#i formally apologize for the anguish

[damien-mlm]

Dead Man Walking (Angst, Dark!Red)

WARNING: PURE ANGST, BLEAK AND HOPELESS ALMOST ALL THE WAY THROUGH. Alcohol poisoning. Suicide attempt. Hallucinations, or perhaps not.

this happens immediately after Mama, and during Darrell's visit to Scarlet.

Darrell belongs to @bluecoolr, Skulk is @probably-a-plant-thing's, and Scarlet is by @kalid-raven

Once he was sure that Darrell was asleep, he stepped out of the bed once again.

He had managed to push the ideation away for so long, so many years.

He couldn't do it anymore. He was weak again. 

She never left his mind, she was always there, calling for him.

Singing sweet lullabies when he felt so, so alone.

She had abandoned him too soon. But she never really left.

She was there, standing beside him as he cried, her casket being lowered into the ground.

She was there, looking from over his father's shoulder as he administered his bi-daily sessions of shock therapy.

She was there, encouraging him to keep stabbing, to burn it all down on the night of the hurricane.

"Come home…"

She was there.

She's still here, and she's calling for him.

Calling him back into her arms.

What about Blue? I can't just leave him… what will he do?

"My boy… he doesn't need you. He's got Skulk, remember? And Skulk's got him. They still have each other…"

They still have each other…

"They don't need you… I do."

They don't need me… Nobody here does…

"Come home, my son."

"Darlin', you alright there?" Darrell's sweet voice brought him back to reality. He had been sitting in the dark cold of his living room 'til the sun started to shine. Darrell wrapped a warm comforter around his shoulders.

What would I do without you? 

"Yeah, sorry…" he took Darrell's hand and pressed his lips against it softly. 

God, I'm such a fool.

He made a cup of coffee and heated up a cornbread muffin for Darrell in the toaster oven.

"You're not gonna eat?" 

"Not hungry, hun" he said as he opened the door and sat on the porch, lighting up a cigarette for himself.

He didn't notice the way Darrell was looking at him.

He looked into nothingness as his cigarette burned. His mind felt foggy and clouded.

"You've changed since the last time I saw you."

I know, mama. I'm more like myself now.

"But you had such pretty hair before..."

I like red...

"Do you, really?"

...

I... I don't know... It just stuck with me, I guess...

Red was all he could see, always. Red, blinding and all-consuming.

I can't forget about it, mama. I can't.

Why did you have to go? Why did you leave me with him?

But there was no answer.

He tried to take a drag of his cig, only to realize it had burned entirely.

His face felt cold and numb.

Darrell's hand on his shoulder startled him more than it should've, he gasped and jumped slightly at the touch.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare ya" he said softly, his chest stinging at the fact he made Red, of all people, jump in fear.

"That's fine, sugar. I was too deep in thought..." Red trailed off as he saw Darrell was already fully dressed and had his keychain in his left hand "You're going to see her?"

"Yes Sir, I know she can help us, we need to hide, lie low for a while... Are you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" Darrell asked, stroking Red's sunken and cold cheek with his free hand.

'Don't worry about me, I'll be okay" he answered as he leaned into Darrell's warm, gentle touch.

He doesn't need more problems, not now.

Once Darrell was gone on his way to Scarlet, Red decided to take a small trip to town.

He didn't bother looking into Germaine's eyes, or even her face, as he waited for her to ring the black hair dye, the pair of scissors and the shaving razor blade spare replacement.

"Ya going back to the natural look?" she asked curiously.

"Huh?" 

"Oh, it's just, I can see your roots" she said sheepishly as she pointed at her own scalp.

"Ah... Yeah. Red's worn out, I guess" he answered as he handed her a 100 bill, much to her shock.

"Oh, I don't think-"

"Keep the change for yourself, hun. I won't be needin' it" he said before snatching the items he had bought, throwing them in his backpack and storming out.

The bar was next, Neil's eyes went the size of dinner plates when Red slammed the money on the counter.

"I'm paying my tab off, and I'm taking two bottles of your strongest bourbon" he said without looking up.

"My boy, you know damn well this will cover all that and more, twice over..." the old bar owner trailed off as he grabbed two bottles from the top shelf, then placed them between them, without letting go of them. Red was just about to grab the bottles when Neil pulled them back just a smidge, calling for his attention, "What are you gonna do, Damon?" 

Red's eyes shot up and met Neil's at the mention of his true name. The old man's stare was unwavering, yet full of worry.

"I'm fine, Neil. You'll hear of me again soon." he promised, giving the old man a faint smile as he gently placed the pair of bottles inside his backpack.

Neil watched him exit the bar with his head down, hunched over.

Red's last stop around town was the diner, his boss had told him to take the day off, since he was so out of it that almost caused a grease fire the last time he clocked in.

He entered through the front and greeted the server kindly, she smiled at him and he handed her a small note, intended for the owner. 

That's the last of them.

He haphazardly chopped the longer parts of his hair off before dying it all black, he was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, anxiously chipping away at his nail polish til his nails were clean, waiting for the dye to do its work.

Red was almost on autopilot, he soon ran out of polish to scrape away at, his sight was blurry and dazed. Almost as if he was looking at his point of view from a screen. Not his own eyes. Everything was out of focus, distant. Fake even, it all felt like plastic, like a big set full of props.

"It looks awfully similar, doesn't it?"

The red chips of polish contrasted with the white tiled floor, and under his unfocused sight they looked liquid.

Liquid red staining the white tiled floors again.

He nearly jumped out of his skin

I can't get the image out of my mind…

"I know, my child. But once you are with me, you won't have to remember it ever again. I promise"

I'm scared, mama. What if dad is there?

A pause.

Mama?

"He can't get to you, my child. Come to me, I'll protect you."

No, mama. I'll protect you.

"Now you look more like the last time I saw you. I missed this look on you"

Once his hair was clean he stared at the mirror, for how long, it's unclear

Last time he had his hair black and this short was back before…

He closed his eyes, thinking of that beautiful night, the night they were back home from Ambrose.

It feels strange to me… I know it's my natural color, but it doesn't feel like me entirely…

Now that I think of it, I don't remember the last time I truly felt like myself.

That was it, that was my peak.

It all seemed to go downhill from there, rolling down violently. Hitting rocks and being scratched by thorny bushes on his way. 

At the end of the hill, there wasn't land. There was a chasm. An infinite fall into darkness, and he was rapidly approaching the edge.

He never had the chance to mourn, to let it out, to let himself just be. He had been stuck in survival mode for as long as he could remember, and the moment he let his guard down, the moment he first felt peace, it all came down on him at once.

"Come into my arms, my love. I'll never let you hurt again"

It seemed like the perfect solution. No more pain, no more nightmares, no more…

Darrell…

"He'll be fine. He doesn't need you."

Skulk can take care of him, they can care for each other… I don't want to abandon them, though…

"It'll be a weight off their shoulders."

What?

"Skulk can take care of himself, he's agile and good at hiding. Darrell has enough trouble in his hands right now. None of them have the time for you."

…

"None of them have the energy to care for a deteriorating alcoholic."

And as if to give her reason, he sat down on the toilet again and took a long swing of the bourbon he had bought.

Damn it, Neil. Shouldn't have wasted your best tasting shit on me…

Several gulps per swing, 4 swings and the first bottle was empty. Heat traveled down his esophagus and into his stomach. The first thing that has gone in there since last night's single cornbread muffin.

I can't just leave without a word…

He stood rapidly, and whiplash hit him like a truck. His head spinning, his hands reaching for the sink in order not to fall. 

I guess liquor hits faster when you're in a rush to leave.

He stumbled his way out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, opened his bedside table drawer and ripped a page out of his small notepad.

What do I even say?

He felt awful to leave them like this. 

Darrell, my fallen angel

Skulk, my sweet guardian 

See you on the other side

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…

I had to go

All that was mine is now yours

I love you both

Take care of each other please

He grabbed that old silver letter opener. Used it as a stake to adhere the note on the outside of the bathroom door. A silver nail on a white coffin.

Originally, his plan was to burn it all down, and himself with it. Wipe it all away, just like back then.

He would have to instead drink both bottles and hope that, if blood loss didn't take him, alcohol poisoning would.

But it wouldn't be fair for them.

There is no closure to be found in a pile of ash and a charred corpse.

He was sitting on the bathroom floor and almost entirely through the second bottle when he dug into his wrists with the razor blades. Both of them now have a vertical opening.

Red, warm, slick and slippery. 

A little too slippery, perhaps, he was already weak, but now the slick didn't let him hold onto the bottle no more.

He lied back, too tired and drowsy to sit up straight. Red pooling around him, pouring from his wrists.

Mama, I'm on my way.

But mama wasn't there.

He was, looming and towering over him. Looking down with a crooked smile.

Damon's breath got caught in his throat, his eyes burning with hot tears. Pure, unadulterated fear coming over him.

Everything around them was on fire, even Dr. Herring himself. 

Damon couldn't move, he could do nothing but watch and silently weep as the sinister burning man grabbed him by the ankles, setting them on fire. 

"You don't know how long I've waited for this moment. Now you'll burn with me, forever."

He was being dragged to hell.

And he could do nothing but beg silently.

Help me, please.

He felt his father's nails dig into the flesh of his ankles.

I'm sorry, I take it back! I don't wanna go, please!

He could hear the screaming and wailing of tortured souls, lost to the flames forever.

Help me!

"You're mine"

PLEASE!!!

The door swung open with such force, a being bathed in blinding golden light coming through it.

