#what you’ve lost in the jasmine woods

[aveegrex]

DEITY UZUIS X READER

four-handed tengen, and exactly one wife short to have a handful. now, we shall fix that, shan't we?

genre: smut pairing: the deity!uzuis x f!reader word count: 2,7k cw: voyerism, group sex, cunnilingus, face-sitting, mating press, creampies, fingering, monsterfucking, kinda suggestive bathing, breeding kink, sex pollen (kinda), tengen is a god of fertility btw, cum-eating, a little bit of masturbation

author's note: did I write a fic to make this silly "four hands and only three wives" joke? yes, yes I did. Also, this piece goes not only into my kinktober event, but also to the @h-jime 's monsterfucker event. I'm extremely thankful to all my followers who were patient enough with me and my catastrophic time management. Thank you, loves, and I hope you enjoy this.

aveegrex kinktober masterlist

“And how did a cute thing like you end up here?”

You gulp under his intent gaze, curling further into the corner of a small room. Honestly, the answer was simple - a lone girl lost in the woods while picking mushrooms and berries, desperate for shelter from brutal rain and wild beasts, indicating how far from the village you have wandered. Wet to the bone and with your kimono now all torn from sharp twigs, you’ve been lucky enough to stumble upon an abandoned temple. “A divine gift” you thought to yourself and snuck inside, too caught up in despair to notice someone’s presence

But wording this out to the tall stranger with eyes of cherry is way harder. So you just shrug sheepishly, adjusting your kimono. “Dunno” you mutter, eyes glued to his bare feet. “Sorry”

“Sorry?” he echoes, voice booming over the rain. “Whatcha sorry for, gem? Didn’t say I mind it”

Still, even after his nonchalant reassurance, you hold your sight down. Who knows what a large man could do when the only coherent witness to his deed is that of a little cat on the porch? 

It’s freezing, rain washing all the day’s warmth away, and you pull on your clothes to snuggle deeper, a visible shiver shaking your form. Damned be the curvy paths, you could have been asleep by now by your fireplace, all wrapped in wool and d r y, for heaven’s sake, and with your stomach full, but no. It’s cats and dogs and brawny strangers with little social etiquette for now, so a corner in a not so abandoned temple should do. 

“You’re freezing, gem!” he points out, and you barely hold yourself from grumping on his brilliant deduction. ”Why didn’t you say so? Here, lemme warm you up!”

He’s striding closer and your eyes shoot up, wide and filled with fear. Warm you up? Hell, the judge would be reluctant to take the cat’s word, and you’re scooting away from his nearing form, still unable to make out any features.

“My Tengen!” a creak of wood and a soft worried voice still the man in his steps. “My Tengen, oh, my love, you’re scaring her!”

Your eyes dart to the smaller frame by the door to the hallway and for a quick second it stands just right for you to make out the concerned eyes. 

“Oh, my Tengen” the figure nears, squatting beside you and covering your shaking form with a blanket. ”She’s drenched! Why haven’t you invited her in?”

The man freezes in his place, head tilted to the side. “She didn’t say she wanted in” he’s quieter now, and you turn your sight to the woman whose hand now urges you up.

“I wonder why” another voice, fiesty and sarcastic, chimes in, and you wonder how you managed to miss such a crowd in here for about an hour. "Three wives in and you’re still clueless”

“Makio!” two voices precipitate the newer one and you relax into the second pair of hands, a whiff of jasmine invading your senses. 

The fiesty one seems to ignore her tamers, instead cooing at you with a kind smile. “Come, dear, don’t mind him” she chuckles, and you reciprocate her grin. “God you’re cold, hold on- SUMA!”

You wince as her voice cuts through the thick damp air. A loud bang and timid pattering are heard from the adjacent room, and yet another head (heavens, how much did you actually miss?) pops from behind the door, this time accompanied by a candlelight. 

But before this timid pretty brunette has a chance to speak, Makio ushers. “A bath, Suma” hazel eyes linger on your for a second. ”And towels, a lot of towels!”. She pushes on your waist, leading the way inside the temple, and your scattered mind is too overwhelmed to take in everything as the patter is heard again, the Suma one gone as soon as she came.

You’re too lost in this sudden commotion to register how your poor freezing body ends up in a wooden tub, submerged into hot water among the candlelights and three so differently worried women. 

“So cold! She’s so cold, Hina!” through lidded eyes, quick to submit to relaxation the water provides, you recognise Suma. She’s hovering above your head, wide doe eyes sparkling with worry. “Oh, she’s not gonna make it! I don’t think she’s gonna make it! Hina, what if we’re too late?! Oh, Tengen was so mean to not invite her properly, he should have invited her, and now she’s cold and those berries are lost and she’s probably haven’t eaten anythingandshewilldiebecausesheshungryandcol-”

“Shut up!” and here’s Makio, gently lathering your bruised feet with soap despite her biting tone. “Suma, your babbling is what’s gonna kill her, not that silly drizzle!”

A calm, velvety voice breaks through to your ears, and you turn your dizzy head towards the source, coming face to face with your initial savior. “I’m so sorry for them, my dear” you can swear here and now you’re witnessing the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. “Don’t fight sleep. You’re safe here”

Oddly, no reason not to trust her comes to your tired mind. She’s cooing something about how they’re gonna take care of you, but you just nod thoughtlessly, a foolish smile tugging at your lips, and let your eyes flutter close, relaxing into touch and homely banter. It lulls you to the sweetest slumber, and in no time you doze off, limbs heavy in three sets of caring hands.

…

Still half dazed, you feel yourself coming back to your senses, the sound of raindrops against the wood getting more and more defined. Tap, tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, it’s both persistent and unassuming, gentle in pulling you out of sleep. 

Sleep. 

You’ve been sleeping? 

Where? 

WHERE ARE YOU? 

Eyes blowing wide, you sit up on the very soft (so definitely not your own) futon, sudden rush of horror washing over you. It’s dark, the room barely lit by a very subtle flow of warm yellow from the hallway, but it’s enough to figure out that you’re certainly not home. The walls are empty besides for flowers and ivy crawling up the walls, and you can’t help but wonder how the place seems so well-kept despite the overflow of nature. 

Hesitantly, you push off the covers, coming up to your feet with a barely restrained groan. your legs hurt, and it’s helping the memories of a berry hunt to shine through. 

Oh yes, you were lost. 

But still, what is this place? 

Timid, you cautiously slide the door open, careful not to make a single sound, and step out to the better lit hallway. It’s the same, flowers and ivy blooming all over the walls, but here those are much brighter, and almost … breathing? “No, it’s just the remaining sleep” you tell yourself, tiptoeing to the source of light. 

The closer you get, the bolder the colors are, soft hues of pink and yellow giving way to scarlet, canary and magenta. It’s the smell too, you note, unable to hold yourself from reaching for a burgundy lily, and a stripe of brownish pollen marks your skin. You’re about to wipe your hand when

“Ah, Tengen!”

…

“Yes, yes-ah! Tengen- OH!!”

You freeze, mere steps away from the source of light, a slit in the door promising more questions. 

Slowly, alert of any and all possibly squeaky floorboards, you close the distance to the opening, leaning in to peek inside. There, amidst the abundant rampage of flowers and plants and all trees (inside? trees of wisteria inside?) you see a swarm of bodies. Moving rhythmically, limbs tangled in tantric dance, all pulsating in slow tides, there are your hosts, as you make out already familiar hair and faces. 

These faces though, blooming in blush and heat, are all contorted in bliss. Pure thick bliss, heaving the air with the most erotic gasps and moans, filled with wet sounds, smells so intoxicating, so ripe, so fertile.

One of the bodies comes higher, strong back stretching up, and you barely hold in a gasp. Four hands protrude, two on each side, and they’re all taken by the women who have not so long ago tended to your more prosaic needs. 

There’s Makio, whose hips are stuttering as she grinds on Suma, both latched to each other by their cores, needy whines escaping the brunette’s lips. And two hands tend to them, filling one’s mouth and grasping another’s palm as Makio’s struggles to hold herself up right above her partner. 

Eyes moving to the side, you see Hinatsuru’s face, eyes rolled into her skull as other two hands hold her neck and waist respectfully. Her face gets hidden by a pair of strong thighs, moving rhythmically in all too familiar motion, lower groans and moans being absorbed by the moss on the walls. 

It’s hypnotizing, and even though you’re obviously barging on to something you’re not supposed to see, there’s no shame flashing through your mind. No, your thighs squeeze naturally, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks, and you almost feel welcome to watch the carnal show. 

“Oh, Tengen-” Hinatsuru’s hand wraps weakly around the bulging muscle, and you notice her dainty feet wobbling atop of the man’s shoulders, toes tickled by his luscious platinum hair. 

Tengen. Tengen? 

Oh, that Tengen? 

You remember a towering figure from a few hours ago, the one with a loud voice and heavy step, cornering you in a cold entryway. You had no chance to see his full face, nor to make out an unusual amount of limbs that time, and now your interest peaks, tongue gliding over suddenly so dry lips. 

Apparently, he’s doing something especially skillful, since Hina’s mouth hangs open, giving way to the lewdest sounds. Pollen dances in the air, glimmering in the unknown source of light. Makio rolls her head, pink lips so wet and plump of all the biting they’ve endured, and you see her and Suma shuddering, sweaty tits hanging heavy over her heaving chest. 

You almost miss your own hand gliding down to palm at your heated core, arousal pooling in your lower stomach, weighing down on your neglected folds. You notice the urge, but it only feels so natural to follow it, to give in and touch yourself to the love unraveling before your eyes, until

“Coming in, cute thing?”

His voice cuts through the thick air, making you still your movements like a deer in headlights. He’s still facing away from you, hips still rutting into blissed out Hina, and Makio and Suma seem to be too preoccupied with tasting each other now to care about some peeper, so how?

“My beautiful - ah - wives told me off before” he turns his head and you almost faint of his glory, deep magenta eyes staring right into your soul. A kind grin adorns his face, and he hisses before continuing, landing a fat smack against Hina’s thigh. “For being a rude host, that is. Doesn’t my cute guest want to join in?”

“T-tengen, don’t tease!” Hina whines, but it’s unclear what she’s referring to, rutting against the man’s hips needily. “It’s my turn now-ah”

You rock on your heels, thoughts sloshed together into incomprehensive mush, core pulsating with unattained need, and fuck it, they look so good, they feel so good there, rutting against each other in sync, making the air buzz with overwhelming urge. 

Stepping in shyly under Tengen’s pleased coo, eyes shooting between all the bodies, overwhelmed with the choice, you undo your waistband, letting the kimono fall to the ground. 

It smells of slick and lust there, it bathes you in the fertility of all, of this security in want, and the closer you get to the mossbed, the quicker your pace gets. You’re kneeling on the soft grass, unsure of what to do, but once again, four hands hug you from behind, open mouth kisses pressed to your buzzing skin. 

“She’s beautiful” a whisper to your left ear. “She’s needy” a playful sneer to your neck, and you feel a small hand creeping to your drenched core, dainty fingers ghosting over the slick. Your hips stutter towards the tease, and two digits snake along your folds, gathering the essence before diving in. 

“So responsive” you recognise Makio’s bite, although it’s softer now, catching the moan that falls from your lips. “Let go, sit down” Suma’s playfully cooing from under you (when?), her hot breath tickling your clit, and you give in, thighs splaying on each side of her soft cheeks, a hungry mouth latched to your doused cunt. 

“They’re so attentive, my loves” Tengen strains, his own hips shaking of nearing climax, and you bite your lip as a rush of something hidden deep within washes over you. Hina’s heels are now digging into his back, urging him deeper, pleas of his divine gift stuttering into the ripe air of the room.  

Your own body is too lost in Makio’s lips wrapping around your nipple, in Suma’s playful tongue toying with your clit and entrance, but your full attention’s trained on Hina’s exposed core with thick endless globes of white spilling out of her twitching hole. 

“You’re next, cute thing” another four hands roam your body shamelessly now, squeezing and groping the fluttering flesh, and his lips slot against yours, long tongue drawing moans after moans from your blissed out self. 

Makio helps you down, laying you gently on your back, and Suma’s too engrossed into her feast to let go of your happy cunt, urging your thighs up, swallowing your juices before giving way to her man. 

“P-please” you muster, weak hands flying to his shoulders. “Sshh, sweet thing, I know” he muses, his heavy girth gliding along your folds, firm tip sending jolts of electricity into your needy clit with each bump. “I’ll take care of you too, no worries”

You don’t even think how he’s hard again, only pressing your core onto him, begging him weakly. “T-tengen, please” you almost sob, as he presses into you, hard length stretching you out just right. 

