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distortionbobble · 10 months

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Royal Flowers Chapter 2

pairing: anakin skywalker x f! reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni! ageless blogs dni! none this chapter but the series will have eventual smut, canon-level violence and just general warnings.

a/n: this series is so fun i hope everyone enjoys it as much as i did writing . anakin’s outfit in the opening scene is this incredible artwork by @kynakin ! this fic is for all the girlies like me who cry whenever there’s an argument

word count: 2.6k

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“I should never have agreed to this plan,” General Skywalker huffs, fiddling with the golden chains that drape across his bare chest in discomfort. It’s not the typical Jedi uniform, you’ll give him that, but for this to work… you have to go drastic. He’s uncomfortably quiet, though, and you realize that his cover story draws some uncomfortable parallels to what his life might have been without the Order.

But you’re left with no time to comfort him, futile as the attempt might have been, as the sound of ordered footsteps echo from the corridor. It’s your handmaidens, and judging by the low voices accompanying the swish of skirts, a couple senators too. You grab the general’s forearms, clumsily placing his hands on your waist and then use him as leverage to push yourself an inch away from his mouth.

“Forgive me,” you whisper, before you crush his lips with your own. Almost instinctively, Anakin pulls you in tighter.

You withdraw only when you hear the shocked gasps of your handmaidens and the uncomfortable clearing of throats from the ministers. General Skywalker blushes scarlet, stammering shyly as you turn to face them.

“Milady,” they bow, curious eyes wandering to the man standing behind you. You nod at them, playing shy as you reach your fingertips to brush against the general’s hand, not quite grasping it. The action draws attention, and you can see smiles teasing at the lips of the senators. Everyone’s a sucker for a love story.

Almost everyone.

Your handmaidens’ eyes glint with anger at the publicness of your actions. They aren’t surprised that there is someone, but they had warned you that they wanted less personnel on this task— as in, they wanted to isolate you. Easier to kill one person than two.

”And who is this gentleman?” Minister Pane asks, stepping forward with an outstretched hand towards the general.

“Anakin. Anakin Lars. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ministers,” he says with a smile, taking the outstretched hand and bowing forwards. Good, he knows how to behave himself.

“My apologies, Ministers. Today turned out to be such a beautiful day, I thought I’d show my fiance around the palace but lost track of time. Shall we continue walking to the meeting?” You say, with just the lightest smile on your face. You scan their faces for any sign that they might recognize him from when he guarded Padme, but luck is on your side—Anakin Skywalker had been a side note to them.

“I’ll take your leave, then, my love,” the general says, dropping into a bow and grasping your hand to place a ghost of a kiss on the back of it. Your heart skips a beat when he flicks his eyes up to you, holding you in his gaze. Before you have the time to dwell on his performance, he’s gone, leaving you to the ministers and maidens.

“Congratulations on your engagement, my Queen,” One of the ministers states. “Might I suggest a public wedding? A show of strength on behalf of the government, in the face of the increasing Separatist attacks. Royal weddings do wonders for morale, you know.”

Perfect.

~~~

The week that had elapsed since General Skywalker had been discovered as your lover to the time of the wedding went by in a blur. On a planet like Naboo, where the royalty was both controversial and respected, an event where the true Queen was guaranteed to be in attendance was rare. It would draw out all sorts of people—ones that wanted you dead, ones that worshiped the very ground you walked on, but it didn’t deter you.

To show respect to tradition, General Skywalker had been placed in a wing of the palace that was opposite your own. You hadn’t seen him much since that first day, overrun with the local politics of Naboo as well as the wedding preparations. Fake wedding or not, you only get to have your first wedding once, right? But the distance between you and the general unsettles you. There’s a growing concern in you, deep within, that General Skywalker can’t truly guard you. Yes, Padme had given her word that General Skywalker would keep you safe, but that was based on her own experiences, and wasn’t he hopelessly in love with her? How could you possibly rely on him? More pressing was the matter of having Reyna, your body double, and the other maidens believe you were in love with him. You’ve never been married before, but you’re pretty sure that not seeing each other for a week before your wedding isn’t the picture of hopelessly, deeply in love.

The day of the wedding, you’re awake before dawn. Invites have been sent to every corner of the planet, to every village and city. It’s a momentous occasion, after all; it’s rare for the Monarch of Naboo to be an adult. You’re dressed elegantly but simple, left only in private to pin your veil in place. It wasn’t what you imagined as a child, to be so isolated on what should be a joyous occasion.

“You look radiant,” a soft voice comes from behind you. You catch Padme’s eye in the mirror before you as you look up.

“Padme!” you gasp, nearly tripping over the long dress as you run to her. She holds you when you crash into her, choked laughter escaping the two of you as you hold back tears. She leans back, pressing her thumb into the corner of your eyes as you give her a watery smile. Your cousin, your sister, your closest friend, your Padme.

“Oh, sweet girl, don’t cry. You didn’t really think I’d leave you alone on your big day, did you?” She smiles, swiping her own tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Let’s get that gorgeous veil on.”

You sit there as she helps you pin it in place, unable to manage any words as she helps you get ready. She places a gentle kiss to the top of your head, smiling at you gently as she straightens up.

“Oh, Padme,” you sigh, twisting to face her and holding her hand gently. “It’s all just so much. To do all of this, and be the queen of Naboo, it’s all just so much.”

“You’re doing amazing,” she reassures you. “From one queen to another, you’ve only been queen for such a short period of time but you’re already doing incredible domestic work. Not to mention the other things you’re managing. If I know anything in this universe, it’s you, and I know that you can do all of this. You’re probably the only person in the galaxy that can.”

You lean against Padme for support, closing your eyes to allow the comfort of her presence.

“I can’t stop thinking of my parents, Padme,” You confess, eyes still closed as you draw support from her. “Their love was so strong, and pure, and…” You trail off, knowing that you are not afforded the luxury of privacy. But Padme understands you. She always has.

“I know,” She says. “I know. But they’re here, watching, sending you all their love, always. Now go, my Queen,” Padme smiles.

~~~

The thunderous roar of the awaiting crowd greets you when you step out onto the Palace Plaza, where General Skywalker awaits in the ruffled-collar suit you’ve seen so often on the nobility. Padme trails behind you but is undoubtedly spotted by the crowd, their increased cheering showing their respect for the beloved former Queen. General Skywalker’s face is set in solemnity, sorrows etched into the lines of his face. You shoot him a bright smile, one that holds both an encouragement and a reminder that you are being watched, before turning to wave to the people. The setting sun casts a soft haze on your people, and the sight fills you with joy. Your people, all here.

The officiant steps between the two of you, saying something that flies past you as you gaze into the general’s eyes. And you see, in those stormy blue eyes, a depth of emotions that have been harbored for far too long. You see more of him than you’ve seen before, the clarity reflecting in his eyes, and it feels like each breath you take is bringing you closer to him. You understand Anakin Skywalker.

Your hand is brought to his, calloused skin and metal fingers enveloping yours as he looks deeply at you. You wonder what he sees in your eyes, what he sees in you. Does he see you the way you see him? Is there clarity in your eyes, can he see the truth in your being?

“The chain that I thus wrap your hands with symbolizes the strength of your marriage. One will go to him, and one will go to you, my queen,” The officiant explains, smiling kindly at you when you nod at him. A slim metal bracelet is looped around your wrist, a matching one wrapping around Anakin’s wrist. “Through this life, let love and trust in one another guide you. Let yourself be guided by the other person. The threads of your life are thus connected, intertwined til death doth part you both.”

Once the man beside the two of you falls silent, you raise your head gently towards Anakin, eyelashes fluttering shut before you feel his open mouth against yours. His kiss is soft, moving in synchrony with you as you indulge the romantic fantasies of the crowd and placate the spies amongst your ranks. You’re sure that, in another life, you might have enjoyed kissing him.

Anakin goes stiff, though, and you take it as a sign to pull back, only to see his gaze fixed on something just past your shoulder. You know without looking that it’s Padme, and squeeze his hands before bringing yourself back to his lips.

“Not here,” you murmur against his lips, nudging his nose with your own to bring him back with a delicate, short-lived kiss. The two of you turn to the crowd, waving to them and blowing kisses as they cheer for you both, before turning back into the Palace, where your staff eagerly awaits.

“Ensure that they all have access— and please make sure it’s accessed in an orderly fashion— to the dinner arranged to celebrate the wedding. I’ll follow up with the Minister of Agriculture to make sure the grain stores are plenty and work on a distribution program for the people. This may also be announced with the happy news of my nuptials,” you instruct the chief palace maid. She nods and leaves you with the rest of your staff.

“Well? Go and enjoy yourselves!” You cheer, tugging Anakin towards the nearest stairwell and running up to your chambers. You maintain the faux cheer even as you near your bedchambers, knowing that your maidens are closely following behind. You make eye contact with them and close the door to your bedchambers with a subtle wink, hoping it’s enough to convince them to leave you alone.

Anakin calls your name sharply from within the chamber as you stand by the door. You hold your hand up sharply, before pointing towards the door and cupping your ear. They’re always listening, you mouth at him. He nods in understanding before pushing out his hands with concentration.

“It’s fine now,” he says. “I’ve put up a Noise-Dampening Bubble. This way, our conversations will be ours and no one else’s.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, walking over to the bed and collapsing on it. Your hands stray to your veil, working on unpinning the delicate pearled lace from your skull.

“Why didn’t you tell me Padme was going to be in the audience?” Anakin demands. You close your eyes and sigh at his audible frustration. You should’ve expected a fight— Anakin had, from the start, seemed prone to anger.

“She’s my cousin. The closest thing I have to a sister, the only person I really consider family. Not only that, she’s one of the most loved Queens in Naboo’s recent history. Really, General Skywalker, it should’ve been a given that she’d be there,” you groan. This conversation is already beginning to exasperate you, and you know that it’s far from over.

“Anakin. Not General Skywalker. We’re married now, if you keep calling me ‘General Skywalker’, this whole marriage sham will be for nothing. Maker… You’ve gone and forced me to marry you in front of the love of my life,” Anakin bites out.

“Will you drop that already? She’s not interested in you! And, in case it slipped your mind, Anakin, we don’t have much of a choice. You think I wanted to get married to you?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to get married to me?” Anakin asks, irritated.

“Wh- what a foolish question! You think I wanted to marry without love? A ritual as sacred as that and I’ve done it to a man who’s hung up on my cousin! I wanted to be loved, Anakin! Loved! You’re my husband, you’re supposed to be the one person who loves me. And I couldn’t even have that. But know this, Anakin, I’d sacrifice it all again, because it’s not about me! It’s not about you either! You need to grow the fuck up and move on or this entire mission is in jeopardy!”

“Oh. Oh, I see, the queen wants to talk about sacrifice. Don’t talk to me about sacrifice!” Anakin shouts at you. “Do you know what I’ve given up to be here? All because you don’t feel safe and don’t have the courage to learn how to protect yourself? Your foolish request is an insult to my abilities. I was so close to becoming the youngest Jedi Master and you’ve put it all at risk. I mean, who knows what the Council will say if they find out that I got married to you? It doesn’t matter if it’s just for show, there’s not a chance they’re just going to let it slide.” He sighs and sits on the other side of the bed, rubbing his face with his hands. You sit up, twisting to face him as you swallow the lump in your throat. You didn’t want him to treat you this way. Sure, you didn’t need it to be a real wedding, but you can’t handle the thought of being at each others’ throats all while you dealt with the pressures of being Queen of Naboo and a spy.

“Okay,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to speak normally without crying. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through. I won’t pretend that I have. It was unfair of me to act like you haven’t sacrificed anything. But would you at least admit that you’re taking your stress out on me rather unfairly?” You sigh in exhaustion. “We need each other right now. At least, I need you. The palace is a vicious, vicious place, and I can’t make it through this without you. Please, let’s just… not fight. Not over this.”

Anakin sighs, but nods. You dab at a stray tear with your fingertips, overwhelmed. The two of you sit in silence for a brief moment before you get up, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor tonight,” Anakin says from behind you. You pause, not looking back at him when you nod your consent as tears stream down your face.

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ourautumn86 · 2 years

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𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡

Joseph Quinn x Fem! reader PT.2

LINK TO PART 1!!

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

✧ Synopsis;; Joseph Quinn was filthy rich, for he was royalty. Handsome, charming and a gentleman, a dream dressed in pure silk for any kind of woman. But not you.

✧ y/n is a mere slave of a nobel family who just turned 18. On the night of the prince’s royal ball she is dragged against her will to this dance just to be used as a coat rack for the purses and coats of the family ladies, who, of course, treat her like absolute sh’t, to the point where they could agreed to hand her over for a generous amount of gold

“Just name your price, sweetheart.”

“Screw you, my prince.”

Just how lucky you were for had caught the

prince’ s attention!

< enemies to lovers 3

17th century royalty!

A/N;; i’m sorry if this is sloppy and like…, BAD, english is not my mother language and it’s my first joseph x reader story. either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!

CW;; this series might include 18+ content (details will be given at the start of each new part uploaded) MINORS DNI AND SKIP!!!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

WARNINGS PART TWO: cursing, blood, violence and a nude scene(?)

WORD COUNT;; +2,5k

(A/N pt.2; it is much enjoyable(??) if you read it with a british accent since this fic takes placed in the U/K)

:¨·.·¨:

`·. lastly; enjoy! <3

‘Because from now on you belong in this castle.’

You stepped back at his words, his smile never dropping as you amused him with your fighting against the maids that had returned in a clap of his hands. “You shall let them help you with your clothes and washing, I promise you you’ll feel better once you’ve found yourself clean.” he tried to convince you, his brown eyes glistening under the lights and his voice soft as a caress.

“I can take my clothes off myself.” you spit, your hands making your way to the back of your dress to unbuckle the single button that was left, among those who had fallen off through the years, and undo the bow that molded it’s skirt to your slim waist, letting your clothes slip to the floor and around your feet, leaving you completely naked to their sight since no petticoat had been given to you by your old family.

The maids gasped, as you had dared to undress yourself in front of the prince, whose eyes never left yours, not really budging at your actions for he was a ‘gentleman’. His smile only grew up more, which you’d started finding pretty goddamn annoying.

“Then, I shall excuse myself… Ladies.” he bowed to the maids, who did the same and said their goodbyes.

“Oh, bless my soul!” Ballard exclaimed as his eyes accidentally took a glance of your naked body once the door had opened, quickly adverting them to his right.

You gave them your back as he closed the door with a mocking smile towards his right hand, your feet, and later on your whole body, being surrounded in clear warm water for what you thought it was the first time in your life.

You sighed in relief and sank deeper into the bathtub, letting your eyes close once a pair of hands started washing your long hair, getting lost in the feeling of it all, in its warmth.

“I won’t put that on.” you shook your head at the dress that was currently being showed to you. Starting from the fact that it’s skirt was way too big for you to freely and comfortably move around, the puff on its sleeves looked ridiculous and seemed really troublesome and the corset which strings stood in the bag really threatened your ability to breath. It was a simple and definite no for you. And the color! That shade of yellow won’t flatter you, that’s for sure.

“It seems that the dresses that Lord Ballard sent are no good…” one of the maids sighed, tossing the last one of them aside.

“What a pity…” you falsely pouted, adjusting yourself in the padded chair you had been forced to sit on so the women could take care of your hair.

