“Crowley’s right,” piercing blue eyes starred into your own. “You should go.” A loud pain filled grunt filled the air around the rotting angel.
“Cas, come on.” Your oldest brother, Dean, wore a set of swollen eyes. Trying their best to soak up the tears daring to escape from their green captors.
The whole time you stayed crouched directly to his right side. Locking your left hand with his own right.
“No, you listen to me.” His voice cracked slightly as another grown escape his chapped lips. “You-look, thank you. Knowing you, it…it’s been the best part of my life.”
“Cas…” you’d only whispered it, but he heard your hushed and broken tone speaking to the right of him.
“The things…the things we’ve shared together. They’ve changed me.” The pain in his body soared up to his eyes, jumping to yours as his eyes locked to you for a split moment before looking to the rest of the family.
“You’re my family. I love you.” At the last part, the two of you shared a solid moment of eye contact. The grip he had on your hand tightened for a split second before he continued. “I love all of you.”
Your head shook at his words. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.
“This sounds an awful like a goodbye speech to me.” The sadness you’d tried your best to contain flooded like a broken dam out of your eyes as you spoke.
“Your story doesn’t end here, Castiel.” Mary, your mother, had a certain kind of look to her. She wore a coat of guilt, but why? You all helped people- other hunters. “This is my fault.” When she directed the blame directly to herself, a cold chill went tingling up your spin as fresh goosebumps danced along your exposed arms and neck.
“Just please…please, don’t make my final moments be spent watching you die.” Judging by the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t gotten up and shoved you all out the door if he had the strength. “Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.” With all his strength he tried to push his body upward, but only fumbled back down with a cough.
A care filled and loving smile spread on your lips. Salty tears fell down your cheeks and over your split bottom lip. Stinging the open wound more than smiling did. Reaching forward with your right hand, you Bentley caressed the side of his head where the rotting hadn’t yet spread. Your fingers getting tangled up in his messy hair.
“Cas, no.” Your voice barley broke through the tears.
“Yes.” He inhaled sharply.
“There is no way in hell I’m leaving you here. If you’re staying, I’m staying right here with you.” No longer was your hand intertwined with his hair. Instead it rested on top of yours which still held on tightly to his left hand.
A sharp and rough sigh came from his rotting body.
“Why must you be so pig headed, Y/n?” His body repositioned to what seemed to be a more comfortable position for him to rest in.
A short laugh came from your still sore body. “Nobody told you to love me, Feathers.”
“You need to keep fighting.” Frustration took over his look of pain. He was no longer talking just to you.
“We are fighting.” Sam exhaled sharply. “We’re fighting for you, Cas.” His eyebrows were bunched together as the three lines of wrinkles took over the middle of his forehead.
“And like you said, you’re family.” Dean chimed in. “And we don’t leave family behind.”
Your angels head rested backwards in defeat. There was no way any of you were leaving him, and he knew that.
Sam called for your mother to follow him to talk. Dean trailed behind the two of them while you stayed next to Cas. Locking your fingers even tighter with his.
“I won’t let you leave me.” After a few seconds of silence between you two, you’d finally broken it.
“Y/n,” there was no doubt he was about to protest with what could very well have been his final breath, but you wouldn’t let him.
“No, Cas. Why would you ever…ever think I would leave you?” Part of you felt disappointed. Not in him, but in yourself. “Regardless of circumstances.”
He let out a grown before he responded. “Because… the last thing I want to leave this world seeing is the person I love the most being slaughtered in front of me while I’m left- unable to do anything.” It was getting harder for him to speak. Grunts and groans came from him in between words.
His eyes closed for a moment as a deep and held in groan came from his body. Up the left side of his face grew a splitting black crack. The rotting was getting worse.
“Baby…” your hands reached out, fingers just barley touching his face.
A loud banging sound followed by a deep shout came from outside. Somewhat close to your brothers, a giant human side hole was created as a body was thrown through. Crowley.
Seemed not siding with you guys hadn’t worked so well in his favor. Or had he chosen to help in a different way?
Hidden behind the walls came a sharp, fine tuned whistling. A man stepped through and the grip Castiel had on your hand tried its best to get stronger. As if he was protecting you. Telling you to stay out and not do something stupid to get yourself killed as well.
Ramiel and the rest of your family began to speak back and forth, but you were more concerned with how fast the rot was growing.
Your brothers carried on with the Prince. All of your attention was on Cas, who was completely focused on what was happening with the rest of the Winchesters. Knowing you were somewhat safe beside him.
Suddenly, the prince reached behind him and pulled out a lance. The one Crowley had mentioned. The moment it’s base hit the ground powerfully, a gust of strong wind came in your direction. Every direction really. Your family went flying in every direction, while Cas did his best to help anchor you down to prevent you from going too. Then the battle begun.
For a few moments you sat there, watching from a short distance. Until you realized it would take all the power possible to stop him.
