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xisadorapurlowx · 7 months

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Bloodstained Lilium: Chapter 1

Leonard: England, Brockenhurst, 9:26am

Leo raised his bag over his head as he stomped down the pavement. Rain crashed down upon him as Charity’s house appeared. He pushed the rusty old gate and entered the front garden and weaved his way through the overgrown plants and weeds. Leo reached the front door under the porch and shivered as he rang the doorbell. His clothes where cold and stuck to him like a wet shower curtain.

The dark moss coloured door had chunks missing from it like someone had jabbed a knife through it over and over again. The handle and lock hung off as if further evidence of a frenzied attack.

The door opened and Charity smiled at him, moving out of the way as Leo rushed inside to the safe and dry house. They had been friends since they first met at Catholic school. She was the only friend Leo had.

“So, what’s this about?” He asked her, as she shut the door.

Charity turned around and her smile grew wider, her long brown hair flying behind her as she finished twirling, “You’re never going to believe who I’ve met!” She whispered, excitedly.

“Who?” Leo looked over his shoulder, peering into the front room and up the stairs he asked, “Who have you met? That K-pop star you’re obsessed with ah!” Leo flinched as a bright dash of light danced across his vision, making his eyes water painfully. Once the light had faded from Leo’s sight, he shook his head, rubbing his eyes.

“Did you do that? Why would you do that to me?” Leo pulled his hands away from his face and looked at Charity.

Charity shook her head and pointed a delicate finger behind him, “Look behind you!” she said.

Leo rolled his eyes and turned around. His jaw fell open as Leo stared at one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen.

Golden blonde curls fell around this man’s face, bright clear almost translucent skin, bright blue eyes and a face that had been carved by God himself. The man was decorated in thick gold bangles, one around his neck, two around his wrists and two around his ankles. All that clothed his body was a sheer white robe, reaching to just a few inches off the floor. Two enormous wings were grown out of his back, the feathers the whitest things Leo had ever seen.

“My God.” Leo stepped back to get a better look at the man, to take him all in. There were no words to describe him, he was just so… Gorgeous.

The man spoke, “Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Leo.”

“You know my name.” Leo stated, stupidly.

He heard Charity’s laughter from behind him and she pushed Leo upright, he must have been nearly falling over.

“Surprise! This is Lucifer!” Charity giggled, gazing at the man.

Leo’s eyes darted to her and back at the being, “Lucifer?” He deadpanned.

“Hmhm!”

“Doesn’t that mean you’re a demon?” Leo asked, narrowing his eyes at Lucifer and then quoted, “’How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of morning’?”

Lucifer shook his head, his blonde curls moving effortlessly along with his head. “No, down here that’s how I have been portrayed unfortunately. And it was a rather unfortunate mistranslation. When someone used my name during the writing of the first English version of the Bible they messed up. How can a King make such a silly mistake?” He sighed, shutting his eyes as if the depictions had been blasphemous to him, “I had been lying in slumber in the Earth until I was discovered by Charity who was planting flowers in the back garden.”

“Right, sure.” Leo said, sarcastically, “Why should I believe you?” Although the name is only used once in the Bible, it still refers to the Fall of Satan and Leo was not risking anything here.

“Well, I wasn’t here and then I was, right?” Lucifer said.

Leo didn’t have an answer back for him. Lucifer did kind of just… appear and Leo didn’t hear any thunderous steps behind him.

Leo pointed at him, “What about your parents, Charity? Can they see him?”

“Nope! They have no clue he’s here.” Charity said, “Didn’t you see the flash of light in front of you? He was removing the Holy Seal that stopped you from seeing him.”

“Everyone has one,” The Angel explained, “It’s to make sure they aren’t seeing things like us unless we grant them the ability to. Or, you abuse illicit substances that break it.”

Leo traced the Angel’s form up and down.

“Okay, so, you are an angel. Why tell me?” He asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

There was a short pause as Charity moved from behind Leo and stood next to Lucifer, “Well, that’s the real reason why I brought you here.” Her eyes flitted to Lucifer before they went back to Leo, “Since Lucifer has appeared, he has been following me around and talking to me. And we were spotted. When I was talking to him.”

“‘Spotted’.” Leo echoed, “What do you mean?”

“There are these cultists or followers of some sort and the other day they tried to break into the house.” Lucifer explained.

Leo stared at the both of them, “No, you’re joking, really?”

Charity shook her head and pointed to the door, “Did you see the door knob?”

“That was them?!”

Charity nodded gravely, “It was.”

Leo shook his head, “Well, what do you want me for then? Can’t you do something?” He looked to Lucifer, “All Powerful Mighty Angel, Messenger of God?”

“That’s the other problem. If I were to use that power, it would shock the world. Literally,” Lucifer said, “I would much rather have it so that Charity will be safe, than have her be put in danger by me.”

“So, I was going to ask you about some of your dad’s men. Y’know those men.” Charity suggested. She jerked her head to the door.

Leo shook his head, heavy stones settling in his stomach, “No. I’m not letting you have any of those people around. They are not people you want around, Charity.” Leo said through gritted teeth. His eyes briefly darted to the side of the front room and then to the door, afraid that someone might be listening to their conversation.

“Well, what if these people come after me!?” Charity shrieked, suddenly. Tears welled up in her eyes as her voice filled with panic and anxiety, “Please, Leo I don’t know what that group will do to me, you have to protect me!”

Leo jumped at her words as they spilled from her mouth with her tears rolling down her cheeks.

He didn’t know what to do.

The men who worked with Leo’s dad ‘took care’ of people who are perceived as a threat to Leo’s family, but mainly his father as he was the boss. And those people who worked for him, have done some of the worst things imaginable, who would time after time escape the law because of his father.

But Leo looked at Charity and Lucifer who was powerless overall in this situation as well. Charity was the victim. It’s not like she asked to find an Angel in her back garden. Some Angel Lucifer is.

Leo sucked in a deep breath and sighed, “Fine, I will see if two guys are up for it.”

Charity’s dismal look fell away as quickly as it had appeared and her wide grin returned, “Thank you so much Leo. I’ll have to find a way to thank you somehow.”

Leo paused looking at Lucifer who stared back at him, “What is it?” Lucifer asked.

An Angel, a real one. No one else had access to the afterlife as Leo did in that moment. He made his decision right then and there, “If you want to pay me back, I’d like to pick Lucifer’s brains anytime I like.” Leo said.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in surprise, “What makes you want that?”

“Well, it’s a rare opportunity, isn’t it? No one else would usually get this chance and I am Catholic.” Leo explained.

“That seems fair enough, I’d like to hear too, you never tell me anything about that even when I pick your brain.” Charity agreed thoughtfully. She raised an eyebrow at him, “How does that sound?”

Lucifer pursed his lips, thinking it over before he spoke, “I suppose if it’s all for your safety, Charity then I guess it would be alright.”

***

Over the past few weeks, Leo had gotten the heavies Charity had asked him for and he’d been mulling over questions for Lucifer. He reminded Leo of something at the school his dad sent him to.

Leo had been over every day since their agreement was made. He wanted to give extra protection so that everything was safe. There was no way anyone would do any harm while Leo was around. It was also so he could get to know Lucifer or ‘Lucy.’ It turned out that Lucifer was quite fond of the nickname. It had slipped out on accident a few days into the surveillance from Leo, they all laughed about it and the name just stuck.

Another day, while Leo was around, he watched Lucifer float past a bouquet of dead lilies and they came back to life as if they’d been freshly picked. He’d never been so astounded by anything in his life.

The day came once Leo had decided on his questions. He knocked on the door to Charity’s house, giving the two guys at the gate a curt nod while he waited for the door to open. Charity opened it and grinned at him, “Hey! Back again?” She chuckled as Leo stepped inside, “Lucifer’s in the front room.”

“Thanks, come in and join us. I’m going to pick his brains today.” Leo smiled back at her.

“Leo, you’re finally here!” Lucifer hovered over and grinned at Leo, exposing blindingly white teeth, “I was just about to go and grab you myself.”

Leo rolled his eyes and smiled as he sat down on the sofa in Charity’s front room, “I’m gonna ask my questions today.”

“Are you now?” Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow as he drifted next to Leo. Charity sat on the separate sofa chair, watching the two both converse.

“Yes, I am, Lucy.” Leo responded, “So, this is the only question I have really.” Leo said, “And I hope I don’t offend you with this question.”

“Go on, just ask.” Lucifer rolled his eyes.

“Okay, so,” Leo started, “A while ago, I read the Book of Enoch, the one with the story of The Observers. They were these angels who were sent by God to observe over humanity, to not interfere but they did and took human women for wives and had giants for children. And those Angels were encased in the earth until the day of the Rapture and where they will be taken down to Hell as God’s punishment to them. Along with the flood that Noah made the Arc for.” Leo paused before he asked, “Were you one of those Angels?”

Lucifer fell silent. His eyes glazed over and he suddenly seemed off in his own head. It was uncomfortable and an unbearable silence, the playful joking in the air had gone.

Leo regretted asking him the question.

Lucifer finally spoke, “And if I was, would you be scared of me?”

Leo bit his lip, “Probably not. I know you now, not as you were thousands of years ago.”

Lucifer sighed, leaning back into the sofa, “I had narrowly escaped God’s grasp as Samyaza and the others were chained to the core of the Earth. It wasn’t my idea to begin with and I hated the thought of it. Sure, there were some very lovely women back then, don’t get me wrong but, it didn’t sit right with me and then when the Nephilim had been born, it was as if Beelzebub had made those children and not us.” Lucifer sighed, “Enoch that poor mortal man, God sending him to us with the prophecy of our demise was the worst thing that He could have done.” He shivered, “I live in fear that if I get too loud, God may find me here and I have no idea what he will do to me if he does find me. If I use my powers, He will hear me and see me. God is omniscient and omnipotent. But I can stay invisible as long as I don’t use my powers.”

“Is that why you can’t protect Charity?” Leo asked him, “You’ll be seen and heard? But then the flowers, I’ve seen you revive from you walking just past them.”

“I don’t do that consciously. It’s a curse, wherever I walk, there is life reborn.” Lucifer sighed, “Occupational hazard really. And those won’t make God come for me.”

Leo stared at Lucifer, mulling over Lucifer’s words. He was sat in the same room as an Observer, one from a religious text that had been deemed fanfiction compared to canonical Bible stories.

A chill went down Leo’s spine.

It was awful what they did, but Lucifer’s different now, seemingly. He’s hiding away from God and he hasn’t done anything weird to Charity so it must be okay.

Charity leaned forwards in her chair, “So, what are you really?” She asked.

Lucifer looked at Charity and then at Leo, “I suppose, the correct name would be a demon. But I’m nothing like the ones that come up from down there.” Lucifer pointed at his bangled feet, “They are much worse than me. Anything you can imagine, honestly.” He looked at Charity, “I am so grateful you found me in the dirt, I don’t know how else I would remain undercover for so long before being thrown to suffer with the others.”

Charity’s face was pale, tinted slightly green as she nodded in response.

“I’m also glad you asked Leo. I knew I had to bring it up at some point, it’s important to know how I got here.” Lucifer said, “I’m sorry it took a long time to come out about this.”

“No, it’s okay.” Charity shook her head, “It’s a lot to talk about. It’s a very difficult subject from the sounds of it.”

“Yeah, it is very complicated. Lucy, we get it.” Leo said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “God has a very complicated plan for all of us and unfortunately, maybe for you too.”

The robes on his shoulder were soft as if they’d been freshly cleaned that day, once again, amazing Leo.

“How were you able to keep your robes clean under that dirt?” Leo asked, absentmindedly.

“Charity washed them when I came out of the dirt and they’ve stayed clean ever since.” Lucifer explained.

“During which you didn’t wear anything else, it was agony.” Charity said, narrowing her eyes at the Fallen Angel.

“It’s not as if I didn’t try to find something! Your dad’s clothes made me break out in hives!” Lucifer retorted, “Mixed fabrics remember?!”

Leo teased, “Is the Fallen Messenger of Gods’ skin too delicate for all we can offer him or is he really just a fancy posh twat?”

“You know that is not the case!” Lucifer snapped, crossing his arms, floating up and away, “This is bullying, I might as well go and bury myself in the dirt again.”

“No!” Charity got up and ran after him, “I’ll have to wash your robes again and I am not having your arse crack hanging out again!”

Leo’s breath formed clouds of steam as he made his way up to Charity’s house. It was around 10 o’clock at night as he found the gate to the house flung aside on its side.

He hadn’t heard from Charity in a while. They’d normally text every now and again during the day and more often at night. But there were no tonight messages. Everything was too quiet.

Leo furrowed his eyebrows as he stared down the path up to the front of the house where the two guards’ legs were hanging out of the threshold.

His blood ran cold as he walked up the path, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. Leo stopped at the lackies’ feet and looked down at their bodies. Two knives were firmly jabbed into their white shirts, blood seeping through them and staining them. The door had been broken down and split in half as if the abductors had used a battering ram.

Leo peered over the bodies and into the house. The wallpaper had been ripped and torn as if there had been a fight, large deep knife gashes in the wallpaper, exposing the drywall and insulation.

His heart pounded in his chest, a beeping broke him out of the trance and he moved the first victims out of the way to reveal a portable GPS.

Leo shakily picked it up, examining it. He found a way to reverse the GPS so he could follow them. It looked like they’d gone into a forest area. Perfect for a sacrifice Leo supposed, no one would be around for miles.

He ripped the knives from the chests of the lackeys and stuffed them into his coat pocket, quickly turning around and storming up the path to find Charity.

***

The cold night air burned in Leo’s lungs as he ran through the forest, glancing down at the GPS as he went.

Leo tripped over his feet, sending himself flying and landing flat on his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. His heart was in his throat as he yelled in agony and got up and continued to run in the direction of the church. Leo couldn’t allow the wind being knocked out of him to stop him from preventing whatever was going to happen.

Leo pushed himself up again and went on until he found the church, he tossed aside the GPS and found the entrance to the crypt, where there were blood curdling screams, echoing up into the night.

Shooting down into the crypt, Leo pulled out the blood-soaked knives and ran inside and found the first robed person, plunging the knife into their back. There was another loud scream as he took it out again and rammed it back in, “Out of my way.” Leo growled.

Blood splattered on his face, some landing in his mouth as Leo wrenched the dagger back out again and turned his attention onto the others, “Where’s Charity?!” Leo spat at them.

When he got no response back from the remaining two, Leo ran at one of them and slammed the dagger into the man’s hooded face. The man went down and Leo straddled him, the sound of his cracking skull rang out through the room. The man shrieked at Leo as he pulled the knife to the side and split his skull, his brain spilling out in a gooey blob into his hood.

Leo stood up and looked over his shoulder at the final person here in the crypt with him.

He was just watching Leo, whether the other person was paralyzed with horror or not Leo didn’t care. The person got his arms spread, his back to Charity who lay unconscious on a concrete slab, almost as if he was protecting her from Leo. Like Leo would hurt her.

Leo raised the knife again, “Walk away, I’m serious. Otherwise, you’re next.” he hissed.

The man didn’t move or make a sound, he still just stood there. Why is he just standing there? It didn’t matter, he’s not a moving target.

“So be it.” Leo charged at him and raised the knife at him, ready to plunge into his face, for his skull to break, for his blood and other bodily fluids to splatter all over himself.

Leo swung the knife down, aiming for his head before he jumped out of the way, and the knife went straight through Charity’s chest and into her rib cage, right above her heart.

Her eyes flew open and she gasped before she locked eyes with Leo. The madness in her orbs, the blood pouring from her chest, running down her front.

Charity’s hands shakily reached for the knife lodged in her chest and held onto it, tears rolling down her cheeks, “Leo…?” She asked weakly.

Leo stared at her as she writhed in agony, falling off the slab, blood pooling at her feet before she stopped moving, crumpling on the floor. Charity didn’t take her eyes off him throughout the whole time she suffered, her eyes filled with a whirlwind of emotions; Anger, fear, the agonizing pain, and above all else betrayal and confusion.

Leo couldn’t move the entire time, but seeing her lifeless form made something snap.

“Charity!” Leo tried to hold her up, pulling the dagger out of her chest and putting pressure on the wound he gave her.

His blood pumped loudly through his ears, his breath ragged and shaking as he stared down at Charity’s body.

He looked down at his hands, still clutching the other knife in his left hand. Leo let the knife slip from his hand as he raised his hand to his face. Tears obscured Leo’s vision as he stood there shaking. I killed her, he thought, I killed them.

I killed them.

I’m a killer.

I’m a murderer.

I’m no better than dad.

Where is Lucy? Where is he?!

***

The next few days were grueling and hellish. The police had found Leo, Charity and the bodies in the basement, Lucifer was nowhere in sight, the other cultist man had been excused by the police as Leo screamed for Lucifer to come and help him. To bring back Charity and reverse all this. Turned out that those three people were Paranormal enthusiasts turned cultists after witnessing a tree re-bloom in a park where Lucifer and Charity had taken a walk in and had thought that Charity was possessed by the Devil or was talking to demons which had to be purged by killing her.

Leo had cried silently as his father had ripped into him about his irresponsibility and recklessness, about how it would ruin his father’s image to several other families and the eyes of the public.

A few days later, Lucifer had appeared in Leo’s room in the dead hours of the night, hidden in shadow as if he was a wild cat preparing for an attack, his now yellow eyes gleaming from the darkness.

Leo was not sleeping. He couldn’t sleep with all that was going on. His father was cleaning up what Leo had done to the robed figures, paying off police men. Leo seemed unable to dispose of the memories of what he had done, so monstrous to himself and even so, he wouldn’t sleep soundly for long. He would be panicked, waking up in the early hours of the morning, screaming his head off and seeing the robed men surrounding him. Becoming paranoid of blood on his hands, dirtying the very expensive bed sheets and walls his father had paid for with his own dirty money.

“Lucy?” Leo whispered to the figure that sat on his desk.

He stood up from his bed and went to make his way over to the Angel before he spoke, “Don’t Lucy me.” Lucifer hissed.

“Lucifer, please I didn’t mean to kill her.” Leo begged, “I’m serious, I was so angry I couldn’t stop myself…”

“As if that’s an excuse!” Lucifer shouted. The walls shook angrily. A cross above Leo’s bed fell down and hit his pillow as Lucifer continued, “Those thugs you had at the door were bloody useless! I had to use my powers!”

Leo’s blood started to boil as he bellowed back his defense, “Well it’s not like they were any help! You vanished while I went off to get her back from those maniacs! If it weren’t for you vanishing, I wouldn’t have had to go after them!”

“I don’t think you heard me correctly, asshole! I used my powers to try and stop them!” Lucifer put emphasis on the last words as he emerged from the shadows, “Look at me!”

Leo shrieked, falling back onto his bed as Lucifer jumped out of the shadows.

Lucifer’s wings had gone. He no longer hovered above the ground, but he walked like a man. Angry, red, irritated sores had appeared on his head, parting his now dank and greasy hair that hung limply at the sides of his head. His sheer white robes had been replaced with a black hoodie, black jeans and scuffed black and white laced sneakers, “He heard me.” Lucifer hissed, “Do you have any idea how painful it is to get wings ripped out of your back?!”

