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sensualnoiree · 4 months

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astro notes: jupiter through the houses pt.1

Symbolizing wisdom, luck, and spiritual growth, Jupiter guides us through journeys of abundance and higher learning. As it rules Sagittarius and Pisces, and co-rules Pisces with Neptune, its reach extends to philosophical pursuits, foreign travel, and spiritual exploration. From its exaltation in Cancer to its debilitation in Capricorn, Jupiter's placement illuminates our beliefs, aspirations, and sense of justice. Throughout this exploration of Jupiter's journey through the houses, we unravel its transformative power and guiding light, embracing its blessings of prosperity, abundance, and divine guidance.

Jupiter in the 1st House:

Jupiter, the planet of expansion and wisdom, graces your first house with its benevolent presence, imbuing you with an aura of confidence and optimism that is hard to miss. Your natural charm and amiable demeanor draw people towards you, and your boundless enthusiasm for life makes you a natural leader and mentor figure. With Jupiter here, you possess a larger-than-life personality, exuding an air of positivity and hopefulness that inspires those around you.

Your insatiable thirst for knowledge and higher learning leads you on a lifelong journey of self-discovery and personal growth. You may find yourself drawn to philosophical or spiritual pursuits, seeking to unravel the mysteries of existence and expand your understanding of the universe. Whether through formal education or self-directed study, you are constantly seeking to broaden your horizons and deepen your understanding of the world.

However, it's important to remain mindful of the potential pitfalls of this placement. Your tendency to think big picture and overlook details can sometimes lead to unrealistic expectations or a lack of attention to practical matters. Additionally, your generous and forgiving nature may sometimes leave you vulnerable to exploitation or manipulation by others. It's important to strike a balance between optimism and pragmatism, remembering to ground your lofty ideals in practical reality.

Overall, Jupiter in the first house blesses you with an abundance of confidence, optimism, and generosity, making you a beacon of hope and inspiration to those around you. Embrace your natural leadership abilities and use them to uplift others on their own journeys of growth and self-discovery.

Jupiter in the 2nd House:

With Jupiter gracing your second house of wealth and possessions, you are blessed with a natural talent for attracting abundance and prosperity into your life. Your financial affairs tend to flourish, and you may find that opportunities for growth and expansion abound in the realm of money and material resources.

Your eloquence and wisdom make you a persuasive communicator, able to charm others with your words and inspire them to action. You have a deep appreciation for the value of wealth and resources, and you are generous in sharing your blessings with others. Whether through philanthropy or simply by being a supportive friend or family member, you take pleasure in enriching the lives of those around you.

Family life is particularly harmonious for you, and you may find that your home is a source of comfort and stability in your life. Your upbringing may have instilled in you strong moral values and a deep respect for tradition, which you carry with you throughout your life.

However, it's important to guard against the temptation to overindulge in luxury or extravagance, as Jupiter's influence here can sometimes lead to excess. Remain mindful of your spending habits and remember to cultivate gratitude for the abundance you have already attracted into your life.

Overall, Jupiter in the second house blesses you with financial prosperity, eloquence, and generosity, making you a valuable asset to both your family and your community. Embrace your ability to attract wealth and abundance, and use it to create a brighter, more prosperous future for yourself and those you love.

Jupiter in the 3rd House:

With Jupiter gracing your third house of communication and intellect, you possess a natural curiosity and thirst for knowledge that drives you to explore the world around you. Your mind is sharp and inquisitive, and you excel in areas that require critical thinking and analytical skills.

Your relationships with siblings, neighbors, and peers are characterized by warmth and camaraderie, and you may find that you are able to forge deep bonds with others through shared interests and intellectual pursuits. You have a gift for teaching and sharing knowledge, and you may find fulfillment in roles that allow you to impart wisdom to others.

Travel is another area where you may find opportunities for growth and expansion. Whether through short trips or longer journeys, you have a deep appreciation for the adventure and excitement that comes from exploring new places and experiencing different cultures.

However, it's important to guard against the tendency to scatter your energies or spread yourself too thin. With Jupiter's influence here, there may be a temptation to take on too many projects or pursue too many interests at once, leading to a lack of focus or follow-through. Remember to prioritize your goals and channel your energies into pursuits that truly resonate with your passions and values.

