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vasiktomis · 7 months

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TripAdvisor's Top 10 Things To Do In Volterra, Tuscany (18+)

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Pairing: Aro/F!Reader(No use of y/n). Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~5500. Warnings: Overt stalking. Gaslighting. Borderline infidelity. Kind of sexually weird behaviours all around. Read it on Ao3 Here!

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Autumn.

One couldn’t throw a rock in the home of the Volturi without hitting an unprincipled mortal submitting themselves for servitude. Of course, these humans do so with the intention of being made into immortals. You, on the other hand, stray into territory Aro doesn’t find himself familiar with.

It strikes such a curiosity in him that he can’t help but survey your actions when you assume privacy. It’s only fair, really — if you won’t let him see your thoughts, you can at least allow him to play guessing games in his free time. Playing detective the way his trackers do: acquainting himself with your routines, following your network. Finding out what makes you tick outside of what you elect to tell him.

It’s not as if he’s doing any harm, anyway. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, and this whole game is centred around secrets. If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have started it. He can’t be faulted for simply accepting your proposal, can he?

No matter —

You’re a curious sight when you think you’re alone. No different to the way you behave in his presence. Irritatingly elusive in that regard; he’d hoped to at least uncover a shred of something hidden from your daily life. Some vulnerability. Some sweetness. Loved ones, perhaps. The kinds of weaknesses mortals have — but in the months he’s known you, he’s not known you to speak of anyone beyond mutual contacts and the odd celebrity. You fill your time greedily. Blindly. And amidst that, you don’t call anyone.

You’d make for a perfect recruit, if the rest of you wasn’t such a risk.

In the meantime, until he grows tired of the puzzle, Aro is content to play along. He'll endure your shallow phone-app gossip about Taylor The Swift with the knowledge that no human could ever compete with his own kind in terms of speed, and the security that brains are no different. You're no match for him, intellectually. You’re bound to slip up. Whatever mask you don’t want him peering beneath will crack, and so long as you remain entertaining, he’ll keep you alive. In the meantime, he’s still plenty able to lift far more information from you than you realise. He doesn’t need to touch you to find out what makes you tick, and he’s already beginning to notice a pattern in your rhythms.

This isn’t a nightly routine, mind. Just a carefully curated set-up to ensure that when he does grow bored — when he just so happens to pass by one particular window in the castle, he needn’t make any other effort but to simply stand and observe.

Aro’s nothing if not generous. Those Airbnbs you hopped to and from offer little in the way of a personal touch. They were cramped and beyond your sustainable budget. There's less of a paper trail in your wake when you're not scrambling to find a new rental, and simply providing you with options bought in a faux name prove advantageous for his end of the board, anyway. This way, you have more presence. More security. More freedom to adorn your living space with all of the things that have taken your fleeting interest; artwork, furnishings, what you refer to as ’tasteful clutter’ — all purchased with the money he gives you, of course. It’s akin to watching a magpie fix her nest with trinkets, and in a static position, the viewing experience is less of a hassle.

Had he ensured your living space faced perfectly toward his own abode, graced with the view of the place that gives you whatever you ask?

Of course.

Do you ever appreciate the wonderful view of the castle from your new home?

Hardly.

This is fine by him, he supposes.

The less you peer out into the dark, the less concern he has watching you from it.

Over the course of your relocation, you’ve decided to make your bedroom the room with the view, and with only minimal encouragement from Aro. Most of your time nowadays is spent by his side, and majority of the time not is devoted to resting. You don’t lounge in your living spaces unless you’re hosting Volturi, who are barred from your sleeping quarters. Meanwhile, your human guests only ever appear to be hosted in the opposite manner.

It’s not the nature of your ventures that interests him; human bodies are filthy. Graceless. Marked up with scars and spots with stories too boring to justify in this era. Each of your guests is as imperfectly mortal as the last — as are you — and you never, ever, bring the same person home twice.

It’s not what you do with them physically that Aro pays close attention to. It’s the psychological aspects that strike him.

You’re unkind to your lovers. They appear to frustrate you. Matters that go beyond teasing and taunting. They’re simply not up to scratch. Its not for a lack of trying, either; you never give anyone more than an overnight chance before you’re done with them. No afterglow. No intimacy. No second chances. You take what your body needs and send them on their way.

Well, you try.

It seems from observation that the only one who is capable of impressing you is yourself. Hardly any different from your public life, really.

You’re hideously skilled at convincing people to do things for you, and yet you seem to have tremendous difficulty with this. If only your lovers could dip into your mind. They’d know precisely how to give you what you’re chasing.

He could. Not that he wants to.

He’d never.

When you’re alone, it’s different. There’s no bumbling presence obstructing you from him. No one to watch you suffer through pretend patience with as they try in vain to figure out how to please you. You know how to provide for yourself, and tonight is one such fortunate, lucky night.

He prefers it when you’re like this, like tonight: neatly in-view atop your mattress, sheets kicked away, minute little motions of your hand betwixt your legs. If he were human — if you knew you had an audience, it'd almost feel taunting, the way you never remove your underwear; no matter how inconvenient it appears to have them still on. The most gratifying part of it though, Aro finds, is when everything is over. When you’ve emerged from your haze, and the first thing you do is roll over, lift your smartphone from the bedside table, and cause his own device to buzz in his pocket.

A fleeting thought entertains your reaction to his correspondence at this very minute, with your dominant hand — as per usual — obscured by the fabric of your underwear. The potential of your irritation is delightful already, but the possibilities are snowballing; would it bother you enough to make you stop altogether? Would it stir you from your state, or would you keep going, as unbothered with his presence as you are your partners?

Perhaps —

Perhaps it would excite you.

Venom pools beneath his tongue. Aro takes a moment to dampen his throat. His hand finds his pocket. Considering it.

He could test how much power a text would have over you right now.

Then, something more reasonable stills him. For all his reflections, you could simply ignore him. Your phone could be on silent for all he knows, and while you’d never even know it, he would be forced to wear that as a loss.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

It’s best he doesn’t involve himself in the moment. Excitement doesn’t bode well for games of chance.

Your posture stiffens. You’re on the brink. If he really wished it, he could hone in on you. Drown out the city noise and focus on what might be catching breaths and the tack of parting, wetted flesh. The fine hairs on the back of Aro’s neck stand on end. Fingers curl delicately around the phone in his pocket, thumb impatiently drifting back and forth along the glass.

Then, after teetering for too long a moment, you slacken.

You give up. Drawing your hand out of your underwear and letting it fall beside you on the mattress while you glower at the ceiling. Aro, meanwhile, tugs his hand from his pocket with an unimpressed huff.

Amidst his own annoyance that you are already taking far too many seconds to pick up your phone, Aro notes that this has been an increasingly common ending for you. Not that he’s interested in that aspect of it. He couldn’t care less for the hormonal activities of a mate-less human. Even if the smell that permeates the home he bought you is — really quite something — especially in the minutes after. Normally, alone, you’re quite capable at this.

Nowadays, much less so.

He supposes it doesn’t matter, now. He’s more concerned with the far too many centimetres between your hand and the bedside table. Where the presence he’s trying to impose goes ignored.

...

That does it.

He tugs his phone out of his pocket. Eyes emoji. Conveying expectation while committing to a funny little in-joke with just himself. That'll do nicely. Send.

Across the way, your own device lights up, and you stir from your annoyed state. Checking it nonchalantly.

Then, you do something new. Angling the phone above your head the same way you've taught him to take the most flattering photographs on the go. Tugging the collar of your shirt outward.

You —

You can’t be doing what he thinks you’re doing. Not to him.

How vile. He’s fathoms beyond you.

Aro's gaze flickers to his phone.

Nothing on his end. Not yet.

Your device lowers. You hit send.

Still nothing.

Perhaps there’s an issue with your reception. He should have received whatever tasteless picture you’d taken by now.

Seconds pass. Then he’s tapping out another message. Nails clacking with more urgency on the screen. Two eyes emojis. Now that’ll get your blood pumping.

…

Now this is just getting ridiculous.

Rapid-fire pressing of buttons. Aro holds his phone to his ear. He scowls out the window, watching your thumb swipe far too slowly before you greet him.

“Hey, boss. Hot night out, huh? So much for Autumn.”

“What are you doing right now?” It's something of an effort to keep the question from sounding like an accusation.

“I’m sending photos of my tits to some slob on the internet.”

“Ah.” Disarmingly candid as usual, he thinks. “Did you consider it might be inappropriate to tell your mentor such a thing?”

“Pardon. I’m using wireless network technology to transfer illicit images of my body at the behest of an acquaintance who intends to use them to coax money out of a wealthy male — who, probably — finds it sexually thrilling to parted from said money. Is that formal enough?”

“How charitable. Look at that.” Aro comments, watching you peel yourself out of bed. “There’s a humanitarian in you after all.”

“If there was a humanitarian in me, I wouldn’t be working eight hours a day being your breadwinner.”

“Then I'm sure you'll have no qualms explaining why you stay for ten.” He ignores the clumsy euphemism, turning away from the window. He’s gotten the conversation on the right track. “Not including our quality time.”

“Speaking of — when are you dropping by?”

“I thought it might be more polite to wait until I was invited.”

“Aro.” Your voice lowers. Long-suffering. “You show up unannounced half the time.”

“You’re mistaken. No fault of your own. Humans don’t have the best memories.”

“Nice try.”

It’s then that Aro spies Caius turning onto the stretch of hallway. The blonde’s mouth opens, about to regard him before he takes notice of the call and shuts it.

“Two minutes.” Aro promises.

“Wh-“

He hangs up. There’s no time to spare for your reply, lest present company develop further concerns. Caius has made it quite clear over recent weeks how much he protests the little arrangement the two of you have going on, and to be frank, Aro tends to hear less of it when he’s given as little ammunition as possible. Downplaying your existence entirely whenever you’re not in the room seems to be the only effective means of keeping the other man off his back.

Not that he’d prefer to be chatting about you, anyway. Any interest regarding his new protege takes an immediate turn for the suspect. “Aro.” The blonde greets curtly.

”Caius.” Aro smiles back. “Enjoying the longer hours outside?”

Caius is onto him already. He’s far too acquainted with that sour expression to fool himself into thinking he’s not on his trail. “The hours are fine. What are you doing up here?”

“Admiring the altocumulus clouds.” He lies, inching to the centre of the window to cover as much of the view with his back as possible.

”Altocumulus clouds.”

”Indeed.”

“How sweet.” Caius sneers. “Let me see —“

“Come, since when have you taken an interest in cloud formations?”

“Since when have you been interested in cloud formations?”

Finally, the blonde succeeds.

”Aro.”

”I’m keeping an eye on her to ensure she’s not doing anything nefarious.”

”Don’t lie.”

"Is it such a crime for me to simply watch?" Aro snaps. "It's not like you to have such little faith in me."

“Your agency is your own.” Caius says, reluctant to fathom the words. “But it’s only a matter of time until word spreads past the continent, and the questions arise.”

“Our answers are sound. Times are changing, Caius. If the vegetarians succeeded so well in training a mortal for their own collection, what’s the harm in us doing the same? We both know public relations haven’t been positive for a few decades. Perhaps having a potential in the midst of the Guard wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“That —“ Caius points over Aro’s shoulder, guiding his gaze across the street. You’ve vanished. Likely bathing. “— is not potential. That is a costly distraction.”

There’s an awfully long pause while Caius chooses his next words. Both of them know what he’s going to say. Both of them can’t stand to look at each other while he says it.

“How many centuries has it been since you visited Sulpicia?”

“Really now —“

“You’d do well to remember she exists.” Caius grunts. “I’m sure your wife would appreciate your visit.”

“Glass houses, dear Caius.”

“Just don’t make this another Carlisle.” The blonde warns.

“Impossible.” Aro dismisses. “If this one fails, there won’t be a challenge in dispatching her.”

“And if you fail her too late, it could turn into an awful mess. Personalities like your pet go rogue.”

“Personalities like that one are easy to rein in with the right measures. Take Chelsea; she does whatever she’s told as long as she gets whatever she asks for. Our guest is no different. So long as we hold the scrap, the dog will follow.”

Words won’t get through to him. They rarely do. Caius's loyalty lies in firm philosophy, and contradictions are not to be tolerated even amongst his oldest allies. Aro relents, holding out his hand for the other man to take. “Show me how I can convince you, brother.”

