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hyu7eii · 8 months

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THE WORLD DID NOT EXIST AT NIGHT ― H.HJ

SYNOPSIS. at night, the world was oblivious, the gaiety lulled to silence by the moon. here, you will find your lover again, away from the forces that pull you apart, the unkind eyes that do not understand. it will simply just be the two of you, and you would not care if the morning comes.

PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

GENRE. romeo&juliet-esque!au, forbidden love, historical!au, painter!hyunjin, angst

WARNINGS. toxic parenting, family abandonment (hyunjin), description of blood and wound (non-detailed and mentioned once), deep-rooted insecurity

WORDCOUNT. 3k words (not proofread at all lmao)

The night was cool–maybe even piercingly so, goosebumps crawling up the expanse of your arm and the back of your neck. The thin cotton of your nightgown does nothing to alleviate the cold; the frills at the end of your sleeve and neckline tickle your skin, perhaps making it worse. But even so, a strange excitement grows in your chest, flushing your skin despite the cold. Your clothed feet grow a little sore from the hard wooden floor, but you didn’t want your shoes disturbing the quiet of the night. No one was supposed to hear you, or know that you are here.

You were supposed to be at home, asleep in your own quarters, but you wanted to see him. Needed might be more accurate with you walking all the way to his house at the dead of night.

If you had the choice, you would choose to spend your lonely nights in his home, to live in the walls that even in the cold night, seemed comforting. You always thought that his home lived up to the definition, unlike your own. Perhaps it was Hyunjin’s paintings that made it so lively, lining the walls of his halls where as yours were empty, maybe a few trinkets that your father had bought, but nonetheless, lacking in personality. You dreaded your room; yes, you had your bed, your grandiose vanity, and all the things you could wish for, but it is in his office where he paints that you are, without effort, able to be lulled to sleep. You had fallen asleep once on his divan and woke up to him making a portrait of you. Since then, you have wished that he would paint you again.

With your shoes in hand, you navigate the halls, the lamp on your other hand useless. If you were to close your eyes, you would know your way around his home–the kitchen, his room, the patch of his favorite flowers in his garden. You would know it by his scent, a mix of the dried paint on his hands, the smell of freshly pressed parchment, his musk under a sunny day. But all of these things no longer are individual matters as they all become distinctly his. It's the cerulean blue of his walls that remind you of the sky he painted for your birthday, the daisies his mother planted in his garden that appear in motifs on his handkerchief, and it's the light pinks on his patterned china that remind you of his aggravating lips. Anyone else wouldn’t have given a second thought to these innocuous things, but perhaps it has become habit over time. It was too familiar, too natural to think of him.

You see light seep through under the door to his office, and you wonder if he has rested at all today. “Hyunjin?” You knocked on the door, and a yelp could be heard from behind. He whispers your name, and it’s almost like the quiet night was fooling you, playing with your mind and pretending to be him. It’s been two weeks, and you miss him badly. When he opens the door, you know you weren’t mistaken.

He takes a step towards you, his loose nightshirt following lazily with his movements. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” he mouths, but the way he reaches out his hand to you lets you know he wants you to stay. The sunken skin under his eyes tells you that the nights have not been kind, that it wasn’t just you alone that was growing restless from his absence. He had said that you and him, despite how desperately the both of you wanted each other, was not meant to happen. You wouldn’t have even met him if you didn’t go along with your father’s wish for a portrait. It was simply just a collision of timing, no sort of kismet or will from the universe made you two meet or even weaved your lives together. He was a fool; it was conscious decisions that has led to this, his own foolish and weak mind that gave in to his curiosity, moreso his longing. He had a love for beautiful things, things he found beautiful. He had painted a lot of scenes, places, people, and he’d like to say that all of them were beautiful, he painted them after all. And you who was simply a bystander, like a newly blooming flower between the cracks of stone, or the setting sun when the world falls asleep, or the stars that watch the universe play along its whims, made him want to draw you endlessly.

He sees you tremble under your nightgown. “You’re cold.”

“I’ve missed you.”

When he lets you in, you see the framework of his next painting on the canvas, paint tubes clattered on the table beside it. You place your shoes beside his door, and it looked like it belonged there. His jacket that was precariously draped on his chair suddenly finds purchase on your shoulders. “Please cover up, so you don’t freeze to death.” You almost laugh at his effort to be a complete stranger, avoiding your gaze timidly. You knew him too well; he has already imprinted himself in your life, and to reduce his presence to just someone you knew was impossible. You don’t think you could act like the memories you made with him did not amount to anything, that the home he made in your heart can be filled with the next person that comes. No matter what, without him, it will remain empty, abandoned. And it will always remind you that you would always want Hyunjin, and Hyunjin alone.

“It’s extremely late. Your father would worry greatly if he doesn’t find you home,” he clears his throat, hating having to mention your father. He knew your father would never approve of your relationship, that he would never see him as anything other than a silly painter whose family abandoned him for pursuing that of what he loved. His family used to tell him that it would only lead to failure, that he was too idealistic, that he dreamed too much. He didn’t listen, working hard to reject the very idea. But looking at his situation now, he can’t help but find some truth in it. He couldn’t have everything, not when it seemed that the world was against it, that whatever power above refused to let him dream of you.

“Talk to me, Hyunjin.” You move closer to him, and you’re almost afraid that once you start to reach out, he will hide again. To your surprise, he doesn’t move an inch. “I walked all the way here.”

He gives you an incredulous look, praying that you were joking with him. “You didn’t take a carriage? When you nod, he speaks to you genuinely, holding your shoulders for some sense of groundedness. “It’s the middle of the cold dead night!” he tells you. “Never do this again, not for my sake.”

It’s like no time has passed, the way he touches you. It wasn’t that you felt metaphorical sparks coursing through your body every time he touched you, or in some distant plain, stars exploded whenever he did. It was just him, and that’s all you could ask for.

“I can’t take you home now, but I promise to have a carriage for you first thing in the morning,” he sighs, letting go of you. “I’ll prepare the guest room for you.”

Your father had sent a letter to the Kim Family. My stay at your residence at Westfield has been most hospitable and welcoming. How warm the people were and the sun that sets behind the treelines. I have met your son, Seungmin; he has done his best to accommodate me and I very much appreciate it. He is a charming fellow, a smile befitting of a man that was gonna change the world! I expected nothing less of your family. My daughter and I will be traveling for the summer, and it so happens that we would be passing your home during this journey. If it is not imposing, we would like to rest in your residence before we go back on our feet again. I am very sure my daughter and your son would get along great.

He sometimes wonders if he hadn’t been so headstrong, if he had listened to his family, if he had worked himself to death in lifeless and devoid cycles, would he be able to carelessly hold and want you without shame. You had said that if his parents were to look at his paintings now, they would never be able to recognize it was his. If they did, they would despise it. It will always be a reminder that they hold nothing over him, that whatever hope they had praying that he’d keep silent, that he’d relent and realize he was completely impractical was utterly futile. If they would look unknowingly at his painting, they’d just be seeing another painting. They wouldn’t see the individual strokes he made, the colors he picked so carefully, or the soul he enshrines in every piece of work.

They don’t know you like I do.

If they were right, then it was simply too late. Too late for him and you. His hands that urged him to draw you, to rhapsodize you in every expression, in every color, were sinners. His eyes that gravitate towards you, the ones that can only stare at you hopelessly, witnessing and revering you, were of the same. If his family was right, the arbiter of the universe would look at him in shame; he has no place to desire, to dream, for he was not subjected to you, nor you to him. He had made the mistake of unguarding his heart to you, to let you touch and feel every beat that pumped his blood. And you who delicately held him will bleed with him, suffering from the consequences of letting you dream with him.

You pull his jacket tighter around you. It was like the night didn't exist. The world didn’t to you. “Hyunjin, please talk to me,” you say, but you almost couldn’t hear your voice. “He didn’t touch me. Nothing happened between me and Seungmin, I swear–”

He scoffs, full of bitterness and forlorn longing. “It is unimportant what you did or didn’t do. I simply can’t be with you.”

You can’t help yourself; Your hands instinctively reach for his face, holding onto him in fear of him leaving you, disappearing with the world without you. Your fingers were cold, everything seemed so cold. His jacket smelled just like him, like silent candles burning in the night, like boundless reveries and stars.

It is slow when his fingers wrap around your hand on his cheek–hesitant. His fingers were cold too. You can hear the lullabies of the cicadas, the fireflies, the creatures home to the grass, and somehow, his eyes speak much louder. “You didn’t hurt me; you could do nothing wrong to me, so don’t think of this as resentment, or apathy.”

“Then why?” you whisper. You don’t think you can trust your voice, scared you would fail to plead, to beg for ground. You were falling, lost in all-consuming loneliness. You were alone. At night, you were terrified, of the thoughts that plagued you, sleepless nights where you had nothing but your mind to listen to. When you did sleep, you dreamed of his paints, his shoes. They were littered in your room, a canvas waiting to be finished right at the foot of your bed, but you couldn’t see what it was that he was painting. Sometimes those dreams don’t last very long; they would turn to scenes of you looking at his paintings with a wound to your chest. You would have no clothes on, blood dripping down languidly to your chest, squeezing and squeezing. The air would leave you and you would wake up once more.

You felt like a child again–nothing but uncertainty and fear in your mind.

“Did my father say something to you? He’s a fool; he knows nothing.”

“Darling, don’t say that.” You feel his fingers grip tighter. He doesn't know how to tell you, how everything was his fault, how if he didn’t exist in your life you would’ve lived in complete peace. He loved beautiful things, but they were never destined to be his–not the sun that hid behind the sea at night, or the birdsongs he loved to hear in the morning, not you who so effortlessly pulled everything of which surrounds you. You were a force of your own, and you didn't need him.

It was instinct for him to replicate beautiful things, so in his own way, he had something he could hold, something he could call his own. But what he had for you was too real, too palpable that he longed for your complete being. It wasn’t enough that he could just spectate, watching you occasionally slip in his sight. It was like when waves desperately reached for the shore, time and time again clawing at the sand, or when the birds soared till they could rest in the clouds. He needed to reach you, to touch you, to love every inch of being. Behind closed doors, he knew you and you knew him. You were familiarity, security, and the embodiment of dreams, but he was nothing. He could not be what you deserve in this lifetime, and this reality no longer can leave his mind. They said to not fly too close to the sun, but Hyunjin flew high with reckless abandon, with love and with hope. And he’ll fall into the endless sea, damning whatever punishment he would face.

He didn’t want you to drown, not because of him.

“Tell me, how was your visit with the Kims?” He can feel his chest slow painfully, his hand that was once holding yours now limp on his side, every intake of breath almost difficult. He hates himself for this, his body rejecting him, but he does not know any better.

You want to cry and tell him that he’s hurting you, that beyond those words, you still love him. You let go of him, and you wish he would chase your touch again, like those goodbyes where the both of you had to will yourselves to leave each other’s sides. You want him to come back to you, to wake up and still have him beside you. You want him to paint you once again.

“Have I not told you I loved you?”

You fell in love with him the night you stayed in his office. And the times before that and after. It is irrelevant to you when it happened, if you realized it too late or too early. “If you wish so desperately for me to stay by Seungmin then tell me so. Berate me for coming here at all.”

“If you wish to not be with me, then I will return home. I will no longer bother you further if you wish for me to leave. You no longer have to worry about my presence. I will understand.”

Tell me you're relieved I'm here with you, that you missed me, that we would find salvation together.

You can’t move your body, but the words flow uncontrollably from your mouth. “But if you do so, you have to resent me–loathe me, because I would not be able to bear it if I leave and you would be alone again. You have to tell me that I am your bane, that I am your unhappiness. I will hold no anger if this is the truth.”

He had once shown his collection of paintings to you, the ones he had made to quench the boredom of the day, ones he would keep personally in his heart–crows he would find nesting on the willow tree in his garden, the breakfast he ate that morning, the children that would play merrily in the fields. He had shown you paintings of you, and he had told you truthfully that it was difficult to paint you. He couldn’t replicate you; it was simply not the same. Your eyes were more expressive, your face kinder, completely different from the harsh lines of his strokes. He told you he couldn’t do you justice, and he didn’t believe you when you said you looked the most beautiful when he painted you. How couldn’t it be when the artist himself had nothing but adoration and affection to give his subjects. Hyunjin had nothing but love to give. When you look at his paintings, you see much more of him than the subjects themselves. He couldn’t hide himself even if he tried to; he couldn’t hide himself from you.

“I cannot lie to you. You know you are none of that to me.”

“Then do not torment yourself,” you breathe out. You grow even closer to him, your hands instinctively touching him–his chest, his shoulders, his neck. His breath is warm, and you can feel it on your nose. Your eyes look thoughtfully at him, his face and the moles that litter it, the scars you would love to learn, his eyes. “If you love me, then that is all I need.”

You were practically embracing him, leaning into his warmth that quelled the numbing cold of the night. Your chest almost bursts when he doesn’t reject your touch, letting you hold him delicately with the stars above as your witness. He doesn’t have to say anything, no words needed to tell you that his home is yours, and you will always return to it–to him. If your father wished Hyunjin would simply concede to distance himself from you, if his family wished nothing good upon him, if the universe is at its wits end separating you from him, you will damn them all.

Tonight, you will love him shamelessly, and the world would not exist.

#kie/writes!#stray kids angst #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #hyunjin fic #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you

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empressofthesunwriter · 19 days

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Yin and Yang

Balance is a key aspect in the world, so why shouldn’t the Avatar have an opposite?

In a world where Raava and Vaatu merge with humans, the Avatar and the Daimon try to keep the peace between the four nations.

Aang and Hua are the current incarnations, but wake up 100 years in the future.

How will these two learn all four elements in one year and defeat the Fire Lord?

Prologue

In the beginning, they were two spirits.

One of light and order.

The other of darkness and chaos.

Raava and Vaatu.

Looked into eternal combat.

Never a winner, only a short victory over the other.

No one, not even themselves, could imagine to exist in harmony together.

Then one day two humans touched the spirit's very essence.

