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b0xerdancer-writes · 3 months

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It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like This Part 4

Eris x Rhy's Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris used to be attached at the hip to Rhysand’s younger sister. Now that he has taken over as High Lord of the Autumn Court, his father’s old high table have been pressuring him to take a wife, he comes up with the brilliant lie that hes already courting someone and has been for several years now. Eris asks Rhysand’s little sister, the best way to get away with it and make it believable, to fake court her.

Warnings: Elain and Mor slander (I love Mor but it’s a plot point for later on I promise!), cussing 18+, some nsfw lean but no sex scenes yet, alcohol. Not proofread.

Trope/Prompt: Fake Dating

Word Count: 4,429

Notes: Shorter part, smaller filler chapter before we get into some more drama with the inner circle. Enjoy some softer Eris and Lucien. Little bit of Eris's POV mid chapter.

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The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted into the living room from the kitchen rousing me from my sleep softly. I expected to find a crook in my neck but was nicely confused to find I had been laid out on the couch, a pillow under my head and blanket tucked around me. The sound of hushed voices stirred me from my sleep further, both red-headed brothers leaned against the counter as Lucien cooked and I could hear their distinct tones as Eris hushed Lucien for laughing too loudly.

“Lucien hush you’ll wake her up.” Eris scolded one finger pointed at Lucien who attempted to quiet himself just to laugh again from behind the back of his hand, the noise was muffled but it still flustered Eris.

“Sorry, sorry. But really Eris, that's absolutely hilarious coming from you, mister ‘I can hold my liquor’!” Lucien snorted his mechanical eye whirred as he smiled.

Eris pouted. “I can though, do you not remember that time I drank,” he trailed off counting on his fingers, “Like maybe ten or eleven pints of that brew that won the challenge that one fall equinox dad was out of court?”

Lucien nodded and leaned back, noticing the pancake was ready to be flipped. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, maybe they were different proofs or something. I don't know but you were off your ass after like seven yesterday. Then you came back here and started crying over those little fox trinkets you carved for her.”

“Lu.” Eris warned and Lucien put his hands in the air.

“I know, I know, I get it, you don’t want her to know you looooove her.” Lucien wiggled his brows and made a funny voice but then shrugged. “If you want to be the one to make a mess out of this whole arrangement or whatever it is going on between you, be my guest. I’ll have my brandy and apple crisps from the sidelines as I watch on in entertainment.”

Eris huffed and took a swig from a mug, Lucien raised a brow at him. “Am I wrong?”

“Not necessarily” Eris mumbled into his mug. I could faintly make out the redness that crept into his face.

Lucien turned and pulled three plates from the cabinet to his right. “You wake her up and I’ll get these plated up for us.”

Eris sighed, sitting the cup down and I quickly pulled the blanket back up to my chin and rubbed at my eye as Eris squatted down to wake me.

He had a small smile on his face as he pushed a stray hair behind my ear softly, his own eyes half lidded as he crooned at me. “Good morning there sleepy head, you wanna get up and get some breakfast?” I mused a small good morning back.

I smiled back at him softly, he helped me up from the couch gently before leading me to the kitchen where Lucien was pulling his hair up into a loose bun before he attempted to grab all three cups of what I could now see was some warm, fresh apple cider.

I grabbed my mug from his hands with a small thank you and he passed the other over to Eris, the plates were already on the table so we all crowded around the small round wooden table Lucien and I had tucked into the corner of the kitchen.

Our morning was easy, the boys stole pieces of bacon or pancakes from each other's plates and when I commented on the childish behavior both males turned to steal a piece off my plate. I smacked their hands and scowled at them but couldn’t maintain a serious face and erupted with laughter, the boys falling into laughter beside me. After breakfast we all collapsed on the couches, I pulled the blanket that still smelled like Eris across my lap and up to my chin. Eris snickered before I felt his fingers curl around the edge of the blanket, I furrowed my brows at him and he quirked a brow back at me in challenge before he ripped it from my body to cover his own with. I gasped in mock offense and smacked his arm playfully. He tossed it over my head and Lucien sat smugly in his chair, feet kicked up on the ottoman, ankles crossed as he read his book and sipped on the cider from earlier. I pouted for a while to make Eris feel bad but all he did was move the cover and pull me into his side, Lucien tossed him a book from the shelf and I dozed off enraptured by his scent and warmth.

I woke up to Eris softly shaking me, the sun clearly coming through the windows now and the sky now a brilliant blue. “Wake up my dear, it's mid afternoon and I must really be off soon.”

I lifted my head from his shoulder trying to soothe the ache in my chest at the thought of him leaving, for a split moment that sorrow felt crippling as Eris furrowed his brows before he cleared his throat a pain in his own eyes. Lucien flinched in his chair and stood quickly eyes wide before he tried to calm the panic that was etched across his face.

Lucien cleared his throat, patting Eris on the shoulder he gestured to the book the older redhead had been reading. “Feel free to keep that one, I just bought the collector's edition for it so you can have that copy.”

Eris looked up and smiled at him. “Thanks Lu.” His voice was so soft it could have calmed me a hundred times over.

I moved the blanket from between us and folded it once before tossing it over the back of the couch again. Eris stood from the couch and stretched the edge of his shirt that had wrinkled just enough from lounging around in them for so long that the plane of his stomach and the but of pudge he had put on since becoming high lord was exposed, only now realizing he had changed back into the clothes he was wearing last night. I must’ve been staring because Lucien had chucked his throw pillow at me and had hit me square in the face. Taking the pillow I scowled at him mentally cursing him for distracting me from the view on display. Lucien’s eyes darted between me and Eris with a look that screamed a mix of panic and concern. When I looked back over at Eris he was smoothing his shirt out, brows furrowed but not in pain or anger but sadness?

“I know. I know. I’ve put on a bit of weight recently, it's unsightly for a highlord and especially for me, I know.” He mumbled it under his breath.

You could no longer see an indent on either side of his stomach from the rigorous training and meal planning Beron had forced on him, Eris had done so well in escaping Beron’s grasp that i wanted to beat myself up for bringing it back.

“No! No. Sorry I didn't mean it like that! It looks good! You look good! Looks sexy on you! Makes you look healthy! I was just admiring! I mean admiring the fact you've improved on yourself so much since Beron’s death! I'm proud!” I waved my hands in front of my face, which was thoroughly flushed.

Eris looked down at me with a small smile on his lips, a sparkle in his eyes. “You mean it?”

I nodded quickly.

“Then thank you my dear.” He leaned down to rub my shoulder affectionately in thanks.

I stood quickly and smoothed out the sleeping robe I was in. “Let me go change and then I’ll walk you downstairs so you can winnow.”

Both males nodded and I took off down the hall towards my room. I heard the shifting of boots and Lucien’s voice in a harsh whispered hiss as he called for Eris. “Eri, we have got to talk.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed on me, as I watched her leave down the hall. “Eri, we have got to talk.” He hissed at me in a hushed tone.

I waved it off, too distracted by the ache in my chest but Lucien’s touch brought my eyes to him. “I mean it Eris, this is serious.”

I furrowed my brows at him. “Don’t you think I know this? DOn’t you think I know I’m just going to hurt myself at the end of this. I already know that.” I hissed back at him in an equally whispered tone. Tears pricked in my eyes and Lucien recoiled.

“Eri, please I don’t want to see you hurt, you should just tell her your feelings.” He sighed, looking defeated as the hand resting on my shoulder tightened.

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and wrapped my arms around myself. “Look Lu, I love you I do and I appreciate you trying to take care of me the way I used to take care of you but I would rather this chance of at least getting to experience a sliver of what life would be like with my mate, rather than confessing to her and losing her.” My eyes pierced the floor as I looked down.

Lucien sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s your mate?”

My eyes found his wide ones as he stilled, I gave a small nod and he tensed. “How long have you known?”

I looked away from him and back towards the hallway listening for any sign of her coming back towards us. “Since I found out I was to be married to Mor and not her.”

“Mother help me,” Lucien hissed and mumbled something that sounded like ‘you fucking idiots’ under his breath. I furrowed my brows in confusion at him.

He rubbed his temples before sighing. “Okay fine, I’ll help you, You dumbass, because I don’t wanna see you hurt. I’ll bounce between here and Autumn and play you up to her and help you set up the festival so she can fall in love with you there, you won’t have to break off this fake courtship if it ends up being real. By the mother I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can’t believe you're saying what?” Her melodious voice called back as she bounced down the hall in an equally as adorable outfit as her.

She had a cream knit sweater on, with a deep maroon that reminded me of wine, and a spaghetti strap dress that was trimmed in gold; it came down to just below her knees and she had small heeled boots on, an ache welled in my chest at the sight of her. All I wanted was to pull her into my chest and tell her how adorable she was. The ache outweighed my common sense as I sat the book down and pulled her into me with a twirl, she giggled and it was infectious as I laughed with her.

“That's a cute dress, you should wear it more often, or at least similar styled ones.” she smiled up at me and her eyes sparkled.

She teasingly scowled at me as she tapped my nose, I reeled back at the action and she laughed as she straightened herself up to look at Lucien, who was now panicking.

“Oh! Uh! I was saying I cant believe Im agreeing to help set up the equinox festival! I’ll be making frequent trips back and forth so I can help with it!” He smiled awkwardly hoping she wasn't gonna catch on.

She smiled and clapped her hands in front of her. “Oh! That's great Lu! I’m so proud of you making an effort to help with the festivities!” Her eyes sparkled and it felt like I could lose myself in them forever.

I caught myself from staring as her and Lucien bickered back and forth, my eyes falling on the little wood carved statue. It sat nestled in the center of the mantlepiece beside other small trinkets she had collected over the years from the Autumn Court. I mused over the fact she had kept it all these years, the bond connecting me to her ached at my thoughts of the day I carved it for her.

It was a week before her mother and sister were attacked by Tamlin, our fathers were gathered to discuss our engagement. The High Lord of Night court appeared with her right behind him, now that she was able to winnow on her own. She was dressed in a night court appropriate pantsuit moment, a mix of sheer fabrics in blues and blacks, and gorgeous silks; we had kept the tradition of frolicking around in the woods though we weren’t nearly as muddy or torn up as we had used to be. There had been a small messenger bag draped over her shoulder as she happily began pulling me towards the archway that led into the gardens, we had to pass through the blooming chrysanthemums and ever bright goldenrods, asters, and dahlias to make it to our ivy covered gateway that led to the woods we would hole up in for the length of their visit.

One of my hounds, Maple, a brandy colored female that I had been showing favoritism towards at the time accompanied us on our walk, yipping happily at the night court princess when she would croon back at Maple, as she weaved between our legs and across the pathway in front of us. The clearing came into view and my love had rushed towards the log with a happy laugh as she tossed her bag onto the log picking up a stick to toss for Maple who was hot on her trail, the two of them played happily a I took a seat on the log watching them with a small smile across my face.

Eventually Maple trotted over to the pond and lapped up some of the water, as the small female I wanted to dearly call my own took a spot on the ground beside my feet and pulled a book from her bag. Maple pushed her head into my lap holding a small chunk of wood in her mouth, she dropped it into my hands and went over to lay her head on the other lap that welcomed her. I examined the small chunk, turning it over in my hands.

“Carve it into a fox or a deer.” Her voice met my ears like a melody, I could've purred.

“Right. Will do my lady.” I hummed and slipped my small knife from its spot on my hip.

I started whittling away the small chunk of wood, humming along peacefully as both females to my left relaxed softly, my mate reading her book and Maple snoring softly in her lap. I smiled at the feeling of content that washed over me, imagining what life would be like with my mate after we were married. I imagined what presents I would give her at the confirmation of our engagement. I smiled imagining her accepting our bond and at the thought of how I would pamper her.

Time passed quickly between us sitting there as I finished carving the small figurine. A horn was blown and I stood, Maple’s head shot up from the other female's lap. Extending a hand out to the smaller fae female, helping her stand she bookmarked her page and shoved the small novel back into her bag. She dusted off her pants with a smile up at me, I smiled back and passed her the small figure.

“Keep it, think of it as the first gift from your future husband. As a sign of the changing times and a bookmark to remember this chapter of our life by.” I rubbed at the back of my neck with a blush creeping up the back of my neck.

She smiled, clasping the wooden fox in her hands. “Thank you Eri. Ill keep this forever.”

The blush that engulfed her face made us both look away in embarrassment, until the horn sounded again: our fathers calling us back up to the forest house. We both jumped before I smirked over at her and Maple crouched down into a playfully stance, tail wagging happily.

“Race you back to the manor?” I raised a brow at her.

She smirked back at me. “You’re on silly fox.”

Maple growled her own acknowledgement as the two of us counted down, sprinting off towards the house as soon as we hit the count of one. She took the lead the entire time, maple staying at my heels and me a foot behind her; her happy laughter echoed between the trees as we ran, like a melody invading the air. The ivy covered archway greeted us as we rounded a tree. I could see our fathers smiling and shaking hands, at the sound of our laughter they both looked over towards the archway with smiles on their faces; they applauded as she crossed the line, me right behind her with maple happily panting as she slowed to a halt. Things haven't always been so terrible.