Caius regards the gesture with a purse of his lips. His hands remain clasped in front of him, and something in Aro's chest stirs. Uneasy. It's not a sharp enough feeling to have him feeling threatened by the man, but it's enough to warrant concern. Caius would never snatch at helm. He's far too weak. Much too uncharismatic. But he, along with Marcus, make up the completed image of a functioning, harmonious unity. If his own brother in purpose is keeping something from him, it needs to be rectified immediately.

However, Aro's a little preoccupied right now. This time, the blonde's temper will have to simmer on its own for a few hours yet.

The best he can do now is respect Caius's boundary. Show poise. A human in their midst will not upset the integrity of the Guard, and the quickest way to making this clear is honesty. Business as usual.

Everything is under control.

“I don’t like the way the light bounces in this room, and I believe this window is at fault.” Caius declares. “It should be filled in, don’t you think, brother?”

Aro smiles for a moment longer than he knows he should. It doesn’t matter. They both know the gesture is hardly a fond one. “As you like.”

__________________________________

“Let me touch you.”

You blink at the smiling man at your doorstep. “Hello works, too.”

Vampires are persistent animals, you’ve learned — but none more so than Aro. Ever since he’d decided on going public with his decision to make himself something of mentor to you, the senior ranks among staff have all made it quite clear how royally you’ve fucked up by putting in your lot with them; how you had better hope you don’t lose your novelty by the time you die of natural causes, lest their leader grow bored with you. To the chagrin of most — and to your initial delight at the former — your days and nights through the end of Summer and most of Autumn have been in at least some aspect shadowed by Aro.

His head tilts to the side, just a little as he examines your face. His gaze flits to your collar. “You’re flushed. Are you well?"

To his credit, Aro is probably the most streetwise person you've ever met. He may be ancient, but he's really not bad at keeping up with modernity, with societal change and evolution. He's got an answer to offer to any question you ask, and the ones he doesn't, he's simply keeping from you. That's where, you think, his intelligence falters. The first few times carries a Wow factor. A god, this guy knows everything. Then, he gets talking. Then, he gets long-winded. Then, he's insisting on his smarts. It becomes as inescapable as any other studious white guy flaunting passages he's picked up from books — only Aro's got a few thousand years more passages to cover.

Like most men you've encountered in life, even the ones that would swear otherwise, Aro's Achilles heel is he's utterly convinced that you're dumb.

You’re aware of how little he thinks of humans. Their creations and their impacts, he respects well enough, but individuals are little more than food. At first you’d assumed that the fuss he made over your wit was a polite ploy to force you upon his coven, but as the weeks have drawn on, it’s become clear that he genuinely expected you to be too stupid to realise the habits he’s picked up in regard to his studies of you.

For instance, the gifted apartment with the gigantic fuck-off window angled directly at the tower he haunts. The way he knows exactly when to call you, where you are, and when you sleep to the minute.

“Went for a run.” You answer, and his acknowledgement comes a second too late to feel organic.

You both know what you’ve been doing. Only he’s under the assumption you don’t know that he knows. It makes his allusions feel ham-fisted. Aro, it seems, gets sloppy when he thinks he’s in the lead.

The others have been honest with you: Aro’s interests are intense. This game has gotten under his skin, and he’s willing to use any advantage he has on you (an apparently inexhaustible list) to be the victor. You don’t really mind, to be honest. It’s a new vein of fun, being the subject of obsession. Maybe if it were a human following your every move, you’d be creeped out. Not to say that Aro doesn't set off alarm bells; he hits nearly every base in that regard. It's just that, normally, men who want to make a possession out of you are scores less interesting.

Aro steps forward, inviting himself past you, slowing to inhale. It occurs to you that you’ve never heard him breathe passively before. It’s not like he needs to.

He’s fucking smelling you.

“I would never. Not without your permission.” He assures. A 'come on, please' dressed up to make it feel like you've got far more agency than just what his amusement allows.

“No, Aro.”

”Then hello will have to do.”

This man could kill you whenever he pleases. Instead, he goes out of his way to assure you he's a total consent king. A thousands-year-old blood-drinking monster who stalks your shadow day and night and a simple refusal has him completely enthralled with having you in his vicinity, alive. At least for a while.

You’re not ashamed to admit it. It’s fun. There’s a fascination with Aro that keeps your own boredom at bay. Beyond the otherworldly aspects of him, beyond the flattery of fixation, you do enjoy trying to figure him out as much as he seems to enjoy figuring you out. There’s almost something familiar about him to you, but there's nothing in memory that you can compare him to. Maybe its just subconscious representations of Dracula in media throughout your childhood; likenesses that have almost absolutely been influenced by him.

If only he wasn't so annoying. You might be more inclined to fuck him sooner if he'd stop trying to read your mind every few hours.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and ignore me one of these days so I can save my breath.” You mutter, closing the door behind him.

“Where would be any fun in that? What we’re doing is far too much fun to fathom it.” Aro tuts, taking in the environment, scanning shelves and surfaces for anything new. It makes him happy to see his influence on your life, you’ve found. Like he has power over you. “Jane has a message she’d like me to pass on.” He waits until you motion for him to continue. “She’d like you to stop trying to make her smoke cigarettes.”

Little tattletale.

“S'not like it’ll give her cancer.” You retort. “Can vampires even develop addictions?”

“Heavens, no. It’s the principle. Besides, we could do without the smell sticking to the walls.”

“Like the meat and borax smell is so much better.”

“Why are you so intent on this?”

“Times have changed! You might have gotten to see it in your day, but this might be my only window to see a child smoking.”

Aro winces at that. “I wouldn’t advise wording it that way in her presence. She and Alec were burned at the stake.”

“Sounds like they could both do with a vice or two.”

“Oh, you are so charming.” Aro scoffs, making his way into the living room. “You know I’d adore if you made more of an effort to ingratiate yourself with my family. Personally, I think you’d make a handsome newborn. I’d like to see that happen before your life is forfeit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Is that why you haven’t left me alone?” You ponder, pressing a mocking hand to your chest. “Are you grooming me?”

He gives nothing to your theatrics, sticking to his own. “There has been chatter. Nothing is ever set in stone until it reaches the court, but there’s a consensus.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re…” He pauses a few seconds, ensuring he’s captured enough of your attention that a cheery little smile won’t go wasted. “A list of expletives I won't lower myself to repeat, but one of the more friendly terms thrown around the room was 'bossy'.”

You take a seat, watching as the man begins to listlessly pace back and forth in front of you. “You know I didn’t sign on to be turned, right?”

Aro shoots you an amused look. “Yes, but why wouldn’t you want to be? You want to remain like —“ He gestures at you. “— this?”

Maybe he said the no offence part too quiet for you to pick up on.

“None taken.” You offer, just in case.

“Pardon?”

“Forget it.” Asshole. “I don’t know why you’re so keen for your coven to like me when most of them don’t even seem to like each other.”

“Marcus likes you very much.” Aro informs, ignoring the latter statement. “Caius has his reservations.”

“You can say he wants me dead, Aro.”

“He might certainly like you more if he knew he could trust you. Caius is a bitter old man, but I understand his caution.”

“I’m not sure what would make you trust me.” You shoot back. “Especially when I never asked for you to tell me all this. I could be sitting down in Heidi’s office, none the wiser. If you ask me, the responsibility’s on you three for dragging me along for the murder tour.”

“A tour you happily continue to send your audience on.”

“I’m happy to do anything my job description states I get paid to do.”

The corner of Aro’s mouth twitches. He didn’t enjoy hearing that. He slows to a stop, bowing his head as he turns to regard you front-on. “They’re both of he opinion that while you refuse to be read, we can’t fully trust you. Playing nicely with others is a valuable trait to have. Our communities are small, and things flow better when we all get along.” He explains. “There’s no question, you’d be an enviable power, but that amounts to nought if you have to be put down for failing to play nice. It’s quite an investment, turning someone, especially in this — sensitive era. Decades of effort.”

You watch him from your spot on the couch. Never quite able to put your finger on what angle he’s playing. Your legs shift, creating a space, and after a moment, Aro takes the invitation. Sitting beside you.

“So I’m either turned, or I’m dinner for your guards.” You conclude. “Just like all your other human staff.”

Aro makes a face at you. Theatrical sympathy. A gloved hand settles on your knee, and just as a little thrill runs through you, it retreats. Hm. “Oh, no. You’re my favourite, and you’re my catch. I’d be the one who eats you.”

“Can’t I just — stay human?” You ask. “I’m sorry but I sorta like what we’ve got going right now.”

“That—” Aro taps your shoulder with both index fingers. “— is exactly the root of contention. Your apathy. Without me seeing your soul, without anyone to use their gifts on you, there’s simply no telling how much faith we can put in your loyalty.”

“So how are you supposed to find out?”

“The old-fashioned way. With time. But, I’ll never stop asking you.” He says. Eye contact unbroken. “I would be honoured if you’d consider —“

His fingers stretch toward you, gesturing to be taken in yours. It’s not the touch you want.

“Yeah.” You acknowledge the action with a glance, and momentarily, his pupils constrict. Then, you do not move, and the muscles cornering his lips twitch downward. “I’ll consider it.”

He recovers with a renewed grin, inclining his head. “You realise you’re challenging an immortal to a game of patience.”

“Or a race to see who gets bored first.”

Maybe you should be throwing him a bone for refusing to kill and eat you, you wonder. Maybe you could be rewarding this game a little more.

Maybe there's a way for you both to get half a deal out of this.

Your fingertip finds his on the backrest of the couch, and there’s that little thrill again. A layer of leather between you and only a few centimetres of contact, but still, you find yourself quite content to feel along the backs of his knuckles through the material.

His gaze flickers to the little movements. His throat bobs.

The smile fades, but there’s something much nicer about his face without it. More sincere.

Fuck it. It’s not like you’re having an affair. It's just a touch.

Aro's lips part. Brow stitched. Concerned. But he doesn't pull away.

“I have a wife.”

…

That was not the direction of sincerity you were anticipating.

You have to hand it to you; you play it cool for a good two seconds before sitting up. “You have a wife.”

Aro straightens out as well, following suit after you’ve withdrawn your hand. “Forgive me. I’d like for us to be on the same page.”

He’s so convincing about this that you almost forget about his window habits. What a scumbag. Surely he could have mentioned being married at some point over these past few months.

“No, we are. Totally platonic. Strictly professional.”

Thank god you didn’t go through with sending that photo of your tits to him earlier.

“With the colder weather, our community has more opportunity to congregate in the coming weeks.” Aro explains, gaze now fixed ahead. “You’ll get the opportunity to meet her. As well as our wider network —“

“Is that a good idea?” You ask. “Introducing your wife to a new assistant, to whom you spend majority of your week begging to touch? See, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been fielding some pretty pointed questions about what we get up to together.”

“I don’t beg.” He retorts. “But I do insist. It would be beneficial for you to acquaint yourself with Sulpicia and Athenadora—“

”Two—?”

“Caius’s—“

”Caius has a wife—?”

”It would look better from an outsider’s perspective.” Aro hisses, patience wavering. His eyes — just a little more red these days than you remember them being — fix you to the spot, scowling disproportionate frustration. "Is it really so difficult to fathom that our friends might benefit from having a better idea — the right idea — about us? It would be nice to dispel a few rumours before they become a wildfire."

You hold his gaze, refusing to fold. “Just say everyone thinks that you’re fucking a human.”

That earns you a particularly revolted scoff. He breaks away first. Victory. “Don’t be so crass.”

If you were immortal, would he be so outraged by the prospect? Regardless, you get the feeling that even if you were, he’d still be forcing you into this situation anyway. He’d still have rumours to shirk and a reputation to maintain. Even if you weren’t so foul to him, there’s no way he’d sacrifice that to elevate your own status.

No, there’s a reason this conversation’s wiped that smarmy little smile off his face, and it goes beyond your humanity.

“I’ll bring my own date. A human.” You propose. “You’ll be honest. Introduce me as your protege. Then you’ll introduce my plus one. Move the attention to them. Act familiar.”

Aro considers that. His tongue shifts between his teeth. “That works. They’ll know you as a couple rather than a spinster. Marcus could vouch for you, so long as you source from another province.”

“Done.”

“Excellent.” Aro inclines his head, sealing the deal. “You’ve a knack for deception.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a real affinity for bullshit.” You say, drily. “Must be why I’m the only person who likes you.”

The corners of his mouth tug. A crooked, organic smile. Then, it turns symmetrical again. Manufactured. “Perhaps you should let me touch you.”

