saints 5k

Saint Malik (5.5k)

Some fan throws a candle with Zayn’s face on it onto stage, and because Zayn can’t ever catch a break it becomes a thing within the band.

Thanks so much to @liamalmighty for her drunken purchase inspiration, and to @queerlyalex for listening to me yell about this before I decided to write it down.

My first 1D fic on AO3! It’s official; I’m part of the fandom now.

saints and sinners

The 23rd is a marvellous day, isn’t it? On the 23rd a legend was born - in April, that is. ;) One that n-a-d-h-i-e begged me to write when it came around. But I refused - until now, hehe.
And there was another reason why the 23rd was great, wasn’t there? In May, this time. What was it again? Ah, yes.


This story is based on the legend of Saint Jordi, whose day is eagerly celebrated in Barcelona with books and roses. ;)

The ropes cut tightly into her wrists. Lucy Heartfilia wiggled against the rough pole she was tied to, trying to momentarily ease the pain.

Not like it would last much longer.

She felt the stares digging into her back, hundreds of eyes on her, a whole crowd ready to watch as she was taken. Or killed. Eaten?

Who really knew?

A bloodcurdling roar sounded in the distance.

A shiver went through the crowd, one she could feel even though she stood with her back to the people. It had reached her too, leaving her trembling despite her resolve.

This was the day she would die.

It was an inescapable certainty not only because of her current predicament, but because she had known this day would come for the last three days and nights. Nights she had wept herself to sleep.

But she had convinced herself she could be strong. She would die for her people. Her mother would have done the same. This was her responsibility.

Her name had been drawn.

There was nothing she could have done, even if she had wanted to. Her father had stood silently, with his face ashen, as her name had been read out loud. She remembered it well. A brief flicker of shock, then panic, then pain. Then he had went back to being the king.

It was only fair.

Being the princess would not save her now.

If the beast would be soothed by her sacrifice, then so be it. She could die a martyr. There was no glory to be found in the act, though. She had realized that as the guards had tied her up to the post with grief-stricken faces.

Her death would not be a merciful one.

Flames were hungry. They accepted no resistance.

The princess shivered again, instinctively tugging at her restraints. They only cut deeper into her wrists. The trembling wouldn’t stop.

How much time did she have left?

Not even a light breeze or a single cloud relieved her off the sun burning onto her exposed skin, and Lucy felt her vision blur from time to time. How long had she been standing here? Her whole body hurt.

Left to die by her own people, her own father. Bitterness welled up inside her, but she forced it down. She could forgive it. The old traditions spoke of a sacrifice to appease a dragon, and the king, as fair as he was strict, had chosen every woman’s name in the country should be written down - and who would be drawn would have the honour of sacrificing their life for the sake of their kingdom.

Unknowingly, he had sealed her fate. But he could not have known, that in the first draw in centuries, the name would be hers.

His decision was just. And irreversible.

The princess shifted her weight, hoping to momentarily relieve her aching feet. Something was different. Probably had been for a while, but she had been too preoccupied with her thoughts.

It was too quiet.

And not the kind of nervous quietness that had loomed over the space until now, filled with sorrow, even anticipation. No. This silence was curious, hopeful and almost loud, as if it was waiting for something.

Funny, how perceptive one could become to sounds, and the lack of them, when hearing was the only sense one could rely on.

Something had happened in the crowd, and now she could hear low murmurs, voices rising. She thought she could hear her father’s, too.

But no matter how she tried to crane her head, she could not see anything.

The wind carried a new voice over to her, and she was certain she had never heard it before. It would have stuck. It was voluminous as it echoed through the air, and it spoke with an accent the likes of which she had never heard. The letters rolled off his tongue, almost melodious had they not sounded so rough.

“I have come to slay the dragon!”

Keep reading

  • what she says: kaneki ken did nothing wroooooong!
  • what she means: I understand that Kaneki is not free of flaws and has made many questionable decisions throughout the course of the series. But we can't deny the fact that he's just a guy whose life has been utter shit even prior to becoming a half-ghoul. No one deserves to have their life spiral out of control like that just for wanting a quiet book date. All I want is for him to find peace, and because it feels like the entire tokyo ghoul universe is actively depriving him of that, the easiest way I can vocalize this feeling is through using an overused expression.