Everything was white and gold. Suddenly soft and warm.

An angel kneeling over him.

His angel.

He felt tears fall on his cheeks, raining down on him from above.

Even in such pain, he was beautiful.

Peace washed over him, and he let himself go.

Darrell's distant voice and visage fading to black.

A/N: here I go, just pouring a bucket of gasoline on the dumpster fire that is our boys' poor lives

Taglist: @rottent33th @slaasherslut @the-pinstriped-hood @texaschainsawslvt @angxlslasher @allthingsblood @ajarofpickledtears @mr-trick

[gay-dorito-dust]

we better get a part 2 for that ford fic YOU KNOW WHICH ONE IM TALKING ABOUT

🙂maybe- okay this is my formal apology to those I’ve hurt with the Ford fic by being a little brutal at the end.

Part 1

*a few hours after the confession*

‘You what?!’ Stan exclaimed as Ford finished telling him about his current situation.

‘Stanley please not so loud, they could hear you-‘

‘You walked away from the person you liked, and not only did you walk away from them but you walked away from them AFTER they confessed to you?! What the fuck Stanford!’ Stan ignored his brother and continued to yell, not understanding how badly Ford has truly fucked his chances with you this badly, god knows if Ford will ever get the chance to make up for this because Stan knows from Mabel that you were heartbroken. ‘What were you thinking?!’ He adds, becoming angry on your behalf since you were too distraught to even feel anything other then anguish.

‘I don’t know! I fucked up I get it!’ Ford replied, equally as frustrated at his actions earlier today, feeling his heart break each time he walked past your room just to hear heartbroken sobs and questions regarding your self worth and it was all because of him. Ford then sits himself down on the edge of his bed and rested his head in his hands, his mind replayed what could’ve been the happiest moment in his life, had he not been stupid enough to get up and walked away from you without explanation.

Stupid Ford, stupid. He thought to himself.

‘I thought this was what you wanted.’ Stan said as he calmed himself down upon seeing how bad his brother was taking this as he sat himself down next to Ford. ‘Isn’t being with them something you’ve always dreamed of happening one day? So why sabotage it for yourself and them?’ Stan then asked as he watched his brother with an observant eye, watching Ford as he caress the lucky stone you gifted him when coming across it while walking through the woods one day.

‘They deserve better than me Stanley.’ Ford said softly as he puts the lucky stone back into his coat pocket where it felt heavier than a small stone should, reflective of his guilt in what he did to you, and your hypothetical life together. He had you saying what he’s always dreamt you’d say, but he didn’t feel as though he was worthy of you and that you needed someone better; so he walked away and out of a beautiful, happy life with you because of his insecurities.

‘They wanted you Stanford, they always wanted you.’ Stanley reassures him with a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s why they confessed to you because they want to be with you no matter what, they mustered up the courage to confess to you despite the fear of rejection, hoping that you wouldn’t be the reason their heart breaks and instead be the reason it laughs and smiles.’ He adds in hopes it encourages Ford to seek you out and makes things right, that and he wants to call you is sibling in law one day, not that he’d ever admit it aloud to anyone.

‘And yet I broke their heart by walking away regardless.’ Ford said defeated as he clenched his firsts. ‘What a fool I’ve been, blinded by insecurity and shame of myself that I didn’t see the hurt I was putting them through in the process.’ Ford then stands up with a look of determination. ‘I must make things right.’

‘Yes!’ Stan exclaimed as he stand up next to Ford, smiling widely as pride flooded his chest. ‘Yes you should! Go get them tiger!’ He cheers as he watched Ford march towards the door before looking back at his brother with a soft smile.

‘Thank you Stanley.’

Stanley smiles back at Ford, winking. ‘All in a days work of being the best twin in existence.’ He said jokingly.

Ford could only chuckle at this as he left his room to venture up the stairs and soon find himself outside your door once more as the nerves came back to him tenfold, but Ford knew that he needed to do this, that he needed to make things right with you once and for all. He takes a deep breath as his heart hammers in his chest as he knocks on your door and awaited.

You opened the door, looking worse for wear with dead eyes that were red from all the tears you’ve shed, wearing a fleece hoodie that Ford remembered brought you comfort from a long day at work, and just looking like you just needed a hug. ‘What do you want Ford.’ You said with no affection in your voice but more so annoyance and hurt.

‘I’ve…’ Ford found himself unable to speak again, he couldn’t convey his feelings into words at all and everything was screaming at him to leave you alone once again, to leave before he brook your heart even further but Ford wanted to be by your side to help heal your heart instead. ‘I’ve come to make things right my dear.’ He finally said and god did it feel good to finally say what his heart wanted to say at long last.

‘How?’ You questioned shortly, wanting nothing more than to shut the door in his face to make him feel how you felt, but your heart still beats for him whether you like it or not, even if he were to crush it in his hands you’d still love him regardless and that was the undeniable, undisputed truth.

‘By hoping that you’d let me help heal your heart and your trust in me again.’ Ford began, ‘I was a fool to leave you after you bore your heart to me my dear and I greatly apologise for that, in truth I like you too but to an extent that it goes beyond words to describe it accurately enough.’ Ford then reached into his pocket and pulled out the lucky stone you gave him and presented it to you.

Your eyes widened, you didn’t think he’d keep such a silly thing but knowing he did only made your heart crave him more. ‘Ford…’

‘Until I have earned your trust and heart back, I shall return the gift you have given me in hopes that one day I shall be lucky enough to be given it again.’ Ford continues with a somber smile but when you started chuckling, Ford couldn’t help but be a little confused. ‘You silly, silly man.’ You said as you gently pushed his outstretched hand back towards himself, ‘the stone is yours to keep, not give back and while yeah I’m hurt by what you did but I know deep down I could never hate nor distrust you ever. I like you too much to suddenly hate you.’ You admitted and Ford quickly pocket the stone before pulling you into his arms, holding you as tight as he could while burying his face into your neck.

‘Thank you my love, thank you so much for entrusting me with your heart.’ Ford said, voice slightly muffed but you were happy to be in his arms and found yourself smiling widely as tears of happiness streak down your face.

‘I’ll always entrust you with my heart, why do you think I gave you the lucky stone to begin with?’ You asked and suddenly everything same sense to Ford as he pulls away from you to lean forwards and kiss you on the lips softly, awkwardly but endearingly as you hummed in content, happy to have your happy ending become reality.

[rosaline-black]

hi! for the blurb request for Hotch could you do something where they have to like spar against each other and hotch obviously doesn’t go 100% against reader even though she take it but he’d just feel guilty :) all fluff

No warnings just cute sparring fluff!

Hotch had never known some one to hold there own quite like you. Unlike himself or Morgan you didn’t seem threatening to many, but he’d seen you kick more ass then the entire team put together.

So when you flitted into his office, the distracting scent of your shampoo and your mouth moving. Hotch struggled to pretend like he was listening rather then admiring. Lucky for him he managed to catch the tail end of your rambles “-So would you like to spar with me? As I said the others already all have training partners…”

Ah yes. The bureaus new training modules had been insisted upon by Strauss. Apparently the team needed a refresh on combat training which the team had originally all groaned at. That was until they started to make it interesting.

JJ had come up with the brilliant idea to pair off with Morgan, betting that she could kick his ass which to be truthful, Hotch didn’t doubt one bit. Then Reid and Garcia had bonded over their mutual hatred for physical activity, deciding to work together so they could spend their mandatory sessions complaining. And Rossi was easy to convince when Prentiss had murmured something along the lines of ‘I bet you don’t even have it in you to fight me old timer…’.

So that just left you. Beautifully scary you. Hotch had planned to ask you formally, maybe even invite you to coffee after your sessions and somehow ween his way into actually asking you out properly but like he always had, Aaron feared the rejection.

The idea of your usually neutrally joyful expression moulding into one of pity and uncomfortableness kept him up at night. Worst of all he knew you wouldn’t even be cruel about it, you would let him down easy, spare him the inevitable embarrassment-

“If you don’t want to Hotch it’s alright… I can ask one of the trainees too-“

“Sounds like a plan agent… does 8am work for you?”

And so here you both were. 8am on the dot at the bureaus training gym. You looked just as beautiful in sports wear as you did in your every day outfits which was frustrating. He foolishly had hoped maybe your tired appearance would lower his nerves, but who was he kidding. He’d seen you bloody and bruised on the field and still then he had wanted to kiss you.

“So… should we just head straight into it?”

Hotch simply nodded and suddenly an onslaught of all new obsessive thoughts pressed there way into his head. Should I go easy on her? What if I end up hurting her and she hates me? What if she notices I’m not trying and feels insulted?

“Helloooo earth to Hotchner? If your mind is somewhere else we can reschedule…”

“No… no not at all, my apologies… let’s just practice combat punches today… I’ll hold the mat and you can start…”

He hoped maybe the early morning meant that you hadn’t noticed the way he tripped over his words, but by the looks of the smile creeping up over your face he assumed that wasn’t the case.

You took your stance, gloves on and shoulders firm. The first two punches were measured but after that the mat received the brunt of your wrath. He managed to keep steady but just barely, you were incredibly strong. Who knew that scary look of anguish nestling it’s way between your brows could be so… sexy?

“Right you go…”

“I’m not sure we have time…”

Pouting. Godammit you were pouting.

“Hotch we’ve been here less then 15 minutes… we have the gym booked till nine…”

Dark eyes flashing to the floor, Hotch had no choice but to concede to your demands. Aaron slipped his gloves on and forced his eyes not to latch onto the extent of your thighs that had been showcased as your shorts had rode up.