You hum thoughtfully, and the lack of outright denial this time has Aro lurching into your space. One hand braced on the back of the couch. The other already poised to remove his glove. “Perhaps I’d let you if you made good on those rumours.”

Aro stills. Glassy eyes unblinking, imperceptible. You can’t tell if he’s terrified or furious — but that stupid smile falters, and you smell blood in the water.

“Shame you can’t stomach it.” You continue, pushing yourself up into his space, now, shepherding him out of yours. “Looks like you’ll have to keep pretending from the window.”

Silence stretches between you. Aro’s lip curls.

“Don’t misunderstand our rapport. You are a subject to me, and if you aren’t cautious, you will find yourself beyond my interest.” He warns, and just like that, you’re knocked off your pedestal.

He —

No fucking way.

Is he gaslighting you? Your own stalker, negging you?

Your gaze hardens. ”I think you should get off my couch and go back to your wife now, Aro.”

”Oh, don’t be discouraged.” Your own anger seems to crack through his. Aro fixes you with an amused little chuckle, and you feel the ghost of a gloved fingertip graze your chin. “Consider it incentive to play nice. I don’t want you, but the concept of taking you would be far more agreeable if you were immortal. If nothing else serves to encourage you —“

“I get it. From now on I’ll close the shades before I masturbate.”

”Goodnight."

#tttvt #aro volturi #twilight fanficion #aro x reader #have fun! if you see typos no you didn't!

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mrshamada-dorian · 1 year

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firewall; byakuya // gn! ultimate hacker s/o pt.4

after 84 years im finally posting the final part of this series. i might do a bonus chapter if y'all mess with this. also this might not be as charismatic as the last three parts because i wasn't feeling it and i changed the pov to 2nd. i actually like it like this. link to part 3.

cw; none i believe.

it's been three months since byakuya had you fix his servers and if he was being honest, these three months were the worst for him. there was nothing physically wrong with him. but mentally…

that was another story.

after you left the classroom that day, he called into the Togami Corporation to check on your handy work. to his surprise, not only were the networks fixed but they were made even stronger than before, so literally, nothing could get through. and all of it was done in under five minutes.

to say he was surprised was an understatement. this was way more than what he asked for.

but why? what was the point of doing more when he didn't give you a reason to?

it threw his mind for a loop. he never understood why people did things "out of the kindness of their heart". he never did anything for anyone unless he was getting something out of it. you were no different. but the exchange you asked for didn't match the work you did in his mind. you deserved more because you literally saved his company. who knows what would've happened if you weren't there?

but he still had the nerve to question your ability in the end.

it took him two months to realize he was in the wrong. it wasn't like he was ever in the wrong before (he likes to tell himself). but maybe the fact you were avoiding him helped out a bit.

it wasn't like you two had classes together, so he didn't see you every day. yet, the times that he did, you'd make it your mission to stay out of his way.

byakuya should be happy. he should be happy that you have finally decided to stop wasting his time and leave him alone. but he couldn't. and that's what had him stuck for the last month.

he unwillingly came to the realization that he maybe, sorta kinda… enjoyed the time that you two spent. even though all you did was argue and make insulting quips at each other, it became so a part of his daily routine that without it, he felt… odd. before you, he was fine. and during you, he was fine. yet, after you, he felt a bit empty.

these thoughts were running through his mind so much that he didn't realize that he was in the school library for so long. usually, the affluent progeny was thankful for the silence in the library during after-school hours, but lately, it was not helping him clear his head. nor was the book he was not reading.

maybe it was time to just head home. byakuya closed the book he was reading, preparing to leave when the door of the room opened.

byakuya looked up and saw you, the person that has ruined his life for the past few months.

he clutched the book in his hands. you seemingly hadn't noticed him when you walked in, so you continued on doing what you came to do. yet, for the first time in his life, the affluent progeny had no idea what to do.

should he… talk to you or not? and if he did, what would he say? should he apologize for what he said?

the affluent progeny had once again got lost in his thoughts and wasn't pulled out until he heard your voice.

"are you just going to stand there or are you going to say something?" byakuya finally looked up and saw you. you were sitting at the same spot when this whole fiasco first started. you hadn't looked up from your laptop yet you knew he was there.

"and what do you propose i say to you?" he didn't think it came out rude. nor did he intend it to. yet, the way you looked at him like he was out of his mind made him think it came out worse than he thought.

you let out a frustrated sigh as you began to pack up your things quickly. it was obvious that you didn't want to be there anymore because of what he said. without thinking, byakuya grabbed your arm. you both went silent for a moment. neither of you knew what was going on. byakuya more so than you.

it took a second for the affluent progeny to realize this was probably the only chance he had to fix this. he took a deep breath in. "look. if you're mad at me… for what i said last time, i… i want to apologize for what i said to you."

there. he finally said what was on his mind. it oddly felt freeing to him. but it looked like his words threw you off.

“who are you and what have you done to togami?” even though what you said sounded like a joke, the look on your face and the tone in your voice said otherwise. it irritated byakuya that you weren’t taking him seriously. yet, he understood. if he were in your shoes, he would laugh in his own face.

“i'm trying to be sincere, idiot.” his word caused you to glare at him. “and i'm sincerely trying to figure out who managed to force you to apologize. i didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary.” even in his time of rare vulnerability, you still couldn’t help to chastise him. byakuya grit his teeth, getting ready to throw his usual insults at you. but that would defeat the whole purpose of him talking to you in the first place. so he took a calming breath.

“look,” the affluent progeny started, “i apology for insulting your talents. obviously you are more capable than i gave you credit for.” you still continue to look at him like he had grown two heads, but your expression soon softened as you let out a chuckle. “y'know it’s still weird hearing that coming from you,” cue byakuya kissing his teeth. “but since you’re being sincere, i’ll forgive you… this time.” besides the quip you made, what you said put a smile on his face. this was probably the first time you two gave each other a smile that wasn’t meant to be condescending for once.

it felt nice.

byakuya continued to look at you, unsure what to do next, when you put all of your belongings back down and asked him a question. “so… what book were you reading?”

#danganronpa byakuya x reader #byakuya x reader #byakuya togami x reader #danganronpa byakuya #byakuya #byakuya togami #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa thh #danganronpa #writings #writers #writing stuff #writers on tumblr

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exploregreys · 2 years

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Exit tickey

#Exit tickey how to

Customize a premade layout and hand out beautiful exit slips to your. We’ve now taken this data and given it back to them and put the learning into their hands. Assess student learning using Canvas printable classroom exit ticket templates. This is now their focus to fix and work on and improve. This just became their goal for today’s lesson. Purpose of teaching Exit Slips: The Exit/Entry Slip strategy (Fisher & Frey 2004) helps students summarise and reflect on information learned. If their mistake matches have them write the number on their exit ticket. Have them analyze their exit ticket and match the mistake they made to the misconception on the board. Number them #1 -3 and pass back the exit tickets to the students. Now here’s what’s best – Take that list and write it on the front board the next day (or next lesson) for the students. We've compiled a list of exit ticket ideas and examples you can use in your classroom. They provide a simple, practical, easy, and adaptable way to obtain actionable feedback for teachers from their students. When you’re done, look at your list and identify the top three misconceptions that students made on their exit ticket. Exit tickets are a powerful strategy that can support teachers in gaining formative feedback. If you find repeats, then just put a tally next to them. You need to USE the data! Here’s what you can do: Go through each exit ticket that had a mistake on it and write down all of the errors that students are making. Don’t just check them and throw them away or give them back. Can we give ourselves a bubble clap please? Ready? Awesome job.#2 – Identify the most common misconceptionsĪfter you’ve given an exit ticket, you now have all of this data in your hands. A good exit ticket can tell whether students have a superficial or in-depth. This tool can be used daily or weekly, depending on the unit being taught. Exit tickets are a formative assessment tool that give teachers a way to assess how well students understand the material they are learning in class. Interviewer: ‘Cuz you’re switching over, you’re adding the new 10 place. Exit Tickets: Checking for Understanding. Interviewee: Ninety-six, a view out of 4, the ones place becomes 0, and adds another number to the 10 space and the 10 repeats itself three times. Then Abdi took that idea and went a little bit further with it. Abdi 01:46, do you want to share one, because this was a pattern we started to talk about on our count. You guys did a really nice job on your exit slips, and I noticed a lot of patterns that you guys saw in the structure of how multiplication works. It’s not a report card thing I mean we have that conversation quite a bit. They prompt students to synthesize concepts, reflect upon. Partly because they have ‘em frequently, daily, and also because we talk a lot about how this is just for me to see where you’re at. Math exit tickets are quick, informal assessments that gauge how well learners grasped the lesson. Interviewer: Some of the pressure and some of the anxiety that students have around bigger testing situations, they don’t have in exit tickets. The odds are repeated two times and even are repeated three times. It is recommended that just about every lesson. I-5 Washington Exit 42 nearby services MAP Exit 42,I-5 Exit 42 to here: 0mi Kelso,WA Nearby Points of interest MAP Tims Automotive & Exhaust Exit 42 to here: 0.38mi Kelso,WA Nearby Points of interest MAP Bobs Lil Car Hospital Exit 42 to here: 0.39mi Kelso,WA Nearby Points of interest MAP Quick Shop Minit Mart Exit 42 to here: 0. Interviewee: One-one, and then it goes 2, 2, 2, and then it goes 3, 3, and then it goes 4, 4, 4. Exit Ticket provides instant feedback for you to determine whether your class mastered your daily objective.

#Exit tickey how to

I can then plan for how to deal with those. /rebates/&.com252fnashville-tickets252fexit-in-tickets252fabby-anderson-aug-30-2022-4075176. He’s here,” and kind of make general ideas about where my class is, and any misconceptions that are going on in the class. I just kind of want to see your thinking on this.Īfter a lesson, I can just take a few minutes, and I can say, “She’s here. I’m gonna ask you to do this by yourself, it’s not a test. On your exit today I’m gonna ask you to write the next seven multiples of this count.Įxit tickets are really valuable for me in getting a quick snapshot in if students are completely got it, if students didn’t completely get it, and everywhere in between. Interviewer: What I’m gonna ask you to do today is think about patterns that we discussed in or choral count.

#Exit tickey

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howtowinbetdaily · 2 years

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whittakerjodie · 3 years

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The Carriage Ride (13th Doctor X Reader)

For: The wonderful Jenny, @myghostmonument , as part of the secret Santa exchange for the Thirsting For Thirteen server.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Happy secret Santa, Jenny! I am so glad to know you and have the privilege of writing a piece for you <3 I hope that you enjoy this and the funny little alien names!

“Wish we could’ve arrived with the first snowfall,” The Doctor said sadly.

The two of you had decided to take a solo trip together. Yaz was feeling a bit tired and needed to see her sister for a bit. There was an opportunity for you, too, to take a small break on Earth. But the idea of spending time with the Doctor one-on-one was much more appealing than the pulls of daily life.

“I think it’s alright, still,” You said, defending your current scenario. The planet where you’d landed was still absolutely stunning. Even with a couple inches of snow covering most features, it was easy to appreciate that which you could see. The sky was a light lavender, darkest in the areas where there were clouds. Delicate flecks of snow fluttered to the ground, adding to the previously built layers.

It was beautiful, and you were happy to be there. The Doctor had explained the planet and it’s fun little backstory on the ride over, but truthfully, you’d not been paying attention. You knew it was Christmas, or at the very least a Christmas-adjacent holiday for the locals. The aesthetic certainly fit the bill, something you were sure was what persuaded the Doctor to bring you there.

“Yeah?” the Doctor asked, seeking a little extra validation. You nodded, giving it to her easily. She certainly deserved it, after the tough time you’d all had recently. “Well, good. There’s tons to do here. Hot cocoa- or, something that tastes like it at least. Sledding, carriage rides…”

“Oooh, like a horse drawn carriage?” You asked. The Doctor nodded. She stepped closer to you, linking her arm through yours as she led you towards an unknown destination.

“Not horse drawn, qauwukdeen drawn!” she said cheerfully. You scoffed.

“Say that five times fast.” When the Doctor opened her mouth, you clarified: “not actually, just a funny name. So what do they look like.”

“Like horses.” The Doctor replied bluntly. You laughed.

“So, just horses with a funny name then. Interesting.”

