#just a little fear and loathing appreciation post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mentally-a-slut · 28 days

Text

Three Days (Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader) (SMUT)

Anddddd here we are! Part two of 'Staring Problem'! This can be read as a stand alone, but if you want a suggestive lead up, then go read part one! I tried my best with this one, but I haven't written explicit smut like this in a long time, so go easy on me! Writing this also reminded me that I loathe writing in second person, so from here on out I think I'll either do first or third. I won't bore you with details here, but I'll put up a separate post updating y'all on some stuff. Anyway, enjoy, and please leave feedback! Silent readers are appreciated but leaving comments helps me get motivated to continue! Even just a one word comment or an emoji helps! - Azi >:)

Summary: Arthur's been gone on a job for three days, which isn't a new development. However, a new development in your relationship just before he left leave you wanting. But fear not, as your troubles will be soon solved!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, smut, oral (f receiving), overall filth, reader is female, unedited (sorry), probably OOC Arthur but we're here for dick not character analysis!

You had always hated when Arthur went away on jobs, but ever since he left you hanging, your distaste for his long absences had grown.

You hadn't seen the man in three days, only getting a parting kiss and a heavy, heated promise as a farewell. The first day he was gone, you were mostly in awe of what had happened, wistfully going about your day and daydreaming of things to come.

The second day left you a little frustrated, the ache for him only growing with his absence. The other girls had noticed too, only making you more irritable as they teased you relentlessly for your obvious attitude change.

The third day was when you started to get worried. He'd been gone on longer jobs than this before, but you still couldn't help the nervous bouncing of your leg as you sat across from Tilly, trying to busy yourself with patching up some clothes.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's been gone much longer than this before."

Your lips contorted into a line, eyebrows knitted as you shook off the pain of the needle piercing the soft pad of your thumb. "I know. Just miss him, I guess."

Tilly just smiled and let you work in silence alongside her.

Arthur had gone to rob some stagecoach close to Emerald Ranch, along with Javier and Micah. You trusted Javier to help bring him back safely, but the addition of Micah made you nervous. He had a reputation of losing his cool and endangering the lives of everyone in a five mile radius.

Abigail had been very helpful the last couple of days. She understood every minor shift in your demeanor in the time he was gone. John was no stranger to long jobs, so Abigail knew exactly how it felt to sit idle while the men were out in danger.

John tried to be helpful, saying things about how Arthur had been bled half to death before and still made it back alive, but that only made things worse. You appreciated the effort, though.

It was getting close to evening now, the light of the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. You tried not to feel disappointed, knowing that if they were on the way back, they would likely stop and make camp for another night before arriving. Riding at night was never good unless they were on the way to a job. Riding back during the day was safer, and helped them keep an eye out for any witnesses or general hinderances along the way.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to your lonely bedroll for the night, the sound of rumbling hooves shook the ground under your feet.

You whipped your head around to see three healthy horses slowing to a walk near the hitch posts, each one carrying an upright, unharmed figure. You silently cursed the fact that Micah had made it back alive, but figured it was too much to hope that you'd get Arthur back and get rid of Micah in one day.

You didn't care what it looked like to the others, throwing all cares out as you rushed over to greet the man that had been haunting your thoughts for the last three days. He was just finishing up tying his big black shire to the post, taking the weight off his horse for the night, when you tackled him into a hug.

He stumbled slightly, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as he snaked an arm around yours to steady himself. His breath tickled the top of your head as he chuckled. "Miss me?"

You scoffed and pulled your head from his chest, still gripping the sides of his jacket as you looked up at him. "You were gone three days!"

He smiled down at you and pulled you back against him, settling his other hand to cradle your head against his chest. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

All of a sudden, he withdrew, his eyes landing on the man a few feet away that was tending to his horse. "Javier!"

He turned. "Yeah, Arthur?"

"Tell Dutch me and my lady are goin' on a little vacation for a while, will ya?"

Javier nodded with a smirk, and you shrieked as Arthur lifted you onto his horse without warning. He followed shortly after, kicking his horse into a fast walk as a few wolf whistles resounded from camp.

You held onto his waist tightly as he sped up. "Where are we goin'?"

"Just into town."

"What are we gonna do there so late at night?"

You felt more than heard his responding chuckle. "Get a room."

"Oh. Oh."