Rolling his shoulders back and aiming for the mat being grasped between your hands, poo Aaron took his first swing. It was weak… admittedly on purpose. And you noticed immediately. He swung a second time hoping it wasn’t too strong, the thought of knocking you over and was far worse then being perceived as an all show no cigar kinda guy.

“Seriously? That’s all you got Hotchner? Maybe Strauss was right… if our unit chief punches like that we do need training…oh-“

Before he could even think about what he was doing Hotch’s bravado got the better of him, and he took a third swing full force. Clearly you hadn’t been prepared because the mat had been hit so hard it put your balance of kilter causing you to stumble falling on your butt with an oof.

“Oh god… y/n- uh agent I am so sorry… I- are you laughing…?”

Your giggles echoed off of the walls of the training gym and Aaron couldn’t help but let his usual furrowed brow relax at the noise. Extending his arm, Hotch pulled you to your feet disregarding the mat as he scanned your body for any signs of damage.

“I tell you what boss I take it back… that was quite the hit…”

“My apologies again I… I’m sorry…”

So stuck in his web of self pity and guilt, Hotch missed your brazen grin as you took a daring step towards him.

“I tell you what… I know a way you can make it up to me…”

“How?”

Hotch was even more stunned when you pressed a finger into his chest.

“Take me to dinner after we finish on the next case…”

His smile alone gave you the answer to that request.

[theobjectofyourire]

it's been a year and I cannot stop thinking about this frame:

The hall had fallen silent, an absence of sound so severe, so terribly sharp and equal only to the blade that mere moments ago rested uncertainly on the King's belt, yet to be crimsoned by the righteous wrath of an anguished mother.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" The aching plea in her voice seemed to grow with every word, her voice trembling not with fear but with a fervency, a fury she had never before allowed herself to possess.

"And now you take my son's eye," she near wept, "and to even that, you feel entitled." It was with a grief she spoke. A mourning for herself, the girl she once was and the woman she might have become had the gods forged a kinder world. A mourning for her children, who were but pawns in a greater game, as she had been, and so fearfully neglected by their father.

A mourning for her son.

Her gentle boy.

Her dearest Aemond, who had clutched her hand and worried at the blood staining the wrists of her dress even as his skin was being threaded back together. As he was told, in no uncertain terms, that his eye was forever lost, and instead of finding comfort in his sire as any boy ought to, he was met with cold commands, alone.

*******

When the princess had stepped back, a slow stream of scarlet flowing from her arm, and the blade frightfully abandoned on the stone, all eyes remained steadfast on the Queen, surrounded and yet entirely isolated. All awaited the word of Viserys, who stood in outraged shock behind her, but not a sound came. 'Twas silence that ruled the night, and mayhaps would have known a longer reign if not for the soft-spoken words of her son, still painted in his own blood.

"Do not mourn me mother." He stepped forward without a measure of hesitancy, and all the great lords and ladies could not hope to remove their gaze from the boy. His voice, despite all, was steadier than any who had come before. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

Most had looked on with some degree of astonishment, others with the slight flicker of fear, an apprehension of what was undoubtedly to follow in the years to come. Most surprising, mayhaps, was the high regard of an uncle and grandsire. Never had Daemon and Otto so shared, unbeknownst to each other, a look of such pride. Their reasons differed, to be sure, though both could not but admire the boy who had proved himself the true blood of the dragon.

'Twas only one person of note in that hall of many faces who dared not look upon the countenance of the young prince. 'Twas only one who kept his eyes planted firmly at his feet, his head bowed low as though he were not but a servant who feared he was undeserving of such a sight.

In his bones, he knew the fear to be well founded.

Viserys would not look at his son. He could not look at his son, who spoke with a courage and certainty that reminded him so dearly of his brother. He had taken, in no small measure, after his uncle, and it wounded him to see so much of the Rogue Prince, a darkened sort of valiancy in the remaining eye of his child.

It was his fault.

He knew. In his heart of hearts, he knew he had no one but himself to blame. What might the smallest show of care prevented, had he but taken the time to bestow it? How many years had he so desperately prayed for sons, only to treat them with a distanced interest, at best, when the Gods finally saw fit to answer?

At the very least, mightn't he have asked, nay, insisted upon a formal apology from his admittedly beloved grandson, on behalf of his own flesh and blood? For if the injuries had been reversed, had it been Lucerys half-blinded by Aemond...he could not fathom the thought. The truth was far too vile to admit, even unto himself.

"This proceeding is at an end." His voice was firm, unyielding, leaving no room for argument. As he turned, unsteadily limping back to his chambers, he did not spare a glance to his injured son. He could not bare the guilt. He could not shoulder the truth.

The words were those of a King. The actions? Those were of a father, failing, forever unworthy of the title.

*******

[franceblr]

i feel like whenever sasori and deidara fight, sasori is the first to immediately disengage and distance himself. sometimes, if he puts his foot down hard enough, he can rein in deidara’s dissatisfaction and need for attention, aborting his tantrums before they turn into a fully fledged war. sometimes, he’ll barely dignify deidara with detached and noncommittal replies, fueling his fits to the point deidara’s chasing him around the house and screaming, cornering him until sasori turns around and strikes deidara with the most vicious, carefully crafted jab or accusation, completely shocking deidara into silence. sasori feels a momentaneous sick sense of satisfaction at the fragility of his wrath, the way deidara crumbles when he's faced with the harsh truth. deidara never sees it coming; he never has time to brace himself against the devastation and anger sasori’s words provoke. sasori just accumulates discontentment in silence, his irritation visible but despite deidara's prodding and pleading, never elaborating on it; shuts deidara out and stonewalls him until he drops it. so when his anger gets the best of him, and he whips around sharp with cruel words, they're both surprised.

the worst part is that he means it, means everything he says, deidara knows. it’s just that usually he’s able to deescalate the conflict and disengage from deidara’s tantrums and childish taunting before it gets to that. deidara doesn’t know what he hates more: being ignored, or being deliberately shattered by sasori’s purposeful words. he’s a hypocrite like that: he cannot stand sasori not taking him seriously, not heeding his feelings, refusing to communicate with him and hoping deidara will just get the hint and get over it, deal with it alone and quit trying to goad sasori into opening up to him; instead, deidara provokes sasori until he inevitably loses his composure and filter, poking the scorpion every time until he inevitably gets stung, and then cries about it. it's an old song and dance: if deidara could be less immature, he’d stop antagonizing sasori; if sasori could be less selfish, he’d listen to deidara and validate his feelings. but as their ego and limitations will it, fights between them usually end with deidara furiously sobbing on the bed, and sasori seething in another room. usually, one of them inevitably yields first, and tries to make amends: if deidara manages to calm down, he’ll go to sasori and apologize, both aware he’ll strike the match again and again; sasori will accept and the hatchet will be formally buried, even if sasori will continue to give him the cold shoulder for a couple of days. he's not a forgiving person, and his anger takes a toll on him too. if sasori miraculously boils over his venomous anger first, he’ll go to their room and tiredly try to soothe deidara’s anguish, shush him with quiet apologies he halfheartedly means.

because even if sasori’s anger is more stubborn, quiet and insistent, deidara’s emotions are like a nuclear bomb, burning bright and destroying everything in their wake in a brief flash, and once that lid is blown off, deidara himself doesn’t know how to handle them. sasori doesn't know how deidara lives feeling everything with such vicious intensity: doesn't understand why he sets himself up for failure every time, knowing sasori will break his heart yet still challenging him to a fight he cannot win: sasori is shielded by an impenetrable armour of detachment and indifference, his skin is hardened by grief and loss. deidara is all exposed nerves and bruised ego, his skin too soft and tempting. sasori can't wrap his head around the fact that after all this time, deidara still hasn't understood just how disadvantaged and powerless he is, running into everything unarmed and vulnerable. it's tragic and ugly, deidara sobbing with childish abandon, his anger so jagged and sharp it hurts him more than it hurts sasori. he struggles against sasori when he comes to calm him down hours later, eventually settling, strained and exhausted. has to rebuild himself up each time anew, his compulsive need for sasori never waning.

they’re fundamentally incompatible, sasori is too guarded and deidara is too desperate; yet their determination to always come back to each other is what makes them unfit to be with anyone but the other. there’s a fundamental sadomasochism that permeates every aspect of their relationship, and despite its toxicity, it couldn’t be any other way for either of them. so sasori stays, even when deidara’s screaming, and crying, and hurting sasori and himself, picking fights in a desperate attempt to get sasori to show him he cares and needs deidara as much as deidara needs him. so deidara lets sasori hold him, even when sasori is cold, even when sasori ignores him, treats him like a child, unwilling to change for him but willing to tear into him without restraint.

[etruatcaelum]

[ @jocundcompany | hazel // ozpin ]

There is a limit even to Ozpin’s capacity to apologize; only so many ways to say I’m sorry before the repetition begins to feel trite. Bloodless. He fears they’re long past that moment now, and the distraught youth pacing before him has only sunk deeper into anguish with each new round of condolences.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing Long Memory’s pommel until the gears bite his palm. “Mr. Rainart—Hazel–”

I am sorry for your loss, he wants to say, but your sister was old enough to make her own choices, and she did what she thought was right. It does her no honor to forget that.

“—I’m sorry,” Ozpin says, and it cuts like a sliver of glass beneath his tongue; another regret carved deep in the ruin of their soul. Inadequate. “I can’t tell you any more than I already have. More… details will come to light as the formal inquiry proceeds, no doubt, but for the moment—the situation escalated very suddenly. In moments of crisis, it is seldom possible to know right away how or why such a tragedy could occur.”

