#take mercy on her mother's killer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kurithedweeb · 3 months

Text

I think we should talk more about the potential Malachi had to be absolutely terrifying. 900 years tormenting everyone who stepped into his haunt with their greatest fears and that just goes away? Malachi is getting his own story to explore this and I will call it "Spirit of Sin" because of CRIMES.

Malachi's magick, as we all know, involves showing a person their greatest fear. He can do this to multiple people at once and by the time the crew shows up at Malachi's manor (I know it's a castle but I always think of it as a manor) he can turn it on and off at will. The fears seem physically substantial and other people can see them. We also know that Malachi developed his magicks when he was pretty young, and he was sent away to live at the manor with a man who was either his therapist or his tutor so he could learn how to control it. Unfortunately, he didn't learn to do this before his power drove his therapist-tutor insane and the guy accidentally shoved Malachi off the balcony and now he haunts the place until the PD crew shows up.

He's very active for a number of years close to his death. The therapist-tutor, his family and servants are all still living in the manor. Malachi spends these first few years working out the worst of his emotions about being dead so young by being your standard poltergeist and driving his killer insane until he eventually drives the therapist-tutor to death and all the family and servants move out. All alone, Malachi cries for a bit and eventually goes to sleep.

Without bodily functions to wake him up, he spends the grand majority of his time in a dormant state, preserving his child mentality because he's never awake enough long enough to mature. He only really wakes up when someone steps onto the manor grounds, shocking him awake by just being in his haunt. The first time this happens, the manor's in disrepair and so dusty all the carpets have changed color and he's confused. Malachi pleads with the hapless adventurer who stumbled through the wards to help him, only to accidentally drive the poor soul mad. Ever since then, whenever someone wakes him up he uses them for practice.

But he doesn't stop once he has control. He's only ever awake when people show up at his door, when he's toying with them, and it takes so long that he starts to find a sort of enjoyment in the torment. He can't find any enjoyment in anything else. He's alone and sad and eventually enough time passes that he can't understand the language of his visitors anymore. It's still Ru'auni Common, but it's evolved so much he can hardly recognize a word. Malachi has become so isolated from the world that all he has left is this sadistic side of himself. And then Aph/Anastasia shows up.

900 years plus however many he was alive (7-10?) puts him at about the same age as Zoey and having been a kid when Irene was around the first time. Being Irene, some of the languages from when she was Irene got sent over when she became Anastasia. She can understand the ghost boy, and as soon as Malachi realizes she's actually responding to him, even if she jumbles her words, he latches onto her.

Finally, finally, someone he can talk to! Someone who's not afraid of his power, either! Malachi wants so desperately for some new kind of connection that he goes full child mode, turns off the sadist side of himself completely, and starts trying to endear himself to her through cuteness. Anastasia, feeling responsible for this bond he's tacked onto her, takes him in as one of her own. This leads to a close mother-son bond.

The thing about Malachi is that he changes for Anastasia. As far as we know, in canon, he stops using his magicks altogether since it's pretty much never mentioned again after they leave the manor. Aphmau is known and respected by Phoenix Drop's neighbors for her pacifist ways. Anastasia is a fairly peaceful person, the kind of leader who prefers to opt for mercy whenever she gets the chance, but Malachi has a surprising lack of regard for life. He doesn't care about death anymore. He's killed before, he's driven people to suicide before, Malachi's got no problem with it anymore, but Anastasia's personal views on killing without life-threatening justifications are that murder is Bad and so he conforms to her more peaceful ways.

Except then she disappears into the Irene dimension. Half the guard is gone, the Lord is gone, his mom is gone. Malachi's not big enough or strong enough to protect the village like she would have, but he can protect Levin. He has a baby brother now, one that he'd do anything for, and what Anastasia doesn't know won't hurt her.

The sadistic side of him, the side that really enjoys the torment and that called the fear of everyone you love dying 'boring,' never went away. He never grew out of it, he just toned it down and stopped acting on the occasional urges. He's just bringing this part of himself he buried back to the surface. But this side of him plus a total disregard for most life makes him absolutely ruthless.

Malachi's not a guard, he's not a soldier, he doesn't give a shit about anyone's honor. All he cares about is making sure his baby brother Lord Levin makes it through. He's an absolute powerhouse when he grows up, no sensible Lord wages war on Phoenix Drop no matter how weak they are because the Lord's right hand is an army in his own right. They tell stories about him. He's an absolutely terrifying fighter, a man who raises horrors and unspeakable things on every battlefield he sets foot on, a man who can turn the greatest of friends against each other with a wave of his hand. Malachi of Phoenix Drop never hesitates; he stopped hesitating centuries ago.

He only really dials it back down after the Irene Dimension crew sees it in action for the first time and show concern about what he might have had to become in their absence. As if he'd become something he wasn't already.

#let the ghost boy be a little horrifying sometimes!! let him be a little spooky!!#mcd malachi #dropofsunlightextras #minecraft diaries #mcd #mcd rewrite #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphverse #aphblr #drop of sunlight anastasia #mcd levin #mcd irene #irene the matron

83 notes · View notes

midnightmoonytales · 1 year

Text

𝔽𝕦𝕟 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕒𝕜𝕖 | ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕔 𝕊𝕝𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟 𝔾𝕒𝕟𝕘 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

A/n: Pls bc writing for the Slytherin gang has itched a piece of my brain I didn't even know needed to be scratched. I'm addicted to it - headcanon and drabbles and all. (also omg another post - who am I)

No mentions of Gender :) Unedited

Summary: It's a hot day on Saturday in April; nowhere you go can you run from the heat. The only solution is a fun day at the lake with your friends.

<><><>

Almost everybody was inside today, minus a few stragglers who decided to either practice Quidditch or hang out by the lake. The heat made everything sticky, hot, and uncomfortable. Unfortunately, those who even resided inside were at the mercy of the April heat.

"It's bloody hot; why did we choose to come out here instead of the comfort of our freezing common room?" Pansy asked, fanning herself off with the Christmas fan her mother gifted her. The shade of the large willow tree provides you small bits of comfort from the blaring April sun.

Mattheo and Theodore could be found near the edge of the lake, rough-housing with each other, sweat glistening off their skin. A few feet to the right, Draco skips rocks across the lake in hopes of getting the Kraken to respond. Blaise was resting higher up in between the branches of the tree, enjoying a book he stole from the common room before you lot left. Taking your eyes off the boys and to a distraught Pansy.

"Would you rather be stuck elbow-to-elbow with some sleazy first-years?" You grumbled, grimacing at the thought of being stuck with a bunch of sweaty children in a compacted room. "Didn't think so!" You barked, the distraught look on Pansy's face as she imagined herself stuck in a horrid situation such as that, filling you with joy.

"Oi, Ferrett boy!" Mattheo shouted, taking everyone's attention away from what they were doin'. "Kraken ain't gonna waste its precious time skippin' some rocks." As if the Kraken heard him, a tentacle shot out of the water, catching a rock that Draco tossed, only to fling it straight at Mattheo's head, hitting him square smack in the middle of the forehead.

There was a moment of silence before everyone, except Mattheo, busted out laughing. Mattheo was leaning over, grabbing his forehead, which only made everyone else laugh harder. "That's what you get, you damn git; leave the boy alone," You hollered, holding your stomach as you leaned onto Pansy laughing.

"Why you!" Mattheo growled, running fast towards you, the look of a killer present on his face. (this is a skin of a killer Bella) A mediocre scream left your mouth as you bolted up, rushing away from Mattheo. You'd be damned if he caught you - Unfortunately for you, he did.

"Let me down, you oaf," You yelled, hitting his back as he rushed towards the lake. You had no intention of getting wet today. You were met with a rush of cold water, a yelp admitting from your lips as your body hit the water. Unluckily for Mattheo, you latched onto him, bringing him into the chilling water with you. "If I'm going down, you're going down with me," you said, tackling him as he trashed out of the water.

Maybe you all would have to come to the Lake more often.

<><><>

@ghostofscarley @devilishwitchfantasies

#slytherin gang x reader #hp fandom #draco malfoy x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #blaise zabini x reader #theodore nott x reader #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini

429 notes · View notes

davekat-sucks · 8 months

Note

lute x adam is better than davekat and chaggie. they both sound killer singing together.

also just like wish's "villain", I find no fault in adam's reasoning, sinners such as rapists and pedos should be eradicated. i dont give a fuck about how apparently there are random kids in hell to emotionally manipulate the audience, for all we know that could be a grown ass man pretending to be a kid, and maybe that could have been more interesting: to see a hell's citizen take advantage of vaggie's kindness. it'd explain her trust issues & lute's bizarre reaction to actual mercy.

whats up with modern shows/films these days and their weird morals...