The excitement that tingled through your body was electric, buzzing the whole ride there.

~~~~~~

You would have flustered at the knowing look on the hotel receptionist's face if you had been at all aware of anything but Arthur.

Arthur thanked the man before leading you up the stairs to the room, his large hand gripping yours the whole way there. You expected him to jump straight into action the second the door closed behind you, but instead his strong arms pulled you into a hug.

His arms encircled you and pressed you against him as he nestled his face into your neck. The vibration of his words against your neck sent sparks through your body straight to your core. "Thought about you the whole time."

You sighed into him, holding onto his as if he would disintegrate upon letting go. He only pulled back to gently tilt your chin up, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips.

The kiss was so soft, so filled with emotion, his fingers brushing lovingly across your cheek as your lips molded together. You were the one to lean into it, chapped lips parting and teeth nipping lightly at him.

The responding noise from him fueled your desire more, the desperate groan making your whole body ache for his touch. His hands moved from your waist to your hips, fingers bunching up in the fabric of your shirt as he fought your tongue with his.

When his rough fingers brushed against the bare skin of your waist, you whined into the kiss, arching into him. He chuckled against your lips, brushing his hands even further up your shirt and coming to a stop just under your tits.

You broke the kiss just for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, discarding it wildly behind you. You yelped as he lifted you and spun you around, walking you backwards towards the bed. You tugged him down on top of you, slipping a hand under his shirt to feel to ripples of muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Arthur," you whined, tugging at his shirt. He got the hint, discarding his shirt before meeting your lips again. His kiss was rougher this time, wet and messy as he took in the feeling of your body against his. You brought your legs up to circle around his waist, and you whimpered when he pressed his hips forward against yours, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging lightly. He squeezed your hips in response, kissing down your neck and nipping at the skin on your chest.

His hands snaked around your back, undoing your bra without even pausing. He broke the kiss only when he pulled the straps down, revealing your chest to the open air. Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but he didn't even give you the chance.

You didn't have the brain capacity to be embarrassed at the sound that came out of you when he took a nipple into his mouth, gripping the other with his large hand. He groaned against you, his erection brushing against you. He was growing harder by the second, the mere sight of you arousing him intensely.

His unoccupied hand stroked down your stomach, slipping two fingers in the waistband of your pants. You nodded and begged desperately, writhing against him. "Please! Please, Arthur..."

He moved his lips to your other nipple, quickly unbuttoning your pants and ridding you of both them and your panties in one movement. His lips separated from your chest as he moved up to you, staring into your eyes with intense lust. "I'm gonna get you ready, baby, that okay?"

Your heart swelled with emotion, only intensifying your desire. Even when he was desperate with lust, he looks at you with such caring, always making sure your okay. "Yes, yes, please!"

He smiled at you before kissing you sweetly, slowly kissing down your body. You whined as his hot breath brushed your core, your head tilting up to look at him between your legs.

His eyes glittered with amusement as they met yours, a teasing finger brushing your inner thigh. It was so close to where you needed it, but so far. "You're a tease."

He chuckled, "Can't help it when you look so pretty beggin' for me."

You threw your head back and groaned, half in frustration and half in arousal. Your noise quickly shifted to a whine when he suddenly slid a finger across you folds, head fuzzy with pleasure. "So wet already. All for me, sweetheart?"

You groaned and nodded, hips shifting towards him in an attempt to get him to do it again. "Ah, use your words."

Your words were half whimpered. "Yes! All for you, only for you, please!"

"Good girl."

He swiped his finger through your folds again, this time teasing his fingertip around your aching entrance. You bucked against him when his thumb brushed against your clit, breathing coming out in short, whiny sighs. "Please."

"Whatever you say, baby."

You moaned as a finger slid into you, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. Before you could complain at the lose of stimulation when he removed his thumb, his lips connected and sucked harshly. Your moans were surely loud enough to be heard, but the pleasure that wracked your body was so overwhelming you couldn't bring yourself to care.

His finger slowly moved in and out, brushing against your sensitive walls as his tongue assaulted your clit. You tangled a hand in his hair, tugging harder than you intended. He groaned against you, making a jolt of pleasure shoot through you.

The stretch of another finger was added, making you cry out. It wasn't enough to be painful, just enough to make you stretch around him so deliciously. He pulled his lips off of you and looked down at you, eyes hungrily watching as your cunt swallowed up his fingers. You looked down at him, lips parted with pleasure as he worked his fingers inside you. "More."

He glanced up at you with a smirk, slipping in a third finger. It sent a small jolt of discomfort through you, but it was quickly overwhelmed with pleasure as the third finger pressed against the most sensitive parts of your walls. "Oh, fuck, Arthur!"

"Feel good, huh?"

"Yes! Please, please, I'm gonna cum!"

He sped up, his fingers pumping in and out of your relentlessly. He leaned back in to swirl his tongue against your clit, which made you walls start spasming around him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close around him, but he pulled back and held your legs open.

"Go on, baby, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

You couldn't form any words as his fingertips curled inside you and prodded against you in a way that made you see stars. His encouraging words only pushed you closer and closer.

"Good girl, doin' so good for me." You moaned and clenched around his fingers, muscles spasming as the dam broke. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came, short, whiny moans escaping your lips as he fingered you through it.

With a gentle kiss against your clit that made you twitch, he pulled his fingers out of you and rose to look at you. You forced your eyes open, smiling breathlessly up at him. "You okay?"

You couldn't help but laugh, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. "More than okay. That was amazing."

He smiled and kissed you again, slow and loving. You knew you could tell him you were done for the night and he would agree in a heartbeat, not even caring about his own unresolved desires. But his sweet kiss only fueled another spark, already tingling through your body. His moaned against your lips as you arched against him, legs moving to wrap around his waist and pull him against you.

He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. "You're a needy one, aren't you?"

"Only for you."

You pulled him back down, kissing him roughly and pressing your hands all over his bare skin. His hips bucked forward when you tugged at his waistband, his desperation shining through even when he tried to stifle it.

You pushed him back, catching him off guard and shoving him onto the bed. He chuckled and shifted further back, letting you swing your leg across his hips and straddle him. You leaned down to kiss down his neck, smiling at the soft murmurs of content as you nipped at his collarbone.

You reached between the two of you, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down. He helped you and kicked them the rest of the way off, leaving him in only his boxers. You stared down at the bulge that strained against the white fabric, a wet spot of pre cum soaking a part of it. You looked down at him with a proud smile. "I do that to you?"

His hands slid up your thighs and caressed you hips. "You do so much to me. More than you could ever imagine."

You leaned down to kiss him, pouring all your emotions of admiration and lust into it. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing as he groaned against your lips. Your hips pressed down against his. sending a shock of pleasure through you as your clit brushed against his clothed bulge.

He would have been content to kiss you like that forever, but you were growing more and more desperate with each touch. You slid your fingers into his boxers without breaking the kiss, gently stroking his cock. His reaction spurred you on, and you pushed his boxer down to release him.

You marveled at his size as he helped you discard his underwear, leaving him fully bare underneath you. He was thick, and longer than anyone else you'd ever had. Your hand continued to slowly stroke up and down his shaft, thumb smearing the beads of precum around him. You were transfixed on him, lost in the feeling of his soft skin against your palm.

"Fuck, baby, as pretty as you look doin' that, I don't wanna cum just yet."

You slowed your movements to a stop and looked up at him with a soft smile. The admiration you felt for the man beneath you was overwhelming, and you didn't know if you could ever truly explain to him how much he meant to you.

You slowly moved to kiss him again, soft and sweet. You let your hips relax against his, smirking as his hips shifted under you to gain friction. You moved your hips against his shaft, your cunt dragging against him. You continued grinding on him, breathing growing heavier as the tip of his cock teased at your entrance with each movement.

After a few more seconds of torturing him, you lifted your hips and gripped his cock, prodding him against you entrance. Before you moved, you pulled away from his kiss, sitting up and placing a hand on his chest for balance. He groaned as he looked up at you, poised above his cock, cunt dripping with anticipation.

Emotion shone in his eyes, gaze still so loving even when clouded with lust. With a sigh, you lowered yourself slightly, taking his tip inside. You knew it was going to be a stretch, so you had to restrain yourself and take it slow.

He groaned at the sight of your cunt swallowing him, even just the tip of him. You held his gaze as you lowered another two inches, fingers gripping his chest at the slight stretch. Soon, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he helped you sink down all the way, clit brushing against him as you were finally fully seated against his pelvis.

Your eyes were dark with lust, cunt clenching around his cock as you adjusted. His eyes flickered over you, rapidly moving between your joined bodies, your heaving chest, and your face. "So perfect. Take me so well."

His words spurred you to move, lifting your hips slightly and moaning sweetly as you sank back down. The pain of the stretch had completely disappeared, replaced with a blinding pleasure. You rolled your hips a few more times before rising further, speeding up.

His hands held your hips tightly, his thighs tensing as he tried to hold himself back. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. Swallowing me up like that."

His words only increased your desire, your hips rising and falling faster, legs lifting you further off his cock. His moaned as he stuttered out praises, hands tightening on your hips as you rose fully off him and slammed back down again. Your pace increased, his length filling you up perfectly and brushing against the sensitive spots within you.

You struggled to hold yourself as you got closer and closer, pace faltering. You whined, every breath coming out as a soft moan. "You're doin' so good baby, want me to take over?"

You managed a messy nod, and his hips immediately rose up to meet yours, hands moving your hips up and down on him. You threw your head back as your cunt spasmed, orgasm coming down hard and fast. "I'm- fuck! Gonna cum!"

"Go 'head baby, I've got you."

With his words, you moaned with your release, his cock still pounding into you as you rode it out. Your senses were fuzzy, everything covered in a blanket of pleasure. You didn't even realize he had flipped you over, your head against the soft pillow. As your vision cleared, you looked up at him, blissful smile on your face.

"You did so good, honey, think you can gimme another?"

You nodded blearily, spreading your legs further as he continued thrusting into at a ruthless pace. You were building up to another one fast, barely even recovered from your previous one. His hand rested against your throat, grounding you but not squeezing. "So gorgeous, my pretty girl. Look so good stuffed full of my cock."

You moaned pathetically, hands going up to hold his face and grip his hair. "You feel so good, Arthur, I- I love how you make me feel."

He groaned in response, slamming into your cunt even faster. "So tight for me, gonna make me cum. Where d'ya want me?" He struggled to get the question out, his voice stammering through moans.

"Inside. Fill me up, Arthur."

His hand tightened around your throat for a moment at your words, and he moaned loudly. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me."

His movements grew sloppier, fingers pressing against your throat as he pressed his lips to yours in a messy kiss. With a few more thrusts, your own orgasm came to a head, only slightly preceding his.

His groaned against your lips and your walls clenched around him, his cum painting your insides as you milked him. He fucked you through it, kiss growing softer as he slowed to a stop. He stilled inside you, pulling back to look in your eyes.

You looked back at him, lips curled into a soft smile as he rested his forehead against yours. He pulled out carefully, planting a sweet kiss on your lips to distract you from any discomfort.

He shifted to lay next to you, turning his head to look at you. "You okay?"

You smiled and looked at him. "With you? Always."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fem!reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #smut #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption #rdr2 smut #female reader #afab reader #one shot #part 2 #part two #azi's creations

184 notes · View notes

christinebloodwrittings · 2 months

Text

To hunt or be hunted #2

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer

Summary: Strong statements from the "feared" king of hell, deadly oversights, cute duck-shaped cupcakes and the forgotten terror that lives beneath the hotel enjoying a certain demon's broadcast.

Warnings: Self loathing, a bit of a scare, nothing else I can think of.

Taglist: open...

The crowd, and 102 notes have spoken. Funny enough, things I consider drabbles blow up, and stuff that I like and post stays forgotten, anyways that's life. Feedback is always appreciated btw.

For the ppl that voted One-shot, my request box is open if you guys want to drop something Hazbin related.

Charlie had habilitated a back door for the kitchen, heading to the street, so that groceries and the kitchen supplies that you order could arrive unnoticed and would not bother her guests. Also for you to come and go as you may see fit without drawing, as she called it, ‘Unwanted attention’.

Of course she wasn’t thinking of the swarm of questions that may come your way, but more like if they found out, she would have to break the little image she had worked on all this years, the controlled, nice and loving princess everyone knew; to show a bit of the real menace she can be. She hated exercising her authority over others because of what happened with you, it felt wrong and invasive, so she never wanted to re-enter the same void she had fell through when her mother left.

She still used a more severe tone when addressing to you and her orders, or as she calls them ‘mandatory suggestions’, orders nonetheless, and when she asks you for what you’ve heard around town. She wants to keep up with what the people say about the hotel? Not entirely, she just likes gossip.

When either Angel Dust or Husk asked Charlie where did the food come from, she either said that she ordered it, or rely on the fact that sometimes Nifty cooked, per Alastor’s suggestion, but only when he wasn’t around to bring out the fact that she was lying.