“So responsive indeed, gorgeous” and your ankles on his shoulders tremble, hands clutching onto the strong neck. You register Suma and Makio babbling on each side of you, their lips finding purchase on your neck. Tengen’s two hands tend to you, while other two stuff his wives, making them rut against thick fingers towards another climax. 

It’s all too much, it’s so right, so natural to open your legs wider for him, to dig your fingers into his toned ass, to gasp as his tip finds your sweet spot and abuses it so deliciously, harsh slaps of his crotch and balls stimulating you further into ecstasy. 

You make out a cunt over your face, hazed mind slow to understand that Hina wants more, but thoughts give way to instincts as she lowers onto your face and you taste her sweet release mixed with Tengen’s tangy seed. You drink her up, tongue drawing circles into her cunt, the smell of sex and the feel of Tengen’s cock throbbing inside pushing you into your own nearing orgasm. 

He’s ramming inside, driveling something about how tight you are, how good you’re locking him in. Faster, harder, aching tongue neglected to have Hina squeeze your head with her plush thighs and gush her load all over your face. Faster, harder, sweetly abused cunt clenching around inhuman girth pounding the last neurons out of you. 

“Just a bit more, sweet thing-AH, just like that, uh-huh” they sing in unison, and you moan into Hina’s fluttering core, sound of Tengen’s gasp muffled by the clench of your thighs as he shoots his thick load into you. His thumb rubs at your clit, cock nestled right against your drowning cervix, and you gush, squirting all over the mossbed and his stomach, orgasm making your body seize up in shock and bliss. 

You barely understand anything that happens later, too out of it to even uncross your eyes, hips still twitching of intense climax they’ve gifted you, but you make out one thing before falling into slumber entangled with them. 

“I still have one hand free of wife, cute thing. Mind taking up the empty spot?” MDNI, reblogs and comments are welcome, and say yes to the mating press

taglist: @hoohoohope @justanothernpcartist @the-b-u-n-n-y @muzans to join the taglist, please leave a comment on my kinktober masterlist or dm me (remember u have to have ur age in bio)

© 2022 AVEEGREX, all rights reserved. reposting and copying my works without my consent is forbidden.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny uzui #kny uzui tengen #kny tengen #kny makio #demon slayer #demon slayer uzui #demon slayer tengen #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x y/n #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x female reader #demon slayer x y/n #uzui x reader #uzui x you #uzui x f!reader #uzui x y/n #tengen smut #tengen x you #tengen x reader #tengen x y/n #kny suma #kny hinatsuru #hinatsuru x reader #suma kny

[veteran-fanperson]

Fool's Gold - Chapter 3/10

Previous Chapters -

One

Two

Read on AO3 here

Summary:

The Kingdom of Malayadripuri, impoverished, inhospitable, set in the midst of barren hills, has long been subservient to the Gond Empire. Too beaten down to fight for independence, her people live in abject misery. An order from the Gond Emperor arrives one winter's evening, pushing Malayadripuri to its limits, forcing them to take a stand.

Rama Raju, one of the Royal Mages of Malayadripuri is sent to Tamaramandalam, the capital city of the Gond Empire. His mission is simple - Assassinate Komaram Bheem, Emperor of the Gonds.

Tamaramandalam is a whole new world. Its roads are wide and clean - Neem, Ashoka and Banyan trees growing thickly along the sides, providing a pleasant canopy to walk under. Water gushes out of many beautifully sculpted stone fountains, the smell of sandalwood incense and jasmine wafts from the various temples dedicated to Paidamma Talli. Everywhere he looks, Rama sees opulence - the gold, silks and gems sold on the streets like they were mere vegetables, enormous cattle being fed melons and carrots so fresh and fine, nobility in Malayadripuri would have had them on their tables. Women walk freely alone, bejewelled and perfumed, their laughter mixing with the tinkle of their heavy anklets. Children play happily, plump and well fed, their toys made from Ivory or Sal wood. 

Food is plentiful and delicious even at the cheapest lodging for travellers, rich in spices and ghee, coconuts and cashew. The serving ladies routinely press extra helpings on Rama, but the food sticks in his throat. Everyone is kind and unfailingly polite, and Rama wonders afresh if the cityfolk realise that dogs and crows in their Empire lead better lives than the unfortunate civilians of Malayadripuri. The thoughts enrage him afresh every time he sees the outlines of the Palace against the rising sun, his hands itching to wring their oppressor’s neck.  

+

“I would like to seek employment within, please,” Rama asks one of the Palace guards.

The man looks him up and down and nods, seemingly satisfied.

“Go inside through that side gate and ask for Loki,” he says, scratching his beard, “she’ll decide what to do with you.”

Rama nods, relieved and confused by the seeming lack of questions. They had decided that he would be the one to scout the Palace first, given that his magic made it easy for him to escape if something went wrong.

The place is massive. Rama passes a maze of gardens and little buildings, all strangely deserted.

“Excuse me, where can I find Loki?” he asks a passing maid.

“Oh, you’ve taken the wrong path,” the young girl giggles, “alright, go down the lime walk and past the stables. The Kitchens are further ahead. Loki should be in the housekeeper’s office at about now.”

“Thank you.”

The girl nods and smiles as she disappears.

The lime walk is cool and fragrant, and Rama finds himself stopping every so often to admire the lovely budding flowers. Spring is almost here, and the thick carpet of flowers on the sides of the path make for a charming scene. He gathers up a couple of parijatas, marvelling at their delicate petals. He had only ever seen them in picture books.

He’s passing the stables when he realises he still can’t see the Royal kitchens. Or any other building, for that matter. Just how large are the palace grounds? Confused, he’s about to retrace his steps when he hears scuffling noises from within.

“I should get the bigger share, come on, I did the actual stealing bit!” A man’s voice rings from within, deep and rich.

“I don’t think you took that big a risk, come on…” someone else wheedles.

“Excuse me?” Rama calls. There’s a sudden hush. Curious, he peers inside to see a stable hand and a little girl sitting around a rather large dish on a huge mound of hay, their mouths sticky with what looked like syrup.  

“I hate to… disturb you, but I’m afraid I’m a bit lost,” he begins again, but the stable hand leaps up and drags him by the arm. Rama makes a little oof as he’s made to sit next to him.

“He’s new, he decides.”  

Rama stares at him. Up close, the man is beautiful. Large, clear dark eyes with eyelashes a mile long, wild curly hair and beard, a plain copper nose ring. There’s an impish smile on his face, which only serves to emphasise the fullness of his lips. He’s dressed in a rough looking short dhoti, a towel thrown casually across very broad shoulders. 

“What’s your name?” the little girl asks him and Rama jerks away from the beautiful one’s gaze.

“Rama Raju.” He answers automatically, cursing himself a second too late. An alias would have been preferable. 

“Well, Rama, consider this. This impossible girl - Malli,” the child nods at Rama, her gap toothed smile wide, “She wanted me to steal some baked sweet potatoes from the kitchens and I did-”

“I helped, you idiot.” Malli interrupts.

“But I was the one in the line of fire, so don’t I deserve the last potato? It’s the best one too - so plump and juicy and wonderful smelling!”

“Yes, if I hadn’t caused a diversion you wouldn’t have even gotten in,” Malli grumbles, “if anyone was in the line of fire, it was me!”

“What do you say, Rama?” His eyes are so, so utterly black and bewitching that Rama finds himself entranced, unable to answer for a few moments. 

“I…” he looks at the dish, “to be honest, I think I deserve the last potato, seeing as this dish is very large and very empty. So the two of you have had a good deal of potatoes already… it would be rude of you to invite me to arbitrate and not offer me some in return.”

Malli snorts as the stable hand gapes at him. Rama smiles.

“He's got a point you know,” Malli says. And before the other can say anything she grabs the potato and shoves it into Rama's surprised mouth unceremoniously. He suppresses a groan when he takes a bite, nothing had ever tasted as good in his entire life. The potato is crispy and sweet, the jaggery coating smelling of camphor and spring sunshine.

“Based on that reaction, you deserve it,” the man says, an amused smile playing on his beautiful lips “never had a sweet potato before?”

“Nothing like this, no. In my country we eat plain food. Any richness is considered a needless indulgence and...” he breaks off, annoyed with himself. The sweetness seems to have loosened his tongue more than necessary.   

“I’ve never seen you around here,” the man says thoughtfully, “you said you were looking for Loki?”

“Oh yes,” Rama answers, his words muffled slightly as he chews, “I’m new to Tamaramandalam… and I am looking for a job. Someone told me the Palace always needs more cleaners, so…” he shrugs.

“Yes, there’s always something or the other available,” Malli says, “She’s a bit scary, but if you don’t get intimidated and work hard, she’ll like you.”

“Oh?” Rama asks her, “what is it like, the job? And the Emperor? What is he like to work under?”

“With a face that pretty and underfed?” the man winks at him, “I doubt you’ll need to do any work at all with all the maids queuing up with bowls of payasam -” he grunts as Malli pushes him off the hay, “I’m just pulling his leg!”

Rama stares at the stable hand, who is glaring up at Malli from where he’s sprawled on the ground.

“I don’t understand.”

Malli opens her mouth, but is interrupted by an almighty yelling coming from outside.

“IF YOU LOT HAVE STOLEN YET ANOTHER DISH I’LL WRING YOUR NECKS - ”

“Oh, blessed Paidamma, she’s here!” Malli yelps before she takes off like a deer, leaving a very confused Rama and the still prone stable hand.

A large grey haired lady comes tramping into the stables, a heavy looking bronze ladle in her hands. She takes one look at the man and gives a disgusted snort.  

“I should've known it was you… why can’t you wait until lunchtime like a normal human being, boy?”

Said boy stands up, attempting to smile.

“Oh come on, Gaanavakka -” he starts to wheedle.

“Not another word out of you! And you bet you’re going to pay for this when I tell your brother about this. Now go and clean up, you and your new friend .”

Rama gets to his feet as she glares at him, mouth going dry. Not even an hour in and he is already in trouble. What possessed him to forget what he is really there for?

“Come on Rama,” the man says, looking a little sheepish, “I’ll take you to Loki after we make you look a little more presentable.”

Gaanavakka gives Rama a keen look as he follows the other out. Rama feels like his soul is being peered into and shuffles uncomfortably until they’re out of sight, his heart thumping wildly. ‘Remember the mission. The mission. Only one chance to get it right.’ he tells himself as he washes his face quickly at the nearby well.

The Royal kitchens are large, as is everything in this Palace. A frenzy of voices and good natured shouting and chopping noises surround them as they pass through. A couple of maids glare at his companion as they walk towards the back, and Rama assumes it must be because of the potato theft earlier. The other man seems unfazed though, smiling jauntily at them, and Rama finds himself briefly taken again by just how attractive he is.    

“Here we are,” the stable hand says cheerfully, knocking on an imposing looking door.

“Come in,” a sharp voice sounds from inside, and he pushes it open and breezes inside, beckoning to Rama.

A beautiful young woman looks up from her desk, frowning when she sees them.

“There you are,” she drawls, ignoring Rama’s presence, “what did you do this time?”

“Nothing,” he waves her off, “I brought you a new employee.”

She turns her piercing dark eyes on Rama, and it takes him a minute to collect himself enough to speak.

“Greetings, madam. My name is Rama Raju. I’m new to Tamaramandalam, and am hoping to find a job here. The guard outside told me to speak to you.”

“Hire him,” the stable hand says, before Loki could say anything. His posture had straightened, his eyes suddenly sharp and commanding. “He has neat nails.” 

Loki sighs.

“Well if you’ve made up your mind, I guess I don’t need to ask your boy anything.”

The other man smiles, all good humour and sunshine, before he claps Rama on the shoulder.  

“Right, I’d better get back to work. You stay with Loki, she’ll show you the ropes.”

He lopes off, whistling.

“Thank you for showing me the way here.” Rama offers weakly to the other man’s retreating back.

“How did you get Bheema to escort you?” Loki asks him curiously.

“Bheema?” Rama stutters. “Who Bheema?”

She gives him a long, incredulous look and Rama feels like slapping himself. Of course. Komuram Bheem.

“You are new to Tamaramandalam.”

“Was that…?”

“That was the Emperor.”

Rama gapes at her, wanting to sink into the floor in mortification.

“He had stolen some sweet potatoes and was sharing it with a small child,” he protests, “neither of them told me.”

But both of them had laughed, and had had a giant joke at his expense. He blushes red, suddenly longing for Malayadripuri, where everyone knew their place in society, and supreme leaders certainly did not dress like ragged ruffians and steal things from kitchens.

