Father Dearest

🩸🕸 Father Dearest 🕸🩸

It was a blur. First you were walking the bustling streets of Cairo with your mother shopping for food and next thing you know you're knocked out by what seemed to be something you could only describe as a ghost. You had your own ghost of sorts, it said it’s name was Quiet Riot, and as your body was dragged into a large castle you wondered if they could be in any way related.

You finally came to a cold dark room, your arms being bound behind your back. Screams of pure agony, distilled by the echoey chamber of the castle, reached your ears. Feeble body desperately fighting against your bonds as Quiet Riot appeared before you and began tying the ropes around your wrists and ankles. Free now and able to walk, you made your way to the door, where you were shakily able to pick the lock that bolted you in, surprising considering your vision being blurred by tears and your mind rushing with thoughts of we're your mother could be, and god forbid if those screams were hers.

The heavy wooden door slowly creaked open to reveal long winding stone hallways. They were dark with the exception of a few candles smattered about, and you wondered why they didn't open the heaven curtains blocking the window, but that wasn't important right now.

Bare feet against cobblestone you rushed in the direction of the noises. After the twists and turns of the castle confused you and sent you in a circle, you finally found yourself in front of a large pair of double doors. The screams had gone quiet a minute or so ago and you weren't even sure if this is where they had been emanating from, but nonetheless you trusted your gut. You were going to find your mother and get out of here. Your small hands pushed against the grain of the oak, and with assistants from Quiet Riot, they were opened with ease. 

The sight that lay behind those doors where nothing you could have ever been prepared to see. Your mothers body, limp and gray on the stone floor, blood pooling out of her neck into a crimson puddle beneath her. Then you saw him, his amber eyes making contact with your own froze you in place. And he spoke 

“My my, I am terribly sorry you had to see that” 

Cruelty dripped from his voice, and in an instant he stood in front of you, hand grasping your chin as he smiled at you.

‘How could he have approached me so fast, does he have some kind of special ghost like me?’

The giant of a man’s mouth opened to speak once more but then, like a flash of lighting, something inside you switched on, and the Riot’s hands threw the man a few feet from you, even with all your force you could sense he wasn't hurt in the slightest, but all you needed was a moment before you except what was sure to come. Tears were flowing down your face now as you quickly dropped to your knees before your mothers corpse, though you barely had a second to grieve her fate. 

“Quite the stand you have there”

The figure lifted you now by the throat, cutting off the air to your brain, and a small squeak of fear left your mouth, he laughed. 

‘How could he? How could he laugh after taking the life of an innocent woman?’ 

The fear you felt now came not from the idea of your life ending soon, but the absolute monster who stood before you.

You made one last futile attempt with Riot to get away from his grasp, but another yellow ghost simply grabbed the stand, making it impossible to move any part of your body. All you could do was move your eyes to see the body of your mother once more, as her murderer held your life in a single hand. If you had to go out now at least you would be with your mother soon. 

“You would prefer to die here and join your mother in the afterlife then stay and barely hang on to your puny life?” 

Shit you haven't realized you had said that last part out loud.

“You are an interesting child”

He paused to think for a moment

“I was going to kill you here and now, but I'm beginning to change my mind…” He uttered a few more unintelligible words as you blacked out from asphyxiation, the image of his sharp toothed smile burning into the backs of your eyelids.

An unfamiliar comfort enveloped your body, not the usual rough cotton cot you slept on. The plush velvet and silk was alien to you, but you couldn't help but snuggle farther into the bed. Then the creaking of your door opening, well there goes your quiet comfort. An old woman enters the room, you weren't quite sure who she was, but you put on the rather nice the clothes she gave you and followed her down a stone hallway, as she explained that Lord Dio would like to see you, the image of the man in question was a bit foggy but you knew he was an important figure in your life, perhaps a friend or family member? You couldn't put your finger on it.

As you reached a pair of large oak doors you stopped, the old women pushing them open for you. It was your first good look at the room, a library or study of some kind, every surface having a few dripping candles adorning it. Why didn't they just open the curtains if they wanted light? Well that wasn't important right now, because a large golden haired man, Lord Dio,  was ushering you over.

Your new shoes patterned against the stone floor as you walked to the armchair he was sitting in, taking a leisurely stance with a book in hand, sipping what you assumed was red wine. 

Your e/c eyes made contact with his own amber pair as he gestured for you to make a seat in the rather expensive looking chair across from him.

“Goodmorning, my child, how was your rest?”