Overall, Jupiter in the third house blesses you with intellectual curiosity, communication skills, and a love of learning. Embrace your natural gifts for teaching and sharing knowledge, and use them to inspire others on their own journeys of exploration and discovery.

follow for more astro insights like this and support me over on instagram @sensualnoiree or yt @sensualnoiree

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masterjedilenawrites · 2 months

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Take Me Out

Bad Batch x Reader Exchange 2024

Crosshair x fem!reader | 4.7k words

Content: drinking, light angst, introspection, fluff, light humor, crushes, relationships, friendship, mentions of war and death, weapons (practice setting)

Prompts: "What am I even looking for?" - "I don't know" & "Sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

My gift is for the event host - @ghostofskywalker! I was so excited to draw your name and I really hope you enjoy the fic. You put so much work and care into hosting these events for the fandom, it really is appreciated 🤗

I've actually had this story concept in mind for quite a while. I love that pretty much all of your prompts/wish-list items were able to fit in! We've got some platonic Hunter, romantic Crosshair, a little angst, a bit of fluff... Perfect!

Oh, and to keep things spoiler free (on my blog and for the event), this takes place before Order 66 and Omega.

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (4/13/24). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Winter.

You sat slumped over the bar, a drink cradled in your arms. You took lazy sips at the liquid, long past its effervescence, in between chewing on the straw. You could smell the evidence of your waning hygiene, being curled in on yourself like this. It disgusted you but not enough to do anything beyond self loathing. To say you were miserable was an understatement.

"Morning, Captain. A bit early for a drink, isn't it?"

The husky voice of the bar's newcomer was unmistakeable in who it belonged to. There were clones abound on this small moon, hundreds of identical-sounding men. But every once in a while you had the pleasure of hearing the one that was different.

You sluggishly swiveled your head and gave Sergeant Hunter a mock salute. He leaned against the bar beside you, seemingly torn between being amused and concerned by what he was seeing.

"Back so soon?" you asked, ignoring his own question. Though your speech wasn't slurred, your voice still betrayed some of the numbness you were working to surround yourself in. Which helped your friend make up his mind on how to feel.

"Easy mission," Hunter shrugged off the topic. "You okay? Did something happen?"

"No," you sighed and forced yourself to sit upright. Best to appear more in control and not give him reason to drag you to the med bay. "That's the problem. Nothing's happened."

Hunter frowned and slid onto the barstool next to you. You caught a whiff of soap as he did, a harsh contrast to your own odor that made you even more upset.

"I don't understand."

Your hands cupped around your glass, condensation pooling around your fingers, and you stared at the melting ice wishing to be as frozen and unfeeling.

"I don't understand, either," you whispered. "Why I'm still so... alone."

"Ah." Hunter placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. "That's right, you had that date you were going on. Another dud, then?"

You nodded, still refusing to look away from the ice cubes.

He hummed in thought. Your poor friend. How many times had he now had to come up with some sort of reassuring comment after another one of your failed attempts to find love? At least you were grateful you had such a friend, though. Where others would have made you feel guilty for admitting to loneliness, would have insisted they were company enough and all you had to do was ask for it, it's as simple as that, how dare you feel lonely when you aren't actually alone... Hunter was the one who always saw through to what you really meant. You were not what the other wanted, but you were both wanting, craving that kind of deep, romantic connection that seemed to allude you both. For Hunter, it was obviously his schedule that got in his way. For you... well, that was the mystery.

"You have to keep looking," was the sentiment Hunter settled on this time. He rubbed at your shoulder a bit, as if trying to smooth out your misery.

You huffed. His attempts to comfort were sweet, but not enough. You couldn't help but protest. "But with everyone I meet, I just find out what I don't want. What am I even looking for?"

"I don't know," Hunter shook his head sadly. "I don't know if anyone knows until they find it."

You groaned and slumped back forward, facepalming the bar top and wishing you could sink right into it. Sink down, down, down until you disappeared completely.

"Sorry, Cap," Hunter's now muffled voice attempted to chuckle, lighten the mood. "If I could track down your soul mate, I would. You know I would."

That comment was sweet enough. You forced yourself to stop sinking, lift yourself up again, and face your friend properly.

"I know. And I appreciate that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be such a bummer today. It's just... it's been getting harder, is all."