“Eris! Erisssssss. Hellllooooo, come back to the land of the living please.” I waved my hand in front of the older male's face, before huffing and putting my hands on my hips.

He shook his head and looked down at me, those amber eyes looking like molten honey as the sun rays caught in them. A blush flooded his face as he realized he had been zoned out.

“Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts, I’ve just had so much going on, you understand.”He rubbed at the back of his neck, his anxious tell.

“Hey, woah Eris, its okay, calm down.” I reached out to rub on his upper arm and he seemed to deflate as he relaxed.

He gave me a soft look. “Thank you, starlight.”

I gave him a soft smile. “Of course you silly fox.”

His brows furrowed before his smile grew and he ruffled my hair. Lucien raised a brow, his metal eye whirring as he sipped on his cider, a knowing look on his face. I shot him a look to keep quiet and he rolled his eyes as he sipped at the liquid in the cup. Eris shuffled in place and I sighed.

“I know, I know, you’ve gotta go, at least let me walk you out? I'm heading to the priestess's library this morning. They’ve found an old book I’ve been wanting to read from my father’s personal library that Rhysand tossed down there.” I sighed and moved to the door. The wards began whirring as I touched the handle.

Eris smiled back at me as he picked up my small messenger bag that hung on the wall beside the door and fixed it over my body. “I know you don’t want me to leave starlight, but think it's only a week before the festival is in full swing and we get to dance the night away and spend the entire evening with each other. Just like old times.”

I huffed and crossed my arms. “I dont get to see you for 50 years and then I only get to see you for a few minutes for the next 3 pardon me for missing my best friend.”

Eris raised his hands in defense and I slowly pulled the door open, letting Eris step onto the stair landing that acted like Lucien and I’s stoop. He leaned back on the iron railing as Lucien shrugged on his jacket and made his way down the stairs.

“Where are you off in a rush too?” Eris called after his brother.

Lucien turned around to look up at me and Eris as I was locking the wards back into place. “I'm gonna go get an outfit for the festival and then start looking around for equinox gifts, you know like Brandy, amber jewels, stuff like that.”

Eris nodded a smile on his face. “You are actually gonna participate this year? Wow, I’m impressed Lu you normally hated this holiday.”

“Yeah but Beron isn't here to ruin the fun parts of it this year, I might as well try to enjoy it now.” Lucien countered back with a smirk on his face.

The two laughed and Eris headed down the stairs to join his brother, the two pulling each other into a tight hug. “See you in a few days then Lu.”

I started down the Iron staircase, making it to the last two stairs as my heel caught on a raised piece of metal before I was thrown towards the ground. Eris let out a startled noise, turning to catch me, his eyes looking me over as he scanned for injuries.

“Woah there, you okay?” Eris asked quickly, and I nodded.

“I’m okay, I need to get that stair fixed, I did this a few weeks ago too. Face planted right into Lucien’s back.” I sighed looking back at the stairs. Lucien snickered.

Eris stood me up making sure I was stable before he gave me a coy smile. “You don’t have to try so hard to make me stay, you know that right? You could just ask, you don’t have to tackle me.”

I stuttered over my words, a blush across my face.

“Im kidding, look how about we stay in contact with notes, you know how they work. Write on a piece of paper and will it to me. You can winnow, it's like winnowing.” Eris smiled down at me

“Yeah, I’d like that, I can give you updates about my dress or any drama or gossip I hear!” I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, content in his grasp.

“Then we are on the same page, smart girl.” He crooned down at me and I felt heat nip at the corners of my pointed ears and cheeks.

We all say our goodbyes and split up, Eris winnowing back to Autumn leaving a spicy cinnamon tang to the air. Lucien saluted me as he took off towards the palace of thread and jewels, I waved back and cleared my brain as I bent the world around me into shadows, willing myself to across the street from the library. I smoothed my skirts out and trotted across the street waving to a few civilians that greeted me.

One thing I had always been better than my older brother at was civilian relations. Father had stressed the importance of the support of your citizens, which meant having good relations, understanding and meeting their needs, things of that sorts; he had encouraged me to partake in charity or public events ,under supervision of course, to gain their favor. Thanks to his guiding hand it showed in my day to day life, small gifts, children greeting me with weaved together flower crowns,and always a friendly hand to help out if I ever found myself with too many bags.

I jogged across the road and pushed my way through Rhys’ wards, the ornate door pushing open slowly. Several priestesses looked up at me before turning back to their work, I slid the door closed behind me and waved slightly. I knew where I was going in this place, a priestess named Dahlia took up shop a few floors down, she was mute but had always happily given me a hand in my research even if she couldn't converse with me on the subject.

I followed the spiral of the stairs and shelves until Dahlia’s desk came into view, the small blonde female sat behind it looking through a stack of rolled parchments. She looked up as she heard my steps echo closer, greeting me with a small wave and a happy smile. As I neared she pulled an ornate black box from below her desk, I had recognized the box in a distant memory; it had sat upon my fathers shelves and had only appeared after my confession of Eris being my soulmate, he had only once told me what the books inside contained. Yet, in all these years, I had never read them.

I thanked dahlia softly and took the small box over to a table and bench that sat not too far away. When Rhysand had taken over he had most of father’s books shoved into the vaults and later relocated here into the depths of the library. The hinges of the small box creaked as I flipped it open, to be greeted by a navy blue book with golden filigree; the title looked hand painted and by my guesses it would have been.

“The Luminous Bond: Chronicles of Soulkind and the Arcane Ties that Unite.” I mumbled out the title and ran my finger over the leather and paint.

My father had found books behind the magic of soulmates but he had only cared about it when it came to me, he had never cared for his own bond. He had told me I could maybe find comfort in the books that were kept out of sight. I had not a clue what would be contained between the covers of the old tome, but the constant ache in my chest these past few days was driving me crazy, all I wanted was to be trapped in Eris’s arms and not have to worry about the outside world. I opened the old cover flipping a few pages to the first chapter, it had been handwritten in a cursive scrawl. I threw myself into the explanation of how the bonds worked and how the feeling of bonds differed on compatibility. I read through scrawl about how accepting bonds worked and why it worked the way it did, my fingers tracing lines repeatedly as I worked through my own thoughts on the facts being presented to me. I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I awoke to was Rhys shaking my shoulder softly.

“Hey moonbeam, you got a second to chat? I just wanted to check in with you about all of this? Can we have one of those brother-sister chats like we used to have?” He gave me a small half smile.

I nodded. “Only if you bring the dark chocolate white chocolate chip cookies.”

“That I can do moonbeam, that I can do” he laughed, and I saw his eyes sparkle for once in a very long time, the same way they used to before our mother and sister died.

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#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris x reader

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crashdevlin · 1 year

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Permission Granted 1- New Girl

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter of Permission Granted, the first part of To Have it All. This is Open...from Jensen's side!

Summary: Jensen meets Y/n, the new guest star on Supernatural. There's an instant connection, but a dozen reasons not to pursue it.

Pairing: none yet, eventual Jensen x Reader

Word count: 4354

Story Warnings: none really, little bit of Y/n's shitty self esteem peeking through

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"They're replacing Ruthie quick, aren’t they?" I commented to Jared as I read over Dabb's email in the Hair and Makeup trailer. "Wonder why they didn't just bring Rowena back."

"Fresh face, probably. I dunno. You know Dabb's always looking for new female characters to kill off." Jared shrugged and took a drink of his froufrou iced latte.

"Oh, if we're lucky, maybe she'll be a lesbian so they can leave her broken in a bathtub," I said, rolling my eyes as they started blow drying Jared's hair.

"Or a fuckin’ love interest so they can kill her off in two episodes," he shouted over the sound of the dryer.

"Shoshanna got more than two."

"Barely, Ackles! She got two and then forty-five seconds of a death scene!”

I nodded and licked my lips. Yeah, they had to kill her off. Every fuckin’ time. “Well, maybe this one won’t go the same direction.”

I settled back and read over the rest of the email. Damn it. They’ve got Dean on the ‘Kill Jack despite the fact that the kid hasn’t done anything wrong’ track. Of course they do. Have they ever watched the show? Whatever.

It was a couple days later that I was sitting in the makeup chair and a short woman walked up the steps and stopped in her tracks. She's not the first guest to freeze when they see me the first time but she was definitely the cutest doing it. I didn’t call attention to her 'deer in the headlights' thing as she stood in the doorway, clearly debating leaving until she looked at her phone screen and determined that she had to stay.

She had to get herself comfortable with me somehow. As fun as it can be to tease the new girl, professionalism is the best way forward for most of these situations. I determined to tease her when she got a little more comfortable.

She sat down in the stylist’s chair and looked down at her phone, obviously trying to distract herself with something more than Jennifer doing her hair. It was pretty adorable. She was pretty adorable. But...I had to start the task of getting her okay.

“You must be our new witch,” I said. She made a little squeaky noise and I could see her eyes glaze over a little in the mirror. “I’m Jensen.” Normally, I would have offered my hand but we weren’t in the position for that.

“I know that,” she whispered, making me chuckle as she cleared her throat and turned a little to look at me as much as she could. “I’m Y/n. Big fan.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Uh, I used to watch Days with my mom, but I think I became a real fan with Smart Alec on Dark Angel,” she said and I smiled. Eric Brady and Alec McDowell. Two amazing characters. I really liked Alec. Jessica could’ve been less of a prima donna but I guess she could’ve been worse, too.

“That feels like a million years ago. That show was badass, though,” I mused. “Fox shoulda kept it longer.”

“Agreed,” she said, smiling all shy. She looked so fucking nervous, so I had to move the conversation along.

“So...fan of mine...have you seen much of this show or are we gonna have to give you context for scenes?” I teased. She seemed to relax a little, slumping in her chair.

“Might’ve been a fan of you longer, but I love the show. Seen almost every episode.”

Better than me. I haven’t seen half of ‘em. “Almost every episode? What kinda fan are you?”

“Do not question my nerd cred, sir,” she sassed me. “I’m a fan, big time. I even went to a Creation Con late last year, just to see you guys up close.”

I laughed a little at that. The cons are great, but I really don’t think we’re worth all that money just to see us in person. “Yeah? Gold?” I had to figure out how devoted a fan she actually was. It would determine my interaction moving forward.

“Silver. I was working retail at the time,” she responded, shaking her head a little. “Couldn’t reconcile dropping a thousand dollars on a vacation.”

I was happy to hear that she kept her crazy to reasonable levels. “Oh, so we met in the autograph line.”

“Yep,” she said, popping that ‘p’ like vocal directors hate so much and looking away from me in the mirror.

There was obviously a story there, so I pressed her. “What’d I sign for you?”

“A hat. A white hat...with a devil’s trap in the middle and SW and DW on opposite sides.”

Crazy as it is, I remembered the hat, but the conventions all blur together so I couldn’t tell where I met her. “Which con was this?” I asked.

“Atlanta,” she answered quickly.

A one-off con. That helped, because I only had one night of memories to sift through. White hat, shaking young woman who could barely speak to me and definitely couldn’t look me in the eyes. I remember my handler getting up after she walked away, came back a minute later to say that Y/n had almost passed out as soon as she got outside the curtain. “Oh, yeah, I remember. I tried to sign Jared’s side but you wouldn’t let me.”

Y/n turned to look at me, obviously shocked with those pretty eyes all wide. “You were doing it on purpose? I thought you were just tired and not paying attention.”

“Nah, I was exhausted in Atlanta, but you looked mortified. I was trying to make you laugh.” Obviously failed on that. I chuckled again as Jennifer started curling her hair. “You seem a lot more put together now.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes just a bit. “I’m mortified now too, but I saw you and Jared were gonna be on Lot today so I took an Ativan before I got in the car this morning.” Always nice when people are honest and open about their anxiety problems.

“Well, that’s good. Take a double dose tomorrow,” I teased as Trisha pulled the makeup drop cloth and I stood, looking down at her as panic crossed her face.

“What? Why?” she squeaked.

I could tell she hadn’t been given the pages for our scene the next day. I couldn’t resist a little torture. I just laughed as I left the trailer. “You’ll see when you get tomorrow’s pages.” I met Jared on the Bunker set and he patted my shoulder as we walked up into the library. “First meeting with the new girl went well. She seems a little out of her element but nice overall.”

“Oh, uh, Y/n?”

“Yeah, she is a fan, actually. We met her at the Atlanta convention. She had that Devil’s Trap hat.” Jared shook his head. He didn’t remember her. “She’s the one that tripped or whatever right after I signed her hat.”

“Oh, the one that fuckin’ fainted?”

“Yeah, I think so. She’s still uncomfortable so we’ll have to warm her up.”

“‘Warm her up’, huh?” Jared raised his eyebrows suggestively and I laughed.

“Not like that, you dummy.”

Of course, Y/n was cute, but messing around with the guest stars was a bit of a no-no, and messing with fans was a big no-no. Especially considering that there’s almost nothing to keep a fan from talking...and the open marriage thing needed to stay quiet.