Leo shook his head in fear, as he jumped over his bed and ran for the door, Lucifer screamed out to him, “Look at what He did to me!”

Leo opened the door, and crashed into his father’s front, “Dad!”

His father looked down at him in confusion, “Are you alright? I felt the whole house shake, there was shouting and I thought I would check to see if you were okay.”

He’s putting on his ‘caring father’ act again, Leo thought.

Leo looked over his shoulder at where Lucifer would have been but he was gone, the cross put back up on his wall.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just fell over.” Leo lied. He gripped his hand into a fist, diverting all his anxiety to that one point as his father continued, “Well, if you’re sure.” His dad straightened his jacket before continuing on, “So, I’ve also come up here to tell you about what we’re going to do with you regarding the… incident.” His father said, “You’re a good boy Leo. You always have been, you stay in school, generally stay away from my business… Kept quiet about what happened between your mother and I.”

Leo looked at the ground, trying to push away the unwanted memory.

“My lawyers have swayed the Jury; you’re going to a mental hospital.” His father put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, attempting to be reassuring, “Everything will be alright my son.”

His father’s fingers were cold and his words icy rather than comforting, piercing Leo’s heart with a steely cold dagger. How Leo longed to be away from this man that was his birth father.

Leo would do anything. Absolutely anything, to be away from his father.

Jai: U.S.A, San Francisco, 0:01

His sister opened his bedroom door, “I know what you’re doing.” His sister glared. She was only a couple of years younger than him and although she didn’t hold Jai’s intelligence, she was very observant and could probably tell if something was off within seconds of meeting you.

Jai swore she was psychic sometimes.

“And what am I doing?” Jai raised an eyebrow and smiled at her, pretending to not know what she was talking about.

“You and your group of computer geeks steal shit from the Government. I heard you talking about it to one of your friends on Discord.” She narrowed her eyes at him, “You know what happened to the Jenkins kids the other day right? Cops stopped them for no reason and then when they tried to be calm and proper, the police drew their guns on them and shot one of them.”

“Shit, really?” Jai frowned, “But they’re good kids, what are they twelve? Thirteen?”

“Yeah, but pigs don’t give a shit. And because of that, we should be on more high alert. I don’t want you getting shot in the street, even if you’re stealing shit from different governments.” His sister continued, “Particularly ‘cos of…”

“Okay, okay,” Jai got up from his chair. He understood his sister’s concerns. The news and social media were rife with talk about that incident. It had been a shock wake up call to an ignorant nation that had brought up all sorts of reactions all around the world. Mostly outrage and fury at the police force who had been doing this for years and had been getting away with it. But that wasn’t going to happen to Jai or his family. And it wouldn’t happen because he had put precautions in place to make sure it didn’t.

“I know you’re concerned, Abby, but there is no way they’re going to catch me. Me and the boys all have security we need to make sure we’re okay. Ozzy lives in the UK and the police broke down his door to search his place but he’s still on the job!” Jai explained, “We’ve got VPNs and other sorts of stuff to scramble signals like that.”

Abby frowned, unconvinced.

Jai sighed, “I’m only going to be doing this until mom and dad get back on their feet. The money I’m making is keeping the house over our head and the food on the table. After they get sorted, I promise you, I will stop.” Jai gave her a reassuring smile, “Besides, I’m sure that the police will understand our situation if I told them why I was doing this.”

Abby bit her lip, “Yeah, maybe.”

The doorbell rang and the two looked down the stairs, confused, “I’ll answer it… but who is calling at this hour?” Jai muttered the last part under his breath as he opened the door.

His blood turned cold as saw who was on the other side of the door, “Hello, Officers, is there a problem?”

Adairia: Scotland, Edinburgh, 22:20pm

Adairia sucked in a deep breath as she stirred awake.

Ah, she’s still alive.

Her head pounded painfully as she sat up. A strong metallic smell wafted through the air as Adairia wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Her mother and father probably tried to make breakfast and melted the pans again from leaving them on the hob for too long.

Adairia pulled her bed covers off of herself. Her vision span as she stabilized herself, she had no idea how doing drugs is enjoyable for her mother or father. It was the worst feeling ever.

This is her… She stopped counting a while ago how many blackouts she was having after the third or fourth time they drugged her.

Adairia got up, walking to the bathroom and looking in the mirror and she gasped at the sight.

Her whole front, drenched in red. Adairia’s arms, hands, face, torso, Hell even her hair was covered in…

She shakily held up her hand and sniffed, gagging at the smell. This was the metallic smell:

Blood.

Adairia rushed to the sink, trying to wash away the fluid. She scratched at her arms and scrubbed her hair clean; Her parents would kill her if they saw her like this, causing more problems for them than they already had which was most likely, choosing which way to do cocaine next: smoke it or inject it.

Once her arms and torso had been scrubbed clean, her hair drenched in water, she squeezed out the remaining water and went to rush back to her room to change. She’d burn the clothes later.

Once Adairia had changed, she went into the kitchen to prepare for the day.

She had no idea where any of it came from, she had no time to think about it. It’s not her blood and therefore, shouldn’t be concerned about it.

Adairia went into the front room and found both her parents on the sofa, gazing at the TV, which was blaring static, while a high-pitched tone rang from the speakers.

Adairia mustered up her courage, “Hello!?” She called to them.

They didn’t even look at her, their heads still turned to the TV.

“You’re not even watching anything!” She rolled her eyes, storming over to them.

She went to hit the back of her father’s head before she caught a whiff of iron emanating from the both of them.

Adairia gagged, stumbling back and dry heaving, before pulling her shirt up and over her nose, making her way around the sofa and to stand in front of her parents.

Adairias’ eyes widened to the size of dinner plates; Both her parents had their jaws, hanging off by a ligament, their tongues lolling out of their mouths, blood dripping from their faces. Their arms and legs had been restrained with duct tape, the same duct tape they’d make her use to tie together batches of cocaine and weed.

Adairia’s legs had become weak and she collapsed to the floor, staring at them both, blood staining the fronts as she let out a loud whimper.

Adairia’s going to prison… She was going to be put in prison for the rest of her life and it wasn’t even her fault! Leaving out the drugs she’d been forced to make! She leaned over at their feet and balled.

Her blood turned to ice as someone knocked at her door, “This is the police! Open up!”

Kyung-Mo: South Korea, Seoul, 23:33pm

The beep of the heart monitor next to Kyung-Mo was like a metronome steadying his breath that was the song of his sorrow and the source of his pain. His lungs still burned from being in the river for so long and from swallowing so much water, his throat was sore from screaming.

There was a soft knock at the door and it opened to reveal Mr Kim and the Manager.

“Mr Kim…” His voice broke, his eyes filling with tears, “Sir, I’m so sorry, I…”

“Kyung-Mo, you were an idiot to do something like that.” The manager said, angrily, “In front of all those people, your fans above all else. You should be ashamed.”

Kyung-Mo lowered his head again. The manager was right, it was stupid of him to do that, so insane of him to do it.

“Hey, calm down. It’s not like he’s destroyed the whole world.” Mr Kim shushed him, “I’ve known him for a very long time, something pushed him to do this.”

Mr Kim and the manager walked over to the chairs next to his bed and sat next to him, “What happened?”

“I found out Grandpa died, then I cut myself and someone saw. He told you.” Kyung-Mo darted his eyes to the manager, who would know who he was referring to, “I freaked out, ran out and to a random bridge and I accidentally gathered a crowd and threw myself off there.” Kyung-Mo’s eyes welled with tears.

“Bullshit.” The manager spat, “You ran out because you’re lazy! You’ve never been serious about your music and this is where you end up! Bringing the rest of the group down with your carelessness! You were being an attention seeker by drawing that crowd!”

“Stop that, ridiculing Kyung-Mo isn’t going to help him.” Mr Kim hissed, “Be quiet for the moment.”

The manager grumbled something inaudible and crossed his arms, sinking in his chair.

“I was the one who brought you into this. Are you really happy doing this?” Mr Kim asked him.

“I was doing it for Grandpa. I didn’t want him to die in that shitty slum, so I wanted to get the money. You know that.” Kyung-Mo admitted.

The producer sighed, “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you liked music, but if this was all really for your Grandfather…”

“I grew up in that shit hole! And they tossed him back there as soon as he retired and that’s how they treat him! And then he had to raise me on his own!” Kyung-Mo lied, “Grandpa deserved better, more than that! All I wanted was to let him live out his last few years as a happier man rather than the grumpy one I knew!” This last part was not a lie.

Mr Kim sighed, “After that whole fiasco and with what you’re telling me now. I think you need some help, Kyung-Mo.” Mr Kim said, “I know of a mental health hospital in the UK that could probably help. Its main use is to treat the criminally insane but…”

“But I’m not criminally insane.” Kyung-Mo said, “I’m depressed.”

“You’re a burden on the group. And unfortunately, we have to go by the contract you agreed to which was three years. We’re putting the band on a hiatus for now.” The manager glared at him, “And it’s all your fault.”

Kyung-Mo gritted his teeth. He’d take that.

As soon as he could, he’d find a way out of the contract, regardless of however he had to do it, Kyung-Mo would find a way.

The manager’s face suddenly faltered, “Maybe, this is a good thing.” He said, his whole tone changing, “This would be great for marketing.”

“What?” Mr Kim asked flatly.

“Yeah! Maybe we can turn this around. The band will still go on hiatus, sure but during this time, maybe we could partner up with a mental health organization or something.” The manager continued.

Kyung-Mo rubbed his face in frustration, “No, for the love of God no.” He murmured.

“But this’ll be good! We could make you the new face for mental health problems!” The manager said, “I’m so stupid, why didn’t I think of this before?!”

Mr Kim rolled his eyes and sighed, “No, we’re not doing that.”

“But why?!” The manager almost whined, “Think about the money!”

“And look at him!” Mr Kim snapped, pointing at Kyung-Mo, “He cannot do that! Look at what made him do this in the first place! Putting more pressure on him isn’t going to do any good! If he was a different man, he could sue us!”

Kyung-Mo covered his ears in annoyance, “I don’t understand why I should air out my problems to the world when I nearly ended my own life. Stop trying to exploit me more than you already have.”

The manager opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it quickly.

Mr Kim sighed, “It’s written in his contract that we legally have to help him. I’ll go and get the plane tickets to the mental hospital in the UK.”

#fiction #creative writing #author #writing #my writing #writerblr #writers of tumblr #writing community #fiction writing #novel writing #novelist #lightnovels #bloodstained lilium #bloodstainedliliumleo #bloodstainedliliumshortstories #bloodstainedlilium #bloodstainedliliumjai

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loving-barnes · 2 years

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RAISE HELL - LOKI ver.2

(A/N): Second version of this story and I turned it into a smutty one. Enjoy.

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Summary: Tony had planned a rock party. Y/N finally showed her true colours and Loki is loving it.

Warning: language, alcohol, smut (oral), dirty talk

Words: 4100+

RAISE HELL - LOKI ver.2

Another day, another mandatory Stark party. Usually, he would convince everyone to join. He would always promise them that the party would be calm and family-friendly. This time, Tony made no such promises.

It was Y/N who discovered his plans when she ran into his lab, where he was planning the event through Friday. He said something about fire, dark decorations and a lot of beer. “Don’t tell anyone,” he made her promise.

A devilish plan formed in her head. She knew exactly how to shock everyone. First would be the unexpected “dark-themed” party and then she will ruin their dreams of her being an innocent shy little Avenger. It was time to show her true colours. Y/N used to be a party animal before she joined the team. It’s been some time since she wildly partied.

The truth was, she didn’t want to make a bad first impression when she joined the team. It was inappropriate. Because of that, they only described her as the quiet, shy, innocent girl. She never was an innocent one - especially not before the ‘Avenging’ time.

One time, she got into a fight with two members of the feared gang in the city. Both men ended with broken heads and bloody wounds while she had a tiny scratch on her chin. At the end of the night, they got drunk and were friendly. That’s how it usually was.

Tonight was not about sweatpants and hoodies; tonight was about freedom (and alcohol). And honestly, she was excited to see their reaction - especially Loki’s. That God had no idea what was about to come.

“Stupid parties,” Loki mumbled under his nose as he was drinking the Asgardian mead Thor gave him. “How can people listen to this music?”

“Oh, grumpy cat, cheer up,” Natasha teased. She was standing next to him, wearing a simple black dress and a black choker with a silver bat. She held a beer bottle, taking it easy. “I know you are waiting for a certain someone. And that certain someone would make you feel better.”

He kinked a brown and looked at the woman. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he lied. Of course, he was waiting for Y/N. They had some connection and he had to admit, at least to himself, he liked her a lot. She was the only sweet Midgardian that kept her mouth shut most of the time. But then again, she was mesmerising and they had some things in common. However, even though he carried some feelings towards her, it scared him a little. How could he be falling for a Midgardian?

“Is everyone here?” Tony came running to them, looking around. He was wearing an AC/DC t-shirt and black jeans. “I haven’t seen Y/N. She never misses my parties.”

“She still isn’t here,” said Loki. “No one likes your parties, Stark. They are dull.”

“Oh, a gathering,” Sam approached his teammates, dressed more casually. “Stark, finally a party where I don’t have to wear anything fancy.”

“Yes,” he said, “but I also said to dress more like a rockstar and not like you are going on a date. This is a rock-themed party.”

“And I did,” he pointed at the clothes he wore. “So, what are we celebrating tonight? Mission? Charity? Friday? The fact that you managed to sleep more than four hours?”

Bruce came running to the group, holding one of his ears. “Damn, that music is too loud,” he said, upset. “Tony, do I have to be here? This is not my style. It is stressing me out.”

“You are all ungrateful, you know that?” Tony rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t say a word,” Natasha opposed.

“Just, pretend you enjoy it, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Thor and Steve joined the team at the bar. “Is something happening? Why are you all standing here?” Steve questioned, still being in the Captain mode.

“These guys hate the party,” Natasha pointed at Bruce and Loki.

“Nonsense, this is the best party,” Thor shouted and showed them a rock sign that Tony taught him. “Brother, remember our parties back at home? Those were wild…”

He was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass that slipped from Bruce’s hand. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw his teammate. “Holy shit, is that Y/N?” he pointed at the woman that just walked into the main common room.

Everyone immediately turned to look at her. They were not expecting her to be dressed like THAT.

Her hair was not in a bun or a ponytail, but free-flowing around her. The hoodie was gone as well as the comfy clothes. She wore a dark-grey torn Rolling Stones shirt with a mini leather jacket on top. The shirt was tucked under a black leather mini skirt. Under the skirt were black sexy suspenders, holding her fishnet stockings. The look was finished with massive black boots and bold makeup. The red lips were screaming at Loki to kiss her immediately.

They thought she would head to them, instead, she went into the crowd, as if she was looking for someone. The way she walked was sexy, Loki thought. This image was something that caught him off-guard.

“Now this is an unexpected twist,” said Tony cheerfully, taking two beer bottles and quickly trying to find her.

“Am I seeing what you are seeing?” Steve questioned, his mouth wide open.

“Close your mouth, Rogers, otherwise something might fly into it,” Natasha nudged him and Steve came back to his senses. “I knew our girl was hiding a secret. Here it is.”

Pf, our girl, Loki hissed in his head.

The group found her again in the crowd, talking to Tony and drinking a beer. She was laughing and enjoying the time. They clanked the bottles and drank the beer. The team watched Y/N drinking the bottle in one go. Even Tony was taken back by the action. And then, she turned to the team, waving her hand cheerfully, laughing at their reaction. They all were standing there like statues, staring at her.

Natasha left the boys standing there and approached Y/N. The girl instantly grabbed her by the waist and started to dance with her while she held her empty beer bottle high in the air.

“You realise,” Thor started to talk slowly, “that if she leans forward, then we could see…”

Loki quickly punched his shoulder, frowning at his brother. “One more word, Thor, and you will regret it.”

“What,” Sam turned to the dark prince, grinning. “You don’t like the way we speak about innocent Y/N?” he mocked him.

“Well, clearly, she is not that innocent,” Bruce commented.

“You should never talk like this about a woman,” he tried to sound firm. “Especially when she is our friend a-and colleague.”

The men were snickering under their noses. They stopped when they were interrupted by Y/N. She put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You know, objectifying women is not nice,” and she glared at Thor. “What’s up God of Thunder? You were particularly interested in my skirt - or what’s under it.”

“We are sorry, Y/N,” Steve apologised. “It’s just… too short. And it’s you… and…”

“Keep your stories, Rogers,” she sighed. “So, what are we drinking, boys?”

“Where is Y/N and what have you done with her?” Sam questioned, still not believing it was her, wearing this sexy outfit. “You look hot. I am sorry, but you do! Holy shit, Y/N.”

“Thank you Samuel. Well, boys, this is me. I have decided not to hide anymore and bring back what was hidden under the hoodies. It was time, you know? Time to show you what I really was before joining the team,” she gave them the innocent smile they already knew. “So, what are we drinking?”

“Oh, no, I am not joining this,” Bruce pointed at the group and then left.

“Is it happening?” Tony came running to them again, wrapping both arms around Y/N’s neck and kissing her cheek. “Are we finally drinking?”

“Well, I am waiting for a drink and nothing is happening,” her hand rose to the bar, waiting for it to be filled with a glass of something strong. Before Sam or Thor could move their asses, Loki was the one that gave her a glass of -

“Asgardian mead,” he said with a grin, eyes never leaving hers. “You should try it.”

“Thank you kindly, my prince,” she winked at him. “Shall I be scared of the kick?” she pointed at the glass.

He shook his head. “I believe you will be able to handle it,” he kept the wicked smile on his face. “Do not worry. I will come to your rescue if something goes south,” and then he was the one who winked at her.

For the next few hours, he kept standing in the back, observing her actions. She talked to people, danced with some women from SHIELD and enjoyed her time. Occasionally, he would be jealous if she was talking to a random man that kept eyeing her hungrily. Fortunately, if a man had made a move, she would swiftly pacify him - she even threw a drink into one’s face. It made him laugh.

The moment she started to dance with Natasha, Wanda or another female, he had trouble composing himself. The way she swayed her hips and danced to the music was hot. It got more intense when her eyes met his as she was dancing, letting Natasha brush her hands against her hips and chest. He knew she was already drunk, but the way she kept luring him into the dance floor. It made him question her level of drunkenness.

“What is the matter, my prince? Are you not enjoying the show?” her voice rang in his ears.

He narrowed his eyes. For a second he forgot she was able to communicate with people like this. Before he replied, he turned to the bar, where he remained for the rest of the evening, and took another glass of Midgardian whisky. When he turned back, she was nowhere to be found.

“Where did you go princess?” he asked under his nose, trying to connect with her mind. “Do we want to play this game?” he smiled behind the glass.