A young man named Wan earned Raava's trust and loyalty, while a young woman named Qi saw more than evil in Vaatu, showing him kindness and compassion.

The Spirits fused with their chosen human, creating the first Avatar and Daimon.

Wan and Qi worked all their life to restore balance in the world.

They were Yin and Yang personified.

When one pulled, the other pushed.

When one walked, the other followed.

When one lost their way, the other found them.

It was so simple to fall in love with each other.

The love born between Wan and Qi changed also the ancient spirits in them.

Something which seemed so impossible had come true.

No longer enemies, but allies, even friends.

In every lifetime after Wan and Qi, the Avatar and the Daimon were always the opposite of each other and often also lovers.

Each Avatar and Daimon together tried to bring balance between the Four Nations and the Spirit World.

It was their eternal quest, but they didn’t have to walk this way alone.

Because their other half would always be with them…

Frowning Aang looked at his mentor and guardian Monk Gyatso.

“What is it Aang?”, the elder man asked his young charge. “I know you aren’t happy with being the Avatar, but I hoped that you would feel better to know that there is another one like you. Someone who will understand you.”

Aang just frowned deeper, crossing his arms.

“I don’t like that I already have a supposed Soul Mate…It seems like I don’t have any control anymore over my life…It sucks being the Avatar.”

Gyatso tutted him gently, rubbing affectionately his bald head with the blue arrow.

“Oh my young pupil, it may be true that nearly all Avatars and Daimons were a couple, but there were a few who were just friends and completely happy with other people. You can decide if you like young Daimon Hua this way. Meet her and become her friend, more the Elders doesn’t want from you.”

The young Avatar nearly snorted at this.

Yeah, right.

If it would go after the Elders he and the Daimon would be wed now.

At twelve years!

His childhood couldn’t end sooner for the Air Nomad elders.

He felt like crying.

He just wanted to play with his friends and goof off with Gyatso.

Was that too much?

Why did he have to be the Avatar?

“So her name is Hua, huh?”, he mumbled loudly enough, so his mentor could hear him. “Flower for an Earth Kingdom girl seems fitting. She is an Earthbender right?”

“Right, the Daimon Cyle is the opposite of the Avatar’s. Together you two will learn the four elements to become a fully realized Avatar and Daimon.”

The boy signed loudly and slouched down in his seat.

“I don’t think I will like someone who is my opposite, I mean, she probably doesn’t like to make jokes or play pranks.”

“Don’t be so sure Aang.”, said Gyatso amused. “You know opposites attract, but having things in common is good too. Just give her a chance, alright?”

***

In the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se, the newly informed Daimon Hua hugs her mother, father and little brother tightly.

She wants to cry, to scream, to beg.

She wants to stay home.

She doesn’t want to be the Daimon.

All her life she and her family had struggled to make a living in Ba Sing Se.

Hua had used her Earthbending from a young age in any way to earn money for her family.

And now she would be stripped from them, brought before the Avatar of this era, and expected to work with him (even to fall in love with him!) and also to learn all the elements and somehow bring balance and peace to this world.

No, she doesn’t want to, but she knows it’s good for her family.

If in Ba Sing Se the Daimon or Avatar is born and comes from the Lower Rings their family then gets raised into the Upper Rings and becomes a noble family.

Something an Earth King some hundred years ago decided to make the city look good in the eyes of the other nations.

No peasant from Ba Sing Se should be a Daimon or Avatar.

Yes, her family wouldn’t be anymore, hungry, cold or sick. They would be getting taken care of.

Only Hua had to pay with her freedom, with the power to decide her own faith.

It was unfair.

Why her?

She only ever wished for a simple good life.

She wasn’t greedy.

So why her?

Why her?

She kisses her brother's forehead, promising him to write as much as she can.

Somehow deep down Hua feels like this is the last time she will be with her family…

Water.

Earth.

Fire.

Air.

My grandmother used to tell me stories about the old days: a time of peace when the Avatar and the Daimon kept the balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation and Air Nomads.

But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

Only the Avatar and the Daimon mastered all four elements; only they could stop the ruthless firebenders.

But when the world needed them most, they vanished.

A hundred years have passed, and the Fire Nation is nearing victory in the war.

Two years ago, my father and the men of my tribe journeyed to the Earth Kingdom to help fight against the Fire Nation, leaving me and my brother to look after our tribe.

Some people believe that the Avatar was never reborn into the Air Nomads and that the Daimon was never reborn into the Earth Kingdom and the cycles are broken, but I haven't lost hope.

I still believe that, somehow, the Avatar and the Daimon will return to save the world.

#own character #ocs #ao3 writer #fanfic writing #avatar the last airbender #aang #sokka #katara #toph beifong #zuko #suki #zutara #sukki #aang x oc

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softsweetwhispers · 2 months

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The house is unwelcoming. The grass has curled and dried around its edges, what once was a beautiful lawn meticulously taken care of, now only remains gray and sad. The plants are permanently dead along the perimeter, weeds no longer thrive and tangle with the wood boards, dandelions are no longer blown into wistful messes, flowers no longer bloom in nature’s beauty.

Ever since the new neighbors moved in – a son, his father, no mother, no pets –, nothing’s grown right on the land. Something about the environment not being safe. Whatever could’ve possibly thrived is killed before it has the chance.

It rings ominous and dark, like an omen. The plants aren’t the only thing dying in that house. The plants couldn’t be the only thing dying in that house. It exudes a stifling silence, a promise that there’s as much sunlight as there is hope, and there’s a reason those damn plants aren’t growing.

Like the boy. The boy who was always there, the one that stands in the window and people-watches like it's a hobby rather than a necessity. It is, after all, a necessity; with the way things die outside the house, it’s no surprise things die inside the house as well.

The boy is this town’s charity case, quiet and always covered in one too many bruises for it to be a coincidence. All his pants have holes in them, his eyes are wide, off-putting, like they can see through your soul from across the street. He’s young, maybe twelve, maybe fourteen, not yet in highschool. Nobody knows his name, or really his face – we only know what we can see from inside the house. It all comes from inside the house. He never leaves.

He stands, just visible through the cracked glass, barely peeking out through the curtains, feet planted on unstable floors in an unstable home. The house seems to wilt around him, close to collapse, the foundation threatening to collapse. He looks over the black lawn that stretches and spreads across the neighborhood like a disease. He is alone, except for the dead things, the ones he fits in with. | k. - @nosebleedclub march viii. the boy who was always there

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fangirl--writes · 11 months

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Ok, I'm curious mostly because of your Ecco fic. How do you see the Gotham villains as parents?

…

No one knows much I love discussing this idea except many @gabile18 who is present for most of my ramblings.

Sooo this might have to be a multi part ask?

Starting off strong with the Valeska Twins

GIF by sanelikevaleska

🤡 Papa Jerome

So I believe with my whole heart he would try to be good father

Never saw himself as a parent but children and animals naturally gravitate toward him

Wears the name with pride.

Bandit Heeler Vibes

He REFUSES to be like his parents

Will even go straight for his kid(s)

That doesn’t mean they won’t end up with some new shiny toy, or other obviously stolen item of desire

Spoils them Rotten

Constantly talks about them will show photos it’s embarrassing

“Look at my baby 😭😭 aren’t they just amazing” shows albums of photos to hostages

Always present in their life. He’s very involved. (Whether they want it or not)

School drop offs are a must much to other parents and Jim’s dismay (Education is v important to him)

“I never had this chance I got dragged around a circus by my abusive alcoholic mother you’re going .”

school plays, band concerts, sports? FRONT ROW

They are his world god help whoever tries to take that from him

GIF by missis-gingersnap

👓 Father Jeremiah (Pre-Spray)

Child? Where 😑🤮

Oh, you mean His Child? 🥹 (Eventually)

He DID NOT EVER want a kid, however it happens and he has to adapt and survive

Bourbon Dad.

He will quite drinking, but he picks up smoking

Baby's an iPad kid

Ecco will primarily care for them as a little little.

Him change a diaper? (No.)

He is very awkward around them.

BUT he gives them any and everything.

Has no parental instinct whatsoever.

His child is a SECRET.

Unlike Jerome who will gladly be public as a dad, Jeremiah keeps them well hidden in the bunker. He has his life to think about

GIF by endiness

👔 Father Jeremiah (Post Spray)

Oof.

There are so many thoughts here…

His love evolves into possession, an obsession to protect them.

If they had any freedoms before, they’re gone now. The kid is under constant surveillance. Always guarded.

They’re too precious to lose, too precious to be on their own

They’d never understand the complexities of what he’s trying to do for them. So, he HAD to lock them away.

Mother Gothel Mode ACTIVATE

“How is my flower today Hm? I brought you another book to add to your collection.”

ON THE FLIP SIDE

He could care less what happens to them.

It’s like a switch was flipped. He doesn’t feel a thing toward the child.

Regardless on how much they beg and plead that they need him, or love him

Unless, they had some special talent, or skill that he can exploit.

Then, he guesses you can stay, but stay out of his way until he needs you.

Oh, you don’t? You’re worthless to him and his plans, you could be canon fodder for all he cares.

✨Gremlin Taglist✨:

Want to be added drop a comment down below!

@gabile18

@oreosplease

@theunquenchablethirst

@maria-akira

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@glowingatdawn

@mrsfullbuster500

@peterpanouat

@miss-fantazmagoria

@darkmoviesquotespizza

#gotham on fox #jerome valeska #gotham headcanons #gotham jerome valeska #jerome valeska headcannon #Jeremiah Valeska #jeremiah valeska gotham #jeremiah valeska headcanon #post spray jeremiah #post spray jeremiah valeska #prespray jeremiah valeska #gotham imagines

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imawkwardlysoc · 1 year

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things left unsaid

Song- Unsaid Emily from Julie and the Phantoms

Paring(s)- tom kazansky & child!reader, pete mitchell & kazansky! reader

Warning(s)- Mentions of a character dying, angst, gn!reader

Wordcount- 972

Summary- It's been fifteen years since the reader has last seen their father and fifteen years later, they see their father buried six feet under the ground.

*Fifteen Years Ago*

“Dad, really? You can’t be serious! You can’t do this to me.”

“I’m damn sure I can. You’re wasting a perfectly good opportunity.”

“What opportunity? Going to Stanford to become a lawyer and be depressed for the rest of my life?” I questioned my dad. “I got offered a better opportunity than Stanford.”

“So you’re just throwing away your college career to travel around the world and play music?” He asked.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Why aren’t you happy about me getting this deal?”

“Because you’re too young.” He looked at me.

“I’m eighteen years old,” I let out a laugh. “I already graduated high school. I’m taking this deal whether you like it or not.”

“Y/N, just listen to me!”

“No,” I grabbed my bag. “I’m not. See you.”

Walking out of the house, I heard my mother calling my name, wishing that I would come back. That was the last time I ever came back to that house.

*Present Day*

“Y/N, Dad passed.”

_______

As I pulled up to the cemetery, the sky had a purple/blue violet hue. Driving through it, there were barely any cars there. I could easily see where his plot was just from the flowers that were placed on his grave. Parking the car and turning it off, I let out a shaky breath and looked over at the plot.

“Come on Y/N, you can do this,” I motivated myself.

Getting out of the car, I started to feel my legs shake a little as I walked closer to the plot. Kneeling down in front of the headstone, I traced over the engraved words that were on there.

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky

1959-2019

Devoted husband, father, and naval aviator

Blinking, I felt the salty tears run down my cheeks as my emotions started to come out of me. All of the memories that I had with him entered my mind.

Why was I so stubborn? I could’ve listened to him. If I did, I would’ve had more time with him. I would’ve been by his side when he took his last breath.

But I didn’t.

I decided to be a stubborn young adult and not follow my father’s wishes. Despite where I got in my career by releasing two number one albums and winning many awards, they weren’t worth it. I would trade all of those to have him back. To have my father back.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “I should’ve listened to you. You’re so fucking disappointed in me.”

“He’s not.” I looked over my shoulder and saw his wingman in his dress blues. “He’s pretty damn proud of you.”

“Mav.” I got up and hugged him.

“Hey kiddo,” he hugged back. “How are you?”

That’s where I broke down more. Pulling me closer to his chest, I started to sob more into his chest.

“Why?” My voice croaked. “Why did he have to leave? Why did I leave?”

“Because you’re just like your father, stubborn as hell,” Mav let out a chuckle to lighten the mood.

“I should’ve just gone to Stanford and become a lawyer,” I waved my hands in the air. “That would’ve meant that I would’ve had more memories with him.”

“But you would’ve been miserable,” my father’s wingman told me. “You should just see his face when he sees you perform.”

“What?” I looked at him.

“Yeah, he’s been to all of your concerts ever since you released your first album,” he nodded his head. “He dragged Slider and I to them most of the time if we’re in the same area.”

“Would’ve been nice to know that earlier.”

“I know but he made Sli and I promise not to mention it to anyone, even your mom and siblings.”

“Wow, can’t believe that he was there at all of my concerts.” I let out a laugh while shaking my head in disbelief. “I left so many things behind that day. My old life. My family. So many things I want back. There are things I left unsaid.”

“And you can get them back,” Mav gave me a small smile.

“How?” I questioned.

“Let’s start with your mom and siblings,” he replied. “One step at a time.”

“Thanks Mav.” I hugged him.

“It’s no problem,” he hugged back. “If you ever want to talk, ask your mom for my number. It was nice seeing you again.”

“It was nice seeing you too.” I gave him a small smile. “Let’s grab a coffee or something if you're available.”

“I should be in a week or so.” He nodded his head. “I’ll let you go now.”

Thanking him one last time, I got into my car and I saw him getting on his motorcycle. Letting out a laugh and shaking my head as I saw him drive away, I put my car in drive and headed out of the cemetery. Following the direction Google maps has given me, I pulled up to the house that I’ve haven’t been to in fifteen years. Walking up to the door, I rang the doorbell and waited for it to open.

“Hi Mom,” I greeted my mom as she opened the door.

“Y/N!” She immediately wrapped me in a hug.

“I’m back,” I started to sob again.

“You’re back,” she wiped her tears as we let go of the hug. “Come in.”

