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genshinarchives · 2 years

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𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇. 𝟐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐 : 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : You discover the true identity of the former ruler of Auruk, Enu, and decide to become king to honour his wish.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 : Al-Haitham, Kaveh; hints of Cyno x reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : Romance, adventure, isekai

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : N/A

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : N/A

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

The late God of Heroes had built his fortress city near an oasis. When you first stepped foot in it, you weren't able to suppress the amazement the brilliance of Auruk conjured up inside you. It was more modern than you had initially thought, and you were surprised when Ushar revealed that the same god who built this city had introduced social hierarchies, specialised occupations, coercive political structures, writing, religion and literature, and monumental architecture to his people, which you noted were innovations characteristic of cities.

"The God of Heroes also created the laws of Auruk. He emphasised the importance of them by punishing the transgressors severely," Ushar said.

"He sounds like the incarnation of justice and wisdom," you remarked, "What was his name?"

"High King Enu. He also had a very loyal attendant called Elisha." Ushar then turned his head to you with a smile. "Now that I'm looking at you properly, you bear a strong resemblance to her. She was a beautiful woman, just like you."

You stared at him, wondering if this was a coincidence or not. You had an online friend called Enu in Camelot Chronicles, whose NPC you took the appearance of. The two of you met when he saved you from a group of player killers who were known for killing non-human characters; he was also the one who showed you the ropes of the game and he even helped you create Enki.

However, two years ago... He went missing without a trace. You weren't online when the server had crashed, temporarily locking the players in. It took five hours of maintenance for the server to be up and running again, and you didn't hear anything from him after that incident. In remembrance of your friendship, you had decided to take the form of Elisha and kept your appearance that way since then.

"High King Enu was our ruler when he was alive. Now that he had passed on, the Regency Council is the current governing body," Ushar added, "But with you here, Auruk will have a king again and Gilgamesh Palace will no longer feel empty!"

You could only give him a small smile in response. As Ushar led you up the steps to the palace to introduce you to the Regency Council, you passed by a young woman playing with a Rubik's cube.

"Rubik's Cube?" you exclaimed, making her drop said item in surprise. Before she had the chance to retrieve it, you picked it up from the ground and stared at the cube in bewilderment. Why does a toy from the modern world exist in Teyvat, especially during an ancient period?

"You know what it is too?" Ushar piped up, appearing next to you with twinkling eyes, "This is one of High King Enu's favourite toys. Solving one side is easy, but solving two sides is hard. However, he was able to overcome such an impossible challenge within four seconds, unlike us humans... Oh, he truly was the embodiment of otherworldly wisdom!" He then gave you a thumbs up that's accompanied with a wink. "I have no doubt that you can solve it too though!"

"Of course. My master has unparalleled intelligence, so it's a given that she's able to solve something as simple as a Rubik's Cube," Enki said vehemently.

You stared at Enki and Ushar blankly. Those delusional NPCs are glorifying you way too much, and you could only hope that the people of Auruk won't follow in their footsteps; you'd feel overwhelmed otherwise.

"Hey! Don't loiter in front of the palace!"

Everyone's attention quickly shifted to the owner of the new voice. A man with two-toned hair was seen approaching the group, the back of his hair bearing the colour of the lush green forest and the tips of his silver bangs dipped in the same green. His stern brown eyes regarded the four of you in annoyance, as if he was a father who had caught his children sneaking out of the house.

"General Kingu!" Ushar said, saluting him as the heels of his shoes clacked together. The young woman who was playing with the Rubik's Cube earlier mirrored his action whilst your eyes zeroed in on the long ears standing upright atop Kingu's head. Their shape and size in proportion to his head reminded you of a fennec fox's ears, and you had to resist the sudden urge to touch them.

Once Kingu was standing in front of you, he glared at the Rubik's Cube in your hand.

"Ereshkigal, you were playing with this toy again, weren't you?" he asked, eyes flickering over to her. The woman in question fidgeted but didn't answer him. "Stop fooling around during your shift and go guard the throne room with your brother."

"Yes sir," she said, turning on her heels to enter Gilgamesh Palace.

"So, who's this?" Kingu asked, finally giving you his attention. Before Ushar could introduce you to him as the new God of Heroes, you gave Kingu a polite bow, shocking Enki.

"I am (y/n). I was exiled to the desert not too long ago," you replied, shocking Ushar this time.

"Ah... So you're one of the God of Woods' followers. It's a good thing Ushar found you before Enkidu did. That god despises humans for some reason." Kingu let out a muted sigh. "Speaking of Enkidu, have you been keeping track of his activities in the desert, Ushar?"

"Yes sir! I witnessed Enkidu's death in the hands of an unidentified god!" Ushar said, making the other man's eyes widen.

"A new god? We've already got our hands full with Gugalanna... Just our luck," Kingu muttered, ruffling his bangs in frustration, "If only we have a way of powering the cannons High King Enu had built to defend this city-"

"Cannons?" you echoed, interrupting him mid-sentence.

"Yes. The cannons are powered by a certain type of magic that only our late king wielded, and they fire the weapons he had collected, created and reforged throughout his reign. Anyway Ushar, you better report that to the Regency Council. They've been losing their minds over our counterattack to Enkidu's future invasions."

❀

Kingu's reaction to being told your true identity was priceless, and it was worth lying to him when he had asked you who you were. As a member of the Regency Council, he attended the meeting when Ushar had gone to make his report about Enkidu, only to be shocked into silence by your introduction as the new God of Heroes. No wonder it felt as if your aura was similar to Enu's! Before the Sand Priestess, Semiramis could brief you on Auruk's state of affairs, Kingu had dropped himself on his knees in front of you with his head bowed low.

"Please forgive me for my ignorance, God of Heroes! I failed to realise who you are on our first meeting. Such transgression should not go unpunished!" he exclaimed, eyes squeezed shut.

"At ease," you said, subconsciously running a hand over his soft ear, "I won't punish you for something as trivial as that. So stand up."

He stiffened at your gesture. "Y-yes..."

As soon as Kingu had calmed down, Semiramis continued from where she was interrupted and explained the situation to you.

Auruk is a nation that was built by the previous God of Heroes, Enu. When he descended to Teyvat many years ago, he saved a group of desertfolk from Enkidu, the god that was prophesised to bring an end to humanity in the Tablet of Destinies. He then brought the desertfolk to a large oasis and summoned an entire fortress using a type of magic that remains unknown to this day (you noted that it's very similar to the high-tier spell the Enu you knew often used when going on long expeditions with you). A city was eventually built around that fortress, giving rise to the protective walls of Auruk and the dingir cannons. Some time after the Archon War began abruptly, Enu was slain by Enkidu when he tried to protect his people from the ravages of war and since then, Enkidu and Enu's long-time rival, Gugalanna have launched several attacks upon Auruk and Elisha tragically lost her life during one of Gugalanna's invasions. The fortress city was only able to make it this far without a god's protection thanks to the Eleven Generals of Tiamat and their Overseer.

When the meeting ended, Kingu was tasked with escorting you and Enki to Enu's chamber, and he then left you to your own devices to help the members of Regency Council prepare for the ceremony that will formally introduce you as Auruk's new god. You decided to look around the room in the meantime as Enki stood guard outside, and came across a large bookshelf that housed many books. You began to flip through the books you've randomly chosen to pass the time, and this activity continued until you found a journal that was written in English.

Your eyes widened.

The owner of this journal was Enu.

Your Enu.

Having studied architecture and social science, he built human civilisation from scratch in Sumeru's desert. He used and derived from the knowledge he had of the modern world to create Auruk for the desertfolk he had saved from Enkidu. With Elisha's help, he trained the Eleven Generals of Tiamat and their Overseer for the purpose of protecting his country from the divine beings in case he disappeared.

His last journal entry was a request for the next player to be transported to Teyvat to look after Auruk in his place. You didn't know how he knew that somebody from his world would eventually land in Teyvat, and assumed that it was simply his desperate, wishful thinking.

As you smiled, you raised your blurry gaze to the ceiling and chuckled.

"Enu... It really was you."

When night fell, you went outside for a stroll with Enki escorting you. You then climbed to the top of the wall and gazed at the seemingly perpetual Sumerian desert whilst absent-mindedly fiddling with Ereshkigal's Rubik's Cube. Enki cast his curious eyes at you when he heard you sigh quietly.

"Enki, do you think I can be a good king for the people my friend had saved?" you asked. You initially accepted Ushar's request for you to be the new God of Heroes for your own gain and survival, but after discovering that this was the country Enu had built, you wanted to protect Auruk to honour his wish.

"In your life, only your decisions are the correct answer," he said, "But are you sure you want to be king? Being 'king' means being a 'monster'."

You stared at the sky in deep thought. If this was a game, you would have no problems saying "yes" - but it wasn't. It's a new world that has become your reality, so every step you take must have some consideration behind it.

"If living this new life as a monster will bring smiles to people's faces, then perhaps it's worth it. They are part of the country Enu had created, and he was my dear friend." You lowered your gaze to your feet as your emotions drowned in the memories of your time with him. "I want power. Power to protect those who are more precious to me than my own life. I wish to become a king with such power."

Stepping forward, Enki gently took one of your hands in his, making you look at him. "A king cannot exercise their power as they wish. The throne in which they sit on is for an immoral beast, one that feasts on flesh and blood. To protect that throne, they must sacrifice all they have, even their own heart. That is their cruel destiny. You may have to stain your hands with blood over and over again. Will you still do it?"

You nodded slowly, your eyes shining with your new resolve which made him smile. He then knelt before you and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead.

"Then engrave this moment into your heart," he vehemently said, "and I promise you that from now on, come what may, I will remain by your side."

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑

The picrew below is Kingu.

#✍️ : alice writes #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #nahida #cyno #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader #fem reader #god of heroes

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yandere-fics · 6 months

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would there be any yanderes who would be friends like just platonically? Or would they all have no interest or would still fall in love with reader?? Cuz I just wanna befriend some of them without having to worry about the dangers of them loving me 😔

Miriel is a good one to befriend if you aren't her soulmate. Kassien would also be fun if you aren't her soulmate. If Nora is friends with anyone, she's going to fall in love but might even stay friends as long as you two are very very very close friends and you have no other friends. Runa has no friends and while she has a soulmate as an elf, she's also not like actively against being with someone besides her soulmate since she might never find them and she could even kill her soulmate for whoever she's picked instead so that wouldn't save you from her. Sawyer is friends with Kassien only, she bonded with Kassien quick and has never really needed any other friend.

Theanna has friend(subordinates) but I'm not sure why you'd try to befriend someone who puts all her friends to work. Elisha would be friends unless she falls in love which is a high probability. Abigail might actually be friends, it really depends on what her first impression of you is. Veronia might have friends, I mean I could even see her being friendly and starting to like the merchants who bring things for her mate as long as they don't get too close to the cave. Ainsley is crazy, she should not have a friend and even if she only considers you a friend, she's had alot of friends with benefits over her immortality so she might make a move on you at some point.

Skye has no friends, she only enjoys the company of her sisters and whoever she is romantically involved with. Sophie might have a friend, I mean people in her organization don't like talking to her but if someone from the organization is friendly then she would be friends. Darla has plenty of friends, she loves college parties so as long as you never do anything that makes you stand out as a potential love interest in her eyes then you could be friends. Ellie seems unsociable but I like to imagine she has online friends, just if you want to be friends with Ellie, never get personal. Like it's fun to joke around with her in games but if she sees a different more vulnerable side to you then she will be hooked.

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ancestorsofjudah · 7 months

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2 Kings 4: 38-41. "The Gourds."

A Man of God is not some smelly hobo who walks around in a shrift saying Holy Things to people as they pass by. A Man of God is one that has come to understand how much power he has over the future of this world.

This is expressed in many ways: some physical, others psychological, and still others are purely in the spiritual realm. Here are some of them:

The physical body of man, with eyes, ears, a nose, two hands, two feet, and so on is a reflection of the G‑dly attributes which prevail openly in the spiritual worlds, and in a concealed manner in our world. The shape of our body is similar to the placement of the G‑dly sefirot (spiritually mature attributes). We have a right side and a left side because G‑d expresses Himself in two ways, right (kindness) and left (severity). And so on.

The Torah teaches us that man alone has free choice. All other creations are doing exactly what they are programmed to do, and cannot change their natures. Only the human being has to power to grow, mature and change, because he or she is a reflection of G‑d, who is unlimited.

Man was endowed with the power to think independently, to peer into the future and to make rational decisions. This is a reflection of G‑d’s infinite wisdom.1

“Just as the soul fills the body, so does G‑d fill the world.” Our bodies are vitalized by our souls, but our souls themselves are invisible. Yet, through seeing the life in the body, one can appreciate the soul within. G‑d enlivens and creates the worlds, yet He is invisible. But He is evident in every creation.2

A POT is the vessel we are born into, one that is called agate by the Gematria [1319]. Agate is also called shebu in Hebrew, which means "of seven forms."

In order to reach the form of one Man of God, we must combine the Seven Forms that arise from the evolutionary path of the Seven Days, each one passing in observance of a Noachide Law.

This section of the Melachim begins with a death in a pot. Recall that death in Judaism means one's mind can no longer sustain its feeble, unfounded arguments supporting its failures to follow the Torah. Should an argument against a particular object in the Torah fail, that is also a cause of death.

We just learned for example, the Kosher prohibition against eating a gar fish does not mean you cannot eat a gar, it means do not have sex with your boss.

Anyone who argues for a literal interpretation of the Torah without accepting the reins of the accurate one dies one death and must be resurrected using a correct interpretation.

The section begins when Elisha, the Spirit of the Government goes to Gilgal, "the whirlwind of the mind" to address a famine, which is caused by the absence of the superior logic found in the Torah.

Elisha prescribes a stew to solve the problem. Stews are recipes for illumination, the most famous one was prepared during the discourses between God and Moses on Sinai, between Jacob and Esau, and between Jacob and his father Isaac.

The opposite of a stew is a frum, which is nothing but blather.

Death in the Pot

38 Elisha returned to Gilgal and there was a famine in that region. While the company of the prophets was meeting with him, he said to his servant, “Put on the large pot and cook some stew for these prophets.”

39 One of them went out into the fields to gather herbs and found a wild vine and picked as many of its gourds as his garment could hold. When he returned, he cut them up into the pot of stew, though no one knew what they were.

40 The stew was poured out for the men, but as they began to eat it, they cried out, “Man of God, there is death in the pot!” And they could not eat it.

41 Elisha said, “Get some flour.” He put it into the pot and said, “Serve it to the people to eat.” And there was nothing harmful in the pot.

A large pot called a sanhedron, a forum during which modifications to the Law are made gathers in order to deal with a famine, an absence of morality within a series of spiritual transcations.

Unless the arguments are posed and resolved according to the principals of classical Chassid Judaism, the result will be a frum; a bunch of unintelligible hypocrisy:

"Chabad Chassidism is a system of religious philosophy that teaches understanding and recognition of the Creator through the application of the three intellectual qualities of Chochmah (wisdom), Binah (understanding) and Daat (knowledge). The initials of these three Hebrew words form the word "Chabad".

While faith and belief in G‑d form the foundation of our religion, Chabad insists on intellectual study and understanding of religious truth by everyone according to his intellectual level, in order to come closer to the service of G‑d in both mind and heart."

A frum does indeed result, and the Prophets gathered tell Elisha, the system of governance, the effort is failing. Elisha orders them to season the stew with flour- to thicken it, and this allows the forum to conclude.

The Numbers explain the rest:

v. 38: The Value in Gematria is 11386, יאג‎חו‎, will attack. There are several words in Hebrew that match. Tabah, is the one I will use, as it seems to fit the scenario:

"The verb טבח (tabah) means to slaughter, butcher, slay, or kill. The basic meaning of this root is to "deliberately slaughter or butcher an animal for food" (says HAW Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament).

Metaphorically the verb is used to indicate the preparation of wisdom for foolish mankind (Proverbs 9:2), or the description of a foolish young man's fate when he nears a prostitute for the wrong reasons (Proverbs 7:22).

The verb is usually subject to the element of planning (Jeremiah 11:19), and used for the sacrificial slaughter, eventually even the Messianic offering (Isaiah 53:7), and the release of all nations (Isaiah 34:2)."

v. 39: "A wild vine with gourds"??? Gourds in Judaism, much the same as they are in Hinduism symbolize the answers to prayers; prayers and inquiries into the Nature of God sever the gourd of death from the wild vine of the mind.

Heresy and iniquity are like gourds. They grow slowly and produce vast fruits with many seeds. One gourd can be the source of many weeds.

The removal of gourds from the vine before they spread the seeds of the deadly fruits of heretical actions is an imperative of both the church and the state, just as we are seeing. But a few persons on this world are leading it to its demise. If we could just sever them from their lives and ours, all would be well.

The Value in Gematria is 11243, "the object of desire you will lose, yabadag", "but gather and be a part of God."

v. 40: The Value in Gematria is 7777, זזזז‎ ‎. I have turned this into 2401, or 17, which means "therefore"

v. 41: The Value in Gematria is 5946, הטדו‎‎, the raid. This refers to Gideon's raid on the Midianites "strifers", who created an Ashtarte Tree after the harvest. This means they bundled up some laws into a sheaf and began causing strife, except strife is forbidden.

By adding flour from the Torah, which has solutions for all the causes of strife, the gourds, the prayers of the people for peace and sanity became edible and the strife Elisha was summoned to address was resolved.

Whether the strife is caused by the government or the church, the process is the same: rational arguments for the sakes of the victims of poverty, slavery, suffering, impropriety are always the priority for a Man of God. The mist and muck of religion in contrast must always remain low on the list.

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noahcontrol · 2 years

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Little Freak - a detailed analysis

Hey there! I wanted to talk about Little Freak by Harry Styles. I’m going to start by saying that I will be analyzing this song from the perspective of being gender-neutral/trans. As a trans man myself, I came across many lyrics that resonated with me, and I’d like to throw light in that specific direction. I also believe that this song is the continuation of ‘SHE’.

1. ‘little freak’ - I think he is conversing with his feminine side. Freak is used as a slur for the LGBTQ+ community a lot, I think it could mean that Harry saw his feminine side as a freak/abomination. He was scared to look into it and think about it.

2. ‘Jezebel’ - Jezebel, the wife of King Ahab in the Hebrew Book of Kings, has long had a bad girl reputation. According to the Bible, she provoked a conflict by defying the great prophets Elijah and Elisha.

Jezebel was a woman who defied great prophets, similar to what Christians say about the LGBTQ+ community, that we defy what God made our bodies for. Harry is calling his feminine side that name because he was scared to think he could (maybe?) be trans, thought of him being that way scares him.

3. 'stay green a little while' - immature in age or judgment; untrained; inexperienced; gullible; easily fooled. Green means immaturity and being gullible, which makes sense in this perspective. People in the community tend to have internalized homophobia due to the society being heteronormative and normalizing homophobia, so people when young tend to learn and pick this up, thinking being heterosexual/cisgender is only the correct way of living.

We are already aware that Harry has been forced into the closet for years and has been forced to play the "Lady's man" narrative, but recently Harry has been trying to be more open about his gender identity, has been singing about it and leaving signals for all of us to know.

