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ionlyjoinedforstuffilike · 3 years

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R & R

Pairing: Billy Russo x F!Reader

Word count: 1,100

Warnings: (18+ adult blog) Sexual tension, some dub con owning to power imbalance, employer/employee dynamic, sexual harassment, verging on dark though nothing explicit here.

Summary: You finally have a moment to unwind on your hectic business trip. You are absorbed in the beautiful surroundings yet your boss seems only interested in you.

A/N: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer's Wednesday. I'm exploring writing for different fandoms and well Billy Russo has been on my mind quiet a bit. No tag list whilst it is a new character.

The water was warm and soothing as if you were swimming in a large luxurious bath. And luxurious it was - mosaic tiles, ornate arches, the pool been made to look like a Moroccan riad. The exclusive hotel would usually be beyond your reach, but this was on the company dime and you were determined to take advantage of the little downtime you'd been gifted.

You'd spent the last few weeks globetrotting with Anvil, checking on contracts and drumming up new business. It had been a whirlwind, a different country almost every day, barely aware of your location let alone time zone. Exhausted from nonstop work, jet lag, and the inability to truly rest. Not all of your accommodation had been like this - most much more rudimentary, nothing more than a tent in a war-torn land. Now on your way back home this was your final stop, where you needed to schmooze some big wigs and convince them that Anvil was the only choice.

As a personal secretary you had little to do with arrangements or scheduling for the trip - details were all very hush hush and need to know. You definitely not significant enough to be fully informed. In fact, you were surprised you were even invited along, simply there to type minutes, bring coffee. Certainly, just for show, there to hand your boss important papers when he asked, to walk a few paces behind him and generally to inflate his sense of importance. It's all about appearance, that's how to sell it - that's what Mr Russo said.

You had arrived earlier in the day, had full and exclusive access to the boutique hotel, the other guests were not due to arrive till the following evening giving you time to refresh and some much-needed R&R. Once you'd settled in and completed some essential tasks, you couldn't wait to dive into the empty pool - no one around to bother you, no one you needed to make happy.

You floated on your back gazing up beyond the skylights, vines draped from pink stuccoed walls, creating an oasis.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Your heart lurched, ungraciously slapping and spluttering as you tried to right yourself in the water.

"Sorry Mr Russo I didn't see... I er.. you said to relax..."

"I did," your employer's lip curling to a smirk. Despite the lack of work (and the heat), he was still wearing his suit - dark grey, expensive, a deep red tie, crisp white shirt. He always looked immaculate. It didn't matter how long he had travelled, hours he'd worked, he was always so well put together. Unbuttoning his jacket, he took a chair at the side of the pool, sipped clear liquid from the crystal tumbler, "Carry on. Don't mind me."

But you did, suddenly very self-conscious in his presence. His dark eyes never left you, you're trapped, unsure of what move to make - either option (continue to laze or extracting yourself from the water) would increase the scrutiny of his gaze.

Billy Russo often unnerved you, caused a cocktail of emotions to bubble within. His charm and smile disarming, very attractive but the intensity of his stare and knowledge of his capabilities made him dangerous. His shrewd business ambition wasn't off putting, it was to be expected if one were to do well in the industry, but it was his direct interactions with you. He always looked at you as if he was privy to something you were not, like he knew what was about to happen and you were firmly in the dark.

"Anything you need?"

He shook his head, "Not that I can think of. Please." Gave a little gesture to coaxed you to continue.

You obliged by completing a couple of laps of leisurely breaststroke, his eyes fixed sipping his drink. The emptiness of the room no longer soothing, instead it was a reminder of how alone you were with a very powerful man. The handful of colleagues who had accompanied you were nowhere to be seen, even if you knew where in the hotel they were what would it matter - very much Billy's men, answering only to him and his money. Out there his dominance and respect made you feel safe, protected against the ills of the world that could easily be revealed in this line of business but in here, this gorgeous but small, isolated hotel it was disconcerting. Maybe it wasn't any of that, maybe your mind twisting things, it wasn't uncommon to think about your boss beyond a professional compacity, back in New York you would often find yourself daydreaming in the office, fantasising over the handsome brunette. For no matter how imposing Billy Russo was, he was very beautiful.

Exposed and vulnerable, no longer relaxed or lost in the glamour, you decided to get out and find sanctuary in your room. It would be far more conspicuous for him to follow you there. Your towel was on the seat next to the one he had taken, leaving you no choice but to get close to him. You chose to use the steps rather than humiliate yourself with the ungainly climb out, your wet skin instantly goose fleshed, you kept head down, arm across body as you made your way towards your boss. He grabbed towel, handed it to you and though you didn't need to reach over, you did have to get very close and he took opportunity for a closer inspection. Billy’s eyes raked over your nearly naked form, the man with the perfect face, the perfect body eyeing yours. You took the fluffy towel, dabbed your face, unfolded it to wrap around you like a cape.

Billy's hand came to you, still holding his glass his finger extended, outstretched and grazed down your stomach finishing little above your bikini briefs. Billy's gaze followed the trail and lingered.

"Are you relaxed?" he smirked.

"Uh huh," you lied.

He dipped to lower his glass to the floor before sitting straighter and placing his now free hand to your hip.

"Maybe you could help me relax a little better?"

You swallowed a lump that had formed in your increasingly dry throat, "Mr Russo I..."

He laughed, "You look terrified. I just mean a drink. You'll have a drink with me, won’t you?" His charming smile and tone hinted at sincerity though his hand still at your hip, his thumb brushing back and forth, told a different tale.

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #Writer Wednesday #the punisher

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goddamnitdazai · 3 years

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Doldrums | Dazai {AU}

The Tea House is the only clean place in all of the three outlying territories; the capital and castle are overflowing with gold. There's boredom in both places and freedom in neither. Dazai finds the only way to amuse himself and you're just curious enough to agree. {fic under the cut} [ao3 link] x [patreon]

The long reign of the king ended unexpectedly. Within the first few months of the king’s death, the prodigal heir to the throne was crowned the one-hundred-and-fifteen King of Tartalya. Despite what the royal family toted to the public the new king only resembled his father in strategical demeanor. The prince’s (now king) features were prominent and sharp whereas the previous king had cheeks still plump with baby fat and a wide smile. Prince Osamu never smiled; that was the rumor anyway.

Per Tartalya tradition the new king was married within the first month of his new position. His wife, the dutchess of a rich port territory, fawned over him endlessly. A polished depiction of what Tartalya’s queen should be. Sweet, humble, and above all else, proper. Tartalya’s prior king required indisputable perfection within his court and their partners. Any imperfections were snuffed out quicker than a strong wind extinguishes a candle. The ruthless king’s only heir was no exception to these strict expectations; a rumor from the high court states the prince’s wife was picked when they were both ten years old due to her bloodline, manners, and demeanor. Rumors from the high courts were often stretched and dissected until they resembled fables, but there was truth to some extent. That is what you were taught to believe anyway. Take the words of a man with as you would an ill-cooked gift; chew with conviction then spit it out when their back is turned. You were taught this of all rumors and of all men. Of the region claimed by Tarayla’s century-old monarch, only three territories have been allowed to rule without direct sanctions from the high court or prince. They are considered the dark outliers in both qualities of life and the quality of inhabitants. These three territories provide shelter for merchants coming to port looking to gamble and drink, criminals from other territories seeking asylum, and those who are not able to afford a single room within the cheapest region of Tartayla’s kingdom. Like many of the other inhabitants born in Valnnin, your mother chose to leave you at the Tea House under the care of the Ozaki clan the day after you’d turned five. She was paid a handsome fee and signed a contract never to return to the Tea House. Supposedly, many women bear children simply to drop them at the Tea House for the reward. That rumor was not hard to believe given the state of Valnnin. Decent money offered the means to escape Valnnin to the closest region in Tartayla, Soinet, where large farms sit on rolling green hills lush with purple fruit that grows plentiful on tall trees. Anyone who made it out of Valnnin stayed out; by starvation or success. A part of you hoped your mother starved. There are worse fates in Valnnin than the Ozaki’s Tea House, though. Bred with a sharp wit and long cherry-red hair the Ozaki clan were well known all over Tartayla for their refined charisma and elegant beauty. Some of these traits were able to be passed on to the right young men and women making the courtesans of the Tea House the highest priced commodity in all of the three territories. Top earners are allowed to live in the lavish rooms on the top floor of the Tea House. The Ozaki house, a four-tier traditional home lit with gold paper lanterns and endless vines wrapped over a cobblestone bridge, sits across the Tea House. The watchful guardian for the inhabitants of the Tea House. Other than becoming part of a legacy family in Valnnin, like the Ozaki, the best living was at the top of the Tea House. Residing in the middle, for now, was comfortable enough. “___, dear you’re staring.’ Kouyou tuts, whacking your knee with her lace fan. When her fan is fully spread the gold filigree becomes a long winding dragon sifting through the clouds. A well-known symbol of the Ozaki clan. The dragon is imprinted throughout the Tea House and stamped on the inside of each girl’s wrist in gold ink. Ownership and protection, that is what they preached while poking your skin with a hot needle. “Is that potted ivy really that intriguing? It must be with how rude you’re being during our conversation.” Her long manicured nail brushes over your nose to draw your attention. Her touch instantaneously forces your shoulders to go rigid as your eyes drop to your lap. Kouyou’s sharp nails bite at your jawline. “Don’t be rude to our company tonight. Understood?” You nod, wincing a bit at her grip. Kouyou-san only showed this type of intensity with newer girls in order to hammer in the traditions of the Tea House. You, however, had been here for fifteen long years and knew every twist and turn. Your familiarity had risen to the point that you and the other girls made wages on some of the staff’s mood based on an eyebrow quirk or tense knuckle. For the most part, you won each round. Kouyou-san did insist your looks and keen eye made for a high commodity, however, the blessings around your features were not as god-like as some of the girls. You were sure they came from a line of Queens and Goddesses long before humanity stomped over the grasslands. “Kouyou-san, I don’t understand why you won’t inform me who I am waiting for.” You shift uncomfortably in your silk robe. The pillow beneath your knees had become a hardened lump of clay that was sure to leave bruises. “Using the gold room is above my station.” “It is.” Kouyou agrees without an ounce of hesitation. If you were allowed to show your true emotions a dark frown laden with knitted brows would be reflecting back at Kouyou. Tea house manners forbade any type of backtalk, verbal or otherwise, toward the ladies of the house. It had been a long time since your feet had been whipped into a bloody mess due to your expressions. “You should be thankful a man of high caliber is interested in your company.” You exhale through your nose and adjust the pillow subtly just for something to grab and ease the tension rising up your spine. The golden room was incredibly expensive and reserved for foreign clientele or a man rich enough to buy the country twice over. What you could gather from the maids who set the room was scarcely what you could consider good information but their gossiping mouths let out that the changes were due to the man’s incredibly specific taste. Instead of immaculate gaudy golden candles, simple paper lanterns were hung in shades of red that bounced off the polished wood walls. The marble table had been replaced with a smaller traditional one stacked high with poker chips and two crystal glasses. A bottle of imported whisky more expensive than the entirety of Valnnin had been staring back at you for the better part of an hour. Jewels from all over the country were heaped into woven baskets spilling out their glittering gemstones of blues, pinks, reds, and purples. One stone looked as big as your palm. Within the baskets, bracelets, and necklaces sparkle and hang over the rim like a used handkerchief tossed in the garbage. Money can’t buy taste, you think to yourself, though you wouldn’t mind pocketing some of those jewels to sell later. Abruptly the double doors open and the lanterns are snuffed out. Above your head dangles an imported odd-shaped light with arms extending outwards holding each white candle as if it were trying to scorch the walls. Kouyou stands to greet the unknown guest. Gliding across the wooden floor as a swan crosses a lake. You remain perfectly poised. Long red dress stretching out your arms to pool against your thighs. The Tea House provided silk garments for expensive clients that showed skin without being over-zealous. A strong dip in the back revealing your spine for wandering fingers. Bare shoulders for teeth to graze and tease. Your lips had been painted deep red to accentuate a pout worthy of a diamond necklace. Beyond Kouyou’s tall stance you barely make out the rough edges of a man much taller than Kouyou. “Enjoy your time, sir. Please, let me know if I can do anything to be more accommodating.” Kouyou’s bow is deep and longer than usual. The man doesn’t bow back. The guards that had accompanied him to the golden room remain on the other side of the screen door once it’s closed, another uncommon occurrence. You get to your feet and walk towards the man in the same manner Kouyou did. You’d done this a hundred times. A thousand. Something high up, but there was an odd sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. Circling the pit of your belly like a serpent through the grass. “Good evening. Who do I have the pleasure of spending time with? I’m afraid my tongue has gone numb in excitement.” The man chuckles and takes a step forward; you take in his form with a simple blink. His hair is an unruly slue of dark browns overlapping each other held back by a deep ruby pin, an odd style but the capital tended to couple foreign fashion with traditional garments. The stranger is incredibly tall, thin, wearing traditional Tartayla clothing though the crest on his lapel doesn’t ring a bell. It did not mirror the crests members of the court wore nor the men stationed beneath them. Scribes, military, footmen, all members of the palace wore crests revealing their status to the world. A palace aid, even, would be able to afford the golden room for a night. “That’s a lie.” He takes another few steps towards you. Swift. His long legs easily bring him close enough for you to smell his cologne. Expensive and foreign. “I specifically told Ozaki not to speak my name. A clever way to ask without asking.” You blink rapidly but hold your ground, folding your hands politely in front of your thighs. His stare is honey lined with liquid gold. “As expected of a woman raised in the Tea House.” “I did not want to seem ill-prepared.” You finally answer, “It is uncommon to not know the name of my companion prior to meeting.” Nicknames--you roll through the most requested, but none of them fit. He bends a bit, you expect a hand on your cheek or your chin; he grips your throat. Contracting your airways with an eerily gentle touch. “You can address me as Dazai, nothing else.” His gaze remains ice cold. Something about the name bubbles up and up until your mouth unintentionally drops open just enough to let out a silent gasp. Prince Dazai. If he would let go of your chin you could bow to him but he anchors himself to the ground. “Ah, there it is. I can let go that you did not recognize me considering we let the territories exist as an extension. Not much royalty passing through here? What a scandal~”. He releases your jaw and walks over to the table in the center of the room. Out of instinct, you follow behind with your head bowed just slightly. What would the prince be doing here? You presumed when royal blood desired the flesh of someone else other than their betrothed they found it easily among the many women of the court. “Dazai, what is it you desire tonight?” Common phrases of your trade finally return once your tongue has melted off the shock. “Business.” He states, taking a seat on the plush pillows. “Come, and don’t speak unless I ask you a question.” Dazai pats his hand on his lap as he speaks. You follow his command and walk yourself to his lap. The scent of him is overwhelmingly pleasing in comparison to the other men that have requested this position. With your back against his chest, you can feel the ruffle of fabric on your bare skin from his vest, it’s an interesting sensation. You’d never felt this type of material before. “Now,” Dazai starts voice a rich smoky tenor, “you will come with me to the capital and sit just like this. You won’t speak, you won’t move, you won’t do a thing except look as you do now.” He drags his knuckles down your spine. “All you need to know is that. What lies in this room,” he lazily gestures to the jewels in the collapsing baskets, “will be your payment.” All you can do is nod dumbly. What the hell did he want you at the capital for? To be a lap ornament? What a strange request. You want to say no, to tell him you’re much more than a porcelain doll to play with. Your wit and charm has made you the favorite of so many men of his own court. Dazai presses his nose to the curve between your throat and shoulder. “You may ask one question but make it quick, I dislike having to ride home during the day.” Dazai gave you information without giving you detail. The bare-bones without an explanation or purpose, but he was the prince. You couldn’t pester him for more like your regulars who gave vague requests--of which you denied regardless of what it was. Taking a courtesan out of the Tea House was strictly forbidden. There was no amount that would interest the Ozaki women to allow their charges to leave the premises with a client. Every person had their price, though, it should have been obvious considering your line of work. “Am I to be a lap ornament for your entertainment or to prove a point to another person?” Dazai pauses his hand on your spine. For a moment your heart freezes--until he begins to laugh. Harmonious and cheerful, it almost sounds sweet but the tingle in your spine tells you otherwise. “Both,” Dazai places his hand on your thigh giving the soft flesh a tight squeeze, “but the latter. I don’t find very much of this world entertaining in the slightest.” Abruptly his teeth graze the shell of your ear as his hand wanders beneath your silk dress finding the edge of your hipbone. “This is just to waste time.” __________________________ Jealousy was not something prince Dazai experienced. However, the man across from you seemed to be dripping green with it. You vaguely recognized him, a court-appointed general from the land across the sea. The name escaped you, anytime he appeared at the Tea House for your attention his words sank to the bottom of your consciousness. His conversation was as dull and his hands were fat with sausage-like fingers that didn’t know how to properly undo the knots that held your dress together at the side. He never had enough money other than to converse for twenty minutes and stare at your nude body. Prior to the meeting, Dazai had walked you through the main courtyard filled lined with enormous evergreen trees and rose bushes taller than your shoulders. Members of the royal court bowed and held their tongues as you passed. Your clothing served as a clear indicator of your position in the Tea House. Dazai had made it a point to dress you in the most elegant outfit the Tea House allowed. Draped in gold and black with hints of deep scarlet beneath the split up your thigh. The palace was, unsurprisingly, massive in size and stature. Getting lost for hours within its corridors and monumental rooms seemed inevitable. Had Dazai let you wander from his side. “Do not speak or move without my permission.” His only warning punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass. While the meeting went on Dazai’s hands grew increasingly curious in tandem with his ever-rising boredom. Beneath the table, his fingers roamed between your legs never touching where you wanted. They drew teasing circles just outside your lower lips. Dug crescents into the meat of your inner thighs. The longer the meeting went on the higher his hands reached. Inside the deep cut of your dress to squeeze your breast while he spoke about the outcome of a fictional war the general had threatened, apparently. Something about trade prices rising. Anything happening beyond Dazai’s grip wasn’t sticking to your psyche. By the time the meeting was finished sweat was beading down the back of your neck. Your cheeks had grown hot to the touch and your clit was aching for touch. Dazai simply stood expecting you to catch yourself. “You will not be returning to the Tea House.” It was all he said before two guards escorted you down a long corridor lined with paintings of the royal bloodline. ___________________________________ The first time he fucked you the moon had appeared in splendor. Bright and bold against dark skies empty of stares and clouds. His wife had requested him to come to bed early. Her long dark hair falling in gentle curls illuminated by the candelabra she held in her fist. You watched from the corner of his study as Dazai used that talented tongue of his to herd her back to bed. Once the door was shut and locked with a metal key Dazai bent you over his desk and fucked you deep and slow. He left bite marks on your neck and laughed when you begged so pathetically to cum around his cock. At first, there was nothing inside him. No emotion to his touch and no passion beyond the carnal desire to fuck you when he needed release. His wife would often stare at you when you passed in the corridors trying to find some sort of entertainment. You had heard nothing of your position at the palace nor had anyone questioned your existence there. Dazai demanded you stay within his sights at all times and would punish you with hard slaps to your bare ass when you wandered too far. He was the softest after he left a red handprint on your behind. He’d cradle you in his arms and call you pretty things like a lover would. It only served to deepen your confusion in both your own feelings for him and what he wanted out of your existence in his life. _______________________________________ The queen’s illness came on rapidly and without a cause. She was pale with a fever and sickly looking. Her skin stretched over the bones of her face and her eyes looked glass. Nothing the doctors were doing had made a difference. She existed on her large bed surrounded by basins of water and broth, her ladies in waiting rotated washing her and feeding her the best they could. She couldn’t move on her own accord except to speak in a low muddled voice. Dazai did not visit her often. After a week she had been moved to her own room down two corridors and across from the King’s quarters. The bed was burned and the room scrubbed clean until it glistened. Dazai didn’t ask, he never did. When your room turned up empty you knew to find him in his quarters. His long legs propped up on the ottoman beside the window, fingers over his favorite book gifted by a friend long gone from this world. His touch had become gentle in the past few weeks. You presumed, at first, it was due to his grieving and perhaps guilt for the affair. Yet he did not change the frequency in which he kissed you, fucked you, held you against his chest for a few minutes before he eventually left the bed to finish whatever work he’d thrown across the floor when he grew too aggravated or bored. Nights he wanted to fall off the edge of the world he tied your hands to the bed and played with your body until sunrise. Dazai left his mark where he pleased. Nothing felt as good as his hands, his attention, his tongue. Rarely did he ever keep himself on top. No, he expected you to ride him. Make him cum while he watched you grow addicted to the feeling of his cock inside of you. ______________________ Dazai had to produce an heir, he said, one morning while you’d been eating breakfast at his side. His wife could not fulfill that duty while sick. You pause for a moment and set your glass down. Looking at him as the sun rises behind his head. “You know I can’t have children.” Part of the process of becoming part of the Tea House; everyone went through the procedure. “What do you plan to do?” Dazai wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do?” He places his elbows on the table and folds his fingers beneath his chin. That same gaze from the day you met him in the golden room returning to douse you in something unsettling. You blink at him and lean back in your chair. “As long as the queen remains alive you are not able to marry another. You will be expected to wait to have a child with your wife when she is well again.” Dazai tilts his head. “I don’t want children.” He says nonchalantly. “Dazai..” What makes you believe I haven’t already finished what I planned to do? “Dazai.” His grin spreads wide, eyes darkening despite the light from the windows splashing halycon all over the room. “Eat up, _____. I’m growing bored.”