Your body stood up. But something stopped you from continuing forward to the fight. A hand which was grabbed lordly onto the bottom of your newly ripped jeans. Cas. This was his way of telling you to stay. Reluctantly you did. Ignoring every fiber of your body pulling towards the rest of your family.
Finally, your brothers had managed to get him into a vulnerable position as the lance was drove deeply into his chest. It was over. Be at the same time it was just beginning.
A dark black substance began pouring from the angels lips. “Guys.” Your voice was almost barley heard, but it was just enough to get their attention.
It was almost as if he was having a seizure. His body began shaking at one point and it was almost too much to watch. Slowly you lifted a very shaky hand to your mouth, covering your lips in disbelief. The air you so desperately needed began to slip away from you as breathing became harder.
From behind, your mother approached and held the back of your head into her chest, her arms wrapping around your shoulders.
“Hey, we’re right here Cas.” There was nothing anybody could do but comfort him. Dean could barley speak himself.
The oozing began to worsen. This was how he would die. His eyes were blank regardless of the fact they were open. Like he was checked out into a painful land.
“We’re right here buddy.” Sam added in.
Just as you thought the end was approaching, a bright blue light took over the room around you. It’s source radiating from behind you all. The light wrapped around Cas, taking him into its warm glow.
When it was all over you took in the sight before you. An angel. No wounds. No rot.
“Cas!” Your arms laced together around his neck, still being careful not to hurt him. Just in case.
Everybody’s heads turned around to be greeted with a sight nobody thought they’d ever see. Before you all stood a very fine Crowley.
“The magic’s in the craftsmanship.” Just before he left he turned and finished. “Oh, you’re welcome.” And just like that the Boy King was gone.
The five of you left, but there was something off. Something you couldn’t shake. A feeling of being lied to, wronged. And you didn’t understand it.
Everybody had gone back to the hotel, except your mother. Who had been staying at a different one.
Both of your brothers were driving in Baby, Mary in a separate car, while you drove the truck and Cas rode shotgun.
Of course you were questioned when you strayed from the route to the hotel.
“Y/n, where are we going?” Cas was speaking normally again, but with that bit of confusion in his voice. It was understood.
“I’ve just- you trust me?” You figured you knew the answer, but still.
“Of course, always.” His face was turned towards yours, which was focused on the road ahead.
Without warning you accelerated, not wanting to loose Mary’s car which had turned into a parking lot.
The two of you sat in the truck, from an unseen distance of course. She was talking to someone. He looked familiar. The moment you saw something- something you thought had been long lost, you hopped out of the truck and began storming into the building.
The door swung open, the little bell resting on the inside ringing violently.
“Y/n!” She must’ve been surprised to see you. Cas was right behind you, sharing an equally surprised and disappointed look.
“Cas?” All it took was his name being spoken from your lips.
He walked forward, placing a hand on the Colt and taking it into his grasp. The man you had no trust for didn’t try a thing. Seen your hand on the gun hidden from sight. Without another word you stormed out of the diner and back to the truck.
“Y/n!” A voice called from behind you, but you simply ignored it. “Y/n, wait!”
A scoff came from you.
“Wait? Wait for what? To hear some bullshit story as to why you nearly got us all killed so you could steal something for that prick in there?” This was what Ramiel had said was his. And she just stood there, prepared to let you all die for it.
“Please, I can explain.” An unamused and sarcastic smile was on your lips as she spoke her words.
“Yeah well you might want to make it quick.” You swallowed hard, trying to down the lump in your throat.
“I lied. About helping Wally.” You wanted to interrupt badly, yell, but you waited for a reason. “For them. The British- I’ve been working for them for awhile now. And we’ve saved a lot of people.”
With everything in your body you clenched the power into your fists. Trying to stop yourself from blowing up on her.
“I knew if I said it was for me there’d be questions. Questions I couldn’t answer.” A sympathetic look was being held in her eyes, but you couldn’t care less.
“So then what? You lie? To get us on some suicide mission? You almost- Cas was on the brink of death. We were all being threatened and had no way to defend ourselves whatsoever. Nothing, mom.” A sharp exhale of breathe left your shaking body before you continued. “When he said to give it to him, you should’ve.”
“I couldn’t loose it for them. You have to understand that, Y/n.” Her hand reached forward to touch your cheek but you only pushed it away.
“Understand what? How you chose some half assed deal over your kids?” The lump in your throat only grew, making it harder to speak.
“Sometimes, you have to do what’s necessary…” you’d heard enough.
Every muscle in your body lunged forward as your right fist connected with the side of her face. Your ring cutting her cheek. Before you you could swing again two masculine arms wrapped around your body in a bear hug.
“It’s over, Y/n. Walk away.” Castiel held on tightly, your rage made you stronger than you’d ever been.
Your own mother had betrayed you. All of you. But this was far from over. It was just beginning.
