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chibimyumi · 4 years

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Redesign Prompt RESULTS!

Alright, thank you everyone who has voted, the results are now in! Overwhelmingly our winner is Ranmao 🐈!

First of all, I need to insert a few caveats here. Unlike with Victorian fashion, I do not have years and years of studying of Qing dynasty-fashion behind me. So whatever results I show here are the product of a fortnight of reading up and meticulous studying of contemporary photographs. a.k.a. I am merely scraping the surface here. But! I do promise that everything shown here is done to the best of my ability to be responsible as a content provider.

Now without further ado, let us dive into Ranmao’s current design, the blatantly obvious inaccuracies, and how I propose to redes...ign... her outfit while keeping the original intact as much.... as possible???? Heck, this is not even worthy of being called a ‘redesign’, this is straight up designing from scratch!

Hair

Let us start with her bangs. Her bangs are in fact surprisingly accurate, as late Qing dynasty women would wear their bangs in a variety of Bettie bangs trimmed well above the eyebrows. Having sides of the bangs growing longer framing the face was usual too, though they would be cut slightly thicker than Ranmao’s. Though, we don’t know how much hair Ranmao has, so I see no reason to alter it.

Twin braids are very much associated with the “China doll look”, but they seem to have been branded into our image of the “Chinese Girl” because it was the go-to look for unmarried women in Republic China (which is many years later than Ranmao’s time, and also has more surviving images.)

In Ranmao’s time, unmarried girls would either wear the bottom part of their hair down, or have everything tied into a single braid behind them. Girls who preferred a more feminine look would often decorate the sides or the top with flowers or other ornaments depending on their wealth.

Yana’s notes say that the flower in Ranmao’s hair is a Chinese peony, which is also called the Empress of Flowers in Chinese as well as Japanese culture. I could find sources on how the peony was the symbol of the Empress of China, and how one better avoid wearing any type of peonies around the Empress herself for fear of being suspected of disrespect. But I could not find any evidence of such flowers being banned for other people, so presumably it was more an ‘unwritten code of politeness’ rather than fashion law.

Hence, I kept the pink peony design for Ranmao, and decorated them in the way Qing women would have.

Neckline

By far the most interesting thing I learned from this redesign attempt was that the “mandarin collar” - the thing that pops up first in most people’s minds when thinking about Chinese fashion - was in fact not at all common.

In this academic work on Chinese fashion history, Finnane writes that the ‘high collar’ was “not a common feature of costume before the twentieth century.” Instead, most costumes would have had a round neckline.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 93

The ‘high collar’ gained popularity in early 1900s in China after the Europeans brought with them the beauty standard for high collars, as well as slim-fitted silhouettes. The Chinese increasingly adopted this type of collar and the slim silhouette (the well known ‘china dress/qipao/cheongsam’), and the relatively many early photos that survived helped engrave this stereotype into our minds.

Sleeves

I do not think it requires any mention, but 19th century Chinese fashion did not include boleros... For many of the original designs of Ranmao I can sort of see where Yana got that image from, but this bolero-look truly beats me.

The sleeves worn in the late Qing period were relatively wide, though they were starting to slim down over time. Late Qing women enjoyed much more flexible clothing rules than earlier Qing women, and the width of the sleeves was in great part determined by personal preference, season, but mostly one’s wealth.

Needless to say, the larger the sleeves the more fabric and embroidery it would require, and thus more expensive. Also, the wider the more it would get into the wearer’s way.

I don’t know how much thought Yana put into Ranmao’s original design in relation to her function as elite bodyguard, but considering how the original has zero practicality and only serves to maximise Ranmao’s attractiveness, I have no qualms about giving Ranmao fairly large sleeves too. Besides, let us assume that Lau is responsible for providing Ranmao with clothes. Illegal money tends to fill the pockets quite deeply, I don’t think he can’t spare a few pounds for big sleeves.

Wider sleeves would expose much of ‘a lady’s precious skin’, as such a more fitted layer would have been worn underneath. (The sleeves under the wider sleeves obviously did not have to be orange-ish. This was merely coincidence that both my redesign and the visual source have this colour.)

Silhouette

The figure hugging silhouette x Chinese clothes was - as mentioned above - not at all a thing in Ranmao’s time. In fact, the accentuation of the “female curves” was considered very inappropriate if not downright ugly in the Qing dynasty.

Finnane, Antonia. Changing Clothes in China : Fashion, History, Nation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. p. 94

Yana’s notes mention that the thing Ranmao wears is just an European corset and that that is the only thing ‘English’ about her attire.

Well... I don’t know where the idea that Victorians wore corsets on the outside comes from, but I myself admittedly was fooled by this a few years ago too... I promise you all now however, Victorians decidedly did not wear their ‘bras’ on the outside. I think even now this look is considered rather ‘questionable’ by most people.

Instead, Qing dynasty clothes were mostly cut wide and straight, loosely dangling around their bodies offering maximum comfort and space. You feared Ranmao killing you in her corset? Now tremble before her now blessed with maximised agility.

Trousers

Well... I considered ‘translating’ Ranmao’s attire to 2020 standard like I did for O!Ciel, but that would not be Tumblr-filter approved. Skirts so short they could be mistaken for a belt are nothing too surprising today, but wearing one with a split that deep is probably a bit too revealing even by today’s standards.

By the late Qing dynasty, men and women, rich and poor alike predominantly wore trousers. Long robes (skirts) were definitely in fashion too, but they were reserved for those who could afford to not have much agility. If you were a farmer, robes would not have been your first option. Perhaps the way long skirts were viewed by the Qing Chinese was not unlike the way we see them now; ‘more classy’ ‘more feminine’ and ‘less convenient’, but not the only way to express femininity.

In these pictures below we can see relatively rich women, married and unmarried alike, all wearing trousers.

Ranmao is predominantly a fighter, and as trousers are plenty feminine in Chinese fashion culture, I don’t see why she would not choose to wear trousers instead of a restricting long skirt. Hence I gave her a pair of trousers.

Shoes

Like I said before, “the shoes are correct...” But the anklets definitely are not!

Golden or silver anklets are something that are worn by very, VERY young children in China. Even to this day it is customary among many Chinese people to gift newborn children at least one piece of pendant, bracelet or anklet, for it is believed to bring the child luck. More practically, this piece of jewellery will become the child’s first piece of property then, which can be sold later SHOULD they ever run into a financially difficult situation.

These anklets or bracelets would not be removed from the child unless they have outgrown them, which happens fairly quick. Ranmao who is probably full grown should have outgrown them at least ten years ago. Hence, seeing these things on Ranmao would probably make it look like she is still wearing diapers or bibs.

Chinese people would likewise not have worn shoes barefoot. Instead, they would have worn cotton socks which were mostly white.

DOUBLE HAMMERS

HERE COME THE WEAPONS! Luckily Yana wrote the following note or I would never have guessed what they are for my knowledge about Chinese weapons is next to nothing.

“These are【SUPER】heavy. They are weapons called 双錘 (double hammers) and they in fact exist. I heard these were used by power-type warriors.”

So, I googled 双錘 and it turns out that the type Ranmao is holding do indeed exist! But... only in fiction and theatre.

The hammers that were used in actual combat were either very thin and long, or short and plump. Such hammers were one of the most primitive metal weapons in China, and quickly fell out of favour among Chinese warriors when more practical weapons such as the metal spear, sword and bows were invented. The hammers mostly retained their value because of their weight in heroic tales and myths about legendary warriors and deities.

I don’t have the full details, but apparently according to some legends or myths, one of such big-ass hammers could deal a force of 200kg, and thus 400kg combined. Regardless of this being realistic or not, it sure does sound very cool! It is therefore no wonder this primitive weapon retains its popularity even today.

Nowadays when these hammers are used, they are either the blown up theatrical versions, or the smaller versions for the sake of preserving martial arts.

I had a bit of a dilemma as to which version to give Ranmao, but in the end I settled with the short and heavy ones because I wanted to keep the idea of this small and innocent looking girl wielding solid metal balls. Two cheer-leading sticks would simply not have the same weight, figuratively and literally.

Alright everyone! Did you enjoy my response to your votes? I hope you did ^^ Non-European fashion history really is not my strong suit, so my deepest apologies if I messed anything up.

Pray tell if I did, I am always happy to learn ^^

#Ran mao #ranmao #ran-mao #redesign #redesign prompt #art #my art #fan art #fanart #fan-art #Chinese clothes #UGGHGHHGHG non-European fashion REALLY is not my strong suit #BUT I learned a lot and I had fun!

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

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Demon species that exist in this multiverse's version of Hell

As I stated before, we might not get to see all of these types (we might get to meet a mime soon, but other than that, I'm not sure yet), but I figured this might be neat to share anyway :P

Glitch: The umbrella term which usually includes Pure Glitches, Lens Flares, and Clickbaits

Pure Glitch: Typically humanoid, but can come in any shape or size. Can be identified by the effect they have on technology, causing every device around them to glitch, freeze up, and/or short out. The hardest type to catch or document or catch on video. Can also unintentionally cause electrical fires. They crave violence and chaos, appearing to thrive off of it, and they almost always appear mentally unstable. A common, infamous trait is also their short temper, which seems to go hand in hand with their unpredictable mood swings

Lens Flare: Also typically humanoid, but like Pure Glitches, they can vary in appearance. Are also easy to identify by the effect they have on any and all nearby technology, although unlike Pure Glitches, they don’t cause devices to short out, and they don’t cause electrical fires. When a Lens Flare demon is present, a device’s audio quality drops and the colors on the screen appear to shift between different colors, most notably red, blue, pink, yellow, and green. They still have an underlying craving for violence and chaos, but they usually appear more collected and stoic. They also have short tempers and may lash out from time to time, but they’re somewhat easier to predict. Known to be manipulative and cunning, and will do just about anything to get what they want, regardless of the risk

Clickbait: Humanoid, but noticeably smaller; The shortest on record was only about 1’3, while the tallest was about 3’9. Their skin tones come in a variety of colors, although the most common ones are blue, green, and pink. They can only exist in the cyber world, infecting pop-up ads and clickbait on websites. When an ad or scam they’ve taken over has been clicked on and/or downloaded, they then travel into the device and make it their new host. Once they’ve taken control of their new host body, they prefer to stay as long as possible. If their host is damaged, they’re capable of repairing it, but they’ll die within minutes if they’re pulled out of it and into the physical world. They don’t crave violence as much as other types of demons, and instead, preoccupy themselves with simply trying to survive, due to being so weak. Their favorite kind of host bodies seem to be robots and animatronics. If a device is suspected to have a Clickbait demon living inside it, check the files for anything suspicious and then proceed to open up the device. If one is present, it’ll fall out once the device is opened. You may choose to move it to a new device if you wish to keep it around, but otherwise, leave them be. If provoked, they have the ability to pull someone into the cyber world with them (but only if the ad or scam they took over had been clicked on first)

Clown: Can appear humanoid or more like something from a horror movie, depending on how many lives they’ve taken and/or how many souls they’ve consumed. Some subtypes would include standard Circus/Carnival Clowns, Jesters, Mimes, and Harlequins. As children, they feed on only candy and sweets, and they crave sugar, but as they mature, they develop a taste for blood and human flesh, and it becomes their biggest source of nutrients. They appear unusually flexible, as if they have no bones, and their skin sometimes appears as though it’s made of plastic. They’re great at contorting themselves and doing anything based around gymnastics, acrobatics, and aerial arts. If their attire doesn’t give away their subtype, note their primary territory type, since Circus/Carnival Clowns prefer areas with tents and wagons and Mimes prefer alleyways and streets, while Jesters and Harlequins seem to gravitate more toward castles and historic locations. A common trait they share is giggling and laughing, even in completely inappropriate situations. Something to note: they are completely capable of detaching and reattaching their limbs, so it’s not uncommon to see them detaching their own heads to perform odd and potentially disturbing acts and stunts

Incubus/Succubus: Most often appears humanoid. They’re similar to a vampire, except they prefer to feed off of sexual energy. If no sexual energy is available or they cannot gain access to it, they will resort to feeding off of human blood. Their primary targets are sleeping humans, the gender of which depends (at least partially) on the gender of the demon itself. ‘Incubus/incubi’ refers to males, who prey on sleeping women, while ‘succubus/succubi’ refers to females who prey on sleeping men. Because of the changing times, however, Incubi and Succubi have become interchangeable terms, and individual demons may refer to themselves as whatever they prefer. While their targets are commonly of the opposite gender and they're typically represented as being almost always heterosexual, this is not always the case. In some scenarios, they've also been documented selecting targets and mates that are of the same gender as themselves

Vampire: Mostly humanoid, depending on their age and how much blood they’ve consumed over the years. They feed exclusively on blood, although some prefer the blood of animals over that of humans. Cannot go into direct sunlight, and doing so will result in being burnt

Mara: Also known as a “Nightmare demon”. Mostly humanoid, but typically lack any distinguishing features. Usually appear as nothing more than the completely black silhouette of a person, although some have been documented to have white or silver eyes, which lack a pupil or iris. It’s believed that many appear to be feminine, and either young women or old hags, but some do carry the preference of presenting themselves as being male or androgynous, as well. It is similar to Incubi/Succubi, but rather than feeding on sexual energy, it sits on the chest of a sleeping victim and brings nightmares. In some cases, they’re also known to suffocate their sleeping victim, as well as bring night terrors and sleep paralysis. After Pure Glitches, they’re the second hardest type of demon to catch on video or in photos, as their bodies tend to blend in with the surrounding shadows. They cannot exist in the light, and require some level of darkness to move about. Victims report feeling a heavy weight starting at their feet that very gradually spreads up their body and settles on their chest, before they became completely paralyzed. They retained the ability to see and hear, but along with their movement, they also lost the ability to speak, as well. They also report having vivid hallucinations and feeling a dark presence in the room with them