*also something to note, Harry has been changing from Blue-Green to Red-Blue, Red psychologically signifies strength, power, courage proving that he is not the gullible person anymore and has started to understand and embrace who he is.*

4.'you bring blue lights to dreams' - Blue calls to mind feelings of calmness or serenity. It is often described as peaceful, tranquil, secure, and orderly. Blue is often seen as a sign of stability and reliability.

She, Harry's feminine side makes him stable in who he is, and who he can become. It means that She is the one who keeps him true to himself, to who he is.

5.'starry haze, crystal ball, somehow you’ve become some paranoia' - Haze means being unable to see things clearly, prevents you from seeing things from afar (future), he is uncertain of his future self, who She might be.

Crystal balls have been used for fortune-telling and clairvoyance since the first century. I think this entire line means his future is hazy and he doesn't know what it entails for him but he wants to know whether She'll be happier than She is today.

Harry is telling his feminine side that she follows him around, and never leaves him alone, he is constantly thinking about her. This takes us back to She - Fine Line.

"She lives in daydreams with me She's the first one that I see"

She is always in his head with him, in his bed, everywhere he goes, She is lurking with him.

6. 'wet dream just dangling' - well this is self-explanatory but I'll explain it in brief. Harry is so in love with the idea of Her that it makes him <you get it> and he wakes up to him being wet.

7. 'but your gift is wasted on me' - this line states that She has the talent for songwriting. She writes while he sings those words, he gets the recognition, he gets the gift.

8. 'I was thinking about who you are' - Same line as She, he is wondering whom She is, and exploring his gender identity.

9. 'your delicate point of view' - Harry sees Her as timid, ethereal and benign.

10.'did you dress up for Halloween? I spilled beer on your friend, I’m not sorry' - H dressed up for Harryween, he got to express Her and become her first time in the eyes of the public. Halloween could also be a metaphor for being someone else for a day, but in his case, he is becoming more like himself (Her).

11. track suit and a ponytail, you hide the body, all that yoga gave you' - we have seen him wearing these many a times in his early eras.

We often see Harry wearing pants and coats to hide his body, maybe it is due to dysphoria, but I can't say for certain. I feel like She is telling him these, she is basically telling him that "you hide me, the way you built yourself, you hide away how you feel about me in public".

12.'red wine and a ginger ale but you would make fun of me for sure' - I think this basically means he tends to drink a lot to forget about her but She ends up being too feminine.

13.'I disrespected you, jumped in feet first and I landed too hard, a broken ankle, karma rules' - H disrecpected his feminine side for a long time, trying to ignore and pretend She doesn't exist, but she haunted him everywhere he went, and hence become a paranoia. Karma rules as even though he tried to ignore her, he couldn't cause She is a part of him.

14.'you never saw my birthmark' - Birthmarks are an area of pigmented or raised skin that can be present at birth or appear shortly afterward. Birthmark is metaphorical here to Harry's transness, meaning he was born this way, and that She is a part of him and it can never change, even if he tried to ignore and pretend She doesn't exist, there is no use because She is him.

Conclusion: Little Freak is about Harry feeling uncomfortable about his gender, ignoring her due to heternormativity, coming to love her and accept her and figure her out. I am nothing but proud of Harry, he has come a long way, and not everybody is able to do it so bravely as he does and I love him for that.

#little freak #took me forever #hs3 spoilers #harry is a genius #gender identity #trans #this took me ages #dont let this flop

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.2)

Title: Lost in Zero Gravity (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,072 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Song inspo for this fic

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“You must have made a really good first impression,” Tatiana commented, blowing out a ring of smoke. Her charcoal lined eyes creased with her pleased smile.

You shrugged, “I was just working.”

“Don’t try to be modest now. It’s not becoming on you,” she laughed in response.

She had called you into her office to tell you that you had been specifically requested for an assignment. It seemed Tony and Steve’s mob were going to be taking a vacation and they wanted you available. You were not one to turn down a paid vacation, especially if they were going to be there. As dangerous as they were, they had been a good fuck and Tony had made sure to get you off. That was far more than probably eighty percent of the people you had been with since you started working the service.

You hated the smell of the cigarette smoke and it was always the hovering stench in her office. She was going to kill herself far too young and maybe shave a few years off your life in return for however she made you stand in here. You adored her, there was no doubt about that. But you wished she would kick the habit.

“Where are they going?” you asked, feigning that you were contemplating about refusing the assignment.

“Riviera Maya.” You narrowed your eyes and she said, “It’s in Mexico.”

An inclusive resort no doubt. It could be fun. Maybe you could ask someone to travel with you so you would not be completely alone when they were not wanting to bed you. Or maybe not… some time alone might do you well.

Tatiana added, “Wives are going to be there though.”

“So, why am I gonna be there?” you asked honestly.

Tatiana snorted, “Oh, stellina.” She took another deep inhale exhaling as she said, “There are so many things there to keep the spouses occupied. They’re rarely together except for dinner. It’s just for appearances.”

Rich people’s lives sounded exhausting.

“You just need to be out in the open, keeping yourself available for them whenever they have an opportunity to slip away and have some fun with you. Otherwise, just keep yourself occupied with the beach and nice drinks. I know you hate suntanning but there are shops to poke around in. I know you like shopping.”

“That I do.”

“Maybe they’ll give you extra.”

“I don’t want to go around trying to get greedy.”

Tatiana smirked at that. “That’s my girl. I trained you well.”

<><><>

Pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, you hopped up onto one of the barstools on the bar you had just walked by and circled back to. You had yet to see either Tony or Steve and you had been here since yesterday. The place was relaxing and the room was great. You had basically sunk into the bed, having one of the best nights of sleep you had had in a long while without any noise from Elisha in her room along your wall back home. Leaning over the counter, you asked for a strawberry lemonade.

“Strawberry lemonade? It’s a party, dollface.”

You recognized that voice and you straightened back up, turning your head to look in his direction.

Steve was standing there, leaning on the counter. He was a sight for sore eyes. He was only in swim trunks, aviator glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. That did not hide the fact you knew his eyes were running unabashedly over your body. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of him, thinking of how he handled you last time.

“I bought this specifically for this vacation,” you said, hopping down from the stool and turning around for him to let him see the whole suit. When you turned back around, he was grinning. “It looks good right?”

He nodded, “You look damn sexy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“My wife is here,” Steve said, and you frowned instantly at this immediate change in conversation. Was he trying to kill the mood so quickly? He said, “I know. She’s got her little masseuse guy here to keep her entertained, so I should be able to have my own fun. But I’m trying to be good.”

Picking up on his hint, you sauntered towards him. Your hand came up, resting on his chest. “Why do you have to be good if she isn’t being good?”

“I had to hold it in until she ran off,” he told you.

You pulled his sunglasses down to see his eyes, keeping them on the bridge of his nose. You smiled when you were able to actually meet his gaze.

“Well, when do you get to not be good?”

“Right now,” he said and you smiled in response. “It’s why I came and found you. I saw you yesterday. Wandering around. Took everything in me to not come up to you. Looked like you found yourself a nice little boyfriend though?”

“He was trying really hard but no… no dice for that guy,” you told him.

You pushed his glasses back up and your arms wrapped around his neck. He grinned back at you, his fingers tracing along your exposed back.

“I’m assuming you’re liking what you’re seeing?”

“Very much,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the hem of your suit.

You nuzzled your nose to his. “Hmm. So we know where this is going?”

<><><>

You stood in front of the mirror, completely bare. Steve had brought you back to their villa. Tony’s wife was gone, off to a spa treatment. The room had a wide door open to the patio overlooking the ocean. There was a hot tub and pool on the patio and although you wanted to indulge, you refrained. You got undressed for them instead, waiting for them to get antsy enough to take charge. It did not take long as you predicted.

Tony came up from behind you, nude as well. His hands ran across your breasts, cupping.

“Don’t you look marvelous…” he murmured, his fingers tweaking at your erect nipples. You bucked ever so slightly, and he smirked. His nose came to nuzzle into the nape of your neck. “I knew I chose right… a perfect gem.”

“You still seem to like what you’re seeing?”

He chuckled, one hand snaking down to toy with the top of your sex.

“You’re gonna look even better underneath that mirror.”

You turned in his arms, your forehead pressing against his. “A man that likes to review his work. I don’t know if I should be worried.”

“I didn’t get to where I am by being a half ass.”

Steve was at your other side and he enveloped you to him. To both of them, you asked, “Any critiques?”

“Loaded question,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, the biggest is you haven’t sunk one of your holes on either of us. I mean, it’s been a whole five minutes. What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, I was enjoying the company.”

He kissed the tip of your nose lightly, “And I’m sorry for being so charismatic.”

“I’m assuming you can’t multitask then? Be charismatic and fuck me at the same time?”

A low growl left his mouth now, “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at fucking all,” he told you pulling you over to the bed.

Steve was looking upwards, and you knew he was taking in the sight of you hovering over him as you sunk onto his length in the ceiling mirror. His eyes were swimming with arousal and you hoped to always be the cause for that.

<><><>

“Y/N, you got a gift,” Wendy said, pointing at the table as you walked into the brothel’s kitchen. You had come in to get a drink but smiled seeing the bouquet and gift.

“Really?” you asked, letting your backpack fall from your shoulder and along with your carry-on drop to the ground. You had just gotten back from Mexico; that was quick if it was from who you thought it was. Upon seeing the flowers, you knew your assumption had been correct. They had asked you what your favorite flowers were and even though that was extremely obvious why they were asking, you had told them all the same.

The bouquet was large and there was a nice heart balloon in the center. You smiled, leaning in and smelling the flowers deeply.

“Where’d you get those from?” Elisha asked, coming into the kitchen. You shrugged, smiling sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, giving a little laugh, “I know exactly where those came from.”

“There’s also this,” you said picking up the gift bag from beside it, waving it at her.

“That’s dangerous,” Elisha commented, grabbing the bloody mary that Wendy had made her. They must have had a rough night.

You shrugged again, opening the bag. Your lips curled into a smile as you pulled out a bright blue teddy. “Cute,” you giggled. Elisha and Wendy shook their heads, taking a drink. You held it up against your body and asked, “Think they want me to wear it for next time?”

“I don’t think they bought it for shits and giggles,” Wendy snorted. “How was the trip?”

“It was nice.”

“Good to hear it. You should relish in this.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, putting the teddy back into the bag. You thought of the extra money that Steve had tucked into your bag, remembering that you should tuck that away. It was smarter to not spend all the money that was thrown at you. That is what fools did; you needed to think ahead.

<><><>

The dress was loose and casual, perfect for the saloon they had asked you to meet them at. They had sent a car for you and met you at the curbside. When you got out, you looked around, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of them dressed in nice, pressed jackets. You were going into a dive bar, what were they doing?

Tony took your arm, Steve trailing behind. “Hmm, a sun pattern,” Tony commented, his fingers pulling at the fabric of your dress.

You gripped his arm, smiling. “I like to be a shining beacon in people’s lives.”

Tony chuckled in response, his grip tightening on your waist. The bouncer did not ask for your IDs; they must know them. It was dimly lit, packed. There were dancers on the stage and your eyes were drawn to their movements. The woman dancing had curves to die for.

“Where we going?” you asked as they led you through the bar. Your eyes ran around the tables the further you went in. Did they have a reservation?

“For the real party, sweetheart,” Tony told you, his lips brushing your ear. You shivered at the touch.

It was dark back here and you tensed. Tony felt it, a light chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I got you.”

Two men were standing in front of a door and they opened it when they saw the three of you approaching. There was a table with a group of other men, looking like they were waiting for the three of you. There were a handful of other women sitting around the perimeter of the room behind the players. They made brief eye contact with you, sizing you up quickly before averting their eyes again.

“Took you fucking long enough,” one of them drawled at Tony and Steve.

“Sorry, we were waiting for our lucky dame,” Tony returned.

Tony kissed your hand as you sat, before he turned away and sat in his chair. Steve’s hand grazed you affectionately, before he sat down as well.

You sat quietly, watching them play. It was poker, that much you knew. It was intense, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. They were taking this seriously and you surmised they were gambling a bunch of money.

Steve was staring across the table at the first man who had spoken to them when they walked in, his eyes narrowed. The other man was not flinching but something must have been a tell for Steve because he pushed chips forward.

“Well, senator… I’m gonna raise you,” Steve commented.

Your heart stopped a bit, hearing him call him that. Your eyes narrowed at the man across the table. You did not pay attention to politics but the way the man’s face scrunched at Steve’s tone… you knew he had to be one. A senator. What had you let them drag you into?

The man chewed on his lip before throwing his cards down on the table without showing what they were.

Steve’s mouth broke into a wide grin and he held out his hands.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” the man snarled before getting up from the table. He buttoned his suit jacket, leaving the room without a second glance.

“Sore loser,” Steve commented, much to the amusement of the other men at the table to your surprise. You thought they would be more angry about losing the money they had but maybe the man had been a common enemy.

They gathered up the chips, tossing them into a bag. Tony’s hand snaked around your waist.

“Wanna spend this?” Tony asked, grinning broadly, holding the bag up to you as he guided you towards the door. You giggled and he kissed your cheek. “Steve’s treated us. But especially you, baby.”

<><><>

Pulling your dress back on over your head, you straightened it, making sure it was covering your ass. It was short and you did not need to be flashing anyone on the sidewalk.

“You sure you don’t want me to order you a cab…?” the man asked from behind you, taking a long drag on his joint. He was still lying in bed, watching you get dressed.

Confidently, you turned around, fluffing your hair. You shook your head, “It’s not too far. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he said, shooting you a smile.

“I try to be,” you said winking at him, grabbing your purse.

You left his place quickly, heading back to the brothel. It was not a lie, it was not far.

The distance did not matter though when it came to what was waiting for you outside.

A hand closed around your arm, yanking you into an alley. You screamed but another hand slapped across your mouth as you were slammed up against the wall. Your heart was pounding, your eyes wide in fear staring at your assailant.

Your fear melted away to a mixture of anger and disgust. You would recognize those hazel eyes anywhere. You had stared into them far too many times as he towered over you, beating you into submission. You had run away from them far too many times, locking yourself in the bedroom until he got tired of trying to beat the door down.

Garnering strength from a place you did not know existed, you shoved him away, much to his surprise. He did not expect you to fight back, and he stumbled back.

“Have you been fucking following me?” you demanded, your chest heaving.

“Just interested to see what you’ve been doing since you ran off. Looks like you are visiting a bunch of men,” Jared sneered at you, getting back on his game and closing the space between you. Your fists clenched by your sides and he noticed, smirking. “You gonna hit me?”

“No,” you spat.

“So, what’s got you leaving someone’s apartment this time of night, baby?”

“That is none of your business.”

He shoved you back into the wall and you winced against the cement scratching at your skin. You swallowed it though, clenching your jaw, glaring at him. You were acting far braver than you felt. Jared always had the power to make you feel small and weak and it seemed just his presence had that same power. You felt just as helpless as you did a year and a half ago. He was frightening; you knew what violence he could unleash.

“What’s this?” Jared asked, yanking at your purse.

“Nothing, it’s my purse!” you said, your hands closing around it to try to yank it back from him.

“Looks pretty expensive, Y/N… Marc Jacobs? What have you been up to?”

He gave another hard yank, and the chain broke and you hissed against the pressure against your shoulder as it snapped away from you. You reached for it and he shoved you back again, harder this time and you let out a pained noise. Your eyes searched the buildings that surrounded you, hoping someone would be looking out the windows and be able to come to help you. It looked like no such luck.

He yanked out the hundreds the man you had just left had given you.

His eyes were dark, glowering at you. “Where’d you get this?”

“From work!”

His backhand was swift, knocking you off balance. But he was there to catch your falling momentum only to slam you up against the wall for the third time, his forearm pressed into your throat. You gasped, trying to breathe.

“You left me to spread your legs all over the city?”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaimed pitifully, trying to deny it. Your hands clawed at his arm and he only pressed in harder, making you gasp more desperately.

“I saw you go into that building with that man. Yes, I was following you! And you come back out with all this money? I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were a worthless slut.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and he growled, “You always did cry too soon for my liking.”

Your purse fell to the ground and his other hand reached up between your legs. You tried to fight him, and he socked you this time. Your head knocked against the wall and you saw stars.

Jared pushed away and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. You squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to gain back some sense of balance.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout from far off.