“He’s bored,” Loki sighs, “he’s not allowed to ride this week, only visit that beloved horse of his, no wonder he’s up to mischief.”

She smiles at Rama’s woebegone face.

“Cheer up, boy. You have a lot of rooms to clean.”

#ram x bheem #rambheem #my fanfiction #alternate universe #emperor Bheem #assassin Ram #enemies to friends to lovers #fool's gold series

[luucypevensie]

🐰 Iris, my Queen of peace

THAT IS SUCH AN ACCURATE TITLE FOR HER, THANK YOU SM ANNA!

1. Their berserk button: Like your girl Celeste, Iris can’t STAND people who think it’s okay to take advantage of others. If you’re going to be a dick to someone who is pure in the most genuine sense, then you’ve lost Iris’ respect

2. Why their name was chosen: Iris’ mother, Emma, was a big fan of Greek Mythology, and Iris was her favorite goddess (as well as her favorite flower)

3. Their favorite 2020s song: Peace & Quiet by Kesha

4. Their biggest fear: Abigail getting hurt in any shape or form

5. One turn-on of theirs: Iris is a sucker for someone singing a song to her

6. Their go-to sleepover activities: Of course painting nails (it’s a tradition to paint nails at the girls’ sleepovers), but also snacking on some Sour Patch Kids while some rom coms are playing in the background

7. What candle they’d get at Bath & Body Works: Chasing Fireflies (Golden pear, jasmine blooms & illuminated woods)

8. A moment where they reached their breaking point: When Betty, Abigail, Chloé, and Goldie became freshman, Abby got her first slushy from a hockey player. She had come home crying and shaking from the whole experience, and the Kill Bill sirens went off in Iris’s mind

9. Whether they’re organized or slobby: Iris is definitely more organized, but not CRAZY organized

10. Their favorite feature about themselves: Her hair (I mean, obvs, she’s like a bohemian Ariel)

#oc: iris lennon sawyer #fic: dorothea #tv: glee #oc asks #carmens-garden #THANKS AGAIN ANNA!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

Camellia, jasmine, nutmeg!

helll yeah putting under a cut!

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

oooh BIG question to start out. hmm from ages 13-22, i never really felt like i was Doing Well. ups and downs, of course, but i've really only started being kind to myself in the past year. i think i've changed a lot in some ways (learning how to be a functional adult, mental health stuff) but also not at all in others (being a giant fucking nerd no matter how hard i try not to be). these days i'm just existing in ways i never really had before. i think i always deserved more love and grace than i ever afforded myself, and can only make up for it now.

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

this sounds so overly serious, but i think it's going to be hard to rewatch she ra, and i don't really want to do it alone. i have a lot of complex feelings about that fandom and my personal relationship with the media, as it cut really deep during a period where i was emotionally vulnerable. it's weird to have a tattoo related to it. i think i'll rewatch and enjoy it someday, but it'll have to be at a time that feels right.

also, the force awakens. the lost potential bums me out and i don't want to deal with the massive crush i had on kylo ren at age 16

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

i've lived in a tiny studio apartment since graduating college almost two years ago, and it's been great but i'm looking forward to moving to a slightly nicer place in the summer. that said i think it's still pretty charming, if crowded. there's just a lot of nerd shit everywhere and also cat furniture because poutine is spoiled. lots of books because duh, books. my kitchen is like laughably insufficient for meal prep, but i've optimized it to the best of my ability. i can't really have more than two people over at any given time, which is convenient because there are like only two people who i routinely allow into my home

for the new place i'm planning on a lot more intentional aesthetic choices, like i'm making a rule where everything on the wall should be framed, instead of pinned. i like pinks and greens and golds. i'm going to thrift shop for random unique mismatched dishes and silverware to replace the stuff i've had since freshman year of college. i currently have a poster of the botw map and i think i'm going to spring for a nicer wood-cut version. there are also GORGEOUS views of the lake in the new apartment that i'm really excited about!!

#thank you for asking!! #asks

[faytalepsy]

Camellia, Abelia and Jasmine for the ask 🌸

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

I have many pieces I became attached to but none more than a simple silver necklace that I got for Christmas when I was younger. It's a small little angel statuette on a chain and the little figure is already so worn down from me reaching for it that the small carved lines of the face and wings and hands threaten to fade away. Holding onto a necklace is a habit of mine and I'm usually not leaving the house without one, usually it's the one with the angel.

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

Not in all regards but yes I did change a lot I think. When I was really young I was a wild, feral child (to the chagrin of some people^-^) I didn't care what anyone though about me and spent lots of time exploring my families woods. But I lost nearly all of that during middle school, became really scared, perfectionist and dependent on what other people thought of me. I also got very very shy and socially anxious. But I'm still changing and learning to be more myself every day. Also some things definitely stayed the same because I still love running through the woods and covering myself in paint during art.

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

Yesss....mostly very emotionally impacting things like Grave of the Fireflies. It's a wonderful movie but I will never be able to watch it again.

[soleillunne]

for the ask game, cactus, camelia, and jasmine !! <3

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

i'm slowly trying to learn japanese!

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

little me was hyperactive lmao i would not stay still. now, i'm more reserved irl and more hyper online so i'd say that i've changed also fun fact for you: when i was little i used to speak loud (because everyone around me spoke really loud) and my grandma always said "speak lower alyssa" or "speak in lower case alyssa" and now she cant hear me when i speak because i'm really quiet when speaking (i've had one too many occasions where the lady at the register didnt hear what i was saying)

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

the midnight library and lost in the never woods (books) miraculous (lb and cn awakening movie), soul and the menu (movies)

#chitchat #love.[zion]

[herelaymythoughts]

I like old things

Clothing that’s hung in closets other than mine

Tarnished jewellery

Lovers who know what I’d order off a menu

Friends with whom to remember the past. 

I like leather

I like oud 

I like top notes that read of an oriental spice rack.

I like high thread count cotton

and silk

and linen and wool

I like ordering San Pellegrino

with a splash of lime and leaves of spearmint

In restaurants on the San Pellegrino

house plants 

lofts 

and high ceilings

I like Vietnamese noodle soups

bun rieu and bun bo hue

tea flavoured desserts 

hojicha and jasmine and rose

I like hydrangea 

always carrying the most weight 

like that one person

in a first year group project

too, ranunculus, lavender

I like flying many hours to hold a lover

I like being held. 

I like the colour green. 

Mint green, forest green, pistachio. 

My grandmother also likes the colour green.

I like wild salmon and halibut and purple rice and a simple salad of olive oil and lemon juice.

I like the plant and veggie balls from IKEA. 

I like fall, 

walking through its chilliness by myself in new cities of residence. 

I like buying unique objects.

hand made ceramics.

Painting nude self portraits

singing in contralto.

dancing to sultry R&B  

shaking my booty

a booty I’ve had to learn to shake,

Learn to love

I like powder days and blue bird days

I really really like Lululemon.

I like perfume, sophisticatedly blended

I like the one named after me, Lucedar Wood.

I like he who blended it. 

I love him too. 

I think I’ll like New York. 

I think I’ll like Paris.

Even though I liked neither all the times I’ve been.

I really like Norway. 

I really miss D.C.

Something draws me back to Hong Kong.

a gorgeous Norwegian lover,

A Rusty bit of heartache.

I like nude beaches

and jumping off masts 

skinny dipping in the ocean

and making grown men tap.

I like men who pick up the phone when I call.

I don’t like men who do not respond to my texts.

I like men who give thoughtful gifts.

I like men with long hair and glasses.

I like men whose minds eclipse mine

though I’ve only found one so far. 

I like women with short hair 

who don’t wear any make up

though a little mascara doesn’t hurt,

you know who you are. 

I like volumes and volumes of filled out journals and sketch books 

medium nib Kaweco fountain pens

Ink wells

and wax seals. 

Hand written letters, 

love or otherwise. 

Books, especially the ones with pencil marked prices on the top right corner

of the first page

Books that were a little slutty in their lifetimes, 

rummaged by many

opened by more. 

Philosophy.

Of Seneca and Aurelius and others I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know enough of.

Ruby Woo 

Caberanet francs and spicy mezcal margaritas.

Especially the one made by Crybaby on Dundas,

A Pina Colada by Mother on Queen.

I like Toronto a lot

Somewhat begrudgingly.

I like being superstitious

Believing that every time I see a Harvard sweater or someone with locs it in fact means that you’ve been thinking of me.

I like celibacy

And sobriety

And being fiercely independent

Assembling IKEA furniture by myself even when the instructions have that X over the cute little figure assembling furniture by itself. 

Being soft 

when the occasion calls for it.

I like spider guard into lasso

It reminds me of pulling in a lover close with my leg

and jumping guillotines.

Too similar to excited embraces after a long period of apartedness.

I like spending hours in a museum

pondering scenes in paintings

I’m certain I’ve seen in a dream of mine. 

Yves Tanguy 

and Matisse

and Seurat

and Degas

and Kandinsky

and Monet. 

I like mid century modern

And chairs from the Qing dynasty. 

The lines of T.S. Elliot and Lu Xun and Ezra Pound

Vivaldi’s four seasons.

I like Peter Cat Recording Co.

and Khruangbin

and Polo and Pan,

the way I discovered them with my good friend Johanne at a Steve Jobs themed party

her dancing to their hypnotic beats in burgundy velvet

in a remodelled row home 

in Columbia Heights,

pre-pandemic. 

I still like all the friends I’ve lost

Love, even

Lovers still.

I like the way French sounds

And the way I sound in it.

I like frequenting restaurants owned by friends

And knowing that I’ve got at least 6 more loves left in me.

I like Chinatown produce

Sometimes it goes bad right after I buy it

But there’s something real about buying produce slightly past the peak of ripeness

And something wholly unnatural about buying green bananas already in body bags. 

[rootsinmylungs]

Lyrics I love ♡

"No Face" by Haley Heynderickx:

Is it the bridge of my nose

Or the back of my skin?

Is it the pole of my hips

That you couldn't let in?

Is it the bridge between worlds

That makes you feel alone?

"Bug Collector" by Haley Heynderickx:

And there's a praying mantis

Prancing on your bathtub

And you swear it's a priest

From a past life out to getcha

"Oom Sha La La" by Haley Heynderickx:

She'll never get to eat you like your heart's a pomegranate

"Tonight" by Sibylle Baier:

We had a change of the moon

"I Lost Something in the Hills" by Sibylle Baier:

Oh, what images return

Oh, I yearn

For the roots of the woods

That origin of all my strong and strange moods

I lost something in the hills

I lost something in the hills

"I Lost Something in the Hills" by Sibylle Baier:

When I pass through the leg high grass, I shall die

Under the jasmine, I shall die

In the elder tree

I need not try to prepare for a new coming day

Where is it that fills the deepness I feel?

"Salt Water" by Raveena Aurora:

My tears kept falling

No words were coming

Salt water running (down, down, down)

New river flowing

"Sweet Time" by Raveena Aurora:

I’ve been meditating

I stopped medicating

I’m taking advice from the moon

Im lost in melody

Harmony, new family

They wrap me up in a cocoon

"Asha's Awakening" by Raveena Aurora & Asha Puthli:

You know, you know, you know

How to pleasure me like a woman

You open up my soul like a lotus has risen

"Asha's Awakening" by Raveena Aurora & Asha Puthli:

When we kiss

I spiral into space

When I love you

Heaven's in your face

"Kismet" by Raveena Aurora:

Taking all our tops off

Come into the water

God, I love my women

Let's all become farmers

If it feel good, it's probably right

Take me in the temple of your mind

I think that she's from another world

Way she speaks of loving is so pure

"Nectar" by Raveena Aurora:

Stretch marks on my thighs

Skin shades of earth

Knots in my hair, it's real

Don’t fear it

Come and stay a while

You’ve been missing my

Sunflowers, sun showers, I know

I get so wild, so

Let me show it to you

#mine #music #lyrics

[rataltouille]

For that wip folder game, I’d love to hear more about (The) Incompetent Children and What You’ve Lost in the Jasmine Woods if you’re up to share! (-@cecilsstorycorner)

of course let’s go!!