“I don’t know, do we?” her voice rang behind his right ear. She was already behind him; behind the bar where she was pouring herself another drink. She had a wicked smile on her lips and her eyes focused on the liquid. “Tell me, Loki, why don’t you join me on the dance floor? You don’t dance?”

“How can someone dance to this music?” he asked, turning around to see her figure.

“Well,” she leaned against the counter top and took a sip. “It depends on the song but most of the time you jump and scream and shout the lyrics. However, there are some songs that make you want to feel another body on yours and…” she took a deep breath through her nose and smiled. “You can even sneak your hand to forbidden places.”

“I believe you can find many suitors for this kind of a dance,” he stated.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and drank the rest of the drink. “Ah, you see, the one I would be interested to dance with, does not want to dance to this type of music,” she shrugged and left him alone staring at her, as she went straight back to the dance floor, where Natasha and Wanda were enjoying their time, dancing their troubles away.

Loki knew what she meant by that statement. And he wanted to feel that delicate body of hers on him. But the music was not his style. Even the Asgardian mead wouldn’t help him to overcome the distaste of the music.

But damn, she looked like a goddess. This morning, she was the innocent, quiet Y/N and now, he dreamt of tearing those damn clothes off her.

The song changed; a woman was singing and at that moment, Y/N went wild. He didn’t even notice where she got the champagne, but suddenly, she was spraying it on the cheering crowd and then poured it into Tony’s mouth. Loki’s mouth almost dropped down on the floor. Her leather jacket ended on the floor and her shirt was wet from the alcohol.

The party turned into a wild zoo. What almost made him fall off the barstool, was the sight of her kissing another woman. It was sloppy, short and so sexy. Afterwards, they started to laugh. Obviously, the alcohol kicked in.

A minute later, she was standing on top of a table with Tony’s golf club and seven tiny glass goblets set on the table. She was standing in position, ready to fire. Fuck, if only he could see her from behind. He was sure he’d be able to see her underwear peeking from under the skirt. One would think Tony would be pissed, but he was the first one there, cheering her on as she broke the glass with the club.

Loki’s eyes drifted to the Captain, birdman and his stupid brother, who was slobbering over her. He could see it on their faces. Little did they know that she would be his by the end of the night.

He gritted his teeth and reached for the Asgardian mead. He needed to feel the delicious liquid in his veins before he would do something reckless. It took him a few minutes and three shots before he rolled his sleeves and went straight into the dance floor, where a rave was happening.

Y/N was enjoying the evening, as she did before she became an Avenger. All those nights, trashing bars with her old friends, fighting with people because there was nothing better to do. They were raised by the streets. They didn’t give a fuck about anybody. Usually, the others would start to niggle at them, causing a fight.

She closed her eyes, spun around on the dance floor, hands in the air as she enjoyed the moment and danced to her favourite music. It felt good to feel as if she was eighteen again. When she felt two hands sneak around her waist and a body press against her back, she only grinned. She knew who was behind her and she couldn’t be any happier. The body was leaner than Thor’s, even Steve’s. The touch felt familiar and even his scent gave him away.

He spun her around, facing him. Y/N wildly grinned and bit her lower lip, eyes never leaving his green one. Of course, it was the God of Mischief himself. His eyes were a little glossy, his pupils dilated. She could smell something sweet and spicy - the mead.

She wrapped her hands around his neck as he kept his hands on her hips, gripping them tightly. “Ah, your majesty, you have changed your mind. What a pleasure.”

“From where I was standing, you seemed pretty convincing,” he replied with a smirk.”Your moves and your body were luring me in.”

The song changed, becoming faster, thus the intimate dancing didn’t fit well with the rhythm. People were clapping to the song; some did some crazy dance routines. Y/N kinked a brow. “Will you show me what you got, trickster?” she challenged him.

In a blink of an eye, Loki grabbed her by the right hand and spun her on the spot rapidly. He listened to the song, creating moves on the go. No matter what he did, how he turned Y/N around, she enjoyed it. The smile on her face was everything he wanted to see. He was the cause of it. Maybe this kind of music wasn’t that bad. She wanted to dance with him, so be it. He would ruin her feet from all the dancing if that was what she desired.

When a song about a whisky started to play, Y/N stopped him. “I need a drink. It’s a sign,” she pointed at the song playing in the air.

Her fingers entwined with his as she dragged him to the bar, where Tony, Natasha and Thor were standing and drinking. Tony immediately knew what the woman wanted and had a drink ready for her. Y/N let Loki go, to which he whined. Because of the music, no one could hear the disappointed sound he made.

“Sick party,” she clinked glasses with Stark and they drank the liquid in one gulp. It was obvious both of them were pretty drunk, but nobody stopped them.

“How are you holding,” Natasha asked her friend.

“Great,” she smiled from ear to ear, waving the glass at the bartender, asking for a refill. “Reminds me of the old days.”

“Old days?” Thor asked. “You did this back in the day?”

“Honey, this is like a third of what I did when I was eighteen,” she waved a hand, taking the new glass from the bartender. “I enjoyed life before I discovered I was different and joined the team.”

“I love this Y/N,” Tony stated, pointing at her figure. “I, well, we, always thought you were the quiet, intelligent one, but this is mind-blowing, in a good way. We must party together more. What do you think?”

“Thanks, but let’s take it slow, shall we? Let’s enjoy the night,” she clinked glasses with everyone surrounding them, eyes landing on the tall, raven-haired god. The way he bit his lower lip while he was undressing her with his eyes, made her want to jump on him.

Natasha found Sam and Steve on the dance floor. Sam was waving at her to join them. She grabbed Thor and Tony with her, leaving Loki and Y/N alone at the bar.

Loki leaned against the bar, eyes never leaving hers. “Tell me, little one, what did you use to do back when you were a young, mischievous lady, hum?”

She looked at the bartender who was on the other side of the bar, serving people. “Watch and learn, darling,” she winked at him. Y/N leaned against the bar, laying down her front on top of it as she tried to sneakily reach for the nearest bottle that was standing there all alone.

Loki’s eyes widened as he was staring at her body from behind. Her legs rose to the air for a moment and he had a beautiful view of her red lace panties. When she had the bottle and had her legs back on the ground, she quickly took his hand and ran away with him somewhere more private.

They ended in a dimly lit hallway, further from the noise. No one was around, only the two of them and a bottle of bourbon she was able to steal from the bar. She opened the cap and took a big gulp, handing the bottle to the trickster. “This is what we would also do,” she laughed. “Forbidden fruit tastes the best, you know?”

He nodded with an amused smile. “Smashing glasses, kissing women, stealing alcohol… yeah, it certainly does.”

She licked her front teeth, laughing. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Which one?” he teased.

“The dancing? Or when you were checking my underwear?” she winked at him.

“I certainly did,” he took another sip of the pathetic Midgardian liquor, which didn’t taste bad. When he handed her the bottle back, his other hand found her waist and pulled her body to his, taking in her scent. Even though she was dancing and being a wild animal on the dance floor, she still smelled like candy and alcohol. He wanted to taste her badly.

Her eyebrows rose as she kept drinking from the bottle. She didn’t mind Loki’s moves. “Can I help you with something?” she asked as he kept her body close. One of his hands rested on her lower back.

“I have a few things in mind.”

Before he could reply, Y/N put the liquid into her mouth and quickly put her lips on his, giving him the alcohol this way. The moment he drank it all, their lips connected in a long, passionate kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, a bit sloppy but hot.

When a moan escaped her mouth, Loki pushed her body against the nearest wall. She clumsily dropped the bottle which broke and spilt around them. Neither of them cared at that moment. One of Loki’s hands was gripping her neck as his lips never left hers.

“You taste divine,” he mumbled during the kisses and moved to her neck, marking her. “Tell me, princess, what more surprises I can expect from you?” he asked her as both of his hands slipped down onto her ass, squeezing it. He wished to caress her body all night and day if she’d let him.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what you’d do to me,” she chuckled and licked his lips.

The hand that was on her neck slowly moved down her body, caressing her right boob and slipped down between her legs. When she felt his fingers gently brush against her clothed pussy, she moaned. “I want to bury my face between your thighs and have a feast, darling,” said Loki. “I will make you cum as many times as possible before I give you my cock, what do you think?”

“Fuck,” she wined. “What else, trickster?”

Loki laughed. He was enjoying this. “I can already imagine the sounds your pussy would make once I am pounding into you, hard and from behind.” He kissed her again, exploring her mouth. “If you want, we can start here, princess. What do you think?”

Y/N watched him kneel in front of her, draping one of her legs on his shoulder. “Fuck, Loki.”

“It excites you, doesn’t it? The thought of being caught by the team, by the people that came here tonight,” he pushed the panties to the side and was met with a glistening bare pussy. “Let’s see how wet you are, shall we?” and he slowly pushed two fingers into her core. She was practically dripping for him and he had no difficulty getting inside.

“Ah,” she moaned loudly, not giving a single fuck. “Loki, your fingers feel so good,” she bit her lower lip. “I’ve never done this.”

“What, darling? You’ve never been fingered before?”

She chuckled. “I was,” she was breathing heavily. “I’ve never been fucked in a place where we can be caught.”

He didn’t reply, just put his mouth to work as he started to kiss the skin around her pussy and then stretched her with his other hand to have a better access to her clit. He started to suck on it, lapping on her juices.

Y/N buried her fingers into his locks, moaning his name while he kept eating her out. She received oral many times, but this was something new. This was the first time a man was this skilled. It took Loki only a few minutes and she was cuming around his tongue as her body kept shaking violently. Only a god was able to give such strong orgasms, she thought.

“Shit, fuck, Loki, that was,” she tried to catch her breath.

“Beautiful, princess,” he smiled at her as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He slowly stood up and captured her lips in a sweet kiss where she could taste herself. “You are such a good girl, Y/N.”

Her hand reached his hard cock trying to be freed from his pants. She stroked him gently, smiling. Their foreheads were resting against each other. “Will you let me suck your cock, my prince? Can I taste you?”

“Of course, darling. Anything you want,” he smiled. “What do you say we move to my room, huh?”

She hummed. Her hand was still between his legs while the other brushed his cheek.. “Well, the bottle is gone, you gave me a hell of an orgasm, so I suggest a private show in your room. What do you think?” she said it nonchalantly, but wickedly grinned.

He rolled his eyes from pleasure at the thought of her giving him a sexy private show just for his eyes. She chose him.

“You can boss me around, if you want,” she added.

“Then come, little girl. I want you to strip for me and give daddy a lap dance.” Loki’s lips were back on hers, exploring all corners of her mouth. Their tongues battled even though no one won.

Together they moved to the elevators, holding hands. The party was about to move into Loki’s bedroom and Y/N couldn’t be any more excited.

#Loki x reader #Loki x female reader #Loki x female reader smut #Loki x reader smut #Loki smut #Marvel fanfiction #Loki fanfiction #smut

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aziraphales-library · 3 years

Note

I’m really not sure how to word this, but can you list me some fics with like... a gimmick? Or a trope? As the basis of the plot? That’s not the best way to word it because it doesn’t have to be gimmickey or tropey, but just... You know, a plot that’s interesting... that starts out with a situation... unusual circumstances?? Am I making any sense? Like I’ve read the stuff that’s easily tagged like spells, fake relationship, soul mates, ect, but just fun, different stuff like that?? Sorry...

First of all, I want to apologise for the super later reply to this ask. I found it sitting unanswered in our drafts. To make up for it, here is an extra long list of gimmicky, tropey fics that i absolutely love!...

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones. AU based on The Office.

A (not quite) tinder date by NohaIjiachi (M)

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry—“ A man said, breathless, plopping himself down in the chair. He sounded like he ran a marathon. “Got held up at work— I couldn’t even check my phone! I’m so terribly sorry!”

Aziraphale would’ve beamed, at that. He would’ve immediately declared that it was no problem, these things happened, so no worries at all— Except the guy currently catching his breath in the chair in front of him was definitely not his missing date. That was unless he’d decided to shave his beard, make his hair grow magically, and dye it red.

“I—“ Aziraphale croaked, confused. The man tipped his chin down, glancing at Aziraphale above the rim of his darkened glasses with a surprising set of honey-coloured eyes, and winked at him. Aziraphale closed his mouth. “I— It’s quite alright. I’m glad you, huh— Could make it—“

Win a Date With Anthony J. Crowley! by Caedmon (E)

Crowley is a world-famous rock star who sells out arenas. His name is synonymous with 'rock-n-roll', and he thrives on the spotlight. When he agrees to raffle off a date with himself for charity, he's expecting to meet an overzealous fan that wants to wear his skin and very well might try to roofie him. What he's not expecting is to be instantly attracted to the quiet man with the unusual name who shows up for the date at the Ritz... and he's certainly not expecting for Aziraphale to have no clue who he is...

You’ve Got Kudos by curtaincall (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction.

Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other.

(A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

The Best Laid Plans by hope_in_the_dark (T)

Ezra Fell has sworn off romance forever and is perfectly content with his books and his tea and his ugly wardrobe. At least, he is until a handsome stranger hits him with a car.

it’s a new craze by attheborder (T)

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

***

Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast.

But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

happiness, more or less by TheKnittingJedi (M)

Renting a flat is all fun and games until you fall in love with the ghost haunting it.

An adaptation of the 2005 romcom Just Like Heaven.

on the same page by Chekhov (E)

Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less... appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is... until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

The Whole Damn World Seemed Upside Down by WyvernQuill (M)

"I just wish things were different," Crowley says... and the universe happily obliges.

Stuck - perhaps forever - in a reality in which Shadwell is the first Wiccan MP, Pepper's only aspiration in life is to be a dutiful wife to someone, and his beloved Bentley is a rusty VW bus, Crowley is slowly learning that "different" doesn't necessarily mean better...

But how long can he bear to live* in a world where Aziraphale hates him?

*Not that he has any other option. The Death of this world can't see blood...

The Annual Tadfield Cheese-Rolling Festival by summerofspock (T)

Disgruntled newscaster Anthony Crowley is forced to cover the annual Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival...again. Only this year he's accompanied by a new producer who he can't seem to get his mind off of even though he's swiftly realizing he has far bigger problems. Namely, the fact that the Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival refuses to end.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #tropes #fun #mod d

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tohruhondaismydaughter · 3 years

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Just had some headcanons about Machi pop into my head that I wanted to share with yall. So we know this poor girl struggles with "perfect"/neat things right? Well I was thinking about some healthy coping mechanisms she could develop to replace the whole 'breaking property/living in a dump' thing & here's what I got so far -

1. She always tries to wear odd socks (unless she's invited somewhere nice)

2. Ayame & Mine help her find cool asymmetrical stuff to wear, how to make clashing colours/patterns work for her & teach her how to sew up her old clothes in a more "punk rock" way (after Yuki & Kakeru explain some of her issues with perfection)

3. Tohru gently points out that she dosn't have to tie her laces the same way on both shoes if she dosn't want to

4. Haru & Rin (awkwardly on her part) teach her the power of acessorising (ie. wearing only one earing, putting on an uneven amount of bracelets/rings/necklaces, adding paper clips of different sizes & colours to your clothing & Machi later ends up adding stuff like buttons to her outfits/belongings as well which Haru & Rin are tottally surppotive of despite thier difference in style) & hair/makeup which (thanks to Yuki's advice) they make sure to keep slightly messy (Kimi laughed at it at first until Momiji made her feel bad after he told her that Machi had gone to the bathroon & wiped off all the make up & undid the hair style so Kimi bought her some limited edition Mogeta merch, after asking for Yuki's advice, in apolgey & started referring to Machi's new hair/makeup style as "punk chic" whenever anyone tried to mock Machi about her new look)

5. her & Momiji go on a crazy tie dying adventure (much to Hatori's grumbling & Mayu's amusement)

6. Kormaki gets her into collecting second hand fridge magnets which she then later uses in her work (my version of post-serise Machi is an artist) once the magnetism finally wears off

7. Kagura teaches her how to fix up old plushies (Machi likes creating Mogeta inspired characters) & gives Machi all her old cat ones to work on (Machi descides not to ask why Yuki's cousin was seemingly once obssesd with orange cats because she looks rather embrassed & a little sad when she hands over her collection)

8. Kyo reluctantly teaches her how to cook a few simple dishes (Tohru comes over as well & Yuki insists her food is better but Machi prefers Kyo's simple style of presentation so it's eventually descided that Kyo & her will do the cooking & Tohru & Yuki will deal with the cleaning which Yuki agrees to becuse cleaning is still difficult for Machi but Kyo says it's actually because no matter how much Tohru tried to train him rat boy knows he would never be able to do anything in the kitchen but burn water)

9. Kakeru teaches her the skills of 'excessive badge & sticker decorating' as well as giving eachother fake tattoos (Kisa congratulates Hiro on not saying anything rude to Yuki's girlfriend about her appreance after they first meet her)

10. Cuts her hair short (she delibretly makes it very choppy) once she enters university, where the rules are less strict about your apprence (at least it is if your at art college), & she also regulary wears diffrent coloured wigs (her favourites being a dark red one & a rainbow one) whenever she wants to temporarily change her appearance (beacuse she didn't want to commit to just one look, still wanted to have the ability to quickly "become invisable" again & she heard from Kimi that exsseive hair die-ing could permantly destroy her hair & scalp) it takes her until she's 30 to try out shaving all her hair off (she worried she'd look sick/crazy or not feminine enough) & everyone's really surppotive (though Kimi dose cry a bit, Rin & Haru aren't there when her hair is being shaved & Kyo is a slightly confused as he'd always thought women liked having longer hair then guys) especially Ritsu (who's growing out thier hair again) & they all throw her a big party (Haru & Rin are there for the party bit just not the hair removal bit because it brought up some bad memories) where Kakeru films it & posts it (with Machi's permission) & they give her cut off hair to a charity chosen by all thier followers (despite her disbelief Machi has manged to gain a small group of loyal fans from all her art stuff & her apprences on her loved ones social media), Kakeru also later uploads a video where they help Machi rainbow dye her buzz cut, (she later explores many diffrent types of buzz cut patterns such as flowers & geometric shapes but, at Kimi's insistence, gets them done by a professional)

11. She recycles & D.Y.I's like crazy (Momiji started singing Do Re Mi from The Sound Of Music after she told him that her new dress was actually made from curtains & Yuki cried when she gave him a little rat plushie made from felt, after he came clean to her about the curse)

12. She almost never wears an apron while working on her art because she likes getting messy

13. When her & Yuki go out to eat she loves things like fondoe (both the chocolate & cheese kind), eat N mess & is genreually just a fan of finger food & it becomes a tradition between her & Yuki (& later Mutsuki) to go on a stroll through the park after thier meal & (if it's autumn) look for piles of leaves to jump in (Machi & Yuki also like playing a game where they try to look for the weirdest looking leaf to give eachother & whoever wins gets to pick what they'll eat for dinner that evening & the looser has to cook it, Mutsuki is the "impartial" judge)