Walking into the house, some things have changed. More pictures were added, some furniture was changed but yet, it still had the same vanilla cinnamon smell I grew up smelling.

“Y/N!” I saw my younger brother and sister run up to me.

“Wow, you’ve grown,” I gasped at the sight of them.

“You’re back!” They hugged me.

“I’m back. ” I told them and looked at my mom who had a smile on her face. "Forever."

“Welcome home.”

#tom iceman kazansky x reader #pete maverick mitchell x reader #tom kazansky x reader #pete mitchell x reader #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #tom kazansky #pete mitchell #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #Spotify

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jellybear455 · 1 year

Text

Let me heal you - Neteyam x reader (Part 10) FINAL

Characters are aged up.

Warnings: a LOT of spoilers (don't come at me for it), Lo'ak being a shxawng, violence, injury

Readers name is Stela, and uses she/her pronouns.

Word count: 1202

Previous part

a/n: Thank you for all the support on this story. I appreciate every like and comment. It truly makes my day to see people enjoying my work. I love you all. So with out further ado...

---

“Ma?” I called, attracting the attention of a tall, beautiful Na’vi woman.

“My ‘eveng (child).” She cried, opening her arms wide.

Tears cascaded down my face for the thousandth time this week as I embraced her. It did not worry me that my mother was long dead, and that to see her, I would have to have suffered the same fate. My mother took my face in her hands. She was crying too, and she looked at me the same way one looks at a beautiful flower.

“My Stela…” She whispered. My name on her tongue was sweeter than I had imagined. “I have missed you.”

“I missed you too, Ma.” I muttered back.

“You have grown to be so beautiful… and you have your father’s eyes.”

She hugged me again, and we stood there for so long. Many minutes passed before the reality of the situation settled in.

“I am dead, aren’t I?” I asked, somehow not afraid of the answer.

“Not yet. But close. Eywa has sent me here to help you, my Stela. You must make a choice. You can come with me. We will pass through the eye and spend forever with the Great Mother. Or, you can go back to Pandora, and live again amongst the Na’vi.”

I could tell from the look in my mother’s eyes that she wished I would go with her. She had no need to worry. How could I leave her so soon? I reached up to touch her face, to reassure her. My hands were covered in blood. Neteyam’s blood. I died saving him. My Neteyam. I did not even tell him that I loved him. I love him.

My mother, as though she could sense my hesitation, took my hand. “Go. You have a whole life to come. I will be waiting.”

“I see you, Ma.” I said, capturing her face in my memory.

She pressed her forehead mine, and I closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes again, she was gone. Replacing her was the woven roof of the healing mauri.

“Ma?” I croaked, squinting at a blue figure crouching beside me.

“Stela?” It was Ronal. Her hand gripped mine. “You are awake.”

“Is Neteyam okay?”

Ronal laughed, but her voice was hoarse, as though the practice was unfamiliar to her. “He is just fine. It was you we were worried about.”

“Why?”

“You have been asleep for a week.”

“Oh,” I replied. A week? I could only stare plainly up at my aunt. Noticing a cut on her cheek, I reached to use my gift, but I could not find it. “My power is gone, Ronal.”

“That is alright. Do not worry yourself. Rest.”

I scoffed, feeling a rush of energy blow away my drowsiness. “I’ve been sleeping for a week, Ronal. I think I’ll be fine.”

Ronal hissed as I pushed myself up. Surprisingly, my head did not spin. After a few laps back and forth to stretch out my limbs, I stepped out into the light.

“Be careful Stela. You have only just woken up.” Ronal called from behind me, but I waved her off, eager to feel the salt water.

I weaved through the crowd until I reached the beach. Wiggling my toes, I wondered why I had never stopped to appreciate the feeling of sand before. The water lapped at my ankles. I took in a deep breath, preparing to dive in.

“Stela!” Someone shouted behind me.

Before I could turn around, a tiny cannonball barrelled into me, her arms wrapping around my waist.

“Tuk,” I laughed, lifting the girl onto my hip.

“You’re awake,” She said, snuggling into my shoulder. “And you saved Neteyam.”

She dropped from my arms, taking my hand, and pulling me away from the water. I protested, but only for a moment, when I realised where we were headed. When we arrived at the Sully mauri, Neytiri scooped me into a bone crushing hug. She thanked me over and over. I hoped she would hug me more often. It reminded me of my mother.

Jake Sully took me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “You saved my son. We are in your debt.”

“Dad, I found the-… Syulang?”

Turning around, I met Neteyam’s eyes. Immediately, I searched him for any trace of an injury. There wasn’t even a scar. I sighed in relief, a tear trailing down my cheek. I met him halfway, wrapping my arms around his middle.

He was okay. My Neteyam was okay.

The Sully mauri was empty. Soon, there would be no evidence of them ever living here. The thought of it broke my heart just a little more. I hugged Ronal tighter.

“You must visit.” She whispers.

“Only if you do.” I whisper back. I never thought I would see Ronal cry, but here we are. I pry my finger out of my new cousin’s little hand. “I will see you again, little one.”

I step back. Tsireya is standing behind her mother, the tears flowing freely down her face. Anoung is stony faced, but I can see the sadness and regret in his eyes. Tonowari sends me a nod. I smile back, before retreating to Neteyam. He wraps an arm around my waist comfortingly. We mount his Ikran, and I settle in front of Neteyam.

The Ikran takes off with a screech, and I watch as the Metkayina clan grows smaller and smaller. At first, Neteyam objected to me going with them. I am glad he relented, because there is little left for me here. I have no gift, and the only man that I could ever mate with is leaving.

Neteyam’s arms are strong around me the whole flight. Surprisingly, I liked flying. Not more than being in the water, which I will surely miss. By the time we reach the Omatikaya clan, I am windswept, and my legs are stiff.

I climb off the Ikran, and watch as Neytiri rushes to a decorated woman, presumably Tsahìk, and envelopes her in a hug. The Tsahìk opens her arms again, and the Sully children have a sort of group hug with her. It is now that she spots me. Nervousness flaps in my stomach. She can make me leave if she puts her mind to it. Neteyam, as though sensing my uneasiness, steps back to take my hand.

"Syulang, this is the Tsahìk, and my grandmother, Mo'at."

“Who are you?” She demands, although her tone is not unkind.

“I come from the Metkayina clan. I was a healer.” I say as she approaches me.

“And now?”

I stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the question. I was no longer Metkayina, nor was I Omatikaya. I was not of the sky people, although their blood ran through my veins. I thought of my mother, a beautiful Na'vi woman, and my father, who had come from the stars. It was obvious who they were. Who did that make me?

I looked to Neteyam, who was scanning my face for any sign of distress. Looking into his eyes, I was reminded of the last eight months we had spent together. I was not just a healer, and I did not have to light the path alone. I was who ever I chose to be.

“I am Stela.”

Mo'at smiled. “Welcome home, Stela.”

Tag list:

@sloppierjewel

@inutheangel

@nopenopebutyepyep

@directioner5life

@yogirlfriend

@casuallydogobsessed

@yzulu

@fanboyluvr

@mashiromochi

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wings-of-sapphire · 3 months

Text

Snow White rewrite

Hello loves, so I’ve been procrastinating this for a WHILE but I was like fuck it I’ll post what I have so far

Remember like fifteen years ago when I said I’d post my Snow White rewrite? Well, I want to get at least some of it out to get some traction going, especially since Disney’s live-action Snow White is coming out soon and I’m… intrigued to see how it goes.

Anyways, here’s my WIP rewrite— not finished, may be subject to edits later, I have reasons for what I’m doing trust me

Red as the Rose

A Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs rewrite (revamp? Idk)

Meet Snow Dysni.

Her stepmother is not the nicest person.

She’s never met her mother, as she died shortly after Snow was born, so she wasn’t exactly well-versed in motherhood knowledge. But she was pretty sure stepmothers aren’t supposed to kill you.

Some backstory.

Snow is the princess of the kingdom of Grimm. Grimmians are a wonderful people. At least, Snow assumes so. She hasn’t interacted with them much.

Her birth mother was allegedly murdered by an enchantress, and then her father sort of freaked out and banned all magic. All the neighboring kingdoms started to follow his rule, forcing all the magical creatures to go into hiding. Most fled to the Twists, a cursed forest full of the Wrathborne– nightmares come to life. Yeah. Magic, from what Snow has learned, isn’t the greatest.

But still, being cooped up in this castle all day isn’t really the life. Snow knew all the staff’s names by heart. But there’s no teens in the palace, and her only friend is this cat that roams the castle grounds sometimes. Snow named her Shanks. She brings Snow flower snacks sometimes.

It’s just meetings and being locked up in her room. Her stepmother says it’s unbecoming for a princess with such little social awareness to be among the people. Snow’s only meeting royals and nobles. Like today, a meeting with Isel, the eastern kingdom, and their prince, Florian White.

Snow talks with Florian. When he laughs, it makes something inside her bubble. Maybe he poisoned her.

Oh, no. He poisoned her!

The royal nurse clears Snow, though. I guess Florian can pass for now.

There’s also Huntsman, whose real name Snow doesn’t know. She tries to talk with him sometimes. He doesn’t really talk otherwise.

But one day, Huntsman tells Snow that he can sneak her out of the castle for a night. She agrees. Because obviously!

Huntsman takes Snow out to see the Grimmians. To see her people! Away from her stepmother. Queen Isla Grimhilde. Snow doesn’t know why her father puts up with her. She really doesn’t.

They end up in the Twists.

Snow asks Huntsman what they’re doing here.

He pulls out a knife and stabs her. Snow screams, blood splattering the floor. She hears a Wrathborne near, then something tackles the Huntsman. Probably. She can’t see anything, too blind from pain. White, searing pain. All she can think of is blood. Her blood.

Snow sees the Wrathborne fighting with the Huntsman. Snow gasps out in pain and starts to stumble away. She sees a cottage in the distance. She falls to the floor. She hears voices above her.

She passes out.

Snow awakens up to grumbling. Something about red on the sheets. She blearily opens her eyes. She see six noses poking out on top of the bedframe.

She tries to scramble up. Someone cries out. It took Snow a moment to realize it was her. Red-hot pain shoots up her back.

“Woah, woah, steady there!”

Snow stares at the man beside her. Er… child? Man the size of a child?

Oh. Dwarves!

“You’re dwarves!” she croaks out.

The dwarf laughs. He introduces himself as Doc, the eldest brother. He explains how their nephew found me outside, bleeding, and had to go, but notified Doc and his brothers about her. They treated her.

Snow tries to scream, but a hand claps over her mouth. Snow sees another dwarf in front of her. He looks like he wants her head.

“Quiet, lass! You’ll attract Grimhilde’s soldiers!”

“The heck I will! You’re illegal magicals! You should be arrested!”

“We saved your royal life! Show some gratefulness!”

Aaaanyways. The seven introduce themself. There’s Doc, the oldest and the kindest. Happy, who’s… happy all the time. Snow has a suspicion he may be on drugs. Grumpy doesn’t like her at all. Dopey— at least she thinks that’s his name… maybe it’s Mopey but that doesn’t seem right— is mute and signs. Snow unfortunately doesn’t know sign, so his brothers have to translate.

Uhhh there’s Sleepy. Mate, same. Sneezy… please stay away. Bashful Snow doesn't know much about, as he tends to stay away.

Apparently there was an eighth named Raspulstin or whatever… Snow wasn’t really paying attention. She’s too busy analyzing everything.

Magic was evil. Magic killed her mother. Magic is what creates the Wrathborne, the evil spirits of the Twists.

But these magicals… saved her.

#lol gonna edit the hell out of this later #idk #current wip #snow white #writing by sapphire #disney rewrites #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white and the 7 dwarfs #idk what I’m doing

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merlieve · 2 years

Note

For your bridgerton requests, do you write dark obsessive/possessive stuff? If so, can I get a dark!anthony bridgerton x innocent naive!reader and jealousy? (If not, you can just ignore me 🙈 sorry)

training wheels I :: anthony bridgerton x reader

CHAPTER ONE. WHEELS AREN’T EVEN TOUCHING THE GROUND. Fem! Reader. (She/Her). 2k words.

[ Note: I have too many ideas with this prompt, so I made it a series! NEW LAYOUT UPDATED]

Warning/s: Possessive Anthony, Friendzone-d Anthony

I do not allow my works to be published on another site, so please check in with me, or at least give credit!

Anthony and [Name] have been friends for as long as they can recall, their fathers met at Oxford, where they finished their studies. When Edmund passed away, [Father’s Name] didn’t take it nicely, he fled the country, but that didn’t stop Anthony and [Name] from writing letters to each other, they always kept in touch. Though this season, [Name] didn’t write back to Anthony.

[Name]’s at the ripe age of eighteen, her family thought she was ready to debut, so her family voyaged back to London to find a husband for her. She was a daughter of a duke and duchess, so she had no problem with rank. She was nervous, her mother had been teaching her about the fine arts and learning different languages to entertain her husband, she didn’t like how she was doing all of this, not for herself, but for her future husband. And because of all of this, [Name] didn’t have the time to exchange regards with friends, whether it’d be Anthony or not.

“[Name], wake up! We’re here,” Beamed [Sister’s Name] as she practically yelled at [Name]’s poor ear. “How long was I asleep for?! I certainly didn’t expect we’d be here so early,” Yawned [Name] while getting off of the black carriage. Her sister and she took a moment to take in the London air that had bestowed upon them. The housekeepers and maids stood on the stairs as they greeted their employers.

“I want to thank you, Eliza, for taking care of our house after all these years!” Gasped [Father’s Name], “Do not thank me, Your Grace, for it is simply my job to take care of your fine home,” Smiled Eliza, the head housekeeper.

“I haven’t seen this house in years! The Deja vû I got,” Sighed [Mother’s Name] as she reflected on her memories when she was a young woman in London. “Hurry up, I can’t wait!” Spoke [Sister’s Name] as she opened the door to reveal their old home, the entryway filled with flowers, and the family colours. “It’s marvellous!” Stated [Sister’s Name], as she smelled the flower next to her, resulting in her sneezing in the process.