Your ears perked up at some noise coming from the renovated parlor, usually it was just Alastor messing with the king of Hell, which made your eyes roll in annoyance given his lack of battle IQ, but the stubborn stag was mildly protected by the princess’s favor, without it, his head would hang on the king’s wall, probably as a coat rack. Now, that thought brought you a smile and a small laugh.

Later at night, when most demons were fast asleep, Angel Dust tiptoe his way inside the hotel, after a long session demanded by Valentino. He tried no to groan given the fatigue, and as he stretched backwards, making his back crack.

“What the fuck?” he muttered when a candle lit up on top of the new bar table, on top of it lied a plate with a medium rare cooked stake sided with homemade mash potatoes and some sauteed vegetables, next to it a glass of wine and silverware, along with a note that read:

“You failed to attend to dinner, saved you a plate. Enjoy”

He reluctantly took a bite, but after realizing that if it were spiked with anything he would’ve already died, given that drugs in hell had a fast effect when it comes to assassination, he enjoyed every last bit of it, making small moan sounds as he did. He also complimented the selection of the wine. You enjoyed the praises as you saw him eat.

As soon as he made his way back to his room, you took the plate and various items to give them a wash. The next day, Husk earned a kiss on the cheek without knowing what he did to deserve it.

It gave you a warm feeling in your chest when the guests liked your food, even more so when they expected anxiously what would it be for the next day, as you never really published the menu for the week, only the princess knew.

Given Angel’s constant praise, you started leaving protein shakes in his night stand before he woke up, always with a ‘Drink me for strength’ note, same with Vaggie when she started working out in the mornings. Charlie took your gesture and assured that she made them out of concern, which was well received by the rest, but not so much from her towards you.

“What did we talk about laying low?” she turned a bit demonic as she whispered harshly, “If you want to starve yourself to death, be my guest, but you made me the chef of the Hotel since day one, and no one inside this walls will die of malnourishment if I can help it” you well knew of the nasty habit the princess had towards food, by sometimes (often) forgetting to eat, or drive herself to an extent of stress, that she just dismissed breakfast or launch, even both on some occasions.

“Fine. On another subject, my dad will start living here, permanently. He’s Celiac, just so you know” Gluten allergy, that caught you off guard. You made a mental note to replace flours, rice and pastas into a non-glutinous option, same as your pastries for tea time from now on.

“About time you made peace with him” she shot you a warning look but didn’t correct you, “Yeah well, I’m happy about it, it took too long” for a while she felt that it was her fault for her parent’s split, as any child of divorce would begin to feel in the first period of the breakup. That feeling diminished, but hasn’t left her system entirely, no mater how much her girlfriend reassures her of the contrary.

“Arrange his room please, I left a few things lying around, but I have a session, so, can you handle it?” you nodded, satisfied with your answer, or rather lack thereof, she turned into her cheery self. “He left to pack up a few things from the castle, he’ll be back in a few hours, please don’t let him see you” with that last bit, she left the kitchen.

The king’s room wasn’t messy, Nifty wouldn’t allow it, so there were just a few items to place around, and a massive bed to put together, piece by piece no less. It was a Belphegor’s elite brand bed, no less, it had an insane amount of screws and parts, for someone known as the queen of Sloth, it took a serious amount of effort to put up with her products.

Took you two hours to set the whole thing up. Why did it take so long to put together a bed? because when you had it perfect, you noticed that you had three leftover screws, you weren't supposed to have leftover screws, so you disassembled it piece by piece until you found a place for the damn screws. The instructions were worse written than a menu in a Cantonese restaurant when the owner is obviously not Cantonese and wrote up the whole thing in google translate.

You took a big breath, satisfied with your work only when you put on the last blanket over the foot of the bed. “Weight blanket” you muttered with the fabric in between your fingers. Right in between the bedspread and the sheet there was a fairly heavy blanket, it lead to something obvious, two, either anxiety, or the king was missing his wife to the point he needed a weighted hug over him.

Your ears caught the sound of wings, he would arrive in no time.

You only had a millisecond to think, either run to the door and risk being seen, or put on the veil, jump out the window, but you were at penthouse level, that would probably leave you quadriplegic, on the other hand you transferred your tunnel system between the walls from the old hotel to the new one, you would just have to push the fake tile behind the bathroom door.

You ran out of time.

Still in your place, like a statue, you put the veil carefully over your body, this time without your eyes being able to be seen through.

The fallen angel dropped one single portfolio, the same blowing up into a swarm, no, a tsunami of rubber ducks, pieces of clothing, all ending up scattered all over the room, giving you an opportunity to make your way behind the bathroom door.

“Oh Charlie put together my bed? That ought to be a lot of work” he ended the sentence with a singsong tone before jumping onto the mattress. ‘That’s a shit ton of baloney, I bust my ass and the little devil gets credit for it? Fucking fantastic’ you mentally growled.

“Lily, if you could see her, she looks more like you every day” his voice cracked, “I wish…I wished I knew how to help. What could I possibly offer her? Advice? Experience? On what?! falling, being a constant disappointment? She did more things than you and I did in ten thousand years”

“I feel so useless” peeking over the door you saw the tiny king, wrapping himself in his six enormous wings. ‘Majestic’ you thought, after seeing millions of demons since you died, it was the first time you saw someone so beautiful. It made sense, he was indeed the prettiest angel God ever created, the best singer too.

How can someone like that, ethereal, could be troubled by things so…earth bound?

In an instant, he jumped out of bed, brushed up his hair a little, then walked out the door with the most fake smile you had ever seen. Boy you knew about fake smiles.

Later in the afternoon, around tea time, you changed up your regular flour for almond, it was definitely a different experience in terms of texture, but in terms of flavor, it could pass for regular flour, no one was going to notice.

Three types of cupcakes: Salted caramel, red velvet with vanilla stuffing, and cookie dough cupcakes shaped as ducky ones.

Alastor wasn’t a fan of sweets, so a mildly coffee infused cake with a caramel dressing with coarse salt on top, did the trick amazingly. Paired with a nice cup of Orange Pekoe tea to send him down memory lane. When you picked his plate up, there wasn’t a single crumb left.

The rest of the Hotel fancied your pastries, and loved sweets. Red velvet was a well-received classic, but it consisted of a vanilla flavored cake, and pair it with a filling of the same flavor might over do it. Instead, you added orange juice to the mix, the citrus smell with the sweet vanilla swirl on top were the sensation in the redemption session.

The only questionable thing about the mix was the berry tea that Charlie liked to drink during her sessions.

You baked small batches of cookie dough balls only a quarter of time, then poured the gluten free vanilla cupcake batter on top of it, keeping the cookie cooking at the bottom while you prepared the chocolate icing. When still warm you used a duck shaped scraper for the cake to take shape, then use the icing to make spikes, horns and little faces on them when it had cooled down a bit.

Why were you making special things for him? Pity? Empathy? Maybe both, but you were far too busy remembering the steps to the king’s room to bother.

All the ducks seemed organized, it definitely was the same mess, but perhaps there was some sense in his insanity. The plate was placed carefully in his night stand, along with a saucer and the tea cup filled with chamomile tea.

“Stop, freeze right there” you were about to place the hand written card when the distorted voice of the king froze your nerves in place, good thing that you were wearing the veil.

“Riddle me this, I’m connected to your every step, but I’m not your shoe. What am I?” he was near but stayed right in your blind spot, as he walked towards you. “Answer” his voiced sent chills down your spine, made your teeth sharpen as well as your claws, and your ears perk up defensively.

“You’re a shadow” your answer brought in him a subtle laugh, “Even through that shield of yours, dear, you cast a shadow, I saw a glimpse of it make it’s escape through the bathroom” was it that simple? Did anyone else in the Hotel had been as perceptive as him, no they would’ve ask Charlie or Alastor about it.

“So? How long have you been lurking in the Hotel?” walking past you, he brought up the tea cup to his lips, making a grimace, “Drink it, you look either sick, or worse, anemic, you’re three tones paler than your daughter” he shrugged, apparently aware of his state.

“I believe I asked you a question” his eyes shifted colors, just like Charlie’s, “None of your beeswax” you couldn’t tell him even if you wanted to, “I’m your King” the little heavy step he did was hilarious, but laughing would’ve get you killed.

“So what?” he widened his eyes at your boldness, dismissing it entirely after a laugh, “Mm, how about you answer my question and then I might consider letting you go?” his boot was on the edge on the veil, one move and he would see you, “How about you stop being a bull on me and enjoy my cookin’?” he took a moment to actually see the cupcakes, a tender smile drawn on his face.

When he looked back at where you where, all he saw was the veil falling gracefully to the ground, likewise it dissolved into the air.

“I fucked up” your heart throbbed painfully in your ear; the rush was real.

Your room was underneath the Hotel, a system of catacombs led to different fates to those stupid enough to enter, only you and the princess knew of the correct way. The space wide consisted of black brick walls, a twin size bed placed on the corner, a wooden wardrobe, the rustic eighteen hundreds themed bathroom, and a set of seven iron candle holders screwed to the wall.

“Good afternoon Hell!” Alastor’s voice became present through the radio you kept on your night stand, “I’m in a jolly mood on this occasion, a well baked pastry would put a smile on anyone, even in the crankiest demon in hell” he laughed, then continued on topics from a simpler time, then the screams of his new victim.

You rested your tachycardia on your bed, focusing on your breathing and Alastor’s voice, to make your heart slow down to a normal pace.

“Thank you for listening, it was a pleasure to entertain you. Now, a small request from a friend in between the walls, I hope you enjoy this one, dear” he placed the dusted vinyl on the player, allowing it to roll one of your most liked songs, Cuban Moon by Carl Fenton’s Orchestra.

Slang, jazz, the demoness that haunted Alastor’s brain was definitely from his timeline, probably the same state he lived in. But what really itched his brain, was the axe. “It’s an unorthodox method to kill someone, the blade loses its edge quickly and it would require a brutal force to cut through bones…unless” he pondered over an open binder with pieces of old newspaper that fell with him, parts of the news were about him, but the front page was about someone else.

The next day, Lucifer walked fast down the stairs, grabbed Charlie by her shoulders and demanded, “Who is she? The demon living in the walls?”.

Your note for Lucifer read the following: "Someone who swore to love you through sickness and health, and still left, is not worth your tears."

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

Baloney: same as nonsense or bullshit

None of your beeswax: Slang for 'none of your business'

Bull: Slang for police-man

Stay tuned ;3 Part 3

184 notes · View notes

andy-jam-blog · 3 months

Text

Dipping my toe in the water

Something I am anxious about under the cut.

I could talk at length about the pro column and con column that has been running in my brain for the past few months re: discord. I will spare you (most) of that though. (This post could be a lot longer - can you imagine???)

My fear is that a server meets expectations. Like, forget about worst case scenarios (I sure haven't); The most successful version of a server, in my mind, is something that is going to divide my attention from the game if I'm responsible for moderating it. The server functioning in the best case scenario is going to have good stuff, bad stuff, jokes, drama, people becoming friends and people becoming enemies.

But it is still something I am strongly considering. I think it would be great to have a cool online hangout where the community surrounding this little experiment can grow, and a place that has some more immediacy in communication than tumblr or youtube does.

I used to run a pretty big server for which I was mostly responsible, and nuked it when it got too stressful. I learned a lot from that, including (perhaps most importantly) that I don't want to be in that position ever again. So that's what this post is about. If I could find and line up some moderators who would be willing to help maintain a healthy distance between myself and the responsibility of a server, it would make the decision a lot easier.

I loathe asking anyone to help out in any capacity; it has taken me a long time to edit and release this post & the accompanying form. But if you're willing to lend some of your downtime/energy to help run something like this, I have a form here: LINK

Thanks for all your time & support, I appreciate it it. PS: It goes without saying, this is not confirmation that I am going to even establish a discord server. Like the title of the post says, I am just dipping my toe in the water.

#toe jam #gamedev #discord

193 notes · View notes

fruitytrollroll · 8 months

Note

7k words??? What kind of debauchery u writing ( im going feral FEED ME GIVE ME SPOILERS OR TEASERS OF CH2 )

AHAHAHA THANK YOU FOR PERMITTING ME TO MADDEN YOU, YOUR ENTHUSIASM IS MUCH APPRECIATED! 😈❤️‍🔥

Since you asked so ravenously, I will tell u a little of what I'm working on, and oblige you with a cheeky excerpt (which u will automatically see if u expand this post, sorry this format is not the best! oh well!)

I will say my approach to erotica/erotic romance is that themes and allegories and narrative "foreplay" enhance the overall experience! So it's mostly build-up and homoerotic loathing (and since the first chapter was so well-received I don't there will be any strong objections to this lmao).

I'm spending time in Scarab's head on the job to examine his thinking, and leaning into his intense hatred of (obsession with?) Prismo, because I think lingering on those feelings makes his downfall that much sweeter. Show me a man at the top of his game, and I'm gonna want to bring him to his lowest low. >:3c

To that end, I'm actually rewriting their first meeting from Episode 4! I think this adds value because I get to decide what Scarab was thinking the entire time. And we didn't see them for the WHOLE tour of the Time Room, so I get to add in those missing scenes and speculate on the flow of that conversation.

SO ENJOY THIS LITTLE EXCERPT!

🥒🪲✨

When a square porthole opens into the Time Room with a sound like a slab scraping over stone, Scarab wastes no time scuttling inside.

A glimmer of fear passes over Prismo's expression just as the Wishmaster comes into view, and Scarab knows he's caught the cosmic being red-handed—even if he doesn't know at what, yet.

"Ah—Scarab! Hey," Prismo greets with an awkward smile.

Scarab does not return the greeting. He takes his time, allowing himself to relish the lackadaisical Wishmaster's long-awaited comeuppance.