14. Machi is amazing at scrapbooking & collarge making (Tohru is more of a dream journal kind of girl)

15. When it's Summer her, Yuki & Mutsuki go down to the beach to see who can find the weirdest looking rocks (the less impressive ones often get used in Machi's art work, the coolest ones Mutsuki gets to keep & any that are too perfect get tossed back in the ocean & Mutsuki likes to score the splashes they make on how big/loud they are)

16. She loves helping Yuki out with gardening for lots of reasons (it's therapeutic & she loves seeing Yuki happy) but she can't deny it's also just fun getting muddy

17. Machi, thanks to Kakeru, devolpes a love of paint ball (but instead of using guns they just throw the paint at eachother like in 10 Things I Hate About You because apparently the gun pellets actually hurt) & will bring it up as an activity idea to her loved ones any chanse she gets

18. Decorates as much of her flat (& later her home with Yuki & Mutsuki) with Mogeta merchandise, random things she collects & her own art work as a big fuck you to her bitch "you have 0 personality/hobbies or talents" of a mother

19. Kisa (happily) & Hiro (reluctantly) introduce Machi to the magic of glitter

20. Machi & Rin eventually become proper friends due to bonding over being abounded by their asshole parents & one of the things they like to do together is work on thier seprete art peices while listening to music (Machi dosn't do any of her "aggressive" art, like plate smashing, around Rin though thanks to Yuki & Haru warnings)

21. When stuff gets to be too much & none of thier other coping strategies are working (like watching Mogeta stoned- which Kisa, Tohru & Momiji do not partake in) Machi & Haru bond by going to rage rooms together to destroy shit & scream (Haru obviously dosn't want Rin around for any of that though so Momiji, Tohru, Kagura or Hana will often take the opportunity to hang out with her, one time Yuki offered & it wasn't bad but it was definitely awkward as they had never really hung out without Haru before & Haru teases her for ages afterwards about her ending up liking Yuki once she actually spent some time with him which, like the precious tsundere she is, Rin will forever deny)

22. (I actually made a whole seprete post about this ages ago but now it seems to have vanished so in case other Machi fans are unable to find it l'll add it here) on the days that it's supposed to snow but dosn't Yuki takes her (& later Mutsuki) skating so she can enjoy scratching up the perfectly smooth ice (they would have gone on double dates with Tohru & Kyo if Tohru wasn't freaked out at the idea of having blades on her shoes & Kyo hadn't claimed to "not trust" ice, he's dislike comes from all the times Kagura had forced him to ice skate with her on the lake near Kazuma's place in the winter when they were kids, so they would instead go with Haru & Momiji - they had thought about going with Haru x Rin & Kakeru x Kormaki once but he proudly revealed that he'd been banned from thier local ice rink years ago for trying "perfectly safe" Olympic level stunts in he's attempt to recreate one of he's favriote episodes of Power Rangers, much to he's fiancee's anger, & Machi reminded Yuki that though Haru & Kakeru were fine with eachother Rin isn't reall able to stand Kakeru for longer than 5 minuites)

#fruits basket #headcanons #machi #machi kuragi #machi headcanons #machi kuragi headcanons #fruits basket headcanons

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot.

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER.

d a m n s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg.

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.”

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

#dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing 79 #nightwing 79 spoilers #dc #dick grayson meta #nightwing meta #nightwing 79 meta #dc meta #river thinks too hard

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serendipityjxmn · 3 years

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Mr. President

Chapter 4

TW: None

Words Count: 3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 5

There are several moments in our life that we may call life-changing. And from those life-changing moments, there are the ones that you’ve been waiting for your whole life that you imagine so much on how it’s going to happen. There are also the ones that come when you least expect it, you don’t even have time to react.

But there are also the events where you’ve been been waiting- dreaming for, and somehow it turns into something you least expect.

It’s funny how we think that if we imagine and plan one thing for a long time, when it finally happens, it would happen exactly the way you imagine it to be- spare the few millimetres of difference which you perhaps could look over. Take for instance, a wedding event. People- girls typically- imagine it beforehand and when it happens, it happens exactly the way they imagine it to be.

You might not have the luxury to conjure your dream wedding in your mind ever since you’re young, or plan it meticulously to every detail, or imagining the colour of your dress or how long it would be, but to the very least, you did imagine that you’d be marrying some knight in shining armour in modern version - which translates to a decent enough guy.

Someone who’s kind, can generally be communicated with, not involved in fights - a normal person.

How funny that the dreams can easily be shattered.

Here you are, alone in the large bedroom and contemplating about your life decision. You married Park Jimin three days ago. The wedding was private, only signings of papers involved though Jimin had to do a press conference shortly after which was only attended by him to inform his marriage. He told you it was better off for you to stay out of public so that they don’t follow you after your divorce. Of course, you thought, since the marriage is temporary.

Everything happened very fast that day. Too fast for you to process anything that somehow it still feels surreal that you’re married. You’ve exchanged very few words with your husband too but somehow they’re all etched in your mind.

During the signing of documents, which basically all there is to your wedding, he barely says anything to you at all except when the priest asks and he only stares at you deeply while uttering the word ‘I do.’ When his hands briefly brush with yours to put a ring on your finger, you suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling- you felt scared, anxious of this new life yet there’s also a twisted feeling of you being safe, perhaps because you now have a house though you can’t call it home just yet.

The house had been particularly empty ever since you moved in. Jimin wasn’t around, didn’t even bother mentioning where he would be and you’re left wondering on your own whether he has another house or he’s sleeping anywhere else but his house. If it’s the latter, you can’t help but feel guilty for ‘taking his home away’. He could’ve just stay here and you can sleep in the guest room or the couch at that.

With your newfound freedom and due to boredom that’s starting to take over as well as lack of people to communicate with, you start to roam around and explore the house. You learn that Mrs. Lee doesn’t live here as you originally thought but usually available every one or two days and mostly during daytime. She cooks and leaves the meal wrapped in foils for Jimin to reheat whenever he wants.

Mrs. Lee has also been nothing but pleasant enough to tell you most of the things she know about your husband. She told you that Jimin’s a very private person so she may not know much about his personal matter apart from the fact that Jimin will be inheriting Park Corporations from his father though Jimin himself did build himself together with his group of close friends, a tech company which went public about a year ago.

You find yourself getting more curious about your husband though he’s barely around. You learn about his favourite dishes too, one of them being kimchi jigae stew which Mrs. Lee very kindly taught you how to make. You admit that at first you think it is all useless to get to know about Jimin but then you also think that there’s no harm in learning about him even though the marriage’s temporary, nothing’s stated that you can’t have a civil relationship with him, perhaps as a friend.

This goes on for about a week, of you exploring and sitting down having conversations with Mrs. Lee though some day you’d rest on your bed, your body not entirely well enough to do a lot of activities everyday. Your ribs still shooting jarring pains every now and then and your lips are still torn. You silently thank Mrs. Lee for coming to your room, leaving medicines on the table on days when you feel extra tired.

You’re in your bedroom, standing right in front of your huge closet, eyeing the clothes though there’s none that was originally yours. When you moved in, it had been practically easy, you literally brought nothing with you since you don’t have much anyways. Mrs. Lee did inform clothes for you to wear had been bought prior to your wedding.

Though the thing is… almost every single one of them are dresses. They are pretty, you think. It’s just that you are not used to it. You sigh as you find yourself a pyjama set. They’re all mostly satin and silks too, another thing you have to get used to as well.

You sit on the edge of your bed, playing with your wedding ring, briefly wondering whether this is how your life is going to be from now on. It’s temporary, your brain reminds you. You frown. You’ve been wondering almost every single day without fail on why did Jimin decide to propose a marriage contract with you. There’s nothing you could give back, nothing that could benefit him any way no matter how you think about it. It is temporary, yes but you doubt he would do this if it doesn’t give him any benefit. He doesn’t strike you as someone kind enough to jeopardise his married life out of charity. You still shudder to this day thinking about how he handled your brother to half dead. You sigh, hands tightening on your pyjama as your thought goes to your brother.

A knock on the door startles you, making a gasp escape your mouth. Jimin enters, looking as gorgeous as when you first met him in his working attire without the blazer. He stops dead when he takes you in just your towel and you quickly place your hands on your chest in a meek attempt to cover your modest parts. He looks awkward, looking everywhere but you.

“Get dressed. My friends’ here.” He says simply before turning his back but then he stops and turns again, this time looking straight at your face. You feel a blush creeping at your cheeks immediately. “Put some makeup on or something. They might think I’m beating you.” At his words, you have no idea why your hands instantly went to your thigh, immediately conscious at the ugly slit on your thigh. He clears his throat before retreating and closing the door behind him.

You realise you didn’t breathe at all throughout the whole encounter. As you make your way back to your closet to find yourself a dress, you wonder if Jimin realises this is his first time seeing you in about a week after your wedding. Perhaps not.

Brushing your hair, you swallow a little as you watch your own reflection in the mirror. You still look sick and pale so you make an effort to cover the wound on your forehead with some powder and also put on some lipstick, Jimin’s words echoing in your head.

Bracing yourself, you can’t help but feel nervous as you make your way downstairs. You’re excited too since you haven’t been speaking to anyone but Mrs. Lee for almost a week. Before you could descend the last step of the stairs, you could hear them before you could see them. The sound of laughter fills the house making you wonder how many of them came.

You make your way to the living room and Jimin turns immediately, making you momentarily blinded with the way he’s smiling at you. The others notice you right away while Jimin saunters towards you. He leans down, close to you.

“They don’t really know about our contract except for Taehyung, so act your part.” With the way he’s smiling at you, you’d think he’s the sweetest husband in the world yet the threat lacing his words tells you otherwise. Suddenly, you feel very very afraid.

Still, you follow behind him silently, heart suddenly flutters when you see him wearing his wedding ring. He didn’t really have to.. does he? You only look up when he stops in his tracks. You’re met with six gorgeous guys in front of you.

“Wow, you actually exist!” A guy with very sharp nose and jawline grins widely at you. He seems like a very cheerful guy. “Nice to meet you Y/N, I’m Hoseok.” He waves at you, all white teeth flashing.

Unknowingly, you beam back at him, almost impossible not to with the bright energy he exudes. You reply back softly, not daring to say much since you’re unsure how to act, especially with Jimin around.

“Jimin’s been keeping you in his house so much, we thought we’d never see you.” The next one smiles kindly at you. You wish you could describe how beautiful he is. Tall, all broad shouldered and not to mention such blinding visuals. He speaks with such grace you immediately feel endeared by him. “My name is Jin.” You smile back at him.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Park. I’m Namjoon. I can see why he’s keeping you at home. You’re very pretty.” A tall guy with blonde hair smiles brightly at you. He even has dimples on each side of his cheeks and you can’t help but marvel at his gorgeous face. You can’t help the blush that creeps to your cheeks when he mentions your new last name as well as his compliment.

You peek slightly at Jimin but he only stares impassively ahead, not giving anything away. You quickly brush off the slight disappointment you feel.

“I’m Yoongi. Nice to meet you.” The guy in red-wine hair smiles at you. He’s slightly shorter than the rest of them but is still handsome. You nod at him as you smile kindly back at him.

“We’ve met before.” Taehyung smiles warmly at you and you nod back several times at him, happy to see someone you know.

The last but not least, is almost as tall as Namjoon and Jin but you can somehow tell he’s the youngest among them. “Hello Y/N. I’m Jungkook. We’re same age!” He says happily and you grin at him too, quickly falling for his bright smile with cute bunny teeth. You greet all of them back, introducing yourself again although they already know your name.

“Please have a seat. I’ll prepare drinks for you guys.” You say softly.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. We’re just here to drop Jimin off.” Jin quickly says.

“And hoping to see you too,” Hoseok winks at you. The rest of them gathers at the front door.

You frown slightly at Jin’s sentence. Then you turn towards Jimin, eyes finding him to ask him a question but unsure whether you’re allowed to. He must’ve sensed your stare, his eyes look down to meet yours.

“Y-you’re.. sleeping here..?” You ask slowly.

Before Jimin could answer, Namjoon cut him off. “Sorry we’ve been keeping him at the office too much. There’s an acquisition ongoing in the company so we’re quite busy at the moment.”

So he’s been sleeping at the office…

“But rest assured, we’ll make sure he’ll be home often now. The crucial part is done.” Hoseok says teasingly at you.

You smile, though slightly weirded how you feel pleasant with the fact that he’ll be home a lot now. Perhaps you’re just happy you won’t be alone now.. yes probably that.

They all say their goodbye and you happily wave them off.

As soon as they left, you’re suddenly hit with the realisation that you’re alone with Jimin in the house. As if on cue, you feel your hair rise when you feel a heavy presence behind you. You turn but immediately regrets the decision because Jimin is now inches from your face. Too close… you think. Nerves run down your spine as he seems to lean even closer to you. You swear your heart’s beating like crazy right now.

“So what did you do around the house the past week?” His question’s innocent but why do you feel like a rabbit trapped in a hole?

To your relief, he straightens. You feel like you could finally breathe, although your heart’s still beating at an abnormal pace. You swallow. “N-nothing much.” Is that the first thing he’s asking after a whole week of leaving you alone?

He stares at you while you make an effort to look anywhere but him. You’d give anything to know what’s on his mind. He then turns without saying anything. You take the time to stabilise your breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply before slowly making your way back to the bedroom, noting how your heart rate is picking up its pace.

You open the door to your bedroom and let out a gasp when you find yourself walking on Jimin shirtless. You turn instantly, unable to think properly and let out another gasp when you knock your head on the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice asks you harshly, making you jump.

You mutter an apology as you scrunch your face, thinking how this has gone completely wrong. You did not want to make such a bad first impression towards Jimin.

“H-have you eaten?” Your voice came out so meekly you almost want to hit your head against the door again.

“Do you think I have some kind of supernatural hearing to hear you from that far?” He snaps at you, making you flinch. You swallow and trepidation starts to fill you whole.

You turn slowly and approaches him, eyes shut tight to prevent yourself from seeing anything you shouldn’t and protecting the innocence of your own eyes but end up almost stumbling. You open your eyes, relieved that he’s now wearing a shirt. You briefly wonder how on earth he could look so handsome just by wearing a plain black shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s staring at you, obviously unimpressed at your antics.

“I’m asking if you’ve eaten? If you want to I can-“

“I already ate. With the boys.” He cut you off then takes his place on the bed, preparing to sleep.

Oh. Okay. You nod. You stand there awkwardly, contemplating whether you should ask the next question that has been on your mind since last week.

“Are you just gonna stand there creepily and stare while I’m trying to sleep?” He snaps back at you and you flinch. He’s sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, waist and leg completely covered by the blanket.

You fidget with the hem of your dress. “I- I want to ask you something.” He doesn’t answer you but only looks at his phone. “Why.. why did you offer me the marriage contract?”

He stops his act and is now staring at you sharply. “Having second thoughts now that you realise it’s not all hearts and flowers?” He smirks.

“N-no.. not like that.. I know.. I don’t deserve all that.. It’s just that- I was just curious.. You could’ve just hire me or.. just..” You trail off, unsure of how to put everything into words when your mind is a whole chaos. “It’s just that I don’t see how you’re benefitting from this arrangement.”

“Oh trust me, I do have my benefits in this.” He answers almost immediately and you stare at him, puzzled. He smirks before his face turns sinister. “You’re only here because you owe me a debt. That means I own your little life, mine to do whatever I want.” Psychotic, the word echoes in your mind. “And trust me little one, you’re better off not knowing the reason behind this marriage.”

What on earth have you gotten yourself into?

Your blood runs cold. Without uttering another word, you turn to grab your pyjama you took out before and disappears towards the bathroom. You take your time in the bathroom, trying to calm your nerves as you change. Tonight, you come into a conclusion. Park Jimin’s psychotic.. and a very dangerous man. You should never cross line with him.

Hands balling into a fist, you step out of the bathroom and finds the bedroom in darkness except for the table lamp on your side of the bed. Jimin appears already asleep. You approach silently and takes the time to stare at his face. He’s very beautiful, you would think, if you didn’t know better of it only being a mask.

You stand on the edge of the bed for several moments, contemplating whether you’re allowed to sleep on the bed with him. The King size bed is large enough without the two of you having the possibility of coming in contact with each other yet you’re still having second thoughts about it. You don’t want to wake up being strangled by him just because you decided to sleep on the same bed with him. So you make your way to the couch on the side of the bedroom and curls yourself on it. Using your hands as your own pillow, you fall asleep quickly.

Link to Chapter 5

Posted on 210402 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #bts fic #jimin fic #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #jimin smut #smut #kpop #mafia #jimin mafia #ceo jimin #bts smut #bts au #bts mafia

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coppicefics · 3 years

Photo

Masked Omens: Week One

New chapter here, or read from the start here!

(Right click picture and select ‘View Image’ or ‘Open Image In New Tab’ for hi-res version.)

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads 'Masked Omens'.

Image 2 - A newspaper page from the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 26th December, 2020. Full image description and transcription below the cut.]

The Capital Herald, Saturday 26th December 2020 News, page 11

GODLEIGH MANOR RESTORATION SET TO BEGIN YouTube Community Comes To The Rescue Of Historic House In Unprecedented Donation Spree Restoration work on Godleigh Manor, Little Dyvyn, is set to proceed at last after years of stagnation – thanks to an unexpected influx of donations from interested members of the public. A house has stood on the site since at least the early 13th century, but most of the current building was constructed in the 18th century by its then owner, Lord Michael Godleigh. It remained a private residence until 1914, when it was commandeered as a military hospital for officers injured in the First World War. When the war was over, the officers went home, but the Godleigh family had suffered severe losses, and those who had been involved in treating the injured officers had many bad memories associated with the place. What was left of the family moved out, and – barring the operation of a second temporary hospital during the Second World War – this once-busy house has remained empty and silent ever since. Left to its own devices, the house began to crumble. Water found its way through the roof, and weeds forced their way up through the floor. By the time the deed to Godleigh Manor was passed on to its current owner, Lucy Godleigh, in the mid-1990s, barely a few rooms were anything close to habitable. “I set up in a mobile home on the grounds,” Godleigh told The Capital Herald, “and basically just started trying to secure the few rooms that hadn't been completely exposed to the elements. Then I contacted a restoration expert to find out what could be done for the rest of it.” The experts' verdict wasn't what she wanted to hear. “There was no chance I could pay for it myself. The rest of the family opposed me moving back here; I was on my own. And to get the whole place back to the way it was, we were looking at anything from fifty million to three hundred million pounds. I was going to need help raising the funds, so I started campaigning. But it was slow going. Nobody's keen to put their hands in their pockets to restore a stranger's old family pile.” And, for over two decades, it seemed that a pile would soon be all that was left. Godleigh moved into Little Dyvyn, and the property was abandoned once more to the tender mercies of the elements and the frequent trespassers who came to explore. “I'd go up a few times a week, but it hardly seemed worth it. I'd all but given up. But then one of those visitors saved the day.” A YouTube personality known as Sergeant Shadwell, famed for his urban exploration videos and the occasional paranormal investigation, contacted Godleigh to ask to film in the house. “I said yeah, whatever, do what you like, it's a mess,” Godleigh recalled, “and he saved it. He saved my home.” Shadwell uploaded a video of Godleigh Manor in the last week of November. In it, he speaks frankly about the challenges and benefits of preserving such old buildings. “I don't know about there being ghosts here,” he tells viewers, “but there's a lot of wasted potential. Stately homes like this can and should be used, and it'd be a real shame for this one to crumble. I'll add a link to the fundraiser in the video description.” The Wytchfynder Army, as Shadwell's fans call themselves, have so far contributed £80m to the Save Godleigh Manor campaign. The fundraising page is filled with messages of encouragement and support, attached to donations ranging from £5 to £1500. Some donors have even explained that they raised the money through sponsored swims, bake sales, and car washes. “It's enough to get started, to make a really good start,” Godleigh explained, “I can't thank him – all of them – enough. They really came together to help me – a complete stranger – and it means so much, it really does.” So what's next for Godleigh Manor? First, says Godleigh, the surviving rooms will need to be stablised. Then the house's ground floor will be restored to its former glory, and Godleigh hopes to work with local historians to ensure that it is both a functional and educational space. “I won't charge people any more to use it than I need to cover the cost of maintaining it,” Godleigh said. “How can I? It's being restored by this huge community; it belongs to the community, and to Little Dyvyn. It's going to be a great space for everyone to enjoy.” Work is now set to begin on the Godleigh Manor restoration project as early as April this year, depending on local planning committee approval of plans first drawn up in 1998. MARY HODGES. To find out more, or to contribute to the renovation costs, visit www.savegodleighmanor.org.uk.

