#i earn enough to travel!!! no further than europe but still

[tchaikovskym]

There is this part of me that wants to wallow in self-pity, that wants to believe I'm doomed forever and that there is nothing good waiting for me. But the funny thing is, it's not true. I am better than I used to be. I am healthier than I used to be. It's just tiring to always try to be better. And while it is a possibility that the doom part of me will turn out to be true, there is a possibility that it won't.

#like yeah im a little bit dead. yea im a little bit pathetic. yeah im an adult living with my mom and maybe there really is something wrong #with me regarding the fact that ive never had any romantic/sexual relationships #and maybe it is pathetic how i hide all my silly creative projects from everyone but the strangers on the internet #and maybe its miserable that im posting things like these here #but fuck it #im not 14 anymore. no one is abusing me at home. i have some interest in what im doing. i have an okay job. #im studying what im interested in. im no longer having episodes of panic where i had to lie in bed to calm down. #havent had a panic attack in crowds for years #i think im no longer weird with men. like i used to be afraid? but not like really. i just avoided them like a plague #and was weird when i had to interact with them #now its gone #i have a car!! i can leave whenever i want to !!!! #i earn enough to travel!!! no further than europe but still #and im not exactly dumb! i have a masters degree! with honors #when i was in highschool i never imagined that i would like to travel or have another degree and then another! #i never imagined that i would be okay working together with people. that i would be fine being in their company and cracking jokes with them #overall im most definetely a mess but a much lesser mess than i used to be.

[ouroboros-hideout]

WIP WHENEVER

@chevvy-yates tagged me for this. Thank you a lot 💚

This will be a huge wall of text aswell, since I am not really of the „visual“ side of creating atm.

Writing // Worldbuilding

I'm still writing the next two chapters for my fanfiction, but would rather briefly introduce my other OCs here (yes, Aon isn´t the only one by now). Maybe I can create all of them ingame at some point, depending on how stupid I´ll act with modding etc. when I start. Since things can change quickly in the story while I'm writing, I wouldn't say that everything is 100% set in stone, a lot of it isn't finished yet. But it's a good base. Most of them appear in my „Like Napalm“ fic. Some of them will be in my main GARMR fic aswell. So prepare for half backed character data entries and some rambling.

Gan

Gan Tomobataar, or Iron as he is usually called, is a mysterious man. Many stories surround the Mongolian giant and it always depends on who asks him whether he affirms or denies these tales. It is therefore uncertain which of them are true or fictional and he really enjoys keeping his past in the dark. He is said to have served in an elite military unit. The metal teeth that earned him his iconic nickname are said to have been lost in numerous boxing matches as he tried to turn pro to make a better life for himself and his family, and he is allegedly a descendant of Ginghis Khan (which is probably one of his favorite rumors). One can assume that his closest confidants have more clarity, but none of them would dare say a word about it. Undeniably true is that he has two brothers, of whom he is the second-born. Together with them, he leads one of the largest nomadic clans in eastern Europe and Asia. The Tomobataar nomads are divided into three large families, each led by one of the three brothers. Iron's family stays mainly in Mongolia and Russia, but he would also travel to more distant parts of the Soviet Union for profitable contracts. He doesn't have many vices, but one of them is definitely greed.

By sheer luck, at least that's what he claimed, he picked up Aon on the street when she was trying to flee Moscow on her own. He promised to protect her from the Secret Police and other bounty hunters if she proved to be a useful member of his clan. However, his methods for testing her worth would put the young woman to the test.

Yakov

Yakov always had problems finding his place in the world. He grew up in St. Petersburg, studying or an education other than working in his father's car repair shop were never an option financially, but the young man always yearned for something greater than being stuck in the alleys and streets of his childhood. He decided to join the military when he was old enough, but was discharged immediately after basic training for insubordination and general unsuitability. What remained for him was to work in his father's garage until he died after a long illness. Yakov tried to keep the store running on his own for a while, but he found it difficult to do good business without proper management and eventually had to sell the store. This was followed by a relatively dark period. He saw himself as a failure, was unable to find a new job and drank away the money he had received for the workshop in the bars in his neighborhood. One evening, a man came into his local pub. His car had broken down outside, he wouldn't get any further that night and kept him company for a few hours. The next day, Yakov repaired his car for the man called Gan and left the town with him to live with the Tomobataar nomads.

Gregori

Gregori's mother, a singer from New York, came to the Russian capital for a gig and met a military officer there. The two got together and the result was little Greg. Shortly afterwards, however, the couple fell apart and she took her son back to America, where he spent most of his childhood and youth being raised by babysitters and nannies, while the singer preferred to spend her time on tour or in the recording studio. Gregori at least inherited much of her creativity, starting to make music himself at an early age and drawing a lot. Just what small children do when they need to keep themselves busy.

When he was 16 years old, his mother died of an overdose. As she never bothered to write down a testament or anything similar, her entire fortune goes to her greedy manager, who leaves Gregori penniless.

The boy, who has spent his whole life sheltered without much contact with the outside world, is left with nothing and doesn't know exactly what to do. So he scrapes together the last of his money and buys a ticket to Moscow, where he tries to find his father, but in vain. He quickly goes off the rails, barely speaks a word of Russian, is recruited by a gang and gets exploited. An arms deal with a group of nomads goes wrong, a shootout ensues and Gegori is the only one left of the gang because he hides instead of fighting. Yakov, who was on the other side of the deal, takes pity on him and eventually takes him to his new family where he tries to find his place within the group.

Anna

Anna grew up with the Tomobataar nomads from an early age. Her parents were killed in a botched mission when she was just four years old. Iron, who in a way blamed himself for this, took on a guardianship for her and looked after the little girl like the apple of his eye. As the years passed and Anna grew older, the relationship between her and her foster father changed. He became increasingly demanding, punished misbehavior and put the still young girl under pressure. Aon, who had already earned her place in the clan by this time, could not tolerate this behavior as she herself had grown up under similar circumstances. No one else in the clan interfered with Iron's "parenting methods", which is why she ended up doing it. Anna and Aon then became inseparable and she naturally followed her later when they left the clan along with many others.

Anatoly

Anatoly, or Tolik as Aon calls him, belongs to the Russian working class in Moscow and cannot claim to own much. As a boy, he dreamed of studying mechanical engineering in order to open his own workshop or business. A dream that his father would never have been able to afford in this life. So after school, Tolik started working at his father's scrap yard on the outskirts of Moscow, not an easy job. He regularly drives into the city to pick up old components and scrap metal from SovOil and other big corporations, where he meets Alyona one day. The two strike up a conversation, exchange banter and hit it off straight away, which over time develops into a teenage love story. Aon spends a lot of time with him at the scrapyard, where she can test and improve her skills on old machines and has a place to hide from her hated stepfather. He, in return, benefits from the knowledge she brings with her from university, and his dream of building his own big thing soon becomes her dream too. Together they consider leaving the city at some point and make plans for the future

unnamed_chromed_up_terrifying_SovOil_Secret_Police_agent

Yea well, I don't know yet how to call him. After Aon has fled Moscow, the officers of the normal police force give up the search for her, as it theoretically no longer falls within their area of responsibility. However, since Kristof claims that Aon stole the data he wanted to sell to Petrochem, SovOil is naturally very interested in finding her and the data chip. So they send a Secret Police agent after her, who, together with a small unit, tries to track her down. He actually already had a kind of "Easter Egg" appearance in my other AU. He would have been the agent sitting next to Kurt if he hadn't switched the cards on the table. Funny how differently things can go. Anyway, he doesn't really have much of a backstory other than he used to work for the KGB and is a bloodthirsty hound dog who chases Aon halfway across the country (spoiler: and finds her). If I were to compare him to another character from movies etc, he would probably have the closest vibe to Hans Landa from Inglourious Basterds. The character was very well written, even though I would probably make my namesless_pig a bit younger than him. But since he'll be pumped full of cyberware anyway, it probably doesn't matter much in the end. It's just supposed to be a fucking horrible character and Aon's nightmare.

Robert Walker

Robert is one of the key-characters in my main fanfiction. I haven't thought about him in depth yet, but the general concept is there. He's a British journalist and photographer who wanted to go high by exposing wrongdoings in society. For him, there is nothing more exciting than achieving "fame and notoriety" as a whistleblower. He's not necessarily stupid or doesn't know what he's doing, he's just unlucky. He gets into trouble with the wrong people and upsets the even worse ones, which is why he has to flee the UK and ends up in NC. There he tries to start over and stay out of trouble. However, he soon develops an "unhealthy" obsession with Kurt Hansen. He is incredibly fascinated by him and spends every free minute in Dogtown so that he can perhaps take a photo (or two, or ten) of his idol. At some point, he goes so far as to seek direct contact and wants to interview him. Kurt is flattered at first, but has little desire to reveal information about himself in some strange blog or gossip magazine. But that didn't stop Robert from continuing to stalk him and even trying to become a member of Barghest. At some point, Hansen got too pissed off and gave him the choice of leaving Dogtown or catching a bullet. Robbie chose the second option. After all, he hadn't forbid him to camp outside the gates of Dogtown, had he?

Technically I could tell something about Aon´s mom and her stepfather too, but I don´t have that much yet. So will keep em for the next WIP together with the other OCs for my main fic. There will be three more. A general, a corpo guy and the last is still up for discussion with my brain. Considering somekind of warlord or a netrunner.

Art

I tried to do something different than a full rendered piece of artwork. I am not yet confinced that I like it. I like, that it was finished really fast lmao but...I dunno.

Aon and Tolik - 2055

But happy that Aon is actually recognizable in the end. During the process she looked so much like So Mi at a point that my brain went: WHO ARE YOU GIRL. But I like the long hair. Will give it back to her in her 2078+ appearance. Not exactly like this, but longer than her normal style.

Not quite sure about Anatoly tho. I mean, he looks like this in my head, but I will reconsidere if he will get some cyberarms. He is poor like a mouse, so probably can´t afford expensive tech like this, but he feels kind of „empty“ without anything.

Congrats and huge thanks if you read this far. Brainrot stronk!

Tagging some ppl aswell. Everyone else is invited too to show off some awesome stuff ofc, no pressure as always!

@blackrevell @olath124 @cyberholic77 @cybervesna @pinkyjulien @theviridianbunny @therealnightcity @wanderingaldecaldo @miss--river @barghestapologist @kdval @streetkid-named-desire @aggravateddurian @androgymess

#wip whenever #worldbuilding #writing stuff #art stuff #oc stuff

[janiestumb]

Isn't it a pity

My mom was in my dream last night. When she's there, which is rare, or I just never remember, my brain conjures the energy between us and it feels as real as anything. As real as waking touch or scent or sight. It’s not about the accuracy of the look on her face or what she says. It’s the feeling when we’re in each other’s company. We’re in on the joke together. We’re tethered by a force.

I know you don’t believe me. But your ocular system senses waves of various lengths and your brain perceives color. Now tell me. How is that more real than what I’m describing?

Ok so moving on…

In my dream I was unsure what I would do with my life. “But that’s what the year after college graduation is for. I’m supposed to figure it out next year. There’s time.” We agreed.

I woke up comforted by the thought. "I'm supposed to figure it out next year. There’s time.” Then I immediately remembered that I'm not supposed to and there isn’t time. I’m almost 36. So that sucked. Also, the part where I remembered my mom was... yeah.

She died when it was fine for me to not know what to do. It was slightly alarming to her. Terrifying to my dad. But fine.

Here I am and I still don’t know. In fact, I know less. Nothing has made sense regarding any kind of timeline since the day she passed and then he did too and forget it. I’m way more lost now. Way more fatalistic. Then the pandemic and big wake-ups regarding capitalism and the spiritual ills of the people in our country and our generation's fucked-overed-ness and climate change didn't help.

I’m mourning this trip’s end with a little less than a week to go. Could this be the ultimate Portuguese immersive experience, saudade? I'm thinking about time.

Is there enough time left for me?

How did I go all those years without leaving my couch?

Who was I three weeks ago?

Because now I’m stereotypical “back from study abroad girl” with the beret, but the beret is pride and a renewed sense of independent self. We love to dunk on beret girl and how she says "flat" instead of "apartment" after spending a couple months in Europe and haha she thinks cheese is dessert, but travel really changes you if you do it right.

So how will I go back to non-beret old me?

I wish I could go back further. To age 20, but to a quantum version of life where my parents didn't die. I've been fucked from the starting block, even before graduation.

But let's say we could go back two years. That would help, but only if I could do something different. Not sure what. I’m mourning these years as just straight up lost. These were painful years of nothing. Of repetition. Of a bizarre breakup. Of loss of a sense of home and stability. Of heart-wrenching, pathetic loneliness and feeling acutely left behind. Of horrible dates and the sting of being humiliated and devastated by my own hopefulness. Of being touch starved. Of the same old places. Same old pains. Same old anxieties. Same old "these people don't like me. These people think I'm crazy. These people are not interested in me because I'm not hot or successful or talented. Or someone else is easier. Their stuff is lighter to carry. They are more fun and chill and easy and I'm a lot." On a loop, on a loop, on a loop. How about being left to die alone while everyone else had someone. Or entire families of someones too.

All the while, my age crept up and up and my muscles started deteriorating and my eggs apparently started rotting and withering away.

Career wasn’t good either.

So all that's been, like, a lot.

Nothing in my life materially changed this month, but I have so much more now than I did before. Because I’m who I know I am meant to be, moving and learning and experiencing, free of expectation and comparison, just processing the magnitude of this world as seen through a tiny square inch lens of beauty the lord has allowed me to witness.

I’m so lucky that I’ve been able to rediscover the thrill of independence and adventure with a renewed comfort in being alone. To use the hard-earned self-sufficiency that double parental loss and sheer alone-ness will burden you with for good. After doing hard shit alone, the fun shit alone is heaven.

I’m so lucky. I'm so grateful. I'm so happy to be alone.

Now what?

I don’t want to go back.

Back to loneliness and routine and my too-big worries for my too-small life.

Part of me thinks this is the best time of my life and it’s ending. Some people have described this as the "trip of a lifetime."

But I sincerely pray that it's not. I hope I’m physically and financially able to just keep going and going and going from here on out until my little rotting insides can’t rake it anymore… It's like having a kid but not at all.

On to planning the next trip…

Photos from today: A joy ride around Douro scream-singing Fleetwood Mac, "Gypsy," and George Harrison, "Isn't It A Pity" and into northeast Portugal -- and here is where I immediately got lost. The dog Fiona who blocked my path. (Lovely elderly Portuguese ladies tried to get Fiona to move her ass but it was a fun fun time for Fiona and she wouldn’t budge and we love Fiona.) Another trip to another outpost of my favorite gorgeous supermarket with favorite bathroom Continente (and look at this grocery store cafe cappuccino with oat milk. ... insert joke about being incontinente). "The Fig Tree" from S Plath (this is Tumblr after all, even if Yahoo bought it and fucked it up). Reading alone at the pool alone, so happy alone.

[malebodyinvasion]

Pandemic Blues

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

The current pandemic is taking a toll on me and I am getting anxious every passing day. My partner got stuck at some place in Europe for a business trip after the travel ban and I was left alone with her teenage son from her first relationship. I was so bored that I decided to have some random online shopping. I stumbled this one ominous website offering various kind of potions. The body swap potion picks my interest the most. A sudden naughty idea came into my mind. May be I could relieve the upcoming weeks in my stepson’s youthful body?

Then I saw my stepson Tom browsing in search for a part-time job that can be done at home. I asked him why and he responded that he wanted to earn some money to get the new PlayStation. That announcement is godsend. I easily convinced my stepson to swap bodies with me for a week in exchange of buying him one once it is released. He was hesitant at first but agree after an hour of thinking.

The next morning, there was a parcel on our doorstep. I hurriedly took it in and open the box - inside, is a vial of green fluid. According to the manual, a vial of the potion must be mixed in a glass of water and be drank by the two people in the same hour. The swap will happen after some time depending on the tolerance of the users and will automatically reverse after a week. Tom and I agreed to use the potion after dinner. Before sleeping, we chugged down the water imbued with the potion.

When I opened my eyes, I was looking at the ceiling then looked down. I was no longer in my room. I am now inside my stepson's body! I reached his phone and it's only two o'clock of the morning.

I quickly jumped out of the bed to open the lights and admired my new youthful body in front of a mirror. I cannot believe how well-endowed he is in spite of hitting the gym just recently. His everyday routine of exercise since he was fourteen probably help a lot to achieve such physical tone. It's far better when I was his age. I cannot help myself but admire his cute yet handsome face and sexy body.

I flexed his arms and touched his arse repeatedly in different positions until I noticed my borrowed meat hardens. I slid my hand inside his boxer briefs, passing through his well-trimmed pubes, and groped it firmly. I could feel it twitched one after the other every time I touched the shaft's tip. I cannot hold it anymore!

I dropped his underwear for a better look and as expected it's big. It's far larger and longer than mine. It's like groping a stack of soda cans. I can now somehow understand the brags of my wife's ex-husband about his manliness. Tom is lucky to inherit such good genes but I hope he didn't grow like his douchey father.

I caressed my palm along Tom's shaft and began stroking it. With every stroke, my hand is getting faster and I could feel his cock getting harder. I massaged my borrowed chest and abdomen with my free hand and let out a loud moan with his voice. A cold shiver shot through my body and streams of hot cum spewed towards the mirror and onto the carpet. Wow, I haven't released that many for years!

Panting, I grabbed his phone over the bed and took a commemorative picture that I will send to myself later. I was surprised that Tom's meat is still hard after my rough masturbation. Then an idea struck me.

I walked over to the nearest wall and sat facing it. I lie on his back with a couple of pillows under my head for cushioning and lift my heels up in the air. I moved forward for my legs to touch the wall and with my stepson’s feet, I walked up the wall as high as I could. Then I pushed the wall off causing my borrowed hard cock to flop in front of my face. Yes! I did it! I always dream to have this done but my own heavy muscular body is not flexible enough. I’m glad Tom’ body is flexible. I have to admit Tom’s big yet young cock in this angle is such a good sight. I locked my position by joining my arms beneath my thighs and pulling my legs slightly up. Now, I can self-fellate myself. Kind of exciting!