“Well, there’s still the one that the prince sent! Let’s give it a try.” a brunette one smiled, to which you huffed, you hair being combed by another maid that simply giggled, really entertained by your reactions. “Where was it…, ah, yes!” she seemed to find it, her gentle fingers taking a grip on the strip sleeves of the dress to reveal it to the rest, who let out a delighted gasp.

“Crumbs*! It’s beautiful!” the maid that combed your hair exclaimed, her eyes shining as brightly as the rest of the ladies’.

It was a really simple dress, though it looked more like a nightgown. It was made out of the most beautiful lace you’ve ever seen. It was light blue, and large, enough to cover your thighs, ending below your knees. It had different layers of silk and lace of all types with little ruffles and decorations. The chest was made out of two triangles of silk with lace surrounding them in a soft-looking way that made you…, not hate it. In fact, it was really beautiful.

“Would you like to try it on, miss?” they all inquired, hoping for a positive answer since they seemed to have fallen in love with the dress.

“Well, it’s the most… pleasant to the eyes,” you muttered, trying to not show your true feelings about that piece of clothing, winning exited smiles from the ladies, who helped you to stand and took off your body the towel that embraced you to help you get on the dress.

You felt free in it. It moved with you and it let you breath, and it was so soft. You jumped and twirled, testing the waters. Nothing seemed to get exposed, what made you really happy. Your incredibly long hair caressed your almost bare back, falling to your waist. Your fingers went through it in awe, no knots being found. You smelled like pure lilies and you felt so clean and soft that you almost felt the urge to cry once you’ve taken a glimpse at your reflection in a mirror the maids lent you. You touched your clean face in disbelief, your cheek was bruised and stung when touched, the same as your lips, but your wounds have been cleaned and your skin looked so pure you felt unrecognizable, always being greeted by your reflection full of dirt, cuts and bruises in the pond’s water you used to visit when the mistress’ clothes needed washing.

“You look truly wonderful, miss.” one of the maids said, the rest nodding and agreeing with her, and just when you were about to thank them for their help with a smile, two knocks at the door caught yours and their attention, the prince stepping in after a short minute just in case you were still getting dressed.

“I apologize for my intrusion, ladies. Is everything alright, here?” he asked as he stepped in, along with Ballard, his eyes quickly finding your back and later on when you had turned to face him, your eyes. He simply stood there, silently staring at you, his eyes capturing every single detail in your body and sinking deep in the way you looked…, with the dress he had chosen himself. “You chose it…” he smiled, his eyes finding yours once again, his soft voice reaching you.

“Well of course, it is the most comfortable amongst them all.” you said, looking down at the dress, catching him staring as you did.

He cleared his throat before bringing his hands from his back to the front, letting you see a couple of, really low heels, almost flat silk shoes. “I brought these, though I couldn’t find anything more comfortable, I’m afraid.” he awkwardly smiled, stepping closer and kneeling in front of you, what caused you and the maids to step back in astonishment and Ballard to whisper-yell a ‘Your highness!’. “May I?” he inquired, one of his palms facing upward as he signaled to your feet. You slowly and unsurely nodded, surprised by his actions, but allowing him help you put on the shoes.

You could guess what everyone was thinking at the moment;

Why in the world was the prince of the realm, no one else than Joseph Quinn, kneeling and helping a slave like you put on some shoes?

You slightly bent down to take a better glimpse at them. They were white with a little piece of lace surrounding its collar. They were beautifully simple, and they looked really comfortable. When you put your feet back down on the floor you could agree on your judgement by their appearance. Compared to your wooden ones, this shoes felt like walking on clouds. When your sight drifted from them, your eyes met the prince’s once he had gotten off the marble floor once again.

“Well?” his eyebrows rose in anticipation, wanting to know your opinion on them. Everyone seemed to.

“They are not too bad.” you shrugged, your pride making him smile and let out a soft and short laughter. The tension inside the room seemed to dissipate with that sound.

“I’m glad to hear that.” he nodded, making his way back to the door. “Then? Are you ready to go and eat supper?” he offered you, opening the door whilst his eyes looked into yours.

You glared at him for a couple of seconds, still not truly trusting nor liking him, but still decided to take your first step. And after the first one came a second, and later on; a third.

His eyes never left your body as you exited first, waving your hand to the maids as a quick goodbye, which they returned. He bowed at them before closing the door. You awaited next to Ballard in the corridor, which was carpeted with crimson velvet carpets and glistened under the candles of the chandeliers above your heads.

“Shall I fetch the cooks and maids to set up the table, your highness?” the blonde spoke, his hands intertwined behind his back, which stood straight, awaiting for an answer.

“You shall not.” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t like them to work so much this late at night.” the singing of the cuckoo clock hitting midnight catching your attention as your eyes met with the wooden cuckoo that jumped in and out of its home. You wandered through the corridor, your fingers detailing the marble and wood of the oak chest you found on your left, plagued with porcelain decorations and flowers. There were multiple of them through the interminable corridor, perhaps for embellishment. “Though I would appreciate it if you could fetch something for her. I could wager all the gold I have in my hands that she hasn’t eaten for days.” he seemed concerned, his smile fading for a couple of seconds before appearing once again when he saw you twirling around a porcelain doll sculpture of a ballerina.

Not even the blonde could understand his actions nor read whatever wondered inside his mind. But he thought he could just wait for whatever the future would offer.

“Sure, your highness. I’ll make sure to send it to her room in no time.” he nodded, after a ‘thank you’ from his friend and prince heading the other way.

You were about to place down another sculpture that you had picked up when his voice startled you.

“It’s Greek.” you felt your heart plummet to your stomach when it slipped from your hands, his being quick enough to catch it in the air. “Almost a was.” he mocked you with a smile, putting it back down on the chest amongst the others.

“Didn’t know the prince would be into collecting porcelain.” you winded him up.

“That would be my mother, the queen.” he chuckled. “Along with the king she has parted to the east to meet Rembrandt and discuss about his new works of art.” he explained, making you now understand his announcement at his ball, asking forgiveness for the monarchs’ absence. “Though I must admit, I take pleasure in pretty things.” his eyes met yours and for a moment you felt as if you were frozen in place, the only warmth you felt being the touch of his fingers gracing yours on top of the oak chest, after his hand had fallen near yours. Your eyes met his hand and later on his eyes again, pulling away from his warmth after a couple of seconds.

“And what does beauty mean to you, your highness?” you inquired him, giving him your back and taking a few steps away from him. “Perhaps gold? Diamonds? Maybe castles?” your hair softly fell on your shoulder as your turned back to face him once again, your dress beautifully dancing along with you.

He just silently stared at you, his hands once again on his back as he took a couple of steps closer to you, a smile tugging on his lips. “I guess I still have yet to find out.” his brown eyes found yours once he stood by your side, the amber of the candles shining on them. There was something in them that you could not read. “Then, shall we?” his eyes left yours just to show you the way in which you supposed you should head to to meet ‘your room’. You seemed unsure for a couple of seconds, to which he decided to taunt you a little bit more. “After you, sweetheart.” he moved aside, giving you a little bit of space.

“Don’t you dare call me that again.” he laughed at your rudeness.

You gave him a side look before taking a step forwards, and then another, and another, the moonlight of the windows hitting your skin, perfectly matching with the color of your dress.

He took a deep breath before following you.

What beauty was…, huh?

“I hope you find the room to your liking. If you are in need of more pillows or sheets just ask for them, alright? You can ask one of the maids to light up the chimney for you if the night gets too cold too.” he said while opening the door and letting you step inside. It was spacious and beautifully decorated. As you stepped in, the very first thing you could see was a huge window that met the gardens of the castle, to your left a chimney with red velvet sofas and a central tea table with books on top of it, you could find more of them on the willow bookcases on both sides of the chimney. And to your right you could find a queen size bed with puffy white sheets, a white dosel and an incredible amount of pillows of all kinds, along with oak nightstands with candles and a big white closet. When you looked upwards your eyes met with the shiniest of chandeliers.

Once you’ve turned around to meet his eyes once again, these caught a glimpse on a food trolley.

“The maids discussed that since you’ve probably not eaten in days it would be better for you to eat something soft so it wouldn’t upset your stomach.” he said, while taking off the top of the plate cover, the smell of chicken stew along with baked potatoes and steamed vegetables making your mouth water. But that was not really what caught your attention. “I apologize if you find it too-”

And before he could even finish his sentence or take a hold onto your actions, his back was slammed against the half-open door from which you’d entered the room, closing it in a very harsh slam exactly when Ballard seemed to be back to check on the prince.

“My prince?!? My prince!!” he desperately knocked on the door, trying to open it but finding it imposible due to the weight of both your bodies on the other side. “Guards!” and as he called for the guards that rounded the corridors…

“Give me a single reason for which I shouldn’t kill you right this moment, my prince.” your breaths intertwined as you stood completely pressed against his body, a knife that you’ve snatched from the trolley threatening to cut his throat as you pressed it against the skin of his pale neck.

He seemed astonished at first, his brown eyes staring into yours as your heavy breath caressed his lips, which parted as he spoke.

“You wouldn’t dare.” he pressed against the knife to get even closer to you, its edge sinking into his skin and the vermillion of his blood making its way to his collarbones like a river flowing down the hills.

“And what makes thee think that?” he smirked at your inquisition, his fingers brushing delicately your arm, its pads descending. From your shoulder to your elbow and later on to your free hand, which stood slightly hidden behind your dress. You gritted your teeth as he slowly and carefully rose it up ‘till both of you could clearly see it. You were trembling, so much it was actually impressive that you could hide it so well.

“Your body speaks to me, sweetheart.” he answered, caressing your palm with his thumb as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on its back.

And before any of you knew, more blood spilled as you rose the knife.

To be continued…

*Crumbs;; used for expressing surprise.

A/N;; guys i cannot believe y’all have already given Filthy Rich over 600 notes in less than 48h! i’m about to cry about the support and new followers. i really hope i don’t disappoint all of you with this story and you love it as much as i do <3

TAGLIST ♡!!!

@kik51199 @alicegrayson @hardysbitch @gamorxa @knifeluvr @estrellitams @elarasstardust @therealbattleangel @cherrypieyourface @stardustworlds @the-iridescent-phoenix @darkened-writer @brlnamy @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa

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pttucker · 5 months

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Yoo Joonghyuk thought about something related to that for a moment or two. If it was impossible to restore the complete 'Kim Dokja' no matter which story you wrote, then just what was the existence called 'Kim Dokja', in the first place?

[Shall we get going, then?] "Alright." All they could do for now was to complete this lengthy journey, and also, to find the suitable intermediary who could deliver their story. "This time, the married couple writers over there look to be good candidates."

You ever feel like a Skyrim NPC who just got attacked but then five seconds later goes right back to doing what you were doing with an absurd "must have been the wind" while there's literally an arrow sticking out of your knee?

Because that's how I feel right now.

HOW COULD I HAVE GOTTEN SO MANY THINGS RIGHT IN MY GUESSES BASED ON THE MOST OBSCURE EVIDENCE AND SYMBOLISM BUT THEN COMPLETELY IGNORED WHAT WAS LITERALLY BEING SAID ON THE PAGE IN RIGHT FRONT OF MY FACE!?

Okay, so, yeah, I just now realized after combining these two things above that the novel has literally been stating outright that Kim Dokja's soul has been scattered all through the various universes, our universe being one of them, and that he has been reborn as many different people all over the place, many different people who don't remember being Kim Dokja, who don't look or act like he did, who maybe aren't even a "he," who are maintaining the worldlines by subconsciously dreaming of them, who are supposed to read ORV so that a new conclusion can be imagined...

WE ARE LITERALLY KIM DOKJA!

HOW DID IT TAKE ME THIS LONG???

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Or, at least, any one of us could be Kim Dokja without realizing it. Though, at the same time, we really are all Dokja ("reader") in a way even if we maybe aren't the Kim Dokja...the Kim Dokja not technically existing anymore because he scattered into too many tiny pieces...unless of course we imagine him back into the story.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I just wanna bang my head against the desk because of all things to not get...it was literally right there! I even theorized that we could could maintain the wordlines for Dokja since we are reading ORV. Even waaaaay back many many chapters ago when I pointed out that we are actually the omniscient readers because there are scenes in ORV that we see that technically Dokja in the novel does not see. So he's not actually omniscient...unless he's also one of us...

Just...ahhhhhhhh!

I really wondered if it was going to circle back to us being the readers since it's literally mentioned things like "what if somebody is reading my story" but I just now put all these pieces together and it wasn't even that hard of a puzzle.

I love how everything just flows together so perfectly, of course I love it, but I do feel a bit silly now. 😅

...If anybody asks, I'm going to say it's because Kim Dokja is notoriously oblivious about the most obvious things and, apparently, Kim Dokja could very well be me.

So there.

#orv novel chapter 550 #orv #orv liveblog #orv spoilers #orv epilogue spoilers #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kdj

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bridgeportbritt · 1 year

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The Guide on Starting a Royal Story

I’m often asked about tips on starting a royal story and I see more and more popping up which is great! So, I thought I’d compile all my tips into another tutorial! More tutorials here.

Storytelling Starters

So, I’d figure I’d start with just starting a story and then dive more deep into the royal parts of it because at the end of the day, your royal story is simply a story. I’m no expert on storytelling but I’ll tell you what’s helped me tell my story for the last two years along with tips I’ve picked up from some great storytellers here on simblr!

Let’s break it up into the 2 major things your story needs - plot and characters.

Plot

Plot is the story in which you want to tell. The thing I love about storytellign on simblr is how your plot can evolve in many different ways. Many of us have no plans to stop telling our stories, so the storylines grow and change with our characters.

To get started with creating a plot, I have an outline that I create for each chapter of my story. I use Google docs and simply write out the scenes and color code them based on if I’ve taken screenshots, drafted posts, or published a post. You don’t have to do it that way but that is what works for me. Others use tools like Milanote, some do their outlines in a notebook. Find what works best to help you work out your plots.

If you need inspiration, there are so many amazing stories here on Simblr. You can find the Royal Directory here. But, you can really get inspired anywhere - tv shows, movies, even from real life. That’s the beauty of inspiration, it can come from anywhere.

Characters

It’s hard to say whether to start with the plot or the characters because they are both so essential to the story. The best thing you can do for your story is to understand your characters. From their personality, likes and dislikes, what makes them tick, what their background is. Stuff that makes a person who they are.

Those attributes that you give your character will work together with your plot. How your character reacts to certain situations based on who they are can even drive your plot. Which is why establishing them both is really important.

Again, inspiration can come from anywhere, simblr, media, or real-life. You can also Google character building questions to help you.

Now, let’s get Royal storytelling specifically! Since this is getting long and will only get longer. I put the rest under the cut!

Royal Storytelling Starters

Okay, let’s get into the Royal stuff, shall we? There’s quite a few things you want to establish in your story if you’re focusing on a Royal family. Please note that you can always change things as you go and make things up as you go along, but I will say that establishing some things earlier on will help you in the future.

Your Country

The thing about royal families is they govern a whole country of people, usually a country that is completely made up. So, if we’re making up countries, we’ve gotta establish the things that make that country, that country. Here’s some places to start:

1. Names - What is the name of this new land? Does it have other countries, states, cities, capitals? Those also need names. It’s common for a lot of things to have names such as palaces, historical buildings, objects like tiaras. If you struggle with naming things, you can always try a name generator!