[this is my original work, do not use / repurpose / plagiarise in any form]

[THE] INCOMPETENT CHILDREN

[tw: cult mentions]

this was my og “cult story”, way before force majeure even happened. tbh IC has nothing in common with FM apart from the fact that they both involve a cult but still it's hard not to compare them? i’d say that IC is just a tonally very dark story; FM is kind of daylight horror-esque while IC is pure grit and zero chill.

the tentative logline: the incompetent children chronicles the rise of the present day leader of a religious and technological cult as his power is threatened as his childhood friend returns home, told in dual timelines.

don't ask me what “technological cult” even means i don't know. highlights:

childhood friends / crushes [except you’ll never know if it was mutual] to mortal enemies who also happen to be very annoyingly flirty [that's not an actual trope but it is the story]

queer relationships except it's toxic [oops]

betrayal as redemption

dual timelines: one when the mc was a child right until the point his friend, the antagonist / deuteragonist / love interest leaves the cult, and the present day one where said friend returns except he’s like. directly working against the mc now.

the spotify playlist has got the vibes + the cover is very on point

also this is i think the one story of mine which has a main cast of more than two living male characters lmaooo. there are zero excerpts i’ve written for it. like i don't write stuff for the wips in my writing queue until i actually near the point where they’ll be written, and this is like seventh on the list.

WHAT YOU’VE LOST IN THE JASMINE WOODS

omg this story... love it so much. the logline is this: a girl travels through a place with no one to keep her company except for herself and miles of breathing, dangerous wastelands in an attempt to find out who created her. facts:

this is a novella!! it would literally not work in any other form because there is not enough “conflict” for a short story and not enough “plot” for a novel. and also novella is an intriguing form which i’m excited to try out!

there is only one living character throughout the entire story, who is our protagonist, vasilisa. the entire story is just exploring her relationship with the extremely strange, vaguely fabulistic world around her. the ONLY conflict is with her surroundings. there are no other people here.

told fully in second person :)

exploring gender and being trans in a world where there is no “society” or “civilisation”

here’s the playlist because fun fact! this story was fully inspired by the song “the life of hilda”, and also “i lost something in the hills” by sibylle baier [as the title suggests]

i am actually dying to write this because it is literally my dream story: very little clear conflict, nothing but nature descriptions the entire time, fabulism, full second person omg, gender fuckery. this is most self-indulgent story ever and that’s so beautiful to me.

ask me about my wips!

#don’t reblog but feel free to comment / dm! #someone: mentions what you’ve lost in the jasmine woods #me: combustsand short circuits in sheer joy #the story... i just... *holds gently* #now that i think about it there are multiple reasons why it's so beloved to me and it makes me so glad because #i’ve never been this excited to write a story before! #like ever. #i know nothing about what actually happens in the story but everytime i think about it i just sob with happiness #i remember the day i got the idea and i just sat there laughing while compiling the mood board #i will shut up now <3 #ask game #the incompetent children #what you’ve lost in the jasmine woods

[shutterfevered]

#i really like the vibes of these photos #they’re a+ #green. #place. #what you’ve lost in the jasmine woods.

[rosenallies]

the feminine urge to write things not a single soul asked for but anyway …here’s whatever tf this is! Bosco’s a witch hehe

——

Jasmine wandered the wooded area surrounding her, the creek she walked beside flowing and ebbing with the wind, cool earth squishing between her bare toes. Wind howled around her, sending sharp chills up her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself, dressed only in a short lacy dress, the chill seemed relentless. It seemed out of nowhere, the sun began to set, casting the area in a dark shadow and she realized she was lost. Just up ahead, she noticed smoke rising and curling above the trees.

She followed the smoke deeper into the woods. It consistently got darker and darker around her, her heart thumping with anxiety. Getting closer to the source of the smoke, she saw it was coming from a chimney of a small stone house. Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that whoever lived there would allow her to stay the night and perhaps show her how to get home in the morning.

Approaching the house, she could feel the warmth radiating from the inside, warming her goosebump covered skin. She tentatively raised her fist to knock, but before she did, the door creaked open, leading her inside with the sweet smell of blueberry muffins.

“Hello?” she called out, stepping inside the warm cottage.

She looked around, the shelves lined with bottles and bottles of liquids she didn’t recognize. Gravitating toward them, she ran her fingers over the intricate glass bottles, picking up one shaped like a heart. There was no label on it and she briefly wondered how anyone knew what was in them. She was about to set it back down when a voice came from behind her.

“Hey, who are you?” the voice exclaimed, making her drop the bottle at her feet, the glass shattering on the hardwood.

Jasmine whipped around to see a tall woman dressed in a long black cloak with light eyes that even from afar bore into her soul.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

The woman rushed toward her while Jasmine’s feet stayed planted on the ground, unable to move or take her eyes off the woman. Jasmine began to feel lightheaded, her stomach flipping as the woman came closer.

“I’m Jasmine, what’s your name? You’re very beautiful,” she muttered like she was in a trance. She reached out to touch her, her hand barely coming in contact with the woman’s arm before she crumpled to the ground at the woman’s feet.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, lifting Jasmine bridal style and placing her on the couch, a crocheted blanket thrown over her limp body.

Making her way back over to the mess Jasmine left, she gasped when she saw the bottle she had dropped. The strongest love potion she had, the fumes in that one were so strong it must’ve affected Jasmine so strongly she passed out, the feelings of love and adoration flooding her body all at once.

She did the only thing she could think to do, call her best friend Daya, the only other witch she knew that might know what to do.

She quickly dialed the number into the phone on the wall, silently begging that she’d pick up. Finally, she did.

“Bosco, what the hell are you doing calling me after sundown? You know that’s when I practice my spells.”

Bosco sighed. “I fucked up. Well, sort of, it’s not exactly my fault, this girl came inside my cottage without me knowing and kept touching all my potions and dropped the Lovesick potion, the most potent one! She didn’t even ingest any and she was already all googly eyed looking at me before she passed out!”

“Aww! How sweet! Finally after 500 years someone looks at you with something other than hatred!”

“Daya!” Bosco snapped, “this is no joke! What the fuck do I do?”

Daya pondered for a moment. “You weren’t affected by the spell? How do you feel when you look at her? Do you feel warmth and butterflies in your stomach?”

Glancing at her sleeping form, Bosco shook her head. “I feel nothing. Just annoyance, if I’m being honest. Aren’t witches immune to potions they created anyway?”

“Sometimes, but not always. That’s rough though,” Daya said, sucking in a breath, “even the most experienced witches can’t break a lovesick spell that strong.”

“Can I just make her leave in the morning? She’d get over it eventually, right?”

“Is she completely human?”

Bosco set the phone down for a moment and made her way to the couch where she placed her hands directly above Jasmine’s heart, closing her eyes and whispering something in Latin under her breath. She felt no magic in the other girl, only human blood pumping through her veins.

She picked the phone back up to confirm her findings with Daya. “Yep, completely human, around 22 years I think.”

“Okay, so technically if she never sees you again, the spell bond would break over time, but that takes hundreds of years. Since she’s only human, her health will deteriorate and she will die before that ever happens. If you’re okay with letting her die, that’s your course of action.”

Bosco glanced at Jasmine, even in sleep her cheeks were flushed pink. She was sort of beautiful, Bosco didn’t feel right letting her die. She sighed. “No, I can’t let her die. There has to be another way.”

“Well, you could fall in love with her yourself? That way it doesn’t matter. Or you can just tolerate it and see if your indifference breaks the spell. It’s very very rare, especially with humans because their souls are more fragile, but it’s worth a shot.”

Bosco groaned inwardly. “You know I’m incapable of love, me falling in love with this human girl of all people, is definitely impossible.”

“You never know, but I’m gonna go now. Good luck with sleeping beauty over there.”

The line went dead and Bosco slumped against the wall, a pit in her stomach. She’d been living in these woods for hundreds of years and had never stumbled upon a human, nevermind one who accidentally poisoned herself with love for Bosco, someone who was notoriously anything but warm and fuzzy like she suspected Jasmine was.

#jasco #witch au

[chyrstis]

OC Aesthetic Tag Game

Tagged by: @strafethesesinners @aceghosts @faithchel @shallow-gravy @chazz-anova @nightwingshero and @adelaidedrubman a bit back! I’ve been wating to do this for forever now for Hana, and finally managed to sneak in some time to do so. 

Tagging: @writerofblocks @twistedsinews @hunnybadgerv @painterofhorizons @cobb-vanthss @amistrio @redroci​ @jackalopestride​ @teamhawkeye @unlikelynick @geronimo-11 @jenchwuq @heroofpenamstan​ @belorage​ @johnnycranes @gamerpurgatory @lilwritingraven​ @triedtriedtired​ @princess-underthemountain​ and anyone else that thinks this would be fun to try! And if you’ve already been tagged, please don’t mind me at all. <3

Deputy Hana Vao

Bold = always/totally fits them italics = sometimes/somewhat applies/sorta fits them strikethrough = never

— LIGHT SOURCES

SUN RAYS. effervescent smiles, dandelion puffs, bare feet, beach waves, flowers pressed into books, champagne glasses, rose-gold eye shadow, boho skirts, wire-rimmed glasses, hair in loose waves, kaleidoscope eyes, sunshine in your hair, fire in your soul.

INCANDESCENT BULBS. crop tops, floral print, dancing in the rain, quiet defiance, hand-knit beanies, rosé, painted bookmarks, marble floors, cirrus clouds against a blue sky, polaroid pictures, hands held, fingers intertwined, flower crowns, baby bluebirds.

STARDUST. lace bralettes, brisk breezes, jasmine-scented perfume, books with yellowed pages, tracking constellations, sterling silver, violin music, chess games, iced coffee, glittery dresses, high heels, secret grins, midnight meetings, wishing upon a star.

CANDLE FLAMES. denim jackets, gladiator sandals, braided hair, messenger bags, movies at the cinema, stolen kisses, wax-sealed envelopes, haiku poetry, cherry wood, succulents, fountain pens, jigsaw puzzles, soft tired eyes, hidden smiles, cuddling with someone you trust.

MOONBEAMS. newspapers, over-sized sweaters, dancing shadows, fleece throws, cutoff shorts, piano chords, red wine, messy buns, embossed journals, a hint of blush dusted across your cheeks, freshly fallen snow, tranquil solitude, burning incense, light hair and dark skin.

AURORAS. combat boots, burgundy lips, infectious laughter, spiral-bound notebooks, pencils used down to the stub, ripped jeans, painted nails, cloud-watching, summer thunderstorms, hiking trails, vinyl records, film cameras, skating on a frozen lake, hot chocolate by the fire.

FIREWORKS. dancing until the break of dawn, heelys, being wheeled around in a shopping cart by your best friend, the euphoria of soaring through the air, being excited for what the future holds, group hugs, colorful tattoos, bronzer-highlighted cheeks, hugging a stuffed animal, lifting a child onto your shoulders, space buns, bright streaks in your hair. :

— BODY LANGUAGE

DEFENSIVENESS. arms crossed on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth

REFLECTIVE. hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off; cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips / knitted brows

SUSPICION. arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line / strict, unwavering eye contact (entirely reserved for one lucky, lucky individual in particular) / wrinkling of nose / narrowed eyes

CONFIDENCE. hands behind back / hands on lapels of coat / steepled hands / baring teeth in a grin / rolling shoulders / tipping head back but maintaining eye contact / chest puffed up / shoulders back / arms folded just above navel / wide eyes / standing akimbo

INSECURITY & ANXIETY. chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / biting lips / hands in pockets / elbow bent / closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer; marker; cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically

ANGER & FRUSTRATION. short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / rubbing hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth / grimacing / sharp-eye glowers / notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up; defensive posturing / clenching of jaw / grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales

— SENSES

SIGHT. small towns. big cities. six thirty curfews. lights that take the place of stars. blanket nests. light through the blinds as a wake up call. found family. finding a single star in the middle of new york night city. window shopping. watching something terrible and enjoying it. growing numb to the sight of injustice. wilted flowers. faded caricatures. bright, bold colours.

HEARING. crickets and lightning bugs. car engines and a / c units. a phone call to mum / dad. laughing with friends. jokes that are so bad you have to laugh. the clicking of computer keys. noise cancelling headphones. the sound of silence. muffled music from another room. drumming fingertips on a table. clicking of pens. listening to a clock and swearing the ticks get slower. ringing in the ears. the voice of someone you love. pitch shifted songs.

TOUCH. being held close during a long night. fleeting reassurances. holding hands when you’re scared. brushing fingers through strands of hair. freshly dried clothes. bruises on your knuckles. silk and satin. your favourite pet’s fur or feather. wringing your hands anxiously. snuggles. comforters in the dead of winter. nails against skin. cold metal. leather in summer.

TASTE. coffee in the morning. tea in the evening. bubblegum that lost its flavor. alcohol burning the back of your throat. homemade cooking, no matter what’s made. blood in your mouth. stale air. mint. fresh vegetables. that processed taste of citrus candy. the first meal you cook by yourself that tastes good. foreign sweets. fast food. bittersweet. sour. spicy. sweet. bitter. too much salt on fries.