“When you were a baby, you always drew on the wall! Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again,” Winked Eliza to [Sister’s Name]. Eliza was like a second mother to them, she helped [Mother’s Name] put them to sleep, eat, and keep them entertained when their parents aren’t home, [Sister’s Name] may not remember it but [Name] did, she kept in touch with Eliza whenever her mother sends a letter out to the housekeepers.

[Name] ran up to her room in excitement, when she walked in she froze up, remembering the times Anthony and her would play with her dolls while their mothers watch them. Oh, God, she forgot to tell Anthony she was back in London nor did she have the time to. But [Name] decided to surprise him at Lady Danbury’s ball.

The Bridgerton household stayed the same. Hyacinth and Gregory playing in the corridors, Francesca and Eloise minding their own business, Anthony writing on his notepad and Benedict illustrating his future masterpiece. Eloise was reading the new issue of Whistledown that came out this forenoon, sharing her comments to Francesca as rolled her eyes at her sister, though a particular paragraph had caught her eye.

“The [Last Name]’s are in London!” Beamed Francesca, a smile smeared on her face. Her outburst made everyone stop what their doing. “Oh! How wonderful, we should pay them a visit shall we?” Clapped Violet, “We haven’t seen them in so long,” Everyone started making plans, but Anthony didn’t care for a word they said, he missed [Name] truly, though why didn’t she tell him they were coming back to Mayfair? Did she not want him to know? All these questions flooded Anthony’s mind. “Anthony, may you clear tomorrow for us? I shall write a letter to Daphne to tell her the great news!” Smiled Violet, as she looked at everyone with delight.

Anthony didn’t know why he was angry that she didn’t tell him she was going back to London. He was worried for her that’s all… “Err - yes, mama, I shall,” He nodded in his mother’s direction and left to go to his study, which was filled with notepads and stacks of paper waiting to be signed. He walks over to his desk, showing an unfinished letter he was going to give to [Name], as he looked at it longer he felt pathetic, and Anthony hated that. [Full Name] had Anthony Bridgerton wrapped around her finger and she never knew it.

[Name] was innocent and sinless, so Anthony had no reason to think of her at night. His feelings for [Name] grew each time they wrote to each other. Hell, he forgot what she looked like, and that made him eager to see her again. When Colin was off on his travels, he stopped by to see the [Last Name]’s, and that made Anthony wish he came when Colin offered him to visit [Country Name]. Colin described [Name] was more mature than before, well, it was obvious it had been YEARS since they saw each other. He could only picture her as what Colin described, which made him yearn to see her.

In honour of the first ball of the reason, Lady Danbury embellished the ballroom with flowers of all sorts, and her decorating was divine. Even the Queen commented on this floral set-up. The orchestra prepared an exquisite song as people started dancing in the centre.

After the song ended, the Bridgertons finally arrived at the venue, Eloise holding on to her dear mama’s arm for her life. She looked very uncomfortable wearing the dress, as she started moving around to find a less itchy spot. “Stop fussing with your dress,” Ordered Anthony, his mind plagued seeing [Name] tonight. “You look lovely, dear,” Complimented Violet, while she looked around smiling. “I look like a prize calf trussed up for auction!” Fumed Eloise stubbornly, Benedict thought it was funny to moo at Eloise in the process.

“Even Daphne thought most apprehensive at her first official ball and look how well her season turned out,” Scolded Violet, making Eloise change her mind a little… It didn't last long until a gentleman started to approach Eloise, Benedict made an excuse about cakes and left with Eloise, making the gentleman feel disappointed.

It was only Violet and Anthony left. “It truly is a sparse crop,” Complained Anthony, as he looked around the room. “Well, I’m sure there is someone here who would charm you, maybe a specific [Last Name]” Smirked Violet. Anthony looked at her with shocking eyes.

“After all this is the season the Viscount intends to find a wife!” Giggled Violet, emphasizing the wife part, making mamas and debutants look in their direction. “You honestly just did that?!” Whisper shouted Anthony, as he looked at his mother in disbelief. “I believe I did,” Teased Violet as mamas find their way to approach him with their daughters, practically begging for him to dance with them.

“-The Viscount intends to find a wife!” A voice all too acquainted echoed along with the gallery. “My, my, could it be?” Gasped [Mother’s Name], looking at where the noise came from. Aside from the hoard of suitor hungry mamas, she found the right person she was looking for.

“Well, if it isn’t Violet Bridgerton!” Smiled [Mother’s Name] as she dragged the rest of the family behind her. “Lady [Last Name],what a surprise! I’ve heard about your arrival yesterday, I trust you have settled in?” Chattered Violet, delighted seeing the [Last Name]’s after years. “Why, yes, we have,” - “What brings you back to London? Getting little [Name] out to society I hope?” Inquired Violet, looking at [Name] as she smiled at the young girl.

“My, how you have grown! The last time I saw you, you were as short as a cotton ball, and [Sister’s Name] you were just a baby when I first saw you!” Sighed Violet, remembering the good memories. “You must be eager to see Anthony again, are you? You two were like two peas in a pod! However, he is quite busy,” The [Last Name]’s followed Violet’s gaze on Anthony, looking too overwhelmed with the various ladies beseeching him to dance with them, their mamas following with ‘You must get to know her, she is a great dancer!’.

Accepting his fate, almost every woman’s dance card is filled with his name on it. Anthony looked around, trying to find a familiar face when he saw someone he knew all too well. He practically rushed, he waited his whole life for this moment. Anthony didn’t care if he hit a person or two, he just had to see her again, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, dreaming about her, and reminiscing about her. There it was… the spark, he knew he had met her.

“[Name]...” Whispered Anthony, his heart was beating fast and his palms were getting sweaty, he waited for this moment to come, hell, he even IMAGINED it, [Name] would be lying if she didn’t say she did the same. “A-Anthony?!” Exclaimed [Name], her eyes couldn’t believe her, they both wish they could hug each other without society turning it into a scandal. Anthony looked mature… and deadly attractive, but we don’t talk about that. Anthony swore this was the first genuine smile he made, words couldn’t explain how happy he was. He felt comfortable around her, and she felt the same. Their eyes were filled with tears they refused to let go,

Anthony had to contain himself from embracing her, [Name] almost fainted, she felt her glass slipping away from her fingers, she didn’t have the time to process what was happening. The sound of glass shattering made people look their way, [Name] felt embarrassed. “O-Oh… I didn’t mean to,” - “No worries, I’ll get it,” Anthony interrupted, he grabbed the shards of glass with the protection of his gloves. He gave the rest to a nearby butler. “Thank you, Anthony,” Smiled [Name], still feeling small after her incident. “You’re very welcome, [Name]. It is good - GREAT to see you again,” Laughed Anthony, making [Name] laugh with him. “Can’t you believe it’s been years since we saw each other?! You look so… Viscount-y?”

“Ah, yes, Viscount-y… my favourite word! I make people use it instead of Viscount since it’s too bland and Viscount-y feels very lively,” Anthony jokes, [Name] was glad he never changed over these years. “Should I call you Viscount now?” Asked [Name], she didn’t want to be disrespectful to Anthony’s name, she was used to calling him Anthony all these years. “No need, you are my dearest friend, you deserve calling me by my first name after all the burden that is me that YOU put up with,” Exclaimed Anthony, taking a sip from the champagne the waiter served.

“Enough about my title, how have you been?” Inquired Anthony, focusing on [Name]. “Life has been great, my mama’s pretty excited with me coming out into society,” Smiled [Name], Anthony felt a ping, ‘so she’s a debutante?’ Anthony thought this was his chance.. but the thought of other people considering her as an eligible bachelorette bothered him, he didn’t know why.

“Are you alright, Anthony? You look lost in thought,” Commented [Name], looking at Anthony with worried eyes, Oh, don’t get him started with her eyes, her eyes were pure, innocent, angelic like. “S-sorry, I remembered I have to dance with a few ladies…” Anthony excused, his excuse was true, he forgot everything after he saw [Name], he wanted nothing but to be with her, he wanted to protect her, and he wanted her to trust him enough to let him in. “Oh… alright! Have a great night, Anthony,” She sounded disappointed, she WAS disappointed, but she shoved it down, knowing they had to part in some time of the night. Anthony hesitantly walked away, looking back at [Name], he didn’t want to leave her, her presence made him comfortable, her scent was lustrous, and she was absolutely delicate.

Anthony went to one of the women he signed up to dance with, and before the music started, he saw [Name]… dancing with another man. He didn’t know why he was jealous, or why he cared, but nonetheless, the thought of her marrying another man made him sick to his stomach. He thought he was the perfect fit for [Name], they fit together like a glove, not the mention they have been friends when they were both as small as a biscuit.

Anthony wanted her, she only thought of him as a brother. He knew that she told him before that he was her older brother she never had, and he wanted to change that.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #dark!anthony bridgerton x reader #requested #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x female reader #jonathan bailey #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton drabble #merlieve’s fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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ray-the-ginger-queen · 1 year

Text

After the chroma conclave had been defeated and everything had calmed, all Percy really wanted was to rest. But once again, it seems that will have to wait.

At first he’s glad to receive a letter from Whitestone, from Cass. She’s been sending him updates about rebuilding. In a way, this letter is no different. Keeper Yennen suggested a day of mourning now that the crisis was over. Whitestone had suffered for years under the briarwoods, and the revolt hadn’t been without casualties. Cassandra had agreed to a day of mourning and a candlelight ceremony for the fallen. As both a de Rolo and one of the liberators of Whitestone, Percy had been invited to attend. More like he had to attend. He knew two things immediately upon reading this information. 1. The city needed this, and he would need to be there. 2. He desperately didn’t want to go. He’d spent years lost in his grief and rage, and he had no desire to face it again. But he had a duty to Whitestone, and to Cass.

This was how he found himself standing on a platform behind Cass and beside Keeper Yennen, holding a small white candle flickering against the slight chill in the air. Cassandra spoke, Keeper Yennen spoke, even he spoke, but somehow it all felt like static. He could only hope his words came out the way he had written them, and that they were good enough for the people of his city. He tried to keep his voice even and strong, as his father would have. He never learned as much about leadership as Julius or even Vesper had, but even he understood keeping a brave face before the populous. Still, the whole thing passed in a blur. People holding candles milled around quietly down a long street. The path was lined with smooth stones, carved with the names of the fallen. Some during the rebellion or past attempts, some killed in cold blood by the Briarwoods, others simply passed from the harsh conditions. The stones were surrounded by flowers, personal items, or portraits of the deceased.

Percy milled quietly up the path, scanning the names as he went. Most were unfamiliar, but he couldn’t help but feel weighed down by each one. Archie has a stone among them, placed just before a clearing. Percy stands before it for so long his candle nearly melts almost down to his fingers before going out completely. He feels rigid, unsure of how to conduct himself in front of his best friends makeshift grave. It’s decorated more than most. There’s a small portrait of Archie as a boy, he looks too much like how Percy remembered him. Grinning with a wicked gap tooth smile. Percy can almost hear him explaining this latest scheme. One Percy would almost certainly agree to. He doesn’t realize how tense he’s getting until his candle snaps, pulling him out of his daze. There’s one area left, one he’s been avoiding all night but he knows he has to visit.

With slow and heavy footsteps, he enters the clearing past Archie’s stone. There the path gives way to a circular area of stone surrounded by bushes and greenery. There are 7 stones in this area, slightly larger than the ones on the path. These stones are similarly decorated with flowers and each has a portrait, though there aren’t as many personal items here. He doesn’t blame Cass for not putting them out. He wouldn’t have wanted to go through their things either. In the center are the two largest stones belonging to his mother and father, and between those, a family portrait. Percy stops dead at the entrance and stares his former self in the eye. Vespers hand is placed on one shoulder, his mothers hand rests on the other. He grins at his unknown future. Percy had almost forget the shade of brown his hair used to be.

He takes a deep, unsteady breath and ventures deeper into the clearing. The crowd had begun to clear in general, but some people were still around this area. Upon entry he feels all eyes lay briefly on him before darting away. He goes the the right, starting at the stone for his youngest brother, Ludwig. He doesn’t want to rush anyone out, but he’s still grateful as the remaining people in the clearing finish up their respects and hurry out. Grateful, until he realizes he’s alone with what remains of his family’s memories. He stops at each stone and feels each gouge into his chest. As he’s reaching the center he hears someone clear their throat behind him. “Hi Cass” he says quietly, his eyes unable to leave the center portrait.

Cass walks up next to him without speaking. They stand, side by side, looking back in time. Percy is 14 in this portrait. He remembers getting antsy for it to be over, he had wanted to get back to his latest project, a table clock he was working on for Vespers birthday. He was trying to figure out how to make it play music on the hour. Cass is grinning, but he remembers the hell she had put up about the dress she’s wearing. Too itchy. Too frilly. He focuses on each face. He misses them. He misses his mothers annoyed yet endeared sigh at her children’s antics. He misses his fathers hearty belly laugh, far too loud every time. He misses Julius attempting to teach him to sword fight day after day with wooden sticks, even though Percy was never very good. He misses Whitney and Oliver’s laughter, and their bickering too. He misses Ludwig bothering his mother for just one more sweet before bed. He misses Vesper listening with an amused smile as Percy went on about his latest obsession. He finally breaks his trance to glance at Cassandra. Her face is tight, he recognizes the set position in her jaw. She’s trying to keep it together. She must have felt his eyes on her. Their eyes meet and he can see that hers are shining with the tears she’s holding back.

He doesn’t know who reached for who. All he knows is Cass is in his arms. Her head is buried in his chest, his face is mostly hidden in her shoulder. He’s hunched slightly to encompass her, but not too much. She’s so much taller now. He doesn’t like to think about how much she grew in their old house, under the Briarwoods. She’s shaking, he can hear tiny sobs muffled through his jacket. He’s reminded of the little girl she used to be. He’s not sure how long they stood there, holding each other tight enough to hope they couldn’t be separated again. He’s not sure who saw them wrapped up like this. He can’t really bring himself to care. It’s only when they separate that he realized he’d been crying too. The fabric over her shoulder is wet with his tears, though some have caught in his glasses.