Imp: Can be humanoid, but like with other demon species, they can come in a variety of different shapes and sizes. They’re smaller than most demons, often ranging from 3’5 to 4’5, and they’re known for their short stature and red skin. Their eyes often appear yellow, and while males have angular horns that have black and white stripes around them, females have smaller horns that are mostly black with thin white stripes. They also have tails, the tips of which can either be shaped as an arrow or as a heart. They have a love for violence, and many base their careers on it. If their horns are curved and less angular, that would be the demon equivalent of balding

Inanimate: Almost always humanoid, but varies in appearance. They usually come in subtypes, such as mannequins, scarecrows, statues, dolls, animatronics, puppets, wax figures, dummies, etc. While they can move around normally in hell, they can only move if no one is looking, when they go to the human world. Like most demons, they enjoy scaring people, and they seem to prefer targeting anyone with automatonophobia (the fear of human-like figures)

Ink: Sometimes humanoid, sometimes not. They frequently resemble either a mostly humanoid figure or the upper half of a person (consisting of the head and neck, arms, chest, and upper half of the torso). They’re almost always entirely black and covered in sludge, and they lack any real distinguishing features, such as a face or clothing. It’s very rare to see any that appear in any other color or without the sludge. They’re supposedly made entirely of ink, hence their name. They’ve been seen coming out of ink puddles and “melting” back into them, and it’s thought that they use ink puddles to move from place to place. If one is strong enough, it may possess the ability to capture humans with its sludge, the substance becoming thicker and harder to pull oneself out of. If an Ink demon has built up enough strength and intelligence, they may even seek to convert humans into their personal servants. This could be achieved by first capturing and weakening a human, and then bleeding them out and replacing their blood with sludge. After the human completely heals and regains consciousness, they’re subjected to brainwashing and various forms of abuse, and this will continue until their spirit has been entirely broken and they’ve lost hope of escaping. Only once they lose hope and become entirely compliant, can the transformation into a servant be completed

Hellhound: There are two types that have been documented: Anthropomorphic and Feral. Anthropomorphic hellhounds typically have traits that are based off of canines (like dogs, wolves, coyotes, foxes, jackals, etc.) and walk upright on two legs like a human, while Feral hellhounds more closely resemble normal canines

Fallen Angels: Refers to angels who committed a crime and were cast down to hell from heaven. A prime example of this is Lucifer, who was once God’s favorite, and also known as the most beautiful angel in heaven

Sinner: Refers to any demon who was once human. When one becomes a demon, they usually develop the traits of whatever ties in with their personality, the kind of life that they lived, or their cause of death. They start off humanoid, but their appearance changes over time, depending on the number of lives they’ve taken and the number of people/creatures they’ve consumed. It’s not uncommon for them to cannibalize other demons. In death, they may choose to keep their human name or go by something new. Sinner demons may become any of the previously listed types, excluding imps, hellhounds, incubi/succubi, and inanimates

Hellborn: Refers to any demon who was born in hell, such as imps, hellhounds, incubi/succubi, and inanimates. While Sinner demons may occasionally grow to resemble any of these types, there will always be a way to distinguish them and spot the fakes

Hellborn demons don’t always fall into one specific category or type, much like Sinner demons

Hybrid demon species do exist, but are not common and are typically outcasted from the rest of society. Usually, they like to stick to their own general races, such as any glitch variant pairing with another (‘glitch’ is more of an umbrella term that refers to Pure Glitches, Lens Flares, and Clickbaits) while any clown variants (meaning standard Circus/Carnival Clowns, Jesters, Mimes, and Harlequins) may pair off with another clown variant. The different races do sometimes reproduce and create offspring with humans, but the half human-half demon mixes are often outcasted, since most others feel like they don’t belong in hell, but they don’t belong in the human world, either

Harlequins and Incubi/Succubi are known to be more promiscuous in nature, so hybrids that are part clown or incubi/succubi are fairly common

Devils and demons are extremely similar, though devils are almost always stronger, more violent, and more aggressive

It’s rare for demons to mate for life, but the bonded pairs that do usually end up moving out of the city. They relocate and choose to settle down somewhere away from most other demons, where they’re free to start a relatively peaceful life together

Because clown type demons are so similar, it’s common for two variants of one type to produce offspring that is another (ex: two standard Circus/Carnival Clowns may produce offspring that is a mime, or two Mimes may produce offspring that is a Jester)

If a Glitch variant reproduces with another Glitch variant, there’s a 50/50 chance that the offspring would be one type or the other (ex: a Pure Glitch and a Lens Flare may produce offspring that is either a Pure Glitch or a Lens Flare)

If two Sinner demons that don’t fall into any specific type produce offspring, the offspring would likely be another demon that shares their traits, similar to the outcomes whenever humans reproduce. The only thing to note would be that while Sinner demons aren’t native to hell, any children they have would technically be Hellborns

Hellhounds, Inks, and Imps are at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak. Maras, Vampires, and Incubi/Succubi are only slightly above them. Fallen Angels and Devils are at the very top, with Glitches right beneath them. Beneath Glitches would be Clowns, and then beneath Clowns would be Inanimates

From the bottom of the societal ladder to the top, the order would be: Hellhounds, Inks, Imps, Incubi/Succubi, Vampires, Maras, Inanimates, Clowns, Glitches, Devils, and Fallen Angels

Hellborn demons will almost always be stronger than Sinner demons. Sinners do have the potential to become stronger though, if the right conditions are met

There are other subspecies that exist as well, like Spiders, Moths, Cyclops, Snakes, Technology, Plants, etc.

#rambles #info #riderverse #riderverse au #undertale #undertale au #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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Morning!!!! 👀 and👖 for… I’d say all of them but don’t want you to be too busy, so ✨FREE CHOICE✨

Thank you for the ask Bestie 💛💛💛💛 Seeing as I have to do this ask in several writing takes (bc... you know) and it's taking me so long (and I'm rubbish at deciding anything at all) you'll get all of them 💛

👖 What type of clothing does your OC generally wear? Why? Do they have any “signature” accessories?

Lizzie: Lizzie typically wears comfortable and relaxed clothing that won't obstruct her movement.s She has a plethora of cosy cardigans and jumpers, and loves her sneakers. In summer, she basically never wears shirts or dresses, and almost always goes for shorts. She also loves wearing Quidditch or football jerseys when she's winding down. Her signature accessory has got to be her yellow topaz necklace Orion got her for her 16th birthday. Even when she stops wearing it around her neck, she still wraps it around her wrist during Quidditch matches.

Ava: Ava is basically always working in one way or another, and she doesn't have no time for pretty, feminine clothes. She's mostly in her work gear, sturdy but soft materials which she can move freely in. Her signature accessories would be the holster around her thigh where she keeps her wand, and a necklace she's never seen without, a smooth black stone in a delicate looking golden frame.

Selene: When she is home with her parents, Selene has to follow a strict dress code, like expected of a proper young lady. When she can decide for herself, there is no way in hell she'd wear a corset, and her dresses are flowy and comfortable. In her adult life, when she's at excavation sites around the world, she's often seen in men's clothes because let's face it - pockets are superior.

Caro: Caro is always impeccably dressed. She follows the latest fashion trends and her clothes are of the highest quality, no exceptions made. Her signature accessory are the thin gloves she uses for potion making so as not to mar the ingredients.

Reva: Reva will wear anything that's comfortable and which she can skateboard in (which is pretty much anything except heels). Her clothes are mostly black and the knees of her jeans rip faster than she can repair them so she stopped trying.

Dylan: chill, outdoorsy, hiking boots Dylan's clothing style is chill and laid back. He prefers sturdy and practical pieces that fit his outdoorsy lifestyle. Something he almost always wears are his hiking boots.

Danielle: Danielle loves girly and romantic clothes - skirts, dresses, cute collars, you name it, she has it. She also likes big and cosy jumpers with leggings, it doesn't get more autumnal than that. To break things up a little, her favourite things are her bright red sneakers she wears as often as she can - as long as they don't clash with the rest, obviously - and her daily changing nail varnishes.

👀 What is the first physical feature people notice when they see your OC? Why?

Lizzie: The first thing people notice about Lizzie is her smile. She is smiling most times, for one reason or another, and it's very bright and contagious.

Ava: A very striking feature of Ava is her very light blonde hair. In the right light, it almost looks as it it's white and falls down her back in soft waves.

Selene: Selene has very full and beautiful lips which purse slightly when she smiles. Another things people notice about her is her laugh - it's loud, happy and makes people want to join in.

Caro: Caro has very special eyes, they remind people of cat eyes and their colouring gives them something very intensive.

Reva: Equally Reva's hair and eyes. Both are very dark brown, almost black. Her eyes are very big and with long dark lashes, and her hair is typically a mass of tangled curls.

Dylan: Dylan's hair is not as messy as his sister's, but it's one of his most striking features nonetheless. He has a naturally perfect "woke up like this"-look without even trying.

Danielle: Her eyebrows. Dana was always very self-conscious about her big and expressive eyebrows, but grew to love them and the frame they give her face when she got older, partly thanks to her incredible friends from the Breakfast Club who are masters of aggressive confirmation (@the-al-chemist @kc-and-oc @whatwouldvalerydo)

#ask game #lizzie jameson #ava campbell #selene fraser #carolyn nyberg #reva amari #dylan amari #danielle parkin

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panic-based-riot · 3 years

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Gilded Chapter 1

Fandom: Inheritance Cycle

Pairing: Murtagh x OC, Eragon x OC, love triangle

Warnings: None

Ilirea tightened the blue scarf around her white blonde hair, tugging the sides to make sure they were snug. A small sigh passed her lips. Thankfully it was still in place. The men, or rather boys, who had been tugging at it were currently still on the streets, being scolded by their fathers on how to properly treat a woman. Slipping further away, between two houses, she turned and made her way past the edge of the village.

Ceris was small, situated at the eastern edge of Du Weldenvarden, the forest that housed the elves and their cities. The houses were small, only a single road running from the forest to the outer edge of the village. The houses seemed to grow right from the ground, as all did in the forest. Only here, on the outskirts of the forest, were humans allowed to dwell. But that didn’t stop Ilirea from wanting to see more of it. No matter how many times her mother had warned her, even on her deathbed. As the distance between Ceris and herself increased, Ilirea reached up and tugged the scarf from her head. Her straight hair tumbled in a silvery wave down her back, and the tips of her ears poked through. Not as prominent or sharp as any elf, but not the rounded ears of anyone else in her village.

Her mother had told her stories of her father when she was young. An elf from deep within the forest, who had met her mother while she was out harvesting berries from the forest. When she was almost killed by his companion who mistook her for a trespasser, her father had saved her mother’s life. And so, knowing how the Elves valued plants and their fruits, her mother offered her harvest, and to never take from the plants again. Her father had refused the offer, and asked instead for a warm meal and a bed for the night. Ilirea scoffed as she wandered through the trees. He had gotten a little more than that.

Kicking a small stone in her path, Ilirea sighed, and let out a soft curse. If her father were still alive, she wished he would come for her. Hiding her ears was easy enough, but her thin angular face and slanted eyes were another thing altogether. At least the trees did not judge nor mock her, and if they did it was only in the language of rustling leaves. The forest seemed to speak to her, to the soft music that whispered in her mind and the traces of elf magic in her veins. And so it called to her, beckoning.

With a sad breath, she sat at the base of a tree, closing her eyes briefly. She leaned her head back, her hands brushing the ground absentmindedly. They froze as she ran across something smooth and hard. Her fingers ghosted back across the surface under her fingers. She turned to look at the ground, and saw a bright yellow object, mostly obscured by dirt and small plants. She knelt, brushing the dirt away with both hands, pulling out the small plants that had rooted in the shallow soil. When enough of the object was cleared, she started gently pushing on it, rocking it back and forth to loosen it.

Slowly the dirt around it gave way and she slid her fingers into the crevice she had made next to the large object which she now suspected was some kind of jewel or precious stone. Pulling, Ilirea tugged it out of the dirt, nearly falling backwards with the effort. She picked it up, running her hands over it to brush off the dirt, and her almond shaped eyes widened. She had heard stories about the object she now held in her hands and had watched often from under the trees as the hero Rider Eragon had flown over on the beautiful blue dragon Saphira. They were undoubtedly working to restore the nation after they had freed them from the tyranny of Galbatorix. She also on occasion saw the elf queen Rider Arya and her emerald dragon Fírnen flying in the distance over Du Weldenvarden. But never in her 20 years had she imagined that she would hold this in her hands.

“A dragon’s egg…” Her voice came out as a whisper, and almost in response the egg thrummed lightly. Ilirea laughed softly, and stood, cradling the egg as gently as she would a newborn baby. Reaching down, she set it gently on the forest floor, then lifted the side of her top skirt. Pulling it through her skirt hike, she looped it up high, creating a small pouch-like area where she could easily carry the egg without others seeing it. She picked it up and gently deposited it into the new pocket she had just made. It settled in gently, thrumming softly against her thigh.