Adam x Lute is better than Davekat and Chaggie. Funny enough, Vivziepop confirmed that pedophiles, Nazis, and racists are already wiped out after they died. Like, human pedophiles/Nazis/racists who die, don't go to hell, limbo, purgatory, or heaven. They just get erased from existence. Angels have nothing to do with it. The Hazbin/Helluva universe already does its work. Of course, imps and hellborn creatures like hellhounds or the Sin ringleaders, can still be pedophiles, Nazis, and racists. But they are exempt from extermination. So the only sinners that do get sent to Hell to just do the same old shit would be murderers, con artists, human traffickers, rapists, and those who commit slavery, are still around. Which makes me question where does child murderers or those who lead child human trafficking and slavery fall in. Do they get wiped out from existence too if they didn't touch the child in that way? Do they get wiped out from existence for harming a young soul? Or do they get straight sent to Hell because murder is bad, regardless of age? Probably doesn't help that Heaven already admitted they don't know the requirements of people getting into Heaven, so it's a mystery on who is even checking since apparently at this point, even innocent souls who likely died of accident or bad circumstances, get sent to Hell regardless. It probably will be answered later on by some bullshit means, but it raises more questions on when in point did that become a thing. People pointed out that Angel Dust's sister, MOLLY, is there. What point in time Heaven allowed others to get in before it all changed with the extermination? Does even something small as when you were a kid stealing from the cookie jar, count as a major sin to be sent straight to Hell and that's why the child is sent in? Who the fuck knows. Maybe it will get answered in finale. Maybe they will hold it off for season 2 since it is confirmed and they are already recording the lines as we speak. I think the reason for these weird morals in recent modern media, just only goes for the straight black-white mortality, but hide it differently in these recent times as an act of justice that we won't make the same mistakes like we did in the past. Unfortunately, they are but are too ignorant to see it. Also in the case of how Hazbin Hotel is presenting with its rushed pacing, people, audiences and creators, would rather get to the heart of the matter fast and immediately than to build it up on how to get there. Why the fuck should we know about Camille and her backstory when all that matters is that she is a protective mother and that's it? No need to build up sustenance, all it matters is just the emotional factor to pull at your heartstrings for one moment like a quick sugar rush. No need to show the slow burn romance of why Vaggie likes Charlie. All it matters that she is now cute lesbians with her and its a good rep for LGBT. TL;DR of that is people are impatient.

#Hazbin Hotel #Helluva Boss #Hazbin Hotel Critical #Adam x Lute

135 notes · View notes

queer-geordie-nerd · 1 month

Text

“In 1941, after a dramatic turn of events, both outside and inside the country, Croatia proclaimed independence, becoming a puppet state of the German Third Reich. The Independent State of Croatia (NDH – Nezavisna Drzava Hrvatska) was born. Almost immediately, racial laws were introduced. Fritz (my grandfather) had just come back from his travels abroad when the new law forced him to return to the town of his birth in order to register as a Jew and get a yellow star on his sleeve. His sisters who stayed in Bosnia were in hiding. Both of them had married Serbs because, even with Serbs being hated and persecuted, it was still better to be a Serb than a Jew.

“It’s still better to be a Serb than a Jew” – I would hear that same exact sentence from a Hungarian consul in London in 1993, while we were applying for a visa. The consul meant it as a joke. But my husband and I, people with no country or passport at the time, did not laugh. We could not understand how this man had managed to identify us as a Serb and a Jew respectively, although we ourselves had never mentioned those facts and our travel documents did not hold that information. Are all racists of this world connected in some unknown, mysterious way? Do they know facts about us that even we don’t know?

Fritz was torn. He had an invitation to emigrate to Israel. My mother would mourn his refusal to take that offer throughout her whole life. Why didn’t he leave? He was a fairly well-known figure in Zagreb. One of his best friends was Bozidar Adzija, a respected leftist writer and politician. A street in Zagreb bore his name until the right wing Tudjman government changed it in the nineties.

This group of young people was infected by progressive ideas about a world without nationalism and religious sectarianism. Fleeing to Israel must have seemed like giving up on those ideas. It meant seeking refuge with your own tribe and thus denouncing the idea of being a citizen of the world. At least I presume that was one of the reasons to stay. There was also the well known human habit of refusing to believe the worst could ever happen. Also, finding solace in the word of the law, even if that law seems wrong (If I obey the law, they would not hurt me, would they? The answer is: yes, they would.)

Fritz obediently returned to his town of Bijeljina and registered as a Jew. He went searching for his sisters who chased him away: he was a danger to them. They were hiding in a Serbian Orthodox church where the authorities didn’t dare to touch them. They both took their husbands’ Serbian names. They didn’t want to risk capture because of their brother. Later on, in discussions with my Jewish family in Belgrade, I would always detect an animosity towards Fritz: how dared he endanger the family? Fritz was on his own, without protection from anyone. He was immediately captured by the Bosnian pro-Nazi Muslim police and transferred to the Croatian Ustashas. And that’s how he found himself in Jasenovac concentration camp.

That beautiful, soft, elegant, educated man was now digging mud from the smelly ditch surrounding the camp, at the mercy of enthusiastic killers. It wouldn’t last long. How old was he when he died? I could never find out. He had disappeared without a trace. Branka spent the war in Zagreb, under the strict antisemitic laws, studying French and Yugoslav literature at the university. She would hide from all the horror behind books. They were saving her life. On the practical front, she started using her biological mother’s name, Savić, because – as I said before – in that time and that place it was still better to be a Serb than a Jew. But what really protected her during the Nazi years in Croatia was her adoptive mother, Ljuba.”

- Mira Furlan, Love Me More Than Anything In the World

#mira furlan #book excerpt #this book is definitely not a light hearted read #this pretty much sets the tone

32 notes · View notes

randomishnickname · 8 months

Text

Thinking about Amma Crellin and her actions as reflections of the social hierarchy she grew up in. (spoilers under the cut)

Amma is pretty much Windgap royalty. Not only is her family extremely wealthy, her mother holds power over the livelihoods of big parts of the population. Her family history is deeply tied to that of Windgap. The sheriff and other officials are at Adora's beck and call. Everyone knows Adora and deferes to her, and this status transfers to Amma:

She plays the star part in the school play as a matter of course. She can get away with everything, from shoplifting to breaking curfew, from taking drugs to insulting and taunting a police officer. She's hot shit and very good at being a hot girl to boot, on the way to being prom queen like Camille once was. Her friends do everything she wants. Boys, she feels, are hers to control. Others are her playthings. At home, she's at the mercy of her mother. In the rest of Windgap, she's invicible.

Then, Ann and Natalie. Both outsiders who moved to Windgap only recently, their family without social capital worth speaking of. Both freaks, misfits - tomboys and late bloomers, still running through the woods instead of following the norms of girlhood and femininity. Still lacking self-control, prone to tantrums and biting. In the social hierarchy both of the school and the town, they're near the bottom - it's interesting Amma was friends with them once at all, but then this keen sense for social status often becomes more prominent once puberty hits. I think it's a safe bet they were bullied. They were not cool girls. And so Amma, who never faces consequences for everything, who's royalty, who has friends entirely devoted to her - she's safe killing them, in her good right almost, they're nobodies, and Windgap, that she knows so well, proves her right by not even once suspecting her. Had not an other outsider and freak, Camille, disturbed the status-quo, she would have gotten away with everything swimmingly. Her friends laugh about it too - Ann and Natalie's lives don't seem to have had much worth to them.

[I do believe her choice of killing Natalie wasn't entirely out of convenience either - I have the suspicion that Amma had a childhood crush on Natalie's older brother John that got rejected, and that killing his beloved little sister was a form of punishment for this unheard of outrage. Amma telling Camille John fancies her (despite him treating her like a venomous snake in the pool scene) could be a sort of wish fullfilment. Would explain how viciously she latches onto the 'baby killer' narrative.]

And then, Mae. To me it's VERY MUCH not a random choice to have Mae be a black kid. The only people of color Amma has probably ever met in the conferedate nostalgia enclave of Windgape are domestic workers that obeyed her, or workers at her mother's pig farm who defered to her, all of them incredibly lower on the social hierarchy than the litte Windgap princess. And now she meets this black city kid, who lives in a rented apartment, maybe with a single mom. That's not someone Amma would respect, or consider on her level, but instead I think she'd have this deep belief that Mae was her inferior and should obey her, defer to her. Did she plan on killing her when Camille granted Mae attention? Or did Mae refuse her somehow, got sick of being bossed around, in this fight they supposedly had?

And I love how all of this is both implicit and subtle yet crystal clear, in everything we learn about Ann and Natalie, the way their peers describe them (in contrast to the adults who are more proficient liars), in every interaction we see between the white upper class of Windgap and POCs.

#amma crellin #sharp objects #sharp objects spoilers #spoilers #meta #sharp objects meta #my posts #this is about the show only haven't read the book

57 notes · View notes

artemis-potnia-theron · 1 year

Text

Artemis + 💀

tw: death

"Artemis is often at the center of stories about painless death, and many of her followers pray to her for a merciful sleep.

In the latter half of the Odyssey, Penelope wishes that Artemis would give her the peace of death and pierce her heart with a golden arrow and ease her pain (18.202, 20.061).

There is something powerful in the position of Artemis as 'Savior.' Here, she is not just protectress or mother, as Artemis Eileithyia, but straddles the boundaries between life and death.

She is the merciful killer. This duality between the active healing, which gives life, and the active slaying, which takes life, is what makes Artemis singularly important within the Greek pantheon."