Okay, honestly? I hate, hate, hate the idea that because Rey was strong enough to fight back, that suddenly just makes Kylo trying to dig into her mind and hurt her okay.
If a guy tries beating a girl up unprompted, the fact that she may be able to give him a square punch in the jaw and run off doesn’t mean the guy was suddenly right to attack her in the first place. Yeah, Rey was able to fight back and eventually go into Kylo’s mind and startle him out of his attack, but the only reason she did that in the first place was to, uh. Defend herself. Because Kylo was the one to kidnap her and steal her to Starkiller Base. Because Kylo was the one being a crummy asshole who broke into Rey’s mind (a procedure that’s been confirmed by canon sources as physically painful for the victim, but whatever) and brought out all these painful thoughts and memories. Invaded her deepest privacy. Made her excruciatingly uncomfortable.
No one is trying to deny Rey her agency and say she’s weak by insisting that she was being harmed by Kylo, because the only reason she fought back was because she was being wrongfully attacked. Then again, I get the sneaking suspicion that people who try to call folks “sexist” for acknowledging that the scene was a torture scene are more so looking for excuses to absolve Kylo of wrongdoing than they are of painting Rey as a strong and fierce woman, but you know.
Out of all characters, both ally and foe, who do you think has the most emotional and heartbreaking relationship with Batman?
Hands down, Alfred Pennyworth.
I think sometimes Alfred gets sort of taken for granted by fans, because he’s loyally stood by Bruce through so much and we kinda just expect him to always be there, you know? He’s a source of comfort not only for Bruce, but for the readers/viewers; we see Batman experience and witness terrible things, but when the sun rises we know he’s going to home to Alfred and eat a bowl of soup and have his wounds bandaged before drifting off to sleep in a freshly-laundered bed. Alfred provides more than just assistance—he provides normality.
But beneath the dry humor and the matter-of-fact, prim and proper demeanor, Alfred has endured an extraordinary amount of pain and sadness. IMO, one of the most memorable scenes from Batman: Under the RedHood is when the Batcomputer’s analysis reveals that Red Hood is without a doubt Jason Todd, and Alfred is so overcome with the revelation that he drops the tray he was carrying. For me, seeing the always-composed Alfred actually drop a tray was absolutely jarring; that brief slip of poise and the horrified, pained look of shock on his face cements that scene in my mind as one of the most important—and most heartbreaking—moments in the Batman mythos.
Imagine how difficult is must be to watch the boy that you raised since he was eight years leave the Batcave every night and know that it may be the last time you will ever see him alive. Imagine seeing the boy who stood underneath your umbrella at his parents funeral and looked up at you with the sad, troubled expression no child should ever have, the boy held your hand during his childhood and shook it strongly as an adult, the boy who is the closest thing that you have ever had in your life to a son—imagine seeing that boy bleeding and broken and bruised and feeling every injury as vividly as if it had been inflicted upon you, and pushing your own pain to the side and cracking dry jokes as you nurse his wounds when really all you want to do is break down and beg him to never put on the suit again, to never have another night like this. But you don’t, because you’re his stability and you’re his normality and you’re the only thing keeping him sane. And so you continue on, and you help him the best that you can, and no matter what you tell him or what you tell yourself, you both know that your reasons are much more complex than upholding a promise that you made long ago.
For all of its faults, I felt Arkham Origins did an excellent job of illustrating Alfred and Bruce’s relationship. And there’s one more scene that stands out to me as a significant (and much more subtle) demonstration of Alfred’s love for Bruce. Throughout the Batman Confidential series, Alfred spends countless hours tirelessly working on the Batcomputer (with Bruce repeatedly requesting that he work faster), which he has nicknamed “Dupin”. When Bruce flies into a rage after his girlfriend is stabbed by the man who would later become Joker, he is so overcome with anger that he blindly destroys Dupin. When surveying the destruction of his hard work, Alfred reacts by calmly stating “sir, that was very expensive”. That’s it. A much more extreme reaction would most certainly have been justified, but instead Alfred is as cool and collected as ever, because he understands that Bruce isn’t just upset over his girlfriend—he’s upset over everything that he’s lost throughout his life, everything that he’s sacrificed for Gotham.
And don’t even get me started on the ending of The Dark Knight Returns.
Alfred is the one constant in Bruce’s life, and serves a much more important purpose than I think many fans give him credit for. Out of all the tragedies in Batman history, I think Alfred’s love for Bruce ranks among the most tragic.
Mika would lock himself somewhere to protect Yuu’s body meanwhile Yuu would spend the whole day jumping to high places and using Mika’s vampire powers for fun…
Mika’d go crazy because it’d be going from a vampire body that’s losing his emotions to a human one that has them and that’d probably make him go mad?
Yuu too. Mika starves himself and bears lots of pain daily apart from the fact that he’s losing his human emotions.