Ilirea gently made her way through the forest and back to the town, keeping one hand on the egg in her skirts. Just outside of the town she paused, wrapping her blue scarf back around her head and tied it on to hide her pointed ears. Satisfied she had hidden them well, she headed into town. Inside the gates, she waved hello to friends, but politely made her way straight home. Once she reached the one room house on the far side of the village, she closed and bolted the door behind her. Settling in the center of the room, she pulled out the yellow egg, running her hands over the smooth, cool surface. It felt warm and alive, and carried the scent of the forest. Dirt crumbled away as she cleaned it, speaking as she did so.

“The proper thing to do would be to find a way to get you to Queen Arya or Queen Nasuada. That way they could get you to Rider Eragon.” The egg thrummed again, deeper than before, as if displeased with the notion. “I don’t want to do that either.” For some reason, she didn’t want to part with it although she knew the chances of it hatching for her were slim. Soon the beautiful yellow egg was clean, and Ilirea caressed it gently. For her to have such a treasure in her hands...she was unworthy. She quickly placed the egg on the solid wooden floor and stood.

“Well, I don’t really know what a dragon egg needs…” Ilirea looked around and gathered some spare blankets from a chest in the corner of the room, and folded them together to make a nest of sorts. Pushing them together, she sighed, and reached into the back of her mind. The elven blood in her veins had gifted her with magic, though her mother had forbidden her use of it. Pushing through the barrier, she whispered one of the few words she knew. “Verma.” Energy flowed out of her, and the blankets in her arms grew warm, heated just enough to be comfortable.

Ilirea set them on the ground, resting herself next to them, breathing slightly harder from the effort. A moment passed and when she trusted her arms enough, she picked up the egg and set it in the now-warm nest of blankets. As she held it, she felt it thrum again and energy flowed from it, strengthening her after her spell. She quickly released it, breaking the connection and she pulled her hands close to her chest.

“Thank you, but I don’t deserve your magic.” The egg thrummed so low that it seemed to growl at her, and she sighed. “I shouldn’t even exist. But hopefully that will be enough to keep you comfortable, at least for the night.” Glancing around the small home, Ilirea stood. “Tomorrow, we leave. I have to take you to Queen Nasuada. She’ll give you to Rider Eragon.” She paused, “He will know what to do.” At that, the egg thrummed a discordant, unhappy pitch, then fell silent. Ilirea sighed and changed into her night clothes, collapsing on her small bed, and soon sleep overtook her.

Part 1/??

Taglist: @raiikuiii @gilded-moon @thebluemoonwolf @overlordspirit18 @nightsshadow1

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist

#riot writes things #the inheritance cycle #Eragon #eragon shadeslayer #eragon bromsson #dragon rider #inheritance cycle oc #inheritance cycle Fanfiction #IC fanfic #murtagh morzanson #murtagh #saphira bjarskülar #saphira #gilded Fanfiction

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rinasspookystories · 3 years

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Fish Bones

I've heard a number of stories about gifts being bestowed upon kind hearted individuals. Trees, animals, mystical beings...just to name a few. This case, in particular, involves a young girl and gifts she receives from the bones of a fish. An odd thing to be able to grant wishes or gifts, but I suppose there's stranger. Maybe. Allow me to start this explanation with a story. In it, there is a man with two wives. Not an unusual sight. Especially among the higher class families in China. The wives each birth a daughter, both of which are as lovely as their mothers. I know this much based on the testimony of the father and the portraits he showed me of his family. Indeed, he was married to a pair of beauties. His first wife reminded me of a viper. Beautiful, angry, venomous. She would wear makeup to hide any flaws on her face (so perhaps she was not as lovely as she truly was). But then, that was merely what could be seen on the surface. Her eyes showed far more. You could see an inner cruelty, the venom, shining in her almond shaped eyes. Eyes that were too heavily lined and weighed down with far too much mascara which hid what could possibly have been rather attractive hazel eyes. And then she also wore too thick makeup that was one, maybe two, shades lighter than her natural complexion along with deep rouge on her lips that only accentuated how thin and tense her mouth was. Personally, I feel she may have been trying far too hard.

The second wife, whom this man has proclaimed to be his favorite, brings to mind wildflowers. There's a softness to her face and in her coal black eyes. A complexion matching someone who spends much time outside and tending to a garden (apparently a favorite pastime of hers). And not even a static image can hide the smile hidden in the corner of her full lips. I can certainly see why he's chosen her as his favorite. Were I the kind who might marry, I would certainly want this lovely creature. Such a shame that she had passed before her time. Now, for the daughters. As stated before, there are two of them. The elder being born to the first wife and the younger being born to the second. Both girls take after their mothers. Though it should be mentioned that the first, thankfully, doesn't share her mother's stern expression or penchant for heavy makeup. This first daughter has the same eye shape and color as her mother, but the lack of heavy makeup makes it much easier too see the color of them. The only difference is that the daughter's eyes are somewhat more slanted and makes her look like a fox. Not that that is such a bad thing. The vulpine-like features suit the girl quite well and give others the impression that she is far more cunning than she appears to be. Such a shame that her personality doesn't match her features. She could certainly be a force to be reckoned with in court if she was the sly creature she looks to be. Sadly, she's actually quite dim and as vain as her mother. And a horrid complainer. Although, I'm not certain there's any teenaged girl that wouldn't complain about pain and discomfort while going through the process of foot binding. Before I move on, I should explain that China does not favor foot binding much, anymore. While some families do still perform the procedure, it's usually started when a girl is much, much younger. While their feet were still growing. Not when the girl was nearly full grown. I believe that she may have also been dealing with an infection from the procedure when I first met her. Moving on now. The second daughter was the very image of her mother. Thick, black hair and wide, doe-like eyes the color of ebony. She even had that same little smile in the corner of her mouth. This girl, Yeh-Shen, is also the primary subject of this case. Which should be noted that she was very forthcoming with her side of the events. To begin, Yeh-Shen's mother died while she was still a young girl, leaving behind a beautiful garden with a fish pond. According to her father, she spent much time at the pond after her mother's passing. Apparently, she'd taken quite a liking to a particular fish in the pond. To say that this was the extent of things, though, would be wrong. Things get much worse in this story. As a merchant, the girl's father would often spend long durations of time away from home. During these times, the first wife, we'll call her Qiao, would treat Yeh-Shen as a servant. Forcing her stepdaughter to clean, cook and tend to her and her daughter's every need and whim. Qiao would even belittle her, calling her 'Lazy Girl' and whipping her if she didn't move as quickly as she wanted. For her own part, Qiao's daughter, whom shall be called Niu, wasn't as bad as her mother. She wasn't much better, but she also wasn't so abusive. Unless you counted kicking Yeh-Shen in the face when her feet were being cleaned and bandaged. Niu, though, would often thank her sister and didn't take part in the beatings or the name calling. That being said, she didn't exactly make it easier for her, either. Mostly by not offering to help with any of the chores and not speaking up against her mother for the woman's poor behavior. I suppose it can't be helped, though. Qiao can be quite intimidating. As mentioned, Yeh-Shen often spent her free time in her mother's garden and tending to a particular koi fish. I was fortunate enough to have gotten to see a painting of this fish, done by the girl in question. She's quite talented with paints and the fish was quite beautiful. Mostly white with a pale gold diamond between it's eyes. I imagine the fish must've looked as if it's scales were made of pearls while the marking looked more like fragments of amber. Even in the painting, you can see an intelligence in the animal that isn't commonly noticed in a fish of any kind. while we spoke, she told me tales of how the fish, called Bai, would often swim up to greet her and allow her to pet it as if it were a house cat. She also spoke of how Bai would 'dance' for her, as if performing for it's mistress in the hopes of cheering her up. No doubt, Yeh-Shen genuinely loved this little fish. She didn't even need to say as much as I could see it on her face and hear it in her voice. It's a shame that there must be one more bit of tragedy before a happier end comes. In this case, Bai was killed. As a form of punishment as well as to feed her own child and herself, Qiao scooped the fish from the pond and forced Yeh-Shen to prepare it as a meal. There's no doubt that the poor girl cried the entire time and continued to do so as she gathered every tiny bone and wrapped in silk. Yeh-Shen then spoke of how she cared for the bones as if they were a treasure, wishing nothing more than for her friend to return to her. As it happens, the festival celebrating the new year took place just a few, short months after this. Qiao was adamant that Yeh-Shen not attend. Considering this was also a time when young women and men often sought out a potential spouse, the woman didn't want the extra competition against Niu. I imagine anyone seeing that girl hobbling along in binding shoes would only bring about feelings of pity. Not exactly a great way to try and get a husband. However, this is not Niu's story. While she was forced to stay home, Yeh-Shen spoke to the bones of her beloved fish. Something she claims to have been doing since it's death as it brought her comfort. As she carried on a one-sided conversation, her garments changed from muslin rags to silk robes and golden slippers. While there's no evidence to prove it, it seems the bones of the fish were able to grant it's mistress's wish. She was able to go to the festival. The festival in question was a rather large event. One that I was unable to attend due to having holed myself up with my work. But I did hear a great deal about the spectacle afterwards. How a tiny golden slipper led to a simple servant girl marrying the son of one of the most powerful lords. It's at this point that the story's events were told from the perspective of the young lord, Li Shou. He had found the slipper shortly after parting ways with Yeh-Shen, having been talking with her for some time. He had hoped to get her name, but she had fled before telling him. A shame as that may have made it much easier for him to find her and return the little shoe. What should be noted is that I keep referencing the size of this shoe. There is a reason. The object appears to belong to a rather young girl, not an adult woman. Had I not been shown the size of her feet when shown the slippers, I would've believed that there was no way it belonged to her. During the search, Shou had all the unmarried ladies try the slipper on. Given a woman would've had to have had a severely deformed foot to fit into such a small shoe, it's no surprise that no one was able to fit into it. There was even moments when, according to those who witnessed it, the slipper would shrink whenever a girl would be close to the same size. No doubt there was some form of magic still involved and it was helping this young man find it's rightful owner. At some point, the slipper was brought to Yeh-Shen's home where Niu tried on the slipper, first. Naturally, it didn't come close to fitting the young woman's foot and no one was really keen on helping her force it on the infected appendage. Qiao tried to keep the true owner of the slipper from being seen, but since the lord and his men needed to pass by the garden and the pond in order to leave, she failed in her attempt. Lord Shou goes on to tell how he approached the frightened servant girl and asked her try on the slipper. Sure enough, the slipper fit her dainty foot perfectly. Now is the part that has me the most intrigued. For it was moments after Yeh-Shen put on the slipper that her beloved fish had reappeared in the pond. And, according to the young couple, Qiao dragged Niu into the garden to try and stop Shou from meeting her stepdaughter. When they reached a certain spot by the pond, the koi, resurrected by some unknown force, had leaped up and struck them with it's tail. The impact resulted in the two toppling into the pond where they transformed into a pair of koi fish. Lord Shou said that he had never heard screams such as theirs. Screams that indicated the change must've been quite painful. Thankfully, they allowed me to see these fish. The original koi was just as lovely as the original painting indicated. These two new ones, though... I'm not certain what to consider them to be. Both are a mottled black and orange with dull, black eyes set on their very human faces. The longest one, I assume was once Qiao, had a very thin face and would bite at anyone who tried to approach. The other, I can only guess to have been Niu because of the deformed tail fin. Certainly seems to be a fitting end for them.

#Been a while since I posted anything #Hope you guys enjoy it #Chinese Cinderella #Inspired by Chinese fairy tale #Cinderella

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

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Passchendaele WW2 Extension - The Ladies of the Air Transport Auxiliary

Charlie,

You worry as much as your father, honestly! I am doing just fine here! Holding down the fort bravely in constant preparation for you to return to us and peace to fall once again. We’ve been following the RAF’s plans on promotional posters that the government has put up around town and I always feel a sense of pride when I see the crowd gathered to read – my son is part of all those exciting plans to help save Britain! Evelyn’s working so hard too and she’s been bragging to everyone at the factory that you’re going to be flying the planes they’re all building. I guess you can say we’re all one big ball of pride in our house! Your father too, of course, although he doesn’t show it as easily, I know he’s proud of you. I hope you know it too!

Love always

Mum

March 3, 1941

“New shipment of planes in from London factories today.” one of the other pilots said as the young men sat around at lunch. Charlie smiled to himself into his mess tin as he stirred his food around, thinking of his sister and her constant letters of excitement when it comes to building those same planes he would be receiving that day.

“How are they being delivered?” Richard asked.

“Air Transport Auxiliary.” the pilot answered. “Only the finest women in all of London to fly us our planes.”

“Finest women?” another questioned, his eyes wide.

“Not the finest women.” a third smacked his shoulder, “Just women volunteers with experience in flying so we don’t have to go fetch the planes ourselves.”

“After two years with you lot, any woman will be a fine woman.”

“I forget what a woman looks like.”

“What about the ones in the control room?”

“Nah. They’re all subpar or married.”

“Married? That certainly didn’t stop me.”

Then young men burst into laughter, all talking over each other with their own stories of women, but Charlie and Richard sat quietly together while they ate side by side. The best friends shared little shy smiles amidst the all too experienced men around them who found more pride in hook-ups rather than love. Must have been raised differently.

Soon, the sound of planes overhead got everyone’s attention as the shipment arrived, plane after plane landed carefully on the tarmac. Moments later, all heads in the mess hall turned to watch a group of young women dressed in dark royal blue uniforms encrusted with gold epaulets and a pair of gold wings sewn into the breast saunter inside. There was a pause from the men, all in shock at the beautiful clean kept women in stunning blue uniforms entered the mess hall. A few men jumped up to greet them eagerly and Richard and Charlie just chuckled and turned back to their lunches.