#deputy hana #thank you all by the way! #gifs #can you believe I meant to post this last night? #time just keeps on flying by way too fast #and there'll be a time when I stop using Blood Fest gifs for Hana here but until that point? here's another #I just love Seychelle's look there too much :'D #so many of the descriptions here are just too pretty too

[feralandmoonstruck]

Promise

DNI IF UNDER 18

WC: 1745

True to his word, Prince Viorel spent most of the next three days in the infirmary with Fiora. He had left her side a handful of times, but was never gone long. He even slept nearby until she was discharged.

“I want to see the others,” she told Viorel as they left the infirmary together.

“I’ve already made arrangements and am taking you to see them now.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Thank you, Prince.”

“I promised you I would, and I always keep my promises.”

Fiora could hear the murmurs of courtiers and servants that they passed. She drew herself up under the frightened gazes that fell upon her mottled visage. She refused to look apologetic or embarrassed in the face of their twittering. Her defiance was in every line of her face. The scabs and swelling and bruises were all a reminder to herself and others, When faced with capture, I chose death. Having been stopped from going through with it was something entirely different from backing down on her own.

“Before we part,” Viorel said, “I was wondering if you might like to have rooms made up near mine, or if you’d prefer elsewhere?”

Fiora looked at him. “It depends on what my purpose here is.”

“I could not tell you what Dracen had in mind, but you would be part of the court in one form or another.”

Fiora heard the words he didn’t speak aloud. If you choose me, your life will be better. She chewed her tongue for a moment. “I know which you’d rather I pick.”

Viorel ducked his head. “I will admit that I have hope. I would not have made the suggestion otherwise.”

“Do I need to make my decision now?”

“You may see your friends first, if you wish, but the sooner your decision is made, the sooner I can have your rooms ready. You still need rest.”

“I’d like to wait.”

They came to a stop in front of a door gilded with gold. “Of course,” he said. “Once you’ve made up your mind, simply send Lettie or another of the maids to inform me.”

Beyond the golden door, the room was filled with sunlight. She didn’t have a chance to notice much more, because the moment they saw her all of the Oleran women surged to their feet as one. A wave of concerned voices. Viorel shut the door quietly behind her.

“Fiora,” they shouted, “are you alright?” Their questions overlapped with shrieks at her appearance.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” she assured them. She let them pull her deeper into the room and settle her on a couch.

“What happened?”

“We’ve been so worried about you!”

“They said you’d been hurt. Was it one of the soldiers?”

Fiora held up her hands to slow the onslaught of questions. “I hurt myself. That’s why I wasn’t here sooner, I’ve been held in the infirmary for three days.”

“Why would you do something like this to yourself,” Anjali, one of the oldest women among them, asked. She leaned forward, letting her black hair fall like a curtain. “You can tell us if someone did this to you.”

Fiora squeezed her arm. “I promise, I did this. I thought death would be the better option.”

Maria, one of the youngest of their group, began to weep. Jasmine and Beatrice, two sisters who’d run the mill after their father, moved to console her.

“You’re so strong,” another said. “I could never be as strong as you. Even if life here might be terrible, I just don’t think I could fight as hard as you have.”

A spark of annoyance shot through Fiora as a chorus of agreements rose around her. “They took us from our lives! Burned our homes to the ground! How could you not want to fight?”

Camry, a girl standing at the edge of the group, gave Fiora a small smile. “Fi, we’re not fighters. We never have been. And even if we were, what could we even do now? You said so yourself, our home is gone. We don’t have anything to go back to.”

Fiora bit her tongue and shook her head. “It doesn’t mean we have to give in to them.” She could taste the bitterness of the hypocrisy her words left behind. How dare she lecture them on giving in when she had spent nearly all her time here in the company of a prince?

“Fighting now would only make our lives more miserable. So far they’ve done nothing to hurt us. The only one of us hurt is you.”

“And the rest of you agree with this?”

The women gathered around Fiora looked away, mumbling noncommittal answers. She knew they were right, but to accept it felt like a betrayal of everything she believed. And yet, Viorel's offer hung like a glimmering crystal before her. It would be so easy to accept. She could give up and give in. It would mean having a better life than she could have ever dreamed of in Olera. There, she was just another poor person living on the edge of the kingdom, so far from the capital that help was hard to come by and any wealth got lost long before it came anywhere near Millen.

Fiora stood and pushed her way through them. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe any of you.” she shook her head, “Turning your backs on Olera so easily.”

Camry stepped forward and laid a hand on Fiora’s arm. “Fi, you don’t have to keep fighting. No one will think less of you for doing what needs to be done. You think we don’t want to fight? Our lives and our families were destroyed, Fi. Of course we want to fight! But fighting isn’t going to bring them back. Nothing will. We’re just trying to be realistic, and so long as we have each other, as long as we’re alive, we’ll be Olerans. Nothing can change that or take that away from us. It’s just, there’s no reason to make ourselves more miserable than we already are.”

Fiora yanked her arm out of Camry’s grasp. She shook her head, the corners of her eyes burning. “I don’t,” her mouth opened and closed several times. Camry was right, these women were all she had left of her home. There was no way back to how their lives were before. “How do I stop,” she whispered. Tears slid down her swollen cheeks.

Camry wrapped her arms around Fiora. “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, “we’re all here for you. For all of us.”

Anjali rose and joined her. “I wish we had an answer, but I think that’s something we each have to find within ourselves. And even then we may never know.” She rubbed broad circles along Fiora’s back.

“How are you not scared?”

“We are,” Anjali whispered.

“Hattie hasn’t been eating,” Jasmine spoke up from where she cradled Maria to her chest, “and Juniper won’t get out of bed.”

A murmur of agreement went through the cluster of women. Fiora let herself be drawn back into their embrace. Giving their fears voice diminished their power little by little. It made them smaller and the bond between the women stronger. They cried together for all that they had lost. Time was immaterial as they clung to each other. When the door opened they all jumped. More than one of them let out a little scream, but it was only the maids.

“Ladies,” an older woman in Breschen colors spoke. “We’ve been sent to prepare you for your presentations to the royal family.”

Several of the Oleran women began to sob again as the maids filed in and drew their charges out of the room. One by one their numbers dwindled. Maria clung first to Jasmine and then to Beatrice, refusing to leave until their guards entered the room to prize them apart.

Fiora was one of the last women to leave. “Where’s Lettie,” she demanded when Milo came to fetch her.

“She’s finishing setting up your rooms.”

“My rooms?”

“Prince Viorel is having you something made up near his quarters.”

Fiora shook her head. “I didn’t– he said I could decide.”

Milo shrugged. “You’ll not be questioning the prince’s orders.” He took her by the arm and led her out of the room.

“He can’t do this! He said it was my decision,” she spat.

“The prince can do as he pleases.”

“I demand to see him!”

“Demand all you want, it’s not going to make a difference. Neither Vioral, nor any of the royal family will ever jump at your demands. You’ll see him when he wishes, and not a moment before.”

Fiora growled and swore all the way to her new room. Milo deposited her inside with Lettie and snapped the door shut behind her.

“How did your visit with your friends go,” Lettie asked. “My apologies for not being there, but as you can see…” she let the words trail off as she gestured around them.

The room was done up in greens and golds. Iron lattice adorned the exterior of the windows and cast intricate shadows on the plush rugs that covered the gleaming wood floors. The bed was larger and more beautiful than Fiora had ever seen. The footboard was carved into a masterpiece of forestry so detailed that she could hardly follow it. A glance at the headboard told her it was much the same. Each of the four posts were topped with carvings of an owl. This room wasn’t meant for someone who was considered a prisoner. Not even someone who would be a maid. Fiora’s heart lurched at the same moment her stomach twisted when she realized the implications.

Fiora dragged her gaze back to Lettie, “I can’t believe he did this.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Lettie ushered her deeper into the room. “Now, I know that this isn’t as close to Prince Viorel as you might have hoped, but even he has rules that must be followed. But don’t worry, he’s not far. In the meantime, why don’t I get you washed and ready for your presentation to the family, hm?”

Her shoulders slumped forward. “If you must.”

“We won’t be able to cover up all of the bruising, but I promise to do my best.”

“I’m not worried,” she sighed.

Lettie laughed. “I appreciate your confidence in me. The bathing room is this way.”

#the spite ratio #tsr #my writing

[mel-the-fangirl]

Always You

Armie Hammer x Reader

Words: 3,372

This is just a self indulgent thing I wrote to get myself back into the swing of writing stuff. This is actually the first thing I’ve finished in a long ass time so it probably sucks but it’s something! 

DISCLAIMER: I am not claiming to know anything about what went on in Armie’s marriage, this is all fiction. I have nothing against his wife, once again, this is just fiction.

Please like, reblog or leave me a message! Thank you!

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The California sun beat down on you uncomfortably, matting your hair to the nape of your neck, but you endured it just so you could take in the house before you. The glare of the stark white wall made it hard to look at but you couldn’t help but admire the way the entrance arched around the front door.

Through the small wrought iron window on the door, you could see the courtyard, lush bushes and bougainvilleas of every vibrant colour dotting the perimeter.

You hummed thoughtfully. 

"Not up to your standards?" 

"Surprisingly enough," you spun on your heel and looked up at him. "These are exactly my standards." 

Your eyes traced his impressive height until you were gazing at the floor. 

"Right down to the hand painted tiles." you muttered, eyebrows raised

Armie laughed, throwing his head back, "Wait till you see the inside." 

The inside was even better. Natural, earthy tones were perfectly contrasted by the vivid colour of the Spanish tiles, everywhere you looked there would be a cluster of them in just the right spot.

He talked animatedly, his long arms swinging and gesturing all over the place. His blue eyes were bright and you moved from room to room trying to keep up with his huge strides. 

"This is your room." he stated, throwing open the arched wooden door with a flourish

You knew what to expect, of course. Ever since he came to you asking for ideas on how to design his new home, your shared Pinterest board was focused exclusively on Spanish Revival but seeing it in the flesh was a whole other experience. 

"Armie…" you trailed off, gripping his arm tightly

It was a dream come to life. A dream of a spacious, immaculately clean room with white walls and warmly coloured rugs, a giant bed with your recommended bedspread and number of pillows all in order (you couldn't believe he actually paid attention to the Pinterest board).

"Do you like it?" he asked you, placing his large hand on yours

"Like it? I fucking love it, Armie! Oh my god!"

You raced to see the bathroom and nearly died and went to heaven, if you weren't already there. 

A classic, tiled bathtub was tucked into an alcove that took up most of the far side of the wall. The drawers and the sink were all set in rich, dark wood and it all smelled vaguely like jasmine. 

"Oh, yeah," you nodded approvingly, already picturing yourself in the tub, overcome by bubbles. "Hell yeah." 

Armie looked at you with a goofy grin on his face, he reached out to squeeze your shoulder, "I'll grab your bags, why don't you hop in there? I'm making dinner, you just relax." 

"You said the magic words." you grinned back at him

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his soft lips and the subtle smell of his aftershave caused your heart to skip a few beats. 

A feeling of dread began to cloud over the bliss that came before. You clasped your hands together tightly as he walked past you, he stopped at the door, the top of his head almost grazing the frame. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah?"

"I am so glad you're here." Armie winked at you and shut the door behind him, leaving you sucked in a whirlwind of your own increasingly frantic thoughts

You stared at the closed door, his kiss on your cheek still tingling. 

"Bath." you declared to no one in particular, hoping that once you were done, all your worries and anxieties would go down the drain with the suds. 

----------------------------------------------

You woke up with a start, the water in the tub sloshing around as you roused yourself from sleep, that bath must have really done the trick. Night had already fallen, it was pitch dark and only the scented candles you lit illuminated your surroundings.

Outside, the palm trees swung from side to side, back and forth in an erratic dance, big fat drops of rain fell noisily onto the ground, painting it in a silvery sheen. A full blown storm was raging beyond the French casement windows. How long were you out?

You ran your hand along the wall to turn on the lights but when you flipped the switch, nothing happened.

A blackout. Of course.

You dressed quickly in the dark, hoping nothing was inside out.

"Armie?" you called out, shutting the door behind you

As you walked through the house in the quiet darkness, with only the sound of your slippers on the tile and the pouring rain as your companions, you couldn’t help but feel a little scared. 

The longer you thought about it though, the more you were convinced that it wasn’t the fact that you were walking alone in the dark that was scaring you, it was the thought of being completely alone with Armie in his beautiful new home. 