All you could see was Jared’s shoes coming in and out of your vision. You felt a sharp pain in your stomach making you lose all your breath before his shoes were gone. You blinked again before losing consciousness as you saw a new pair of shoes come into your line of sight.

~~~

Tags: coconutqueen21

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #stony x reader #stony smut #marvel fic #my shit

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henryobsessed · 4 years

Text

The Borrower and Her Bean Part 3

Summery: Melina’s family has been asked for help will they help her tend to a sick Henry?

Word Count: 1500

Warning: Caring, male bare chests, fluff :)

Part 2 - Part 4

Part 3

Melina regarded her daddy, he had for the most part been on her side throughout her life, but she also knew how highly he held to the borrower traditions. Her fingers drummed on her thigh has her adrenaline peeked, she needed to move quickly afraid for her Bean, but she could not hurry her family. “Daughter, you have risked much today. If it had been anyone else standing before me I would not have hesitated to say no.” heart racing she looked directly into her daddy’s eyes and watched as they turned from hard to soft “I don’t know if this is going to destroy our way of life but I can see your genuine care for this Bean and your urgency. We will help. Tell us what you want us to do.”

Her body almost collapsed at the relief of what he said. Trying to gather her thoughts she looked at the two mothers of the group and said “what would you do? He has a fever, sweats and is not really conscious. I thought cool cloths, and liquid Paracetamol if we can find a bottle.” Pam’s mother spoke up saying in a rich warm voice “you will need to keep him hydrated, maybe ice chips” and mummy finished with “and we need to get a bigger cloth not just for his head.” Together they divided the jobs. The men went in search of a Paracetamol bottle they would start searching in her beans house then move through each house until they found one. The women already knew where to find the cloths and ice.

In the past they had used a miniature toy wagon to carry anything too heavy back to the wall space, today it was being used to move a small cup of ice. Whilst the two mothers had headed to the linen cupboard Pam, Elisha and Melina where in the kitchen. The little red wagon sat at the bottom of the fridge in preparation. Melina watched as Elisha threw a hook to the top of the fridge, a knotted shoelace was attached to it. Once the climbing equipment was secure Pam attached a bobbin to her back and together, they climbed to the top. It was a long drop down to ice machine attached to her bean’s fridge, and it took a lot of courage for Pam using the same rope to now climb down. Once she was there Elisha let down the thread past pam to Melina who secured it around a small plastic cup.

The process took too long in Melina’s mind, and they could only get a half a cup of ice chips as it would be too heavy to carry even with the three of them up to her beans room. Together they lowered it to the red wagon. By the time Pam and Elisha had climbed back down and caught up with her she had pulled the wagon to the stairs. With a lot of effort and time they slowly lifted the cup up each step. By the time they entered her beans room the rest of the borrowers were waiting at the door afraid to enter without Melina.

Walking up Malina moved into the room, all was still, apart from the groans coming from the bed. She instructed using hand signals to bring the Items to the side of the bed nearest the ball and Chain. Quietly she whispered to the group “I’ll go up and check its safe then four of you need to come up with the shoestring ropes. Then we have to lift the items up one at a time. Just wait for my signal.” Once she saw the heads nodding from all she began the climb up the ball and chain to the top of the bed.

As Melina reached the top, she moved to the pillow allowing her to see down the length of her beans body. They had taken so long getting the items that the sun had set and the temperature had dropped. She could see his body lightly shaking with the cool, but he was still sweating. The worry that had been sitting in her stomach all day distracted her normal sense of observation. As she started to move more, she heard a growl. There halfway down his body laid the puppy, his large brown eyes now glaring directly at Melina his lip curled showing his white fangs.

Mind scrambling, she did the only thing she could think of …. She sang. Her voice carried to the big bear of a puppy, his ears pricked up and he lowered his head back to his masters lap. He whimpered as his eyes went back to watching her bean. “It’s ok puppy were here to help” she said to the worried canine. Sensing that it was now safe she waved to the family below.

Now the work truly began as the men climbed up the ball chain to meet Melina at the top. Together they lowered the ropes and began the arduous task of pulling the items up the bed side. Once the items were up the rest of the families joined them beside her Bean. His fever seemed to be at a peak, his body continuing to shiver and sweat, and the sounds of his groans reverberating around the room. Melina designated the tasks with the two mothers pulling one wet cloth to his forehead. The Girls who were good at climbing were tasked to drag the other wet cloth to his chest. This was not an easy task as his chest muscles were difficult to transvers.

Pam pulled herself up using his chest hair reaching the peak of his pectoral muscle let down a rope for Elisha. Pam watched as Elisha attached it to the cloth, she then pulled into place across his chest. Whilst this was happening the boys had successfully unscrewed the liquid bottle top and the four of them tipped the liquid into the measuring cap. Two Men carried the cap while the other two with the help of Melina also carried the cup of ice over to her beans mouth.

Melina was surprised with all this movement over his body that he had yet to stir. By the time this was done all the borrowers had moved close to the ball chain for a quick exit. All but Melina and her twin brothers remained. Reaching her hand up she stroked his cheek with as firm a pressure as she could muster whilst speaking with a loud voice “Come baby, open your mouth” hazy eyes opened in confusion. Not quite sure what he was looking at his mouth opened in surprise. Melina took the opportunity and placed a small chip of ice into his mouth. As it melted on his tongue she watched as he swallowed. Seeing that he was lucid enough to manage that action she instructed the boys to lift the cap to his lips. Repeating her action of stroking his cheek he opened again.

This time he sipped the liquid, confused eyes following their every movement. The boys both hugged Melina and left taking the cap along with them. She walked away looking at her family “Thank you” they all nodded to her before they left one by one. She walked back to her bean, picking up another ice chip looked at him “Open”. Once again, he opened allowing her to place the chip on his tongue.

She smiled at his continued confused eyes, climbing closer so she could run her hand over his brow she said “is ok my bean, this is all just a wonderful dream. Close your eyes now and sleep” He continued to watch refusing to close his eyes but unable to articulate a word. She sighed sitting on the pillow her small hand still touching his face. Stroking the skin, she sang her lullaby “hush now my baby be still now don’t cry, sleep as I sing you this little lullaby. The moon and the stars watch over us tonight. So close your eyes and sleep my little bean sleep.” She sat there continuing to sing as she watched him fight to keep his eyes open. Slowly his lids fell, and his body settled, small puffs of air began a steady rhythm out his mouth.

Melina stayed by his side for the night, every now and then he would wake, and she would place another chip of ice on his lips. Eventually the cup became a mush of ice and water this time her bean reached out for the cup and drank the cold liquid. Resting his head back on the pillow he pulled the covers over his body and just watched her. She smiled at his worried face, sure that her appearance would be just as disconcerting and if she had woken to his face peering at her. Eventually he fell asleep again. Just before the sun rose, she checked his forehead it was now cool to the touch. Sighing she place a small kiss to his sleeping face. As she moved to leave, she looked back and whispered “I hope you remember but I’m sure you won’t but even so I love you.” A small tear silently ran down her cheek as she climbed down the ball chain and headed back to her bed. The sound of birds chirping filled the air as her head hit her pillow, and sleep overtook her but not before she pictured the way his blue eyes had watched her.

I have Tagged people who follow me and who I follow if you want to be removed or added please let me know :)

@keanureevesisbae @darkverrmin @viking-raider @littlefreya@madbaddic7ed @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @lovetusilver20@crimsonrae @demivampirew @ladyreapermc@henrycavillobsessed @nitannichionne @runawayolives @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @star017 @llly113 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @ayamenimthiriel @starstruckkittyangel @lebguardians @summersong69 @notyouraveragemochii @imneonpanda @carriebee1 @ivyfatale @thereisa8ella @lucy930 @sarahmichelle5 @stuckupstucky @cleodoramer @kmuir1 @elliepower @xobriellaxo24 @xxxkatxo @supernovacocorocha @hennerslionhat @xo-mery-ox @waitedforlove743 @ladamari68 @coksy @wickedrum @harleyfranquinn @mysticalstrangerearthquake @justrae9903 @willkatfanfromasia @daddys-littlewhitegirl @cavilladdict @lebguardians @theblondetumbleweed @snowbellexx @radaofrivia @geralttheewitcher @acdd22

#borrower #borrowers #little #henry cavill #theborrowerandherbean

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Creature

summary: On the night of your prom, Jack agrees to take you for a night you’ll never forget—and that’s a word he sticks by.

dedication: doing a little something new for this one because of course i had to dedicate this one to my angel elisha, ceo of statesmen! thank you for opening up the world of whiskey fic to me and just being such a good friend. love you forever and ever, and i hope this story can bring a smile to that pretty face of yours!xo

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader

warnings: soft!whiskey, fluff, driving a bit under the influence (don’t drink and drive, kids!)

rating: PG

word count: 4.024k

masterlist

∙∙∙

“How do I look, Mom?” You turn around from where you’ve been facing the mirror, looking worriedly to be sure that your dress still makes you feel as beautiful as it did the day you picked it out.

“Oh, sweetheart, you look—,” your mother chokes on her words, stepping closer to hold your face in her hands, “—so beautiful.” She pauses to smile and run a soothing thumb over your cheek, easily sensing your nervousness. “I’m sure that—Jack, right?—is gonna think the same thing.”

You bite back a smile as you look up at her. This is just one of the many things you’re fearing. It’s your senior year of high school, and luckily for you, you’ve gotten to spend it in an entirely new state. Your father’s new job had forced your family to move from your previous residence in the heart of New York City to the vast countryside of Kentucky, and that alone made it harder to fit in. You weren’t keen on making any close friends, anyway, since college was so close. But you couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered the first time you saw Jack.

Being named after a brand of whiskey was, according to him, his best quality. The first time you’d met him, he’d shown you that smile so bright it practically lit up the entire room. He was always so kind and eager to make you feel comfortable, and he never let you be alone if he could help it. You were casual friends at best, although you wanted to be more. So, it truly took you by surprise the day he’d asked you about the prom.

“I’m sure you’ve already got yourself a date, right?” Jack had asked as he walked with you to the cafeteria.

“Well, uh—no, actually,” you’d confessed, unsure if you should’ve been honest. You actually weren’t even planning on going to prom, since you didn’t have any close friends you wanted to go with.

“No?” Jack had practically gasped when he echoed your answer. “Now, darlin’, that surprises me.” He’d let out a sigh, looking over at you with a hopeful twinkle in his dark eyes. “But I can’t lie—it also makes me real excited.”

You’d furrowed your brow at him. “Why?”

Jack never broke your gaze as he answered you. “‘Cause now I can ask you to go with me.”

You’d frozen for a moment, having to stop walking as you processed his words. After swallowing hard, you’d started smiling just a bit, trying to convince yourself he’d actually said such words. “Really?”

Jack had raised an eyebrow as he nodded. “Of course, sugar! What, you think I’d be jokin’ ‘bout somethin’ like that?”

You’d shrugged. “I just—I didn’t think anyone would want to take me.”

Jack frowned at that. “I don’t think that’s true. But anyone who’d pass up the chance to have you on their arm is a fool.” He’d paused when he saw your smile coming back, starting to show one of his own. “So, that’s a yes?”

You’d smiled widely up at him. “I’d love to, Jack.”

You wish you could’ve taken a mental snapshot of his smile then, the corners of his lips practically reaching his ears as he looked down at you. “That’s great, darlin’! I’m real excited, now. It’ll be the best night of our lives. Promise.”

And you’re sure Jack will follow through with his end of that—though you fear you’ll disappoint him with yours.

“Don’t worry, princess,” your mother breaks you out of your worrisome thoughts. “I bet you’re gonna have him right under your spell.”

“Please, Mom,” you laugh, shaking your head as you start to walk out of your bedroom. Your mother follows, shutting off the lights for you and giving you a hand as you walk down the stairs in your heels. You look up to see your father waiting for you in the foyer, his jaw dropped slightly as he sees you.

“Wow, honey, you look… so grown up,” your father remarks, smiling as he holds you by the shoulders and observes you. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you say, patting his arm to make him release your shoulders. You’re about to say more when you hear the sound of a car door outside, causing you to freeze. A nervous yet excited flutter makes itself known in your stomach, and you take a deep breath to collect yourself.

“That must be him!” your mother exclaims excitedly, and no later does the doorbell ring. Your mother nudges you forward to open the door, and you numbly close the distance as your hand rests on the door handle. You pull it open, seeing Jack standing there in all his Southern glory fashioned with a black tux that fits his lean body just right. His hands hold onto a corsage and boutonniere set that matches the same colors as your dress, but his dark eyes are set on you—and your cheeks warm up when you see that his mouth’s fallen open just a bit upon observing you.

“Well gosh, darlin’, I didn’t know you’d be exceedin’ my expectations,” Jack states, a smile now growing on his lips. “They were already high enough.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “I could say the same thing about you, Jack.” He beams, and you step aside to let him inside the foyer. You introduce him to your parents, and he shakes their hands warmly while greeting them with their formal Mr. and Mrs. titles. You can tell your parents are charmed right away, and he answers each question they throw at him with grace.

“What time will you be back?” your father asks.

“Whenever you want us to be, sir,” Jack assures him with a nod.

“Are you gonna sneak away to any parties?” your mother teases—though you still want to facepalm at her embarrassing question.

“No, ma’am,” Jack says with a soft chuckle. “I think the prom’s a party enough for the both of us.”

“I trust that my daughter’s in safe hands,” your father reflects, smiling a bit as he gestures to you.

“Absolutely, sir,” Jack confirms. “I’m gonna take real good care of her for you. Promise.”

“I’m not worried about it,” your father insists, patting a friendly hand against Jack’s shoulder. You bite back a smile, relieved to see your rather protective father feeling so peaceful about Jack.

Before you leave, your mother helps you and Jack take care of the corsage and boutonniere, him slipping yours gently onto your wrist as you pin his to his left lapel. After suffering through a picture session your mother begs for, you’re finally alone with Jack, heading towards the truck he’s pulled up in your driveway. He walks around your side to open the door for you, causing your cheeks to heat up yet again as he helps you step up into the truck. Once he gets in his side, you let out a breath, watching as your parents give you one last wave.

“I’m so sorry about them,” you apologize, looking over to see the ghost of a smile stuck on his lips.

“Why?” Jack asks. “They’re real sweet.”

“And very nosy,” you giggle. “I felt like I was watching an episode of Jeopardy!.”

Jack laughs, the sound making your heart flutter as he gives you a quick look of nothing but sheer admiration. “I can promise you, darlin’, that I don’t mind one bit. It just proves to me that you’re a real treasure.”

You smile at that. “What about your parents?”

You see Jack’s face fall a bit at that, and you almost regret asking the question. However, just like with your parents, he answers it with grace. “I meant to tell your parents that Mama wanted to come—but she ain’t feelin’ so good today.”

You frown. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack waves his hand. “It’s alright, sugar. It’s just a lil’ cold.” He then hesitates, as if he’s unsure if he should say the next part. “I ain’t seen Pa in a long time, so… I don’t know.”

Your heart nearly plummets into your stomach as you curse yourself for bringing up something likely so traumatic for him before the night’s even begun. “Jack, I had no idea. I’m—.”

“No apologizin’, beautiful. You didn’t know.” Jack looks over to give you an encouraging smile. “I appreciate your concern, though. But it’s been a while, so don’t worry ‘bout me. Just think about tonight.”

You find the darkness starting to ebb away at his words, and your smile slowly returns. “Alright.”

The school isn’t too far from your house, and soon you’re pulling into the parking lot. Jack hops out of the truck to open the door for you again, setting one hand in yours and the other on your waist to keep you steady as you get down. He then offers his arm for you to take, and you give him yet another smile as you hook yours around his and walk inside with him. He presents the tickets, and soon you’re both in the darkened gymnasium, listening to the soothing rhythms of country music they’re playing through the speakers.

“You want somethin’ to drink, darlin’?” Jack asks, making his voice just a bit louder to be heard over the music as he looks over at you.

You shake your head at him. “No, I think I’m good for now.”

Jack nods, looking towards the dance floor and then back to you. “Can I make a miracle happen and get you on the dance floor already?”

You laugh, nodding as you let him lead the way. For the first few songs, it seems as if Jack’s main goal is to get you to laugh as he embraces his goofiest self, even pulling some ridiculous moves just to hear you rumble with amusement. He admits this to you, but assures you of your good moves as you do a bit of dancing on your own. You’ve never been the type to love dancing—but with Jack, it feels so much more fun and natural than it ever has before.

The only time you feel that twinge of nervousness come back is when the music slows down. You clear your throat as you look towards the table of refreshments, gesturing to it with your head. “I could use that drink, now,” you tell Jack, trying to avoid the sting of rejection at the idea of slow dancing with him.

“Sure thing, beautiful,” Jack assures you, starting to walk with you towards the table. “But I do get to have you back on that dance floor soon, right? It’s my favorite part.”

You look at him in shock as he pours your drinks, numbly accepting the one he hands to you. “It is?”

Jack nods earnestly, taking a sip of his punch before speaking again. “I’ve been waitin’ to dance with you like that.” He gestures to the couples who have each other pulled close, swaying together to the music. Your cheeks heat up as you try to hide it behind your cup. You see Jack’s gaze flash with concern. “Are you alright with that, darlin’?”

“Yeah!” You rush to reassure him, nearly choking on your drink as you barely manage to swallow it down in time. “Of course. I—I just wasn’t sure if, you know, you’d want to.”

Jack sets his drink down onto the edge of the table and pulls you aside, holding both of your hands in his as he looks down at you. “When I told you I was gonna make this the best night of our lives, I meant it, sweetheart. Don’t you doubt your worth for a second, alright?”

You give him a nod, feeling your heart practically fly through your chest as he gives your hands a squeeze and lets them go. Thankfully, Jack hadn’t filled your cup too much, and soon you’re both finished with the drinks. You toss the empty cups away and let him lead you back to the dance floor, your body tingling with anticipation as he finally stops and starts to pull you close. One of his hands entwines with yours as the other rests on the small of your back.

“Is this okay?” Jack checks with you, and unable to get anything out of your throat, you nod at him to respond. Jack smiles a bit and nods back, starting to sway along to the music with you. You’re completely lost in the wonder of his dark gaze, watching as it lights up like the stars of the Kentucky night sky. You’re unable to believe that he can hold so much in his eyes, and you feel as if you’re seeing into his very soul as he never peels his gaze away from yours. The rest of the world feels drowned out as you take in the unspoken affection you both share, and your mind begins to wonder what life would be like if you had this view all the time.

At one point, you begin yearning to have him even closer to you. Your gaze looks away from Jack for the first time to see what the people around you are doing. You see a few in the same position as you, while others have their arms completely around their partners. Deciding to change it up, you suck in a breath of faith as you release his hand. It takes Jack by surprise at first, especially as your arms wrap around his neck and your cheek falls onto his shoulder. But his smile is nearly audible as his hands delicately wrap around your waist, accepting you into his warm grasp as you continue to move together. You never want the moment to end—and you’re certain it’s one of the best things you’ve ever experienced.

Eventually, though, just like all dreams, the moment fades away. The night starts to end, and before you know it, Jack’s leading you back out to the truck. He runs the usual routine of helping you into the truck and then getting in himself, but he hesitates before turning to you.

“Look, I know I told your mama no partyin’, and I’m gonna stay loyal to that,” Jack starts to ramble, his dark gaze looking at you seriously. “But I managed to get a drink for each of us from my Mama, if you wanted to go somewhere and just talk for a lil’ while.”

You smile at him, feeling your heart soften as an urge arises to pinch yourself—because there’s no way you’re not dreaming a guy this perfect. “That sounds amazing, Jack.”

He smiles widely, nodding as he brings the truck to life and starts to drive away from the school. He takes you both down a side road you’ve never seen before, and after a few minutes spent on the dirt road, he pulls off onto an open field of grass, driving through it until he’s out of reach of the road. Jack stops the truck in its place, looking over to see your eyebrow raised at him. “This is an abandoned farm,” he explains. “It’s got a real good view of the stars.”

