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spinningwebsandtales · 2 months

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Imagine Cheering Up A Depressed Andy

(Slight) Andy X FemReader

Ratings: T+

Warnings: Drinking, insults, mentions of death, slight spoilers

Word Count: 1.7k

(A/N:) I am obsessed with Undead Unluck right now and I had to write a self indulgent Andy fic! I do ship him and Fuuko really hard but Andy is too perfect not to crush on. So while I have a ship I still want to enjoy some reader inserts with this handsome and unhinged dude! So this happened as I was so excited about a little of Andy's past getting animated! I had a little too much fun with the dialog too but I hope you all enjoy it! Until next time happy reading!

~Countess

Being a bounty hunter had it's perks though it was one of the toughest jobs offered in the growing country you live in. You had met your fair share of folks and about took out as many as well. The types of people you hunted, weren't like the upstanding citizens in normal towns you passed through. So they really weren't missed and kept their would be victims safe another day. You had just gotten finished with a particularly large bounty, so after collecting your reward you made the decision that you deserved a much needed break. Heading over to the next town, you carved yourself a place for the next two weeks or more.

After a week into your relaxation a stranger blew into town you never met before. He was a quiet character and it seemed like trouble drew to him like flies to a carcass. He was aloof and refused to speak much. Questions were answered with simple answers and he never gave more information than necessary. Even renting a room in the tavern/inn you were occupying had become awkward as he refused to answer the majority of the owner's questions. Only made worse when he was a coin short of the payment to stay. Without a word you dug into the pockets of your well worn pants before flipping it to the owner with amazing accuracy. He pocketed the man's payment quickly and the stranger turned around taking in your feminine form as you downed the rest of your glass and tipped your hat. Standing from the chair you made your way up the stairs, ignoring the jeers from the men below, your curiosity piquing the more you stayed close to the gray haired man.

A few more days passed by and still the gray haired stranger occupied the same space as you. He kept his distance, though he acted indifferent you could tell he watched his surroundings with an attentive gaze. The card in his forehead was a mystery that was driving you crazy. And even though the numerous tavern girls seemed to flock to him, he had no interest. The only thing he seemed to enjoy was the brawls that would break out, the majority of the time it was men starting arguments with him. The fights didn't last long and he always came out on top. He didn't joke. He didn't laugh. He rarely said a word. And despite yourself you found yourself sitting closer and closer to him every night. He was a mystery and you could feel the sad loneliness rolling off of him in waves. You should have ended your reprieve then and there. Left town and went back to what you were good at. But something deep inside nagged at you. You couldn't leave this man alone and part of you dreaded that you were going to pay a steep price for your curiosity.

The next night after finishing your meal, you went to the bar ordering two drinks and paying for them. The heavy glasses not the only weight as your heavy heart pounded in your chest. The enigma of the man sitting in his normal spot, pushing around the scraps on his plate. He didn't even jump or look up as you thudded the glass before him. After a few seconds, you cleared your throat, loudly. You didn't take kindly to being ignored, especially when you were doing a good deed. Those were rare and if this man had any sense he would be grateful.

He looked up, blue eyes dull and full of caution. It made you suck in a breath as he looked handsome far away, but up close he was stunning.

"Drink," you asked and he grunted in reply. Knocking the chair at his side back with your boot, you parked yourself right next to him throwing your slender legs up and crossing your ankles on the table top. Knocking your glass against his hard, you took a loud long guzzle. You sighed before gazing at him, waiting for the same.

"Not very ladylike are you," he asked simply.

You shrugged, "Not particularly. Can't afford to be in my line of work. Are you going to drink that or not? I paid for it and I won't let it go to waste."

He chuckled, though the mirth didn't make it to his eyes. He finally picked up the glass giving it a healthy swig.

"Good boy," you cooed and he glared.

"You buy drinks for men often?"

"Nope," you picked at your nails. "Even sad puppy dog eyed men get ignored by me. So you should feel very special. You tugged on my dried up heartstrings."

"They're not that dry then," he scoffed.

"Keep talking and that beer will disappear."

"Yeah," he took another drink. "Down my throat anyway."

You glared harder taking your feet off the table to lean in closer, "I may just shove that glass down your throat too while I'm at it."

He bared his teeth, "I'd like to see you try."

You shot upwards, snarling at him before quicker than a flash, he hooked his foot on your chair leg tugging it forward. The sturdy wood hit the back of your knees, crashing you back down into the seat. You sat stunned for a moment, unused to people gaining the upper hand on you.

"Simmer down I was joking," he rolled his eyes. "Whatever you do for a living sure did take your sense of humor."