- She Who Hunts: Artemis: The Goddess Who Changed the World by Carla Ionescu (pg. 43)

#artemis #artemis deity #goddess artemis #artemis devotion #artemis devotee #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pantheon #hellenic gods #hellenic community #hellenic pagan #hellenic paganism #hellenic polytheist #hellenic worship #tw: death

185 notes · View notes

countrymusiclover · 3 months

Text

12 - Guilty of being a Dwarf

Part 13

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

If y'all readers ever have ideas my ask box is totally open for them or feedback

Jaime’s pov

“This isn't a trial. It's a farce. Cersei has manipulated everything and you know it.” Following my father into his office chamber I knew this trial had to be changed. There's no way Tyrion would live if this kept going on for much longer.

Father denied my response. “I know nothing of the sort.”

“You've always hated Tyrion.”

“He killed his king.” My father raised his voice.

“As did I! Do you know the last order the Mad King gave me? To bring him your head.” I raised my voice in defense thinking back on the night I murdered the Mad King. “I saved your life so you could mirder my brother?”

He tapped his fingers on the desk, seeing that I didn't agree. “It won't be murder. It'll be justice. I'm performing my sworn duty as Hand of the King. If Tyrion is found guilty, he will be punished accordingly.”

“He'll be executed.”

“No, he'll be punished accordingly.” He said back to me.

Lowering my gaze to the ground I knew there was only one thing that could save both my brother and my princess from harm's way. “Once you said family is what lives on. All that lives on. You told me about a dynasty that would last 1,000 years. What happens to your dynasty when Tyrion dies? I'm a Kingsguard, forbidden by oath to carry on the family line.”

“I'm well aware of your oath.” Father grumbled under his breath.

“What happens to your name? Who carries the lion banner into future battles? Your nephews? Lancel Lannister? Others whose names I don't even remember?”

My father snapped back at me. “What happens to my dynasty if I spare the life of my grandson's killer?”

“It survives through me.” Closing my eyes briefly I knew I'd joined the Kingsguard for Cersei but now I'd leave it all behind to be with Vaella. “I'll leave the Kingsguard. I'll take my place as your son and heir if you let Tyrion live.”

“Done. When the testimony's concluded and a guilty verdict rendered, Tyrion will be given the chance to speak. He'll plead for mercy. I'll allow him to join the Night's Watch. In three days' time, he'll depart for Castle Black and live out his days at the Wall.” Father answered so quickly that I wasn’t sure how to react. “You'll remove your white cloak immediately. You will leave King's Landing to assume your rightful place at Casterly Rock. You will marry a suitable woman and father children named Lannister. And you'll never turn your back on your family again.”

“I have one condition on who I'll marry.” I dropped my shoulders heavily knowing there was taking the words back after this. “Vaella Targaryen is who I shall marry and no one else.”

“The Targaryen's are all gone.”

I shook my head no. “That’s not true. I've been helping her hide since the day I killed her father. You wouldn't recognize her since she hides her hair underneath a bandanna and sticks to the shadows of the Red Keep.”

“Where is she at this very moment?”

I answered my father simply. “Looking at the Iron Throne.”

Vaella’s pov

Everyone else had cleared the large room leaving me time alone t9 stare at the familiar Throne before me. I remembered my father spending his days and nights sitting upon it. I remembered the day he sent my mother away and the declaration that she had died shortly before my father was stabbed in the back literally. “I wish you got the chance to meet your grandchild, mother. I wish you could've met your niece or nephew as well, Rhaegar.”

I remained standing a few feet away from the Iron Throne room knowing that the next part of Tyrion’s trial would take place that morning. Everyone in this city believed he killed him, except for Jaime and I. Two white cloak guards made their way up to me and I went to curtesy until one of them grabbed me by the arm and the other took hold of my left arm where I knew something was wrong. “Ser's, what is the meaning of this?”

“The Hand of the King wishes to see you, handmaiden.” One responded.

I grunted against their tight grips. “What could he want with me?”

“He didn't say. We were just sent to retrieve you.”

I spit in the one guards face doing my best to get away from them. “Like hell you will!” I thrashed and kicking against them until the second guard pushed me body between his and the nearest stone wall.

“We're twice your size, girl. Stop fighting before this only gets worse.”

He released his grip and I huffed letting them escort me to the Hand of the King's chambers even though I recalled where it was. The two guards pushed me inside and I collapsed into familiar areas when the door slammed shut. “Ahh! Jaime.”

“Did they hurt you?” He cupped my faxe in his hands so I could feel the golden hand against my cheek.

Shaking my head I gently gripped his wrists with my fingernails worried what was happening. “Just tossed me around a bit. Nothing I can't handle. But I don't understand - what is going on?”

“My son tells me you're the last Targaryen daughter of Aerys II that still lives in Westeros. Is this true girl?” Tywin Lannister's voice met my ears and a shiver ran through my whole body.

“Yes, my lord it is true.”

Tyein commands me. “Provie it to me.”

“Vae, it's to save Tyrion-” Jaime trailed off.

“It's okay.” Stepping away from him I raised my hands behind my head undoing the knot on the bandanna, letting my long silver hair cascade down my back and in front of my shoulders. “Name how many people who have this hair, my lord.”

The lord of the Rock leans back in his chair. “I have sent for you because my son has declared that you are to wed to save his dwarf brother. You will travel to Casterly Rock with my son and become Lady Lannister. You will bear his children and further House Lannister and if you refuse you will suffer the same fate as the other Targaryen children. Do I make myself clear?”

“I’m already with child, my lord. His child to be exact.” I nervously twirled the ring necklace around in my fingers before lowering one hand down to my belly.

Tywin focused his gaze on his eldest son and almost showed a smile before he let us go. “There may be hope for you yet, boy.”

Jaime and I had entered the throne room together side by side heading over to the dwarf on the stand who clearly saw the concerned loom across my face. “Not going well, is it?”

“You're going to be found guilty.” Jaime uttered bluntly.

Tyrion chuckled dryly. “Oh, you think so?”

“When you are, you need to enter a formal plea for mercy and ask to be sent to the Wall. Father's agreed to it. He'll spare your life and allow you to join the Night's Watch” Jaime switched his tone needing him to understand the plan.

Tyrion began to understand but was hesitant. “Ned Stark was promised the same thing and we both knowhow that turned out.”

“Father is not Joffrey. He'll keep his word.” Jaime and Tyrion shifts their gaze seeing Cersei sitting back down.

Tyrion asked him. “How do you know?”

“Do you trust me? Keep your mouth shut. No more outbursts. This will all be over soon.” Jaime asked him watching his brother give a slight head nod yes in agreement before we moved to stand a few feet away from the throne but still in front of the crowd of people.

Tyrion’s girlfriend had come on the stand as the final witness and that's when he just lost it lowering his head muttering under his breath. “I wish to confess. I wish... to confess.”

“You wish to confess?” Tywin asked when the crowd fell quiet.

“I saved you. I saved this city and all your worthless lives.” Tyrion turned his attention to the crowd behind him. “I should have let Stannis kill you all.”

Tywin warned with his tone. “Tyrion. Do you wish to confess?”

“Yes, Father. I'm guilty. Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?”

Tywin questions him. “You admit you poisoned the king?”

“No, of that I'm innocent. I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf.”

‘You are not on trial for being a dwarf.” Tywin rolled his eyes annoyed.

Tyrion snarled back. “Oh, yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life.”

“Have you nothing to say in your defense?” Tywin wasn't sure how long this trial would go on for.

“Nothing but this-- I did not do it. I did not kill Joffrey, but I wish that I had. Watching your vicious bastard die gave me more relief than 1,000 lying whores.” Tyrion faced his gaze on his older sister who leaned forward in her chair before he shouted a threat at the citizens of King's Landing stood. “I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you. I would gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it.”

Tywin quickly rose up from his seat on the Iron Throne. “Ser Meryn. Ser Meryn. Escort the prisoner back to his cell.”

“I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder. And I know I'll get no justice here. So I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat.” Tyrion challenges his father causing me to grasp Jaime’s hand in mine not really concerned who saw, more worried for the life of my friend and brother in law before my eyes.

24 notes · View notes

glittering-moonlillie · 2 years

Text

Tightrope (Damian Wayne x LOA! Reader)

Warnings: Heavy mentions of abuse, a few curse words. I made this more hurt comfort rather than angst, I'm sorry :<

Summary: Ever since the both of you were younger, you taught Damian the importance of hope and - even if it took years - he was more than happy to help you believe in it again.

Word Count: 4085

Hope; it was the essence that life was built upon, the attribute that humans cling to in times of despair and grief. It was the shining light at the end of the dark tunnel, the soldier who - with gritted teeth - flipped off the dictator of life and continued to fight, bloodied, bruised and all.

All you ever did was hope: hoped for a brighter future, hoped for control, hoped to explore and create rather than neglect and diminish. Whether it was in the middle of training, while you were sleeping, or studying, hope was the hidden deity you worshiped with every fiber of your little body.

As you grew older, it was apparent that you were not born in the correct body. Your mother was a top assassin in an organization called The League of Assassins. She was taught to be a ruthless killer in order to serve the League’s higher purpose - to achieve balance in the world and create environmental harmony through slaughtering most of humanity. Instead of crafting, she helped to steal the lives of thousands, ripping them away from the world with precision.

It was a responsibility of your mothers to be “the fang that protected the head,” which now meant it was your responsibility as well. From an early age, you were shaped to be a weapon. Your mother’s hands carefully molded your clay body, her expert hands knowing what ridges to smooth and what areas to sharpen.