I let my tongue out and played with the tip for a minute. Just like before, it jerks after the other. With Tom’s lips, I engulfed the head and carefully shove a quarter of the total length. The warmth and the sticky moisture along with the sweet and salty flavor gives me a euphoric sensation. I pushed my pelvis further trying to swallow his entire length but it only caused me to gag. I used my tongue to continuously tease around the shaft then proceed to suck it off. I could feel Tom’s abs and legs tightens – a sign that my stamina is at peak. As a final persuasion, I savagely thrust the entire length into my mouth and cum exploded inside it. I kept on swallowing the seed until I dry orgasmed.

Afterwards, I let my borrowed legs free and I could see Tom’s muscles loosen. I was stuck for a while, thinking the things I had done. I could feel the slight pain on his muscles and back. It wasn’t long I noticed that Tom’s cock is still decently long when flaccid. What a lucky teen. I stood up and see myself again the mirror. I wonder how good this body for an actual action. Too bad, that’s off-limits for now… May be I could invite some of Tom’s friends living in the neighborhood to test it out? Or may be Tom in my body would do? No. I don’t want to give him wrong ideas about me. I’m only doing this for fun and curiosity.

I looked up the time and it’s barely an hour have passed since I woke up. I walked towards the bed and let my body fell upside down. I rubbed Tom’s body over the sheets but his cock won’t get hard again. May be I really need to sleep now…

#body swap #male body swap #old to young #body switch #male body switch #father to son #family swap

[terrm9]

Cieli di Toscana

Words count: 1 600

Author’s note: I love Italy and Italian language, I miss hearing it, I miss eating gelato and the sea and I like Bocelli. That’s it, that’s all you need to know to understand this fluffy useless piece. Also, I tried to translate that one line the best I can, but my Italian is mediocre at best, so if someone from Italy sees it - please, feel free to correct my translation and don’t hate me if I got it absolutely wrong.

Takes place some weeks after the OHSY Finale.

It was raining heavily as Chiara stepped into Ethan’s car, making her sigh. 

“This is absolutely terrible weather for a road trip,” she rolled her eyes dramatically, earning an honest chuckle from Ethan.

They weren’t going on a road trip. They were invited to attend a conference in New York and as much as Ethan hated those, the vision of three whole days with Chiara, out of reach of the chaos that’s been erupting in Boston ever since Edenbrook’s closing and its subsequent grand re-opening, was enough for him to make a decision to go.

The excruciating rate of their lives in those past few months has also been reason why Ethan decided to drive for four hours to New York. Four hours on their way back and another four on their way back, eight full hours of the two of them being next to each other without anyone else’s presence, with nothing better to do than to simply be together. Hell, even if Chiara decided to just sleep the whole time, those eight hours of her peaceful sleep would be worth the time spent in a car.

“Okay, if you don’t want to start with my playlist,” Chiara waved indefinitely with her phone in the hand, “you better have something else than an audio book to listen to.”

To be absolutely honest, Ethan wouldn’t mind listening to her playlist if that would serve her best, however he gestured towards the dashboard on Chiara’s side of a car.

“There should be some old CD’s in there.”

Opening a storage space of the dashboard, Chiara raised her eyebrow at him and exclaimed: “Some old what? Have you ever heard of the possibility of connecting your phone to the radio?”

Ethan resisted his urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as he was in the middle of overtaking a truck. He knew what was coming and that he didn’t dispose of any power that could stop it.

“I remember the times when the only way to listen to something of your choice in a car was to use a CD. I said they were old.”

Chiara rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide the smirk that found its way onto her face. Of course he would remember that.

“Remind me again, which dinosaur was your favorite? You know, since you were lucky enough to live among them.”

“This joke is getting old.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, knowing that they would backfire terribly.

“Yes, and so are you,” Chiara replied without missing a beat, her triumphant grin so wide Ethan was sure her cheeks hurt.

She grabbed the first CD, disapprovingly muttering under her breath.

“Vivaldi, Sinatra, Schoenberg, another Sinatra, Bocelli? I know this one,” she turned to him with Italian tenor’s album in her hand.

Ethan glanced at her quickly and nodded, encouraging her to develop her statement.

“My mom loves Bocelli, like really loves, loves. I remember when this particular album came out, I was maybe eight or nine at the time and my mom would listen to it on repeat, all day for two solid weeks,” she chuckled to herself at the memory and decided to put the CD into the radio, letting herself get lost in the memories of her childhood. “My dad was going crazy, always shutting himself in his study to listen to Queen or David Bowie. I would usually follow him and when I asked him why he didn’t tell her to turn it off, he’d just smile, shrug and say something about the music making my mom happy.”

Chiara listened to the first track, the melody all too familiar despite not hearing it for at least fifteen years. It sounded like her parents and home and love. The unconditional love her father always held for her mother, the one that grossed her out when she was a kid and caused her to have unfulfillable expectations from boys when she was a teenager.

She always dreamt of meeting a man that would love her that way, the man that would listen to the music he hated and she loved just because it would make her happy.

Shaking her head slightly to get herself out of the dangerous waters of her mind, the waters of nostalgy, the waters of infinite sadness she felt when thinking about her dad and her brother and how they would never get to decide if Ethan deserved their precious Chia, their light, she cleared her throat and read the title written on the plastic cover of the CD.

“Cieli di Toscana. Do you know what that means?” she turned to Ethan, thankful that the traffic kept him from noticing how lost she’s been for the last few minutes.  

"Skies of Tuscany," Ethan replied, not tearing his gaze of the road.

Chiara smiled to herself, her mind taking her back to all those documentaries she's seen about that part of Italy.

"They must be bewitching. Skies of Tuscany, I mean," she leaned further into her seat, the soft melody of second song making it easier to just imagine being there, far away from struggles Boston had in store for her. "Have you ever been to Tuscany?"

Ethan nodded, his sharp gaze melting slightly as his focus has been divided between driving and reminiscing his time in Europe.

"Once. I've been attending a conference with Naveen in Florence. I hardly had any spare time for sightseeing and yet the city managed to render me speechless as I walked its narrow streets."

Despite his efforts to find a better word for the city, all he could think about, back then in Florence, was how romantic its streets were. He could still remember how his whole body both loved and hated the atmosphere and how, when he surly muttered that it was city made for couples, Naveen would laugh and say: „If you are clever enough not to repeat my mistakes, you will come back with a woman of your life one day and belong to those scandalous couples.“

Another memory flashed in his mind, too bright and fresh for his liking. The one where, laying on the thick fabric of hazmat suit that protected his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks slowly, Chiara admitted that she regretted not travelling more while she could.

„I’ll take you there, when this chaos settles down and we’re allowed to take some time off. I’ll take you to Tuscany then,“ he said softly, quietly, pretending to concentrate on the road, which must have looked absolutely ridiculous as the highway was currently deserted. He hoped Chiara didn’t notice how flushed the back of his neck suddenly became.

She didn’t.

Chiara was biting her cheek, staring back and forth at Ethan and the road. Her own cheeks were colored in a bright pink color, the sincerity of Ethan’s words making her weak.

It wasn’t only the fact that he remembered about her dream of visiting Italy. It wasn’t even about the way he told her, that he would take her. It was the fact that planning his future with her came so naturally to him at this point, he didn’t even need to think about it.

Lost in her thoughts once again, Chiara didn’t notice how Ethan’s eyes widened few seconds into fourth song when the recognition hit him.

It was the song he liked the most, the song that he would listen quite often to back in the days when this album kept him company on the roads.

It was the song that, just like the city of Florence, used to make that small, almost negligible part of him wish that he had someone to share it with.

With the rain falling heavily on the windshield, Chiara couldn’t hear Ethan’s almost unaudible singing. She could’ve easily miss it, if she didn’t notice his lips moving.

„Are you singing?“ she asked, absoltutely shocked. She caught him humming various melodies sometimes, but never in her whole life would she believe to see Ethan Ramsey sing.

‚Scusi se mi innamorai in un istante di lei per

l'aria serena che ha.‘

„Absolutely not,“ he shook his head, the wave of heat on his neck becoming almost unbearable. „I am reciting the lyrics, at best.“

How cute, Chiara thought.

However, she didn’t want to ruin the moment and so instead of teasing him mercilessly, she asked: „What does it say? The part that you absolutely weren‘t singing.“

„Excuse me if I, in an instant, fall in love with her for the air of serenity she has. Very freely translated.“

„How do you know the lyrics so well?“

„I like the song.“

„Sure, liking the song is one thing, but knowing – and singing – the lyrics is another. Especially when the lyrics is as soft as this one. Is the song special to you?“

She tried to ask it as casually as she could, as if she was simply curious, when really, there was a hint of jealousy blooming in her chest.

Was the song special to him? Did he use to recite it to his first girlfriend trying to impress her?

The car stopped at the red light, giving Ethan a chance to finally look at the woman next to him fully.

„It is now,“ he nodded, smiling softly as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

The expecting and so vulnerable green eyes staring back at him made his heart flutter. At this point, it was useless to pretened that he wasn’t utterly and terribly sappy when it came to her. Taking a deep breath, just before the red light turned to green, he whispered.

„The name of the song is Chiara.“

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ohsy

[marvel-and-mischief]

Safe Haven Part I

Title: Safe Haven. 

Words: 3200

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Pero x Reader. You are the owner of a tavern in England when a mysterious stranger asks to stay in your lodgings whilst he works for the Lord of the town you live in. Soft, awkward, grumpy Pero! Post TGW (no William). 

When you thought about the past eleven months, you couldn’t believe you had gotten this far. You had three wonderful, hard working women under your care. Gwen kept to herself in the kitchens, baking meat pies for your customers and keeping the tavern clean and tidy. Darcy could talk the back legs off a donkey if given the chance, but her charm kept the customers coming back and those passing through remembered to come back the next time they were near town. And Adelaide, or Addy as she was known, helped you with the business; counting money, keeping on top of the food and drink that was needed, finding new ways to attract guests to the lodgings out back. 

When your father had suddenly come down with a fever, you were certain it would pass. The cold, damp nights had started to settle in, so it wasn’t unusual to hear of the townspeople getting ill. You sat by his bedside in the day, feeding him soup and reassuring him that the tavern would be just as he left it when he returned to work. And at night you opened up as usual, serving the locals who had come in for the warm fire and mead. You only had Gwen back then, so you were rushed off your feet without your father as well. When not even a week later your father had taken a turn for the worse, you couldn’t deny that maybe this new way of running the tavern would be a more permanent way of life. 

The fever took your father five days after he fell ill. You worked harder than you ever thought you would have to. You not only had to quickly learn how to be a business owner, but being a woman you had to earn the respect of the townspeople. They all knew you, having grown up in the tavern as your father’s only child. The town healer helped your mother give birth to you, as a small child you brought bread from the baker, you courted the blacksmiths son as a teenager. But as a businesswoman, they were a little more concerned. The regulars that came into the tavern most nights had your back, but some of the older members of the town thought you couldn’t handle it. Some even suggested they would only support you if you found yourself a husband. 

After two months, you had found your newest employee. Darcy stumbled into the tavern just as you were closing up one night, mud caking her hands and most of her dress. You brought her inside, sitting her in front of the large fire on one side of the tavern. You asked Gwen to make up a tankard of warm milk and honey and handed it to this stranger. You convinced her that if she just trusted you, allowed you to keep her safe in the tavern, you would never ask where she came from or who she was running from, and she would always have a home here. She had nowhere else to go and she had had no better offers than yours and doubted anyone else would be so kind. She agreed to work for you. 

After a few weeks Darcy opened up a little more. She had travelled from Armagh in Ireland, looking for a new life away from a family that wished to marry her off to a brute of a man. She would rather have died journeying out of Ireland than be made to live the rest of her life with him. Her sweet Irish accent hypnotised anyone who heard her speak, so custom quickly picked up and so did her confidence. 

Soon after that was your last employee. Addy was mild tempered, still is, when you found her covered in blankets and huddled against a stone wall in the marketplace. Her large brown eyes were flitting back and forth, her hands shaking where they clung to her only bag of belongings. The first time you tried to walk up to her she hid under the blankets and started crying. You left her an apple and a chunk of bread, not wanting to spook her any more than you already had. 

The next day you went back to where you had last seen her but she was gone. She had moved to the opposite side of the marketplace and was trying to hold onto her bag which was being torn away from her by a boy no older than twelve. You had rushed over to her, yanking the bag from the boy and pulling yourself up to your full height to tower over him. With a gasp the boy ran off and you turned to see Addy with her eyes down, biting her bottom lip. After assuring her you only wanted to help, you handed her the bag and brought her back to the tavern. 

Once she was comfortable with you, you realised she was literate and could help with the day-to-day running of the tavern. She was born in France but spoke very good English. She has never told you why she ended up in England but it didn’t matter. She was kind and thoughtful and worked harder than any man you’d ever met. 

Once you had your team set up everything felt like it once had. People respected your position, they supported the tavern and your guest rooms were never empty. 

Your day dreaming was disturbed by Darcy slamming a tankard on the counter in front of you. You raised an eyebrow in her direction, silently asking why she did that.

“There’s a new man in town,” she stated matter-of-factly. It wasn’t unusual for travellers to pass through. The river that ran through the town lead a few miles east to the sea that separated England and France. Anyone travelling from Europe would most likely have to come through your town to reach the rest of the country. So why was Darcy making such a big deal about this one man?

“Does he practice sorcery or something just as interesting?” You asked with a smirk. Darcy came from a country steeped in superstition so you knew that would hit a particular spot.

Darcy made the sign of the cross against her chest and gave you a warning look. “Do not jest. Of course not. But everyone’s talking about him. He barely says a word to anyone. Has an accent apparently-“

“How do they know he has an accent if he doesn’t speak?”

Darcy seems to think this over. The difference between Darcy and Addy is, where Addy is educated, Darcy is smart when is comes to the realities of life. She knows to keep to the clear roads and not walk through the woods when travelling to market, but she doesn’t always understand irony. 

“Well… I’m not sure. He must have spoken at some point. You can’t just not speak!” She was getting flustered which made you giggle. Darcy realised what you were doing and grabbed the towel that had been hanging over her shoulder and whipped it in your direction, catching you on the elbow where your arms were folded. 

“Alright alright! I’m sorry. What is it they are saying about him?”

“Just that he’s a little strange. And he has a large scar over his eye.” She shrugged and began to use the towel to wipe dust off the counter. 

“A mercenary perhaps?” You had met mercenaries before. They weren’t common but they were all the same. Kept themselves to themselves and never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends. 

“Do you think he will cause trouble?” Darcy was purposefully not looking in your direction. She was worried. Trouble meant fighting and none of the girls were comfortable with dealing with that. 

“No,” you said sternly. You glanced down to the thick sharpened branch you hid behind the counter. You would nip it in the bud before any fighting started. You wouldn’t have the girls frightened to live here. This was supposed to be their safe space. “If I think he’s going to cause a problem I will kick him out. He may not even come in here Darcy.” You spoke softly, not wanting to spook her. 

She seemed satisfied with that answer when she walked away to clean the table tops. You watched as she began to hum a tune as though the previous conversation had never happened.

“I’m going to check that Gwen is ready to open up for the night,” and with that you left in the direction of the kitchen, putting this stranger to the back of your mind. 

-

You had opened up in the early evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. The night had been busy but not chaotic. Gwen managed to sell all but one of her pies so the three women were sat around the kitchen table tucking in. The last of the drinkers were stumbling out of the front door. You bid them a safe journey home when you noticed a man walking towards you. The lights from the tavern weren’t strong enough to catch any details until he was right in front of you.

He wore a black cape, hood up against the bitter air, and the unmistakable line of a sheathed sword could be seen poking through the material. He carried a bag over his shoulder and nothing else. You looked up as he took a step closer and candlelight showed you the scar of the man Darcy had been talking about earlier that evening. 

You stood up straighter, head held high. You were not going to be intimidated by this man and the permanent scowl that seemed to be etched onto his features. His facial expression didn’t change even as he spoke.

“Do you have rooms?” Darcy was right, there was an accent. But it didn’t sound like Addy’s French accent. You had had men pass through from further afield, but some didn’t speak English at all so you couldn’t ask where they came from. 

“My rooms are full.” You didn’t mean to be blunt but that’s how it came out. You weren’t lying, your earliest vacancy was in two days time but you still felt bad. This man must have walked all the way from where his ship had docked, and he hadn’t brought a horse with him. He was about to turn away when you shouted out to him. 

“I have a stable.” It was the only solution you could think of. He didn’t turn to look at you but you heard him grumble something in his native tongue. You didn’t think you wanted to know what it translated to. “It’s enclosed. With the door shut it’s quite warm. Only one horse in there at the moment too.” 

He finally turned to look at you. He raised one eyebrow rather high, and you thought if he just stopped scowling he may be handsome. So you gave him a small smile. He hadn’t done anything to offend you, yet, so the least you could do was be polite. 

“Where can I find more rooms, camarera?” His voice was deep and his accent was strong, and you don’t know what he had called you but he sounded tired. And maybe you were too kind for your own good but you didn’t want him travelling longer than he had to when there were perfectly fine stacks of hay he could sleep on for a few hours.

“You would have to travel north into town. On foot, you could reach it by sunrise.” He seemed to be mulling it over. Was he serious? He’ll drop down in exhaustion before he’d even travelled halfway. “Come into the stable. I won’t charge you anything.” 

That seemed to make up his mind because he was walking back towards you. You stepped inside to let him in before locking the door. You took him through a side door, down the side of the building and into the stables. 

It wasn’t large. Could fit three horses in at a squeeze, but the current resident was lying against the large doors and on the other side against the stone wall of the guest rooms were stacks of hay. 

The horse raised his head and let out a huff of disapproval when you both walked past him, but soon became disinterested when neither of you paid him no attention. 

The stranger sat on a stack of hay, moving about to test how comfortable it was. He looked up and nodded when he was satisfied. There was an awkward silence for a moment before you remembered that this was your tavern and you shouldn’t be feeling nervous.

“Did you want a blanket?”

“No thank you.”

“Something to eat or drink?”

“No.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Thank you.”

You nodded and turned away to leave him alone. When you got to the door you had entered through you saw he was still sat exactly where he was. He hadn’t moved in the slightest. Was he not used to anyone being nice to him? Or was he just an awkward, angry man? 

Closing the door behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You began to walk along the corridor, taking a turn to arrive in the kitchen.