But I was curious about her. Can’t lie about that. So, I asked around. I went to a few other crew members before I went to Andrew Dabb.

“You remember that casting call we did toward the end of eleven? We got a few of the British Men of Letters off of it?” He leaned back in his chair and looked up at me. “We opened it up for a few folks without representation for a couple weeks. CW didn’t advertise it but we did a post on a few acting sites and there was a bit of circulation once the fandom got a hold of it. She sent a video in. She wasn’t right for the Brits, not posh enough, but her accents were good and she was a pretty great actress, so...”

“So, she isn’t an actor?”

“She’s been doing pretty well for the fact that she hasn’t acted in anything before.”

I blinked at him a few times. “Wow. So, she’s completely green?”

“Technically, yeah. But the second unit directors say she’s doing good.”

“Cool. Thanks.” I started to leave but stopped at the door. “So, what’s the track on her character? She stickin’ around?”

“She’s on for five episodes.”

“Is she going to bite it after those episodes?” I pushed.

“We’re not exactly-”

“Is she a love interest? Is she gonna disappear without a trace? Will she at least get an actual storyline?”

Andrew rolled his eyes at me and shifted in his chair. “I don’t know if she’s going to be a love interest. The writers’ room is in disagreement about that. She’d be a good match for Dean, but we’re not sure how the viewers would react. They never really like it when Dean and Sam have women in their lives.”

“So, you don’t even know. Okay.” I was not impressed with that answer so I left him in his office.

I went looking for her at lunchtime, a little after 1. She was sitting at a table in the Craft Services tent, in the corner by herself, looking down at a paper coffee cup. She was really good at making herself small and seemingly insignificant...but it had the opposite effect on me. It made me want to talk to her more. I grabbed a coffee for myself and a caramel macchiato for Jared from the coffee cart.

“So, I asked Dabb where we got you from and he said it was an open cast. You sent a video in but you’ve never done anything else. You don’t even have an agent.” I walked up and sat in front of her on the other side of the table. She looked up and her eyes went all wide. “So you just decided to become an actor in your twenties?” I guessed her age.

She bit her bottom lip for a minute before leaning forward. “No. I decided to become an actor in high school,” she disputed. She looked a bit disappointed as she continued. “I then graduated from high school and decided that it was a stupid dream and I’d never make any headway so I gave up on it and got a real job.”

She did say that she was working retail. “Retail. So where are you from, Y/n?” I took a drink of my coffee as she leaned back.

“Northwest Florida. Little town about fifteen miles from the state line.”

I smiled, remembering a Spring Break with Christian back in the 90s. “North Florida. I spent a couple Spring Breaks at PCB when I was...younger and unmarried.”

She gave a little laugh. “Panama City is about an hour and a half away from home.”

I took another drink, trying to think of something to keep the conversation going. “So you acted in high school, huh?” I asked as I saw Jared walk into the tent behind her.

“Yeah. School plays, Thespians, Forensics competitions, that kinda thing.” I heard about that competition shit from Jared. ‘Competition’ is the key word on that. Apparently, it’s harder than screen acting.

“You did Forensics?” Jared asked, his whole face lighting up. “I won Nationals with my friend Chris in high school.” He came over and folded himself backward into a chair. I handed him his coffee and he nodded at me.

“I did monos. Got second in State, but didn’t make Nationals.” She sounded a little disappointed, but shit, second in State is pretty damn good.

“I did monos, duos, and extemp, but I only placed in Duo. Jared,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

She looked a bit more comfortable with Jared and that made me feel a little bit jealous. I’m nice. I didn’t understand why she was awkward with me. “Y/n. It’s amazing to meet you.”

“Oh, he gets an ‘amazing to meet you’? I didn’t even get a handshake.” I covered the jealousy with a teasing comment.

Jared teased back before she could. “Well maybe I’m just more approachable, dude.”

“You? Giant muscley gym-bro?” I hit back.

“Honestly, I’m five-three so you’re both giants to me,” she joked with a laugh.

“So, Y/n, how long did they sign you for?” Jared asked.

“Five episodes to start. They said they’ll give me more or not depending on fan response. They’ll probably hate me, though, so I’ll be gone by midseason Hellatus.” ‘Hellatus’ made me smile.

“Why would they hate you?” Jared asked. “It’s not like your character is a love interest.” He looked between Y/n and me for a minute. “Wait, Tara’s not a love interest, is she?”

“Andrew said the writers are at an impasse on that one. No, the fans will hate her for one simple reason: jealousy.” I shrugged. “She’s a fan. Some of ‘em probably know her from, like cons and shit. They’re gonna be jealous that she’s here and they aren’t.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ve kinda tried to keep a lid on this from the fan groups. Haven’t told anybody except the family and my best friends about it. Unfortunately, had to stop posting in my Facebook groups when I got the job.” I cringed a bit at the mention of the Facebook groups. Fan groups are a subject best ignored as much as possible.

Jared laughed. “Man, you seem like a reasonable woman so don’t be offended when I say...some of our fans are crazy. You’re better off staying away from the fan sites.”

She smiled. “No, I know how crazy some of us can be. I’ve had some fights online with the tin-hat folks.”

I know I grimaced when she mentioned those folks. Jared did, too. “What is wrong with those people?” Jared shook his head.

She started laughing and it was such a cute, uninhibited sound. “They just...really want you to be gay for each other.”

“Yeah.” She was definitely comfortable and I wanted to take full advantage of it. “So, uh, you get tomorrow’s pages yet?” I asked, smirking. She looked down for a moment before hiding by drinking her coffee. “Yeah, she did. You gonna be okay? You’re not gonna freak out, are you?”

“I will…” She swallowed so loud I could hear it across the table. “...try my best...to not freak out.”

“You look like you’re already freaking out,” Jared said, smiling.

She took a deep breath and let it out as a scoff. “Totally. I am totally freaking out about tomorrow’s scene.”

Jared and I both laughed before I leaned forward a bit. “How about we run lines later?” That wasn’t a new thing for me. I often offer to run lines, especially with the guest stars. But the next words that came out of my mouth were new. “We could grab some dinner, meet up at my trailer, and get the nerves out of the way.”

I was just about to apologize for overstepping any bounds by inviting her to my trailer when she whispered, “That sounds...amazing.” It was this breathy, sexy voice coming out of this sweet woman and I just didn’t feel like I’d overstepped after that, even when she stuttered out, “I mean, it sounds amazing to get the nerves out of the-”

“6 o’clock. Don’t be late,” I said as Jared and I stood to get back to the Bunker.

“What am I gonna do? Go back to my motel to watch one of the ten channels that actually come through clearly?”

“They’ve got you in that Budget Inn, don’t they?” Jared guessed. We have heard a lot of horror stories about that motel.

“Yeah. It’s not so bad. Gotta sleep in the tub to avoid the bed bugs, but it’s cool. Livin’ the dream,” she joked and I laughed as we walked away.

"So...your trailer, Ackles?" Jared asked as we walked away, his eyebrow cocked.

"I'm just tryin' to be friendly, man."

"I know what your 'friendly' looks like and that was not just friendly."

"I just met her!" I argued. "And she's a guest...and a fan! I'm just trying to accommodate her nervousness so we don’t have to do a million takes tomorrow."

"Okay, well...I won't tell Dee, but you should-" I reached out and pushed his shoulder roughly and he laughed as he teetered a bit. "She seems nice, though. Don't scare her away."

I wasn’t planning to scare Y/n away. I wasn’t planning anything except hospitality. I really wasn’t. But she was cute and interesting and she was obviously incredibly attracted to me, so I couldn’t do anything anyway because that might get awkward quick.

No, I was just gonna make a new friend out of the new girl. I’ve done it a bunch of times before. I mean...look at Misha.

She showed up about half an hour early and watched us flub a few takes of this argument between Sam and Dean about Jack and it was fun to watch her expression get more awed with every take. Phil cut us for dinner after a while I jumped down from the soundstage, smiling at the look on her face. “Well, hello, Newbie,” I greeted. “I’m thinkin’ pizza. You good with pizza?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Pizza’s fine.”

I walked away from her, trying to keep everything casual as we went off to my trailer. She ran after me and I slowed down a bit. I was used to Jared and Misha following me around the lot, so I had to consciously slow myself to make it easier for Y/n’s short legs.

“Any dietary restrictions? Lactose, gluten, vegan?” I asked, just to make sure that I wasn’t going to poison her by ordering a pie with pepperoni or something.

“It’s not a pizza without cheese and meats and…” Y/n shook her head and laughed. “I’m a Southern girl. We don’t deal with crazy…gluten-free, meat-free, paleo-vegan...blah, blah, blah,” she finished, gesturing with her hands in the air. It was adorable.

“I thought you were from Florida,” I argued teasingly. “Not really ‘Southern’.”

“And I thought you’d been to North Florida. You should know that Northwest Florida is pretty much UCLA: Upper Corner, Lower Alabama,” she responded and I laughed. Never heard that one before. “That’s not my joke.”

“It was pretty funny anyway. So, you like pepperoni?”

“Look at me. Do I look like I’ve ever turned down free food? Well, except lasagna, but got a...thing with lasagna.”

That threw me so hard I had to stop and turn to her. “What does that mean, you’ve got a thing with lasagna?” I asked.

“There was a bad thing with some really horrible microwave lasagna when I was about seven. Couldn’t eat it for years, now I can only eat it if I make it.”

There was a story there, but I wasn’t ready to push for it. “Wow. Okay. Do not order lasagna. Check.” I opened up the trailer and let her in, grabbing my phone off of the counter as soon as I got inside. I pulled up the speed dial for the closest good pizza place and went into the bathroom to change. It was a mix of teasing her and preparing her that I drove me to change my clothes. Well, change my pants into shorts and take the wardrobe shirts off. I wrapped a towel around my waist and checked in the mirror to make sure the shorts weren’t visible before setting the phone on the sink counter and grabbing the door handle. “Okay, pizza will be here in ‘bout forty, which gives us plenty of time to run lines,” I said, to get her attention before I’d opened the door, so she could get the full effect of my outfit.

Which got me exactly the dumbfounded look from her that I was expecting. She stared. And when I say ‘stared’, I mean it. Her jaw dropped, her eyes went focused and unfocused and roamed over me like crazy. Usually, I start feeling shy when women stare at me like that, but not with her. With Y/n, it felt less like objectification and more like appreciation.

“See, this is why we need to practice,” I said to snap her out of it. I smirked as she cleared her throat and looked off toward the fireplace before closing her eyes.

“Sorry.”

“No, you have to look at me, kid. It’s part of the scene.”

She sighed and looked over at me. “I’m not a kid. I have a kid. I’m a woman.”

“Then act like one,” I challenged.

She licked her lips, cleared her throat again and sat forward. “Please, do keep both hands on the towel, Winchester. One never knows where you hunters have hidden weapons.”

I went into Dean mode like the second nature that it is. “Tara. What do you want?”

“World peace, a condo in Malibu, and a little respect would be nice,” she said, confidence that was definitely not her natural mode leaking out of her. “I mean, I did save your asses in Chicago.”

“Yeah, that’s not how I remember it.”

She laughed out loud and stood. “Of course not. You can’t possibly admit that a witch helped you. I mean, a witch other than Rowena Macleod.”

“Yeah, your mentor, right? Explain again why I’m supposed to trust that you’re a white witch?”

“She wasn’t my mentor. She wasn’t allowed to be. Olivette wouldn’t let me. Shit! ‘Olivette wouldn’t let her’.” Her face fell as she pulled out her pages, obviously upset that she’d blown a single word in her line. “‘Olivette wouldn’t let her. We had to train in secret, but that doesn’t mean I carry her ideals’,” she read frantically.

I smiled as soothingly as possible. “Calm down. It’s a lot better to fuck up here with me than out there on camera. Don’t wanna end up on the gag reel, do you?” She shook her head. “All right. From the top.”

We made it through the scene completely on the second try and she said her lines like she was completely immersed in Tara’s character. It shocked me a bit, actually. No wonder Casting picked her out of a pile of video submissions. She hit those facial expressions and the overwhelming sense of ‘trying to do right without the right tools’ better than I could have imagined. There was so much pain in her eyes when she said, “Don’t trust me. Don’t like me. I don’t care” and it wasn’t even in the script to be anything but pissy.

She asked how well she’d done and I smiled as I pulled the towel off and tossed it across the room to land on the counter. She looked relieved to see my golf shorts. “You did great. You think you’ll be able to stay focused in front of the cameras?”

“Well, if I can manage to not drool all over myself staring at you when it’s just the two of us, I think I can keep my shit together in front of Phil and everyone else.”

I smiled as she carried some of her Tara energy over into her real life. “Ah, so you’re one of those fans,” I teased.

She scoffed loudly. “Oh, come on. You know how sexy you are.” She scrunched her face up in a grimace and looked away. “That was not what I intended to say.”

“Can’t take it back now,” I said, chuckling.