“Let’s go home” Cassandra mutters softly. Percy nods his head wordlessly and takes her hand. He squeezes it in attempt to offer what little comfort he can. She gives him a weak smile and squeezes his hand in return. They leave together, back to the home that was once theirs, and maybe will be again.

#percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #cassandra de rolo #critical role #tlovm #vox machina #vox machina spoilers #de rolo family #percy de rolo #de rolo siblings #they both need a hug #that’s why I wrote this whole thing #drabble #minific #tlovm minific

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a-christmas-carol-from-hr · 7 months

Text

Where the Stone Flowers Grow

TW: discussion of miscarriage and child loss, mentions of disordered eating

March 10th, 2013

Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park was hardly somewhere anyone expected to see Ellen Scrooge, chromium queen. It was too green. Too alive. Ellen was well known as somebody who preferred the indoors to the outdoors. But that was only because much of the outdoors in London weren’t her kind of outdoors. She disliked most parks and gardens, it was true. But that was because they weren’t her kind of gardens.

Her kind of gardens were like the countryside she’d grown up in. Wild and green and untamed and green. Swarming with insects, swarming with plants. Swarming with the things her mother and sister had so loved. Swarming with life.

Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park was her kind of outdoors.

She had been coming here more and more since Marley’s stroke. On evenings when she needed to take in some air, she found herself without fail in the green embrace of Tower Hamlets. She’d visited her mother and sister’s graves more in the past three months than she had in her entire life. Today brought her to them again.

“I have to do some chores today.” Ellen had told Marley while dressing. “I need to go to the Cemetery. To bring my mother and Farah flowers.”

Marley had looked up when she said that. “Do you…want me to go with you?”

The thought made her uncomfortable. But rejecting him felt even worse. “Sure.” She had said, trying to hide her unease. “It’ll be good exercise.”

When they’d entered the cemetery, Marley’s eyes had gone wide with surprise. The man was about as inclined as Ellen was to nature walks, and he had evidently not believed such a place could exist in their drab East End. He looked at the encroaching moss and the sticky mud and the tombstones sinking into the ground.

“I can see why you like it here.” He said with all sincerity.

She left him to his wanderings (they were trying to give him more independence) while she headed towards the section of the cemetery where her mother was located. Yaling Scrooge was not buried here, of course. Her ashes, and that of her son with no name, were somewhere in her father’s clutches. But she and Farah had paid for a tombstone with Ellen’s first paycheck.

Yaling’s headstone carried her name in Chinese first, a subtle jab at Jasper Scrooge that he’d never seen. The English below listed her name and the years she had been born and died in. They hadn’t inscribed such things as ‘loving mother’ or ‘devoted wife’. They’d thought the Chinese letters more important. Mum had tried so hard to keep her culture close, even as Jasper had demanded it stripped away like a scab. Ellen would be cold in her grave before she let anyone forget her mother’s culture.

She placed the bouquet of flowers at her grave. It was entirely biodegradable. In a few weeks it would feed the bugs that thrived in the graveyard. Mum would have loved that.

“Happy Mother’s day, Mother.”

Farah’s grave was nearby. Newer than Yaling’s, a bowl of Yangzhou fried rice and a jar of green tea sat on the grave, pristine despite the wildness around it. Ellen couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She must have just missed Fred. He brought his mother an offering of her favorite food each year. And- yes. There. Tucked behind the jar was a tiny bowl of beer. Cheap beer. Farah’s favorite.

“You have a good son, Farah.” Ellen said, placing a second bouquet alongside Fred’s offerings. “Happy Mother’s day, Huangfeng.”

The little statues aren’t so far from the other graves, so she usually visits them last. Today, she would especially prefer to visit them last.

She moved further into the gloom of the cemetery, enjoying the quiet of the grave as she moved along. She saw the red of the fabric tied around the statues first, and as she drew closer she saw the tiny stone faces come into view. As she approached her fingernail buried in her hand.

Ellen stood in front of them, as still as stone herself. For a moment, all she could do was stare. And then she moved.

“Stupid thing.” She said quietly, brushing her hand over one of the heads protectively. Its little red cap had become torn by the English winter. “You’ve torn it already. What are you to do now?”

She glanced over at the other statue. “He hasn’t torn his.” She chided as she removed the red knit fabric from the second statue. Without it, it seemed frightfully bare.

Ellen tucked the torn woolen cap into her pocket, and without hesitate unfurled her own red scarf from her neck.

“You are lucky I wore this today,” She said, as if she hadn’t put it on for this reason. “There. Now you are neat again. As neat as a pin.”

Bundled up in the oversized scarf, the statue looked like a swaddled babe.

“Now you’re all better.” Ellen murmured, breath hitching.

It was only then that she was aware of a presence behind her.

Marley was standing nearby, leaning on his cane as he watched her. How long he’d been there, she didn’t know. His expression was unfathomable as she straightened up.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Chores.” She said, clearing her throat.

“You were talking to them. I saw you.” He said, glancing at the statues. “Those aren’t the graves. What are they?”

“Statues.”

“I can see that, woman.” He said.

“Well, then you don’t need to pry.” She snapped back, feeling vulnerable.

His expression turned to concern. “You’re- right. I’m sorry. I…was just…you’re right. I’m sorry. I can wait. Take all the time you need.”

“No, it’s- fine.” She said, looking at her hand as she brushed it down her coat. “I was finished.”

The gloom, that had once been so comforting, now seemed so very oppressive. It felt like she and Marley were the only ones in the world, isolated by the foliage. The only ones in the world. They, and a subject they’d never discussed.

She looked back at the statues. The wind had tugged at the scarf. Without thinking, she moved to fix it.

“Jizō.”” She said after a moment. Her voice was flat.

“What?” Marley asked, confused.

“Jizō. That’s what they are. They’re statues of Jizō. It’s part of a ritual. Mizuko kuyō.” She said as she adjusted the scarf.

“I’m not familiar.”

She tugged at the scarf. Why wouldn’t it lie straight? “It’s a ritual in Buddhism. Usually in Japan, but it’s spread to China as well. It’s a memorial statue.” If she goes farther, she cannot take it back. If she goes farther, things will not be the same. If she goes farther, it all could end.

But she can’t lie to him. Not in front of them.

“They’re memorials for lost children.”

She expected him to awkwardly nod. She expected him to say something and then make an excuse to go. She expected him to acknowledge this with as much emotion as he had before.

She didn’t expect his eyes to widen.

She didn’t expect the brief look of something to flicker over his face before he hid it.

She didn’t expect him to immediately look over at the second of the two statues.

“…Ah.” He said.

The only noise Ellen could hear was the whisper of the wind in the trees. She and Marley stood across from each other, close and far. The ghost of 2008 lingered between them.

She blinked first. She glanced at her phone before stiffly moving past him. “Fred wishes for me to double check something at Farah’s grave. I’ll be a moment.”

Marley nodded. He leaned heavily on his cane.

As she returned to Farah’s grave like the coward she was, she knew her sister was glaring at her from the other world. She put her hand on the top of the tombstone. The granite was grounding. Farah had been dead for two years when she was buried. Her partner had kept her ashes in the home for that long. But eventually he’d had them interred here, in the earth. Now Farah was in the trees and grass and plants around her. She’d have loved it.

Why is it so hard for you to talk about this? You’ve seen the man’s brain scans. You’ve held him down for a spinal tap. Why can’t you be open for once?

I can’t, she thought back as she looked at the grave. Not with this. Not again.

The wind seemed to snap at her skin. He’s not Bellamy, girl. But the cold breeze shifted again, becoming gentle as it played with her hair. It’s okay, Tu-Ying.

Farah had been dead two years before her partner had felt okay with letting her go. These things took time.

Maybe it was time for her, too, to try and let go.

She brushed her fingers over the tombstone with a sister’s care. “Why do you always have to be right?”

The leaves seemed to laugh at her.

The walk back seemed longer than the walk there. Maybe she was going slower, trying to avoid what seemed to grow ever closer. Maybe she was simply imagining it. But as she grew closer to the statues, she heard something. Something she did think she was imagining.

“...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know this was here.”

A voice was speaking quietly, gently, oh so painfully gentle.

It was his voice.

Marley was standing by the second statue, hand on its stone head. His cane leaned up against the platform. His only support was the statue.

“I know you’re here now. I know now. I’ll come and visit. I’ll bring something next time too. Something red. Roses, maybe. Yes. I’ll bring roses. I’ll bring you roses. I’ll bring you roses, even in the winter. It’ll be a fuss, but I’ll do it anyway. I’ll bring you flowers, even in the winter.”

A twig crunched under her foot as she stepped forward. It was the only sound she could make. She was too stunned to speak.

He turned around, as surprised as she was to see somebody else.

They stared at each other. A cavern seemed between them. An ocean. A secret. The Thing they had never spoken of again. He put on the mask of cool composure in an instant. But his eyes were rimmed as red as the statue’s fabric.

He’s grieving. Dear god. He was grieving.

“I wanted it.” She admitted. The words seem to rip out her lungs with them.

He looked at her for a moment. A long moment. An eternity. Stars seemed to be conceived and die in that moment.

And then the mask fell. And he looked so very tired.

“I wanted it too.”

Ellen let go of a breath she’d been holding for the past five years.

Marley looked back at the statue. His hand still rested on its head. His thumb brushed over the tiny stone face, like he was wiping dirt from a child. “You can t-t-think I’m pa-pathetic if you want. I do.”

“You’re not pathetic.” Ellen said faintly. “Do you think I’m pathetic?” She framed it as if it was a rhetorical question, but it rang entirely sincere.

“No.” Marley replied immediately. “But t-that’s different.”

“Why?”

“You would have been an excellent mother.”

Marley could have stabbed her right then and here and it wouldn’t have hurt as much as that did. Her hand rested on her ribs, the force of his words enough to elicit a physical reaction. But he didn’t seem to notice. He kept looking at the statue.

“It probably is a bit pathetic. I’m n-not the fathering type. I’d probably have made things worse. But…still.”

“No.” She said, finding her footing again. “No.”

“No, what? That I’m not the fathering type? I know that.”

“No,” She repeated. “No, you…would have been an excellent father.”

He looked back at Ellen, disbelief evident in his eyes. When he smiled, it was perfectly straight. “Thank you.”

“I mean it.” She moved closer, hand rubbing at her rib. “I…” She began. “...I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t know what to say e-either.” He admitted.

They stood in front of the stones, unable to do much else. As she stepped to his side, somehow their hands found each other.

It had begun to rain.

They stood there for God knows how long, wrapped in silence. When it was broken, it was broken by her.

“I’m sorry,” She began.

“For what?”

“Not knowing you were hurting. Fuck, not realizing you were hurting.”

“It wasn’t like I made it all that clear.”

“I should have noticed anyway. And I’m sorry.”

“...I’m sorry too,” He started. “I…should have tried more to reach you. I didn’t know what to say. What to do. I didn’t want to bother you, and you were so…as you were. I didn’t know how you felt, and I didn’t want to say anything wrong. I thought…” He trailed off.

“What?”

“No. Forget it.”

“What were you going to say?”

Marley hesitated. “...You seemed…closed off when you…told me. I didn’t know…how you felt. If you were…I didn’t want to bother you.”

If you were relieved.

Rain traced a line down her face. She ignored it. “...I was sad. I didn’t want it to end that way.” She said simply.

“I didn’t either.” He replied. They lapsed back into silence until he broke it.

“I waited for you.” It came out of Marley’s mouth in a tumble, a half-desperate confession.

“What?” She looked over at him, confused. His face had grown pale, his hand shaking. He had a distant look in his eyes.

“I waited. In the waiting room. For hours. Hours upon hours. They’d not let me back.” His accent slipped from English to Scottish seamlessly. “I sat there and then I’d try to argue with them and then I’d go back to sitting and then I made myself be sick, and for the first time it didn’t make me feel better.” He spoke quickly, as if he couldn’t hold it in another moment.

“I waited. For hours. And I had no idea what was going on. And then it was all over.”

Ellen breathed in. It felt like her lungs were coated in barbed wire, like each tube and line was made of venom. Her body felt like a warzone. Barren and void of life.

“Jacob,” She breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t.”

“I know,” She replied. “But I’m sorry anyway.”

He tried to smile. There was rain dripping down his face. It was caught in the still growing buzz of his hair, running down the scar on his scalp.

“It’s funny. I can’t re-remember much of anything anymore. But I can remember every second of that day. Isn’t it funny?”

She moved closer, her other hand tilting his chin towards hers. “It’s funny.” She agreed.

She had a perfect memory. She never forgot anything.

Their foreheads met. Behind their skulls lurked a tangled mess of broken wires and twisted memories. But they were theirs.

“I love you.” He said quietly.

“I love you.” She repeated.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“Me too.” She replied.

They stood like that for a few moments before breaking. It was strange, Ellen mused, how they had stopped being in physical contact so easily, but she had never felt closer to Marley than she did right now.

“We should get you out of the rain,” She said, something of her no-nonsense tone returning. As they leave, arm in arm, she speaks in a voice that is not quite casual.

“The apartment isn’t far from here. You should walk here when you feel up to it. It might be good for you.”

What she’s doing is transparent, even by Ellen Scrooge standards. If you miss them, you can visit. It’s okay. But Marley seems thankful for the invitation anyway. He smiles at her. It’s sad, but it’s crooked. And maybe that’s the best they can hope for.

Postscript

The next day she goes into work. Around lunch, a delivery was dropped off for her. She returns to her office to find a vase of flowers in wait.

“Somebody sent these for you, Ms. Scrooge.” The temporary assistant explains.

The bouquet is made up of lavender, and Arum lilies, and Forget-me-not, and rosemary, and red sage. A small card sits amid the blooms.

Happy Mother’s Day. -J

#the christmas carol retelling thing #jacob marley #ebenezer scrooge #a christmas carol #scrooge x marley #christmas carol

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beck-nightengale · 11 months

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Character Ask for Jade the Prophetess

So I'd been ticking away at that old Enderal Character Ask for some weeks and finally had time to finish it, and lordy was that a lot of questions with a lot of answers...