"Curious... I always thought you had an open-door policy," Scarab leisurely croons. He leaps from the porthole to enter the Time Room proper, and he lands inauspiciously on Prismo's arm. It makes Scarab's toes buzz, and he discreetly steps over Prismo's projected-light form to escape the strange sensation.

"Everybody's pal, Prrrismo," he purrs, with affection so theatrically insincere it makes his mandibles ache.

Scarab crosses one leg behind the other and rests his weight on his cane, awaiting Prismo's answer.

"Hey, that's me!" Prismo nervously laughs. "Well... What brings you here, Scrabby?"

The reminder of that undignified nickname makes Scarab scoff, and he crosses his arms, taken aback. "No one calls me that any more."

After Prismo paraded that odious nickname around the office party, it had stuck for a while. To put a finer point on it, it had taken decades of brusque correction for Scarab to train it out of their sphere of mutual acquaintances. Scarab had never dialed down his answering brutality, nor had he ever stopped begrudging Prismo the inconvenience of it all.

Much like the scandal of touch, a nickname was a pathetic attempt to come closer to the Scarab, and would be met with the same rebuke.

Stewing in that resentment threatens to distract Scarab from the task at hand. Perhaps that is Prismo's aim.

But Scarab is not so easily dissuaded.

With faux innocence, Scarab spins a yarn to conceal just how eagerly he has awaited the Wishmaster's downfall. "I was passing through the neighborhood, making a delivery to the Judgment Hall, when I got an alert... about you."

Prismo makes his excuses, and Scarab entertains them with diligent patience. Though the god-auditor is known for being abrupt, he likes to take his time on inspections and investigations—particularly when he is confident his quarry has been cornered.

What can he say? Time is the most important ingredient to many rewarding experiences—and Scarab enjoys playing with his food. There was little other reason to linger in Kheirosiphon's tea shop as long as he had, but to privately relish the impending conclusion of a successful hunt.

Also, Prismo floundering as he clumsily tries to conceal his crimes features not infrequently in Scarab's top 5 fantasies.

He is not so eager for justice to let that pass him by without savoring it, a little.

#prohibitedwish #my fic #enjoy entertainment babies <3 #why does tumblr move the readmore down every time i edit this post... im in hell :')

84 notes · View notes

dreamingcloudie · 1 year

Text

❛❛ A Star That No Longer Shines ❜❜

✎ ❛❛ Among the stars is where I'll be waiting... ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Angst (onehsot)

Warning(s): Death, use of Dottore's (speculated) real name

wc: ~3k

Notes: This is a re-post cus the previous one wasn't showing up in tags fsr— Got this idea from an anon! Been writing quite a lot of fluff lately. It's time for some sad >:)

The stars used to hold a never-ending shimmer to them. Was it just him or were they getting dimmer everyday?

You’ve always loved the night sky, a barren canvas painted with a cluster of flickering lights, such a magnificent view must’ve been crafted by the delicate hands of a god. Caged by this Eleazar of yours, what’s better than to go stargazing with your lover?

For him, however, it was quite the contrary. He loathed them, it was as if their blazing gaze were mocking him. The disdain he held for dainties stopped him from appreciating the view.

With every chance that you had, you’d drag him onto the balcony installed in his resting quarters, bringing a fluffy blanket and two hot drinks with you. Sitting on the cold stone floor with crossed legs as you draped a blanket over your forms, sipping your favorite drinks away while your eyes were fixated at the sky.

He was not fond of it at first, he knew the sky was a hoax, after all. It was all just a fabrication to deceive the human kind, he didn’t see the appeal to them.

Whenever you look at them with a glint of fascination in your eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder:

Why were you so drawn to them?

When you fell asleep, he’d go back to the balcony and observe them, trying to discern the secrets they hid from him.

Was it the layout of their unique patterns? Or perhaps they held some sort of significance to you?

Either way, they were just some glowing dots, nothing more, nothing less.

He has been doing that for a long time now, years, maybe even. Yet, his mind was only filled with only hypotheses.

And hypothetical assumptions, were not the answers he was seeking for.

He would ask you, but his pride held him back from doing so. That’s how he was, the answers would be more satisfying if he was the one to discover them.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard you coughing uncontrollably. Immediately, he rushed toward you to help you sit up and gently patted your back.

“Easy there, dear, easy there.”

The worried frown on his face would only soften when your coughs died down a little, his tender pats turned into soft strokes.

“Are you alright?”

You coughed a little more before answering him, “Y-yea, I’m okay.”

This was not looking too good. It seemed like the medicine he gave you wasn't so effective anymore. He was worried, more than worried, in fact. Fearing that one day you would…

No. He mustn’t think like that. Despite your illness, he knew you were a strong person. His darling wouldn’t let some irritating pest of an illness to take over you just like that.

He knew. He believed in you, you’d wait for him until he found the solution.

“Zandik?” You called out.

He made a “hm” sound, letting you know that he heard you.

“Get in the bed and sleep with me, please?”

He smiled at you in response and nodded. As he did so, you tried your hardest to engrave the image of his winsome smile into your sea of memories, your mind was still hazy from waking up in the middle of the night.

He got into the bed with you and wrapped an arm around your feeble form, his hand rubbed against the scales that coated your arm. Treating you as if you were a fragile piece of paper that could break easily. Which in a way, you were.

The scales that Eleazar plagued on your body was a weird sensation, it made your skin feel numb. But it also made you feel like your body was being smoldered by an invisible flame, one that could not be extinguished easily.

In that moment however, in his arms you felt… normal. It was like you never had this illness to begin with, and all of that was only an illusory pain.

Safe, was what you felt as you listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, guiding your tired mind away into a land of bliss…

---

The next day came and the sun made its way above the tall, icy mountains. Its soft rays of light embraced your body, causing your eyes to blink open. You expected to greet your lover but he was nowhere to be found, the other side of the bed was cold.

Huh, maybe he was busy today, you told yourself.

As you laid there, a soft knock came through your door and it was opened, revealing a segment of Dottore—Beta. He was holding a tray of freshly made breakfast as he made his way over to you, setting it onto the nightstand.

“Good morning, (Y/n)!” Beta greeted you with an enthusiastic voice.

You adored the segments, they were always so ecstatic to see you.

In return, you gave him a little grin and waved at him, saying a “good morning” to him, as well.

“As usual, I’ve made you your favorite! Pancakes with some fruits on the side!” He clasped his hands together, proud of himself that he was able to make you your meal.

You turned your head to the tray and woah, it looked really appetizing.

Without any hesitation, you went to grab the fork. But with how shaky your hands were, it slipped out of your grasp and hit the floor.

"Ah… I'm sorry," you said. Retracting your hands back to your side. You didn't remember being this tired from lifting your arm up….

"It's alright, darling. I brought a spare one just in case. How about I feed you instead?" Beta picked the fork up, switching to a cleaner one.

You were about to deny but stopped yourself when you saw how his face practically screamed please-let-me-feed-you.

Just like Prime, the segments loved to pamper you.

You chuckled and shook your head, giving him a gesture to do as he pleased. And just like you have guessed, he perked up and sat down on the side of the bed, feeding you pieces of sliced pancakes.

Like usual, the segments would take turns to keep you company. Theta told you about a story where he accidentally put too much spice into Prime’s food. Well, that explained why he came back holding his stomach that day. And Zeta was just there for you to cuddle as you took naps.

The only difference was you found out you weren’t able to stand on your own. As soon as you got up from the bed, your legs would become wobbly and cause you to lose your balance. Thankfully, Delta was there and he was able to help you get up.

You were about to fall asleep when you heard the door creaked, your eyes opened and was met with Zandik crouched down next to the bed facing you.

All the sleepiness you felt instantly disappeared when you saw him.

“I’m sorry, my dear. Did I wake you up?” He asked, stroking your cheek.

“No at all, I haven’t fallen asleep yet,” you replied. Relishing in the warmth his gloved hand gave off.

“Now that you’re back, why don’t we go stargazing together?” You were getting up, only for him to push you back on the mattress.

“My apologies, dove, but I need to get back to the lab in a bit. I’m only here to check on you. Delta reported to me that you weren’t able to stand today.”

Ah, so he heard.

“Yea… I guess my Eleazar has been taking a toll on me, lately.”

He leaned in and gave you a short but passionate peck your lips and held your hand.

“That’s what I’m here for, a cure will be made and you won’t have to suffer any longer.” He told you, but it was also a way to reassure himself that you would not be going anywhere.

“Please get some rest now, you need it,” he said, before getting up from his crouched position.

As he left for the door, you called out one last time, “Zandik.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head shifted a bit to your direction.

“Thank you…”

In response, he gave you a nod and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Unbeknownst to you, the moment you said that his heart dropped. You said it like you were going to leave him…

No. No, you wouldn’t leave him.

He would not let that happen.

He will find the cure no matter what.

---

It has been a few weeks now.

Day by day your Eleazar was getting worse, it was affecting you more than you had expected. You were getting weaker as the scales covered the majority of your body, almost immobilizing you. Breathing was starting to prove itself to be a challenge for you as well.

And he hated it. He absolutely hated how he wasn’t able to do anything.

He hated how useless he was.

“God damnit!”

He slammed his hand against the table as he let out a frustrated yell.

Another failure.

Why? Why wasn’t it working? It was going so well, but what stopped it?

He panted as he brushed his oily hair with his hand, ignoring the growl coming from his stomach for the fifth time today.

The thought of taking care of himself was shoved all the way back at the deepest part of his mind. How could he eat or shower when your life was on the line? There wasn’t a day where he’d stop worrying about your well being.

It was a race between him and the inexorable march of time before he lost you to that ridiculous Eleazar.

He must find the cure. He had to.

---

How long has it been since you've last seen him?

How long has it been since you've last seen his goofy grin?

How long has it been since the two of you were in each other's arms as you gazed at the stars together?

You didn't know.

All you knew was how agonizing the pain felt. You were thankful the segments were with you, some were holding you and the others tried their best to sooth you.

But at that very moment, all you wanted was just to see your lover again. You've missed him dearly and you knew his presence would make all the pain go away.

Oh, what you would do just to see him one last time…

Such a weird feeling. Where did all this fog come from? Amidst it, was a faint image of a smiling Zandik.

Ah, what a beautiful sight it was.

You were glad that you at least remembered that.

Where are you, Zandik? I wanted to see you again…

---

He was almost done, all he had to do was to—

"Doctor!"

A Fatui agent barged into the lab, panting.

Zandik turned to him and spoke with an irritated tone, "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It's… It's (Y/n)—"

Upon hearing your name, he put both of his hands onto the agent's shoulders and squeezed it.

"What is it? What's wrong with them?"

"They… Um, they're…" The agent stumbled on his words, his voice was foreboding.

"Speak." Zandik got impatient.

"They're gone..."

…What?

No… No…

No, no, no, no.

He knew you were stronger than that.

What was this scumbag bluffing about?

Zandik's faces scrunched up in disgust and shoved the agent against the nearest wall, holding his collar.

"Do you think this is funny? Joking about my lover like that?" His voice dripped with venom.

"I-I swear, sir! I wouldn't dare joke about something like that!" He pleaded, scared of what the harbinger would do to him.

Zandik didn't trust him one bit. But just in case, he had to go check on you. He needed to make sure you were okay. He must know that you were still breathing.

He ran to where your room was and opened the door.

All he could see were his crying segments surrounding your bed. When they noticed Prime, they made way for him to get to you.

When the segments got out of his way, he laid his eyes on you. He saw your figure laying there. However, your chest wasn't moving.

Oh gods no, please tell him it was just his eyes playing tricks on him and you weren't actually…

He got closer to the bed and slightly nudged you.

"Darling…?"

But you didn't move.

And he nudged you again, a little bit harder this time.

"My dear, it's me. I know you're tired but open your eyes for a bit, hm?" His voice wavered.

And yet, your form remained still.

He laid his head against your chest and listened to your heartbeat, desperately hoping that you were just a heavy sleeper.

But there was nothing.

He couldn't hear anything.

For the very first time in a long time, he felt something wet dripping down his face as he held you close.

He cried, and cried, and cried and cried.

Feeling what little warmth he could feel from your icy body.

He was a man that could easily win every battle. But against time…

He had lost.

---

After your passing, he isolated himself in his laboratory. Running experiments upon experiments. He believed that he could bring you back to him; to chase after a tantalizing hope.

But just like finding the cure, he failed.

He failed way too much.

And it finally dawned on him that he would never get to see you again.

He was laying on a desk when someone knocked on his door. He didn't give a response but they invited themselves in anyway.

"Prime, I was cleaning the room when I found this on the nightstand." Delta spoke in a raspy voice, and put whatever that he was holding onto the desk.

He wasn't looking too good himself as well. His hair was a mess and eyes redder than usual.

Without saying anything more, he left Zandik alone.

He looked up from his lying position and saw an envelope, written on the cover were the words "To Zandik."

He recognized that handwriting somewhere… It was yours.

Picking it up and took the piece of paper out, it read:

To Zandik,

Hello, dear! I hope you've been taking good care of yourself.

By the time you read this I'm probably… not here anymore. But that's okay, I'm still always here with you! Maybe not physically, but spiritually I'm always there.

Knowing you, love, you're probably blaming yourself. But please don't, okay? It's not your fault and I'd hate to see you do that :(

I know that you're just a big goof that worries about me. It makes me happy to know that you cared so much about me, to the point where you'd do anything to find a cure.

I just wish I could've gazed at the stars with you one last time. But that's okay too, I'll wait for however long for you and we could do that again.

Speaking of, you're probably wondering… Why am I so drawn to them?

Surprised? I knew. I've always known. Every night whenever you think I was "asleep" you'd observe them. I love them not simply because of how pretty they are, but because of the moments I got to share with you.