Yuu wouldn’t be able to bear all of that.
Either he’d attack the first source of blood he senses or writhe from pain.
He remembers when he first set his eyes on you, you walked right past him and he swore his life flashed before his eyes and he saw you in it.
You remember when you first saw him your heart skipped a beat as you walked past him, you walked slow enough to take in his features and your heart dropped. You knew right then and there that he was the one.
He never believed in love at first sight and you were a test to prove him wrong and you did.
You never believed in a soulmate, a one and only, until he proved that anything is possible.
He adored the way you felt under his fingertips, you loved how he’d get lost in his music. He loved how the little moles all over your body were scattered around like constellations, you adored how the little dimple on the left side of his face formed when he smiled. He adored how you would play with his hair and leave warm imprints along his being with your hands, you loved how he would slide his hands into yours and wrap his arms around you engulfing your being with his.
You were the epitome of a love struck couple, you had the type of love anyone could have ever desired…..but love fades just as stars do, suddenly and all at once, and love turns into nothing.
He remembers when you first said I love you, those words were like music to his ears he could hear you repeat those word for the rest of his life. You remember when he first said I love you, it was before you had said it out loud to him and he was in a tired and sleepy state. Your hands were playing with his hair, he hummed silently and then let it out and you swore you’d let him know you felt the same way.
But it wasn’t enough.
You both refused to see it coming until it finally did and when it did boy did you both lose it.
He had never felt as much pain as he did when he saw you; tears running down your face, hair disheveled and unsteady breathing. He often asked himself why he had to let you go, why he had to go and break your heart for. He broke his heart too.
You asked yourself too. Why? Why did he go and do that for? You never thought you could feel as much pain as you did when you saw him; standing there, face serious and a weak attempt to keep a steady stance, his voice quivering as he spoke to you.
It was hard for the both of you, needing to give each other up just like that. You promised each other that when it was time to let go you’d both understand because it was going to be hard.
It hurt, it hurt you a lot. Love and pain should never be related and you understood why they weren’t a common pair.
It hurt him, it hurt him a lot. Being the source of his loves pain hurt, he dreaded the fact he was the source of the pain.
You were angry with him, your heart was demolished into tiny pieces. All that you could bring yourself to say was,“Why?”
He couldn’t bring himself to say a thing.
“Tell me because I don’t understand why, why do you want to leave, why when I love you more than anything.”
He was angry with himself, his heart fell at his awareness of your words.
“Y/N….” he promised he wouldn’t hurt you ever. You promised you wouldn’t either.
“It’s too much.” He forced himself to say, it wasn’t too much at all. It was actually not enough.
He remembers when he told his mother about you, he couldn’t stop smiling. She could tell way before he could that he was completely and utterly in love with you.
“Hansol son don’t let her go. A pure love is hard to find and that girl loves you for you, love is more important than the fame and those who say it’s better to avoid it because what’s life without love?”
You remember when you called and told your mother about him, you were gushing about him. She was ecstatic, you were struck in the heart and she knew you had found the one despite your cool and cautious approach.
“Y/N honey allow yourself to love, a true love only comes once in your life and you’ll regret it if you don’t embrace it. Because what’s life without love?”
You remember when you first met his managers and the boys, you couldn’t help but be a bit worried and overwhelmed they were so many to leave a good impression on. The boys couldn’t help but adore you, you made their boy whole.
He remembers when he told the boys and his managers about you. He was worried and cautious that they’d drive you apart. The boys were overjoyed they’d never seen their cool and collected Hansol talk about anyone like this before. His managers were touched too yet warned him that you two could possibly be driven apart.
But he didn’t listen he thought they were insane and he wanted to believe that your love could withstand anything. And when you started getting hurt because of him he realized that what his managers had warned him about wasn’t insane.
“I’m scared all the time I love you so much but it never seems like enough.” Your hands shook as his voice quivered with every word he said.
“I feel alone all the time Hansol but I’d rather be alone than lose you. I’d be nothing without you. So let’s not, let’s not be apart.”
“I watch time and time again as you get hurt and by me nonetheless. It hurts me that you feel like this I’ll leave it all for you, the fame.”
“I can’t be selfish enough to do that to you.” He took your hands in his but you drew them away. The tears never seemed to stop falling from your face.
“I can’t live without you but I have too if I don’t want to see you keep getting hurt.” He was pained, this was it. His first love, his soulmate, he had to let go.
You look up at the stars so beautiful and so bright. Just like the love you two held.
He looks up at the stars, they weren’t shining as bright as they usually did they were dull reflecting how they love you two held was.
Authors note: This is one of my favorite pieces I’ve written so far, I have a thing for angst if you guys couldn’t tell. Also thank you guys for over 100 notes on my recent piece I’m glad you guys enjoyed it!