“Oh, how I wish I could,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay, so have they told you anything about the Chicago episode ‘cause I have no clue what’s going on with that. They haven’t given me anything on that.”

They do that sometimes, where they’ll forget to tell folks what’s going on in the episodes before. It’s part of shooting out of order, but it usually doesn’t affect the guests too much...and they almost always told me and Jared in advance. “Right, I’ve got a first draft script round here somewhere.” I went looking around the counter near the kitchenette to find the script and handed it to her. I’d already read it but I looked over her shoulder as she went through it herself.

“Oh, she...is very flirty, isn’t she?” she said when she got to the part where Tara said ‘If we were doing what I wanted, we’d be in bed not a warehouse’. She seemed a bit uncomfortable about it so I smiled and knocked my knee into hers.

“You can handle that, right?”

“Of course I can,” she defended.

“Good,” I said, getting up to retrieve the pizza from the PA knocking at my door. As we ate slices of floppy pepperoni pizza, she pointed out a line where Dean tells Sam ‘Tara was kinda hot in a Khloe Kardashian circa 2007 kinda way’. “Which means…?”

“That’s when she was the ‘fat’ Kardashian,” Y/n explained, looking down at herself a bit self-consciously. “She was still hot, I guess…’cause she knows how to make herself look good with the clothes and makeup and all the stuff money makes easy, but she was not considered the prettiest one.”

It seemed like a subject that made her sad, and I guess I could see that Y/n was what Hollywood considered ‘fat’, but I thought she was hot...and I didn’t like her feeling bad about herself. “Oh, so a chick likes to eat, so she’s not hot? Never understand that.”

“Me either,” she said, smiling as she took a big bite of her pizza.

I made her feel a bit better and that was exactly what I needed at that moment.

The Kitchen Sink Tags- @flamencodiva @sacriceria @lyarr24 @440mxs-wife @nancymcl @mariekoukie6661 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @cosicas-cuquis @queenoftheunderdark @myheartbelongsintz @squirrelnotsam @akshi8278 @muhahaha303 @agirlwithdemonblood @this-is-me19 @mrswhozeewhatsis

#cassie writes stuff #To Have It All series #spn rpf #jensen x reader #open relationship

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missisjoker · 11 months

Text

The entrance to the Afterlife Immigration Office was slightly ajar, escaping energy buzzing and radiating through the heavy wooden door, making Lee Yeon miss a step. The usual annoyed and erratic flow of Taluipa’s power was muffled by something overwhelmingly still, like the air before a thunderstorm. There was a tall, slender figure standing next to Taluipa’s table, dressed in a cassock.

Since when do catholic priests pass through here? That’s new.

The man (a man?) spared him a glance and turned back to Taluipa, “This one won’t do. I need the pretty one”.

Yeon felt scandalized, “I am pretty!”

The man chuckled at the pouting gumiho,and turned back to the old hag,

“Should I?”

Taluipa all but hissed,

“No need, allow me. Lee Yeon, during the lunar eclipse last Sunday, 13 demons broke the sacred seal and escaped the seventh hell”,

“Fifteen demons,”

“And formed a crack.. “

“A fissure”.

“In the Hell gate. This belligerent angel demands our cooperation in closing it because leaking blight can cause an outbreak around the globe”.

The man – the angel - nodded, “That part is accurate”.

An angel?

Of course, no one from Joseon world would ever dare to interrupt the guardian of Samdo River so brazenly.

“An angel wearing a human body?”

Lee Yeon strolled slowly to the table, relaxing his shoulders and smiling in curiosity, trying not to give away the cold tingling in his spine. Taluipa was shaking with fury, staring at Yeon unblinking, but the fox’s full attention was on the guest next to her. The man was young, very handsome, nothing visibly extraordinary except for a faint blue gleam of his eyes that only a Gumiho’s vision could notice.

“Borrowing, with the owner’s explicit permission. Can’t go around in my natural form in the age of ticktock.”

Yeon hummed in agreement,

“True. I guess you know who I am?”

“Of course, have been following your work for a while. Big fan, especially that part where you couldn’t kill one imoogi for six hundred years”.

Lee Yeon unsheathed his sword, pointing at the angel.

“How do you want to be split, vertically or horizontally?”

The angel looked unperturbed, then gestured up and down his body, and side to side, musing,

“Horizontally. Now, do we have an agreement?”

“Agreement on what?”

Taluipa let out a heavy sigh, but the angel spoke before her,

“We need a half-blooded gumiho tethered to both worlds to close the fissure, and it’s either your three-year-old daughter or your brother.”

Thump.

Yeon’s grip on the sword faltered.

“But Rang-ah is dead…He has been reincarnated”.

“His soul is still stuck in that magic purse.”

What?

“It is not his soul, it is his essence…”

The angel’s eyes flashed pale blue, the glow reflected in Talupia’s glasses, making Yeon blink faster,

“Arguing the semantics now, are we? A part of him that gave him life has been given to another child, but his soul is still in that filthy little magic pouch, as it has been for the past 13 years.”

The angel turned to Taluipa who stared back at Yeon, visibly paler.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I not supposed to disclose that?”

The angel’s words sunk into Yeon’s stomach like a meal he couldn’t digest.

“I asked you, ajumma”.

Taluipa’s eyes were soft, almost pleading,

“Not now, Yeon”.

“I begged you!”

“Should’ve begged harder, “ – The angel’s words slashed at Yeon and his eyes started burning,

“You have three days.”

Taluipa slammed her hand on the table, making the Gumiho flinch,

“No matter how much you threaten me in my own office, it can’t be done”.

The air suddenly shifted around them and grew colder, viscous like tree sap, drawing out all noises, leaving only the muffled beating of Yeon’s heart echoing in his ears, and a sudden rush of fear made Yeon’s hackles rise. The angel never moved, never raised his voice, the sound of it floating around them like a wisp of smoke, but it still knocked the breath out of Yeon’s chest.

“So far, all I did was ask politely, but if you lie to me again, I will shatter you like glass and piss on your bones. That was a threat, feel the difference?”

Taluipa stumbled backwards and grabbed onto a chair to stop herself from falling, but Yeon didn’t care.

“Is it possible? Is bringing Rang-ah back possible?“

“Once his soul is free from that purse,”

- the angel spat the word as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth,

“the spark of life can be replaced to resurrect him. If your side can’t provide one – I will”.

“Why are you so hellbent on getting my brother?”

“Hellbent?” The corners of the angel’s mouth curled up in a smile as Yeon shrugged,

“You know what I mean”.

“This office with astonishingly subpar performance needs a well-trained guardian that can do his job, and your brother is a great candidate. He came to me once, but I wasn’t convinced he deserved the intervention. Luckily for both of you, I’ve since changed my mind.”

“He came to a church to pray?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that a prayer. He was shamelessly drunk, broke into the church in the dead of night, scared the nuns, and asked my priest for a way to get you back to him. Even promised he’d serve our Lord for all eternity. It was very touching, I almost shed a tear. And after he sacrificed his life for yours, I’ve decided he deserved another chance.”

“But it’s been 13 years!”

“Is he my brother or yours?”

Yeon stayed silent as the angel continued,

“I’ve been busy. But, now the time has come. Besides, I doubt you’ll willingly agree to have your toddler close the fissure instead, and I’d rather not kill a member of endangered species. And the only alternative to the binding spell is divine judgment.”

“Divine judgment?”

The angel shrugged,

“I nuke the city.”

Taluipa, who had been forgotten for a moment, stared at the angel in horror,

“You will kill many innocents in the process!”

“You let three hundred innocents die by imoogi’s plague to save one woman’s life. Do not lecture me”.

The woman straightened her shoulders and smoothed non-existent wrinkles on her vest, regaining her posture.

“I will ask king Yeomra”.

“And I appreciate that.”

The angel moved so fast Yeon had to fox-run to catch up to him outside,

“Is it going to kill him?”

“What?”

“The binding spell, is it going to kill him?”

The angel stopped,

“No, but it will hurt like a bitch”.

“And when it’s done, what then? “

The angel gave Yeon a long, stern look,

“Why are you so hellbent on NOT having him back?”

Lee Yeon swallowed hard, Rang-ah’s Bye, huyung, clawing at his heart again, making the old wound bleed,

“I would love nothing more than to see Rang-ah again, but I don’t want him to be locked in a slave contract with you”.

The angel waved him off,

“It is not a slave contract, it’s not even a full-time job offer. More of a …. Retainer in case of future emergencies.”

“And if he refuses?”

“He won’t; that boy was born to be a hero. I expect great things from him.”

“He is only half-blood, what if he can’t… “

“Why would I doubt him? Faith is my business.”

With that the angel looked up to the sky and nodded Yeon goodbye,

“Now if you’ll excuse me,”

And suddenly the heavy presence was gone, the pressure lifted and the sounds of a busy city reached Yeon’s ears again.

He found himself standing face-to-face with one very, very confused priest.

“Oh, sorry, she does that sometimes.”

“She?”

“Yes, the angel you’ve just spoken to. So, um, I’m Father Yohan. Would you mind if I use your phone to call a taxi?”

#Lee Rang #Lee Yeon #tale of the nine tailed #tale of the nine tailed 1938 #the tale of the nine tailed #fix it of sorts #cause f the writers that's why #2020 Rang deserves better #@a-wholelotta-love

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melonba11s · 1 year

Text

Accidental Reunion (Reupload)

Slightly more humorous, Fox has a bit of a weird guest on stream.

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked

Contains: Torture, Breast-specific torture, Canon typical violence, cult/religious themes.

The Fox was no stranger to weirder victims. Really he had to do next to zero work to get captives for his streams. It just so happened that sometimes he’d see someone out of his stock for an upcoming auction, and he’d decide they’d be better off in his care. For however many shows they lasted. He remembered the one who had been withdrawing off of their schizophrenia medication, he had kept them around for a few shows just due to how entertaining it was to play with and abuse their mental state.

Sometimes though, he had to do a bit of digging, because someone in Chat would ask for something specific. Usually one who donated a lot, which usually meant a lot more would come if he catered to their tastes. This time though, someone who was a little newer, perhaps a bit younger, had a request.

“Big Titty Goth GF PLSSSSS” They had spammed, each time they requested they had donated more. He half wondered what kind of brat had accessed daddy’s credit card. But, well, he aimed to please.

This girl was what he had managed to find, and he had made sure to get her some outfits to match the Goth Aesthetic too. Fishnet, little bat nipple rings, skull pattern on the underwear. Not his usual choices, but they’d do.

Besides having those fat tits that had been begged for, she also had a soft belly, and thick thighs, which pushed and almost bubbled up over the fishnet. And across her skin… strange tattoos he had no idea could mean. A strange circle with foreign letters, what looked like an almost tear drop shape, plus so many others.

He had stopped staring at her long ago, as he began to set up for the show. But he could tell her eyes never left him. She had been silent, not asking any questions, just staring. He hoped she wouldn’t be like this the entire time, that would be boring…

With a few quick clicks, a little icon on his screen told him he was live, and he quickly stood up straight as his lovely fans came pouring in.

“Good Evening, everyone! As you may recall, on our last stream, our generous patron H0110W kept requesting a specific kind of victim.” He stood to the side, letting the woman focus into view for the camera. The chat lit up immediately.

M3L0NB4115: MOMMY MILKERS.

H0110W: holy shit, perfect! Here’s a little something to start us off!

N3K0_M: You should cut her eyes out, if she keeps glaring daggers like that. Teach her a lesson, daddy <3

Woundfucker88: Ugh, wasn’t that other one banned?

Fox’s ear gave a flick as a donation pinged in. Ten Thousand dollars. A nice start indeed. Whoever this viewer was, they certainly had money. He gave a bark of laughter at Woundfucker’s annoyance.

“Well, I’m glad you like her. I hope you’ll enjoy watching her bleed just as much. Also, yes, Melon is back, I turned off text to speech donations so I figured she’d be harmless now.”

He gave a wink, hearing the woman’s breath hitch behind him. He ignored it though, not sparing her a glance as he glanced towards his wall full of tools.

“Now, let me know what you all want to see first! Remember, we want to make her last, so nothing lethal…. Yet.” He watched as the requests poured in, most paired with a nice donation.

Woundfucker88: Fair enough, it is your show. Why not carve something into those tits?

Diamond: Why stop at carving? Just lop them off.

N3K0_M: That goes too fast! I wanna see the ice pick used again, give her some more piercings!”

M3L0NB4115: Skewer them together, like shishkabob.

That one piqued his interest, and his ear flicked a little.

“Oh? Yes I haven’t done that in a while… Nice collaborating, everyone…” he mused, walking off camera to grab the ice pick.

“Chat thinks you need some more piercings…” he smiled cruelly under the mask as he waved the thin, deadly weapon in front of her.

“... You’ll regret this.” Was all she said, holding his gaze. Fox was no stranger to threats, but something about this one made his spine tingle. He narrowed his eyes, and slammed the pick into her left thigh, managing to draw out a sharp squeal.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He affirmed, twisting the metal through her flesh, her scream turning into a cough as she grit her teeth, glaring at him. And then she began speaking again. No pleas, no insults, nothing…. In english even.