He nodded and you nodded back and nothing further needed to be understood on the matter.

"Were you needing something from me?" you changed the subject. "Or did you come to day drink as well?"

"Ha, ha." Hunter started to get up. "Yeah no, I just wanted to let you know we were back for a few rotations, see if you'd have some time to finally come out and meet the boys."

You lifted up your glass and shook it a bit. "You're too late, I'm afraid. If I'd known you'd be back so soon, I wouldn't have started on this journey of self destruction."

Hunter titled his head at you, some of that trademark concern still showing. "This isn't going to be an all week thing, is it?"

You shrugged. Truthfully, you had no idea what to do with yourself. Making decisions even a day in advance seemed like too big of a commitment in your fragile state.

"I'd rather not meet any more new people right now, if it's all the same to you."

"I wouldn't consider them new. You've heard enough stories about each other by now. It's starting to get weird that you're not meeting, quite frankly."

You wanted to laugh, but the thought of introductions, stiff pleasantries, awkward small talk... It reminded you of every first date that never turned into a second, every dating app chat thread that went nowhere, every high hope you watched turn into disappointment. Even with a group like Hunter's brothers, the Bad Batch, with a reputation of being unconventional, who you'd only be making friends with just like you had with Hunter and every other clone on this moon... it was still too much for you to stomach.

"Sorry, maybe next time."

Hunter frowned, but he didn't overstep. "Suit yourself. Door's still open though. You know where to find us."

He made to walk out but paused to turn back to you for a moment.

"And hey, don't lose hope. We'll find our people soon enough. In the meantime, take care of yourself, alright?"

You waited until the bar doors closed behind him to let your tears fall.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Spring.

You were here. Finally.

You weren't able to pinpoint exactly where the turning point occurred, between crying yourself to sleep every night and being able to wake up with a smile on your face. A small one, of course, but a smile nonetheless. You weren't even sure it was something that had happened overnight. Slowly, eventually, the frost over your heart melted, the shadows in your thoughts grew thinner and lighter. Without even realizing you were drawing back the curtains and dusting off the shelves and each day being a little more open than you were the day before.

Your loneliness still existed. It came and went in waves, so while still devastating at times, you were at least afforded with periods of relief. Periods where you could smile again, find fulfillment in your work, and even dare to allow yourself to dream again. And not to mention taking more regular showers. It was always the little things that made the biggest difference, wasn't it?

And now here you were, standing in the early morning sun out in one of the training fields, the Havoc Marauder silhouetted against the sunrise as you shook hands with its crew in a meeting long overdue.

Hunter's stories had done the boys justice. Wrecker was just as larger than life as you'd pictured, aptly choosing to push past your outstretched hand and go in for a bone-crushing hug instead. Tech, who you'd come to know as the brains of the batch, only spared a second to be properly introduced before returning to fidget with some gadget. Echo was all politeness and disciplined respect, with his scomp-salute and ma'ams. And Crosshair... well, he was still on the ship asleep, which you supposed fit with the few facts you knew about him, too.

Hunter beamed beside them, clearly happy you had finally made the effort to meet his squad. His family, really. As a Captain overseeing drill training for the GAR, you knew better than anyone the close bonds these clones formed even before they stepped foot on a battlefield. This meant a lot to him, you being here. You felt awful for postponing so many times.

Once introductions were out of the way, and some pleasant conversation had passed, you eventually ventured out to the part of the training field that actually housed elements for training - your excuse for coming out here to meet everyone. A munitions crate full of shiny new blasters was carried between you and Wrecker while Hunter ran ahead to set up some targets. Tech and Echo went back to the ship to work on repairs.

"Aaaaugh. Only blasters?" Wrecker lamented upon opening the crate.

"Sorry, more budget cuts. This was all I could scrounge up for you guys."

Hunter was much more excited by the new weapons, though Wrecker still picked one up to try out. You held one as well but only used it to demonstrate different techniques. Just because you were good at training didn't mean you were the best at actually fighting.

The three of you picked off the various bottles, pots, and pans that Hunter had set up amongst the tree branches at the edge of the field for a short while. And on more than one occasion you found yourself pausing to breathe in the air and remind yourself that life was good. Maybe not how you wanted it, but it was still good and you'd need to continue to work on appreciating what you had.