[Image Description: A sepia photograph of a large, grand house. Inset, a colour photograph of a hole in a wall, through which weeds can be seen growing. End ID.] [Caption] NEGLECTED: Godleigh Manor, pictured above in 1980, was once the heart of a thriving community. Inset, weeds grow in what used to be a service corridor to the rear of the main building. (Photo: Annie Spratt on Unsplash. Inset: E. Diop on Unsplash.)

THE NEWS IN NUMBERS 800 years of a house on the site 300 years in its current form 23 generations in the same family 29 bedrooms 40 acres of land £50m lowest estimated renovation costs £300m highest estimated renovation costs 198k subscribers to Wytchfynder 291 Wytchfynder videos 10 years Sgt Shadwell served in the Army £80m raised by the Wytchfynder Army £91m renovation funds raised so far 15 years estimated to complete renovation

[Image Description: a rectangular ad with a picture of Dr. Raven Sable. His name is signed beneath his photograph. Text reads: Don't settle for a balanced diet when you can have a SABLE DIET. End ID.]

Corner Cuppa with Esther James

[ID: Photo of a young woman's face. She has black hair cut into a bob, and slightly gothic makeup. End ID.]

Why do we know you? I'm the captain of the Red Roses, which is the England Women's Rugby Team. What are you passionate about? Rugby! Also, my girlfriend Jane (Adams, also on the squad), and my charitable causes, of course. I support the NSPCC and the Albert Kennedy Trust, in particular - both fantastic charities helping young people who've been let down, in many cases, by the people they should most be able to rely on. I'm really glad to be involved with them. What's your favourite holiday of the year? Pride! I love getting dressed up and going to the parades – most of the time Jane and I get to march, these days, which is great. Last year we even got to ride on a float at one of them, which was really surreal – we got to cover ourselves in rainbow feather boas and just have a laugh waving at people. What a great time! What's been your proudest moment? So far, it's a tie between coming out as bi in a press conference – which was really scary at the time but which led to such good things and such good conversations – and being made captain of the Red Roses. It's an honour just to be selected for the national side, but to be chosen to lead from such a talented group of women is even better. I was walking on air for a week! If you could do anything in the world once, what would it be? Only once? I'd hate to do something and enjoy it and never get to do it again. But, OK, hypotherically... Something completely different and mad, like getting up on a stage and performing a song like I really mean it, or bungee-jumping. What scares you? Bungee-jumping! Which is exactly why I'd like to do it. I think it's good to get out of your own head and your own comfort zone and just do something that scares you, if you can. What's your ideal day? Taking a day off of training and just lying on the sofa watching films with Jane for the whole day. We love what we do, but we don't get a lot of downtime to just relax and snuggle. But then, when we do get a day off, it's usually at the same time, so that's lovely; we're always together and it hasn't started getting on our nerves yet! If you could go anywhere in the world right now, with no complications or restrictions, where would you go? I've always wanted to go to the Eiffel Tower, but somehow whenever I end up in France I don't find the time. Jane's never been to Disneyland, so I think we'd have to combine the two if we got a no-holds-barred trip somewhere. And, obviously, I wouldn't exactly hate getting to meet Mickey again! What's the best advice you've ever been given? My gran was as tough as old boots, and proud of it. She once sat me down, when I was quite young, and she said, “Essie,” which is what she called me, “Essie, you'll do all right in life if you remember this simple rule. Make sure you keep your nose clean, but don't be afraid to get your boots dirty.” I'm not sure she meant me to take it quite so literally! But I think what she meant was, don't get into trouble unnecessarily, but don't be so scared of getting it wrong that you can't do anything right. That's stuck with me, I've held onto it all these years, and I think it's a good motto to live by. What's one thing you wish someone had told you when you were younger? I wish they'd told me it was OK that I fancied girls, that things were getting better. I think we've still got a long way to go, as a community, but I never could have dreamed that a bisexual woman could captain England when I was a little girl. Let alone that it would be me! Finally, what's one thing you'd like to tell younger people now? Be true to yourself, be true to your friends, and be kind. I think the world will turn out fine if we all just try to be kind to one another, above all. Next week's cuppa: Ligur Mortice, head of the Ligur fashion house.

[End of page.]

#masked omens #very much fake news #mo week one #fanart

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harry-sussex · 3 years

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I hope it's not yet too late to add my thoughts to the Harry memoir thing! First of all, I sincerely hope that Harry is smart enough to think twice, thrice, or even a thousand times about what he'll put out in his memoir. Unlike Finding Freedom which they were able to deny accountability, although seemingly unbelievable to some given their "relationship" with Omid, all statements, claims, and accusations in the memoir are his to bear and all consequences are his to suffer. He can't pass it off to someone else. The Queen is 95. Sooner but preferably later, Charles will take over and then William. I'm not saying he's not entitled to his own feelings and I acknowledge that the BRF will always be his blood family but family members have been exiled and cut off completely for lesser reasons. I think him going back to the UK and being allowed to stay in Frogmore, for instance, are all thanks to the Queen. I can't imagine what or how his trips to the UK will be like if he has been cut off completely by his family and no longer has the royal machinery to back him up (i.e., being able to stay in Frogmore, the security, chauffeurs, being able to claim they're still on speaking terms). Try as he might to say that he hated his old life, I think it would hurt him if he only gets to go back to the only home he's ever known for funerals. I think it would also hurt as hell if he and his family will be denied invitations to the Jubilee or future coronations, for instance - events that he and his family should have been at the forefront had this been handled properly. Not to mention the negative impact this will have on his "brand". I don't think the remaining royals would do a sit down interview directly addressing Harry but I also don't think we can put it past them to hit back in different ways especially when provoked.

Second, the "scorned royal" narrative could only go so far especially with the Cambridge children growing up. This is also one of my beefs with how this played out. Harry acknowledged that his niece and nephews would soon outshine him and he has a little window to do something worthwhile... and yet he chose to immerse himself fully in the "drama" as opposed to highlighting the causes close to his heart. This "drama" is supposedly aimed to clear the air and misconception surrounding them but it only resulted in them being bashed even more and made fun of.

I saw a post saying he's turning into the male version of Tessy Antony (and I hate that I can see why) and since January 2020, I think I've been the human version of that angry woman saying "I was rooting for you. We were all rooting for you" at Harry LOL. He used to be such a great guy (who I was really proud to say I admired) and I think underneath all these pent-up anger, he still is. I sincerely hope he doesn't end up being a middle aged man who's fallen from grace and would have to resort to embarrassing things to earn money and court publicity. Diana's second baby who grew up to have a big heart and an even bigger personality despite the Diana tragedy deserves so much more than that.

It's never too late to share your perspective around here! I have a stupid amount of messages from ages ago from people sharing their perspectives - I'll get to them, promise! It just might take me a while lol. But I've been trying to get through all of the memoir-related asks because a lot of people have a lot to say, myself included.

I think a lot of favor he still has with the family lies with the Queen, sure. However, I really don't see Charles and William cutting him out of the institution for good, no matter what he does. He'll go to the coronation, maybe even William's investiture as Prince of Wales. He'll go to HM's funeral (where I have no doubt he'll be granted special permission to wear a uniform, because there's no way they'll do the suit thing from Philip's funeral at the monarch's funeral), his father's funeral when the time comes (same with the uniform), and William's coronation, and maybe George's investiture too. Hell, he might even pull a Princess Madeleine and come by for events like Trooping the Colour (like she does for National Day/Victoriadagen sometimes) every once in a while. He'll stay at Frogmore and get invited to tea and be entitled to the same royal machinery. Side note - I really don't think we'll ever see Meghan (and, likely, the kids) on British soil ever again. Maybe, maybe the coronation(s). Not entirely sure about the funerals, I'm not going to lie. Just my opinion - I might be completely wrong.

I just don't see them waking up one morning and stooping to Harry's current level. They're an institution too, and realistically, he's no threat to it. Sure, they theoretically may never speak again, they may cut each other off for good personally, but the institution is the institution and I just don't see them doing anything.

I agree with the second point, though I hadn't considered it. His time in the peak of the spotlight to do as much good as possible is certainly limited, as he fades further and further away from the institution, and as George, Charlotte, and Louis grow up. He has a different grasp on the public than Charles' siblings, for example, because he's Diana's baby, and so he will remain relevant in some capacity for the rest of his life even as the kids start turning into full-grown royals. Either way, it will diminish to an extent, and I wish he'd focus that time on doing the good he's always said he wanted to do, to maximize his impact while he has the greatest reach. The drama only makes money for the media. His charities, instead, could benefit greatly from the resources (time, energy, effort, manpower) that he is wasting on this damn memoir. In the process, he makes money for charities and loses money for the media. A win-win, right? Why does nobody see that?

That was @claireofluxembourg 's anon and it's funny to an extent, but it's also really quite sad. I don't think he's there yet but it could very easily go in that direction and if that happens, idk what I'll do with myself because you know I'll still be here going on about "he can change!" That bitterness is unflattering on anyone.

Finally, I agree with all of your last point. He's a wonderful, beautiful man with so much spark and charm and he's so capable of everything he could ever want to do and more. I do not want to see him fall any further from grace than he already has. He's Diana's baby, sure, but he's a beautiful person in his own right with a big heart and an enormous desire and potential to be everything and more and I just hate that this is what it's come to. I hope it levels out because he deserves so much better, he is so much better, and I refuse to believe that version of him is gone.

#ask #anonymous #prince harry #duke of sussex #phmemoir

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

Text

If We Can’t Have the Parties, At Least We Have the Coats: Lookbook no.13

Hi to anyone reading,

It’s been a weird winter, right?

A winter that I REALLY did not need to buy as many clothes for as I have. You WILL save loads of money during this lockdown, I told myself. You WILL. And yet here I am in December, in exactly the same financial position I was in March. You would think that making the switch to an environmentally friendly wardrobe would mean I own less but now I no longer have the guilt of supporting fast fashion to hold me back, I’ve accumulated more clothes than ever. Part of a sustainable wardrobe is also about reducing your consumption so now I’ve mostly made the move towards only supporting transparent companies/small businesses, I can move onto the buying less part. I haven’t thrown any clothes away but still, I am not the clothes rescuer I think I am-more just an overdraft abuser. To add to that, for those of us actually following the rules (half the people I went to secondary school with flaunting their apparently unaffected social lives on Instagram, I’m looking at you) there aren’t actually all that many opportunities to wear new outfits. Not to go too first world problems, but it is a little shit when getting dressed up and doing your makeup is one of the things that you do to help you feel a little better, especially when the seasonal (and situational in these times) depression kicks in.

So yes, I have been extra af recently and combatted this with the decision to start making an effort to outfit plan for the most basic of tasks. We’re talking a full face of makeup and accessories for going into town to get a coffee or to meet a friend for a walk. I mean, I still go to Tesco in my trackies but if I’m seeing somebody else, I am sure as hell going to treat it as a reason to wear something nice. See the winter outfits section of the lookbook as your inspiration to do the same because I can guarantee you the sense of normality forcing yourself to take makeup off at the end of the day brings will actually make you feel a lot better. Genuinely the mark of exceptional times. We’ve also got the few days relief period over Christmas in the UK where we’re allowed to mix with a maximum of 3 other households, and ignoring the fact that it doesn’t really make any sense given that the number of people you could end up mixing with depends on the size of the households and is realistically completely arbitrary (I have a lot of feelings about how fucking moronic half the decisions this government has been making are but then again, what’s new?), I’m sure those of you with big families are gonna be partying. I’m only spending Christmas with my immediate family but I thought I’d put some more festive outfits together anyway. I know, I know, it sounds like I’m just bullshitting an explanation as to why I put this lookbook together when in reality I’m trying to make myself feel better about the damage to my bank account buuuut it really is more a case of being inspired by my Depop finds and if you are trying to quit fast fashion, I can’t recommend the app enough (especially if you know what you’re looking for). As I did in the last lookbook, I will make sure to include the tags of all the people I bought these pieces from but I also thought it might be helpful to make a note of some of the descriptors I used to find them so you can get more of an idea how to find the things you’re looking for too, as well as prices. I did include the names of the shops I bought the few fast fashion items I styled from too, mostly earlier this year or at some point over the last couple of years, on the basis that they may be a useful search prompt if you’re looking for something similar or the exact item-the majority are no longer available (disclaimer: I haven’t bought anything from Boohoo in a longgg time) to buy but you might be able to find an account that’s selling a used version. Don’t be put off by that-I’ve had to wash a couple of pieces but for the most part, that hasn’t been necessary. Charity shops usually wash things before they put them out, so you have nothing to worry about there either-I expect that they’re particularly thorough at the moment considering the COVID crisis.

Enough rambling from me for now! Enjoy!

-(SOCIALLY DISTANCED) PARTY SZN LOOKS-

Powder Blue Wide Brim Felt Hat/Fedora: £16.99

Structured White Mesh Oh Polly Mini Dress w/Ruched Detail: £27

Black PVC Beret w/Red Flame Detail: £14

Red Fit and Flare Dress w/Satin Corset & Tulle Skirt: £12

Black PVC Vintage Platform Boots w/Red Flame Detail: £27

White Satin Corset w/Straps: £8

Pinstripe Cropped Blazer Co-ord Set: £12.50

Oh Mighty Strappy Contrast Corset: £27

Contrast Check Cigarette Trousers: £15

Pink Topshop Gingham Blazer Co-ord Set BNWT: £35

White Strappy Corset w/Suspender Detail: £10

White PVC Beret w/Black Flame Detail: £14

Reworked Strappy Patchwork Sports Cropped Tee: £10

Black Combat Cargo Trousers: £5

Strappy Tie-dye Pretty Little Thing Corset BNWT: £15

PVC/Vinyl Zip-up Mini Skirt w/Belt Detail: £9

White Satin Cowl Neck Mini Slip Dress: £8

Urban Outfitters ‘90s Style Celestial Print Mesh Babydoll Dress: £15

-(SOMETIMES PRACTICAL) COAT SZN LOOKS-

UNIF Colour Block Oversized Jumper/Sweater: £25

Topshop Dark Wash Denim Kick Flare Jeans w/Frayed Hem Detail: £16

Vintage ‘70s Style Brown Faux Suede Western Blazer/Jacket: £15

Black Velvet High Neck Bodysuit w/Keyhole Detail: £4

Topshop Paisley Print Chiffon Midi Dress: £15

Brandy Melville Cropped Motorcross Slogan Slogan Tee: £13.60

Ragged Priest Gingham Cargo/Combat Trousers w/Utility Style Buckle Detailing: £33

Black Kappa Logo Beanie: £12

White Platform FILA Disruptors in Good Condition: £55

Black Fur Bucket Hat: £8

Celestial Silver Moon Detail Chain Belt: £18

Black Satin Cowl Neck Detail Midi Slip Dress: £15

Floral Print Platform Boots: £10

Blue Denim ASOS High Rise Mom Jeans: £12

Brown Vintage ‘70s Style Afghan Coat w/Fur Trim: £25

Teal Wide Brim Felt Hat/Fedora: £10

Topshop Floral Print A-Line Jacquard Mini Skirt: £7

Lana Del Rey Screen Printed T-Shirt: £9.99

Vintage Corduroy Contrast Stripe Trousers w/Kick Flare: £28

Anyone that read to the end, thank you so much as always and I hope this shows just how many in-trend pieces you can find second hand! I know I'm SUPER far behind to the point where it’s closer to the F/W2021 shows now than it is since the S/S2021 collections were showcased but I decided I am going to do a full length fashion week review. I also have a few moodboards planned and my next is gonna be one focussing purely on plus sized fashion as the feedback that I got from my New Style Icons post was that I could have included more bigger girls; I am so, so, SO passionate about body positivity and fat acceptance, especially since I know my own relationship with my body would be so much better if this kind of movement was more prominent when I was younger, so I don’t for a minute want anyone to think it was my intention to be exclusionary in any way. It bears repeating that I genuinely appreciate feedback in any form (as long as it’s not too mean and presumptive, lol) and I hope the next post doesn’t disappoint! It hasn’t been a good year for cinema due to COVID having lead to theatre closures, however I still do want to do another film tier ranking in the new year as that is something I really enjoyed doing last time. Any more suggestions are welcome!

As always, my inbox is always open if you need someone to talk to or just wanna chat about a post:-) I am constantly on the look out for new blogs to follow and people to interact with so any communication is welcome. I’m not sure if I’ll get another post finished before we enter 2021, SO I wanna say that I hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas and that this shitshow of a year DOES come to an end at 11:59PM on the 31st because THOSE MEMES ABOUT IT TURNING DECEMBER THE 32ND ARE NOT FUNNY! Here’s to our second attempt at our first year of the roaring twenties (because this past year it feels like we skipped them and went straight to The Great Depression, the likely incoming recession denial is real) and to happier times and good health for everyone.

Lauren x

DISCLAIMER: Background in the first 2 images are mine, others are not. I found them on Pinterest so not sure of the artists but if you do know, drop me a message so I can credit them!

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jooliargh · 3 years

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Happy, NOW, like THIS

Not wishing put a downer on anyone’s Christmas any more than, y'know, 2020 has put a downer on everything in general, but I'm not the most Christmassy of people. I sometimes joke that I'm a bit "bah, humbug" but that's not quite true: I want everyone to have a great time, I get great pleasure giving someone a gift I know they’ll enjoy unwrapping, I just don't usually quite feel unbridled joy myself. I'm rarely actually unhappy, just sometimes a bit... meh. I don't have a tragic reason why I should be, in my case it's more that there's a limited, prescribed set of ways to be happy, and you have to do it on this one specific day (and then another kind of happy on this other specific day a week later and by an accident of birth I have ANOTHER day I'm supposed to be happy slap-bang in the middle), and "be happy, NOW, like THIS" feels like a lot of pressure. Like... what if I don’t want to? What if I’d prefer to be just quietly content?