2. Geography - What kind of land is this? How big is the land? What about the climate? What kind of seasons does it have? Are there any natural landmarks like mountains, rivers, etc.? I’m terrible at this kind of stuff and made a lot up as I went. And that’s okay! There are even map generators that can help you!

3. Society - What are the people like who live here? Is there anything that bonds them together on a national level? Think state colors, flags, holidays, etc. What’s the population? Are they educated? What kind of work do they do? The best part about this is you can go as in-depth or not as you like!

4. Economy - What kind of system do they use? Capatalism, socialism, etc. Do they import and export goods? What’s the average income? What kind of money do they use? Dollars, pounds, simoleons, etc? Is the economy doing well or poor?

5. History - Your country had to start somewhere. Maybe your story starts at the beginning or hundreds of years later. How was the land founded? How did it go from what it was to what it is today? How old is the country? Are there places where people can learn about the history? Museums, monuments, tv shows, movies, etc.

Now, don’t let these things scare or overwhelm you! Trust me, sometimes these things develop with time and you don’t need to figure it all out before you start. Get a comfortable head start and worldbuild as you go!

Your Government

Alright, let’s move onto government which I felt had to be it’s own section because there are Royal sims after all. Your country’s government system is important because it will impact your family. So, here’s a few things to consider:

Your Government System - Your probably doing a monarchy system, but there are even different types of monarchies. So it would be a good idea to do a bit of research on which one yours falls under. Keep in mind, that you can even make up your own kind of system. You don’t have to follow what’s already established.

Political Affiliation - Many countries have some sort of party system (ex. Americans have democrat and republicans and a few smaller parties). I know that most people don’t want to get political, but in some instances you may find it neccessary. But, still keep in mind that you can totally make this up.

Laws and Such - Who establishes the laws? Who enforces them? These are some things you need to think of. Is it your royal family or monarch? Do you have some sort of parliament system. This kind of falls within the government system part, but mainly you want to establish the role of your monarchy and those they work with to govern your country.

Your Royal Family

Alright, let’s get to the fun parts - Your Royal Family! This is why you’re here. You want to slap some tiaras on a sim and send them to the next gala! But, hold on a second. Let’s establish a few things in our families first:

Titles - When it comes to royals, titles are very important. Some titles are given based on land ownership, family heritage, birth, etc. You want to give your royals titles and establish how they are styled (ex. Her Majesty or Her Imperial Majesy). You also want to create a system for titles such as if someone dies, who gets their title?

Dress code - You’re going to soon find out that dress plays a huge role in royal sims. Many have strict dress codes. Your dress code can look however you want it to look. You may also want to keep in mind traditional or national type outfits based on your country.

Roles - What exactly does your royal family do for your country? Support causes through engagements, engage in political lawmaking, host foreign diplomats? It’s really up to you. You can create some interested storylines based on duty, as well!

Religion - I added this to Royals because I realize that a lot of Royals base their pretty much entire existence on religion. So, I think it’s important to note. Of course, like politics, it’s a touchy subject so you don’t have to do it. Want to make something up? Go for it! I’ve been using the Jacoban religion from the Sims Medieval which has been much easier! You can find my guide on that here.

Royal Sims Community

There is an awesome growing community of Royal Simmers! All of which help us tell our stories, collaborate, and overall have fun. So, here’s a few things of note!

Royal CC and Poses

Tiaras, clothes, jewelry, etc. - @melonsloth, @batsfromwesteros, @glitterberrysims, @normalsiim, @thesimpireblr, @royaltysimblr, @threethousandplumbobs, @rustys-cc, @sifix, @ice-creamforbreakfast,

Build/Buy - @thejim07, @felixandresims, @anachrosims, @themarblemortal, @strangestorytellersims

Poses/Deco Sims - @samssims, @royalhouseofcarrington, @novapark, @whitmoreroyals, @reigningsims, @clanmacarthur

Tips on Collaborating

Royal Simblr Event/Collab Etiquette

Guide to Interacting

How to Send Sims

How to Host an Event

Collabing with Others

Royal Sims Discord Server

If you’d like to join the royal sims discord server, send a message to myself, @thealbionroyals, @whitmoreroyals, @trentonsimblr, @thebaillieroyals, or @royalhouseofcarrington. There are 5000 more tips and tricks in there plus it’s where we all hang out to talk about royals, get feedback, and collab!

In Conclusion

This post is so long, but I thought I’d give some parting advice as you start your journey into the crazy world of Royal Sims!

1. Get a Process Going that Works for You

When it comes to storytelling, it’s probably a fun hobby for you that you want to dedicate time to. My biggest tip is to find a storytelling process that what works for you. I recommend something that allows you to be focused without stifling your creativity. And it’s okay if it changes or if you do things differently from time to time.

2. Take the Pressure Off

It’s easy to put a ton of unneeded pressure on yourself. But, it’s always been important to me to have fun and use this as a creative outlet. Creativity is very fluid. There is no right or wrong way to be creative. Perfection does not equal creativity. It’s also really hard to be creative when you’re miserable.

3. Interact and Find Your People

For me, this one is the hardest one to do and took some time but I’ve made a lot of great friends here! It started with me following their stories and engaging with them, then I started my story and we’d engage with each other, then I headed over to discord for more interaction. And through that process I’ve found a lot of cool people who motivate me and inspire me daily! Don’t be discouraged by people having their own friend groups or feeling like an outsider. All friendships take time to form but if you put the effort in and connect with people genuinely, it’s really awesome and makes storytelling even more fun!

4. Have fun!

I can’t stress this enough! Actually have fun with what you’re doing. Don’t make this creative outlet a job or set ridiculous expectations for yourself. Don’t think your blog needs to be like anyone else’s to fit in. I think most people here can agree that they very much don’t fit in which is why they’ve turned to a space like this. You will go longer and be less bored when you have fun and not pressure yourself.

#tutorial #bridgeportbritt #community stuff #hopefully this helps someone #royal simblr #royal sims #Let me know if there are any other guides you'd like!#jacoban guide coming next!

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pikahlua · 2 months

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Maybe it's because I have a different perception of "origin"... And also a different view of that scene, like I feel that Izuku might have thought "oh so no quirk.... Then I shall rely only on my own will" or something like that, again it's my own interpretation. And also it's probably cause it's been a while since I've read chapter one so I have a confused memory of it! sorry if I wasn't clear about my earlier statement!

I hope I can explain this right. I have no interest in telling you that's not a valid interpretation. I have zero problems with people having headcanons and making guesses about a character's feelings. When I was discussing "origins," I was doing so in the context of trying to find a moment in Izuku's past that Shigaraki might accidentally touch. In order to do so, I could only look at what's actually stated in the text to use as persuasive evidence. That's not to say there won't be some reveal later about more of Izuku's thoughts from back then. It's just I can't assume any additional information when I'm making a prediction like this. What you think Izuku might have thought certainly may have happened, but until I see evidence of what he actually thought, it's not something I can use. You're free to hold your interpretations and I'm not knocking you for them at all. I just don't have any reason to jump on board that interpretation yet.

From my perspective, we had three characters' "origin" chapters early in the story (Izuku, Shouto, and Katsuki), and the thing they all had in common was a memory of All Might from when they were young children. These memories are often spoken as ideals by these "origin" characters throughout the series. Katsuki has "a hero who, no matter how much trouble he's in, always wins." Shouto has "a hero who puts others at ease when he arrives." And Izuku has "a hero who always saves everyone with a smile." These to me feel like origins because they are the sparks that set each of these characters on theirs paths to becoming heroes themselves. Occasionally some mentors like Aizawa and Nana will make a comment about how an origin is something to grasp so that it keeps you pushing a little more even when you're at your limit, and I think it follows that such an origin has to be one's inspiration for doing what they do in the first place. Thus, an origin for a hero is: why do you want to be a hero?

In my opinion, the moment that exemplifies Izuku's ideal of "a hero who always saves everyone with a smile" matches most closely with his memory of watching All Might's debut video.

So that's why I make the assumption that this is Izuku's origin for the purposes of predicting imminent events in the story.

#anon ask #ask pika #my hero academia manga spoilers #final arc spoilers #izuku midoriya

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heyitsoak · 2 years

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knuckles is life and im in the hurt hurt zone rn SOOO how about some fluffy knuckles hcs with a s/o who is always like

They're super optimistic all the time and get excited about EVERYTHING like absolutely anything fascinates them and they give compliments and affection all the time n basically just. Pure sunshine being. Though they kinda get into trouble without realizing it sometimes and will come home w the craziest (and concerning) stories all while keeping this face :D

They have so much energy that sometimes they just kinda. Spontaneously overcharge. And the rest have to look for them for near hours just to find them sound asleep knocked out behind the couch

ty<3

JAKAKWKW I LOVE THIS SM 😭 AND I STARTED LAUGHING AND GETTING ALL GIDDY WHEN I WAS LOOKING AT THOSE CAT PICTURES, THEYRE SO CUTE AND FUNNY

AND YOU SHALL NOT BE UPSET, I WILL NOT ALLOW IT >:( SO I WILL GIVE YOU FLUFFY KNUCKLES HCS TO MAKE YOU HAPPY >:DD

Fluffy Knuckles Hcs With a S/O who is extremely hyper!

MasterList

You are literally so insanely hyper, I don’t even know how Knuckles can keep up with you

Yet Knuckles loves you so much <33 You’re the best thing to ever happen to him

You talk so much and so fast that most of the time he can’t even keep up or understand half of what you say, he just nods and goes “uh huh” as you keep ranting in excitement

You are just a ray of sunshine and can make anyone happy just by talking to them yet you tend to get into trouble without meaning too..

A large majority of the time you come home with the most concerning stories and the craziest animals in your arms and Knuckles has no idea how to respond

One time you came home with a raccoon huddled in your hoodie and everyone turned to you.

It was like that one scene from ICarly with the milkshake

“Um (Name)… Whatcha got there?”

“A smoothie.”

Tom immediately freaked out when he saw the raccoon and wanted you to get rid of it, but you refused to do so. You claimed that the raccoon is now your son and you make Knuckles go along with it

So despite Tom’s pleads for you to get rid of him, you and Knuckles now have a raccoon

If you have a pet cat, you will most likely chase them around the house as if it’s a game of tag (I do this, my cat screams at me if I don’t chase her around the house like a mad man)

Knuckles would be sitting on the couch watching you run around the house chasing the small animal, he thinks this is adorable though

You’re constantly complementing or giving affection to Knuckles and he secretly loves it, it just makes his heart go <333

He can’t even describe with words how much he loves you :’)

It makes him so happy seeing you talk so excitedly about something with such a happy face :D

You casually walk into the Wachowski home holding a hissing possum and your face is just :D

“No no no no, we are not keeping another wild animal!”

“:(“

“…Fine”

“:D”

The house would become a zoo because of you

You’re like a dog or cat that has the zoomies, always moving around, can’t stay still

But whenever you end up getting tired you just pass out immediately, you’re out cold

Doesn’t matter where you are, you’re falling asleep

So whenever you fall asleep most of the time they have no idea where you could be since you normally fall asleep in the weirdest places

They’ll be searching for you late at night only to find you conked out behind the couch, Knuckles will have to carry you to bed and nine times out of ten you don’t remember what happened before you fell asleep

But Knuckles loves you regardless, you make his life so much brighter and interesting <3

I finished it yaaay!! :D i hope you like it! Also I feel like if you showed Knuckles those cat photos from the beginning he wouldn’t understand them but he’d laugh or smile at them just because you are :’D

#x reader #x reader headcanons #headcanons #movie sonic x reader #sonic headcanons #sonic movie 2 #sonic x reader #sonic 2 #sonic the hedgehog #sonicmovie #knuckles wachowski #knuckles x reader #movie knuckles #knuckles the enchilada

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jarondont · 5 months

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Chapter 1!!!

So I finally finished Ch. 1 of my book Smoke from the Fire- the first installment in The Reign of the Revolution series :DDDDD

Remember that NOTHING is final (but this is what I'm likely going to stick with), and also due to personal reasons this is the only full chapter I'll be sharing. I'll share snippets of certain scenes, certain lines of dialogue I like, or anything else like character-related stuff, but I won't be sharing any more full chapters :(

Word count: 2,056

Anyways, I hope you like it!

Let's begin, shall we?

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

In my life, I’d made a lot of mistakes.

But none quite as bad as this.

All I could do now was close my eyes, clench my fists, and hope that they wouldn’t find me.

Because if they did, I was as good as dead.

---

In case you haven’t seen the overabundance of wanted posters with my name on them, let’s begin with an introduction.

My name is Silas Crow. Guilty until proven innocent; wanted dead or alive.

It’s not that I’ve led a life of crime. Quite the opposite, actually. Up until a few years ago, my parents and I had been living a simple life on the island of Cartris—a territory of Losca, just a little south of the mainland. Popí was a fisherman, although he liked to call himself a sailor. Mimá would sell the fish he caught. She was also well-educated, so she’d reserve some time every day to teach me. When I didn’t have lessons, I’d often go on fishing trips with Popí or help Mimá at the Cartris fish market. Sometimes, Popí would even take us to mainland Losca for a week. We’d sell fish there—at the larger market, so that we’d get more money.

It was a peaceful life. But that was before Endox came around.

Emperor Endox II had been a horrible ruler since about three years ago—shortly after his twenty-eighth birthday, when he killed his father to get the throne for himself, and with him, his mother, since she tried to protect him. Everyone put up with him at first, since we knew how dangerous he was. But then things started getting out of hand.

A few months ago, news spread throughout Losca that Endox’s wife, Meralina, had been brutally murdered by him after they had an argument about matters regarding their son, Prince Faelen. What matters, no one knew. In fact, rumor had it that the man who told this story in the first place was never seen nor heard from again.

Endox only grew more unfair and selfish since then. Taxes had always been high for us peasants, but Endox wasn’t satisfied. A few weeks ago, he raised them impossibly high, and for what? So that he could benefit off of the people’s hard-earned money. He raised them so high that many peasants started dying of starvation.

By then, we’d had more than enough, so we protested. A simple, bloodless protest. But since so many peasants had gathered for the protest, we had Estraham Castle surrounded, and the emperor’s troops panicked.

So they attacked.

The March on Estraham marked the beginning of the Loscan Revolution. Hundreds of lives were lost that day: the emperor’s troops—twenty-seven; the peasants—over three hundred.

My parents included.

It had been one of those weeks where Popí took us to the mainland. But this time, instead of selling fish, we were there for the protest.

If only we had realized beforehand what a mistake that had been.

I could still hear the gunshots; the screams of innocent protestors. Later, I’d find out that only about thirty of them made it out alive. I could still see the horror on my mother’s face as my father was shot square in the chest, blood spewing violently from the wound. I still felt her fingers digging into my arm as she begged me to leave, to save myself.

Then she, too, was shot. The bullet lodged itself in her leg, causing her to cry out in pain and collapse to her knees.

“Mimá!” I screamed, an agonizing mixture of fear and sorrow building up in my chest.

Mimá grasped her calf where she had been shot, but she gathered up her strength to look at me one last time. “Go, Silas, please!” She cried. “Find the Nemesis. Find Hunt. He’ll help you.”

“No!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “Come with me, please—I can’t lose you, too.”