The women had devoured the pie that had been left. Gwen was nearly falling asleep at the table whilst Addy had taken over the washing up duties. Darcy was nowhere to be found. 

Addy saw you first, holding up a finger to the ceiling when she noticed you were looking around the kitchen.

“Darcy went to bed. Are you going up?”

For the first time that night you realised just how tired you were. You didn’t know whether to tell them about the man in the stables. Maybe it was for best that Darcy was already in bed. She would be none the wiser. 

“I just need to stub the candles out in the front. I’ve let a traveller stay in the stables. Don’t disturb him. I imagine he will be gone by morning.”

Addy frowned. It wasn’t unusual to let the odd person stay in the stables. Usually poor travellers looking for work, or like tonight when you were feeling especially kind. But maybe your tone inflicted that it was unusual with this man because she looked like she was waiting for you to explain.

You refused. You grabbed some pie crumbs off the plate and shoved them into your mouth.

“Alright. I’ll stub the candles out if you wanted to go on up? I’ve nearly finished here.” She grabbed the empty plate you had just eaten off of and dumped it in the bowl of water. 

You made your way towards your room, hopefully to get some sleep and forget about the man in the stables. You don’t know why he was bothering you so much. You were acting like he was a dirty little secret. He’ll be gone in the morning and you will never see him again.

You sort of hoped you were wrong.

-

The morning started as it always did. The birds singing and the Winter sun shone through my window. 

Your room was modest. The bigger of the three bedrooms upstairs (it was formerly your fathers room). You had it all to yourself, whereas Addy and Darcy shared a room and Gwen had the smallest room furthest from yours. You had a small wooden table next to your bed which sat a candle and a ribbon for your long hair. 

Across from your bed, underneath the window, was a box to store your clothes in and along the wall on the left of the room was a tin bath, the only one upstairs. 

You were lucky, you knew that. Working in a tavern brought in more money than the average business in town. But with four mouths to feed you didn’t have a lot of money for long.

You were rubbing the sleep from your eyes when the memories of the previous night came rushing back to you. you remembered the strange man with the scar that intrigued you. The deep, husky voice, the grumpy look on his face, his curt responses. 

You should be hoping that he’s long gone but as you jumped out of bed, quickly throwing your outer dress over your underdress and slipping on your boots you realised you were hoping for the exact opposite. You ran down the stairs, rushed through the hallway and arrived at the kitchen to see Gwen at the stove.

You couldn’t help but notice the smell of warm milk and honey in the air. You grabbed a tankard off the side and dipped it into the pan that Gwen was mixing. 

“Sorry Gwen,” you muttered. You knew she’d be annoyed for the rest of the day but you’d find a way to make it up to her. You always did. 

The short walk to the stables had your heart pumping. You suddenly felt stupid. He probably wasn’t in there anymore. And what if he didn’t like honey? And why did you care so much? 

When you opened the door you almost bumped into him. You gasped as he jumped back, hand immediately reaching the hilt of his sword. 

The hood of his cape wasn’t up so you could see his face much more clearly this morning. He had a peculiarly large nose which you found yourself wanting to run your finger along, and an unusual moustache that you never saw on Englishmen. He was staring at you, mouth slightly parted when you realised you had also been staring at him for longer than was acceptable. 

You caught your breath and decided to show him the contents of the tankard.

“Warm milk with honey. Thought you might want something before you left?” You said hopefully. He was inspecting the contents as though he had never been presented with something before. It was as though he didn’t know how to respond. “You don’t have to. Just thought after a cold night, something warm would be welcome,” you shrugged and started to take it back. But he stopped you with a gloved hand over yours.

He took the drink off of you and began to sip at it. He didn’t make a face of disgust so you assumed he liked it. You were desperate to know where he was going but you didn’t want to intrude. Luckily you didn’t have to.

“Thank you, that is nice. I have to go. Work in town.” His words were to the point. Not like yours were when you rambled like a mad woman. You nodded and took back the drink he was handing back to you. 

“Good luck. I hope everything goes well for you.” You smiled, and it looked like he was going to smile back but he nodded instead.

“Thank you. For the bed.” And with that he brushed past you. You knew Addy would be at the front of the tavern to let him out so you didn’t follow. You also didn’t want to make more of a fool of yourself than you already had. 

You sighed and trudged back towards the kitchen. You had some making up to do.

#Pero #Pero Tovar #Pero x Reader #Pedro #Pedro pascal #fanfic #first fanfic #pero tovar x reader #pero fic #pero tovar fic #tovar #safe haven

[everydayeveryday]

The 3rd World Traveler: A Guide to Fulfilling Your Travel Dreams on a Shoestring Budget by: Ma. Patricia Yulo

“I accepted my situation, believed in my dream, and sacrificed. Easier said than done, I know. But if it was easy, it wouldn’t be worth diving into.”

“Achievement, I believe, is more inspiring if it sprouts from hard work. We are all prone to failure and bound to suffer and struggle, but once we overcome trials and anxieties by using our personal capabilities (and this may include divine intervention if you are inclined to pray or seek help from the god of your religion and faith), the result are sweeter because sweating, crawling, crashing, crying and even fainting through it all gives life a more profound well-earned meaning than, say, getting lucky in the lottery and going to Europe with the winnings.”

“And if I, someone who humbly had to relatively start from scratch can do it, I believe anyone who has a dream can achieve whatever they want to achieve. Because frankly, living in a 3rd world country can no longer be an excuse to set aside your dreams.”

“Life, however, doesn’t let you taste the sweetest of things all the time.”

“You have the option to let go of things that are not really that important.”

“There’s no question that we need certain things in our life. But on top of what you already have, do you still need more to live?”

“But the bottomline is this: as long as you have an idea on where you want to go, you can build an initial itinerary around it. Just remember to be very flexible because things can happen unexpectedly while you’re on the road. Keep the itinerary simple. Let it flow and suck in the experience.”

“Always keep your mind open even if you read something that fancies you. Remember, the road is wide - don’t let a travel guidebook put a limit on your options.”

“Whether you want to sleep for a night in a 5-star hotel or eat at a celebrity chef restaurant, splurge once and remember it forever!”

“Do remember this: use a traveler’s advice only as your guide. Always be prepared for emergency situations even in simple situations such as changing hostels or rooms.”

“What’s important is, you have to balance your life. Save to travel, but save to live as well.”

“Never compromise your health for the sake of traveling. Staying healthy will give the chance to travel more.”

“What really matters the most is how you’d take care of your normal income while enjoying free hours of rest. Remember, having enough rest and living a healthy life is far more important than earning extra money. Your health is the main key that can help you travel, not the money you earn.”

“There are instances when one is no longer happy. This is probably where the QUITTING part comes into play. This is not about assurance; this is about your happiness which equates to your sanity. A job is like a relationship. Why stay in it if you’re unhappy?”

“Remember, a good record can equate to privileges. It’s not ass-kissing because your result prove that you’ve worked hard.”

“Whatever mode of travel you choose, you have to be honest with who you are and what you want.”

“If you’re passionate about two things, then why do you have to let go of the other?”

“A balanced life will give you more opportunities. Who knows? If you follow that path, you may just learn something new. If you only follow one straight path to your goal, you might miss the other opportunities on the side that will push you further to reach your goal.”

“Never think of missed opportunities as a good way to help you save more money. MONEY is easy to get while good memories that will last a lifetime are difficult to acquire. Besides, we only live once. If you think it’s worth it, then go for it. I always believe that the universe in the end will conspire to give you what you want anyway as long as you believe firmly enough in what you want.”

“It’s good to pursue wha you love and to devote a huge chunk of your time for it, but it would be unwise to turn blind eye on other aspects of your life that may provide lasting, invaluable memories and passions as well.”

“I have come to embrace this famous saying: If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light.”

“Be open-minded, at the same time, be cautious and make sure that your “of the beaten path” is safe.”

“You have to be sociable because it’s the best way to learn about other cultures. But being friendly and open-minded doesn’t mean giving in all the time.”

“The decision, however, in the end will always be yours. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this, it is about doing he very thing that makes you happy.”

“Know what you want and pursue it. It may take a lot of work, but the reward in the end, as clichè as it may sound, is always sweet.”

#book #books #bookworm #bookclub #bookquotes #bookquote #library #onlinelibrary #booklovers #bookworms #bookislife #bookish #travel

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part three

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

With help from some of the Ministry's interns, your tent was finally up. It was lilac purple with a beautiful satin finish. Walking inside always took your breath away just because of the sheer size of the tent. It smelt brand new and didn't have that homey feeling like the Weasley's tent but it would do for a couple nights.

(y/n) plops down on the bed. She opens up and rereads the letter that Minister Fudge had sent her father two months ago. You had started reading your dad's mail and answering for him since he was no longer capable of doing it himself. Your father had a very formal way of writing so it had been easy enough to imitate his handwriting to answer the Minister's letter.

You open the creamy beige envelope and pull out a sturdy white letter with gold embellishments. It reads:

Dear (f/n),                                                                                                                  I hope this letter is finding you in good health. I've heard that you have recently been traveling Europe in search of new properties. Barty and myself were wondering if you would be so kind as to join us for a meeting during the Quidditch World cup. The time is nearing and we must finalize the deal.  Looking forward to seeing you,                                                                                                                                Cornelius

You tried remembering what you wrote in the answering letter. It went something like this.

Dear Cornelius,                                                                                                         I am currently in Romania for business and I unfortunately will not be back in time for the Quidditch World Cup. However i've left my daughter (y/n) in charge of my business affairs while I am away and she would be delighted to join you. Barty and yourself can finalize the deal with her.  Wishing you the best,                                                                                                                                             (f/n)

Your father had started a real estate company when he was twenty four and it had grown into one of the most successful businesses in the wizarding world and in Britain. You assumed that the Minister and Barty Crouch wanted to buy a property but you didn't know anything further. It was a very secretive affair and you had searched your father's files extensively but there was no mention of this mysterious deal anywhere. You were essentially going in blind.

The meeting was going to be over dinner in the Minister's box during the Quidditch Match. (y/n) had time to kill so she walked back to the Weasley's tent.

You arrive just in time to see the Weasley twins and Ludo Bagman betting on the games.

"Personally I have to agree with Mr.Bagman, my money is on Bulgaria winning" You tease and the twins shake their ginger heads.

You hear sirens that signal the stadium has opened. You head over with your friends. The inside of the Quidditch stadium is just as breathtakingly festive as the outside. Red and green coats everything, it is filled with headshots of various Quidditch players and drunken voices singing national anthems.

"Blimey how far up are we dad!" Rom complains.

"Well, put it this way, if it rains you'll be the first to know." You turn towards the familiar cold posh voice. Lucius Malfoy.

You had grown up with the Malfoy's and practically spent half your childhood at their house. Narcissa has become a second mother to you after your own mother's death. (y/n) had her suspicions that her parents and the Malfoy's were hoping their children would get married but (y/n) cringed at the idea. It wasn't that you didn't like Draco but your relationship was more like cousins. He was like that one favourite cousin everyone has that makes all family gatherings fun. But you couldn't stand the snobby facade Draco put on whenever he was around other people. Like now.

"Father and I are in the minister's box. A personal invitation from Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco" Lucius says while nudging him with his cane. " There is no need with these people."

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt like you could see the back of your skull.

"Ah miss Deauxville, I believe you'll be joining us in the Minister' box." Lucius says in a respectful tone.

You hated how he talked to your friends like they were lower than you. Lucius nudges Draco with his cane and Draco immediately offers you his arm. You look back at the trio and mouth help me as you take Draco's arm.

"Have fun" Hermione says sarcastically.

The Minister's box is filled with house elves carrying trays of little delicacies and wizards and witches dressed in overly formal clothing. You immediately felt underdressed in your sweater and tennis skirt. But to your delight you could see the sweat glistening off their skin, after all it was still mid August.

A curly haired blonde woman in a ridiculously tight plum dress and green glasses walks over to Mr. Malfoy.

" Ah Lucius, darling, I see Draco has brought his little girlfriend along." She sneers at you, clearly not recognizing you. However you knew exactly who this was, Rita Skeeter, a slimy idiotic gossip columnist with worms for a brain.           " Hope she enjoys this once in a lifetime opportunity to dine with such fine people."

You feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Miss Deauxville, so glad you could make it. The Minister would like to talk in his private room."

Rita Skeeter's face blanched when she realised you were a Deauxville and you follow Barty Crouch through a curtain into a smaller room with a round table and a huge window.

Seated at the table was Minister Fudge, you took a seat just as the team mascots stepped out on the field. The beautiful Bulgarian veelas danced on the field while the Irish leprechauns bounded with their gold, this angered the veelas who in turn transformed into demon-like bird creatures. The teams stepped out on the field, national anthems were played and the snitch was released.

"Well let's get this over with quickly so we have a chance to enjoy the game" You say.

Cornelius Fudge starts.

"Yes, yes well as I'm sure your father mentioned, the Ministry would like to lease a property for a couple months."

Just then Percy walks in holding a stack of papers.

"Here are the papers you asked for Mr.Crouch." He says importantly.

"Ah thank you Weatherby. You may go now."

You almost choke trying to stifle your laugh, earning a glare from Percy as he leaves. Mr Crouch hands you a stack of papers.

" The contract." He simply states. You're too distracted to notice the house elves bring the meal to the table.

You take your time to look it over for any loopholes. Normally your father would have his team of lawyers draw up his own contracts but this would do.

"You want to lease lot number 637? The two acres in the Black Forest, next to Hogwarts? You're sure?"

"Yes" The Minister replied looking uncomfortable.

"There are a few modifications we would like to do to this property." Barty Crouch cuts in.

"What kind of modifications?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well first we would like to cut most of the trees off"

You squawk.

"What! You realise that property will lose all value without the trees."

"Indeed but the ministry is prepared to compensate you for the trees and any fire damage." Mr.Fudge adds.

"Fire damage! What on earth are you planning on doing there!" You blurt out, you're voice rising several octaves.

" Miss Deauxville, we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

You decide to let it go. After all your father had done plenty of suspicious deals before he fell ill.

"How much are you offering?"

"370 000 galleons for eight weeks" Barty answers. You knew that property in the middle of the Black Forest was essentially worthless because of the aggressive centaurs that lived around it. They were offering a lot more money than expected so you quickly grabbed your pen and signed the contract. The two other men did the same. You got up to shake their hands and left the room.

(y/n) sat next to Draco and Lucius Malfoy for the remainder of the game. They made small talk but she couldn't focus on anything other than that property in the Black Forest.

Why the hell would the ministry be so eager to lease that dump? Why would there be fire damage? Why cut all the trees? Questions were swarming your mind like bees.

You look up when you hear the tremendous cheers coming from all the Irish fans. The game was over. You smile to yourself.

Those bloody Weasleys predicted it. Krum caught the snitch but Ireland won.

Both teams came up to the Minister's box to shake his hand. Everyone got up and clapped when the Irish team proudly walked in. The Bulgarian team stomped in with it's sulking seeker Victor Kum leading them. You started shaking hands with people you barely recognized just trying to get out of there as fast as possible. You shake Viktor Krum's hand and give him a warm smile, after all the guy had just lost the biggest game of the year, and he gave you a smile that never completely reached his eyes. Suddenly a bright flash blinds both of you. When you regain sight you see Rita Skeeter standing there with a camera.

"Beautiful photo" She says with the phoniest widest smile.

You finally join the Weasley clan and Cedric Diggory around a campfire later that night after the Malfoys had insisted that you have dinner with them.

"Where were you? I was getting worried. I mean. We. We were getting worried" Harry says quickly. The others give him strange looks.

"Stuck at a dinner with the Malfoy's." You sigh "If anyone mentions politics or the stock exchange one more time I will slit all your throats ok?" They all laugh and explain that they're playing truth or dare.

"Give me a dare! Give me a dare!" Ginny pleads.

"That's not how it works Ginny, you have to get picked." George explained.

"We've been playing for an hour and nobody's picked me !" She whines.

"Fine, eat this" Fred says, handing her a candy.

She pops it in her mouth and her tongue starts to swell enormously. She runs to find Mr.Weasley.

"She asked for it." Fred says, throwing his hands up.

They all keep playing, (y/n) not really paying attention. She was distracted by the Minister's words: "we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

"Cedric, truth or dare." George asks, smirking.

"Dare."

"Very well, your dare is to go ask one of those veelas on a date." He says pointing to a group of breathtaking creatures. You feel a pang of jealousy as Cedric gets up. Instead he comes and sits next to you.

" (y/n), how about a date?"

"Sure" You smile and turn red as George gets up, flailing his arms around..

"No no no. I said a Veela."

"George, are you a bloody idiot, everyone in Great Britain knows (y/n) is a quarter Veela." Hermione says.

Fred and George look at you puzzled.

"Really?" Asks Fred.

"Can you do that cool demon bird shit?" George looks at you suspiciously.

You laugh. "No! It would be kinda fun though if I could. But no, I can't turn into a bird or enchant men into falling hopelessly in love." You say making dramatic hand gestures.

" I don't know about that" Mumbles Harry. You shoot him puzzled looks.

As the night goes on the group keeps talking and playing various games. Your eyes start to feel heavy.

"I think I need to go to sleep." You mumble.

"You can always sleep with me." Fred purrs. Ron hits him with the back of his hand. Cedric's jaw stiffens as he glares at Fred. He looks like he's about to say something when Hermione cuts him off.

" I'll walk you back to your tent (y/n)"

You agree and say goodnight to everyone. As you're walking back you hear screams and see dark figures with masks levitating and torturing a muggle family. You and Hermione run towards the forest where you catch up with Ron and Harry. Ron trips. Lumos Hermione whispers and a bright glow appears on the tip of her wand.

You spot Draco leaning calmly against a tree close to you.

"Better go Hermione, unless you want to show everyone your underwear, if so stick around it would be tremendously funny" He sneers while gesturing to the levitating family.

How can he be so freaking calm when people are literally being tortured less than fifty feet away?

Harry and Ron start defending Hermione and question Draco about his parent’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, you're stuck in a trance watching the family of muggles being tortured and feeling helpless.

"Have it your way, Potter" Draco grins maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a mudblood, stay where you are"

Anger ripped through your body at the sound of those words and you were about to tear his vocal cords out and jinx him within an inch of his life when someone gently squeezes your hand.