But the clay was too stubborn, too hard for her to mold perfectly, and resulted in a dull clump that was useless. One could imagine the disappointment of your mother, who served to be Talia’s right hand woman. When you were born, everyone expected you to have the same instinctual skill as your mother - the ability to contort into the shadows like a lethal chameleon with the ease of a slithering cobra, not to be some mindless dreamer.

You were useless in combat compared to your mother; the grip on your weapon would always waver and your feet would sway at the thought of killing someone. You always ended up being one of the first spotted in the League’s version of Hide and Seek and subsequently faced harsh punishment. Logically, you weren’t the most competent war strategist either. Sure, you weren’t an idiot, but planning a tactical win against a horde of ninja’s was not your forte.

And you would never be able to calculate the trajectory you would need to throw a shuriken in order for it to slice someone’s neck.

A people pleaser at heart, you certainly tried your best to be who your mother wished you to be. Despite your heart wanting to hurdle itself away into the night sky so it could be at peace with the stars, it was trapped in this monstrous clay construction, doomed to kill - doomed to serve.

Wake up.

Train.

Eat.

Train.

Meditate.

Study.

Train.

Eat.

Shower.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Life was a broken record, repeating its meaningless tune to an empty audience. So you hoped. You eagerly wished for some sort of reprieve, searched for a meaning more than destruction with frantic hands and wild eyes until you struck gold. Soon, your hope bloomed into a boy.

Damian was the son of Talia Al Ghul, with a soft face and forest green eyes, the raven black hair atop his head swooping to the right. He shouldered the weight of his family, his legacy and it showed. His confidence was as lustrous as an emerald. By the age of nine, he could easily take down every single member of the league (with the exception of his family) and had the tactical brilliance of Sun Tzu.

Damian was not known for his kindness, no one in the League was. You were all raised to be merciless killers, mercy would only display weakness and get yourself killed. Damian seemed to detest everyone in the League, so it puzzled you as to why someone like him decided to show you kindness.

Due to your inept nature, most leaguers often mocked you for your incompetence in battle. Their insults were displayed on your body like intricate cave paintings. Damian was the only exception, the radiant diamond that made you feel like the luckiest person. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or sympathy, but he quickly became your one and only friend.

His touch was delicate, as if he were grasping at the stem of a dandelion in order to preserve a wish. Words fell out of his mouth like an uplifting melody. Damian made it his personal mission to train you himself, if not to serve the League, than to at least protect yourself properly. You made it your mission to instill the same hope that burned through your bloodstream.

Training sessions that were filled with monochrome decay suddenly overflowed with special secrets and inside jokes between you and Damian - stories shared, wishes whispered, and dreams dreamt in the massive room that instantaneously felt too cramped. It felt like stealing bits and pieces of your childhoods back, simultaneously feeling enough yet not enough at all.

The first genuine smile Damian gave you felt like you were just given the keys to a whole kingdom. There was something so uniquely special about it, as if you just discovered the end of a rainbow. He had a couple of missing teeth that you assumed would grow back in a few months, eyes crinkling for what seemed to be the first time ever.

You expressed to him your desire to leave behind the legacy of your mother, to become a leaf swept up by the wind instead of being the bark that stubbornly grew its roots in one spot since at least the leaf would experience more of life than the tree ever will, even if it becomes brittle rust within a few days.

More than anything, you wished to be swept away by the wind, the tide, anything would do really.

He confided that he, deep down, wished to spend his days painting and growing a menagerie of rescued animals instead of living in the shadow of his mother and grandfather. But unlike you, he was also committed to proving himself and making a difference. He was the very best of the best, and his talent would be wasted if he were just a measly painter.

Just as he trained you to fight properly, you encouraged him to pursue what he wanted, even if it went against everything else he was taught.

After a few years of growing with each other, blossoms of a strong admiration and affection began to develop. Despite knowing loving him would face scorn, it was hope that made you believe you had a chance.

“I promise you, when I am in charge, you will be able to leave this place anytime you please.” He said to you, giving you that wicked smirk he always did when he was awfully proud of himself.

Damian covertly fashioned a simple promise band that day. It was made of softened branches, braided with the delicacy of hair. Tangled between the braids were small baby’s-breath, winking at you as the sun illuminated their features. He slipped it on your ring finger, as if it was a proposal, as if the two of you had a choice all along.

The ring used to be a sign of innocent childhood romance, the physical embodiment of your hope. You used to clutch it tightly, wearing it with pride wherever you went, not knowing that life was sneaking up behind you to violently snatch it away with its bony hands and cold grasp.

Now it just hung loosely around your neck, tucked underneath your clothes and hidden from the sunlight. You had walked the fine line between hope and delusion and it was only when Damian left that you realized you had been worshiping gods who would never hear your pleas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gotham city twinkled under the guidance of the waxing moon, and for a moment, it almost looked beautiful. But it was a city where crime never slept, where screams echoed and smog filled the air. It was a constant reminder of why Damian will keep fighting, even if his body aches, even if he is beaten down time and time again.

His purpose was to protect and save people, and he would do so even if it killed him. He was so eager to succeed, to strive and be better that it sometimes blinded him. But it was better than facing failure; it tasted of rotten fruit and bitter mugmort and he was not jumping at the chance to taste it again. Letting someone die was worse than making the choice to kill someone.

Perched on one of the gargoyles, the stone withering from the constant downpours, Damian allowed himself to be consumed by the thought of you. You never belonged somewhere like the League of Assassins, and Damian used to find it amusing. A group of highly skilled killers and one girl who only longed to be a professional dreamer, to soar the skies instead of being trapped in a steel cage - a girl that reminded him that there was more to life than just fulfilling a legacy. The last time he talked to you was almost a decade ago. He recalls the exact way your smile disappeared, the way the sunlight in your eyes was swept away by dark, foggy clouds.

Remembers how he swore to come back for you, only to be told you were killed right before he came back. Heartbreak consumed him then and it only worsened with time. Despite lashing out on everyone, Damian knew deep down it was his fault.

That is why he fights.

But tonight, Gotham was mostly quiet. Damian’s shoulders fell as he let the rain wash over him, letting the tension melt away. The night was growing old and since there was nothing amiss, he decided it best to retire for the night.

Making sure not to misstep, Damian got up and lifted himself onto the rooftop of the industrial building, gripping the grappling hook and preparing to swing himself to safety.

The hook latched into the darkened building, allowing Damian to swing across. Tainted air filled his lungs, settling into his body with a delicate sting, wind whipping angrily through his hair. It was the closest Damian ever felt to flying, to touching the same blue canvas you wished to be a part of.

A loud snap ripped through the air, and before Damian could react, he was rolling on the floor and bumping into a putrid dumpster. Damian grimaced. The pavement sweated with grime, making it more of an inconvenience for him to jump back up and assess the damage done.

The cord of the grappling hook had split in two but the cut seemed too precise with the frayed ends sticking up equally, meaning that the rope did not just snap; it must have been cut with something sharp enough to slice through enhanced nylon.

Damian dropped the rope and slinked back into the corner, his eyes squinting through the dark. He watched the shadows cautiously and slowed his breath to a faint whisper; the grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles turned a pale white.

There was a faint scurrying to his right, almost like a rat or another small rodent but the weight of each step did not match. The light steps progressively got louder, allowing Damian to step into the correct fighting stance.

He caught the small shuriken between his fingers as it whirled towards his face “Tt, whoever you are, you are absolutely terrible at sneaking up on people.” He tossed the weapon to the grimy floor. “Reveal yourself.”

A person languidly stepped out from the darkness - a walking shadow - with the only light reflected being from the glint of a palm sized weapon, most likely a dagger. Judging from the person’s curves and movement, he assumed they were a woman. If this was his mother’s doing, this would have been the first time she sent a woman after him.

“Who are you?” He inquired, voice coarse and echoing across the walls of the alleyway. Instead of an answer, he was met with the sudden charge from the inexperienced assassin who’s blade barely grazed his cheek. Damian grabbed the woman’s forearm and twisted it, using his other arm to keep them at a safer distance as she tried to swing the dagger (incorrectly) at him like a magical wand.

The woman grunted in pain, letting the dagger drop to the floor with a deafening clank. Letting her forearm go, Damian lightly kicked the person to the floor, pushing a fraction of his weight onto the solar plexus. He glared down, his eyes scanning the slick, black material and immediately recognized it as the one he was forced to wear when he was younger.

So his mother did send this person after him.

“P-please…” It was a hushed mumble mixed together with the person’s frantic breaths. His eyes scanned again and he noticed the way the woman’s eyes were thin and constricted, examining him as he was her. The terrified look on her face seemed familiar, like something from a hazy dream or an old scrapbook. For a split second, Damian thought the person looked awfully similar to you, only for the thought to be immediately swept away as soon as it appeared. It couldn’t be you, you died.

“Who are you?” He asked again, lightening the pressure of his foot. “Why did my mother send you after me?”