After about an hour, there were only three bottles and a pan left, all proving tricky targets due to distance and angle. Hunter had even tried slinging a few knives to no avail.

"Okay I'm calling it," Wrecker announced with a huff. "One more missed shot and I'm blowing them up."

"I'll take that bet."

A new voice, one you'd never heard before, carried across the field. It was delicate and drawling and confident. Hunter chuckled and Wrecker rolled his eyes. And you... you had no idea that everything was about to change.

It was like he was moving in slow motion. Your surroundings blurred as the lanky figure caught the corner of your eye, your heart rate slowing as you turned and took him in. One confident step planted firmly in front of the other as he inched across the field. A sniper rifle perched on his shoulder. A toothpick between pursed lips. An eye surrounded by a reticle and narrowed in determination. He didn't even spare you a glance, and thank the gods, because if he had, you were sure your heart would've stopped beating altogether.

He squared off as soon as he reached the marks, bringing his rile forward to aim in a swift and careful motion. His head rested against the shaft, his tattooed eye squinted through the scope. You imagined him taking this stance a thousand times in his short life. It looked as natural a position as curling up on a couch might look for you.

You couldn't look away, not wanting to miss a single second of whatever this mesmerizing man was about to do. He was still for a moment, impressively so. You realized you were holding your breath as you watched, not wanting even your exhale to interfere with his process.

And then he fired. Once, twice, threefourfive times. Bang, bang, bang. Each in a different direction but no less precise than the one before. The first ricocheted off the pan and hit the green bottle, just as the second hit the red bottle. The three-shot volley was aimed at the branch the bottles sat on, causing it to crack and dangle even closer to the ground. And just when you thought the show couldn't be more over the top, the sniper swiveled his rifle toward the sky at a passing bird, clipped its wing with a shot, and then whipped out a pistol from his hip and fired at the remaining blue bottle just before the branch snapped and fell to the ground.

A few seconds later, the bird tumbled on top of the pile of shattered glass and splintered wood.

"Aaaand training is now over," said Hunter with a nod of his head. He raised his voice as he called out to his brother. "You'd better clean that shit up!"

The sniper flipped him the bird before sauntering off to clean up.

"Uh, you alright?"

Hunter paused in his own packing of gear to give you a concerned look. You were still staring after the newcomer, undoubtedly the lone Batcher you had yet to meet. Crosshair. Your brain had short-circuited with what you had witnessed him do, yes. But it was more than that. There was something about him. Something intriguing and attractive. Different than anyone you had ever known, and yet, somehow feeling so real and comfortable at the same time.

After a few waves of your friend's hand in your face, you snapped back.

"That," you breathed.

Hunter cocked a confused eyebrow.

"That is what I'm looking for."

* * *

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Summer.

You were insanely busy. Separatist activity was ramping up in almost every corner of the galaxy and the GAR was responding to each new threat with full force. Rotations of new clone units were frequently arriving at the facility, one after another. You'd cycle them through a few trainings to get them certified on whatever was needed and then ship them right back out. And in between were all the additional tasks that needed to be taken care of. Piles of paperwork and coordinating schedules and ship inspections and updated security debriefings.

And yet through it all, you still had time to entertain the one thought that buzzed in the background of your mind: Crosshair. Every meeting, every meal, every training sim, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He was there. Crosshair, Crosshair, Crosshair. On your mind, in your heart, driving you absolutely mad.

In the beginning you'd pretended it wasn't about him, specifically. You were simply happy to know what you wanted now, that you had a type and it existed. That was all. Hunter had turned up his nose, completely bewildered as to why that would be your type. You hadn't been able to give him much at the time; it would take you many rotations more to start describing the details of your newly discovered attraction.

But over time, it became harder to push aside the nagging thought that you hadn't found what you were looking for, but rather who. Specifically. Exactly. Why try to find someone like him when you already liked... him?

Oh there were plenty of ways you could answer that question, all of them self-deprecating and none of them productive. You could count on one hand now the number of times you had been in the same room as him, let alone interacted with him. The Batch may be frequenting the place more often as the war picked up, but not nearly as often as you needed to gauge whether someone like Crosshair would, could, or honestly even should be as interested in you as you were in him.