"(y/n), let's go." Cedric says, his eyes pleading.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x you #cedric x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader

[ih8paris]

i hate paris

Do people still use tumblr? I’m so old. And I never used it. I don’t keep up with the times. I don’t give a shit. You know what? It all passes. Except facebook. They made a deal with the devil and really, was it worth it? I use facebook. I live in Paris and there are these groups for women, expats, cheap people like me that want free yoga. That’s what I use it for. And news. BBC CNN ABC NBC MSNBC, you get it and the posts. They report what the people supposedly want, but then we can see what the people are actually saying. Donald Trump won’t win? Look at voices talking? Look at the little people. It looked like he was going to win. What do you know, he did. But what if he had lost. What if Hilary didn’t get a handle on COVID and then Donald won in 2020? We would all be so fucked right now. Maybe we already are. Anyway, I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to process my life choices and see if there were signs that I was making HUGE mistake. 

So here’s the thing. I’m a bit untraditional. Growing up was shit. Chuck left and made sure to shit all over everything before he did. And the whole get married in your 20′s have babies get divorced get remarried have more kids bc hey you’re not old at 30 and this is the guy you actually wanted to have kids with. I rant but you get it. Traditional not for me. Also not traditional, i have some money. This money has paid for college, pastry school and yes this wonderful covid filled experience in paris: the city that hates me. I’m fortunate. I don’t live lavishly. It’s not that much money. I grew up poor, I pinch pennies. Then i do exciting things. Or maybe challenging things? I am fortunate and grateful. And guilt filled. I am given this gift and shit it away, trying make something out of this paris experience. It’s like a bad relationship where i keep begging to give it one more change. It will get better. I’m a fucking idiot. So here I am, you know third times the charm, right? Back in paris. Vaccinated. I’ve made connections with people. I feel confident that this will not be a waste. It will be fun. It will be educational. I will network. Gain experiences. Omg learn so much. Be able to travel. OH the hopes and delusions i had. But maybe we should start from the beginning. 

Omg, which beginning. Paris, i guess, we can go back further when the moment calls. So 30 is approaching. I’ve moved back home. That’s story for another time. Remember my life is not traditional. So I’m home to help out and idk try to figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. See the big mistake i made in my 20s was listening to people i don’t admire. i graduate with an art degree. my college exit interview said i am qualified to work at a bank or Kraft foods. no connects, recommendations. No direct. And my family keeps talking about getting a job, benefits, 401k. At one point a little later on, my grandpa was pushing for me to go into service. Sorry gramps, they don’t want me. My education was good. I learned a lot. They had good resources and a lot. But then nothings. So i worked at a bakery. I worked hard at this bakery. For more than a few months i worked 7 days a week. I didn’t have a life. i had money. Money i made. And apparently that was the most important thing, from the talks i keep getting from my family. And of course i wasn’t earning enough, so needed to work harder and climb the ladder. There is no ladder in a bakery. Whatever, I rant again. We’ll come back to this. 

So 30. It’s looming. I’ve thought about grad school. The money I mentioned earlier. It’s had time to grow. The GRE expires after 5 years, not that i took it but 7 years after I graduated, i wasn’t taking it. So Europe. Europe is artsy. I would like to make good money, enjoy the work okay, but mostly make good money with the least amount of actual work. So teaching. My mom teaches. Computer programing. She’s the head of the department. She fucking hates it. The dude that was suppose to get that job, he died. It was sad. But they also didn’t replace him so when the other guy retired, it became her job. It was an unpleasant 10ish years. But again, I digress. So teaching. Work hard and play hard. And it’s always changing - ish. I guess as much as you want, or don’t. New students every 15 weeks. breaks at all the holidays. Summers off. And when you’re just about to get bored, you’re back at work. Maybe because this is the only lifestyle i know, but it doesn’t sound bad. I worked in an office of women in high school. That i for sure knew i never wanted. But teaching. College. Okay. I need a masters. Learn about MA and MFA. Start looking for jobs in Cali because life’s too short to fucking deal with the snow and mosquitos. Idk everyone doesn’t live in Cali. So now the plan is MFA. They are much more rare and more in demand at universities. More money - but this time i think chasing the money necessary bc Calif = expensive. Now back to looking in Europe. I love Italy. I would love to live in in Italy for more that just a semester but actually live Italian or close to it. The language makes sense. The people make sense. The art makes sense. And it’s omg gorgeous. Alas, no American accredited MFA programs I could qualify for in Italy. I don’t know if there were none but if there were, they would have been in textiles, or digital/graphic design. Which I don’t know anything about. I’m old school, metal work, drawing, printmaking - although so far we haven’t gotten along, another thing i going to try to make work before i leave this city that hates me, for good - painting, ceramics, you get it. I hate computers. I appreciate technology but my mom teaches computers therefore there was never a working computer in my house so we (my brothers and me) don’t do computers. So i find this school - in english and in Paris. Paris, so glamorous. Home of famous artists and their art. The Louvre and Eiffel Tower and Fashion. So okay, i check out their programs. One i have no fucking clue what it is. Still don’t. Another is Photography - pass. Graphics - no. List continues. Then i see Drawing. That’s interesting. I can draw, i draw well. This is a program i could probably get into. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: you can get into any program. No program is ever full. It’s bull shit. Masters program. Undergrad = everyone is applying at the same time. Masters = ages range and much fewer people go. So don’t fall for that shit - EVER. 

They have a one year and two year program. The second year is less than half the first year so makes sense to go the second year and get the MFA vs MA. So that works out. I’m reading and checking it out. Not sure what I’m looking for but in hindsight, i knew something was missing. Talk it over with my mom and her peers who are also teachers. Consensus - don’t be part of the first group. So i have an interview to get it - what a joke. It is also a time for me to learn more about the program. So i ask, is this new? How long has it been around. Answer: Oh no, it’s been working several years. Very confident. I didn’t have a follow-up, just said I don’t want to be in the first group. I said those words. Her response: Oh no no don’t worry. I was so naive. And yes this continued through the whole program. People’s personalities are what they are. So she lied to get me into the program and just kept lying. No respect for the insane about of money i was paying for this ‘experience’. No respect for the education i could have gotten somewhere else. Because this program had NO educational value. I’m not being bitter or dramatic. It was a complete waste of time and money. Then covid happened. Might have been a blessing in disguise. I can go into detail of the program later. This is just an overview of the beginning. 

So, I get accepted. What a surprise. I’m now officially 30 and this - i feel- is my last hoorah. After this i will be an adult who can get an adult job and become an adult. But first i need housing. And a visa. Which is very confusing. So the French and Italians - Italians I am familiar  with, tell you about it later. So they’re similar in that lazy, lack of thoroughness, that’s their thing. Difference being Italians own it, French hardcore deny. So I’m reading this paperwork and it says thing like you need to have all your documents before your visa appointment including plane ticket. Well I can’t go without the visa so why would i get a plane ticket? Cart before the horse shit - it’s very french, wait until you hear about banks.  

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

i would kill for some fail bros headcanons

[Hey, Anon! I'm kind of passionate about these three, so I'm giving you a heads up that this one is kind of long. Hope you enjoy~]

From a “nation” standpoint, England is the eldest of the three. He recognized his spark of sovereignty when King Ecgberht ascended to the throne of Wessex in 802, who would later go on to claim Kent, Sussex, Surrey, and Essex as part of his kingdom; Ecgberht is often regarded as the “first king of England.”

For Denmark, his sovereignty came with the crowning of King Harald Bluetooth around 950, who completed the goal of unifying the region into a single state. Before that point, Denmark existed more or less as a smattering of small communities led predominantly by local chieftains.

Prussia didn’t fully recognize his sovereignty or nationhood until around 997, when the Aesti- Old Prussians- slayed  Adalbert of Prague, a missionary who had been sent by Polans to try to convert the “heathens” to Christianity. It was only one of many attempts to conquer the Prussians, but with Adalbert earning a martyrdom, and such a blatant show of sedulous autonomy, the first spark of nationalism truly ignited.

Not that much of this mattered in regards to their friendship though. 

Through the Saxons, Arthur and Gilbert had been friends since the 700s at least, and Arthur and Mathius had known each other for even longer, the Jutes having first made an appearance on the Isles around late 400, when Arthur was still part of Rome’s territories. Mati and Gil were practically next door neighbors; I wouldn’t be surprised if Germania had pretty much raised them together.

Despite a lot of shifting borders and conflicts of interest- like Denmark ruling England from 1013-1042, or how Denmark lost both Holstein and Scleswig to Prussia in 1864, and England and Prussia’s on-again, off-again alliance- they’ve remained fast, firm friends for centuries.

Truth be told, I think Mati was the one to get Artie so addicted to sailing, most likely dragging him on a few coastal raids back in the day.

Hamburg is one of their favorite meeting places. Initially, it was more convenient for Gil and Artie, as it was one of the central cities in the Hanseatic League, but the real draw came with the 1500s, when there were over 500 breweries for them to sample. These days, it’s more nostalgia that keeps drawing them back.

Actually, this is part of a tradition that still stands to date; with some rare exceptions (like this one tavern on Bornholm that’s been serving the same Brennivin recipe for the past 463 years), they rarely go to the same pub, distillery, or brewery twice. There are just so many of them.

These three try to meet up at least one weekend a month, if not more. Gil has it a lot easier working out his schedule these days, for obvious reasons, so normally he will crash with either Mati or Artie and the other will show up when they can.

Friday nights are usually their “drink nights,” and they’ll usually bicker for a good hour about which pub or club they want to try; all of these nerds had lists ready of venues they had looked up in advance. They also spend another hour or so bickering about which of them has the best beer.

When they’re together, they completely shrug off their more responsible images- Arthur in particular seems almost a 180 degree shift in personality. Around most nations, he tries to keep that prim and proper persona, but… Mathius and Gilbert are not most nations.

These three have crusaded to the Holy Lands together, harassed most of Northern Europe together, even spent a few precious months pretending to be humans and traveling the world together. They’ve sworn blood oaths under scarlet skies, literally sewn each other back together on occasion.

They really share most everything with one another- from matters of the heart to political problems to those dark desires they really can’t tell anyone else about- knowing that anything shared among them will never be discussed outside of their circle.

Usually, they don’t let themselves get drunk. But really- They don’t need alcohol to become total hooligans. Mathius is naturally high energy, and with Gilbert’s simmering competitiveness and Arthur’s pride keeping him from ever backing down from a challenge…

The shenanigans these three get up to can range from pranking Mati and Artie’s former colonies to strip karaoke to sometimes, quite literally, painting the town, and then some.

They have a few reprimands for breaking and entering, and perhaps there were one or two cases of arson, or a few protests that got a tad chaotic… 

Despite having more than enough beds for each of them, they usually end up falling asleep in a giant heap.

Arthur is loath to ever actually admit how safe he feels knowing the other two are there to watch his back, though Mathius is always very open about actually expressing the exact same sentiment.

Gilbert is usually the last one to drift off and always the first to wake up; he mastered some killer hangover remedies a few decades ago, and while he knows the others are perfectly capable of making breakfast without burning the house down, it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

Sometime after they’ve nursed the remnants of their hangovers, they usually go shopping for food together, all of them chipping in on a big dinner for that night.

Said shopping trips go about as well as you’d expect: Artie usually pretends he has no idea who Gil and Mati are as they piggyback through the aisles, Arthur and Mathius bicker constantly about the proper ways to eat eel (which always traumatizes Gilbert), and Prussia constantly is making bad puns with England about the different brand names, much to Denmark’s irritation because he can’t quite keep up. 

Just fucking getting to the store was a quest on its on; buying themselves actual food before getting kicked out is another challenge entirely.

They absolutely are down for cultural and music fests, theatre, boating, or even just reading together.

They totally do LARPing together, and try to attend either ConQuest or Drachenfest each summer.

There is often an attempt to play football when they have an hour or so to kill, though it typically ends up as a brawl with two of them (usually Mati and Gil) starting a giant game of keep away against the other (usually Artie). They’ve lost count of how many grass stains they gained in the process.

They’re each hella supportive of the others’ interests, and often you can find them laying on the grass or a roof somewhere having long-winded discussions about the arts, literature, science, philosophy, and on one particularly snowy night in 1989- what happens when they die. 

In fact, the only two people Gil ever really confides in about his fears are Artie and Mati. With Ludbug, he just can’t risk the thought of hurting him or burdening him, and with Fran and Toni, he’s scared they’ll- He can’t always handle how open those two are with their worry for him.

He knows that Mathius and Arthur won’t pity him, per say. Bleeding hearts the three of them, but they know when, and when not, to show it.

Arthur and Mathius made it their goal through the entirety of the 1990s to make sure Gilbert understood just how damn important he was to them, stealing him away as often as they could get away with, doing everything from a sailing trip around the Orkneys (and annoying Alisdair to no end) to camping in Scharbeutz for two weeks straight to trying (and horribly failing) to form a band around ‘94. 

The band didn’t work out mostly because they all have different music tastes- Artie fell deep into the punk scene and never climbed back out, Gil’s taste falls somewhere between heavy and folk rock, and Mati is very passionate about symphonic and alternative rock. Also, meeting up for practices as frequently as they needed was nigh on impossible. Still, sometimes they do get together just to jam for a bit.

Mati and Gil are the only two people actually allowed to call Arthur by “Iggy" and not get a black eye.

They love playing board games with each other, everything from Cards Against Humanity to Crazy Cat Lady to Risk. They tend to avoid the latter however as they all get rather… intense with their gameplay.

Really though, all they need is a deck of cards and they’ll easily get invested into a game of Slap Jack or Go Fish.

I am willing to bet they swapped parenting tips through the ages, each of them freaking out because "holy fuck I am not qualified for this!"

They have several dozen inside jokes at this point, the kind that if one says anything they all eventually will succumb to tears of laughter.

No one else really makes Arthur laugh as quickly as those two, no one else really sees Mathius as pensive and philosophical, and no one else really sees Gilbert completely letting his guard down.

With each other, they are, have been, and always will be Arthur, Mathius, and Gilbert.

They trust each other unconditionally, and know that, no matter the politics, they’ll always be there to support one another, no matter how silly the shenanigans or serious the situation may be.

[This was so long, omg. Thanks for the ask, Lovely!

If anyone is interested in any sources for further reading on their own, let me know! I got quite a lot of this from textbooks, articles, and encyclopedias ^_^; ]

#hi anon i am so weak for this trio #bad brothers trio #aph england #aph denmark #aph prussia #aph england headcanons #aph denmark headcanons #aph prussia headcanons #aph arthur kirkland #hetalia arthur kirkland #arthur kirkland #mathius køhler #aph mathius kohler #hetalia mathius kohler #hetalia gilbert beischmidt #gilbert beilschmidt #aph gilbert beilschmidt #hetalia history #history stuff #england #prussia #denmark #anon ask #thanks anon! #anonymous asks #thank you anon #hetalia headcanons #imagine hetalia #hetalia imagines #fail brothers trio

[herstorshe]

Isabel I of Castile

Many consider Queen Isabel I of Castile to have been the best queen Europe has ever had. Her accomplishments certainly stand out amongst those of medieval monarchs, as well as her modern thinking. 

Isabel was born on April 22, 1451 to Juan I of Castile and his second wife, Isabel of Portugal, who was half her husband’s age. Juan had 4 other children by his first wife, Maria of Aragon, but only one, his 26-year-old son and heir Enrique was still alive when Isabel was born. Her parents had one other child together, Alfonso, who was two years younger than Isabel.

When she was 3, Isabel’s father died, making her older half-brother, Enrique, the king of Castile. 

Anxious about his half siblings or stepmother trying to claim power, the new king sent them to a broken-down castle, near destitute, with not enough to eat. Despite this, their mother was determined to educate her children well, especially in religious piety.

When Isabel was 11, the king recalled her, her mother, and her brother back to court, as his wife had just given birth to an heir, Juana, cementing his reign.

They lived in court, with much better living conditions, food to eat, and clothes to wear. Their education continued and, in addition to literature, history, mathematics, and religion, they were introduced to art and music. The only problem was that they were forbade from leaving their brother’s castle.

Despite Enrique’s great efforts to keep his half siblings out of politics, they were completely aware of the fact that his subjects, noble and commoner, were very dissatisfied with their king, and Enrique became known as “The Impotent”. Many began supporting Isabel’s 10-year-old brother, Alfonso, as Enrique’s heir over his daughter, Juana, who many thought to have been sired by the Queen’s royal favorite. Many speculate that Queen Joan, at least once, tried to poison young Alfonso to keep him from taking her daughter’s throne. Either way, any murder attempts against Alfonso failed. 

Nobles eventually forced Enrique to name Alfonso the Prince of Asturias, the traditional title of the heir. He agreed, but only if Alfonso married his daughter. It was agreed, but the king went back on his word, so the furious nobles crowned Alfonso as a rival king and declared war on Enrique.

Unfortunately, five years into the war, Alfonso died at the age of 15. His will named his sister, Isabel, as his heir. Thus she became the rival monarch to the weak King Enrique. But Isabel was wise, and she did not want war. She decided to meet with Enrique to make a diplomatic decision regarding who his heir would be. They compromised, agreeing that Isabel would end the rebellion in exchange for being named Enrique’s heir, as long has he could have a say in who she married. 

Now, Isabel was well known for her intelligence, modesty, religious piety as well as her beauty. Many men, royal or noble, would have been happy to marry such an amazing woman, as is shown by how many men Enrique considered marrying her to. She had been betrothed since the age of 6 to Ferdinand of Aragon, the younger and favored son of King Juan II of Aragon, but Enrique wanted a marriage alliance between his sister and the older son, Carlos, with whom he agreed to ally with against his father, King Juan. But once Juan found out about this plot, he was furious, and sent Carlos to prison where he died shortly after, leaving Ferdinand as his heir. Enrique, wanting a stronger alliance with Portugal, then tried to marry Isabel to King Alfonso V of Portugal, but since Alfonso supported his niece, Juana’s claim to the throne over Isabel’s, she refused. Enrique tried thrice more to marry Isabel off, but all three attempts failed. 

Eventually, Isabel decided to take the matter of her marriage into her own hands, and planned marriage with her second cousin and first betrothed, Ferdinand of Aragon. 

She lied to Enrique, telling him she was going to her brother Alfonso’s tomb, but she was actually going to marry Ferdinand, who had secretly crossed the border. Once they were wed, they agreed that they would rule jointly and equally over Castile, and Aragon once Ferdinand took the throne. They were a great match, both intelligent, both handsome, and both great politicians. They were poised for greatness.