I imagine this is somewhat true even if the family you grew up in were like the OXO family, which most people's probably weren't. My childhood Christmases weren't awful, but they weren't like the ones you see on TV. At risk of launching into a seasonal version of the Four Yorkshiremen sketch, we were poor. Lots of people have it a lot worse - we had a roof over our heads and enough to eat - but for as long as I can remember, I was aware that my parents couldn't afford much, and any gifts I got were at the cost of sacrifices elsewhere.

My teenage Christmases... the less said the better. I got dumped in December three years running. (I volunteered for a few years at a hospital radio station, and one running joke was that any time I came to the studio in December, whoever was on air would cue up Lonely This Christmas by Mudd and leave the mic open so I couldn't loudly tell them to fuck off.) One of those Christmases I still lived at home, another I spent on my own, and one I was the charity case invited to my best friend's in-laws. (Which was actually pretty hilarious, and I am forever grateful. But nobody wants to be the charity case at their best friend's in-laws.)

So where were my family, you may ask? I grew up as an only child. For some reason people think that sounds tragic in itself but honestly it was fine. Or at least, the difficult things about my childhood wouldn't have been any better for having siblings living with me. Dad died when I was 11 (nope, that's not the tragic backstory either - happy to talk about it any time you like, but it would be a huge digression here), so for seven Christmases it was just me and my mum. I left home at 18 and while there was no bad blood between us, we just didn't see much of each other. She took to celebrating the solstice instead anyway. I have extended family on both sides and it's lovely to be in touch with them again the last few years, but we’d see each other a couple of times a year at most, then managed to go thirty-odd years without seeing each other at all, so clearly we're not a family that does family much.

Then just after Christmas, I have a birthday. Perineum birthdays (because that's the only description for the time between Christmas and New Year that ever seems to stick) are great as a kid - everyone comes to your party because everyone's parents leap at the chance to be rid of their spawn for a couple of hours, regardless of whether that spawn is even vaguely friends with the birthday child. For the price of a colouring book and some crayons it's a bargain. In the early 80s parties outside the home were for people with more money than sense, or nice things they didn't want kids to break. We had nothing worth caring about getting ruined so my parents were quite happy to let us run riot, and generally it was great fun.

As an adult, perineum birthdays are fine if you have modest expectations. There's no barb to that, I mean it quite sincerely. Most years I wouldn't throw a party if you paid me. Going to the cinema, having a wander around town and a meal out, seeing a few friends in the extreme case, is more than enough. The last big milestone birthday I decided to have my get-together in March just to save everyone the awkwardness of having to make excuses and myself the effort of making them feel better about having to make excuses. I like my friends; I'm not going to oblige them to celebrate with me when they could really do with a couple of days doing nothing.

And that brings us to New Year's Eve. One side of my family is from Scotland. I had one Hogmanay up there when I was about four years old and I think my general attitude of “could we just not...?” started there. I have the sketchiest recollection which consists of only: a real coal fire (a novelty having grown up in London), Andy Stewart on the telly, whisky, LPs of bagpipe music, and adults crying. To this day I associate bagpipes with crying. Sorry, Scotland. It may have also influenced my ongoing choice not to start drinking.

I have had some fun NYEs - generally the ones where a few of us got together at a friend's house and spent the evening on the sofa, playing games, talking and laughing. The shittest ones by far have been in pubs. Midnight was spent dodging either strangers who wanted to either kiss and hug everyone within range or strangers who wanted to fight everyone within range.

The one where my (then-)boyfriend went out and partied while I stayed at home with tonsillitis so bad I cried every time I swallowed was less awful than some of the NYEs I've spent in pubs.

I'm going to put it out there: any indoor New Year's celebration with over 20 people is shit. If you think I'm wrong, consider going to a massive New Year’s party, sober. I'm absolutely not the kind of person who abstains from alcohol and thinks everyone else should, drunk people can be very entertaining and I’ll happily spend an evening in the pub with a few friends any other time of year (except when there’s a plague on, anyway). But if you can't imagine having fun doing something without at least a few drinks, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the thing itself is probably not fun.

So why do we have this image that staying in on NYE is like the black mark of social failure? And why do I stay at home with my partner, having a perfectly lovely evening, and yet still feel like I should be out doing something more extravagant, even though experience tells me I'd rather have tonsillitis than go to a pub?

Truly, I don't know. But please don't think I'm having a miserable time because I'm a bit quiet, or I'm not wearing a Christmas jumper and belting out Slade for all I'm worth, or not partying on my birthday, or not going to a pub on New Year's Eve. I'm fine. Probably quite content, in fact. The thing most guaranteed to put a serious downer on the festive season for me is being told these are the happiest days of the year, therefore I should be happy, NOW, like THIS.

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flowesona · 5 years

Text

Miasma

Setting: Renaissance Venice (1630-31)

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

TW: Graphic Descriptions, obsessive/ yandere behaviour

A/N: I’m so happy to have had to opportunity to work with the wonderful @jooniescupcakes on this fic in anticipation of our amazing leader Namjoon’s birthday! Please check out the version of this fic posted on her blog which has an exciting alternate ending!

The humid air of the mid-evening provided a somewhat pleasant stroll. It would have been serene, if not for the desperate cries of people fighting against soldiers. Their screams of mercy at Namjoon were ill-received, as he instead chose to avert his gaze, to see how the Venetian water rippled. He couldn’t bear to face these people, to answer as to why they weren’t going to survive. Prayers, smoking, even infecting oneself with Syphilis. Every cure people had dreamt up were based on fallacious dreams. And Namjoon hated to associate himself with such disparity, hated to see those at the lowest in society doomed to a horrific fate.

No one had thought so many would be lost once again when the plague that had last reared its ugly head centuries returned once again to Italy, causing mass panic in Milan the previous year before reaching Venice and letting Namjoon bear witness to the curse.

Yet instead of facing the hopeless souls, Namjoon tried to distract himself with the more optimistic side of things. The patients that he was about to visit had reportedly not experienced any major symptoms of the plague. Yet as he reached the entrance of the quaint ‘house’ crammed into the rest of the neighbourhood and simply reeking of poverty, there was still a feeling of dread in his stomach, that he wouldn’t be able to cure them.

Brushing all pessimistic thoughts aside he reached out and rapped on the door twice, his greeting being met with a cough and the scurrying of feet.

“Oh! Dottore! Please, come in.” A worn-out voice accompanied the face of a woman that was anything but.

“Buona sera. What seems to be the problem?” Namjoon ducked under the entrance of the shabby accommodation as he spoke, surveying the surroundings with an ever-keen eye.

“It’s… papa was spitting blood today. I was worried something was wrong.” The woman explained, leading the doctor through the cramped room into an adjacent room, occupied by a middle-aged woman dabbing at the forehead of a bed-ridden man with a filthy towel. A sight of great pity, an illustration of suffering.

“Has he experienced any other symptoms?” Namjoon went to place his surgical bag on the floor but had second thoughts upon seeing the blood and spit dotted around, instead cautiously placing it on the stained sheets with a grimace. There was no doubt this family’s living conditions were integral to the patriarch’s illness, but alas Namjoon was a doctor, not a charity.

“He’s got an awful fever, dottore.” The woman sat by the bed replied, still stroking her husband’s face to no avail.

“I see. May you two please leave the room, I need to examine him.” Both women observing the scene left the room, not before glancing back at their sick patriarch and the masked stranger ready to decide their fate.

“Can you stand up? I need to examine for any other symptoms.” The wheezes and grunts of the pauper sitting up in his bed were not a good sign. But what was far worse was the sight of a buboe on his neck, previously hidden by the tattered blanket but now in plain sight for Namjoon to see. And it was not a pretty sight.

Even as Namjoon approached and used his gloved hands to tilt the chin up so he had a better view, the truth was clear. He’d caught the plague, and he was going to die in a matter of days.

“For now, rest and some herbal incense is the best road to recovery.” was all advice the doctor could give. He’d never seen such things curing the victims, but it was the most relief he could give. A placebo, blaming the bad air for the disease when there was most definitely something more to it.

He left the room with a horrible feeling in his stomach, the truth a heavyweight on his tongue.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, the older woman instantly standing up and letting her chair fall onto the floor as she rushed to attend to her husband.

Namjoon took the opportunity to seat himself at the table.

“I have some bad news about your father, Signorina...?” He trailed off, realising that in his drowsy arrival he’d never learnt his patient’s name.

“Y/N. What’s a wrong doctor? Please tell me it’s just the flu or-”

“I’m afraid it’s a lot worse.” Namjoon pulled the rubber mask away from his face, letting himself breathe for a second without such construction on his face. He hated the sick feeling in his stomach from having to break the news, of already knowing this young woman’s fate.

“Your father has… there’s no easy way to say this, but he has the plague, blue sickness, whatever you wish to call it.” The doctor couldn’t even look at her face in shame. “The best you can do is pray that God has a place for you in heaven.”

“Wait, What?” All at once, the barriers broke and tears started falling from (Y/N)’s eyes.

“I’m very sorry. I must be on my way.” Scraping back the chair, Namjoon stood up to take his leave, to report the case and to find some devil’s drink to cure his mind of guilt but was held back as Y/N desperately took ahold of one of his hands.

“I’ve heard the screams of the people, dottore. Being trapped like rats or burnt alive isn’t fair. Please, you can’t do this to us!” The young woman searched for sympathy in any inch of his exposed face, finding his deep expresso-coloured eyes and giving him a pleading stare.

Namjoon felt like at that moment, refusing to do something would kill him. With how Y/N hung onto him like a lifeline, as she begged for him to save her from death, he found himself opening his mouth once again.

“It would… I don’t know if I can do that. If I don’t report it, you could spread the plague through your entire neighbourhood. We have to quarantine, it’s only what’s right for the people.”

“Since when did you rich people ever give a damn about ‘the people’?” There was a strange sense of familiarity in seeing Y/N sniffing as she spoke and the emotion behind her words, something that the doctor couldn’t quite place his finger on. Regardless of his strange nostalgia, he felt some strong feeling stir in his chest for change. He truly felt that he couldn’t just sit back and let this poor girl die.

“I… I know this is unorthodox but I could get you out of here. I’ll pay for a carriage and you can go to a better place in the country.” There was still some gnawing part of his conscience begging him to do more, but he pushed it down.

“And my family? Will there be help for papa in another city?” It was as if a light had been lit inside Y/N’s eyes and the strange feeling of nostalgia crept up on Namjoon, almost like deja vu.

But her hope was not long-lasting.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. He’d die on the journey, and there’s a high chance he’d die on the journey. The only way for you to guarantee your survival is leaving, and letting fate take its course.”

“But there must be something you can do! Some cure, some treatment you must have heard of, we’ll do anything. If you’re worried about the money...I’ll find a way to get it. Please, please help him.” Namjoon quietly watched the female plead, wondering how to appease her.

“I’ll see what I can do. There’s no guarantee for his life, I won’t promise you anything.” With a short and tense farewell, he slips on his mask and leaves the shaky house.

Namjoon looked up at the dark night sky, the twinkling stars laughing down at him at them, at all the people of Venice. Who else was looking at the same sky? How many were crying under the black blanket, which provided no warmth or comfort, as yet another loved one fell? The world saw this sight, but only Venice suffered so much under it.

If he kept staring at the warm glow of the full moon, maybe the cries would stop echoing. How long were they to suffer?

Then, his mind wandered to other things. The young woman, whose father he had just visited. It was understandable as to why she wanted him to keep quiet, but was it foolish of him to have surrendered? He had been hit with a wave of something, depressing but familiar, as he watched her pretty eyes. He struggled, even with all his knowledge, to put a name for it, and diagnose it.

He could, no, he should tell the authorities about her father, as it would prevent the spread of the plague. But this secret arrangement could also benefit him, it could be a way for him to experiment and possibly find some cure for this devastating problem.

He noticed his mansion on the horizon and picked up his pace, secretly eager to get home. The tiring job of trying to help people, only to watch them die, exhausted him and upset him. What was the point of being a doctor that could only give empty promises and bring news of death?

Unlike the streets he had just left, he lived in a cleaner and more quiet part of the city. Everyone here was swimming in money, but that didn’t make them any less of a target to the fatal and consuming plague. Many of the children stare from their windows, his large and strange mask attracting curious gazes and hushed whispers.

He had watched many people die, captured by the officials and burnt alive or, if they were too slow, the plague finished them off first. Namjoon had gotten used to the feeling of sadness, anger and disappointment, at this point, after all the deaths he had supervised, it was numb, part of a mundane routine. The thought of the young girl, looking at him like he owned the world like he could change fate, brought back these long-buried feelings in an unprecedented crashing wave, along with something else, unidentified.

———————————————————————

It was another messy evening, the blank sky ignorant to the screams and cries below. All the days blended together with the same sight, the same words, the same end. Namjoon was walking down the familiar path he took just a day ago, equipped with a new idea and a stronger determination. However, there was no certainty for success.

He walked up to the run-down house, glancing over the cracks he had missed in his rush during his last visit. He eyes the cracking paint and dirty windows, the tattered curtains not doing much to shield the inside. He slowly stepped up to the old, wooden door, sharply rapping at it thrice. He waited for a second, and the door swings open, the delicate female mumbling a small welcome with worry evident in her face.

“I...thought of something...to help with the buboes,” he glanced over to see her perked up, watching him intently, “it might not work, and it will surely hurt like hell, but its the best I have"

He curiously observed her changing emotions, happiness at first, hope glimmering in those twinkling eyes, mouth trembling, then disappointment, gravity tugging at the corners of her lush lips, eyes downcast. Finally, the last shine of determination, stronger than the soldiers lining up on the streets, brighter than the shine of the glaring sun.

It was that burning determination that made him remember.

Remember when he first fell in love with the sweet, pretty girl from his childhood.

The sharp jab of the nostalgia, the sudden waves of memories crashing against his confused mind, it was all confirmed when he caught sight of a small toy. It was old, blue and green patches on it, once bright, vibrant coats of fresh paint. It was a small dollhouse, although not in good condition, he noticed the shiny symbol, a logo of the best carpenter in the country. The door to the expensive creation was slightly open allowing little light and peeping eyes through, though it was not furnished. Maybe the fragile pieces had gotten lost over time, but the overall image was still obvious.

He bought that dollhouse, he gifted it to someone, his first love. It was a one-of-its-kind house, unique as every individual star. And it was expensive. Far too expensive for a family like this to even dream about. When he looked back at the female, lost in her own thoughts, he found himself observing her features; the familiar curve of her nose, the shape of her eyes, the plush lips.

Everything came back to him.

Those memories from years ago, when they were both ignorant, young and in bliss. Nothing mattered except themselves. He never knew how much her family struggled to put food on the table, and he never understood why she kept trying to return the gift. When he offered to get her a different house, she refused frustratedly, breaking into tears.

His parents had to explain to him what she was too embarrassed to say; that she wasn't as rich as them. She was poor, living at the bottom of the city's trash, and that was why she always wore the same dresses, and why she never had any toys.

Her family couldn't afford any luxuries. In short; they were completely and extremely different to everyone but themselves. He was born into a prestigious family, money raining down on him, and she had to crawl past scraps to survive.

Namjoon was appalled at the truth. He was angry that he couldn't figure it out by the subtle words and the obvious visuals. He didn't realize how much money, or the lack of it, affected them and their relationship. No matter what, society, with its cruel and cold hands, ripped them apart and forced them to stay away, each succumbing to their fate, only having the memories to hold on to.

"Y/N?" Namjoon forces out.

The female looks confused. Why did he suddenly call her name? And why did he look so shocked?

Inside, a cry of pain shatters the moment, and once again, Namjoon is forced to remember what he is here for. The patient, her father.

“I- maybe you should see my papa first,” she mumbles, gesturing towards the door, “thank you for coming again, dottore.”

Namjoon is once again escorted into the bleak, cramped room, a pungent odour drifting in the room. The closed window indicated that it came from within the room itself, though the doctor didn’t want to find its origin. The condition in which the patient, whose health was as fragile as a thin piece of thread, was terrible. He carefully navigated through the cluttered room, placing his bag with care onto the sheets, stained with yet another unknown symptom.

“I have come with a possible solution,” he spoke slowly, watching the way the older man coughed, scrambling to sit up, “but it will hurt, and it will not be a pleasant sight. If you wish to be cured, then sit quietly and bear the pain.”

“Y/N,” the man calls, waiting for the young woman to come running, “hold his legs tight, and do not let him go. I fear that in his painful struggle, he might strike me.”

She nods, holding onto her father’s scrawny limbs tightly. They watched silently as the doctor reached into his bag to pull out a needle, and a matchstick. He lit the small stick with a swift tug of his large hand. He carefully held the needle’s sharp point, letting the hot flames lick it hungrily. After a few moments had passed, he brought it towards the sick man, carefully aiming towards one of the large, nasty buboes, and shooting towards it with impeccable speed. His patient let out a silent cry in pain, tensing his arms more as hs daughter winced at the disgusting splatter of discoloured pus. This action was repeated again a few more times at all the bulging, taunting buboes on his thighs before moving on to the ones on his neck and groin.

The tiring and painful process took a couple of hours, and when it was done, Namjoon felt a sense of rushing relief. He left the room, reminding the patient to have a good rest. Back in the living room, he met Y/N, who was still curious about the earlier incident.

“You...don’t remember?” he asked.

The girl shook her head before offering him a drink in a cup, chipped away at the edges, “what am I supposed to remember?”

“I gave this to you...many years ago,” he carefully picked up the old toy, feeling the layer of dust that had settled on it.

“Namjoon?” Her eyes were wide open, gaping at him as he calmly smiled back, dimples showing.

“I admit, I didn’t think our reunion would be in such an uncanny situation, much less one so drastic. Have you been well?” He wonders what she was thinking about.

“I-things haven’t really changed much,” she says, eyes focused on stirring her drink, “but I see you’ve reached the stars.” her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

Reached the stars. He knows what she was trying to imply by the line, but he also knew what he wanted to tell her. I reached the stars for you. The words are left unsaid, but the thought of it lingers. After finding out her distraught financial situation, Namjoon had pledged to earn a lot of money and save her from the horrible life she had grown up in, he worked hard to be able to provide for her, and spoil her. However, cruel circumstances had them torn apart.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it. Look, tesoro, I missed you, really, I didn’t think I would ever see you again after what my parents did.” He reached forward to grab her cold hands in his, enveloping the smaller fingers in warmth.