Have some lineart/expressions that my friend (please commission her, she's amazing) did for my girl if you're just passing by:

But yeah. This thing ended up being a lot of words - more words than what is probably necessary (I'm justifying it because she's a novel character that much of her backstory will be re-adapted to, anyway). Even with all of this, there are still a lot of side details left out, but... I figure my Ask Box is open if anyone is curious about any bits in particular.

Grab some tea if you're down for that.

Warning for spoilers (obviously), child/domestic abuse, cannibalism, eye scream, mental illness, addiction, and the usual Enderal fuckery that's on full steam ahead. (I guess this should be a given, but hey you never know.)

1. The basics – name, age, etc…

Her original name was Jehoel Gris. She started using “Jade” shortly after her family was killed because of, you know, Reasons. Distancing herself from her old life, for one. Second, it had come at the suggestion of an old Aeterna woman, who helped her to recover from the injuries she got after the Masked Men tried to burn her alive with her parents. This also prompted her to try to pass as human once she was on her own. Reinventing yourself can be pretty simple when you are already a nobody.

Age-wise, she is 32. Her birthdate is 14th of the Winter Star, 8202. So not very old, but old enough to have Gone Through Some Shit.

2. Describe their appearance.

Thanks to the Aeterna blood from her mother’s side, Jade is pretty dang tall, standing at 6’4” (195cm). Because of this, she slouches when she sits and generally carries herself in poor posture to make herself appear smaller than she actually is. Even then, her attempts are not always successful around those who can recognize the more subtle hints of her Aeterna features or catch a peek of her ears in her hair, but those traits are pretty subdued for the most part. She tries to pass as half-Qyranian/half-Nehrimese, which she might actually be a quarter of both. We just don’t know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also she has freckles on her face, which aren’t always visible on her darker skin (it’s no mystery why her father didn’t believe that she was his child, really). Got some dark as fuck rings under her eyes from chronic insomnia. Her left eye is blind and pearl white in color, with some visible central heterochromia in her right, in which the outer iris is a storm-grey turning light brown/hazel towards the pupil.

3. How do they like to dress?

Generally prefers comfort over style, though she isn’t averse to dresses when wanting to look her Sundas’ best, which is rare. Purple is her favorite color, but she has very few opportunities to actually wear it. Her wardrobe varies a bit depending on the occasion. If she’s ever feeling particularly pretty, she’ll wear some flowers in her hair.

For the most part, she avoids outfits revealing too much skin, especially her hands, arms, and back, and she always wears gloves during her day-to-day activities. Not because she is modest, though...

4. Do they have any markings (scars, tattoos, birthmarks)?

The reason she covers her body with long sleeves and gloves would be the fact that it’s covered in scars. She’s not particularly self-conscious about her body, as she’s been intimate plenty of times without much trouble before. But she does feel that they make most people see her in a certain way (particularly pity or concern) that she would rather deflect more often than not. It’s also kind of hard to spin entertaining yarns about your childhood abuse or the time you barely managed to escape being burned alive by a cult, so she’s more likely to make up lies about where they come from than tell the truth.

Other scars just happen to be products of past scuffles and misadventures during her time as a street urchin and slave. Most notable are the severe burns left on her back, left shoulder, and behind her right leg.

Her face is not so easily covered up, and neither is Jade inclined to. After all, it’s an otherwise pretty face. She doesn’t care for helmets or masks to hinder her vision in the one good eye she has. The scar and blindness came from a particularly brutal incident, back when her father was first trying to teach her to hunt so she could be of more help on the farm. When she failed to hit a rabbit at a distance, he lashed out several times with the lower limb of a hunting bow. After a point, the left side of her face was swollen, and the eye came near to popping out entirely. Though it was salvaged with a combination of her mother’s healing salves and magic (which reduced what would have been severe disfigurements for the rest of her life), the eye remained permanently discolored. This event also may have left Jade comatose with some brain damage, had it not been for her mother’s healing, but it was also a turning point for how much abuse she could take, mentally and emotionally (and elaborated more on in later questions).

The remaining facial scars she has left are from the stitches where the skin had been split open from her father’s other… episodes. Her mother did what she could to heal Jade’s most grievous injuries, which led to her falling so sick with Arcane Fever so frequently that, on many days, she couldn’t even get out of bed. Jade didn’t fully understand the extent of Arcane Fever at the time, however, and just equated the memory with Light magic = bad.

5. What are they like? Describe their personality (use whatever tools you like- MBTI, D&D alignment, astrological signs, Hogwarts house, words/phrases):

Pre-Enderal, she’d probably be chaotic neutral; she did a lot of bad shit, but mostly out of survival. Post-Enderal and lots of character development later, she’s become more chaotic good, where she’s trying to be a better person than she was (or at least present herself as such) while still giving zero fucks about the law.

Moreover, Jade is the epitome of the type who masks their depression and deep loathing towards herself in humor and sarcasm, which seeps through self-deprecating jokes. And you can damn well bet that she hated when the Father called her out on this when she was working with Tharaêl, too. She wears all kinds of proverbial masks in hopes that no one can see the madwoman she fears she truly is.

See, ever since she was a child, she always had a peculiar connection with death, especially after the incident where she lost sight in her left eye… or so one can presume. Whether she truly heard the whispers of the dead or if it was the product of a shattered psyche, it’s hard to say. She kept the frequent visits of voices and phantasms to herself after her mother expressed fear that the girl’s mind just broke as a result of her father’s torment, or that she had suffered irreparable damage from her head injury. Most of the time, the voices she heard would go away on their own if she ignored them long enough, anyway. Since then, she always believed that people would think her mad if they got too close to her, started noticing the little ticks that always make her seem “off” – an ill-timed laugh, a hollow smile, talking when there’s seemingly no one else around. It was very wild how easily folks believed her when she started having her premonitions and experience with the dead after arriving on Enderal.

As an urchin child, she learned how to survive on the streets via thievery and fraud, until she was eventually caught and sold into slavery. The noblewoman who purchased her had taken an interest in her potential in burglary and violence, as she had a knack for both. Jade had no qualms when it came to killing in self-defense, which hardened her when it came to death in general (even though she may or may not have been haunted by those she killed for a time). This skill, coupled with her unassuming appearance and youth, made her an oddly effective hatchet person. If she wasn’t subjected to hard labor (which consumed the majority of her years as a slave), every now and then she was tasked to neutralize “threats” her master suspected of “plotting against her” – she was very paranoid, and a bit of a madwoman in her own right. As she grew into her adolescence, Jade just started seeing the killing as tiresome as any other chore she did, one in which she took neither joy nor despair, provided that she could shut the ghosts out.

6. How would they describe themselves?

“Hi, I’m garbage.”

7. Education level?

Smarter than one would think from a former farm girl, slave, street urchin, and possible madwoman – a fact which she uses to her own advantage, sometimes using reverse psychology-esque tactics by pretending to be dumber than she actually is. Not many would suspect a smooth talker out of her with the way she curses, but she’s maxed out in Rhetoric for a reason. Between her rather crass manner of speech, she can be remarkably well-spoken and thoughtful when it comes to matters she’s passionate about.

During her years as a slave, she was surprisingly given a basic education in reading and writing, which opened up a lot of avenues for Jade as she got older and would sneak some books to read during her rare downtimes. This is also just an excuse for how she’s able to speed read through all those skill books. Like, goddamn.

8. What are they proud of in themselves? What are they embarrassed about?

Jade would be hard-pressed to claim she takes any pride in the things she does, but she has developed the “fake it ‘til you make it” attitude to an art. Think you might be losing your mind? Pretend you’re sane until it goes away or no one notices. :)

Also she has shamefully high confidence in her seduction skills – she knows she’s got a pretty face (blemishes and all) and she uses those assets in her favor. It was especially useful when she was in the market of scamming and thieving, as it was possible to get away with all the gay crimes by flashing that charm and wit.

Of course, her seduction doesn’t always land. Her response to rejection is less than graceful.

9. Do they know any languages other than Inâl?

Some phrases from the Aeterna, Qyranians, and Kiléans she’s met, but not really fluent in anything. Linguistics isn’t her strong suit.

10. What, if any, aspects of their mother’s culture influenced them growing up?

Not much, since Jade was pretty ignorant of Aeterna culture and beliefs. Her mother always seemed to try to put that part of her past behind her when she had arrived on Nehrim as a refugee. Esme was shocked by how little Jade knew about her own kind.

11. Name a song (or a few) that remind you of them.

Oof, it’s hard to name a few, but I’ve got a whole playlist of songs for my Prophetess. Girl With One Eye by Florence & the Machine has always been my anthem for Jade as a character (she’s based off of a protagonist from one of my old novels/D&D character I played ages ago – more on that here if you’re curious), but it is hard to choose between that and Hated by Life Itself, Again, Arsonist’s Lullabye, and Little Talks as her one song.

Her OG!book iteration also had her own official songs (and In My Mind is still pretty fitting for her when you get down to those lyrics, goddamn), so… there’s that, too (and yes, I find the title of her theme to be hilariously and unintentionally appropriate, considering the “canon” ending I go for her Enderal version).

12. Speaking of songs, can they sing? What is their voice like? How about instruments?

Well, she’s no minstrel, but she doesn’t mind humming a tune or singing a tavern song she learned while on the road. She doesn’t have an ear for drums or flutes, but she enjoys strumming on a lute if she gets her hands on one (which may or may not be a residual character trait from her modern iteration, who was a violinist).

She likes to dance as well, despite the fact that she constantly derides herself for it by claiming she has “two left feet” and is overall a terrible dancer. She kind of is, but she likes it anyway.

...I also just really like dancing mods. They give me life.

13. What was their life like before coming to Enderal?

As indicated in previous answers, she was in a very bad way. A fugitive, runaway slave who had attempted to kill her master after reaching a breaking point, and ended up with a bounty on her head that prevented her from living in one place for too long. She did at some point have a few relationships (the longest one lasting three years), but her issues with trust, commitment, and fear of her own sanity rarely ever kept her around the same people. Her first experience with love didn’t end very well, and she’s had not much more than a series of shallow flings ever since.

I do have a timeline of “life events” that I mapped out that I’m still picking at off and on (and will also be adapted to a new novel series), but an abridged version of her life before Enderal can be described as: A walking natural fucking disaster. She had a bad habit of losing herself in drogae and casual sex as a way of coping with the night terrors in her sleep and her questionable mental state when she was awake. Had it not been for Sirius, she would have sniffed dust into an early grave.

14. How did they decide to leave Nehrim?

She didn’t. Her plan was pretty much to die alone in a gutter somewhere in her war-torn homeland. The only reason she left was because Sirius wanted her to come with him to start a new life.

15. Describe their relationship with Sirius.

Tense at first. They met as slaves, and then ran into each other again as runaways, where they were nearly recaptured by slavers. Their captors wanted to cash in on Jade’s bounty, and as such she was more heavily guarded than Sirius – a situation which the two readily took advantage of.

After that, they ended up sticking together. Sirius thought that she needed a friend, even after all of her efforts to try and keep him at arm’s length, and Jade figured it couldn’t hurt to have someone watch her back sometimes. For whatever reason she couldn’t understand, he never gave up on her; he often tried to make her see herself as someone capable of a lot of good, rather than a total lost cause. It just made his death hit that much harder, as she felt personally responsible (elaborated on more in #36).

Initially, she only told him a little about her past out of necessity, due to him frequently waking her up screaming in her sleep. But as they grew closer and developed a genuine friendship, she began to open up to him more in earnest. They were a dynamic hobo duo for eight years, which is the longest Jade ever stuck by someone, so they went through a lot together during their time on the streets.

16. Who do they blame for what happened to their family?

Herself. It was she who sought help when her father’s abuse had escalated to him finally attempting to drown her in the pond outside their home. She only survived because her mother had finally intervened, only to collapse from her Fever. Jade ran off on her own to get help and found some members from the Creator’s Temple, which only led to them condemning the entire family instead. Her sister died when the Masked Men set fire to their house, while Jade was strung up alongside her mother and father. She escaped with her life, but sustained severe burns in the process that left permanent scars.

The reason as to why the Masked Men executed the family is unclear in the game. For Jade’s story, it was because her father’s downward spiral into insanity led to cannibalism during a particularly poor harvest season, in which food was scarce. He murdered a local half-Qyranian man who he always suspected of being the biological father of his daughters, then forced the family to unknowingly consume him. The Creator’s Temple caught wind when more travelers were disappearing near the farm, confirmed it when they investigated the house, and saw the entire family as “tainted”. Thus, no one was to be spared.

At the end of the day, Jade believes that if she never sought help and somehow had just done things on her own, then her mother and sister would still be alive. Since then, she’s struggled to ask for help and would try to do things on her own that she really shouldn’t.

17. Apart from stowing away, have they ever broken the law?

Oh, she was a literal criminal long before being a stowaway. Even if you don’t count the fact that she’s a runaway slave, she’s wanted for the attempted murder of her master, who was starting to get cozy with some members of the Creator’s Temple. That triggered Jade’s aforementioned breaking point. For about eleven years, she’s been a wanted woman, evading bounty hunters and the law alike.

Asides from that, she’s committed several kinds of theft and fraud in order to get by, as her situation in Nehrim made it very difficult to make an honest living. She didn’t mind stealing food from racists who wouldn’t sell to an Aeterna wench, too.

18. How honest are they? Under what circumstances would they lie?

Funny thing about that. Jade is a natural-born liar, and can easily spin yarns to sidestep the truth. This is likely to come up if ever questioned about her scars, where she’d be quicker to claim she got them by wrestling a bear (which is absolutely not true) than she is to share her life story of child abuse and otherwise unsavory life events.

That isn’t to say she’s incapable of telling the truth. Far from it – Jade speaks her mind on many occasions. Certain times she’d make use of that silver tongue of hers would be if the life of someone she cared about was on the line, or if she kept her mouth shut because she genuinely gave a damn about hurting someone’s feelings. Though she has a long history of self-sabotage, she’s got some people that she’d really like to keep in her life right now.