"And here I thought the sad washed up sap no longer had one," you retorted quickly.

"I may be lost in thought but I can keep up with the best of them," his gaze darted back to you. "Just remember that."

A few tense moments passed by and the patrons that had watched the exchange between you both, started to relax. Even the owner had been tense as he didn't want his establishment wrecked by a fight between the two of you. With your glass empty, you stood to go get another one, when his hand wrapped around your wrist. Pouring the rest of the liquid that remained in his glass into yours. You sat there stunned at the kindness.

"I've had enough," he shrugged.

Your finger circled around the smudged rim as you now didn't know how to act around him. Many people didn't treat you nicely and if they did they always wanted something or take advantage of you.

"Got a name," you finally asked the curiosity not leaving you alone.

"No."

"Where you from?"

"Don't know."

"Well you're just a well of knowledge. Good chat," you rolled your eyes. "Guess I'll just call you bigmouth."

"Please. Don't."

"What," you grinned deviously, "do you prefer idiot? Maybe moron? Boring?"

"I get it," he waved a large hand.

You pouted thinking that would have gotten a rise out of him.

"Just call me Vic," he replied confused where he pulled that name from his mind.

"I think I rather call you bigmouth," you stated.

"Don't care."

Crossing your arms while slumping in the seat, you were starting to get annoyed for the lack of progress. The longer you spoke to Vic, the more your curiosity grew instead of shrinking.

"Soooo wanna share why you got such a long face over here," you asked.

"I rather not," he seemed to shrink further into his shell.

"Fine. I'll tell you something about myself first and then you have to at least give me something."

Vic shook his head but waved for you to continue. He remained quiet letting you have a moment of victory as you wouldn't let up until you got some bit of information from him.

"I'm a bounty hunter," you showed him the badge that normally hung between your breasts under your shirt. "Been all over this country and taken out many criminals. Been needing a break so I've been staying here."

Vic nodded, "I've been travelling myself. Taking out my own class of criminals with my team."

"Where is your team," you asked and immediately regretted it as he stiffened.

He looked away, emotion clogging up his throat a little bit, "They're dead. They were killed thanks to a barmaid who saved herself. I was the only one who survived."

That was one of the main reasons you refused to recruit on your missions. You didn't want to lose anyone and it was hard for you to get along with others very often."

"Sorry to hear that."

He shrugged again, "So I rather travel alone. It hurts less."

"That's the main reason I travel alone. Nobody to mourn and if I get turned into bird food. Then nobody is around to mourn me either."

"That's a sad existence," he replied.

"You chose the same existence as me," you pointed out, laughing into your mug.

He chuckled and this time the amusement made it's way to his eyes, "I guess I did. But it doesn't mean I don't make friends along the way."

"Are you calling me a friend there Vic?"

"We're drinking together aren't we," he pointed to the two mugs.

"I think I'm doing the majority of the drinking here," you said matter-of-factly.

Without another word Vic gave the owner the sign for two more drinks. He nodded getting to work filling two more glasses.

"My hero," you cooed kissing his cheek quickly. Vic sat there stunned for a few moments. You grinned smugly as you felt like you got some revenge for the seat ordeal he just pulled moments ago. Despite never trusting easily, you found yourself comfortable around Vic. He still had so many things left to uncover and you knew as soon as your time was up in town, you both would go your separate ways. But for this night and the last moments you and him would enjoy each other's company. Vic watched you closely and despite telling himself not to get close, he couldn't keep that promise to himself. You were too fascinating to him and he felt himself falling. Needing to know more, needing to get closer. He knew that it would end and that would be that, but for these quiet and blissful moments he would allow himself a chance to enjoy something good and fun. Until he was finally able to find his purpose or he found the death he craved. He hoped to find more people like you through his long journey, but this was your chance and you both wouldn't squander it.

#Andy X Reader #Andy / Reader #Undead Andy X Reader #Undead Andy / Reader #Undead Unluck #Andy Imagine #Undead Unluck Imagine #Imagine #My Writing

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chrysoliteandlightning · 7 months

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To Palamedes Sextus, Scholar of the Library

I won't deny being surprised to receive your letter. It was very kind of you to send me the essay you wrote on the unique type of blood cancer that is prevalent on Rhodes. Since you're interested in the curative sciences, I've included with my reply a selection of texts on the matter that you may not have come across in your studies. I had not seen the text you referenced on the particular dangers of recycled air to those with chronic lung conditions. I personally have not developed that particular symptom since my diagnosis, but I will be certain to keep your notes in mind if it becomes a concern.