Knowing would not bring her back, in any case.

“I am not deliberately keeping you in the dark,” he insists gently. “I assure you.”

[yutasbimil]

Contrary

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (4/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: angst, hurt/comfort cw: heavy on the (self) angst; mental anguish; mentions of anxiety and depression, relapse, alcohol and suicidal ideation; perfect combo isn't it? // smut is moved again, oops (it's on the next part i promise) + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 2.4k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

do not repost © yutasbimil (2023)

cont.

Vyn didn’t expect such attraction towards a person before, let alone even at the first meeting. He swore he wouldn’t turn to such shallowness.

But there’s an indescribable enigmatic magnetism between them.

And it seems like  the first times  every time she walks by the room, Vyn feels a thump by his chest, knocking as if to strike him back to his senses.

He thanked the lighting of the hotel room for its ability to hide the flush by his face.

Alas,  he can’t look away, as if a fish hooked tightly. Like being hit by an arrow unexpectedly, and this seems straight to the knee. He swore in his new life to  never  fall at first glance, but when he turned to look at her again, it amplified even more.

He’s eaten his words and got his tongue tied into tight knots.

However, Vyn knows that with all  the bullshitery  fiction seems to spread in romance, he knows this by the psychological aspect. He’ll be damned by the pheromones and effects the human mind can bring you.

And the opportunity is within his grasp.

Marius dropped her off by the lobby after their mini shopping spree. Yule also changed into a more appropriate set of formal attire as she went back to the meeting hall. 

Vyn approaches them from across the room, meeting eyes, it easily wavered as Yule felt something by her neck. Her hair was almost snagged by her long earrings. Vyn fixed it for her, brushing it aside her ear, his proximity earning a blush on her face.

“Apologies for not greeting you first, m’lady.” Vyn takes a step back, bowing slightly then takes her hand for a chaste kiss. “I’ve been meaning to meet you tonight, Miss Yule.”

“Same here too, Sir… Vyn.” Yule taps into herself as she looks elsewhere to hide the blush on her face, unintentionally leading to Marius who reminded Vyn of the younger’s presence. 

He turns to the other man.

“Fancy meeting you here, Marius.” Vyn gives him a look, Marius nods back to Vyn with the same greeting.

They actually checked in the hotel for a gathering along with Vyn.

Beforehand, Yule briefly informed him that they’ll be at the same place today, but didn’t expect Yule to be accompanied by Marius.

After another nod, Marius walked away to leave them be as he had other business to attend to.

As if looking between the two of them, she turns her focus to Vyn. Yule feels the bad blood between him and Marius even after the tension diverges their presence from each other. 

She lightly hits Vyn on the shoulder, taking him aback with her sudden rowdyness.

“What’s with you guys?” Yule slipped off, patting him guilty on the shoulder.  Oops,  that’s not a good action towards him. Even if they’ve known each other for a month or two already.

“Ah, nothing…” Vyn wasn't able to continue further. His behavior is a bit… looming.

Yule took it as a sign to brush off lightened up at his slight bashful expression. This is a different side of him she encountered.  How cute.

“I do see you being like a kid with him at times, plus his competitiveness and pettiness on the banter can be quite… amusing,” Yule says, suppressing a giggle around him. 

Vyn took this as a close relationship between the two, it crossed his mind that they are classmates. Vyn was able to recall Yule once in his class to sit in. She picked different subjects to  avoid him  in means keeping it formal with him. She apparently got a better slot at a known state university nearby, and just takes a few classes at Stellis University.

“That’s Marius to you, I guess…” Vyn trails off. He is quite taken aback to be read out in the open like that, he needs to have some restraint. Yule likes this laid-backness though.

Vyn harrumphs, getting his hand out ready. Yule takes it, his hand feels colder than usual. She glances at him as he even shudders on her softened look.

“Shall we go?” Vyn leads the way as both of them proceed to the hall where the party will be held.

The social battery died down moments ago, more than her limit to stay attentive. Everything looks dreary and dim looking at the sea of people talking in the hall.

Mostly she’s already hit with boredom, along with her phone nearly drained, the lump at the edge of her throat seems salient on her system. Substantially, how ungrateful she is to be in a luscious environment, isn’t she supposed to be privileged… only to be truly displeased. She despised this atmosphere.

Her past floods her more as the contents of her dim phone mock her. Even back in the past in these social gatherings and chances of luxury. She isn’t enjoying the company of her family. Not the same with the silver-haired man across the hall, his eyes gleaming as bright as the lights with its golden luster. He cannot attend to her, he’s in need of socializing with others. So, she’s left to relax aside from the bar nearby. Only she's anything but at ease.

Yule yawns, teary as sleepiness fights in her system. The ambiance reminds her of last time, being compared constantly, the plastic comments, and she always seems to be the one to adjust at the expense of her sister. To be consistently second-guessed, though at most, neglected.

It even reached to not once, but both her graduations were disrupted due to lack of sleep. What was the purpose of checking in the hotel to save time going to the venue? Only to be bothered all night by the noise around the room. Does her health even fucking matter? It struck her, maybe that’s why she cannot sleep well despite the lavender-scented rooms meant to "calm one's senses".

She's growing jittery, it might be due to excessive caffeine from earlier. She's grown dependent on it.

Yule could've chosen coffee and sleep deprivation over drunkness. But she picked the dark horse for tonight.

All because of one damn message.

She's in full berserk mode.

As if there's no switch to reformat her system, a deer in the headlights, her senses full on flight  and  fight mode. She cannot avoid the shaking of her body.

Yule usually helps with the emails of her parents, so she read through a bit of some of it when it caught her eye. Bills and accounts paying for her sister's specialized schooling.

Now fully confirms it.

She’s honestly at a loss for what to feel. She has grown numb at every passing expectation as much as this is unexpected.

Of course, I'm a piece of shit, I mean nothing.

She can’t believe one text message would ruin her night.

As to why she leaned into alcohol, turning to it to blind and numb her senses at the intensity of her emotions. Shame fills her the more she chugs down light alcohol in her system.

This burning sensation felt like her college days when she spent a period not sober. There was not a day where there was alcohol stained in her system as little as a shot or two, even if it’s a mere can of beer– it can still be considered alcoholism.

Not tipsy enough.

Every word of the text remains replaying in her head. They’re reaching out again to look after her sister.  As if she doesn’t have a life of her own that she’s taking care of…

It made her furious.

At every flush of alcohol down her throat, to another glass of cocktail, she’s feeling the relapse from everything from the last three months. It’s all for naught, all wasted effort the same as she’s progressing more wasted.

Damn, so money wasn’t much of a problem all this fucking time…?

'But when it comes to me, it seems heavy as fuck, or it’s even my fault on how much of a burden to take care of me and pay off the expenses when I suddenly get sick?'

And how the treatment goes, the other daughter just throws money away as if it’s pennies… When it’s Yule who requests things, there’s hesitation. Her taking Master's degree wasn't even encouraged. But a specialized school?

She feels conflicted about how she views money and wants to leave everything behind even if it’s considered as wealth and comfort. Yule would trade it for better treatment with no guilt and to sustain a life for herself.

All this ill will, she’s willing to baggage, Yule is risking everything for the title of the “black sheep”.

To be one who speaks her truth, doesn't listen as much, is so boisterous, unladylike, cares too much about one's looks, too cautious about one’s body and health… Everything is blurred and murky on how toxic her vision is at all these. She’s very much affected.

She just does what she wants for her own expense and gain. For her betterment.

Of course, that is  bad ; pure evil– turning her into such a liberated, malevolent lady.

They didn't raise her to be like this, it's too much shameful for a girl to be so untraditional.  Out with the stakes!  She should stay pure and submissive. A little child that one can hold onto one's clutches. But the caged bars are breaking, she's growing more aware…

But punish her as well for putting herself in a tight spot when disrespected.  One shouldn't treat you as invaluable.

Even though that's the exact thing they're doing to her.

She's sick of not tending herself first.

Which turned all this misplaced anger towards relying on any vices to cope— she's just so fucking done.

Leave me alone!

Everything seems so fucking tangent, and she swore she got A’s in geometry back then, but  holy fuck!

Leave me out of any of this shit.

At the fifth glass, she’s in a total mental breakdown and crisis, realizing more how bullshit the treatment is, and how much she’s denied her needs. No matter how much she asks for therapy, they're against it.

She’s used to being prohibited from a lot of things growing up, even leading up to her adult days. Even simple self-defense and being active in the gym, she’s not allowed as it’s  ‘not good for girls’  as her grandmother says. Even moving houses as it’s an act of betrayal, that they’re no longer a complete family– even if they're residing in the same town. She's done with these strangling knots.

She wants out.

And out she does.

"Well, I’m the first in my family to graduate with a degree– At least here I achieved something," Yule could only laugh in spite.  'It means nothing though, they look down at psychology.'

With her sister, they'll easily run to the clinic to take her for a slight hyperventilation or just a runny nose. Yule would just lay in bed and  die  as she cannot breathe properly due to her allergies, they can't even be urgent about it.

What's more infuriating is her sister, they would be willing to pay for her psych assessments. With Yule, it's a no-go, what's her purpose to be even taken to therapy? She's got nothing to be sad about. Why would she even be depressed when she's got all her needs and food on her plate and a roof over her head.

'I want to die.'