Today they were back on the grounds so Hunter could fill out some paperwork, and your heart had not stopped racing all morning. It was practically threatening to punch right out of your chest and run away. You weren't sure why, considering you'd probably only end up seeing Hunter this time. The rest of the Batch usually didn't venture into the facility unless they were staying overnight. But it seemed even knowing Crosshair was on the same planet as you got you worked up these days.

You carried Hunter's stack of paperwork with you now, intending to drop it off to him in between some meetings you had. As you hustled down the halls, you rehearsed a few ways you could subtly ask him how Crosshair was doing.

But as it turned out, you would have the opportunity to ask him yourself. If you could get over your frazzled shock at finding him in the rec room instead of Hunter.

The room was conveniently empty, making the silence between you that much more potent. Crosshair was standing awkwardly to the side, just behind one of the battered sofas, as if he had already been confused about what he should be doing before you pushed through the door. He stared at you and you stared at him and the moment only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity.

"Oh, um. Hi. Crosshair." You averted your gaze, despite having prayed the past several nights that you could see his face again soon. "I was... expecting Hunter."

That didn't sound right. You hoped he didn't take that to mean that you'd prefer if Hunter was here now. Obviously you didn't.

"He stepped out," Crosshair responded in that cool, even tone of his. Your eyes couldn't help but snap back to his as he talked. You wanted him to say more but he never did.

"Oh, okay. I just had some paperwork to give him."

Crosshair only hummed at first. You shuffled your feet a bit, debating whether you should make an attempt at small talk, try to coax more out of him, maybe even hint that you were interested in him. The thought terrified you, but not as much as the thought of being alone. You couldn't complain about that if you continued to let these opportunities pass by without at least trying to make a connection.

You shifted your weight again, intending to keep your feet planted so you wouldn't make a run for it, and Crosshair uttered your name hurriedly.

"Wait," he said. He'd thought you were leaving. You widened your eyes at him, waiting to hear what he'd wanted to tell you first. He seemed to hesitate before finally saying, "I was wondering if you knew what soup they were serving today?"

"Oh. Uh, potato, I think."

"How boring."

You smirked. "I know, right? They could at least serve it with some hot sauce."

Crosshair hummed.

The silence settled back in, though now you felt better about things. You'd practically had a conversation. Learned a little more about each other. It was a good start.

Your commlink suddenly beeped at your side and you blanched, remembering the meeting you were supposed to be heading to.

"I uh, I've got to go. It was nice talking to you."

It pained you to cut off your moment with him so quickly, but alas you were left with no choice. You shuffled back out into the corridor, though you only made it a few steps before realizing you still had Hunter's paperwork and could just leave it with Crosshair.

The rec room had an old school door that swung in and out on hinges. It was slightly ajar from when you passed through, and already in the few seconds since something was happening on the other side of it. You could hear more voices.

"...the kriff was that?" First, the deep tones of Hunter, equal parts annoyed and weary.

"That wasn't the plan." Then, the resolute voice of Echo, backing him up.

"What?" Crosshair bit back at them.

"You were supposed to ask her out," Hunter clarified.

"No, that was not the plan," Crosshair countered. "I needed to lay some groundwork first."

"You call that groundwork? You were talking about soup."

"And she agreed. No one ever agrees with me on the soup around here."

"What a special connection," Echo said.

Hunter sighed so hard you swore you could feel the breeze through the doorway. "You know, sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"What?"

"Never mind. Do what you like. Keep pushing away anyone who tries to love you and see where that gets you. Just know that it's exhausting, watching the two of you dance around each other like this."

"And kind of pathetic," added Echo.

You were against the wall by the door, holding in your breath for so long you were about to pass out. Or maybe it was the euphoria of knowing Crosshair was interested that made your head sway. Regardless, you had mere moments to make a move or let the opportunity pass. You dug into your pocket, fished out a pen, and scribbled a note on the top page of paperwork. Was it professional? Absolutely not. But the GAR would get over it. You left the papers by the door, making sure your note was turned to face it.

There's better soups on Coruscant. Let's go out sometime.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Autumn.

You were alone, standing in the middle of the training field, the early setting sun behind you casting a dim shadow across the remains of your latest training exercise. A chill was just starting to set in, causing you to tug at your jacket and pull it around you a bit tighter. You liked these moments, rare as they were recently. A quiet time to yourself. Not even to think, but simply to be. Present and comfortable. And you.