You nod, watching as he leaves the truck to help you down once again. He then reaches into the backseat to grab the drinks he’d been talking about before as well as a few blankets, tossing them both into the bed of the truck. He helps you up and follows you soon after, spreading out the blankets to make them comfortable and inviting you to sit on them. You sit with your back against the rear window, accepting the bottle of beer Jack’s cracked open for you. You’re both silent for a few moments as you sip your drinks, looking at the view of the night sky provided by such a clearing of trees.

“You’re right,” you finally agree, seeing Jack look over at you when you speak. “This is a really good view.”

Jack says nothing for a moment, and you finally look over at him once it worries you enough. You see his gaze studying you as if you’re a piece of art, and you feel your cheeks warm up before he even says his next few words. “It ain’t as good as the view I’ve got right now.”

You shake your head, taking a swig of your drink to try to hide your shyness. “That’s sweet, Jack, but I beg to differ.”

Jack frowns a bit, and you feel your heart start beating faster as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to his side. “Hey now, darlin’, I’m serious. You gotta listen to me.” His brow is furrowed, and you can tell he’s being completely honest as he continues. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve just ‘bout ever seen—inside and out. I’m a bad liar, so you’d know if I wasn’t bein’ honest.” You bite back a smile at that, seeing Jack’s gaze flash with relief at the sight. “I don’t wanna hear any more of this self-deprecatin’. Alright, sweetheart?”

You give him a nod, seeing him smile with satisfaction as you dare to rest your head against his shoulder. For many more minutes, you both sit there and share some more about yourselves. You tell Jack about your life in New York and what it was like to come to Kentucky, and he tells you about his experiences growing up and the mystery surrounding his father. He’s just wrapped up his story when you involuntarily shiver, being grazed by the cool breeze of the spring evening. Jack unwraps his arm from around you, setting down his nearly empty bottle as he turns to you.

“Are you cold, sugar?” Jack asks with concern.

“A little,” you confess, not wanting to lie to him.

Jack immediately shrugs off his jacket, leaving him in just his vest and button-up as he lays his jacket over your shoulders. You take the lapels in your hands to secure it around you, breathing in the smell of his cologne that now envelopes you. “Better?” You nod, seeing Jack smile again as he wraps his arm back around you.

The rest of the time, you talk a bit about your anticipated futures post-graduation. You find out that Jack’s looking to do some kind of work in intelligence, and you tell him about your aspirations for college. He never fails to show his excitement for you and encouragement to do whatever makes you happy, no matter what. It makes you feel more valued than you have in a long time—and you find yourself yearning for more of this feeling, for more of him.

But the night starts to end before you have the faith to tell him that. You keep his jacket around your shoulders as he cleans up the blankets and bottles, helping you off the bed of the truck and back inside it before he takes off for your house. Feeling bold enough to make at least one affectionate move, you reach for the free hand he’s had resting on the stick shift and entwine your fingers with his. Jack looks over at you in slight awe for a moment, quickly turning it into a smile as he gives your hand a squeeze. You haven’t felt this happy in so long, and you’re reluctant to let it go.

When you pull up in your driveway, you feel your heart starting to ache at the thought of leaving Jack—but also flutter at the idea of what Jack could do before leaving you. You’ve seen it in his eyes the entire night: you know he’s wanted to kiss you, but he hasn’t, and you wonder what’s making him hesitate. You can guess that he’s probably been scared of overwhelming you or overstepping his boundaries, but you wonder if he’ll throw that out the window once he leaves you. Your cheeks warm up when he helps you out of the truck for the last time and walks you up to your doorstep, stopping on the front stoop to face you with a large smile.

“So?” Jack begins, his dark gaze glittering down at you. “Was my mission accomplished? Was this the best night of your life?”

You give him a reassuring smile, squeezing both of his hands as you hold them in yours. “Easily, Jack.”

His eyes sparkle even more, and you bite back your smile at the sight of it. “That makes me so happy, sweetheart. I’m feelin’ the same way.”

You look at him seriously then, never tearing your gaze from his. “Thank you, Jack. For everything.”

Jack nods with a creased brow, as if he can’t believe you’re thanking him. “I should be sayin’ thanks to you, beautiful, for sayin’ yes to me in the first place. I was honored to be the one with you tonight.”

Your smile starts to take over again, and after the silence persists for a few moments, Jack takes his cue to head back to his truck. He drops your hands and starts to walk away, but—unable to resist the urge that’s pumping throughout your entire body, now—you call out to him. “Wait, Jack!”

Jack turns around quickly, as if he’s been waiting for you to stop him. “Yeah, darlin’?” he asks, walking back over to you.

All you can do is look in his eyes for a few moments before your hands reach for the sides of his face, pulling his lips to yours. You feel the sparks ignite throughout your entire body at the contact, your heart practically melting into a puddle inside your chest as his hands fall gently on your waist. He pulls you closer, kissing you back at your own pace like no one else has before. It’s soft, gentle, and passionate—just like Jack is himself. Your thumbs brush over his cheeks as you pull away, seeing Jack’s eyes shine brighter than they ever have as you both smile stupidly at each other. You can’t think of anything else to say, so you just tell him what you know you should. “Goodnight, Jack,” you say in a hushed voice, letting your hands start to fall from his face.

“Goodnight, baby,” Jack remarks, his newest term of endearment causing your heart to flutter even more as he starts to walk away once again.

Yet, as you watch him go, your eyes absentmindedly hold onto the jacket of his you’re still wearing around your shoulders, and your eyes widen as you call out to him once again. “Jack!” He turns his head, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile as you gesture to the jacket. “Your jacket!”

Jack gives you a mischievous look in return. “Keep it,” he tells you with a smile. “It gives me an excuse to come see you tomorrow.”

You bite back another smile, giving him a nod before he gets back in his truck. You let out an airy sigh of pure joy as you face the door again, wanting to scream out about the happiness built up in your chest as you push the door open—unable to believe this is the life you’re living in now.

#JACK PLEASE!#you're so soft!#date me immediately!#jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #kingsman tgc fic #agent whiskey fic #tears luv

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Title: Christmas Day

Summary:

Haru convinces Rin to spend Christmas with him in Disneyland and Rin remembers when she used to go there with her parents.

Part two of my present to @hizashi-yamadas for the Animanga Secret Santa 2020

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other parts:

December 24: Christmas Eve (Toru x Kyo)

December 26: The Day after Christmas (Uo x Kureno)

Note: Merry Christmas Elisha and I hope you enjoy! Keep your eyes out for the next installment :D

Rin wasn’t planning anything big for Christmas. In fact, she had never really done anything for Christmas since she had moved out of her parent’s place and into Kagura’s house. Being reminded everyday by the dynamics of Kagura and her mother of the family life she did not achieve, somehow made her ponder her circumstances as a daughter, as a part of a family.

A holiday as big and supposedly as warm as Christmas despite the biting winter was only mocking her. It did not feel warm at all.

It was like any other cold day in winter and Rin found herself curled up on the blanket at four in the morning when she looked at her phone to see December 25 written on the front and a subheading below which said “Christmas Day.” She had heard that in other countries, Christmas day was an important holiday for families. At least there, it was bearable. Kagura and her mother only made it less bearable because those two liked to spend it together every single damn year.

She was sure Kagura wouldn’t invite her out like they did the first few years. Like every year, Rin was determined to stay alone in the room.

That was until she saw that message under the date.

Won free tickets to Disneyland. Let’s go tomorrow.

It wasn’t a question. In fact, it seemed like an order more than anything. Rin started to consider then, that maybe for that year, her Christmas plans would change. The name she saw above the message only convinced her more, to maybe get out of bed that day and find some other way to celebrate that dreaded holiday.

Rin was quick to reply. As she watched the bar fill as the message was sent, she looked back up at the name at the top of the screen and allowed herself a little smile.

Haru Soma.

Strangely, for the first time in so many years, she was excited for Christmas.

Christmas Day

It had been years since Rin had been to Disneyland. Or at least, it should have been years since then.

As Rin took in the view of the arc as they entered, the turnstiles and the crowds, it felt like just yesterday. Maybe because the view in Disneyland was timeless. The crowds and the families and the Christmas decorations never changed.

Suddenly, she saw her parents among the crowds and she could imagine them holding her hand and pulling her through the crowds. She was five years old again.

Back then she was happy. Back then, Christmas was magical. Back then, she was looking forward to going home that night and waking up to presents from Santa Claus.

The stark contrast then to what she had at present, the realization that everything had all been a lie, only left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth.

Every face she saw, every child, every parent was smiling. Every smile was warm. And Rin was wondering again what had gone wrong. She looked to Haru, hoping at least to see a warm smile there.

His face was blank. Maybe he was spacing out as they were navigating the crowd. She couldn’t help but be a little disappointed though.

“Where to first?” He asked. As they finally got past the turnstiles and into the crowd.

“You invited me.” I thought you’d be planning it. Rin had hoped he’d read that part with the look she gave him. He seemed unperturbed though.

“Okay, let’s see what looks fun.” He grabbed a guide from the nook on the side and looked through it. “This is my first time here. You’ve been here before right?”

“Maybe.” A long time ago. In another life.

After some walking, they arrived at a point in the park which looked like what could have been an old Western City. The buildings were streaked with colors of Christmas and it was when Rin looked closer did she see they were Christmas lights on green pines. She let herself look a little at it a longer, and a little more carefully. The pine gave an unnatural glint, if one looked closely enough to see it.

They were fake. Probably plastic. She’d been living a fake life for more than half her life. She continued to live completely aware that everything else could be fake The home she was enjoying in Kagura’s home could have been fake. Haru taking her out to Disneyland could have been another stage play.

Everything around her from the Christmas lights and the pine trees and the giant tree that illuminated the darker part of the semi-indoor Christmas town, although breathtaking was definitely fake.

Compared to years ago, Rin was not amazed. In fact, it was frustrating to see something so beautiful yet so blatantly staged.

“You wanna go on a ride?” Haru suggested. “The tower of terror is pretty popular apparently.”

They followed the map to the location of the ride. It wasn’t too hard. The tower stuck out amongst all the other buildings and they only had to follow its general direction to get a feel of where it was. They followed a few more paths, keeping an eye on the tower above.

Eventually, they were near enough to have to look up at it. Rin’s stomach dropped as she bent her head back to see how high the tower really went. She could hear the screams from the inside and the excited chatter from the long line that spilled far out of the entrance. They didn’t help at all.

In fact they only amplified that tingling sensation on her back. Within seconds, it was as if her scars were burning. Somehow, she was lying again on the ground, looking up at the sky, Akito looking down at her from his spot on the window.

“Let’s...get out of here.” Rin managed to say.

“Rin, you okay?”

Rin had felt it many times before. Terror would manifest itself as a million fingers grabbing at her, wrapping himself around her and suddenly she’d be unable to breath. She used to fight them. Something inside her though, still had a weak grip on reality and Rin was at least aware enough of the arm wrapping around her, and the benevolent intentions behind it.

“Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

Rin knew if at that moment she gave her body any more power, maybe she would have fought against the gentle arm running around her. Maybe she would have kicked or elbowed him from behind, the way she had wanted to when Akito did the same things.

It took more than enough effort but she managed to stop herself, channeling the fear and terror inside her and allowing it to manifest itself as time frozen, as the world going black.

For Rin, time stood still, except for the arms wrapped around her. She let them take her where she needed to go.

Christmas Day

“That was a stupid thing to suggest.. I’m sorry.”

To the average person, Haru’s voice would have sounded emotionless with no shred of guilt. Rin only had to look up at his gaze, to see that the guilt was there and the acknowledgement of his mistake.

“No it wasn’t… We wasted a good five hours of park time cause I just couldn’t get myself together,” Rin commented as she cut up the jelly they had ordered into smaller pieces. It was a simple exercise that was at least helping her clear her mind.

“The tickets were free. If you’re not up to it, we can leave now and just go somewhere else.”

“What are you suggesting?” Rin took one small bite of jelly.

“Maybe a mall? Or just the park? They have a Christmas Market in Hibiya.”

“They’re all crowded. It won’t make a difference.”

“Then maybe we can go back to the main house.”

Rin shook her head. “We’re already here. You got some free tickets. Might as well enjoy it.”

That last part was for herself. They were sitting in a relatively peaceful part of the park. The attractions around that area were geared towards children and Rin couldn’t help but note that compared to the area where the Tower of Terror was, the faces around her were a little more laid back. There were a lot more families with children and a few couples among them.

There was less hustle and competition among them to be first in line. The smiles were at least more relaxed. Many of the children were running freely, their parents following behind them. Even when frazzled, the parents looked happy. And the children, who looked back at their parents gesturing for them to follow, looked carefree.

Must be nice. How long had it been since Rin had smiled like that at her parents? She found herself even questioning her own emotions and her own experiences. And as she thought back to the same face her parents made, and the same way they had chased her through the park more than a decade ago, Rin realized one important thing.

“I’ve been here before.”

“I was sure your parents have taken you here before. Back when were kids, they never stopped bragging about your happy family vacations over Soma family dinners.”

Of course Haru would have remembered more than him. The shock at realizing that everything had all been part of an act, that every happy memory as a child had all been a lie had all been part of some large production, made it difficult for Rin to recall them at will.

Lies were things that simply didn't exist in reality. How could she grasp for something that never existed as something beyond an act or a lie?

The memories were still somehow vague but they were enough to rouse a little curiosity within her.

“Let’s go on a ride?”

“What are you thinking?”

Rin only had to point ahead for Haru to understand. The building was hidden behind trees from their angle. The bright colors of the castle stuck out. That was also the only ride within their field of vision.

Rin had to pick at her head to remember what exactly went on inside the ride. The cartoony Eiffel tower and the clock tower in odd and exquisite yet unrealistic shades were all too familiar. As a child, they had reminded her and even hinted to possibly a world beyond her own, complementing the many fairy tales and folk tales she had heard as a child. That part of her memory was at least what made the view in front of her as they closed in on the ride, all the more familiar.

As they got nearer and Rin let the trauma-hardened cynic within her take over, she started to notice the unnatural glint of cement and cheap paint, as the afternoon sunlight shined on it. Somehow, it had become comforting to know that even in that magical place, there were still some things that were bogus. That no one was exempt from stage plays and productions in life.

She didn’t know how long they were in line. She had occupied herself though flitting between her child self and her present self. Allowing herself to enjoy the mixture of colors and the fantastical artwork and then taking note of any indication of its artificiality when she found herself becoming envious of the children who haven’t yet lost the wonder in their eyes.

Haru was silent. At the least they were both comfortably silent.

When they had gotten nearer to the front of the line, that was when she started to remember further, what had made the artworks stick out a little longer.

There is just one moon and one golden sun and a smile means friendship to everyone.

Though the mountains divide and the oceans are wide...

It’s a small world after all. Rin found herself humming the characteristic chorus even preempting the actual music.

For a while she was smiling. For a while, she was enjoying it. It at least lasted until they secured a seat inside the small boat. The combination of the music and the carefree atmosphere as children rushed to the fronts screaming and laughing, made it all the easier for Rin to pretend that one of them was the Rin from ten years ago.

The cacophony of music and laugher and the bombardment of bright colors and lights made it difficult for Rin to feel the lump on her throat and the heaviness in her chest as the boat moved through it.

For a second though, everything was black. It could have been less than a split second, maybe an interval before the scenery changed. It was enough for the lump in her throat to make itself known, and the heaviness in her chest to push a little further. And even as the lights came up again and the scenery changed from fantastical Europe to a rendition of what looked like Arabian nights. Magical Carpets. Asian towers and what could have been a Jungle Book Puppet.

They were as beautiful as the last area. Rin had to note. The lump and the heaviness had taken over though and before Rin could even stop it, she felt a tear slide down her cheek.

The careful and intricate combinations of music and dancing puppets had created a beautiful experience for her as a child. Enough for her to recall the details decades later, everything all the way until the arm around her and the soft voice from her mother.

Stay nearer to the middle Rin, we don’t want you falling out.

Was it all a lie? Was her mother’s concern then a lie? The music was coming from some speakers. The puppets were just carefully choreographed and carefully programmed to make it look magical to a child. If Rin looked at them one by one though, she could see that the movements were too mechanical and repetitive.

Just like her own parents.

Rin had enough control of herself at least to guide herself out of the ride and to navigate among the crowds going out through the exit without bumping into any man. Haru could have been helping her then but at that moment she didn’t care.

She just wanted to get out.

“I’m not going back here again,” Rin said. “It’s fucking fake. Everything in this park is fucking fake.”

Once again, Haru and Rin were on a bench in the middle of the park. Rin was on her second cup of jelly. She appreciated the fact that the jelly and the burst of sweetness that came when it melted on her mouth wasn’t fake at least.

“Of course they are. They’re all man made attractions. If you wanted something real, we could have gone to a safari.”

“Then why do people like it so much?” Why did I enjoy it so much then? Once again, she was envious of the children passing by and the child within her for being able to enjoy something so artificial. Rin swirled the jelly in the cup in anger, completely transforming it into something which resembled pudding and water more than jelly.

“I don’t think people like the rides for the rides or the buildings for the buildings. It’s the atmosphere which makes it something worthwhile. I had fun today. I don’t think I would have had as much fun if I were alone though.”

Rin felt the blood rush into her face and she found herself mixing the jelly in the cup a little quicker, regretting it a second later as it started to feel more like water than jelly.

“It’s getting dark.”

Rin should have noticed the way the bright colors around the park were a little dimmer. She had been too focused on her own memories than what was there in front of her. And as the sky above her gradually shifted from shades of red to purple, Rin had to note that it was an unfamiliar site, particularly the way the colors around her adjusted to the new lighting as the street lights around the park started to light up.

The sun would set at late afternoon during winter. Her parents had always brought her out of the park as soon as the sun started to make its way below the horizon, even before the sky turned a bright orange.

It was a new scenery and with no memory to grab on to, Rin found herself looking at Haru next to her. He was quiet. It wasn’t anything too unusual. A feeling of guilt still washed over Rin as she realized she had spent the whole day focusing on herself and on the memories the park had brought her. She had spent her hours in the park, on the memories of her parents when there was someone next to her, who she could have at least enjoyed it with.

“Hey, before we go home, there’s something I wanna check out.”

Rin did not protest. She followed silently behind him as they made their way through the park. Her legs were aching already from the long walks and she was a little hungry, having only eaten two cups of jelly the whole day. She was starting to feel ashamed of herself and she knew she owed Haru at least that much.

By the time Haru had stopped, the sky was already dark, and the source of the illumination and colors around the park came from the streetlights around them.

They were in an area with bleachers and in front of them was a large body of water that stretched out in both directions.

“A lights show. I just thought it would look cool.” He waved the flier in front of her. “You’ve been to one before?”