In 1474, King Enrique died at the age of 49, and Isabel became Queen of Castile. Upon receiving the news of her ascension, the queen took refuge and called on the support of her loyal vassals, as she knew neighboring rulers would see a queen as weak, and attack. She was proved right when King Alfonso V of Portugal invaded, married his own niece, Juana, and made a claim for the throne through her. The war raged for a year, until Ferdinand made the sly move to pronounce that him and Isabel had won. This made Alfonso’s supporters, who had not witnessed the battle, withdraw their support of him, forcing Alfonso to return home in defeat.

One of my favorite moments of Isabel’s reign was when she, during a rebellion in Segovia, went against all of her advisor’s judgement and rode out to end it herself. Her daughter, Katharine of Aragon, did the same, but with a much bigger invasion from Scotland.

In 1478 she gave birth to her second child, a son, Juan, which legitimized her reign in the eyes of the people.

In 1479, four years after Isabel came to the throne, Ferdinand inherited the throne of Aragon, when his father, Juan II, died. They came to be known as the Catholic Monarchs, keeping each kingdom politically separate, but ruling over them equally and jointly, as in their marriage contract.

Once she had cemented her reign, she began working to fix all of the problems Enrique had caused in Castile. Firstly, she had to solve the crime problems in Castile. Enrique had utterly failed to enforce law, so murder, robbery, and rape were extremely commonplace. Isabel went about solving this by forming a police force called the Holy Brotherhood to bring peace to the land. It was very effective in this, often using violence against violence. Thus, Isabel earned herself a reputation as a lover of justice over mercy.

Secondly, she had to fill the royal treasury, which Enrique had left bare. She decided to retry one of Enrique’s attempts at raising money, in which he sold off royal land to wealthy noblemen. However, he sold them for much lower than their true value. So, Isabel decided to give the landholders two options: 

1. They must pay the difference of the land’s true value

2. She would buy back the valuable land at the low-low price originally paid

Most picked option 1, and so the treasury filled fast. Isabel did insist that any land granted by her brother to the Church, hospitals, or poor be left alone.

Another large accomplishment of Isabel’s was that she reorganized the government to favor those with intelligence, not wealth or nobility, as well as allow the commoners more power. She did this in two ways.

The first is that she put men with administrative skill and legal training into important positions in place of the lackadaisical nobles. This also simply improved how well the government was run. The second is that she and Ferdinand heard complaints and petitions directly from the people every single Friday. This gave the people more power, and also undercut the power of the corrupt nobility which so fraught her half-brother’s reign.

One of her most problematic accomplishments, though majorly her husband’s going, was the Spanish Inquisition, which forced Jews in Castile to either leave or convert to Catholicism. Isabel and Ferdinand did this mostly because of an agreement they made with the Roman Catholic Church that if the couple made Catholicism the national religion, they could appoint all church officials. And so, half of the roughly eight thousand Jews living in Castile fled, while half converted to Catholicism, though they remained under persecution, constantly under careful watch. Though Isabel was against taking harsh measures against the Jews, the more strict Ferdinand hired a inquisitor general to further persecute those who remained in Castile, making sure there were no practicing Jews in Castile. This resulted in hundreds of thousands of innocent people being tortured, and thousands of people being executed. This disgusting persecution lasted for 3 whole centuries. 

One of Isabel and Ferdinand’s dreams was to finish their ancestor’s work at conquering the Muslim lands in Spain. They got to work on Granada, the last remaining Muslim stronghold, in 1482, recruiting soldiers from all over Europe, and getting the best artillery and latest canons. They began a systematic assault on Granada from the West, where mountains gave way to a few valleys that would accommodate an army. It took 10 years, but by 1492 they had conquered all of Granada, and were given the keys to the city on January 2 of that year. They signed the Treaty of Granada, which ruled that the Catholic Monarchs could rule as long as they allowed Muslims to live in peace.

The second big thing to happen in 1492 was when Isabel and Ferdinand decided to sponsor Christopher Columbus on his search for a route to the East Indies by traveling west, which they did in hopes of profiting off of the spice trade.

However, when Columbus returned a year later, he had not found a route to the East Indies, but instead a whole continent that had never been touched by European life before. He returned with gold and enslaved Native Americans. Isabel was against enslavement and wanted to enforce laws the new world that would forbid slavery. But Ferdinand ignored her wishes, and he and King Juan II of Portugal divided up the Earth outside of Europe for themselves, thus starting the era of New World colonization and the enslavement and death of millions.

Isabella and Ferdinand had five surviving children: Isabel, the eldest, was married to King Manuel of Portugal, and had one son, Miguel. She died shortly after his birth. The second eldest was Maria, who married King Manuel after her sister’s death. She had ten children, and died of exhaustion at 34. The third eldest, the one and only son as well as heir, Juan, was married to Margaret of Austria but died shortly after the wedding, at 19. It is said that his mother was never the same after his death. The second youngest child, Juana, became the heir apparent to the throne of Castile and Aragon. However, she became known as Juana The Mad, and is believed to have suffered serious mental health problems. But recently historians have began speculating that there were much darker forces at work, but I won’t get into that in this article (I linked a resource about it in the Resources page of my blog). And finally, the youngest child, Katharine of Aragon, whose name you most likely recognize. She was married to Prince Arthur, heir to the throne of England, but he died a year after their wedding. She was kept in England for 7 years, with an uncertain future, but eventually married Arthur’s older brother, King Henry VIII. She was infamously divorced by Henry, however, much later, when he fell in love with Anne Boleyn.

All of these family tragedies eventually took their toll on Isabel. She died in 1504 at the age of 53.

Remember this queen for her accomplishments, good and problematic. Then, it was very uncommon for a woman to rule, and also uncommon for a king and queen to rule equally and jointly. She was very pious, determined, faithful, and intelligent. When considering any set of historical figures, however, we mustn’t compare them. It is especially important to remember this with the women, as women are much more often compared, even now in the era of social media. We need to recognize that all women are strong, beautiful, and powerful.

- References linked in resources page -

#queens #queens of europe #isabel i #isabel i of castile #ferdinand i of argon #ferdinand i #castile #aragon #katherine of aragon #catherine of aragon #katharine of aragon #spain #spanish #columbus #1400s #medieval #medieval history #history #tudors #women's history #herstory #herstorshe

[imaginesforyourfandom]

An Opportunity - Julie Ertz Imagine

(Y/N)’s POV:

I had just got off my phone with my manager who was telling me about an offer that I had got from FC Barcelona. Apparently, they were extremely interested in signing me for their upcoming season. It was an incredible offer, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take it.

Currently, I play on the Chicago Red Stars as a forward. It’s incredible because I get to play with my amazing girlfriend Julie. I love playing for Chicago, but it has always been my dream to go play in Europe. If I went to Barcelona, then I would get to play at the same club as Messi, Pique, and all of those guys. If I stay, then I get to stay with Julie and play my other teammates on the regular.

Gosh, everyone will no doubt flip out when they find out that I am even considering leaving the NWSL. It’s one thing to go out on loan, but to leave completely will cause some issues. According to my manager, I have played in the NWSL long enough that my position on the national team shouldn’t be compromised so that won’t be an issue at least.  

“Are you in there?” I turned my head towards Julie who gave me an odd look. I nodded my head as she smiled at me.

“Yeah, sorry I just zoned out for a second.” I said as she kissed my cheek earning a wide smile from me.

“A second? We’ve been talking to you for a few minutes” Kelley said as I sighed. Her statement caused everyone around us to let out laughs. “I was asking you how you feel about starting, but I don’t know if I care now.”

“I feel good about it. Thank you for caring.” I joked as she shook her head at me. This got a few smiles from everyone at the table. I was sat at breakfast with JJ, Crystal, Kelley, Allie, Christen, Tobin, Alex, Ash, and Ali. It was a big table full of personalities and no shortages of jokes.

“Who was that on the phone?” I turned towards JJ with an unsure expression. I didn’t necessarily want to tell them right now that I was thinking of leaving the NWSL.

“My manager.” I said deciding that it was better to be honest than to lie about it. “Just wanted to tell me about a potential transfer.”

“Which team is after you this week?” Christen joked as an uneasy look crossed Julie’s face. I let out a little laugh knowing that there was truth in the question. This wasn’t the first time that a team had tried to take me from Chicago.

“Barcelona.” I said closing my eyes immediately as everyone fell silent. I opened to see everyone staring at me in shock. This was the first time that it was a non-NWSL team after me, so I guess I could understand the surprise on their faces. “Don’t all speak at once.”

“You’re kidding right?” Crystal asked giving me a doubtful look. I smiled slightly and shook my head at her. “Barcelona is actually after you?”

“Barcelona is actually after me.” I said as I turned to look at Julie who had an unreadable look on her face. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. (Y/N) you’re talking about going to Europe.” Kelley said with wide eyes. “Like is it a loan deal? Or is it like an actual transfer?”

“A transfer. I would no longer be a NWSL player.” I said leaning on the table resting my head on my hand.

“So, you’re going to say yes then?” Alex asked with a frown on her face.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking about it though?” Ash asked me with an angered look on her face.

“I didn’t say that either.” I said giving them all looks. “I don’t know what I want to do. I have a lot to think about.”

I jumped slightly when Julie abruptly stood up. She didn’t say a word as she turned and walked out of the room. I watched her leave as I sighed debating whether or not I should go after her. On one hand, she’s mad and/or upset and I should definitely comfort her. On the other hand, its all directed at me which means she might not want to talk to me. I went to stand when Crystal stood and gave me a small smile.

“I got it. Let her cool off.” She said walking off to find Julie. I leaned back in my chair running my hands over my face.

“Have you thought this through?” Allie asked giving me a look. I groaned at the question trying to find patience.

“You guys, I just got the call like not even 10 minutes ago. Nothing is set in stone. He was just telling me that it was a possibility. I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

“Have you thought about your place on this team? What’s going to happen when you are playing in Spain?” Ash looked around at everyone at the table. Everyone seemed to agree that this was a bad decision.

“I don’t know. I haven’t even had time to fully process everything. What part of this just happened do you not get?”

I stood up and walked out of the room. I headed back to my room where I found JJ and Crystal sitting. Julie’s eyes were slightly puffy which indicated that she had been crying. Crystal stood and gave me a pat on the back as she exited the room.

“Can I just say-?”

“No.” she said standing up and going into the bathroom. I stood there dumbfounded at her completely dismissing me. I stood for a moment before changing into my pre-game clothes. We were supposed to leave in about 15 minutes, so I needed to get my stuff ready. The bathroom door opened, and JJ came out grabbing her stuff.

“Are we going to talk before we leave?”

She didn’t say a word as she left the room. I closed my eyes and took a breath. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed my managers number. I waited for a moment while it rang.

“Hey (Y/N), you already come to a decision?” he joked

“I have actually.” I said trying to get this over with. “If you could let the guys from Barcelona know that I really appreciate the opportunity and I am so honored that they were even considering me, but I am going to have to decline.”

“Okay hang on…” he said and I could tell he wasn’t fully expecting me to have an answer already. “Have you thought about this? I mean…this is a huge opportunity. This could easily put you up as the highest paid player in the world.”

“I know, but my life is in Chicago and my friends are in the NWSL. I need to stay here.”

“Okay listen…I want you to think about this. I understand that your life is in Chicago, but one of the first things that you said to me when we agreed to work together was that you wanted to get to Europe eventually. This is it. This is your opportunity to fulfill a dream. I will call you in a few days and if you still want to say no then I will honor your wishes.” I bit my lip trying to fight back tears.

“Okay.” I said as he said his goodbyes. I put my phone away and grabbed my stuff before walking out of the room. I headed downstairs and walked out of the hotel and onto the bus. I ignored everyone as I moved to sit by myself.

I looked up when Pinoe sat next to me. I gave her a confused look which caused her to laugh. She gave me a small smile.

“Are you sitting with me out of pity?” I asked as the winger shrugged her shoulders.

“No not really…I did feel bad. Everyone’s kind of mad at you right now.” I shook my head

“I didn’t even do anything. It’s not my fault that a team in Europe wants to sign me. I didn’t ask for this.” I looked over where JJ was sitting talking quietly with Crystal. She caught my eye and then turned to face the window away from me.

“I think that….you know this team is a family. We all love each other and care deeply for each other. I think that everyone is thinking in terms of what would it be like if you were in Europe.”

“Literally half of the team has gone to Europe on loan…the only difference for me is I would play there for a whole season instead of half a season.”

“You would also play during our offseason…so no vacations with all of us. No traveling with your girlfriend. You wouldn’t arrive the same days and you would most likely have to leave immediately instead of getting to hangout with us. There are quite a few things that would change.”

“I guess I didn’t think about all of that.” I said looking down as she put an arm around me.

“Kid, you’re going places. If going to Europe is what you want, then go to Europe.” She said as I looked to her. “You should do what feels best for you.”

I nodded my head as we then switched the subject and talked about the upcoming game. Once we got to the stadium, we immediately moved to get ready and warmed up. Everything seemed to go by as we quickly were standing in the tunnel. I stood in between JJ and Alex waiting for us to exit the tunnel.

“If it makes you feel any better, my first thought was you.” I said knowing JJ could hear me. “I told my manager to decline the offer because I couldn’t imagine a fate worse than being away from you.”

She turned to look at me with a serious look. Before she could say anything, we had to walk out which meant that there was no time to talk about the situation any further. The game quickly started, and I could already tell that it was going to be a rough one.

We went up during the first half thanks to a goal from Alex which JJ was able to assist on. That was about the only good thing to be appreciated though. I wasn’t playing well at all and I knew it was because I wasn’t completely focused. That and I had at least two players on me at all times. I rolled my eyes a little when Jill started talking to me about how I was playing.

“No, she’s doing good. As long as you keep your passes pinpoint, then just keep doing what you’re doing. You’re drawing in all the players which is giving the rest of us more space to work in.” Pinoe said as I nodded my head.

“Got it” I said giving her a little salute as we got ready to head out of the locker room. I could tell that almost everyone was still upset with me. They were still refusing to make any kind of eye contact with me, but JJ gave me a slight smile. I count that as a win.

When we got back out there, something felt like it had shifted in the air. The other team was playing way more aggressively. I started getting frustrated at the amount of times I was being fouled and the amount of times it wasn’t being called. Everything seemed to come to a head in the 71st minute when me and two other players went for the ball. I jumped to head it to JJ when the one of the opposing players jumped and her elbow knocked into my forehead, while the other player smacked into me as well, but she hit my lower half. I landed awkwardly on my leg and immediately felt a searing pain in my leg.

I hit the ground and barely registered the whistle being blown. All I could focus on was my leg and head. Both of them were in extreme pain, I could already feel the tears coming to my eyes.

“It’s okay. Just breath. Focus on my voice baby.” JJ said as she ran her fingers through my hair. I had my eyes shut tight as I tried to pull myself together. “I got you. You’re okay.”

I laid there with silent tears streaming down my face as the medical staff motioned for a stretcher. They were telling me that they needed to check me for a concussion and check out my leg. I nodded listening to them, but I was starting to feel numb. I was cleared for a concussion in the locker room, but they wanted to check out my leg further. Though, they were leaning towards it being my ACL. I was given crutches and strict rules to stay off of my leg. I hadn’t really seen any of my teammates, but from what I had heard we had won the game. Everyone started making their way into the locker room and checking on me.

“Are you okay?” Ash asked taking my head in her heads and kissing my forehead. “What’s going on?”

“ACL most likely” I said looking to my leg with a frown. She gave me pat on the shoulder as Alex entered and beelined it for me. Also, giving me a hug and checking on me. I shrugged my shoulders at all their questions not really in the mood. Though, I smiled slightly when JJ walked in and moved towards me. Ash moved aside so she could stand next to me. She pulled my face into her hands and kissed my lips.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry” she said pulling me in and holding me close. I wrapped an arm around her waist as everyone walked away to give us a moment. “What did they say?”

“I don’t have a concussion, but they want to do some tests to make sure. As for my leg, most likely an ACL tear.” I nodded my head looking down at my leg not wanting to meet the eyes of my girlfriend. She pulled my head to look at her and I couldn’t fight back the tears at that point.

“It’s okay. We will figure it out together.” She gave me another kiss and started running her fingers through my hair. “I love you. I’m sorry for earlier by the way. I guess I was just super upset at the idea of losing you. I should have let you talk about it with me before freaking out.”

“I should have talked to you about it privately and not in front of everyone.”

“Did you really turn it down?” she asked looking into my eyes as I stared at her.

“I did. He’s going to call me in a few days, because he wants me to really think about it before he gives them an answer, but yeah I really turned it down.”

“You don’t have to.” She said as I looked at her. “If you want to go, then you should go. We will work it out together. I know how much you want to go to Europe.”

“It doesn’t mean anything if you’re not there.” I said looking at her. She smiled and kissed my forehead.

“God, I love you.” She said pulling me in for a kiss. “I mean it though, you should go.”

“I’ll think about it, and I love you too.” She grinned at me as I moved to stand up. I leaned on her for support. “It doesn’t really matter right now though. I won’t be playing anytime soon.”

“You’ll be back before you know it” Pinoe said slapping my shoulder which in turn made me groan. “Maybe in a Barcelona kit…who knows?”

“Stop…” I groaned again causing her to laugh. “Let me just say…I don’t know if I am going to leave the NWSL, but for now just assume I am staying at Chicago. I’ll let you know if I decide to leave. It’s a decision that I have to make though, and I hope you can all respect it.”

“I respect it.” Alex said causing everyone to nod. “I think it was the initial shock and stuff that had most of us upset. Besides, if you go to Spain then I have a new vacation spot.”

“I’m going to get such a nice tan.” JJ joked as I looked at her and kissed her forehead.

Everyone laughed and moved in to give me hugs. I don’t know what the future holds in terms of where I will play, but I know that the support system I have is going to have my back no matter what.

The End.