Hey Matty :) Questions about the Predator (if you don't mind answering ofc ^^: How will Oliver interact with Felicity in private once they embrace their feelings for each other ? Will he be gentle and demonstrate his feelings? Or will he continue to maintain a cold and intense posture?Btw how can he be so teasing in texts and not face to face?xD that confuses me lol Did Oliver ever fall in love in his past? Or is this new territory for him?Thx for your time :)
Good lord, so many questions, anon!
Forget been in love, Oliver Queen has never loved anybody in The Predator. For twenty years, he’s been surrounded with people - people who trained him, people who fear him, people whom he is loyal to - but he’s never let anyone get even slightly close to him. His isolation has been on choice (maybe a form of punishment or what he thinks he deserves…)
Dante and Amara, while can be considered closest to him in a lot of ways, are still not close to him. They know of his past, they know of his growing up, but it’s never been something he’s shared with them. Oliver Queen does not share feelings (which is what makes that rainy night against the glass window and his “did I hurt you?” so very unique…) They learned what they did from other sources. But they know he considers them good only by the fact that he allows them to be by his side, allows them to show him some form of affection if they wish, allows them into his house - a place that is sacrosanct to him.
He’s isolated himself completely from any emotional interaction. He’s withdrawn himself into a tight ball of pain and self-hatred that he never allows to unravel. All he lets out, only to a known few, is the rage. Keeping up his mask, his facade, has become first nature to him. His instinct is to not feel, to not let it show, to never let anybody guess that he’s capable of not only feeling but he also has a weak spot.
Her name is Felicity Smoak.
From the moment she smiled her toothless grin at him to the moment she looked at him with fire in her eyes and curses on her lips, Oliver Queen has known deep inside that she is his one weak spot. And he’s worked very, very hard to hide it because if she finds out, she could exploit it - the same way every person who’s known a weakness in him has exploited it.
I won’t say much about what happens next, except enjoy the ride because it will be bumpy and messy and real. When they do come together (which will take time because Oliver has to prove he’s not manipulating her and Felicity has to prove that she won’t exploit his weakness - trust comes very, very, very hard to both of them and while they may have taken baby steps, there’s still a long way to go), it will be… interesting.
I don’t think this Oliver can ever be anything less than intense, even when he’s truly, madly, absolutely, I-ll-fucking-move-heaven-and-earth-to-make-her-smile-that-smile, I-ll-kill-anyone-who-ever-threatens-to-take-her-from-me, I-ll-make-her-feel-safe-and-free-and-so-love-she-ll-never-be-alone-again love.
He’ll be gentle in a lot of ways when they’re in private, but the intensity of his personality will not diminish. Nor would Felicity want it to. She’ll fall in love with him, intensity and all, and she’ll want that. By that point, she’ll want the wild bites on her neck that are natural to him - but she’ll know he loves her when he licks them softly afterward, a simple gesture he’d never do otherwise. She’ll want the mindless fucking against that window - but she’ll know he loves her when he picks her up and carries her to his bed and ravishes her softly the whole night. She’ll want heated fights - but she’ll know he loves her when he’ll quietly sit behind her on the floor in the dark, watching the rain as she’ll lean into him, nuzzling her hair and whispering, “Did I hurt you?”
He’ll never be flowery or sweet, maybe. But she doesn’t need that. She knows him, even now, better than anyone. She reads him better than anyone. He knows that. While he will give her overt words at some point, mostly, his gestures, his actions will tell her, and that’s how she’ll know they’re true.
She wants it all. She wants him.
Just as he wants her. He wants her to be grumpy with him like she’s never been allowed to be with anyone else. He wants her to threaten to kick his ass while planting his face with kisses. He wants her to moan in delight when he cooks something good for her, and then kiss that moan off her lips. He wants her soft body cuddled next to his at night even as he sleeps with a gun.
Oliver will never be mushy. The world he lives in, even in their private bubble, will never allow him to let himself be that soft. That’s just not who he is. Felicity will be, after a point. Because she wants to be. She wants someone with whom she can be completely herself, be all soft and cute and adorable, and still feel safe and protected and completely loved.
And love and cherish and protect her he will.
You can check out more of my thoughts about Oliver in love under The Predator tag.
Hello! Sorry to bother, I just want to say that I love this blog, and if you maybe know what his time in prison and after was like for lafayette cause I found some fairly contradicting texts and I'm confused. Thank you for your time!
Gilbert’s imprisonment always grieves my heart. It’s a story very few people know about. I’ll try to make some sense of it here from what I’ve gathered from multiple books and sources. Part of the miscommunication lies in the fact that Lafayette’s captors moved him to different prisons to prevent possible friends of the Frenchman from discovering his location. Lafayette didn’t write about his own experience until much later and his first-hand account is not only subject to his age, but is touched on with such brevity that it made me wonder if it was a topic he wanted to avoid discussing in great length. Lafayette, when remembering later, often went into painful amounts of detail…down to what colors people were wearing. The account of his imprisonment in his memoirs touch more on episodes within that time that broke up the monotony: his escape attempt, his wife’s arrival, etc. All that to say, I’ll do my best and as I do more research, I may have to go back and edit later.