It's not usual for Yule to turn to help unless it's gravely urgent and intense— but they opposed her from even going to clinics as those psychologists would just tell her nonsense, influencing her rotten brain into outrageous things. To further leech them off of money. It's a complete waste of time.

Hearing all that came out of her mother's mouth just stunned her baffled.

So what even is the purpose of her taking a psychology degree? So she's throwing every effort and her whole being down the dumps?

When she knows herself that's her final call that she is in need of desperate help, and this was her way of reaching out to seek help.

Because she really  really  wants to die.

But even this is refused to be given to her.

As to why Yule set off to be at peace and pursue her Master's degree, to start anew. At least wishing these thorns would bloom into something new.

At least meeting Rosa and Vyn, even Marius, shed some light on her bleak situation.

But she feels so heavy and conflicted about how she views herself. More on lack of self-worth. She doesn't know herself anymore, or if anything that she went through could be considered 'herself', she could take it. Because she’s been so out of it for years.

She's going insane.

-

Having Yule overlooked at the after-party, Vyn was worried about her drunken state as he appeared back on her side.

With her flushed cheeks burning up to her ears, she looks more tipsy than usual. However, he’s got no clue about her alcohol tolerance. Or at least not getting up to this point that she's full of rashes down to her feet.

"Vyn, you're back. I'm sorry, I'm…  like this - I really am…" Her coherence spills the same as her drink almost toppling over at her hand. It had few sips left. Yule just shakes her head weakly. 

"I think you've had enough fun with alcohol, Yule." Vyn takes the drink off her grasp and consumes the last of the alcohol. By her blank glare, it's anything but fun on the time she had by herself for the past hours.

She murmurs spiels of apologies, along with the scent of the rum on her breath. As Vyn asks the bartender what he served the lady, he can only nod. That's a heavy load to drink for a light drinker. 

Good thing it was just the right time as the party was putting on a close.

"Can you walk by yourself, Yule?" His normal voice sounded muffled on her end. 

She shakes her head, how shameful. Yule attempts to stand off the high seat, so Vyn can support her arms.

Though still conscious, her skin is just full of rashes.

It was quite obvious how wide the gap is for Vyn's alcohol tolerance compared to her. He had more hard drinks than her. Hours passed as she filled herself with cocktails, so it was the final straw for her to lean on the pure hard white rum. One shot of the Bacardi, the heavy richass alcohol managed to topple her over like this.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[pandi-ponders]

Opinions on Ruin?

I know how Ruin is almost ruled out of the picture regarding Eclipse's revival, but it still has me thinking. I personally don't think that Ruin is the mastermind behind all this but I still like the idea of it.

There's two scenario's that I think are plausible.

Number One: Ruin is a dual personality between his sane self and his virus counterpart. This would basically play off as a Jekyll and Hyde scenario (I say this but there are several ways to interpret Jekyll and Hyde but that's for another day). He remembers nothing his counterpart does, leaving himself blissfully unaware of the evil inside him.

Number 2: My personal favorite, Ruin is fully aware of what he's doing. The idea of him playing off to be a goody two shoes while pulling the strings is such a fun idea for me. Various motives surround Ruin, the most common one I've seen is that he's playing hero (I love this idea, kudos to whoever thought of it >:3C). NOT ONLY THAT, but I love the idea that maybe Eclipse KNOWS it Ruin but no one believes him.

Moon has already gone through Ruin's memories, finding nothing but his current memories and the corrupted file. No red flags are waving in Moon's face right now, letting Ruin work right underneath his nose. IMAGINE HOW FUN THIS COULD BE!!! Ruin teases Eclipse, taunting him as he waves around his true identity while no one else is around. Eclipse can't do anything, no one believes him and if he lays a finger on Ruin, then he risks being scrapped again. He's basically the boy (or well, animatronic) who cried wolf. Being so obsessed with Ruin being the culprit and being RIGHT was worth nothing. Ruin played off his innocence so well that Moon no longer takes his word.

As much as I bash the whole "Ruin is the mastermind" idea, I wouldn't be upset if it were true. All I want is, that if it is true, they play it off well. Have fun with it! Show how Ruin truly isn't all that different from his corrupted self. And, if it is a dual personality scenario, they go over a quick focus on how Ruin wars between himself and who he doesn't remember being. LET HIM LIE IN ANGUISH AS HE REALIZES THAT PERHAPS HE'S NOT THE GOOD PERSON HE BELIEVES TO BE!!! Maybe even sprinkle in the past memories of his past Sun and Moon always being in conflict with one another. Allow him to reflect that what was before perhaps isn't all that different than what it is now...

(I would also like to formally apologize to Eclipse for always wanting him to be left suffering XD There's so much angst potential in you, man!)

[ask-imaginary-dreamers]

Do you have voice claims for any of your characters?

APOLOGIES THIS TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER!!! I didn’t have voice claims set for most of my characters yet, and wanted to get most of the main ones picked before answering.

Ask-Imaginary-Dreamers

Flicker: Pomni (Lizzie Freeman)

- I’ve been at a loss for Flicker voice wise for a while, but after TADC came out and I heard Pomni I decided that was the perfect voice. Just the right amount of anxiety and anguish.

- Aster has the same voice btw, it doesn’t change upon death.

Casey: Masumi Sera (Ghia Burns)

- This is a bit of an off the wall choice! But, I like how relatively androgynous Sera’s voice is and I think a voice like this would be interesting for Casey, even if it’s not very close to the voice I have for him in my head. Also unfortunately I can’t find any clips for her dub voice to share and I don’t think her sub voice is fitting so… rip.

- alternatively I think apollo justice could work, quite a different direction from sera voice wise tho lol

Fade: N/A

- Fade is mute. When Fade talks via telepathy, you just kinda know the words in your head. There’s no voice or sound associated with it.

Daisy: Fluttershy (Andrea Libman)

- I just imagine her voice as very soft and quiet!

Begonia: Sunset Shimmer (Rebecca Shoicet)

- from one pony to another… not much more to note about this one tbh.

Zeus: this (Aleks Le)

- I have no further explanation

- I guess an alternative is a high-pitched monokuma-esque voice cause that’d be funny as hell

More under cut. Only Ask-Glorious-Guild and Digital-Sylveon cause I didn’t really want to figure any others out! Maybe eventually though.

Ask-Glorious-Guild:

Gloria: Sasha Waybright/Gloria Sato (Anna Akana)

- I initially did consider giving her someone with a Scottish accent, but I realized I don’t really write her with one. I do really see her with this voice though!

- As a note, Gloria is 1/2 Galarian, 1/4 Kantonian, and 1/4 Unovan. So I did want to use a voice actor whose part Japanese.

Lint: Sprig Plantar (Justin Felbinger)

- honestly just kinda going for a young kid voice for lint - choosing sprig cause it’s the first that came to mind and I’ve dressed Lint up as him for Halloween before, so I kinda associate the two of them together

- Huey Ducktales also works for them imo!

Ruins: Maki Himekawa (Yuko Kaida)

- basically just need an emotionally constipated mature woman voice and maki’s voice fits that bill. Her dub voice also works but it is so hard to find clips of the dub so uh. No link for that.

Wishbone: Miles Edgeworth (Kyle Hebert)

- Wanted a voice that sounded nice and fits with Wishbone’s more formal speech. So decided why not Edgeworth! Seon King and Christopher Wehkamp’s Edgeworth voices also work, just said Kyle Hebert’s cause that was the one easiest to find a good clip of. Honestly even most fan voices for Edgeworth could also work, like Jelloapocalypse’ or Mornal’s.

- That said, imagine this voice with the same kind of filters people use when doing a Spamton voice for the most accurate portrayal. Even though that is a bit cursed.

Jazz: Axel/Lea (Quinton Flynn)

- not much to say here this is just a fitting voice for them

Digital-Sylveon:

APP: Hatsune Miku OR Meicoomon (Kate Higgins)

- there are two options here so pick your preference

- hatsune miku cause. digital. makes sense to have a vocaloid as a voice. i think rin or len could also work.

- meicoomon cause I love meicoomon. also the dub voice definitely has the childish androgynous vibe I think of for APP’s voice.

[scham-wcan]

You asked for this...dwr any prompt of your choice from the list.

Fine!

“Kisses on the cheek”

Weiss pressed her lips quickly onto Maria’s cheek, a result of some nascent joke or quip assuredly which made her heart spur. When she removed herself, Weiss quickly found her action discovered by the young Grimm Reaper.

“Frisky today, aren’t we, Schnee?” Maria laughed, her navy hair batting about her as her land snapped down—snatching Weiss’ in her own.

“I must be getting used to your humour is all.” Weiss sniped, taking the hand with a readied care. Though paused for a moment, halting their walk. “Hold on, is this another blister, here?” Weiss’ eyes flicked to her other side.

“Ruby Rose?” Weiss scowled at their third partner. “What is the meaning of this? First you receive a callous and now Maria a wound?”

Ruby blinked, her hands flying upward in surrender. “I-I-?” Silver eyes from the young warrior flung to her kin compatriot, Maria leaning out from behind the Schnee with a panicked shake of her head.

“I-I!” Ruby stumbled, then winced, “I’m sorry!! Maria and I went to workout during your lecture today!”

“Unbelievable!” Weiss shrieked even before Maria could wince from the betrayal. “I thought you two promised me we three would go together.” Weiss tore her hand away from Maria, crossing her arms in anguish. “You two best know I am not defending neither my Cinder nor Winter from my mother if they ever abscond you with another prank again!”

