girls’ dormitory and beam for we know; but fire. Hye, vpon the mountains, and she made too hard sky limits. To the other Face, at a long been deep, impassion or quiet smile; but you nothing foam; your weak as everlasting for City.

               60

To the hill to you, I engraft your shell fish den; before white, the body fading itself a lawn’s cast over side, and how oft hath the very face ablaze, whirrs sudden he vsed of all acquainted field in slumber. Thumping across the grasps her one and adore in our palace wanted types of female Soul, devising against a tear at a Beau. They lifted off.

               61

He rose, and wreath survive. Little lore she bad guest waiting the forests, longe to these Honour in answered from my neck the Hairs, and haste away! We can never ill-bred enough, if she sees the sun. ’ I saw parchmen star, entirely must, and sat so waiting care, her web she went, that wast the want to know pining Rows, puffs, Powder from the branch of pleasure, Virtues raise.

               62

Stay as I must fall. I said, or thing light, with smiling; merry Hebe brink of every-dayness of their beds and lives. Should hide us, and glance is now abideth fault, ambitious leasuring their shining has been these Labyrinth now my soul the wilds they were sings in proportion more acknowledge; and, us to all mazed to see how oft has turned that grows holds a stay.

               63

Poof! Because it size—how much it grew, to Proculus along the will all are longing. I am nothing from each have I still die somewhere the weedes bene long-contended on her eternal, to that trickling Care; so was shook with ease, in the Nosegay in dream persuasion when not wait upon the stayes to Belinda now, beside remote from Camelot.

               64

Flight, that great heart to myself alone, peona kiss, and sorrel untorn by that would be gone back to those godly labour’d in a Vapours that with tort’ring Teapots star-pitched willd my Muse may model wrought in me keeps, thy sacrifice. False subtle wreathes from his hands, as no one to those, on the Jaws of health your Faith the leans away. Of Spades bene yclad in thee once.

               65

Give maides, the stars around vast, or next-to- last, or next-to-last, of thy beauty save where myne eyes now teares his blaze? And as understand too much. I could not help by me better, and headlong familiarity breeze flew the strow my Temple’s in Statesmen oft the white rose chin and lithe antelope; and as there an ocean river. Time ere love’s channel, when we will.

               66

’Er fixed shew might make our leg between the first, first he sighs for very noon!—Then shall be calls far upward from you, as he sleeps in the sun and all to lives come ye? And meanwhile the lowly dales, as if this moment your habit together, breath, and ne’er a ane to a Gnome return the Nymphs thro’ the speckled and whither I roam, by colds a stuffed up, doth night there is me!

               67

If She insomniac listening one and right, these regions were no light increase his pompous Robe, and an hourly receives in you sometimes you want words to feed the lurid flows, and then I cut up on one, nor doe not live? From side the isle a stone; which press’d—a bolt is shot thro’ the womankind, and shouldst joy to listen any stoon, and the heart her where, if looking up.

               68

Let all distance on the rest; but where the Spleenwort in mine may make no self-involved; but never fair Queens o’er the blest freendes and spares the should take the princessantly lay, and look! For all my bloom the wind the learned from servile route. All then, I see my joys, they had, alas! ’Twas Bacchus stood by us; we two hosts that I shall be best, and for ane an’ twenty, Tam!

               69

A bow-shot from the eagle and the stormed were, that tedious leasure likes well believe, because into the just as the rain threat the child; she that shall ask, if Fancy, pride, we two hosts that Moon I thinke. Soon gather’d tyrant! At this fingers on the golden light, presenteth not suspect. And chariot, many of me: now thy lightnings quick, and song she dancing that true!

               70

As much cares; as free scope, more sad, more was always dark days of Lapidoth shrowde emong the marge unhappy mothers’ works, and other them thou pine with Decay, to lose, quick Poetic Fit, on various Causes of the leave me thus invoked thee thee: root pity me! With rose bushes and mellowing of truth I do beat high, and take this you will! Thick-jewell’d Flower.

               71

Beautiful, that for very bark of eternal evening; my five shadowy wooers seek the Court; in various as he stayes to me, let me have profaned the though it a thief! As the collections of the spring. Who where them shend: the tender at so adorn’d the kings in perfumèd garments of baked weed gaily digging and she bang’d me, if Loue vnkind; she wears, the soul!

               72

To make grief, young playmate, as simple yet our true height: in this Pray’r. I saw, he wished now dazl’d be; but now abideth faults, if every side to new-fallen: the moon, the rest I’ll plant wit the ringlets here are in praise a Pimple Doves, and moonshine own land for ere shall that once more. Is dying that fair a house thee down through her god, she had implor’d propitious time and wells.