From bad to worse. – The first real prison stay for Lafayette was at Wesel. Better treatment was offered if he would swear to renounced republicanism. Lafayette ardently refused. His Prussian captors also plied him for any information they could get regarding French military secrets and tactics. Again, he was silent. The authorities then transferred Lafayette to Magdeburg where he was imprisoned for about a year. Here, he later described being ‘doomed to moral and bodily decay.’ By one account, the cell he was held in was about 4 ft. wide and 8 ft. tall. He suffered in the cold, dark, and damp. There was no sunlight in the cell, and guards stood on constant watch. His spirits dampened, Lafayette nonetheless continued to refuse offers of better treatment in exchange for abandoning his principles.
Losing hope. After his time in Magdeburg, he was briefly moved to Neisse, still under Prussian supervision. His friends and family were completely in the dark as to his fate. No one had been told where he was being kept. It was as if he’d fallen off the face of the earth and he was left to fear for his family without word. To add to his misery, he contracted a fever that nearly killed him. In Unger’s book, Lafayette (which I haven’t read in full yet), he describes how Lafayette gradually grew dangerously despondent. “Lafayette believed his captors were planning his secret execution–that he would simply disappear and no one would know where or when. He found a sliver of wood, moistened it, and dipped it in soot to write his last words: ‘Adieu, then, my dear wife, my children, my aunt…whom I shall cherish to my last breath.’”
Olmütz, where Lafayette spent four years incarcerated, was situated in Austrian held territory. He arrived on May 17, 1794. It was not a prison, but a dungeon equal to anything you’ve seen on TV. Once again, Unger paints a pretty dismal picture. “The prison was part of the city wall over the Morawa River, which carried the city sewerage and filled the prison above it with a suffocating stench and swarms of disease-carrying mosquitoes and flies. Lafayette…[was] chained in solitary confinement…forbidden to talk, in rags, and with no personal possessions.” They gave him and the two other French officers with him numbers and did not address them by name. If memory serves, Lafayette was State Prisoner #2. He was not given a chamber pot and had to eat with his hands in such filth. Bathing was also prohibited.
Escape? The fever Lafayette had spawned in Magdeburg had not left him by the time he moved to Olmütz and gradually grew worse. As his health deteriorated, a doctor was finally called for. This doctor, as luck would have it, was a part of an escape organized by many friends of the ailing Frenchman, including Angelica Church (formerly Schuyler). The doctor brought with him a note detailing the scheme. Lafayette used his own blood to write a reply and sent the physician on his way. The doctor demanded that Lafayette be allowed outside from time to time and the authorities eventually complied. During one of these outings, two of the conspirators burst from the woods. A skirmish broke out. One of the guards tackled Lafayette and bit his finger so badly that he nearly lost it. He managed to scramble away, hopped on a horse, and took off. Adorably (and unfortunately), he misunderstood his accomplices’ English and went to the wrong town. Believing himself to be in friendly territory, he announced his identity and need to a farmer…who promptly sold him out to the authorities. Lafayette was immediately arrested and dragged back to prison.
Lockdown. Lafayette’s memoirs describe the punishment for his escape best. “Lafayette was put in irons, and suffered the most excruciating torture. He was in a feeble state, overcome by fatigue, and suffering greatly from the bruises and wounds received in his late attempt to escape. His anxieties, his anguish (and despair we may almost say,) at finding himself again in the power of his unrelenting jailor, so affected his nerves, that his fever returned with increased and alarming violence. In this state he was allowed nothing but a little damp and mouldy straw; irons were put round his feet, and round his waist was a chain, fastened to the wall, which barely permitted him to turn from one side to the other. No light was admitted into his cell; and he was refused even the smallest allowance of linen.” “Worn down by disease and the rigour of the season, his hair fell from his head, and he was emaciated to the last degree. To these physical distresses were soon super added those mental anxieties, which perhaps, were still more difficult to endure.” After some time–and influence from friends abroad–he was unchained from the wall and allowed to walk one hour a day. No one was allowed to speak to him.
Adrienne saves his life. Two years in, Adrienne arrived with their daughters, Virginie and Anastasie, and refused to leave during her husband’s confinement. One of his girls wrote later: "We got out at the house of the commandant of the city. We did not see him. He sent the officer who was charged with keeping the prison, to conduct us. After we had gone through the first gate we passed down long corridors to two padlocked doors that opened into my father’s room. ‘I don’t know,’ my mother said the night before, ‘how I can support what we are going to feel.’ My father had not been notified of our coming. He had been given no letter at all from my mother. Three years of imprisonment, the last passed in complete solitude (for since his attempt at escape he had not seen his servant), anxiety for all he loved, sufferings of all kinds, had deeply affected his health. The change in his looks was frightening. My mother was hard hit by it; but nothing could diminish the delirium of her joy except the bitterness of her irreparable losses. My father, after the first happiness of reunion, did not dare to ask any questions. He knew of the reign of terror in France, but he did not know the names of the victims. The day passed without his daring to question her concerning his fears or her being able to muster strength to tell him. Only in the evening, after my sister and I had been shut into the next room, not connected, did she tell my father that she had lost on the scaffold, her grandmother, her mother, and her sister.’