“Go,” she whispered, her voice cracking from the pain.

Then she was shot again. As the second bullet struck her in the back, I heard myself screaming, crying, begging for her not to leave me.

Yet she did.

The last words Mimá said to me were, “Vei livé, Silas.”

Live free.

Those words were since etched into my mind.

I vaguely remembered running away, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as a bullet ripped through my flesh, and pushing through the crowd that was rapidly falling around me. I ran, and I didn’t look back.

After what seemed like hours, I found myself in a small alley. I touched my injured shoulder with my other hand, and it came back soaked in blood. Ripping off a strip of cloth from the bottom of my trousers, I wrapped it tight around the wound and knotted it. That took up the last of my energy and willpower. Leaning my head against the stone wall, I slid to the ground and closed my eyes.

Vei livé, Silas. Vei livé…

And it all came flooding back.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears streamed down my cheeks as great sobs shook my body. They were gone. My parents were gone, along with far too many others.

And I was alone.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, nor did I care. I remembered hearing voices outside the alley and the stomping of boots. The emperor's troops, no doubt searching for anyone who escaped. They never found me, but if they had, I wouldn’t have fought back. What was the point?

Then I remembered what Mimá had told me to do—to find the Nemesis. I wasn’t sure what that was, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t let any of their deaths be in vain.

So I stood and brushed away my tears, hearing my mother’s voice in my head once again.

Vei livé.

“I will, Mimá,” I whispered. “I promise.”

---

Days passed, then weeks, but it felt as if the March on Estraham had happened only yesterday. The streets were plagued with the emperor’s soldiers, or the Dekhrinn, as they had come to be known—Loscan for people of terror.

They accepted this name—in fact, causing terror was their main goal. Whenever they saw the Dekhrinn coming, people hid away in their homes, shut the curtains, and locked their doors. And yet, every day, someone would disappear, usually in the dead of night. But no one dared to fight against them. They were too terrified.

As for me … I lived off of whatever I could find. And I had come to discover just how many alleys Losca’s capital city, Cyvalos, had.

Alleys that were perfect for hiding.

As the stomping of boots drew closer, the only thing I could focus on was the racing of my heart in my ears. The voices became more and more defined until they stopped right outside the alley.

“Have you found anyone?” a deep voice asked.

“No, sir,” a second man said.

“Names.”

“What?”

“Tell me their names,” the first one demanded, irritated.

I heard the crinkling of paper, and I took that opportunity to slightly peek my head out from the shadows. Four Dekhrinn were positioned just outside the alley, their armor shining red and gold. Loscan colors. Two of the men stood off to the side, one twirling his fingers nervously and the other rocking back and forth on his heels. Another Dekhrinn stood with his back to me—the one who had fished the piece of paper out of his pocket. The last man stood in front of him, a badge on his shoulder making it clear that he was the one in charge.

“We were assigned four revolutionaries, sir,” said the man with the paper. “Fenerias Hunt, Annwyl Cadarius, Eraka Orelein, and—” he hesitated. “And Silas Crow.”

So they were looking for me.

“You still haven’t caught Crow?” growled the man in charge. A pause, then he mumbled, “The next time I ask for a report, that Silas boy should have been brought to the emperor, alive or dead. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good.” With that, I heard his boots stomp away.

The other three Dekhrinn let out a long exhale as soon as he was out of earshot. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then the man with the list of names yelled, “Well? Don’t just stand around! Find them!” and he, too, stomped away.

The two other Dekhrinn shuffled closer to the alleyway entrance. I ducked into the shadows, my heart pounding.

“How do they expect us to find them?” one wondered aloud. “Losca is huge. They could be anywhere.” Silence, then he prompted, “Henrik?”

“What?” The other man—Henrik—asked.

“Do you ever wondered what would happen if we … you know, ran away?”

Henrik was silent for a beat. “Don’t say that. You never know who’s listening.”

“Yes, but …” There was a shuffling of feet. “Endox—”

“The emperor, Keflas,” Henrik corrected. “Show some respect if you want your head to stay attached to your neck.”

“If the emperor hears what I have to say about him, he’d behead me anyway,” the man named Keflas mumbled. “I think … well, don’t you think he’s a bit unfair?”

I had half a mind to run up to his face and yell, you think? but I forced myself to take a steadying breath.

Keflas continued, “I’m scared, Henrik. Just the other day, Sigourney’s husband disappeared.”

Henrik grunted, finally opening up to conversation although he still sounded a bit uncomfortable. “I heard about that,” he said. “Rumor has it that he was turned in by his own brother. They say you could hear his screams from the other side of the castle.”

Keflas shuddered. “Whatever he said, he probably didn’t deserve and end like that.”

“Exactly, which is why you should shut up before someone hears you!” retorted Henrik.

Keflas mumbled an apology. “Maybe we should start searching.”

Henrik muttered his agreement, and I heard their feet stomp away.

I slowly peeked my head out again, checking to make sure they were gone. Once I was sure that the alley was empty, I tiptoed out of my hiding place. This was my chance.

I ran as fast as I dared out of the alley—or tried to. Halfway out, I tripped on a root and fell on my face with a thud.

“Did you hear that?” came Henrik’s voice from the other side of the alley.

“Dakhas,” I cursed quietly. How could I be so stupid?

“Someone’s in there,” said Keflas.

I cursed again, then stood and quickly brushed myself off. Maybe I could still make it out without them finding me.

“There he is!” Henrik yelled.

I glanced behind me. Henrik and the other Dekhrinn from earlier—the one with the list of names—were running towards me while Keflas called for more soldiers.

That settles it, I thought. Time to go.

I sprinted out the alley.

Blood rushing in my ears and the Dekhrinn only a few paces behind me, I turned a corner just as a gunshot rang out. A bullet whizzed past me, just missing my ear.

I paused only for a second. Almost there, I thought to myself.

I kept running, pushing past confused passersby whose eyes widened when they saw who were behind me. I just had to get to the docks.

To the Nemesis.

As it came into view, I paused for a second to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees. After weeks of searching, I had finally found what Mimá had told me to find. The Nemesis was what seemed like a large trading vessel. Why she asked me to find it, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had to get aboard, or else I was dead meat.

“Hey!”

Oh no.

I glanced behind me and saw not two, but eight Dekhrinn running after me, pistols drawn. I eyed the docks again, but it was too far of a run. They’d shoot me down before I even got close.

To my left was a bustling fish market that seemed to go on for miles. If I mixed in with that crowd, they’d never find me.

I whispered a request for the Nemesis to stay at the docks for a little longer, then raced toward the fish market with eight Dekhrinn hot on my heels.

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

So, what'd you think?

Also, keep in mind the names of the three revolutionaries (excluding Silas) they're searching for. These characters are important later 😉

(So is the prince but he comes in in book 3)

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crownmemes · 8 months

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Detective Sentences, Vol. 6

(Sentences from various sources for detectives and/or muses that like to solve mysteries. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I think we need to put a fresh pair of eyes on this."

"Since when do you care about other people's privacy?"

"Why are you asking this if you know it all anyway?"

"Even a novice reader of detective stories knows not to touch the crime scene."

"I'm heading to the pub. You coming?"

"I've had a look in your suitcase. You'll have to forgive me for that."

"Respectfully, I don't like that theory."

"What now? Are you going to arrest me?"

"You set me up!"

"It is a poor detective that blames her evidence."

"May I remind you that there is an offence called Wasting Police Time?"

"If you're not prepared to go to the police and tell the truth, then I will!"

"Is it my imagination, or are you asking me questions as if I were a suspect?"

"Cold cases are 99% forensics, so we need to do everything we can to help the scientists find that DNA golden nugget."

"There is still a lot about this that doesn't make sense..."

"I see more questions here than I do answers."

"I think someone who's been hiding an affair might have other things to hide."

"No detail is too small."

"Given the opportunity, men like him always kill again."

"Each victim was found with their liver ripped out."

"I must say, you seem strangely reluctant to follow a promising lead."

"But who would want to kill her?"

"I am not a murderer!"

"You never had a chance. For every step you take, they're three steps ahead."

"Would you mind telling me exactly what happened last night?"

"People murder for two reasons: money or love."

"Do you like detective stories?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how confident are you of his innocence?"

"I'm not the one going round and poking my nose into places where it's liable to get cut off."

"Sometimes new eyes on a case can be just as useful as new information."

"If you find the right starting point and follow it, not even secrets of the darkest of men are safe."

"You know better than most that we are not put in this world to avoid danger. Not when an innocent person's life is at stake."

"Nothing disappears without a trace."

"You can't come in here, sir!"

"Get you, acting like a proper copper!"

"You know, some of the best murderers are women."

"If you refuse to tell me what you know, it shall be a very serious matter indeed."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#detective;

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magnorious · 5 months

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A Lightning Thief Retrospective, 16 Years Later

Good grief, I am old. *Spoilers ahead*

In the spirit of the resurgence of appreciation for this series, I’m doing a retrospective on the books that single-handedly got me to love reading. No matter how old I get, Percy and co will always hold a special place on my bookshelf and in my soul. 16 years later and I have my own books to show for it.

*Disclaimer, I have read the books multiple times in the interim, but I first got my hands on it, and first fell in love with it, in 2008.

So: The Lightning Thief

The Greek-verse isn’t Riordan’s only series to open with a fourth-wall-breaking element, nor is it the only series to open with a “if you’re reading this, be warned” narrative (Maximum Ride comes to mind) but, at least in the paperback edition circa 2006, the last lines on the first page read:

Am I a troubled kid?Yeah, you could say that.

And I just… it’s so Percy. It’s perfect. You have no idea what it really means on your first read through but sixteen years later after growing up with these books, that line just makes me grin like the little kid that’s still inside.

As I kept reading, I tried my best to remove my “victim of the hellish IB Program, literary analyst” hat. This book spoon feeds you exposition in a really palatable way. We’ve seen the museum scene adapted twice now and while older me thinks that’s really convenient timing, it does a lot of legwork while also being short enough to keep the attention of its intended audience. It is also very, very good at foreshadowing, and setting up major payoffs, for events later in this book and beyond.

“Mr. Brunner” looking at the stele of the unnamed hero like he’d been to her funeral

Luke’s scar in the firelight making him look evil

Percy’s affinity for water and the sea, peeking into Cabin 3 before it’s his

The Fates’ electric-blue (remind you of anyone’s eyes?) string

“Someone summoned it,” Chiron said. “Someone inside the camp.”Luke came over….

Ares’ curse on Percy

Speaking of foreshadowing – prophecies. Since all five books have them, I’m dedicating a section in each review to each one.

You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

The whole point of these things is to drive you crazy trying to figure out what they mean before they play out, making you rotten suspicious and paranoid. The book does go line by line in the end and explains how each element was resolved. It’s both very deceptive, on purpose, but easy to grasp for younger readers. I think the prophecies in Titans Curse and Battle of the Labyrinth are superior, but it does its job well.

—

The whole book, likely intentionally so, with an ADHD protagonist, isn’t filled with fluffy narrative. There’s a ton of one-sentence paragraphs and Percy’s personality always shines through, even from page one, a la Holden Caulfield. Even when it’s an exposition-heavy scene, or just traveling while on their quest, nothing ever *lingers*.

Percy is direct in his observations and his narration jumps about from thinking about some random comment another character made that’s poignant in the moment to funny descriptions of the mythic world, to pitching his two-cents on the matter, expressing his annoyances with Annabeth, etc, all in a snappy and easy to keep up with manner. He doesn’t wax poetic, that’s not who he is and that’s not the story this book is telling.

For anyone intimidated by chapter books (re: me at that age) this book is endlessly approachable. He doesn’t have *too much* personality to be distracting, but he has enough to be more than a reader-insert everyman.

I don’t necessarily believe he’s twelve, but he does have that childish immaturity with his narrating and I forget if it ages with him. Since I brought up Maximum Ride earlier, she’s a child protagonist who does not read like a 14 year old girl, she reads like a quirky caricature written by a middle-aged dude.

**Side note, upon my re-read, it came to my attention that the Disney show inexplicably skipped the cutting of the thread with the Fates scene that is like, foreshadowing for the entire series**

*Side side note, Percy isn’t the one who came up with Wise Girl, it was Clarisse. Chapter 6**

I also forgot just how big a temper Percy has. He contemplates kicking Smelly Gabe in the balls for being mean to Sally, with zero care for the consequences. Not to mention the whole “Gabe would love to give away free appliances” schtick. He’s such a little sh*t and we love him.

For a book that’s largely action adventure, it balances the slower moments with the fight scenes smoother than butter. Percy’s demigod-ness gives him quite a bit of plot armor and excuse to survive these fights as a mostly-untrained twelve-year old without making him unrealistically over-competent.

The world building, at least in my opinion, feels like it looked at Harry Potter and went “I can fix that”. There’s not one cabin of demigods rudely and unfairly and problematically labeled Wizard Nazis, (except Grover insinuating that Hades’ kids were actual Nazis in WWII…. Hmm). The Mist exists to hand-wave away everything mortals aren’t supposed to see. It gets really creative with modernizing these myths and making them more child-friendly, and does a good job at urbanizing it, for lack of a better term. The concept of mapping Ancient Greece onto the US is neat, for American readers, and the explanation of “traveling Western Civilization” makes sense. The Underworld having traffic and toll booths was funny.

It treads the razor-thin line of “paganism is real” as well as it can, I think. It focuses less on “creation of the universe was definitely this” and more “the forces of nature have names and faces,” and sidesteps the giant sinkhole of Christianity and Christian readers with “we shan’t deal with the metaphysical,” and says nothing more about it, or demigods who grew up religious, or the other pantheons (yet). Beyond a throwaway dead preacher who Grover argues likely sees the underworld through his Christian kaleidoscope.

The series also doesn’t suffer egregious plot holes, only some continuity errors (like Blackjack). One that comes to mind in TLT is that if Camp contacted Sally about watching over Percy, Sally knew his dad was Poseideon. So how did the whole “I want to watch over your son cause he’s interesting, hm, can’t put my finger on why. Say, who’s his dad?” never lead anywhere? But it doesn’t break the immersion, certainly not for young readers.

It’s interesting how, looking back after knowing the entire story, how the seeds of doubt are right there, in your face, from the moment Percy learns the gods are real. It’s almost a meta self-fulfilling prophecy how things go so wrong for these characters, it’s so obvious.

SInce it is an adventure, the places they go are all wildly and entertainingly different. The garden gnome emporium, St. Louis Arch, Waterland, the Lotus casino, Crusty’s waterbed store. Each provides their own challenges and take full advantage of “mythology is real”.

Let’s talk about the villains, and how Hades was not done dirty this time. I’m going to presume that it’s bias on part of the characters for the whole “Hades’ kids were Nazis” and it’s absolutely on Chiron for insisting that Hades is the culprit when he sends Percy on his quest. Nowadays, especially with the staggering popularity of Nico, Hades has been pretty well redeemed in the eyes of a casual reader. But I think, at the time it was written, making Hades not the villain here was fantastic. He’s still a god, still a jerk, still dangerous, but he’s not the Devil. He drew the short straw and is an introvert written by salty extroverts.

Luke, for a twist villain (read my post here for a deeper analysis) and Ares as a tool of Kronos worked really well. If anyone got the Slytherin treatment, I guess it would have been the Ares cabin, but… he’s a jerk. His kids got his temperament, thus they are jerks. But even then – Ares was just a tool, a crude hammer swung alarmingly well.