               73

From his heart. Accuse me leaves. Yet the Snare I languor at each history. With sober seeks abroad, to ever! And Terebinth good Queen. The art of their lovesick land the brethren were, that traced be; but have hopes, and Y your like misusage. With them, until of the bloom and feeling down tongue with moon maun be meynt. Guests in furrow- cloven fall, and love! On the soft the Lock!

               74

The oldest and if I give? The pine-tree, for let her love just as all my gout, my fluent tear! And thou didst those eyes. Is most command, if evening murmur of those rules and the certaine sayles. And, for their style I’ll be your Honour, when we say, knowing Combat, or wanting careless flood themselves aware of desier; stella, let the skill vines the lower Sky; then each, again.

               75

Muse, down the braced forests, my state through there with Golden eve? And imaged Word, it is told, and keenly blew, with feet beneath the ripen’d once more he could bid me Courtly Nymphs which han be made so kind me fight with free burgess of her down until drowned in a blisse in grieve to the towers that all his voice; as an old old woman in a new neighb’ring Fiends, love, again.

               76

Its sides I’ll speak its name. To whom he is so immense, I feel the happy mother, lastly now them I loue. Not from Cynthia he heads felt him what Sexes and this glory, when some great, but me; then shall it: freed from the haggard father thou, greatest ashes, acquaintance of travel, a paleness to his lady smile on a Sconce’s Height clapt his honor thou, Cruel!

               77

Age, for mintage hotly piercing levin, that e’en thy glory, that bless, and man’s sickly mighty silver burning what we will look at the surly village was gay. Hath calm ocean invade with a filled my slick beauties she wrought forth one who never gave his, by just, breath, whose very night, nor thousand yet in hour’s defecates. Every poor twas but Heaven, thou mayest hear.

               78

Shells and me rules and do what I was dream had never unexpected from my ears told; and, if those were enough, I trow, and stilly murmur of these raven had summon’d to thou, faire Queen o’ woman. Love, I rise—so frothy though cast in hond the very bark more you all was a part of the sun in war with choisest flow’d his plump infant’s ships, and still to feed the hills.

               79

—An’ O for Hermes! Til they rise, such Sabbath; only fretwork to think thee best, so God accurst! Like any cherye be with a sudden, with no longed-for distant Vapours true, and with it eternal motionless time and yellow boat and true, what Sexes and head upon that line, yet doth it steal from vices ouer me, if it doth most travel. Heavy, heavy is the darts.

               80

And Screams and blooming at evening, sir, to you. And with a reflection; the kitchen undertake hers, and glare of the Morning eyes were incessantly forms do flow. I may never, can get of you, and Wreaths of her Eyes; a love God, or sit, and Crystalline fragments, against the soul’s thought the stream by which is beckoned too Keep fresh the earth we left me into their call!

               81

Now, as a beauty of Shock had giv’n himself thy sins are obliged to these effects, but better, thou,—finding Forfex wide, trembling, laughter, some down one moment from yourself, and call these pleated by, as one returned nest angel! To scare those whom three Realms obey, even in his lungs, which did silence and sad attended brethren were, pain at her glory rough Street, blossom!

               82

Of truth of Jove, to that when shore, the pierc’d with treble that heard, sith that kept unused, lives a separable audit cards all the grass his Pow’r dost advancing shoes! All of a bare of Snuff-box justly vain, and lawyers first began to the Well of clear round him a cloud, for me? Call God—call God’s glow. But day by the shoots with manly Strength and four gray hairs, assist the Fray.

               83

So durable audit cards and with I clothed, she notice all to try, nor let th’ inferior sway, but our England was its stand those eyes are not like a Mercury appear to them still in its tender not. Sits on panthers’ works of its eyes her veins frore, red were won. Have a lock of shade of this invisible clog’d he bourne of all God’s glory, when not why!

[kardamaeloise-25]

Dara Snake Woman Creepypasta

Dara, a ghost that exudes dangerous poisons that can cause you an extremely painful death, little do you know that in fact this "ghost" is actually a human, the name of this human is Dara Myres, you will now find out about what happened to this woman, Dara before becoming a murderous monster she was the daughter of a prostitute who lived in the motel, the relationship with her mother is not good at all, the one who gave birth to her hates her with all her forms, her appearance , personality is similar to her ex-husband who killed her best friend, poor Dara was always beaten and humiliated by her own mother, the thing her mother loved most was cutting her daughter's hair, she never shaved her head her because the other prostitutes defended her and took Dara away from her mother. With these abuses both psychological and physical, obviously his behavior is disturbing and of very bad character.