“Some of these men are so desperate.” Richard whispered.

Charlie glanced behind them again to the group of women that was dispersing as they headed to gather their own lunch servings from the canteen, a few held back by some of the pilots or ground crew who were trying to chat them up with flattery. His eyes found the source of a soft laugh that seemed to echo through the hall: a thin framed brunette girl with her hair in tight ringlets that sat messy over her head from her flying helmet that was dangling from her fingers.

Richard followed his best friend’s gaze across the hall when he realized his attempt at conversation was falling upon deaf ears, a small smirk playing at his lips when he saw what Charlie was staring at. He turned back to his best friend and nudged his shoulder, “Go talk to her.”

“What? No.” Charles said quickly and turned back to his lunch. “Everyone else already is. I won’t make any difference.

Richard frowned and looked back towards the crowd by the entrance to the mess hall, watching as the girl politely declined the advances of the man speaking to her and she headed their way towards the canteen.

Charles tried not to stare but the guys weren’t wrong – it had been a while since they had seen any sort of woman and this one in particular really seemed to catch his eye – and he watched discreetly as she walked past their table, her messy curls bouncing, and she pulled her leather gloves off with her teeth and tucked them in the pocket of her royal blue uniform jacket. She approached the canteen to get a serving of lunch with a few of the other girls from the Air Transport Auxiliary.

“Go say hi.” Richard pressed.

“No.” Charlie said under his breath, ducking his head back to his lunch. “She won’t want me anyway.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course, she will.” Richard scoffed.

Charlie just shrugged, scrapping the bottom of his tin with his fork anxiously. His best friend sighed and turned back to the women again. Richard was always the shyer of the two but when it came to Charlie, he did get a little bolder. Bold enough to stand up and raise his hand to the group of three women searching for a spot to sit.

“We have empty seats here.” Richard offered sweetly, his youthful face and wide smile making the girls smile with relief as to not have to sit with some strange desperate older men and suffer through flirtatious and borderline risqué comments. Charlie smacked his best friend in annoyance as he sat back down. Richard only smiled at him innocently.

“Hello.” the young woman smiled at them, sitting herself down right across from Charlie.

“Hi.” he replied softly, ducking his shy smile back to his obviously empty lunch but still scraped his fork along the side regardless.

She unbuttoned her jacket and draped it over the metal table with her helmet and gloves, leaving her in her white button-up and black tie. She held out her hand to Charlie, “I’m Mary.”

He glanced up at her and then took her handshake, “Charlie.”

The other two girls busied themselves talking with Richard while Mary’s eyes dropped to the name tag sewn into Charlie’s breast of his jacket reading his surname.

“Seavey. You aren’t Evelyn’s brother by chance?” Mary asked.

Charlie’s entire face rose into a grinning smile at the mention of his sister, “Yeah. I am.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous. She was going around telling all of us this morning to keep an eye out for you. I’m sure a few more girls are going to come over to pass on the message before we head back.” Mary chuckled.

“How is she? Does she look okay?” Charlie questioned without thinking; it was habit.

“I mean I just met the girl today but I think she looked just fine. Quite chipper despite the raging war we’re facing.”

“That’s Ev for you.” Charlie said, his sad but loving smile not faltering from his face.

One of the girls butted in, “Mary, have you seen Ellie since we landed?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh goodness. I hope she didn’t hit a balloon.”

Richard and Charlie’s eyes went wide at the casual suspicion of the girls’ teammate blowing herself up mid-flight. It was nothing they themselves weren’t unfamiliar with but they didn’t expect the women to be familiar with it.

“Do you…see casualties often?” Richard asked.

“Not too often but it’s inevitable. It’s a warzone after all so we’re never safe in the skies…you two certainly understand that.” Mary said as she took a bite of her lukewarm lunch. “But it’s terribly exciting to fly.”

“Isn’t it?” Richard grinned. “I love it.”

“There’s something so peaceful about being up there even if it’s also incredibly dangerous.”

“It’s like you’re the kings of the clouds.” Charlie said.

“And we’ll be the queens of the clouds.” Mary winked sweetly at him.

Richard smirked at his best friend’s blushing cheeks.

When lunch was finished, the girls had to start to head to the trucks that would drive them back to the city and Richard and Charlie walked out with their small group of new friends. There was still some time before they had to leave so they chatted on the tarmac for a bit, Richard seeming to make the other two girls laugh easily which surprised the usually shy boy but he basked in it. He cracked a few jokes and told a few stories and the girls were hanging onto his every word – but mostly just staring at him and his messy brown hair and sparkling grey eyes, the proud spitting image of his father.

“Come with me.” Mary grabbed Charlie’s arm and led him towards the lineup of planes that were resting outside the garage and they passed a few before she took him up to a specific one she seemed to have in mind.

She let go of his arm to climb up onto the wing and Charlie watched with awe as she so easily opened the cockpit and hopped in. He stepped closer to lean over the edge of the plane to see what she was trying to show him: a little scratch mark on the window ledge. At nearly 6’ tall, Charlie only had to raise onto his tiptoes to get a clear view of the initials etched messily into the metal.

MLT – ATA

“What’s that?” Charlie asked.

“’Mary Lois Thompson, Air Transport Auxiliary’. I flew this one over today and thought I’d brand it a little.” she giggled.

“So you’re showing me your crime?” Charlie raised an eyebrow at her.

Mary smiled over at him, “No, I’m showing you because I want you to have my lucky plane.”

“Your lucky plane? You flew it for one afternoon.”

“Oh my goodness, you are seriously no fun at banter.” Mary tisked as she climbed out of the cockpit and jumped right back onto the tarmac. She was much shorter compared to him and Charlie had to nearly look down at her when she stood in front of him. “It flies marvellously well and it has something none of the others do.”

“Or you could be tricking me into flying the worst plane just so I crash.”

“Why would I want the RAF’s most handsome pilot to crash?” she tisked, an innocent little smirk on her face that only grew when his eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed pink and he turned to the ground shyly.

“Mary! It’s time to go!” one of her friends called across the base.

“That’s my cue.” Mary took a step back to head after her group.

Charlie grabbed her hand to stop her, “W-Will I ever see you again?”

Mary smiled at him and leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m sure you will. Write to the factory and address it to me,” she nodded towards the plane, “you know my name.”

Charlie nodded and let her hand slip out of his as he watched her walk away. He stepped out from behind the row of planes to follow her all the way down the tarmac and to the trucks that were waiting with the rest of the women to head back towards the city. Richard was still standing at the end of the row of planes and he looked back to his best friend with a smile and rushed over to him.

“Did you kiss her?” he asked quickly.

Charlie shook his head, biting back his bashful grin, “No.”

“Why not?!” Richard smacked his shoulder. “She was obviously interested in you.”

“I’m going to write her first.” Charlie smiled lightly and then turned to his best friend, “Besides, even if I did kiss her, why would I tell you?”

“I’m your best friend! Known you our whole lives! You best be telling me, you bastard!” Richard gasped and gave him a shove, just making Charles laugh.

Taglist: @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @chanelwonders

#✉#daniel seavey #corbyn besson #why dont we

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lex-2002 · 3 years

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The Savoy Ballroom was a large ballroom for music and public dancing located at 596 Lenox Avenue, between 140th and 141st Streets in the Harlem neighborhood of Manhattan, New York City. Lenox Avenue was the main thoroughfare through upper Harlem. Poet Langston Hughes calls it the Heartbeat of Harlem in Juke Box Love Song, and he set his work "Lenox Avenue: Midnight" on the legendary street. The Savoy was one of many Harlem hot spots along Lenox, but it was the one to be called the "World's Finest Ballroom". It was in operation from March 12, 1926, to July 10, 1958, and as Barbara Englebrecht writes in her article "Swinging at the Savoy", it was "a building, a geographic place, a ballroom, and the 'soul' of a neighborhood". It was opened and owned by white entrepreneur Jay Faggen and Jewish businessman Moe Gale. It was managed by African-American business man and civic leader Charles Buchanan. Buchanan, who was born in the British West Indies, sought to run a "luxury ballroom to accommodate the many thousands who wished to dance in an atmosphere of tasteful refinement, rather than in the small stuffy halls and the foul smelling, smoke laden cellar nightclubs ..."

The Savoy was modeled after Faggen's downtown venue, Roseland Ballroom. The Roseland was a mostly white swing dance club. With swing's rise to popularity and Harlem becoming a connected black community, The Savoy gave the rising talented and passionate black dancers an equally beautiful venue. The ballroom, which was 10,000 square feet in size, was on the second floor and a block long. It could hold up to 4,000 people. The interior was painted pink and the walls were mirrored. Colored lights danced on the sprung layered wood floor. In 1926, the Savoy contained a spacious lobby framing a huge, cut glass chandelier and marble staircase. Leon James is quoted in Jazz Dance as saying, "My first impression was that I had stepped into another world. I had been to other ballrooms, but this was different – much bigger, more glamour, real class ..."

The Savoy Ballroom was named after the Savoy Hotel in London as those who named the ballroom felt this gave the ballroom a classy, upscale feeling, as the hotel is a very elite, upscale hotel.

The Savoy was popular from the start. A headline from the New York Age March 20, 1926, reads "Savoy Turns 2,000 Away On Opening Night – Crowds Pack Ball Room All Week". The ballroom remained lit every night of the week.

The Savoy had the constant presence of the best Lindy Hoppers, known as "Savoy Lindy Hoppers". Occasionally, groups of dancers such Whitey's Lindy Hoppers turned professional and performed in Broadway and Hollywood productions. Whitey turned out to be a successful agent, and in 1937 the Marx Brothers' movie A Day at the Races featured the group. Herbert White was a bouncer at the Savoy who was made floor manager in the early 1930s. He was sometimes known as Mac, but with his ambition to scout dancers at the ballroom to form his own group, he became widely known as Whitey for the white streak of hair down the center of his head. He looked for dancers who were "young, stylized, and, most of all, they had to have a beat, they had to swing".

Unlike many ballrooms such as the Cotton Club, the Savoy always had a no-discrimination policy. The clientele was 85% black and 15% white, although sometimes there was an even split. Lindy hop dancer Frankie Manning said that patrons were judged on their dancing skills and not on the color of their skin: "One night somebody came over and said, 'Hey man, Clark Gable just walked in the house.' Somebody else said, 'Oh, yeah, can he dance?' All they wanted to know when you came into the Savoy was, do you dance?".

The northeast corner of the dance floor, nicknamed "Cats' Corner," was monopolized by the best and boldest dancers. Some sources claim only Whitey's Lindy Hoppers were permitted to dance there, while others are less specific. Competition for a place in Cats' Corner was fierce, and every serious hopper awaited the nightly "showtime". Other dancers would create a horseshoe around the band and "only the greatest Lindy-hoppers would stay on the floor, to try to eliminate each other". On 140th street was the opposite, mellow corner which was popular with dancing couples. The tango dancer known as The Sheik frequented this corner.

Many dances such as Lindy Hop (which was named after Charles Lindbergh and originated in 1927) were developed and became famous there. It was known downtown as the "Home of Happy Feet" but uptown, in Harlem, as "the Track" because the floor was long and thin. The Lindy Hop is also known as The Jitterbug and was born out of "mounting exhilaration and the 'hot' interaction of music and dance". Other dances that were conceived at the Savoy are The Flying Charleston, Jive, Snakehips, Rhumboogie, and variations of the Shimmy and Mambo. Capitol Records released at least one album devoted to the club, The Home of Happy Feet, from 1959.

It is estimated that the ballroom generated $250,000 in annual profit in its peak years from the late 1920s to the 1940s. Every year the ballroom was visited by almost 700,000 people. The entrance fee was 30 to 85 cents per person, depending on what time a person came. Thirty cents was the base price, but after 6pm the fee was 60 cents, and then 85 cents after 8pm. The Savoy made enough money by its peak in 1936 that $50,000 was spent on remodeling.

The ballroom had a double bandstand that held one large and one medium-sized band running against its east wall. Music was continuous as the alternative band was always in position and ready to pick up the beat when the previous one had completed its set. The bouncers, who had previously worked as boxers, basketball players, and the like, wore tuxedos and made $100 a night. The floor was watched inconspicuously by a security force of four men at a time who were headed by Jack La Rue, and no man was allowed in who wasn't dressed in a jacket with a tie. Besides the security staff, the Savoy was populated by "Harlem's most beautiful women": the Savoy Hostesses. They would be fired for consorting with patrons outside the ballroom, but inside the hostesses would teach people to dance and were dance partners for anyone who purchased a 25 cent dance ticket. Roseland Ballroom hostesses often visited the Savoy on their night off; this inspired Buchanan to create Monday Ladies-Free Nights. Other special events began during the week, including the giveaway of a new car every Saturday. The floor had to be replaced every three years due to frequent use.

During the 1930s, Chick Webb was the bandleader of the Savoy's most popular house band. Ella Fitzgerald, fresh from a talent show victory at the Apollo Theater in 1934, became its teenage vocalist. Webb also recorded the 1934 big band song and jazz standard "Stompin' at the Savoy", which is named for the Savoy. The Savoy was the site of many Battle of the Bands or Cutting Contests, which started when the Benny Goodman Orchestra challenged Webb in 1937. Webb and his band were declared the winners of that contest. In 1938, Webb was challenged by the Count Basie Band. While Webb was declared the winner again, there was a lack of consensus on who won. Earle Warren, alto saxophonist for Basie, reported that they had worked on the song "Swingin' the Blues" for competing and says, "When we unloaded our cannons, that was the end".