#dazai #dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #dazai fanfic #my writing dazai #fantasy au #dazai au #bsd fanfic #dazai is kind of a dick #what a surprise #dazai one shot

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Shall We Go Inside?

Summary- 5.3k Charles Blackwood x You. You were sent a ticket to the exclusive fund raiser at Rose Red on Halloween Night. You are to visit the character Charles Blackwood, played by your forever crush Sebastian Stan. He supposed to take you on a tour of the famous haunted manor, claiming it to be the home of his Aunt Ellen Rimbauer and Uncle Wilford Rimbauer. What a once in a life time opportunity! You might just never want to leave.

Warnings- its a ghost story, creepy descriptions, mentions of suicide, death.

A/N- written as my last submission to @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. This will be the final piece I write for Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve, and I hope you all enjoy a glimpse and some back story of Rose Red that wasn’t given in the Curtis chapters. The story is from Stephen King’s Rose Red which was a TV mini series. Excellent Halloween movie if you can find it. Its hard to locate now. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics Happy Reading and Haunting. 😈🎃🌹

Masterlist

You couldn’t get over your good fortune when you checked your mailbox that morning. Inside was an envelope, with wispy handwriting with no return address. When you opened it, there was a ticket, an exclusive ticket to the Rose Red All Hallows Eve charity function.

Your jaw dropped, cause even though you had been trying everything to secure a ticket for months, no one would sell you one. And you tried finding scalped tickets, willing to take a chance for one, only to be turned down. It was an invite-only, only the elite were getting to tour the mansion and meet some of their favorite movie actors in their darker roles.

Your hands trembled as you brought the ticket closer, reading the fine print to see which person you were getting to meet. Not that you were picky, you would take the chance to meet anyone. Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Frank Grillo, Scarlett Johnson, or Chris Hemsworth. Just being able to get into the mansion was worth all the months of begging and trying just about anything for tickets.

Your eyes roved back and forth, trying to pick up a name when you saw the fine print announcing that you would be escorted around Rose Red by Charles Blackwood from We Have Always Lived In The Castle. You gave a little squee of excitement, having really wanted to meet Sebastian Stan. What a better character on Halloween night then the devious cousin Charles. Your plans for tonight went from working on a project for your boss to getting red wine drunk and watching the movie on Netflix to get reacquainted with Charles Blackwood. Research, of course, you didn’t want to be meeting the famous “Charles” without having done your research after all. Happy in a way you haven’t been in a while, you went to pour your wine and binge, wishing you had someone to call to tell your news to. But you were a bit of a loner and didn’t tend to connect with people.

But whatever, this well this was going to be the best Halloween yet for you. No getting sloppy drunk in a bar to bring home some wanna be cowboy or that one time you brought home a clown. A disgusted shudder went through you at the memory. That wasn’t a Halloween you were particularly proud of. Not this year though, this time you were going to one of the most haunted places in New York and seeing Sebastian Stan. Wonder what it would take to bring him home? Making yourself grin like an idiot, as your major fan girl crush made your heart race. You poured almost the entire bottle of red wine in the goblet.

“How did the saying go? Treat Yo Self.” Lifting the glass you took a rather large swallow.

Charles stood at the entrance, waiting for the next patron he was to bring through the mansion. They should be arriving soon, the time on the ticket said 11 pm sharp. Waiting at the gate, his back leaned against the cold stone of the wall and his gaze fell upwards to see a bit of green creeping over the wall, sprouting thorns sharper than any dagger. Charles hummed softly with a bit of a smirk to see the creeping vine, a small bud twisted as it grew in size. The bigger it got, the more it tinted from green to blood red, and it spiraled open to a single rose. Reaching up, he pinched the stem, clipping it off and bringing it down to admire it. The perfect petals are just as soft as a woman's lips when he brushed his fingertip along one, and when a thorn bit into his palm, he hissed at the sting, that too just like a woman. Don’t respect her, and she will cut you down. Blood welled up and spilled towards the ground before he brought his palm to his mouth and sucked it clean, inspecting to make sure there wasn’t any of the thorn left in his palm. Snipping off the thorns, he let them scatter into the gravel under his feet.

Charles was fixing the rose into his shirt pocket, when you started to come out from between parked cars, your hands smoothing against your thighs with a bit of nerve and you just looked so innocently sweet. The corner of his mouth quirked up while he inspected you. She’s a perfect choice, he thought maliciously as his features shifted to warm and welcoming. “Welcome Dear to Rose Red, my family's Manor. My name is Charles Blackwood.” Plucking out that flower from his shirt pocket, he gave a slight bow and held it out for you. Your giggle went right through him, making his toes curl in his shiny black Louboutin’s all the way to the base of his neck where his expensive Tom Ford collar rubbed. You looked up at him with a touch of innocence that should make him feel bad, but it didn’t.

You dug out your ticket and showed them to Charles Blackwood, which he inspected closely and pulled out his wallet to pocket it. You bubbled with excitement and lifted the rose he had just given you to your nose, letting the tip brush against the edges of the petals. “Thank you. I shall press it to dry it when I get home Sebastian. But I have no place to put it.” You started to figure out a way to hold onto it and not get it ruined when he took it back and wedged it into the stone wall behind him.

“It will be safe here Dear, and Charles, please. I don’t know this Sebastian you call me.” He gave a wink and you nod in understanding. It was supposed to be just the characters showing you around. So it made sense that you were supposed to call him Charles, not Sebastian. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Of course, Sorry Charles.” you loved how well he fell into character, offering his arm to you that you curled your hand around his forearm, falling into step together once you two went through the iron-wrought gate.

“No harm is done, Dear. I’m very excited to show you around my Uncle and Aunts family home for the evening. It’s not often I have such a lovely woman on my arm.” He leads you up the stairs and opens the massive door to the mansion. “After You. There are a few groups inside, but we won’t be running into them.”

Your head tips back to look all around, taken in by the deep wooden double staircase sweeping up to the upper floors, gleaming marble floors and a crystal chandelier that as you and Charles walked underneath it, you couldn't help but tip your head back, mesmerized by the glinting of the crystalline shards. “One of Ellen's nicer finds. She had the chandelier shipped from France, each crystal carefully wrapped.”

“This whole place, it looks completely restored. I thought it was condemned, banned from the public?” You question as he leads you into what looks like a sitting room, another room that spoke of decadence, with plush chairs around a large fireplace that seemed to take up half the wall, large vibrant persian rugs sat atop rich wooden floors, and in the glow of the lamps light up around the room showed carvings in the wall, cherubs dancing amongst vines and roses. You shuddered a bit looking at them high above you in the molding. The innocence of them felt wrong in this place, malicious.

Charles directed you towards a small staircase that went halfway up the room, climbing while answering your question. “Ahh yes. Well it is technically. But I have been told that Rose Red might be reopening soon to the public. For tours, the occasional overnight ghost investigations.”

Once you two reached the landing, you saw the ornate dollhouse. Charles was able to turn it around on a turnstyle stand, and flicked a switch, lighting up the inside. Leaning down, you peeked inside in awe. It was a perfect replica of the house, the lower levels showed a large massive kitchen, sitting rooms, library, offices. Then up the stairs a ballroom of sorts, another library, bedrooms, and other odd rooms that seemed to serve no purpose.

“This is beautiful.” You muttered and straightened, clasping your hands behind your back to keep from picking up the matching furniture to look closer.

“My Great Aunt Ellen had this made for her daughter April, who was confined to Rose Red due to her bad health. She was a lonely child, her father sending her older brother off to boarding school. Wilford wanted little to do with his daughter. She had a deformity to her arm from birth. Withered. He would have disowned April, but Ellen wouldn't allow that. Upstairs, is a whole play room dedicated to her.” He pointed to a corner of the upstairs, which you peeked in to see a soft pink rose colored room filled with toys and dolls for a little girl.

“What was wrong with April, to cause her to have a withered arm?” you asked and Charles shrugged.

“It's said that Wilford wasn't faithful during his and Ellen's honeymoon, passed on a exotic disease to Ellen. She was ravaged in the years following their return to Rose Red. Which was also a honeymoon gift. He promised her anything she wanted. So the two years they were gone Rose Red was being built by one of the largest crew of men seen at the time. They even installed a train to bring in supplies from the harbor.”

Charles directed you down the stairs to go look out a window, and far off beyond what looked like a greenhouse was a large train, like a black ghost of the past, rusting away under the vines wrapped around the engine. Squinting you could have sworn you saw a couple of women following a lantern down the path. “Rose Red experienced the first deaths with that crew. The train was derailed, killing hundreds of men on the grounds at once.”

You shuddered while pulling away your gaze from the train. “How awful.”

“How awful indeed.” Charles nodded, and tilted his head. “Some believe that such a massive tragedy stains the land, maybe what brought the house to life. Come, some of the more interesting rooms are upstairs.”

Crossing the room for the massive grand staircase. “Do you actually believe that Charles?”

“No, no I believe something else powers this house. I have my theories.” Charles gave a secretive smile, the two of you started up the many flights of stairs. He gave a bit more history of the house, including the most recent events that officially shut the doors for good to all further investigations till now. “A team of psychics led by a college professor came in. There were four men and five women with varying abilities. One woman disappeared, one died when she refused to leave, and two men died on the property during that weekend.”

You pulled up a bit hearing this, closing your arms around yourself as if to protect you, like that could protect you. “Wait, should anyone even be here?” You said fearfully, and Charles looked back at you with a reassuring smile.

“I assure you the house is dormant. The state of New York wouldn't allow us to have a charity here unless it was perfectly safe. I myself have been here many times.” His voice was smooth and confident, letting you relax a bit. Giving a nervous chuckle, you eased back into holding onto the crook of his arm, his other hand patting yours. He dropped a gentle kiss on your cheek. “I will keep you safe, this is my family's home.”

After several flights of stairs, Charles led you into a massive hallway, doors lining each side. The symmetry while looking down the hall gave the illusion of it going on forever, you could just barely see the end of the hallway, or maybe it was getting smaller the further along it went. “This place is trippy.” You muttered to yourself but Charles happened to hear you.

“Yes, it was purposely designed by Ellen this way. She had her own way of doing things that didn't necessarily make sense to anyone else.” He studied doors as you two went along, your eyes kept roving up to see what looked like the ceiling slowly getting lower when he turned you towards a door. “Ahh, the first room on our tour of interest. As I said, Aunt Ellen, well she got creative when designing rooms.”

Opening a door, you went in and quickly paused as you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking at. Before you were upside down lights, standing upright, and covered in dust and cobwebs. What bothered you looking at them was that they should be hanging above you and that's when you tilted your head up to look above. Unlike any room you've been in before, desks were hanging above you, each one set up to have someone sitting at it as a chair was tucked in. Trays for papers, cups with pencils. It was just what you would expect to see in an office above you. Out of instinct you jumped back, half expecting it all to come crashing down, just to have yourself bmp into Charles' chest, making him chuckle as he embraced you gently. “Easy Dear, it's all safe.”

You took a few steps away from him with an apology, your head tilted back to look around. “What in the world?”

Charles, strolled along next to you, hands in his slacks, as he looked up at it all, chuckling. “Aunt Ellen's idea of a joke to her husband. He didn't seem to appreciate it as much as she did. Really it was just another room to show off to guests who came to visit.” You couldn't stop gaping at the details, wandering away from Charles who remained at the door. Even the walls had bookshelves filled with books, reading chairs above your head.

“I will be right outside, take your time.” Charles slipped out, leaving the door open while you paced over to get a better look. A lamp clicked on to your surprise right above your head, and what your eyes saw made you jump back and yelp. Sitting in the chair on the ceiling looked to be a woman in a cocktail dress, her head tilted back. Decaying grey skin peeling and black hollow sockets where eyes should be was matched with a gaping smile. “Come now dear, don't be shy. You are the newest guest right?” Her head tilted and creaked, giving you what was once probably a seductive smile, but now the lips were stretched too tight and split to show decayed teeth beyond them. You stumbled back into a chandelier that was on the floor, and fell to your backside. Looking back up, the lamp above you was back off, and the chair empty. “CHARLES!” You push off the floor and run to the door, wrenching it open to stumble back into the hallway that Charles catches you as you fall into him. “What's wrong?”

“I just saw- well I think I saw- there was a person, a woman sitting up there. But not a woman, she was rotting, old clothes.” Your words stumbled out as Charles straightened you back up.

“Sounds like you ran into one of Rose Reds resident ghosts, Deanna. A famous actress who went missing while freshening up during one of Ellen’s parties.”

You looked over your shoulder at the door and moved away from it. “Why is she here?”

Charles rubbed on your arm, to calm you a bit. “She never returned to the party that night. Local police came out and searched the entire grounds for days. But she never recovered. You're pretty shaken, do you wish to continue?”

You gave a chuckle and rubbed at your hands against your thighs to dispel the nervous energy. You should go, hell your heart was hammering so bad that you might just keel over any minute. No one was ever to see any actual ghosts on these things. Then that's when it occurred to you, side eyeing ‘Charles’. Sebastian was perfectly staying in character, that all this was. Actors, all of it. You almost laughed at yourself for getting caught up in the whole Halloween spook.

“Yes… I just. I cant believe there are actual ghosts here.” you played along with a shrug, brushing yourself off where you fell in the dusty room.

“Rose Red is full of many surprises.” Charles smiled in that charming way of his and offered his arm to yours. “Aunt Ellen, well she had a taste for the macabre. Holding frequent seances without her husband's knowledge, as he was away often. It's bound to attract some… interesting energy in a place like this.”

He seemed to be counting doors, and you were right at his side, willing your hammering heart to calm down. “You're not going to leave me alone again, right?” you worried your fingers into his sleeve, as if weaving him closer, to not let him go. Sure they were just actors playing a part, really good actors. You couldn't begin to guess how they got her to sit upside down like that on the ceiling, but there was nothing to be scared of.

“No, I'm surprised that the house is actually this active tonight. Maybe it's all the people passing through for the charity. But you're perfectly safe. I assure you.” Another door opened and you hesitated while stepping in.

The floor shimmered oddly to you at first, till you looked down and went stock still. You were standing on a mirror, the whole floor stretched out in a mirror, and all you could do was picture you stepping on it, and it shattered. Charles took several strides forward, and chuckled softly. “It's perfectly safe. This glass is made to be walked on.”

You take a few precautionary steps and chuckle. “Another one of Ellen's jokes?”

“Yes, she took great pleasure trying to come up with oddities to fill the house.”

You continue being mesmerized with the mirrored floor, watching as you walk across it. “Why? Why so many odd rooms?”

Charles hummed a bit, tipping back and forth on his heels to toes, watching as you sweep across the floor, grinning to yourself in such an innocent moment. “Well, after April disappeared, Ellen is said to have lost her mind. She claimed that Rose Red must never stop growing. It's in fact true that no one really knows how many rooms Rose Red has. At this point there are rooms like these, staircases that go to nowhere, hallways that narrow to where you have to crawl through. Doors that lead to the outside on these upper floors. It is easy to get turned around here. Rooms seemingly from nowhere appear still. They are not on any official floor plans.”

You gulp and shake your head. “It all sounds… so unreal. Rooms building themselves? Impossible.”

“One would think.” Charles chuckles. “But every time it is attempted to be documented, and then when it's double checked, nothing adds up. There’s missing rooms that seemed to have disappeared, only to have reappeared elsewhere, another staircase, the halls won't match up.”

You paused, still looking down at yourself in the mirror. “You said April disappeared?”

“Oh yes, she was playing in the main kitchen under the watch of one of the staff. The woman walked from the kitchen to collect something for just a moment. When she came back, April was gone, her beloved doll abandoned on the floor. After a search, again, the staff was brought to the police barracks. She was unable to leave after the questioning.”

“So they arrested her?” You start to feel cold, chills creeping up the back of your neck like a light touch, sweeping up your back and to the base of your hairline. You reached behind to rub at your neck uneasily.

Charles seemed to not notice your discomfort, sliding his gaze from you and around the room. “Oh no, they didn't arrest her. No, she was beaten to get a confession as to what she had done with April. Ellen swore her innocence, but Uncle Wilford… oh he paid them to get it out, by whatever means necessary. Her injuries were too severe. She ended up dying here once they finished with her and brought her back, another victim of Rose Red in a way, I suppose.”

You couldn't help the sadness that seemed to overwhelm you hearing the story.

“In fact this room also has its own tragedy. Wilford’s brother who also happened to be his business partner hung himself here. From… that light fixture actually.” Charles pointed up at it, but you were looking at its reflection, and the light fixture swayed, a rope tied around it. A heavy set man all blue colored hung at the end of the creaking rope, his feet twitching and his tongue bulging from his mouth. Your eyes shoot up to see nothing above Charles.

Charles himself gives you an odd look, and you look back in the mirror, he's still there, a swollen hand reaching out as if to grasp you.

Your own hand was shaking as you pointed down at the mirrored floor. “Right there! You don't see it Charles?!” Your finger points near his feet, in which he looks down and it all seems to disappear. At the same moment, it felt like a heavy rope slid around your neck, and tightened all in a second making you gasp. Your hands fly to your neck, trying to pry at the noose that isn't actually there. When you collapse to your knees, trying to drag in a breath, you happen to see a little girl, in various stages of decay, a withered arm clutching a doll against her chest waved at you from across the room near the door, and an older woman in the same state standing next to her with an arm around her shoulders, merely watching you struggle for air. Your vision started to go in and out, the burning in your lungs now first and foremost in your mind. Charles stepped into your view, kneeling down next to you and you focused on him.

“Hey! Hey! Y/N, what's wrong.” He yanked your hands away to check your neck, and you were suddenly able to take a gasp of air with a frightened sob, curling yourself in closer to him, and your arms going around his neck.

“Get me outta here please! I don't want to be in this house anymore.”

Charles moved to a stand, his hands grasping yours and pulled you to a stand. “Okay, we will end the tour here.” Hurrying you along, you both shoot into the hallway and turn to head back to the main stairway when at the end of the hallway, when the woman you had seen in the upside down room beckoned you two to her. “Come child, the parties this way, I just need to go freshen up, get you dressed for the party.”

You pulled up sharply in fear with a panicked scream, and Charles spun you around. “This way, there's another staircase at the end of the hall.”

Now your running with Charles to get away, every door and corner you two ran into became a blur. Once in a while a door would open, some nightmare of a person beckoning you to step in and join them, child like giggles echoes around you or hisses of your name just out of sight made you try to run faster, gasping for air as your lungs burned from running through the endless hallway. Charles was getting winded as well when he came to a staircase but that too was also blocked. This time with a wailing woman, her eyes rolled back to just the whites and clutching her purse to her chest, a dress looked like it had been shredded. Her skin was wrinkled and paper thin looking, what remained of her clothing something from a decade earlier. “I was just here to tour the house, can you show me the way out?” she screamed at you two, below her on the stairs were others, begging to be shown the way out. Now you froze, your mind in shock.

Charles yanked on your wrist to pull you away as you teetered on the edge of the stairs, continuing to another hallway.

“The servant's stairs are this way. They lead through the kitchen.” Charles rattled a door knob trying to get it to open, and you looked over his shoulder when there was a flash in your peripheral vision. The carpet in the hallway rolled as if something was racing underneath it, and of course, it was coming right for the two of you.

“Oh fuck, Charles, Hurry it up” Your hand grasps the handle to, yanking on it. “CHARLES IT'S COMING.” You scream, feeling the weight of panic crushing your chest whenever you looked up, whatever was coming for you was speeding up, flapping dust up from the carpet into the air and you screamed when it was almost on you. The door yanked open for you both to fall in, and slam it behind you, leaving you and Charles in the pitch dark.

“Oh god, fuck, get us out of here Sebastian.” dropping his characters name, you were over this fun house of hell crap they had made for the charity.

“What do you think I'm doing?!” He snapped, losing his cool control as he fisted his hand through his hair, taking deep dragging breaths. “Once you hit the kitchen, the door is to your left.” You both start racing down the stairs, trying to be as quick as possible without falling and when you reached that door, you yanked it open and sprinted into the room, expecting to see a stove, cupboards, tables, anything.

But that's not what you came into, you crashed into a whole other room. Confusion blurs your mind when you take in the attic like dusty interior. Spinning around, a couple times trying to make sense of it.

“AN ATTIC? WE WERE RUNNING DOWNSTAIRS, NOT UP!” You twist to go back out the door, but Charles slams it shut, and throws a bolt.

“Oh no Dear, were just where we need to be.” Charles smoothed his hair back, the panicked demeanor completely gone as he fixed his appearance. You backed away from him, licking your lips and panting with a wheeze.

“I d-d-d-don't understand why we are up here, how we got up here. I want to leave.” Your foot comes down as if you're about to throw a tantrum. “Now. I demand you to take me out of this, keep my money. I don't care Sebastian, I'm all done with this game.”

Charles crooks a brow, and smirks, striding in close in which you panic and back up further.

“As I told you before Sweetheart, I don't know who Sebastian is. And there is no leaving. Rose Red needs you, needs you to grow.”

“To grow? Your fucking crazy.” You start to look for another way out, and your back comes up to a large stained glass window. The famous stained glass Rose that adorned the front of the Manor.

“Yes, Ellen is still building, don't you see. She needs to feed, and as her great nephew it's my duty to keep her alive.”

He’s fucking lost it. Hollywood has snapped Sebastian's mind.

“Just let me go, I swear Seb-” His eyes snapped at you. “Charles… I won't say anything.”

“Auntie, do you want to let her go?” he asked with a cold grin. “You want to keep building Rose Red right? Keep building for April?”