Instead, it was a slow chant in a foreign language, steady as the river of blood pouring down her leg. Fox stood straight, wrenching the ice pick out of her skin as he did. She halted her speech for a moment to hiss in pain, before she continued.

He glanced back towards chat, wondering their reaction.

N3K0_M: LOL She iz trying 2 Summon A DEMON!

H0110W: She had a nice scream when you first stabbed her! Now move onto the skewering! And afterwards, maybe a little blowtorch action on them ;)

M3L0NB4115: I think I recognize that language. Or what she’s saying. It reminds me of St*****-

“Melon, you have been warned about that name, it’s blocked for a reason. Mention it again and you’ll be permanently muted.” Fox said, before crouching down. That one really annoyed him. But back to business. This was H0110W’s request, so he may as well follow suit with what they wanted.

And indeed, he was able to get more screams out of her as he plunged the icepick sideways through her chest, making her writhe and yell as he pierced her breasts together, leaning forward and twisting one of her nipples between his claws for good measure.

For hours, the requests continued in, and between her screams, she kept chanting in that same language, though her voice grew more hoarse as time went on. And she seemed to grow more panicked the longer she chanted.

N3ko_M:“Make her eat part of her tits. You cooked it just for her.”

H0110W:“Use the pliers and pull those nails off.”

Woundfucker88: “Do you have any liquid nitrogen left from last time? Pour some of it onto her legs.”

M3L0NB4115: “Knife time! Keep it classic! I wanna see a heart!”

Diamond: “Fuck the hole in her leg, make it bigger.”

Adrenaline coursed through him as he continued his work, loving all the different screams he managed to squeeze out of her. But, she was starting to bore Chat quite quickly.

N3K0_M: Can you get her to shut up? I’m sick of hearing her stupid voice.

H0110W: She’s talked enough, cut her tongue out. Let her choke to death on her own blood for the finale.

M3L0NB4115: No, Don’t kill her. If you kill her it will be complete, St**** will come-

“M3L0NB4115’s has been muted indefinitely for saying banned content. Thank you for using the AutoMod Bot!”

“Your wish is my command, H0110W.” Fox said, procuring his reliable knife. She was talking even faster now, mumbling that strange language before he pried her mouth open. Her eyes were wide, makeup, tears and blood streaked down her face. He leaned forward to lick them up, humming over the combined taste of powdery eyeshadow, salty tears and rusty blood.

Without much more fanfare, he dug the knife into her mouth. It was admittedly a bit harder than he thought it would be. Her tongue was a moving target. He was forced to saw at it, cutting into all other parts of her mouth, as she screamed. While her words were still decipherable, she was screaming her same chant.

And finally, she was silent, except for gurgles and moans, and then choking coughs as her mouth filled with her own blood. Her eyes were trained on him, as steady as she could keep them, as he pulled her tongue out of her mangled mouth.

“There we go!” He said triumphantly, holding it up like a trophy for the camera. In the background he could hear her gurgling, and slumping in her chains. It wouldn’t be long now until she was gone. He watched as final donations pinged in, giving her a lovely little song to die too.

He turned back to look at her again, her eyes now unfocused, her mouth moving wordlessly. Bubbles of blood were coming up from her throat, drenching her front and dying her skin…. Green?

Fox stood still, keeping an eye on her for a bit longer. Just as he had seen it, it had faded. It must be a trick of the light, he’d been in here for too long with only the screens to illuminate the room. Without another thought on it, he turned back to the Camera, raising his arms.

“Another lovely show, wouldn’t you all agree? As always, I am so grateful for your donations and…” his voice faded and he perked up a little, giving the air a small sniff. Sulfur?He watched Chat suddenly light up.

It was moving too fast for him to read individual messages. But there was a lot of “what the hell?’s” going on.

Diamond: What the hell?

N3K0_M: I was just joking about the demon thing, is this some kind of special effect you got going on Fox??

M3L0NB4115’s has been unmuted by H̸̦̣̱͆̈̑ḭ̸̣͆m̴̨̛̲̼. Thank you for using a̸̡͊̚u̸̙̣͌́t̷̡̟̀o̷͍̝̾m̴̢̼̿̾o̴̦̅d̸̗͝ ̴̖͗̕ḃ̸̰̦͛ǒ̵̂͜͜ẗ̴͍͇́.

M3L0NB4115: Me next.

He turned back towards his victim, and was met by the sudden eruption of a wall of green flame. It blasted him back towards his set up, and he hastily grasped for the keyboard, his first instinct to end the stream, before he struggled for the call button. In his panicked state though, he kept missing.

The roar of flames grew- Horns. Horns were appearing. Fox could only stare in fear as from the flames, a form appeared. A form all too familiar.

“N-No… You’re Dead.” was all he could say, as those malice filled eyes appeared, staring into him. “YOU DIED. YOU CAN’T BE.” Fox looked around, his eyes landing on the door. He needed to run, but his body wouldn’t move.

“Run. RUN.” he was screaming still, at his own body to obey him, as Strade, new, remade, with a familiar gaping hole in his chest, towered over him now. A smile spread across his face, as recognition flickered in those acidic eyes.

“Mein… Fuchs… Did you want to see me so badly?” he rumbled, his voice as rumbly as distant thunder. And as painful for Ren to hear as nails on a chalkboard.

His body finally deciding to obey him at the sound of that voice, Ren made a mad dash for the door, his footing slipping on the blood coating the ground. The Door. The Door. He needed to make it towards the door.

But it wouldn’t open, as he yanked on it so hard he felt his shoulder pop out of socket. He yowled in pain, but the door wouldn’t budge still. It was shut tight. Two clawed hands enclosed his shoulders, digging into his skin, drawing blood, sending coursing pain through his empty socket.

“Mein Fuchs… The first to give me a sacrifice… To summon me… I should have known we would see eachother again.”

Ren couldn’t bring himself to turn around to look back into those eyes. He could only stare at the door as it got further and further away. He was being pulled away from it.

“We have much to catch up on, ja?”

#TPOF Fox #Demon Strade #Strade

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maxparkhurst · 1 year

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♬ - DIRGE - a habit, hobby, or obsession they can’t seem to shake

Max pushed herself up and reached into the side table’s drawer. From it, she procured a metallic tin. It was vintage; time had chipped away at the paint and melancholy faded the printed fox’s color. She popped it open and offered the cigarettes inside to the Guest with an enticing shake. Accepted or declined, it mattered not for as soon an answer was given she flopped back into the chair. Her chosen vice tucked between her teeth as she fumbled with her matchbook. She took a heavy drag, tension uncoiling from her shoulders, and blew out a plume of smoke in response to the Guest’s question.

“When you are left alone in both silence and solitude,” she mused, tapping off a mote of ash, “You start to forget things. Faces. Names. Sounds. ” She rested her head against the chair as she stole another puff. “It is only your thoughts and the deafening silence that keep you company. So, you forget that anything existed beyond the dark and quiet. And then everything becomes okay.”

The cigarette absently burned between her fingers, dusting the chair with ash and staining the air with soot. Tendrils of smoke tugged at the edges of her cordial smile until it eventually faded. “The outside is so much… Brighter than I remembered” She closed her eyes. A furrow creased her brow. And her voice struggled to reach above a whisper. “Louder.”

“I needed a tether,” she continued, peering at the fire with half-lidded eyes. The cigarette in her hand had burnt itself out. “Else I would drown under the weight of an open sky.” She flicked the butt into the ashtray.

“Some habits won’t die quietly.”

Thanks for the ask @theblackmourninquire

#asks and prompts #| Smoke and Mirrors |

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starlyht · 1 month

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🛁 (Fox/Hartley - I didn't see u Rb this but I am Rectifying that)

👻୧‿︵‿︵ Send me 🚿 to join my muse in the shower or 🛁 to join them in the bathtub.

for once fox is happy to take his time in the bath, washing away the unpleasant murk of swampwater they'd traveled through. they'd gleaned nothing new with no signs of the hag in question and decided before the sun sank too low to make their way to one of the inns within reasonable proximity on the road. his thoughts were a blur of questions, if perhaps the creature truly was dead and he had overreacted, or if he ought to get used to looking over his shoulder for the rest of his damned days.

his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the washroom opening. he was about to make a fuss about being rushed, but his protestation died in his throat when he recognized the figure. it was not a disgruntled guest, for certain. nor was he entirely displeased when he heard her start to remove her clothes and slide in in front of him.

the thief made a face and flicked some soap suds at her back and hair. he said, only half joking, “you smell like swamp.”

#🦊 interaction.#🌠 ask.#miidnighters

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familylightfox · 10 months

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LITTLE MUSE FACTS.

Instructions: fill out the questions about your muse, repost, and tag as many people as you want!

1) What does your muse smell like?:

Volt naturally smells of Ozone, but not in an overwhelming sense. It's the scent that one might smell right before a lightning strike in the middle of a thunderstorm. He also has a more earthy scent due to often being out in his garden when not tending to guests at the Inn. After a shower, the earthy tones are replaced with soft lavender.

2) How often does your muse bathe/shower?:

Showers are at once a day if he can manage, but he has gone longer without. He just prefers not to. The longest (without being held hostage) was three days and that was just because one of the village festivals was in full swing and he didn't have the time. Thankfully he doesn't really have a problem with body odor.

Baths are something he does once in awhile as a luxury. Just sit in the tub and soak. Nine times out of ten it's a bubble bath.

3) Does your muse have any tattoos or piercings?:

He has both his ears pierced twice. The lower hole usually has small hoops and the upper one has gold studs. Occasionally he changes out the gold stud for a variety of different studs depending on the occasion. One of his favorites is a rainbow stud for pride month.

The only tattoo he has is one that can only be seen in UV light and it's his project line with the number in which he was from the creation process on the inside of his ear.

4) Any body movement quirks? (EX: tapping heel, shaking knee)”

His tail wiggles when he's excited. Much like a feral fox, his tail is very expressive and will move in more of an S pattern than a wag. When he's upset, there's more of a chance it will flick but he will also flex his claws.

5) What do they sleep in?:

Absolutely nothing. Doesn't matter the season or the temperature, Volt does not wear a single thing to bed and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

6) What’s their favorite piece of clothing?:

He has two. One is his collar, which is a soft, flexible leather that has two gold hoops on the ends. They're held together by a metal lock with an indented heart in the center of it. This is the locking mechanism, but not just anyone can come up and take it off.

The other is a worn black hoodie with an embroidered magenta chaos emerald that has the right arm sleep sewn back on. It was a gift from his last companion that he will never get rid of.

7) What do they do when they wake up?:

Volt's routine is simple. He gets up, makes his bed, showers, and gets breakfast made for Harmony when she gets up. Then he starts a load of laundry along with a pot of coffee for the guests that might be checking out that day.

8) How do they sleep? Position?:

He's a side sleeper when sleeping by himself. More often than not his legs are curled up a bit close to his body and his tail covers most of his lower half, even with a blanket on. If Harmony is having a bad dream, she'll occasionally come in and he'll lay on his back so she can lay with her head against his chest.

Romantic partners, sometimes he'll be the big spoon, sometimes he'll be the little spoon. More often than not, he'll sleep facing them and tangle their legs together while likely holding a hand.

9) What do their hands feel like?:

One hand is solid metal, but it's a smooth metal. Also warm to the touch no matter what the temperature is due to the nanites that freely move about on it. The synthetic finger pads are soft and pliable just like a natural one but you can tell they're not organic.

His other hand is mostly soft with a few rough patches on the finger pads. His palm pad is similar but he's always very wary of people touching his hands due to the extreme sharpness of his claws.

tagged by: @stardusted-hearts

tagging: Anyone who hasn't done it and has like 15 minutes.

#journal page: queue #gun file: headcanon #ooc #voltage lightfox headcanon #dash games

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krazycakes · 2 years

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in truth, I never was the protagonist.

but they tell me that I remind them of an extremely cunning fox, and that's the role I'm planning on embracing until I'm satisfied.

a bright light engulfs the individual as they expected, it's all going according to that equally compelling sorcerers vision. though without a body, his abilities do not fail to impress.

the half-demon finds themselves in what resembled a courtroom, many eyes fixated on them.

"oh dear, did something go wrong, barbatos?" the red haired "guy" questions another being that stands a little bit behind him.

"I'm afraid so, my lord. I apologize for the slip-up." "barbatos" responds, feigning shame as he slowly lowers his head, imitating a curt bow.

'I feel like he knows what just entered his timeline. oh well, he's just one obstacle to tackle, nothing too hard.'

"oh.. oh! anyway, we are terribly sorry for ignoring your presence, it is just that, your arrival was unanticipated!

I am Diavolo, ruler of this realm,

as stated before, we did not expect you to pop up in front of us, and I know how confused you may be right now.

but fear not! for I, Diavolo, welcome you with open arms! it is to compensate for pulling you from whatever you were doing before this!"

"I'm not exactly bothered by whatever just happened, my lord." the guest states.