Rin shook her head. She had been to Disneyland multiple times, but had never stayed late enough to see it at night.

The streets illuminated by a combination of the street lights and the Christmas lights on the way to the bleachers had been something new to her. As Rin watched as the water shot out of the ground in rhythm to the orchestra music playing in the background and as the colors scattered into different shades of the rainbow from a solid blue, Rin was sure, she had never seen something like that in her life.

The view of Disneyland at night was something completely new to her. It was new. It was exciting. She didn’t even notice the shallow breath she head let out in amazement as smoke appeared from somewhere mixing into the teal and the blue, a rendition very similar to that of the Northern Lights.

There was no unnatural glint of plastic to pick out. No individual movement to analyze. In fact, she didn’t even attempt to, for the first time, she was completely entranced by the performance in front of her.

It was a production, a play, just like the one her parents had made her watch for so many years. Somehow, the colors and the lights looked too authentic.

As it ended, she found herself just sitting, wishing it hadn’t ended, praying for an encore even as the people in front of her started to file out and a voice from some speakers were reminding people to watch their steps as they made their way out.

“You don’t wanna leave yet?” It was Haru’s voice that finally made her accept that the performance was done.

She had a short bout of laughter. It was an involuntary motion, an instinctive reaction to the situation in front of her. It could have possibly been directed at her own inability to process that it was over. As she looked at Haru though, she suddenly felt the need give a hard squeeze the hand that was on top of her for a large part of the spectacle.

“It was amazing.” Rin had wanted to say more but found herself at a loss for words. In the end everything from her head spinning in excitement, the blood rushing through her face and what could have been tears of joy or excitement creeping up at the corners of her eyes all culminated into one phrase. “Thank you.”

“It’s my first time seeing you this amazed,” He commented. “So, I guess you felt the magic?”

Felt the magic. It was a joke. An allusion to the introductory lines of the spectacle.

“Yeah I felt it.” As ridiculous as the word play was, Rin found herself playing along.

“Places are fun because of the people there,” Haru said. “I know your past memories in Disneyland are complete horseshit now. But it doesn’t have to be horseshit every single time.”

Rin felt a slight tingle of what could have been a mixture of excitement or assurance that spidered through her whole body. She traced the origins back to her hand he had squeezed in return.

“I’m not your parents Rin,” Haru continued. “Unlike them, I’m not putting up any lies in front of you. I had a lot of fun today.”

Rin had been betrayed enough to know what lies look like, how to pick out an overly rehearsed smile, the mechanics of rehearsed movements and glint. It only followed that she could pick out an absence of it.

Haru’s eyes were looking right at her, the smile a little too small, a little too hesitant to have been something he had rehearsed for a long time before that day.

In fact, he rarely thought his movements and his actions through. Maybe that’s why she had always trusted him. He never rehearsed, he never contemplated the next course of action. His decisions, his actions and words were usually too impulsive and too natural given circumstances to have been rehearsed.

His next few words would probably have been considered awkward to any other woman. Maybe a little too immature. Rin found herself opening up a little more, allowing herself to smile a little a little wider and to lean closer and onto his shoulder.

Her parents were the last thing on her mind. The young Rin and the magic of her experience in that park were a distant memory, all upstaged by the echoes of Haru’s words as they watched the dark stage in front of them in silence.

Let’s make new memories together.

#harurin #haru x rin #hatsuharu sohma #rin sohma #isuzu sohma #hatsuharu x rin #animangasecretsanta

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solipsistful · 3 years

Text

FINALLY finished Szpara’s Docile (the published generic slavefic, except all the ways it wasn’t generic were decisions for the worse) and HOLY SHIT was that all so bad.

I’ve already given some overall reactions while in the middle of reading in a previous post. All the stuff about “smut and political commentary don’t work well together” still stands. Race is still handled (non-handled) miserably. The Bad Activists™ became inexplicably less bad once the victim main character, Elisha, gets out of the bad relationship. This is not returned to for more than like a sentence, despite the activists being basically led by the previously most jerkass character.

And oh boy that character. I liked him at first for being one of the only characters allowed to, you know, act badly. Thought he was going to be The Antagonist™ for a bit. Then, it comes out that he is a self-made man. That is, he was poor, was sold to slavery for a few years, and then got rich! Which is... such a bad reveal on its own, like holy shit your worst-acting trillionaire is the one who was born poor, OKAY.

And then it comes out that he’s been working for the Activists, Empower Maryland, all along in a reveal that @vestriis called literally just from my liveblogging, and which made me lose my mind.

And then all bad feeling towards him melts away (as well as all the antagonism of the activists themselves? Which like, I guess it’s good for them to not be The Bad Guys, but lol nobody has character consistency throughout this). Dutch’s friend, who has always felt antagonised by the activists, does not feel even a moment of betrayal.

Because literally no character is allowed to be bad! From then on, Dutch is 100% honest and earnest in everything. Slaveowner main character isn’t that bad either -- in fact, he’s One Of The Good Ones. :) And this leads to a constant issue where systemic issues are boiled down to individual characters acting individually (aside from weird disruptive Social Commentary™ moments when Elisha suddenly develops class consciousness for a while), except said individuals are not nearly as awful as such a system (of, you know, slavery) requires.

And then there’s the treatment of trauma. I kept commenting that it felt like Szpara picked up some Books About Relationship Abuse sometime in the middle of writing, and transformed the victim character into the perfect image of that. Like, suddenly developing symptoms after leaving the abusive environment -- not as a matter of decompensation, it felt like, but just “Welp, he’s post-trauma, so time for the PTSD symptoms, who cares about making those symptoms actual contextual responses to what the character went through.”

So, Elisha Recovers™! :) Those trauma books clearly also outlined How To Recover. He even Mindfully breathes at several points (which always works, of course!). He ends up having conversations about Boundaries that sound outright scripted; there’s a kink scene where I could basically feel the author elbowing me in the side like “Look, well-negotiated kink can be sexy too! Look how sexy consensual kink is. Ignore whether the characters in question would even be perfect communicators like this. :)”. The book ends with this thing about how he’s ~*not okay, still recovering*~ but after all the pitch-perfect discussions about boundaries and relationships and no indication of long-lasting problematic symptoms, it uh sure seems like “recovered past tense” to me.

Also the writing is just bad lmfao. Scenes where the author probably didn’t know which POV he wanted to write from, so fuckit have 15 chapter/POV-switches back-to-back that are each like two pages long. Mistakes that an editor really should have captured, like timeline weirdness or past events suddenly changing for no reason.

So, that’s that. lmao

- Serpent

#this is too long but the BOOK is too long #400 pages aaa

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gduncan969 · 3 years

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Does God Always Heal?

2 Kings 2:1 “And it came to pass, when the Lord was about to take up Elijah into heaven by a whirlwind.. 11 Then it happened, as they continued on and talked, that suddenly a chariot of fire appeared with horses of fire, and separated the two of them; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven.”

2 Kings 13:14 “Elisha had become sick with the illness of which he would die. 20 Then Elisha died, and they buried him.”

John 9:6-7 “..He spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva; and He anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay. And He said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which is translated, Sent). So he went and washed, and came back seeing.”

Anyone who, like me, lived through the great “Charismatic Renewal” of the Church between 1960's - 1990's will know that it was a time of the restoration of the various gifts of the Holy Spirit to those believers who either asked for or were open to receiving the Baptism of the Holy Spirit as experienced by the 120 on the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2) and afterwards those at the House of Cornelius (Acts 10) and Ephesus (Acts 19). These “times of refreshing” during the Charismatic Renewal were accompanied by great healing miracles as witnessed in the Kathryn Kuhlman services in Pittsburg and Los Angeles and even one service in Ottawa, Ontario which my wife and I had the privilege of attending in the 1970's. Throughout these exciting times, reports came in from all over the world of a mighty move of the Holy Spirit which saw many souls added to the Kingdom through the efforts of many new para-church organizations such as “Full Gospel Businessmen’s Fellowship International” with its ministry to those in the corporate world of business and finance, many of whom were reluctant to visit a church or attend a tent meeting. However, it also gave rise to a host of ministries with teachings and methods that hyped financial and material blessings for the believer, claiming that these were evidence of God’s favor—what became known as prosperity gospel! This teaching flourished among numerous tele-evangelists who displayed their great wealth as proof of their great faith while shipwrecking the faith of many of their followers who gave generously in the hope of the same promised 100-fold return but were left financially devastated and spiritually bankrupt when there was not even a 1-fold return! Out of this false gospel came the teaching that God always heals when we meet the right conditions—guaranteed!

I’ve been reading through First and Second Kings and the two chapters quoted above struck me as odd. Added to that, my daughter Susan, testified during her broadcasted gospel singalong with her big sister on Sunday evenings at 7.00 PM EDST (you can log on from Facebook by searching for “Susan Tucker, Woodstock”) about her on-going struggle with her special-needs son, my grandson, Graham, who suffers from a very debilitating but undiagnosed illness which prevents him from walking and interferes with his brain function. Now, 2 Kings 2:11 tells the exciting story of how the prophet Elijah did not die but ascended directly to Heaven in a chariot of fire becoming only the second person in the bible to escape physical death (the other being Enoch who was “translated” to Heaven (Genesis 5:4)) but eleven chapters later, we learn that Elisha—who was given a “double-portion” of Elijah’s spirit, “had become sick with the illness of which he would die”?? There’s an apparent disconnect here: why would God take Elijah to Heaven in a firey chariot but let Elisha become sick and die? Surely, if Elisha got a double-portion of Elijah’s spirit, he was twice as likely to escape physical death as Elijah?

To bring that question closer to home, there was an incident last week in our former dwelling place in northern Ontario where we lived for eleven years. The village of Swastika is now part of the Town of Kirkland Lake and has a pretty river that runs right through the middle of the village giving the local kids a great place to play. Our kids were no exception but like most parents, we had great concerns about the two large deep pools in the river which were a magnet for the local kids. Last week the local pastor’s 7-year old daughter, Emilia, fell in to the upper pool and was dragged under by the fast flowing current. Her father was quickly summoned from home by the other kids, including her big brother who was hysterical and screaming for his sister. Dad dived in along with a neighbor from the other side of the river and frantically searched for the girl to no avail until a neighbor who lived further down the river near the end of the lower pool also dived in about ten minutes later. He could see nothing in the water but his hand felt something which he grabbed and pulled to the surface and it turned out to be the hair of the listless child. Her eyes were wide open and she was not breathing and had no pulse. CPR was immediately started with no response but by now the mother had arrived and she and the brother began screaming at everyone who had gathered to pray, which many did. The police arrived and CPR was continued until, miraculously, the heart started to beat and her breathing returned. She was transported to the local hospital 8 Km away but fearing brain damage, they ordered her air-lifted to Sudbury, 200 Km away. There just “happened” to be a medevac helicopter idling at the hospital waiting to pick up a patient who gladly stepped aside to allow the little girl to be flown to Sudbury. The doctors in Sudbury warned the parents of the high likelihood of brain damage but the little girl was sent home the next day, fully recovered and fully cognizant. A miracle indeed!

Now, why would God revive a dead child who drowned in the river in answer to the urgent prayers of her parents, brother and neighbors but He hasn’t healed my grandson these past ten years after many long hours of prayer by his parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents and church family? The short answer is: I don’t know. But am I mad at God? Are his parents angry with God? Do we all feel God is very unfair, even heartless? The answer is a resounding, No! The photo at the start of this article explains why and tells me all I need to know about the nature of God’s love for me, for my family and for my grandson, Graham. The photo is the view I get from my front door every time I step into my house and I thank God for the builders who installed such a reminder of who is looking after all I have in my living room window, even if they never saw what I see and what, I trust, you see too. Do we still pray for Graham’s healing? Of course we do. Do we still believe God heals today? Of course we do. Some might accuse us of a lack of faith and maybe they are right but if that’s true then I will gladly use their faith to see my grandson made whole. You see, the last scripture above from John 9: 6-7 tells the story of Jesus healing the blind man at the pool of Siloam. There is no record that the blind man asked Jesus for his sight. Jesus chose to heal him not because the man had great faith or a great desire to be healed but simply so that God could reveal Himself in his healing. The bible talks of another pool, the pool of Bethesda (John 5:2) where “a great multitude of sick people” hung out, waiting on the angel to disturb the water and the first one in the water supposedly got healed. One lame man at this pool was healed by Jesus but the question is: How many sick people did Jesus clamber over to get to the one whom he healed? That’s a very valid and thought-provoking question because it makes us want to scream “Why didn’t you heal the others at the same time?” Just imagine, if one of the others was your son or grandson, or even you, yourself! Our struggle with why lots of people are not healed through prayer has much more to do with our lack of trust in a loving Saviour than any sense of equal treatment and fair play. I still don’t know why my grandson is not healed but I’m still praying he will be but that will never cause me to accuse God or denounce Him because I have already experienced the love He has for me and while I don’t understand the why’s, I trust the One who does and will continue to praise Him. If you’ve been struggling trying to find answers to these questions, leave them aside and discover again how much He loves you. As His “marvelous billows of love” flow over you, rest in them and be encouraged to trust Him more.

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haich-slash-cee · 4 years

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Is the print publishing world picking up online/fandom terms? How they are using them? How do we feel about this?

So this is... attention-getting, for folks who like to follow publishing and meta stuff.

https://twitter.com/sapphicxrey/status/1215065948677443584

https://twitter.com/TorDotComPub/status/1233391556750647299

(2nd tweet -- TW, mentions of non-con)

Are we seeing the beginnings of book publishers directly borrowing from online/fandom culture in promoting their books? How do we feel about these examples?

More below cut.

Exhibit #1: screenshots of Bonds of Brass promo from Jan 8 2020. (Which is probably going to have reactions of “haha, cute” at most.)

Transcript of blurb:

“If you like...

forbidden romances, “there’s only one bed”, cityships, weaponized umbrellas, powersuits, secret princes, best friends, best friends PINING, fake dating between PINING best friends, tactical streaking, the minivan of starships, cigar-chomping cyborg ladies, scary empress moms, galactic-level bisexual disasters, LEGACY (WHAT IS A LEGACY?), rooftop hopping, golden trios, rumblin’ drums, bootleg fireworks, BIG SPACE BATTLES PEW PEW, a surprisingly functional public transit system, mob trouble, one hell of a pilot, the inherent DRAMA of empire, a nice interlude in a river, smoking a joint that’s been on the floor, sick stunts, slick grifts, hiding in a dumpster, or any combination of the above,

Then you might like

BONDS OF BRASS”

The Twitter responses seem to be generally enthusiastic. (And also, “FinnPoe! FinnPoe!”)

Personally, I’m intrigued from a meta-view of “oh so that’s definitely pulling from online world and fanfiction world, interesting. I wonder how much fanfiction culture is starting to influence print book culture and promotion.” Maybe I’ve got some questions like, “Ok so moneymaking companies such as Penguin are now using culture developed by the not-moneymaking-world of fanfiction? How do we feel about this?” Anyway, the book looks cute, I’m interested enough and I might get it from the library.

I suspect many people’s reactions are along the lines of “hm, interesting”, “sounds like a lark”, or “haha they’re using AO3 tags as promo”, etc.

Exhibit #2, screenshots of DOCILE promo, from Feb 28 2020 (today is March 1 2020), and screenshots of Twitter responses so far:

(*CW, non-con discussion)

Tweet transcript:

“DOCILE by @KMSzpara:

-Dubcon/Noncon

-Dramatic Trillionaire Content

-BDSM and then some more BDSM and then a lot more BDSM

-Hurt/comfort and hurt/no comfort

-Cinnamon roll of steel

-The most scandalous kink: love

-Courtroom, bedroom, & Preakness drama

[Tor book website link]”

So this is getting mixed reactions on Twitter. All dozen or so reactions, so far. Here’s text transcripts and bio info from repliers, below. I’m being a little obsessive, mostly to show that there’s a mix of queer, book-ish people in the replies (including the author).)

Noncon is nonconsentual sex, rape. Even in fandom it's a content tag, not a promotional term. I can't imagine being a rape survivor and seeing this come across my TL. -- @WriteSomeGood [queer rainbow] [Cis queer homemaker, aspiring author, maker of incredible cinnamon buns. She/her] [has a Tumblr page]

I’m not a survivor but it was an instant “no thank you” from me. And I was sincerely looking forward to this prior to. This is the most immediately off-putting marketing push I’ve seen for a book in a long damn time. -- @AGAWilmot [Author, editor, artist. Co-EIC of @anathemaspec. @SFU alum. The Death Scene Artist/W&W 2018. Ace/enby. They/them. Horror is my comfort food.]

Whichever intern wrote this tweet, deserves a full time job. With benefits. -- @simeontsanev [Aspiring writer, post-aspiring musician, and overall geek He/Him /[queer rainbow]/ To the world we dream about, and the one we live in now! http://simeontsanev.com]

Idk why everyone thinks it’s always an intern writing copy and not a team comprised of extremely skilled social media experts, editors, publicists and marketers, and their assistants I worked on those tags with my editor and a good friend!! -- @KMSzpara [Kellan. [queer rainbow] Speculative fiction writer. Queer agenda. Hugo & Nebula finalist. DOCILE 3/3/20 from Tor Dot Com Publishing. He/him. Rep @suddenlyjen] *The author, bio page and twitter page.

this is CUTE! -- @MSSciarappa [queer rainbow] I do books. he/him.

I am Extremely Ready for this content thank u -- @JessicaBCooper [Journo ☽ Writer of faerie, villain fuckery & cruel desires ☽ Lestat & Loki's love child ☽ Aleksander Morozova's side-hoe ☽ Rep'd by Kate Testerman @ktliterary]

I’m listening -- @MerynLobb [Government worker. Weightlifter. Nihilist. Aspiring cult leader. Avid user of words, often bad ones. #AMM R6 Mentee. she/her]

Soon! Soon!! -- @castrophony [Geek. Gamer. Cosplayer. Bibliophile. Scientist. She/Her.]

[happy reaction gif] -- @TorDotComPub [Providing a home for writers to tell SFF stories in exactly the number of words they choose. All our titles are available globally in print and DRM-free ebook.]

[throwing stuff in dumpster, unhappy reaction gif] -- @cursedgravy [name's xavi, im a transman and i like to daydream about making content]

For more context, here’s the blurb from the author website. Below is the blurb from the publisher’s site:

“Docile

K.M. Szpara

K. M. Szpara's Docile is a science fiction parable about love and sex, wealth and debt, abuse and power, a challenging tour de force that at turns seduces and startles.

There is no consent under capitalism.

To be a Docile is to be kept, body and soul, for the uses of the owner of your contract. To be a Docile is to forget, to disappear, to hide inside your body from the horrors of your service. To be a Docile is to sell yourself to pay your parents' debts and buy your children's future.

Elisha Wilder’s family has been ruined by debt, handed down to them from previous generations. His mother never recovered from the Dociline she took during her term as a Docile, so when Elisha decides to try and erase the family’s debt himself, he swears he will never take the drug that took his mother from him.

Too bad his contract has been purchased by Alexander Bishop III, whose ultra-rich family is the brains (and money) behind Dociline and the entire Office of Debt Resolution. When Elisha refuses Dociline, Alex refuses to believe that his family’s crowning achievement could have any negative side effects—and is determined to turn Elisha into the perfect Docile without it.

Content warning: Docile contains forthright depictions and discussions of rape and sexual abuse.”

So that’s a lot of info and reactions.

Personally: at first glance, I absently skimmed the tweet and “hurt/comfort” popped out, and I was like “What? Mainstream publishing is cool with this now? I was wondering if ‘hurt/comfort’ would one day become commonly used in publishing [related post]. But this is way sooner than I thought.” And then I read the rest of of the tweet and thought, “Wait, what?”

And then I started reading through the tweet replies and thought, “OK, at the risk of getting a bunch of Tumblr drama, I want to bring this to the whump community and see how people feel."