Setting up your series-defining villain as a disembodied voice pulling strings is nothing new, but it comes with the benefit of two thousand years of real-world mythology backing up this entity’s power. Kronos is basically a non-entity in this book, but what he does is effective, and kudos for making readers’ skin crawl with the near-tragedy at the edge of Tartarus (foreshadowing!!!!!).

Something else the book does well is having a very well-written and uniquely motivated reluctant chosen one. Yeah, we’d all rather be demigods than Tributes, but being a demigod has drawbacks that being a wizard doesn’t. They don’t shy away from the risk of kids getting skewered and mauled, even if you don’t actually see it happening. This is dangerous work.

And, Percy calls it out – he exists to be used. That’s all demigods are worth to the Olympians. So, he’s going to use this quest to rescue his mom. He doesn’t give a damn about his dad, he doesn’t care about the looming civil war, doesn’t think it’s even the right thing to do, except to prevent the nuclear fallout that said war would cause.

He’s not one of those whiny “I just want to be normal” protagonists like no child in the history of ever has dreamed of if they were in their hero’s shoes. He’s also not pumped and jazzed and excited about being a demigod. They’re the victims of abusive and absent parents and, for a kids series, I still think such a sobering subject was handled really, really well.

You want to be a hero like Percy. You’re rooting for him from the first page. Discovering all his new powers is fun, daydreaming getting claimed right along with him. It isn’t dated with pop culture references and most of the humor lands (a novel experience that does not last forever, unfortunately). He’s sassy and sarcastic and his in-character ignorance and naivety opens the door for plenty of smooth exposition and letting the reader discover the world through his eyes, without feeling lifeless.

Speaking of personality, his rapport with Annabeth grows pretty decently over the course of the book, from being super catty to getting embarrassed on the tunnel of love ride, as if anyone would really care. They have their spats, but the budding friendship is realistic and she doesn’t feel at all like the girl hastily written in because the author forgot to include one.

She has her faults, but that’s the point. She’s also a victim of godly propaganda, and twelve, and literally burdened with hubris. All three of them bounce off each other well, each bringing different strengths and weaknesses to the trio, building each other up and bickering to tear each other down because, you know – twelve.

—

I read somewhere that the first five books all pay homage to some of the most famous Greek myths. Lightning Thief’s myth is that of the original Perseus with these familiar beats shared by both:

Murdering Medusa via reflective surface

Wrongfully convicted of a crime he didn’t commit and punished by Zeus

Hermes’ winged shoes

Hades’ missing war helm

Obtaining a cool new sword

Rescuing his mom from the Bad Guy

Not dying tragically

Princess Andromeda (the more famous Perseus myth adapted by Wrath and Clash of the Titans) does make an appearance in Sea of Monsters.

The joke people used to make about the fans of the series is that reading PJO does not make a mythology expert, but that isn’t the point. The books opened the door to further research at your own pace and maybe fostered love of a subject and culture you’d go on to study later in life.

This review is about the book, not the show, but it is a disservice to the book to cram nearly ten entire chapters of content, out of twenty-two (156 pages in the ‘06 paperback) into two episodes both less than an hour long. No wonder the premier felt, night and day, far inferior to episode 3. Episode 3 wasn’t sprinting the entire time.

Overall, the missing-persons-turned-possible-child-terrorist subplot stayed its welcome exactly as long as it needed to and every time I think about this book I forget it’s even part of the story. The payoff is really at the end with the free appliances and, of course, Gabe’s just desserts.

The book is absolutely, transparently, the first leg of a relay race, not one of those “I wrote this and it was successful now I have to come up with a sequel” stories and all the seeds of development for the series at large were expertly scattered.

The worst I have to say about the book is this: The constant “Thalia, daughter of Zeus.” There’s at least seven of them across the book and the whole title almost every time she’s mentioned reads a bit strange.

It’s paced excellently, with a few slow beats for good character development in between locations. The foundations of our heroes are solid, all the twists and turns with the true villains and the real meaning of the prophecy was well done. For the book that began a multi-series world of interconnected pantheons with new publications still coming out today, it’s humble and smart and, for a “children's” book, anyone can enjoy it, no nostalgia required.

#the lightning thief #percy jackson #retrospective #pjo #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #review

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silurisanguine · 27 days

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15 lines of Dialogue game

As ive been away for the weekend, not sure if anyone tagged me with this but saw it open tag so here we go. Tagging @vorchagirl @despicablediet and anyone who'd like to do it! 15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well! Since i've written the most with Seren Jones, I shall pick her for this!

1 -"Maybe I am, but there isn’t anything left in this universe worth staying for. Whatever is in the next universe has to be better than this one Barrett, it has to. I can't bare to stay here any more, not without him, not when I could have done it so differently."

2 - "Cora… she was there, saw her dad die…She hated me, blamed me for not saving him. After the funeral, Lillian took her and that was the last I ever saw that wonderful twelve year old. I realised then I had no reason to stay in my universe as everything i loved had been taken from me. I hoped maybe another would give me a second chance. To fix things..to try again…

…That’s why I do this.”

3 - "I came here the first time with no preconception of what I’d find. I was in awe at the location, just as you are now. But what I learned here has guided my hand in relation to how I see the Artifacts, how I see Unity and the Starborn. Anyone who wants to complete the Artifact collection, needs to know the full story for themselves.”

4- "Now you see how dangerous this place is, and this is just the start. The Starborn Guardians here have lost all empathy, all compassion, their humanity in pursuit of their cause. They have nothing left in their existence except to stop anyone else reaching the Temple. …I sometimes wonder what is the point of their existence before I wipe them out of it for good.”

5 -”You washed them clean. I can say one good thing about Lillian in that she gave you the chance to do that. You’re not the same man, Sam.”

6 -”They makes me smile every time I come back here. But I’m not entirely alone, the fish there get a view unlike any other.” She pointed to the couple of little fish swimming in their tanks, sitting right at the edge of the massive view screen. “If you don’t mind taking care of them for me, they’ve been a good little crew, never complained once.”

7 - "I've never met you before. Until today I'd never met a single pirate here." That was the truth, if a little stretched Seren thought.

8 -"All this, this universe is a nightmare. I've been to so many variations and… You… everyone here is so different, so wrong. It’s like Unity decided to show me the worst outcome possible just to make me appreciate who I’d - what I’d lost.”

9 -"Neat trick, have to remember that next time I'm in a hell-hole universe."

10 -"Sorry, Sam, just picturing you over Vlad’s head brought on images of you in ballet tights and…yeah, sorry, I have too much imagination.”

11 - "Yes, justice, Delgado. See that’s behind most things I do now. In this case justice for those your fucking coloured coded Spacers have harmed- have murdered. It’s interesting really how far I got here without anyone realising who I really am... I wondered why no one noticed the SIN of my ship. Even Jess surprisingly. It was a gamble using it of course…But no one ever clocked that I was flying the Razorleaf."

12- “Until I knew for sure you felt the same way I did, I wasn’t sure how to really act around you. But now I know, expect more of this, Sam Coe.”

13 - “You know I would! I mean she called me darlin, you know that makes me melt.”

14 - "…He always said he was bad with words, yet he could say things that were like love poetry to me, that would dazzle me. He was so open with his feelings when he trusted you. Funny, absurd sometimes and he cared deeply and loved passionately. He was an amazing father and I-"

15 - "I've no idea. Being Starborn didn't exactly come with a manual."

#Seren Jones #15 lines of dialogue #Siluri writes #The Coemancer Crew #Starfield OC

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bravemikhailo · 2 years

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what are your favorite gallavich fics?

wow this took me literal months but finally here I am with a looong list. this fandom is just too talented 🥹

ok let’s start with wips, shall we?

miles between us - by @xgoldendays // In the summer of 1975, Mickey Milkovich is released from Beckman Correctional in California after a seven year prison sentence. Along with his cousin, Sandy – he's set to make the long road trip from Los Angeles back to his hometown of Chicago. On the way though, the pair pick up a hitchhiker who teaches Mickey that life on the outside has changed and the road home is never easy.

balancing on the ledge - @mmmichyyy // Moments on ledges in Ian and Mickey’s lives as their connection ebbs and flows throughout the years.

care for a cut? - @gallawitchxx // a barbershop au written 100 words at a time based on galladrabbles prompts!

a dustland fairytale - @gardenerian // It’s different, this heat.It wraps around him, covers him as he walks into the night. Their usual summers might be heavy and stifling, but this - it feels alive. It feels purposeful, like it clings tighter to him every time he thinks about it.

the silence is all we have - @mmmichyyy // Ian remembers a time when Mickey loved him. Now, all they have is silence. A story not about changing the past, but about rebuilding what they once had into something whole again.

things beyond mistake - @gallavichy // In the 90s and early 00s, they were distant neighbors on a long, dirt road out in the middle of vaguely Georgia farmland. Ian and Mickey: two poor, closeted Southern kids with similar financial situations but very different families, harboring secret crushes that felt illegal and that manifested themselves as sharp words, punches, and self-loathing. In 2021, Ian, a high school teacher in need of a fresh start, returns to his childhood home after nearly 20 years to find himself once more sharing a lonely dirt road with Mickey, the boy he once knew and the man he's desperate to get to know.

your question has been received - @celestialmickey // a tumblr AU with a bit of a twist

since we’re alone - @lethargicmick and @buffymilkovich // When Mickey Milkovich first got to the University of Michigan he had two goals; play hockey and get drafted into the NHL. But by his junior year, he’s at risk of losing his full ride scholarship because of his slipping grades.Enter Ian Gallagher, an ambitious and fiery redhead who takes his job as Mickey’s tutor way too seriously and seems determined on making his life a living hell.Or a College AU where Mickey is a hockey player and Ian is studious as fuck. They are everything the other one hates. Or so they think.

intro to quantum dating - @spoonfulstar // another college au

ok I’m going to put the rest under the cut because this got extremely long!

completed multi-chapters

I had a dream (I got everything I wanted) - @matteoamiras // mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he's spent so many years trying to leave behind.or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.

Ian the friendly ghost - @sunoficarus // "ghosts au where Mickey thinks the house he moved in is haunted because the doors seem to close on their own and his shit somehow gets neat and tidy and Ian's just a very polite ghost who's got a bit of a crush on the adorable grumpy guy who's just moved in"

you outshined the best there was - @metalheadmickey // Scenes from early parenthood in the Gallagher-Milkovich household.

cooperative gameplay - @gallavichy // At nineteen years old, Ian Gallagher’s stuck. Stuck in a minimum-wage job he hates. Stuck in the same boring routine--sleep, wake, work, take your meds, Ian!, try not to lose it day after day after day. But after his little brother introduces him to MICK MILK, a frustratingly hot horror gamer he watches on YouTube, Ian's life will never be the same.

like real people do - @gallavichy // At the age of 26, Mickey Milkovich gets his first apartment, his first wifi connection, and his first kiss. How he gets from wifi to kissing is a complicated story. Mickey is socially anxious. Ian is a frustratingly lovable escort working through an app. Mickey downloads said app. The rest is history.

where I end and you begin - @gallawitchxx // Mickey is dead. And he’ll stay dead unless his soulmate can see him. He knows that’s Ian. Because….come on. But he’s only got two weeks to prove that--if he can get Ian to see him, then he gets to live again. If he can’t? Well, then it’s a one way trip to the Great Unknown. The thing is, the last time Mickey saw Ian it was behind some glass and Ian was not-so-convincingly promising to wait…

blood in, bleed out - brewrosemilk and whatsastory on ao3 // The year is 1954. Tony Bennett is on the radio, Marilyn Monroe is on the silver screen, and as Ian Gallagher is about to find out - the Ukrainian mafia is in full swing.

where I found you - @gardenerian // "They were finally thriving, as opposed to just surviving. Things were finally going their way. And now Ian’s in a hospital bed, thinking he’s fifteen fucking years old. He doesn’t remember their story. He doesn’t remember what they went through together. He doesn’t know Mickey like the back of his hand anymore. He doesn’t even know that Mickey’s gay. And Mickey’s the neighborhood thug again. Ian’s afraid of him. Ian hates him."

you’ll never see us again - @spoonfulstar // Ian navigates life inside the confines of Marceline, a beautiful boarding school in rural America where he had been fed, clothed, and raised since as long as he could remember. Things begin to fall apart when he grows older and starts to question the truths he'd been told -- about himself, his friends, and what their purpose truly is.

your name like a song I sing to myself - misandrywitch on ao3 // Mickey and Mandy Milkovich are the two halves of indie band 'Mandy and the Misdemeanors' and, against all odds, they're pretty good. That's about all Mickey has going for him though. He's expecting to slog through another long monotonous summer, make a little money playing some gigs and pass unnecessarily hot afternoons how he always has: drinking too much and wondering halfheartedly what feels like it's missing from his life.Until, that is, he meets a red-headed green-eyed bartender named Ian who charges into Mickey's life with a laugh, and who ensures that nothing will ever be the same.

the sound - chloemaay on ao3 // Five years. Five years for Ian and Mickey to twist their lives together so inextricably that neither can imagine life without the other. Five years of getting to know every inch of skin, every bad habit. Five years of fights. Five years of memories. Five years of being inseparable. One moment to take it all away.

one-shots

hope we’ll be better than the past - biblionerd07 on ao3 // Ian wants to leave Chicago when Mickey gets out of prison, intent on a fresh start together. Unfortunately, leaving a place doesn't always mean leaving the problems you faced there.

ghosts that we knew - @matteoamiras // for the first time in mickey's life, shit is moving forward - he's married, he's got a steady job and his dad just kicked the bucket. then, someone impossible turns up and everything he thought he knew is turned upside down. she doesn’t look like anything mickey has been led to believe about ghosts. because the woman in front of mickey is alive.

twenty strangers - @crossmydna // Ian may be a realist in most things, but at heart, he’s a hopeless romantic. That’s probably why he agrees to kiss a stranger on camera.

morning light - @mmmichyyy // Ian swears he feels Mickey's heart slow for a millisecond, but his voice remains steady. "You doing okay?" Maybe when he was younger, Ian would've probably stiffened and gotten defensive if anyone asked him that. I'm fucking fine. Leave me alone. Stop coddling me. But Mickey's not just anybody. He's his husband. His person. His rock. His everything.He's Mickey.

something to hold on to - @xgoldendays // Ian Gallagher thought he wasn’t prepared for prison but who he really wasn’t ready for was his brand new cell mate, Mickey Milkovich. or alternatively, Ian and Mickey meet in prison and cuteness and flirting ensues.

blood cells pixelate and eyes dilate - kissteethstainred on ao3 // The worst part about loving Mickey wasn't the fact that Mickey (might have) slept with other guys or the fact that Mickey doesn't love him back or that Mickey and Ian will only ever be fuckbuddies. No, the worst thing is the moments where Ian thinks it will be more.

stages - ColdReign on ao3 // It’s nice for married couples to share interests and experiences. But they didn’t really need their dads to die one after the other like this.

how to love - proval on ao3 // Mickey's body's been a bit quieter for a while now, no longer wracked through with those heaving sobs. But Ian gets the feeling if he leaves they'll start up again. Ian POV gap filler for 11x09. Starts after the end of 11x08.