Your eyes darted around trying to figure out who he was talking to. But there was seemingly no one there.

“I will donate more, give you money to keep building.” You felt around your pockets and pulled out your wallet, yanking out your billfold. “See a card.” tossing it at him in the delirious hopes that would appease him. He simply stepped over it.

“That won't work darling. Auntie Ellen, she needs other materials.” That cold touch you felt before in the mirror room, made you jolt, and you spun away from Charles to see the decaying little girl with her withered arm folded up against her chest.

“Play with me and baby?” the girl asked, her withered decayed hand shaking as she reached out to touch you.

You reared back and stumbled away to keep her from touching you, momentarily forgetting about Charles till you landed smack into his chest and a forearm locked around your neck. “Why are you scared of cousin April. She just wants to play?” He sneered into your ear, and you started clawing at his arm and trying to kick at him.

How did you get here, and maybe this was some crazy dream. Your gasping the more his arms tighten, giving one hard clawing motion on his face when you reach back and kick backwards to cause you both to tumble.

“You little bitch.” Charles twists to grab at you while you're crawling away, and you kick back one more time, catching him in the shoulder hard enough for him to let go of your foot.

“Fuck off Prick.” you scream, and yank yourself up, about to run towards the door. You're so close to going back into that hellish fun house when you are stopped right in your tracks, like hitting a wall.

The lady of the manor stood before you, long off white gown clinging to a corpse. She would have been beautiful once upon a time as your eyes roved her up and down, like all those pictures you saw when you googled Rose Red before your trip, but now she was a nightmare, you stuttering before her with a whimper. “Please... please let me go.”

“But Dear, Rose Red needs you.” Her voice had a tinkling sound to it, meant to soothe.

Her brown leathery skin that clung to a skeletal frame creaked when her bony clawed hands cupped your face in a loving gesture, and your terror filled eyes lifted to see her lip less mouth showed what appeared to be fangs. Pale dead eyes softened for a moment, until her claws sunk into your face, tearing through skin and muscle, piercing your skull and her mouth widened to a fang filled gaping rotten hole.

This is it, this is how I die. Your mind screamed in terror as she descended on you, your vision going dark, and your life just draining away. The pain fades, and your eyes roll back to see nothing. The last thing you will experience in your life, the overwhelming scent of fresh roses.

Charles wiped at his face when he came to, looking around the attic and seeing nothing more than your still body. Moving to get himself up, muttering to himself. “Fucking bitch, got my suit all dirty.” He walked past your body, and looked to see his aunt picking up a hammer, April standing next to her playing with her doll.

“I know, more souls for you to feed on Auntie.” He opened the door and made to go back down the stairs, his decaying aunt giving a slight nod in agreement.

Whistling as he safely strolled through Rose Red, he made his way out the front door, and down the walkway back towards the iron wrought gate. Once he returned, he leaned back against that stone wall, feet crossing at the angle and reaching up to pluck that red rose he had placed there earlier, twirling it back and forth.

Within ten minutes a couple young women strolled up to him, and he gave them a flirtatious smile, and held out the rose to one of them. “Ladies, welcome to Rose Red Manor, my family home and one of the most haunted sites in New York. My name is Charles Blackwood. Can I have your tickets please?”

#jshauntedhouse2020 #Rose Red's All Hollow Eve #charles blackwood #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood x you #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween #halloween 2020

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lifeofroos · 3 years

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Part 49. Lets be real, things that are free taste ever so slightly better.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico tries to find Christmas gifts people he cares about with Will. The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! And also in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, therapy etc.

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 49: Free chocolate milk

‘And then suddenly it’s Christmas.’ I looked around. New York looked like the Christmas elves had dropped a bag of joy over it.

Will looked at me. ‘Not to scare you, but the city has been looking like this since Halloween.’

‘I try to ignore that.’

Will sighed and laughed at the same time. ‘Sure. Come now, you needed to buy Christmas presents, we should get to buying them.’

‘Yes, of course... hey!’ He grabbed my arm and pulled me along, further into the heart of New York.

‘They really were just too lazy to name these streets.’

Will sighed. ‘No.’ He looked at his phone. ‘It is way easier to find out where the streets are. You just follow the number.’

‘I guess. Which street are we on now?’ I looked around, but I didn’t see a number anywhere. Will narrowed his eyes, while still looking at his phone. ‘If I am correct, we are on thirty-third.’

‘Ah.’ I took a step back when two screaming children ran past me, followed by a tired looking mother. ‘We need to go to Jackson village, too. I don’t mean Sally Jacksons’ place, but the actual, physical part of town.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Free drinks at Denny’s.’

Will grinned. ‘Those are always welcome. Also, Google Maps gave me the directions I asked for. Let’s go.’

I had to give Will some credit, he chose his boring chocolates rather quickly. Why he had to go to all the way to New York for them was beyond me, though.

Will handed me a tiny felt box. ‘Alright. We should go with the subway, then maybe we can actually reach Jackson village before Christmas. Here, eat.’ I opened the box. It had two heart-shaped chocolates in them.

‘Will, that is kinda sappy.’ I put the bonbon into my mouth. ‘And I like sappy sometimes. Alright. Can we get out of the subway a few stops earlier than necessary? I am not entirely sure what to get people, so I want to see a few shops.’

‘I mean, I was thinking of going to a dollar store to buy things for the Camp gift exchange, and we could go to an outlet if you wanted something for Reyna, Hazel or Percy…’

‘Hm. For camp a dollar store is good, and maybe I can even find some fun things for my friends as well. For Hazel I already bought a knitted raccoon hat, though. And I will not buy your present while you are standing right next to me.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Alright. Come, I see a subway station over there.’

Even though they are probably the grossest and busiest places in New York, I kind of liked the undergrounds. Kind of stupid, but well, they were under the ground.

We got out and went up to street level again. Lo and behold, there was a dollar store right across the street.

‘I always wonder how they can stuff even more garbage into stores like those then they can into IKEA,’ I thought out loud, while we crossed the street. Will shrugged.

‘Talent, I guess.’

‘Talent? Oh, what. At least I will be able to find something Percy will go absolutely insane for that costs me nothing more than a measly dollar.’

‘Last time I was in the dollar store, they had dolphin shaped candy boxes.’

‘If they have those again, I’ll take two. Otherwise Percy will complain that his dolphin-shaped candy box is lonely.’

Maybe it was all trash, but it was easy trash. Packed with presents for almost everyone we cared a little or slightly more than a little about, we got out of the dollar store.

‘So, that was quite productive,’ Will mentioned. He was carrying the plastic bag with our stuff.

‘Yes.’ I looked around, at the other stores. Somewhere, they were bound to have something.

‘What I did not say before is that I am actually looking for something for Dionysus. I do not know if he celebrates Christmas, but I do know it is his birthday.’

‘The 25th of December?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, basically, Jesus just took over his birthday?’

‘Yes. I don’t know how he feels about it.’ Maybe I’ll ask.

Will hummed. ‘I think it is pretty difficult to find something for a god, though. That being said, I do think Dionysus will be happy no matter what.’

‘Maybe...’

‘Oh, here is a thrift store!’ Will pointed . We stopped walking. ‘Do you mind if we go there for a second? I need something they might have there.’

‘Are you entirely sure what that thing is?’

‘You never do with thrift-stores.’ I sighed.

‘Yeah, true.’ I wrapped my arm around his waist while we went in.

It was a pretty big thrift store and it clearly didn’t just sell regular mortal junk. I wandered off, while Will searched through the old books.

I ended up in the jewelry section. It looked as if both an old grandma and her six year old granddaughter had just given away all of their jewelry. All I saw was ancient-looking pearl necklaces and pink fairy rings.

I looked in a few drawers of an old cupboard. It was all clearly not worth much, otherwise it would not be laying out in the open, but it sure looked shiny.

In one of the drawers, I found an earring. I could not find its better half, but it did look a lot like something Will had shown me that he wanted to buy but could not find anywhere.

I let it roll from one hand into the other. Was it dangerous to gift your boyfriend jewelry from a thrift store that radiated weird energy? Maybe. But the earring itself did not do so.

I dug slightly deeper, looking around for more stuff the people who were worth more than dollar store gifts would appreciate. Now that I took a good look at it, the jewelry cabinet was kind of a goldmine, no pun intended. I even found a small, gold necklace for Reyna (Probably fake-golden, otherwise it would not be lying around in a random cabinet-drawer, but still).

Eventually, I looked up and saw a small glass cabinet. There was a brooch on display that made me unable to stop looking at it. I did not recognise the gemstone they used, if it was even a real gemstone, but it was a deep purple. The brooch was shaped like, vines running past and over each other.

The thing cost only five dollars. It was as if the universe was pushing me to get it (But I could have imagined that).

In the background, I heard Will say something to the seller (Who did not sound entirely like human to me). Slowly, I walked past the shelves, hoping I could somehow buy what I wanted without Will noticing.

After a few seconds, I felt a tap on my shoulders. I turned around. There was a second not-entirely-human seller standing behind me.

‘You want what you are currently holding and the purple brooch without your boyfriend over there noticing , is that right?’ He asked, in a coarse voice.

‘Eh, yes,’ I whispered.

The seller grinned. ‘I get it, youngling. You saw the prices. Twenty dollars and it is all yours.’

I had no idea whether those were the actual prices, but twenty dollars was not super expensive, so I handed it to him. He unlocked the glass cabinet, got out the brooch, I put everything into the pocket of my coat and joined Will again.

The seller, who Will was just done with, looked exactly like the seller I had spoken to had. Will grabbed my hand and we walked out. I looked over my shoulder as Will opened the door. The seller winked at me.

‘Sad that you did not find anything ,’ Will said, while we made our way over to Denny’s.

‘Oh well,’ I answered, while I squeezed his hand.

‘Nico!’ Mary smiled widely when she looked at us. ‘Is that your boyfriend?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, he is adorable.’ She winked and gave us two free hot chocolates. ‘As promised.’

I was not above getting free hot chocolate, so I thanked her and we sat down one booth further from the booth I usually sat with Dionysus. The Denny’s was busier around this time.

Will looked around. ‘There is a Dionysus-vibe here.’

I nodded and took a sip. ‘Oh yes. There always is.’

Will smiled and pulled his legs onto the couch. ‘I think that was a productive day, Nico. I think I’ve got almost everything I need. ’

‘Me too.’ I grinned, which left Will eyeing me suspiciously.

A/N: Fun Fact: there are barely any subways in the Netherlands. We have busses, trains and trams (In some cities), but no subways.

It has never been academically proven that the 25th is Dionysus birthday. There is no proof whatsover. Don’t go around quoting me on that, because it is a Tumblr thing, NOT PROVEN!

Aside from maybe a little general magic, the jewelry is not cursed. Just calming you down there.

Tell me how do you all see Dionysus? Because during writing I have constantly had the young, mythological version in my head. Long black hair, purple eyes, frail, basically not what Rick Riordan described. That is why I have been calling him Dionysus and not Mr. D, because that ain’t him to me.

This isn't really a therapy chapter but shhh it shows Nico is healing.

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woollyslisterblog · 4 years

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1834 August Tuesday 5th

heaven save us from AL on a fact finding mission. she has her parasol out again and is measuring. She seems to have spent most of the day discussing land farming management with the coachman leaving AW to her cold fowl. Yes, she discusses horse poo prices.

no kiss not at all with her Ann better this morning – preparing for cousin- breakfast at 8:30 -agree about carriage 15/. (everything bonne main and all compris) for the whole of the day - off at 10:20 Anne and I (and took George) in one horse calèche George and driver sitting in the front - in 1/4 hour at and crossed the handsome suspension bridge over the Drac - finished only six years ago - the wood bad - taking it up and laying it down fresh - kept close along the track (north) till after its junction with Isère - just there two boats - three pair of oxen to each, the animals one man to each pair, hauling in the midst of the water, above their middles in the deepest part, towards Grenoble –

at 11:05 turn left and about 10 minutes at the village of Sassenage- drive up the hill towards the quarries - very steep and bad got out at 11:25 and left the carriage waiting – Ann and I walked forwards - she tired an left her at 11:52 while I went to the top of the hill or monticule a little above the quarries for the sake of the view- - Miss Walker’s bowels not yet well - walked quickish considering the steep ascent and the stony road and great heat – (thought fine air latterly on the high ground) and in 1/4 hour at 12:02 at the top of the hill - very fine panoramic view of the junction of the Drac and Isère and of the latter almost to Voreppe, and a considerable length of the former - pity the clouds hid in great measure the great height of the mountain range to the eastward - the plain or valley of Grenoble Graissivandau very rich and beautiful - enjoyed the view for five minutes then down again to Ann at 1:10 –

She with one stone for a seat and another for a table ate her cold fowl and took her malaga légèrement trempe de l’eau in 20 minutes - we were soon back where we left the carriage, went down the bad road in it, and alighted at the hotel des Cuves at Sassenage at 1:20 - the landlord went with us as guide - this little expedition took us from 1:23 to 2:28 between then we went considerably above the cuves in the wood to where our guide the proprietor is making a zigzag walk and going to erect a pavilion from a nice point of view - he had bought the property 15 days ago, 400 toises of rock and wood for 370 francs - we had a steepish ascent - along with the high wall of rock (left) very pretty valley-cleft with a pretty cascade and stream utilisé for a mill – passed an insignificant hole or recess in the rock yellow hoary compact limestone then a few yards higher up on the cuve a handsome cavern mouth with two streams meeting in and forming in it a very pretty cascade - the stream to the left on entering runs along the channel we could have gone up for a long and unknown length of way had we chose and had there not been rather too much water – (no depth, but not like getting wet shod) - the man lighted his candle, but we declined wading - another recess in the rock a little higher up - the man talked of making a pavilion here too - said he would spoil the place – advised merely a bench and rustic table - from the intended site of the pavilion above looked over a pretty green vineyard on the opposite little high plain backed wood and the out-peeping old tower part masonry part rock of the ancient Chateau de Sassenage - was straight with this little propriété, and joked to Anne about buying it –

Sassenage a very good village - the famous cheese is made at the chalets on the pastures on the rocks above - can buy here (said our Grenoble landlord last night) at ./75 what 3 francs a lb in London - off on our return from Sassenage at 5:35 - drove close under the high almost perpendicular rocks - at 3 passed by (left) very rich land vines on frames and under them fine tall hemp - 1200 toises of this land that (said our intelligent cocher, the owner of the carriage and horse - keeps 12 horses) lets for 100 francs a year - at 3:05 alight at the Barmes rock de Fontaine, a village near - the carriage met us at the other end of our walk, along the wide double avenued road close under the barmes and perpendicular wall of rock 2 or 300 foot high? A pity the trees of our avenue to near, broke the rock and spoilt the view - elms poplars and willows - one of the poplars broken off about a yard from the bottom (blown down?) quite sound - measured from the ground to where the top was cut off, at about 3 inches diameter, 28 of my parasol's long ie about 28 yards or 84 feet! Was perhaps about near 2 foot diameter at the surface of the ground –

to buy the ground (line six from the bottom of the last page) let at 100/ one must pay 2000 francs per stèré and 1 stèré (as they pronounced it) = 900 toises carrés - this rich ground produces several crops of hemp for year after year de suite, but rests (is fallow, sometimes or grows wheat) and produces three crops in a year beet and other things - the coarse reedy grass we passed sometime afterwards (the coarse product of wet uncultivated land) called la laiche or perhaps better la banche required no manure, no care, is merely and made into percés (little round stacks or piplings with poles run through the middle and sticking out the top) and sells for 80 francs the stèrè for manure for the vines and (ingrais pour les vignes) is put about the young souches or suckers in much if the weather be fine enough –

Monsieur Perrier (a cotton manufacturer and calico printer in the Chateau of Vezille - 800 people employed but - lately only a filature of cotton there) the richest propriétaire here - had from 2 or 3000 stèrés - lately dead - his son married a Madamoiselle the Lafayette petite fille to the general - the farm on which grew the coarse reedy grass noticed consists of about 2000 stérés-

back at the pont de fer suspension bridge at 3:35 - the river track and the bridge 410 feet long by 20 feet 8 inches wide - the handsome straight stone pyramidal pillars at each end and 45 feet high from the surface of the bridge and the bridge about 14 feet above the present level of the water which is now 3 feet deep in the deepest part under the bridge – (said the workmen on the bridge laying down new timbers) - some distance on the right (east) side the Drac before getting in the great high road to la Croix haute, and shockingly we were jolted - it made Ann sick and poorly -our cocher said engrais was very dear - people let the engrais of their horses per annum the farmer taking it finding and bringing the straw - the dung of horse (on these terms averages not too dear) 25/. per annum – our cocher for his 12 horses has 300/. a year - the richest part of Dauphiné therefore called the rognon de Dauphiné is about 3 leagues du pays from here,

at and about Voiron famous for its cloth from 2:52 6 francs l’anne - on getting into the route royale our cocher said it rose 6 liens feu pied i.e. 1/2 an inch per foot - called La course from Grenoble a to Claix - it is a fine double avenue chiefly of elms, large leaved maple or small leaved sycamores, poplars - since the pont de Claix straight before us from the moment of getting into the great road - the pont is about the same level as the Chateau or Bastile here - a great deal of the land this way reclaimed from the devastating Drac only 8 or 10 years ago and much reclaiming now - the water is drained off into reservoirs, and suffered to deposit it sediment (like our road sand at home) which is spread thick over, the gravelly ground that is theirs made into good land - this good road to Claix is new and is to go direct to Marseille - but will not be finished for a few years - the road by Gap is 10 postes nearer than by Valence and this new road will be 10 poste, nearer than by Gap – they are working too at the road to Bourg d’ Oisans meaning to make a good carriage road this way to Briançau- good now to Bourg d’Oisans - but not beyond there – Our driver tried it 2 1/2 months ago - had the carriage to take in pieces to pass and so much damage done would not engage to go that way again –

36,000 ârmes in Grenoble - principle trade gauterie, but not so celebrated for it as formally - Claix a good little village - new - only two houses here 10 years ago - the valley (called Les isles) beyond the bridge not in cultivation till 30 years ago - ascend the hill (would be 5 or 10 minutes walking) and at the Pont de Claix there, or down the hill a minute or two beyond it, chez Fournier, restaurat[io]n, at 4:40 – Ann so sick and tired and afraid of flies in the house would not get out of the carriage - I went to see the bridge then went back and persuaded her to go - fine bold arch, from rock to rock, - not of very large stone and built with cement mortar, so did not strike me as being Roman architecture, though they say it is - the outside line (particularly the northern) of the arch is not quite straight - as if the arch might have been built from each end and made to join in the middle –

off back again at 5:15 and alighted at home at 6:20 Hay sells at 5/+ and some sols the quintalordinaire i.e. 50 kilos (the quintal métrique = 100 kilos or (kilogrammes of which 1 equals 2 lbs) - the quintal used to be from 2/50 to 3/ or 4/. wheat should sell 6/. the bushel, to pay for the farmer it now sells for only 4/50 - so bread cheaper than hay and give the horses sold[ie]rs bread - could perhaps 1/3 or 2/3 rye with the wheat = a horse has sometimes 6 lbs a day of this - can only go in a carriage about or not quite 1/2 way up to the Chateau or Bastille - dinner 6:30 to 7:45 - dawdling with Miss W[alker] her bowels grumbling and she wanted petting - from 9:45 to 11:45 wrote out today – very fine day F69° at 11:50 PM

#gentleman jack #anne lister's diary #anne lister #ann walker

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kryetara · 4 years

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IRA J. DUNHAM HEROIN.

following on from my first post regarding ira and vices (link), the time has come for me to dive into his addiction to the class a drug heroin. clearly a difficult subject matter, so drug abuse content warnings apply going forward, including also issues of sexuality and mental health.

0 1 . BEGINNING. right from his initial formative years, it’s clear that ira is the sort of person that struggles with confidence and self-image. something that is, generally speaking, natural to his personality, but partially driven into him by a childhood that was less than exceptional ; first and foremostly, his distaste for self coming largely from a difficult relationship with an emotionally unavailable father figure. andrew duhnam is a quiet man that says very little, rarely showing emotion and finding it extremely difficult even to appease his wife and daughter, let alone a son he finds it impossible to communicate with ; his own lack of confidence as a husband and father finding it’s way to infecting ira all the same with his own manifestations of it, teaching him over time to bottle things up as oppose to letting them out, to keep a tight lid on your emotions and don’t let them spew. his mother siobhan’s firm bond with her daughter samantha, the eldest of the two and the most favourable in and outside of school, causes her unrest when attempting to figure out her son due to her need to compare them ; especially amplified by andrew’s near non-existence in the family. as ira grows and discovers in his teenage years that he has an attraction to men, he is further driven into himself like a hermit crab ---- too embarrassed even before at the prospect of being a poor son, now doubly so at the idea of him being even more a deviation to their normal. a typical middle-to-lower-class family in northern english suburbs in the 90s, this was just after the conservative government under prime minister margaret thatcher passed section 28 of the local government act ; banning local authorities from ‘promoting homosexuality’ and prohibiting the funding of educational materials and subjects that were perceived to support it ---- meaning students like ira couldn’t discuss their changing feelings and wouldn’t receive any help understanding it.