You paused just a few steps shy of the kitchen. Frank Sinatra’s smooth baritone trickled out of the massive arched doorway.

“The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming.

My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?

I bring you and sing you a moonlight serenade.” you heard Armie sing along

His voice was like velvet, rich and deep and soothing. Try as you might, you still found yourself drifting towards him. Don’t get it wrong, your heart was beating three miles a minute but you felt like you were on autopilot. Next thing you knew, you were standing in the doorway.

He moved with ease, swiftly reaching over to the spice rack and back to the pot before him. Entranced, you watched as he dipped a finger into his creation and promptly placed it in his mouth, he nodded approvingly and finally lifted his gaze to you.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

Neither of you spoke. 

"So don't let me wait, come to me tenderly…" Sinatra continued to sing, seemingly giving you instructions.

Armie closed the distance between you until you were almost chest to chest. 

"Dance with me?"

"The power's out." you deadpanned, losing your train of thought as he wrapped your arms around you

"I know, that's why I lit candles. So, will you dance with me?" 

Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around his torso. He swayed slowly, squeezing you gently.

You rested your head on his warm chest, smiling as he hummed along. This felt good, too good. Your heart tightened in your chest, desperate to hold on to this memory of you and him.

"Oh, shit. The soup." he cursed, pulling away just as steam began to rise from the pot on the stove

The illusion shattered like a porcelain statuette meeting a marble floor. You were brought back to reality and you felt very cold all of a sudden. 

"Y/N, take a seat. I'll bring it all over." he began ladling soup into a smooth wooden bowl

The dining table was long and rectangular, made from dark wood to match the rest of the items in the house. An elaborate candelabra stood in the middle, projecting all kinds of shapes across the room. 

"Now," he set a steaming bowl of fragrant soup in front of you. "Eat up. You're freezing."

"Thank you, this smells amazing."

You expected him to take the seat across from you or at the head of the table but instead, he sat next to you, his leg almost brushing against yours. 

"Hope it tastes as good as it smells." Armie remarked, watching you like a hawk as you took your first sip

"Mmm," you smacked your lips and smiled at his nervous expression. "It's good! Six stars, no joke. Don't look so nervous, Armie, it's just me."

He dragged his teeth along his lower lip and stirred his spoon in his bowl. You would never be "just you" to him, you never were. Something in his heart always made him want to impress you, be around you. It was one of the first things he and his ex-wife argued about.

But you didn't need to know that.

Clearly, this stormy night was going to be spent by candlelight. Romantic, sure, but dangerous. Both of your secrets and words left unsaid hovered over you like shadows, waiting to be revealed. 

Eventually, you settled back into your usual routine with Armie. Catching up, playfully critiquing his movies that you've seen, much to his embarrassment. Then finally, an opening to ask the question you've been dying to ask. 

You set your wine glass on the table, tracing the lip of your glass with your fingertip. "So, are we going to skirt around it all night, Armie? Or are you going to tell me what happened?"

He sucked in a deep breath, wiping both his hands on his lap. He’d been expecting that, of course. You two haven’t seen each other in a year but you never lost touch. When the news of his divorce broke out, you expected to be the first person he would call, but he never did.

“Well, Y/N, uh,” his long fingers scratched at the back of his neck, "I got divorced because I had an affair. Nothing physical happened but, well, you know.”

A year ago, Armie’s marriage had been slowly but surely falling apart, it was falling apart way before the word “divorce” ever crossed their minds but they both held on, for the children. Until, they couldn’t. When all sorts of headlines and far-fetched gossip made the rounds, he took it all, nevermind that his ex-wife had her own issues, all people wanted was to take a shot at him and he let them. He didn’t really care what anyone else had to say.

The trouble was, everything was different for him when you were involved. He hung his head low, keeping his eyes on his lap. 

“Chin up, Armand.” you reached over to brush your knuckles against his chin, “I didn’t come here to judge you.”

“What are you here for then?”

"I’m here for you."

"You've always been there for me." 

A moment passed. Two, three. Mere seconds but it felt much longer. When your eyes met it felt like you were finally seeing each other for the very first time. 

Armie’s palms had become slick with sweat and he felt a lump forming in his throat. He gulped down a glass of water to fend off whatever was going on with him.

"So, uh. How's that guy you've been seeing?" he casually draped his arm over the back of his chair even though he wasn't feeling casual at all.

"Well," you exhaled, smiling ruefully at him. "That's been over for months now." 

He was absolutely floored. His eyes widened to a size that could rival the bowl in front of you and his jaw almost hit the floor. You chuckled into your shoulder.

"Damn, Y/N. That's the second one this month." he clicked his tongue

"Armand, I don't think you're in the position to judge. " you looked at him meaningfully, cocking your head to the side

"Heh. Touché."

You ate in silence while trying to ignore the way your heart was trying to break out of your chest. Talking about your love life was dangerous territory. 

"Can I just ask you something though?" Armie put his spoon down and turned to you

"Look, I know I'm not exactly Dr. Love right now but, what's going on, Y/N? You know I’m always here if you need to talk."

He was so genuinely concerned, you could see it in the way he looked at you. It’s a shame he was the reason behind all your failed relationships. This really wasn't how you pictured telling Armie you had been in love with him since you were teenagers. In fact, you didn’t think you were going to tell him at all.

Before you could even stop yourself, the words came tumbling from your mouth. 

"I've actually been in love with one man my entire life." 

"Whoa! Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy. To have the Great Y/N Y/L/N hung up on him." the corners of his lips were quirked up in a soft smile but you noticed that it didn't reach his eyes

"Oh, he was lucky for a while," you gripped the side of your chair until your knuckles turned white

"Everyone adored him, saw how talented he was. His life was picture perfect."

Why you were saying all this to Armie, he had no idea. It stung a little, knowing that you were hung up on someone else but he was definitely used to you overlooking him by now. 

"But he.. He's going through a bit of a rough patch now. He's.. He got a divorce," 

He squared his shoulders and weaved his arms tight against his chest, his eyebrows knitted together. 

Finally telling him the truth terrified you but you'd gone this far, there was no turning back. 

"Uh, yeah. He got a divorce and he hasn't seen his kids in months. It was so hard on him and he didn’t even talk to me about it but… I love him."

Saying it out loud was oddly therapeutic.

"I love him," you said louder, feeling the adrenaline course through your body. "I've loved him ever since I first met him. I loved him when we became best friends,"

"I loved him even when I had to sit and watch him marry someone else. I loved him when he told me he was going to be a dad and he cried on my shoulder because he said he was so afraid he'd mess it up,"

Armie uncrossed his arms so abruptly, the face of his watch clacked against the table. His eyes were wide, filled with questions. 

You nodded, answering the most obvious one. Tears began to sting in your eyes and sobs spasmed in your throat uncomfortably. But still you went on. 

"I loved him even when… Even when I watched him build this beautiful life with his beautiful wife and children. Even when all I could do was stand by and try to be okay with knowing that I was never going to get to be with him the way I wanted. "

Your shoulders shuddered with each shaky breath you forced through your lungs. You didn’t dare look at him, you kept a hand over your eyes as you cried.

And like hell did you cry. You cried for all the lost time, the missed opportunities, the longing looks, the what if's.

"I… Jesus. All this fucking time, Y/N." he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut

Like he couldn't even stomach the sight of you. 

"I should've kept my mouth shut." you shook your head and got up

What were you thinking?

Did you honestly think it was a good idea? What did you expect would happen? That he would take your face in his hands, thumbs skimming lovingly across your cheeks? Did you honestly expect that he would finally press his lips into yours and everything would fall into place?

Just as you were about to leave the kitchen to dramatically pack up your things and see if someone was insane enough to give you a ride home in this storm, Armie reached up to grab hold of your arm.

“Don’t… Just,” he huffed, shoulders deflating, “Just don’t walk out, let’s-let’s fucking talk about this, Y/N.”

“We don’t have to talk about anything, Armie. Let me go and we can just forget I ever said anything.”

“I don’t want to forget, Y/N!” Armie suddenly exploded, rising from his seat

All six feet and five inches of him loomed over you. You had to crane your neck just so you could look him in the eye.

“Okay. Alright, let’s get this over with then.” you dragged the wooden chair back, its legs squealing noisily against the floor

You planted your hands firmly on the top of the chair, using it as a shield between you and him.

Armie regarded you with caution, “You’re not going to throw that at me, are you?”

“Can we get on with this?” you snapped

"Alright then," he ran a harsh hand over his face, "Why." 

"Why what." 

 "Why now!" he yelled, raking his hands roughly through his hair, “Why not back then when things were less fucking complicated!”

"It was too late, okay?! You were already with Elizabeth when I figured it out and I didn't wanna ruin things for you. There was never a good time.”

He stepped toward you, placing his hands on the chair next to your own, “We spent half of our goddamn lives together, Y/N! You never found a good time then?”

You looked at him. You've looked at him for half your life basically. His classically handsome face, the crinkles by his sky blue eyes that were present even when he wasn't smiling, the lines that were carefully etched into his tanned skin deepened as his brows remained pushed together.

"I didn't want to lose you! Okay?! You're fucking right, we spent half our lives together and there was no way I was going to risk going through the other half without you!"

"We could have spent the rest of our fucking lives together, Y/N. Right from the fucking start, that's what I'm trying to tell you. Right from the start, it could've been just you and me." he retorted, his voice threatened to crack

The magnitude of his words began hitting you, wave after wave. 

"We were both goddamn cowards. Now look at us," he threw a hand in your direction then at his chest, "Serial Dater and Divorced Cheater."

Silence stretched miles between you, neither of you had any more words to squeeze out of yourselves, you felt raw, exposed.

Your hand went numb from gripping the chair too tightly, you wandered over to the kitchen sink to hold it over running water but you ended up sitting on the floor with your head heavy in your hands.

To say that this wasn’t what you bargained for when you accepted Armie’s invitation to see his new house would be the understatement of your entire life. You turned his words over in your head about a dozen times.

Didn’t you get what you wanted? There it was, all laid out for you, what were you waiting for? 

Armie sighed, settling down on the floor next to you. He took your hand, the one that was just beginning to wake up, and massaged it in his.

“Can you look at me?”

You did as he asked, lifting your eyes to his. He was smiling, it was hard not to smile back.

“Hi.” he planted a kiss on the back of your hand

“Hi.” you replied, looping your arm through his and resting your head on his shoulder

The storm continued to sweep through and the wind shrieked outside but for the first time that night, you felt completely calm despite the big question staring both of you in the face.

“So now what?” you asked

“Now, I think I should reheat dinner.” he got up and extended his hand to you

Was he fucking with you? That really wasn’t the answer you were expecting but you tried not to let your disappointment show. Once your hand was in Armie’s, he pulled you to him, one hand cupped your cheek while the other landed on the small of your back.

“May I?”

His lips were just a hair’s breadth away from yours. You looked up at him, nodding almost imperceptibly but he didn’t miss a beat. He  kissed your cheek first, then your forehead, making your eyes flutter shut. You were so close together, you wondered if he could feel your heart pounding against his chest.

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” you whispered, hands already snaking around the back of his neck

Armie bent down slightly, nuzzling his nose against yours as he shook his head, “I think we’ve both been waiting long enough.”

#armie hammer #armie hammer x reader #armie hammer imagine #armie hammer fic #the man from uncle #fanfiction #fanfic

[cardest]

Tennessee playlist

I’m going to Memphis! This is the mighty Tennessee - Memphis & Nashville playlist. You can’t tell the story of rock n roll without mentioning Memphis. Mississippi and Nashville, such a great history of music in this region. Chuck D hits things off with the ultimate introduction. Hit play here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

This playlist has it all. Soul, blues and rock n roll. We take a journey back to the beginning of country as well, with Nashville and finish up at Dollywood. Hope you dig it.