With my Eleazar, it honestly feels painful. Whenever I'm looking at the stars with you, it'd somehow make me forget that I was in pain. All the worries are just… gone.

No matter what, I want you to know just how much I'm grateful to be with you, my crazy scientist <3

If you ever missed me, just look at the stars and I'll be there :)

I love you, Zandik.

-(Y/n) ♡

I love you…

As he read those words again and again, he clutched the piece of paper to his chest as he let his tears fall once more.

The things he'd do just to hear you say that to him again.

Were you hoping for him to be there to watch the stars with you?

Were you hoping to see him one last time, just like he was?

Too blinded by his desperation to find a cure for you, he missed his only chance to say goodbye…

---

Weeks passed and in his hands, he was holding a blanket, two hot drinks and a photo frame, all the while he was walking to your room.

It's been quite a while since he's been there. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and opened the door.

The bed was covered in smooth sheets; the usually messy floor was now cleaned; the bookshelves were collecting dust.

Despite having been living here for the majority of his life, it felt like this was the first time he's been here.

He went to where the balcony was and sat down, putting the photo frame of you smiling on the floor close to him, along with a cup of your favorite drink in front of it.

He put his aside and wrapped the blanket around himself, making sure it covered the picture frame beside him as well.

He sipped on his hot chocolate as he gazed up at the starry sky.

There were so many of them decorating the void, and yet, if anything they made him feel alone.

And well, you weren't there to see them with him anymore. They weren't as enjoyable as they used to be.

However, out of every star, he noticed how there was an odd one out. It seemed to be flickering so intently.

A melancholic smile made its way to his face.

Was that perhaps you saying "hi" to him? You did say if he ever missed you, all he had to do was to look at the stars and you'd be there.

He couldn't help but wonder…

If he tried hard enough, would he be able to reach that star one day?

You were waiting for him, after all.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x yn #dottore #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #genshin dottore #il dottore #fatui #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers

362 notes · View notes

itsraven0v0 · 1 month

Text

YANDERE!KARUSER HCs

Note: as i said before, im terrible at writing yanderes. its mostly because im not a huge fan of it?! especially with characters i think would never fit in the role and Krauser is one of them. HOWEVER in a different timeline maybe, he'd make one hell of a f*cked up yandere.

i devided this into two sections (pre!javier krauser and post!javier krauser). enjoy~

comments and feedbacks are always appreciated:>

. PRE!JAVIER KARUSER .

you two met on one of his day offs when he was doing his routine jog and now he is EVERYWHERE!

like you can even see his iconic slicked back blond hair from the corner of your eyes.

you aint getting rid of him, you also aint getting a confrontation either!

i think back then he had more fucks to give so he kinda wanted to play it safe and approach you little by little

but when you where walking home alone one night(ffs dont do that) you got yourself in danger and then boom! this man appears outa nowhere and starts kicking their asses.

well that caught your attention and made you wanna give him a chance. what could go wrong, right?

oh you fool...

you aint getting outa his house anymore.

im pretty sure he has a single cabin in the woods that he has for the day offs he gets, so good luck runnung away.

not that you could if it was an apartment anyway.

this guy will hunt you down and drag u back. you will be his little canary or some shit.

. POST!JAVIER KRAUSER .

oh boy...

unlike the previous version, this man is too tired to give a fuck about playing it safe.

you two met at a bar where he was drowning himself in self-loathing and alcohol.

and as your obsession with military men with scars on their faces (and the alcohol) kicked in, you thought what better than to help him. right?! ahah...

look i aint judging you, thats literally me. ok??

you helped this man get his ass home safe from the bar and guess what? he was drunk and invited u in and u TOOK IT!

you helped him lay down, took his injured hand when he was having nightmares, made him coffee and everything OF COURSE HE WAS GONNA FALL FOR YOU!

your soft hands felt so good on his when he woke up only to see you fallen asleep besides his bed.

you appeared like an angel in his miserable life for a moment and from that morning he gave everything just to have your soothing presence in his life.

but soon this turned into something alarming.

he would confront you all of a sudden like: "be with me."

and if you refuse? well you can't. this man can turn on threatening mode real f*cking quick and this terrifies the sh*t outa you.

he'll keep you like a pet. attend to you good and make sure you are okay and happy but he also thinks the moment you walk outa his door smth is gonna take you away from him so say goodbye to outdoors.

he is so sad please be nice to him...i mean he technically gonna take away all your freedom but did you even have any to begin with?

enjoy you life with him while it lasts. and also enjoy knowing nothing about him. also enjoy meeting Wesker :D

that mf can and WILL pay u a visit just to scare Jack into doing what he's asking of him.

one day you ran away just to find out what he has been doing, who is he and who's that asshole that wears sunglasses indoors. And you saw smth that made you heart race in both fear and attraction(you weird f*ck! dw me too)

there he was testing his las plagas form. all monstrous and bloody. you took a step back in fear and the sound made him spot you. man he was terrified you were gonna run away. but nah!

you into that so you stayed.

you are gonna be so sad when he dies...

you think u can prevent that? try your best!

whooowhi!

thats the most yandere yall are gonna get outa me. hope that satisfied you anon who asked that.

ALSO i might wanna start a second page to write about other stuff [like mortal kombat :D] so i'll share it here too.

#jack krauser #re4 krauser #yandere

20 notes · View notes

pectinpeeress · 10 months

Note

Not really a question, just an appreciation post! I thoroughly enjoy the humor in your Royai art. Always clever and thought-provoking! Thank you so much for sharing~ <3

Hvhvyvhibh thank you!

I think they’re relationship is very tragic because I really think they could have been quite happy under different circumstances. You can really see the long lasting impact their trauma has on them. Ishval didn’t just take away their youth, it took away their entire lives. It reminds me of All Quiet on the Western Front “I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow.” Like… the pain of their youth poisoned their entire adulthood. They’re dysfunctional, but almost all of the issues with their relationship are directly caused by their own self loathing. I honestly think if either of them was self motivated enough to initiate a relationship they’d be forced to become functional adults but neither of them want that because they think they don’t deserve love. A hell of their own making <3

I have no idea if that made any sense, I go a little insane whenever I think about them too much.

Mostly I just think the idea of two almost thirty year olds carrying out a completely unspoken emotional affair much to the discomfort of everyone around them because they won’t go to therapy to be very funny.

This ask made me very happy so I made a quick doodle of them ^_^

#fma #my art #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #royai #ask

52 notes · View notes

ghost-on-a-string · 8 months

Text

finally

the (semi) long awaited hux longpost! before i get into any of it though, some disclaimers:

1. i have never read the star wars comics and honestly i never will. i like star wars enough to watch clone wars and suffer through the sequel films. that's it.

2. i will not be giving all my thoughts on hux as a character because then i can make more posts and i like when the numbers go up

3. as i said, i have not read the comics. i honestly only half watched rise of skywalker. this won't be super accurate to the star wars lore or anything like that, this is for fun

4. on that note, while this isn't going to be super serious, there are still heavy and sensitive topics, primarily child abuse and neglect, so if those things bother you, please sit this out

actual longpost/shitty character analysis below the cut

how does one start with a character like hux? despite how little screen time he actually gets in the movies, he's incredibly complex, even before you get into the comics. there's a lot to be said about him, even if you only have context from the movies. and while i could (and probably will) make a separate longpost about how last jedi not only fucked the entire trilogy over, but specifically ruined the character of hux by making a genuine threat into a joke within the first 15 minutes, not today my friends.

i will mostly be focusing on hux in the force awakens, using things from the rise of skywalker and what little i know about his backstory in the comics.

1st it must be stated: i do not like any of the other characters in the squeal trilogy. i don't hate most of them, but i either don't have an opinion on them (finn, rose, bb8 kind of, maaz, kylo to an extent), or i genuinely hate the character entirely (rey, she'll get a longpost later). a lot of it is because most of these characters don't have a lot of personality, which is a problem the sequel trilogy has as a whole. even returning characters are bland or weirdly mean

yes, you can argue that hux doesn't really have a personality either. however, compared to others characters (cough cough rey), he is dripping with personality, if you look a little closer. the first example that comes to mind is the speech scene. when he yells, there is genuine malace, hatred and fury in his voice. he isnt just yelling to be loud, he's yelling because he demands respect, terror and power.

it makes sense why he would want those things, especially when you look at his background in the comics. hux is a bastard child, his father was abusive and neglectful. he probably grew up feeling in adequate and out of control. he grew up in terror, so he is going to inflict that terror on others.

(i also want it to be known, i don't think hux is a good person. he's sympathetic, and with his backstory you can understand why he did what he did, but he also literally blew up several planets so. a little different.)

even in his smaller interactions, he seems stiff. while part of that is probably because no one had any personality, part of it could be purposeful. hux is a character desperately grasping for respect and control. he's stiff because then he can control how the conversations he has go. he's cold and confident because people respect those with plans who present those plans calmly. in tros, hux says "i don't care who wins. i just need kylo ren to lose." he's more focused on the way those around him look. because if they look bad, he looks better, he looks more confident, more in control. even after he's dead, he needs to be respected, feared, whatever. he can't let himself be seen as anything other than entirety perfect.

hux doesn't have a personality, because he can't let himself have anything other than utter perfection. he would rather be feared, loathed and respected than simply appreciated and forgotten.

#general hux #armitage hux #hux #star wars #longpost #character analysis #tw abuse #tw neglect #i told you it would be here #let me know which rant i should do next #how to fix what they did to hux #or #why i fucking hate rey as a protagonist #nic rambles

19 notes · View notes

fangirlwriting-stories · 9 months

Text

They Say You Can't Fight Fate (I Say Fucking Watch Me)

Chapter One

Author's Note: And that's a wrap! Thanks for reading this one, it was a tad spontaneous, but I really loved writing it, and I'm glad it got an ending when I wasn't quite sure when I posted it. I hope you enjoyed!

Chapter Eight:

Remus was almost scared to admit it sometimes, but things were good. He’d never expected to have the freedom to work with people he loved, doing something he at least didn’t hate, and not have to worry about stupid soulmates or stupid orderlies or stupid people never believing him.

Roman seemed to be doing much better with the therapist, though Remus was loath to admit it. But he was happy, and that made Remus happy too. Logan was still amazing fun to hang out with, and Remus was definitely not imagining the blushes that were starting to be sent his way. He was going to have to bring them up sooner rather than later. Especially considering Virgil finally got his head out of his ass, realized how stupid waiting for your soulmate was, and decided to kiss Janus about it. The two of them weren’t any less argumentative, but now quite a few of those arguments ended with the break room being mysteriously locked. It annoyed Roman to death, but Remus thought it was hilarious.

Overall, though, life was starting to look up in a very real way, and even if there were still problems, Remus was starting to feel like it was something he might be able to handle.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

It was a quiet Saturday, which was unusual, but it being unusual meant all four of them were scheduled to work, so they were lazing around at the front desk and tossing life stories and quips back and forth (well, with most of the stories coming from people other than Remus).

Remus was sitting on the desk and leaning back on his hands, listening to the others, smiling as he watched them. Roman was arguing with Virgil about what movies to watch when they had a Disney marathon, and Janus was only cutting in to feed the flames of their argument. Remus, on the other hand, was allowing himself a moment to be a sap and think about how much he loved the three of them, and how much he’d appreciated everything they’d done for him.

And then the bell jingled, and a horribly familiar voice yelled “REMUS!”

Remus went stiff immediately, and Roman whirled around from where he was arguing with Virgil and jumped forward in the same motion, surprising everyone except for Remus with how quickly he moved forward and shoved himself in front of him.

“Hey, woah,” Virgil said, moving forward at the same time Janus turned around. “What’s going on?”

Their Mom and Dad both stepped forward, and Remus could see Roman shaking as badly as he was, but he didn’t move from his spot in front of him.

“What on earth are you two doing here?” their dad said, looking back and forth between them both.

“Uh, sorry,” Virgil said, and to Remus’ surprise, he stepped forward and pushed both Roman and Remus further behind him. “But we have a strict policy against serving people who give our employees visible fear responses.”

“Step aside, young man,” their father said, crossing his arms. “We’re here to speak with our sons.”

Virgil exchanged a look with Janus, and Remus could see the exact moment that something processed for the two of them. He felt a little sick, but instead he just grabbed Roman’s arm and squeezed it, and Roman linked their hands and squeezed back.

“Get off of the premises right now,” Janus said lowly, pointing a finger out the door. “Or I am calling the police.”

“No!” Remus screamed, and Janus turned in surprise to him.

Police would be on their parents side as soon as they even started to explain the situation. They’d send Remus back, and who knows what they’d do with Roman, and Remus would never see him or Janus or Virgil ever again.

“Remus,” their mother said, stepping forward and holding her hands out. “We just want to help you—”

“No, get away from me, stay away!” Remus screamed, backing up and pulling Roman with him.

“Fine,” Virgil said, shifting and putting himself firmly in front of Roman and Remus. “Get off the premises right now or I will run into the other room and grab one of our fucking bats. And rest assured I am not afraid to use it.”

“Don’t involve yourself in situations you couldn’t have the slightest hope of understanding,” their father said, crossing his arms and glaring at Virgil.