0 2 . THE NEED FOR DISTANCE. having made it to an age where he could consider leaving home for university, a family life that had now become one of almost total avoidance of each other ; andrew spent more evenings holed up in the working men’s club than he did even looking in his son’s direction ; ira felt an impending frustration to escape, and to put up walls between himself and his difficult life at home, additionally in the midst of his parents bordering on divorce. having not divulged his attraction to men to anyone beside one of his friends, of who rejected his attempt at an advance, ira decided he would disappear to a university three hours down to the south of england in the bustling expanse that is london city ------ wishing he could study history, but at the bequest of his mother ( pleased, at-least, that he was going to study ), studying law and finance. the transition from being trapped by absent authorities in his household, to being met with such consuming freedom, was overwhelming for him to say the least, and ira spent a long time hiding most often in his room in the standard student accommodation ; but as he began to make friends on his course and in his lodgings, with this came the inevitable hedonism of teenage life. exclusive to ira however was a need to match his peers and to yet go even further, perhaps driven by his feelings of frustration for being locked so tightly in his shell, labelling ira to become something of an ‘enabler’ ; constantly pushing others to keep drinking more, and, eventually, taking more, even beyond the point of it being bad for their well-being ( a total self projection --- if he saw someone drinking or taking excessive amounts of substances, he felt it was suitable for him to do it too ). ira’s relationship with drugs begins with smoking weed, but his fascination for people involved in drug dealings opened him to a very different world than what he was used to. to spite his sheltered life, and in need of something that cut out the constant feeling of inadequacy, ira adopted a ‘try anything’ motto ; that no drug could escape his use, even if it was just once. in all actuality, ira ended up doing just weed, mdma, lsd, and on various occasions cocaine. but it was a brush one night, accompanying a friend to somewhere he didn’t know for a party, that people were injecting themselves there ; and from what he could see, the results were quite enviable. this drug is heroin. the year, at this time, is 2008.

0 3 . DISGUISING REALITY. heroin, also known as smack, skag, and gear ( most common nicknames ira has used for it in the past, though not the only ones, as he liked to refer to it often as his ‘girlfriend’ ), is a drug usually in white-brown to brown powder form, that is made from morphine, and extracted from opium poppies. the unrivalled intensity of it’s effects were for ira an immediate success in his efforts to remove himself from life around him ; to cut out those feelings of self-distaste. the euphoria it presented him with was unparalleled, unmatched by any other drug, any drink, any feeling ; to not enhance reality around him or to distort it, but to simply make him uncaring of it ; it was always going to be a recipe for disaster. ira began by smoking it, inhaling the fumes when burnt on foil, but soon was introduced to injecting it, of which the hit is much faster and more intense. initially cautious and denying injecting heroin at first, but warming to the prospect over time, as friends he made that also enjoyed the drug demonstrated it’s tidal wave effects. when he took heroin, he found that his anxieties and pains in life were numbed so effectively, that by the time he came around, he’d enjoyed life far too much a few hours before, when these feelings melted into nothing. it was immediately apparent to ira that life with those thoughts cut out was a much more preferable existence. heroin’s addictive quality is also simultaneously it’s most destructive, and it is the feeling of numbness that ira craves the most deeply ; that illustrious mind wipe, that ocean of dopamine. so thus a chase is born, and ira spends the next 6 years of his life on and off this extremely dangerous drug. it’s likely also that ira becomes so quickly hooked on it as a result of his peers about him using it, and his need to blend into the background and ‘fit in’ amongst others, to be unnoticeable, also fuelled his first few uses of it, and the beginning of injecting it ; the drug however eventually demonstrating to him that his life wasn’t just bearable, but enjoyable, when using it.

0 4 . DRUGS OR ME. ira first attends a rehabilitation clinic, of which was nhs funded, at age 24 in 2010, not too long after leaving university. this is persuaded of him by his older sister, of who discovered ira’s intravenous drug use after coming to visit him one day out the blue. he remains in rehab for the space of a month, able to kick the withdrawal cycle, but this pattern doesn’t stick, and ira would then revisit rehab innumerable times from this point forward. this being the first year that ira’s family find out about his drug abuse, sam and his mother siobhan attempt to try and help him as best they can, offering him a place in their homes, but most instances such as this are declined, likely as a result of ira’s shame for his actions, and for lying about passing his second two years in university. his father andrew still remains passive and largely uncontactable, again, much to siobhan’s downfall, and this burden then appears to lie most heavily with sam ; perhaps maternally, wishing in some way to protect her younger brother. ira, however, still struggling to admit that he feels unconnected to his family and feels as though he doesn’t belong with them, allows this to underline his actions, and more often than not ignores them, leaves texts unanswered, dodges phonecalls, unwilling to try. this allows the void between them to grow, and in the space where his absence lives, the anxiety and pain felt by his mother and sister spreads like a vine ; frustration on all ends ; ira, for his guilt and his displacement, sam for her inability to help and for ira’s self-imposed distance, and siobhan for her helplessness and pain for her son’s addiction. as time progresses and ira found his supply of money wearing thin, he would often pick up communications again, largely with his mother ; asking for some pennies here, some pounds there ; always with different stories. siobhan, though aware of where her money was likely going, found it impossible to say no to him, happy enough he was speaking to her and that she could hear his voice, and sent it over without question ; though the moment sam found out, this, to the largest extent, stopped. relations began to deteriorate even further as ira and sam would often have heated arguments over the phone, and it was clear that life was soon to reach a crescendo. this came in the form of ira visiting for a weekend, and stealing things of value from sam’s home, with the intent to sell them or trade them for drugs. once this act was discovered, and sam accused him, she cut him out of her life completely, and firmly advised siobhan to do the same. this happens in 2013. as it stands ira has still not spoken to sam since this point, of which up to now has been 7 years.

0 5 . THE RAT RACE. addiction, no matter what to, is difficult to kick. in the present day ira has been clean and sober for an impressive 5 years ; but the thoughts are often still the same, the reflexes are still the same, that gut feeling, that need, still lingering on. ( he’s simply gotten better at ignoring it. ) in ira’s house on a pine bookshelf by his tv is a small wooden box full of the chips he managed to keep from rehab, small tokens that he found himself unable to dispose of, a trophy of sorts. but just the same, tucked under his bed, is an old star wars lunchbox that he picked up at a charity shop, of which contains a spoon, cotton, a lighter, foil, an old leather belt, and a tin case with various needles. sometimes taken out, sometimes simply looked at, unopened ---- sometimes taken apart with waning intent, then put together and away again. ira manages to keep a lid on himself for enough time to last him until the deal is made with kel mehmeti, and now suddenly entrenched in a world themed by the very thing he has spent such time trying to avoid ; there may well be a 6th chapter to this meta soon.

#this took literally days #i am .. proud #i literally expect not a single soul to look at this bc i apparently love vomiting paragraphs out of nowhere #but im STILL PROUD #. 𝐢𝐜 . ❛ metas & headcanons. ❜#tw drugs #tw drug abuse #tw addiction #ii. characterization. / metas.

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griimreaping · 4 years

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@utternocries - one word fic prompts

Lower ( part 1 )

The tolling of the church bells was genuinely ominous. An impending sense of dread dominating the grey morning fog, which blanketed Novigrad. Those silvery sounding clangs ringing out through the mist to call forward its faithful masses from the gloom. Pulling the traveling cloak tighter around her shoulders, if only to stave off the nerves rather than the general chill that harkened the coming of autumn, Jean flinches when Geralt's shoulder lightly brushes hers. Nerves had been high in the woman's chest as they neared the city, the last time she'd stepped foot in those walls being the night before her family died. Now with the cold solid stone rising around them, Jean couldn't help be reminded of a tomb.

This must have shown on her face from the flicker of a frown that graced the Witcher's mouth. He'd been summoned on a contract put forth by one of the wealthy governors that had come to occupy a mansion in the northern district of Novigrad. Since he'd taken up residence there, it's caused the man nothing but grief. Deaths in the family, along with some more insidious spectral activity that made even the most persistent of tenants shy away from even renting the place. Which only added to the misfortunes befalling an otherwise uninteresting and mundane man of wealth. With such wealth, he enlisted Geralt's help, and by some lucky stroke, Jean as well. Who had insisted she come along since the governor had mentioned something about black vines overtaking most of the house.

"What plant has black vines?" Had been the first question Geralt had asked when done skimming the frantic letter that had been sent forward to Downwarren. The Witcher had to stop spending so much time in her little hut, now even people outside of the village were beginning to notice. Plucking the letter from his hands and chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read, Jean's mind crunched over all the various odd species that thrived in this environment.

"Devil's bramble is the first that comes to mind, but it's more of a shrub than vines. Could also be just a mistaken color?" Placing the letter back down and folding arms across her chest, the Druid casts an uneasy glance out of the dewy glass in her kitchen to the misty bog. She hadn't been to Novigrad in nearly fifteen years. The harsh smell of a house fire coming back in a wave so sudden it took a considerable amount of will not to choke on the air stuck in her lungs. Hugging herself tighter, Jean forces the words out of her lips in an attempt to cast away unwanted memories. To drown the screams.

"You'll probably need an expert on plants and herbs," a glance is cut at the Witcher to gauge how the words are received. "I won't ask for any of your payment, I'm just genuinely curious now and could do with a bit of adventure away from the bog and corpses." Geralt grumbled a few words about how things were dangerous, and Jean's rebuttal of how she could handle a sword along with magic seemed to lessen the worries only marginally. Or at least enough that he put them to bed. Now walking among the cramped sewage reek which clung to the southern district like a diseased lover, Jean begins to miss her bog. Roaches hoof beats echo in the dull mist as they weave through cobblestone streets going north. A beggar approaches before seeing the Witcher and thinking better of his choices, slinking back into a darkened patch of fog that yawned into an alleyway. The struggling morning sun had yet to touch these streets, sleepy shop windows gazing out onto quiet abandoned boulevards. A liminal moment in time before the meager warmth of an autumn day shone through the slate clouds above.

That invisible line between districts isn't so invisible in Novigrad. A stark change between cramped tenant buildings that had begun to go crooked like a thieves smile, to the gaudy colors in the markets almost hurt the Druid's eyes. Even at such an early hour, a merchant in puffy gold pants tried valiantly to hawk some bruised peaches to her, claiming they were the city's sweetest. More polite "no thank yous" than Jean figured were necessary, and he'd given up his venture only to flag down another tired traveler bustling away. They did not make it out of the markets without expending a small amount of coin, which Jean put out to receive a small set of glass bottles in return, which now clinked softly in her bag. Geralt eyed the merchant selling her the glass wear with a critical eye, waiting to see if he was going to swindle her or not. This intense cat-eyed stare is more than likely what got jean a reduced price just to make them go away.

"I think I have a new idea about what the vines are." The Druid pipped up as another jarring change in scenery happened from the markets to the northern district. Now polished iron gates bore their teeth at them from the mouths of massive walkways up to ostentatious villas. No longer is the lower districts' corpse stench lingering; instead, a delicate waft of mountain roses and lemon trees walk in step with the Witcher and the Druid. Jean felt dirty here like she shouldn't be permitted to touch anything for fear of sullying it beyond rescue.

"There's a rare type of flower which only grows on the site of immeasurable evil. I've only ever read about it, though; the drawing seemed close enough to the description he gave." Rummaging around in the folds of her cloak, Jean produces a very worn and overly bookmarked tome. Roughly the size of her palm, the books brown and yellow pages had the look of something that had been steeped in bog water and perhaps blood at one point. Leafing through to the proper page, the pages crackle with age under the woman's touch.

"Here, Dagon's breath. Black vines with leaves about the size of a supper plate, able to produce flowers but only on full moons. Dried flowers turned into a powder can produce some of the most potent madness-inducing potions known to the world. Since this is such a rare specimen, there are speculations that even the scent of the flower can cause severe hallucinations." Reading this passage aloud, the Druid could feel a cold hand drag down her spine. If this was what they were dealing with, then whatever cast the curse even to make it grow had to be obscenely powerful.

The Dagon is old magic. Older than what most perceived as life it's self, coming from the chaos before time. From all that Jean could find in the books in her home, it was a god born of entropy and discord but required strict worshippers to ensure that it would have a proper host to inhabit when the void took back over. Mages and fanatics alike that dabbled in the Old Gods were ones that put their minds in the hands of babbling madness willingly, hoping to be rewarded with some form of forbidden insight to the world. The thought made the Druid shudder. She'd tasted the sharp edges of madness once before, those dark whispers in a language lost still snaked into the blackest of nightmares that she couldn't wake herself from. They'd always promised such alluringly unfathomable things to her.

It's lost in these troubling murky visions that cause the woman to bump into Geralt when he stops at one of the ornate gates. Placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her, the Witcher's disquiet shows fully. He'd had many half-hearted qualms about bringing her along on this, and now that she was becoming so distracted, it only furthered his worry about her being a liability.

"You should go wait back at the inn. Now that I have a better idea of what this plant is, it shouldn't be a problem." I don't want you to get hurt; goes unvoiced, but his cat-like eyes' narrowing conveys the sentiment. Jean's face flares pink around the ears at her embarrassment, but she doesn't allow the dialogue of the inn to go any further. Making a vague gesture at the nameplate affixed to the gate, the woman lets out an irritated breath, the frustrations more directed at herself.

"We're already here; it wouldn't make sense just to send me away now. Plus, I don't remember which roads we took to get here through the fog. Come on, Geralt, just let me continue, and I'll keep my head on straight, okay? No more distractions." A half-hearted smile that she hopes will cement the words into place only has Geralt absently rolling his eyes. Producing the key that had been sent along with the letter they'd received, the gate is unlocked. A horse post just inside the iron portal is where they part with Roach, who busies themselves with munching on the fresh hay that had been left out.

Path flanked on either side by overgrown flower beds containing every flavor of poisonous plant known to the region. Even a few that look notably exotic had a tight knot of anxiety forming in the woman's chest. A breeze sighing up the path causes the nefarious blooms and grasses to seethe in a green ocean around them, their ghostly voices curling in Jean's ears. Reaching out to place a holding hand on Geralt's arm, Jean freezes in her tracks when the house looms into view from the dismal fog, which had turned into a light misting rain.

When the governor had stated the vines were growing along the house, she had expected a few sparse fingers grasping greedily at the spaces between the bricks. Instead, what they were greeted with was a building that seemed to move with a life of its own. Thick coal-black leaves nearly the size of Geralt's head shiver in the breeze giving a sinister shivering quality to the house from foundation to rain gutters. Interspersed with wine-red flowers sporting elegantly curved petals and long golden yellow pistils that reminded Jean of a great blood-sucking insect searching for its next meal.

Then the whispers.

"Geralt, we shouldn't go in there." We're the words Jean heard herself saying, startled by how her voice sounded so terrified. While the Druid can listen to most of the passive voices of the plant life around her, these held that same nebulous darkness that only spoke to her in deepest nightmares. They carried the same voice as the madness. Their saccharine-sweet smell only there to lure you in closer with beckoning leaves and candy red petals.

Before responding to such a statement, a loud voice calls to them excitedly from the house. A gaunt man in a midnight black traveling cloak hurries toward them, waving his arms and wearing an almost crazed smile that shows far too much of his gums, which are far too pale to be healthy.

"Witcher! And... company. So good of you to finally arrive, and when I fear I am at my wits end!" The man nearly shouts at them, reaching out to vigorously shake Geralt's then Jean's hand with both of his clammy skeletal paws clasped around theirs. When his fingers leave the Witcher's, he notices fresh raw wounds on the man's forearms peeking out from his dark robes' confines. They looked almost like symbols carved into his skin, but such a quick glance hadn't been enough time. Deep-set eyes that once would have struck a woman dead with a glance now flit in their sockets nervously, the striking ocean blue ringed with bloodshot scleras and the deep shadows of exhaustion. The man looked to be hand in hand with death, yet the cold grip that clutches Jean's own spoke of fierce hidden strength that still dwelled like an angry spirit inside him.

"You must come inside! He has told me so much about you. I am looking forward to speaking with you before we get to such dark and dismal affairs. Come come." Voice and grip offering no rebuttal, the governor loops his arm with Jean's, nearly dragging the woman toward the house of dark whispers. Following close behind, Geralt notices the low humming of his medallion as they approach the building. There was nothing good contained within, the corrupted magic oozing out and tainting the air around them.

#‘ﾟanswered » JEAN MASTERS — ❝ here the light only dies to remember ! ❝#‘ﾟships » UTTERNOCRIES — ❝ two sides of a scarred coin ! ❝#verse﹕WITCHER ► the dead they speak so ﾟ* LOUD #utternocries #alright so look this is part one #part two will get posted tomorrow because I’m trying to edit it to give it an actual endinstead of rambling for like 10000 words

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writers-whim · 4 years

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Descended from the Stars (III)

II III IV

Holding back tears I say goodbye to Gran and watch as she starts her hours drive back to the secluded house I've called home for the past six years. I'm left standing in front of the Academy's main entrance, hearing and seeing a few other students saying their own goodbyes as I pass them, entering the Academy.

The campus is enormous. It could be considered its own town or city with its size. Tall white painted concrete walls separate the campus and the outside world, even though it's in the middle of nowhere. The tall iron gate I'd just come through seems to be the only way in or out.

Closing my eyes I take a deep breathe, gathering the courage to continue walking further into the Academy. Snapping them open I begin my journey through the secluded paradise.

Patches of grass are spread evenly throughout the large space, wooden benches and small trees adding life to the place along with the groups occupying them. A tall fountain sits in the centre of the large open area, roads branching in every direction from it.

Nocte Academy is more than I expected it to be. I'd expected a large modern building at the front where classes would be held, dorms in separate buildings out the back along with sports fields and other classroom blocks. High school has influenced me too much.

I follow the main road to the fountain before turning in every direction, taking in as much as possible. Most of the roads that branched off from the fountain lead to rows and rows of two-story houses in colors ranging from red to white to black and every other color on the spectrum. Cars are parked outside many of them leading to the conclusion that they're occupied by the second year and above students.

One or two of the roads lead to rows of shops selling clothes, school supplies, food, etc. I can faintly make out the green of a football field or park further down another. A large build labeled 'Performing Arts' takes up one side of another road, the other being occupies by an art gallery and more stores.

The main road continues straight ahead to the main campus building, the entrance to the main hall already crowded with first years. As I continue forwards the positioning of the footpath allowed me to get a better view of what I have already seen and observed more of the campus.

More houses can be seen further out in what seems to be a more secluded area, only these were much larger two-story homes with only a few three-story homes at the furthest point of the road. A large forested area appears on the horizon next to the larger homes, blocking the view of anything beyond.

Pulling my luggage up the stairs leading to the entrance, I huff when I get to the top, blowing a stray piece of hair away from my eyes. Walking inside I look around, people chat with each other, standing diligent by their luggage as more people enter and try to find space in the mass of people in the hall.

A raised stage is at the far end of the hall, a large bulletin board beside it. A boy walks up to the microphone on the stage, clearing his throat before waiting for silence. Everyone quickly complied.

He gives a toothy grin as he begins speaking. "Welcome first years to Nocte Academy! I'm glad you made it on time even though there will always be the stragglers. I am Kim WeiJin and I am the student representative for the fourth years of the academy. I want to wish you all good luck with your studies here and for your future after Nocte."

His deep voice resonates through the large hall, his slight Chinese accent is amplified by the mic. "As you know Nocte is known as one of the most prestigious schools in the world..." He goes on to explain rules and some of the buildings of the academy.

"Now, if you were paying attention as you came through the main road you would have noticed the houses on the Southside of the property. Those are your dorms. At Nocte we don't want you to dread coming here because it is a school, we want you to feel at home and prepare you for life outside these four walls if you don't already have your own house." A buzz arose from the crowd as the purpose of the houses is revealed.

"There will be no bills and no mortgage but you will have to cook and clean the house for yourself. For the first term, there will scheduled checks and throughout the rest of the year these checks will be random meaning you have to constantly manage your home," the buzz grows louder as Weijin revealed more and more.

"Once you are given your dorm number that is it for the next four years, incoming first-years will take residence in the lots left by the graduated fourth years so the living area of each year group will rotate each year. North is fourth years, East Third, South Second and First West. This is not only the direction of the residential areas but also the name of the street you will need to take to get there." Heads tilt as some fail to understand the new information given by the Fourth year.

"The list of where you will be staying is posted on the board next to the stage, the number corresponds to the house you will live in. Move-in, settle down and explore before classes start on Monday. Your time table will be in your letterbox."

People begin pushing and shoving to get to the board and get out as soon as possible with the air becoming quickly humid and stuffy with so many people. I press myself against the wall as thoughts run rampant through my mind. What sort of school is this? Am I not supposed to be here? Was I not supposed to be given a letter?

WeiJin speaks again, yelling into the mic to be heard over the noise that has arisen from the crowd. "Can Avery Lee please meet me outside for a moment." This only amplifies my fears and made my heart beats faster as worry sets in. Those who heard the announcement begin chatting even louder while those who didn't remain oblivious. I glance at WeiJin again only to see him already gone from his place on the stage. I hurriedly grab my bags and speed walk outside.

The light of WeiJin’s glasses almost blinds me as I advance down the stairs, the reflected light beam hitting me straight in the eye. He looks up as he hears the tapping of my luggage on the steps, looking me up and down as I made my way to him.

"Your an odd case Avery." He looks me straight in the eyes, not at all disturbed by their unnaturally bright green hue.

"Huh? What does that mean?" He laughs, loud and boisterous, attracting attention from those around us.

"Walk with me and I'll tell you as we head to your dorm." He turns on his heal practically skipping in the other direction before pausing and waving a hand at my still frozen form. I scramble to catch up with him as he goes back to his skipping.