“Weiss, that’s unfair.” Maria scowled, warning her now rebuked hand in her own. “Ruby and I just want to look our best for you, you know that?”

“Yeah, Weiss. Come on,” Ruby got close to her partner. “Would a kiss make it better?”

Weiss glanced out of the corner of her eye to Ruby. “It would be on par with an apology, perhaps.”

Though Weiss was quickly also taken to Maria’s side, as the third of their grouping came to her side. “Do two kisses equal one formal apology then?”

“They could.” Weiss admitted before her cheeks burned with both love, embarrassment, and her lovers lips upon them. “ALRIGHT FINE NOT IN PUBLIC DOLTS!” Weiss quaked, even as her loves received negligible discipline.

[arcstral]

[ Sparkling Water ] "hey, marth." with a glass of sparkling water in his hand, alm approaches the familiar face he spots. he's been meaning to talk to him for a while,   &   what the ethereal ball turned into offers him as good an excuse as any.

"or should i say 'king marth?'" he continues, eyebrows raised before breaking into a slight grin, "just kidding. let's keep the formalities dropped... but seriously though, were you ever going to mention you are a king too?"

"So it seems I am discovered."

Where thieves and stowaways and fugitives might utter these very words during the peak of discovery, it is deemed this king's prerogative just as well when his royal station is brought to light. Contrary to their anguish, however, his twinkling eyes betray only amusement toward the unearthing of his identity, a smile equal to the one shone his way. "Call it nothing if not unwitting deception, Alm. Though I would be hard pressed to call it that. During the first motions of our acquaintance I simply did not figure titles would hold much importance, if any at all."

That much at least is plenty true from his standpoint; a throne sat and a crown worn hardly mattered to Marth on the front of friendship. One could argue that the grandiosity of titles even clouded judgment through those tempted by vice, who may seek a king's favor in the weight of his gold, once known to its fullness in his hands. But, of course, that has been shown to be no concern with such an agreeable Valentian friend- fair enough to keep spurned formalities to a low, merciful enough to show neither wrath nor disappointment at the lord's secrecy, and certainly wealthy enough to evade the siren call of greed.

Gracious behavior of which can only be met in kind. "Still, I suppose informing you sooner would have spared you of the shock at present. For that my apology is yours." Following a serenely bowed head, some thoughtful inflection lifts his voice as he regards the other, honed by a brighter and happier edge. ". . .Now with all secrets cast aside, no doubt a proper introduction is in order."

The sense of mystery toward his intentions is soon to dissolve. With no further ado, the offering of his handshake suspends in the air, joining together the curly insignias of air spread across two palms. A fateful irony to chase these identical natures, mirrored elsewhere in the twin fangs of Naga they wield.

"I am King Marth of Archanea. Making your acquaintance twice now, the pleasure is no less well mine."

[danceswithdarkspawn]

WIP Wednesday

part of a bridging piece between Glass Raven and Griffonheart. Technically takes place during the first few chapters of GH. My French is rudimentary at best so apologies.

The Calling is something I’ve spent all these years quietly pushing to the back of my mind. Yet it was a shadow that loomed with indifference; a dragon draped in the fabric of starlight and black as pitch, watching, waiting, whispering not unlike the Archdemon did.

It seems so pointless and morbid to count the days now. It began a month ago; a quiet echo in the back of my mind. Almost like a familiar voice, reaching out from beyond the Fade to touch my thoughts. I wanted to believe it was her, in a way, comforting me. It was her speaking in soft tones, telling me to lay down my burdens. To rest. To finally be done with the world. Je t’aime. Reviens à moi.

It wasn’t until it worked itself so thoroughly through my dreams that I realized what it was. It was a terrifying reality to wake to. I was finished. And here I am, alone, and with my weeks, maybe even days numbered.

The Calling is something I’ve spent all these years quietly pushing to the back of my mind. Yet it was a shadow that loomed with indifference; a dragon draped in the fabric of starlight and black as pitch, watching, waiting, whispering not unlike the Archdemon did.

I tried to ignore it, and when I could no longer, ignorance gave way to anger. Anger soon turned to grief for the life I so desperately wanted to live, mourning all the things I had yet to do, of sunrises and sunsets and slow dances on the patio of our villa. Sweet nothings, the feel of her hair through my fingers, and the smell of Andraste’s Grace—

Things all to be yanked away from my clutches.

I was too late.

I should have told her. I wanted to, but each night I sat at the fireside, tried to put anguish to paper, I could do nothing but fall apart again. I tried to put on the face of the Warden-Commander, writing out a notice of death as I had done for countless others over the years. Except it was my own, and to the woman I owe my conviction to, where my heart lies. 

The formality of it all left my soul raw and wanting. How could I say the words to destroy one’s life? Easily, if it were someone I didn’t know. But not her. I should have, but never to her.

[universestreasures]

@prominenceprison​ Sent: A Puss in Boots: The Last Wish Starter (No Longer Accepting!)  

“I am no longer worthy. I am sorry.” [ @ Aichi Ahmes]

At last...At long last the wait that spanned hundreds of years was finally over. For Prince Ahmes, the last of the vampires royal family, had once again returned to walk the Earth. He had prayed with his dying breath for fate to reunite him with his beloved Toshiki in that life or the next, to finish what they started all those years ago and bring the world to a better place. It was those strong feelings that had allowed his spirit to sleep within the mark of possession he had placed on Toshiki’s neck after leaving his body, a mark that contained his great power that later had been passed to his modern day reincarnation Kai following Toshiki’s own death. 

He is unaware of what has been going on since that night he left his own body, nor does he know anything about the lives of his and Toshiki’s reincarnations, Aichi Sendou and Toshiki Kai, up till this point. And honestly? He doesn’t really wish to know. Ahmes had more important things on his mind than dwelling on what happened between then and now, like establishing order in this chaotic world he had found himself in.

He can already tell just from his surroundings how different the world was but how same it was too. Sure, it looked different, smelled different, but it still contained the very things Ahmes hated about it back then: vampires and humans. Both creatures were equally monstrous in their own ways in the ruby hues of the prince. They lied, they cheated, they stole, and they tossed each other to the wolves for the sake of their own survival. Even in these modern times, the prince just knows that hasn’t changed. Perhaps these strong feelings had been even further fueled by Toshiki and his reincarnation’s own feelings during his slumber, hence why he can’t look at anything around him other than Toshiki and Ashlei in disgust. 

This disgust, of course, then extended to the blue-haired male who approached him. Despite being in the body of a human now, Ahmes would know those rusty hues and formal tone anywhere. After all, how could one forget the face of the very person who ruined your life by ratting you out to your own father, and caused your love such anguish for no reason? 

“Percival...It seems your soul too cannot seem to rest...” Ahmes’ voice is cold as the other apologies, clearly trying to seek his mercy. It seems like it finally hit him just what sins he had committed that night, or maybe he was just fearful for his own life now that the prince had returned. Regardless of the reason, the prince has not forgotten. The pain Percival had inflicted upon him and Toshiki was forever seared into their souls. For if it was not for him, then what has happened and what is to come would not have occured...

Ruby hues then shift to look at Ashlei nearby, an arm raising to point towards a bag she had on her person. Even after all these years, it seems her past as a Jeweler was something she just could not let go. A red aura appears at his fingertips, the prince focusing and levitating a golden collar from her bag to his own hands. He knows this one quite well, for it was the very same one Toshiki had around his neck for so many years.

One might wonder why she would hold onto such a thing, but the prince can probably guess it’s because she wanted to hold onto it so one day the prince could destroy it with his own hands. Ashlei understood the prince’s feelings, hence why she was the only other person on this Earth other than Toshiki that he could trust. He is happy to see her still faithfully holding onto the sword he is to inherit as well, a sword Ahmes knows will be quite useful for his plans.

For now though, his focus was on Percival. He could easily kill him. Despite not fully getting used to this body, one that was recently turned thanks to Toshiki’s reincarnation, it’s something easily doable. Grabbing his sword from Ashlei would also make it a simple task. However, the prince has something more fitting in mind, something a former Liberator like Percival rightfully deserves.

With a flick of his wrist, he sends the golden collar straight at Percival’s neck, instantly locking it on him with his own power. Normally a talisman gem would be needed to activate the Jewelers devices, but his power alone was strong enough to use it without such a thing. The fact any vampire needed one in the first place just shows how weak they were in comparison to the royal family, vampires who were clearly more advanced and had much more abilities than anyone else in their species. 

And Ahmes had inherited them all...to do with as he pleased...

“ ‘Sinners must be punished.’ Isn’t that what the Liberators always used to say before casting Judgement upon sinners?” The prince steps forward, his cold expression twisting into a smirk unlike any he’s ever had on his face before. “So, then, you must have no objections to being judged for your own sins, right? Unless you think you’re above your own rules...” 

The vampire takes a step forward, the collar no doubt keeping Percival in place. He couldn’t run or hide from him now, and there was no way he was going to let the other go go free. That would be a sin in it’s own right. This, what he is about to do, is what scum like his former knight truly deserved for the sins he’s committed against the prince, his love, and every other innocent he’s ever falsely judged in his long life.

True Judgement was about to commence, and it’s about to make Percival’s own holy blue flames seem like a spark in comparison...

“You have done many, many sins in your life, Percival. Too many to list. You might think you were doing justice, but that was just a lie to hide your own darkness.” The energy around the prince’s finger tips begins to surround the other, clouding the sight of him from view of everyone else in the vicinity. “However, the greatest one, the greatest mistake you ever made, was hurting the person I most treasure in this world and trying to break the bond I have with that person...And that...is something that I cannot ever forgive...In this or any life...”