Despite their format matching that of an Earth horse, the creatures still deviated in appearance. It’s mane seemed to be a collage of differently colored tentacles, all twisting and flowing with a mind of their own, without consideration for the wind. It was beautiful, like watching a rainbow solidify and dance. It’s hair was a mint green, mixing nicely with the snow it was walking through. There was only one per carriage, but the Doctor explained that the qauwukdeen were born with an immense strength. Pulling a carriage solo would be the equivalent of a feather for the creature.

It was a few minutes wait so that the qauwukdeen could eat a nice meal, but you didn’t mind. The Doctor's arm was still linked with yours, which was a welcomed, warm presence. Other couples smiled at you as they passed on their way to other festivities. Your face warmed then, too. Other couples. Implying that you and the Doctor were one.

Eventually, it was your turn to go on the carriage ride. You winced when you saw how big the step up was. Luckily, the Doctor was more than willing to help. Standing behind you, she gently set both of her hands on your waist. You jumped a little at the blazing hot, unexpected contact. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice your blip. If she did, she only used it to her advantage to successfully lift you up into the carriage.

Feeling bold and as if you should return the favor, you offered your hand to the timelord once you were in your seat. She accepted it with a wide grin, leaving her hand in yours once she was able to pull herself up. The two of you sat comfortably in the carriage, and it began to pull you off into the luscious, thick forest. It was rather dark, but the moonlight reflected on the snow to provide enough visibility. You gasped as the qauwukdeen pulled you farther and farther away from the town, giving you a tour of the incredible mountain passes that surrounded it. The landscape was beyond incredible. The Doctor was a little bit more relaxed, being accustomed to alien scenery.

Unfortunately, the relaxation didn’t last long. Almost a half an hour into the ride, you suddenly felt tense. By that point, you’d naturally gravitated towards the Doctor and were leaning your weight into her. Because of this, she could feel your tension. She pulled back, frowning. “What’s wrong?” She asked. You shrugged, looking at the scenery around you. Everything just suddenly seemed a little darker, a little colder. Interestingly enough, the qauwukdeen seemed to share your feelings. It slowed it’s pace ever so slightly. The decrease in footfall made it easier for you to pick up on the new movements. Something was coming out of the forest, towards you.

Even your high nerves paled in comparison to those of the qauwukdeen, which began to buck and cry out, fighting to get away from whatever mysterious creature was approaching. Unfortunately, it was partially attached to the carriage. While it attempted escape, it took you with it, throwing you into a sequence of movements that could only be described as chaos.

Your stomach swung in time with the carriage as you were thrown from side to side, the qauwukdeen taking off at a breakneck pace. The Doctor tried to grab onto you to stabilize both of your movements, but it was no use. The carriage, in the midst of moving so chaotically, suddenly collided with one of the many thick trees of the forest. You let out a loud yelp as you were tossed from your seat into the snow. It was a soft landing, thankfully, but the cold was jarring nonetheless.

You spat the snow out of your mouth with a disgusted groan, shifting your wait so that you were sitting upward. Unfortunately, the movement seemed to connect something in your body and you were suddenly aware of an intense pain in your foot. Hissing, you tried to bring it closer as some form of comfort to yourself. It did nothing to ease the pain.

You could hear more footsteps on snow, drawing closer, and were very happy to note that it was the Doctor coming towards you. Her face was contorted with concern, snow falling off of her as she ran to meet you on the ground.

“Alright?” She asked, brushing some of the snow off you. As the pain began to spread, you shook your head quickly. The Doctor carefully inspected your foot with a deep frown. “Not broken, thankfully, but it went through quite a bit in the crash.”

“What about you?” You asked. Then, you gasped when your eyes fell on a large mark on her face. “Amazing, actually, considering. Don’t worry about the face, just the qauwukdeen panicking a little. They’re alright, more worried about getting home on time for a visit with their son. You mind if I pick you up?”

“Pick…” You trailed off, cheeks warming hot enough to melt the snowflakes resting on them. She was only offering because of your foot, you told yourself. Shakily, you answered “Sure.”

The Doctor awkwardly eased her arms underneath your body, one supporting your back and the other your legs. As she pulled you both upward, you found yourself pressed tightly against her. She seemingly took little note of the close proximity, carrying you back over to the site of the crash. You gasped, a short cloud of breath breaking through the cold winter air. The carriage was in ruins; the qauwukdeen was staring down at the splintered wood, uninjured.

“No chance of fixing the carriage I reckon” The Doctor said. Your eyes widened; You had felt the words vibrate in her chest as they moved through the air. It was a feeling you loved and tucked away in your mind to cherish later. “We’ll have to hitch a ride back on Justine, and I can pay for the damages when we get there”

By now, the pair of you were right next to the creature, who was apparently known as “Justine?”

“Yup, that's their name! Don’t worry about not knowing it, they say they only give it out to the “cool” customers. Guess we fall under that criteria!” You chuckled lightly and reached out to pet Justine's incredible mane, shivering at the odd sensation as the tentacle-like strands ran through your fingers. Justine made an appreciative noise, and the Doctor smiled down at you.

“Are you comfortable sitting in the back? That way I can have better control. You can hang on to me if you need.”

“Yeah, that’s fine” The Doctor, already holding you up, used it to her advantage and lifted you onto Justine’s back easily. There was a slight strain on your foot still, but not enough for it to be unbearable. Still, when you winced, the Doctor paused and stared for a good long moment. You smiled a little to let her know she didn’t have to worry, and she unfroze. It was easy enough to believe that the Doctor had previous riding experience, as she easily climbed utop Justine and grasped her reins.

Your hands stayed down by your side, despite the Doctor’s offer to hang on to her. It felt a little too intimate, too close. Because you weren’t hanging on, the Doctor took things easy and Justine moved slowly back towards town. It was comfortable, and gave you enough time to appreciate the scenery even more. However, due to the speed, it was taking a lot longer to get back into town. The later into the night it got, the heavier your eyelids grew and the more effort it took to hold up your body.

After your third loud yawn, the Doctor reached back and calmly grasped your arms, leading them to rest around her waist. It drew your entire body closer to her, until your full weight relied on her strong figure. The warmth that greeted you as your head naturally tucked into the crook of her neck was unparalleled. Although the entire situation was designed to pull you into rest, it instead made you awaken further. As Justine picked up a little speed, you dedicated your time to memorizing the contour of your shape against hers.

Parting with Justine was a little bittersweet, but there was no time for goodbyes. According to the Doctor, they were 10 minutes late to go see their son. The Doctor apologized, and the qauwukdeen ran off as soon as their gear was removed. Other qauwukdeen’s followed as the carriage rides ended for the night. The Doctor paid for the damages to the carriage, despite the owners reassurances. Then, she turned back to you. For the last few minutes, you’d been sitting on one of the town's benches, waiting for business to wrap up.

“You sit tight, yeah? I’ll bring the TARDIS ‘round” You nodded happily, watching her disappear. Your body was still buzzing from the contact, every molecule asking whether there was more to come. Truthfully, you didn’t know. Certainly, things felt a little close the whole night, but there was still a giant chasm to cross. Telling anyone that you loved them was hard, but it was exponentially worse when that certain someone was an immortal time travelling alien that seemed to be operating on a different plane of existence at all times.

Just when you thought you were resolved to stay silent forever, the familiar Vwhorp, Vwhorp sounded. Blue walls began to appear around you. It was home, now. And the best feature of that home was standing just ahead of you, finishing up her work at the console. The lights of the TARDIS casted a warm glow over her head, and the cold you’d faced throughout the day was suddenly forgotten entirely. There was simply no way to keep silent. At least not entirely.

The Doctor helped you off the bench, not caring that she had stolen it from the quaint little town. “Feeling better dear?”

“Yeah, a lot better” Your blood rushed a little as the two of you casually moved past the word dear.

After telling her you were more awake then before, the Doctor had brought you to the TARDIS library for some more relaxation. Once you were settled on the couch she created a large fire, shutting out any cold that might remain. Then, she took a seat next to you. You stared at her for a moment, before your eyes drifted to her hand, which rested against her thigh.

She perked up a little, considering her hand in yours. “Doctor,” You murmured. “You know that I appreciate you, don’t you?”

Her eyes brightened, and she set her other hand on top of your conjoined ones, monopolizing the gesture. “I appreciate you too, Y/N. Where’s this coming from?”

“Doesn’t come from anywhere or- well, maybe it just comes from everywhere” You admitted. Be brave, you whispered in your head. “All of these adventures… I love it. I love-”

“I love you too” The Doctor broke through your courageous admittance. Her eyes widened a little, then a lot. “Was that not-”

Her hands began to slip away from yours, and you grasped them even tighter. “Doctor! You love me?”

You both stared at one another, neither sure of what to say. The Doctor seemed more shocked then you, like she hadn’t been planning her words like you had. Her lifetimes of skills kicked in, though, as she pulled your hand up to her mouth and kissed the back of it gently.

“I do love you,” She whispered softly, caressing the spot where she’d left a kiss with her thumb. “If that’s alright, I mean.”

“Of course it’s alright, “ You laughed breathlessly. “Doctor, I love you too.”

“Oh, Y/N,” She sighed. “You don’t know what it means for me to hear that.”

You grinned, moving forward to embrace her in full. She accepted the hug, her head nestling against your shoulder.

“You know, earlier, when you were holding on to me… I kept wondering if I’d ever get a chance to hold you like that” Her arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like she was afraid you’d slip away if she didn’t keep you secured. “Now I know what it feels like.”

She said it so relieved, like she’d been waiting centuries, eons, just to have you there in her arms. The two of you leaned your full weight into one another, burying yourselves in the knowledge that you both felt the same: warm, safe, and most importantly, loved.

#13th Doctor #13th doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #secret santa #13th Doctor x reader

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partnersatfazbear · 3 years

Text

Fazbear Frights: What We Found Analysis

Here’s my analysis for What We Found, the third story in Gumdrop Angel. I wrote this as I read so it may be a little different than my previous analysis where I read the story first and went back.

If you’re a Michael Afton fan I highly recommend this. Also, there’s possibly some insight into William Afton, Mrs. Afton, and Henry too, so it’s worth a skim.

Pg 144 '...a place thirty-some years forgotten' Just reconfirming FNAF 3 is 30 years past *one* of the FNAF closings, presumably FNAF 2 location.

Pg 145 "The whole building was giving him [Hudson] a headache." FIX THE VENTILATION BRUH

Pg 148 '...they were able to use salvaged derelict equiptment original to the old pizzerias.' Another confirmation of something we heard from Phone Guy.

Pg 147 "How old are you?" "Twenty-three, same as you." I think this gives us Michael's age during FNAF 3.

EDIT: This kept me awake last night. Obviously this is impossible because he has to be alive for at least 10 years before 1983, BUT maybe its just reconfirming FNAF 3′s year? 2023?

Pg 149 "Hudsan's dad died and his mom married Lewis, a ridiculous balding man who wore plaid vests and smoked a pipe" Did... Did this book just seriously imply Mrs. Afton left William for Henry? Really? (Yes, there's differences; the husband is dead and the man wears plaid 'vests' but it seems very odd to include that detail. This could just have been the writer's own imagination, though.) I have seen this as a fan theory and 100% explains the jealousy aspect of William, but I can't help but kinda hate it. I think this is very important, though, and probably Scott's intention. "This horrible little man [Lewis]... would make Hudson's next ten years a living Hell" This REALLY intrigues me given the context I just went over. The text implies Lewis was fairly neglectful to our main character / Michael stand-in Hudson. Maybe I'm wrong and for some reason Mrs. Emily left and went to William? XD Haha, I'm reading too much into this page. Maybe I'll come back to this later. I figure it's more of Scott possibly including double-details (contradicting stuff with the same character that really applies to two, which has been something I heavily pointed out in previous anaylsis on this blog) Having said that, I'm going w/the former because I can't imagine Henry being abusive (neglectful yes, abusive no) and he's never been portrayed that way in official works like William has in the novels.

Pg 150 "Hudson began to screw up in class...a product of spending the night in fear that his stepfather [Lewis]... [would] beat him just for the fun of it." Ooof. Big confirm on William actually being abusive. Unless we stick with the Henry theory for Lewis (combined with Midnight Motorist Henry theory / alcoholic). "...near-daily beatings..." "his mom started taking pills to get through the day..." So, whoever Mrs. Afton is, she was definetly not paying attention. But then, most people married to serial killers either don't notice because of denial (like this) or because the killer is so manipulative / careful they can't notice.