"The Principal wanted me to explain something to you. You're a special case and I was surprised to hear that you had been admitted in for several reasons-"

"What reasons?" I interrupt his little rant, eager for answers.

"We'll get to that later. All the other students know what this school is really about and you are the odd one out in that category which is why I'm here to explain and answer any questions you may have."

We pause as we reach the end of the road. In front of us stands one of the large three-story houses I'd seen earlier, the biggest of them all. Large windows and vines loomed over us as we made our way through the front door. Making our way to what I assume is the living room we sit on the leather couches sitting in front of the unlit fireplace.

"Where are we?" WeiJin grins again as I express my cluelessness.

"This is your dorm, well house, mansion thing." I'm pretty sure my eyes bulge out of my head.

"My house? This?" He nods in response. "Wow."

"Yip, however as cool as this place is I still need to explain everything to you so get comfy."

I lean back into the black leather and grip a red fluffy pillow close to my chest as WeiJin completely distorts my view of reality.

"Wait, what?" I ask not understanding anything WeiJin's just told me. WeiJin sighs in either annoyance or frustration. It's more than likely a combination of both.

"We are all summoners." He repeats his words as if he talking to a toddler, staring unblinkingly into my eyes to get his point across.

"Summoners? Like demons and stuff?" I scratch my head in confusion.

"Kind of. Summoner is a general term used to describe those who have the ability to summon entities from a realm outside our own. All those who can be summoned are summoned through a card connected to their spiritual being allowing their master to summon them at will once they have bonded." WeiJin explains.

So many questions I want to be answered float to the forefront of my mind however I'll let him finish before overwhelming him with them all. I nod, biting my lip slightly as a signal for him to continue.

"Everyone here at the academy was brought up with the knowledge of all this so you are a special case that is the first of its kind here, this means because this is all new to you I will need to explain everything which will take a while." Taking his cue I resume I leaned back position, hugging a cushion from beside me close to my chest.

"Warriors, as a general term, are beings from the stars. Each Warrior can harness an ability from one of the five specialties of Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Spirit. Summoners, in turn, use their powers by ordering their bonded Warriors to do as they wish. Warriors are connected to cards by their spiritual essence meaning each card will summon only the warrior it is connected to. You get cards through trials while others are passed through the generations and others are claimed by the victor of a death battle." He pauses waiting for me to absorb the new information.

"Warriors have four ranks Zodiac, Disciples, Descendants, and Desaliars. There are only twelve Zodiac. The Zodiac is the most powerful Warriors and has powers that fall outside or on the extremely more powerful end of one or more of the five specialties. They are one of a kind and are the only one of their constellation. They are believed to be only a myth as they have not been seen by anyone in millennia.

Disciples are those from the Desaliar rank, which I will cover in a moment, who have chosen to follow the Zodiac as gods, worshiping them and in turn, gain similar but extremely weaker abilities and forfeit their own." He pauses again waiting until I nod to continue.

"Descendants are those who are apart of a constellation and other than slightly stronger abilities nothing is different about them. A single constellation is shared by several Desaliars. Desaliars are the weakest of the Warriors and are the most common among Summoners. They are not connected to a constellation and are weaker than the other three rankings. The Summoners are ranked instars one to five by their ability to control their cards and battle with them as well as their own capabilities."

He pauses again only this time I relent to asking a question as my restraint weakens. "What happens to the Warriors in their cards?"

He cocks his head at the odd question but answers anyway. "We don't know really. Because they are connected to stars and constellations, we suspect that their spirit returns to their connected star and waits to be called again. Maybe they live in the cards, maybe they are trapped in nothingness, who knows. " He shrugs in nonchalance as if he'd never even thought about it.

"What does this have to do with me?" I tighten my hold on the cushion as WeiJin smiles.

"Avery, this school is for Summoners to learn how to be Summoners and control their Warriors, giving them the chance to gain new ones at the same time through trials set up by the Council."

"That can't be true. I'm not a Summoner. I didn't know anything about this before you started talking." I begin to panic, unwilling to accept this new aspect of the world.

"Avery, I know you don't believe me but let me prove to you then you can bombard me with as many questions as you want, I know you have been holding them back."

I watch as he reaches into a brown pouch at his side, pulling out a silvery grey card with lilac spirals dancing across its surface. Holding it flat in his hand his brow creases lightly as a small flash of light appears next to him, fading to reveal a boy with black hair with white tips, dressed in grey and black with lilac accessories such as his belt and shoelaces.

"You called me Master?" Despite is slight smile his voice is monotone and blank of any emotions, as are his eyes, I note as I look closer.

"See Avery, this is all real." WeiJin leans forward as he places the card back in his pouch, the Warrior standing beside him not moving an inch.

"The fuck is this?! He wasn't there before! What was with that light? What the fuck is going on?" I leap, rapid-fire, into my questions taking full advantage of his invitation.

"This is Shin he is apart of the Spirit specialty and possesses the power of Hypnosis. That light occurs whenever a Warrior is summoned and it takes a lot of training to control its intensity." I stay frozen, almost matching the state of the warrior before me.

"You okay Avery?" No, I'm not okay. My whole world, the last nineteen years of my life flipped on its head. Destroyed. Gone. Unbelievable.

"This...is all real?" It sounds more like a question as the statement escapes from my parted lips.

"Yes." Damn his calm and collected self. I sigh heavily, recovering from my almost mental breakdown. "This is going to take some getting used to but eventually you'll get used to it." Another encouraging smile is sent my way by the Chinese charmer himself.

"Do you have any other questions?" What don't I want to question is a more accurate question. "How do Summoners and their Warriors usually interact, I mean I need to know if I want to fit in."

"Summoners order their Warriors and Warriors follow. If they disobey or ignore an order they are punished in whatever way their Master sees fit even if it means destruction, which is only achieved through fire by the way. Summoners can do as they wish to the Warriors they have bonded with but if they discipline or do anything to other Warriors, outside of battle, that their Master doesn't like, the Summoner will be punished before the Council. Some get their cards striped, others are whipped." He says it so casually I get goose bumps even imagining having to discipline or punish a Warrior outside of battle.

"Other than that, Warriors generally follow their Summoners command, in order for them to get stronger, their Summoner has to get better at wielding them and giving orders, however, most don't try to help their Summoners improve, settling with just taking orders. Although there are some who do try to help, they are usually shot down before any actual improvements." WeiJin comments, smirking as he looks towards Shin.

"Relax, for now, look around your new place and try to read up as much as you can in the library I was told was upstairs on our world. Take it easy, you might even find a card hidden in this place, who knows." The light shines again as WeiJin sends his Warrior back to his card, standing as he does so. He pats my shoulder as he walks past me towards the door.

"Hang on, you haven't told me how to claim or summon a Warrior." WeiJin spins a look of horror on his face as he misses out likely the most important part of being a Summoner.

"Right. To bond with a card, you must place a drop of your blood on the face of the card and a Warrior will appear. Once bonded you name them and they are yours to do as you wish. From then on to summon them you can either call to them mentally or verbally by saying something like 'Jeff of Cygnus I summon you' or something like that or you can kiss their card."

"This is sounding more and more like Pokémon." I deadpan taking notice of the fact that he said I would name my Warriors, depersonalizing them even further. I'm not liking the norm of this society so far.

WeiJin chuckles as he turns and begins making his way out again calling back before he left the house completely. "Basically. Good luck Avery." Then I was alone.

Staying curled up on the couch I contemplate moving and only do so once I realize that my luggage is still sitting at the foot of the staircase by the entrance.

Climbing the stairs I drag my suitcase behind me, my smaller duffle bag riding on top of it as the larger is slung over my shoulder. The staircase itself is grand with dark railing and red steps. Cream carpet covers each step and the hallway it leads into on the second floor.

Stopping to explore I leave my luggage at the base of the second set of stairs I open the first door of the hallway revealing a linen closet. I seal the door and push on to the next door. This one opens into a room filled to the brim with books. The library.

The next few doors reveal what seems to be small guest rooms, each with closet and bathroom, more closets and the main floor bathroom.

Picking up my luggage again I proceed up to the third and final floor of the house. This time instead of leading to another hallway, it spans into an open circular room with one hallway splitting off from it.

The room itself is furnished by three leather couches, a TV, a piano in a corner, small bookcases and photo frames filling the blank spaces on the walls.

Turning I begin down the hallway, opening every door I reach only to quickly realize they're all bedrooms, larger than those downstairs and decorated as if they were on a home and garden magazine cover.

Each has its theme of one or more colors like green, blue, red and brown. Each, like those downstairs, has a closet and bathroom. None of them take my eye enough to call my own.

Moving my way back into the main room I spot a pair of double doors made of the same dark oak as the rest of the house, sitting directly opposite the hallway explaining why I hadn't seen them when I first came up.

Opening them all air is pushed from my lungs as I gape in amazement. The room has the same cream carpet as the rest of the house but the walls are a vibrant purple, matching the rug and some of the smaller pillows on the bed.

Light blue curtains, bedspread, and pillows complement the ceiling that is painted to look like the sky. Small holes indicate to me that once night fell and the room turned dark, the ceiling would go from day to night, the small holes glowing like stars.

White sliding doors reveal a large closet that would fit all my clothing and still have room left over. Another door next to it spans into my own bathroom, an oak vanity, three white walls with a dark tile feature wall, a large bath, shower and toilet in pure white. This alone was heaven.

A set of white doors heads out on to a balcony that overlooks the back yard, forest, pool and enabled me to see a large chunk of the campus. I can't help but wonder why I, the clueless newbie have been given the largest and most private house on campus.

I leave my bags in my room and make my way back down to the bottom floor, going back to opening every door I notice. There are the living room and the ash grey and white kitchen across from it. A large dining room that could seat at least twelve opened on from the kitchen.

Another bathroom similar to my own is tucked next to a small laundry that was hidden away near the back door which leads out to the open backyard where a set of outdoor furniture sits on a paved area facing out towards the forest, while the pool rests opposite from it.

Returning to my room I arrange all my belongings where they should be, then take down some of the empty photo frames to put pictures in them at some point. A few of my trinkets are placed on the mantel of the fireplace in the living room while others end up perched in the bookcases or on shelves within one of the three floors.

I don't touch any bedroom except my own, they're fine as they are.

Three hours later and everything is where it should be, neatly organized and clean. My mind is still reeling from everything WeiJin told and showed me, still not able to process it all. Hoping sleep would help I flop onto my bed, curl up and close my eyes, blocking out the world around me as I fade from consciousness.

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spaceiplier · 5 years

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Birthday Boy

(Thank you for 1000 followers! For me this au just started out as something cool and interesting. It got me excited about writing stories, and now I’m helping work on this amazing thing with some amazing people. Preesh you all, thank you so much, and enjoy the story!)

“You want to go where?” Mark asked. He staggering a bit as Amy added another piece of metal to the steadily growing pile in his arms.

“Dyrehage!” Ethan said, showing Mark the pamphlet he had picked up. “It’s the galaxies largest zoo!”

The crew was scattered around the small market, picking up supplies and knickknacks. The dogs sat patiently at the door, their leashes attached to the picket out front. Tyler and Kathryn stood at the opposite side of the shop, bickering over prices with the shopkeeper. Bing was chatting up a storm with the shop’s robot, the two swapping stories that were getting increasingly more and more ridiculous. Amy had spotted a pile of what most would consider junk, and was piling pieces into Mark’s arms to take back. She had that gleam in her eye that said she had ideas.

Those ideas usually ended up decorating their living quarters.

Ethan had spotted a stack of fliers by the door. One had caught his eye: Come See the Galaxies Largest Zoo! The inside was filled with pictures of diverse and amazing creatures. Several tag lines proclaimed its high recovery rate of endangered animals, and recovery of hurt creatures.

Ethan snatched it up. He had to see this place.

“Dyrehage?” Mark repeated. “That’s over by the Dyr System, right? That’s four days of travel out of our way. We have a schedule to keep to, Ethan.”

“But we have an opening!” Ethan tapped his head. “My birthday is in a few days. Remember? I’m turning six! This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Why do you want to go—” He was cut off as Amy added one more piece. The top trembled… and with a crash the whole thing fell around Mark.

“Oh fuck!” Amy yelped. “Mark, are you okay?”

A hand appeared from under the pile, thumbs up.

“Hey Mark,” Ethan leaned over the pile, grinning. “If I let you out, can we go to the zoo?”

“I was going to say yes anyways, you conniving idiot,” Mark grumbled from the pile. “Now help me out.”

Ethan and Amy dug him out, the three of them gathering all of Amy’s pieces. Kathryn and Tyler appeared, carrying the rest of their supplies. Bing grabbed the dog’s leashes, and they all headed back to the Barrel.

The android couldn’t stop smiling. They were going to the zoo!

“Welcome to Dyrehage!” The robot standing at the entrance greeted them. They looked like a typical Snill, with wide white eyes and long gangly limbs, but their wires and joints were exposed, showing that they were robotic. “Please enjoy yourselves!”

“Oh, I will,” Ethan said, leading the group inside.

It was beautiful inside. The entrance opened up on several grassy fields, separated by natural cliffs. The ceiling stretched up so far that they could barely see it. Light came from everywhere, no light source in sight. A few birds flew about freely. Paths twisted along the ridges of the cliffs, letting the patrons view the animals below.

Along the walls next to the entrance were several shops, selling stuffed plushies and other merchandise. A few robots were waving at patrons walking by, either offering them directions or attempting to sell them something. Tyler – ever the responsible one – had bought a map and was looking it over.

“This place is huge,” He said. “Says here it would take sixteen måneder to get through this whole thing which is…” He calculated in his head. “Three months.”

“Three months!” Mark exclaimed in shock.

“We only have time to see a few exhibits,” Tyler continued, ignoring Mark. “We have a meeting on Snike later tonight”

“Let’s get going,” Amy pointed towards the opposite end of the plains. I think there is a transport over there.”

Ethan was practically bouncing. This place was amazing! The wide-open room looked almost natural, instead of being constructed by the Snill. A few of the before mentioned aliens were out in the fields, caring for the deer-like creatures.

From what Ethan knew, the Snill were a species that devoted their lives to helping and caring. They were incredibly empathic, along with having a strong sense of selflessness. Along with running this zoo – meant to care and breed endangered creatures – they also ran the largest hospital and housed several refugee camps for aliens attempting to escape bad situations.

The Dyrehage had been running for almost a millennium now. Creatures that hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years on their home planets thrived in this zoo. Animals from planets that were destroyed – like Earth – lived here. It was amazing how they managed to care for so many animals.

Ethan glanced back at Mark and Amy. Neither of them had been to Earth, he knew that. It wasn’t like either of them wanted to go. Earth was garbage. Completely ruined by greedy people running the planet dry of all of its resources and natural beauty. Only Earth Elitists lived there now, and most humans out in space viewed them with disgust.

Still, Ethan could see how excited they were to see Earth animals. He didn’t think that either of them had ever seen a real Earth animal before.

The walk to the end of the fields took forever, but every sight along the way was amazing. Once they reached the end, another robot greeted them.

“Hello!” They said. “Where would you like to go?”

“Uh, what?” Mark asked.

“Beyond this point is the tubes!” The robot said. “To ensure that our visitors reach their destination, we have provided suitable transportation so that you may arrive at the various sights without spending to much trouble walking from exhibit to exhibit. May I know where you would like to see next?”

They all looked at each other.

“Uh, how about the Stort Vann exhibit?” Mark asked, randomly reading a location off their map.

“An excellent choice!” The robot grinned. Their teeth were exactly like Snill teeth; blunt and huge. “And would you like fast travel or regular?”

“Fast travel?” Amy asked, but the robot took that as her decision.

“Excellent! Right this way!”

The group was ushered onto a roller-coaster looking contraption that sat in a tube. Ethan hopped into his seat next to Kathryn.

“Please keep your limbs, and/or other prehensile attachments inside the cart. Enjoy your day!”

The tube closed with a hiss and the coaster started moving forwards slowly.

“This isn’t so bad,” Tyler said.

Then the cart shot forwards. Screams filled the tube as the coaster twisted and fell, everything outside of the clear tube blurring together. As they adjusted to the speed, some of the screams turned to laugher. Ethan was laughing and grinning, twisting around in his seat to see Tyler grabbing the bar in front of him with a death grip.

“Having fun?” He screamed.

Tyler shook his head. The bar crunched slightly under his hands.

The cart slowly pulled into another station. Another robot let them out, smiling at them and wishing them a good day. Tyler shook his head at Amy.

“Never pick fast travel again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark laughed. “That was great.” They walked into the next room and Mark suddenly stopped laughing.

They were in the center of an ocean.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Mark said.

“Welcome to Stort Vann! Please enter the bubble!” Another robot ushered them into a clear sphere lined with seats. Ethan instantly ran to the opposite end, staring with wonder at the ocean out there. The water was slightly obscured, but he could still see some fish nearby.

Mark grabbed Amy and made them sit together. She smiled and rolled her eyes, but sat with him. Tyler and Kathryn joined Ethan, ooing and awing at all the sights. As soon as they were all in the bubble, it closed off and began moving.

Swaying through the water, they slowly grew closer to the fish that – Ethan was quickly realizing – wasn’t close by. They were just gigantic. Fish, larger than the Barrel, lazily swam past them. Hums echoed through the water, shaking their bubble.

“They’re singing,” Kathryn said in awe.

Fish, the size of Ethan’s hand, enveloped the bubble in a swarm. Mark shrieked as the bubble was jostled. The fish quickly passed by, and soon they were out in open water again. A few other fish passed them, but soon they were at the next docking port.

The robot let them out, directing them to the travel tube. They talked Tyler into fast travel again, and they were off. Zooming to their next destination. They pulled into the next station. The entrance was covered in vines and leaves. As they pushed through, the group gasped.

It was a jungle. Covered in colorful flowers, and trees that they couldn’t see the top of, the sound of distant water running and birds chirping filled the air. A few Snill moved through the trees, waving when they saw the guests. Water dripped from everything, the air insanely humid.

“Please take these,” The robot at the entrance handed them each a rain-jacket.

Ethan pulled on the bright yellow jacket and started down the path, Kathryn right behind him. She started pointing out several birds and small animals that bounded around the in the brush that were from her home planet. A creature that looked like a rabbit, but with wings landed near the path. It stared up at Ethan with wide, dark eyes.

“Aww,” He said, crouching down and extending his hand to pet it. As soon as his hand crossed the edge of the path it ran against an invisible force field.

“There’s a barrier to protect the animals,” Tyler said, reading off their map. “This is still a zoo, after all.”

“Fine,” Ethan grumbled.

Mark and Tyler started narrating a monkey with four arms as it swung around the barrier, watching the walk. Kathryn and Amy cooed over the rabbit/bird creatures. Ethan was still a little bummed out that he couldn’t pet them, but hey: the monkeys were funny.

Once they reached the end of the path, the robot approached Ethan.

“Hello!” They greeted him. “We noticed that you seemed to want to touch the animals.”

“Sorry!” Ethan backtracked. “I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to.”

“We have a petting zoo if you would like to pet the animals!” They continued on as if they hadn’t heard him. “Please, this way!”

They didn’t even have to take the tube. It was the next room over. The place was separated with fences with Snill everywhere, showing the visitor the creatures. A few of the animals roamed free, like a cat/peacock hybrid looking creature that sat on the fence next to Ethan. It meowed at him, letting Ethan rub behind its ears.

“Would you like to feed the animals?”

Ethan turned to see a Snill carrying a fuzzy little creature that squeaked. He nodded, and the Snill smiled. God, their teeth were huge. They lead him to another section of the room where a bunch of small children were gathered around a six-legged creature with huge curled horns and long, curved fangs. Each of the children approached the animal, offering it a piece of meat that it snatched up.

“Here,” The Snill gave Ethan a piece of meat. “The Kjøttgutt is gentle. Go on.”

He approached it, hesitantly handing over the meat. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the Snill that it was gentle… it was just those teeth were big and sharp. It turned to him, slotted eyes narrowing in on him. Ethan offered the food. It sniffed his hand, and then gingerly lifted the meat from his hand and swallowed it whole.

“Holy fuck,” Ethan muttered.

Several of the parents standing with their children shot him a dirty look.

He turned around to see the rest of his friends scattered around the petting zoo. Amy was feeding pellets to a bunch of rabbit/birds, while Kathryn took pictures. Tyler and Mark were covered in fluffy dog looking creatures whose paws were the size of Mark’s head. Ethan ran over to join the guys. He was instantly tackled by a giant dog who started purring into his chest.

Best day ever.

They spent a while longer petting the animals. Eventually the others with actual stomachs started to get hungry. A quick trip through the tubes lead them to a cafeteria area where many themed restaurants were sitting in a semi-circle around a large fountain. The crew all decided on one where feline animals roamed around. They lounged on little platforms set up for them, and you could play with them if they came up to you.

“Where to next?” Ethan asked, watching his friends eat.

Mark checked his watch, “We need to get back to the Barrel soon. Despite how fun this is, we do have to make it to Snike within their sun cycle. We probably have time to see one more exhibit.”

“Then the Earth animals!” Ethan decided. “We need to see them!”

Tyler checked the map. “If we take the tube towards Jord then we should make it in time.”

They finished eating and took the tube to Jord. Tyler was finally starting to loosen up, but there were still dents in the coaster when they stepped off. Amy and Mark stared with wide eyes around the exhibit.

“Hello!” The robot greeted them. “I see that two of you are human. Well…” They looked closer at Mark. “Mostly human.”

Mark glared at the robot.