“I understand enough,” Virgil growled. “I understand you’re scaring the hell out of two of the bravest people I know.”

“You listen here—”

Remus turned, grabbed Roman’s arm, and ran them both into the other room, because Virgil had a good idea there and he was going to take advantage of it. Roman seemed to pick up on his plan after a second and thankfully grabbed a bat too. Before they headed back out, he grabbed Remus’ arm. “How far are you planning on going?” he asked quietly.

“I have no fucking clue,” Remus said, and banged the door open, startling everyone on the other side of it.

“Get out of here,” Remus said, hoisting up the bat behind his head. “Or I am going to fucking kill you.”

Both of his parents stared at him for a minute, and then his father sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking exasperated.

“Remus, don’t be ridiculous,” he started.

Remus screamed and slammed the bat into the wall, putting a hole right through it. “LISTEN TO ME!” he screamed.

Well, now at least his father looked a little frightened.

“Remus,” his mother said, her voice shaking. “Stop it, you’re causing a scene.”

“Good! I want to! Get the fuck out of here or I am going to slam this bat into the space between your eyes, if that is what it takes to get you the fuck out of my life! I am happy here! I have Roman and I have friends and I have someone I might want to actually date sometime, and I am not going to let you fuck it up again!”

“You shouldn’t be dating anyone, they’re not your soulmate—” Remus’ father started.

“No, Roman is my soulmate,” Remus said, taking a couple steps forward until, to his vicious delight, his parents took a couple steps back. “Because I fucking say so! That is my choice, you don’t get a say in it! You don’t get any say in my life anymore, because every time you have one, you fuck it up! You fucked me up and you fucked Roman up too, and I am not going to let you stay here and fuck anyone or anything else up! So I suggest you turn around and run home with your tails between your legs. Because I don’t want to die, but you know something? I’m starting to think I wouldn’t mind so much if you did.”

Neither of his parents said anything, just gaped at him in shock and a still-not-appropriate-enough amount of fear.

Janus and Virgil were both staring at him too, but Remus was trying very hard not to look at them right now. That became a little more difficult however, when after a second Janus shook himself and turned around, glaring at Remus’ parents.

“Bye,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Both of Remus’ parents looked at him again. Remus smacked his bat against his hand. They turned and fled.

As soon as they were out of sight, everything rushed out of Remus at once, and he dropped to his knees and sobbed, the bat clattering to his feet beside him.

A moment later a second bat hit the ground, and Remus felt the familiar arms of his Roman encircling him.

“It’s okay,” Roman whispered. “It’s okay it’s okay.”

Remus turned and buried his head in his chest, trying and mostly failing to breathe in any capacity.

Then, he saw a different person kneel next to him out of the corner of his eye, and Virgil was suddenly there saying something.

“I’m gonna count to four, okay? Try and breathe in.”

Remus listened and tried to do what he said, and eventually his breathing got a little stabler, though he was still crying, and he definitely didn’t want to let go of Roman.

“Okay,” came Janus’ voice, and he knelt down on Remus’ other side. “We’re closed up, no one else is coming in today.”

“‘m sorry,” Remus managed.

“For what?” Virgil said firmly, looking meaningfully at him.

Remus sniffed. “For damaging the wall,” he said with a weak smile. “‘m not supposed to do that.”

Virgil burst into laughter, smiling back at Remus and shaking his head. “I love you, you idiot,” he said.

Remus sniffed again, his smile fading. “You want an explanation?”

“We don’t need one,” Janus said.

Remus turned to stare at him. “You’re telling me you aren’t curious?”

“Remus, I have been desperately curious for months now,” Janus said. “But last time we tried to talk about something before you were ready it went really, really poorly.”

Roman nudged Remus gently from the front, and Remus looked up at him. “I think it’s time,” he said quietly.

Remus looked at him for a minute, and he nodded. “‘Kay,” he mumbled. He blinked a couple times, and then grabbed Roman’s still-shaking arms. “You okay?”

Roman let out a shaky breath and shook his head, some tears slipping past his eyes.

Remus climbed up and wrapped his arms tightly around Roman, and Roman took his turn to cry into Remus’ shoulder.

When they both felt a little more stable, Remus turned to look at Janus, then Virgil, trying to think of how to start. Finally, he sighed.

“Here,” he said, pulling his sleeve up and showing them both his soulmark. Janus raised an eyebrow, and Virgil just looked at it, his face not revealing anything.

“Mom and Dad wouldn’t ever listen when I told them I was okay,” Remus said quietly, pulling his sleeve back down. “And eventually they tossed me into a mental hospital, looking for something to justify their stupid beliefs and insane paranoia.”

“I kinda got the opposite treatment,” Roman said, pulling up his own sleeve and laying it out in front of them, but just leaving it there instead of pulling it back down. “I told them I wasn’t okay, over and over, but they never let me not be.”

“So we ran,” Remus said. “Decided we were soulmates, said each other’s soulmarks, and just ran away.”

Virgil whistled, leaning back on his hands. “Well, shit.”

“I’m so sorry,” Janus said quietly.

Remus let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”

“We kind of lied about being eighteen for the first couple months we were here,” Roman said.

Janus snorted. “Oh, we knew.”

Remus laughed a little, giving him a tired smile.

“I vote we all head back to Janus’ and I’s place,” Virgil said. “We’re taking tomorrow off to watch movies and stuff our faces with junk food.”

“I’m so down with that plan,” Remus said.

“Eventually we’re going to need to figure out a plan to keep you both safe long term,” Janus said. “But I think Remus bought us all some time there. It will also help now that you’re both actually eighteen.”

“I like that plan,” Roman said, giving an exhausted nod.

“For now let’s go home though,” Virgil said, standing. “I’m gonna go pull the car around. Just meet me out front whenever you can manage.”

“Hey,” Remus said, looking between Virgil and Janus. “Thank you. Both of you. So much.”

Janus reached over and gave Remus a squeeze, and then Virgil leaned down and did the same.

“Of course,” Virgil said. “We look out for each other when we work shitty service jobs together.”

Remus laughed and smiled up at him, and Virgil gave him a smirk as he headed out to the car.

Janus helped him and Roman both stand up a second later, and they all headed for the exit at a leisurely pace.

And as they stepped out front to head towards movies and junk foods, and Remus climbed into the car with his brother and two closest friends, he realized maybe the good part of life would last after all.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #creativitwins #platonic dukeceit #platonic dukexiety #platonic prinxiety #platonic roceit #anxceit #my fic

16 notes · View notes

a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

Text

Yours | Chapter 2.2

Or, a saga detailing the complex, and peculiarly prolonged courtship, between a Captain of Zaun, and his Lady of the Isle Promenade.

7204 WC - Silco X F!Reader - Regency AU

AO3 - Prev - Next (TBA)

Warnings: Regency AU, arranged-marriage, slow-burn, romanticism, time-skip, love-letter, humor, fluff, family-dynamics, worldbuilding, Reader POV, stupid-suitors, minor period-typical sexism

A/N: Second-Half of Chapter 2 - Read the full chapter on AO3!

For, Solely, the Eyes and Acknowledgement of my Betrothed Landresiding Confident,

Think me presumptuous once-again, however, I fear we share the same accidental qualities that cause a, completely coincidental and entirely fortuitous happenstance with the usage of the term betrothed .

Though it seems accusatory, I must proclaim that your previous usage to be the cause of my blunder. A dreadful influence, as you prove ought to be - though, I cannot deny writing such a word to be quite a pleasurable experience in my writings.

Even more charming, is how such a term presents by way of your own hand... daresay, I quite like such a word coming from your penmanship, and mayhaps one day, such a word coming from your lips.

In other, less-pleasant musings, rather than-that of your potential of the verbal quality, I must thank you for providing such personal history, even in passing, and even if you think it insignificant. The mind is made up of art, sometimes in structure, words or indeed, images of metal-paintings, and though I am one of a more calculated mind, it cannot be denied that you, my confidante, have made a very pretty picture.

Both in your memoir, and encased in gold around my neck.

I fear, indeed, that I have grown quite used to the sight, but never less-fonder, and so do imagine that such a spectacular sight in you at setting-sun would be a sight one could never be sated from.

Divine, I would dare say. In mind, it is an image to behold. I can only dream to imagine, what such an image would look in life. At my guessing, it would be a sight equally bewitching.

I feel compelled to point out that you possess the spirit of an adventurer - a pleasing surprise. Sir Edmund, as I so briefly knew-him, sought to develop his own spiritual prowess in the realms of the daring, however I believe all-parties are quite aware of how that particular venture concluded. Do not mistake my tone as admonishing - Edmund’s enthusiasm is well-appreciated, just as his desire to avoid the sea for the reminder of his youthful career, would very much be understandable.

Think not that adventure lies only in your hand, by way of fencing blade, tournament or race, but there is an exploring nature in your mind. It’s apparent, in the way you write, envision, and no-doubt in the way of speech. You consider yourself of practical nature, but evidence must dictate that you have a flair for the romantics, unsurprisingly .

Alas, while the sunset you so described is a temptress as powerful as oneself proves-often to be, future prior-engagements call upon my presence, and I greatly fear that may interfere with the pace in which I post replies. An unfortunate, unhappy matter of circumstance that I greatly loathe, but must endure nonetheless.

I fear there is much, that all within the Zaunite waters, must brace ourselves to endure within these coming months, and it is not the chill of winter that requires focused-preparations towards continued survival.

Indeed, a part would rather wish to battle against the hibernal season ahead, rather than the season I so face. Another part would desire nothing more than to join you on land to avoid the rising tempest that we face upon the sea.

Another, far more foolish and romantic as yourself, would enjoy little-else than to coalesce with you upon a cliff, facing the dying light of day, while watching the stars come alive in your eyes, however much they could never hope to compare with the flawless surface of which they reflect upon in your gaze.

A dream that is kinship with the truest of bliss, I would dare say. With great misery, and even greater dedication, I admit that such euphoric dreams must remain as such, while the reality I face is of another nature entirely.

Indeed, it is a less-pleasant reality that we soon face. In such a line of reasoning, foregoing whatever emotions I have roused within these pages, I urge you to now focus on the strategy I lay between my words. Indeed, ‘tis not for the preparation of the winter ahead, but another storm entirely, one that I fear must be inflicted, before our Nation can see its clear-skies at last.

I only ask that you forgive me, for my part in it. I feel no shame, and host no regrets for what must be done. Simply, I pray for additional forgiveness in providing little other warning besides my subtle advice, and occupation with vagueness.

Firstly, prepare your stocks and strengthen the bonds you have with those of Zaunite origin. Commodities, I understand, are a far-reaching good within these waters, but I ask that you work to retreat your reach to the more-local of your wares. Particularly, loosen the ties that bind you to the City of Progress - in time, you will find it clear why I insist.

Less clear, for now, will you understand my more outlandish reasoning, but while horsemanship is an admirable skill - and, indeed, an activity that I have little awareness or expertise of - I would ask that you look into the more physical arts that your brother has become acquitted with. Fencemenship would raise fewer brows, though dare-not discount the advantages that can come with knowledge upon the seasonals of hunting, and, more discreetly, the art of the short-blade.

Myself owns a dagger, one forged modestly, and often out of sight for reasons most inconspicuous. Many can find usage in such a tool, and mayhaps, you would find benefit in the blade as well as I, or, in-least, find a form of security that would prove detrimental in the storm ahead.

If my words have perplexed, or most damnably, frighten you, I again must ask forgiveness. Regret is not something one such as I feel often, nor can afford to experience, but though it is in the very best of interest to her ladyship, heeding of my words will no-doubt cause further confusion, and, has much potential to cause grief.

I never want you to know of grief. Never again, not with any loss of family, permanent or temporary, nor with loss of station, happiness and good fortune - to strip you of such contentment feels like-that of a crime, one I loathe to commit, and grow evermore hatred of myself at thought of direct-inflictment.

That is why I feel I must prepare you for grief ahead. To prepare, in hopes to give a world where such grief never, ever exists in your sphere of existence ever again.

That is why I am called-ahead. For selfish reasons, and for the most unselfish, I march into storm with such a world in mind, a world in which grief is merely an aspect in passing, not a daily occurrence in the life of so many. A world in which sunsets can be enjoyed at cliffside without worry of the darkness beyond it, and only the stars, and new dawn that would be soon to follow.

I must face this storm. I must endure it, and endure it I will, if only to make it through the night of storms ahead, and join you at a sunlit-dawn all the sooner.

I have trust, faith and dream that you will endure what comes next. Know that I will hasten reply when I can, and will be ravenous for every word from your hand that makes it to my vision, however long it takes for me to feast upon the sight.

The writing is at its current rate, an acceptable appetizer to the delight you will no-doubt prove to be, though make no mistake, my longing desire’s seam from the thought of you, in your whole and your entirety, at my side.

It will be a thought - nay, a dream - that shall help make the coming tumultuous season all the more bearable. Have faith in that, and have faith, in that such a desire will gift upon me the strength to find my course through such storms ahead, and mayhaps, set my course en route to you.

With continued admiration and hopes to convene upon a new dawn,

Yours, always, and evermore,

S. Shimmerson

Co-Captain of The Children

A Son of Zaun

Such was the way of his letters - they had a confounding impact, on both sense and sensibility. One such impact that left you reeling in-place, even if your current position demanded you remain ever rigid and upright, both in mental-standing, and in the physical-realm of horseback.

As if in the effort to confirm this line of thought, a huff sounds from the Standardbred you perch upon, commanding you to also release a loud, lingering breath - more of a sigh lying-within the world of deep-thought, rather than a grunt in present questioning.

Even if, indeed, you have many questions.

But your thoughts come to focus on appreciation, hopes instead, compounded by the current environment you find yourself in, reawakening in the world of reality, rather than that filled with an increasingly-familiar scrawl that threatens, always, and evermore, to devour your thoughts in their entirety.

But it does not yet devour your practicality, nor does it impede upon your sense of absolute curiosity.