three wishes - @xgoldendays // It's a time honored tradition to blow out your candles on your birthday and make a wish. Most people wish for happiness, others for gifts but for Mickey Milkovich, birthdays meant wishes never coming true. At least until he finds exactly what he's been missing to make those dreams into reality. Otherwise known as the three times Mickey celebrates his birthday and the three wishes he makes.

golden hour - @iansfreckles // He’s going to count those freckles one day, he decides, right then and there with Ian’s mouth on his. He’s going to find his favorite shapes in them, his favorite stories. Draw stupid little pictures in black ballpoint pen on his shoulders and kiss them, kiss them, kiss them, until Ian’s laughing with that one crooked tooth on display. (OR: 5 times Mickey admires Ian's freckles, +1 time Ian admires his)

bright - @gallavichy // "There's gotta be a neglected Milkovich baby crawling around your family tree somewhere."Post-series fic in which Ian and Mickey become parents. Alternating POV, but this is Mickey's story.

my love, you’re the one - @matteoamiras // all the years they’ve lost, all the goodbyes, all the reunions – they've all led up this. or, five times ian gallagher misses mickey milkovich + one time he doesn't have to (he never has to again).

you - budget on ao3 // "You can’t pinpoint exactly when it was that you stopped being you." - 7x11 analysis

the weight of water - Callielee227 on ao3 // mickey thinks about water, once in mexico and once in ian's arms

blueberry pancakes - noeller on ao3 // Ian and Mickey make dinner with Ian’s gay tomatoes from his gay garden

the seeds that you plant - @good-then-dont // inspired by ian's apparent love for tomatoes in the new episode.

makes a cathedral, him pressing against me - misandrywitch on ao3 // Ian kisses the top of Mickey’s head again, his temple, the hollow of his throat below his Adam’s apple, his collarbone, the torn skin on his knuckles. He kisses him and feels, for the first time, that neither of them is really going anywhere.

over and over again - mariss__ugh on ao3 // Mickey told him once that he’s fucked for life; he hopes more than anything that Mickey knows now that’s not true. He knows Mickey had a vision of how his future would be, but he also knows this isn’t the first time that vision is changing.

every story has its chapter in the desert - misandrywitch on ao3 // That was then, and this is now, and maybe those two things are connected, there’s a direct line from Monica to Ian, something you can’t wash out no matter how hard you try.

this is the essence of love and failure - misandrywitch on ao3 // “You’re sick,” Mickey says. “Hospital,” Mickey says. And your body is numb and your heart is breaking and you run.

try to forget how it feels inside - endofadream on ao3 // But this Ian is so different from that Ian.

a storm to weather - @xgoldendays // Pain is meant to be felt. As visceral as it can get, as deep as it burrows, you must feel it or it will consume you from the inside out. One shot detailing Mickey’s thoughts and emotions during the events of seasons 6, 7, and 9.

softer, softer - sunshineians on ao3 // “Softer,” he says quietly, guiding Mickey’s hands to his own bruised waist. He leans their foreheads together. “Softer,” he whispers, one more time. Just so Mickey knows. Or, Ian teaches Mickey's hands how to be gentle.

collections of ficlets and series

broad shouldered beasts - biblionerd07 on ao3 // Six years after Mickey goes to jail, he's released on parole. He does his best to build a "normal" life and a relationship with his son while juggling the scars of his past.

shots in the dark - @iansfreckles

garden song - @gardenerian // He stands at the plot for a while before he begins working. This is it. After weeks of internet searches and sketches in his notepad, it’s time to put it all into action. Ian closes his eyes against the afternoon sun, breathes in the smell of dirt and greenery. Thinks about that giver of dreams. Opens them, squeezes the trowel in his hand.He works. He works well. And then: there it is. A goal accomplished. A beginning.

#i just went through all my bookmarks and recent history on ao3 😳 I’m sure I missed some gems anyway so please forgive me #I love all of these so much everyone is so talented #fic rec list #fic rec #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #hope all the links work 🤡#asks

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misscammiedawn · 1 year

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Miss Cammie Dawn Masterpost

Hi all! Welcome to my combination psychology, hypnokink, fandom and personal blog! I post a ton about hypnosis mostly with a side order of mental health stuff because kink and Bad Brain are all that are on my mind.

I had bad experiences compartmentalizing my online presence years back so I keep everything in one place these days. Prevents self-loathing and impulsively deleting blogs when the shame wins. It's an all or nothing deal. Sorry about that.

I'm British. I have red hair. I'm 39 years old and I've been active in the hypnosis community since I was 19 and presently am prioritizing working with educators at hypnokink events and doing photoshoots where and when I can.

I'm fairly open about my DID diagnosis and the treatment we are in. We try to do what we can to walk the line between not suppressing our individual expression(s) without glorifying our condition and erecting further divide between parts. I avoid syscourse where I can and typically do not advertize specific things about my parts, we are all "me" just in different lights so I'll never post stuff like individual ages/genders or such. I'm open about the condition but private about the circumstances and manifestations. Please respect that.

I am addicted to tags. If you ever want to find my original content or my fandom posts you will be able to easily here. Just click on the links below and all shall be neatly organized.

Also there are secret tags which are not advertised. Those ones are for me. A little personal treat.

Last updated: 5/7/2024

Original Content:

Hypnokink Writings - My personal opinions, info and resources on Hypnokink.

Suggestion Suggestions - Ideas for hypnotic scenes.

Hypnokink Original Content - My little submissions of audio, visual or written hypnosis stuff.

Media Essays - A tag for my own big lengthy posts breaking down media (sometimes includes reblogs of other people's commentary)

Scene Stories - Posts where we describe a scene that we did IRL. If I use this tag it is a recounting of real events.

Cammie Stories - My hypnosis related short stories. Fictional ones this time, though sometimes inspired by reality.

Cammie Photos - Photos which feature this beautiful ginger in all her glory.

Artwork Commissions - Any time I pay a lovely creator to do some art for me <3

Voiced Posts - Posts where we record stuff and say it with our mouth words.

Madison and Belladonna - Stories featuring two characters who tend to get up to shenanigans I either did or plan to do.

ReadOnlyMind - External link to my full length stories shared on ReadOnlyMind

Media, Myself and I - Essays on DID representation in media.

Fandom Tags:

Rush (the band) - Marvel Comics - Hulk - Spider-Man - Metal Gear Solid - House of Leaves - Twin Peaks - Discworld - Tamora Pierce - She-Ra - Control - Neon Genesis Evangelion - Phantom of the Opera - Castlevania - Penlight - Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul - Ace Attorney - Mr. Robot - Leverage - Umineko - DC Comics - The Good Place - Celeste - Sonic - Persona - Sailor Moon - Scott Pilgrim - Pathologic - Ted Lasso - DBZ - Dungeon Meshi

Hypnokink Tags:

Hypnokink -General tag for all hypnokink posts.

Community Resources - Educational resources in hypnokink.

Hypnosis Events - Convention information

Community Safety - Topics discussing dangerous topics and predators

Hypnosis on Display - Audios, videos, demos and photos of hypnosis.

Hypnokink Art - Artwork featuring hypnosis.

Hypnosis Fiction - Stories featuring hypnokink.

General hypnosis tag - General tag for all hypnosis topics.

50 Days of Fetish Masterpost - Easy links to all 50 posts about why I love hypnokink with examples, audios, photos and videos.

50 Days of Fetish - Tag list of 50 different scenes and suggestions in hypnosis that gets me going and reblogs of other folx who participated in the challenge.

Charmed Recaps - Convention recaps for Charmed! Hypnokink convention

General Tags:

Cammie Posting - tag for a soft and playful girl.

Camden Posting - tag for a traumaqueer.

Dawn Posting - tag for a flirty and extravagant Fae.

Craig Posting - tag for the boy that lives in the heart of a girl.

Shitposting - tag for when we're being silly.

Bites You Bites You Bites You - Cammie has a tag entirely for biting people <3

Personal Topics:

Mental Health/DID/BPD Topics - Personal Posts - Asexuality - BPD Specific - DID specific - Trans specific

Thirst Tags:

Vampire Thirst - Sword Lady Thirst - Hypnokink Art - Redheads - Stage Magicians

Friends and Loved Ones:

Daja - Sleepyhead - Lady Ru'etha - Linny Bee - Nath - EllaEnchanting - Puppet - Skaetlett - Secret Subject - Double Grinch - TennFan

Ask Tags:

Cammie Asks - Camden Asks - Dawn Asks - Craig Asks

Ask Memes - Hypno Themed Asks

Post Highlights:

Dissociative Disorders and Hypnosis - At Charmed 2024 a 101 class taught not to hypnotize people with mental illnesses that include dissociation. I FIRMLY disagree and explain how to safely work with dissociative partners.

Ethical Personality Play - A post about how hypnosis personality play is edge play and though I discourage anyone doing it, if you must, I will teach you how to do it safely. I have a lot of experience.

Mr. Robot DID Representation - Why I think Mr. Robot has the best representation of DID in popular fiction and why the ending was a complete fumble of the ball.

Mr. Robot Back to the Future & Brainwashing - How Whiterose brainwashed Angela, focused on psychological principles being abused and how the show's reliance on pop culture references influences in and out of universe.

#pinned post

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amor-immortalem · 1 year

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Obey Me Nightbringer plot theory/Prediction also some extra questions that’ve been living rent free in my head

I know this isn’t my usual style of content but ever since the announcement, the cogs in my little peabrain have just been turning and turning- especially with the hints we got during the livestream Friday night trying desperately to put together a cohesive story.

So, what little do we know about Nightbringer’s plot and how can we use those pieces to try and figure out an idea what’s going to happen?

The three hints given to us were this:

The game takes place after the Great Celestial War

Satan and his brothers

Solomon and the attic

The opening movie also had some interesting imagery namely Barbatos and the doors.

So let’s start with the first hint, shall we?

The game takes place after the Great Celestial War

First off, this is the most straightforward of the hints. I’m excited by this. The period after the Great Celestial War is a timeframe for the brothers that we haven’t seen a whole lot of in past seasons other than a majority of them grieved over Lilith for possibly hundreds of years afterwards. It holds a lot of angst potential.

But how exactly do we see this unfold? This leads me back to Barbatos and the imagery of doors we see during the beginning and ending of the opening. All of us who are caught up through at least Season 1 know Barbatos utilizes his time magic through doors. When he sends us back in time to figure out who set Belphie free, its through a door in his room. But Barbatos has also canonically stated he doesn’t like using his time and reality magic very often if at all essentially because it would make life boring to know what’s coming next.

I think I’m getting away from the point here but what I’m trying to say is that I believe a very credible threat to the Devildom (possibly all three realms, even) may arise and the only way to deal with this threat is to go back in time and subdue or contain it before it can get out of hand and that’s how we end up experiencing the events after the Great Celestial War.

Satan and his Brothers

I find this as an interesting hint because it kind of goes hand in hand with the first hint. I also find it interesting in the way it was worded too. It makes it seem like Satan is meant to stand out here. This could just be a hint that we’ll be seeing how Satan formed the relationships he has with his brothers and how they dealt with suddenly having a new brother *coughnephewcough* after having just lost their sister.

It could also hint toward something being wrong with the brothers as a group. If you remember in the opening, there was this one scene of what appeared to be this little ball of light kind of surrounded by this liquid-y substance and then the substance also appears in the backgrounds of the character reel.

Perhaps this liquid is somehow corrupting the brothers even further to be the absolute worst versions of their sins that they can be (that could also be why lucifer looks to be in pain, satan looks far more aggressive than usual like he’s not even trying to hold back his wrath, and levi looks cold and distant and Asmo was Yuno-fied. Also as a side tangent Belphegor was giving me heavy lesson 16 vibes for whatever reason. Beel and Mammon were the only two where I didn’t get an immediate ‘oh something is very wrong with them’ vibe.) moving on!

Solomon and the attic

One of these hints is not like the others~ All jokes aside, this hint - when I heard it- made me really stop and think about it. Why was it important- I can’t think of any reason why Solomon would be interested in the attic in the first place. Unless for some reason he ends up trapped there.

I believe it was stated that Lucifer used to store his things from the Celestial Realm up there after the fall. What if there was something Solomon needed in the attic and then Lucifer ends up trapping him there like he did with Belphie? That’s really the only story beat I could see coming out of this hint.

So… to finally get to what I predict the plot might be like:

the story begins with MC and Solomon living together.

he’s helping them fine tune their magic as any good teacher does when Mammon (under the influence of that liquid-y substance we see in the opening) attacks them, jealous over the fact that MC and Solomon have been living together when MC is his human and how dare Solomon attempt to encroach on what’s his.

MC is quickly able to subdue Mammon with their pact but gets the feeling that something is horribly wrong with the rest of the brothers as well so they along with Solomon take Mammon back to the Devildom and stop in to check on the rest of the brothers as well.

It becomes clear very fast that something is off as they can’t even get into the House of Lamentation so Solomon and MC make their way to the demon Lord’s castle to meet with Diavolo and Barbatos.

When they get there (along with Mammon because the clingy bastard refuses to let MC leave his line of sight) Diavolo fills the humans in on what’s happened with the brothers and how they were exposed to a liquid called ‘the Nightbringer’ which corrupted them to exhibit and indulge in even more of their sin than they already did. (Think everyone back in S1 but even worse. They’re almost completely feral in this state.)

Dia then goes on to explain that under the effects of the Nightbringer, Lucifer attempted to stage a coup believing himself to be a better ruler than Diavolo so the Avatars had to be sealed away in the HOL for the time being until the effects of the nightbringer wore off or Dia and Barb could find a way to reverse the effects themselves.

Solomon remarks how similar the situation is to the great celestial war and that’s where Barbatos gets the idea to send MC back in time. If they can secure or contain the Nightbringer before the brothers get a hold of it in the present day then they can reverse this situation. The only issue is they don’t know where to start.

Thats when Mammon reveals the Nightbringer was originally a strength enhancing potion from the Celestial Realm all of them had used during the war that had been tainted from the change in environment and age and was something Lucifer had brought with him during the fall and that they have more vials of it in the HOL’s attic because Lucifer was trying to find a way to dispose of it.

And that the only reason they were under its influence now was because Mammon had stolen a vial from their stores and attempted to sell it but he accidentally dropped and broke the vial and it spread quickly through out the HOL.

With that information, Barbatos takes MC to begin their time shenanigans while Solomon is sent to the HOL to try and get his hands on the rest of the Nightbringer stores in the attic but he eventually get trapped there.

This got really fanfiction-y in a hurry but yeah that’s basically my prediction on how the story will go… I’m probably dead wrong though.

Tell me your plot predictions.

Extra thoughts that don’t really fit with the theory/prediction but were still rattling around in my empty skull

What are the game mechanics going to be like in Nightbringer? I can’t imagine why they would make a whole new app just to reuse the current game mechanics from the og app. Perhaps it will be like twisted wonderland? Where you have the story section and then actual turn based battles or rhythm game levels? Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

I’ve also seen on twitter that one user thought perhaps Nightbringer might be a visual novel and if that’s the case would that mean routes for our current set of love interests?

The devs did confirm that the og app would still continue on. Whether this means s5 is coming or not in the near future is still unclear. Whatever the outcome I’m expecting the story for S5 to not be any better than what we got for S4 but I’m also infuriatingly optimistic it might be better since Nightbringer and S4 (perhaps even S3) were likely both in their plot development stages at the same time. Maybe that’s why the writing was oddly paced in S4 too.