'oh, good, they have manners' a certain prideful demon muses.

"I just don't think a welcome compensates for my sudden arrival, after all, can you ensure this will just be some round trip around your realm and I can go back to my world easily? please think about it."

'I take it back.' the demon lightly scoffs, enough to not let others notice, but a certain blonde did.

"oh.. I.. I suppose I haven't thought about that.." diavolo grimaces.

"let me introduce them, lord diavolo." the ravenette stands and walks to clear the distance from him and the new guest.

"I am Lucifer, the avatar of pride, and i--"

"you seemed like you're named Lucifer."

"excuse me--how dare you interrupt--" "sorry for interrupting, just do your speech or something--"

"what's taking so loong? are you two done yet--" "SHUT IT."

EWWWW WHEN DID I WRITE THIS

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specialgels · 5 years

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Also the murderers who pass you by on the street.

#guest muse: big bro yuri #wishes for eternal rest (wilardo ;; oplos)#reborn corpse god (polka ;; theoma)#fox eared miko (sakura ;; yinghua)#candy and sweets (letty ;; ameko)#black wings of dread (ruphas ;; maftera)#world devouring ruinator (nidhogg ;; kairyo)#cheerful and deadly smile (misaki ;; aimara)#scion of lorelei (luke ;; hiyoko)#silver wolf of urah (bronya ;; volk)#out of the ordinary ;; dash commentary #lemonxgels #gcrdenofpixels #[why do I have so many murderers this is like half my muse count-]

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mythvoiced · 2 years

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@jeoseungsaja | I’M?? FKDLH i’m sorry :’3

---

“I’ve known him longer than you have.”

It’s a debate no one had invited her to start but judging from the child-like urgency with which she throws it at his chest, it’s probably important enough to her to warrant an explosive start into a conversation that doesn’t have to exist.

“And he knows I’m trustworthy, that’s why. If anyone’s to blame for Mr Rang worrying enough to send me to check up on you, then it should be you. I don’t see why you should even be allowed to make him worry like this, so why don’t you think about that?”

#jeoseungsaja #the half fox;guest muse #the half fox;yuri #interesting how far a string can stretch when you don't know it's there;yeo & rang #IT'S--- IT'S BECAUSE I KIND OF-- REALLY LOVE HER LOADS AND I WAS CURIOUS IF THERE WERE ANY RESOURCES AN--#AND I AM SO SHAMELESS I JUST INSTANTLY THOUGHT 'OH GOD WHAT IF I THROW HER AT YEO' BECAUSE I JUST #LOVE THIS INSANELY KICKASS UNIVERSE AND STORY YOU ALLOW ME TO BUILD WITH YOU AND I CAN'T? GET ENOUGH OF IT?#TO THE POINT WHERE MAYHAPS I AM A LIL TOO ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT ADDING YET ANOTHER ELEMENT--#I HOPE THIS IS OKAY PLEASE ABSOLUTELY FEEL FREE TO IGNORE IT--#I'D DIE TO SEE YEO INTERACT WITH YURI I GOTTA SAY THAT BECAUSE?? I LOVE YEO SO MUCH AND I JUST??#i'm obsessed with your muses in that typical way where i can't stop wondering about what they're like in given scenarios and with #certain people BUT THAT ASIDE YESH HELLO ♥#;queue

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abeautifuldayfortea · 3 years

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Birth Pt. 1

Summary: Rosie delivers her fourth child, SR 1427. Tolkien barely writes about women. also read as: we need some strong women characters. Written with my OC Estella (by canon, Merry’s wife), but you can change her name to YN if you wish (InteractiveFics or Word Replacer II). Written hastily, will not edit till next week.

Warnings: Childbirth, blood, mentions of death

A/N: A self indulgent fic about the use of ergot as a vasoconstrictor before the advances and application of oxytocin in modern medicine to control severe postpartum haemorrhage. Severe postpartum haemorrhage is considered to be an obstetric emergency and time is of the essence. Historical use of vaginal douching, ergot or ‘labour tea’ as it was known and vaginal packing with rags are recorded to reduce the mortality rate of women experiencing PPH. Blood transfusion was also an effective method of treating PPH, but I doubt that hobbits would have known about this as they were fond of simple things and disliked machines more complex than a mill.

Fun fact: LSD also happens to be derived from ergot alkaloids. Ergotism was also known as St Anthony’s Fire. Don’t do drugs.

You can read more about the historical management of PPH here:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1633559/

https://mro.massey.ac.nz/bitstream/handle/10179/3299/02_whole.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y

Words: 1411

The air hung low in the artificial darkness of the room. It felt too small, as if she was a burgeoning whale growing until the walls of smial that cradled her would shudder and the earth about them collapse. On the bedside table the preparations had been made. The linens and towels, each meticulously washed were pressed and folded. Upon the floor, a bucket of water rippled to the rhythm of soft padding of feet outside the room. She smiled, Sam had always been the more anxious of the two of them and where he could not follow, his feet would bore ruts in the floor. This was not at all Rosie’s first child. In fact, it was her fourth and at this point she rather cheerfully opted to call herself an ‘experienced amateur’ on the process.

This time, she had not felt the warm fluid run down her leg until her visiting friend, Estella had gasped at the liquid pooled by her feet. In a whirlwind that Rosie barely remembered she was swept up in her husband’s strong arms and laid her upon the bed before he was shooed out rather unceremoniously.

Then all too soon for her liking, it began. The one thing that Rosie certainly did not miss was the pain. As she pushed, she moaned with the feeling of being rended from the inside out with a rake, of tearing and burning as if her skin could no longer contain the spontaneous combustion within. The contractions came and went like the coming and going of the tide, only much faster. She felt as if the world about her continued to spin at a dizzying speed. Round and round the stars in her mind roared past and the aging of the world unravelled as the room filled with scent of her sweat and tears, hanging stagnant.

The brief feeling of a cold cloth applied to her forehead every so often was a temporary relief. The heat and the stuffiness of the still air nauseated her and the urge to throw up bobbed just below the surface of her sanity. Distantly, like white noise underwater, she registered the sound of encouraging words formed on familiar lips, but the language itself was lost to her and in that moment, surrounded by familiar faces of her friends, she was truly alone, walking upon a road of motherhood with not much at all to guide her. Rosie was not afraid, but that did not make her fearless and though she was alone, not once did she cower at the journey. Instead, she pushed forward with grim determination.

How much time had passed, she did not know. With a final push, the child slid free of her and Rosie sobbed silently into her wet pillow with the heaving exhaustion and the feeling of emptiness that filled her. “Another beautiful bairn, Rosie! A lovely, sprightly lad! May I?” Estella asked as she gingerly passed to Rosie the new life that lay, squalling, wet, red and wrinkled beneath the muslin towels. And seeing his tiny form cradled there in her arms Rosie was enthralled in the wonder of that singular moment. She nodded as she nursed her newborn, half awake in bliss and tiredness, knowing what Estella was asking permission for. The sensation of something being tugged and the wet mass of the placenta slithering out of her and against her thighs.

Someone had left the room and invited in the light and the fresh air and with it came Sam. In half a moment he was by her side and behind him toddled little Elanor Fairbairn, a spry four years old and curious as a fox. Her siblings were surprisingly sound asleep in the breaking dawn.

A slight smile came to Estella as she turned her attention away from the loving couple, leaving them to their quiet whispers as they tended to their love. The labour was a long one and lasted all through the evening and to the morning. Like a garden it flowers, she mused as she ran her fingers over the placenta. It was whole. She let out a breath of relief. Everything was progressing just fine.

And yet she paled at the piping voice of Elanor. “Mummy’s bleeding.”

The sheets were stained with a growing pool of red and Rosie cried out in surprise. Never had this happened to her before in her other children. Sam looked searchingly at Estella for answers and his eyes held her in that plea of desperation.

Save her.

But Estella did not have time to explain as she looked him evenly in the eyes. Her breath shuddered as she clamped down on the visceral fear in front of her. “Sam, I need you to boil the water and brew some ergot tea. Keep it in the water for three minutes, but not more. Get me as many towels as you can.” Her hands shook slightly as she fumbled with the jar of ergot, struggling to find the clasp on its lid. The dark contents in its clear container defied her, so close and so far, mocking her in her incompetence. Measuring out the ergot hastily, she handed it to Sam who took it wordlessly and disappeared to the kitchen.

An aide ushered Elanor out of the room.

“You’re going to be just fine, Rosie. I need you to lie back down again and slow your breathing. Can you tell me what you see on the ceiling?”

They had attempted to douche Rosie at first but where they cleaned, the blood seemed to return and so they resorted to packing her with rags torn hastily from the manchester. The flood kept coming even as Estella frantically stuffed the pushed the cloth into her and yet the red bled through like an overgrowth of deathly flowers.

The iron tang of her blood filled the air and it struck Rosie then with the very real fear that she would die then. She wanted to send for her husband then so that she may say goodbye, but the air from her fluttering lungs would not carry her words.

Her breath came in quick huffs now and the vision began to blur. Her pulse quickened. The warm grip of a calloused hand on hers that she recognised as Sam’s comforted her and though she could barely see him then, she could tell by the warm liquid on her face that he was weeping.

How cold you are, my Rosie! He seemed to be saying as he rubbed her arms.

But something warm was on her lips, a liquid trickling into her mouth and she swallowed wordlessly as someone ladled tea for her. She did not know what it was, but she did not have the strength to refuse it.

In the dark of her blindness and the room about her Rosie was suspended in time, between the world of the living and the warm pull of a long sleep that swathed her. It was as though she herself were back in the womb of her mother, only it was the smell of iron and earth that surrounded her. She had a thought then that perhaps death was not so bad after all. The drum of her own heartbeat filled her ears as she slipped from the waking world.

Beyond her knowledge, Estella checked her pulse and was relieved to find it had slowed back down. They had weathered the worst of the storm. She eyed the soaked rags at the foot of the bed and between her legs. Now began the long and anxious wait to see if septicaemia would take hold of her. Quietly, as Sam held Rosie and her newborn in a loose embrace, she began the long and tedious work of cleaning up. The bedsheets and the towels she gathered into the now empty bucket to be burned and the jar of ergot left uncovered on the bedside table she recovered, praising Eru as she did so. She was thankful that no convulsions plagued Rosie, for the use of ergot had many undesirable and often life threatening side effects.

Leaving the couple be, she gathered her things and retreated to the guest bedroom. Left behind in their shared room, Sam blearily opened his eyes, swollen from crying and briefly registered a shadow that rounded the corner of the door. A croaking ‘Thank you’, chasing after their form.

Closing her door gently with a click, Estella waited a moment to make sure she was alone before casting herself onto the floor. With a silent ferocity, she wept. Trembling, she fell then into a careless sleep and through many dreams that she would not remember afterward.

Tag list:

@moriamithril

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hela-avenger · 4 years

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poison & wine- part 32

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1482

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: Thanks for your comments, everyone! The last update certainly brought the drama and I know I broke some hearts but it will be resolved! I promise! Only three parts left! With some bonus scenes too!

poison & wine masterlist

Loki had told you to leave. In fact, he yelled at you to leave. As if you had been a hindrance to him and perhaps you are for having convinced him to continue with the lie to this exact point.

You’re stupid.

Incredibly stupid to have thought that this could ever work.

Loki did not love you. Maybe he cared, but he did not love you. You mistook his friendliness for love and now you were suffering the consequences.

You’re humiliated and worst of all you’re alone in a random hallway of the palace far away from the home that you know and love. A home that hadn’t made you suffer like your time spent in Asgard.

Yes, you’re a half-breed, a demi-god, a girl split between two realms.

You’re also an orphan. A traveler with no sense of direction. A flower with no roots.

Most importantly, you’re a heartbroken fool who thought that a royal prince could ever find you worthy of his love.

You didn’t know where to go. You don’t know where you were meant to go. You were too focused on trying to keep the tears at bay to formulate a plan at the moment. All you desired at the moment was to leave this realm once and for all and forget everything that’s happened here.

So why not? Why not leave the realm once and for all? It was what Loki desired just a day ago and for good reason. He had tried to spare you the heartbreak and you had still asked for it.

You pick up your silk skirt once again and start to run.

You somehow manage to find yourself back at the royal stables but any luck you had, which was not much to begin with in the first place, is all gone as the Lady Sif looks up at you in clear surprise.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. “Shouldn’t you be at the celebration like everyone else?”

“Someone has to keep guard,” she answers before glancing at your gown. “What’s your excuse? Isn’t it for your honor?”

You don’t know how to respond. You may be upset but you weren’t ready to let all your feelings out to the first person you found. Especially to someone who showed her clear distaste to the man you loved.

“I had to get out of there,” you answer. “I just… It’s not what it turned out to be.”

“So you came to the stables?” she asks, confused.

Your impromptu plan was falling apart all because of a nosy knight.

“Look, I just came for a ride so if you don’t mind…”

You try to move past her but she’s quick to catch your arm.

“You’re very upset,” she notes. “What did Loki do?”

“Why do you think he had something to do with this?”