She continued to thrash around and murmur incoherent words, causing Damian to grumble. “If you aren’t going to answer me, I may as well dispose of-”

Before he could finish the empty threat, the hair of the woman, which shifted out of the shawl covering most of the face, leaked out like a tube of acrylic oil. The shade…it was similar to yours as well…

His heart began to leap in the air, long-forgotten hope pumping from his heart to his brain. He completely shifted his weight off of the woman and slowly leaned down.

Of course, this could have been chalked up to wishful thinking and mindless absurdity. But he, deep down, wanted to believe, to hope.

“I won’t hurt you…” He said softly, reaching out to the shawl. He tugged at it to reveal a mess of hair the color of his wishes, prayers, and dreams combined.

A few tears ran down the cheeks of the stranger, the fabric of the mask covering their mouth absorbing the liquid almost immediately. “D-don’t…shouldn’t…shouldn’t know who I am…”

“Why not?”

“I-I…you…” She paused, averting her eyes up to his once more. “Your mother wants you back in the League.” She finished, her gentler voice turning rigid and empty like a robot.

“I’ve told her once that I do not wish to be part of her League. I’m not sure how many times I need to make this explicitly clear to her.”

“No!” She suddenly pounced on Damian, voice quivering as she pressed another shuriken to his neck. “You can’t do that! Please, Damian. You don’t understand, t-the League needs you, I-I….I need to take you home o-or…or else…”

Damian felt his soul tear itself from his body, felt as if every single wound he tried desperately to cover was unearthed and drenched in lemon juice and salt. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to break out into laughter or crumble into tears.

Dangling between the two was an old and battered ring, decayed with age. Everything began to click together. The hair was the same beautiful shade, the voice was almost the exact melody, even the combat reflected the same clumsy style.

It was you.

Your eyes wandered down, widening once they saw that the ring escaped the confines of your shirt. You hastily ripped it out of Damian’s view, quickly dropping the artillery and scrambling off of him, your chest heaving.

“Y/n…” He hesitantly reached for the warmth of your hand, not wanting to let you slip through his fingers again. It was a miracle, a shooting star in the palm of his hand, twinkling with the fiery hope of a phoenix feather. He already lost you once, broke his promise, and he will never let that happen again.

“You left me…you left me there to die…” You nudged his hand away, refusing to turn towards him.

“I would never leave you there to die! I came back for you a few months later once I convinced my father and I was told you died on a mission! They said your mother did not want to revive you because you were useless!” He argued.

Damian reached for you again, desperately, the need to see you smile for him, because of him overrunning every sense of logic he normally abided by. Your shoulders were tensed as the rest of your body trembled, managing to break Damian’s frigged heart even more.

“I looked for you everywhere. I almost killed every single person in that fucking building when they said you were murdered, as if it did not matter.” He said in a broken mutter. Damian let his arms wrap around your neck loosely, resting his chin delicately on your head. “I’m sorry, Y/n…I…I failed you.”

You placed your jittery hands on top of his and clutched them just as you did when you were both younger. The sleeves of the assassin attire fell down to your elbows, exposing branches of lighter skin, twisting and curling like cruel birthmarks. “What happened to you?”

Damian couldn’t help but trace the scars with his index finger, counting how many he noticed. Blood trickled down his lip as he tried not to let rage cloud his judgment.

“When you left…m-my mother…she…” As tears slipped down your cheeks, Damian couldn’t contain the urge to gently kiss them away the same way he did the day he left. “Training became more intense…I was sent on more missions and…and every time I failed…”

Your voice trailed off, replaced with painful cries. “I-If I don’t bring you back…if you don’t rejoin the League again she might actually kill me…”

Damian watched as you erratically took off the first layer of clothing, revealing a plethora of scars along your arms and neck, down to your clavicle.Whatever restraint Damian clung onto vanished as easily as a swift slice; a bomb ticking down to its demise would have been more nimble.

“They won’t be getting away with this.” Damian got up, dusting off the filth on his pants, a plan formulating in his mind. He could call up Jason who would definitely not mind killing off some Leaguers who stepped out of line. He will call his father as well and they’ll discuss negotiations for your release. You could be safe with him, with his family. He would be able to grant you your every wish and desire, exactly how he promised.

You tugged on his sleeve. “Damian…I can’t…I have to take you home. Please, I already know I can’t fight you.”

“I am not going anywhere, Y/n, and neither are you. I told you I would free you from the League when I was nine, and I plan to keep that promise.” He managed a soft smile, hoping that it would ease away the creases on your countenance, to paint over your frown and replace it with moonbeams and sunlight. He wanted to restore the hopeful blaze in your eyes.

Your frown only deepened. “Damian, you don’t understand, I can’t. I can’t run, I can’t escape.”

You shook your head, attempting to wipe away the tears in vain. “The happy ending that I wished for, it was stolen from me, Damian, and I will never get it back. I was wrong to hope.”

“If you believed that, then you wouldn’t be wearing the ring I gave you. Y/n, you were the one who told me that I wasn’t tied to my heritage! That I could be whoever I wanted to be and do whatever I wanted to do even if it went against my family's wishes.” He fought back. “I won’t allow someone to throw your life away, Y/n. You have a choice. I can protect you.”

Palming your cheek, Damian pulled you into an embrace. The thought of you going back to someone who would only torture you, kill you, hurt him more than he would ever be able to admit.

“They’d come after me, Dami. They will hunt me down and off me the moment I let my guard down. I would never be truly free, there would be no point.” You lightly pushed him away from you again, hands resting on his chest. For a moment, he wondered if you could feel the drumming of his heartbeat, the way it raced faster than his mind could keep up with.

“And you don’t think I can protect you?” He replied, voice softening as he urged his legs to step an inch closer, and then another inch. “I would never let anyone hurt you, not ever again.”

Your eyes met with his own, and Damian hoped that the small glimmer he saw meant he was getting through the years of brainwashing, tugging at the strand of hope he knew you had left in you. Your lips parted slightly only to close a few seconds later. With your shoulders slumped, nose bright red, and cheeks gleaming with tears, you slumped into his arms and began to fully weep.

It caught Damian off guard to see the intense emotion but it did not make him uncomfortable like it usually did; no, instead he felt a pang of sympathy coiling in his stomach, growing into vines and clawing up his throat and daring him to speak.

“I’m so scared.” You whimpered, clutching onto his cape as if he were as fair weathered as a butterfly. “I-I…I…”

“I know. It’s alright.” He said. “I’m here.”

Damian made a mental note to thank Dick for teaching him how to comfort others. He pulled you out of the disgusting alleyway and out into the quiet street. Getting you somewhere safe was his first priority and there was no safer space than Wayne Manor.

“Where are we going?”

“My family home. My father will be there and so will some of my siblings. It is absolutely the safest place in Gotham for you.”

The cold air seemed more bearable when the comfort of your hand rested in his. The stirrings of a former childhood crush resurfaced the more he looked at you. Despite that though, he knew it would not be fair to push his feelings onto you. If he did, Damian would be no better than the people who controlled you your entire life.

“I thought you would have forgotten me by now.” You turned towards him, the edges of your mouth twisting into the first smile he had seen from you in years.

“Forgetting you would be like forgetting how to paint.” He remarked.

A feeling of calmness wrapped itself around the two of you like a snug quilt. Damian could sense that you were still nervous if the constant swerving of your head at any sudden noise was anything to go by, but every time he made sure to pull you closer to show he was not going anywhere.

By the time that the both of you reached the Manor, your breath managed to settle into a slower rhythm. Damian watched as your lips formed into an O as you stared up at the daunting Victorian-esque building.

“I’ve always wanted to visit a castle…” You mumbled under your breath, tipping your head curiously the same way you did when you sneakily read the banned fairytales your mother was avidly against.

Damian chuckled at the response. “And I always said I would take you to one.”

As he guided you through the Manor, the smile on your face began to appear more vividly. His family was surprised, but once he explained the situation, they eagerly welcomed you with open arms. Damian made sure to have Alfred fetch you some nicer clothes for resting while he held you in his arms.

Ever since the both of you were younger, you taught Damian the importance of hope and - even if it took years - he was more than happy to help you believe in it again.

Did I reread this again before publishing? NOPE

But did I figure out the read more thingy? HELL YES

I consider this a win lol

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Al Ghul #League of Assassins #Damian Wayne x Y/n #DC #Comics #Angst #Hurt/Comfort #Romance #I support healthy relationships #Damian Wayne is a little yandere in this I think oops #Batman #Talia Al Ghul #Requested #Anon requests

251 notes · View notes

cosmicjoke · 5 months

Text

Something else I noticed in "Bad Boy", that I think is important to point out, is what Levi says about Kenny, and what the men attacking him say, too, and what it tells us about the general atmosphere and behavior of the people that Levi was surrounded by growing up.

He tells the man in the glasses, after he asks Levi "You don't want to do that, do you?", meaning to make his mother cry over him killing people, that he doesn't know, but that "Kenny won't let you live.".

We also hear the man that's beating Levi make the excuse that they can't let Levi go because then their reputations as gangsters Underground will be shot. That's clear bullshit. It's just an excuse he's using for his own sadism, the clear pleasure he's taking in assaulting a ten year old boy.

But with what Levi says about Kenny, and what this man says, it tells us just how ruthless the people were, that Levi grew up around.

Clearly, Levi was never given any kind of example or role model of mercy or merciful behavior.