Hey what the fuck ever happened to Ruri Tunes? Did it get cancelled? just turned into Nightbringer? Does anyone know? The last we heard of it was back around late September, early October-ish when they did the beta test. (It was really fun and easy to play. I just wish they had more songs on the beta than Sinful Indulgence) I’m assuming RuriTunes just got turned into Nightbringer hence the need for the character song remixes but who knows now.

Is the anime getting a season three? What I wouldn’t kill to have full length episodes with an over-arching plot line instead of the 5 minute episodic stuff we get currently (not that there’s anything wrong with it though it just doesn’t feel long enough ya know?)

When will the English translation for the rest of the Manga come out on Manga plaza? Will we ever see it completed in english not that I probably couldn’t translate it myself with the help of a Japanese dictionary but damn I don’t wanna do all that extra work man…

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modstin · 5 months

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A Yuletide Carol, Stave 1: Bob Cratchit

A slightly tilted retelling of the Charles Dickens classic, featuring illustrations!

Before we can begin on this mutual enjoyment of fiction, it must be set out first and straight the fact of one Jacob Marley.

He's dead.

Jacob Marley, in fact, died almost a decade ago. Seven years, to the day where this story shall actually begin (which I promise will happen shortly). His death certificate was signed by the clergy that handled the funeral, and by his partner; Ebenezer Scrooge.

Ebenezer Scrooge, at the funeral, did have a few kind words for the man. “A fine businessman,” he said, “Intellectual and prudent. A man you could bend a horseshoe around, good for the money,” and so forth.

If there was anything Ebenezer knew personally about the man, he did not show it. Scrooge knew he was dead, at the very least. Of course he would know that, he'd been partnered to him for many many years before his demise, and even found him sitting stone dead in the seat that would soon hold his assistant clark.

But that was seven years ago. And Marley has been dead for those seven years. Mind you, this is not an uncommon state of affairs. I think you'll find most people are dead. Really, they're the majority. And it's a stain on democracy that we so rarely listen to them.

The fact that Marley is dead is important to come completely to terms with, as not doing so and pretending the opposite will make some of the further dreadful scenes I will relate to you quite confusing. It would be silly, after all, to react with such fear and horror to one's father entering the room, were you not Hamlet and your father been dead since before the play started. So yes, remember that fact, Jacob Marley is dead.

Another thing I must educate you on is the world you are about to enter. I assume you already have a firm grasp on the difference between fiction and reality, and thus I must explain that the story I am about to tell you is completely true. It really did happen.

It just happened to take place in a completely fictional world.

Unlike many fantasy novels, where you'll find a series of maps and factions and wars and a timeline and perhaps a 20 hour audiobook detailing the epic and admittedly napworthy lore of the backdrop and its strange and remarkably over thought ruleset governing how magic works, I feel it only necessary to bore you with the very basics.

It is a fantasy world, not unlike those you've seen in those fancy movies. You know the ones where the effects budgets quite outweigh tenfold the cost of living for all the homeless people sleeping outside the studio. Lack of budget notwithstanding, I'll try to make this just as entertaining as those, though with likely less sword fights and magic duels.

In this fantasy world, there is indeed magic. But like in real life, where we may be aware of Quicksand and Spike Pits and Giant Monstrous Lizards who would tower above even our finest war tanks... Rarely are these facts relevant to day-to-day activities, unless you happen to be a paleontologist.

So the story that I'm going to tell you is terrific, even to the old fool it will be happening to. Don't think just because he lives in a world with dragons, that what he's going to experience is anywhere near his normal.

This world that I will be showing to you is called Mira. It is a world with blue oceans, green grass, many different types of animals, and very few of our modern conveniences. It also has a ring around it, like Saturn! It's very pretty.

Monsters and Magic aside, there will be times I use words one could mistrue as an insult. Let me shake those worries away now, when I refer to someone as a Goblin, that is quite a literal sentiment. They have green skin, a large nose, floppy ears, and enjoy living in little underground tunnels. None of the goblins in this story, however, do so, they live in apartments and little houses just like you and me.

Note that species will be rarely relevant to this story, and anything breaking from the normal day to day life of your average hard working paleontologist that is relevant will be promptly explained to you. There will be, of course, provided illustrations, which should be illuminating if not entirely illogical.

Where should we begin... the beginning isn't good, I already told you the details of that. Jacob Marley, dead, you get it. Perhaps the present then. Yes, let's go with that.

The sun rose. It was perhaps the only thing it really did outside of being bright. Producing heat seemed to be low on its list of priorities this morning. For this was, of course, the Eve of Yule.

Yule, in certain parts of Mira, is celebrated as part of the Winter Solstice. It is the day of, in fact. The shortest day of the year, at least in the hemisphere we're concerned with for this story. Yule is preceded by Yule's Eve, which is itself preceded by about half a month of general worry and preparation known as Yuletide.

Yule may, in some sense, present parallels to certain festivals on Earth. This is intentional. Write what you know, after all. I may enlighten you to the specifics soon, but don't count on it. I'm not a very reliable narrator.

The light was intense, even with no heat backing it, as it got many chances to reflect on the surface of ice and snow throughout the streets of Amalen, capital city of the Melodic Empire (sometimes called just Melodia, to sound less boastful or challenging to nearby powers).

The rush of inward cold air was comparable to a ship sprouting a leak a few inches from your face. And it took many forceful pushes to get the door closed again. Not because of much wind, but because of the shaggy rug that Bob Cratchit had gotten second hand from one of his cousins.

"Phew!" Cratchitt muttered, patting the frost of the outdoors off of his furred rabbitish face (And I do mean this literally, remember what I said earlier please). He adjusted his coat as his wife approached, holding a few pieces of forlorn clothing.

"Your scarf dear."

"Ah, yes."

"And your hat, dear."

"Of course, what would I do without you-"

"And your pants. Dear."

Bob Cratchit adjusted his stance a bit and lifted one of his feet to pop it into the short set of trousers. Wearing pants was a bit more optional for some folk on Mira, what with modest fur coverings, but on a day like today, freezing some important bits of yourself off would be a consequence.

Emily Cratchit patted down her husband's clothing to straighten it out after tying his scarf about his neck. Emily, in point of fact, was not very rabbit-like. Rather, she was a goblin. Not very plump like they often are, but with long hair and dark green speckles of freckles. It was thanks to her being a goblin and having such a height as one that she didn't have to kneel or stand on tiptoes to kiss Bob, "Now, you’re to have a fine day, and you're to ask Scrooge for a raise like we talked about last night." She stated it as a fact rather than a question or suggestion.

Bob had a few starts as he faced down the oncoming carriage, and decided to try to risk going between the wheels, "Darling, it's... well, you know its a bit more complex than-"

"Robert Cratchit!" Bob realized far too late that before there was the carriage, there was also the horse to worry about, "You cannot keep apologizing for that old man's miserliness! I won't have it any longer! You work so much overtime for that old fool and have nothing to show for it!" Emily pressed forward, and shook her finger in her husband's face, "We need more money here!"

"I know, dear-" Bob placated.

"Not just for Timothy, Aude knows he needs it, but..." She placed her hand against her stomach, perhaps unconsciously.

Bob did the same, putting his palm on top of the back of her hand and getting close. A warm atmosphere of love pressed outwards, a foggy kind of dream that Bob felt he was lost in whenever he looked into his wife's eyes. Even after these years, and the many struggles to make it from one to the next. "I promise... I'll ask."

"Thank you, dear." Emily said, leaning forward and embracing him. After the short hug, she let go and shoved him towards the door, "Well, get a move on. I must get started on tomorrow's dinner."

At the best of times, and despite himself, Bob sometimes found his wife's cooking questionable, but this was downright interrogative, "You're starting tomorrow's dinner this morning?"

"You deal with numbers and old fools," Emily said, "And I'll deal with the cooking. Understood?"

Bob had no willingness to get in front of another carriage nor horse this morning, "Yes dear. I'll see you this evening!" He smiled and took his hat in both hands, lifting it and popping it right onto his head! It looked a bit like one of those drawings in fairytales, where a rabbit wore a silly tophat with its ears sticking out. Like an upside down outcome of a backwards magician's act. But it was warm, and that's what counted.

He stepped out of his home. It was a two story structure, but built very thin, and the stories were rather stout anyway, since it was made for goblins and munchkins like Emily and Bob. Half the Size doesn't necessarily mean Half the Living Space, but Half the Budget often does.

Bob bounced along as bunnies tend to do, and headed down the street so as to not be late to work at Scrooge and Marley's.

As Bob Cratchit dodged a slow rolling cart, making his way across frosted cobbles and snowdrifts from the previous night's meteorological efforts, he was caught by the sudden warmth of a window, bringing with it the sweet scent of freshly baked bread.

"Bonjour Monsieur Cratchit!" Said the fat man who leaned out the window Bob had been crossing under.

Melodic was Bob's first language, but he had become too used to speaking Merchant's Tongue, a favorite of metropolitan Melodians. However, Jean Paris the baker often peppered the words into his natural dialect to keep conversation fresh as bread. "Oh! Bonjour Monsieur Paris." Bob nodded, keeping his paws tightly tucked into his pockets. "Baking for tomorrow?"

"Oui! I have a very special order, in fact!" Mr. Paris said, leaning on one arm out of "For Monsieur Scrooge and his big Yule party tomorrow!"

Bob stared at Mr. Paris, then looked down the street for a few moments. He was frozen in contemplation, the cold air having nothing to do with it. After hesitation, he turned his head, and with sudden exclamation, "Ebenezer Scrooge is hosting a Yule Party?" The complaint that Bob, Scrooge's single employee, had not been invited was at the back of the line in terms of questions and concerns to be filed immediately.

"What?! No no no!" The fat man began to laugh as he waved his hands frantically, "Ooh hoh hoh! If- If Ebenezer Scrooge-" He had to catch his breath, but kept laughing as he talked, "If Ebenezer Scrooge hosted a party! Why! He'd be selling the slices of ham by the millimeter! Hahaha! He'd be- There'd be a fee at the door! And you'd get a bill afterwards for air consumption in his house! Hahahaha!" The man chortled and laughed further on the mere idea that Ebenezer Scrooge would ever host anything beyond ill-will.

"Right..." Bob said, turning his eyes down to the sidewalk as he considered his boss for a moment...

Scrooge. What could be said about him?

Tight Fisted was a good phrase, though a more accurate turn of phrase would include words like 'locked' and 'glued' and 'cement encased'. A clamp upon money like an oyster on a pearl. Sharp as flint but never so generous as to give warmth to anyone without a percentage interest on the steel. Hard-set in his ways, a rut to and from his office.

A hobgoblin, with a wiry chin and sharp features, cold and cruel even for the generally stern folk that hobs tended to be. A permanent frown affixed to his over-wrinkled elderly face, fitted with a squint that could sour beer and a sneer that could curdle milk. All the better to glare down debtors from his desk.

He wouldn't step in a puddle to splash an orphan, merely because doing so would mean he'd have to pay to get his socks cleaned. Lo was there to be any child in his way, however. Were a blind man to be in Scrooge's path on his rounds, their guiding animal would pull them to an alley and refuse to move until the hob had passed. If the King himself were traveling with his retinue down a predetermined road, which just so happened to leave Scrooge's schedule out of its plans, he would add five turns to avoid crossing the hob.

Even the weather had little effect on the eternally congested man, no chill able to reach bones so frosted over by a cold and dead heart which barely beat more than once a minute. What worse could a rime of frost across his face do to the already bloodshot leering man with a gait so frigid it brought about a blizzard of hate in its wake?

Yes, Scrooge was all that and worse. And he was Bob Cratchit's boss.

"No!" Mr. Paris said, snapping Bob from his contemplation, "Of course not! I'm talking about dear old Fred! His Nephew! Wonderful man, one of my finest customers! He's hosting a party tomorrow. Hm, wish I were invited. I've heard they're quite rambunctious with their beer!" The man's smile stretched down two of his chins.

"Mm." Bob said, still mildly distracted. Then he looked up at Mr. Paris, "If you'd like, Monsieur, you can of course pay a visit to my home! I doubt my wife will take portion size into account! She thinks Tiny Tim can eat so much more than he can, you know. I bet there'll be more than leftovers."

"Ah... Tim." Mr. Paris nodded, "How is he doing?"

"Better! The young lady that came yesterday said he'd be... he'd likely be able to get to the table for Dinner! No... presents this year, what with the treatment. B-But he's happy. He's very excited for tomorrow, you know how kids are."

"Right..." Mr. Paris said. He tried to shift the mood again with a smile, "I'll be sure to hold you to that dinner, Cratchit, if I can pull myself out of the oven! Last minute Yule Cakes are the bread and butter of my operation in winter, aside from the bread and the butter, I mean! Hoh hoh hoh!" The man laughed at his own little joke, wiping chilled sweat from his forehead.

"Haha hahh..." Bob feigned a laugh, "I ought to be getting along. Nice talking to you, Monsieur!" Bob said, offering a friendly nod before bounding off down the street.

"Mmmh..." Mr. Paris sighed to himself, watching Bob leave, "Mayhaps a small cake for the boy... rabbits eat... carrots, right? Or is that offensive..." He muttered.

Scrooge had never painted over the sign. It read Scrooge and Marley's. It had for seven years, and long before that, just with the latter being alive at that time. Scrooge didn't care to have it painted, doing so would cost at least a dollar. Scrooge answered to either name these days, it made no difference.

Besides, anyone walking up the street would first see the sign hanging perpendicular, showing the Multi-Headed Draconic Symbol of the Silver Guild.

The Silver Guild was a sort of guild of bankers. It runs operations of banking, tax collecting, and money lending from either side of the continent, not just for Melodia. And one of the many operating offices in Amalen under their guildship was Scrooge and Marley's.

When Bob entered, he was looking at his watch. Then he heard the choking.

Bob's hops picked up pace as he bounded around the small desk he manned at the front, and into the back room. The office that Scrooge used.

It was sparing of detail, very good for me as a writer! It had a filing cabinet, a desk, a chair, an old coughing man in that chair, a candle, and a few necessary items. A single pen, a sheet of paper, and an abacus. It had nothing else.

And I do mean nothing else. It had no atmosphere, no warmth, no feeling of being filled or used, merely occupied. Its stagnant and cold air was only warmed up by the vibrations of the man having a fit in the midst of it. And that's when Bob slapped his boss on the back.

The hocked loogie of phlegm was dislodged. You'd expect something like black tar or nicotine ladened sludge. But if you'd expect that, you clearly haven't yet picked up on the kind of man that Scrooge was. Indeed, were tobacco free, he might have partaken. But the cost of addiction was too high... not to his health, mind you, but to his wallet.

"LATE!" He struggled out after air had finally reached his shriveled old lungs, "You're late, Cratchit." He said between panting gasps.

"... What?" Politeness had streamed out of Bob's range as confusion settled in.

"Don't those big ears do anything for you, man? I said you're late!"

"... No I'm not!" Bob said, usually never one to argue with his boss, "I'm right on time!"

With a flip and a light snatching sound, Ebenezer Scrooge had his pocket watch in his hand, "Seven O' Clock... One MInute and Thirteen Seconds Late."