“But you understand why they did it,” she whispers, tugging her hands out of his grasp, “there’s no wa-”

“Who cares what everyone else thinks? There’s always a way. I haven’t forgiven them for what they did, but they certainly paid for it.” A gleam of something flashes in his eyes. Insanity, the female recalls. She remembered Namjoon’s streaks during their childhood. The same look would be in his eyes, and after, a moment of unfiltered feelings, terrifying, maddening actions. Although she couldn’t remember all of it, she did remember a time where he found sickening, sadistic satisfaction in dissecting a live animal. A small, pure creature, he had ripped apart.

“Can we just talk about something else? How long have you been a doctor?” She quickly changes the subject and they go on chatting for hours.

As night falls, the full moon peeks out playfully at the sombre city. Namjoon is walking down the streets, a giddy smile playing on his lips. He’s ecstatic after reconciling with his love. He’s even happier to know she hasn’t changed much, and still possess the same little quirks. The way her eyes light up when talking about something she enjoys, or her nose scrunching in disgust, her animated chatter had sent him to Cloud 9. He knew, that she was still so perfect, just for him. All that was left was to cure his father-in-law and impress him, winning his daughter’s hand in law.

Another joyous chuckle escaped his lips, slowly turning into maddening laughter.

On the streets of Venice, there was not a more terrifying sound.

Namjoon worked tediously all night to make a cure for his newest patient. Although he had nothing to rely on, he had a theory that cleansing the buboes with a salve would help stop the plague spreading at the least. His salve was made of fresh honey and garlic, pounded and mixed well until it made a smooth paste. The smell was strong and sharp, but it was worth a try.

After packing the salve and putting it in his bag, he once again set off on the familiar path towards the house he had been visiting for the past few days. Seeing the girl greet him at the door made him more inspired to cure the man. He once again warned the man that the paste might sting or burn, before getting Y/N to hold him down again. Slowly, with steady hands, he applied the salve to where the buboes previously used to be.

It was a tiring process, the only sound coming from the whimpers escaping the older man’s mouth. A thin layer of sweat had formed on Namjoon’s forehead, as well as the two other occupants of the room, but with no proper ventilation, it was expected. At the end, he was more than happy to leave the congested room and into the less cluttered living room, where once again, a hot drink was waiting for him.

“Dottore, will he be alright?” the voice came from Y/N’s mother, anxious for his reply, “I can’t promise you anything. The results may take a day to fully show. I will see you then. Buona Sera,” he nodded to both ladies, his gaze lingering on the younger female.

———————————————————————

“Ciao, Namjoon.” The greeting from Y/N’s mother was a heartwarming one. She looked positively uplifted by his presence, hope shining in those starlit eyes that he loved in her daughter.

“Ciao, how are things?” The small abode had started to feel like home once again, as it had in those precious childhood years. Most would call the temperature stifling, made worse by derelict wooden walls, yet there was something comforting and cosy about the house. Maybe it was just knowing that Y/N was in the other room that made him feel so content even in such a bleak setting. Yet simply being there was not enough.

“My husband is well on the road to recovery thanks to you! I don’t know how we could possibly repay you, but rest assured we will find a way.” Namjoon hummed in response as he removed the protective rubber mask, the essential part of his uniform that he hated greatly, from the sickening scent of the herbs hidden in the ‘beak’ to the way it stifled him with heat.

“That’s what I actually came here to discuss. Is he awake?”

“Oh! Yes, yes, he should be.” The matriarch stuttered, feeling some intensity to his words that subconsciously brought shivers down her spine.

The doctor simply turned on his heel and entered the smaller room, immediately catching sight of Y/N by her father’s side. A smile worked itself onto his face seeing how everything was laid out perfectly for his plan to work.

“Signore L/N, I’ve been told you’re making a speedy recovery.” The two occupants of the room finally noticed their visitor, and with the way Y/N looked at him with a smile of joy plastered across her angelic features he was hook, line and sinker.

“Yes, yes.” The patriarch nodded to the best of his ability, giving Namjoon ample view of his neck to see the neatly dressed wounds were still in perfect condition.

“So, would it be possible for us to discuss the payment?” Seeing the discussion unfold, Y/N excused herself to assist her mother with the cooking of a hearty celebratory meal for the family.

Namjoon seated himself on the derelict stool previously occupied by Y/N, clasping his hands together nervously yet also in an intimidating move.

“I am in love with your daughter, signore. She is my everything, my anima gemella. I have loved her for the many years that we were apart, and I will love her for many more.”

“Well? Spit it out cucciollo, what is it you want?” His patient asked some gruffness to his voice.

“I want your daughter’s hand in marriage.” There was silence in the small room. “Living in this part of town is not right for her. If she’s my wife then I will be able to provide anything that she needs to live in luxury. Naturally, I can make sure you as her parents are-”

“No.”

Namjoon’s fist curled in anger as he persisted.

“I can give this family everything. I already have. Marriage is such a little thing to ask for when I’ve saved your life and asked for nothing else in return!”

“But I’m not going to sell my daughter off to be some noble’s plaything.” (Y/N)’s father snarled, using one weak arm to push his back straighter so he could be a more intimidating force against the doctor. “We have more pride than letting you run our lives like a puppet show, cucciollo.”

“You’ll regret this.” Namjoon left these last words hanging in the air as he stormed out, signing a death warrant for the family in his head.

As he snatched his mask up from the table, the two women in the kitchen exchanged nervous glances. The aura their doctor was exerting was simply deadly.

“Did you agree on the-”

“We’ll talk about this soon.” Namjoon’s deep voice almost sounded raspy, worn with emotion. “He isn’t able to cough up right now, but you’ll all pay soon enough.”

The slam of the door behind him was a signal of his rage. The doctor would certainly keep to his words, perhaps in a more literal sense that one would think.

———————————————————————

The loud banging on the door was a terrifying sound for the (L/N) family to hear, and soon the entrance to their fragile abode was burst open with a swarm of officers were in the home in a matter of seconds. The family of three sat up, confused and disoriented by the sudden intrusion, but this quickly morphed into horror as the patriarch was snatched up from his bed by two of the officers.

“What is happening? Unhand me, I haven’t done anything wrong!” He cried out, only to be interrupted by a deep chuckle.

“Yes you have.” The voice was familiar, and it didn’t take long for Kim Namjoon to emerge from the shadows. “You stole something from me.”

“If this is about-” The patriarch seethed, only to be stopped as the doctor held up his hand to signify silence.

“Right there officers. That dollhouse.” It was as if someone had set Y/N’s veins of fire. She couldn’t help but protest against the injustice.

“That was a present from him, from a long time ago! It isn’t stolen!” Namjoon cast his eyes on the young woman, and she once again felt the malicious power that this noble had as he smirked, shaking his head.

“You think I would gift a peasant family something so valuable? There’s no need to lie to protect your father, tesoro.”

As he spoke, his fingers traced over the faded design of the ornament, following every crack of paint until he withdrew his hand, instead beckoning another officer to take it away for him. And with that, Y/N’s father was dragged away simultaneously, his loud protests of innocence and begging of mercy becoming quieter yet still haunting the small Venetian streets.

“And what are you going to do now, tesoro?” With the emptiness of the house being quickly abandoned by the authorities, Namjoon’s voice cutting through the silence was an unwelcome shock.

“With your father in prison, there’s no way for you to earn any money to keep a roof over your head. Lest one of you get sick and you should need medicine.”

The women exchanged a look of fear. There was no doubt to the truth in his words, and knowing this only made the disparity of their situation worse. And seeing the revelation fall upon only made Namjoon prouder.

“It’s lucky I have a solution then.”

———————————————————————

Grime coated the walls of the jail cell, and rats scurried about the place as if they were the sole occupants. Yet their home was shared by a defeated older man leaning against the wall, eyes closed as if he could block out all other stimuli and just pray to god.

“See, this is no place for you tesoro.” Hearing a voice in the distance, the patriarch of the L/N family let out a moan of agony.

“Papa!” He opened his eyes to see his daughter clutching the bars of his cell, eyes wide with horror.

“Don’t touch those.” The presence of Y/N was marred by seeing the man who had put him in the awful cell in the first place. The man who, by the glimmering band on the young woman’s finger, was going to be his son-in-law.

“Papa, I’m so sorry that this happened to you. W-We’re going to see if we can get you in better living conditions, or maybe they’ll set you free. I swear, everything will be alright.” Y/N said, releasing her grip on the bars but not stepping away from the cage for a second.

“I can issue a pardon.” The L/N’s attention was diverted to the smug doctor standing behind Y/N. “But I’m not sure I’m quite ready to forgive you.”

Namjoon pulled Y/N away from her father, into his arms that trapped her in a paradoxically romantic gesture, as he pressed a kiss onto her pristine neck.

“Maybe your daughter will change my mind. But for now, we must be going.”

It was a bitter feeling to see his daughter be resigned as a mere object of the monstrous Doctor’s obsession, but the older man became distracted as his chest was captured in a wheezing fit, as when he drew his hand away from his mouth, he found spots of blood decorating it.

———————————————————————

Translations to Italian phrases used:

Buona Sera - Good evening

Ciao - Hi/Bye (a causal greeting)

Tesoro - Treasure

Cucciollo - Puppy (used usually by parents or to denote a rookie)

Signorina - Miss

Signore - Mister, Sir

dottore - Doctor

anima gemella - twin soul

#yandere bts #yandere kpop #yandere x reader #yandere bts au #bts #bts AU #yandere namjoon #yandere namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #yandere collab #bts RM #Kim Namjoon #yandere

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michiigii-writes · 4 years

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Of Shadows and Tyr (1/??)

Summary: So, after 20 years of searching, I have stumbled upon a DnD group that is willing to deal with my absurd work schedule, and let me play with them! I have no idea what I’m doing, and I cannot fanart my way out of a wet paper bag, so I appear to have subconsciously decided to write a novel.

Craven and the other Tiefling have written more succinct and appropriately lengthed (that’s a word) summaries.

I have created a neutral 21-year-old Tiefling druid, named Strive. She has cinnamon skin, short garnet hair, black eyes, a whip-like tail, and horns that curve out and then slightly down and back (Bharal sheep horns). We have started our journey at level 2.

This is my version of a “the story, so far.” It is already too long. 8) I have no idea how many installments there will be; I already had to separate into a second part of our first session because I wrote too much. I also have an origins chapter for Strive because IM’ SORRY OKAY.

In the beginning: There was a city (part 1/2)

Master said it was time to see the world.

I didn't want to, of course. I was comfortable enough to live with the Lizardfolk tribe, secreted away in a little hut by the edge of the forest, serving as their healer when Master finally passed on. Why would I need to go out into the world? Our swamp had everything I needed, and that was enough.

But as usual, Master wanted more for me.

As per Master's orders, lightly veiled as 'advice,' of course, the safest way for me to see the world would be with a group. And apparently, the easiest way to find a group of adventurers was in the city.

He failed to mention how busy and loud and DUSTY the city of Kendrith was. I don’t like sand. It’s rough, irritating, and it gets everywhere.

There were too many people. Too many humans. It was a warm, sunny day, but I had to keep my cloak closed and my hood up to hide my tail and horns. Even in the depths of my big cloak, I felt exposed.

And the dust! There was so little natural life in Kendrith; barely any grass or trees. It had been less than a fortnight, and already I missed the lush reeds and soft, insect-ridden mud near Master's hut. The city was dry and lacking, like stale bread.

I was trying to find quieter streets when I somehow managed to almost step on a small figure, tripping them into the road. Naturally, I stopped to help them up, but my apology died in my throat when I saw her horns and tail.

She was a Tiefling, too. A young Tiefling with beautiful blue eyes and a spade-tipped tail.

But...her skin...it was purple.

Unbidden, I recalled warmth, and softness, and a smile resting on a purple-skinned face-

And then the Tiefling bared her teeth at me and the memory evaporated.

"Are...are you okay?" I asked, reaching out to her with an empty hand. She hissed at me and scrabbled back. I froze, then raised my hands, palms out, in a sign of peace.

“My name’s Strive,” I said softly, and asked her if she wanted help, but she just hissed and cocked her head at me. I wasn’t sure if she didn’t speak Common or if she just wanted me to leave. She made me think of my tribe’s hatchlings: feral to anybody aside from their family.

We were interrupted, then, by a human in armor. He had some kind of insignia on the breastplate, but what worried me was that the Tiefling hissed at him, recognition crossing her face.

He was following her and she did not feel safe.

I stood between the human and the girl, tried to brush the him off, but he continued to press forward, offering us shelter, of all things. Why on earth would a human want to help two Tieflings? People in general didn't trust our kind, but humans! I felt anger rising to flush my face. Humans were the whole reason...

If all Tieflings are not alike, the same must be said of all races, Master's voice echoed in my head, stopping my temper.

I wasn’t home, anymore. I had to be smart, and I had to keep a cool head.

I eyed the human knight carefully. He introduced himself as Valzan Corindal, and again, he said he wanted to help. I've always been good at reading people, and for some reason, I couldn't detect any lie in him. It was odd, but...somehow I believed him.

Almost like a natural 20 had been rolled on my insight.

It helped abate my suspicions when an elf woman wearing similar armor joined him, and he backed away. I relaxed a little, although the Tiefling behind me still seemed wary. I spoke a little with the woman. She seemed kind. Bitterly, I wondered if it was easy to be kind when your race was generally admired.

Nobody chooses their blood, Charity. Only their path, Master chided.

I did my best to shut down my concerns, and listened to the elf woman's spiel about their church. Her name was Elyssia, and according to her, she and Valzan were hoping to develop a church worshipping Tyr in Kendrith. I wasn’t particularly interested in converting. Semuanya, Master’s deity, was enough for me, valuing my survival instead of my dark heritage.

Thankfully, Elyssia wasn’t trying to change me, only offering me a place of rest, and then she retreated into a run-down old building nearby. That made me wonder: I'd been taught that churches were grand affairs with coloured windows, not dusty ruins. This 'church' didn't look anything like that; it looked significantly more forlorn than what I had imagined a church to be.

It was then that the Tiefling shook her head and looked even more upset. I didn’t see any flies buzzing near her ears. I couldn’t hear or sense anything, myself. But I knew I was missing something, and that bothered me.

My answer came sooner than I expected: a very tall gentleman decided it was time to join our group and with a booming voiced asked if he could be of some assistance.

I wanted to go home, personally.

The Tiefling girl spat an insult at the tall man, making him dizzy, somehow. I suspected he had done something to upset her.

I, on the other hand, looked at the newcomer appraisingly. He seemed otherworldy to me, somehow. In a loud, boisterous voice, he announced that Craven was his name. He was tall for human standards, but his hair stood up in a crest and his eyes glowed blue.

I had never seen anything like those eyes.

I also started to wonder if maybe the Lizardfolk and I were the strange ones and everyone else on earth had blue eyes. I glanced at the human. Nope, his were green. Stranger and stranger...

I decided then that I was going to try to convince the Tiefling girl to come back with me to the swamp where we would never have to deal with anybody on Semuanya's green earth ever again. That was the only logical thing to do. There were too many things happening out in the world and I, personally, was done with it. Master was clearly wrong; I did not need to see the rest of the world.

Instead, two men in black sauntered over, chains on their belts, and clearly looking for the Tiefling girl behind me.

The way she hissed and backed away from them, by comparison, she had been downright cozy with Valzan only a moment before. Forget not trusting the Paladin of Tyr; these two men, who were soon joined by a third, were definitely an active danger.

To my pleasant surprise, I saw that Valzan and Craven were also of the same mind; together, we fought to take girl’s enemies down.

The four of us made short work of the three men. I entangled the one who was closest to us, using vines, while the girl behind me spat curses with some kind of magic. The tall Craven cut down one slaver with his great sword, while the paladin finished off the other with a few swings of his axe. The third enemy tried to run, but was quickly caught by Valzan, and the coward passed out as soon as he saw his fate was sealed.

Craven carried their hostage into the church, but Valzan stayed behind, hoping to talk us into following them, once again talking about safety.

I looked at how thin the Tiefling girl was, then instead of properly answering him, asked if the paladin had any food. He pulled out some bread, offering it to her. She shifted back, ever distrustful. I didn’t blame her.

Silently, I took the loaf, took a bite of it to show that it was fine, then offered it to the girl. She hesitated, then snatched it from me, munching eagerly away at what I now knew was incredibly dry bread. I mentioned so to the paladin, but with a small smile and shrug he explained that it was rations. I nodded, chewing thoughtfully, noting that he didn’t snap defensively at me. A comment like that would have earned a slap, with Master’s tribe.

I was also impressed to see that the girl was almost done the loaf; quite a feat considering how dry it was. Without thinking, I said out loud that she reminded me of a chipmunk.

She did not appreciate it. She pulled a face, and I regretted saying it.

Again, we were invited to the church. I told the girl that it seemed like a good offer, and if she was anything like me, she didn’t have anywhere else to go. I slowly followed the paladin to the church, and was pleased to see that the girl stayed right behind me.

Crossing the threshold, I paused, and it was with some degree of relief to find that I would not burst into flames. The highest point of my day, so far.

In the main foyer of the church, we found that the elf woman, Elyssia, had prepared a wonderful spread for us. The Tiefling girl made a beeline towards the fruits and sweets, but my eyes gravitated to the cheese! There were great, big, yellow and red wheels of cheese, beside loaves of bread that were so fresh I could still see steam rising off of them. And wine! I loved wine. I’d only had it once or twice, but I knew it was so much better than the brackish moonshine the Lizardfolk made. But first, to business. Craven and Valzan hauled their unconscious slaver into the church’s basement, myself following silently behind. Elyssia stayed with the girl upstairs, so I figured she would be safe.

In the basement, a lone chair, small table, and candle awaited them, along with two large barrels of water. My mouth twisted, hidden by the shadow of my cloak. I could imagine what was coming. I reminded myself that their victim was a slaver, and a cruel one, if the Tiefling girl’s scars were any indication. Valzan splashed water into their victim’s face, effectively reviving him. Craven thought it would be a good idea to dump a whole barrel onto him; I rolled my eyes, hiding a smile at the unnecessary action.

It didn’t take much to make the man talk; almost immediately, he willingly shared everything he knew about his employers, even if it wasn’t much. I frowned when he mentioned that he was just a hired hand, trying to make his way in the world. He was a slaver. A slaver. How could he stomach such work?

But his insistence that he just wanted coin rang true. He needed to work to eat, and jobs were scarce. It just happened that what he had to do was vile.

I didn’t want to hear any more. Without the others noticing, I turned away and slipped back upstairs. I would much rather keep company with the cheese and wine.

--(part two)--

#Of Shadows and Tyr #dnd campaign #dnd #Strive not Charity

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originlist · 4 years

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CHARACTER INTERVIEW. ( repost, don’t reblog )

tagged by: @zhrets tagging: @sereinya @caemthe (emer) @ryogai @glorytoclorin (whichever muse ur vibin)

name: antonio salieri. alias: avenger. the man in grey. amadeus alter. age: unknown (late 30s) family: parents he barely remembers. one brother he recalls in any detail, a few he can’t. two successive adoptive fathers he recalls slightly better but not great. his wife therese, and a son who died young. tfw you outlive literally uh ur whole family significant other: the answer to this being liri’s mozart depends mostly on how irritating mozarts been in the last thirty minutes. hes on thin ice.