As for myself, one of my squicks is non-con, and I’m not really interested in hurt/no comfort. So just from the tweet, I know the book is not for me. The official blurbs confirmed that. In this sense, this is like skimming Ao3 tags on a fic and saying “pass” on a story.

However, I have questions about the specific promotion of the book. So the official blurbs are pretty standard. What about that tweet, which Tor (and the author, who helped put it together) put out? Because I think an official publisher’s Tweet comes with different context than Ao3 tags.

First, the different internet spaces. You can filter tags on Ao3 and Tumblr. I know you can mute words on Twitter, but is that the same thing? Also, would people be expecting these tags on Twitter? Compared to Ao3 or Tumblr or Tumblr Whump spaces?

Within the Tumblr Whump community, from what I’ve browsed, the community attitude (guidelines?) seem to be “Write and discuss what you want. Be sure to tag it, use content warnings, or otherwise clearly communicate if you have things that may be triggering. Respect people’s squicks/triggers. Walk away from what you don’t like.” Like, tumblr whump has a very specific culture of trying to balance discourse/stories about potentially very dark stuff, but also wanting to make sure the IRL people and Tumblr users are okay. There’s always posts going around about how to do this, are we doing this in the right way, ethics, so on. Also -- and people can correct me -- the whump tumblr space might be where tags are content warnings for people to stay away, and also what people might actively look for. So if any space is going to discuss if this promotional tweet checks out, I feel like it’s this space.

Also, to note again, Tor Tweets are in the money-official-publisher-world, not unpaid-tumblr-people or unpaid-fanfiction-fandom-world.

Maybe I just want to ask, “Hey those first two tweet responses, does they have a point? Tor using ‘noncon’ as official promotion? On Twitter?” I mean, I’ve previously written, “The CW and TW tags that Ao3 writers use, I really wish those were used with published books as well.” But somehow, the Tor tweet was not quite what I was expecting. Maybe for reasons similar to that first tweet response. (I guess one could debate if a tweet is really promotion or just information... you know what someone can correct me, but I’m gonna say that a Tor.com tweet is promotion, compared to information like Ao3, and that tweet was there for promotion.)

Those tags operate within specific Ao3 and Tumblr cultures and infrastructure. I don’t hang around Twitter for whump stuff, IDK what the culture is. Anyway, does dropping these tags into a promotional tweet from Tor.... translate?

The tweet is evidently gathering the people who are there for it, and the people who aren’t there for it are quickly realizing that they are not there for it. But personally, the Tor website blurb does a better job at that, using writing that I’d expect from a publisher for communicating fictional non-con situations. (Maybe the blurb content warnings are what I wanted more of, when I said I wished for CW and TW in books.)

Anyway, there’s no huge drama about that Docile book promo on Twitter, as far as I can tell. So this is a niche thing, right now. But. The promo for Bonds of Brass and for Docile might be the beginnings of a trend of well-known book publishers borrowing from online writing / fandom culture and terminology in order to promote or categorize their books. These two promos might set a precedent or have other significance.

So if anyone has discourse on the tweets or potential future trends...

#meta #discourse #publishing #bonds of brass #Docile #publishers #future trends #maybe #non-con #trigger warnings #content warnings #fanfiction #ao3 #tumblr #whump #hurt/comfort #hurt/no comfort #books

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entwinedmoon · 4 years

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John Torrington: Sacred to the Memory of

(Previous posts 1, 2, 3, 4)

This is the part of the story people usually know.

In 1845, the Franklin Expedition left England and sailed into the Arctic. The families of the crew eagerly waited for the day their loved ones would return.

And waited.

Years went by and soon people started to realize something had gone wrong. Franklin’s wife, Jane, was chief among those who demanded rescue missions be sent to find the missing ships. Eventually, rescue missions were sent but with little luck.

In 1850, five years after the ships had left England, various rescue crews had converged on Beechey Island, a tiny triangle of frozen land, where signs of Franklin’s expedition had been found—the harbor for their first winter in the Arctic, it would be discovered later. The rescue crews, which included Robert Goodsir, brother to Harry Goodsir, the naturalist on board Erebus, scoured the small piece of land for any indication of where the ships had gone.

Then they found the graves.

(WARNING: Pictures of mummified bodies beneath the cut)

Three members of Franklin’s crew had been laid to rest on this far-flung Arctic island as long ago as 1846, less than a year into the expedition. The bodies of these three men lay buried in a desolate place their families would never be able to visit, never to lay flowers on their graves. For Robert Goodsir, it was a brief sigh of relief to read the names on the wooden headboards and realize his brother was not among them.

But for the families of those three men, who after five years of praying for their loved ones’ safety now discovered they’d already been dead for four years, there was no relief.

John Torrington has the notoriety of being the first known member of the Franklin Expedition to die. It’s possible there may have been deaths before him, but considering the amount of effort put into the burials on Beechey, there probably would have been a grave or at least a memorial somewhere to honor anyone who died before reaching Beechey, none of which has yet to be found. Therefore, Torrington is assumed to be the first.

Torrington died January 1, 1846, a little over seven months into the expedition. He was followed by Able Seaman John Hartnell, from Erebus, a few days later. Marine Private William Braine, also from Erebus, joined their private graveyard in April.

Torrington’s headboard contained the inscription:

Sacred to the memory of John Torrington who departed this life January 1st, A.D. 1846, on board of H.M. ship Terror aged 20 years

The earliest known photograph of his headboard, complete with black and white paint that has long since faded, is shown below.

Elisha Kent Kane, one of the rescue explorers, noted that Torrington’s grave wasn’t as well decorated as the other two, calling it “more grave-like” in appearance. Hartnell and Braine also had Bible verses on their headboard inscriptions whereas Torrington did not. There are also some differences between the burials beneath the surface. I think the differences between Torrington’s grave and the graves of Hartnell and Braine are due to Torrington being from Terror while Hartnell and Braine were from Erebus. Torrington’s burial arrangements most likely were overseen by Crozier, captain of Terror. Franklin would have overseen that of Hartnell and Braine, possibly with the assistance of Fitzjames. Franklin was a very religious man, so it makes sense that he would have chosen Bible verses for the headboards. Crozier seemed not as evangelical as his superior. He comes off in his biographies (all two of them) as an understated sort of man, someone who faced dangerous conditions at sea with utter calm—on the outside, at least. I can definitely see Crozier selecting a basic approach to the burial, something efficient and respectful without any frills. It also would have been a very serious moment for him. He was responsible for his crew, and the first fatality was on his ship, something he probably felt guilty about.

Three deaths—and less than a year after leaving England—was an ominous sign for the rescue crews. What had happened to cause such a tragedy so early on? Was something wrong on the ships? Illness? Lack of food? What had happened?

The rescue missions continued in earnest, desperate to discover the final fate of the expedition, but for three families, the fates of the men who mattered had already been determined. The grief they suffered can only be imagined.

Eventually, thanks to John Rae, an Arctic explorer who brought back relics from the expedition and stories from the Inuit about a large group of white men dying on King William Land (now King William Island), some of them even resorting to cannibalism near the end, the Admiralty of the Royal Navy considered the entire expedition lost. The crew was officially discharged as dead in 1854.

This meant, in practical terms, that the families of the men would stop receiving allotment payments. But the families of the men buried on Beechey Island would have stopped receiving payments years earlier, because as soon as the Admiralty discovered the death dates of the three men, each one was retroactively discharged as dead on that date. However, the families of Torrington and Hartnell had already received allotment payments for the four years during which the men had already been dead, (Braine did not allot any of his pay to anyone, as far as I can tell). Hopefully the Admiralty didn’t try to get their money back from these grieving families.

It doesn’t quite seem fair, though, that the rest of the crew’s families received an additional four years of allotment payments, even though many of the men had probably died by 1850 anyway (it’s now assumed that the majority of the crew perished in 1848, shortly after abandoning ship). But those families also had to contend with not knowing the exact fate of their loved ones. Some consider the men buried on Beechey the lucky ones. They died before the situation turned dire, before the death march along the coast of King William Island, where the men abandoned the ships, starving, suffering from scurvy, hauling impossibly heavy sledges in a last-ditch attempt at reaching salvation, only to die one by one, eating whatever was available, even if that meant their recently deceased comrades.

No one survived from the Franklin Expedition. But why did they all die? That’s the question that has haunted people for almost two centuries. It’s the question that drives people from archaeologists to armchair enthusiasts to try to find any little clue that could finally fit the pieces together.

One person who tried to fit the pieces together was anthropologist Owen Beattie.

Beattie used modern forensics techniques on the remains of the Franklin Expedition members to determine how they may have died. He began his research on bones found on King William Island. Chemical analysis showed unusually high lead levels, which got him to thinking. Lead poisoning can cause a wide variety of negative effects—from weight loss and headaches to convulsions and death. It can also affect cognitive functions. Had the Franklin Expedition been hobbled by a lack of reason, making questionable decisions that led to their demise, thanks to lead poisoning?

That was Beattie’s hypothesis, but bones only show a person’s lifelong lead levels, which means these poor victims could have gradually been exposed to lead all their lives. The entire crew wouldn’t have been affected, just these individuals. Recent exposure, however, would indicate a problem on the expedition itself, where everyone may have been exposed to large quantities in a short amount of time. But to prove recent exposure, Beattie would have to look at hair and soft tissue samples.

Soft tissue preserved in permafrost would work perfectly.

Beattie figured the men buried on Beechey Island would have been preserved enough to be able to take samples from them, so he obtained the needed permissions to perform exhumations and autopsies, bringing an archaeologist and pathologist with him to discover just what caused the deaths of Franklin and his men.

In 1984, Beattie and his team went to Beechey Island. They would exhume and autopsy Torrington, and briefly exhume Hartnell (there wasn’t enough time to autopsy him—they would return to do so in 1986, when they would also autopsy Braine), then rebury them.

They approached Torrington first. First to die, first to be exhumed. His wooden headboard had become severally worn by 138 years of arctic conditions and would be replaced with a bronze memorial years later. The team began digging, hacking their way through the frozen ground. It took hours before a mahogany coffin emerged, covered in dark blue wool with white linen tape lining the edges. Brass handles were bolted to the sides—right and left, the right one still pointing up, as if a pallbearer had only just placed it in the ground. Brass rings were bolted at the foot and head of the coffin. Interestingly, Hartnell and Braine’s coffins had faux handles, outlined with white linen tape, rather than real ones like Torrington’s.

On top of the coffin was a marker pointing to true north as well as a dark blue-green plaque, roughly heart-shaped (or guitar-pick-shaped, according to my sister), which read:

John Torrington died January 1st 1846 aged 20 years

They removed the coffin lid and began to thaw the frozen contents. An outline of a body draped in blue wool slowly emerged. Finally, they were able to peel away the fabric and came face to face with John Torrington.

Torrington was remarkably well preserved, looking as if he’d only just been buried. However, his face had been darkened by the blue wool covering him, and his eyes were half open, revealing blue irises. His lips had curled up, revealing his teeth in a rictus grin. Desiccation and decay can cause the lips to curl back, and there’s even a special term for when the mouth falls open and the tongue sticks out—mummy gape. However, the level of protrusion of Torrington’s lips is more extreme than I’ve typically seen in my time as an amateur mummy enthusiast. I want to say that it wasn’t just desiccation but possibly ice freezing between the lips that caused that degree of protrusion. The most comparable mummy I’ve seen so far is a desert mummy from the Tarim Basin:

But Torrington’s lips are pulled out even farther than that. I’m not an anthropologist, though, and while I love studying mummies, it’s just a hobby, so take any of my opinions here with a grain of salt.

Now let’s move on to the most important topic—his hair. According to the autopsy report, Torrington had long brown hair, but it’s hard to tell that from the photos that have been released. He’s lying on top of a bed of wood shavings, and some people have mistaken the wood shavings for his hair, thinking he was rocking some Roger Daltrey curls. Honestly, when I first saw the pictures of him when I was a child, I thought he was bald because I couldn’t tell where his hair was (his hair had separated from his scalp, so technically he is bald—now). On closer inspection (and yes, this is a very important topic), you can see wisps of his hair in certain areas around his head, particularly in the upper left corner of the picture above (or at least I think that’s his hair). It does indeed look brown, perhaps with some lighter highlights (but that could just be the lighting). But how long is long, exactly? Are we talking shoulder length? Shorter? Longer? These are the things people need to know.

Beattie and his team had noted the coffin was rather small, more like a child’s, and now they realized why. John Torrington was only 5 feet 4 inches (163 cm) tall. Friedrich Engels would probably blame this lack of height on a hard life in Manchester. He dedicated part of The Condition of the Working Class in England to a discussion about how short, pale, thin, and feeble Mancunians looked thanks to factory work. He said men from Manchester almost never reached 5’8”, usually only reaching 5’6” or 7”. Average height for Victorian men was actually around 5’6”, but the working class did tend to be shorter. While Torrington would be considered vertically challenged by today’s standards, (I’m an inch taller than him, for instance), he may not have stood much shorter than his working-class peers. (It does not help, though, that both Hartnell and Braine were around six feet tall—this makes Torrington the runt of the litter.)

Torrington weighed less than 88 pounds (40 kg), part of which may have been due to postmortem desiccation—mummified bodies tend to look a bit shrink-wrapped—but there were signs he may have lost a significant amount of weight before death. The lack of calluses on his hands also seemed to suggest a long illness that had rendered him unable to work, although as I discussed in my last post, he may not have had much to do on board ship anyway.

A kerchief, white with blue polka dots, had been tied around his head to keep his jaw shut. Was this a favorite kerchief of his, or just one they had to spare? A sample of the kerchief was not taken by Beattie, in order to minimize disturbance of the body, but samples of his other clothes and bindings were.

He wore a white cotton print shirt with thin blue stripes, and plain grayish-white pants made from linen. Analysis of the pants suggested that they had rarely been worn, if ever. It’s odd that he had been dressed in unworn pants. Had these pants recently been made for him, but he’d never had the chance to wear them? This is particularly strange when paired with the fact that neither Hartnell nor Braine were found wearing any pants at all. No pants versus never-worn pants. Why was Torrington the only one buried in them, and why such new ones? This is a bizarre quandary, but perhaps not the greatest mystery of the Franklin Expedition.

Torrington’s shirt, on the other hand, showed signs of significant wear, including stains and a few tears. Unfortunately, when the body was being lifted out of the coffin, part of the shirt was still frozen to the bottom, and the back part tore off. Beattie and his team took the large, irregularly shaped piece as a sample. For some reason, the idea that he’s wearing only half a shirt bothers me. It’s cold up there! Would it be inappropriate to knit him a sweater?

Probably…

Moving on…

There were also unbleached muslin strips tying his limbs to his body for ease of transport into the coffin. The strip binding his elbows was taken as a sample, and it contained light colored hair caught in the knot. Whose hair was this? Was this Torrington’s hair, perhaps a lighter strand having gotten caught on the strip? Or was this from whoever tied the fabric around him? One of the doctors on Terror probably prepared him for burial. Was it their hair? But if it was one of the doctors, which one? I don’t know what Dr. John Peddie looked like, but Dr. Alexander MacDonald had red hair. The only description given of the hair found in the knot was “light colored.” Ginger hair is light colored. Was this MacDonald’s hair?

After Torrington was thawed and removed from his coffin, Beattie and his team began the autopsy. However, unlike with Hartnell’s and Braine’s autopsies in 1986, I have been unable to find any pictures from Torrington’s autopsy. That might sound like an odd thing to complain about, but I’m curious as to why there aren’t any. In fact, I haven’t been able to find any photos taken from after he was removed from the coffin. There are a limited number of photos of Torrington in circulation, and they’re all of him still in the coffin. Why is that? Pictures were taken during the autopsy, but were they lost? Were they not released out of respect for Torrington? If so, then why have a documentary crew film parts of Hartnell’s and Braine’s autopsies? It’s a weird difference between the two exhumations that I don’t understand.

Despite the lack of pictures, there are thorough descriptions of the autopsy, both in the official report and in Beattie’s book, Frozen in Time, co-authored with John Geiger. The autopsy revealed that Torrington’s lungs were completely blackened—a prominent symptom of black lung, the notorious disease common among coal miners. Since Torrington was raised in Manchester—Coal Smoke Central in the Victorian age—and he worked as a stoker and it’s assumed that he smoked, this isn’t too surprising, but for his lungs to be completely black at only age twenty is disconcerting. Just how much coal and smoke was he exposed to? His lungs also contained scar tissue from previous lung disease. It seemed he suffered from emphysema, which can be caused by black lung, but it’s something that usually doesn’t strike until later in life. His heart had shrunk, which could have been caused by the emphysema but was probably due to post-mortem cellular decay as there was nothing else noticeably wrong with it. There were also signs of tuberculosis and pneumonia. Basically, Torrington had a lot of health problems. Did he know he was sick? Or did he just think everyone had a hard time breathing sometimes? In Manchester, that may very well have been true…

While there were no conclusive findings as to what caused his death, it was determined that pneumonia, brought on by tuberculosis, was the most likely culprit. He would have suffered a long, slow illness, wasting away until the pneumonia struck and mercifully cut his agony short.

Samples were taken from Torrington’s bones, hair, fingernails, and organs to be examined further in a lab. He was then redressed, placed back into his coffin, and reburied, but I wonder exactly how much care was given to putting him back together again after the autopsy. His kerchief wasn’t removed because they didn’t want to disturb the body too much, but they cut open his skull—did they slide the kerchief off and then back on again, or did they remove the skull cap only a little? They removed it enough to see that his brain had decayed into a yellow granular fluid, that’s for sure. Pieces of him were taken—some of his hair and nails, part of his radius (but from which arm? I’ve never been able to find that out). Seeing the pictures of his body looking so well preserved, it can be hard to think of the fact that it no longer looks the same. I’ve wondered many times what he looks like now, leading to the creation of a Word document on my computer titled “Things I know are missing from John Torrington,” a very normal type of document to have. I try not to think what climate change and the thawing of permafrost in the Arctic is doing to him now. Even though he’s long dead, it feels like another death to think of his body decaying and falling apart. But that’s a discussion for another time.

Beattie tested the samples he’d taken from Torrington when he returned from Beechey. Chemical analysis revealed elevated lead levels in the bones, but the levels were lower than those from the King William Island samples. Torrington’s hair, however, had lead levels of over 600 parts per million, indicating acute lead poisoning. Beattie theorized that the lead came from the tin food cans taken on the expedition. This changed the conversation about how the Franklin Expedition met its end, with lead poisoning being a perfect explanation for some of the confusing decisions the officers seemed to have made.

However, the level of lead in Torrington’s hair was much higher than in Hartnell’s or Braine’s, which suggests that he was exposed to more lead than either of them. Beattie didn’t offer an explanation for this discrepancy, but I wonder, did he eat more of the tinned food? Or was it something else? Coal ash can contain lead, so perhaps Torrington’s particularly high levels came about in part by his exposure to coal through his job as a stoker.

There are still debates over whether or not lead poisoning actually played a role in the Franklin Expedition’s demise, especially since high lead levels were common in the Victorian era. Some people have argued that the lead came from other sources, while others insist it came from before the expedition even set sail. I’m not going to argue one way or another, but Torrington did have very high levels of lead in his system. How exactly did it affect him? Was he driven mad by it, or did it act more subtly, weakening his already weakened immune system so that he succumbed to tuberculosis and pneumonia more easily? I don’t know. But however large or small the role that lead played in his death, it was due to Beattie’s theory that Torrington was exhumed and that we got to see him, to meet him across the years.