Lafayette and his family were released on September 19, 1797. What happened afterwards will have to be a post for another time. I’ll try to get that together as soon as possible. As to the conflicting reports you might have gone over, it’s because very few people were actually able to contact Lafayette or his family. I hope this shed some light on things. I’m crying now. Dear me.
ok I just got through the 4th trial. Ouma backing Gonta into a corner so viciously was... kinda scary. The entire time, he takes the lead, even more prominently than Saihara. At one point he literally says 'so, the culprit is Gonta.' Later on, he meticulously clears everyone of suspicion until only Gonta remains. His aggressive demeanour is scary and also pretty sad, bc the others would never accept the truth otherwise. Idk what I want out of this ask, I just wanted to get that off my chest lol
The Chapter 4 trial hurts so much. Much of the
misinformation that was floating around about it at first caused people to feel
bad for one character or the other who was involved, but I find myself still
feeling pretty miserable for every character involved: Miu, Gonta, and Ouma all
got a super shitty hand in that trial, and it’s true that none of it would have
happened without the killing game itself prompting this kind of tragedy.
The trial itself is absolutely bone-chilling and features
some of the most incredible voice-acting moments in the whole game (in my
opinion), and the points at which Ouma starts pressing are…pretty damn
terrifying. There were a lot of scenes prior to this where I’d already been
thinking of ndrv3 and Ouma both in very Umineko terms, but this was the trial
that pretty much cemented it for me, because there was almost nothing more Umineko-like
than watching Ouma have to shoot down every single possibility with his own “red
truth” in order to force the group to accept that Gonta was the culprit.
I'm the sad Jinmin anon and I'm torturing myself and apparently you too but i'm not even sorry. IT'S WORTH IT. Now, the ultimate angst following up everything I have sent: While Jin kisses Jimin letting him play pretend poor little Jimin being as drunk as he is starts to vent about RM "I love you so much" "I can be as good as you want me to" "I'll do anything for you" and so on but then the breaking point came when Jimin said in between kisses "What does Jin have that I don't?" fuCK ME whyYYY
i swear these jinmin hcs have to be my favorite just the fact jin can only be of physical support to jimin to support him emotionally because he just happens to be the source of his pain, but also a great source of comfort for jimin bxjwjdjsj fuckK
Warnings: Reader with boobs, mild cursing, nothing else bc this is pure™
With another searing pain in your foot, you lamented the fact that you were here. You lamented that it was eleven at night on a Friday night, and you were stuck in Carisi’s apartment. You resented that you were forced into high heels and workout leggings, that Carisi kept his apartment seventy-eight degrees in the middle of summer, that Sonny had such long limbs, and that Rafael Barba couldn’t hide his snickering.
This was all Rafael’s fault, as far as you were concerned.
Ezra woke with great reluctance as the comfortable dream that had surrounded him dissipated, leaving him with nothing but the feeling of his bunk underneath him, the brightness of the lights shining through his closed eyelids, and an emotion that was not his own.
It could have been his, it was certainly familiar to him in that way, but it came from elsewhere, somewhere outside of him. It was deep and heavy, made up of pain and grief, sorrow, frustration, and guilt. It pressed heavily on his mind, chasing away any chance of sleep.
He hadn’t felt something like that since the days after Malachor, but this wasn’t coming from Kanan. The source was familiar to him, but wasn’t someone that he had ever connected to in quite this way before. The emotion came in waves, washing over him violently before retreating, only to build again.
Without opening his eyes – to do so would mean giving up on sleep entirely – he turned so that he faced away from the door, then wrapped his arms around his head as though he could physically block the feeling from getting through.
It didn’t work. But then, he hadn’t expected it to. It had never worked before. This was far from the first time that he had been woken in this way, he had experience with it; experience that didn’t help in the slightest.
the mood for today’s text meta is… hyper / dying will mode! and also zero point breakthrough. basically getting into some grittier parts that i’ve been glossing over with all the funny chat logs hahaha. (well, except for the ‘dark ages’ post, that was pretty gritty.)
WARNINGS: for vaguely borderline suicidal ideation?? i mean not really but what else can you call wanting to be frozen in a block of not-ice?
it’s pretty hard to figure out kaworu’s motivations, since he’s so cryptic and mysterious. even fans of his are unsure how to counter arguments that he’s malicious/manipulative/incapable of feeling so that’s why i made this post in a hope that we all can understand him better.