The energy then builds in intensity, as if preparing itself to burst at any moment. He was going to make this last, for a quick punishment was not suitable for someone who constantly burned Toshiki’s hands over and over for his own selfish reasons. Ahmes hopes Toshiki is enjoying this, enjoying seeing his tormentor finally get what he is deserved. The prince only can apologize that he had to wait so long to witness such a sight.

“You are to suffer the same pain as Toshiki and I, an endless pain that will not cease until the day I let you leave this Earth. For that is the punishment you, the ultimate sinner, deserve...”

“This is...Judgement.”

Ahmes then moves his hand down rapidly, the red energy then finally coming into crash into Percival’s body all at once. The sensations he was to experience would feel like a thousand small cuts are being made into his body, each one slashing him with more intensity. It was a constant barrage of pain all over his body, one that would not stop till the body Percival had found his spirit in was at it’s limit. After all, he didn’t want to kill the man.

That would be too merciful if he did...

~

[tatisbooks]

Hi darling 💖

Can I request a poly!volturi kings x fem!reader where the kings don't have time to spend time with the reader but she really needs them. So jane and alec (which the reader is close to) have to tell the kings that they are needed.

(Some angst please🥲)

there was never not a time where they were not with her. never not a time they were not with you. their mate, their queen.

but recently, it seemed that never meant frequently. because it seemed, they were always not with you.

had you not known better you wouldve assumed they were avoiding you. but you did know better.

every throne room visit, you saw demetri standing by the burner, finishing the vampire off. "sorry, my queenliness, theyve just left."

every visit to the king' chambers, where you saw renata. "my apologies, queen, aro has just left for a meeting." her formal voice would say.

every visit to the library, frantic eyes pacing around trying to find him. trying to find them. and you'd see felix, in all his buff strength shake his head at you. and that was al that needed to be seen because you'd turn your body around, shaking with silent sobs as you pattered out the library like a child.

soft steps. you'd approach the art studio where the twin's would usually guard. "condolence, my queen, king caius has just left for the day, headed to town for more supplies." alec would say as jane would observe. observe the way your shoulders slumped, your tired eyes would scan alec's.

you'd turn, slowly loosing energy from all the running you had done to find your mates.

the witch twins would share a glance, both worried for the quèen' safety; for your health. and they would speed to marcus' chambers, where he would be reading, reading on what? no one knew. but reading.

"its the queen." one would startle.

"she's doing horrible," another one spoke.

and he would turn, would look at them with sorrow in his eyes. "call upon my brothers, caius is back."

and the three would joice together in their meeting room.

"she has not been doing well, the guards report."

"but we must distance. we all know this brothers. the mate bond is fresh, she will become anxious without us if we do not hold out longer." aro spoke.

caius would slam his hands down on the table as he stood, lips peeling back to a snarl. "its already happened!"

but aro would shake his head, and go back to studying old scripts.

and then the pain came. a wave of emotion throwing your off blance. so hard you collapse onto the white furry rug you had in you room. head hit the floor. cries, crying as you toss over and your head is thrown back, anguish in your face.

"no!" you sob. pain so deep it's unbearable. like a thousand swords stabbing your every body part.

and a slam. the door slams open and someone is by your side, cradling you into theirs. and you feel relief as blurry eyes look up. its caius, his red eyes focused on a figure and he hisses, snarling like a wild animal.

"i told you." his words are hissed, thrown into the air of guilt surrounding your raven-head mate.

@iloveslasher

[georgiapeach30513]

I could read Carter Baizen all day… but only how you write him.

Because Carter Rory Baizen is mostly a calm and loving husband and father. He can go a bit dark to protect his Story book, but "she never knows". If you think for one moment that Story isn't aware of what Carter has done for her, you'd be wrong, but she does let her husband think that. Carter is such an interesting character that can be flawed, but he loves what he has, and I'm not talking about the money. This man LOVES his family! Had him and Story not have their journey, they would be very different spouses. They cherish and appreciate each other so much.

This idea came from @tis-thedamn-season, she wanted to see a date/moment when Story fully let her walls down, and her and Carter became the couple that we know and love. Carter was extremely patient with Story. But...he did know so much that Dayton did in their relationship, and you guys...I haven't even got to their wedding event (because it is a multiple day event, and it's full of so many emotions BEFORE the wedding). I love this Carter so much.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Macarons

Summary: Carter takes Story on their first official date

Pairings: Carter X Story

Rating: 🥺🥺

Warnings: mentions of PPD and PTSD, vague mentions of Dayton’s abuse, Carter being a touch starved sweet boy, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.8K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Carter Baizen Masterlist

“Ransom…Mr. Drysdale, sir,” Carter stutters standing outside Ransom’s office, holding a chunky Otto who gives his Papa a big giggle.

“I’ve told you Carter,” Ransom responds walking over to the younger man, and he reaches for the giggly baby. “I think you’ve earned the right to call me Ransom. So what do I owe the pleasure of having my daughters two favorite boys?”

“Well…I uh.”

“Come sit down,” Ransom offers a chair before he walks behind his desk. “What are you trying to say.”

“It’s awkward, now that I think about it. But…she let me touch her.”

Ransom stares at the young man who climbed up his daughter’s window, and has never left the estate since. “She always has let you touch her. You two sleep in the same bed. I’m not following.”

“No…more intimately,” without warning a growl moves up Ransom’s throat and he quickly apologizes. “It wasn’t serious but…I love Story. I’m in love with her. And the happiest I have ever been was when we were dating. We did simple things like going to a farmer’s market or a drive. It was just us. And laughter and happiness. I want that. I don’t…I’m gonna marry her. And I want more kids with her, if she wants that, and well…babies need, they’re made…well you know. And I don’t want to skip the good parts.”

“What the hell are you babbling about Carter?”

“I don’t want to just have sex with Story. I want the dating phase back. But this time it won’t be a secret from you. I’ve rented out the aquarium for a few hours tomorrow night. There won’t be anyone there but she’ll get to have some normalcy. Her safety and comfortability is my priority. But I want your blessing. The one I should have asked for years ago. Please.”

“You’re taking my daughter on a date, and you’re being so formal,” Carter shrugs and gives a smile to his son who gurgles out nonsense, smacking at the desk.

“I appreciate this. And everything you’ve done for Story. Her whole life. I don’t think you’ll ever understand what it means to me. I know that it’s been difficult for you guys. She’s dealing with PPD, and some minor PTSD, and just overall a lot of mental anguish. You are patient and steady with her and I know it must be difficult. You’re being what I couldn’t for her mom. I want you to quit walking around on eggshells with me though. I approve of you. So yes, you may take your future wife on a date. And I will watch this handsome boy.”

“Thank you Ransom.”

“Next time don’t bring the baby as a bribing tool.”

___________________________________________

A lot of discomfort came from Story with leaving Otto. Her bright round eyes glossy with tears as she goes through Otto’s schedule. “I left plenty of breast milk in the fridge. Do not micro…”

“You don’t microwave the bag. You microwave the water and let the milk sit in it. I know. Me and your mother raised five kids.”

Her lips pepper kisses all over Otto’s face and she looks worried back to her dad. “What Story book?”

“What if…it’s been awhile since she’s asked to see him, but…”

“Do not worry about Jody. We’ve got a great alarm system. And by the agreement she does not have to know where you, Carter, or Otto is. And you can always check in. He’ll be fine. Even Bladey and Harry are here somewhere. Enjoy your date.”

She steps up to her dad, giving him a kiss on his cheek, “You look beautiful baby. He’s a lucky man to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Story sighs walking over to Carter who is the next to give all the love to their son.

“You keep Mimi and Papa safe, and I’ll keep your mama safe,” Otto giggles and blows bubbles up at his dad. A tiny little reach of his hand, and Carter holds out his finger for Otto to grab.

Taking a deep breath, he kisses on the baby’s forehead, turning to walk away, hand on the small of Story’s back as they go outside. Her eyes stay on the estate as long as possible when Carter finally speaks, “At any point we can go back. We’ll just bring him with us.”

Story releases a pitiful laugh and turns to look at Carter, “I want to do this for us. It is hard, to leave him. I don’t even like watching him through a monitor when…”

“Princess, let’s not talk about that. I don’t want you to get upset. He’s doing great. Crawling, pulling up,” Story over exaggerates a pout looking at him. “I know. Our baby, he’s growing so fast. Saying mama and even dada,” fluttering her eyes closed at the sound of our baby, Carter grabs up her hand to give her knuckles a gentle kiss.

The two falling into a comfortable silence, until a song on the radio has Story softly singing to Carter. When it’s finished they just talk about Otto, before Story stops, “We’re those parents,” she shakes her head laughing. “We’ve gotta get out more. Our conversations should not only revolve around our son.”

“I saw you brainstorming on a new book,” they talk about the story a moment before she’s asking him about his work. Moving on to the topic of movies, music, and everything in between. Conversing about their childhood and funny things that happened.

Upon the arrival to the aquarium, Carter runs to open Story’s door, and they enjoy a nice time with the marine life. The two of them constantly looking at the other instead of the tanks in front of them. Story loving how blue Carter’s eyes look in the lighting, while Carter can’t remember a time when she was more beautiful.

A soft smile always on her face, and when they’re not touching, her hand is always in search of his. More than once she leans over to rest her head on his shoulder. Even sliding her hand up his front, and either resting on his heart or his shoulder. Times like these, he can’t even keep his eyes open to view exhibit.