"Barry, who had red hair and freckles..." Yo?! Is that a description of Fritz?! These friends in the story could be the other kids Michael knew's stand-in's, aka the two gravestones with names he used (Fritz and Jeremy), as shown in the checks for the games and FNAF 6. I've long figured Michael was probably friends with the victims--it makes them easier, although riskier, targets [for William]. The two friends are male, too, like Fritz and Jeremy. If you're curious about Duane's description (our stand in for Jeremy), it's "tight black shirt... muscles... black hair long enough for a glossy ponytail..." I'm not sure if this matches anything found in the novels or contradicts them, though. (The novels = TSE trilogy)

"And so it went... until the night of the fire." For context, this is before FF burns down. We're learning of Hudson's life from his close friends in childhood, his father's death, his mother remarrying, to his abusive stepfather, to his grades slipping to this line. This would be a new fire not seen/mentioned in the games...

Pg 151 "...go to Charlie's for a sundae..." Really. Really Scott. Just gonna use this name again. OK. I'm not even gonna discuss this because it's probably irrelevant. *This is confirmed on pg 158 to be an ice cream shop. No lore relevance aside the annoying name coincidences Scott loves to troll with.

"This is not... an advance into enemy territory, a fight with demons, or a descent into Hell..." Uh, what? What is Hudson talking about? XD I'm only noting it because it seems so out of place. He's probably talking about video games or something.

Another note, although I don't have a specific reference since it is mentioned off-hand many times, is that Hudson keeps referring to his "history" which is implied to have kept him from getting a well-paying job and a girl he's crushing on doesn't know this "history" which is good for him. Seems good old "Michael Stand-In" has done some jail time or something. Edit: On pg 154/155 the girl asks Hudson, "Did you do it?" Seems he may have killed his stepfather or been involved with something else just as bad. Edit 2: No, I was thinking too deep into it. This probably refers to Evan's death at Fredbear's. DUH.

Pg 156 describes an actual "prize corner" in FF! What am I even reading? IIRC this is in FNAF 3, too. So they just hand out these scary gift boxes to people that complete the attraction? (Hudson says he *would* have fun handing out the scary toys to kids when this location opens--kind of a bully thing to do, eh?)

"[Hudson] avoid[ed] glancing in any of the mirrors..." I'm only pointing this out because it could be reference to one of two things. 1) We know because of one of UCN's music tracks, William has a fear of his reflection. Michael probably shares this trait, especially since 2) after Ennard and all... and later on pg 157 it also says, "he never wanted to face: himself" Sounds like guilt, my guy.

Pg 157 "blonde hair... blue eyes..." Hudson shares an eye color with Michael. It's possible Michael had blonde hair as a child and it changed to brown (it's common, something I personally went through being technically blonde/ blue eyed myself)

"He [Hudson] knew from personal experience that toys could turn from fun...to torture ina heart-beat" Fairly self explanatory. Either Hudson's worked at a creepy location before or he doesn't like remembering Fredbear's.

*checks how much is left.* There's still 35 pages (not counting back/front) left of this... This is gonna be a lot of notes.

Pg 158 Hudson doesn't have a car. Poor Mike, probably having to walk everywhere. Especially as a corpse.

Pg 160 This page describes many physical issues Hudson has that prevents him from entering the Navy, all from the abuse of Lewis. Obvious paralell to Michael becoming an undead [because his father sent him to CBPR indirectly causing his condition]

Pg 161 "How's your granny, Hud?... ...Is she still alive?" "I don't think she can die." Does anyone in the Afton family really 'die'? XD

Pg 162 These few pages discuss Hudson's grandmother. She's described as "a seer who claimed to know the future... ...wore big men's plaid flannel shirts with baggy jeans" Um, more plaid / flannel? AGH. STAHP. Lowkey, I would totally headcanon my Aunt Jen like this, though.

Pg 163 "Hudson's mom... the way she was before Hudson's dad had died... never... particularly warm and fuzzy... but... effiencient and responsible..." More about Mrs. Afton, so that's kinda neat.

"Hudson's dad was fun and attentive." There's a good Dad in this series?

"Unfortunetly, he also struggled with mental illness." "invisible low points" (Pg 164) Kinda reminds me of how Henry is described after Charlotte's death in the books.

Pg 164 "When Steven got himself into a bad deal that cost him his small business... he'd taken his life." Oh, it is Henry! SMH. Way to use confusing paralells. So, from our understanding thus far, Hudson's real father, Steven, is our Henry stand-in. His step-father despite being described similar to Henry, is actually our William stand-in. Fair game, Scott.

Pg 164 "...he [Hudson] was locked into a supply closet..." Oh shit, you guys. So, let me go on a tangent here, because this IS important! I just watched a retrospective on Sister Location and FNAF 6 earlier and one theory for Midnight Motorist was the person in the chair was the mother and the kid was Michael. I think this little line may confirm that. In fact, the story may be the key to figuring things out. Obviously, the line is a paralell to FNAF 4's scene in which Crying Child was locked in the supply closet of Fredbear's. I know some people, including Matpat, believe[d] CC was Michael, and in this book's context, it sort of works. This does contradict Step Closer and 1000 other things that make Michael the older brother, but maybe it's hinting at MM? Abusive stepdad (possibly Henry... maybe William is gone at this point), checked out Mom (hey, grey couch lady with Foxybro's font). IDK, but its definetly something to think about.

Pg 165 Lewis is mentioned as calling Hudson "nothing" and saying "you're nothing" on several occasions on this page. Just more abuse, for those accurate fanfic writers like me. Also I kinda wanna watch Morel Orel again. Yall know my fav character is Clay. Yall know.

"You're smoke." <-- Lewis / The text later reads, "...there was some irony, given what eventually happened." BRUH. Why did your stepdad die in a fire? :V TELL ME.

"When his family's house burned down at the end of his senior year..." Huh. Is there a fire we don't know about in the game-verse? Could this explain what happened to the FNAF 4 house before MM house?!

"...it purged Hudson of Lewis and his mother." MRS. AFTON BURNED ALIVE, TOO? Bruh. I can't with this story.

The text later describes the fire is concluded to be man-made and Hudson was blamed for it. Can't say if this ties to Michael, but it IS interesting... TBF, there is a small paralell to draw between Henry in FNAF 6 and his history of suicide in the books, too.

Pg 166 "...this place's [FF] busted thermostat.." I just find this line funny.

Pg 167 "...after three weeks of keeping an eye on the place" Some more timeline context for FNAF 3. We know that Michael worked there a little while before we start playing the game thanks to one of the phone calls, IIRC, so this makes sense. If Michael was accused of [something] and also wanting to hunt down his father, then it makes perfect sense why he's working a dead end job at Freddy's over and over and over. Fun fun fun.

Pg 169 "He hated to think about a functional character [Foxy]" This line is in regards to Hudson not liking the set up of Pirate's Cove and Foxy's hook to scare people. Sounds familiar, don't it? (For Michael anyway.)

Pg 173 "Some big find is arriving tomorrow." SPRINGY BOI! COME ON BOOK, get on with the show?

Pg 176 "Granny was wearing a red-and-green plaid shirt and her baggy jeans." Nothing special, but it was specifically brought up twice. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to understand what the point of this character is outside of "woooo everything is haunted don't you know that" kind of character.

Pg 180 "...dropped the crate on the linoleum with a resounding thud." HEY. Poor Springtrap, just gettin' tossed around like the trash he is.

Pg 186 "If you weren't so stupid, I'd tell you more about it." Springtrap bringing the burn. =:)

"A voice with a burr-like rasp...hint of a Southern accent" I'm going to assume this is because it's Lewis probably in the suit in this story and not our old British lad.

"It's was Mr. Atkin's voice." THE MATH TEACHER? *goes back to check* 'The algebra teacher'. Okay...

Pg 190 Okay, so Hudson hear's Lewis' voice this time. Okay, I get it now. Springtrap in this kind of imbodies all of Hudson's old bullies, including the teacher. He also has PTSD, just FYI. IDK if anyone finds that important, but it's fairly obvious by the line "He wasn't in his bedroom. Lewis didn't just slam his head into a desk; his head had been slammed into the [arcade] game."

"Why did he hallucinate a scene from his childhood?" Oh, it's not PTSD, then. It's just the VENTILATION ERROR. lol Okay.

Just a note, as I'm reading through the more action-based stuff, I kind of feel bad for Michael if he had flashbacks like this guy. They're intense.

So, Lewis' voice finally comes out of Springtrap on Pg 213. There's that.

Pg 220 "You can just stay there [in his room]" Kind of a paralell to Midnight Motorist. Lewis is saying it to Hudson. I really feel like the kid in the MM game is Michael because of this story...

Pg 223 "Heat purges. Fire heals." I'm sure that's Henry's life motto.

The ending was stupid, but most in these stories are. Hudson is hallucinating and is implied to have burned himself alive in FF's oven. Meh? The first half of this one is A TRIP and a little insight into what I 100% believe is Michael's childhood. I think the saddest part of it all is that we never got Springtrap speaking to Michael in FNAF 3--and if it's ever remade I hope we get more of them interacting.

#fazbear frights #fnaf spoilers #spoilers #what we found #michael afton #springtrap #fnaf theories #fnaf theory #fnaf 3 #midnight motorist #mrs. afton #henry emily

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mycryptosuite · 10 months

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Play This Free 3 Odds For Today 23/06/2023

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years

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hi! I was wondering if I could get a match up for the owl house and attack on titan.... 👀

I go by she/they pronouns and I'm a panromantic asexual; I am an introvert (INTP 5w4) and I often come off as emotionless/detached at first glance, but I'm not like that AT ALL (this morning I literally cried because my hamster was eating a sunflower seed in the cutest way possible omg-)...but yeah, I guess I can be cold with people at times...and also very stubborn and sarcastic...maybe even a bit rude...I just have a sweet spot for cute animals lol; but yeah, I don't open up easily...it takes me a while, but when I do I become the biggest goofball that ever existed :D

I am extremely curious and discover new interests almost every day (I get bored pretty easily, so I need to constantly find something new lol); being a professional procrastinator is my full time job, especially if I have to do something I'm not really passionate about :')

oh and I love reading: I read literally everything as long as it catches my interest and allows me to learn something new; I also love playing with videogames and drawing/writing, often while listening to some music (mostly classical music or pop/rock, but I can enjoy pretty much anything)

in the future I'd love to become a storyboard artist or at least work in the animation field as a writer

I also have an unhealthy obsession with ice cream, tea and coffee (which is probably why I can't sleep at night...but they're just too good lol)

I don't really know what I look for in a partner...for sure, they must have a good sense of humour and like memes (I myself am a living meme at this point lol)...I think I'd probably just like someone who can respect my boundaries (I often need some alone time lol) and I have to know I can count on them and, even if one day the relationship ends, I'd like for us to still remain friends, support each other and have fun together

tysm if you'll accept the request! have a good day/night <3

Match Up | TOH & AOT (8|2)

thank you for participating!

note : anon i know this has taken a while but i ask that you please tell your hamster that they are precious and deserve all the sunflower seeds.

also, this specific document has been giving me a lot of hassle so if the first two lines are repeats just know that i tried to fix it and couldn’t.

i match you with connie springer and luz noceda.