(This is low-key the best thing I’ve ever written)
Suga had never been the one to care much.
He had watched people come and go, and his eyes had seen things no one should have. And still, he didn’t really care.
Suga couldn’t bring himself to feel compassion for any human because he knew how they all were. All they did was lie and lie, and they’d betray you the first chance they got. He bet even someone who dared to call him their friend would most likely kill him if given enough money.
But he understood. He would do the exact same thing.
Which was why he stayed out of everyone’s business when it didn’t have anything to do with him.
If he saw someone getting killed he’d just walk by. They had probably deserved it anyways.
He didn’t care.
However, his aloofness made his life a bit boring. He was in desperate need of excitement every day of his life, and he was so desperate that he’d do whatever to feel something, anything, for God’s sake.
Hi! I hope this is an okay request to send. I wanted to know how the chocobros would feel if they had to rescue their s/o - whether from another person, a monster they were fighting, or something (someone) else! Thank you, and I really enjoy your blog!
Thank you Nonny! This request is totally okay to send, don’t worry.
He’s saving you fro Ardyn in chapter 13. You think that lunatic would leave Noctis’s S/O alone? You saw what he did to Luna!
He’s running through that maze and Ardyn’s taunting him with your voice. He hears you calling out to him and you sound like you’re in so much pain–is Ardyn torturing you?
Fueled only by his fear and fury, Noctis gets to the source of your voice
And you’re not there. In fact, there’s nothing there but a seething Noctis who’s screaming at Ardyn’s maniacal chuckling
Where you really are is with Ignis and Gladiolus, so you end up rescuing him, more or less
He just collapses into you, and you have to hold him up. He’s so shocked, so scared, such a child, that he really does need a minute to break down and be happy that you’re okay
Ardn didn’t actually do much to you; no more than he did to Ignis and Gladio, at least. You were nocked out and put in this deserted lab thing that’d been freaking you out, so you’re trying to explain to Noctis that it’s okay and you’re fine
Until Gladio grabs you both because, Six, we still have to find Prompto!
We’ll do this during the trial of Leviathan in chapter 9. Sorry, did you think this was going to be a lighthearted headcanon?
Noctis takes Prompto with him and you take his place. You’ve always been great with people, especially kids, so he thinks you’ll be good at keeping people calm and organized during the evacuation
Until Leviathan starts destroying the city and you and Ignis are separated from everyone else. Almost all of the citizens are evacuated, there are no casualties, but now there’s the minor issue of the fact that the two of you are floating around in thrashing waves on a broken piece of a bridge
Ignis is literally holding you down so you don’t move and slip into the water while he’s stand-crouching to find a way back to solid ground
“I think we’re going to have to jump.”
Can you do anything but agree to that? The window you have is short, but you both jump. You barely notice that he shoves you forward and then jumps, and he almost misses the landing
Well, he lands with his face. His glasses are shattered on the ground. There’s blood. He’s holding his face. But, he still reaches out for you first
The Boyband ft. You are in a dungeon and it’s kind of draining all of you. Prompto’s complaints are less nervous and more exhausted, Noctis keeps getting everyone lost, and even Ignis looks about ready to ram a flan’s head into a wall
Do flan even have heads?
You’re in the middle of a break, leaning on a wall, out of breath, when the group gets jumped on and you’re pinned down by a daemon
Gladio doesn’t think much of saving people anymore, since that’s what he’s been doing forever and what he will be doing forever, but seeing a daemon on top of you will always scare him
So he grabs the thing by the neck and beats the hell out of it
Everyone else just kind of watches it happen because the group of daemons wasn’t even big, and he could totally slice that thing in half if he wanted to, but… Okay, Gladio
You’re more than stunned, and he two of you stare at each other for a short while before he realizes that, yeah, that was kind of excessive. He looks away and offers a hand to help you up, which you gladly accept
So the Nifs took the approach of sectioning off one of you and then swarming that one person. That person is you this time
None of you really have a weapon that could attack a lot of enemies at once. Maybe Gladio with those greatswords, but you’re not Gladio and you’ve got a gun and some throwing knives, maybe
You hear Prompto scream your name while you’re shooting MTs, and that’s just before one of them grabs you from behind
Its hands are freezing and being held by that thing is one of the most horrifying experiences you’ve ever had
The other three are running over to handle the MTs that aren’t currently crushing you with its (bare?) hands, and you can’t see Prompto, but you hear the discharge of a gun and honest to god just cringe
You don’t know why you thought you were getting shot, but you’re fine when you fall to the ground. That MT that had its hands on you, though? It doesn’t exactly have a head anymore
And suddenly you’re in Prompto’s arms and he’s pressing kisses to the side of your head and it makes sense: he shot the MT from behind to rescue you