Floating World Pictures made a documentary called The Savoy King about the ballroom. It was shown at the 50th New York Film Festival. Other prominent Savoy house bandleaders included Al Cooper, Erskine Hawkins, Lucky Millinder (with Wynonie Harris on vocals), Buddy Johnson, and Cootie Williams.

The Savoy participated in the 1939 New York World's Fair, presenting "The Evolution of Negro Dance".

The ballroom was shut down in April 1943 as a result of "charges of vice filed by the police department and Army". Its license was renewed in mid-October of the same year.

#google #historic

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

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Pseudo Princess Pt.02

A New Princess

09/27/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,910

Warnings: a smidge of abuse, language?, floral baths

A/N: I literally worked on this all day. Haven’t edited much. Did one quick pass through but I probably missed a whole bunch of stuff. Pardon my typos. I was just so eager to get this out. Again, I will not tag you if you ask to be tagged in the comments. Only tag requests sent in ASKS will be answered. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Please let me know what you enjoyed. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Baths have never been anything that you’ve particularly hated. You don’t mind getting clean, in fact, you like feeling like you’re new after a bath.

However, until today, your experience with baths has been one of need rather than want.

You always had to bathe in cold water from the river. You nearly always bathed without soap. And you only ever came out smelling slightly better than when you went in.

But today...

You sigh with contentment as your body sinks into the large copper basin. Fresh flower petals, peony and jasmine have been spread across the water. Scented oils are still being added as you settle in.

Technically this is your second bath.

You'd been doused in water before, over the a different smaller tub to scrub the layers of mud that had caked onto your skin.

Now, since your skin is mostly clean, you’re lowered into this one.

Your lady in waiting adds the oils to your bath, having shooed the bath preppers—two stocky young men that had taken to staring at your barely covered naked body as they poured cauldron after cauldron of hot steaming water into the tub—she’s taken it upon herself to make everything just right.

Now that you’re seated, you watch her as she calculates the oil before stopping the amber bottle and setting it on the table where your food had been a few hours ago.

Your lady has long straight hair the color of rubies and sunset. Her skin is silken cream. She’s clearly a beauty but you can’t tell if she’s a noblewoman or lucky, like you.

“Natasha?�� You ask, tentative as she fetches a maroon bar of soap. It smells like pomegranate and more jasmine.

She smiles at you. “Yes.”

It’s a kind smile but you also saw her eyeing you suspiciously when she came in at first. She also seems to know that you’re checking to see if you remembered her name correctly.

She sits beside you on a slightly lower stool so that she still sits above you but low enough to help you.

“Lean forward, your Highness.” She asks, and your neck flares with heat.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach making you queasy and your chest begins to hollow.

“Your high-?” You probably lose most of the color in your face because Natasha’s eyes flash with concern.

“Are you alright, your Highness?” She wonders, genuine in her concern.

“I…” You look to the shut doorway and know that there’s a guard sitting out in the room entryway between the main doors and the doors to your bedroom.

Natasha leans in closer as you finally lean forward and give her access to your back.

When you speak again, you whisper as Natasha smiles conspiratorially.

“I’m not really a princess, Natasha. The king plucked me from the side of a road, covered in mud. I’m nobody.” You worry, chewing your lip harshly.

Natasha frowns and reaches up to run her thumb across your lip, stopping your biting.

“Don’t do that. Princess do not chew on their lip. And I know.” She assures you. “Tony, that is to say, the King cannot hide much from me. I was the one that gave him the idea to look for a peasant.”

“You?” You lean back, slightly shocked as she really goes at your skin with the smaller towel she'd lathered up.

“I have worked as his Majesty's assistant for many years now. Too many. He’s like a brother to me and Pepper, that is, the Queen, is like a sister.

“His Majesty figured you might find it a little difficult to acclimate which is why he’s entrusted your care to me. Don’t worry, your Highness, I’ve got your back.” She smiles reassuringly but you know she has no loyalty for you yet.

Her loyalty, like yours, is to the crown. You agreed for the sake of your kingdom.

“So, we have a day full of things for you to do. You won’t get much rest today. Or for several days. Maybe weeks, depending on when King Rogers decides he wants to get married.” She informs you.

“What’s he like?” You ask eagerly, desperate for information on the widower. “Have you met him?”

“I have. He’s very upright. Upstanding. Noble. Honorable. A little serious but very sweet. He’s gentle when he isn’t angry but when he is angry he has been known to lash out.” She explains.

You blanch again, feel queasy once more. “Is he violent? Will he hit me?”

“No.” Nat answers, reassuring you with the tough spark in her emerald eyes. “Like I said, he’s honorable, and even if he were inclined to hit you I wouldn’t let him. It’s my job to protect you.”

When she says that it almost sounds like she’s willing to fight. Physically. With punches and kicks.

“What is it that you did for his Majesty, Natasha?” You wonder, suspicious now.

She smirks down at you, pleased with how observant you are. Sharp.

“Never you mind, Highness. Sit back, I’ll scrub your tummy.” She asks but as you sit back you reach up and take the cloth from her.

“I can do it.” You watch her until she releases it.

“Very well. Make sure you get all your nooks and crannies. We need you shining like new.” She says, getting up to rifle through your wardrobe.

“What things will we do today?” You wonder, attempting to mimic the correct way she speaks. Most of your word choices are fine but there’s a posh little tone to her words that you’ll need to learn to mimic.

Right now you sound too much like the country bumpkin you are.

“These dresses will need to be altered to your specific body type. You'll also start training in etiquette and we need to attempt to teach you a little to write and read.

“I’m hoping King Rogers will take his time in accepting you as his wife. It’ll give us time to get you trained a little.” She picks a floor length gown with no hoop which you like. It has an latticework of lace along the bodice and the sleeves over a beige underskirt made of voile and organza.

It’s pretty but more expensive than all of the money you've ever earned sewing up patches and fixing shirts and pants.

“This looks the closest to your size. It might sit a little loose but it'll work until we can get you a proper wardrobe.” She turns towards the bed to lay out your dress and you wonder if she did that on purpose to show off the flowing fabric of the dress.

She proceeds to pull out several undergarments, a long and thin white shirt, and a corset with back lacing to put over it.

Your own well worn undergarments had been discarded, along with your dress.

“Okay.” She says, moving to you and holding out her hand. “Give me that. You’re too slow. I need to get you scrubbed and changed within the hour. We still have to wash your hair.”

“I can do it.” You protest and make to dip under the water.

“No!” Natasha almost shouts. “Not in there. We will wash your hair separately and when we are done with your bath.”

“Why?” You frown, looking down at the now slightly murky water with its flowers and oils.

“Because, you haven bathed in a while and that water is already rife with dirt.” Natasha explains.

“I’ve done it before.” You complain.

“You weren’t a princess before.”

“This is stupid.”

“Stupid as it might be, doesn’t change the fact that you were filthy when I got you. Please, your Highness, let’s do it my way at least a few times. Then after a few washes, when you’ve used soap and I’m sure your body is clean enough, then you may wash your hair at the same time. Alright?”

You consider Natasha for a moment, still standing with her hand outstretched, long red hair braided and pinned up on the top of her head. She doesn’t look upset though and is genuinely pleading with you.

You give in and hand her the cloth then lean back as she pulls her stool over and takes to scrubbing your legs hard.

“You don’t think I deserve to be here, do you?” You ask, feeling shameful for being so dirty.

Nat stops her scrubbing and looks up at you. She blinks, thinking for a moment before shrugging her left shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” She says. “What you’re doing is going to be hard. I don’t know if you’re prepared for what taking this on means.

“I don’t know if you’re good at lying which you will have to do on a daily basis, to everyone but myself, the King, and the Queen and often it will have to be spur of the moment.

“Can you do that?” She asks, brow furrowed with worry and curiosity.

“I…I dunno.” You admit. “I’ve lied before but not about something this important.”

She nods. “And we'll have to fix your speech. You don’t sound too bad but sometimes you can really tell you’re not of noble birth.”

More shame draws your eyes down as Nat goes back to scrubbing.

“But you are very brave. You’re choosing to do this from the kingdom when you are not obligated to. You’re giving up your freedom for a life in service of the crown. And it won’t even be our crown.” She says in astonished admiration. “Have you even considered that?”

“I have no one, Natasha. I don’t even own my own home. True, at least I could go out and do what I liked but my life was meaningless. I would grow old, if I was lucky, and I would die alone. At least this way, I might serve a purpose.”

“Didn’t you have parents? Or maybe a beau?” She’s scrubbing between your toes and it takes all of your willpower not to squirm.

“Um…” Your voice shakes, itching to laugh. “No.”

She looks at you and you can’t help it, you burst into laughter.

You throw your head back and the water sloshes around you as she hurries to finish your other toes, smiling wide as you laugh. Your finished leg lifted and bent against your chest as you wiggle.

When she’s done she drops her hands, leaning against the side of the tub, a look of fondness in her eyes.

You chuckle a little more as you settle in the water again. It’s still warm. Will she let you soak a bit longer?

“What?” You chuckle. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Because now that you’re all cleaned up, with laughter in your eyes, I think you just might make King Rogers fall for you. Genuinely.” She gets up and moves to hold open the thin white robe for you.

Ears burning, neck flaring once again, you rise. The water sloshes around you and several petals stick to your wet skin as you step out onto a small carpet placed by the tub so that you don’t slip.

She wraps the robe around you, and it sticks to you, growing sheer as the wet is soaked up.

You can see everything. You shiver and Steve closer to the fire, but Natasha reaches for you and pulls you to the stool she'd been sitting in.

“Here. Sit.” She moves to fetch a brass pitcher and holds it, waiting for you.

You sit, then naturally lean back on instinct.

“Do you really think he might like me?” You ask her. Eyes wide, heart pounding. “What does he look like?”

Now that you know that he isn’t abusive and is in fact a true gentleman by all accounts, you’re eager to see this possible future husband.

“He’s very handsome. I’ll show you his portrait when we’re done. As far as his liking you, it may be better if you don’t expect too much.” She says sadly.

“Why?” You ask, worried.

“Well, as you know, King Rogers lost his first wife.”

“Yes.” You nod.

“Queen Margaret was the love of his life. I have never known anyone to love someone that much, except perhaps Tony and Pepper.” She explains. “When he lost her, I heard he went into seclusion.”

“How did she die?” You wonder, watching as much of Natasha's face as you can while she works her hands through your long hair, pouring warm water from the pitcher’s until it’s soaked.

She gets the soap and begins to lather it up, pitcher set aside.

“An accident, I think. I don’t know the details but I heard she had to get surgery done and she passed from complications.”

“Oh.” You’ve never heard of anyone actually getting surgery but the rich can afford it so it’s probably more common here. “So you’re saying he may not like me?”

“He might not. He needs to remarry and he needs an heir so, whether he likes you or not, he will tolerate you. Perhaps even grow fond of you? It think that may be the best we can expect but I hope he can see you laugh as you just did.

“Perhaps it will sway his heart.” She smiles.

Grabbing the pitcher, she rinses your hair and you stare at her beautiful face.

“Why do you care? I mean, whether he likes me?”

She looks down at you in slight shock. “You are under my care, your Highness. I want you to he as happy as possible in this new life you are choosing especially because you are doing it for the kingdom.

“If I can make him love you. I will.” She promises and finishes with your hair.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re exhausted.

The day has been endless, and it all began with a fitting for your dresses.

All of the gowns in your closet had to be altered. Then your head was measured for a new tiara and several others to take with you.

The one you are given to use with your dress is silver with a gold inlay, a large ruby at the front surrounded by smaller yellow diamonds.

It belongs to the Princess Morgana and you’re really nervous about wearing her tiara when she isn’t home. What if you lose it?

“It only until your own is made. You’ll have it tomorrow. Were you satisfied with the design you chose?” Natasha asks.

You'd chosen a simple tiara with silver leaf designs that run along the entire front and the center should be two large gems.

You’re not sure what they’re supposed to be as the design was just a sketch but you’re sure that his Majesty will choose the stone.

“Yeah.” You answer.

Natasha frowns at you. “Yes.” She corrects.

“Right, sorry. Yes.”

“Come on. We need to get you to the speech tutor.”

This is the moment that Princess lessons takeover your day. You do indeed begin with your speech. You’re corrected often but after a few hours you begin to understand what the tutor wants, and you deliver.

He’s impressed and you leave the lesson feeling more confident. Etiquette is much more different.

You slouch often, and the new tutor, a stern middle-aged woman slaps the center of tour back several times to make you remember as she teaches you how to hand things to others. How to sit. Stand. Bow. Curtsy. And all the other intricacies of life in the castle.

The long and carefully crafted waves of your hair provide a little cushion, but the smack still stings.

On the sixth hit, you hiss in pain and Natasha’s hand is suddenly there, grabbing the rod she’d been hitting you with.

“Hit the Princess again and I will personally make sure this rod ends up somewhere unpleasant.” She threatens, death in her eyes and a sneer stretching her red tinted lips.

The woman pales but she looks at you as you reach behind you to try and rub at the spot on your back.

“Negative reinforcement works better to create a memory for her to remember.” The woman argues but she’s just barely enthusiastic about it.

She’s eyeing Natasha with fear.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to use negative reinforcement so that you remember not to hit the Princess. Do it again, and I’ll have you sacked. Got it?” And Natasha waits, eyes narrowed at the woman.