PERSONAL.

religious belief: banging on the doors of heaven screaming at the top of his lungs at god about the world being unfair and demanding answers sins: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath virtues: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice primary goals in life: he says it’s to kill mozart but really - that’d erase him as well, and he’s not sure about that. he wants fairness, justice. he wants to be able to compose again. he wants to know that there’s a world for humanity with a piano in it and with people who sing. for there to be a certainty in the world that god loves all his creations. known languages: all, thanks to the grail. originally italian french and german. secrets: he’d love to have some but unfortunately he blathers constantly and is far too easy to read for anyone’s comfort. he does try to keep it somewhat on the down-low that mozart continuing to live matters to him just as much as killing mozart does but like [gestures vaguely]. he also does try to minimise the fact that he is A Sap. savvies: he picks up musical instruments really quick. he’s a good singer. he’s shockingly good at playing music on improv considering the fact that he can’t hear what he’s improvising. also he’s good at things that involve a weird amount of meticulousness. like this is going to sound bonkers but, for example, in my family its a tradition with christmas cookies to try and write as long a phrase as possible in chocolate jimmies and see how much u can fit on a cookie. in sprinkles. that kind of thing where its just ‘do u want to be really meticulous about something totally irrelevant’, salieri would be weirdly good at.

PHYSICAL.

build: scrawny / bony / slender / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / pudgy / average height: 5′11″ i..think... scars / marks: he’s got burn scars over the front of his throat and more on his forearms. his hands are, fortunately, free of scarring. some miscellaneous scars on his midsection, also burns. he literally has no recollection whatsoever of what actual event could have possibly caused these- the ones on his neck he knows are from the rumor (wildfire) that he slit his own throat, even though it’s not ‘reality’ he’s still marked by it, but the others are a mystery to him. abilities / powers: the ability to recall multiple timelines as well as know the ‘truth’ of correct history. creation of sound that will cause extreme emotional duress in any listeners. straight up fucking made of fire sometimes. making swords, summoning familiars, other servant abilities. plays the most badass version of dies irae known to man. restrictions: the depression. a wavering sense of identity. the fact that he is the manifestation of innocent monster, which requires a level of self awareness that the way he suffers is unfair, which does exactly what you’d expect to his mentality. regularly forgets the fact that, when hes in his human form, he still has servant abilities (aka he’ll use his servant strength/speed when he’s the man in grey on the battlefield and then once he swaps back to his human body he literally straight up forgets he still has enhanced physical parameters).

FAVOURITES.

food: anything sweet. he will literally eat straight sugar cubes sometimes. no limits drink: tea or coffee but with like, ungodly cream/sugar. once i went to a really high end coffeeshop and added so much sugar to my drink that the waiter gave me a look of unabashed horror, and that’s what salieri’s doing. god wouldn’t approve of his actions. pizza topping: he will put pineapple on pizza just to make someone upset. honestly tho he doesn’t really care bc he doesn’t eat pizza much. colour: reds are nice. music genre: opera and the various sorts of church music. mostly opera though. he likes things with a lot of emotion to them! he’d be into musicals, too, in terms of modern music. book genre: he doesn’t read much, oops! he prefers to listen to his media. movie genre: he’s not picky..... he thinks dramedies are fun though. season: spring. curse word: he tries not to curse... scent(s): sawdust, petrichor, spring flowers

RANDOM.

bottom or top: i say he has switch rights but i am clinging to this by my fingertips as i am kicked into a pit called ‘hes bottoming’ sings in the shower: no he sings outside of the shower likes bad puns: depends on the pun. and the delivery of said pun

#headcanon : salieri #dash games

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cas-kingdom · 5 years

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And Then There Were Two

A/N: Will never stop posting sweet Tommy and sister fluff ;) Enjoy!

Just so you know, ‘Aoife’ is pronounced ‘Ee-fa’. Yes, I know. That’s Ireland, for you!

Find the OC version of this fic here.

Title: And Then There Were Two

Summary: Tommy buys you your first horse.

Words: 1906

“Would you come down to the stables with me for a moment?”

You glanced up as Tommy walked into the kitchen, coat and hat on, cigarette planted firmly between his lips. His blue eyes locked onto your tired body, slumped against the cool window on the ledge underneath it, and he rose an eyebrow questioningly.

“I’m reading,” you replied, lifting the open book in your hands slightly to show your brother, and his eyebrow rose even higher as he took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew a puff of smoke. He leaned on one of the chairs tucked under the kitchen table and crossed one ankle over the other.

“You’ve never once picked up a book until this day, Y/N Shelby. You’re coming. Get up.” He nodded his head towards you, and you rolled your eyes, marking your page and closing the book.

“Yeah, well, this is Sherlock Holmes, and it’s interesting. Michael got it for me and they’re much better than your silly stories.”

Tommy chuckled, watching as you stood to your feet and threw your book on the ledge you’d lined with cushions and what looked to be about two of the thick coats he‘d had hanging up in his old room. “My silly stories, hm? They’re mainly detective stories, just like your Sherlock Holmes, you’ve just never bothered to read them. Come on, let’s move.” He reached an arm out and you grabbed up one of his coats before wrapping it around your shoulders – it was way too big for you to wear normally – and sluggishly walking over to him. He draped an arm around you and the two of you moved out of the house and made your way down the street to the stables.

“Why are we going to the stables?”

“I’ve got to speak to Curly.”

“And I have to come because…?” You frowned, yelping as you tripped over a rock and shoving your brother when he attempted to disguise a laugh with a cough.

“Because nobody’s home to look after you,” he said, pulling you against his side once again.

“Uh, Arthur was literally right in the next room-”

“No, come on. Can’t keep Curly waiting.” The two of you reached the stables and he removed his arm from around your shoulders, gently pushing you through the stable doors.

“Tom!”

“Stop whining and get your ass indoors.” He shook his head as you spun around and stuck your tongue out childishly, watching you make a turn towards his own horses at the bottom of the stables while he moved in the opposite direction. “Curly? Where are you, man?” He brought his cigarette to his lips again and stuffed his other hand in the pocket of his coat. He continued walking, stopping at the end of the stables and calling for Curly once more.

“Oh, here, Mister Tommy, Sir! Here!” Tommy stood up straight as Curly appeared suddenly from behind a stall door and quickly opened it, stepping out to stand in front of him. He clasped his hands together and turned his head to nod behind him. “I was- was grooming the horse, Tommy!”

Tommy nodded. “Right, that’s fine, Curly. Do you have my-”

“Your present! Yes, yes, I have your present, Tommy!”

The Shelby nodded with a small smile as Curly turned excitedly and moved to the stall next to the one he’d just been in. “Let me see her,” he said, throwing his cigarette to the floor and stamping it out. He sniffed and stepped forward, watching with sharp eyes as Curly slowly reappeared outside the stall, muttering quietly and leading what Tommy believed to be the prettiest little foal he’d ever set eyes on. She had dark, stormy eyes set against silver skin that shone in the candlelight of the stables. Her ears were long and pointed forward, standing atop a small face, a long neck, and a beautiful dappled body that would win her prizes when she grew older. Her legs were long, and even at her age she walked with an air of grace and complete pride.

Curly brought her over to him, and he leaned down once she was close enough. “Hello, beautiful,” he said quietly, running a hand down the filly’s sturdy neck and patting her back. She whinnied, and he chuckled. “Aren’t you a pretty little girl, hm?”

“Is she like you remembered, Sir?” Curly asked with a grin, stroking his hand along the top of the foal’s head and gently fingering the wispy strands of forelock that were beginning to grow.

Tommy nodded, roaming his eyes over the little girl and mentally checking boxes on his list before standing straight once again and stepping back. “Yep,” he said. “Yeah, she is.” He turned his head. “Y/N, come and see this!” He kept his eyes on the foal, who was keeping remarkably still and silent for someone her age. She was a lanky thing, but he’d bought her from a man who only bred show and race horses, so she’d grow to be something special if he went about the right way of training her. Nevertheless, for her to be brought up as a simple riding horse would not be an idea he’d be opposed to, should his owner want it.

“See what?” He sniffed as you rounded the corner, stepping back slightly to reveal the little thing stood in front of him. As expected, your eyes widened in surprise, and you glanced briefly at your brother before slowly moving forward. “Oh, she’s so cute,” you said in slight awe, smiling up at Curly as you reached the foal. You were very gentle, something Tommy always found to be quite endearing. For a member of the Shelby family, you certainly lacked in some personality aspects. It definitely proved to be useful in times like these.

Tommy nodded, stepping forward and motioning for Curly to hand him the foal’s lead rain attached to her rope halter. “Nice colour, isn’t she? Beautiful. Going to be a handsome mare, she is.”

You nodded, laughing as the baby nudged your hand with her muzzle and whinnied, throwing her little head and making her small wisps of mane fly about her like grey waves. “What’s her name?”

The man shrugged, hearing Curly return to his bustling about in the stall behind the two of you. “Doesn’t have one yet. I was thinking maybe Stella… or Alice.”

He rose an eyebrow when you made a face. “Mhm, no. They don’t suit her.”

“Alright, Miss,” Tommy said, the smile evident in his voice, “what do you think suits her?”

“Aoife.”

The man looked at you. “That was quick.”

“I’ve always wanted a horse named Aoife,” you said quietly, letting the foal nudge at your hand yet again.

Tommy nodded thoughtfully. “Irish. Means ‘beauty’.”

“Yeah, but it fits, doesn’t it? She’s a little vision.”

“She is.” He paused for a moment before reaching his arm out, lead rein in hand. “Aoife it is, then. Look after her.”

You lifted your eyes from the foal’s mesmerising little face to look at Tommy, seeing no change in his expression other than that added bit of sparkle in the blues of those eyes of his. You glanced briefly at his hand, mere inches from you, holding out the lead rein and clearly waiting for you to take it, before looking back up at his face. “What?”

“Take it. She’s yours, Y/N.”

You were at a loss for words. “My- my horse?”

Tommy couldn’t even roll his eyes at your speechlessness; he was finding it all rather sweet. He briskly licked his lips before reaching for your hand and placing the end of the lead rein in it, closing your hand over and placing his own larger one on top. “Yes, your horse,” he said. “What else? Me and your brothers thought it time you have one for yourself.”

He watched as you shook your head. “But- but Finn doesn’t even have a horse.”

“Finn doesn’t need one. Finn doesn’t want one. He’s fine with his guns and whatever else boys his age do for entertainment. If he ever wants a horse, I think we’d have to start him with a goldfish first and see how long he can keep that alive before we move him onto something bigger. You, however, have always taken a shining to these animals.” He withdrew his hand and smiled as you stared at the lead rein for a moment. It was a wonder how you believed everything you got given had to be something Finn already possessed. “Now, Aoife here was bred to be a racing horse, but I want you to raise her as you wish. If you want to show her, she’ll be a show horse. If you want to race her, we’ll train her up to be the best there is. Or, if you want to bring her up as nothing but your horse and ride her around Birmingham like the little horsewoman you are, then do it. She’s yours, now, Y/N. Curly’ll be here to feed her and vet her and whatever else, but she’s yours to look after and do with as you will.” He stopped for a moment, regarding the huge grin on your lips and the sparkle in your bright eyes with a happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, before continuing. “She’s our present to you, little one, me and your brothers’. We felt you deserved one.”

He was only slightly prepared for the impact as you threw yourself into his arms, still hanging onto Aoife’s lead rein. The foal fidgeted a bit at the sudden movement, but Tommy was able to reach a hand out to calm her down while still having one arm wrapped around you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you all but squealed, and your brother chuckled between a face full of your hair. He softly kissed your temple before letting you down.

“Alright, enough,” he said, smile showing his pearly teeth. “Go with Curly and he’ll show you where she’ll be sleeping. I think we agreed she’d be put next to Charity, is that right, Curly?”

“Yep, Tommy! Charity will be a good mother, she will! She’ll look after baby Aoife!”

The Shelby nodded his thanks to the stable man and gently nudged you towards him. He reached for a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it, sticking it in his mouth as he watched you slowly walk your new friend over to Curly.

A fifteen-year-old girl and a four-month-old filly. The truth was, Aoife’s mother had died during labour, and the owner had slowly begun to lose patience in bottle feeding her. Tommy was sure he’d have had her put down if he hadn’t bought her. What a waste it would have been.

Your life could be remarkably boring. Even living as a Shelby, a young girl like you had no place in a world full of guns and money and death and gambling. Though he knew that, one day, you’d most definitely have a part to play in the family business, you still had time to spare until then. He had a feeling you’d be spending most of that time down at these stables from now on.

And so, as he walked towards you, Curly and the new member of the Shelby family, he could not help but think of how he’d saved two lives this day.

Peaky Masterpost

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duchessofostergotlands · 5 years

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Maybe I'm just really negative, but I was super surprised to see that the collection is only for sale for two weeks... it just seems so short for it to actually make the impact they want? But what do I know? 🤷‍♀️ love your blog btw, hope things are going well! Also, not sure if it matters: Reitmans is a Canadian clothing store/company that has a few subsidiary stores, one used to be Smart Set (I think those are closed now?).

Waaaaaaait a second, TWO WEEKS? Did I read that right? What a bunch of miserly jerks these companies are. It’s basically free advertising for them and all they have to do is give 1:1 (at cost not retail) for ONE ITEM each and they’re only going to do it for TWO WEEKS???? I hope it didn’t come off as if I was blaming Meghan or her strategy there! I was just trying to point out how stingy these companies are being (in my opinion). I hope it didn’t come off as if I was blaming Meghan or her strategy there! I was just trying to point out how stingy these companies are being (in my opinion) /// While I do think the Smart Set could be a bit better it seems to be a wonderful start! One thing though that I adore about Meghan is that she seems to be so excited about everything that she does and that excitement is definitely infectious!!! /// Something I really dislike is the type of garments. The dress is very flattering, but the pants have a high waste that in overweight people like me gives us the “crotch chub” effect lmao. Most of the clothes only look good on a certain type of woman. Add that to the limited sizes and 😬😬 /// So it looks like that shift dress comes in hot pink (it looks red to me?) but only blue and black dress purchases get donated to Smart Works? Weird. The Jigsaw jacket and pants they’re linking to are part of Jigsaw’s pre-existing Paris line of work wear. While the shift comes in extended sizes, I’m not impressed the jacket and pants only go up to a UK 16. And I’m interested in how the 1x1 will work. Idk it’s all weird // I’m honestly disappointed with the line. It’s a great cause but all the pieces were existing in at least one of the retailers, just re-done for the line, it’s only 5 pieces, sizes go up to 16UK (14US), they’re made in polyester and the campaign for smart works will only last 2 weeks? Idk it just spiralled into a “let’s make it look like we’re good” kind of line // I don’t know why but I thought each brand was launching a “look” for smart works, is it just one place has the shirt, another the trousers, a third the purse etc? // I really want to love Meghan’s idea, I really do. But I can’t.

Ok so I decided to combine all the messages I got about this in to one kind of master post. My plan is to go through what I liked and what I’m not too fond of. I don’t know which one should go first so I’ll put headings and you can read them in your preferred order haha. I should hopefully hit most of the points:

The Good

I talked about this before but I think Meghan’s really underrated skill is being able to spot gaps and understand where she can add value. Having worked with public donations, I related to a lot of the issues she pointed out and I think it’s very astute of her to be able to quickly pick that up for each organisation

Once again, women of colour were front and centre. The women modelling in the campaign were representative, they had different body types and attitudes too. I think that commitment is really impressive

Although some things are in more limited sizes- I think one of the items anyway- most things go up to a Size 24 which is more inclusive

I think we’ve already seen that there’s going to be a huge uptake in the clothing line so I expected that they’ll report a really big result

Her behaviour around the collection so far has been pretty adorable. From the behind the scenes videos to today, she has seemed genuinely excited and passionate. She’s obviously worked hard on the project and when you watch videos I think you want to back her up!!

She’s doing what I have complained about royals not doing in the past. She is doing something with a tangible end result. They will be able to say they gave x pieces to the charity whereas most royal projects have no clear outcomes or outputs. It still doesn’t tell us the impact but it’s better than we normally get from royals!!! More of that please.

The Less Good

I don’t like 1 for 1 models and that’s just an unavoidable fact. I’ve talked about it before and my opinion hasn’t changed since: https://duchessofostergotlands.tumblr.com/post/186776510814/hi-jess-you-said-you-didnt-like-the-one-for-one

I don’t like the clothes. I’m not going to go into a huge amount of detail because this is exclusively personal preference and nothing to do with the merits of the project but I know someone will ask so let’s get it out of the way. They’re too old for me personally. I do get why they went the basic route and re-used things though as it’s quicker and easier

“It’s not a hand out, it’s a hand held.” I mean, it is still absolutely a hand out. I know what she was going for but the dictionary exists. And it’s still a project where vulnerable women are supported by the whims of the privileged. I am a bit concerned at some of the narrative emphasising the purchaser which plays in to what I talk about in point 1

The things she pointed out when she was at Smart Works were that donations “can be a potpourri of mismatched sizes and colours, not always the right stylistic choices or range of sizes.” Now I don’t know if her project actually addresses that issue. It provides high quality clothing but with a one for one model it means that whatever people are buying, that’s what the place gets. It isn’t saying “how many of each item of each size do you want and need to create a more cohesive wardrobe?” and then providing it to them. Something that’s interesting about relationships like this, as a Fundraiser who has managed similar relationships, is that a lot of times when they say “10p from every product will go towards x charity” that’s not true. We have a relationship like that with a corporate organisation and they tell us what they’re going to give us in advance based on projected sales. The money you pay doesn’t come anywhere near us. For smaller projects it might be different but that’s how we do it so we can budget and forecast. It’s possible that Meghan has actually done that but that leads me on to my last point….

The “Doesn’t Fit Into Either Category”

I have quite a few unanswered questions. I’m sure that some of these are answered and please do share links with me but I don’t know where I’m supposed to be going for the fine print, the terms and conditions. So:

I read in one article that proceeds would be going towards the charities rather than just products. Is this true?

If it’s not true, where is the money from sales going?

Have they had an agreement like the one I mentioned above that guarantees a certain number and mix of items for the local branches and uses the 1 for 1 thing as more of a selling point?

If it is a 1 for 1 model, does that extend to colour choice and size?

Are each of the pieces being sold in a different store or is everything available in every outlet?

This isn’t Meghan’s fault, there’s no reason to think she knew about this, but it is so shady of M&S to put a pink version on that is exactly the same but doesn’t benefit the charity. After Meghan saying they put purpose before profits, that’s a dick move from them

Overall

Meghan has clearly put a lot of heart and soul in this project and I think identified a real gap where she could have a meaningful contribution. I personally don’t think that a 1 for 1 model is the most effective way of meeting that gap and although there are plenty of positives I think the cook book was a more comprehensive project than this one

#meghan markle #british royal family #ask #anon

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