“Because I know him.”

“Well, it’s clear that you don’t,” you argue. “He… He did nothing. This was all me.”

You let out a sigh knowing you wouldn’t get anywhere without revealing the truth.

“I fell in love with him, and he didn’t,” you confess. “My heartbreak is my own to blame.”

Surprisingly, Sif relents and lets you go.

“I understand,” she whispers. “The princes have a certain allure, don’t they?”

It takes you a second to realize who she’s referring to.

“Oh,” you answer. “You and…”

“Yes, and we don’t have to speak about it,” Sif remarks sharply before softening. “I’m sure you don’t.”

“I don’t,” you agree. “But I love him and he doesn’t which is why I can’t be here anymore. I have to get out of here.”

“So where do you wish to go?” Sif asks as she pulls her horse out of the stable. “I’ll take you.”

“The Bifrost,” you state ignoring her obvious surprise. “I wish to go home.”

The moment you left the royal hall, Loki turned to his enraged father. He did not dare to offer an explanation until you were far enough away from the scene. Loki hated himself for having to raise his voice at you but it was better than the alternative. You didn’t deserve to be caught in the aftermath of his lie. You didn’t deserve to be hated by Asgard and incur Odin’s wrath because of him.

“Tell the musicians to start,” Loki orders the nearby servant as he hands the case holding the apple for him to take. “And keep the guests away from the throne room.”

With that order done, Loki turns to his silent and angry Odin.

“My father and I wish to discuss in private.”

Odin refrains from snapping at him as Frigga comes into his vision. Just a gentle touch from his wife seems to bring him back from the brink of disaster and allows for Odin to be led into the nearby throne room without uttering a word.

“Now, son,” Frigga begins calmly. “Please explain to us why you’ve caused such disruption on a day like this?”

Loki looked between his mother and Odin unsure of how to speak the truth he had evaded and ignored for so long.

“I lied,” Loki states simply. “I’ve been lying to you this whole time. The courtship and now this engagement…”

Loki pauses and looks at Odin with a sigh.

“You were right,” he whispers. “I made a deal with her to fake a courtship with me and she accepted.”

He can’t help but laugh now, bitterly. It drove him mad trying to figure out when things had suddenly gone wrong. At what moment were fake emotions became real and true.

“And now… Now, things have become such a mess,” Loki exhales as his dark humor fades away. “Such a mess and I have no idea how to fix it because I love her. I love her with my entire being and she doesn’t even know. She doesn’t know that I would follow her till the end of the universe if it meant I could be by her side always.”

Loki turns away from them, his hands shaking, and he doesn’t know why he's confessed more than he had to.

“I love her,” Loki whispers. “And because I love her, I couldn’t force her to take a bite from the Apple of Idunn. She already detests time for having taken her away from her family, a home, and… love. How could I let her take a bite of that apple when it is the last thing she wishes for herself?”

“It was not your decision to make…”

Loki is surprised by this calm response from Odin prompting him to turn around to finally face him. His father’s wrath was gone, replaced by gentle understanding. As if the patient wisdom that Odin’s always described with finally made itself known in Loki’s presence.

“The gift I offered was for the Lady Y/N,” Odin continues. “She should have been the one to accept or reject it, not you.”

Loki opens his mouth to argue but Odin raises his hand to stop him before he could even utter a word.

“No, no, it’s time for you to listen to me now,” Odin interrupts him. “I’ve known all along the game you were playing, Loki. The timing of it all was too convenient to be true, but the lies and stories you wove to explain it all were convincing. They were convincing because in brief moments of clarity you two were speaking the utmost truth about the way you perceived and felt for each other.”

Odin glances over to Frigga who offers him a small smile.

“When I spoke to Lady Y/N after the incident of your tournament match, a tactic I hoped to unveil the trickery you were pulling, she met me strong and unafraid. She further revealed the loyalty and trust she held for you as she defended you quite strongly.”

“I already know this,” Loki tells him.

“I know you do, but what you don’t know is what she told me afterward.”

Loki waits for Odin to tell him but the Allfather remains silent.

“What? What did she tell you?”

“That, my son, is something you will have to hear from her,” Odin answers with a hidden smile. “I have spoken more than enough on her behalf. I believe it is time you have an audience with her. Tell her how you feel and allow her to do the same.”

Loki doesn’t trust Odin’s genuineness in the situation but a glance to his mother reveals that he should as Frigga nods for him to go.

“We will make excuses for you and Y/N’s absence in the hall,” Frigga tells him. “Go after her!”

Loki doesn’t need to be told twice as he quickly runs out of the throne room in search of you. There were many places you could be hiding in, but Loki doesn’t get the chance to look at any of them as a flashing of lights on the horizon catches his attention.

The Bifrost.

You were already gone.

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420 @pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15 @oneprolificqueen @nikki-who-likes-coffee @fandomrelative @nikki419ninja @onedollarduck @help-i-need-a-social-life @ephemeraljade @catsladen @amwolowicz @captainmarvelnerd @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi @defunctcherrybomb

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @moonlightprime

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lucreziaborgiagf · 3 years

Note

HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

#arthuriana #rey thank u this is the best ask ever #i got so carried away i’m so sorry #the ghosts were just a game of ‘i love these characters and you can’t stop me’#but i’m not tagging them all #just #orkney clan #gawain #agravaine #gaheris #mordred #gareth #the fox is reynard #if you were wondering it is astolet elaine not corbenic elaine #in a more extended version of this her and lancelot best friends #arthurian literature #arthurian legend #bbc ghosts

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spield · 4 years

Text

picking up v (suitor...s enter!)

Hey, hey hey!! So, here’s the latest installment of the picking up! verse! You can read the other “chapters” here. In which Kakashi meets the other suitors. part i - part ii - part iii - part iv

“I’m sorry about that.” Sakura apologized, settling the wine glass down. They’ve barely made it to their reservation, with the stare off that happened between Kakashi and Tobirama back at the lobby.

The two silver-haired (foxes) men kept their composure with small (non-existent) small talk, gauging each other. Sakura believed that the only thing that stopped them from going all caveman was the fact that they knew she hated it.

She was not a prize, damn it.

Good thing they knocked it off and Kakashi and Sakura went on their way. The restaurant they chose limited their capacity to provide a sense of privacy and exclusivity to their diners. Their table sat by the window, inside a small function room.

They just finished their main courses when Kakashi waved her off, “Don’t apologize. I didn’t know you were so popular, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Sakura’s smile strained, thinking of all the male guests in the wedding entourage. From what she heard, Pein will be there. That’s an entire headache right there and oh if only he knew.

“Ah, well. Tobirama’s an old patient. He got shot by one of his client’s enemies after court.”

“Hmm,” Kakashi hummed, “I think I read about that in the newspaper. The Shimura case?”

“Yes —“

“Excuse me, here are your desserts.”

The waiter laid out a souffle for Sakura and a plain vanilla ice cream for Kakashi - which Sakura just found completely adorable.

Kakashi watched as Sakura’s eyes lit up at the first taste of the chocolate souffle, her cheeks flushing with delight. He could watch her eat forever. He’ll give her all the souffle she wants, if she asks for it.

Their conversation picked up, rounding with the details of the infamous Shimura case, and how it shook their nation. With the not-so white elephant in the room, Kakashi decided it’s time to bat it away.

Half-jokingly he asked; “So… are there any other suitors I should know about?”

The Uchiha family for all its riches is a subtle one when it comes to throwing parties. Which is the opposite of the Hyuuga clan. Glancing at the grand displays of 7 foot flower arrangements and number of tables for the pre-wedding party, Sakura guessed it was Hanabi’s family that won out when it came to decorations.

The wedding was tomorrow, this party, according to the invitation, was to allow the two families to get to know each other. Or, looking at the amount of passive-aggressive bragging, to one-up each other one way or another.

With the Hyuugas in politics and the Uchiha in the police force, Hanabi and Sasuke’s marriage seems like a political alliance to the untrained eye. But as Sakura sat waiting for Kakashi to return from the restroom, she could see the couple’s eyes soften at the sight of each other at their own table of honor.

It’s about love - and politics. Not the other way around.

“Please don’t tell me you’re not pining for your ex-husband at his own wedding party.”

Sighing, Sakura rolled her eyes at the droll voice from behind her. From her periphery, a red-head moved and sat across her - Akasuna no Sasori.

“Why are you here?” Sakura’s eyes narrowed at Sasori, “You hate Sasuke.”

Sasori shrugged, his indolence marking his movements. “It doesn’t change the fact that his father invested in our hospital.”

Ah, of course it doesn’t.

It’s love, politics and money - what a trifecta.

For a moment, it was silent between the rivals. They’d met at medical school, both studying under the heavy hands of Senju Tsunade and Akasuna no Chiyo. Sasori had been her senior for a year, before their tense rivarly started when Sakura dismantled his thesis paragraph by paragraph, making them graduate at the same time.

Their rivalry’s legendary. Rumor has it Tsunade and Chiyo still had a bet going on about when Sasori will confess his begrudging respect and hate-love for their favorite student - not that Sakura knew that.

“So should I keep my eyes peeled for a dramatic entrance of a scorned ex-wife tomorrow? Let me know, I’ve got to get my camera ready.”

Sakura’s eyebrow twitched, “I’ll peel your eyes for you if you don’t leave me alone.”

Sasori’s lips twitched upwards, satisfied with poking fun. “And here I was keeping you com—“

“Ah, Sasori-san, I didn’t know you were here!”

The Uchiha Matriarch, mother, or was it back to Mikoto-san now? was a lifesaver. Looking every bit of a matriarch with her pearls and beautiful dark blue dress, Mikoto still held an effortless elegance about her.

Sakura’s lips twitched at Sasori’s deflated expression, quickly masked with impassive politeness. He rose and kissed the matriarch’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss your son’s second wedding for the wedding, Mikoto-san.”

Mikoto took the insult in stride. Sasuke’s first marriage didn’t have a wedding - not of this magnitude of course. Given all the… circumstances surrounding it. The matriarch glanced at her former daughter-in-law, now shooting her a relieved smile.

What a pity she had to leave the family. Mikoto mused. Sakura-chan’s a great woman, smart as a whip with a backbone of steel - perfect for the Uchiha. With a glance around the ballroom, Mikoto could already tell the line of men wanting to steal her away, starting with this doctor. She also saw Congressman Uzumaki (yakuza, if she remembered correctly) lurking about and that lawyer Tobirama.

Mikoto smiled a practiced smile at Sasori, before placing her hand on the crook of his elbow, talking about the new technology Suna hospital has because of their investment -

They want her daughter-in-law?

They could try.

Hand-washing was one of the habits (or coping mechanisms) his former occupation left on Kakashi. Counting backwards from 100, he meticulously scrubbed his hands on the sink. From the cubicle behind him, a familiar figure emerged.

“I see that you lost the face piercings - good look. Must be a hit with the voters.”

Pein knew Kakashi, perhaps even knew what he was before he was a high school teacher (and even during that), and it really shouldn’t surprise Kakashi that he was here. A political gathering disguising as a pre-wedding banquet.

“And you lost the mask - you’re almost unrecognizable.” Pein said, standing next to Kakashi and turning on the sink - drowning out their conversation.

Kakashi picked off a few tissues and dried his hands, his customized face mask sitting snugly on his face. “Heh, it was going out of fashion. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to attend to.”

“Does she know?”

Kakashi paused, his back facing the legislator. Slowly, he turned and faced the impassive face of the shadow leader of one of the oldest Yakuza families in Ame. “That’s none of your business.”

“I knew you prefer older men.”

Sighing, Sakura turned to Shisui and shrugged off his arm from her bare shoulders. “Hello to you too, Shisui. I’m assuming you’re the one who sent her?” Emerald eyes pointedly looked at the lady Kakashi’s politely twirling.

He’d gotten back right as the meals were served and was promptly whisked away by an overenthusiastic lady with a penchant for pointing out their age differences.

Shisui shot her a grin before bowing in front of her with flourish, offering his hand for a dance, knowing that propriety dictates that she can not refuse.

Soon, her soft hand slid into his and he whisked her away for a dance. As they sway back and forth to the orchestra, Shisui lowered his lips to her ear. “You’d be surprised who’s more devious between Itachi and I, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed, roaming the room over Shisui’s shoulder. She found Itachi near the grand staircase, already looking at her with molten eyes.

“You two are persistent.”

Shisui laughed, leaning back an inch. “We prefer, determined. If you don’t mind.”

Sakura sighed, swaying in his arms, “You do know it’s odd if I get married to someone in your family again, right? Let alone my ex-husband’s brother or cousin.”

Shisui’s chuckle reverberated against Sakura’s chest, his lips grazing her ear. “Darling, once part of the family - always part of the family.”

“What are you doing?” Sasuke asked, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

Finally, Sakura had thrown in the towel and bowed out of the reception with a goodbye and a hug with the newly-weds. She had whispered in Sasuke’s ears a request to keep his relatives away from her.