“Y-Yes, my lady.” The woman nods then moves on to sitting at the dinner table.

You’re taught how to walk. How to sit with a book. How to relax when you’re told to though really, it’s still just sitting up straight and it’s not a very relaxing position.

You’re taught how to walk in your dresses and how to lift and adjust them when you climb stairs and sit down or stand up. When you asked them what you do before running, Natasha had smiled and looked at the middle-aged woman.

“A Princess does not run. You never run.” She insists.

“Never?” You ask again.

“Never.”

“What if-?”

“A Princess does not run. I think we will end our lessons here. I will see you tomorrow to see what you have retained. Good day, your Highness.” She curtsies and leaves.

You eat in your room and then return to the empty school room you’ve been using to find a new tutor waiting for you.

The alphabet is written across several sheets of parchment paper, and with a quill provided, you are given the task of copying their shapes.

“Once you can write them, we’ll learn what their names are and how to sound them out.” The man says before watching you copy the letters.

This is how you spend your day and soon, darkness takes over the castle once more. Natasha hasn’t left your side all day and with your fingers cramping and your eyes burning, you turn to look at her, massaging your hand.

“I think that’s enough for today, Master Rymond. Thank you for your hard work. We will see you again tomorrow.” Natasha tells him.

“My lady.” He says, nodding to her then he bows to you. “Your Highness. Good work today.”

When he’s gone you really want to sit back and slouch and really relax but the center of your back is still stinging, and you realize that the etiquette woman was right. The smacks are a good way to ensure you remember.

“I don’t think I will ever slouch again.” You whine, reaching up again to rub the sore spot. You’re probably bruised up.

“That’s good news.” Natasha teases. “Are you hungry or would you prefer to go to bed?”

As she stands beside you, hand on your shoulder, you look up at her and think.

“Both?” Are you being greedy?

Natasha however nods. “Okay. Do you know your way back to your room?”

“I will escort her, Lady Romanoff, madam.” A young male voice pipes up from the doorway and you lean around Natasha to get a look.

The young man is wearing a more relaxed suit of armor. Where the majority of the Knights are decked out in full gear, this young man seems to be wearing shoulder guards, knee guards, and sturdy boots all much lower profile than regular armor.

He has wavy brown hair, smooth and light. Peach white skin, sweet and bright hazel eyes, and a thin but tight muscular build. He looks lithe. Like he could outrun anyone simply because he’s lighter.

“Peter,” Natasha says fondly. “I didn’t know that his Majesty was going to give you to us.”

“Yes, Ma’am. He thinks it might be better to have someone like me with you at all times, in case something should happen.”

“Good.” She beams. “I’m going to go get the Princess some food, will you show her to her room for me? I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Of course.” He nods, giving you a sweet smile too.

“I’ll be back.” Natasha gives your head a gentle caress and your heart soars at the affection.

Why are they all so nice to you? You’ve never been this loved before. Is it really them loving you or are they just appreciative of what you’re doing? You don’t want to question it, but it all seems to good to be true.

She leaves you, sweeping out of the room in her stunning black gown.

“Shall we, your Highness?” Peter gestures towards the door and you nod with a smile.

There’s silence between you and Peter for a few minutes as he leads you back up the stairs to the floor above. You watch his easy gait and the smile he seems to wear at all times.

“Peter?” You check, afraid to make a mistake in decorum.

“Yes, Princess?” He says, turning to walk slightly sideways but just long enough to give you an expectant look.

“Is it okay that I call you that?”

“Of course.” He smiles at you then faces the front again. “I’m at your service.”

“Why are you at my service?” You check, so confused by everything here in the castle.

“His Majesty, King Stark, thought that it might be good to have me by your side. You’ll need a protective detail and he thought one knight would be better than four.” He explains, beaming with pride at the job assignment.

Why only one of him though? Doesn’t this leave you and him more vulnerable?

“Why you?” You ask, “Not to be rude…I don’t mean to be rude if that was rude, but I’m a little confused as to why his Majesty would send only one guard instead of four and why Lady Romanoff would be so keen to have you with us.”

“Oh.” Peter says, nodding with a knowing smile. “That’s because I’m different from the other Knights. I’m stronger.”

“Stronger how?”

“Well,” He reaches up to scratch the back of his head. “Since we’re going to be spending so much time together, maybe it’s best if I let you know. I would hate to scare you.

“A few years ago, I got lost in the woods. I wandered away from my school group and found myself right smack in the middle of a witch’s hut. See, my uncle died, and my aunt was so sad about it that I thought, maybe, if I can find a good witch, she might help me get my uncle back. I found a spider instead and…well, it must have had a spell on it or something because it bit me and when I woke up the next day I was…different.”

It all suddenly falls into place, making sense in a way that you weren’t expecting.

“Oh my God, you’re the Spiderling.” You realize, looking him up and down again and for the first time noticing the red of his uniform beneath the navy painted armor plates. There’s a hood around his neck which you assume he uses to hid his identity.

“Actually, I go by Spider-Man now, but yes. That’s me. Please don’t tell anyone.” He begs, looking at you with worry.

“I won’t.” You promise, overcome with subtle pride that His Majesty would assign someone so skilled to be your protector.

“Wonderful.” He smiles at you, and you can’t help it. You stare a little as he leads you to your room.

Once you’re there, he hurries forward and opens the doors for you.

“Thank you.” You beam at him and he nods.

“Of course.”

The sight of your bed prompts your exhaustion to catch up with your body. It’s been twenty-six hours since you’ve slept, and you know you’ll have to get up early in the morning for more lessons.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.” Peter says. “Goodnight, your Highness, it was such an honor meeting you. I hope we get along really well together.”

Sweet. He’s really very sweet.

“I’m sure we will, Peter.”

He leaves you on your own, shutting the doors as he leaves but you know he’s probably stationed himself in that entryway.

You want to change. You want out of this dress and this too tight corset, but you know that you can’t take it off on your own, so your best bet is to wait for your lady in waiting to come back.

It takes her only twenty minutes. When she walks in, you sit up from truly relaxing in the chair by the fire, shooting up into your perfect posture.

“Good.” She praises you. “You’re practicing.”

She’s carrying a tray of some cold meats, cheese, and grapes.

“But you can relax when it’s just us, your Highness. I won’t tell on you.” She looks up at you as he places the tray on the table by your chair and gives you a quick wink.

You smile up at her and dive into the food she’s brought you. She pours you a glass of wine and you take a drink to wash the gritty cheese from your teeth.

“If that’s the case, I insist that you call me by name when we’re alone.”

“Your Highness…” Natasha begins to protest.

“Please? This all too much already. I’ve been called Princess and your Highness since I arrived. I’m starting to forget it. Please?” You’re begging wears her down and her gaze softens.

“Very well. Y/N.” She says, her cheeks flushing from the enjoyment of using your name.

You eat in semi-silence, Natasha munching on her own plate of food at your insistence.

“Tomorrow will be just as long.” She warns. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“Yes.” You nod. Certain that you can do this for them. All of them. Your entire kingdom.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Natasha begins, taking a drink of her own wine before setting her empty plate aside. “His Majesty has sent for a painter.”

“Why?” You wonder, finishing up your grapes.

“Well, they’ll need to paint you into the family portrait and King Rogers has replied to his Majesty’s letter.” She smiles at you, teasing you.

“Already?!” You gasp, nervous, heart pounding.

“Yes. He seems very eager which can be both good and bad.” She explains and as you eat your last grape, she gets up and takes your plate and empty goblet.

“Why? Why is it both?” You demand, terrified suddenly.

“Well, for one, it means that he’s accepted you. Mostly. He has requested a portrait of you be sent so that he might know what you look like. So, he seems able to overlook the strangeness of why you’ve been hidden away for so many years.” She seems more satisfied by this than you are.

“What if he doesn’t like the way I look?” You worry.

“You’re beautiful, your High-Y/N. He’ll love your looks.” She promises.

“You don’t know that.” You say under your breath, fiddling with the skirt of your dress.

“Come.” Natasha urges. “Let’s get you changed for your bath.”

“Another one?” You get up and move to her though you don’t understand why you need another bath.

“Yes.” She laughs. “Another one. You will bathe once a day until you are married and then you will bathe as often as they require you to in Broklin. There’s a kingdom in the south where they bathe almost three times a day. It’s ridiculous.”

She helps you out of your dress and begins to undo your corset.

“So, why is it bad?”

“Hm?”

“King Rogers’s eagerness. Why is it bad?” You clarify.

“Oh!” She shakes her head, glancing at you through the ornate mirror before you. “Well, once he gets your portrait, if he’s satisfied with you and calls for you, then our time here is finished. We have tomorrow, then the painter arrives the day after. He’ll paint your portrait in a few hours and then send it to Broklin. That will take a day and if the King likes it, we should hear back from him the day after that.

“That gives us only five days in which to get you ready for him. We may have to make excuses for why you cannot read or write.” She’s already brainstorming, and you feel shame once again for not being educated. “I’ll get with his Majesty and we’ll work something out.”

“I’m sorry.” You nearly whisper.

“For what, your Highness?” Natasha asks, finally pulling you free of your corset.

“For not being better. For not knowing how to read or write.” You keep your eyes down, suddenly hating your upbringing and orphaned state.

“Oh, no.” Natasha gasps. “No, Princess. Don’t say that.”

She turns you around slowly and ducks down to grab your under shirt and lift it up over your head. With it off, she pulls the same thin white robe you’d worn before and after your bath last night and helps you slip it on.

“Never forget that you are doing us a favor by agreeing to this foolhardy scheme. I told his Majesty that it would never work but when I met you, I suddenly realized that maybe, with the right girl, it might actually be something we can pull off.

“You gave me the confidence to take this post without fear. If anyone can marry King Steven Rogers and keep war at bay, it’s you.” She chafes your arms, more affection. “Trust me, Princess. I know what I’m talking about.”

A look into her emerald eyes tells you that she does indeed feel confident in you and it eases your worries a bit.

“I’ll work really hard.” You promise her, and she smiles.

“I know you will.

You fall asleep in the bath, the lavender and jasmine concoction along with the pomegranate soap and rose oils make you sleepy.

The heat from the fire, the hot water, it all lulls you into a truly relaxed state and you don’t even feel Natasha as she scrubs you down.

Suddenly she’s shaking your shoulder gently and your eyes pop open.

“Wake up, your Highness. Just a quick brush of your hair and you can go to sleep.” She says sweetly.

You lick your lips and get to your feet, stepping out as she wraps you up in a warm towel, then proceeds to brush your hair.

You very nearly fall asleep again on the edge of your bed but then she’s finished, and she helps you put on your nightgown.

It’s long and white and almost as sheer as your robe with puffed sleeves and a scoop neck that ties just along your clavicle to keep it shut.

“Um…” Natasha suddenly worries as she pulls the bottom of your nightdress down.

“What is it?” You ask her sleepily.

“I have something for you, but I forgot it in my room. Don’t fall asleep, alright? Lay down but try and stay awake. I will return in just a few moments.”

She bounds from the room, her black dress sweeping behind her majestically.

You slide back along your super soft and plush mattress, your body almost melting into it as your head finds your mountain of pillows.

For a few minutes, you wonder how it is you got so lucky. Sure, as Nat had said, you are giving up a lot of freedoms for this, but you’ve never slept in a bed this comfortable. You’ve never eaten food as delicious as you’ve eaten today. You’ve never fallen asleep in a bath of sweet floral water or smelled this good afterwards. You’ve never gone to bed with a full belly and you’ve never worn silks and jewels worth more than any amount of money you might have made in your lifetime.

You are truly blessed, and you vow to work hard to make certain that his Majesty did not make a mistake in choosing you and that Natasha’s hard work will not go to waste.

Despite your trying, you do end up dozing off. The bed is too comfortable and the fire too warm.

The door opening is what snaps you out of your slumber and you blink away the sleep before sitting up to watch your lady come in wearing her own nightdress and a thick red robe around it to keep her modest.

“Here you go.” Natasha says happily, the tease of a wily smirk on her lips.

“What is it?” You ask, staring down at the small silver compact case she’s holding out for you.

“Open it.” She urges, sits on the side of your bed and lets you take it.

You search for the small clasp at front and flip the lid slowly.

For a moment you forget how to breathe. The man inside, this small portrait, robs you of all rational thought.

He’s beautiful.

“He has blonde hair.” You say breathlessly.

“Yes.” Natasha nods, sounding amused. “It’s shorter in that photo. He’s grown it out some now. He also has a beard now. Very kingly.”

His strong jaw angles sharply. He has a long straight nose. Full rose-pink lips. Stunning storm blue almost gray eyes. His brow is slightly severe in the portrait. Stern. But it only makes him more handsome.

“I…” You begin, worried suddenly. “What if he doesn’t like me? I’m not at his level.”

With a frantic heart, you look at Natasha and she smiles with more amusement.

“I told you, you are beautiful. You are more than a match for him. In four days’ time, we won’t have to worry about that because he will have written about how beautiful you are and how much he can’t wait to marry you.” She lies.

You look back down at him and try to calm your heart.

“I want him to like me.” You admit, admiring his beauty.

“Most women do.” Natasha teases. “I knew you’d like him.”

“I hope he’s as kind as he looks.” You sigh, wishing you could know him already but also scared to disappoint his own expectations.

“He is. He may just need some coaxing. He was very saddened by his wife’s death.” She nods.