“What storm does one intend to face at such perilous stakes, wonders I...?” You murmur aloud, smoothing at a corner threatening to wave in the gentle flow of salt-tinged breeze, an ever present feature at this cliffside retreat you had trotted to. Indeed, after the most recent-literary dispatch to the post of Port Lanes, your own words had reflected a poor image of you as a horse-rider - grieving or not, duty-bound or not, your dear Standardbred had been neglected.

Not from feed or rest, but what it was born to do, which was to ride. And, in a similar fashion, you yourself had been neglected of the practice, and sincerely relished the revival of your skills being put to live-experience.

Sounding a formal, yet fond command in the form of a clicking against your teeth, your steed jolts softly into the action of a steady-walk along the firmer portion of the cliff's-edge, overlooking a pinkish sunset that you had not taken-care to view for far, far too many months... another thing that had been neglected, daresay almost forgotten in your more dire-hours.

Papers securely held at-breast, your fingers fiddled among the reins you held relaxed in your other hand, your narrowed eyes thoughtful as you found your thoughts swirling into focus by way of observation of the setting-sun.

The tone was - beyond entirely flirtatious in a way that had originally left your cheeks at a hue rosy-enough to rival the skies own current-shade - also had an air of urgency, one that you had not-yet seen in S. Shimmerson’s previous, personal works. ‘Twas a tone that was not quite in the way of a warning, but indeed, as he voiced, preparation for cautions that loomed ahead.

His concern was as flattering as his actual obsequiousness, but that didn’t erase the peculiar brand of blandishment, in a way of persuading you into action. Apparently, action of the defensive.

‘To what storm approaches us, Shimmerson?’ You think, not disgracing yourself again with speaking such-thoughts out loud, but forever intrigued at the manner of which he spoke. ‘One that much dictate we endure alone, apart from one another... such is the way of life, but must it be so?’

When, originally, you had brokered the idea of such a union of landresider and seafarer, your hands had shook in a way that forced you to place-down the quill, pick it up once more, and place it down many-times-over before such excitement cooled enough to allow for better penmanship, one that spoke of calmer air, evidence of a calm, neutrally-so mind.

Anticipation, mayhaps, but your pride merely allowed you to view it as excitement in way of caution, the caution that comes when inviting strangers to personal-shores.

Certainly not the anticipation that comes with inviting a correspondent to home, one that, perhaps, you would be eager to see in-person, rather than just in writing.

Though, despite it not being an eagerness in-the-case of the desire to meet face to face, that didn’t stop the small, never-felt crushing sensation that crashed upon something in your chest, at the thought that such a union would be delayed, however long, thanks to the nameless tempest that lies in the good-Captains path.

‘Must we brave this storm alone?’ You thought, in the certain way of a new, unknown sadness, as you gazed over orange-streaked blue waves, and pondered-upon how many horizons away you were from the man you spoke to, even if only on paper, and, increasingly often, in your own mind.

The man that, quite suddenly and astoundingly, you found yourself wishing you were with. Physically, entirely and wholly, at his side, to weather come-what-may, even if you did not know the true nature of what lie ahead:

You found yourself, inexplicably and unquestionably, wishing to be at S. Shimmerson’s side, and have him at yours.

“Dare not,” You murmured, in way of your own warning as you tightened your hands at the self-rebuke, though it was far-closer to a scolding as you opened your eyes and physically shook your head to clear away such notions. Notions that are bordered on the inappropriate - though, were they?

Indeed, if anything was to be deemed as inappropriately flirtatious, it was the way in which you conducted the greeting and opening of your previous letter - all-but coy, teasing, and taunting the free-sailing man with the accidental usage of a term that, originally, you had been loathe to associate with. Particularly in the very-term that was, steadily, becoming the most-simplest word, that could be used to describe the budding-bond the two of you were blossoming in-between you both.

After so many months in which letters have been written, exchanged and, upon your end, consumed with the utmost of keen eagerness, it could be argued in many courts that, though such a word was not used in it’s more earnest-format, betrothed may be closest in-way of explaining the bond you and the good-Captain now shared.

In which case, was it not then most-appropriate to long for such a bond to be closer, not only in mental and emotional states, but in its most prominent state of the physical-sense?

Was it not a crime, but merely a sort of natural conclusion, for a lady perhaps such as yourself to long for the presence of her betrothed, and mourn the fact that a more-distinct distance was being forced between the two, by a storm which one could not speak of? A storm which could separate, yet again, someone who the heart had deemed dear enough to open-up to, in such a way as you had thus-far in the letters you shared?

Only half of a year prior, had Edmund been thought lost to a series of spring-storms, swallowed up by the sea... be it metaphorical-indeed, or a truth the sky did not leave you privy towards, your halt jolted in the thought of the captain facing whatever perils that soon came from over the horizon, heartbeat stuttering again at the thought of him facing the tempest alone.

You have come to care for him.

Enough that, the thought of S. Shimmerson, alone to the elements that dreaded him so, left you with an urgency, a grand and heartaching desire, to join at his side and stand-together in the wake of the great, terrible unknowns.

Could it perhaps be such a sign, however foolish or hasty, that the curious desire was quick-fast transforming into more powerful emotions? Perhaps, far from mere care and kindness, that-of the delicate beginnings of true admiration, adoration, and, daresay, the evermore fragile and delicate emergence of lov -

“Has your evening proved to be pleasant, my lady?”

You startled too quickly at the unexpected, and not entirely welcomed greeting of a Lord of the Isle - indeed, the one who had so sought to familiar himself at no other place but your brother’s false-funeral, half a year prior.

Upon your surprise, you are quick - and annoyed - to find that your hands clench on-impact of his call, forcing the papers at your chest to crinkle, and your horse to ninny in equal-surprise from your sudden tensing upon the reins. Still, ever polite, you manage a breath as you’re careful to hasten relaxing your grip upon the treasured-pages, turning to gaze over your shoulder at the fast-approaching rider, “Indeed, sir, though I fear that pleasantness is soon to be quite-forgotten.”

The dry-reply, partially in jest but mostly in truth, earns you a flash of an indignant, stiff upper-lip. Then it smoothes, into a neutral and more-practiced frown, one that persists even at the show of an elegant dip of the gentleman’s chin in a greeting-nod. “Indeed... clouds ahead of us-all, the first of autumn storms, I fear.”

Your heart jolting again, you turned your gaze back, fixated upon the horizon. There’s not a cloud in sight, not in your field of vision, but in your mind, supplied by the words upon the pages you hold so dear, the endless skies of your mentality are indeed clouded in worry... “Indeed,” You murmur quietly, your agreement distracted and a bit too slow to be waved-away by simple melancholy.

Yet, you’re so distracted, in fact, that when the Promenade Lord so-loudly clears his throat, it’s with an unmistakable steak of impatience that finally redirects your attention back to him.

"Forgive me," You say, though your focus isn't quite on the aspect of granting an apology. "How goes your day, sir? And how may I be of assistance?"

"Your presence is all I require, my lady," He says, losing some stiffness, gaining some sense of a more amicable timbre, but lacking on none of his apparently-natural monotone. You've lived an entire life, family manor practically neighbors with this man, and yet, he's never felt more so like a stranger, and even then, a stranger such as him has never felt so... boring.

Boring, was the grandest, most generous, and most affectionate word to describe this man. Like a culmination of all aspects in the dullest-portion of life shaped into human-form, you begin to feel restless just by looking at him, shifting on top of your horse, while your steed does the very same, as if mirroring your actions. He follows the action with attentive eyes, a slight purse on his already downward-lips.

"Trouble?"

"Nay, she only grows energetic at this hour-"

"Unsuitable, considering our placement," A single nudge with his heel draws himself, and his own horse ever-closer, and before you can question, or more appropriate, command him to back away, the Lord leans across from his steed to yours, and wraps his leather-clad fingers around your reins.

"Allow me. Such retreat from the e cliff's edge must be done by practiced-hands, not your fair-ones."

"... you have my... gratitude."

If there’s any indication that the gentleman has any inkling of the purpose behind your unsubtle bristling, there is no such sign made that he understands the origin behind your apprehension. In fact, in a solitary comment in regards to the weather beginning to offer chills, bringing-forth shivers throughout both days and nights, it’s as if he’s entirely left unawares as to why you should feel so offended at a stranger taking the reins away from a woman.

One who is perfectly, and utterly capable of riding herself back home. Certainly without his guidance, and more pointedly, without the unconsented removal from the saddle-helm from your hands, into his.

In fact, the man looks to you expectantly as he expels a verbal command, setting both your four-legged creatures into a steady trot. The Lord of the Promenade gazes at you, patiently, as if to await a thank you.

For what? For being so valiant, so absolutely brimming with bravery, as to trot you away from the cliff-side back to familiar fields overlooking the manor of your home in the distance, all without ever even asking if you desired, wanted, or needed the help.

You offer no such gratitude. In fact, you share not a single syllable with the gentleman during the entirety of his unprovoked escort, and in similar fashion, the good-Lord neglects to disturb the silence between you both, in favor of directing your steed through the gates, and towards the stables.

Ignoring curious glances of the stable boys, you pretend not to take notice of the gloved-hand held out to you, instead, climbing yourself down from your dear-steeds saddle without assistance of any kind.

"I can quite control myself from here, kind sir."

"Of that, I have no doubt. You are... forgive my forwardness, but well-mannered. Excellently taught. A fine, fine woman you have become."

Swallowing back a retort so quickly dry and flat, you prove your education in mannerisms and class by offering the smallest of smiles, teeth flashing when he turns to gaze forwards once more. Chest puffed slightly, as if he won your heart, right then and there, when all he gained was another burst of annoyance within you.

'Twice we have met by cliffside, and twice I have been chafed by his absolute absurdity of... does he think this is wooing?' You think hotly and stunned at the thought, that this gentleman believes this would work in the first place, and, indeed, that it's a form of flattery that is working with you!

It was not even flattery.

It was insulting, as much so as when he holds a hand out to you to take upon yet another undesired-escort.

You tuck the papers further into the safety of your inner riding-coat, for fear of crumbling them in tight hands as you speak between gritted-teeth, assuring him that such is unnecessary.

“Nonsense,” He dismisses plainly. “Such an effort upon your ladyship requires the rousing of the spirits once-again, perhaps in the arrangement of tea. It would be a shame upon my honor, to allow you to stumble alone to your personal manor all on your lonesome, especially after such exertion, as to ride-alone.

Exertion.

“... right.”

Sitting a half-hour later in the parlor, you fume still, but silently with hands clasped. A brief undertaking had been taking, both in to quickly order a round of evening-tea, and to change swiftly from your slate shaded riding-attire into more modestly comfortable wears, such also granting the excuse of a reprieve from the houseguest’s presence, and the opportunity to gently guide the folded-letters of S. Shimmerson’s hand back into the small, carved-wood chest beneath your bed. A stowed treasure, in such a way.

Indeed, prior you thought it silly to envision wishing for the companionship of the good-captain himself. But now, you’d give anything for his presence, or any other welcomed-person’s company, as you miserably make your way down into the greeting parlor of your home, your brother already seated there.

The gray streak through his hair, the sign of a stressful endeavor at sea six-months prior, is nearly combed-back and it still’s you briefly when you see the lack of muddied, torn or ruffled clothing upon your brother. Daresay, he almost looks proper.

Edmund had indeed shown a remarkable change in the last months. Boyhood didn’t flee entirely, as there was still a youthlike quality in his manners and even in the remaining-plump of his cheeks, despite the strain put into brightening streaks of his hair into white. But there was new attention brought to his perception, focus slightly redirected from the more exciting aspects of flighty-pastimes, to the art of conducting the household, himself, and the family business besides. It almost made you proud of the change, but more than anything, it had surprised you to see your sibling finally take some matters seriously.

And so, seated beside him, you were glad that he was equally-serious in this more present matter, if a bit off-put by the sudden arrival, your uncharacteristic annoyance and the mere presence of the gentleman, standing at-attention while Edmund slurped upon his tea.

Yes, unfortunately. He slurped - evidently, not entirely rid of his unseemly habits of unmannered boyhood, despite his earlier mentioned progress.

Lifting the cup to his lips, it rose in time with Edmund’s brow, his voice curling over the china piece as he asked cautiously, curious as to the meeting and as to the stiffness of their guest, “Do forgive me, but the exact naming of your Lordship has escaped me, sir...?”

Straightening, and with the smallest of flushes onto the tips of ear and neck, there was a proud, firm rushing of re-introductions as the Lord named himself, “Sir Audrey Nimrod-Hussey. The Third, as it is a well-cherished family name.”

How recollection of such a... memorable title had ever escaped you, the knowledge was forever unknown. You managed to bite the soft inside of your mouth sharply by the time your ears registered the sound of Lord Nimrod-Hussey, however, Edmund was far-less prepared, and promptly snorted into his teacup, sending the warm-liquid splashing upward, onto his face.

“Forgive him, Lord... Hussey. My dear brother suffers-still from the occasional cough from his stint in swallowing salt-water.”

Indeed, another round of ‘coughing’ began again as you stretched with a handkerchief between your fingers to dab at your brother's soaked face. Though, these sounds were significantly higher-pitched, and rhythmic in-time with a humored sound of squeaking as you addressed the gentleman again.

“My good sir-Hussey...” Another childish-giggle burst from Edmund, stifled quickly with the caring, silencing ministrations of a handkerchief you made towards drying his face from splashed-tea. “... do-forgive us for the repeat in introductions. Though neighbors we might be, as you can guess, our attentiveness has been primarily directed on the subject of family-”

“Yes, which I have undoubtedly anticipated, and shown appreciation for, by not interrupting such a time,” If Audrey held any regard for how rudely he had interrupted you, there was no sign made of it. In fact, the man had angled away from you entirely, his entire scope of focus on your brother, who was hasty to lower the handkerchief from where it had dabbed at laughter-tinged eyes. “However, the manner is most urgent, and I fear that further delay will be a disadvantage in the actions we make, going forward.”