#julie ertz #julie ertz imagine #julie ertz imagines #megan rapinoe #megan rapinoe imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #uswnt #Alex Morgan #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan imagines #ashlyn harris #ashlyn harris imagine #ashlyin harris imagines #kelley o'hara imagines #kelley o'hara #kelley o'hara imagine

[littlemisskookie]

Loveless: Chapter 4

Loveless: Index Ship: Reader | OT7 Description: Spy/Men in Black!AU | You worked at an institution that dealt with aliens- aliens that were the fictional creatures we were told were from fairy tales. The job entailed love only for it, and nothing else. That’d all change when a mission goes wrong. Warnings: Smut in next chapter, Nightmares, Angst, Death, Slight Gore descriptions, Violence, Comedy, Reader says yeet ironically Word Count: 5,115

Tonight was the night that Jeon Jungkook would die.

Tonight was the night when Agent Z would be born.

Tonight would be etched into his brain for the rest of his short life.

Jungkook watched in the rain as his house went up in flames, knowing all of his pets and family was out. They'd have enough insurance to replace everything, and anything truly of value, personal or financial, was in a fire-proof safe in the basement.

He would be the only one who didn't make it out of the fire.

It was perfect, really. A gas leak would've come about, and Jungkook was in the house when the stove came on. However, the police would figure that bit out was up to them. Jungkook wouldn't have to deal with any of the consequences. How could they question a dead man?

It was foolproof. Jungkook still didn't know how they managed to make a replica of his skeleton, even making it where the DNA would match. Bits and fragments of bone, more accurately, were left at the scene. After all, no matter how hot, usually there would be bits and pieces of bone that were left uncremated, refusing to melt away along with the flesh. There would be no hope for the family to see their son once again.

Paramedics, firefighters, police, and people from all around the town surrounded the house as it slowly began to crumble, falling apart as it made its way to becoming ash. Jungkook could hear his own mother's screams among the chaos, yelling for her son, praying that he had gotten out. After all, they had yet to go in and search for the fake corpse.

Jungkook only wore a blank stare, his suit sticking to his skin as it poured heavily, the rain still refusing to douse the house of its flames. He soaked in the feeling, committing the feeling of the rain pounding on his shoulders and head to memory.

He knew, though. Sure, his family would weep for his loss, but more likely the town wouldn't grieve. Word would get around about his underground boxing, and even fewer knew about his dealings in the black market. They always assumed his strict family was what drove him to his delinquent ways, from his tattoos or many ear piercings or whatnot. But they couldn't blame anyone for this. It'd be labeled as an accident. The most they'd be able to say would be, "Good riddance."

He choked down tears, a lump still prevalent in his throat.

Suddenly he felt none of it and looked over to see you on your tippy-toes, holding an umbrella high above your head in an attempt to shield him from the pouring rain. "Agent Z?"

"Oh. Agent Q..." He should've figured his tutor would be here to make sure that the job was done. That he didn't fuck this up the way he had in his past.

What you said next surprised him, though.

"It's not too late, you know." You look up to him, a sincere look on your face. He couldn't tell, though. He'd believe anything you wanted him to believe, your specialty after all. "I mean, I won't blame you. Lots of agents wish they had. You can come out there unscathed. No way they can get in the building to check. You can hide the fake body easily."

"Is this a test to see if I'm loyal or not?" Jungkook questioned, skeptical.

You shook your head. "No. As I said, this is what most agents regret: leaving their family behind. I just don't want you to regret your decision. We always make this decision when we're young and dumb, hating our family because of our restrictions. What you want may change in the future as you mature. I know no one would blame you. I most certainly wouldn't."

Jungkook thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I'm sure about this. There's not much I can offer other than disappointment and criminal records. At least in the EAA, I can serve the world. Do something positive for a change. I know it'd do a lot of good for my family, too. I'm better forgotten."

"I don't think you'll be forgotten, Agent Z. There wouldn't be so many people here if you hadn't made some sort of impact."

"You know how people are. They stick their noses into other people's business."

"Perhaps. But human nature is what makes us human, isn't it? I like to see them as small quirks of our species. You'll come to learn how many others lack curiosity."

"What about you? How was it when you went through this stage of initiation."

You let out a huff of air, thinking about it for a moment.

"It wasn't easy, to tell you the truth. I definitely regretted my decision for a bit after. I had faked my death through the agency I was a part of. They got a message that I had served my country well as a spy or whatnot, not that it made it any better. My parents ended up splitting after my death. Seeing each other reminded them too much of me, apparently. But it got better. I still see them, even if they don't see me. My mom remarried and is pregnant, and my dad is traveling in Europe. Both seem to be really happy, and that's all that really matters in the end. They miss me... visit my grave on every anniversary. I like listening to what they have to say. It helps me move forward to do what I do. Who knows? Maybe I'll disguise myself as a babysitter and tell my little brother tales of fictional creatures and the spies who ran with them."

Jungkook took in that piece of information, looking over to his mother, who still drowned in her sorrows. His father's arms wrapped around her as she wept, burying herself into him as she could no longer bear to look at the fire. He wondered what would happen to them if they'd end up finding happiness even after his death.

"So why'd you join?"

You smile a bit at that, chuckling to yourself as though it were an inside joke. "That's a personal question, kid. Ask me once we're closer and you're done with your training. There are some other agents here who don't even disclose that kind of information. Like Agent C? I'm pretty sure that guy has at least five families. Wouldn't be surprised. He'll fuck anything on two legs."

Jungkook couldn't help but laugh at that, feeling a bit more at ease. "Does every agent have a dark back story?"

"Most, but not all. Stories like those are to be earned."

"You promise you'll tell me yours?"

You smile. "I promise, kiddo. Though I'm sure you'll find it rather disappointing. Agent A and D have the most interesting stories in my opinion, though those are from the ones I know."

There's a moment of silence between you two. You simply stare at the scene before you. Jungkook didn't know if this would end up being the last memory of his family. He'd have to treat it like it was.

Your hand wrapped around his, fingers woven as you squeezed his palm. "They'll be ok. One way or another. They aren't right now, and might not be for a long time, but that's ok. Without moment like these, we won't have anything to compare the truly good things in life to. The highs and lows are what give our lives character and depth. A life that was filled with nothing but happiness holds no meaning."

"Those are wise words. Perhaps you should've been a writer," he comments.

You simply snort at that. "Put me on a holiday greeting card, why don't you? But seriously, don't worry. You'll always have a family. This one and the one at the EAA. We've all gone through the same thing, and we can all sympathize and support you throughout this process. No one said it was going to be easy, and truth be told this is the hardest part of the job."

"I hardly know the people at the EAA, though. I've barely begun to get to know you."

"I'm simple, there's not much to me. What you see is what you get," you smile. "And the guys- the higher up agents- have a bit of a soft spot for you. Don't tell them I said that, though. I guess they see something in you that they see in themselves- you know, behind that buff baby exterior."

Jungkook genuinely laughs at that, and you pull at his hand, gesturing for him to move with you. "Come on, you shouldn't stay out here too long. Might catch a cold or something."

Jungkook got what you meant. It'd shatter him further, whether or not he cared to admit it, to stick around for much longer. And so he let you drag him along as you shoved the umbrella into his hand, dragging him to a local coffee shop.

To your surprise, he got some grande peppermint frappuccino.

To his surprise, you took it straight black. "Like my soul," you cheesily joked.

Jungkook didn't know why that memory came to his mind at a time like this. Was it because it was the first time he felt truly loved? Not unconditionally, but with genuine care? Affection that wasn't obligated or used to benefit one's own purposes?

He couldn't help but think back to the woman that night. How different she seemed from the near-corpse on the hospital bed.

"Are you just going to stare at her? Let's get moving!" Yoongi hissed, head poking out from the vent.

Jungkook snapped out of it, quickly getting you out of your bindings and lifting you into his arms. He tried not to think about how light you were, instead turning to Seokjin, who laced his fingers together and bent down. Jungkook jumped on his hands, getting boosted up into the vents with Yoongi. Seokjin managed to climb his way up after.

You began to stir from your sleep. "Is it time for shots already?"

"It's not 5 PM here yet, Agent Q," Yoongi snipped, already leading the way through the tunnels. "We can celebrate once we get you out of here."

"My knight in shining armor," you say sarcastically, still groggy as you try to bring your wits together.

"You'll thank me once you're awake. Let's get going, nuisance," Yoongi grumbled, making a quick left, navigating the system quickly as Jungkook followed. Yoongi must've spent days memorizing the interior of the ventilation system.

It's only after a few dozen turns that you stop at a vent, Yoongi quickly undoing the

"Why isn't the security system going off?" you questioned, blinking to get used to the new lighting.

"Agent B's hacked into the mainframe and the system will be down for about five minutes before it reboots. Sort of the reason we're in a rush," Jin mentions.

"You always rush things, don't you?" you reply, a snarky tone as you chuckle to yourself.

Jin merely rolled his eyes. "Who would've guessed that you'd find a way to insult me even when you're out of it?"

"I try my best."

"I've got it," Yoongi says, moving the scrap of metal to the side to reveal the hole. "Jimin, Hoseok, you down there?"

"Yeah. Hurry up, time's ticking," Hoseok reminds the group.

Jungkook places you down near the hole. "Hoseok and Jimin will catch you, just ju-"

"YEET!" you shout, slipping through the hole into the awaiting arms.

"Did she really have to do that?" Jin questioned, rolling his eyes.

"She wants to relate to the youngin's, I believe," Yoongi sighs, slipping down as well. Jungkook follows, as well as Jin's.

The moment Jin lands, however, sirens go off, lights flashing as lockdown prepares. You could already hear the sounds of footsteps from down the hall, ready to doom you all. The loud blaring of the sirens gave you a headache already, ringing in your ears as everything before you was illuminated in the same shade of red.

Code black. Code black. Code black.

Hoseok tosses you a gun, looking over to Jungkook. "Agent Z, you'll have to carry her on your back."

"On it," he immediately, hoisting you up as he holds onto you with security and strength.

"What's the plan?" you question, cocking your gun as everyone takes aim.

"Complicated. Kill anyone who isn't us," Jimin replies.

It's at that moment when aliens and humans alike flock the sides, blocking the exits. Your team moves as one, killing one enemy after another while diverting the bullets. Even when half awake, you had better aim than them, even managing to get a bullet through two skulls with a clear shot. You weren't getting as many kills as Hoseok, but you weren't one of the top agents for a reason.

Damn, I'm good.

Yoongi tosses you another weapon the moment you hear the familiar click. You catch it in one hand with ease, recognizing it as one of the handheld lasers. One of the best weapons save for what little juice it runs on. You had two options- shoot beams at the enemy with precision, perhaps ten shots at best, making you the most legendary player at laser tag, or sweep through them for a solid two seconds, cutting many in half and drilling the beam even into the wall behind them.

You choose the second, immune to the screams of agony.

Despite how your life was in mortal peril, with every bullet that whips your hair behind your face or the fact you were in a weaker state, your heart rate doesn't do so much as accelerate. Sure, there was comfort knowing that the others were with you, but truth be told you had learned to suppress adrenaline long ago. Sure, it enhanced ability, but after becoming so used to these sorts of situations, always moments from death, you were desensitized. Besides, adrenaline could make it hard to focus, or more accurately hyperfocus on simple survival. As a spy, you had to focus on a million things at once.

And one of the things you had to focus on was the man beneath you.

Jungkook did well to dodge the bullets, making sure to block you from the onslaught of ammunition as well as avoid jostling you around. You held up well, though, gripping on tightly to him as you swung your weapon to aim at another agent.

"Ah, fuck," Jungkook hissed, crumpling on one knee beneath you.

"Agent Z? Agent Z are you ok?"

"Just shot just- fuck, keep shooting," he grunted, pressing your body closer to his as he tried to rise again on both feet, though he was shaky in the process.

You cursed under your breath, cursing yourself for not being more useful in the situation, what with your weakened state.

"Dammit, Agent S! I really liked her," you hiss under your breath, eyeing one of the corpses on the ground as your group made for one of the cleared exits.

"I didn't. Bitch kept stealing the brownies I packed for lunch," Seokjin grunted.

"C'mon, we've killed about ten out of fifteen out there. Who knows how many more are on their way," Hoseok commented, covering the group as he hid behind a corner, reloading as quickly as he could. "I'll cover and meet up. Jimin, you'll have to carry Agent Q to the van. Jungkook's injured and Jin will have to take care of him for the time being. We'll slow them down for you until we can meet up."

"Yoongi comes along as well, then," Jimin says, quick to get you off Jungkook's back and into his own arms as Yoongi runs along with the two of you. "Yoongi, cover me for the time being. You too, Y/N, even if you're a bit injured."

You didn't need to be told twice, but still, you were uneasy. "We aren't leaving them there, are we?"

"They'll catch up."

You had no choice but to let Jimin carry you off, remaining in his arms as you took aim at potential threats. Yoongi did most of it, though, as stealthy as could be as he shot down whatever was in range. It wasn't long until you stood at the front doors, barricaded in advance.

The sirens were giving you a headache.

Code black. Code black. Code black.

Agent gone rogue. The most dangerous kind.

In this case, it was eight.

Jimin placed you on the ground, helping Yoongi with the code box near the entrance in order to get you through the barricades. Yoongi was busy yanking out wires, trying to rearrange them, while Jimin was getting out the different tools that were brought.

"Fuck, I hear some coming already," Jimin hisses. "How much time do we need?"

"Give me thirty seconds- it won't last long though. Perhaps ten seconds for it to open before someone gets it to close again. No doubt someone's back in the mainframe trying to prevent us from wrecking their shit," Yoongi replied.

You try to right yourself up, feeling an ache in your body as you brought the gun up. You felt so drained, but you had to push through. For them. You couldn't have them waste all of this effort only to be met with failure.

"I'll cover you two," you grunt.

"Y/N, when it opens you'll have to crawl underneath as soon as it opens enough. We won't be able to follow but Namjoon and Taehyung will be waiting in a car outside to take you. You'll have to tell him where you want to go, we know you'll figure it out. We'll meet you there once we're in the clear and escape the agency."

Your eyes bug out. "You're not coming with me?"

Jimin frowns, "Agent B and V will be with you. You're in safe hands."

"I don't want to leave-"

"Stop worrying about us for once and hurry, it's about to open in five seconds. Also to your left."

You turn to the left, immediately sending a bullet between the brows of the enemy at hand, attempting to sneak past and catch you by surprise. At that moment the barricade creaks, the metal groaning as it lifts. You follow orders, rolling under, and the moment you're outside it closes behind you.

You still weren't out of the clear, though.

You hid in the bushes, crawling through and trying to spot where Namjoon was. Your getaway driver was nowhere to be seen, however. Right when you were considering just making a run for it on your own two feet you feel someone bump into you. A hand is placed over your mouth, and you're barely able to make out Taehyung's face.

"C'mon, let's bounce."

"Are you sure you're just twenty-three?"

You hurry to an old, discreet car that was hidden in plain sight- a crowded parking lot. It was inconspicuous, a worn-down Kia, the kind a suburban mom would drive. It's when you hop in that you recognize all of the usuals- secret compartments to hide weapons both human and alien. Namjoon takes off, the sirens sounding off even outside, and other cars making their way out. Before you knew it you were speeding off.

"Agent Q, I need you to tell me one of the CIA rooms from your time. Any information you have."

Ah, that's right. The CIA had multiple rooms that were rented year-round, prepared with anything a typical spy would need. Predesigned disguises that did nothing to flatter and everything to blend, secret compartments filled with bombs, guns, and poisons, and etc. They typically didn't change the rooms, only required once someone or one of the maids accidentally stumbled upon the true purpose.

You tried to remember one of the bigger apartments, spitting out the location and room number. Thank god for the flashcards you had used when you were younger.

Namjoon put the digits into the GPS, the phasers beneath the car starting as the wheels were swiped out, and before you knew it you were floating in the car-turned-hovercraft. You wondered if Namjoon would be able to handle this. After all, he was rather prone to motion sickness. Still, he seemed to be in control, hyperfocused when it came to navigating it, making sure no other hovercrafts had caught wind of your direction in hopes of tracking you down. You had no doubt the others had dismantled any tracking devices from it, as well as stocked it with the various amounts of food, weapons, and first aid kits that were hidden in the secret compartments.

"Agent Z's injured. Got shot," you murmur, lips pressed tightly together in frustration.

"Is Jin still in there?" Taehyung questioned.

"Yes."

"Then he'll be fine. Jin will patch him up in no time. His specialty, after all."

"Hoseok was covering them."

"Gives them more time. I saw him kill ten men with one bullet, you know."

"Jimin and Yoongi were left at the entrance."

"I'm not worried about them. Yoongi scares the dickens out of everyone," Namjoon chimed in, chuckling.

Still, you were slowly getting more irritated. "Shouldn't we be going back to get them? We can't leave them there. They'll get killed."

"They aren't the top agents for no reason, Y/N," Taehyung assured you. "I'd like to see them try. The guys are practically invincible."

"Still, they need help-"

"No. We all agreed on this plan. They'll meet us at the hotel room anyway. Once we land I'll inform all of them. They'll only be able to receive it once they're in the clear, so we don't have to worry about someone finding it if they're kidnapped or killed."

"You can't possibly say that," you say, flabberghasted at Namjoon's methodical approach. "We can't abandon them! The sooner we help the faster it'll go."

"I can assure you we've got it under control. You're our priority."

"Why?" You blurt the question out, anger and venom now lacing your tone. There's a hush in the hovercraft, save for the low hum of the engine and phasers beneath.

Taehyung cuts through the silence, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You mean too much to us. We couldn't live with ourselves knowing you were stuck in a lab being tortured every day because of our mistakes."

"It wasn't your fault, though. It was mine," you admit. "If not then it couldn't have been prevented. If you have to blame anyone, blame Jashwi."

"We do blame her, but when you think back we all found something we could've done differently. There was no guarantee it would've changed the course of events, but there was a possibility," Namjoon sighs.

"I don't want the rest of you to pay for it either, then."

"We won't," Taehyung assures you, squeezing your shoulder a bit tighter for comfort. "We planned all of this as quickly as possible, but it was efficient. We've got you out, don't we?"

"You should've left me there."

"No. Don't even think like that," Namjoon scolds. "To us you mean... Look, forget even thinking like that. We wouldn't have stopped until you were out of harm's way from the EAA, and we'll continue to do so."

"Aren't you going to do the same for the others left in the building then?" you huff, infuriated.

"They agreed to this and know what they have to do to get out. So far everything's been going according to plan."

"Jungkook's been shot!"

"He's been through worse," Taehyung reminds you.

You couldn't argue with that.