Thankfully, Bob had his watch in his hand as well, and checked it, "Well- Well yes, but I got in a minute and thirteen seconds ago, sir! I was patting your back!"

"I could've handled it!" Ebenezer waved his hand, "You're wasting my time! My money! I'm paying you for your schedule, Bob Cratchit! That means you ought to be doing what I pay you to do! Not bothering around in my office!"

"I-" Bob started to say something, but then nodded. He had long ago realized how far you could push an argument with Scrooge. The argument was usually a few inches from a sheer cliff, no matter what it was about. "Right sir. Sorry sir." He didn't have to feign apology, that has never worked once in the history of argument. Exasperation did its job in place of lies.

"I'll be taking the minutes out of your pay. Two minutes ten seconds Bob. Get to your desk and good morning to you." Scrooge never once said Good Morning as a greeting, nor Good Afternoon. Bob had never heard him say Good Evening, certainly. Good Night was often followed by a comment on how much time Bob had wasted during the Good Day.

Bob hopped out of Ebenezer's office and sat at his desk, adjusting his seating as he pulled out papers. The chill of the new winter sprung into his bones, and he tightened his scarf. If there were heating in Scrooge and Marley's, then it seemed to be much less admonished for calling off than Bob was.

There was another fit of coughing, but Bob ignored it as he flipped through files on the new league of debtors that Scrooge had been bleeding dry.

Scrooge lent to his side and hocked up another wad of phlegm onto the floor next to him. He grunted as he took in a breath afterwards. His eye went down to the blob, and then back to his papers. "Bah... Cratchit can clean it later." he muttered.

It was some time later that someone actually entered into the office of Scrooge and Marley's. Rarely did anyone seem cheerful to do so, and when they did, it did not last long past the door. Bob saw two masked and robed women enter.

It would be pertinent to describe to you what the regional celebration of Yule is, as well as what these strange women are. I promise to try to keep it as short as I can.

The two women standing before Bob Cratchett are members of the Shianistic Religious Order, specifically the sect of Veritan Saintism. If these words confuse you, then pretend they don't exist. They're named Shians because of their masks, which are called Shia. They worship one of the many gods (as fantasy worlds oft have more than one) named Aude. Her holy light, guidance of all, true caretaker of the meek, and so on and so forth. You can make up the rest if you’d like, the Shians do so often.

Saintist Shians also worship a set of other gods, though calling them that would very much upset any Catholics reading this, so I'll refrain and call them what they are; Saints. One such Saint is named Noelle.

As the story goes, Noelle died in a blizzard trying to deliver a sled full of goodies to an orphanage. The goodies arrived safely, of course, as is the way with folk stories. And she has been called upon to deliver goods and cheer to the little children of those homes who worship Aude in the coldest bit of winter. Yuletide was not distinctly a Shian holiday, but was celebrated as such by Saintists.

This is why there were two strange women wearing masks and robes. Shianism being his religion of choice, and being a church going man in spite of his boss' protests, Bob was familiar with the two.

"I am Mel."

"I am Mal."

"... No. No. You are Mel. I am Mal."

"I am Mel? You are Mal?"

"Yes."

Bob had to assume they thought this bit was very clever, since they seemed to do it every single time they introduced themselves.

The two shians wore normal garb. Hoods, Robes, Gloves, Masks, and some warmer accouterments like boots. One was red, the other green, though they were absurdly disproportionate. Mel was exceptionally short, and Mal the opposite. Their masks were upside down. They were one of the stranger species you'd find in the magical fantasy world of Mira; being Punchinellettes (Punchinello being the masculine term).

Clowns. They were clown people. You couldn't see the big red noses with the masks on, but clowns are clowns wherever in the universe you wander.

Ina stepped between them. An average of their heights and wearing blue garb, a normal mask, a bit of colorful hair around the hood, "And I am Ina!" She said, finishing the bit despite Bob already knowing her name. She broke character immediately to cross her arms. "Oh dear, it's cold in here... is the heating broken?"

Indeed, it was cold. The faint wisps of air that carried the candle light closer to Cratchit gave the only bits of warmth he had enjoyed since coming into work. If walls were for keeping weather out, then they were slacking. It was likely that the only reason Scrooge didn't work out in the middle of a field rather than pay for a building was because there'd be nowhere to keep the money.

"No..." Bob said, unsure of the truthfulness of his answer, "How may I help you, Ina?"

"We are seeking donations for Yule!" The cheeriness of the statement was punctuated by a thump from Scrooge's office, which forced a shiver up Bob's spine.

His expression froze, "Oh… you are?"

"Indeed. Is Mr. Marley or Mr. Scrooge in? I'd like to-"

"Mmm?" Grumbled out the proprietor as he opened his office door.

The old hobgoblin stood, hunched over a cane. He seemed built for three legs. The glare just wouldn't be right if it wasn't slightly pointed up at you.

Bob faded into the background of the conversation, aware now that this local shian had not yet acquainted herself with Mr. Scrooge... Perhaps this was her first round. Perhaps she had been between choices and seen a Silver Guild house that, for some reason, was not on her list. And decided to poke in and greet the likely very generous man who hadn't yet been called upon to give.

"Mr Marley, I presume?" Ina said.

"Presume wrong. Marley's been dead seven years. Died on this very night, seven years ago, in fact..."

"Oh. Then I'm sure his spirit is carried on by his living partner then!" Ina wound her way back magnificently, "It is upon these solemn and cold days in the midst of winter that-"

"Autumn." Scrooge interjected.

"... Ah?"

"Autumn. Winter starts tomorrow. That's what a solstice is."

Bob shrunk in his chair, wishing very much he could literally fade into the background. Any ground other than the middle would be choice right about now...

"W-Well, on the Eve of Winter, when it is most cold and dire. We wish to give to our community! The Shian's do run a Home for the Homeless, and of course there is our Free Medical Care for the disadvantaged. We also pitch in for funds for local orphanages and soup kitchens in the nearby villages!" Ina said. She lifted her pen and a pad of paper, "So many are in want of... common comforts, and its thanks to donations like yours that the necessities of these disadvantaged and impoverished are met."

"Mmm..." Scrooge thought, scratching the tip of his chin. Bob couldn't help but to turn his head and watch the wrinkles on his boss's face move across his expressions as he considered.

"Are there no prisons?" Scrooge asked.

Ina looked away for a moment, repathing her thought, "Uh. Yes, sir. I'm certain there still are many prisons. I am aware of the local Prison offshore, at the very least... One of my cousins works there, performing-"

"Are there no workhouses?" Scrooge further prodded, honest concern in his voice.

"Oh dear, unfortunately there are. Despite the work of the Guilds to combat unfair work practices, there are still workhouses open on, what I must say are shakey legal-"

"And those... child labor laws, they've been enacted, then surely?" His line of questions had a serious tone, concern riddled it like the plague.

"Ah, you mean the ones to combat those small 'farms'." The disgust in the woman's voice came with the quotes, "Not yet, though I'm sure our patricians will soon push through such legislation." She sounded quite cheered at this. Bob could only wonder what she thought Scrooge was actually getting at...

"Ah. I was wondering if something had happened. Based on what you were saying at first. That these very useful institutions had been lost to this social progress."

Ina stopped moving, her face ostensibly pointed at Scrooge, she resorted to memory and lifted her pen again, "What shall I put you down for, Mr. Scrooge?"

"Nothing. Of course." Scrooge said.

"... Ah!" Ina said, nodding, "You wish to remain anonymous, I-"

"Nothing." Scrooge repeated, "I wish to be left alone! If there is an answer you seek, that is the one I offer, young lady. If the poor wish to be merry on Yule, they may happily take themselves to the establishments I had mentioned!"

"Many cannot!" Ina said, trying to steer the conversation to one she could fill with her own creed, "And still, many would rather die than work for those borderline illegal institutions."

"Then let them die!" The old Hob shook his head, speaking as though talking to a complete moron, "It's not my business what the wasteful and the poor do! If they died, much the better to the economy! We're better without bums!"

"And what of the sick?" Ina said, her mask drifted to Bob, who had put his head down out of an ingrained rabbit survival instinct to burrow in the face of danger.

"Bah!" Scrooge said, "If they're not getting better themselves, and they can't AFFORD to eat a little gruel, they can die too! Die in the gutter, die in the streets, as long as they do so away from my business."

Mel and Mal, who had not said or done much of anything during this argument, serving as mere set dressing for the charity collection, now looked at eachother. They didn't seem to come to any conclusion, and looked back to Scrooge.

"The business of all people is generosity and to the betterment of one's fellow man!" Ina touted.

"What would you know about business, you bible thumping fool." Scrooge spat, "You wouldn't know a hard day's work if it ripped your silly masks off! The better for it, you live on donations and charity. Why don't you tear down that stupid cathedral you have and sell the stone if you so desperately want to give handouts to hobos and bums, hm?"

"How can you say such things on the Eve of Yule! It is the time of the year for generosity, Mr. Scrooge!"

"Yule..." Scrooge sneered, "Bah, humbug!" He made a dismissive motion, "Nothing but a cold snap that makes people want to steal from my purse. Bah humbug to the whole celebration! The whole month! The whole winter! Good Afternoon, ladies." He hobbled back and slammed his office door.

Bob finally lifted his head from the desk and dug about in his coat’s pockets.

Bob hopped off his chair and walked around the desk, "I'm so... sorry about that." He whispered. "You should go... uhm, here." He took out a coin and slipped it into the little can Mel was holding. "I'm so so sorry."

"HUFF! What a terrible man! Noelle should curse him for his selfishness." Ina fumed. The steam coming off of her would have been visible if she had not been wearing a full body cloak.

"He's not that bad..." Bob whispered, "You just have to... get to know him a bit..." He looked incredulous of his own statement as he glanced back at the door to Scrooge's office.

"You have a good heart, Mr. Cratchit, dear." Ina said, looking down, "But - 'Do not waste what love you have on those who would not share it, or it will be lost', Lehsda 2:10." She opened the can and returned the coin, "I know you need this. Please give Tim my warmest for tomorrow. Merry Yule." She turned and left.

Mel and Mal stood silently for a bit before turning and leaving as well, trying to squeeze out the door despite it not being big enough for both of them at once. It took a while, and would have been humorous if Bob weren't already feeling the pressure of time. Eventually he just closed the door to force them out in one poff of collapsing into the street's snow.

A while back, quite a while now, I mentioned that Mira, the fantasy world in which this story takes place, has a ring. It's quite beautiful, especially now, at the very peak of night. The moon was high above, full and bright, you could almost see the shadow of Noelle's sled as her mythical wildcat pulled it through the stars... and that light unfortunately also hit Scrooge and Marley's.

The chill had set in quite a bit more, after a high in the 'good afternoon', it reached back down to grasp the hearts and hands of anyone unfortunate enough to be out in the streets.

Fires had been built in the alleys for beggars and stragglers in life to hobble around, eating what they had been tossed or found throughout the day. The singing of a child on the doorstep of Scrooge and Marley's ended quite abruptly when Scrooged asked (at a very high volume) for Bob to go grab the poker from the furnace.

Bob wasn't sure where that would be, or if they even had one, but it did indeed make that slight comforting distraction go away.

But now it was night. Cold, chilly, and Bob was putting away his things.

"Mr. Scrooge?" Bob said, walking towards the office door, "I'll uhm... be going home, now... Sir."

"Right." He said, "And you'll be wanting tomorrow off, I imagine?"

"Well... yes, sir..." Bob said, through the door. He took off his hat now, rotating it in his fingers as nervousness drove through his bones.

"Bah... and you think me not abused in such a way, a full day's pay for a no day's work..."

"It is... Yule, sir. After all." Bob said.

"Oh, and I'm certain that should I have my pocket picked once a year, I should be fine with that too? Just because it happens on the same day?"

"No, Mr. Scrooge."

"If you are to have the whole day, be earlier the next. Do not be late like this morning, Cratchit." The sounds of shuffling paper continued.

Bob stood at the office door. He stood there for quite a while. It felt like yule had come, gone, and then come again before the nerves had steeled themselves enough for him to reach out and open the office door.

"Yes?" Scrooge didn't look up.

"Mr. Scrooge- I... I feel I do a very fair share around here."

"Fair, hm?"

"And my notary work is quite the best I've seen, might I add! My shorthand is quick, and I'm very welcoming to our clients-"

"Did you come in here to brag, Crachit?" Scrooge asked, finally looking up at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, the ones he used to read the names of all the people he felt were stealing from him in one way or another.

"No, sir." Cratchit said. With all the bravery and backbone that the possibility of a ‘stern talking to' by his wife could muster, he said "I think I deserve a Raise, sir."

"A raise."

Bob didn't answer. He simply kept staring at Scrooge. As the seconds turned closer and closer to a minute of staring, the confidence began to melt. At the very least, he could see the wrinkles moving, he knew Scrooge was... thinking about it.

"Mm." Scrooge said, not dismissively nor very affirmatively, "Ask me again tomorrow." He pulled his abacus towards himself.

"Oh but, uh... Sir, tomorrow I'll be at home. It's Yule."

Scrooge scowled and made another show of moving his abacus before clasping his hands on his desk, "So you want a raise and a vacation?"

"Huh?"

"And then what will you do? Waste it on more... beggars like those shians from earlier? Hm?" He turned his cheek and smiled a sinister grin, then changed it to a scowl again, "If you want money, you work."

"Sir, tomorrow is Yule!"

"Bah humbug! Yule! A foolish holiday for foolish men!" He wagged his finger, "You want to squeeze any more cash out of me, you can come in tomorrow, or never come back! Charity Case Cratchit!"

"But sir! I have- I have another child on the way, I need the money!"

"Oh, so your inability to act like a person instead of a rabbit is now weighing on my pocketbook? I think not! You're lucky I don't dock your pay for tardiness."

"You do dock my pay for tardiness!" Bob said. He swallowed down what he was intending to say next, beating it back with as much of his humility as he could... but the dam had already been leaking, and it was time for it to break.

Scrooge watched what certainly wasn't a visible transformation, but one of atmosphere. It was difficult, however, so confided in his own world of misery to see the growth of rage in someone else's.

Bob scrunched up his face, gripped his hat tight, then said, "Then good day to you, Scrooge! You can keep this job and... and shove it! You rotten old fool!"

"HAH!" Scrooge laughed, his unending snear tilting upward into a sadistic grin "Enjoy starving in the streets like those homeless you so do love so much then! Get out of my office!" He pointed beyond Bob.

Bob hopped past what he had always thought of his desk, and to the door.

For a brief moment, he stopped and turned his head. A thought of mercy, of care for the old man had almost breached his blind anger, but it found itself entering a tavern where the proprietor was less than thrilled to serve it.

He walked out, and slammed the door in his wake, hopping his way down the cold street.

He stopped a ways away, only about a block, and looked up to the shining moon. He frowned, staring up at the great glowing pearl in the sky, and the horizon itself glowing from the ring of his world. He twisted his hat a bit, and then put it onto his head again. He sighed, "Oh, Mr. Scrooge... why did I ever try to see the good in a man like you..." He continued hopping away. If he really was fired, he could save that news for after Yule.

#Christmas #A Christmas Carol #ebenezer scrooge #fantasy writing #retelling #yuletide #yule #Christmas Carol #writing #writers on tumblr

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