“In what sort of actions were you planning to make, Lord Audrey?”

“Sir Edmund,” The gentleman didn’t even glance at you, ignored your question entirely - indeed, fixated on his own thoughts, and the words he had no-doubt practiced a thousand times over before a looking glass, now being brought into open-view. “I would think it to be in the best-interest of both parties to insist upon opening the floor of discussion, in regards to the opportunity of a marital contract between myself, and your sister.”

Upright, you sat up rigidly, and your thoughts snapped equally to-attention, gaze sharpening enough to catch the glint of impatience behind the formality in the gentleman’s eye, though, still, he did not dare to look upon you when he, in so little words, all but asked for your hand in marriage.

The situation was so familiar that you swung your gaze sharply to Edmund, face neutral but displeasure radiating from your form like danger-laden fog creeping up on an unsuspecting harbor. A disaster to ship and man alike, only the Gods away of what sort of wrath lay beyond the curtain of gray... and indeed, you were unafraid to act upon such a wrath. Though, to his credit, Edmund only blinked in lame-confusion, and made no sign that he consented nor agreed with the Lord’s word.

“... A marital contract? ”

“Indeed,” Lord Audrey confirmed, at the same heartbeat as you spoke with all the sweetness of honey - faintly tasting of cyanidic almonds, and indeed, a danger beyond the unsuspecting shield of gray your face had become in it’s pointed-neutrality.

“Yes, brother-dear. Imagine that - a gentleman, coming to ask if you dare-so to give my hand away, in marriage .”

“Is such not the way of our world?” Evidently, Lord Hussey was incapable of deciphering your brother’s sudden discomfort, and was equally oblivious to your soft-edged fury, as his tone was simply matter-of-fact. “Ladies of good, reputable standing have so often been gifted to gentlemen of equal, if not higher-position in society. There is so very-little difference, and with the both of us similar in age, regrettably singular in the world of partnership...”

More-so like understandably singular.

It could not be comprehended, what woman or even human-being, could stand the companionship of such a dullard, a man who nary even offered you a glance since stepping into the room containing your eldest-brother, and, in his eyes, the only one worth-speaking to on the matter of your engagement.

How dare he!

“Edmund,” You said, suddenly and perhaps rudely, but you cared-not. Simply, it was the same gift of indifference that Lord Hussey had gifted to you, and you were quite generous with it as you turned upon the cushioned-seat, facing your wide-eyed brother in full whilst largely giving the other so-called gentleman the remainder of your cold-shoulder. “Edmund, I do not wish for it. I do not wish to marry this man.”

“The benefits of such a union, my lady, could not be understated-”

“And yet, I will not have you state them in the slightest,” You said shortly. Indeed, it was quite rude, and you quite had very little care that it was. “You insult me, sir... is it not in my own prerogative, to determine the length of my time as a bachelorette?! I haven’t recalled a time where I, or any other, commanded upon my brother to cut his own bachelorhood short, why must you insist that he cut upon mine?”

“I don’t...” Finally, the blank-slate that was Lord Audrey Hussey, apparently the Third of his remarkable name, frowned in concern. But you didn’t dare to hope it was with the sudden realization that his behavior and demands were nothing less than atrocious, and indeed, you were unsurprised that his realization was in-regards to the exact opposite source of your ire.

“Surely, my fair lady, singlehood is not to remain your plan for the remainder of your livelihood? Spinstresses are often miserable, a fate I nary wish upon any maiden of your fair, respectuable stature, and good-name... unless, of course, you mean to withdraw upon a nunnery?”

Oh, sweet Lords and Ladies above... “Edmund,” You said, reverting your attention in its entirety back to your wide-eyed brothers, whose brief humor at the thought of you in a cowl dissipated at your firm expression, and fierce glinting-eyes, as you spoke with all the finality of a door to a potential life’s-path, one of marriage and misery, being slammed quite firmly shut. “Edmund, I do not wish to marry this man.”

Your brother, all that remained of your family, turned to gaze fully at your determined expression, one that teemed with fury, and, though neither of you would ever make voice of it, a tinge of uncertainty.

You never forgave Edmund - verbally, that is - for the stunt he had pulled in regards to his return back to the land of the living, complete with news of your surprise engagement. Though, your anger had lessened, and slowly eroded away almost entirely between the passing of letters, and his unspoken groveling in the form of gifts, sweet-words, and a constant, guilty and sheepish expression had helped erase your already-dwindling rage almost in its entirety.

But it did not erase the memories. The few hours, where you had stood on the precipice of panic, and fear with bruised, blood splattered knuckles as your brother clutched his nose, the response to his ‘happy’ announcement at how different your life was to become... the memories of what you had felt at the moment lingered-on, even as the initial fury at the situation itself became nothing but a faded-echo in your recollection of that miserable, dreary day.

Panic, and a hint of fear at the thought of what was to become to you, without your consent or even pre-existing knowledge of the fact that such an engagement even existed. It existed, if only in memory, and such a memory comes to your recollection now, as you gaze at your brother, and, for only a moment, wonder if history is doomed to repeat, and you are doomed to a fate of marriage-undesired.

Edmund’s eyes flashed in both hurt, but in equal-understanding, and he gazed over your head only briefly to fixate on the Promenade Isle Lord. “I do believe my sister has spoken for herself,” He said, no longer bemused, timbre as cool as the mists that were beginning to roll in between the first falling of autumn leaves outside. “Her speech is all that’s required, I believe. And since she has spoken, I believe we’re quite done here.”

If it were truly just him and you, simply you and your dear, stupid but , you would have thrown your arms around him in the way of your youth, gratitude flooding every vein, and affection overriding any sensation of worry you had ever thought to have.

"Indeed," At this, you stand upon the moment following a sharp click as you settle your china down, standing and swiftly removing one leather glove, then its other with a snap as it releases its grip on your, finally-relaxed fingers. "Lord Hussey-" Edmund makes a suspicious coughing sound, which you're tempted to draw attention to, but spare the undeserving gentleman from his secondary humiliation. "- I imagine you can find the door. I encourage you to escort yourself home. I fear we have nothing more to discuss."

"There is-" Annoyance arises again in his eyes, before he closes them. Breathing-in slowly, as if entering a meditative-state to control every volatile, interesting emotion he can conjure in his entire body, the Lord Audrey opens his eyes, and upon doing so, surprises you both with a swift, but low bowing at the waist. "There is much to discuss, I fear. However, my greatest terror comes with the fact, that I believe I have made a poor impression, and even worse proposal."

"Indeed."

"Forgive me," He says, gaze rising only slightly to gaze up to you through his lashes. It's not nearly enough to soothe your nerves, but the bare-hint of implorance in his gaze gives your rage pause, be-it-only for sake of avoiding burn-out of your intense emotions for the day. "Forgive me, and allow me to offer further sympathies in the form of an invitation to my own estate, as you have invited me onto your-own. In two weeks time, where I imagine discussions at-length may be had about the current... situation. And where it might-so proceed, into our future. Both together, and apart. However you so-wish."

You blinked, in time with Edmund.

"I... a gathering, sir?"

"A venture of many things," Audrey nodded, turning back towards Edmund, much to your re-awakened annoyance. "I understand you are working to conduct trade in a more personal-fashion. Indeed, I offered invitations to several representatives for such reasoning... The Promenade is a landmark in exportation and trade, and there are many who would be delighted to engage with a developing-business man such as yourself."

Developing indeed, but you didn't say that. To his credit, Edmund was trying his best to make up for too-many years of boyhood, years that should've been spent at a desk, or upon a map of the routes, or even just dedicating himself to the bare-minimum of numbers... all aspects of the marketing-business your family had built-itself from, a business you had to carry-on in Edmund's stead during his adventures.

Arguably, some amongst household staff would suggest you had carried-on better than he could, despite his more-recent advancements in the practice.

Still, despite the insult of your work being looked-over in favor of that amateur-work your sibling was offering, you were growing weary of the offensive-assumptions, and merely filed-note of this apparent gathering to the back of your mind. Such an event could prove of great importance, despite the identity of the man hosting, and it was a far-past time both you and Edmund worked on developing more personal connections in the realm of business...

Had S. Shimmerson not all-but suggested that you do the same?

Clearly, he expressed a greater urgency upon developing connections with deeper-Zaunite ventures... mayhaps this was the first step in such a journey.

Perhaps it will make the coming storms easier for us all... and mayhaps, easier for the good-captain to travel-through, when the storms up-ahead clear his way... his way to here.

To you.

"Your proposal is well-warranted, and will be duly considered," You said smoothly, managing to smooth your brief smile at happier-thoughts away, and merely gaze upon the man with all the neutrality he had to offer you. "Thank you for its extension. Now, if you would be so kind, the hour of correspondence is well past us..." A dismissal, not very subtle, as you bore your gaze into him quite-pointedly. Somehow, after missing all other clues onto your exact emotional-standing of this evening, Lord Audrey Hussey the Third finally took the hint, and straightened quite swiftly.

"Right. Indeed," The good-Lord gazes at you for a moment, almost expectedly... when you finally take note of his offering-hand, made slightly aloft in your immediate direction, and it takes you only a second-longer to realize why he hesitates so.

It’s a hesitation on the subject of, at last, decency in your regard.

With a big, heaving sigh you don't even attempt to hide, you reach out, and despise yourself for such a hasty removal of your gloves previously. It's enough to make your skin prickle uncomfortably, watching this fine, upstanding member of society lean down and brush lips across your knuckles, and you pull your hand back far, far too quickly to be proper, but you simply no-longer care.

Lord Audrey Hussey, the Third of such a name, cannot leave fast enough, and you could not sigh in relief quick-enough the moment you hear the mighty front-gates echo-shut behind him.

"... did you really think... that I would, for a moment-?"

"If you had no such designs too, then why did you hesitate?" It's not an accusation, but Edmund finches as though it is as you turn upon him. "A second time in a single year, Edmund... you hesitate, upon being asked to grant my-hand. Forgive me for being concerned, considering how the first round of hesitation led to an actual engagement."

"I wouldn't do that to you again!" He insists. "Never!"

"Well..." You trail off, half angry in your sigh, but all the more tired, weary. "... well, you did it once. I had doubts that you would never do it again."

At this, your sibling sits up straight, then stands taller, stepping over to you with a look equally weary, but more earnest as he takes your hand. It warms at his touch, a far-cry from what was invoked at Lord Hussey's. "Never," He vows, with a gentle squeeze that allows you to meet his eyes, true and honest in every possible way as he gazes at you. "Never again. Your future is your own, just as mine is, and just as your heart and hand is. May no other man ask me, for I will simply direct them to you... that is the way it is, how it will be, and how it must always be. I swear upon the Gods themselves, my sweet sister. Never, again."

"And... and if I -" You stop. Partially because you had not been entirely aware of your mouth moving without your permission, not until the sound of your own voice came along to compound the fact that your voice was committing a mutiny of your body.

However, it is far too late as your brother takes-on a quizzical expression at your hesitation, growing more puzzled in the slightest, and you know you cannot avoid allowing the betrayal of your voice, and perhaps your heart, to take place.

"If... if I were to decide I wanted another, any other at my side? Would you accept my decision, and be happy for my fortunate and choice?"

You try to tell yourself you don't already imagine someone there. That it isn't a man, perhaps not one of fine social standing, but far-higher naval standing... perhaps a glint of ever-present daring in his eyes, the smell of crisp sea-salt forever upon his lips, with fingers talented at both sail and writing wrapped around yours.

And his words, oh, his words... always so careful and so calculated, inspiring both warmth to your heart, and warmth to your face...

You try, and tell yourself that's not who you want. But that’s exactly, and the only, man that you so envision for such a fate at your side, and yourself at his.

"You would accept him? Whoever I so-choose, to spend my life at his side, and him at mine?"

"Of course." A moment's hesitation longer, but this one doesn't inspire uncertainty, as his last had. Not with the embrace your brother, so sturdy and so full of home, pulls you into with the soft assurance he gives as he wounds his arms around your waist, giving it a tight-squeeze. "All I ever want is your happiness for you, dear sister. I have trust that you know where to find it, and have faith that you will find it through whatever comes your way. No matter what trials, what endurances, whatever storm you must brace against... happiness will be found by you. I know it, and I cheer for the day that it does."

Pausing, you're comforted and warmed beyond words at Edmunds speech. Indeed, it's all you've ever wanted, ever expected in your life. The joy and freedom of choice, without reproach or judgment - such was the way your parents found their happiness, such was what you expected Edmund to do to find his, and how you always counted-on finding yours...

Maybe, not in the form of the well-standing man residing only acres away.

But a sea-faring confidant, thousands upon thousands of leagues away, whose words have burned into your heart and mind in a way that leaves sweet, aching brandings. Branded, in such a fashion that they shall keep such warmth alive despite the storms ahead of both of you.

And, despite Edmund's irresistible final tease, breaking off quickly into a round of giggles that could rival a humored school-girl's:

"I only hope... that you don't intend to find your life's happiness in the form of becoming Her Ladyship, Mrs. Hussey."

In-time with your admonishing scowl, and light smack upon his biceps at such ill-timed humors, the first roll of evening-fog drifts into the harbor of the Promenade Isle - and indeed, it's a fog that's shielding the sight of lilac-twilight skies, the final death of a sunset’s light.

An autumn-fog.

The first sign of the season's storms, coming ahead to wreak upon the Isles and Waters of Zaun alike.

Requested Tags: @writingmysanity @medivalpersephone @spaceythangs

#silco #silco x reader #arcane #regency au #romantacism #regency #silco fic #arcane fic #arcane x reader #silco arcane #regency silco #slow burn #persuasion #persuasion au #Yours

44 notes · View notes