“We have recreated this area to look like Earth would have during it’s prime,” The robot handed Amy and Mark pamphlets. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask. We are proud to say that we have many animals from Earth that are extinct on their home world. Feel free to look around.”

There were so many different animals here. Giant creatures, like elephants, grazed in their fields, or tiny creatures like mice ran through tunnels and on wheels. Mark and Amy went to a holo-screen that talked about how the Snill were sorry that many races of animals from Earth were decimated before they could rescue them. Kathryn grabbed Ethan’s arm, a sparkle in her eye.

“I think I know of an animal you’re going to love.”

She led him towards a center attraction. It was a forested area with several little huts inside. As they drew closer, several little animals popped their heads out. They looked like pandas, but with hands and large spotted eyes. Ethan’s face broke out into a grin as they all tumbled out.

“These are raccoons,” Kathryn said. “They were one of the first species on Earth to be rescued, since the Snill loved their tiny hands and mischievous personalities.”

“I love them,” Ethan pressed up against the barrier. “Oh my god, that one is scratching his butt.”

The raccoon in question lifted his head at Ethan’s statement, continuing to scratch his very round butt.

“Would you like to hold one?” A Snill appeared next to Ethan.

“Yes!” Ethan eagerly agreed. The Snill smiled and stepped inside the exhibit. The raccoons crowded around the alien, chattering and holding their hands up like children wanting to be picked up. The Snill selected a rather round raccoon and brought them back out.

“This is Winston,” The Snill gently handed the raccoon over to Ethan. “He is a friendly little guy.”

“Hi Winston,” Ethan couldn’t stop smiling. The raccoon took Ethan’s face in his hands, looking it all over like he was trying to figure out how he worked.

“Here,” The Snill handed Ethan some jello. “It is his favorite snack.”

Ethan handed it over to the raccoon. Winston took it, stuffing it into his mouth and then patting Ethan’s cheek in thanks.

“Ethan!” Kathryn said. “Look this way.” He did, grinning as Kathryn snapped a picture.

They spent the rest of their time wandering around the exhibits, but Ethan – with the permission and continued observation of the Snill – wandered around with Winston. The fat raccoon loved being held, or sometimes he sat on Ethan’ shoulder as they looked at the other animals. The Snill continued to feed Ethan’s facts about raccoons, which he stored away.

“Raccoons communicate with each other using over two hundred different sounds and twelve to fifteen different calls.” The Snill smiled at them. “That chittering purring noise he is making? That means that Winston feels comfortable around you.”

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Ethan said, scratching behind Winston’s ear. The raccoon increased the noises, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the attention.

But as with all things, the day had to end. The Snill offered Amy and Mark several tokens from Earth, but they both refused. Earth wasn’t their home. The others started to leave and Ethan said goodbye to Winston. The raccoon patted his cheek in farewell, and the crew went back to the Barrel.

“Did you have a good day?” Amy asked Ethan, who was looking at the picture of him and Winston.

“It was perfect,” Ethan answered.

#official story #crankgameplays #markiplier #amy nelson #tyler scheid #kathryn knutsen #birthday boy #thanks for 1000 followers y'all #admin eli #raccoons

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awakeshedreams · 6 years

Text

Promise Me This

Prompt: "fighting against all odds, I know we'll be alright this time"

Summary: Being inlove with the crown Prince wasn't supposed to make your life easier, however when he is just as inlove with you things can get even harder. Although you both wish to live happy with each other, some things are just not meant to be, promises and all. This is a story of a future King of a nation and his undying love for the Queen of his heart.

Pairing: Crown Prince! Jimin X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst. Royal!AU, Medieval!AU.

Wordcount: 3.9K

Warning: Oral (Female receiving), kind of public sex. Shsjsjs😳

A/N: um yeah this is a new story of mine. Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors. Hoping that you guys enjoy it enough for part 2? Let me know please so haha anyways have a nice day 💜💜

You groan as you stretch your neck and massage it, an empty basket that had contained dirty laundry prior perched on your hip.

Saying you were tired would be an understatement, everyone was. Every worker in the palace has been working for hours and hours these past week preparing for the welcoming of Walcott Kingdom Royal Family who were a close ally to the much larger Royal Park's.

Not only were your tired beyond words, you were also crestfallen. There was talks of marriage between the eldest son, the future king and Walcott's princess. And any person would be joyful regarding the union that would bring together two nations but you, as much as you’ve tried to, you have failed.

Park Jimin, the future King. He was loved by many, as a king, as a family member, as a person, as a man. But for you, he was your other half and you were his.

It was odd. Not even how the both of you came from two completely different worlds. But how you met too.

Growing up, Jimin spent all his days copped up in the castle, especially during daytime. He was thought to believe that he could die and that his hair would turn black if he walked in the sun although he would later learn that it was a simple lie and tactic to keep the boy sitting the castle walls during the time of war but then he met you.

This was when your mother was still alive and you were sent to the castle gardens to pick some rare herbs to help treat the many wounded.

You were running a little late because you were in a daze, you loved gardens so you couldn’t help but do more than just dutifully pick herbs and leave so quick. You admired the endless floras, you had never been in any of the palace gardens and who knows when you would have the chance to witness such beauty again, so you seized the opportunity to take your time.

Jimin had stumbled across you in there and you were terrified when you turned to face the direction of where the sound of twigs cracking under the pressure of his feet came from.

He had reassures you that he was just a guard. He wore a hood and in the moonlit night, you couldn't make out his face although the peeking shimmering luminous locks that told you perhaps he was not just a guard. He seemed too unique, the aura he exuded light and strong, humble and authoritative at the same time . Still he managed to follow you to the site of the tents with the injured soldiers and residents like a little lost puppy, trailing you from behind. Every time you glanced over your shoulder he would stop abruptly as if caught, twinkly wide eyes looking back at you from under the hood. It was comical and you enjoyed doing it, just to catch him off guard. You were beginning to think he was reacting that way on purpose. There’s no way someone would react as flustered as the first time after over 10 times of sneaky turns. You would later learn that he did in fact pretend to be surprised, he only wanted to listen to the little laughter you would let out as you would shake your head and resume your walk.

He was petrified, angry and sad as he looked at the people with clenched fist and you were confused but you didn’t pay much mind to it then. No-one would like to see people in pain and suffering. He came everyday for 2 weeks and helped as much as he could before he disappeared. You were sad and after anticipating his presence for a while, you told your heart to be still and forget about him.

Until one day he came not a commoner but as a prince in armour into the tents, seeking for only you to treat his injuries. To say you were shocked was an understatement, but still you patched him with your mouth sewed shut as he observed you closely.

You don’t remember much because your feelings were all over the place that night, except that that was the night of your first kiss with him or any man and that that marked the first night of your blossomed love.

You still remember your first secret rendezvous with him. You were terrified and you almost couldn't sleep at that inn that night but with his arms around you, all your worries ceases to exist.

But it’s at moments like this you realise that you are deluded, there's no way someone like you could actually end up with someone like him. You were after all a mere peasant and he was now a crown Prince for goodness sake, not just a Prince. He was 100 steps away from You before but now? Maybe about 300? 1000? You knew the endings of your type of forbidden love stories all too well, and none of them were favourable. One of the queens had all her husbands concubines executed the morning after she married Jimin's ancestors. But still you stayed with him.

Because you believed that Jimin was different. Jimin loved you, and he told you that often. He showed it to you as well. He was a nice person, the way his eyes would glimmer and his cheeks would expand as he talked about a new kingdom under his rule. A kingdom where no-one would have to be ashamed by their upbringing, a kingdom where everyone is equal and no-one had to suffer because of where they came from. A kingdom Jimin wanted to create with you.

You're brought back into the cruel reality when you are grabbed by the arm and pulled into a dark alley.

You’re about to scream and attempt to strike the offender you couldn't see well in the dark in what you assumed would be the face but they grab your wrist.

“Hey, Relax,” he chuckles as he muses you aggressiveness and your eyes go wide as you frantically look around.

“Your Majesty what do you-" you begin to whisper shout but he places a finger over your lips to hush you and you stand down.

“I wanted to see you.” He smiles as he cups your cheek and grazes the heating skin.

“You saw me yesterday, Your majesty.” You furrow your brows recalling having had a small walk with him in the town down below , particularly the rather scandalous kiss he had stolen which had earned him a snack on the chest to which he simply chuckles at while you tried to hide your embarrassed face, afraid to look around and see if anyone had seen however Jimin could be an ass, finding it convenient to intertwine your hands. He was on a mission by his sick fathers order and you had seen him around, sending each other shy glances as you pretend to be interested in the fruits the seller was trying to sell to you and Jimin subconsciously ignores one if the knights explaining something to him.

He had also seen you the day before, right after the announcement of the incoming guests was announced. He had reassured you not to worry and to not listen to what anyone was saying regarding the supposed marriage arrangements between him and the princess as he held your bare body against his in his silk sheets. You had smiled at him, taking in his sweet comforting words. Though your heart still had doubts and worries, so you had held onto him tighter than ever as you fell asleep over his beating heart.

Jimin sighs as he backs away, taking your hand in his before he starts walking and you panic.

“W-where are we going?” you stutter as Jimin leads you down the moon lit empty hallway without a word. You knew this route to be a restricted route and although Jimin has shown you many secret passage ways and what not in the castle when you two made your secret rendezvous, you’ve never once used this way.

“Somewhere.” He grins cheekily as he glances at you over his shoulder and you sigh as you roll your eyes to the heavens and follow him mindlessly.

You observe the back of his head, the way his silver locks glimmer and twinkle under the moon light always amazed you, it was so beautiful. Like his eyes that changed colours often. They were usually a light ashy grey but they could turn pitch black when he was angry or aroused.

You are too busy admiring him to realize you have reached your destination.

“Here,” Jimin chirps as he stops in front of a semi in door garden.

Your jaw drops as your eyes scan through the beauty ahead.

Jimin grins proudly as he places a hand on the small of your back and guides you further into the garden. He knew you would like it.

How could you not? It was everything you loved in this world, all types of flowers were sprawled across the grassy floor and on the concrete fences up to the slightly hazy dome glass high ceiling, and grassy floor, and through that you could see the bright moon perfectly pouring down all it’s light into the otherwise dark room and bringing life to the flowers and plants as they danced with the crisp clean wind. The stars never seemed so bright against the deep night sky.

“Jimin this is beautiful,” you breathe out as you marvel around you once more and Jimin wraps his hand around your waist and pulls you into his side.

“You like it?” he asks and although he already knows the answer, it makes his heart full to see you nod enthusiastically as you eyes glimmer and reflect the stars as you turn to look him in the eye.

“There's a fountain there,” he motions over your shoulder and you quickly turn, running towards the vine decorated fountain you didn’t notice before and leaning over it to look into its clear water.

You see your reflection that glimmers against it’s self, especially because of the coins that littered the floor of it.

You were curious, so you squint as you try to make out the different currencies you recognised to be from many different nations and some you’ve never seen.

You gasp as your hand slips and you almost fall in but Jimin is quick to catch you, firm hand holding your waist and stopping your from dipping in head first into the pool of rusty iron, gold and copper coins.

“Be careful,” Jimin chuckles once he pulls you into his chest, his breathe tickling your ear and you immediately flush, feeling embarrassed and flustered.

“Sorry, I just got so excited.” You croak out and Jimin smiles, hand rubbing up and down your arm to comfort you and melt into his touch.

“It’s okay. I know you would be.” He reassures and you giggle.

“Y/N, do you still have the coin I gave you before ?” Jimin asks and you nod. You always kept it with you. It was something special to you, and you knew it was special for Jimin too. You remember Jimin telling you that it was his mother’s and she didn’t make a wish with it in the Fairies Fountain before she died and gave it to him. Every royal family was entrusted with one. She told she had everything she wished for and so she gave it to him to give it to someone important to him and he had given it to you.

“This fountain, is the fairies fountain. My mother told me about it when I was a child though she never told me the exact location. But I finally found it and I had to show it to you.” He explains and you nod.

“Every wish you make here will come true if you throw this blessed coin in here and make a heartfelt wish. It’s a dangerous thing so the location was kept secret. There are people with evil hearts in this world.” Jimin says and you can tell he’s getting emotional because his hold on your arm tightens.

“Jimin,” you coo as you softly place your hand over his to calm him down.

“Let's make a wish.” He blurts out and you furrow your brows first, but you nod.

You reach for the coin that was always perched in between your breasts as a necklace and flash it at him with a grin, making Jimin chuckle as he reaches for his around his neck for his chain and gets his too.

“You first.” He motions towards the fountain as he steps back a little and gives you space.

You gulp as your mind begins racing, while you fiddle with the coin in your hand. What could you wish for ? Wealth, health, eternal youth, not having to move? You look at Jimin over your shoulder and you lock eyes, he give a you a soft smile which you return before you look back into the water.

You knew what to wish for.

You say your wish in you heart and toss it in before making for way Jimin with a smile as he comes to stand next to you.

Jimin tosses his coin in in less than 30 seconds and you look at him surprised.

“I already knew what I wanted to wish for.” He smirks and you chuckle as you shake your head and sit down at the edge of fountain.

“Remember, you can’t tell anyone your wish, at least until it comes to reality. Or else it will never come through.” He warns softly as he joins you and takes your hand in your lap in his.

You nod and Jimin smiles, abruptly placing a quick peck on your lips.

You stay there stunned, lips slightly tingly as you cheeks get heated.

“I've been wanting to that for so long. I missed you so bad Y/N,” he confesses, voice suddenly a whole baritone lower as your faces are merely a centimetre part, lips brushing as his breathe tickled your face.

“Is that all you’ve been wanting? A quick peck?” you respond with a challenging raised brow while you look into his dark eyes and the corner of Jimin's lips twitches as he places his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“I’ve been wanting to taste you Y/N, every part of you. I’ve been wanting to touch you, hear you scream my name as I pound into your tight little cunt while you beg me for more.” He breathes, beginning to trail kisses down your neck up to the swell of your breasts that were enhanced by your tight bodice and you shudder under the change in his tone, suddenly so deep and raspy.

“Jimin,” you moan as your hands weave into his silver locks, knees wobbling as his fingers trail down your body and creep into your dress his light touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin the higher he goes.

“What do you want beloved?” He asks as he smirk against you collarbone and begins suckling on your sweet soft and you gasp as his hands rest on your inner thigh, so close to your pulsing core.

“Touch me, please,” you breathe out Jimin pulls away with a serious but blank look that has you pressing you thighs together but Jimin's firm grip on your flesh restricts you as he puts on a scowl and you writhe under his stern eyes.

“Lay down.” He firmly orders and you immediately oblige, leaning back onto the cool concrete and staring at the blinking stars past the open ceiling above.

Jimin slowly raises your dress higher and higher up your thighs and soon enough you flinch as you feel the cold air hit your centre when he slides down your underwear.

You don’t hear any sound of movement from Jimin so you furrow your eyebrows and try to meet down at him but just as soon as you try to, he runs his tongue up your slick slits to collect you juices before he sucks your swollen clit and you arch your back as you buck your hips into his face but Jimin looks up at my with dark stern eyes as he pulls away and holds you down firmly by the hip.

“Please,” you beg and Jimin stares at you for a while before dipping back into your dripping core and sucking up all your juices with a lewd squelching sound and your cheeks flush, thinking about the plants and stars and moon who are the witness to the lewd act by two forbidden lovers. You think about how his ancestors spirits are watching with disapproval and you gasp as he lunges his tongue into you, thumb working to massage your clit roughly, coaxing you to the edge of your sanity.

“Jimin oh my god,” you moan as you hands come down to merge with his locks and you push him further into you as you roll your head back in pleasure.

“Jimin, I'm close,” you pant and as soon as he hears that he pulls away and you whimper.

Jimin hovers above you, connecting your lips into a heated wet kiss and you feel light headed as extreme heat rises to your head at the feeling of tasting your self on him.

Jimin hooks a hand under you thigh and motions you to wrap your thighs around his waist.

You gasp as he lines himself at your entrance say your entrance, his leaking too rubbing against you throbbing cunt.

“Are you ready?” He breathes out as he looks into your eyes for permission and you nod, wrapping your hands around his neck.

Jimin kisses the corner of your eyes before he thrusts into you and you clench around him.

“Fuck Y/N,” he hisses in pleasure as he pulls back before ramming into again.

He continues thrusting into with one hand around your waist to keep you from falling into the water.

“J-jimin, i-" you gasp at every sharp snaps of his hips, angled so well for his tip to bump into your itch that's dying to be brushed by him one more time until you finally come, head rolling back in pleasure as you vision goes white and you go limp under Jimin.

“Y/N, I’m close.” Jimin grunts as you still clench around him while you buck your hips up against him and he rams into you a few more times before he releases into you, warm milky seeds painting your walls as you milk him out completely.

He slumps into your neck as he breathes in short pants, similar to you.

“Y/N,” he suddenly gets up as he looks down at you with wide eyes and you furrow your brows.

“What’s the matter Jimin?” you asks as you smooth down his hair.

“Y/N, I came in you. You know what that means...” he trails off as he carefully watches your expression contort into that of confusion into a small smile. He furrows his brows at you, puzzled.

“I won't get pregnant Jimin, not now at least. I'm on this medicine the court herbalist helped me get.” You chuckle as you cup his cheek and lean up to peck his lips.

Jimin evidently relaxes as he shuts his eyes and sighs in relief.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to carry my children or anything, I just don’t want you to be scared and overwhelmed because of the timing of it happens.” He explains as kisses forehead and pulls you closer into.

“I understand.” You smile into the crook of neck as you look at the stars, your vision as your lids slowly close and you unknowingly fall asleep.

“But promise me this, if anything happens. If you do get pregnant, promise me that you’ll tell me and we'll go through it all together. I’ll take care of you and the little one, I promise.” He says lowly into it neck and you nod languidly.

Jimin pulls away after a while, getting up and fixing his clothes and yours before he carries you into his room.

He sets you on his bed, turning on a candle because he knows you tend to get frightened when you wake up in a dark room in between your sleep.

Jimin sits next to you on the bed, small smile forming on the curve of his lips as he brushes a piece of hair off your face.

His eyes trail down to your lightly tainted chest, his doing, heaving up and down. He narrows his eyes at the glimmering empty chain trapped in between your breast.

He reaches out to gently to pull it out and tracing it with his thumb.

He gets up and heads to his vanity as a thought pops into his mind , one of the drawers he pulls out a blue velvet case with silver flower decorations and flowers that mimicked stars.

He opens it and takes out the two diamond encrusted silver rings in it, putting one is his own chain before he heads to you and slips the other pair into yours. When he was younger his mother told him that the diamonds on the rings were actually frozen stars, Venus and Jupiter.

“I can't leave this empty can I? There should still be a sign of our promise to each other,” he smiles as he takes your hand in his and places an gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Just then there is a knock on the door and Jimin sighs.

“Come in,” he commands and two guards walk in, bowing before standing up straight.

Jimin quirks a threatening brow when their wide eyes land on your sleeping figure in their kings bed with, a scandalous site.

“Why have you come to bother me at this time of night?” Jimin lowly scold and the guards gulp.

“I-its the king. He wishes for your presence at his death bed as he reads out his final will.” The timid guard stutters and Jimin freezes.

“What do you mean?” Jimin croaks out in disbelief, voice cracking slightly as he feels a lump in his throat.

“The King, is dying.” They say apologetically in unison and Jimin feels his knee give out and his vision blur.

“Take me to him,” Jimin simply lowly says as he tries to suppress his emotions, trying to keep his stinging eyes open.

The guards nod as they lead him to the King's chamber and Jimin looks over his shoulder one last time at you before walking out of his room.

Keke 😳 tell me how you liked it and if you want a part 2 ! I don't want to shove it down your throats when no-one is interested:") anyways Thanks for reading ~ 💜

#bangtan #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts smut #bts au #bts scenario #bts x reader #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut #jimin au #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #bts royal au #jimin royal au

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morningsmead-blog · 5 years

Text

Who is that Girl I See?

Date: January 24, 2019 Location: Ashbourne Word Count: 1650 Triggers: Blood Summary: Allison goes shopping and brings home an unexpected guest

Dust particles hung in the air, twinkling like glitter bits in the sun. It was quiet, the air in the shop stale and as her fingers skimmed the shelves, they came away grey. The weather was abnormally warm for this time of year and Allison was taking full advantage of the bright sun and clear skies. Wearing her usual boots and jeans, she had forgone her heavy winter coat of late and had instead donned a mustard yellow sweater, sleeves pushed up around her elbows.

She absently wandered the shop, every so often picking up an object that caught her eye. There seemed to be many dolls, some normal, some wearing expressions of pure horror, as if they’d been frozen that way. By far the worst were the dolls that were disfigured, faces half melted or eyes coloured in black. They gave Allison the creeps and she avoided making eye contact with them as she turned down the next aisle.

The shelves here were filled with little knickknacks; sewing kits that were missing needles, a mug that was overflowing with buttons, old sports awards with scratched out names. It felt like she had wandered into a pocket dimension, a place where all lost things went. Examining a faded mug, Allison chuckled. It was fitting that she had ended up in this aisle, standing amongst the rest of the misplaced items.

There wasn’t much in the shop that had caught her interest and she replaced the mug before moving quickly down the aisle. Maybe I’ll go grab a bite to eat at the Common Ground, she thought, her hand still trailing along the worn shelves. Just as she turned the corner, her fingers caught the edge of a heavy object and it shifted, falling to the ground with a loud clatter. “Oh shit,” she muttered, turning back to find an ornate mirror laying on the ground.