“I will do everything that I can to not only ensure the safety of our kingdom, but also to make him happy.” You gush. “I want to make him happy, Natasha.”

Natasha chuckles. “Of course, you do. And I’m sure you will. Now, get some sleep. I’ll be back in here in a few hours.”

Her warning falls on deaf ears however because you’re engrossed in his portrait.

“Can I keep this?” You ask her as she rises to her feet and pulls the blanket out to get you underneath it.

“It’s yours. I had one made for you. If you want a more recent one, you’ll have to get one from him once you’re married.”

Could this Adonis really marry you? Live his life with you? Be your husband? Your King?

“Goodnight, Princess.” Natasha whispers as she shuts the doors, knowing that as you lay down with your eyes glued to that portrait, nothing will break your concentration.

And she’s right. You stare at King Rogers’s portrait until his image is burned into your retinas. You blink and his face is there.

Soft golden hair. Piercing blue eyes. Perfect pink lips.

You fall asleep stroking his face, wondering if you’re foolish to get quite so enamored with his looks when you don’t know him one bit.

But…he’s to be your husband. Better to love him than to not.

All you can hope is that when he sees your own face in paint, that he will not be too disappointed.

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

“One cappuccino and chocolate brownie, please” - Chapter 5

Summary: Darcie Angel is thirty years old and owner of the famous cafe “The Coffee Cup” in New York City. She is known for her sweet smile and her amazing customer service. For six months now, John Wick has visited her cafe every day, earning himself a table that is always reserved for him. Darcie can’t stop thinking about him and when he asks her out one day, her dreams are finally coming true. But will it last?

A/N: It really warms my heart to see people reblogging and liking my work. I’m starting a taglist. If you want to be on the taglist, just ask me. 🥰This is the first part of their date. Hope you enjoy xx

John Wick x OFC Darcie

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: There are mentions of birth, but nothing too serious. Does that need a warning?

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Instagram edit #1 // Next chapter

‘Tiki, do you think this is too much?’ I look at myself in the long mirror. I’m back at my apartment. I have showered, I have shaved and now I’m checking myself out. This is the fourth outfit I threw on. Since John usually sees me in pretty casual outfits, this looks overdressed. It’s not my regular pair of jeans with a shirt, or a skirt with a blouse of a dress paired with white sneakers.

I’m wearing a black off the shoulder dress, that flaunts my small waist and gives me a nice hourglass figure. I slip on some black high heels. I’m wearing a silver necklace with three diamonds, one that my mom gave me and I put on a rose gold ring.

‘Tiki, I’m so nervous,’ I say to my labradoodle. I take a few steps closer to the mirror and check out my light pink eyeshadow and the red lipstick. ‘Should I wear earrings?’ I ask her.

She barks.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ I put in some small diamond earrings, since I don’t want to show off too much. I look at the clock. ‘Shit,’ I yelp, ‘it’s already seven thirty five, I bet he is there already.’

I grab my black clutch and check if I have my phone and wallet with me. ‘Okay, sweetie,’ I say to Tiki, ‘I’ll be back later tonight.’

Tiki rushes to the couch and curls up on her pillow. I scratch her behind her ears and grab my keys. I close the door behind me and walk down the hall. The elevator trip seems like it’s taking its bloody time, but when I hear the ping, the doors slide open. I step out of the elevator and see that there are the usual people in the lobby: the concierge, the two old men who meet here every night to play poker, to escape their wives and a woman who likes to read here.

But my eyes fall on John right away. He looks so handsome. He is wearing a black suit, with a white blouse underneath it and a thin black tie. Though I have seen him like this a lot when he first came to the cafe, I’ll never get tired of this. His hair is pushed back and I notice that his beard looks nicely trimmed.

He stands up, straightens his tie and closes his jacket. While I walk towards him, a smile appears on his face. He holds out his hand and when I take it, he presses a kiss on my knuckles, almost making me faint. ‘Darcie, you are exceptionally beautiful.’

My cheeks start to burn up. ‘Thank you, John. You look really good yourself.’

He holds onto my hand, while we walk to the exit. Hugo opens the door and says: ‘Miss Angel, sir, have fun tonight.’

‘Thank you, Hugo,’ I say with a smile.

I see John’s Mustang and I squeeze his hand. ‘Your car is really quite something,’ I say. ‘My dad is going to freak out when he hears that I’ve been a passenger in a Ford Mustang Boss 429.’

John chuckles and opens the door for me. It’s a shame that I have to let go of his hand, but the night is young and it was a big step for us, knowing our pace. After he closes my door, he walks around the car and gets in. He looks to the side, before he starts the car.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘You look pretty,’ he says. He starts to car and drives off to the restaurant. His fingers tap on the steering wheel. Is he nervous too? Is this his nervous tick? Am I making him nervous?

John stops the car in front of the restaurant and he says: ‘Wait here.’ He gets out of the car and I see a valet boy walking up my door to open it, but mid step he stops. John opens my door himself and smiles.

I knew this dress was too much, because I’m afraid that when I get out, I might flash someone and though I’m wearing a decent pair of underwear, I don’t think that is a good idea this early on during our date.

As a matter of fact, I don’t think that is a good idea at all, no matter how far into a sort of relationship John and I get.

He must sense my discomfort and takes off his jacket. God, his arms look really good in white. He holds the jacket as some sort of curtain in front of me.

I can get out easily, without worrying and pull down my dress. ‘That was very romantic, John.’

He chuckles. He closes the car door behind me and puts his jacket back on. We walk inside and he holds out his hand. I hesitate for a second, but then I place my hand in his.

The waiter looks up and asks under what name we made reservations. ‘Wick,’ John says in a low voice. It’s so weird to think that this man, who looks kind of intimidating now, talks in such a high and sweet way to my dog.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Wick, follow me,’ the young man says and I send John a look.

He simply squeezes my hand. I wonder if he minds. We walk to our table and I can’t believe we’re sitting next to a window, looking over New York City. John pulls out my chair and after I take a seat, he sits across from me.

He orders a bottle of wine, telling me it’s the finest.

‘This is amazing,’ I say with a smile. ‘You come here often?’

John shakes his head. ‘No, rarely.’

I have to ask. ‘Did you mind? When that guy said Mr. and Mrs. Wick.’

John shakes his head, a tight lipped smile forming on his face. ‘No, I don’t.’ He must sense my other question. ‘It has been five years, Darcie and I’m ready to move on,’ he continues. ‘With you.’

I blush and I thank the universe that the lights are dim. ‘You barely know me,’ I say. ‘I might disappoint.’

‘You won’t.’ He sounds so confident. He asks what I want to order, but it all sounds the same and I have no idea what to order. Guess I’m not as fancy as I want to give myself credit for.

‘I don’t know,’ I mumble.

‘You have any allergies?’ he asks me.

I shake my head. ‘I just don’t like beans, that’s all.’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘That’s a deep question for a first date, John.’

John laughs. ‘Let me rephrase: do you trust me with ordering something for you?’

I smile. ‘Yes, I do.’

When the waiter brings us our wine, he orders something and I hope John is right and that I like it. But knowing him, I bet he knows exactly what I like.

I have no idea what to say now. ‘I don’t know what I should say,’ I admit. God, you stupid cow, you don’t say that! Apparently I can’t shut up, because I say: ‘I barely go on dates.’

He smiles. ‘Tell me something interesting then,’ he says. ‘For example… What were you like growing up?’

I chuckle. ‘Pretty timid,’ I answer. ‘I was mostly by myself during the week, except during the weekends. My parents worked and still work, quite a lot. They have a law firm, I bet you know it, their faces are plastered around Times Square. Law Firm Angel & Moon.’

‘Your parents are the Christian Angel and Somi Moon?’ John asks in disbelieve.

‘They are.’

His eyes widen. ‘Well, now you say it, I can actually see it. You look a lot like your mother.’

‘I get that a lot.’

‘But a lot alone during the weeks?’ John sips his wine.

I nod. ‘I was pretty much on my own or I was at Jennie’s place, the girl who works in the kitchen. Long black braids, always looked sightly annoyed.’

‘Right, so you’ve been friends for quite some time then.’

‘Since kindergarten, so twenty five years, something like that.’

John tilts his head. ‘That must make you twenty nine then?’

‘Close, I’m thirty. My birthday is March 21st. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking.’

‘I don’t mind,’ John says. ‘But guess.’

‘No, I can’t do that. I always manage to hurt someones feelings. Just say it, John.’ I take a sip of my wine and it tastes really amazing. It puts all the other wine I’ve ever drank to shame.

‘Fifty.’

I choke on my wine. I start to cough and have tears in my eyes, causing me to gain the attention from other people in the restaurant. ‘Goodness gracious, John. How on earth are you fifty? What is your skincare routine? Who does your botox?’

John chuckles. ‘I don’t have a skincare routine nor someone who does my botox.’

‘You don’t have a skincare routine?’ I ask. ‘That is so unfair. I pay hundreds of dollars every month, so my skin can look like this and you don’t do anything and you look like that? How are you real?’

‘I don’t look that good, Darcie.’

I scoff. ‘You are insanely handsome. You look so good already, imagine if you had a skincare routine.’

John looks a little bit shy and lets out his giggle, that I’ve come to love. ‘You are adorable, Darcie.’

⟢⟡⟣

During dinner we’ve managed to get to the deep stuff—you know, that hurts and normally you don’t want to talk about, but somehow you just get there. ‘Helen and I never really thought about kids. She had the diagnose chronic fatigue when we met and on top of that, she was already a little older like me. We decided that maybe one day, we might foster.’

John looks so sad and I place my hand on his. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.

He turns his hand, so he can hold mine. His thumb plays with my fingers and he sends me a soft smile.

‘Do you eventually want them?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t know, never really gave that a good thought after she passed. Do you want kids?’

Now it’s my turn to shrug. ‘I mean, theoretically, I would and my friends and I have dibs on baby names already, but there is one part that scares the shit out of me. Like, that whole pregnancy thing, I don’t mind. The part where you take care of the kid, I mean, a little scary, but okay, I can deal that. But giving birth…’ I shiver.

John holds in a laughter, or at least, he tries, but fails miserable. He brings his hand to his lips, to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

‘Yeah, you can laugh at me all you want. When I was I think about eighteen, my mom was obsessed with this weird birthing program and forced me to watch it with her. I mean, it can be beautiful and it’s all part of life, it still scared the shit out of me.’

‘I can tell by your eyes that you’re serious.’

‘I am!’ I shake my head, looking at the view outside. ‘Why does it have to be so scary and painful? You can tear down there. After you did the baby delivery thing, you have to push out that placenta thing, that looks absolutely disgusting, leaving me wondering why on earth people would voluntarily eat that. And then there was this one time, where a woman just dislocated her pelvis. Why does that have to happen?’

‘I’m no expert, Darcie,’ John says with a smile. ‘Wish I’d known, but unfortunately I can’t tell you.’

I chuckle. ‘So, I’m always thinking that I’m more the type to foster older kids anyway. I think babies are scary.’

‘They barely do anything.’

‘Exactly, it’s boring and they’re so fragile. What if I break them?’ I take a sip of my wine. ‘Leave it to me to break a baby. Besides, I’m still young, who needs to think about kids anyway?’

John nods. ‘You look like the type that would foster an older kid,’ he admits. ‘I mean, you and those high school boys really get along. How come they always visit your cafe?’

‘I think about two weeks after the cafe opened, they were staring through the window. I walked outside and asked them if they wanted to come on. They just shook their heads, causing me to laugh at them and say: ‘You know, it doesn’t really hurt anyone to eat and drink sweet stuff in a pink cafe. If kids of your school ever ask, my lips are sealed.”. Somehow that convinced them and now they come by at least every other day. They always act so tough, but they are sweethearts. One time I overheard them talking about anxiety and how to deal with them. Though they can act like idiots, they are sweet. That Roger kid, who always jokes around, he is a real funny kid. Recently they found me on Instagram and Roger continues to leave comments, but there is one that literally kills every time I think about it.’

I grab my phone and look it up. ‘So, this kid legit says: “I’m almost seventeen, miss Angel. One year closer of being legal and one year closer to forever being together”.’ I snort.

John laughs. ‘I like that kid,’ he says. ‘Yesterday, he actually asked me what I did to get that much attention from you. I told him it was the beard.’

‘Oh my God, I bet I’ll keep hearing about the progress of his beard.’

‘Did you answer him?’

‘Huh?’

‘On the Instagram.’

‘The Instagram. It’s just Instagram, John.’ I chuckle, causing him to blush. I look through my comments and say: ‘I told him: “You stay in school and find a nice girl there, or I’ll spit in your coffee”.’

‘I love how you just joke around with those kids.’ He leans back against his chair.

‘Are you on the Instagram, John?’

‘You’re not going to let that go, aren’t you?’

I laugh, shaking my head. ‘No, it genuinely shows how old you are. But I bet you’re not on Instagram.’

‘I’m not,’ he says. ‘But since you’re on it, I think I should join.’

‘Only to follow me?’

‘Yeah, I don’t care about other people.’

I hold out my phone. ‘Here, check it out on my phone.’

John nods and scrolls through my account. He has a smile on his face and clicks on one. ‘Tiki is adorable,’ he says, showing me the picture of my lovely dog I posted a few weeks ago. ‘How did you come up with the name Tiki?’

‘I don’t want to say.’

‘You should. I’m curious.’