Connie Springer; AOT

connie will almost view your introverted nature and cold facade as a challenge, taking it upon himself to befriend you no matter what. he’ll sit with you, joke with you and generally try to keep you laughing and smiling whenever he can (he’s a jokester at heart) - but he knows when to stop as he can recognise when you need alone time without you even needing to tell him, even going to far as to tell others to leave you be when you need it.

your relationship is built on friendship and humour, meaning that you’re best friends before you’re lovers and, thus, even if you break up he wouldn’t be so quick to abandon you. he’s the type of boyfriend that you can rely on and someone that will support you without question or hesitation; friends have each other’s backs but lovers even more so.

other notes:

is the type of partner to indulge in your unhealthy habits with you - especially when they involve food. he will sit with you and gorge on ice cream, coffee and tea until the early hours of the morning (much to the chagrin of his superiors)

also a procrastinator but will go out of his way to help you indulge in your newest interests, even if they change daily or even more often - will even research them with you so long as you return the favour when it comes to his passions

adores your curiosity and love of cute things as you act as an almost foil for him; you both love adorable creatures but he doesn’t have that same drive for discovery, so you give him the motivation to research his circumstances and odd topics

doesn’t read that much (will ask you about the most recent books you’ve read, however), but he will absolutely play video games with you - especially fighting based games (shocker!)

will constantly ask to read what you’ve written - heck, it’s the only thing he will willingly read because of how passionate he is for and about you, unless you express discomfort about it (and it’s the same case with your drawings)

also very goofy, will dance with you to any music you put on and will absolutely sing his heart out if he recognises it - though he certainly isn’t the best singer

usually calls you your name, “babe”, or “sweetheart”

Luz Noceda; TOH

luz herself can be a very goofy and energetic person; an extrovert with a habit of adopting the introverts in her life and helping them open up with her relentless friendliness and sense of humour. no matter how cold you are to her, she’ll still declare you a member of her friend group and make it her mission to have you open up to her whilst being consistently mindful of your boundaries.

she’ll do her part to win you over with late nights in, bringing junk food (namely ice cream) and dancing poorly to whatever music manages to come on the radio. by the end of the night you’ll be laughing so hard your stomach hurts and you really will need some coffee to function the next day. and for her own part, even if you two broke up you’d remain close friends simply because she cares too deeply to lose you completely (and, of course, you two were friends beforehand).

other notes:

will offer to proofread your writing or just offer random ideas during brainstorming sessions - some silly and some genuine depending on the mood - and she’d join you when you draw, creating and sharing her own pieces

will give you space when you ask, only sending a few texts to make sure you’re okay before leaving you to your own devices

also a master procrastinator that can relate to your inability to work on things you aren’t passionate about - though her own interests remain mostly consistent (not that she won’t spend hours with you gushing about your latest interest, she just doesn’t completely relate to them is all)

always has your back and is willing to take the fall for you to protect you/your reputation in social settings like in hexside

loves loves loves cute things and will sit in front of you as you both squee over whatever adorable picture/video you have pulled up on your phone - not an ounce of judgement there

will read azura with you and will swap books with you if something catches her eye - expect to get a rundown on azura lore if you accept her offer, however

very curious herself so will indulge you in your interests and will help you research things if you do the same for her

will call you her “awesome partner”, “mi amore” or just your name

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #the owl house #toh #match ups #aot connie #connie springer #toh luz #luz noceda #sleepingdeath

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buttonsinsteadofeyes · 3 years

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Identity V x GN! Reader || Chapter 2

Daily reminder that my commissions are open <3

This is also a little older and very messy but here’s the second chapter. I don’t know if I’ll keep this series up, but I hope you enjoy it! I know Aesop might seem a little ooc but this is sincerely how I imagined him since the beginning and i really like it that way!

While the three of you were walking down the hall, you was listening to Emma excitedly telling her stories in the manor and naming and giving a bland description of each of the "survivors" as she referred to them. Your head was soon spinning, filled with names you couldn't keep up with.

"Oh, oh! And there's also the Seer," She added another person to the collection. "He barely talks to us so I don't really know his name or anything else. However, he has this really cool owl around him the whole time!" Emma then pulled down her straw hat over her eyes, seemingly trying to imitate the man she was speaking of. "And he always wears this odd scarf over his eyes. I wonder how he doesn't bump into the walls the whole time! Maybe he's blind?" She rose a hand to her chin as she pulled her hat up again and got lost in her thoughts.

"And who are we going to see now, again?" You asked tiredly. "The Embalmer," Emily explained. "His name is Aesop Carl, he's a rather... special man." She chuckled lightly. At the sight of your confused expression, she quickly caught herself. "You'll find what I'm talking about once you meet him. Just, don't worry too much about him."

"Alright then."

As you were walking down the dimly lit foyer, you noticed an old, fancy mirror below the staircase which you approached as you noticed your shadowy silhouette in it. You hadn't taken a good look at yourself since you had woken up and you just wanted to make sure you looked presentable, especially now that you’d meet a man such as Aesop Carl. If that man was going to be the key to get you out of here, you’d better make a good first impression.

But as you stepped in front of the mirror, you couldn't believe your own mirror self.

Your (H/C) hair felt like old wool and your modern clothing was now exchanged, looking like something straight out of a gothic novel. Matching to your doll like look, your skin was covered with stitches and patches, as if you were some kind of tattered doll that had been around for quite some time.

But what made you jump mostly were your eyes.

Two dark (E/C) buttons were sewn to your face, sparkling in the light of the oil lamps.

"Are you alright?" Emily's voice seemed so near yet so far away. Her and Emma had noticed you gone and were now standing in the hallway, waiting for you.

After what seemed like eternity you finally managed to let out a small "ye..yeah".

"The Dining Hall is just ahead. He might be there." Emma chirped and linked arms with you, pulling you along as Emily followed you two suit.

The Dining Hall was a great room with a long table made of dark wood as the main attraction. A long dark red tablecloth covered it and a few people were sitting at the table, chatting or doing their own thing. "There he is!" Emma lead you to a man in grey. He was seated next to a shorter man who seemed sincerely bothered by him as he was pulling the green hood even further over his head, avoiding any kind of contact. "Aesop!" The Embalmer turned to look at you three, breaking his intense one sided conversation, much to the other man's relief.

"Emma." He greeted her, his voice low and calm, cynicism dripping from his tone. "I thought I told you not to address me by my first name." But Emma just waved him off, pulling you forward. "Them!" She simply cheered. "What about them?"

"They need your help!"

"They want to die?"

"No, they just joined the manor and are very confused!"

Aesop Carl eyed you suspiciously. Half of his face was covered with a white mask, making it hard for you to read his expression. "Well, why did you come here?" You fiddled with your sleeves nervously. "I don't know, I just woke up here." Aesop seemed to be rather taken aback by this which didn’t really seem to fit his nature. "You never got, or at least found, an invitation to join the manor?" You shook your head. "Well, I barely remember anything from before I woke up anyways so..."

"Huh."

The hooded guy from before chimed in. "So there is a chance you might've just forgotten about it." Aesop cleared his throat, strictly staring the guy down before fixing his attention back on you. "What's your name, kid?"

"(Y/N)."

"Alright, (Y/N)," The Embalmer gripped your shoulders so tightly, you were already worried they were going to bruise. As you looked up into the man's button eyes, goosebumps spread over your skin. Strangely enough and as impossible as it seemed, an odd spark lit up in the black buttons. He took a deep breath through his mask.

"All of us are here for a reason, whether it be because of financial issues or the desire to change something in our past. We are here to change our lives and we need to pay this price." His voice was quiet and serious. "Did you ever wish for something so badly? Did you ever crave something or someone you'd perhaps even kill for?" You were captivated as you listened to him.

Had you ever wanted something this badly?

You couldn't remember. You couldn't recall a single second of what happened the past 24 hours. Slowly you shook your head. "No," you whispered, disappointed in yourself. "I can't remember." With a sigh, Aesop let go of you. Silently, the group stood there. "Perhaps you need some time to rest. You're probably still numb from earlier." Emily tried to cheer you up. Poorly.

"I'd show you your room, but I've got something to do. Perhaps Mr Carl can accompany you?" But the suited man just groaned, giving off a clear sign of denial. Your gaze wandered over to Emma who shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, I also have a lot on my shoulders." A small smile crossed her lips. A tired huff caught your attention as the hooded guy from before rose from his seat. "Fine," He growled. "I'll take care of them." He grabbed your arm as you quickly waved the girls goodbye and pulled you with him.

#identity v #idv #id5 #identity 5 #identity v x reader #identity v imagines #imagine #x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #identity v embalmer #identity v doctor #identity v gardener #identity v mercenary #Aesop is so out of character but this is just really how I imagine him #fanfic #gaming

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beyondtheciouds · 3 years

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Part 29. 3 of 3

Twas the night before Yulemas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except for a small brown mouse.

The children were all snug tight in their beds. Smiles on their faces as dreams of sugared plums danced in their heads.

Outside, the snow fell in droves and filled the streets, impassible for cars and carriages. The windows were frosted; icles hanging like glittering packages.

The brick and mortar chimnies chain smoked; pairs of lungs coughing ashes.

Dust saturated the fresh snowflakes on snowcapped rooftops; heavy as Lucie's lashes.

The moon was nearly full; the fringe of dawn barely a heartbeat. Lucie didn't hesitate getting out of bed when she suspected Henry and Charlotte were fast asleep.

Her secret plans were already in motion; she was in far too deep.

Tonight Lucie and Grace would wake the one lost in an eternal sleep. The anticipation ran through her bones; sidewinding up her veins like an ivy on a chase.

The candles on the Yulemas tree were long snuffed out; the yuletide log smoldering in the fireplace.

The only sound downstairs was the incessant scratching inside the walls. A mouse was hunting about, searching the halls.

The manor was festive; the decor just right. Charlotte had decorated in odd bright colors; glitter and gold balls. A sight to behold, a treasure left scandously untold.

Mugs of cold, sugared tea and burnt biscuits were dutifully set out by Matthew's sisters in hopes of toys being brought.

They were antsy and fought before bedtime. That is, until Lucie sang them a sweet rhyme.

Earlier, Lucie had been filled with warmth as Henry played carols on the pinafore and the girls sang loudly and off key.

She had spent the evening after supper with Cordelia and Charlotte, knitting sweaters for the three.

Now she felt bitter and upset, but the night wasn't over. No, not yet.

The conversations had flowed so easily between the women in the hours before. Lucie had almost forgot the other demands; the baby she tried to ignore.

But the truth was, she was happy to be doing something productive with her hands.

Lucie enjoyed the conversations even if listening to Charlotte was quite the chore.

Tomorrow was Yulemas but Lucie could not have felt less festive.

Yes, the girl Herondale had become rather quite obsessive.

A solid glance over her shoulder gave her courage in the dark. Cordelia was fast asleep on the opposite bed, stiff like chalk.

Lucie stilled, thinking she heard Oscar bark.

Cordelia's back was turned to Lucie; the long braid resting against the comforter like a serpent.

Cordelia was the only one who wouldn't help and the lack of support streamlined Lucie's determination like a torrent.

Lucie felt guilty, like a sneaky child as she opened her door. She crept out into the candle-lit hall ignorant of the consequences her actions might cause.

A familar frown pressed her lips as she closed the door and paused.

For weeks a string tugged at her, knowing that her freedom was slipping through her finger. Each free moment was ready to disappear; the life with a drinker.

Everything seemed doomed; so unfair.

Selfishly, she assumed tonight was only a prelude to the tired life she would soon have living in the walls of Fairchild Manor or worse: Matthew's downtown London flat.

For hours, Lucie had tried to sleep after adjusting the ribbons on an old hat.

She read Cordelia a chapter or two of a mystery book, then finished with a cup of warm milk.

Poor Lucie begged her brain to shut off long after she was wrapped in cotton and silk.

But Charlotte's voice kept droning on in her ears, until her heart was able to tilt.

"I am really happy that Matthew is with you, Lucie. You do know he is trying quite hard to be a better man for you and the baby. You will be quite a good match for my wild child, and quite happy I assure you."

Lucie was uncharacteristically careless in her response. She had only thought about her own wants.

She whole heartedly disagreed before silencing herself much to Cordelia's horror.

Many times Lucie Herondale had tried to imagine being married to Matthew, just for a minute or an hour.

She pictured having a family, a normal Shadowhunter life with him at her side. A family life like her own.

But she just couldn't picture herself being trapped inside. A bird in a cage; her wings barely flown.

She couldn't stay in the net waiting up for him every night. It was just too much to ask.

Worrying. Wondering if tonight would be the night he'd get in a fatal fight or worse; death by her own axe.

How they would feed their family if he died. How would she live, crumbling on the inside. She didn't even have the faintest idea how he felt about women writers or the socially responsible duties they were to provide.

Lucie didn't have a clue how to be a mother or run a household.

This much she'd been told; they'd be wed under the sacred Shadowhunter vows; their bodies marked each with a matching rune.

After they would go on living as two separate people under the light of the moon.

He would conquer binges of weeks where he'd be drunk daily and purges where he would be sick and sober.

She'd stay home; keep house and take care of the children, and he'd lovingly call her his good luck clover.

This would be a cycle that wouldn't end. It would only grow worse with each year; each baby born on the cusp of regret and condenscend.

That didn't mean living with Matthew Fairchild was hopeless as a snowflake in the rain. Perhaps Lucie was wrong. Perhaps Matthew Fairchild was only in pain.

What the cards were showing Lucie now was just a reality she didn't think she could endure.