Next: the family he left behind.

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Torrington Series Masterlist

#john torrington #franklin expedition #tw mummies #tw corpse

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elisha-mikealson · 5 years

Text

2. Slater

The next morning I woke up to a text from everyone.

Damon: Are you okay?

Damon: Elisha, please text me back I need to know that you are okay.

Damon: Were you kidnapped or something?

Stefan: Damon said that he texted you and got no response, Elisha please call or text someone we are all worried.

Elena: Elisha were are you? We haven't heard or seen you since yesterday afternoon. Please just call or text when you get this.

Bonnie: Elisha what happened? First, you and Elena go missing then she comes back with Stefan and Damon. I was going to do a locator spell but I have nothing of yours, please let us know if you are safe.

Caroline: Elisha what is going on? Damon, Stefan, Elena, and Bonnie aren't telling me and Matt anything.

I sigh at all the text as I get dressed in black leggings, blue top, black leather jacket with a white scarf and black boots as I prepare for the lecture I'm probably going to get when I go into town. Once I got down to the kitchen I see that Elijah is already there leaning against the counter with a glass in his hand, "I see that you're making yourself quite at home," I laugh as I grab a mug while I start making coffee, "want some?" he nods so I grab another mug. I hear what sounded like shuffling coming down the steps and grab a third mug pouring coffee in each of the mugs as my brother came into the kitchen. I put some milk in the coffee for him before sliding it over to him looking at Elijah and he nods slightly knowing what I was asking, "drink up Cuan, I need you sober today."

"I told you not to call me that," Cuan growls at me.

"It's the name mother chose for you and Cuan fits you better than King brother."

"Says the one who is running from a ghost," he whispers knowing that I heard, I stay calm as I hand Elijah the mug with his coffee.

"This ghost you speak of is very real and wants me very dead, under your father's wishes," I say looking at him, "if you saw his eyes when they burn with furry you would understand why I run. Not to mention he isn't trying to turn you against your own father and his siblings."

"Some alpha you are," with that comment a grabbed him by the throat.

"Watch it brother, I might let my hand slip one day while we're training."

"You know that won't kill me," he smiles at this.

"If I want you dead you will be dead," I tell him letting go of his throat straightening out my jacket sleeve, "drink your coffee, like I said I need you sober."

"Why?"

"I'm going into town today because people are apparently freaking out because I didn't meet them back at the Salvator's place yesterday. I'm just going to show up and be like 'so yeah I took care of Elijah's body, he is dead, well deader than dead now. Then I went to my place and crashed since he was actually pretty heavy to move then I had to dig a six-foot hole throw him in and bury him. Oh, and I sang some songs jokingly and played some Jazz music.' Or something down those lines."

"Should I be insulted by that?" Elijah asks.

"No, I'll call it muscle mass," I say patting his shoulder as I walk into the living room.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Elijah comments turning to look at me.

"That is where you are wrong, flattery will get me most places, maybe not with you but with some, it will get me everywhere," I tell him.

"Why do I have to be sober?" Cuan asks me confused.

"Your reason is coming down the steps now," I say leaning back on the couch to look up the steps, "come one little wolf no need to be scared," with that Rosa runs down the steps to me.

"Cuan's back," she whispers.

"Yeah i know, but he is going to watch you for a little bit today while I go into town to take care of a couple things," she looks a little sad at this, "Elijah will be here also," she looks semi-hopeful, I could tell that she already trust Elijah even though she has never spoken with him.

"I'm coming with you to the town," Elijah says stepping into the living room.

"You can't come into town, if they find out you're not dead they might think that I'm no longer a friend and an enemy. I'll figure out their plan and we can go from there," with that i stand up and look at Rosa, "make sure they behave, if they don't just bit them," Cuan just glares at me as Elijah looks confused, "don't worry Elijah she won't actually bite anyone," I laugh at this as I start to walk to the door, "oh and Elijah," he looks at me, "don't kill my brother, just snap his neck or something, I'll be back as soon as I can." I walk out of the house and to my car quickly driving into town to the Salvatore boarding house.

I open the door and walk into being tackled in a hug. I know from the smell that it was Damon so I laugh slighting hugging him back, "I glad you are okay," he whispers as I hear someone walk into the foyer.

"I'm sorry I worried all of you," I say pulling out of the hug, "I may be a vampire, but Elijah was heavy. Then once I dug a hole deep enough and shoved him in then filled it in it was already late and I just went home and crashed. Well on a more serious note, what are we going to do about the entire doppelganger thing?"

"Well, I'm going with Rose to met up with someone in Richmond to figure out more about it you are welcome to join us," Damon afford.

"Where is it in Richmond?" I ask.

"It's a small place, there is a guy by the name of Slater," a girl I recognize as Rose says.

"Is this small place a cafe?" I ask.

"Yeah, you know it?" Rose asks.

"Yeah, I stop in there time to time when I meet up with some people or just need to get away from the drama here," I say.

"You know Slater then?"

"The name yes, him personally no."

"Okay well we should go now," Rose says.

"I'll meet you guys there," I say making them both look at me, "I left my phone at my house, not to mention I have to make sure my brother didn't destroy my place while I was here."

"He's back in town?" Damon asks and I nod, "maybe you should bring him around some time so we can meet this mysterious brother of yours."

"I'll talk to him about it, but I'll see you guys there okay?" they nod before I vamp speed out to my car and drive to my house making sure the two didn't follow me. When I walk into the house I see Elijah sitting on the couch with Rosa in a serious chess match as Cuan was nowhere in the house.

"You're back sooner than expected," Elijah states making his move ending the game.

"One: I see where I get my chess skills from and two: Damon and Rose are heading to a place in Richmond to meet a guy by the name of Slater," I tell him and he nods standing up, "Where is Cuan?"

"You got three guesses and the second two don't count," Rosa says making me sigh.

"I can trust that you don't burn down this place right?"

"Yeah and if anyone comes to the house don't make a sound, keep calm and there are daggers in every room if someone decides to come in," I give her a look and she sighs, "I know I know, don't aim to kill aim to wound."

"Good and if Cuan comes back drunk out of his mind snap his neck for me," she nods with a small smile before I look at Elijah, "Let's go, I don't want to be late getting there and have them leaving when I show up," he nods and we leave the house.

Before I knew it I was pulling up to a curb telling Elijah where the place is at before pulling into the garage next to the SUV that I know belongs to Rose, "You're finally here," I hear Damon say making me laugh slightly.

"How long have you guys been here?"

"About five minutes," Rose says, "now come on, Slater is waiting."

With that we walk into the cafe style place, "what about the sunlight?"

"Double pained and tempered glass, UV rays cannot penetrate. See the appeal?" I tell him making Rose smile.

"That and the free WI-FI," a guy says before Rose hugs him.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Good, I saw you come. What are you doing here?" he says, after that, I zoned out on the conversation until the guy looks at me and says, "Elisha Mikaelson, original," this got Damon and Rose to look at me weird.

"You must be thinking of an ancestor of mine, my mom always said I looked like her. My last name is Smith," I say thinking quick on my feet they nod to this and I zone out again until we walk over to a table and sit down. I keep an eye out the window as I see Elijah appear with coins in his hand. I knew that he was listening and waiting for the right time to throw the coins. I see him move his arm back like he is about to skip a rock before the glass shatters. I put my head down on the table as people start to scream. I lift up my head to see him disappear before a grab Slater and get out of there.

I pull him off to the side, "Where do you live?" I compel him.

"An apartment not too far from here in the Roosevelt apartment complex, top floor," he answers.

"Good, now forget I asked you and go home," he nods and runs off to his car.

There was a flood of people leaving the door now and I see Damon pick up Rose and take her to the SUV, "Who was behind that?"

"I don't know, it's not Slayter," Rose answers.

"How do you know that?"

"He wouldn't betray me."

"Who would?"

"Its Klaus he wants us dead were all dead," Rose cries.

"It wasn't Klaus unless he hijacked a body," I tell them.

"How do you know that?" Damon questions.

"I've seen him before and he would stand there and watch as ever vampire suffered, everyone out there didn't know what was happening, it was someone else," Damon nods to this and shuts the door, "I'll meet you back in town there is something I need to take care of first here in town."

"Okay, just be careful, whoever it was knows you're here, be careful please."

"I will. I'll call you when I start leaving here and then when I get to my house if I don't go back to yours," Damon nods before getting into the car and driving away, "you're clear to come out now Elijah," with that he speeds to in front of me.

"That was handled nicely," he comments.

"Eh i could have done better," i shrug walking around my car, "more importantly I got Slater's address, well location where he is living," he raises an eyebrow, "what do you say to giving him a visit?" he nods to this before getting in the car, "Since you destroyed that place, do you mind if we stop somewhere for food?"

"What kind of food are you talking about?"

"Actual food, I know a restaurant that is close to here, and you won't look overdressed in your suit," I tell him as I pull out of the parking garage.

"That is fine, it will allow me to make a call," he says nodding.

"You can make the call now, if you don't want me to hear I won't listen, I respect people's privacy," I glance over at him as we come to a stop at a light, "I feel like either way we will be waiting for someone to show up," he looks at me and sighs slightly pulling out his phone. The light turns so I started driving again, I can hear him start talking but as promised I tuned him out. Within minutes I was pulling into another parking garage and parking my car. I turn to Elijah which was hanging up the phone so I got out and he followed, "so how long are we waiting?"

"I thought you said you weren't going to listen?" he says with a raised eyebrow.

"Wasn't, you making the call after I said about waiting for someone to show up just confirmed my suspicion."

"That makes sense," he nods, "it will be about an hour and a half give or take."

"Okay, well come on this place is really nice and I'm starving," he laughs at this and vamp speeds over to me.

"If what you say is true about me not being underdressed then you wouldn't mind letting me escort you," he says as I shut the door.

"Normally I would say no, but why not?" I say shrugging and putting my arm on his as we walk into the restaurant.

"Elisha, it's wonderful to see you again," the women says.

"Jasmine, it's wonderful to see you again," I smile as Elijah and I stop in front of the small desk that she was standing at.

"Table for 2?" she asks and I smile and nod, "please follow me," she says walking into the restaurant to the outdoor deck sitting area, "your waiter will be around in just a minute to get your order, if you have any problems please let me know," with that she walks away.

"I see you are known here," Elijah comments.

"This is close enough to mystic falls that if I come to get away from all the drama but if something comes up I can get back in a matter of hours."

"Not to mention I'm here," a familiar voice says.

"Josh!" I say excitedly, "I didn't know you were working today," I say giving him a hug which he returns.

"Well I do and my shift ends in like 5 minutes, but I'm willing to go over just for you," he says before looking around to make sure no one was really paying attention to us before pecking my lips and letting me out of his grasp.

"Josh right?" Elijah says as I sit back down.

"Yes, sir?" Josh responds.

"How exactly are you connected to Elisha?" Elijah questions.

Josh looks at me weird so I answer, "Elijah this is Joshua Martin, I turned him about 300 years ago, and we have been dating for about 200."

"When were you going to tell me this?" Elijah asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Now maybe, or never," I say rubbing the back of my head.

"I'm lost who is this?" Josh asks.

"Elijah Mikaelson," Elijah says and Josh realizes almost immediately who he was.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Josh sticks out his hand which Elijah takes.

"Hey maybe you can convince him to move up to Mystic Falls," I say to Elijah.

"Elisha, I've told you multiple times why I can't move to that town," Josh starts.

"Yeah because Damon will kill you," I say and roll my eyes, "trust me he won't hurt you, I and Damon are friends and if he thinks he can just hurt someone I care about without any repercussions he's wrong."

"Will you drop the subject right now if I say that I'll think about it?"

"I'll drop it if you come and live in my house for a week to see how things go," I say and he sighs ever so slightly.

"Okay fine, I'll have to see when I can get off so we can do that," he looks at me with a small smile on his face as I smile, "now what can i get you guys to eat?" with that Elijah and i both order and Josh disappears then comes back only a moment later with two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

"I hope you don't mind the wine, it's one of my favorites," I say as Elijah takes a sip.

"It's not that bad, I had some that is of a much higher quality."

"Yes, but this was made right here in Virginia, it is the most popular one this place has," I inform him and he nods. We talk for a little bit basically just trying to get to know each other more as we eat. Once we were done Elijah escorted me back to the car where we waited for Josh to come out.

"So I talked to my boss and he said that I have a week starting now," Josh says once he walked out the back door.

"That's great, you should go home and pack and I'll come by your place so you can follow me to Mystic Falls."

"You sure you want to make that drive tonight? You both can crash at my place and we can go back tomorrow morning."

I look at Elijah and he nods slightly, "okay, then I guess we'll meet you back at your place then," Josh nods and gets in his car and drives away, "okay where are we supposed to be meeting these people at?"

"Here, he should be here in a couple minutes," I nod and sit on top of the trunk of the car as Elijah simply leans against it as we talk more.

A car pulled up next to mine and a guy got out of it, "wait, Dr. Jonas Martin,?" I ask and he looks at me, "well I'll be damned," I say with a smile hopping down from the trunk and shaking his hand, "how's Luka, he was quite the magician that last time I saw him."

"Keep Luka out of this," he says stepping close to me.

"Still very protective of him I see," I say looking at him, "I also was simply asking a question, I did help you guys out in the last town you were in."

"Which got Greta taken away from us," he says.

"That wasn't me I told you that, I know why Niklaus wants a witch and honestly I would've done it but she went to him before I could," I look him straight in the eye when I say this, "I'm guessing you have a deal with Elijah to get her back?"

"Yes, which is why I called him," Elijah says.

"Okay," I say walking around to the driver side of my car, "are we going to Slater's or not?" with that Elijah moves and tells Jonas to get in the car and he does. The drive to Slater's place was kinda short but it was completely quiet which bugged me beyond belief so I turned on the radio to one of my favorite stations. Once we got to the apartment complex I parked the car and got out so I could take them up to the apartment. Elijah was saying something to Jonas but I ignored it until we got to the door where Jonas stepped up and knocked.

"Who is it!" I heard Slater yell.

I look at Elijah when I say, "It's me, Elisha," the door opens just a little bit but it was enough that I could make eye contact with him, "invite me and my friends in," I compel him and he nods opening the door more.

"Please, come in," he says allowing us to walk in and shut the door, "who's your friends?" he asks.

"That's Jonas Martin and this is Elijah Mikaelson," I say motioning to the two.

"How is that possibly Damon killed you," he says looking at Elijah.

"With a regular stake, it had no effect on him," I say as I walk into the house more and sense someone else here, but they are scared, I could smell it, "We have a message for you to deliver to Rose."

"You're friends with her why don't you do it?" he questions as I walk further into his house and found a stake sitting in one of the cubies for the desk.

"You see it's not a message from me it's from him," I say pointing the stake at Elijah, "you have to answer to him."

"I'm not delivering a message," he says shaking his head so Elijah compelled him and told him everything that he wanted him to say. Slater then picked up his phone and called Rose.

"Hello?" Rose asks.

"Rose," Slater says.

"Slater, are you okay?"

"Yes, I took off I was freaked."

"No, I'm sorry, I involved you."

"Look, I don't want any part in this but I did some digging."

"Okay, what did you find?"

"You can destroy the cure, but you need the moonstone.

"How? What do you mean I don't follow."

"Can your friend get the moonstone, you need it."

"Yes, he can get it. What next?"

"You need a wich. You get the moonstone and a witch should figure out the rest. Good luck Rose," with that he hung up the phone.

"Very nicely done," Elijah says.

"Thanks, I have a degree in theater."

"Of course you do," I say sarcastically to myself.

"How can either of you compel me? A vampire can't compel another vampire."

"We are very special vampires," I say with an innocent look.

"Why because your an original?"

"Hmm," Elijah says almost bored sounding, "now I want you to take this and drive it through your heart."

"But that would kill me forever."

"We know," I say, "but it is necessary," I compel him, but before he did I say, "and you were right, I am related to the Mikaelson family, but I am that ancestor I mentioned," he looks at me shocked, "carry on with what you were doing," I say as he drives the stake through his heart and falls to the ground.

"Was it really necessary?" Jonas asks.

"It had to be done," I say as we both turn to look at the witch that entered the room.

"He delivered his message, it won't be long now," Elijah says as he starts to walk out of the apartment and I follow behind with Jonas behind me. I drive back to the parking garage as Jonas gets out and he makes plans with Elijah to meet when he gets back into town before leaving.

"Ready?" I ask him as I start my car.

"Yeah, but you need to tell me more about this Josh," he says looking at me.

"There's not much to really tell," I say shrugging, "he is very respectful and wouldn't hurt a fly, not to mention a hybrid."

"A hybrid?" Elijah asks shocked.

"Yeah, just like Niklaus, half wolf half vampire," I say as I stop at a light, "I only changed him because he was going to die if I didn't give him my blood then my brother unknowingly snapped his neck."

"Why did he do that?"

"Because I actually cared about someone and he hates that," I sigh slightly as I pull up to Josh's apartment building, "once he learned that he had my blood in him he learned to accept that I actually cared about someone and that I would still be by his side."

Elijah laughs a little at this, "your brother is kind of like Niklaus."

"From what I heard, he could be his kid with how he acts sometimes," I say getting out of the car and Elijah follows, "he's not though, I know that for a fact."

"How though?"

"Magic," I say making a rainbow shape with my hands before hitting the button for the elevator, "how do you think I knew which spell to show you?"

"But you need blood for that," he says confused.

"Yeah not necessarily, I just needed an object of yours. I asked for blood because that's the easiest way to show you," I explain as I step into the elevator and hit the number for the top floor.

"What did you use then?"

"Well, I used my brother's blood and the shirt that Niklaus had on when he first transitioned, my brother's blood barely merged which showed a distant relationship to him," I say and Elijah looks at me weird as the doors opened. "Funny story, my uncle- my mom's brother- is Niklaus' father, Mikael killed him right in front of me, but I really wasn't fazed since I never liked him," I lied, but I didn't make it noticeable.

"Why is that?"

"He always knew that I was a threat to him since he was alpha of the pack," I explain walking down the hallway, "all I needed to do was trigger the cures and learn how to control it I would rule. Little did he know that all that I needed was to become a vampire and I was good," I say stopping at a door which I was about to knock on but it opened up before I could do so.

"The question is where is that pack now?" Josh asks with a smile on his face, "come on in," he says stepping back and allowing Elijah and I to walk in.

"To answer that, the entire pack is dead hybrids that are still with other wolves in Mystic falls, or dead," I answer, "anyways, what have you been up to these last couple of weeks, Josh?"

"Nothing much just working and making sure Bash doesn't go off the rails," he says shrugging as he sits down on the couch.

"So the usual?" he nods to this and I look at Elijah which looks semi-confused, "Bash is his roommate, that is a wolf."

"Just a wolf?" Elijah questions me making me laugh a bit.

"Yes, I only change people if they are going to die, not to mention Mikael killed a considerable amount of my pack when I came across him in New Orleans then in New York he killed another section of my pack. He said that I was no better than Niklaus himself."

"And you actually started to believe that until I convinced you that you weren't," Josh says.

"Neither of us know him to say that I could be exactly like him for all we know."

"But you are the opposite," Elijah says looking at me with a serious look, "I've only have known you for a short period of time but I can tell that you are nothing like my brother."

"See?" Josh says as he puts his arm over my shoulders, "nothing to worry about."

I hit Josh up alongside his head, "you need to just stop with that, I don't feel like getting into any kind of argument about this. My feelings towards this won't change until I meet Niklaus and see for myself," with that the conversation about it was dropped instead it turned into Elijah asking Josh questions about himself which I simply just laugh at.

"I think I'm going to retire for the night," Elijah says standing up from the chair and so does Josh.