19. Worst memory(s)? Best memory(s)?

Her worst memory was the night her father tried to kill her. We’ve already covered that in 16, so moving on.

Her best memory was when she first took her sister out into the forest to explore some of the prettier sights of Ostian together, escaping the mess that was their home life. I imagine they had a very close bond and Jade was very protective of her, and wanted them both to have moments where they could just be kids together. They made promises to leave the farm and explore the world together. Obviously did not happen.

20. Fight, or flight?

Flight. More often than not, her first choice is to run from her problems than to confront them.

21. Describe their combat style.

Pre-Enderal, dual-wielding daggers or old-fashioned fisticuffs were always her weapon of choice. And she was not against fighting dirty, such as throwing sand in the eyes of her targets, hitting them in their weak points, or kicking someone while they’re down. She was never a heavy-hitter, and preferred discretion to get the upper hand. If all else failed, she’d just book it and run.

Since her magic awakened, she’s taken to Elementalism as her main weapon, namely shock and frost-based spells (her pyrophobia prevents her from dabbling in anything fire-based). She uses daggers – now enchanted – as backup when her mana is low.

Eventually, she delved pretty deep into Phasmalism. Now she prefers to enlist the help of her ghost pals to deal with the close-quarter battles while she keeps a distance with magic.

22. Have they ever killed before? What is their reaction to combat?

Absolutely. The High Ones didn’t call her a murderer because they were being metaphorical. Her first kill was in self-defense when she was a young urchin child, and killing just got easier and easier the more it was asked and expected of her. For the entire decade she had spent as a slave, she had very little qualms about the occasional murder. Her only boundary was that she never, ever hurt children, and she held those who ever did in contempt. It would be impossible for her not to think of her little sister and live with the consequences.

Of course, all the death opened a whole barrel full of trauma for her. Back then, she was frequently “haunted” by those she killed, and it would take some time for her to elude her own phantasms, or at least make living with them more bearable so that she didn’t have to see or hear them screaming all the time. But since arriving on Enderal, the chaos that were once her thoughts have become eerily quieter. Well, save for the visions she now has. Those are new.

23. How do they react to having magical abilities? Do they use them?

After her magical talent blossomed, Jade went hard for Elementalism (save for fire magic), but she dabbled in spells from some of the other classes as well.

The only school she actively refused to entertain is Light Magic. Too much negative association around it after watching her mother’s health deteriorate to Arcane Fever, due to how much healing was necessary in her childhood. Watching the health of someone she loved rapidly decline like that just had a way of wrecking her with guilt.

Since taking to Phasmalism like a fish to water, Jade tends to employ the help of the dead to make up for her particularly lackluster skills in combat. Yera Shadowsong was her first ghost, who she was quite delighted to meet and keep her company on her travels. Others she enlisted were Kilana Hammerblow, Denna Frostheart, as well as the Starling Navigator and Aeterna Ambassador. Having actually known and witnessed the tragic death of Zar’ah firsthand, Jade ended up relying on her the most in future battles, as well as accompanying alongside her on the road when she had no one else to talk to.

Even if the echoes don’t seem fully cognizant of their existence, it nevertheless became Jade’s mission to try and extend them some degree of freedom and compassion. Whether they understand her or not, she finds herself interacting with them as though they were fully realized, living people, in an effort to try and draw out some sliver of their former selves. It’s a work in progress. Somehow it also makes her feel a little more sane just having sounding boards she can vent to when no one else is around.

24. What do they think of Enderal?

Hated it with the passion of a thousand dying suns. As someone who abhors religion, she had to bite back her heretical opinions whenever anyone spoke of the Paths or the Lightborn. After passing the umpteenth corpse hanging from a tree, and imagining that it would only be a matter of time before one of those corpses would become her own, she started trying to find a way to leave the country altogether.

After a point, she did develop a fondness for the land and some of its people, especially after the Nehrimese invasion led to raids and murdering civilians, which reminded her all too well as to why she left her homeland. She may have conflicting feelings about the country, but the common people sure as hell didn’t deserve that.

25. Did they do the Biggest Egg Hunt Ever quest?

Yup. She didn’t care much for the Starling prophecies, but Kurmai asked nicely. It also helped that he paid her and she needed money.

26. How do they feel about joining the Order? What do they think of Arantheal?

Oh, she hates the Order and everything they stand for. Her first instinct upon meeting Arantheal and learning about the Cycle was to get as far away as possible. This brought her to seek employment with the Golden Sickle so she could afford a ship out of the country and, later on, attempting to convince Dijaam to let Jade join her back to Kilé. It was only when those plans fell through, and her witnessing what the Red Madness had done to Mendelus and other civilians firsthand, did Jade return and ruefully accept Arantheal’s offer.

On that note, it did make certain parts of his speech during her and Calia’s inductions as Keepers extremely awkward by making it sound like she sought the Order out of a sense of purpose and duty – she really didn’t. Hell, she even initially told Firespark that she had no interest whatsoever in what the Order was doing. Overall, she finds Arantheal to be insufferable and too self-important for her liking. She never fully trusted him or agreed with his leadership. To her, he didn’t extend aid to the common folk as nearly as much as he should have, including his refusal to make the death of the Lightborn public knowledge to his people.

27. What is their opinion of the gods (or lack thereof)?

Though not one to preach her beliefs (mostly out of what bit of self-preservation she has, as many would deem her views as blasphemy), Jade has a very strong personal hatred for religion and would be, by all accounts, an atheist. As much of an atheist as one can be in a world where living gods have walked among mortals, that is. If you ask her, there is no afterlife, and there sure as hell ain’t no “Eternal Paths” waiting for her when she dies. When you die, you die. The gods have done nothing for her or her family, and her father even used the name of the “Creator” to justify abuse. And so she felt less than nothing when rumors of the gods’ deaths began to circulate, and she felt satisfaction and vindication upon those rumors being confirmed.

Of course, she knows better than to casually share her ideology in a theocratic country like Enderal, but appreciates engaging with other like-minded individuals, such as those who participated in killing the gods like the Nehrimese mages. While she can get along with religious people well enough, she prefers that they just keep their piety to themselves or at least not try to convert her. It won’t work.

Interestingly, she was surprised by how tolerant and understanding Calia was when it came to her views on religion, as she didn’t once try to argue or invalidate Jade’s experiences. This made her appreciate the other woman that much more and start to develop a closer relationship early on.

28. Wine, or pipe?

Pipe. Always pipe. Since discovering Peaceweed, she’s found that the stuff happens to help her sleep and calm her thoughts, so she smokes pretty much regularly now.

29. Do they spare or arrest Hallys, the farmer-turned-bandit in the quest, Deus Ex Machina? Why?

Against her better judgment, she actually agreed with Calia to have Hallys arrested, namely because she learned that he was initially lying about where he got the money from and that he actually stole it from the Undercity’s food bank, which pissed her right the hell off. While she felt for his situation, it didn’t justify screwing over the poor, who were much worse off than he and his family.

Though finding out that he had been executed at the gallows so soon after made her regret that decision. To her, that wasn’t justice, and it sure as hell didn’t endear her to trust Ark’s Tribunal to handle similar situations afterward.

30. What are their feelings and opinions about the Undercity?

It feels a little too close to home for her, as she often lived in similar piss-poor conditions when she was homeless. Like it shouldn’t exist, but it does, and she understands why and how all too well. From time to time, she’ll hand out coin and food to the children running errands or just looking like they need some help.

31. How do they react to the beggars of Ark?

When she has the coin to spare, she’ll sometimes offer some pennies. And she’ll always pay a kid delivering a message whether they ask for it or not. It wasn’t too long ago that she was in the same boat, and appreciated what little a passing Samaritan could provide. She got that Gift of Charity perk.

32. Where and how do they spend their time when in Ark?

Early on she started visiting the Undercity because she likes mischievous things it felt more familiar to her. Plus she found a small little hiding place tucked away for when she feels the need to abscond from “civilized” society. While down there, she frequented the Dust Pit to watch the fights, not really phased by the brute violence.

On the surface, she spends much of her time in taverns when she has coin to spare or feels like hanging out with Jespar. She also spends time with Calia in the bathing house or hanging out in the courtyard of the Sun Temple in between missions, since Jade became was quickly taken by Calia and wanted to help her open up more, all whilst getting to know the other woman better.

33. What would they do with three wishes?

I did the wishing well quest after finishing Angel and All the Dead Souls, so I imagine the first wish was for Calia not to leave her, the second was for Jespar not to hate her for the shitty things she said back at him. The third was for a sweet new dagger. Guess all three technically came true.

34. How do they feel about death? Do they fear it?

Death is a natural cycle of life. For the last handful of years, she was fully ready to die, anyway, and believed that there was no great afterlife or paradise that would follow. In more recent times, she’s become quite fond of being alive, though she wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice her life to save the ones she cares about.

35. What (else) do they fear?

As mentioned earlier, she has a profound fear of fire, and actively avoids using flame-based magic despite being very proficient in Elementalism. At most, she’ll use fire-enchanted daggers.

Additionally, she has developed thalassophobia to a degree since being shipwrecked, feeling anxious around large bodies of deep water, and a dislike for swimming. I kinda headcanon that she never even met Nessah/Sister Pride when working with the Rhalâta, let alone took her heart, because it required her to dive underwater for a long period of time, so she had no qualms with bringing a different heart to the First Seer instead (not that Jade would’ve killed her. She found Nessah’s notes, and she wasn’t about to execute a woman clearly suffering from mental illness for a group she didn’t care about). You can also bet that she noped right out of the Brotherhood of the Kor questline as soon as it required a “breathe underwater” spell to delve into a submerged temple. So yeah, she just told Mirella, “Sorry, lady, your son is dead” because it was the most likely truth, anyway. ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

Above all else, however, her greatest fear is insanity – a fear that the High Ones exploit the hell out of by constantly making her question her perception of reality and whether or not this all is just a fever dream of her dying consciousness. It helps very little that she already had a predisposition for madness, never knowing if her “connection with the dead” was real or a byproduct of her trauma. Remembering how her father descended into madness and cannibalism has a way of making her doubt her own sanity.

36. Do they have any secrets?

Quite a few doozies, actually. Prior to coming to Enderal, Jade had an addiction to dangerous drogae. And it was because of this addiction that she ended up in the situation she is in now, a fact that she is all too ashamed to admit to anyone. Even worse, she blames herself for what happened to Sirius because of this fatal flaw. Not only did she have proclivities for blowing whatever scraps of coin she earned to feed her addiction and other bad habits, which could have gone to paying for a ship out of Nehrim, the only reason Sirius chose to stow away with her, rather than sign on to the crew like a right proper lad, was to keep an eye on Jade while she went through the motions of withdrawals. He also stowed away with her to make sure that she didn’t get caught screaming in pain or waking from night terrors.

Similarly, signing onto Rocio’s crew wasn’t an option for Jade in the first place, due to being a runaway slave with a bounty on her head for the attempted murder of her former master. Despite trying to push him into leaving without her, Sirius refused. And now he’s dead. It’s impossible not to feel responsible for that, and for robbing her friend of the second chance at life that he so badly wanted.

Since becoming an Emissary, she’s found that her addiction has been miraculously “cured”, though she still gets uncomfortable around heavy drogae such as Glimmerdust. This resulted in her snapping back at Jespar in the Silver Cloud when she caught him using the stuff. Despite knowing what he was going through, Jespar wasn’t the only one who said very regrettable things that evening.

In addition to substance abuse, she also keeps her history of mental illness to herself, ashamed of what others would think if they knew she might be mad. Much of her prior ticks and instabilities ended up troubling her less and less once she became her “idealized self” on the shores of Enderal, anyway – the voices are dulled, and her mind feels a little more at peace these days.

While part of her felt that she should be grateful not to have to wrestle with her addiction or madness every day, the implications of a sudden recovery after losing her only friend scares her more than anything. For now, she has never shared this secret with anyone, not even her new companions.

37. How is their behavior around people they like? People they dislike?

Jade is very blunt and open about her feelings and has been noted to say whatever’s on her mind by more than one person. This can be for good or for ill depending on who she’s with – if she likes someone, she has no qualms blurting out the things she likes or finds attractive and appealing about them, or telling them what she feels they need to hear. If she doesn’t like them, then she’ll still speak her mind regardless of whether or not it hurts their feelings. She may even come off as abrasive or just downright rude. If her dislike runs deep enough, she won’t want to be in that person’s presence at all.

38. What is their relationship with the companions? Who, if anyone, did your prophet romance?

There were a few she became close to – some more than others.

Jespar: They got along pretty quick, since they shared very similar views on life, the Lightborn, and relationships. Jade has had Romance Gone Wrong in the past and didn’t quite want to see Jespar that way at first, either. It may or may not have helped that she made quite a few passing comments and propositions with him that amused him a bit. I headcanon that they had some FWB-type flings and then just never talked about it again, because Jade has her own hangups on relationships and monogamy. There were some feelings there on both sides, but were never realized until it was too late. (Side note: She decided to give him her own affectionate nicknames, such as “My Lord” because he kept calling her “Fair Lady”, and “Snowberry” because of his hair and he’s a goddamn fruity boy.)

Calia: Conversely, Jade just couldn’t resist and caught the feelings here. She tried to push them down until they died, but she grew more and more fond of her friend as time went by. It helped brighten some of Jade’s more cynical views of the world knowing that people like Calia existed, and wanted to change it for the better. In a sense, the two complimented each other in helping the other learn to enjoy life the way neither of the women allowed themselves to. In the end, she romances Calia, but I like to think they had more in-depth discussions on relationships and where Jade stands with them before they made things official. Due to her own struggles with her sanity and being constantly at war with what darkness lives in her own mind, she related with Calia on a very personal level, which became the foundation for their relationship to grow during and after the game’s main storyline.