The truth was, part of Lucie did love Matthew, so much more. When he bled, she bled in her core.

Nightmares and dreams about him had often haunted her into rejecting his previous advances and now she knew why.

She presumed the dreams were omens; warning her not to abandon the sky.

The Fairchild/ Herondale union had been long awaited for by both families, but particularly by the Consul.

Lucie knew what Charlotte expected of her future daughter-in-law was damn near impossible.

Change Matthew. Fix him.

Lucie dreaded every moment spent under the Consul's watchful eye. Every minute she was in Charlotte's company was as unpleasant as a stye.

As Lucie passed Matthew's room, thinking about the last time he'd held a sober smile, she slowed her pace and stopped short. A groaning noise came from within and Lucie wondered if Matthew had overdone it on port.

His door was open just a crack, enough to see into the chaos of his existence; a dream. The stench of stale cigars and regurgitated gin spilled into the hall; hitting her nose like steam.

Lucie gagged and her heart broke at the sight of him laying like a rag doll among dirty linens.

She hadn't expected him to be home and was shocked to see him in such a position.

Lucie had never been able to read Matthew's mind. Now, she wondered if it might have been a good find if she'd had the time.

Her heart had conceded and concluded any type of relationship with him was out of the question.

Being Matthew's bride had never been a suggestion.

She pretended that had been the reason she never reciprocated his feelings. Not until she plainly understood him and his bad dealings.

A well of sadness filled up inside her as she reached out her hand, shining the witchlight into the darkness of the room. The bed was empty except for Oscar, a pillar in the sand.

As usual, the golden retriever was unaware; sleeping loyally ontop of a ragged blanket tucked under his hand.

She shined the light just above Matthew's sleeping body. His arms were spread, legs tucked tight together; a disgusting hottie.

Distracted by the way the light sweat on his chest gleamed pale under the flickering witchlight, Lucie thought about that night. The sweet smirk that swelled on his face was a haunting memory; a sin and a show. One she had hidden in her bones reminding her of a promise she made to him that felt so long ago.

The breeze was cool; the night hot. Cicadas and crickets staged their favorite tunes in an effort to provide a sonata. Not a cloud nor haze flooded the starlit sky; only fireflies lit up the night. Shades of blue from the lake lit her eyes with a warm glow. Lucie watched Matthew with anticipation as her skin grew warmer from every sip of his flask.

Do you love me? Matthew's hot breath on her neck. His lips were fire; hot cinnamon liquor burning her skin with each devious kiss on her flesh.

Yes. Everything would have been yes to him in the heat of that moment. Her hands were beyond confinement and reached eagerly for the buttons on his waistcoat.

Do you promise, Lucie darling? His green eyes were dark, serious under the stars.

I promise. And she meant it. Or she thought she did.

I love you, Lucie Herondale. You're the only one besides James that means anything to me. This is for forever. I swear on my life.

I love you too. Her lips against his were ice on fire; electric and numbing the voice screaming in her head.

Lucie blinked, rolling out of her reverie with the grace of someone used to disappearing into herself.

Matthew was still sprawled out, drool trickled down, out of his mouth.

His hand rested among the fresh vomit and spit on the rug. He was still in his rumpled navy pants and his belt was half undone; broken as the wings of a dead bug.

Stained socks and muddy shoes were discarded in a heap. It was as if he meant to climb in bed and instead just collapsed on the floor, fast asleep.

Lucie wondered if she should wake him; maybe help him into bed or the bath.

Matthew was snoring loudly; the sound sheilding his lips like a mask.

Lucie frowned, watching him and the moment of charity pass.

Matthew stirred and kicked out his leg. He groaned and rolled his head in torment and wrath. "Luce...Lucie. please. PLEASE. Forgive me. Forgive me."

Lucie sighed and flipped the braided pigtails over her shoulders, disgusted and disappointed instead. She shook her head at Matthew, her heart turning to ice.

How could she ever love him like this? The strings of her heart pulled her into a vice.

Lucie knew she wasn't entirely being nice.

At least now she knew Math was safe and breathing. One crisis averted. Now she could stop caring for awhile and continue seething.

Butterflies rolled inside her belly as the baby turned; shifting positions as if it sensed his father's presence and his mother's disgrace.

Lucie tried not to cry as she quickly shut Matthew's door, glad for him to be out of her sight at least for the night.

Lucie Herondale knew she'd be learning a hard lesson in faith.

The manor was cold, bitter like her uncharacteristic temperament. It was just the way Lucie liked things lately; quiet without comment.

The cold made her feel closer to death; closer to Jesse's spirit.

He was quite the opposite of Matthew who had the most obnoxious tendency to be satiric.

She warmed her heart as she thought about the ghost and his quiet, melodic ways. She imagined him in the sunlight; alive during the days.

Lucie became once more determined to save his soul. A debt that was unpaid; a secret not to be told.

Christopher and Grace had snuck downstairs after the lights went out. They were headed to the lab without a doubt.

Christopher thought he might have figured out a chemical compound needed in the spell Grace had shown him during tea and lemon tarts that afternoon.

James promised to guard the door as Thomas occupied the insomniac old housekeeper with a card game and some gin. Every one was in their places; helping Lucie's cause and Lucie shivered, feeling Matthew's hands still on her skin.

A whistle helplessly escaped her lips as she moved down the hall. She felt slightly more optimistic, smiling and all.

Lucie could feel the hairs on her arms rise, theories becoming reality. She felt Grace and her were getting closer to the right order of the specialty.

Goosebumps coated her bare arms as her feet padded quietly towards the music room; the hem of the nightgown billowing around her ankles like a flowers bloom. She tried not to skip like a schoolgirl.

The witchlight she cupped in her hands bounced off the walls; reflecting the contemporary colors in various variations of self portraits and Lucie couldn't help but look down at her hand; Matthew's ring and his pearl.

Suddenly, she was breathless. She stopped; reckless.

Something was wrong.

Someone was watching.

Someone was waiting.

Most of the walls were covered with expensive self paintings. Here and there; scattered were exquisite Idris countryside landscapes which Lucie found intoxicating.

Minature statues and other odd art were strategically placed on pedestals along the walls. Flowers on tables; Oscar Wilde inspired green carnations graced the hall; smelling pecularily of mint and clover during the fall.

This was Matthew's wing and it was freely decorated over. An artist's heart trapped in a body lacking talents. Everything was either beautiful or tragic to him; a man of great gallant.

Nothing was traditional or logical. Should it be to a man of illogical graces?

Lucie noticed the bright green of his eyes in some of the faces. They seemed to move slowly and appeared to be following.

She ignored their name calling as she caught her breath and moved on into the fray. The eerie feeling reminded her of Matthew's favorite legend; Dorian Gray. The fear that story brought back drowned out any other excuse she may have had for being frightened.

Lucie shook slightly as she quickened; her toes were red and numb as her limbs tightened. She scolded herself for venturing this far in the manor for a waste of a shortcut. Down this demented, self loathing hallway she desperately desired a peanut.

She hated that she discarded Matthew's privacy so blatantly. Even moreover her eagerness to meet Jesse hastily.

It had been almost a week since they'd met in private. The time spent apart dramatic.

In all the time she had been in the manor, she had never been in one of the extravagant rooms he uses. He had always forbid it and come to her; insisting she was the favorite among his muses.

Lucie was reminded of the story of Beauty and the Beast, which she found odd and sad at the very least.

Down the stairs, nearly tripping over her feet. Lucie felt a strange tingle on her sheet of skin as she reached the doors to the music room. She took a deep breath and pulled the solid oak doors open and slam against the wall with a boom. "Jesse?"

The moonlight greeted her; pure and silver like a star. Lucie was awestruck by what she saw.

In it's center was a black grand piano; to the left was another Yulemas tree twinking with candles, surrounded with gifts. The branches were strung with gold ribbons and mistletoe adrift.

The shapes of the gifts were shadows on the ceiling; fingers beckoning to the great beyond. Lucie could sense other spirits shamelessly coiling in the dark corners; not ready to move on.

Jesse was tired, trembling and translucent. Lucie felt like she on a boat on the rocking seas. His body was perched on the bench; his hands poised above the ivory keys. His head was lowered; ink stains on the pure, paper skin of his face.

Lucie gasped, parched. She could see he was singing an old Welsh song quietly by the light of a illuminating hearth. She smiled as his fingers instinctively played the tune in the air.

He was beautiful and fair.

Lucie hushed the intrusive and intricate shape of a story taking place in her head. She didn't want to break the moment, but she had to say something to make her heart stop racing and her breath like lead.

"Hello," she whispered to the dead.

#cassandra clare #the last hours #lucie herondale #the shadowhunter chronicles

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noxtms · 3 years

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dear bee & blo: we are pleased to inform you both that your applications for HARRY POTTER & REGULUS BLACK have been accepted to 𝐧𝐨𝐱 ! justice smith & diego luna are now taken. you both have twenty four hours to submit your accounts, or else your roles will be reopened !

the applications are contained beneath the cut, and while i’ll VERY happily tell everyone just what i loved about their apps, i do just want to say that every single one sent into us was so distinctly different - to the point where every single app had a totally different direction we were so intrigued by - and so well written. neither decision was easy & it took hours to unpack everything in the apps before we reached a final decision, but i physically couldn’t have done it without amanda, mozzie, chris & vicky giving me a helping hand ! the BIGGEST thanks has to go to them, but also thank you for sending in your apps and letting me read through them <3

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 :

⧼ justice smith, cis male, he/him/his / white winter hymnal - the fleet foxes + when you inhale it hurts - when you exhale it stings. these are lungs that should not be pumping air in and out. this is a heart that should not be beating. ; the load you carry is heavy, yet you cannot put it down. you are atlas with the world upon your bowing shoulders and you cannot let yourself be fooled into letting go, no matter how close the sky is to crushing you. ; the boy who lived, they crow. the boy who died. the boy who cannot rest because the world, it seems, still needs you to wring blood and sweat and tears from. when will it end? when can you sleep?. ⧽ ━━ hey, isn’t that HARRY JAMES POTTER? i read a daily prophet article on their life, once ; the TWENTY-FOUR year old half blood WIZARD is a GRYFFINDOR alumnus believed dead until recentlywho has gone on to be a MARTYR / SYMBOL / UNEMPLOYED. i’ve heard that they were quite STUBBORN & UNCEASINGLY LOYAL, but i don’t know… they seem very EXHAUSTED & MACABRE, don’t they? odd that they’re reappearing only now, isn’t it? [ bee, 22, est, they/them ]

𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 :

⧼ diego luna, demi male, he/they / paracetamol by declan mckenna + THE FAVORITE SON. you don’t remember a lot about your childhood, but you know this: your mother loved you. she, delusional. she, unflinching. she, cupping your cheeks with both her hands and whispering to you, gently, reverently: you’re going to do great things. you’re going to fix this broken world. it is too late, older, your own cleverness betraying you, that you realize she never knew you. she imagined a world for you to build yourself inside and you followed in blindly, until you realized you had to tear it apart. THE DEATH EATER. it’s all you’ve ever known. the price of your last name is one you have always been prepared to pay. this is what it means to be a black, and your mother has never failed to remind you of this, a wand in one hand and the family tapestry in the other. you want, so desperately, so valiantly, to be good, and this is how you are told to do it. just prove yourself, regulus. just do what’s right, regulus. you listen, eyes wide and smile paper-thin. you walk through grimmauld place, searing tattoo settled on your arm, barely grown in more ways than one, and you avoid one specific room. THE TRAITOR. you’re a sweet boy. soft in too many ways to be able to stand up without someone propped up behind you ( and you have always had someone to fill that spot, eager to make an example of the prodigal son ). it’s too late - far too late when you’re trying to fix it, so desperately ━ but, unsurprisingly, not quickly enough. you wonder if you are the next burn in the tapestry. you wonder if you will ever see your brother again, be able to look into his matching eyes, be able to tell him that you’ve figured it out ━ it took you too long, much too long, but you’re here for him again. you’ll always be his brother. this service is life or death, and you have always known this, always been prepared to survive until you weren’t anymore. you’ll fix it, you swear to yourself. you’ll do what’s right, right after you manage to figure out what that is. you betray all that you’ve ever known. you down the potion. you walk into the dark. you prepare to never return. ⧽ ━━ hey, isn’t that REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK? i read a daily prophet article on their life, once ; the FORTY-TWO year old pure blood WIZARD is a SLYTHERIN alumnus believed dead until recently who has gone on to be STRAIGHT UP CASPAR THE FRIENDLY GHOST. i’ve heard that they were quite CONCILIATORY & RESOURCEFUL, but i don’t know… they seem very GULLIBLE & TRANSPARENT, don’t they? odd that they’re reappearing only now, isn’t it? [ blo, eighteen, est, s/he/y ]

#hp rp #harry potter rp #appless rp #fandom rp #canon rp #oc rp #mumu rp #accepted.#if i ever suggest we resurrect some more chars and do this again. please tell me no.#you are all so TALENTED!!!!!!!!! & six hours on i cannot believe i thought this could ever be easy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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silverhandsass · 3 years

Text

My Beloved Intended (Part 3)

A bit of insight is given on Johnny's life, the reasons behind his behavior, and Valerie makes him a dreadful promise.