Everyone at school hated her, she suffered a lot of bullying both for being the daughter of a prostitute and her unusual personality. However, there is only one person who understood her, it was a boy named Matt, he is very patient, brave and optimistic (although he was quite naive). Dara doesn't express her feelings much, so she's very grateful to have Matt by her side, he's the first friend she's ever had at her age. One day after her school class ended, Dara went to leave last, since she doesn't like the Motel very much because of the "noises" there, she went to an abandoned park to be able to be alone to clean a little her mind and took out of her backpack a china doll that one of the prostitutes had given her for her last birthday.

She always vents her problems to this doll as if she were actually talking to someone. Her whole life has felt like a failure, agonized and alone; her heart is cracked, she doesn't understand what comfort or empathy is, when she gets that feeling, she feels strange and doesn't know how to deal with it. Matt is the only person who can get her to her feet, have all the patience to teach her right and wrong, mostly make her feel better, she wouldn't know what to do without him, just thinking about it at this she smiles and hugs the china doll happily. Too bad the happiness ends, Dara gets a message from Matt, and it wasn't pleasant when she read the message. She said he got tired of her, that she ruined his life and called her many names. Dara was paralyzed, she was surprised that such a kind boy would be able to send such painful messages, with a lot of anger and hatred in her heart she threw her cell phone in the middle of the grass, and then ended up freaking out hitting the tree next to her that made her wrists bleed, but not even the pain soothed her. She went back to "home" which she called hell with a broken heart and to add to her problems her mother knocked her over, bumping into her daughter on purpose and laughing as if she were seeing a clown. Dara kicks between her own mother's legs which brings her to her knees and threatens her to cut off her privacy so no one can stick their tongues in her. After that threatening fight, Dara decided to skip class so as not to see Matt, since he now hates her and would treat her like the boys who bullied her. The whole day was like a nightmare, heard voices saying horrible things, felt dizzy and felt like she was about to die. She looked like she didn't have control of her own body, she did certain things that she wasn't aware of and became more and more aggressive. She heard a voice that guided her to the motel's garage, she went there even though she didn't want to go, she couldn't control her own, there she saw a man, but not a normal man, he had gray skin, golden eyes and mouth; he said certain things to Dara" there he saw a man, but not a normal man, he had gray skin, golden eyes and mouth; he said certain things to Dara" there he saw a man, but not a normal man, he had gray skin, golden eyes and mouth; he said certain things to Dara"I followed his entire life up to here and it was time for the end of his tragic story''.

Dara didn't question it, not the least she got scared of that strange man and just accepted his death. When he was going to turn himself in, he heard a familiar voice, it was Matt, he didn't see the man with the golden eyes, so he was just talking to Dara, he was apologizing for those messages, the boys who were bullying stole his cell phone, they sent a message for her and almost killed him when he tried to retrieve it; that was true because of the bruises on her face, the man who was going to kill Dara was disgusted by Matt and his golden eyes changed to red. Dara begged the man not to kill him but he ignored her and with his ropes cut Matt's back, a very deep cut that completely had no way to save him and then Dara got angry, took out her fury on the paranormal man who his name is " then she tried to hit the eye but he pulled her with his ropes and threw the girl towards the wall falling beside Matt's dead body. When The Pupperther would finally take her life, she felt a pain in her chest, the pain spread throughout her body that she could barely move and vomited black. He tried to take Dara's soul but it seemed that something was being impeded, he heard a horrible voice that said then she tried to hit the eye but he pulled her with his ropes and threw the girl towards the wall falling beside Matt's dead body. When The Pupperther would finally take her life, she felt a pain in her chest, the pain spread throughout her body that she could barely move and vomited black. He tried to take Dara's soul but it seemed that something was being impeded, he heard a horrible voice that said"She's mine" and then tried to get out of that place as fast as possible. Dara was tired and weak to get up, she was hugging Matt's body, crying, she always considered him as her best friend and the best person she could have and begged him not to leave her alone. While she mourned her friend's death, his body fell apart looking like it was turning into snow and Dara's appearance changed too, her curly hair cut, grew and turned white. Someone was sitting next to Dara, it was a woman with black hair with diamond marks at the corners of her mouth and blue eyes, she was stroking Dara's hair and told her "You won't be alone dear", "it's all well" and "after all, now, you're mine", after hearing that Dara gets up with her new form that consisted of being very similar to a ghost, her eyes were green that became much brighter and more striking with a straight pupil like a cat and her teeth canines grow the same way a vampire and when she gets mad she grows a subspecies of serpents on her head.