Still, tears well up in your eyes. "You don't get it, do you? We have to go back. We have to save them. We have..."

"Agent Q?" Taehyung's eyes showed both surprise and sympathy as you broke down, tears streaming down your face. "Y/N?"

"I can't leave them. I can't leave you guys. I don't want you guys to feel the way I did down there. Cold. Alone. So, so alone. I thought you guys had left me down there for good. I thought you were done with me and figured I wasn't worth the trouble. I thought you had forgotten about me and didn't care and you were going to let me rot down there with the needles and the dark and-"

Taehyung wrapped you in an embrace, petting your hair as you broke down into chokes and sobs, shaking in his arms. None of them had ever seen you this frazzled. Namjoon wished he could console you as well, wrap his arms around you and protect you from the world. Unfortunately, his hands had to remain on the steering wheel.

"Shh, shh, it's ok. We won't leave them, ok? We'll go back once you're safe. If they're in trouble we won't hesitate to rescue them," Taehyung assures you, holding you securely and tightly against his chest, placing his chin on top of your head. You breathed in his scent, the cologne helping calm you down once you were reduced to mere sniffles. "You're not alone anymore, ok? We're here. All seven of us. We aren't letting you go again. You're safe now, you've got us. We aren't leaving you, and we never will, you hear me?"

"B-But-"

"We never left you, Y/N. We had been searching and the minute we found you we began planning. We couldn't forget you if we tried- we couldn't live with ourselves," Namjoon assures you from the front of the car.

"Y-Y-You just feel guilty..."

"No, not just that. We love you, ok? All of us."

You weren't able to truly process his words, however, the crying effectively lulling you into a deep sleep.

You wake up in a cold sweat, your breathing accelerated as well as heart rate. You scramble, your nails scratching and searching for whatever was near, only to find sheets. It feels good to wake up without bindings, but still, you're frazzled, tormented in your slumber with images of your colleagues dead in the agency's halls, their blood coating the floor, spilling around them. Abandoned just as you thought you were.

You clawed at your hair, feeling how lifeless it was as you dragged your nails over it and to your face, feeling the protruding bones that threatened to cut your skeletal fingers. You couldn't wipe away the images. Jungkook scrambling, dragging his body through his own and his friends' blood, inching away slowly. Hoseok's mouth filling with blood as he gagged on it, a bullet embedded in his throat. Jimin and Yoongi, crushed beneath the door in a feeble attempt to escape. Jin watching all of his friends die, knowing no number of bandages and medicine would be able to bring them back.

You couldn't stay alone in this room any longer.

You wander about, recognizing it as the apartment you had informed Namjoon and Taehyung about. You must've slept all the way through it. Based on the lack of light from behind the curtains, you assume it's still dead of night. Namjoon must've let you sleep through all of it, but it wasn't long enough, seeing how sleep still clung to your mind.

You open the door, surprised to see Taehyung there.

"Y/N? You should be sleeping."

"Oh, Agent V. Surprised to see you here. As for why I'm up I...I can't. It just... I want to but I can't." You press your lips together, clear that you don't want to elaborate any further.

Taehyung purses his lips, sympathetic. "Do you need company?"

"Yeah... Why are you up though?"

"Keeping watch until the others are back."

Your heart sinks. "They haven't returned?"

"No," Taehyung confirms, frowning. "It's not all bad, though. I'm sure they're on their way. Last I heard Jin had moved Jungkook someplace safer and had finished patching him up."

"How long ago was that?"

"About an hour after you fell asleep."

Your heart sunk even lower.

Taehyung offered a sympathetic hand, rubbing your shoulder in a feeble effort to console you. "I'm sure they'll be here within the hour, Agent Q. You can't give up hope. Look, Namjoon's sleeping in the bedroom down the hall, two doors to the right. He'll keep you company if you can't sleep. I'll be sure to tell you as soon as I get any more news, alright?"

You offer a weak smile, glad to have Taehyung by your side. You give him a hug, ignoring how his breath hitched at how frail you felt around him. Like dying ivy, straining to wrap around a tree trunk, stretching as far as possible for a sliver of light. "Thank you, Tae."

He coughs, his face a bit red. "Yeah, no problem."

You follow his directions, finding yourself at Namjoon's door. Once you're hovering over his bed you shake him lightly, seeing as he jolts upright. He must've been tired for him to have slept so heavily. You would've suspected he'd be wide awake the moment you opened the door.

"Agent Q? Is everything alright?" he questions, his voice low and gravely.

"Is it ok if I sleep here tonight? Next to you?" You go ahead with the question, not bothering to dance around it. Examining his perplexed expression, you continue. "I had a really... bad dream, needless to say. I just don't think I can handle being alone right now, what with the nightmares and the guys still out there and-"

"No, no it's ok, I get it. You're more than welcome to sleep next to me," Namjoon says, assuring you.

You let out a sigh of relief, climbing in once he lifts the covers, scooting to make room for you. "I think it's just been so long since I've had physical comfort, you know? Back in the lab, they weren't allowed to make skin on skin contact with me. Just rubber against my skin, what with their latex gloves. Hell, I think the last time I was held was when I still lived with my mother."

Namjoon chuckles at that, and you curl into his side, breathing in deeply in an effort to memorize the scent of him. He seems tense, unsure of what to do.

"I won't try anything funny, trust me," you assure him. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Like I said... it's just been a while since I've been physically close to anyone."

"I understand," he nods, offering his arm to tug you a bit closer. You're happy with it, resting your head on him as you feel his heat envelop you along with the sheets, a warm hug. "It's been a while since I've been close to anyone, admittedly," he confesses, his voice a whisper.

"Mhm," you hum, eyes drooping. You were already beginning to sleep again, and you could only hope it would be dreamless, uncorrupted. You wanted to see the faces of the men smiling, not in agony.

But you could only hope.

#bts #bangtan #bts reactions #bts smut #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #kim taehyung #bts jungkook #bts v #bts taehyung #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #park jimin #jimin #bts jimin #jimin smut #hoseok #j-hope #jhope #bts j-hope #bts hoseok #bts jhope #jhope smut #hoseok smut #j-hope smut #jung hoseok #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts namjoon

[happy-haunts]

Madame Leota pt. 1

Madame Leota pt. 1

Chapter one | Constance pt.1 : Constance pt.2

Chapter two | Mister Topper pt.1 : Mister Topper pt.2

Chapter three | Madame Leota pt.1 : Madame Leota pt.2

Chapter four | The Hostess

Chapter five | Captain Blood pt.1 : Captain Blood pt.2

Chapter six | Emily DeClaire pt.1 : Emily DeClaire pt.2 : Emily DeClaire pt.3

Chapter seven | Finale

WARNING THIS POST CONTAINS THEMES OF VIOLENCE AND ABUSE!

The powers of the great beyond shuddered under the grasp of my incantations as the spirits whispered secrets into my ears- two of our own were approaching and with them were questions of which they sought me to answer. But deeper and deeper still I dug into their truest desires and as I pried prodded my eyes flashed open at the sound of Constance Hatchaway and Red bursting through my door.

I might not have a body but if I did then I would have been tapping my foot at the sudden intrusion. “I expect you both have a better reason for barging in here than just for me to tell you about our Bride?” Red was in awe at my knowledge of their quest.

“Okay so ... We actually do, can you explain why Constance and Hatty can’t remember things? And not like in the ‘we’re super old and lost our orthopedic slippers’ way but in the ‘we’re super old and hot and I can’t remember the story I literally gave a detailed synopsis of one minute ago’ kind of way.” Red took a seat at my table after her long winded speech, my head was resting on a metal stand inside of a glowing green crystal ball before her.

“Of course I can.” I moved my aura on a deck of tarot cards and flipped them up to face me one at a time.

“You seek the answers to the oddities of the Mansion, the force at work which controls the mansion and all inside.” I set down the cards neatly in their stack and then started the dramatic music behind them.

“Controls the mansion? There’s something controlling all of us?” Red asked, Constance was sitting beside her now, her eyes staring off as she was furiously trying to remember what they were doing.

“Not all of us ... I am immune since I am the one who gave the entity their power in the first place.”

“Oh so you just give out otherworldly magic on your off days? Is it just a hobby knotting up all of that black magic and gifting it to customers?” Red crossed her arms and slumped in her chair.

“I don’t give out the powers of the universe like candy!” I growled, but pursed my lips and avoided Red’s gaze. “However I may charge a fee- but we can discuss prices a little later.”

“I don’t want any magic of regions beyond!” Red sighed, “I want to know why this is happening to Constance and how to stop it.”

“It’s not happening to you.” I pointed out, “Surely you’re curious about that?” She fidgeted in her chair but gave a little nod as she pouted.

“Yeah... a little I guess.”

“The entity YOU’RE dealing with only controls the ghosts who belong to the mansion, you don’t belong to the mansion since your remains nor your death involved the manor, therefore whatever it is attempting to do with Constance cannot be accomplished with you.”

“The entity I’M dealing with? Is there more than one?” I grinned.

“I believe I should start from the beginning.”

“Or you could just give me straight answers so we don’t have to stretch this out over several chapters.” I whacked Red upside the head with my tambourine and refused to acknowledge her fourth wall break.

❧

I loved my childhood, my parents were always quite understanding of me even when I would act up - which was quite often - and the caravan would tell them to be stricter with me.

I was ungrateful for what I had and would always want more, I was a selfish child - no matter where we went I would always want to stay in the townsfolk’s houses and want to eat fine meats from the butcher... But we didn’t have enough money to get any of those things.

I began to grow older and as a teen I ran away from the caravan, I would go into the nearest town to dance for money in the streets and buy myself sweets - then refuse to eat the meals they cooked in the evenings.

One day I had done just that and headed off towards the current town we were in near - we travelled all around Europe and Africa so it’s hard to keep track of town names. I was approached by a man on my walk who was rather plump, he had straw decorating his ankles, a skirt that was a combination of a red and white fabric as well as straw, around his neck were beads and ... a shrunken head, his hair was black like coal just as his eyes were, face decorated with red paint, and seated on his head was a black top hat.

“Good evening young lady my name is Trader Sam, and what is a little girl like you doing out here all alone?”

“I don’t see why it’s any of your business.” I said while raising my chin as though he was beneath me.

“You seem rather put together for a girl of your age.”

“Because I am, now if you excuse me I have to get to work.”

“Of course, I apologize.” I gave a little nod and turned away only for him to continue talking. “I was going to tell you how to earn even more money without even having to work ... But I understand.” I turned to face him again.

“How do you do that?”

“Oh I don’t want to keep you from your work, so I had better go.”

“Wait! I asked you a question!” He smiled and propped himself forward on his umbrella. “Tell me how to make money without having to work.”

“Well if you want to really know then we’ll have to make a deal first.” I crossed my arms and leaned back - glaring at him suspiciously.

“What kind of deal?”

“It’s more of a trade really - I take something of value to you and you take all of my secrets.”

“Secrets...?”

“Yes, because you know the only way to make money without working is magic.”

“Oh please, there isn’t any such thing as magic.” He lifted his palm and after a moment a green ball of fire appeared, I gasped and stepped back from him - he extinguished the flame. “How did you do that?”

“Magic.” He shrugged, “And I can give you all that power - all of the freedom to do as you please ... If you are willing to make a deal.”

I let the offer sink in - it was everything I could ever want! No more dragging around the caravan, no more cooking rabbit for supper, and no more needing to rely on nasty rich people to pity us.

“I ... I’ll make a deal with you.” Trader Sam grinned while extending his hand to me.

“Then lets shake on it.”

As I took his hand the shrunken head that hung around his neck opened it’s mouth and a green ball of fire like the one Trader Sam made before floated in the air towards me- absorbing into my chest.

“And now for your payment, I shall take what is most valuable to you.” I patted myself down, I hardly had any money on me - but he seemed to chuckle at my searching. “Oh no, not monetary value ...” He lifted his hands and my parents appeared on either side of him.

“Wait! You can’t take my parents!”

“You shouldn’t have been so careless, they are what you value most.”

“Leota? What is going on?” My mother hissed, but Trader Sam snapped his fingers and my parents were now two shrunken heads in his hand.

“GIVE THEM BACK!” I screamed and blasted one of those green orbs towards him - Sam merely shielded himself with his umbrella and turned away from me. I was crying now while the rage filled my chest, “Don’t walk away!” And he stopped in place, “I want you to be rooted to that spot for the rest of your life.” He peered back to me, now a little nervous.

“I think we can come to some kind of deal here ....”

“Give me back my parents and I’ll set you free.” I was having a hard time seeing him since so many tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“I can’t do that, once a deal has been made then there is no reversing it ... Besides that you parents are...” He lifted the shrunken heads. “Well and gone.” I clenched my fists, screaming while falling onto my knees.

“You’re an absolutely terrible man!”

“Perhaps, but that’s how I became head salesman.” I couldn’t take it any longer, I picked myself up and walked away - listening to his pleas of mercy slowly fade the further I separated myself from him.

❧

I couldn’t show my face in my old caravan after that, I decided that I would travel to a new continent and lucky for me there was a ship leaving for the Americas when I reached the harbor.

I snuck aboard and once I arrived at our destination I set out to find a new home.

I manifested a wagon and I travelled across the Americas for several years before I found a town that hadn’t immediately shown me out upon seeing my psychic reading skills.

This town was New Orleans Square, and being that I was now 29 by the time of finally finding a tolerable town - I was glad to bring my traveling to a halt. The town was nothing too fancy or large with green metal rails decorating balconies, red brick homes, and trees that were decorated with swamp moss.

I set up my wagon near the edge of the town so not to block any paths for the townspeople, and the morning after I brought out my table as well as my crystal ball to sit outside and entice people to my readings.

It didn’t take long before a gentleman approached my table, “So you must be the famous Madame Leota.” He grinned - the man looked young but his hair was startlingly white and he wore a noose around his neck.

“Famous? I only just arrived here yesterday sir - you are my first customer.”

“No, no the apparitions have been speaking about you all night - they hardly get any real entertainment, most of the time they hang around family members and criticize their life choices.” I blinked but smiled to the man, what a very strange thing to say.

“I didn’t know anyone else could converse with the dead - let alone do it passively.”

“Yes it was quite the shock when I was younger! I was at my dear Granny’s funeral when I saw my first spirit - she was quite livid that they had decided to have an open casket instead of cremating her like she wanted to be.”

“I would be livid too, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.” He said flatly and sat in the chair across from me, “But if you would like to know it is Vincent Beauregard Gracey, eldest in the Gracey line.”

“I didn’t know there was a Gracey line, but it’s good to meet you Vincent.”

“Mister Gracey - please.” I cocked an eyebrow at his boldness.

“Mister Gracey then... I am Madame Leota.” He seemed to pay me no mind as he sat in the chair- his eyes wandering over my wagon.

“Memento Mori ... So you are also a fan of the Macabre?” I gritted my teeth at the mention but eventually relaxed, giving a polite smile to the man.

“Yes, I have a few regrets and because of this I am patiently waiting for the moment when I can cease to exist, thus I will always remember death.” Vincent nodded approvingly.

“If you would like to go sooner I have this.” He lifted his noose that hung around his scrawny neck, “I haven’t the time to get to using it myself but perhaps someday.” He sighed, “The spirits make the afterlife look like such a good time.”

“I would like to see the afterlife if it’s as much fun as you say.” His eyes met with mine for the first time and he leaned his elbows on the edge of my table.

“Well now, if you would like I can show you my graveyard tonight over dinner?”

“I think I would like that very much Mister Gracey.”

“Then it’s a date.”

❧

I slaved away the rest of the day before finally getting to close up shop and go into town to buy a dress especially for tonight.

What a man, He could commune with the dead AND owned a graveyard? He must have been after my heart with a line like that.

I asked around the town for the home of a Vincent Gracey - which greeted me with anxious glances, eventually I was pointed to the mansion at the end of town and I had finally arrived.

I had chosen a blood red gown that popped from my dark brown skin, my brown hair was pinned up and two red droplets hung from my ears.

Vincent was standing at the large iron gate which led to his backyard, he took my hand and kissed the knuckles before leading me into a graveyard filled with what must have been somewhere near 900 graves? Atop some of the headstones were candles that made a path to a table for two, red roses decorated the table.

“I apologize for the florals - it seems my gardener had gotten rid of all my decaying roses.” How considerate!

“No need to apologize, this is still very lovely.”

“Won’t you sit? Feel free to speak with whomever you choose that has passed on - they seem to know quite a bit about you it seems.” I was taking my seat as he said so and looked up in confusion.

“How is that? I’ve hardly done anything of noting.”

“They say you’ve thwarted a warlock by the age of 13.” I unconsciously soured my expression.

“He was hardly a warlock, just a slimey black magic dealer - he swindled me out of having parents.” Vincent considered me for a moment while I took to composing myself, after all it was my fault ... I was a rotten child that had no business trying to act as though she was grown.

“How very tragic for you my dear ...” He placed his hand over my own, his eyes were like sapphires. “I knew a girl who lost her parents once, she was an odd one such as you and I - she romanticized those who had passed on without even knowing that they lived among us nor having any power to know as much.” He stroked my hand with his thumb as he knitted his brow, “I used to live with my parents in their mansion - it also had a graveyard of the Gracey’s whom passed before us, but there were a great deal of them which remained unmarked or were so old the names had faded ... Leaving them to be forgotten.”

“How terrible ...”

“But as if out of the blue, flowers began appearing on those graves every night - naturally my parents thought it was me since I usually strolled through the graveyard to converse with my deceased family. Curious about the mysterious visitor I decided to ask about it to the dead - it was a young girl that visited every night followed by two apparitions which were trying to interact with her. More intrigued than before I decided to wait for her to arrive - she was small with short hair and wearing a mourning gown, the two ghosts behind her were telling her to leave the town.” Vincent pulled his hand back and sighed. “Not long after the flowers stopped being placed on the unmarked grave.”

“Did she die?” I whispered - invested in the story.

“No, not quite.” He tilted his head to the side and looked past me a moment, his eyes lit with excitement. “My brother is home!”

“Brother? Here? Now?” I felt broken hearted when he said so, we hadn’t even eaten supper yet.