Tennessee - Mississippi - Arkansas

001 Henry Rollins & Chuck D - Rise Above 002 Clutch -  Devil & Me 003 Paul Simon - Graceland 004 Isaac Hayes - Memphis Trax 005 Scott Walker - Thats How I Got to Memphis 006 AC/DC - let there be rock 007 Johnny Cash -  Country Boy 008 Chuck Berry -  Back To Memphis 009 Jay Reatard - Gree, Money, Useless Children 010 Lukah - Black Dragon 011 King Curtis - Memphis Soul Stew 012 Rosetta Howard & the Harlem Hamfats - Delta Bound 013 Nots - In Glass 014 Pere Ubu - Memphis 015 Loretta Lynn - The Pill 016 Howlin Wolf - Smokestack Lightnin 017 Rory Gallagher - The Mississippi Sheiks 018 Crime and the City Solution - Streets Of West Memphis 019 River City Tanlines - Met You Before 020 Johnny Cash - Going To Memphis 021 Al Green - Get Back Baby 022 Kim Salmon & The Surrealists - The Zipper 023 Booker T & the MG - Melting Pot 024 Pussycat - Mississippi 025 Boswell Sisters - Roll On, Mississippi, Roll On 026 Aretha Franklin   - Muddy Water 027 The Cramps - Garbageman 028 HASH REDACTOR - Good Sense 029 Optic Sink - Personified 030 Angry Angles - Blockhead 031 Big Star - Thirteen 032 Memphis Jug Band -  Going Back to Memphis 033 North Mississippi AllStars - K.C. Jones (On The Road Again) 034 Bass Drum Of Death -  Bad Reputation 035 Today Is the Day -  The Devil's Blood 036 Walk the Line Soundtrack- Get Rhythm 037 Jack White -  Temporary Ground 038 Jerry Lee Lewis - A Damn Good Country Song 039 The Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Rumors 040 Saving Abel - Pine Mountain (The Dance of the Poor Proud Man) 041 The Oxford Circle - Foolish Woman 042 Bobbie Gentry - Greyhound Goin' Somewhere 043 Reigning Sound - A Little More Time 044 NINA SIMONE - MISSISSIPPI GODDAM! 045 Laurie Anderson - Hiawatha 046 Glen Campbell - Burning Bridges 047 Dolly Parton - Hillbilly Willy 048 Elvis Presley - Guitar Man 049 Blue Oyster Cult - Divine Wind 050 Sammy Hagar - Halfway To Memphis 051 Izzy Stradlin   - Memphis                       052 Johnny Cash -  Run Softly, Blue River 053 Iron Horse - Unchained 054 The Cramps - Human Fly 055 Faces - Memphis 056 Jack Oblivian - Rat City 057 The Cooters - Bustin' Loose 058 Mott the Hoople - All The Way From Memphis 059 Dusty Springfield -  Breakfast in Bed 060 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Tupelo 061 Chicago - Blues In The Night             062 Crossin Dixon - Guitar Slinger 063 Strummin' With The Devil - And the Cradle Will Rock 064 Stray Cats -  Can't Go Back to Memphis 065 Elvis Presley - Suspicious Minds 066 Suzi Quatro - Can't Trust Love 067 Lost Sounds - There's Nothing   068 Ike & Tina Turner ~ River Deep, Mountain High 069 Neil Diamond - Memphis Flyer 070 Julien Baker - hardline 071 The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion - Memphis Soul Typecast 072 Isaac Hayes  - Groove-A-Thon 073 Otis Clay - Trying To Live My Life Without You 074 Tim McGraw - Don't Mention Memphis 075 Eric Burdon & War - Blues For Memphis Slim 076 Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Blues Train 077 Sweet Knives - I DON'T WANNA DIE 078 Cream - Four Until Late 079 Grateful Dead - Golden Road 080 Huey Lewis and the  NEWS - Function At The Junction 081 The Cramps - I Was A Teenage Werewolf 082 Jesse Winchester_ The Brand New Tennessee Waltz 083 Dorsey Burnette - Tall Oak Tree 084 Field Music - Time In Joy 085 Jay Reatard -  Blood Visions 086 The Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Women 087 Quintron & Miss Pussycat  - Block the comet 088 Al Green - Let's Stay Together 089 The Mountain Goats - Getting Into Knives 090 Johnny Cash -  Tennessee Flat Top Box 091 Robert Pete Williams & Robert “Guitar" J. Welch - Mississippi Heavy Water Blues 092 MARY JAMES - MAKE THE DEVIL LEAVE ME ALONE 093 Ministry - Mississippi Queen 094 U.S. Bombs - Rocks in Memphis 095 Nazareth - Jet Lag 096 The Bar-Kays - Holy Ghost 097 Ty Segall - Despoiler Of Cadaver 098 His Hero Is Gone - Like Weeds 099 Jerry Lee Lewis - Memphis Beat 100 Generation X =  King Rocker 101 The Doobie Brothers - Wild Ride 102 Bad Company - Whiskey Bottle 103 Black Stone Cherry - When The Weight Comes Down 104 Buddy Miles - Memphis Train 105 Memphis Slim - Rockin' The House (Beer Drinkin' Woman) 106 David Clayton Thomas  - Wish The World Would Come to Memphis 107 Lost Sounds - Better Than Somethings 108 Alice Cooper - Ubangi Stomp 109 Tom Waits -  Don't Go Into The Barn 110 Hank Snow - Music Makin' Mama From Memphis 111 Phil Ochs - Heres to the State of Misssippi 112 Reigning Sound  - Your Love Is A Fine Thing 113 Pixies -  Letter to Memphis 114 Bob Dylan - Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again 115 The Colorblind James Experience - Considering A Move To Memphis 116 B.B.King - Rock Me Baby 117 Carla Thomas - B-A-B-Y 118 Aquarian Blood - A Love That Leads To War 119 Nights Like These - Scavenger's Daughter 120 Rufus Thomas - Walking the Dog 121 Clutch -  The House That Peterbilt 122 Lyal Strickland - O Arkansas 123 Don Bryant - How Do I Get There 124 The Sensational Barnes Brothers - Trying To Go Home 125 Squirrel Nut Zippers - Memphis Exorcism 126 Faster Pussycat - Tattoo 127 The Rolling Stones - Memphis Tennessee 128 Alcatrazz -  Sons And Lovers 129 Evil Army - Violence And War 130 Deep Purple - Somebody Stole My Guitar (Purpendicular 11) 131 Dwight Yoakam - Guitars, Cadillacs 132 UFO - Natural Thing 133 Thunderbridge Bluegrass Boys - Tennessee 134 Confederate Railroad - Queen of Memphis 135 The Box Tops - The Letter 136 Jerry Lee Lewis - Night Train To Memphis 137 Reverend John Wilkins - Trouble 138 Phil Lynott - Kings Call (feat. Mark Knopfler) 139 Old Crow Medicine Show - Motel in Memphis 140 Candy Lee- Here in Arkansas 141 Pharoah Sanders - You've Got To Have Freedom 142 Molly Hatchet - Mississippi Moon Dog 143 Rwake - Crooked Rivers 144 CARL PERKINS & PAUL SIMON - A Mile Out Of Memphis 145 Eddie Floyd - Knock On Wood 146 Al Green - Talk to me 147 Mush - Eat the Etiquette 148 PJ Harvey - Memphis 149 EX-CULT  - Clinical Study 150 Isaac Hayes  - Mans Temptation 151 Lil’ Jon & Eastside Boyz - Rep Yo City 152 Rufus Wainwright - Memphis Skyline 153 Stray Cats - 18 Miles to Memphis 154 Amasa Hines - Earth and Sky 155 Joe Henderson -  Back Road 156 Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash - Memphis Woman 157 Norma Jean - Memphis Will Be Laid To Waste 158 Fess Parker - Ballad of Davy Crockett 159 Assjack -  Redneck Ride 160 Brother Andy & His Big Damn Mouth - Social Lube 161 The Replacements - Alex Chilton 162 Ann Peebles - The handwriting is on the wall 163 The Highwaymen -  Big River 164 The Cult - Memphis Hip Shake 165 STEVE EARLE -  Hillbilly Highway 166 The BO-KEYS featuring OTIS CLAY -Got To Get Back 167 Rush - Tom Sawyer 168 Class Of '55: Memphis Rock & Roll Homecoming - Birth Of Rock And Roll 169 Hank Williams Jr - Memphis Belle 170 Sam Moore & Dave Prater - Soul Man 171 Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Bloc Bloc Bloc 172 Kenny Rogers & The First Edition  - Just Dropped In 173 Linda Heck - pictures of dead people 174 Carla Thomas - Sugar 175 Three Mafia 6 - Mystic Stylez 176 Osborne Brothers- Rocky Top 177 The Beverly Hillbillies Theme Song 178 Wilson Pickett - Barefootin' 179 Dolly Parton - Jolene 180 Charlie Daniels - long haired country boy 181 The Civil Wars - From This Valley 182 Jill Jack - Gettin' On In Memphis (The Elvis Song) 183 Huckleberry Finn and His Friends - Opening title 184 Dead Cross -  Skin of a Redneck 185 Johnny Cash - I Never Picked Cotton 186 Old Crow Medicine Show -  Wagon Wheel 187 Isaac Hayes  - That love feeling 188 Aretha Franklin - I say a little prayer 189 Little Milton - What Do You Do When You Love Somebody 190 Howlin' Wolf - Spoonful 191 Weird Al" Yankovic - Money For Nothing / Beverly Hillbillies 192 The Oblivians - I'll Be Gone 193 OT Sykes - Stone crush on you 194 The Mad Lads  - Come closer to me 195 The Box Tops - Choo Choo train 196 Bobby Blue Bland - dreamer 197 Wanda Jackson - Rip It Up 198 Junior Parker - Love Ain't Nothin' but a Business Goin' On 199 The Nightingales ft. Tommy Tate - Just a Little Overcome 200  The Louvin Brothers - Satan is real 201 Overture "Big River" - (1985 Original Broadway Cast) 202 Ike & Tina Turner - Shake 203 Playa Fly - fly shit 204 Adia Victoria - Different Kind Of Love 205 Grateful Dead - Tennessee Jed 206 Red Hot Chili Peppers - Backwoods 207 Otis Redding - Tennessee Waltz 208 Nashville Pussy - The Late Great USA 209 The Paperhead - The true poet 210 Tomahawk - South Paw 211 Night Beats - Her Cold Cold Heart 212 Forest of Tygers - human monster 213 LOSS - All Grows on Tears 214 Charlie McCoy - Wayfaring Stranger 215 Dick Stusso - Modern Music 216 Eddie Noack - Aint the Reaping Ever Done 217 Jason & the Scorchers - Greetings From Nashville   218 Jasmin Kaset and Quichenight - A Single Right Word 219  Gospel Keynotes - Give Me My Flowers 220   WEEN - Scrape the Mucus off My Brain 221 Shannon Shaw - Broke My Own 222 The Jesus Lizard - Blue Shot 223 Eddy Arnold    - Tennessee Stud 224 Clutch - Pure Rock Fury 225 Today Is The Day -  Who Is The Black Angel? 226 Hank Williams Jnr - Tennessee River 227 The Dead Weather -  Bone House 228  Every Mother's Nightmare - Long Haired Country Boy 229 Motley Crue - She goes down 230 Waylon Jennings - Tennessee 231 Dolly Parton - Down On Music Row 232 Jello Biafra & Mojo Nixon - Lets Go Burn Ole Nashville Down 233 The Byrds - Nashville West 234 Sharon Van Etten - Every Time the Sun Comes Up 235 Bill Anderson ~ More Than A Bedroom Thing 236 Dottie West - Route 65 To Nashville 237 Intruder - The Martyr 238 Johnny Cash - Smiling Bill McCall 239 Lynard Skynyrd - Workin For MCA 240 The Everly Brothers  - Nashville Blues 241 Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood - Elusive Dreams 242 Nashville Bluegrass Band - Im Gonna Love You 243 Ringo Starr - No-No Song 244 Hank Williams - Hey, Good Lookin' 245 The Lovin Spoonful - Nashville Cats 246 They Might Be Giants - James K. Polk 247 Commander Cody  -  Back To Tennessee 248 Wanda Jackson - Shakin' All Over 249 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Grand Ole Opry Song 250 Tomahawk - Flashback 251 Megadeth -  Dystopia 252 Dolly Parton -  Train, Train 253 The Clovers - One Mint Julep 254 Trampled By Turtles - Whiskey 255 Tom T. Hall - Nashville is a Groovy Little Town 256 Muddy Waters - I am the blues 257 Foo Fighters - Congregation 258 Pavement - Strings Of Nashville 259 Joe Ely - Tennessees Not The State Im In 260 Waylon Jennings - Nashville Bum 261 The Charmels - As Long As I Got You 262 Eve Maret - Do my thing 263 SABATON - 82nd All the Way 264 Halfway To Hazard - Welcome To Nashville 265 Nashville Pussy - Go Motherfucker Go 266 Indigo Girls - Nashville 267 Snarls - Walk In The Woods 268 Steeler - Cold Day in Hell 269 Strummin' With The Devil  - Jamies Cryin' 270 spazz gummo love theme 271 The Cramps - Cornfed Dames 272 Saxon -  Solid Ball Of Rock 273 Al Green - Tired of Being Alone 274 Soul Friction - It's Out Of My Hands 275 Today Is the Day - Wheelin' 276 Jackie Lynn - Odessa 277 The Jesus Lizard - Nub 278 Bully - Where To Start 279 Sonny Boy Williamson II - Lonesome Cabin 280 Tomahawk - God hates a coward 281 The Louvin Brothers - Knoxville Girl 282 Tom Waits - Jitterbug Boys 283 The Evil Dead Soundtrack  - Bridge Out 284 Wanda Jackson - Thunder On The Mountain 285 Elvis Presley - Where Do I Go From Here 286 Booker T & the MGs - Back Home 287 Ezra Furman & the Harpoons - American Highway 288 Joe Ely - dream camera 289 Assjack - Tennessee Driver 290 Nashville Pussy  - We Want A War 291 Dwight Yoakam - A Thousand Miles From Nowhere 292 Hank Williams, Jr. - Knoxville Courthouse Blues 293 ZZ Top - My Head's in Mississippi 294 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band -  Honky Tonkin' 295 Dead Weather - Die by the Drop 296 The Black Belles - What can I do 297 Dolly Parton  - Cowgirl And The Dandy 298 The Secret Sisters  - I've Got a Feeling 299 Justin Townes Earle - Aint Got No Money 300 Tomahawk - M.E.A.T 301 Jex Thoth - The Places You Walk 302 Bill Carter - Road To Nowhere 303 Bill Dees (Roy Orbison back vocals) - Tennesse Owns My Soul 304 Karen Elson  - The Ghost Who Walks 305 The Who - Whiskey Man 306 Hank Williams III - Crazed Country Rebel 307 The Lost Sounds - I Get Nervous 308 Big Star - September Gurls 309 ZZ Top - Whiskey n Mama 310 Johnny Cash - God's Gonna Cut You Down 666 Isaac Hayes - Hyperbolicsyllablecsesquedalymistic