I know I’m going to tell him anyway, so I say: ‘When I broke up with Eric, I was binge watching tons of series. I rewatched Sailor Moon, movies from when I was younger. But then I stumbled on something new, for kids nowadays. Miraculous, tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Long story short, she has an akuma, that helps her transform into a superhero and the name of that akuma was Tiki. And I loved that name. So yeah, that’s the embarrassing story about how I named my dog.’

John has a smile on his face. ‘I love the name Tiki,’ he says. He continues to scroll through my account. ‘You are so beautiful, Darcie.’

‘Stop it,’ I chuckle, while covering my cheeks with my hand.

He gives me my phone back. ‘I won’t,’ he says. ‘Because it’s true.’

I barely give him a response. Eric was such a shitty boyfriend, never a romantic gesture, never telling me how beautiful I looked, even if I really tried hard to look good for him. And here I am sitting with a guy like John, who looks like he does and keeps giving me compliments.

‘Darcie, not only are you breathtaking, you are the kindest woman and it shows. The way you look at people, the way you give them all of your attention when taking their order. You light up the room with your smile. You managed to show this angry guy,’—he places his hand on his chest—‘that the world isn’t too bad.’

‘Damn it, John,’ I say, before clearing my throat, hoping to prevent myself from crying.

‘Don’t cry,’ he soothes. ‘Really, Darcie, you are amazing and every compliment I give you, is sincere. You are truly one of a kind.’

Taglist: @toomanystoriessolittletime

#keanu reeves x oc #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x original character #keanu reeves x ofc #john wick x oc #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick x original character #john wick x ofc #one cappuccino and a chocolate brownie please

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ramblingkat · 4 years

Text

More Father Aizen stuff

Because I wanted to. Sosuke and Kisuke’s mother.

Her name was Akane.

Sosuke had not expected to meet anyone like her. He was, technically, doing a patrol investigating some hollow sightings. It was not the best part of the Rukongai, but the Fifth took their duties seriously. So when the reports came in, he had gone to check.

Mostly it was a chance to get out of the Seireitei itself. Get out, do some investigation, and then do a bit of his own side projects. It was easier to plot things out when he wasn’t trapped in the heart of everything wrong with the world.

That there was a hollow was a bit of a shock. That it seemed to be drawn to the local brothel was even more of one.

Then he got close and felt it himself.

The pressure was soft, a delicate touch that anyone else would have ignored. But Sosuke wasn’t anyone else. A person with reiatsu out here? That was uncommon. While there were a growing number of people from the Rukongai who were showing strength, they usually died young or ended up as a shinigami.

But this woman, one of those who came out to thank him for his help, was neither. She wasn’t old, wrapped in vibrant crimson fabric. It was obvious that she was a prize in this house, given how the others seemed to bow to her. All around her, there was a gentle flow of reiatsu, feeling warm and welcoming.

It was quite a clever use of her power. Sosuke allowed himself to be drawn in.

There was no way he would ever give what she likely hoped for. Too many of these women hoped for someone to buy their contracts, take care of their debts. But if Akane wanted that, she never made mention of it. Instead, she offered him tea and conversation.

She was surprisingly clever. Both to have learned to train her power in the way she had, and for someone who lived in this place, surprisingly well educated.

Sosuke wondered if she hoped to end up in a closer district. It happened from time to time. Men brought their favorite toys to the first districts, so they were close at hand.

She was such a pretty thing. All pale hair and skin, eyes, when he did see them, the soft shade of a clouded sky. That mix between blue and grey that was both and neither. Her hair was almost white-blonde, something she obviously used her clothing to show off. Against the vibrant shades of her clothes, she looked almost jewel-like in a setting to display her.

When she reached out a hand to touch his wrist, looking up through darkened lashes at him, Sosuke accepted the invitation she was offering.

The next morning, he took his leave, but he was smiling. Most times, purely physical things such as that didn’t hold much appeal to him. But between that unexpected power and the way she spoke….

Well, he was still a man. And it was expected for a man to accept such invitations for a prostitute.

Then he ended up back there again when another hollow appeared.

That went on for years. A hollow would come, he’d deal with it, and then he’d...stay the night. Captain Hirako teased him over it. But he always sent the assignment to Sosuke whenever it ended up on his desk first. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he enjoyed it.

Then Sosuke, in a fit of madness, finally made the leap of what he needed to create. The monstrosity that was lorded over them all haunted his dreams, for far too long, needed to be dealt with.

And Sosuke had finally figured out how to deal with it. How to step up and deal with both the thing that they paid homage to and to make the world a better place.

He knew what he needed to do, and he had finally realized what he needed to start.

The next hollow attack, he took a few extra things with him.

“Welcome back,” Akane said, her voice as sweet and soft as ever. She seemed almost nervous, but it had been years since the last time a hollow had appeared and brought him here. Perhaps she had never considered he would return.

“Perhaps,” he said with a smile, “we might do something a little different.” He offered his arm to her. “A day like this is perfect for a picnic.”

That seemed to be the thing to say. Akane smiled at him, relaxing a bit. “It is a lovely day. There is a spot by the river that is very calming. Would you like me to show you?”

He agreed, and they collected a small meal to take with them. The brothel owner never begrudged much, because this was a form of payment for dealing with the hollow. So they went to the river.

It was gorgeous, and Sosuke made a note to remember this place. It was as lovely as Akane had said, and he looked at her. She looked beautiful, still wearing her customary reds, kneeling with a bottle of sake ready to pour for him.

She looked nervous again. “Aizen-sama, there is something I should speak to you about.”

There was a moment of hesitation, but he knew that whatever she wanted to tell him was not as important as what else he needed.

He leaned in and kissed her, one hand slipping into his sleeve. Akane made a noise, letting her head tilt back as he pressed into the kiss.

Then he pressed a black crystal against her, right between the saketsu and hakusui. She arched, crying out as the tiny marks he had etched into the crystal started to glow as Sosuke murmured a kido of his own creation.

Her eyes looked up at him, wide and scared, even as her voice failed her. He didn’t look away, calmly meeting her eyes as she looked back until there was nothing left in them to do so. A sound, low in her throat, was almost a word. What, he couldn’t tell for sure.

It was the last thing she did. There was a flare of power, and the crystal in his hand grew hot, then it started to give a low, soft beat in his palm.

“Thank you, Akane,” he said softly, setting her down on the earth. He would have to deal with her body soon, but that would be easy enough. He would send for her things, and everyone would assume.

In his hand, the crystal, his Hogyoku, continued to pulse ever so slightly. It was weak still, but the core was there. A quiet, subtle power.

“You’ll live forever like this,” he said with a smile, looking down at the new power he had created. “It is the greatest gift you could ever give me.” He would have to give it more power, but the core was here.

Elsewhere, a small boy began to cry as a connection he had known his entire life changed, thinned, vanished. Even so young, he knew his mother was never coming home.

#Bleach #Aizen Sosuke #father aizen #I'm not sorry #Urahara Kisuke

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lilacmoon83 · 3 years

Text

Mysterious Fathoms Below

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 9: A New Life

The years passed quickly, as David excelled in his job of a bail bondsman, alongside Cleo Fox. She had been in the business a long time and was immediately amazed at his uncanny ability for finding people. Unfortunately, without much to go on, they had yet to find the young boy he was really looking for. And as the years passed, he knew that young boy was probably nearing adulthood by now, as was his own daughter.

For the most part, they had settled nicely into the Land Without Magic for a second time. They settled into a small coastal town in Maine, with a house on the water and fairly secluded a few miles from the nearest town. It allowed them plenty of time in the water, while maintaining their lives on the mainland.

David was successfully running Cleo's east coast operation, while she ran the west coast operation out of Portland, Oregon. He traveled some to assist her with difficult cases, but was home most of the time, much to Snow's and his children's liking.

Since they settled down almost six years ago, the kids had settled as well. They were a normal family to everyone in town, traditional and tight knit and no one was any the wiser about their magical secret. The kids loved their school and had lots of friends. Snow loved working at the local daycare with small children, caring for them and teaching the preschoolers, while David worked in Cleo's office she kept there as the hub for the eastern seaboard. Their reputation was good enough that those from bigger cities often sought them out to find people instead of the firms in the cities.

That afternoon, he arrived home to find his family playing in the water on a warm, sunny summer day. It brought a smile to his face, as he watched their older children play in the water. Emma was almost eighteen now and he could hardly believe it. Ben was fourteen and the twins, Hunter and Rose were twelve. Perhaps the most incredible vision though was his wife, as she sat in the surf, her brilliant white mermaid tail splashing in the water and her long raven hair cascading down her back. He watched the way her beautiful face lit up, as their youngest ones swam around in the shallow water with her. Their cherub faces made his heart soar as much as hers did, as their three-year-old daughter, Astrid, swam around her mother and their baby son, Jackson, clung to Snow while splashing in the water. A lot of people thought they were crazy for having seven kids, but neither of them would change it for the world. A large family is what they both had always wanted and it was all the joy they could have imagined and more.

"Daddy!" Astrid called, as she flipped her lilac colored tail and swam toward the surf.

"Look Jack...Daddy's home," Snow cooed, as their son called out to him too. He smiled and looked around. When he saw that no one was around, per usual on their small property, he shed his shirt and walked into the water, before removing the pendant around his neck. His red tail appeared and he put his arms around Snow, as their lips met in a passionate kiss.

They were unaware though of the photos being snapped of them from afar…

~*~

"Okay...yeah, this sounds like a big job though. I'm going to need to call in my partner to help. The fees will be significant," Cleo said, from her office in Portland.

"This one has skipped bail twice and has stashed some really pricey watches from Phoenix in Portland. Your fees will be covered and you'll be well compensated," the man assured.

"Okay...I'll be in touch," she replied, as he ended the call and then made a call to David.

~*~

"Well...there's my favorite family," a woman said, as they entered the town diner that evening. Her name was Betty and since they had come to town, they had been her favorite customers. She loved children, so naturally, she got excited every time they came to the diner. She always made sure the large circular booth was available for them to sit in and promptly fetched the highchair for little Jack.

"Thanks Betty," Margaret, as she was known to the town, said, as she put the baby in the highchair.

"I see you lot when swimming again today. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were all half fish," she mentioned. Snow and David shared a secret smile, while the kids giggled.

"We do love the water…" David agreed, as they failed to notice the two men spying them from another table.

"I'll get your orders in right away," she said.

"Are you sure?" one man said, as they observed the attractive couple and their brood of equally attractive children.

~*~

"I'm telling you...I know what I saw. The kids...they walked into the water and then they had tails. The parents...they removed something from around their necks once they were in the water and then they had fish tails too," the other man said.

"You sound crazy," the first man accused.

"I know...but I snapped some photos and they're developing right now back in my darkroom," he said.

"Fine...let's go. If you are right...then we are looking at a fortune to the right buyer," he replied, as he looked at the family.

"A family of mermaids...we'll be swimming in money," he said deviously.

~*~

Their food was delivered promptly and they enjoyed their meal together as a family. As they were finishing, David's phone rang and he answered.

"Hey Cleo…" he answered.

"Portland, Oregon?" he asked, as he listened to her.

"Okay…we'll see you there," he replied, as he hung up the phone.

"You have a case?" Snow asked.

"Yeah, this time all the way in Oregon. It's a big payday," David replied.

"That's so far away," she mentioned. He smiled.

"I know, that's why she suggested that we make a family trip out of it. We can drive across the country and then you and the kids can have fun in Portland while I'm working," he replied. She smiled.

"Oh, that sounds perfect!" Snow gushed.

"Do they have an ocean in Portland?" Hunter asked.

"They sure do. It's a different ocean and a bit further from the city, but we'll find it," he promised, as the kids all got excited at the prospect of a family trip together.

~*~

Neal watched the cops at the corner and cursed inwardly. He had really done it this time. The watches he stole for a quick profit had backfired. He thought that skipping town in Phoenix was enough to take the heat off, but it had caught up to him in Portland. And now he was trapped. He was going to need some serious help escaping to Canada without being caught and right now, he had no means to do so. That meant laying low for a while and hoping they didn't find him.

Since escaping Neverland and landing in this new place, things had not been good. He avoided the system, not wanting anything to do with any foster families and had been living mostly on the streets for the last few years. He stole to get by and hated it, but it was the only way to stay alive. Sometimes, even Neverland and dodging Pan was better than this land. He went the other way and hoped that found a way to escape soon or he would be going to prison for a very long time.

~*~

He had been convinced by the photos and now he and his new partner watched the family pack their van for a family trip.

"Did you get a hold of your boss?" the portly man asked.

"Yes...and the Madam was very interested in the photos you took. She wants them," the thin man replied.

"Then we're going to have to follow them. Looks like a family trip," the portly one said.

"Don't worry, the Madam is wiring me the funds for anything needed. She wants us to bring them to Seattle once we have them," the thin one replied.

"Well…I heard they're headed for Oregon. That won't be far to go once we get them," the portly one said.

"Then this will be the beginning of a beautiful partnership, Jasper," he said, addressing his new partner.

"Indeed it will, Horace,"

~*~

"Well...we're all packed and ready," Snow said, as she came out of the house with the baby in her arms.

"Okay...and I've got the route all mapped out," he said, as they shared a kiss. He smiled at her, as she put the baby in his car seat and buckled him in, before they both got into the front seat.

"Wow...you plotted out all the beaches along the way," Snow gushed, as she looked over their route.

"Of course...we may have to drive there, but I made sure there will be plenty of water time for this family," he replied, as they kissed again, before he put the van in gear and they began their journey…

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #AU #Snowing mermaid AU #romance #adventure #family #mysterious fathoms below

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