"Follow me I'll show you to my room and grab something for you to sleep in," with that they both left down the hallway. I ignore what they start to talk about as I pull out my phone to text Damon letting him now that I was just staying in Richmond for the night with a friend. The next thing I know is clothes hitting my face and I pull them away to see that Josh had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, "you can sleep in Bash's room, he isn't supposed to be home till tomorrow morning."

"I'm going to change, but I want to watch a movie with you so pick something out by the time a get back," I say to him before leaving the living room to go to the bathroom and change. When I come back I see him on the couch scrolling on Netflix for a movie and he looks up to see me and smiles, "why are you smiling?"

"Because this is the first time in almost 6 months that we can spend together where you won't be called away because something comes up in mystic falls," he says as I lay on the couch basically on top of him but it was comfortable.

"So what we watching?"

"Well depends how awake are you?"

"Awake but as soon as I'm comfortable I'm probably going to be out," I admit.

"Twilight it is then," he says putting on the movie, I just snuggle into his side more and fall asleep with ease before the movie really even started.

#elisha mikealson #Elijah's daughter #elijah mikaelson x daughter!reader #elijah mikaelson #damon salvatore #elana gilbert #Stefan Salvatore #tvd fanfiction #TVD #TVDfamily

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whumpqin · 3 years

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Quinn - Chapter 1 (This Wasn’t the Plan)

Hello all! It’s been a while since I’ve posted some of my own writing. I’ve decided to make a side story to Elisha, which is what this is! I hope yall are interested in some Quinn whump >:3c

Taglist: (considering this is a similar but also different series, I’m tagging Elisha’s people, but feel free to want to be removed from this taglist! I will make sure to make the difference.) @faewhump @galaxywhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @insanitywishes @burtlederp @whumpasaurus101 @simplygrimly (ask if you want tagged!)

CW: nonhuman whumpee, creepy whumper, muzzles, forced muzzling, fantasy racism, kidnapping, smoking, guns, briefly mentioned assassination attempt, manhandled, getting patted down, gut punching, drugging, needles

Word Count: 2,799

It’s a dull ringing that rouses him from his sleep - an annoying tone that he’d sworn to fix and still hasn’t gotten around to.

Quinn groans at the rude awakening, and rolls his head over to see why it was going off by planting his hand on his phone and dragging it closer. It reads unknown against a background of black. Despite the annoyance that makes his tail curl lazily in his bed, he still swipes his finger across the bottom to answer it, bringing it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

The other side of the line is quiet for a moment, before a gruff voice, a little lower than Quinn expects, speaks. “This number was provided in relation to contacting a ‘Quinn Devereux’. Is this who I’m speaking to?”

“This is he,” Quinn says, sliding his blankets off of him, confusion lighting his voice.

“I am calling on behalf of my employer, Mr. Delaney, who has arrived at the meeting place. Except, it does not appear that you are there. I do hope you plan to be on schedule, yes?”

Ah, hell.

Quinn sits up in the bed quickly as alarm saps all the weight from his body. “Uh, of course not! ‘Pologies, I was plannin’ on makin’ it a uh…” he pauses to bring his phone down and note the time, which is about ten ‘til nine. Shit, shit shit- “a little earlier than this. Same place, right? That old abandoned house?”

“Yes. Don’t be late, Quinn. We wouldn’t want this deal going south, now would we?”

“‘Course! I mean, I-'' The phone makes a beeping noise to indicate that the other side hung up, stopping Quinn in his tracks. He looks down at it to be sure, before heaving a large sigh. It’s going to be one of those days it seems.

He needs to work fast. Firstly Quinn rifles through his apartment for nice-ish looking clothes, and though he’s never bought a suit and swears that he’s not going to no matter how much his Ma tells him to, he finds one of the newer button-up shirts that he bought recently. He scans its surface in case it magically had gathered stains on it while sitting in his dresser drawer in exile, but considering he only wore it once for a job interview he figures it’ll do the trick. He slips it on and finds some day old jeans that don’t smell too awful before he takes a look at himself in the mirror.

He’s a little worse for wear, but at a quick glance it’s only those faint dark circles underneath his eyes that catches his attention the most. Quinn combs through his black hair with his fingers, flattening it to look more presentable while also unhooking strands that wrap around his antlers and the bright orange tag against his ear. He pauses there, looking himself up and down.

Bedraggled and half awake, in clothes that are only somewhat clean. Going to a shady place to make a shady deal on behalf of people he barely knows.

“You can do this,” he quietly tells his reflection as he leans against the sink. “Get in, get out, get paid. Get in, get out, get paid.”

He repeats the phrase a few more times, committing it to memory on his way out. He picks up the handwritten letter he’d left on the small table at the front door and stuffs it into his front pocket. Then Quinn grabs onto his muzzle, slipping the buckles around his antlers to fasten it loosely against his face.

As he walks out of his apartment and onto the street, he makes the mistake of checking his phone one he’s properly in the morning light. It reads five minutes before his meeting, and he still has a ways to walk yet. Quinn lets out an exasperated sigh, eyes falling upwards to the adjacent apartment complex. It’s there he notes some curtains quickly shutter closed. His eyes narrow.

There’s someone watching you. Real strange fellow, he remembers the considerate old lady from down the hall telling him.

Tell me something I don’t know, he had responded. Quinn wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out it was just his employer keeping a good and proper eye on information.

To make up for time, he runs. Quinn dips into the alleyways to escape the busy streets of the morning, taking a few turns that he’s become familiar with while walking through the streets. A couple turns here and there, and he exits out onto another main street very close to his destination. He counts himself lucky he remembers the address at all. It would have been embarrassing as hell to have to ask the guy on the phone where he was supposed to have this meeting in the first place.

Quinn jogs up to the specific house, noting the old “for sale” sign that doesn’t even have a number on it anymore. It’s a huge place, once a mansion that was abandoned a long time ago because of bad press or something. He’s never looked at it before; even looking as ruined as it is by time, the place is still out of his price range.

He knocks on the door politely, taking the small pause to smooth out his clothes in a last ditch effort to not look like he had just gotten up a little bit ago, and waits patiently. The door creaks open with several years’ old whine that makes him wince, squinting one eye while he notices a human, dressed in dark clothing with short brown hair and amber eyes, staring back at him. Due to the muzzle making him unable to speak, Quinn offers a small wave before hovering his pinkie over his mouth and thumb over his ear, then pointing to the man. The human offers no reaction, but merely steps to the side. He takes the cue and steps inside the house.

It’s not as majestic as he once thought it might be. It hasn’t been taken care of in ages; the wallpaper is peeling off of the walls and there are holes in the floor, and the more Quinn steps through the house and hears it creak in response to him the more he wonders if the whole thing is going to cave in on him. It’s practically a deathtrap at this point.

He tries to make his reservations known to the human with a pause, knitting his brows in an uncomfortable position as he shoots a glance back at him, but he doesn't get the message.

The human opens up an old door for him that Quinn peeks around. There’s another human sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room, his legs crossed as he reclines into his seat. There’s a cigarette in one hand trailing smoke into the air, filling the room with its scent. His dirty blonde hair was perfectly styled like his fancy suit, and the only thing that didn’t look put together was the rough stubble against his chin.

The man who greeted Quinn closes the door behind both of them and steps around, joining another man with different hair behind the reclining human’s chair. The human in the chair - the boss he’s supposed to speak to, he supposes, flicks out his left wrist to check his watch almost casually. Then, he looks to Quinn with that icy blue stare of his.

“Right on time, it seems,” he says. Quinn tries not to let the dual feelings of discomfort and relief wash over his face too plainly. The man motions to a table he hadn’t seen yet. “Please, take off that muzzle. We can’t talk business if, well, you can’t talk, now can we?”

At his behest, Quinn slides his fingers up to the buckles against his head to loosen them and pull the muzzle off of his face. As it’s drawn away he takes a moment to work his jaws, careful not to bare his teeth too much in the presence of other humans, just in case. Then he places the muzzle on the table.

“Thanks for that. Are you uh, Mr. Delaney?” Quinn asks.

“Yes. I believe you have a message for me?” Delaney sits up in his chair and takes a long drag of his cigarette.

“Uh, yes, I do, I-” As Quinn reaches into his pocket to pull out the letter he’d been given, both of the humans to Delaney’s left and right immediately pull out guns and aim them directly at him. His chest goes cold. “Whoa, whoa, I’m just pullin’ out a letter!”

Delaney brays out a chuckle, puffing out smoke like some sort of dragon. “You’ll have to forgive these two. A bit jumpy after the last attempt, especially with lone messengers like you. Can never be too careful. You understand, right?” His eyes are squinted from his friendly smile, but there’s an emptiness in them that makes Quinn uncomfortable. Moreso when he waves his free hand towards Quinn and tells the guards to, “search him.”

The two bodyguards step forward without putting their guns away. Quinn swallows and stays perfectly still just like his Pa always told him to, allowing the two to move his arms about and go through his pockets. It’s a bit awkwardly invasive with two sets of hands patting him down like they are, but he’d rather have his personal space invaded than, well, the other outcome. The guards dig into all of his pockets, pulling up his wallet and the letter that had come from Quinn’s employer.

The human who found the letter gives Quinn a side eye that makes him draw a blank in terms of words, before opening the letter himself. He draws out the paper that was carefully handwritten and placed, unfolding it like it was a bomb of some sort.

Quinn was watching him like a hawk, so much so that he didn’t notice the other human had stepped away and given his wallet to Delaney.

“So, Quinn, it seems. You’ll have to forgive me for not remembering, it’s hard to remember everyone’s name nowadays. What brings you to this type of work, huh?” Delaney went on, rifling through Quinn’s wallet with curiosity.

“Um, I-I needed the money,” he mutters, watching the bodyguards hand the letter off to Delaney. “For the record, my employer thought it’d look wrong to bring more people besides, well, me. Wants to be cordial an’ all.” It’s not really his message, but he can’t help but feel a bubbling nervous feeling in his stomach as Delaney reads the letter.

“You mean he doesn’t want to lose any more men, so he figured I’d take mercy on just the messenger,” Delaney cooly corrects.

“Well I’m not sure what my employer’d think, but I’d for sure want the messenger t’ be spared,” Quinn says in the attempt at a joke.

When no one in the room laughs, he curls his tail around his ankle.

Delaney huffs a small bit of laughter as he reaches the end of the letter, beginning to slowly rip it up into little pieces and shoving it into his nice suit. “Quinn, do you know what happens when you give someone an inch?”

“They take a mile?” He swallows as the human stands up from his chair and adjusts his cufflinks.

“Yes, good, at least you’re not totally brain dead like some I’ve seen. I’m not about to relent and give that man a fraction of space like he’s requesting. You of all people should know that this is my territory, right? Where I do my business?”

“Right, but-” His breath hitches when the guard next to him grabs onto his shoulders and holds him before he can step forward. “This agreement is so they won’t encroach, is all. Wouldn’t it’d be better to not have any more territory disputes?”

Delaney regards him for a moment, having to tilt his head upwards just slightly due to Quinn’s height. Then he smiles a bit more widely. “I don’t think we’ll be making a deal today. But… I think we’ll take care of it from here. When are you meeting with your employer again?”

“As, as soon as I can.” Quinn’s eyes frantically look around for an exit as the other bodyguard closes in. He needs to get out of here. Now. “I’ll uh, leave you to it then, I guess. Sorry we couldn’t come to some sorta agreement-”

“Let me at least escort you out. My treat,” Delaney offers with an extended hand towards the door.

“Um, I ‘preciate the offer, but, I actually have a uh, a few things to tend to after this, so-”

The bodyguard holding him delivers a solid blow to his middle, knocking the air out of him in one fell swoop. Quinn doubles over, held up only by the strong hands gripping onto his shirt now, gasping to fill his lungs quickly.

“Perhaps I wasn’t very clear. I wasn’t asking, Quinn.” Delaney tilts his head to the side to catch his eye. “I’m not about to let you blab about everything you saw here just yet. Need a few things in order, you know? I just need to know if you’re coming with me willingly, or if my men need to get involved.”

“Hold… hold on a minute now,” he says quickly and yet still breathless as the panic wells in his chest instead of the oxygen he desperately needed. “I’m, I’m just a messenger, I’m not- what-what are you doing?”

Delaney had sighed and looked to his other body guard while Quinn was talking. He points over to the muzzle lying on the table and flicks his hand. “Muzzle him. I don’t have time to deal with his blabbering.”

Quinn’s arms are wrestled behind him before he can realize. The bodyguard is stronger than he thought, and he holds him still long enough for the other one to draw close enough, muzzle in hand. He struggles, lifting his head out of their reach and kicking his legs out to delay the inevitable. One of them grabs his antlers, jerking his head downwards for long enough that they can wrap the buckles around his face. They’re affixed tightly against his face, muffling most of the panicked cries erupting from his throat beyond whines.

“Enough of that whining,” he hears from Delaney as a firm command. He glances over with terrified eyes to see him pull a phone out of his pocket. “I have to make a call. Oh, you two, make sure to get him comfortable in the trunk, will you?”

The two humans nod, and drag him out of the room. Quinn screams as best he can through his nose, kicking his legs and struggling to get away from them as best he can. One of them spits out a curse, unhooking the gun from their side.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses. “I’m not dealing with a spitfire devil today. I’ll just shoot you and get it over with. You want that?” Quinn breathes hard and shakes his head frantically. “Then fucking act like it.”

They pull him out of the house with little issue after that. Quinn’s tail coils, tightening painfully against his ankle as it worries at the fabric and skin, as they approach a dark car with tinted windows. One of the bodyguards walks to the other side and pulls out a few items from the front seat, and Quinn can hear the clinking of chain along with it.

He’s suddenly thrust forward, and his face impacts against the side of the car. His bright eyes go wide, searching frantically for what’s happening, and then he feels metal tightly wrap around both of his wrists. Then he is taken from the side of the car to its back, as one of the bodyguards opens up the trunk. Quinn jerks against the cuffs holding his hands together, frustrated and scared tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

This can’t be happening, he thinks, looking at the interior of the trunk. His antlers are roughly grabbed again, dragging his head to the side. He can’t help but roll the thought around in his head, how this wasn’t supposed to be how it went, as something sharp sticks into the side of his neck. Quinn squirms, a muted whine slipping from his nose as a wave of dizziness hits him and his legs nearly buckle. The guards take the opportunity and throw him into the back of the trunk, and as Quinn lands with a harsh thud his vision blurs from the force of the impact.

“Get comfortable,” the one who cursed at him before remarks. “You’re gonna be with us for a while, I think.”

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serpcntloyalty · 5 years

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🖊🖊🖊🖊 (I love hearing people talk about their OCs)

let me ramble about my original characters !

ELISHA (ELLIE) SMALL / BALLET TEACHER

she was raised to be a spy (and attended the same spy school as lolita did) but decided that it wasn’t a life she wanted for herself, so sought out a more “normal” job instead, working as a ballet teacher. she had a turbulent childhood, was abused by her ex-assassin father (are you seeing a theme with my original characters yet???) who’d gone off the rails, and so was taken out and put into care from an early age. she was lucky enough to be taken in by aaron’s family (who we will get into later) and lived with them up until the gallagher academy (the spy school) invited her to join once she turned 13. she was quite shy and quiet before attending, but after mixing with lola became more confident and reckless —- sneaking out at night, attending forbidden parties etc. her and aaron have always been close, even before his family took her in, and she lives with him now. she tends to have horrific nightmares, and is generally quite an emotional person, but she’s built up a really tough, badass side, and will literally kill anyone that tries to harm her or her friends. she’s also super smart and literally never has her head out of a book. ballet was something she always loved as a kid; the focus that she channelled into it helped distract her from stuff that was going on in her life, and kept up with her training while at the academy. she didn’t try getting into any companies, mostly because she didn’t have much “official” training while at the academy (just self-teaching/practising on her own), but took a course in teaching and now teaches young students. she’s very content with her normal life, but does miss her friends, who are now all in the field. also, fun fact, she was my first ever original character!

AARON BROWN / MECHANIC

he’s probably the nicest, most loyal guy you’ll ever meet. he was childhood friends with ellie, and helped persuade his parents to take her in when she was in need. he loves ellie a great deal, and would literally do anything for her. he loves horses, and was lucky enough to have his own growing up, so spends most of his time outside, caring and riding them, or going for walks etc. he’s also a big book kind of guy like ellie, but is a lot more outgoing and goofy than her. after she decided that she wanted to live a more normal life, he decides to take an apprenticeship in mechanics, and now runs a mechanic shop near to her ballet studio. his family used to work for the government intelligence group, and so he knows about ellie’s life, and the school she went to, and can understand why she chose the life she did. he also knows and gets on with her old friends really well, even if he’s not the biggest fan of lola because he can literally see straight through her. he’s also a MASSIVE fan of musicals, and literally would’ve loved to go into some kind of musical theatre group, but he ends up just embracing that side of him in the comforts of his friends (most of whom he met through ellie), and they quite often mess around and put on really dumb shows in their homes. honestly you 10/10 have to drag him up for karaoke someday because he takes that shit seriously asf.

DROVER EDWARDS / FARM HAND

probably my first non-spy related original character (and funnily enough my first non-irish character??) he’s a sweet kid that grew up on a severely poor and run down ranch with his extremely sick mother and asshole of a father. he’s a hard worker, and has always looked after the place for his family since his mother is never really strong enough to keep up with the manual labour, and his dad is quite often too drunk. he never really liked school due to the fact he was bullied about his dyslexia and the fact he was super poor (imagine the kid with clothes that are 3 sizes too small/short for him, that has holes in his shoes and never has the resources to do the cool, school projects, ‘cuz that’s him) and drops out at quite an early age. he works on farms, and if he can’t find any work there, will just pick up whatever random manual labour job he can find, whether that’s gardening, helping clear out rubble, or doing diy stuff, and he’s literally the type of guy to work all day every day. he’s very sweet, but can be a massive asshole when you first meet him, and has grown up with his horse, joey, who he loves more than anything. he’s still super close with his mum, and visits her as often as he can, taking care of her and batch cooking her meals so that she doesn’t have to struggle on her own. he’s probably the only character that isn’t directly connected to my other characters, but in some verses he knows the others through beth (my friend’s oc who pretty much ties all my characters together lmao).

DEAN GRAHAM HUNTER / THE CRIMINAL

dean is your stereotypical, all rounder, bad boy. he had a rough childhood and bounced around between different foster homes, always getting kicked out for breaking stuff, stealing things, or causing general issues until the blackthorne academy (a male school for assassins) find him and take him into their reign. this is the school where lola’s boyfriend came from, so he meets her through him, and subsequently the others from her circle of friends. he doesn’t really become close to any of them, mostly down to ellie being quite cold around them, but after lola heads off solo into the world they start to hang out more often. at this point he’s just an all rounder criminal, can be employed for pretty much anything. you want something stolen? you want someone beaten up? you want information from someone? he’s your guy. he quite often gets employed to seduce wives or girlfriends of business men, gang members or other men in some form of power, to find out information on them. he’s such a typical fuck boi tbh. he gets on with lola really well, from the fact they’re both so dark, and emotionally disconnected, but actually starts to get closer to ellie and aaron later on in life when both him and ellie work on something together and he actually moves in with them for a while. he’s salty, sarcastic and really charming in his weird, twisted way lmao. // @snakeblccded

#snakeblccded #this is sm fun tbh #thanks so much for sending this in!!1 #also most of these were created when i was 14 so they all have similar stories and backgrouns bc i wasnt v creative ok #and they're all so cringey

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