Kenny was a prolific and remorseless killer, someone who took life easily and often, and clearly these men were the same, in that they felt no qualms whatsoever about the prospect of murdering a child and then cutting him into pieces and feeding him to pigs, something they make clear reference to having done before.

Levi telling the man in the glasses that "Kenny won't let you live.", after the man begs pathetically for his life, tells us that Kenny certainly killed in front of Levi, and that Levi had probably witnessed him doing so after whoever he'd killed had also begged for their life. Levi didn't expect Kenny to show mercy or compassion, because Kenny wasn't the sort of person who would do that. After all, we see Kenny kill numerous, innocent people in "AoT", including nearly killing Historia when she was a young girl.

Levi was taught to be ruthless, both by Kenny and by the environment and inhabitants of the Underground, by the general desperation of how and where he grew up.

Again, I think this is important to note because of the remarkable compassionwe see in Levi himself.

Yes, Levi is ruthless toward his enemies. He'll kill without hesitation if he thinks someone is a threat to his or others well being. But Levi isn't a ruthless person. He doesn't kill without good cause, and he doesn't kill out of any sense of enjoyment or self-satisfaction. He kills if he thinks he has to, and that's it. He doesn't see killing as a good thing. Just a necessary thing. Indeed, Levi is truly the opposite of ruthless, as again I remark upon his compassion and his great kindness, something we see from him again and again throughout the series. He always does his best to comfort and protect others. I think a good contrast is between how Levi treats Ramzi vs how Kenny treated Historia, and how these men treated Levi himself.

Nobody taught that compassion or kindness to Levi. Certainly not Kenny, and certainly not the Underground as a whole. And I think Levi's memories of his mother were too vague and fleeting to have learned anything from her, in truth. That fleeting image of kindness from his mother wouldn't have been enough to overcome the years of cruelty, abuse and violence he was subjected to afterward unless Levi himself was already predisposed to being kind. That he clings to and appreciates the single, vague memory of his mother at all is testament to his innate goodness. Most people would have forgotten it completely in the flood of misery that was the rest of his life.

#Levi Ackerman #Bad Boy #bad boy spoilers #attack on titan #shingkei no kyojin #analysis #commentary #meta

41 notes · View notes

saltygilmores · 6 months

Text

Dance Marathon Episode (Aka Murder On the Dancefloor)-Part 8. (Still Not Done)

So noble of you to defend her honor moments before you eviscerate her internal organs and splatter them on the football field.

Look, we don't need you speaking on behalf of Womankind, Miss Salty. Shane has done absolutely nothing to hurt Rory. You know what will hurt, though? That axe that's about to slice through Shane's torso.

WE KNOW. We know how much his sitting down has been concerning you. Your anti-sitting-down-position has been well established. A vote for Rory GIlmore means a vote for chair-destroyal. You are the opposite of that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza felt sorry for a security guard who wasn't allowed to sit down on the job and tried to sneak him a chair.

Be more like George, Rory.

Oh Shane. You just made a very fateful decision. Never go with the killer to a second location.

Damn. It turns me on when he talks like that.

Quoth The Butthead, Anymore.

Well well well, if it isn't the consequences of my actions, coming back to...Consequent me.

To her credit, she's tried to break free and impart on her mother and anyone who will listen through a series of coded blinks that she's being held hostage but you and Lorelai keep throwing her back in the ring and thwarting her escape. I love the word thwarting. Thwarting, thwarting, thwarting. Dean: You've been into him since he got into town. I've spent weeks, months actually, trying to convince myself it wasn't true (it's been a year, actually) that everything was fine between us. You're into him and he's into Shane. Who should be listening to this because it's so damn obvious.

Shane: I have no fucking idea who you or that girl in the polka dot dress are.

I love moments of self awareness on Gilmore GIrls. Embrace your idiotness, Dean.

Just thinking about how Dean is this pissed about Rory's behavior but he's still completely unaware (and will never be aware) that she also kissed Jess and cheated on him 😽 But then he cheats on his own wife and then Rory cheats on Logan with Jess and then Rory has an affair with Logan so in the end they all cancel each other out I guess. The only one of our fickle quadrant of bed hoppers who never knowingly cheated on anyone and the only boy Rory never cheated on was Jess. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

*Rubs temples* look...ugh. I don't really condone Dean yelling at Rory in public. Maybe they should have "Gotten a room", as Rory is fond of saying after learning that term for the first time 2 weeks ago. But in light of Rory's shenanigans, I kind of understand. Not only that, but taking into the account that this scene signals his merciful and long anticipated stepping down as Rory's Primary Male Life Ruiner and handing that crown to Jess, I am waving my Dean Card. I'll give him this one. Let her have it. Get it out of your system. Things with Jess are going to be so much simpler! Yes indeedy, Rory Gilmore. You are going to be riding the train to Easy Street now! Every day with Jess Mariano promises nothing but rainbows, sunshine, and puppydogs made of cupcakes. Let the shit show commence. But first, a little light homocide.

By the way, I've blanked on Lorelai's whereabouts while all of this is going down. Lorelai when she returns and finds out Dean will no be longer coming around to "Change her water bottle"

One more post coming up for the bloody finale.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #they shoot gilmores dont they #tsgdt #literati #jess mariano #rory gilmore #shane campbell #shane is swan food #its imminent now #Lorelai is like one of those cartoony villains #I can imagine her going YOU FOOL YOU LET HIM ESCAPE!

35 notes · View notes

zvtara-was-never-canon · 6 months

Note

Katara would regret murdering Yon Rah? Why?

Because she's a literal child. A very compassionate, emotional, sensitive child. Taking a life takes a toll in the mind of pretty much everyone, except serial killers/mass murderers. Even sociopaths/psychopaths can be greatly affected by it despite the common misconception of "having anti-social personality disorder means you're an evil, souless person capable of EVERYTHING"

Yon Rah did something horrible that Katara would never forgive. He is still a human being. One that was chewed up and spat out by the people he used to obey and now leads a miserable life, with only someone who clearly hates him, and that hates back, as company. He doesn't wanna die, but in all honesty killing him would be doing him a favor. He's too cowardly to long for death, but he doesn't really have anything to live for.

Much like sparing someone as egocentric as Ozai was a much more fitting punishment than killing him, letting Yon Rah go back to his miserable life after being scared half to death was "cruel mercy", and spares Katara of adding one more trauma to her already lengthy list over a man that is just not worth it.

He already stole part of her childhood innocence when he killed her mother. Katara won't let him have what's left of it by freeing him of his miserable life.

#katara meta

46 notes · View notes

agirlandherquill · 4 months

Text

Ruin's Reprisal - WIP Intro

I was recently tagged by the lovely @mysticstarlightduck in a post of theirs and it inspired me so much I thought I'd put my own spin on it for my novel!

rules are simple, or to my mind, easily breakable (not that I will, because this rule is so broad and so fun) - pick a WIP and post something about it!

so without further ado, here's my WIP Intro!

Title - Ruin's Reprisal

Genre - Fantasy/High-Fantasy (if that's still a thing, sure hope so)

Tags - (ought to come up with some, shouldn't I? ah, well, I'll update this when I do!)

Synopsis - like me with my edits on the manuscript, it's a work in progress

Disgrace. Servant. Murderer.

Three people with nothing in common, except that they were wronged.

And now, they’re willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Which means taking the one thing that their society rests on; its sins, its saints, its deaths and broken dreams.

The unlikely band of criminals are going to steal the crown.

Everything depends on one heist. Take the crown. Free themselves.

Will any of them survive? Or will they fall to the country that took everything from them?

Only time will tell.

And they’re running out of it.

Plot Features, Tropes, A Little Warning Of The Chaos You'll Find

Heist. One big, life-risking, soul-aching heist

I killed for you. Because of you.

Life-saving debt, and then some

Royalty, a Court, and gut-wrenching normality - add a hint of rebellion while you're at it

Gifts and Curses, what's the difference?

My heart is in your hands, literally.

Morally Grey Characters

Deniable Feelings

Lies, lies, lies

A Wedding and A Funeral

I'm going to die. I AM GOING TO DIE.

Ballroom dances. Need I say more?

We had a plan. We had many plans. What now?

You love me. You won't hurt me.

Sacrifice

You made me feel. I need you to stop. I need you to break me because I cannot do it myself.

The Crown was never yours, it's mine.

You were supposed to come to me, to be with me, and I'd have made it all stop.

Slow-burn - light that fire, watch it burn

Limping into battle - best idea I've ever had.

Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.

He broke you? I'll destroy him.

I have hated you since the day I met you, and it still isn't enough.

Heroes and Villains

Light and Dark

Framing for a crime

Who knew a letter could destroy everything?

Character Portraits

Edeva Vitaire - Once a woman with everything: title, gowns, respect, the lot, now she is nothing more than an Exilza, someone exiled to the Half-Lands for a crime she did not commit. Edeva has learned the hardest of ways how someone can lose everything, and she knows what to sacrifice for revenge - she wants her mother's killer more than she wants her innocence restored, and she has only learned to survive in the wilds this long because of it. Mild-mannered by birth, spine steeled by survival, Edeva will do whatever it takes to get answers, even if it means partnering with the last person in the world she would want to help her.