Yes, it clicked. Lord Dio was your father of course, how could you be so silly to forget? You had the privilege of being the child of the most powerful man on earth and you just forgot? How idiotic of you.

“It was good, I was quite disoriented this morning though, I'm not sure why” You smiled at him and picked up a tea cup from the small table in front of you. Pouring yourself a cup of earl gray out listened to your father.

“Hm, I wonder why, perhaps you've been having night terrors. I assume you're still prepared for stand training today though, yes?”

“Of course father” You sipped your drink, the hot liquid scolding your tongue just a bit, as Lord Dio had a small chuckle at your expense, you laughed with him, it was humorous to an extent, even if your tongue was a bit burned now. 

Blowing on your drink to cool it down now, the man in front of you discussed plans for stand training today. At some point a servant walked in with a tray of food, none of which your father touched, but you gladly indulged.

You were excited for your next day of learning, your father always had more knowledge to give. So as you ate your breakfast and read another poetry book suggested by him, you were happy to be blessed with this life, the life of the child of the most powerful man on this Earth.

Thanks a lot for reading :))

Fun fact of the post: When I first heard about jojo i thought dio was an old scrunkly man lolz (-_-)

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Mallow Flowers (1)

Malva sylvestris: Mallow carries many symbolic meanings that overlap, including romantic interest, healing, and survival in tough conditions.

(a/n) This is my first TWD fic but I've been watching the series for a while :) This post will also continue into a series, thankyou so much for reading and any feedback is appreciated (a/n end)

You don't know how long it had been since the world fell apart, days? weeks? months? It didn't matter, all you could focus on was the burning in your feet and shins, and the painful cramp in your ribs. The sun beamed down through the trees, what was once a beautiful green canopy you could find solace in, now obstacles as you ran through the woods, forcing yourself to keep going against your body's will. In some desperate attempt to ignore its pleas your mind went to anything it could, and that was the cause of the world’s fall. You had never been religious but you thought if there was a god, he had one fucked up sense of humor to bring the dead back to life. Though as if he heard you, an unearthed root caught your worn down sneakers and sent you tumbling head first down a hill. 

Finally your body came to a stop, more bruised than before, a stinging cut adorning the bridge of your nose, you're pretty sure it's broken. A groan left your lungs and you shifted to get up, but you were barely able to lift your hands more than a few inches off the muddy soil. Muddy… OH MY GOD. Mud, the sign that there was a stream in reach. As soon as the promise of water reached your cloudy mind, so did the scratchy feeling in your mouth and throat, that small stream suddenly became your goal, a life line to reach for. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Hand gripping the earth, slightly pushing your body up slowly, following the rhythm of your now caught breath. It was agonizing, not the physical pain, but the sound of running water, that couldn't be more than ten feet away, but was miles out of reach. Though you were never one to give up, not when you were little, not when your teenage self thought being happy was impossible, and definitely not now, not when your life depended on it when your life depended on it.

“Dad this is impossible, can't we just stop for today?” 

The wooden bow clutched that had fired arrows anywhere but the red not in the middle of the target. You knew it was possible to let go of that string and had the sharpened tip make a bullseye. You've seen it done many times, even by the tall man next to you, but in your hands it felt like you were destined to fail.

“It ain't impossible y/n, you just need practice more, if you give up now y'all know if the next arrow you shoot i'll be the one to hit that target”

His eyes met yours, and they held the same look they did whenever you tried to give up, the encouragement and strictness that kept you trying.

You hadn't hit a bullseye that day, but you went out the next and the next until that red dot no longer seemed like a threat, but an achievable target you had learned to concur. 

Each movement felt like dragging a weight behind you, the overexertion, sleep deprivation, and over all malnourishment was catching up. You didn't know you had crossed what felt like the Oregon trail to the stream until the cuts on your hands stung slightly at the cool liquid. It didn't take long for you to dunk your face into it, all reasonable thought gone as you scooped water into your mouth with your hands, stomach hurting from the odd feeling of not being completely empty. Laying back to face the sky you felt as though for the first time since the end, you weren't completely fucked. You knew you weren't safe, not with the dead walking, but that didn't stop your lead heavy eyelids from betraying you and falling closed.

Dreams have meanings, hell theres books about it. But you didn't quite know what a dream about a crossbow wielding man carrying you away from the stream you passed out is supposed to symbolize. Maybe he was sometime of guardian angel here to bring you to the afterlife? Who knows, if he is, at least your guardian angel's handsome

Fun fact of the post: I just got broken up with (^-^)

the moon is proud of you

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