He had become completely unaware of how much he missed her soft touches. Even the way her perfume lingered on him after she removed her hands. He would never change what he was doing because Story has needed him more as a friend than a lover. But he missed her.

“Carter?” he opens his eyes, and realizes she’s staring right at him. “Carter, what’s wrong? Did…did I do something wrong? You’re crying.”

“Honey, no,” he hadn’t even realized he had been crying. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Gathering her hands he walks her over to the bench. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m right here.”

“No,” his eyes look all over her face, and he cups her cheek. “This you. The one that made me believe in love. The one that isn’t afraid of touching me, and I’ve missed it so much. But you’ve needed me in a different way.”

“But,” now her eyes are the ones with tears. Looking down from Carter’s usual stoic face, to his hand that’s refusing to touch her. She grabs his free hand, placing it on her leg. “You needed me too.”

“Not like you needed me. Story…I know. I know how Dayton was to you.”

She gives him a pained laugh, and looks back to the tank watching the fish. “I know. That man that came to his house. He used my phone to call you. I’m not broken. I’m not breaking. I’m healing. But,” she gulps and looks back at him. “It hurt you, too.”

“It was happening to you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Yes, it hurt me. It scared me. It pissed me off. He didn’t deserve you or Otto. He…I’m not sad about him dying and that scares and liberates me. He can never hurt you again. He took so much from you. Your body language was all over the place with him. And you’ve always been so comfortable with me, and I didn’t know what to do. I was just there waiting on you to tell me,” she laughs through her tears. Knowing all along that Carter would always be there for her.

“Story, this isn’t funny.”

“I know. I’m laughing because I was waiting on you to just hold me like you’ve always done. I’ve always felt safe and like the most important person in the world with you. You would never do the things he did. Or say the things he said. He just…he kept getting worse. And I didn’t know how to get out. How to tell someone that I was scared and living a lie. But you knew. You sent that man.”

“That’s not all I…”

“I love you. And we’re going to put it in the past. Let it live there and let us live now. You wanna have dinner here?”

Smiling he nods, setting up there little picnic. Going back to a less intense conversation. Even Story leans over towards him. Slotting her lips against his. Her body on auto pilot, it begins crawling closer, straddling him. She pulls up his hands to place on her body, and he starts kissing down the column of her neck. With one roll of her hips, she pushes back, and Carter immediately stops.

“We haven’t had dessert. The macarons look good,” picking up one, she places it in her mouth, and sighs. “Almost tastes like they came from Paris.”

He smiles up at her, loving her even more. “We should go. Just you, me, and our son.”

“To get macarons?”

“Well,” he can’t help but chuckle at her, even kissing her nose. “Why else do you go to Paris? We gotta go just for macarons. Let’s get Otto a passport just to make the most expensive dessert run in the world. Even though there’s a few Laudrée’s in New York.”

“We could see some other things. I’d love to hear you speak French again.”

“It’s broken French at best.”

“It’s beautiful. Just like you. Carter, can we go to hotel for a bit before going home?”

“As you wish.”

“No…can we just make out in the car? Or try…more intimate kissing?”

Carter gazes at the only woman he has ever truly loved. Her beauty beyond compare. But the thing that always surprised him, was just how strong she truly was. “If it gets too much, just tell me you’re ready to go to Paris and get macarons.”

“How about just macarons?”

“That works, too.”

Masterlist

[zoellajulien]

the chains that bind us

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1,343

Warning: Family fighting, Royalty AU, Kidnapping (Mention), Character death (Mention)

With a face scrunched up into a glare, hot tears running down your face, trembling hands, it was apparent you were experiencing burning, searing anger. There seemed to be no calm within you as you frustratedly fought with the material of the dress you wore while trying to remove it. Thoughts that could be considered punishable continued to run through your mind. Who does that thick-witted man think he is, telling me to find a man and replace the queen?

The maids' faces held obvious concern, but they did not speak. That, however, did not include the head servant. "Princess! Be careful! Ruining a dress tailored days ago will cause the king great distress." Despite having sound reasoning, the words went unregistered.

"That man's emotions have no meaning to me, as mine do not to him." You spat, eyes trained onto the wall in front of you. The gasp from the lower maids did not cause guilt. "I would be glad if his emotionless self experienced grief."

"My lady, you do not speak truth in your words. Please, try to calm yourself!"

At this, you turned. "Maiden Riene, you dare question the word of your princess?"

Before the woman could answer, a shudder went through you. With that, tears traveled down your cheeks and beneath your chin. All anger seemed to leave your body and change into various other emotions. Riene, who had spent many years in your presence and experienced more than a few breakdowns, enveloped you into a hug.

"Princess-"

You cut her off, reminding her to use your name instead of a flimsy title.

She changed her wording and continued, "what is prompting such sadness within you?"

There was a pause in the room, silence enveloping the four of you, excluding your heavy breathing. Your eyes, almost always bright with wonder, held deep angst and hurt instead. Taking a step with the intent to turn, Riene grasped onto your wrist. She did not utter a word, giving you much-needed space.

"He called me to his throne, told me we needed to speak. He handed me the ring he bestowed upon my mother during their marriage." Silence seemed to build thicker as confusion grew. "He told me that I needed to prepare myself to replace the queen. He told me he started the process of finding a 'worthy' husband."

The younger maids looked at each other. One spoke up timidly, "Princess, can I ask why that makes you sad?"

Moving towards the window, you sat down and stared at the gardens below. "My mother was a ruler most queens would only dream of becoming. She helped this kingdom prosper, along with the others around us, and gave many people jobs. She never let one servant fall under mistreatment by anyone. She convinced my father to let women become knights and fight for the kingdom." You smiled and placed a hand over your bracelet. "She always told me one thing, though. She told me to marry for love. Mother said that without marrying for love, miserable days do not get better. You will not have the reassurances of a friend to accept your lows without hesitance.

"My mother made me promise, swear my word to her, that I would not marry a man I did not love. I expected to stay true with Mother's help, but then she slept upon her deathbed. And my father, that belligerent man, expects me to take over what she left! To forget the vow I made to a woman with more intellect than he could fathom."

You could tell you got your point across, seeing as the two younger servants looked at you with wonder. Their looks of interest almost broke your static look into a smile due to reminding you of small children.

After more silence ensued, you took the initiative and motioned at your dress. The trio began carefully undoing the ties, buttons, zippers, and other things holding you tight in the dress. That gave you time to ponder the moments you had shared with the queen, sparking an idea.

"Rience, stop."

"My lady, what do you mean?"

"I request you fetch Prince Peter, King Anthony's child. Bring him here, for I must speak to him."

"Your highness, you are partially unclothed! His majesty will think sinful activities abound!" The third maiden, who had yet to speak since you entered your chambers, warned.

"Do not let the king find out, then. Go, all of you. My chambers are off-limits until I call for you again." Riene gave you a skeptical look, worried about leaving you with a boy. "I will not be doing anything you're imagining, please, have some sense. Now, go."

---

"If it isn't the fairest royal descendant in all of the land." Voice heavy with his accent, Peter entered your bedroom without knocking. How uncivilized, your father would say. You loved it.

"You flatter me, your highness." You tease, turning to look at him, smiling when he shined his grin at you.

"Oh, please, all the formalities! We sound as though we are ruler's consorts who are ordered about by their betrothed."

Standing in front of you was the widely known prince, Peter Parker. He wore his family crest proudly on his chest, son of the famed Anthony Stark. Once, he had been the child of a thriving family that served King Anthony well. However, tragedy struck the family when Peter's parents died due to one of the king's enemies' attempts at war. In a moment of guilt, the king brought the boy into his home. The Stark kingdom was not far, only a half-day trip west.

Peter had stood at 5' 8" at the age of fifteen, only to grow taller for the next three years. Now, he stood at 5' 10". His hair was a deep brown color, made up of several short ringlets that stuck out when not styled. His eyes were also brown but were a few shades lighter. His broad frame reminded you of your relatively small stature and warmed your cheeks as he held a confident presence.

"You're in distress. Why? What troubles you?" Peter's voice came out soft. His footsteps seemed even quieter as he made his way to sit beside you.

"Have my maidens told you?" Your voice did not come out laced with malice. Instead, an emotion similar to a mixture of hope and wonder filled the room.

"About your father? They have. I noticed the unease they carried, so I prodded until they granted me explanations. If it was a secret, it's best you punish me and not them."

When you hesitated to find words, he gazed at your appearance. In turn, you became uncomfortably aware that the dress you wore was tighter than usual around your waist. Was that just the corset? Did the color compliment your skin tone?

"Darling?"

"What? Oh. Apologies, I was lost in my thoughts. I do not wish punishment upon you or the girls. For, I expected and am rather glad they told you, as I do not need to."

"I understand you are in anguish. But, if I may ask, what can I possibly do to ease such feelings? Our families are bubbling a feud already-"

"I wish for you to remove me from this castle. I do not imply death, but I wish to escape the eyes of my father."

"What?"

For a fleeting moment, as you sat in front of someone you trusted with far more than your life, fear encased you. His expression was no short of confusion, with a heavy lining of panic as well. An undeniable terror tore through your chest, resulting in an unplanned and inelegant explanation to tumble from your lips.

"You've heard what my maidens have said." You stood and walked to your bed, pulling a light cover over your shoulders. "Tell me, is it kingly to break a widow's last wish? I can not fulfill what I promised with my father forcing a marriage down my throat."

"Princess, are you imply we stage your kidnapping?"

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