“You still love her?” Shisui asked, daringly, eyes sharp. They were in Sasuke’s room, lounging, some sort of last bachelor’s party with wine and business plans.

“Of course.” Sasuke answered with not a beat missed.

Theirs was a history too long and too sweet to be brushed away. They may have ended but the bitterness of that ending was nothing compared to what they’ve been through. They grew together, loved together, had a beautiful girl together. How could he not love her?

Shisui watched as his cousin’s eyes glazed over, looking inwards, his body language softening before hardening as his coal eyes narrowed.

Itachi stared at his brother as if seeing him for the first time. It seemed they’d underestimated Sasuke’s loyalty. “We’ll take care of her, otouto, you know that.”

“I’ll always love her.” Sasuke reiterated, pointedly ignoring his older brother. He poured himself a glass of wine, remembering how Sakura looked up to Kakashi when they left the banquet. “Which means if any of you fucks up Sakura’s happiness, there will be hell to pay.”

When they arrived in Kakashi’s room, Sakura spilled out all the “suitors” who suddenly emerged after her divorce. Kakashi was pretty sure they’ve always been around, but he kept that to himself.

A doctor, nay, an owner of one of the biggest hospitals in the country - Akasuna no Sasori. Championed by many in their field, saying that he and Sakura are the next power couple of the field.

A lawyer, nay, one of the best criminal lawyers and co-owner of the Senju Co law firm - Tobirama Senju. The contender of the whole Senju family, including Tsunade (who had no apologies to give to Kakashi, she wanted Sakura as her official relative - sorry)

A legislator and a yakuza head - Uzumaki Nagato. Or Pein. Who was frankly just a pain in the ass to deal with. Kakashi still had some scars to prove that.

And of course, the Uchiha cousins. Championed by their whole clan, judging by the way the matriarch and patriarch approvingly gazed at them while they whisk Sakura for a dance.

And then there’s Kakashi.

“I’m just a humble soon-to-be college teacher,” Kakashi started and Sakura almost rolled her eyes thinking that there’s nothing humble about a retired military man who may or may not still be covertly working for the government and instead let Kakashi continue.

“Are you sure you’re fine with me?” he asked. And though he said it with humor laced in his voice, there’s a hint of truth.

Sakura’s heart clenched painfully, and she took Kakashi’s hands. “Are you okay with me? I’m dragging you from your peaceful life and well, into this.”

“Can’t say it’s not gonna be interesting.”

Sakura laughed, leaning against Kakashi. In turn, he wrapped his arm around his shoulder and smothered his laughter against her hair. (He’ll have to make some calls. Get the Hatake estates and businesses up and running. He’s not just. And maybe he didn’t have a yakuza family or a corporation, but he had Sakura- and the only approval he’ll ever need - Sarada’s.)

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tolstoyamericanrevolution · 3 years

Text

Turn Christmas: Hidden in Finery

A Robert Townsend & Arielle Nathan story I was meant to publish awhile back but forgot about so happy late December 17th!!

The problem of forgetting you are trapped is when the trap twists itself around your ankle, and you dare to show your distress. At Rivington’s, she had forgotten about it all, the redcoats and the beatings from Captain Hennely’s wife. In the daze of candlelight and a humorous conversation, she forgot about the war outside her door. She forgot about her role as prisoner & friend, governess & respectable guest she forgot about all the titles given to her when James Rivington made a joke or John André mused a poem out loud.

Arielle forgot about her family being miles away in Philadelphia when Robert smiled at her.

That rare secret smiles that she tugged close to her chest. Robert Townsend had many ways of smiling- the polite line for drunk customers who ranted about everything and nothing, that reserved smile of amusement when Rivington would refer to him as “Robby Boy” or her favourite- well favourite two.

The sly one that would catch the glint in his eyes when something amused him- genuinely unrefined. It could be a joke or a complaint made by a person, or perhaps it was a thought that crossed his mind. Those rare melancholic free thoughts as he laughed to himself about a uniform three sizes too big on a young officer or the invisible ink debacle. Arielle liked those smiles.

The one she loved, was that gentle smile unaided by a raise of his eyebrows or a slant of his chin. No, instead it draped over his lips in momentary content. His witty smiles were regular affairs that fluttered her chest- these gentle ones; a rarer variety as if budgeted and allotted in his monthly account books—emerging when he felt in control when the world stopped spinning, when everything felt in order- as if Robert had not sacrificed all his prospects in a high stakes gamble. That of a spy; that of life and death.

When he first gave her that smile, her heart melted. She realised that the love she thought she had felt previously was nothing because she wanted to imprint this moment in her very being. She was longing for some reception, for some encouragement. Arielle could still recall the way his eyes softened when the coffeehouse was closing, and he glanced up from his books and smiled—not seeing her as out of place in this world of his but rather a comforting part of it, amongst the candles burning low and the day's numbers recorded.

This sense of belonging was not here tonight. Andre was away at dinner and Rivington was entertaining a table of ladies. The one man she did care about was tending to his wares—streets away which at this table felt like oceans away.

Bitterness coursed her chest, gripped at her tongue, forcing her to taste anxiety in her bones and the resentment of this cage. This cage that had deceived her so well until the cards were laid in front of her. Numbers racked up in debt, the men around her smelt like gin and rum, like a pulsing wound under bandages. Toxic and jaundiced.

Captain Hennely, the fool, was in debt and racking it up fast as he insisted on another betting coin. Arielle watched him with abject horror- leading him to snap at her “Shut your damn eyes constantly!” “Judas of a woman!” the two alternating every two minutes. When he lost a round, he slammed his fist down in front of her. If he chose not to bring it down on the table, he could quickly bring it down on her, to her stomach and thighs, causing her heart to patter in her throat.

Arielle could not just leave, to find another table even when she longed for anyone else's company. For if she tried to move he would snap about having to keep an eye on her. That someone should see his victory should learn the value of coin over-etching it out in budget plans.

The man he gambled against was a wolf of a man. Conniving and greedy for anything that glittered. Rivington once told her that he got violent with anyone who tried to cheat him. Oft, dragging them to the nearest alleyway to crash bone against bone. Townsend’s nod told Arielle this wasn't just James’s typical exaggerations. This man focused his gaze on her neck, on her necklace like a fox upon a goose.

Upon the pearl and aquamarine choker, a gift from her parents, the first necklace of significance she was allowed to own; Not to share the diamonds and pearls with her sister or mother from the family safe. Not the gold chains of girlhood. This necklace was her sixteenth birthday present, a present that told her she was now allowed her safekeeping items. The pearls were small white river pearls that circles her neck in singular role while in the center was a cushion-cut aquamarine secured in gold plated brass while hanging from it was a baroque seawater pearl, with its pear shape, that felt like a tear, the size of her thumbnail- small, delicate yet strong.

This necklace may not have been the most costly, but it had sentimental value, it demonstrated when Arielle has first trusted with value herself and now this man wanted it. Hennley failed his bet and had no money to give. Taking the opportunity, the man demanded her necklace to settle all debt- so he could play another night again.

She began to refuse, this was not his to give it was hers- it was her possession. “I apologise sir but this is mine, it is not for sale”. It was then she realised she was still entrapped that she was the property of the crown, that a last-minute cry saying it belonged to her father meant nothing.

He slammed his hand in front of her, the same way Hennley did. Demanding it outright or else that captain would be no longer, and she wouldn’t want that. Oh, see how I care Arielle thought spitefully, at first. Drag him by his guts for all I care this is mine. Her barred teeth in a snarl meant nothing. For every time, her emotions began to get out of check, that another guest may notice- this same captain pinched her hand. “It doesn't belong to you, it belong to the Crown and as you’re exchequer I demand you hand it over”

Protests died on Arielle’s lips as tears pricked her eyes. Her neck felt cold as her possession was stored safely in the man’s hand. “It will fetch for a fair price” he murmured as he passed her. Straight to the market. Away from her hands. Standing sharpley she demanded a coin- a carriage she was going home. Henley handed her a coin reluctantly “be prudent with your travel” he had such a nerve.

No one met her eye, Rivington continued chatting, Andre was still gone and Robert was far away while she was left feeling like a bartered whore- none of her possessions bound to her by ownership let alone honor. Her anxiety fretted- what else will they take from her?

The accounts were in check, the stock for the Christmastide sales was prepared. When Robert Townsend came back to Rivington’s the following day everything felt alright. He was prepared for last minute officers trying to barter the price of rum. He had everything from second hand goods to newer ones. Abraham often critiqued him for his loyalty to his business. Accusing him of not engaging with the Ring fully in order to save his own income. Fool.

That was the only answer Robert would give to it. It is not like he spent nights awake pondering if there was any merit in his words.

There was one thing out of place, however, Miss Nathan’s regular expression of glee, often smiling with some wit on her tongue. Her choleric rants. Her general ability to hold court in the room. That is what made her and Rivington work so well. He would work one half of the room and her th either. Yet while James was intentional- Robert thought it was just Arielle’s nature to challenge, twist, debate and laugh.

Instead she appeared late; strange. Her dress plainer than her regular vibrant colours or patterns. No jewellery around her neck. The most telling was the way she sulked around the room. Eyes dark refuting anyone who came near her. Watery and untrusting. Perhaps that was what concerned him, Arielle was as volatile as he was. One minute light hearted next minute serious, melancholic then temperamental. While he was private however; her face was a stage informing everyone of her mood. Robert didnt know how he felt about the twisting in his chest when he caught her eye.

It felt strange not to have a presence by his elbow, peering down at whatever he was working on. It was all very strange indeed.

Yet; Mr Townsend could not go and talk to her. Risk showing the world their closeness. No instead he would have to make inquiries. The hint came when Captain Hennley- he never bothered to catch his first name, scoffed past her and she scowled, teeth bare like a fox disturbed.

Pouring a glass of port, he delicately placed it next to the man.

“Gambling good, sir?”

“Could be better,”

“is that so?”

“Aye, some wolf like bastard bet me out of my money” Robert cringed but continued.

“I hope you found a way to remedy it” He tried to sound neutral, not generally given to inquiries.

“Oh I did- he wanted the girl’s necklace, she has been in a wicked temper ever since, the King doesn’t pay me enough for this”

Over the next couple of days, Arielle felt herself go from bad to worse. It was not the material object of the gif that mattered. It was this idea of not having any grounding of being trapped. She suddenly became more aware of her limits, of her confinements. Of how much she missed her family. The necklace was a symbol.

Who was her ally?

The bustle of officers, actresses and curious traders made for decent observing; they were like headless chickens on the 24th. Arielle failed to take notice of the man behind her. His hand dropped to her shoulder, startling her with a squeak. “Hush now” came Mr Townsend’s voice “Do not startle all of York City.”

Even now, she felt herself chuckling. “Come”. He was gesturing to the cellar. Leaving first; curious Arielle disappeared from the crowd into the back. Two seconds later, he held out his arm. “Where are you escorting me to, Mr Townsend?” “You will see.”

Robert guided her to his room and with the wit she had left she turned “Now this is not very proper”.

“Look what is on the bed.”

There was a small brown paper package wrapped neatly in twine. It was not very thick, and she could tell there was cloth under it. “Am I to open it” “Well it is a gift, I believe that is what you do with them” Too curious to retort Arielle undid the tie and noted underneath one of his handkerchiefs- the one subtly embroidered with white cross-stitch. Unfolding it, she felt something cold. By God, it was impossible.

Sparkling back at her was her necklace.

“It is not a replica; it is the same one...I traced down Captain Hennley’s contact and made some inquiries the man he sold it to is in debt to me for sharing stock so in exchange for settling our debts I got it back” Robert explained, each word gave her this urge to embrace the living daylights out of him and never let go.

“Before you ask why you were far too miserable for this establishment and I could not have it affecting business” “business? What one?” “the one of my mental state.”

So he was concerned about her. She had an ally.

“I suppose it is a Christmas present.”

“Don’t tell any of the other Quakers” Robert cooed with an amused expression.

“Now, let me put that on for you” gently moving her hair out of the way he clasped it around her neck, his breath warm against it. If Arielle could have melted, she would have. Then he knelt down placing an intense, warm kiss to the back of her neck.

The gesture made her think of customs. In Sephardi culture, a groom as a sign of engagement would gift anything of value, a coin, a ring or a necklace. It was a sign of the marriage that he could support them. It was not limited to the Ashkenazi ring or coin. It could be earrings, or it could be the hunting down of the string of pearls around her neck.

“I won’t tell the Quakers if you won’t tell the Jews.”

With a grin, she added “or else we might be engaged.”

Startled, Robert sharply inhaled before laughing “I think I could think of worse things.”

“Run along, go light up the room again.”

Instead of moving, Arielle sprung up and embraced him. Her head in his shoulder, arms tight around him. Robert’s arms were soon around her. A quiet, warm embrace. Murmuring a thank you, she caught the sight of him.

Robert Townsend was smiling, gentle and unaided.

#12 days of turn #12 days of christmas #turn: washington's spies #turn amc #Robert Townsend #gifts #Arielle Nathan #𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 #𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 #𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 #𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 & 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝

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