Lucien Vaisey - Trained from birth to serve and protect the Alvarros, Aliria's Royal Family, Lucien understands duty more than most, and what it costs. His sword is at the mercy of other's commands, except when it comes to protecting those he cares for, then, this soldier truly becomes something fearsome.

Fenley Evander - Outcast by nature, damned in soul, Fenley is one of the few with a stomach for violence, and the darkened desire to do something with it. He kills for coin, to maintain a balance in the world, but there is no balance in himself. Plagued by a power deemed unnatural, Fenley is forced to hide his true nature, until the time calls for it. A dangerous man as ever lived, Fenley does not mourn for where his afterlife lies, instead he devours the fear others bestow upon him. He feeds the emptiness inside, and still he continues to hunger for something far harsher than violence - revenge, and to obtain it, he will stoop to wretched depths - manipulation, murder, and even betrayal - no man, nor woman, on this earth can possibly get in his way.

Chapters!

Part One:

Hunt & Hunter

Monsters & Mavericks

Saviour & Solace

Ashes & Absolution

Murders & Markets

Blood & Bravery

Cabins & Crime

Invitations & Irritation

Farewell & Forever

Emancipation & Exile

Puppet & Puppeteer

Part Two (this is as far as I've got with edits and changing chapter names so far, I'll update when I get more done)

Dance of Dismay

Lament of Larkhill

Rumours of Rage

Night of Nothing

Aches of Affliction

Trials of Twilight

Climb of Contemplation

Death of Diplomacy

My Inspiration!

This section is simply me getting to ramble about the things that stoked the fires of my imagination - movies, books, shows - songs, all the works! (as and when i recall/think of more, i'll add them to the list)

The Cruel Prince - had to go far into the depths of my memory for this one, but it was this series that truly got me invested in the likes of Fae and that sort of fantasy, and I took a lot of inspo from that! (in the early days, the Haelish were Fae but I wanted to go outside of that character stereotype and create my own fantasy bloodline/species, for lack of a better word)

Throne of Glass - to this day i'm still in awe of the world, the plot, the characters, everything and though i've only read it once parts of it have stuck with me

Six of Crows - the heist aspect of my novel shockingly came about before i'd read this but it certainly helped that part of the plot along

Red Queen - the villain of my novel, not saying who because who enjoys massive spoilers? (spoiler alert - not me), was deeply, deeply inspired from this series - I'd wager it was the first fantasy novel I'd read that gave me an insight into a truly 'dark' character, and I loved that, and of course, I used it as inspiration and to this day I am still torn between preferring a villainous character to a hero - it's one of the tropes I really, really enjoy

Far From Home by Sam Tinnesz - this was one of the very first songs I'd found for my initial writing playlist, and it's been played many, many times since

Lovely by Fleurie and Tommee Profitt - this embodied the regality and the tension that takes place in so many parts of my story, it was impossible not to be inspired

To Be Alone by Hozier - my ears will never forgive me for this, but it's true of any Hozier song, but this is one of my favourites

Pirates of the Caribbean - grew up watching these repeatedly, needless to say some of the characters did give me inspiration

The Mummy - one of my absolute favourite movies of all time, Rick O'Connell's attitude was an important factor for me to take inspiration from, he's such an interesting character

#writeblr #wip intro

14 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 11 months

Note

ROR AU

So Brunhilde was considering Adam to be one of her champions but she had to think. While he was powerful there were others from his time that have unique gifts like him. And there is one whose ability puts them just ahead for what she has in mind. A skill given to him as a punishment for being the first to kill another human. Cain was cursed with experiencing the deaths of all those murdered and to know the techniques of all killers. And that knowledge is what will be the defining factor in his fight.

So how does the fight go against Zeus and what is his Volundr?

-Adam was glaring hard, standing in the stands next to Eve who was trying to hold her tears in, worried for her son.

-When Brunnhilde was gathering fighters for humanity to battle against the gods in Ragnarok, she originally approached Adam to fight, but then changed her mind, claiming Cain would be better.

-Adam had faith in his son to fight, being a strong warrior, but no child would ever want to see their child fighting in a fight that could very easily cost him his life; Adam watched what happened to Lu Bu and his army, he didn’t want to lose his son in a similar manner.

-Abel was also worried, scared for his brother, trying to be strong for their mother, but Adam could see the unshed tears in his younger son’s eyes.

-Cain was a unique opponent to face off against, despite not being a warrior himself, as he was blessed, or cursed, debating on who was looking at it.

-Being the first human to kill another is a title that he didn’t want, but it was one that he earned with his jealousy and his anger, and with it came to knowledge of others who killed.

-Every person who killed another, Cain gained their knowledge, how they did it, seeing how they killed someone else, and with it, came unending madness- seeing so much death, so much suffering and his mental health suffered for thousands of years, even after he died so long ago.

-In Valhalla, Cain kept a level head, not wanting to ever cause another harm, never wanting to kill again, he devoted his time in the afterlife in helping others, anything he could in hopes that his curse would finally leave him.

-Cain learned of a possible chance, an act of mercy, if he was to win his match against Zeus of all gods, then they would relieve him of his curse, but at the cost of him having to kill one more person.

-Cain, much like his parents, disliked the gods for their cruelty to both Adam and Eve, especially Zeus, but he was hesitant to take another life.

-It was Adam who spoke to his son, one-on-one, after Brunnhilde asked Cain to fight, who told his son that sometimes one would have to do things they wouldn’t like, but to protect others, to protect humanity, sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

-Cain was nervous walking out, but a glare in his eyes, seeing Zeus acting so cocky, “Oh-ho! The son of the first and the first to kill another human!” Cain swallowed his fear, using his Volundr, making just a simple sword, and got into striking position.

-Many were jeering at Cain, calling him a fool for fighting, as he was a farmer, not a shepherd, and anyone in Valhalla knew him as a kind and gentle person, the farthest thing from a fighter.

-Cain inhaled deeply before he began going over his knowledge of how to kill another with a bladed weapon, including moves to hit in blind spots and where to strike first.

-Jaws were soon dropped all over the stadium, including his family as he had easily taken out Zeus, taking out his Achilles tendons first, making it impossible to move without collapsing.

-Cain clenched his teeth tightly together, easily getting behind Zeus before slitting his throat, ending him quickly.

-Everyone was stunned, seeing Zeus bleeding out and fading away while Cain dropped his weapon, looking sick to his stomach, collapsing to his own knees and vomited violently, tears overflowing as he clutched at his head, in complete anguish over what he did.

-Cain grabbed his weapon, still in the form of the short sword and went to stab himself, holding it out, aiming for his neck, before his partner, Reginleif took back her form while Eve screamed out her son’s name.

-Cain broke down in harsh sobs, allowing Reginleif to hug him, “I don’t want this pain anymore! I just want peace!” Adam, Eve, and Abel all ran to the stadium as well, along with Brunnhilde, as the crowds murmured quietly, seeing the anguish Cain was in, seeing what killing another had done to him.

-Some wanted to call him weak and pathetic, but there was something in his tears, his pain, that kept them silent as he cried into his father’s arms, “I don’t want to do this anymore!”

-Adam felt his own tears welling, he wanted nothing more than to take his son’s pain away from him, he wanted to help him, Adam felt so helpless at the moment.

-Despite winning the second round of Ragnarok, humanity didn’t feel like they won anything, realizing what Cain has had to deal with, seeing the murders of others since his own crime, being forced to live the pain and suffering of others.

-The gods felt similarly, seeing a child, in their eyes, suffering so much. Had they done more, had they been the gods they claim to be, would there be less pain and suffering? Would there be less murder and death? Could they have done more?

#record of ragnarok #ror adam #ror eve

41 notes · View notes

somethinglikethatyeah83 · 2 years

Text

HE GOT AWAY: Alec Hardy

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Reader

Warnings: Threatening, mentions of death, knifes and you get stabbed. Broadchurch stuff, I guess? Set during the Danny Latimer case so massive spoilers for season 1

Summary: You know who Danny's killer is, but only because he comes to have a word with you...

Word Count: 2.33K

Alec wasn’t home, still in the office. I’m still off after having Violet but Alec had wanted to get back to work as soon as possible for the Danny Latimer case.

Which I think I’d just solved.

Joe Miller stood in my kitchen, a place I felt as a sanctuary, holding an eight inch knife pointing in my direction. I didn’t know if I would be able to step in this room again after tonight, if I got out alive. Joe, though, was nervous. Completely and utterly unstable as he shook in front of him. His interrogation against me was evidently unplanned, as I recognised the handle from my kitchen drawer. But his stance was wary, which meant I had a chance of getting out alive.

My gun was in the living room, on the highest bookshelf so Violet couldn’t get to it, but still in reach of me, just in case anything happened. I couldn’t get to it at the moment, though. The last time I used it must have been a good 6 months ago, and I couldn’t even remember if it had any bullets in it, but maybe that was for the best. A scared still hormonal mother with a gun? Never a good idea. And maybe just the notion of getting shot would be enough to get Joe to cave. If I could get a hold of it.

“Joe-”

“Shut up!” He shouted, shaking the knife at me. He had tears in his eyes and that fearful look that scared me. He could do anything and I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“Don’t make this mistake.” I warned, holding my hand out in front of me, a good distance. “You’re unstable and scared- I don’t blame you-”

“Scared and holding a knife, do you really want to take that risk?” He threatened, feet glued to the wooden floor, but staring at me with an intensity that only a murderer could have.