Rhodes is a beautiful city, and I personally find the incredibly views from the city itself to be quite worth the inconveniences afforded by living in the orbital installation rather than on the surface itself. If you would like I can send along some lithographs both from Rhodes and from the planet below. Another advantage of the city is that it makes it easy for me to get around on my own despite my limited stamina. Floors are level, there's a robust shuttle service, and there's no need for stairs, my absolute NEMESIS from what time I've spent visiting the planet.

All that being said, it does seem a shame that you don't have access to surface to visit on the Sixth. If you're afforded an opportunity to visit the us here on the Seventh, or one of the terraformed moons of the Third or Fifth houses, I would certainly recommend the trip. There is something unique about the experience that I do not fully know how to put into words. Fully natural gravity takes more than a little getting used to, but the motion sickness wears off after just a few hours in my experience.

I've never had a regular pen pal before, and I think it would be a lot of fun to continue writing if you don't think my reply is too dry for your taste. I look forward to hearing from you again dear, so please write again soon.

From Dulcinea Septimus, Countess of Rhodes.

#dulcie's letters #the locked tomb #dulcinea septimus #palamedes sextus #tlt meta #headcanons of the seventh

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notbecauseofvictories · 1 year

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Books of 2022

In 2022, I read fewer books overall (143, down from last year’s ridiculous 303) but I did manage to cut down on my romance novel reading---a respectable 52% instead of last year’s 78%. The consequence of this is that I did actually read more good books this year, books I could talk about with other people and inspired feelings and thoughts that rattled around my head afterwards. Plus some actual nonfiction!

Going through all of them, what I liked about them, why they made such an impression, would take a while---plus I’ve already talked about most of these in my books tag. So I’m just going to invite everyone to ask about anything that catches their eye!

BEST FICTION (IN THE ORDER I READ THEM) ** indicates a particular favorite

The House of Small Shadows, Adam Nevill

**The Cipher, Kathe Koja

Eartheater, Dolores Reyes

Hadriana in All My Dreams, René Depestre

**Tender is the Flesh, Agustina Bazterrica

You've Lost a Lot of Blood, Eric LaRocca

The Beautiful Ones, Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle

War for the Oaks, Emma Bull

Girl A, Abigail Dean

This Might Hurt, Stephanie Wrobel

**Burning Girls and Other Stories, Veronica Schanoes

Eva Ibbotson’s A Countess Below Stairs, A Company of Swans, & Magic Flutes

Deerskin, Robin McKinley

BEST NONFICTION

An Iliad, Lisa Peterson and Denis O’Hare

**Capitalist Realism, Mark Fisher

Urban Folklore in the Paperwork Empire, Alan Dundes & Carl R. Pagter

**Fun Home, Alison Bechdel

**Men, Women & Chainsaws, Carol J. Clover

[romance novels and most disliked books under the cut---I did give these a bit of an explanation, because being asked about romance novels makes me itchy. We shall never speak of these again.]

ROMANCE NOVEL READING

Vivienne Lorret (How to Forget a Duke, Ten Kisses to Scandal, The Rogue to Ruin, When a Marquess Loves a Woman, How to Steal a Scoundrel's Hear) Admittedly, nothing particularly unique about these---however, they are more traditional romance and a pretty decent attempt at actual regency-style manners, so I enjoyed myself reading them.

Olivia Atwater (Half a Soul, Ten Thousand Stitches, Longshadow) I actually sincerely loved these! Supernatural historical romance from a solid writer. Plus, the series has angrier, more class-conscious sensibilities than all the romance novels I've read---and is less hypocritical about it too, since the characters are largely not nobility, and there's no marrying dukes involved.

Alice Coldwater (His Forsaken Bride, An Ill-Made Match, The Unlovely Bride, Wed By Proxy) So admittedly, I don’t recommend reading all four of these together---it becomes increasingly clear that Coldwater can only write one and a half heroines, and both of them are excessively weepy. Nevertheless, I took a total leap of faith on this (historical fantasy romance isn't typically my genre) and was rewarded by a lot of delightful pining, some court politics, and the 1.5 heroines she can write are fun to follow around.

C.L. Wilson (The Winter King, The Sea King) If last year was about reading every romance novel about dukes I could find, this year was about finding all the fantasy romance novels. (Shout out to Stephanie Garber who also helped feed this inexplicable urge!) Anyway, this series was fun, similar to the above in that it’s fake fantasy politics and some romance, and that’s a combination that works for me.

MOST DISLIKED BOOKS

Redshirts, John Scalzi I have never despised a book quite like this one! I still can't tell if it's the smirkingly obvious Star Trek meta of it all, or the hat on a hat that is the last chapter/coda 1. I did like coda 3, but only because it felt like the only quietly, emotionally sincere part of the whole stupid book.