“No! No! Some family is visiting from Liberty Square and they said my brother has just arrived home! I haven’t seen him since mother and father sent him off to join the Navy, oh but I don’t think he’ll much like if I visit him - we never got along very well.” Vincent locked eyes with me and grinned, “Leota! You can visit my brother for me and tell him I’m in New Orleans Square! You can tell him to come visit me!” My heart began to sink even more as he proposed the plan.

“Well I suppose I could -.”

“Wonderful! We must cut the evening short and you need to head on your way at once! Oh and if you could send my greetings to the residents in the graveyard as well- that would be just fantastic of you.”

❧

And that’s just how life is - one moment you think you’ve met the man of your dreams, and the next moment he is sending you to a wealthy town to say hello to his wealthy brother and dead family members.

Liberty Square was all brick and white picket fences (with the exception of the Gracey Mansion) the people were suspicious and distant. I needed pointing to where Mister Gracey lived so I stopped a large man who wore a grey suit with a yellow ascot tucked into his vest.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the home of a Mister Gracey?”

“It’s at the end of the road - I would think a slave would keep better track of her master’s home.” Some of the townspeople near him snickered at me.

“What did you just call me?” I growled, stepping toe to toe with him now. “I think you should evaluate your words before you speak them, otherwise I might hitch you up to a wagon like the ass you make yourself out to be.” The man adjusted himself as he turned a light pink.

“You had better watch your tongue, woman, and recognize who you’re speaking to.”

“My apologies- you must be a pig instead of an ass.” His face turned deep red as he raised his hand to strike but a man in a black coat grabbed his wrist and leaned towards the older gentleman.

“Well now, lets not cause a scuffle right here in the streets.” His hair was curly and black, pale skin, and ... sapphire eyes. “I heard there was a green-eyed woman looking for my place around town, so naturally I went on my own little adventure.”

“William, you had better keep your help in line.” The older gentleman yanked his arm from William and straightened out his coat.

“She’s not my help, Mister Mayor, I think she’s new in town - but allow me ma’am.” He linked his arm with mine and began walking me down the street.

“That man is your Mayor? He’s an insufferable ass.” William laughed and patted my arm.

“Yes, yes he is - but he is like an angel to the town, they all fear the changing times and the mayor is an unmoving stone ... Their only constant.” How sad that so many people could be so fearful of the future and the unknown, that they would just let such a man have power. “On a lighter note, why is it that you were seeking me out?”

“Ah, your brother wanted me to send you his greetings from New Orleans Square, he would like you to visit him now that you’re back.”

William rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to visit that ghost seeing idiot - does he still wear a noose around his neck?” I nodded, “Of course he does!” He unhooked our arms and ran his fingers through his hair. “I apologize, I just don’t much care for my brother ... either one of them.”

“There is another one of you?”

“Yes, Dorian ... He’s the middle brother and he’s full of himself! Probably married a mirror for all I know.” William shook his head, “No, no, enough talk about my family - where are you staying miss...?”

“Leota, I have a wagon that I left in the woods, I’ll probably make camp there tonight.”

“If it’s even still there, we have gypsies that live in our woods Miss Leota so you may wish to stay at my home tonight - if not then hurry back to make sure they haven’t mistaken it for something abandoned.”

“I’ll probably just go back and get it, however I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a real bed - that is if you have somewhere I can store my wagon?”

“But of course, my doors are always open.” He lifted my hand and kissed the knuckles with a wink, before I turned away towards the woods as the sun went down.

❧

Lucky for me my wagon was still seated among the trees where I had left it, as I assessed the inside to make sure nothing was missing I heard music off in the distance, curious I stepped back outside into the night and noticed the light just beyond where I was.

It seemed to be a camp, upon closer inspection I saw it was a caravan of only 10-20 people - how had they gotten so small?

“What do you want?” Called a man, he drew a knife as I came into the firelight.

“I mean no harm, I’m camped just beyond those trees and saw the fire - I was just wondering who my neighbors were.”

“She has witch eyes...” One man whispered,

“I don’t need a witch in our caravan, we suffer enough as is.”

“Calm down, I’m not a witch - witches are far less powerful.” I rolled my eyes, “But everyone is so scared of them because their hats are pointy! Oh no!” I feigned fear and placed my hands on my hips.

“As if a witch wasn’t bad enough, you’re a devil then.”

“Stop it!” A girl stepped in front of the man - she wore a yellow dress, dark brown hair, tanned skin, and flowers knotted in her hair. “She has already said she meant no harm, there is no need to be so mean!” She held her arms out shielding me.

“Emily, you’re too naive! This woman curses people!” The girl named Emily turned around - looking me up and down with her bright blue eyes.

“She seems normal enough to me.” A sly grin slid over my lips.

“Fine, if it will calm your nerves then I’ll make a deal with you...” I held out my hand to the man, “I will not harm this caravan in any way and in return I will ask one favor of you when I need it.”

“No way, I’m not going to risk whatever you ask of me.” He crossed his arms but the girl grabbed onto my hand and gave it a hearty shake.

“Deal!” She grinned and the deal was made. “There, now your caravan is off limits and no one needs to worry anymore.”

The man was pale as he looked to Emily, but in his astonishment he couldn’t find any words to reprimand her so ... he walked away.

“You know that was quite foolish of you, I can ask anything of you and you’ll have no choice but to obey.”

“Yes well, you don’t seem like you’ll make me do anything too bad - I trust you.” She looked behind me to my wagon, “Are you going to be heading back to town? I should start heading back home anyway so I’ll walk with you.”

I almost lost it when she said that, “Are you telling me you live in town? You aren’t even part of this caravan?” Emily seemed confused but she answered regardless.

“No, but they’re good people - they get harassed a lot by the town so they’re a bit more wary of strangers but they really aren’t all that bad.”

“You really are naive ... “ I sighed and headed with her to my wagon.

❧

I stayed at Mister Gracey’s that night - he had his red coated servants take my wagon while William gave me the grand tour. The manor itself was grand in a gothic style, the very entrance had long walls looking like they stretched to eternity- if it weren’t for Williams’ instruction I would have thought there were no windows or doors, it took us to the hallways which were a royal purple - with a wallpaper that felt as though it watched me, then we went off into the grandballroom - it seemed to be set apart from the rest of the mansion since it was decorated in silvers and whites with white billowing curtains over the windows which were as high as the house itself, and then he showed me the backyard where members of his family were buried and where I told the residents that Vincent said hello.

“He really wanted you to talk to the dead for him?” William scoffed.

“What is it about our abilities that you doubt?”

“Hm, perhaps the existence of magic in general? It’s all just observation and parlor tricks.”

“Well maybe I’ll be able to change your mind while I’m here... but for now, goodnight Mister Gracey.”

“For fucks sake just call me William, I hate all that title crap- er and goodnight Leota.”

Getting up the next morning I decided to entice the young Gracey by setting up my reading table not too far from his front door. I also wasn’t sure how this town would take to such an occult dealing on their streets, but I was happily surprised when I had quite the line of folks wanting to know their desires or if their husbands were cheating on them.

One young lady sat at my table wearing a mourning gown, her hair was blonde, and eyes dark blue.

“Why such a beautiful young woman, what is your name and what do you ask of Madame Leota?”

“I’m Constance Hatchaway, I wanted to know... if I ever find true love?” She blushed but the harsh look on her eyes never faded.

“Let us look, may I have your hands?” She reached out and I closed my eyes.

Seeing into the future was much easier than reading a person - all it took was a conduit made of some kind of stone or glass(my crystal ball) and the physical touch of the person whom wants to know their fate.

I walked on top of a river made of stars as I searched for her request, leaning down every now and again to reach into the river and inspect the stars which contained every moment in her life. I searched until I came to an abrupt halt from the stars ... This was the line of death, where the river stops then so does ones life - but amazingly beyond the gap were blue stars! It was impossible but I was seeing into her afterlife, upon further inspection there was a certain star among them that glowed a warm red color and as I picked it up I was overcome with such joy I couldn’t help but laugh.

I released Constance’s hands as I was still laughing - now wiping away a tear.

“It’ll take a long time but you will find true love.” I leaned close to her as she leaned in with me. “And she will be beautiful.”

“T-thank you!” Constance blushed and scrambled to stand as she stuffed money into my jar.

It was rather nice to know at least one person in the town was normal.

My relief was short lived as the Mayor stood before me now, his hands clasped behind him as his sky blue eyes evaluated my set up.

“And what can I help you with?” I growled.

“I was just wondering if you had permission to set up shop here? But of course I know you don’t since you would have had to ask me personally.”

What a jackass.

“I don’t believe you have jurisdiction over someone’s private property.”

“Oh but I do.” He leaned down with his hands clutching the edge of my table, I was lucky it didn’t snap under his weight. The mayor wasn’t a fat man but rather built for someone of his age, and taller than any man I’d ever seen - the best way I could describe him was a brick wall. “You see I run the town and the town pays their taxes which means they pay me... to live here. You wouldn’t want me to evict your master now would you?” I sucked in a breath and glared, giving a glance behind him - hoping someone was there to perform a reading on but it seemed he waited till everyone had gone for the day, but a thought crossed my mind.

“Dear Mister Mayor...” I cooed, “Won’t you let me give you a free reading to make up for this? I can search deep down to your truest desires - things you may not realize you have been denying.” He seemed to think about it a moment before taking a seat across from me and placing his hands palm up on either side of my crystal ball.

I placed my palms atop his and closed my eyes.

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[murdochmysteriesimagines]

The Smuggler- James Gillies

Request: Hi! Are requests still open? If so, could I request a James Gillies one-shot where the reader(f) is just as cunning as he is. He's escaped from custody again and they team up. He thinks he's found his match, but she's actually working with Murdoch. Is this okay?

A/N: I rewrote the conclusion a couple of times but I am pleased with the end result. It’s somewhat a predictable ending but that comes with following the request. It was specified that Gillies was to see the reader as his equal but this seems out of character, ego seemed to be a great vice of his character.

__________________________________________

Finding the correct tracks was surprisingly easier than expected, it still took several hours as the prey made the attempt to cover their path. Woodland creatures were always more preferable to hunt than other humans. The latter was arguably more intelligent than the former the fact you got so far without detection for so long would say otherwise.

The unset path became more vague as you continued along it. It was already days old but out in the forest there were few areas of value that differed from trees and foliage. Another hour had passed before a sign of human life was found, peaking from around a tree glimpses of a makeshift camp could be seen. A white sheet pretending to be a tent silhouetted the dissipating daylight. You freed the shotguns strap from your shoulder and aimed both barrels in the camps direction. A generous gift from a constable who left it unguarded on the chair next to him while he slept.

From a distance it appeared to be abandoned, a look closer confirmed this. A used fire place and sleeping cot now visible. It mirrored campsites if your own from the past months, perhaps with a worse tent and lacking a woman’s touch. Now standing in the center with the gun by your side, there seemed to be no thing of value or any sign the camps owner would return if they were still in the area. A shuffling brought you out of your surveying and the shotgun back to your attention. Turning both barrels towards a man emerging; even dirty and wrapped with makeshift bandages bushels of brown hair still glistened in the limited light. It would become less of a spectacle when you realized that shine was the result of sweat and grease; at least you managed to remain relatively clean out on the run. In his arms a bundle of sticks and scavenged logs for the fire, too bulky to be used as an effective weapon against a modern firearm. “Why hello there.”

That oddly cheerful line started the discussion that bleed long into the night, spiced with canned meat, forged plants and the remaining contents of rum in your flask. After enough coaxing you managed to get his story out of him, the only promise to unload the gun and tell your own. Both situations were remarkably similar: convicts in the run from the law, main difference being you crossed the boarder into Canada while he was already in Ontario.

“What did you do before this?” James politely asked. Regardless of his tone your guard remained up constantly, not ready to be played or manipulated with. “Smuggler, if you needed something questionable across a boarder we would get it. No hesitation.” You take a drink from your canteen before continuing, studying James as much as he’s studying you. “Mostly from the Philippines and Europe.”

“Sounds exciting.” You shook your head slowly.

“It had its moments but I don’t miss it. The pay was good but rarely worth the risk. One police raid tipped off by the competition and two dead cops leaves the whole operation up in the air.”

There was a moment of silence as James nodded along, nefarious thoughts no doubt lingering below the surface. He told you his story after, leaving out details for the sake of brevity. A former student turned criminal with a failed plot of revenge under his belt, much less a killer for profit but rather twisted glory.

“And I thought I was dangerous.” You muttered when he finished, earning a laugh and smile highlighted by the campfires glow. Another silence came over the pair of outlaws soon after. It was broken by you after it became overwhelming.

“What’s your plan then? Another attempt at revenge?”

“Eventually.”

You shifted in your seat, unsure if your next course of action would objectively be the best. This pondering did not go unnoticed by your dinner guest. “I have a proposal James.”

“Go on.” You leaned in closer despite not another soul being present within the range of a kilometer.

“We had contacts that would, cooperate, with us in the past. Ones a boat Captain up in Ottawa, worked to get equipment across the Atlantic. He owns me a favour and can get us passage far away from here.”

“You want me to go with you?” He phrased it as a statement rather than a question.

“It’s easier to travel long distances in a group, you can hold your own in a fight if the need arises.” You had to force yourself from not letting out a chuckle at the last part of the sentence. “And with all due respect, whatever half baked revenge plan will get you killed.”

He pulled back from you, his face almost returning to the darkness of the night away from the fire. You knew you tempted him, mutually beneficial with the prospect of escape; you were still the one in possession of the only gun however. “Where would we end up? Europe?”

“Balkans, Morocco possibly. No where past the Ottomans, not any more anyways. But no where we could easily be followed.”

James hesitated for another second before sticking out his hand, “Deal.” You shook it without delay. The skin was rough and calloused from his escape. Such scaly skin did give off the impersonation that you shook hands more so with a beast rather than a man. Only time could tell James Gillies would live up to his reputation.

-

“Over there.” You gestured over your shoulder to a well rounded man exciting a pub, “That’s our Captain.” Gillies discreetly looked but remained still as to not draw attention. In the past two months you managed to teach the fellow convict tricks of yours to blend in to a crowd, along with how to bath in the wilderness so you could tolerate his presence.

You pulled your cap down further despite having your back to the street, a habit maintained when operating in public or a big city. James would openly mock this trait, citing it as nervousness and in turn a weakness. The boldness increased the closer you traveled to Ottawa. Even with the shotgun still in your presence he was emboldened; likely due to his own side arm borrowed from a farm house back south. You were unsure if this was a gesture of friendship or a side effect of ego. Such examples were responded to with an eye role before moving on.

“We should meet him at the ship. Hard to imagine we’re almost out of here.” Readjusting the guns shoulder strap you turned into the streets with Gillies close behind. “Happy to get out of here too?”

“I just hope where ever Captain Roberts takes us will be far from the British and Yanks.” You weaved through the crowd of the harbour, by passing vendors pushing wears and men moving cargo without any taking notice of you or your companion. Just another pair of hands passing through. You could catch glimpses of Roberts through the crowd ahead of you, meeting up being an irrelevant aspect if you both had the same destination.

“I’m surprised you’ve stuck with me this long y/n.” James spoke up. You turned to face him briefly. “Despite the profession I held I’m a woman of my word.”

“You’ve got me this far without stabbing me in the back,” he taunted. “I’m starting to believe your being genuine y/n.”

“I could say the same thing about you James.” You retorted.

Not long would pass before you stood beside the ship promising safe passage; receiving a friendly embrace from Captain Roberts that only had a hint of ale on it. He wasted no time checking to see if you were alright, well feed, uninjured; perhaps in disbelief you were standing in front of him

“I heard your crew got caught up down south in New York.” He loudly whispered while bending down to your height. No one around would care to hear regardless, Gillies located himself on the lid of a wooden crate in earshot of the conversation.

“We did, if they’re not dead they’re in jail; likely be swinging by the end of the year.”

The discussion soon switched to business. Despite the simplicity of the request and recalling every previous good interaction between you two it was a tough order for Captain Roberts. “You still owe me for the Turks Roberts.” At that he sighed in defeat and agreed to the terms of passage. All the while Gillies hummed to himself, always planning his next step. The tune was interrupted by you.

“No guns.” He slowly looked up from his box seat. “Pardon?” “That’s the deal, you don’t like it don’t take it.”

You outstretched your hand to request the satchel containing his dangerous toy. Instead he used your appendage to pull himself up like a maiden. “I’m a reasonable man y/n. No need to worry.”

He walked past you and onto the ship deck to meet the captain. Now your turn to take up the rear for once in the journey. Gillies’ introduced himself to the captain was respectfully with a false name and full smile. Roberts coldly cut to the business without the bear hug you were provided. “Just hand it over son.”

Gillies relented, taking off his satchel for Roberts to forcefully part it from him, not that he was in a position to complain. The Captain rummaged through the mostly empty bag and retrieved the revolver still in quintessential condition. He held it up inspecting the chambers for loaded bullets to which he found six. James could barely register the barrel being pointed back at him before a blow struck the back of his head.

You smashed the butt of the gun into Gillies skull with all the strength you could muster in the brief window of opportunity. He fell limp almost instantly but you allowed yourself another strike on him before relenting. The heart beat that had been racing for the past hour had began to finally slow down. In no less than five seconds of action you had already spent all of your breath and began panting. Sucking in cold ocean air as James Gillies laid motionless on the ships wooden deck was one of the few pleasant feelings you’ve had the past several weeks.

“The deed is done!” You called out, despite Roberts being the only visible soul you knew others were lurking in the shadows. Then wondering over to the side to lean overlooking the other boats on the water. Constables emerged from hidden areas and placed chains on the unconscious Gillies bleeding slightly from his scalp.

“I thought we agreed to not risk injuring him.” You recognized Detective Murdoch instantly from voice alone. Still possessing a disdainful tone he had when he told you the plan. Likely debating if he should go back on his word and place you back in handcuffs.

“He’s not dead don’t worry. Besides I’d be doing you a favour if I offed that mad man for you.” He stood behind you, his eyes burning into the back of your head like a lit fag pressed against the skin. You disarmed yourself and leaneded the gun against the railing. Murdoch unsurprisingly took the weapon without hesitation. “I don’t doubt you think like that y/l/n.”

He was about to walk away but paused, forcing himself to show some form of gratitude. “Thank you for what you’ve done. I mean it.” Slowly you turned around to face him, shrugging with the response. Over Murdoch’s shoulder you saw the infamous killer being hauled away.

“I told you Detective, I keep my word.”

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