Dijaam: Immediate crush, oh no. Jade worked with the Golden Sickle prior to accepting Arantheal’s deal, and maybe in no small part due to her weakness for Kiléans, Jade ended up being very smitten with Dijaam (while also quickly becoming very resentful towards her current employer’s “Path abidingness”, misogyny, and racism). She admired Dijaam’s determination and drive, and even suggested that they leave Enderal together. Too bad the Kiléan pulled the “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” at the end of the day. Oh well. Not the first time that’s happened to Jade. (Dijaam is probably still alive somewhere out there.)

Esme: Like a younger sister. In fact, Jade suspected her sister would’ve been around the same age, and turned out much like Esme if she were still alive. When she first met the fellow Aeterna woman having a hard time at the Frostcliff Tavern, Jade was immediately inclined to lend a hand. The two became closer throughout their search for her former companion, and though Jade feared the worst after a while, she didn’t want Esme to lose hope that she would see Tara alive and well. When the truth came to light, Jade did her best to comfort Esme. Before they parted ways, Esme gifted Jade a family heirloom – an amulet, which she continues to wear thereafter. (I also like to think that Esme was able to find a ship to leave Enderal before the end and is still alive.)

Tharaêl: One of her deepest regrets. To say that their relationship was turbulent would be an understatement. Much as Jade was on board with his cause to kill the Father for experimenting on and murdering innocent children, she grew equally frustrated with Tharaêl’s hypocrisy and uncompromising demeanor. Witnessing his regression to his childhood trauma was also not much unlike episodes she once struggled with, which made her try to empathize with him more. Killing Zar’ah was the straw that broke the camel’s back for her, however, as she did not believe that the mercenary deserved to die and that Tharaêl’s justification for it was bullshit. Still, she resolved to help him kill the Father, who was much worse in her eyes. But, when at that cliff’s edge, she could not bring herself to tell him the right words that could have saved his life. It is a moment that still haunts her long after his death, as she realized some time later that they were not much different. Her silence was his death knell.

39. Was there any non-companion character that they were close to? That they particularly disliked?

There was a quick connection when it came to Merrâyil and the Nehrimese mages, the former due to their shared history as slaves and experiences being Aeterna in a country like Nehrim, and the latter for their shared disdain towards religion and feelings about their homeland. When visiting the Sun Temple, she spent quite a bit of time with the group, particularly pestering Firespark and hanging out with Lishari. She was also deeply affected by Rynéus, as she saw much of her little sister in the boy and wanted so badly to save him. Failing him was like failing her sister all over again.

As for dislikes, she couldn’t stand Maél Dal’Loran, even if she found some of his deeds, such as providing support to the Undercity’s Pest House, to be noble. To Jade, Maél as a person was judgmental, racist, and plain impossible to work for. She ended up resigning from the Golden Sickle after gathering the ingredients he had requested. It doesn’t help that Jade’s first love was a Kiléan woman (not Dijaam), so she was not endeared by his anti-Kiléan sentiments.

40. How do they feel about myrads?

Though flying one for the first time freaked her out, she was immediately enamored with them. They’re majestic, adorable, and worthy of adoration and respect.

41. What dreams or ambitions did they have before coming to Enderal? What about afterwards?

Literally none. Her “dreams” were to crawl into a hole and die somewhere alone, until Sirius had convinced her to try and find a second chance for herself in Enderal.

Afterwards, she decided to just play it by ear. Her wanderlust developed the more she learned about other countries, and she decided she wanted to travel the world someday. Maybe use her newfound Arcanist abilities for good by saving lost souls with her Phasmalism, and figure out a way to rehabilitate the echoes into regaining their sense of self, rather than merely being slaves to the Phasmalist.

42. Do they like cities? Or do they prefer the country? Is there a region of Enderal that they like or dislike more than the others?

Despite always struggling with the noise and chaos of cities before, Jade had to adapt to them at an early age in order to get by. After a point, it just became a necessity, as cities were the easiest places to find places to make money.

She did learn to appreciate them more, to an extent, finding herself people-watching when seeking potential jobs (or marks). But if she could so choose, she would much prefer to live in the countryside.

43. What do they do to lower their considerable stress?

Staring at the underside of a desk until she feels better after a mental breakdown. :)

For real, though, some coping mechanisms are less healthier than others. Some times she’ll blow off steam by practicing her magic, or venting to one of her Phasmalist ghosts (especially Deanna, Kilana, and Zar’ah). Others she’ll get blackout drunk and end up in strange places (or strangers’ beds) she doesn’t remember going. Casual sex sometimes helps, too. Sometimes.

More recently she’s taken to smoking Peaceweed on the regular, which she finds calms her down a good deal. This method is marginally better.

44. Describe their perfect day off.

Dragging Calia out to more social situations, such as playing cards together with Jespar at the tavern (while Jade resists the urge to use her sleight of hand to pull fast ones on the group). In general, she just wants to spend time with her favorite people together. Other than that: Enjoying scenic locations with companions, such as beautiful sunsets, aurora borealis, and peaceful scenes off the beaten path. She absolutely loves Goldenforst. Anytime she can get a hot indoor bath, especially with Calia, is also a good time.

45. List three of their favorite things. Three things they hate?

Loves: Peaceweed, good brandy, animals (she really doesn’t have a particular favorite kind, but she does cry a little inside when a rabid wolf or fox forces her to kill it).

Hates: Cooking meat, swimming, and fire. For obvious reasons.

46. What’s in their pockets?

She gonna pop some tags,

Only got twenty pennies in her pocket–

...

Just a lot of junk, really. Don’t ask how many Endralean sugarbraids she has stuffed in there.

47. Pets? Mounts? Treasured possessions?

Two cats that are more like strays squatting at her house when she first bought it, but she doesn’t mind; she enjoys their company.

She also has a donkey she named Butterstuff and she loves him even if a big Aeterna woman does look kinda silly on a wee donkey.

For treasured possessions, she almost always wears the heirloom Esme gifted her. She might have a bit of a hoarding problem with useless junk, but that amulet is pretty and it means something to her, dammit.

48. How are their cooking skills?

Not good. Most of the stuff she makes is cheap and quick since she could never afford anything fancy before. She can make a decent enough vegetable stew and flatbread, but it doesn’t get more gourmet than that. Either she eats things raw/plain while on the go or she buys much yummier food while passing by vendors (love, love, love those date cakes).

49. Do you consider any particular quest or side quest to be definitive for your prophet? Which one(s) and why?

Other than the big faction ones like the Rhalâta and Golden Sickle: The Voice in the Water is an important quest for Jade, since it kind of explores her (possible) “experience” with the dead by just how natural it felt to be guided by a ghost that she knew wasn’t a product of her insanity. She felt particularly invested in helping to put the spirit of Pentas’ wife, Nira, to rest by seeing the ones who destroyed her life to justice. This quest opened Jade up to the possibility of being able to help people with her new gifts.

A Touching Effigy is also a good one, given that certain elements catered to some of Jade’s distaste for nobles and child killers. Ultimately she sided with Andrasta, because she can forgive killing useless nobles, but not Rhys for killing children in the name of his religion. Though she did (kind of) convince Andrasta to hold off on the murder for a while, mostly so she doesn’t get caught and worry her daughter. Never said Jade’s morals weren’t questionable.

50. How forgiving are they? For example, if they were yelled at in a brothel after searching high and low for this little sh*t, how would they react?

She can forgive well enough if the other party expresses genuine regret for their actions. For example, she easily forgives Jespar because she understood what he was going through, and she was just as much a little shit at the time (and was already tense being around Glimmerdust and a very high, very distressed Jespar). Really, she has a higher tolerance for friends who verbally lash out in the midst of their emotional turmoils, because she gets it – really. Jespar and Calia? Yeah, she got them. If it’s one thing that Sirius taught her, it’s that you don’t give up on friends, not even on their bad days.

There are few things that she just can’t and will never forgive. From her perspective, anyone who has ever hurt a child is the literal scum of the earth. Because of this, she was unable to think of the right words to save Tharaêl, just like how she failed to convince him to spare Qalian because she just couldn’t. And if she had done what Tharaêl had done, she knows that she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself, either. Maybe she could forgive Tharaêl someday, but she could never save him.

51. What do they think of the Veiled Woman?

Initially she really, really hated the Veiled Woman. Hated what she did to Sirius, hated what she did to Esme and Tara, and especially hated that oracular bullshit way of talking in the same vein as the Aged Man.

While she never could fully understand the Veiled Woman, Jade wondered if her motives for doing what she did was because she had some hope to end this particular Cycle. For that reason, and giving humanity a chance, Jade can’t bring herself to completely hate the Veiled Woman, either.

52. If they had been a victim of one of the black stones, how would it have affected them? What would they have used its power to accomplish?

Oh no, a black stone would likely amplify her pre-Enderal (possible) insanity. It would twist her sense of justice for the dead by turning her into a Phasmalist who would abuse the specters she wanted to protect by outright enslaving them, all for the “greater good” when it came to punishing those she deemed evil. Essentially she wouldn’t have been much better off than Adila, except with more actual dead souls at her disposal.

53. What was their reaction to the Black Guardian’s revelations? Do they accept or reject his offer?

Man, she shut the Black Guardian down faster than a speeding ticket. First of all, because she believed he was full of absolute horseshit, such as claiming the High Ones were powerless despite their ability to directly possess others through more than just the Red Madness. Second, she saw through his manipulations, sensing that eons in isolation several leagues under the earth while watching civilizations rise and fall would have various ways of fucking with your head. Like knows like, and Jade has an intimate understanding when it comes to madness. Moreover, she knew a delusion of grandeur when she saw one.

More than anything, though? She had literally zero desire to become a “god” as the Black Guardian had defined it. Due to her hatred for religion and the Lightborn, she refused to become the very thing she so despised. From where she stood, she didn’t even believe there would ever be such a thing as a “humanity with no ego”, as it would be impossible for her to control the hearts and minds of an entire civilization. Even if she could, she wouldn’t want to, since freedom of choice is important to her. In her mind, she thought it was better to give the current human race a chance to learn from the Order’s mistakes and remove the High Ones from the game for good, rather than lead a new civilization down the same path and just repeat the Cycle all over again. The Veiled Woman must’ve seen that there was some worth in this world if she had intervened when she did.

Ultimately it was one of the few times where her “fight” superseded her “flight” instincts. Jade also didn’t act super surprised when the Black Guardian revealed that she had been dead since she woke up in Enderal, because she kind of figured it out already (or suspected that she was just balls-to-the-wall crazy this entire time). She just didn’t know what to make of the whole truth that she was a projection the High Ones created to perpetuate the Cycle – other than to keep fighting it.

54. How does their story end?

Bittersweet. While she consumed the Dreamflower elixir before the end (and didn’t agree with Yuslan’s very random interpretation of the elixir’s effects), her choice still came at a great cost. She lost many friends in the destruction of Enderal, including Jespar. Now she and Calia are on a mission in Qyra to try and save the rest of humanity together.

Since there’s a possibility that Dijaam and Esme are still alive after their questlines, I like to think that they run into each other in Qyra at a certain point... because fate or some shit. The idea of a story where these four women (and the ghost of Zar’ah who totally became Jade’s main backup. Maybe she can finally figure out how to make Phasmal ghosts more “alive” someday) band together to save the world just delights me.

55. Do they change over the course of the story? In what ways?

For sure she does. In the beginning, Jade is a cynical, sarcastic little gremlin who doesn’t trust anyone any farther than she can throw them. She’s the very definition of the Reluctant Hero who doesn’t accept the big main quest immediately, and even tries to run away from her responsibilities the first chance she gets. It also doesn’t help that she was absolutely terrified at first with how her little “ticks” and addiction were just miraculously no longer plaguing her as much anymore, so she was already starting to question her own reality.

As Jade got to learn more about the people on Enderal and form actual friendships throughout her journey, her fondness for this world and desire to save those that live in it grew. While part of her was in the “oh, well, let the world burn” camp, she became that person less and less as time went on.

In Qyra, much about her changes as well. She becomes more driven and serious. Calia had to cut off most of her hair while rescuing her from the rubble of Ark, so not only does her hair stay shorter after that, she also no longer attempts to hide her Aeterna features (such as her ears) like she used to, mostly out of respect for the Jade who died at sea. Rather than slouching to try and appear smaller, she stands tall. The particular “treasure hunter” garb and the blue scarf she wears are little things to honor her memory of Jespar, to whom she had promised she would do her best to save humanity.

But her nightmares become significantly worse, as they are now frequented by a certain “incomplete” High One that takes the form of the Endralean civilization that fell prey to the Cleansing…

56. Anything else you’d like to share about them?

As implied in the last two responses, I had this nightmare fuel concept up my ear not too long ago: What if the Cleansing triggered on Enderal did give birth to an incomplete High One, but now it’s pissed that it never got to finish and is trying to meddle in the efforts to reconstruct the Beacon successfully? The idea of a High One actually consisting of your former allies, including the companion that didn’t survive, is just a brand of horror that I can’t resist… Not to mention really sticks a fork in Yuslan’s theory about the Dreamflower trapping you in an “Elysium where everything seems to go your way” (really, I think he was just trying to dissuade the protagonist from brewing an elixir that would obstruct his plans for revenge. I like to imagine he simply came up with the dream theory on the spot because the flower had “dream” in the name, so it was like the first thing he could think of).

Inevitably, a branch where the Endralean High One is trying to drive Jade into a Mad Prophet would throw a wrench in her and Calia’s efforts to save the world, and they’d have to go through the wringer for their romance to survive. In the end it will, but there’d definitely be some trials and tribulations in which Jade will one day have to open up about her well-guarded secrets. She would also be driven to try and save those who were consumed by the Endralean High One, whatever that may entail.

…I may or may not write an actual fic on this concept someday because I love suffering, but it has been so long since I have ever written a fic so who knows. You’re welcome and I’m sorry.

#jade the prophetess #enderal forgotten stories #enderal #vynblr #word vomit #friend's art #backstory #that hidden jade lore #for all my shitposts jade's story is REALLY messed up #it's ALWAYS been messed up even though it's evolved over the years #i miss her modern day iteration but idk if i'll ever go back to it once i've adapted her into bloodtithes #but yeah she copes with bathos #and weed #and pussy everyday

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