(Regency AU | V / Johnny)

All current chapters available on - Ao3

— — — — — —

It was easy enough to avoid any sort of mention of the intended for a good number of days. What with all parents involved mingling in their own time and other events being planned, it was easy to step away from the matter entirely for a moment to breathe.

It was hardly ever what Johnny could do. Breathe, that is. The large estate and it's long empty halls felt so small and constricted to him. Not in a way that they were not big enough, that he preferred a much larger and more luxurious place with halls wide enough to host several balls. He hated being in them, he hated living in them, and would rather leave those walls behind if he could.

Johnny had been thinking about that when pacing in his father's study. He had been called to meet with him, though Robert had stepped out for a time. John hated this study. He hated those paintings he'd constantly stare at during the worst conversations—the memories that would spring into mind just because he had been staring at the button on the sleeve of a nobleman painted on canvas while his back ached and burned.

The doors opened and John snapped out of his thoughts with a sharp intake of breath. He stood straight and stared ahead, waiting as his father walked around him. Robert took his place at his desk, speaking with a servant about getting his affairs in order for a trip he would be taking soon. There was relief in the knowledge that he would not be home for a few days.

Finally, the servant departed, leaving Johnny in the room with his father. He dared not look at the paintings again, nor at the rug, but maybe the odd angles in which papers had been stacked on his father's desk. A quick reach of his hand would fix them all into position. He thought of that to keep his mind from wandering somewhere a little less savory.

"Women talk," Robert spoke, a moment's peace now over. John looked at him now, waiting patiently and trying not to betray his thoughts. "They speak so often and so delicately, but their words always leave a mark." Robert placed the quill he had in his hand back into the inkpot to look up at his son. "A word or two to a lady here and there spreads in whispers to her maid, who whispers it to another servant that happens to mention it to a servant of a different house. So on and so forth."

"And the words that were spoken?" John asked him, keeping his chin high. A difficult feat. Especially difficult when faced with the glare of his father.

"Lord Thompson mentioned something about his wife gossiping with his daughters." He stood, and John swallowed hard, his eyes focused on the empty seat. "Apparently they seem to have the idea that you do not intend to see this marriage through."

With a small, silent sigh, John felt relief wash over him momentarily. It was not about his certain activities from the other night. "Wish and intent are entirely different."

"Indeed, and you would do well to remember that, boy." Robert walked around the desk and up to John, standing uncomfortably close. He stuck his nose in John's face in a threatening manner, causing his son to look away and down to the ground. "Need I remind you of the last time you failed this house? Last time you failed me?"

John's teeth clenched as his eyes tarted across the patterns in the rug. Which pattern shall he associate this conversation with, he wondered, as his eyes landed on a patch of intricate knots and decided on them. When he did not answer, his father raised his chin in a cocky manner.

"Good. Now go see her. If her family should break off this match in any way, for any reason—"

"They will not," John interrupted, looking his father in the eyes. What he saw in his face caused him to stumble slightly. "—My lord."

"They had better not." He replied with a nod. "Because if they do," Robert stepped closer once more, "do not forget that the sting of leather will not be the only thing you will face. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord," John replied, voice strained to be kept respectful.

"Good. Now go."

Without a word, John bowed his head to his father and spun around, walking straight out of the study. Every footstep was counted, each one a separate wish made that his path would not be interrupted.

Maybe this marriage truly was his solution, if it could get John far away from him.

—

If Valerie had to endure yet another gathering at her home with Lady Linder, she was sure to combust. The woman asked more questions than her own mother did, it was beginning to feel suffocating, especially when it was all for nought. When a carriage pulled up in front of the house, she was expecting yet another invitation to some garden or fancy house or other.

What she was not expecting was him.

She had hardly any time to prepare herself between being told that her intended was at the door and him walking through the doors to the drawing room. Valerie had to blink once or twice to truly process what she was seeing. John Linder had walked in, dressed in beautiful blacks and navy, holding a bouquet of such simple and elegant flowers in his hand. His eyes fell upon her and she could have sworn she saw a little smile from him.

He—

What?

"Lord Linder," her mother spoke with such charm, walking around her couch and up to John. Valerie could see a faint spark of a wince in his expression when addressed, making her all but cautious of his intent. "What a wonderful surprise to have you in our home! Those are lovely flowers, for my daughter I presume!"

"Actually, my lady, they are for you. In thanks for accepting me into your home and for the sudden intrusion," he replied with a charming smile toward her. "As it is, I'm sure I have many years ahead of me to fill Lady Valerie's life with all sorts of flowers." John then glanced at Valerie.

Good God, her mother could not have been falling for it. Surely she could see it for how thick of a lie this was. It had to be. She had to remind herself that this was the exact same man that had been behaving in such an abhorrent manner.

"My, my, Lord Linder—"

"Please," he interrupted. "Call me John. You are to be my mother-in-law after all, my lady."

"Very well, John. I'm sure you will be making an honest woman of my daughter, and a very happy one indeed," she turned to smile at Val, who had a forced one prepared in return. "To what do we owe this complete pleasure?"

"I've come to personally invite yourself and Lady Valerie to Willowspring Gardens this afternoon. My mother and I would be glad for your company," he said, now looking at Valerie.

She could see it clearly behind those eyes of his—this was anything but sincere. There was no reason why a man such as him should change in behavior so suddenly, there had to be an explanation. Valerie opened her mouth to say as much, her anger getting the best of her, when her mother intervened.

"Well, that would be lovely, wouldn't it darling?" she asked her.

Valerie saw the urgent look in her mother's eyes, and then returned her gaze to her intended. "Yes. That would be wonderful."

Perhaps it was her imagination, or perhaps John did truly take a deep breath, as though in relief. Something was not right.

—

Willowspring Gardens. A rather large expanse of beautiful, green land that was paved and maintained for daily use. It was astonishing in its natural grace, and a comforting place to visit. Yet somehow, Valerie could not unwind in the slightest.

Her arm was linked through John's as they walked a handful of feet ahead of their mothers. Scattered along the path and in the grass, by patches of trees or small ponds, were other people of varying stations—all of them still of nobility or in high social standing. It was exhausting to look at. Every single young woman of her age, playing the exact same game, putting on the exact same pretenses and waiting for the exact same results. They would all tear each other down to climb higher, if it were deemed proper.

It was rather difficult for Valerie to maintain her smile, her polite expression and young lady's grace as she walked alongside her intended. Her inner bitterness and anger did not manage to escape in any other way than the one that mattered. Her words.

"I must say I did not expect this from you in the slightest," she admitted through a forced smile, looking ahead.

"Then perhaps you should start expecting even more," he replied.

"What exactly are you hoping to accomplish here, my lord?" Valerie asked.

"Your hand in marriage, was that not obvious?" he raised a brow at her.

Valerie scoffed, shaking her head as her smile faltered. A moment later, she glanced at him once with furrowed brows. "And those flowers? Did you purchase them before, or after you buried your face between another woman's legs?" That seemed to shut him up well enough, wipe away that stupid smile of his and replace it with the grimace she was so used to seeing.

"I admit," he finally spoke after nearly a minute, "I do regret the other night."

"Regret the act, or regret getting caught, my lord?" she asked, leaving him searching for words yet again. Valerie turned her head away from him, eyes idly darting from one puffed up dress to the next. "This will not work, you know. It may be arranged, but soon the game will end and the lustre of our match will fade and they will see that this will result in nothing but disaster."

"What makes you think they will even care?" he mumbled, his voice deep and quiet.

"They will see," Valerie assured. "My parents, they will see you for who you are. You will not fool them much longer. You see, my lord, you are arrogant and selfish, and your ego is easily larger than a mansion."

"Huh," he huffed with surprise, "I'm surprised you managed to see mine from behind yours."

Valerie's head darted toward him, eyes stuck in a glare as her mouth bobbed open and shut, struggling what to say to that. She did not get the chance to reply right away as another voice cut her off immediately.

"Johnny!"

A man approached the pair of them with a laugh and John pulled away from her momentarily, bracing himself. The man, dressed in black and silver, marched right up to John and pulled him into a hug. John returned the motion, and Val could see him laughing in return—true laughter. When the man pulled away, she got a good look at his face and froze. That man was truly handsome, particularly in his smile.

His hair was already graying in places even though the man did not look a day over thirty. He had such a charming gaze, warm and welcoming, and Valerie couldn't help but wonder if that in itself was an act too, if he was friends with a man like John.

They spoke to one another as though they were entirely too familiar. The man's hands were clasped at John's shoulders, holding on as one would do with a dear friend. His eyes then fell upon Valerie and his expression turned into wonder and surprise.

"And this must be your beloved intended, I presume?" he asked.

"Lady Valerie Palencia," John replied, about to continue when V interrupted him.

"Rose." They both looked at her. "Valerie Rose Palencia."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," his friend replied, though neither of them were looking at him at that particular moment. So, naturally, the man cleared his throat.

"Oh, where are my manners—" John began.

The man snorted a chuckle, "What manners?" He attempted to suppress the smile on his face, much like Val did, when John gave him a pointed look.

"This man..." John continued, "Is Lord Kerry Eurodyne."

Of course! "Lord Eurodyne..." Valerie repeated, bowing her head slightly. "Your reputation precedes you, my lord."

Kerry reached for her hand. "Only the good parts, I hope," he jested, placing a gentle kiss upon the back of her hand. "I see your bride-to-be is well read, and seems far too sweet for the likes of you." Another joke, she presumed, as John continued smiling.

"I agree," he replied. "A lady to write your sonnets and limericks about, to be sure."

What?

Valerie could feel Kerry's eyes observing her, so she put on the sweetest smile she could and looked up at them both. Before she could speak, Kerry spoke up with a charming lilt. "I believe I can finally see what all the fuss is about. My sisters have not stopped going on and on about 'Lord John Linder's new bride'. It was all I heard them talk about when I first arrived back in London."

"Well, I too hope it was only good things," Valerie replied with a soft chuckle.

"Only the best," he replied, his eyes studying her a moment longer. Finally, he took a breath and smiled at his friend. "Well, I shan't keep you both any longer. Enjoy the rest of your walk and, Johnny, we shall speak soon."

"That we shall, Kerry."

"Lovely to meet you, Lady Valerie," he bowed his head to her.

"The pleasure was all mine, my lord," she curtsied in return.

Once he had walked off and back to his company, John and Valerie linked arms and continued to walk, their mothers watching closely as they followed. Valerie barely had a moment to let all that had transpired sink in before Johnny spoke again.

"Flawless responses on your part, you must practice it often," he mocked.

Valerie sighed deeply, "It was not my place to tell a friend of yours that your engagement is in shambles."

"How considerate of you."

"You chastise me and yet putting on a face for the world comes just as easily to you," Valerie shot him a frown that slowly turned into a hollow smirk. "I'm glad to know I was right that a true compliment was beyond your emotional capabilities."

"I never said they were untrue."

Val's breath hitched in her throat once more.

...What?

"Say what you will," Valerie replied. "Whatever it is you are planning, it will not work. I will see to it. This marriage that you are so displeased about, you need not worry about it any longer."

His grip on her arm tightened a fraction and she wondered if he even realized it. While she expected him to be overjoyed about it, maybe even throw a snarky comment toward her at the very least, she did not expect him to fall so sullenly silent beside her. Either way, she did not care.

One way or another, they would separate.

#cyberpunk 2077 #regency au #johnny silverhand #v / johnny silverhand #fluff #angst #romance #implied abuse #abuse tw #kerry eurodyne #maybe <.<#my fics #eventual smut #eventual romance #valerie rose palencia

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