“Put the knife down, Joe.”

“Why should I?”

“Remember I’m with the police. I’m married to the detective inspector and best friends with the DS, your wife. You kill me, here, tonight, everybody is going to know. Alec will leave no stone unturned until he finds my killer and when he finds you, which you know he will, he won’t be merciful.” I tell him, watching as his face dropped and it clicked in his head what he was doing. Clicked that what he was doing made no sense at all. “You already have Danny’s life on your conscious, do you really want mine?”

He was so close to caving. To handing the knife in and letting me take him down to the station. But then the phone rang, my mobile sat on the counter, lit up with Alec’s number.

Joe’s face hardened. “Answer it, put it on speaker. Act normal.”

I reached down and answered it, hearing the chatter of the office, Alec’s voice calming me even though he had no clue that a murderer was in our kitchen, threatening to kill me.

“Darlin’, was there anything you wanted me to pick up from the shops on the way home?” He asked, from over the phone, in a moderately perky mood compared to how he would be if he knew.

I stuttered, stumbling over my words and the nerves took a hold. Joe’s stare for worse. “We need tomatoes for dinner.” I told him, saying the first thing that came into my head because there was a murderer in my kitchen.

There was silence over the phone, but only for a second. It would probably be the last thing I said to him. I probably wouldn’t make it out here alive and he would have no clue. I’d die here tonight and leave Violet without a mother, Alec without the love of his life, the one person he can tell everything and anything.

What would Ellie think?

I hadn’t even thought of her. Her husband was a murderer, and she had no idea. Her husband, the father of her children, Tom and Fred, was a murderer. None of them had any clue. And if I didn’t get out here alive tonight, no one would ever know until Alec found out. Joe would walk free.

“You alrigh’, love?” Alec asked from the other side, his voice high and laced with worry. He knew something was wrong, and Joe would make me pay the consequences for that.

I swallowed, steadying my voice, my eyes still staring at Joe to make sure he didn’t move. “Yeah, perfect. Violet’s already asleep upstairs so we’ve got the evening to ourselves.”

“Lovely. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Love you.”

“Love you too, Alec, so much.” I tell him, and I could almost hear the smile on his face as he says goodbye again, and ending the call.

I flip my phone over quickly, turning to Joe again who still has the knife pointed in my direction. He’s still scared but he’s managed to mask some of it. Definitely still unstable, though, and I still might have a chance to let him cave.

“You’re really going to kill me?”

“Why shouldn't I?” He negotiates, taking a step closer to me, which now has my back against the door. I want to stay as far from him as possible, but if he steps closer there’s nowhere else I can go. “You know what I’ve done. You’ll get me arrested. If I get you out the way, Tom and Fred will still have a father. Do you really want them to lose me?”

“Do you want Violet to lose her mother?”

“She isn’t my kid!” He shouts, making me flinch. He can’t control his anger, the tears of frustration falling from it but also a higher chance of another murder here tonight.

I took a deep breath. “How would you feel if you lost Ellie, huh? It’s the same situation, Joe. How is she going to react to you killing Danny and me?”

“She’ll never find out.”

“You know she will.” I shook my head, swallowing and watching as he got closer. Closer to giving in. “You can’t just refuse it. You can either spend your life riddled with guilt for Danny and I, or you can go with grace and get better. Settle your mind.”

“No.”

“All you have to do is come with me. I’ll take you down to the station. You can confess and serve the time you deserve.” I negotiate, knowing I was helping. Knowing I was so, so close to getting him to cave. I had a chance to get a murderer off the streets tonight and I was as sure as hell going to do my best. “You killed a child, Joe, there’s no escaping that. You can at least go with some dignity, instead of making it worse.”

“No!” He shouts, his whole body shaking with fear, and confusion, and I know he knows I’m right, but he’s fighting it out of fear. He doesn’t want to go, and I don’t blame him, but he deserves it.

He shakes his head, slowly taking small steps towards me. Each step has my heart rate speeding up. This was it. I was going to die tonight and there was nothing I could do about it. Alec and Violet would be left alone, without a mother and a wife.

“Joe, don't do this.

“You can’t stop me!”

“She can’t.” Alec’s voice came from behind me. I hadn't even heard the door. “But I can.”

But it wasn’t quite enough. Everything happened too quickly after that for me to keep track. Joe grabbed my wrist and spun me around so I was facing Alec, and the cold metal of the knife was held up against the sensitive skin of my neck. Alec had his gun pointing at Joe, who I could no longer see, but feel his hand on my wrist.

“Joe, don’t do this.” Alec warned, eyes darting between Joe and I. “Killing a police officer is worse than murdering a child, the time you’ll spend in prison will almost double.”

“That’s all I’ve been hearing from her, ain’t it? For the past half an hour.” He sounds disgusted when he refers to me, looking at Alec.

“Put the knife down.”

Joe didn’t say anything. The tension was too thick, the air was warm and the anger that spilled from Alec was worse than I’d ever seen it before. This could go either way, one would end up with me dead, or a murderer in prison. I knew which one it would be immediately.

And there it was.

An excruciating pain in my abdomen, blood in my ears and dripping onto the floor. There was muffled shouting, a deep Scottish shout and some smashing that resembled that of glass, I wasn’t paying attention. But it didn’t matter. All the chaos didn’t matter, not anymore. Because a murderer was getting away because I’d let him. Joe was getting away.

“He’s getting away…” I murmur, reaching my hand out to the window. It all felt so far away now.

Alec was above me, though, I knew that much. I could just about feel his hand in mine. “You’re going to be fine. Bob’s called an ambulance, we’re going to get you to a hospital.”

He was getting blurry, though, and slowly further and further away from my reach. I knew I was about to black out but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Joe was getting away and I was about to die. Alec and Violet would be left alone.

“He’s getting away…”

I could hear the heart monitor, and when I tried to move, a dull ache still throbbed in my abdomen. The smell of sheet vinyl and cheap PPE plastic overwhelmed me, but at least it told me where I was; a hospital.

At least I was alive.

Part of me knew that wouldn’t let me die in our kitchen that night, but most of me knew that chances were I wouldn’t. Joe probably only just missed a vital organ, and I still could have died from blood loss.

But I didn’t. I was alive. I was alright. Alec and Violet still had a wife and a mother.

And there they were, sitting right next to me in the hospital bed.

He sat bolt upright when he saw my eyes open, Violet cradled in his arms, sleeping softly. It was obvious the second I looked at him that he hadn’t had a wink of sleep for however long I had been out.

“You’re awake.”

“I’m alive.” I told him. “That’s more important.”

Alec nodded, shuffling closer to me in the hospital chair he’d been given. I reached out for him to pass my Violet but he shook his head.

“They’ve said you’re not allowed to hold her until the wound has fully healed. And no pressure on it at all, so when you sit down you have to sit up straight. And no work until it’s fully healed, too.” He lectured, evidently worried for what my reaction would be.

No work and no daughter? Now that was just cruel.

“Shit, seriously?”

“I’m sorry. As soon as you’re allowed, I’m sure she’ll be clinging to you.”

I shrug, looking over at her in Alec’s arms. She was so cute, asleep. Not knowing that her mother had nearly been murdered. By someone that had held her, someone that knew her. I hadn’t even thought about it.

“Joe. It was Joe.”

“Aye, I know.”

I looked up at Alec who had a nervous look in those gorgeous eyes of his. “How could we have missed it? How could it be someone we know so well?”

Alec shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It was time to ask the question I’d been avoiding. “Have you told Ellie?”

“No.” He shook his head. “She wasn’t in the right frame of mind after she heard what happened to you and I wouldn’t want to make it worse. She had to be told in a civil place, where she can’t do anything to harm anyone or herself.”

“I can’t believe he got away.” I started unconsciously tapping against the hospital blanket I was shrouded in. I couldn’t believe that I had let him get away. I thought I’d either die in the room or a murderer would be off the streets, it hadn’t occurred to me that he could have ran away.

And what would Ellie think? She would find out soon enough and I really don’t think she would be able to handle anything like this at the moment. Tom and Fred would lose their father and Ellie would lose the man she thought she could trust the most.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Alec murmured, holding Violet with one arm and taking my hand in his spare one. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

I leant back against the pillow. “I know, I just- he was right there. If I’d had cuffs on me I could have arrested him there and then but I wasn’t at work. I don’t even think the gun has bullets in it.”

“If it hadn’t been for you, if you hadn’t kept him busy we wouldn’t know it was him. Now we know who to look for. We’ll find him soon.” Alec assured, squeezing my hand.

I looked up at him and smiled. He sent a soft smile back as my thoughts started spiraling again. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

Alec laughed slightly, a fond smile on his face. “You told me we needed tomatoes. You hate tomatoes. I knew you only would have said that as the first thing that came into your mind. I knew you were in danger.”

“Thank goodness you know me so well.” I smile. “I love you.”

Alec grinned down at me, nodding. “Love you too. And we’ll catch him, promise.”

#alec hardy fluff #alec hardy x reader #alec hardy #broadchurch #alec hardy angst #alec hardy x yn #danny latimer case #broadchurch spoilers

234 notes · View notes