Hit play: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

#tennessee #johnny cash #tomahawk #jesus lizard #memphis #dollywood #nashville #Third Man Records #Tennessee playlist #memphis playlist #tina turner #hank williams III #lost sounds #the cramps #angry angles #today is the day #Nashville Pussy #dead weather #jay reatard #west memphis three

[wannabeauthorclive]

Word Find I

Thank you @talesofsorrowandofruin, @zmlorenz, @vellichor-virgo, @fayoftheforest and @nikkywrites all the tags!! I think that each of you have tagged me in two tag games each, so this is gonna have a lot of words. 

@talesofsorrowandofruin words: asleep, misplace, bake, invisible, orchestra, introduce, disagree and sea

Asleep

“What is this?” Silver asks, waving a hand at the candles.

“You were half asleep when I came in here, I thought that the main light would be too harsh when you got out.” Ira answers with a small smile.

Disagree

Ira places a light kiss on Silver’s lips, “To dance, we must have music.”

Laughing, Silver says, “I disagree with you,” She spins and dips Ira, “You don’t need music to dance. You just need the right partner.”

“We may not need music, Love, but I would certainly like it.” Ira laughs as she’s lifted up again.

Sea

She heads to the stern and crosses the main deck to find Tonya. On her way, she passes Braveheart where — she checks their wrist, no bracelet — he is keeping all the ropes in place. “Aye, Captain! Where you off to? Forester is manning ship.” He calls, pulling another rope and opening the sail so they can gain more speed from the light wind. Black doesn’t worry that Forester is at the wheel, just as long someone is, all is well.

“I’m looking for Tonya!” Everyone on the ship talks loud, there’s a lot of noise on sea, with lots of enthusiasm. “You know where I can find her?” Braveheart just smiles, points up, and continues working. Black looks to where he pointed, and sure enough, Tonya is up on the spar doing a handstand.

@zmlorenz words: master, cute, foreign, leak, bite, music, frown, and fresh

Master

“Not at all, gunner!” Soberski is the Master Gunner, he runs the canons and guns, making sure they’re always prepared for a fight. But he also is the resident joker, Black hardly knows if what comes out of him mouth is a joke or not.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working, Soberski?” Canta asks.

Soberski turns to her, “Aren’t you? I got some mental problems that could use some healing.”

“We all have mental problems, Soberski.” Canta is the Surgeon and healer, always there to fix up injuries. She’s also the most soft-spoken, her little contributions mean everything to Black.

Music - TW: implied nudity

She turns on the water on, filling the big ivory tub with warm water and goes to look for the scented soap. She turns on classical music to play in the backroom and she pours the soap in the tub. She sheds her clothes and steps into the tub of bubbles and water. She sighs, letting the warm water seep into her bones. With the low music playing and the scent of jasmine filling the room, she could stay there forever and never leave. She closes her eyes and tries to forget about everything, just for a bit.

Frown

Frowning, Ironside whispers, “Why must we take the job if the last time you lost everyone?”

The darkness on Black’s face turns to fire. “Because I can’t not go!” She snaps. “I don’t want to live in fear anymore! I can’t! Every job we take I am terrified. I can’t be terrified anymore, Sal. Because someone who is afraid isn’t someone you want guarding your back. Someone who is afraid shouldn’t be there at all because…” Struggling to find the words, Black snarls at herself and stomps away, yelling. “Take the damn wheel, Ironside, I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore!”

@vellichor-virgo words: air, safe, water, ache, ink, snap, drift, and braid

Air

“Unless… we…” Another idea starts forming in Black’s mind. “Unless… Unless we were already in the building!” She says excitedly, throwing her arms in the air. “We would have to be in the building. What did Ironside say? About disguises?” Her eyes go wide as realization hits her like a truck and she loses her breath for a moment.

Water

Black tilts her head up to stare at the great expanse of the sky. Mid day and the sun is the normal too harsh blue that never seems to end. Black much prefers the dark blue expanse of the water, constantly changing yet always the same. She sucks in a harsh breath and closes her eyes, trying to forget the sky, the sea, and her past. Just for a moment. A moment to collect her mind and then to stand behind the wheel as the Captain always should. It’s where she belongs.

Ache

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the wheel. She loves what she does, she loves her crew and each adventure they go on, she loves days like these as well, where there’s not much to do and everyone is enjoying the sun. But sometimes, her heart aches. As soon as she isn’t bustling about, her heart aches. A sad smile stretches across her face, sometimes she feels that for all that is perfect in her life, somethings missing. She shakes her head, deciding not to question what could possibly be missing. 

Ink

Silver doesn’t respond. She uncaps the ink, unrolls the letter paper, dips her feather pen into the dark ink. She twirls the feather pen across the paper, her handwriting neat and proper as it dances across the paper. Something about the cursive calms her, possibly the way that it’s all connected with no room for errors. And Silver’s print has no errors. She’s done it too long for errors to even have a slim possibility of appearing. She pauses only to dip the feather in ink and to tinkle her chin with the feather in thought.

Snap

“Of course, what must I do?” Ira hands him a glass of wine and he takes with his left hand. His posture doesn’t relax and neither does Silver’s.

“I need you to go to Viras Treasury and steal—,” She holds up the faded paper with the drawing of the artifact and a little note in the corner. She found the paper in a metal box under her parents’ bed. Her eyes snap from the paper back to Desmond when he takes a sharp breath. “Do you know what this is?” She asks, a sharpness in her tone that — with normal people — would make them do her bidding at moments notice, whatever that bidding may be.

Shaking his head furiously, he says in a rush, “No, no,” He seems to regain his composure while Silver narrows her eyes at him. “I do not know what that is. Inform me?”

Drift

“Darling, if you stay in the tub any longer you’ll become a prune.” Ira teases after much time of quiet.

Silver opens her eyes — When did they drift closed? — and looks around the room, hating the thought of even leaving the still warm water. An aggravated sigh slips out her mouth as her pulls her self out of the tub. Ira is there the moment her feet hit the tile with a towel. She looks around as she drys off, just now noticing all the candles Ira lit when she was in the tub.

@fayoftheforest words: edge, cut, knife, point and trace

Edge

After hours of dancing but only felt like minutes to the two of them, Silver whispers, pressing her forehead to Ira’s, “Do you think we’re doing the right thing? Is Desmond our best choice?”

“Darling, Desmond is our only choice. And we’re doing what we must.” Ira reassures.

“What we must.” Silver repeats, “And what is that?”

“Finding closure, love. We are finding your closure. After this, after we get the artifact, you’ll look forward and not back.” Ira assures.

“I don’t want to forget her, Ira, she was the one the saved me.” Tears glisten at the edges of Silver’s eyes.

Cut

Virow is a big city, getting to the mail post may be harder than Black thought. The further she walks from the docks and into the market, the more women and people dressed in fancy dresses and suits. Virow is the second richest place in Viras, right behind their capital, Strexmont. Captain Black stands out like a sore thumb in the sea of the rich dressed Virans bustling about their city. Their white skin and short cut dirty blond hair are their defining Viran features. Captain Black knows she stands out with her long dark blue hair, dark skin, and darker eyes. Her outfit — black trousers, grey loose tunic, long red overcoat, knee high black boots, long black leather gloves and two pistols tucked in the waistband of her pants — is also a far cry from the tight, form-fitting dresses of purples and light blue that most Viran women wear.

Point

They all get stuck in their heads, more often than is good, but Black likes to think that sometimes you need to get stuck in your head to clear it. But for many, their head is a dangerous place to be for more than a few minutes, maybe seconds.

Black stands and walks up to Ironside and gently shakes her shoulders. “Sal, Sal, it’s gonna be ok.” Ironside’s gaze is still set on a nonexistent point far away. Black steps back a few feet and snaps her fingers, not close to Ironside’s face, just close enough to startle. Ironside jumps slightly and shakes her head. “Ironside, Sal, head onto bed. It’s almost ten. You’ve been working all day, you need to be well rested for tomorrow.”

@nikkywrites words: knowledge, beautiful, wood, agree and lose.

Beautiful Beauty

The whole crew looks away from Black and shakes their heads. Black understands why they don’t want to stay on deck, they’ve been aboard for so long and they all have a little pocket coin that she is sure they want to spend. “No volunteers?” No response. Throwing her hands in the air, she says, “Golly, crew! Y’all gonna make your Captain stay aboard to make our beauty don’t get stolen?”

There was a long pause before, Lakoma raises their hand and says, “I’ll stay behind.”

Black shakes her head at Lakoma and the crew, “No, Oma, you will not stay aboard. You need,” She passes a full coin pouch into Lakoma’s hands. “You need to get us food. I’ll stay aboard, no trouble. Just be sure to stay on the look out for anything odd.”

Wood

“This is delicious Lakoma!” Black compliments. And it is, all of their food is. They’re a wonderful cook. To get them to relax a bit more, Black asks, “So what happened while we were caged up in here all day?”

The question works like a charm and the flood gates open. Lakoma is a story teller. Their passion is cooking but they are constantly telling stories without thinking about it. They start waving their hands, excitedly talking about everything that happened earlier that day. From what they cooked for breakfast to the jokes that Soberski told them. They talk about the herbs and medicines that Canta is mixing, the new wood sculpture Forester is carving, the punch that Braveheart was practicing, the tricks they saw Tonya doing on the masts, they talk about how everyone except them slept in. They mention watching people wander about the docks fishing and selling while their newest bread was cooking. Lakoma talks about anything and everything.

Agree

As soon as they leave the room, Black asks. “What do you think the person was looking for?”

“I don’t know, but it’s nothing good.” Ironside responds, her tone somber. They both know that whoever the person may be, he knows who they are and he might just try to ruin their heist.

“I agree.”

“This isn’t good, Black.” The tone of the room changes drastically. It is now rushed and worried when it was slow and nervous a minute ago. Ironside’s voices raises as she keeps talking. “What are we going to do? We can’t send y’all in there when we know someone could be waiting to ambush you! It would be a death wish!”

Lose

Ira stands a bit away, being sure to give Silver her space. While Ira can be close at all other times, when Silver is writing, she cannot. Silver has said that she can’t think when someone watches over her shoulder. Ira respects her wishes and stands far enough away that Silver can think. And only when Silver leans back in her chair and sets the feather down, does Ira go closer.

“May I?” Ira asks, waving a hand at the letter.

Whew! That was a lot of words to find! But I’m glad I caught up on all of them! I love these tags now that I have some writing that I can actually search through!

Tagging (with no pressure): @a-completely-normal-girl @fayoftheforest @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @tiredlittleoldme @teasenpaiwrites @baguettethebooklover @aligned-stars-writing @47crayons @alicewestwater and anyone else wants to!!

Your words are health, cancel, red, error and dear 

#tag game #find the word tag game #wip. over land and sea #olas excerpts