High Times in the Low Parliament, Kelly Robinson Novellas must be tricky to write---I’ve read a fistful or so, and find them to be wildly variable in quality and effectiveness. That said....the author’s attempt to resolve entrenched political problems via dance made me roll my eyes so hard I strained a muscle. It ruined what might have otherwise been a fun time, since I did like the narrator's charmingly disaffected perspective

Always Be My Duchess, Amalie Howard Emotional honesty and vulnerability has no place in romance novels. I read historical romance specifically so people won’t talk about their feelings, and the fact that romancelandia keeps shoehorning therapy-speak into my regency may in fact be my villain origin story. However, even worse than that is this book’s use of “totally” and "patriarchy" in a completely ahistorical way, betraying a nauseating disinterest in the time period being written about. Worse than even that: the total fucking coward's move it is to write a Pretty Woman fic but then have the heroine be a virgin and not a sex worker at all. God knows we can't be interesting.

Death, Laura Thelassa This one is my own fault. I did think "hey isn't that the romance series with the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse? I read one of those a long time ago; I should give it another shot." (I promise, I regretted it instantly.) However, it is another excellent entry in the long list of cowardly books that refuse to actually lean into enemies to lovers as a trope. Also, if you have undying protagonists? they should kill each other more.

#from the bookshelf #long post for ts

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filmnoirsbian · 1 year

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A series 6 of pages from the graphic novel My Favorite Thing is Monsters by Emil Ferris

Page one: Karen (stylized as a werewolf girl) and Missy are two young girls watching a horror movie. Karen's narration says "Horror Theater played this movie 'Dracula's Daughter' and there was this one part where Countess Dracula kidnaps this woman named Janet..." Missy says "I think that the countess almost..." Karen finishes "...kissed her..."

Karen's narration says "That was the night we cut our fingers and became...blood sisters" and then "As I hung up my detective coat in the cloak room I remembered how I'd waited till Missy was asleep. I'd said, "You are beautiful" and then..."

A sleeping Missy says "...I love you Kare...I love you so much..." as Karen kisses her hand. Countess Dracula looks on and says "Oh Karen, you are far braver than I ever was!" Karen's narration says "I think she meant it because she said it from her asleep self not her awake self..."

Page two: The Next Morning. Missy and Karen are eating cereal. Missy says "Karen, do you think that a girl could become the bride of dracula's daughter?" Karen says "If they love each other then why not?"

Karen's narration says "I think Missy went home and asked her mom the same question because later Missy's mom called and demanded to know what we'd seen on TV..."

Karen's mom on the telephone says "Just some old Creepshow is all..." Missy's mom from the telephone says "That junk! I really should not be surprised as people of your class never protect their kids from bad influences!" She hangs up.

Karen's narration says "As I sat in school (getting my daily doses of paper airplanes) I thought about how that had been the last sleepover we ever had. Over the next few weeks I heard that all of Missy's monster magazines got replaced by hair and beauty mags. Her boardgames, like 'Haunted House' got replaced with, 'The Mystery Date Game'..."

Page 3: Karen's narration says "But we are still blood sisters, so no matter how mean Missy is, I can't be mean back. Her blood is inside of me. Sometimes I think if you were to put one of those x-ray machines up to me, you would see the old Missy, the Missy from when we used to love monsters together and I have to protect that part of her..." Karen gives a thumbs up to this x-ray picture of old Missy.

Page 4: Karen's narration says "...Because inside of Missy that part is in a coffin, in a crypt, staked, and hungry and all alone..." Missy gives a thumbs down to her x-ray self. Missy says "Only 3 things matter! What you wear how you do your hair and...the boy that you date!"

Page 5: Werewolf Karen and Vampire Missy embrace in a stairwell. Karen thinks "I don't care if it turns out that this was all a mean prank...for right now I get to hold her in my arms and stroke her hair." Missy says "The times when I'm with you are the only ones when I'm...myself."

Page 6: Missy's mother calls down the stairwell and says "Missy! What are you doing in the stairwell? Come back to your guests!" Missy tells her "So the neighbors don't see Karen getting on at our floor, she's taking the elevator at the floor below ours." Missy's mother says "Finally you're being sensible about that...girl!"

Still embracing, Karen says "Missy, you sure your mom won't come down here and catch us?" Missy says "She never walks down the stairs in high heels when she's been drinking. She'll be passed out by ten tonight. Horror Feature is playing 'Carnival of Souls' tonight...um...wanna call me and we can watch it over the phone together?"

Karen says "Sure."