It was oval in shape, with a beautiful gold filigree border around the glass. Picking it up, she ran her fingers gently over the sculpted border, her mouth dropping open in shock as she realised there were carvings in the frame. Foxes leapt through the forest floor, long fluttering ribbons wrapped around their necks. There were ravens and crows near the top, their eyes closed. It was beautiful. An intense need to have it in her home filled the earth fae and she clutched it tightly to her chest, heedless of the fact that it was leaving a grey film on her sweater.

Hurrying up to the counter, Allison reluctantly presented it to the cashier. He was young, maybe twenty and looked bored out of him mind. “We don’t do consignment here. If you want to get rid of that, you’re better off taking it to the junkyard.” It was clear that this was a common problem as his eyes barely gave the mirror a cursory glance before returning back to his computer.

Allison frowned. “No, I don’t want to sell it. I want to buy it. I found it down that aisle over there.” She gestured vaguely in the direction she’d come from, one hand still grasping the mirror’s edge.

Bored eyes slid over the mirror, taking in the gold frame. And then they slid over Allison’s form and he suddenly straightened, an uncomfortable smile sliding onto his face. She didn’t like the look in his eyes at all. “Huh, I don’t think I’ve seen that before. And I don’t think I’ve seen you before either. Are you new in town? I’m off in an hour. I could…show you around, if you’d like.” Fingers flew over his keyboard as he searched the data base. “Ashbourne isn’t exactly safe for pretty women like yourself.”

Taking in his unwashed hair and the awkward way he kept trying to stare at her chest when she wasn’t looking, Allison rolled her eyes and kept herself from reawakening the wooden stool he was sitting on. It looked old, like everything else in this shop, and fragile. One quick pulse of energy and she could have it turning into a small sapling, with the added bonus of thorns and nettle growing right on the seat.

“Thanks,” she answered through tight lips. “But I’ll be fine. Have you found the price yet?” She was impatient to go home. It would hang beautifully in her hallway, next to the front door.

A sullen look replaced his forced smile and he glanced back down at the screen, clearly put out by her rejection. “Here it is.”

Allison raised both eyebrows at the price – it seemed a lot to be asking for a shop like this. But something about it called to her and she couldn’t ignore it. Handing over the money, she got out of the shop fast as she could, ignoring the eyes she could feel on her backside.

She practically ran home, clutching the mirror as if at any moment, someone was going to take it away. Ignoring the odd looks she received, she didn’t stop until her door was closed and locked behind her, the woods merging until it looked like a solid wall.

Grabbing a cloth and some warm water, Allison spent the next hour gently wiping away the dirt from the crevices and the sticky film on the glass until it shone like new. The carvings were extremely detailed, and her fingers found new images with each pass. On her third pass, the pads of her fingers caught on a symbol she hadn’t noticed before. It looked to be a rune of some sort, one she’d never seen before. Tracing it, she was surprised to see it recess and then disappear into the gold, as if it had never been there before. She flipped the mirror over but there was nothing on the back, just a simple wire to hang it.

“How odd,” she mused, turning the mirror back over. “What are you?” There was of course no answer and she shrugged, before standing to hang it.

***

The mirror glittered in the sunlight and Allison was enraptured. She was by no means vain but every time she passed by the glass, the fae would pause to admire a new detail she hadn’t noticed until then. So engrossed in the frame she didn’t notice as her reflection shifted, moving a second slower than she did. And when its eyes flashed black and its features sharpened into a gruesome face, she dismissed it as a figment of her imagination. She already knew she spent too much time at the shop – maybe it was time she hired on a few more people.

***

A loud crash sounded through her house and Allison woke with a jolt, instinctively pulling two large thorned vines to her side. When nothing immediately attacked her, she cautiously got out of bed and crept down the hall, bare feet padding silently on the hardwood. Flipping on the living room light, a puzzled look crossed her face as she scanned the empty room. There was no way anyone could have gotten through her front door without a significant amount of fire or a heavy axe and hours of free time. Still, it would be worth checking it out.

She was looking up and so, when her foot came down on a large shard of glass, she wasn’t expecting the sudden sharp pain that radiated up her leg. “Holy shit. Motherfucking balls on a stick!” Hobbling over to the wall, she slid down to the floor once she was sure there was no more glass around her and examined her foot, grimacing at the large piece of glass sticking out. Blood was already running down her sole and she knew if she pulled out the glass now, it would only bleed that much more. “Suck it up Allie. You’ve had worse.” With a groan she shifted onto her knees and carefully shuffled forward until she came to the source of the crash.

Yellow eyes widened in shock – she hadn’t had the forethought to re-glamour herself – at the sight of her new mirror smashed to pieces. “No, no, no, no, no.” Grabbing a nearby scarf, she tried to sweep up the shards, ignoring the slivers of pain, until she had a neat little pile of red-stained glass. The frame itself was dented slightly but it was the mirror that was shattered beyond repair. Despair welled up inside her, completely unexpected, and completely overwhelming. In the morning she would wonder why she’d been so broken up over a mirror but for now, she sat next to the shattered glass, heel still freely bleeding, and wept.

***

As quickly as the mirror had come into her life, it left. The uncomfortable and almost unnatural despair that had overwhelmed her at the sight of shattered glass had gone away and she was back to her bubbly self. Not that it would last for long.

The first time it happened, Allison was in the back of her shop, crushing up tea leaves into small sachets. She glanced up at a noise and let out a shriek. In the window was a horrific face, her face, all melted and bubbly. She blinked twice and it was gone. Hands trembling, Allison went back to her mortar and pestle, looking up anxiously at the window every few minutes only to be met with her own, normal reflection.

And then it happened again. And again. Soon she began to dread passing by cars, passing by shops, passing by literally anything that could show her reflection. All the mirrors in her house had been taken down and covered with sheets and she hadn’t visited her greenhouse in days. It was the same each time: her reflection would be normal one minute and then the next it would distort, eyes turning black while her face twisted until it was no longer her face but the face of someone else.

#self para 003 #she cuts herself on glass by accident #idk how to tag that #but if that squicks you out #don't read

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blackrose-ffxiv · 5 years

Photo

Ecclectic Aesthetics 11/26

Lebeaux Desrosiers generally didn’t bother knocking unless doors were locked. He tried the handle first, found it open and invited himself into the establishment. He hadn’t bothered sending a card along either, if the gallery was still a work in progress it was unlikely they were taking appointments. Far better to simply arrive. He swung the door open and stepped inside, with a likely very intentional swirl of his cloak, taking a moment to smooth the lay of his sleeves. “Good evening.” He called out loudly.

The gallery might've once been a grand venue. Now it was a memorial to some battle lost to weeds, rust, and overenthusiastic aetheric accidents, if the scorch marks on the floor and the vines trailing around every little thing was any indication. There was a strange pressure upon entering the room, a sensation of being watched from the statues placed sentinel over the center of the room. And scarier still, a creature too short to be Vivain, standing on the desk, guilty of crimes including wearing a man's shirt with the poor fit disguised by the addition of garish layers, a hat that didn't match anything, no shoes, and paying more attention to the arrangement of flora in front of her than the man of the hour who swept himself through the front door. The creature threw a look over their shoulder at the stained glass windows, studying the arrangement of kaleidoscopic colors it set into - and when none of them turned violently violet it called out in a cheerful voice, "Come in~! You're a little early for the school tour, the place isn't really in full effect until sundown--" Taji Tumet paused. She swiveled on her heel, tilted her head up, studying the stranger underneath the rakish set of her hat. "...Are you lost?"

Lebeaux was dressed in the height of Ishgardian fashion… despite being out in the midst of the desert. Poor fashion decisions had been made all around in both of their cases, but at least his matched. Though it was hard not to coordinate somber shades of black and white. “A school tour. That sounds rather optimistic. Considering the state of the place it seems a risk to expose children, or even adults, to this place... Anyone really, I suppose.” He mused as he brushed some imagined dirt from a lapel, or perhaps trying to brush off the sensation of being watched. “No, despite all of that I am here intentionally.” He tilted into a theatrical approximation of a bow before he straightened up again. “Lebeaux Desrosiers, patron of the arts, when time allows.”

Taji flashed him a sliver of a grin - aware that she was supposed to be prickled by his lack of deference to Art and History, but more amused so far by anyone who could sweep in and attempt to make themselves right at home. "It's a risk to expose anyone to history, really, without the proper context and the narrative already established, right?" She guessed wildly, raising an arm to direct his attention to - what, exactly. The empty frames? The statues? The thing looming on the other side of the latticework bearing an 'UNDER CONSTRUCTION' plaque? "They could form their own opinion about what's worth carrying over to the present day and what's meant to be censored from the annals of history. As children often do! And adults. --I'm talking out my ass here, by the way, the risks and dangers are completely overstated and irrelevant." Taji swept her own upraised arm into an imitation of his bow, exaggerating the angle at which she swept herself down and mirroring the movements of his hands despite not having wide sleeves or a cape to flutter herself, though her tail did an impressively wiggly approximation of the movement of fabric. The hat miraculously stayed balanced on her head. "Taji Tribal," she introduced herself in turn. "To what risk and danger of yours do I owe your patronage, mister Dezrozeeay?"

Lebeaux took her rambling explanation as an invitation to come in and have a look around. He wore a serene sort of smile on full lips that never managed to make it all the way to his eyes. His gaze sharp and cold as ice chips as it drifted along the works in progress. An impressive array of blank frames overgrown with unusual fauna. He made his way along towards the statues as she waxed poetic and ran rhetoric in circles. A gloved hand extended, intending to give the hideous statue a light pat when the girl finally got around to giving a name. He paused and retracted his hand, turning to flash that saintly smile in her direction once again. “Ahh, I see. Unusual art is something that runs in your family, is it not. I seem to recall a similar collection taking residence for a time in the Holy See. I can see the resemblance now, though the previous incarnation was a bit… better kept.” Lebeaux waved a hand vaguely. Whether it was at the proprietress herself or the trailing vines was difficult to discern.

Taji was watching the movements of his hands, pressing her knuckles over what looked like a smirk from behind her fingers - but when her guest turned to beam his practiced, unfeeling gestures in her direction, she let her hands fall away to reveal another genuinely delighted smile. "You've seen our previous collections? It probably looked a lot like this, yeah -- none of the actual paintings on display, or the statues. Just the frames, and maybe the ironwork fences. 'Containment'." Taji didn't seem entirely offended by his admittedly accurate assessment of her none-too-faithful recreation. She swept her arms out in an open shrug. "I'm rebuilding," she explained in so many words, "The distribution of the art used to be managed by another family member, but he is - somewhat retired. And you know how the economy is. Between the end of the Dragonsong War and the liberation efforts on multiple fronts in the Far East, there's not a lot of money to be made in art, at the moment." Taji paused, studying him again with open curiosity. "My brother had been in charge of that collection too. Your interest was caught?" She failed to specify 'what', exactly - the art. Her brother. The promise of people who maybe knew about illicit magic. Lebeaux was carefully unreadable, even to someone with lots of practice in guessing at the expressions of other people who insisted on resembling statues.

Lebeaux, unlike other statue-faced men, had taken to observing others’ expressions and mimicking them. He was rather good at it, save he could never get the eyes quite right. He took a few small steps closer to the desk, clasping hands behind his back as he shifted the beatific smile up towards the twisted stone visage that seemed to glare down at him. “I suspect it was your brother. Vivain Tribal.” He agreed. “It was a difficult time for… your sorts. Even with connections within the city walls.” He cast his best version of ‘sympathetic’ over at the xaela then looked back up at the statue. “Then add on top of it a collection with not a single piece by the Ishgardian Masters and being secular besides. It’s no wonder he moved on for greener pastures.” He mused thoughtfully. “And now you have taken on the mantle of curator. Are you taking care of acquisitions and ‘distribution’ as well. Has Vivain retired entirely.” While they were all certainly questions he still managed to make them sound imperative with the even, cultured rhythm of his voice.

"Family business, like you said. I'm in a much better position than Vi is to continue it," She said, casting a hand backwards and curling fingers around the top part of the only chair in the room. She easily flipped it up with one arm, balancing the edge of it in her cupped palm. She took a few careful steps across the desk and flipped the proffered chair back down again, angled towards her guest -- accepting that would be there for at least a little bit. Taji found it easier to shift the subject away from her missing older brother and back to general strategy -- from the painful known and unacceptable to the much more comfortable abyss of the unknown. "We probably won't be pursuing distribution in Ishgard again for another decade or so. Even if rumors suggest that 'my sorts' could purchase property there outright within the next year." She, too, was in the habit of mimicing people - or at least using their words and twisting them around to suit her own needs. She continued, without any apparent offense at his tone, "Trade regulations are too strict there to sell, much less your approval guidelines for content for merely displaying anything. Your art..." Taji raised a hand, flicking fingers like she was casting about in physical space for the words. "Exults," she said, finally. "To be divine is to consume your entire world, in Ishgard. That's why your statues are larger than any natural man. Your windows yawn up to an unreachable ceiling. At scale, your paintings stretch beyond the limits of a single glance, so that there is no room to look at anything else." Taji turned to indicate what was on display on the wall behind him, simply to point out the contrast: the clean, straight lines of the frames broken by the explosive greenery. There would be no salvation from savagery, no matter how crisp and white the canvas was.

"And yet -- you're not here for that," Taji issued a curious hum, a wavery note that easily filled the small space. "For secular pieces chosen by Ishgardian Masters. But perhaps to be terrified just the same, by something you can hardly claim to be divine. So! Tell me about yourself. You are a patron, I could use patronage. You, uh, knew Vi. Are you of high enough standing to get this sort of thing displayed in its proper context in Ishgard?"

Lebeaux turned his head to watch with amusement as the xaela performed an amusing feat of strength and balance with the large chair. He then tilted in a small gesture of appreciation, for both the show and the seat before he settled gracefully into it, taking a moment to smooth his cloak’s tails to properly array his plumage. “With the separation of church and state you may yet find fertile soil for your… bold installments. Exaltation has fallen out of favor. Instead they erect monuments to make one sympathize with those we once fought, rather than to stand in awe of Her glory.” He explained politely. That is assuming there wasn’t a sudden coup or mysterious plague or some such to nip this growing problem in the bud. Wouldn’t that be a tragedy. He placed a hand on his chest as Taji essentially made the first move to ‘cut the bullshit’. “Alas, my name won’t hold much sway if you were to bandy it about in Ishgard, though your brother never wanted for influential contacts.” He began, folding his hands primly in his lap. “I recall him being rather resourceful with unusual acquisitions. I admit a curiosity if you should have access to the same network he had built.”

"Progress at last, though it doesn't sound like it's to your taste," the Xaela noted, making herself comfortable on the desk now that their respective heights were no longer an issue. Taji could at least appreciate the metaphor of fertile soil, even if Ishgard never struck her as such before now. A city who prided itself in isolation should have felt familiar to her, and wasn't salt and snow interchangeable but for the temperature? "So you long for the days when people covered their heads before the gaze of the Fury?" She nodded to his hat. "The more traditional depictions." This so far didn't quite explain Lebeaux' appearance in the Loreate, and she was starting to wonder if her brother wasn't actually entirely spotlighting the art on display so much as he was busy /being/ art. "In part," she said truthfully. "My father has contacts that still answer when I call. My brother's way of networking is -- a bit lost on me. He was more focused on finding people with money. I am more focused on finding mages." She tilted her head once more towards the stained glass, studying their obscured reflections. "What would I hear if I were to bandy your name in Ishgard? That you were a good student at the Scholasticate?"

“Nothing.” Lebeaux answered as he held up his empty hands with that same saintly smile. “You would hear absolutely nothing. As you seem to have noted I don’t care for the new and improved flavor of Ishgard. Sweet as the ideals are going down it’s only feeding the rot that eats away at the very core of the city. As such I’ve left my name behind and taken a new one. Mentioning ‘Lebeaux Desrosiers’ would likely only get you that pitying sort of look reserved for outsiders who attempt to pronounce our names yet can’t quite get their clunky tongues to make the graceful motions. At least you tried.” He settled his hands back in his lap. “Yet outside of the Holy See I’ve been doing quite well for myself as a chirurgeon. Enough to return my interests towards the arts once again. You seek mages, I seek artifacts that will soon become difficult indeed to find. Perhaps we could assist each other.”

Taji was appropriately chagrined that he didn't just immediately tell her his real name, though the greater part of her was immensely satisfied with the idea of someone who knew the value of withholding it. "I'm sure my 'clunky tongue' sounds just fine when it summons fire into the world, and hopefully you try more often than I do your name?"

@exmhachina

#lebeaux #taji #there is no way any of this could end poorly #ever #he's been a great patron so far #patronizes the eff out of taji

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maximumsuckage · 6 years

Text

Green

Word Count: 2416

Summary: A girl goes to a witch for help.

Ao3 Link

The address was scrawled onto the back of an old gas station receipt. The paper was worn to softness, creased a thousand and one times, but the address was still clear enough to make out and type into a GPS. And that was exactly what Alex Ward had done, though now, as she pulled up to the curb, she was starting to wonder if this was the wisest decision.

The house was low and squat, slowly condensing in on itself like an elderly spine. Vines curled up the walls, twisted across the roof, tangled on the chain-link fence that surrounded the overgrown lawn. A cat was sleeping on the sagging porch, a raggedy animal of calico fur. Windows were curtained, and the cracks between the fabric were dark. Broken appliances and abandoned cars littered the front lawn, each tangled with plants. A couple of sparrows were nesting in an old tire.

When Alex stepped out of the car, it was into a smell of mustiness and green plant-life. One of the birds made a loud warning shriek at her, but she had no desire to steal their chicks, so she ignored it and stepped over to the gate, reaching out.

She half expected the metal to shock her, but it was only sun-warm when she closed her fingers around the latch. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the gate open, wincing at the screeching of ancient, rusted hinges. If the owner of the house didn’t know that she was there before, they knew now.

The cat lifted its head, blinking lazily in her direction. Alex gave it a polite smile, then stepped onto the cracked sidewalk, careful not to step on any plants. She wasn’t sure how witches worked; she hadn’t believed in witches up until a little bit ago, but now she was worried that if even one blade of grass was crushed under her foot, a curse would befall her.

And Alex had already been cursed enough.

Gritting her teeth at the thought, she continued forward, careful with her steps, nodding politely at the cat each time it tilted its head at her. Meeting a witch would be easy. Alex had survived med school interviews; she could survive a simple meeting with a magic lady.

The porch steps creaked under her foot, and she winced, worried that the ancient, softening planks wouldn’t hold her weight.

But the steps held, and she stepped up onto the porch. The smell was stronger here, of old wood and summer plants and something a bit sharper underneath. It tingled in her nostrils and made her press her hand to her face, breathing deeply to suppress a sneeze. Magic, maybe? The part of her that had spent the last four years in pre-med biology told her that it was nothing more than an unfamiliar herb, but in light of recent events, she wondered.

The cat mewed at her. Alex hesitated, then reached down to brush her fingers over its ears. “Good cat,” she murmured, when it half sat up to press its face into her hand. She gave it a scritch under the chin, then stepped to the front door, where dark glass hid whatever lay beyond.

Her palms were sweating, and she rubbed them on her pants, cursing herself. This was not awkward, she reminded herself. This was how witches worked, right? People just came up to their doors in the stories. There wasn’t a way to text or call ahead and make an appointment, like there was with normal people.

Alex took a deep breath, then knocked before she could lose her nerve.

For a moment that was simultaneously breathtakingly relieving and heartstoppingly terrifying, there was no response. Then, from deep inside, a voice called, “Come in, dearie.”

Alex’s breath hitched, and then she took another deep breath. Like it sensed her fear, the calico padded over and rubbed against her leg. She drew strength from the little animal, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans (should she have dressed more formally?) and pushed the door open.

Inside, the halls were dark and humid, but the air was rich and fresh as a forest. In the patches of light thrown by windows with translucent curtains were as many pots of soil as could fit, each one overflowing with green leaves and colorful flowers. Their tendrils wandered through the dark, and Alex was careful not to step on any as she stepped deeper into the house. The humidity didn’t help her sweating palms.

“This way, child,” came the voice again, clearer this time. It was the crackling voice of an elderly woman, and though it was calm, with no trace of the malevolent witches in the stories Alex had grown up with, it did nothing to calm her nerves.

“You got this,” she breathed to herself. “You did med school interviews, girl. You got this.”

“Stop muttering to yourself and come back here. My old legs don’t want to carry me out there to you.” The witch’s voice was louder this time, colored by just a trace of annoyance.

Alex quickened her pace and walked deeper into the house, past a few dark doorways, into the back room. The deeper she walked, the heavier the air became, and Alex wondered how anybody could live here, without ventilation, where moisture practically leaked from the walls.

The back room, in contrast, was so bright that Alex was blinded for a second. When her eyes adjusted, it took her a moment to understand what she was looking at, to see past the myriad of colors and smells and sounds that barraged her senses.

It was a greenhouse- the back and ceiling had been knocked down and replaced with glass, and the plants that draped over every available space threw off green leaves and bright flowers and a hundred different scents of a hundred species that Alex had never seen outside of National Geographic. In one corner was a massive fish tank (or perhaps simply massive for the space), and the gold and silver scales of koi flashed in the water. A pump hummed, and tubes snaked from that tank, branching and twisting across the floorboards to connect with the roots of every plant. And then the water was collected again, the drainage pooling in reused gutters to return to the tank in a room-wide, homemade hydroponics system.

It took Alex a moment to find the witch in the chaos of the tangled flora, but there she was, sitting in a cushy, if damp, armchair, watching Alex stare at the room. Her face was gnarled and her hands were twisted with arthritis, but there was still a sharp glint of intelligence in her faded eyes.

“Do you like it?” she asked, raising one knotty hand. “I used to travel the world, teaching English to children or building houses or selling spells. I just wanted to bring a little of the globe’s beauty back here.”

Alex nodded. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed politely, stepping forward. “So… um…”

The witch pressed her knuckles together. “Child. Calm down. I won’t bite. Take a seat.”

There wasn’t a chair, so awkwardly, Alex sat on the floor, careful not to crush any vines.

“Now, you’re a young person, so I know you haven’t come to listen to my stories.” The witch clicked her tongue, and the cat darted past Alex to hop up into her lap, purring contently. “You’re all moving so quickly nowadays. What do you want, then?”

Alex closed her eyes, taking a breath. “I was told,” she said slowly, “that I should come to you if I needed help with a demon.”

“A demon?” The witch’s hands started to stroke the purring cat, gnarled fingers brushing through the color-patched fur. “Now, what business would a pretty young thing like you have with a demon? You should have gone to a priest, not to an old bat like me-”

“No, no, no.” Alex shook her head, and then realized with a shock that she’d interrupted a witch. She paused, and when she wasn’t immediately turned into a frog, she continued. “I need to find a demon. Not exorcise one.”

“Oh.” The witch peered at her. “Now, why would you want to find a demon? Did you sell your soul to one? No matter how many times you try to convince people that it’s not worth it…” She shook her head and tsked her tongue.

“Not that I haven’t thought about it,” Alex muttered, “but college loans aren’t my biggest problem right now.” She let out a choked laugh, then covered her mouth, shocked by the broken sound. “Never thought I’d say college loans weren’t my biggest problem.”

The witch considered her for a long moment. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, no thanks.” Alex shook her head, but the witch had already clicked her tongue at the cat.

The cat stood, stretched so long that its spine quivered, and then hopped off her lap, vanishing elsewhere into the house.

“Now, dearie, how about you start at the beginning? Why are you looking for this demon?”

Alex licked her lips. “Um… I’m sorry, what’s your name? They didn’t tell me your name.”

“My name doesn’t matter,” the witch said. “Not if you are here for my help. Now, tell me your story.”

“So…” Alex took a breath, unnerved. What kind of person wouldn’t give a name, even a fake one, for the sake of conversation? A witch, it appeared. “Um… so, my house has been haunted, like, all my life. And… I mean, I never really believed it. You never really believe it, do you? This whole, magic, paranormal thing.” She waved a hand vaguely. “I mean, no offence or anything, but…”

Her awkward introduction was interrupted by the clinking of glassware. Alex found herself looking into the vivid green eyes of a slender girl, hair patched in red and brown and white. The girl was silent as she knelt down to set a steaming mug next to Alex, and then she padded, barefoot, back to the chair and laid down at the witch’s feet, curling up and closing her eyes.

Alex, wide eyed, look from the girl to the witch, but the witch didn’t seem to notice anything odd about it. “Now, dearie, tell me your story from the beginning. You don’t need to worry about looking insane. On the chance that this is all a figment of your overactive imagination, who would I tell? I’m but a little old woman.”

Behind her, the koi splashed in their tank. Alex picked up the tea and took a polite sip. She didn’t particularly like tea; coffee was her poison of choice, especially in latte form, but the hot liquid served to clear her mind. “So, yeah. There was a ghost in my house, growing up. I never saw it, so I assumed I was making things up. It’s an old house. You know how they are, with the creaking and the random noises and the lights flickering every once and a while.”

The witch nodded at her to continue. Alex took another sip of the tea- it was green tea, but there were a few other bitter flavors mingling within it that she didn’t recognize. “So, nobody believed me, so eventually I stopped talking about it, and I kind of convinced myself it was just a story I made up when I was a little kid. I could just say everything had a reasonable explanation, you know?”

“But what brings you here today?” the witch asked. The girl at her feet looked up at Alex, green eyes blinking slowly.

Alex took another deep breath, rubbing her hands on her pants again. Though the warm mug was calming, it did nothing for her sweaty palms. “I didn’t make it up. The ghost was real. But it wasn’t a ghost. It was a demon, and it took my baby brother. So, I’m coming to you for advice on how to trap-”

Her voice caught in her throat, but it wasn’t emotion- no, when she came to the direct reason for her visit, she felt more determined than ever. Rather, her throat seemed to close up. She tried to draw breath, but no air came. She gasped, setting the mug down politely as she ducked her head. She must have choked on the tea, maybe was having an allergic reaction to a mysterious plant? She’d never had a reaction before-

Her hand on her neck was cold, and she gasped as she looked at it, watched the skin between her fingers grow even as the bones narrowed. The color changed, shimmering from lightly tanned into bright gold, even as the witch seemed to grow.

Alex lost her balance, pitching forward to hit the ground, her arms too short to catch her as she gasped. Her skin felt cold and wet, her clothes were too big and tangled around her like a net, and she couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t find the air.

The witch smiled, and nudged the cat-girl with her toe. She got up, and Alex felt an irrational fear as a hand reached towards her- when had the girl gotten so big?

And then a hand closed around her, and her vision was warped wide, and she could see the entire room at once except for the area right in front of her face, and her head spun-

She splashed as the girl let her go in the tank. Cool water flooded across her gills, and she could breathe again, gasping as she sank slowly to the bottom of the tank. Other fish bumped her, but she didn’t know how to move, could only flop, heavy and clumsy-

The witch laughed. Alex could see through the glass of the tank, but the only sound that reached her was deep and muffled.

Really, Alex should have expected this, coming for help from a witch. She let herself go limp, and found her body floating to the top of the tank, like a dead feeder fish in Walmart. And, as the other koi bumped her with their fat golden bodies, she couldn’t even scream.

Her brother was in danger, and she was trapped in a fish tank.

Outside the glass, the girl had turned back into a cat. The witch was scritching it under the chin, just as Alex had when she’d first arrived at the witch’s house.

Traiter, she thought, as hard as she could, but the cat didn’t respond.

@gracebabcockwrites

#original writing #fiction #short story #writing #story #words #spilled ink #spilled words #writer #urban fantasy #female protagonist #my writing #witches #siblings #this may or may not be mildly inspired by Apuleius

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Tuesday 5 August 1834

6 ¾

12 ¼

No kiss not at all with her A- better this morning preparing for cousin. Breakfast at 8 ½ agree about carriage 15/. everything bonne main and all compris) for the whole of today - Off at 10 20 A- and I (and took George) in 1 horse calêche George and the driver sitting in front – in ¼ hour at and crossed the handsome suspension bridge over the Drac – finished only 6 years ago – the wood bad - taking it up and laying down fresh – kept close along the Drac (north) till after its junction with the Isère – just there 2 boats - 3 pair of oxen to each, the [animals] one man to each pair, hauling in the midst of the water (above the middles in the deepest part) towards Grenoble - at 11 5 turn left and in about 10 minutes at the village of Sassenage – drove up the hill towards the quarries – very steep and bad got out at 11 25 and left the carriage waiting - A- and I walked forwards – she tired and left her at 11 52 while I went to the top of the hill or monticule, a little above the quarries for the sake of the view – Miss W-‘s bowels not yet well. Walked quickish considerably the steepish ascent and stony road and great heat (tho’ fine air latterly on the higher ground) and in ¼ hour at 12 7 at the top of the hill – very fine panoramic view of the junction of the Drac and Isère and of the latter almost to Voreppe, and a considerable length of the former - pity the clouds hid in a great measure, the great height of the mountain range to the eastward – the plain or valley of Grenoble Graisivaudan [Grésivaudan] very rich and beautiful – enjoyed the view for 5 minutes then down again to A- - At 1 40 with one stone for a seat and another for a table she ate her cold fowl and took her Malaga légèrement trempé de l’eau in 20 minutes – we were soon back where we left the carriage – went down the bad road in it and alighted at the hotel des Cuves at Sassenage at 1 20 - The landlord went with us as a guide – this little expedition took us from 1 23 to 2 28 but then we went considerably above the cuves in the wood to where our guide the proprietor making a zigzag walking and is going to erect a pavillon from a nice point of view – he had brought the property 15 days ago, 400 toises of rock and wood for 370 fr. - we had a steepish ascent along the high wall of rock (left) very pretty valley-cleft with a pretty cascade and stream utilisé for a mill – passed an insignificant hole or recess in the rock (yellow hoary compact limestone) then a few yards higher up the cuve a handsome cavern with mouth 2 streams meeting in and forming in it a very pretty cascade – the stream to the left on entering runs along a channel we could have gone up for a long and unknown length of way had we chose and had there not been rather too much water (no depth but not like getting wet-shod) - the man lighted his candle but we declined wading – another recess in the rock a little higher up – the man talked of making a pavillon here too – said he would spoil the place – advised a rustic bench and rustic table –from the intended site of pavillon above looking over a pretty green vineyard on the opposite little high plain backed wood and the out-peeping old tower part masonry past rock of the ancient chateau de Sassenage - I was struck with this little propriété and joked to A- about buying it - Sassenage a very good village- the famous cheeses made at the chalets on the pastures on the rocks above - can buy here (said out Grenoble landlord last night) at ./75 what 3 fr. a lb. in London - Off on our return from Sassenage at 2 35 – drove close under the high almost perpendicular rocks – at 3 pass by (left) very rich land vines on frames and under them fine tall hemp - 1200 toises of this land (said out intelligent cocher the owner of our carriage and horses - keeps 12 horses) lets for 100fr. a year - at 3 5 alight at the Barmes (rocks) de Fontaine, a village near - the carriage met us at the other end of our walk, along a good wide double avenued road close under the barmes a perpendicular wall of rock 2 or 3 ft. high? a pity the trees of our avenue were too near, broke the rock and spoilt the view - Elms poplars and willows - one of the poplars broken off about a yard from the bottom (blown down?) quite sound-measured from the ground to where they top was cut off, at about 3in diameter

SH:7/ML/E/17/0069

28 of my parasols long ie about 28 yards or 84 ft! was perhaps about near 2 ft diameter at the surface of the ground - to buy the ground (line 6 from the bottom of last p.) let at 100/. one must pay 2000 fr. per Stèré [stère]and 1 Stèré [stère] (as the man pronounced it) = 900 toises carrés - this rick ground produces several crops of hemp for year after year de suite but rests (is fallow) sometimes or grows wheat and produces 3 crops in a year beet and other things - the coarse reedy grass we passed sometime afterwards (the coarse product of wet uncultivated land) called la laiche or perhaps better la bauche requires no manure, no care, is merely and made into percés (little round stacks or pikilings with poles run thro’ the middle and sticking at the top) and sells for 80fr. the Stère for manure for the vines (Engrais pour les vignes) is put about the young sources or suckers in much if the weather be fine enough - M. Perrier (a cotton manufacturer and calico printer in the chateau of Vizille 800 people employed but lately only a filature de coton there) the richest propriétaire here - had from 2 or 300 stèrés [stères] - lately dead - his son married a mademoiselle de Lafayette petite fille to the general - the farm on which grew the coarse reedy grass noticed consist of about 200 stèrés [stères] - back at the Pont de fer (suspension bridge) at 3 35 – the river (Drac) and the bridge 410ft long by 20ft 8inch wide – the handsome strong pyramidal stone pillars at each end 45 ft high from the surface of the bridge and the bridge about 14ft above the present level of the water which is now 3ft deep in the deepest part under the bridge - (said the workmen on the bridge laying down new timbers) – some distance on the right (East) side the Drac before getting in the great high road to La Croix Haute and shockingly we were jolted – it made A- sick and poorly – our cocher said engrais was very dear – people let the engrais of their horses per annum the farmer taking it finding and brining the straw. - the dung of one horse (on these terms averages (not too dear) 25/. per annum) - our cocher for his 12 horses has 300/. a year - the richest part of Dauphiné .:. called le rognon de Dauphine is about 3 leagues du pays from here, at and about Boiron famous for its cloth from 2/50 to 6fr. l’aune - on getting into the route royale our cocher said it rose six ligues per pied i.e. ½ in. per ft. - called La Course from Grenoble to Claix - it is a fine double chiefly avenue of Elms, large-leaved maple or small leaved sycamores, poplars - see the pont de Claix straight before us from the moment of getting into the great road - the pont is about the same level as the chateau or Bastille here - a great deal of land this way reclaimed from the devastating Drac only 8 or 10 years ago, and much reclaiming now - the water is drained off into reservoirs, and suffered to deposit its sediment (like our road sand at home) which is spread thick over the gravelly ground that us thus made into good land - this good road by Claix is new and is to go direct to Marseilles - but will not be finished of a few years - the road by Gap is 10 postes nearer than by Valance and this new road will be 10 postes nearer than Gap - they are working too at the road to Bourg d’Oisans meaning to make a good carriage road this way to Briançon - good now to B. d’O- but not beyond there - the driver tried it 2 ½ months ago - had the carriage to take in pieces to pass and so much damage done would not engage to go way again - 36,000 [âmes] in Grenoble - principle trade Gauterie, but not so celebrated for it as formerly - Claix a good little village - new - only 2 houses here 10 years ago - the valley (called Les isles) beyond the bridge not in cultivation till 30 years ago - ascend the hill (would be 5 or 10 minutes walking) and at the Pont de Claix or down the hill a minute or 2 beyond it, chez Fournier, restaurateur, at 4 40 -A- so sick and tired and afraid of fleas in the house would not get out of the carriage – I went to see the bridge then went back and persuaded her to go – fine bold arch, from rock to rock – not of very large street and built with cement mortar so did not strike me as being Roman Architecture tho’ they say it is - the outside line (particularly the northern) of the arch is not quite straight - as if the arch might have been built from each end and made it join in the middle - Off back again at 5 ¼ and alighted at home at 6 20 - hay this year sells at 5/. + some sols the quintal ordinaire ie. 50 kilos (the quintal metrique = 100 kilos (or kilogrammes of which one = 2lbs) - the quintal of hay used to be from 2/50 to 3/. or 4/. wheat should sell for 6/. the bushel to pay the farmer it now sells for only 4/50 - so bread cheaper than hay and give the horses soldiers bread - good perhaps 1/3 or 2/3 rye [?] the wheat - a horse has sometimes 6lbs. a day of this - can only go in a carriage about or not quite ½ way up to the chateau or Bastille - dinner at 6 ½ to 7 ¾. Dawdling with Miss W- her bowels grumbling and she wanted petting from 9 ¾ to 11 ¾ wrote out today - very fine day - F69° at 11 50 pm.

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peter-horrocks · 4 years

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En vadrouille in Alsace

Getting out and about and switching off from everything that is going on in the world is a pleasure which I personally savour more than ever after the physical restriction and weird subtle mental stress of the confinement days. Though it was actually watching an interview on French television with the legendary actor Pierre Richard during the two months stuck in our flat that I came across the real meaning of the wonderful French expression “en vadrouille” it is getting out and about. When asked what he enjoyed doing most in life Richard’s response was that he loved doing just that, especially on foot from his doorstep. I’ve been adopting that method recently combined with an enhanced desire to appreciate small things and on our recent visit to Alsace visiting family it came up trumps.

“Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy. “ Dale Carnegie

The old six bucket well in Obernai center.

We have been up to the charming small town of Obernai in Alsace a number of times now and like you do we visited the local classic’s, the idyllic Christmas markets, the magnificent city of Strasbourg and my personal favourite Colmar. Ferreted around in the shops filled with amusing Alsacien memorabilia which are like permanent Christmas and spent pleasant moments trying out the local specialities in tea shops, bars and restaurants where we indulged in bretzels, streusel and sauerkraut as well as excellent beer and wine and much more.

But I wanted to get away from all that and as my French wife was occupied with her family I set out “en vadrouille”. From the kitchen window of Caroline’s house, I could see a huge white cross set on a hill in the distance, that would be my first point of call. So, on a fine morning, I crossed town on foot having donned my obligatory mask then headed up the hill on the other side free of the need to protect and be protected and got away from people in general.

The Mont National is a 320-metre-high limestone hill which extends for 3 km and dominates the town of Obernai. The towering white cross on the summit is a war memorial dedicated to local men who lost their lives during the great war having been forcefully enlisted into the German army, an unusual twist which I subsequently came across a number of times in the area. From the hilltop, one can clearly make out the historic old town of Obernai, the fields and surrounding villages on the plane as well as the Voges mountain range to the south-west, and on the eastern edge of town the huge Kronenbourg, Carlsburg factory which produces a third of the beer consumed in France and in the distance beyond the long line of the hills of the Black Forest in Germany.

Grape pickers in the vines above Obernais

The Mont itself is covered in vineyards and it was grape picking time, which was nostalgic for me having done a couple of seasons in the Bordelais in my youth. I knew a bit about Alsace wine and the local vigneron had gone to the trouble of putting up signs explaining the types grown on the Mont and which food they complimented most. It was a perfect way to casually enhance my wine knowledge whilst basking in the morning sun, admiring the beautiful pristine vines and watching the grape pickers harvesting in some rows whilst the grape picking machine was deployed in others.

Grape picking machine on Mont National, Obernai

That really took me back to the day when the very first of these high tractors equipped with beating sticks and a system to suck up the grapes made its appearance in a vineyard near us when I was grape picking. It was a revolution back then and few of the vineyards were prepared for its use, we were quite awestruck by it and aware that huge change was there in front of us. The long-established vendange system was of local farmers helping each other, complemented by annual travelling gipsy groups from Spain and foreign students like me. The modern machine is obviously much more efficient but I preferred the manual days of secateurs, the comradery and the hard work picking entailed, we laughed a lot and the gentle chug of the collecting tractor and trailer with its big open wooden casks was the only noise, unlike the present-day machine which sounds like an aggressive oversized hoover.

Grapes ripe for picking

As I walked around the hill on part of what is known as the “route des vins” I enjoyed observing the different grape types and the leaves already gradually changing to their beautiful Autumn colours of golden yellow, soft purple, pink and light green.

Autumn colours of the vine leaves

Then descending downhill back towards town I was struck by the similarity of the high church tower in Obernai with its distinct four decorative statue holders and that of the one in the village beyond in the direction of the Voges. I decided that would be my next out and about project.

The spire of the church in Obernai centre like the one in the nearby village

Back at the house, I worked out that it was only a kilometre and a half to the village of Bernardswiller and I asked Matt if there was anything to see there. He said, “you know what, we’ve never been”. Which I think is often the case when you live somewhere and are so busy going about life and doing what you have to do then trying to do fairly exceptional things when you have some precious spare time. We were exactly the same with a young family living in fascinating Oxford, it was our visitors who discovered what was under our noses, not us.

Next day was another fine day and Eliane came with me this time. It was a flat easy ten minutes’ walk to Bernardswiller and as we entered the village we heard the loud hum of bees coming from behind a high wall and saw a small sign by the gate “Miel” with a telephone number. On the way back we rang and encountered a charming Alsacien couple who took us into their garden which was huge, with an abundant vegetable garden, orchard and beehives. We bought some delicious organic honey for half the price one normally pays in the supermarket and took it back for Caroline, Matt and the kids to dig into for afternoon tea.

The village was very quiet, typical, like stepping back in time, with lots of large archways with big wooden doors and a stone family crest above and a smaller insert door leading to courtyards and other buildings beyond, very pretty. I noticed another small sign for a beer microbrewery and resolved to knock on their door next time we visit. There were no shops and the old bar was closed, there were two small wine “caves” in full vendange swing, then there was this gigantic church with its soaring tower, quite out of proportion to the village, a reflection apparently of the regional dominance of the church and the riches generated by the surrounding vines in the old days. The village was very pleasant and beyond we walked through more gorgeous vineyards lined with occasional walnut, apple and pear trees. We picked up some nuts and fruit lying on the ground as we understood from Caroline that it was perfectly acceptable behaviour and considered a local perk.

Saint Odile convent on the hilltop beyond the vineyards

We wandered along the country lanes and tracks to Saint Nabor, the next village, which was at the foot of the Voges and Mont Saint Odile. I had half a mind to walk up through the forest to the Convent on the top which is a tourist attraction but settled instead for just locating the start of the steep track, I was enjoying the “vadrouille” too much.

The next day I resolved to find the Weibel wine cave which sold the wines made from the grapes grown on the Schenkenburg domaine up on the Mont National. I thought it would be in the centre of Obernai as I had seen some rather posh wine selling establishments in passing but it turns out it was in a leafy lane just a few hundred yards from Caroline’s house, suburbia had engulfed it. It was my sort of place, rustic, family-run, with a lovely old lady who helped us taste the wine and explained everything whilst her rugged handsome son directed operations for the grapes to be pressed, and I couldn’t help noticing you could still see the huge white cross up on the hill.

Loading the grapes into the press

I had a lovely time chatting about the old days with our hostess though not wanting to take up too much of her time as she was also in the process of preparing lunch for the grape pickers and I remembered very well how important that was after a typical six in the morning start.

Some of the wine on sale in the Weibel domaine shop

You can find the Weibel Marcel and Fils wines on www.vins-weibel.com and I can recommend the Gewurztraminer (which can only be grown in particular conditions, namely on south-facing limestone hills like the Mont National), and the Pinot Gris is pretty good too.

Incidentally, Le Grand Vadrouille is a classic French comedy film which is shown over and over on television in France, it’s fun and stars the amazing Louis de Funes.

I quite liked my Petit version.

All the best

Peter H.

#Alsace #vadrouille #wine

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