#tcp #comics #my favorite thing is monsters #lavender club #this book....it's so good...#monsters are the patron saints of our blissful imperfections #to evoke #an open window

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primordialsoundmeditation · 6 months

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“When you're sad, my Little Star, go out of doors. It's always better underneath the open sky.”

― Eva Ibbotson

(Book: A Countess Below Stairs https://amzn.to/47N0RKZ)

[Art: Starry Night by Alex Ruiz]

#ad #motivation #literature #englishliterature #booklovers

English Literature

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libraryofaurelie · 9 months

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library.

aurelie archives' biggest inspiration... not really.

Every day, I pass by my old elementary school.

Compared to the rest of my life, I’d only have been there for a blink of an eye.

After an uneventful Halloween of watching little kids running around gathering candy,

I passed by that elementary school.

At the core of it was its expansive library. Walking by it now,

I notice that it’s not big at all.

It’s much smaller than the libraries

You’d see in New York and such.

But back then, it was perpetual and filled with wonder.

Sunlight streamed in through the great windows as I descended the staircase.

I wish I visited more.

I’d read every book in that library if it meant staying there longer.

I’d never realized that I’d be yearning for it,

That short lived childlike wonder.

So I would spend all my days

In that small, massive library

No Shakespeare or Jane Austen

No murder or bloodshed

I’d read books about purple mirrors leading to fairy tales

Countesses below stairs and girls who drank the moon

I thought everyone in fifth grade was childish

I thought I was mature and I was proud of that fact.

But deprived of that library,

I’d turn out to be the opposite.

Clinging onto something long gone,

Grasping for a minute in that blissful wonderland.

That library has cursed me,

For it settled my fate when I’d visited too late.

The unspent time buried in books when I was little

Ensured I’d be buried in books when I die.

-n

ironic, i can't seem to read much of anything recently.

#aurelieslibrary #aureliearchives #libraryofaurelie #writing #prose #poetry #poem #original poem #poems and quotes #poets of tumblr #words #creativewriting #female writers #writeblr #art #library #literature

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beautifulscreaminglady · 6 months

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"Rupert, none of your servants are socialists, I hope?"

"Good heavens no, I shouldn't think so. I mean, I haven't asked. Surely you don't have to be socialist to want to have a bath?"

A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson

#a countess below stairs #the secret countess #eva ibbotson #books

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jamietukpahwriting · 1 year

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“Anna,” he said, guiding her to the seat, “I shall do what is right. I shall not jilt Muriel. The mistake is my mistake and I will live by it. But if you have any mercy tell me just once that you feel as I do? That if things had been different…” He drew breath, tried again. “That you love me, Anna. Is it possible for you to tell me that?”

She was silent, and suddenly he was more frightened than he had ever been. Then she turned toward him and gave him both her hands to hold and said very quietly: “I have no right to tell you, you belong to someone else. But I will tell you. Only I will tell you in my own language so that you will not understand. Or so that you will understand completely. Listen, then, mylienki, and listen well,” said Anna—and began to speak.

It was already dusk. The ancient yews which sheltered them stood black against a sky of amethyst and fading rose; closed by the fountains splashed and from the ballroom came the sound of a mournful, syncopated melody.

And Anna spoke. In the wonderful, damnable language that separated yet joined them, with its caressing rhythm, its wildness and searing tenderness. He was never to know what she had said, but it seemed to him that the great love speeches of the world: Dido’s lament at Carthage, Juliet’s awakening passion on the balcony, Heloise’s paean to Abelard must pale before the ardor, the strange, solemn integrity of Anna’s words. And allowing himself only to fold and unfold her pliant fingers as she spoke, he saw before him her whole life: the small child, shining like a candle in the rich darkness of her father’s palace, the awakening girl, wide-eyed at the horrors of war… He saw her as a bride, faltering at the church door, dazzled by joy, and as a mother, cupping her slender votive hands round the head of her newborn child… He saw her graying and rueful at the passing of youth and steadfast in old age, her eyes, her fine bones triumphant over the complaining flesh. And he understood that she was offering him this, her life, for all eternity and understood, too, where she belonged because her sisters are everywhere in Russian literature: Natasha, who left her ballroom and shining youth to nurse her mortally wounded prince… Sonia, the street girl who followed Raskalnikov into exile in Sibera and gave that poor, tormented devil the only peace he ever knew.

“Have you understood?” she asked when she had finished.

“I have understood,” said Rupert when he could trust himself to speak.

Then he bent to kiss her once very lightly on the lips and went back to the house to find his bride.

—A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson

#writeblr #bookblr #books #book quotes #quotes #a countess below stairs #eva ibbotson #a countess below stairs by eva ibbotson #a countess below stairs quotes #jamietukpahwriting

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