The wind picked up and sang through the taller blades of grass as a ship approached for landing. Your moment was over, but a new happiness settled in its place. Minutes later, the Havoc Marauder was opening its hatch and spitting out its soldiers.

"Captain," Hunter gave you a two-finger salute as he passed by.

"Sergeant," you returned with a smile.

Echo was close behind, giving you a respectful nod. Wrecker hauled a munitions crate in one hand and hit you up for a high five with the other. Tech was oblivious as he hunched over a data pad.

They filed by, one after the other, headed straight for the barracks, and what you hoped were the showers. They all knew not to linger, that you'd catch up with them later. This was your time with Crosshair.

The sniper was leaning up against the hatch opening, arms folded across a plastoid chest and a toothpick lazily perched between slightly curled lips. He took you in for a moment and you could feel yourself glowing in response to his soft gaze.

"Showing those clankers who's boss, I see," he said as he made his way down the gangway. He nodded his head toward the mess of scrap metal behind you.

You gave a half shrug. "My reaction time is getting better, but I still can't get the angles right with those pucks."

Crosshair inched up to you, gently resting his hands on either side of your waist. "Have you been doing the breathing exercises like I showed you?"

You nodded. Your hands instinctually came up to his run along his arms until they found the crook of his elbows, the only place not barring your touch by armor.

"And using the laser sight?"

You nodded a little slower and Crosshair tsked.

"I want to be good without it. Like you." You added a little extra honey to your words so he wouldn't reprimand you too much. It had been an adjustment for the two of you at first, he stepping into a training role and you stepping back to receive instruction for once. Thankfully the frustrations seemed to diminish the more your relationship progressed.

"You have to be patient," he said, giving your waist a slight squeeze to accentuate his point. "You aren't like the regs you train. You're building your skills, taking care of yourself."

You hummed, more in thought than agreement. "Will I ever have to use these skills someday, do you think? Is it really getting that bad out there?"

You tried not to think about how many soldiers you had trained only to be sent to a battlefield to die. How many of the shinies you were drilling right now would likely be killed soon. How many more would be brought in to take their place. You'd thought you'd known what you were getting yourself into with this job. But the relentless cycle of it all was getting to you more and more, especially as the Republic continued to be challenged in larger scales and higher stakes. It never seemed to end.

"It's hard to say," Crosshair responded. "We have to prepare for the worst."

You hated that answer, but you wouldn't let him see it. Not yet. Your fears and your displeasures, anger and sorrow, were things yet to be fully explored in this new relationship. All in due time. So you simply smiled, plucked the toothpick out of his mouth and tossed it aside.

"And hope for the best, right?"

He smiled back, or at least moved his mouth in the direction of a smile, as much as you could usually get from the reserved man. "Yes, of course."

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. You both closed your eyes and breathed each other in. There was warmth in his embrace. A promise in the steady hands he held you with. Vulnerability in the skin that gently touched yours. To have someone this close, someone who was still more stranger than friend, though no less beloved, was what you had always wanted. And for once, what you wanted was just as lovely and fulfilling as you'd hoped. No catch. No deals. No unintended consequences. Just you and him and happiness.

All too soon he pulled away. His hand sought yours as he turned in the direction of the barracks. The longer you stayed behind, the worse the teasing from the others would be. They were only respectful of your relationship to a point, and after that it was fair game for a laugh. So you willingly followed.

"Crosshair?"

"Hm?"

"I was thinking about Hunter...."

The sniper glanced at you suspiciously.

"Well, you know he and I have been friends for a while. And he's confided a few things in me before. About what he wants. Or thinks he wants. He's changed his mind a few times on the specifics. But all in the same gist."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know, I just feel like I owe him for helping me get through a tough time. And if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have ever met you. So--"

Crosshair cut you off with a groan. "If you're trying to get me to play matchmaker..."

"It would get some of the attention off of us," you quickly offered. "If Hunter had someone he was bringing around, too. Or even just interested in."

Crosshair frowned in thought. "There was a bartender on Scarif he kept checking out..."

You grinned and squeezed his hand affectionately. "See? Just keep an eye out and nudge him a bit. Who knows what could happen."

You could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes for your sake. Instead he squeezed your hand in return. "Or you could come with us and nudge him yourself?"

Your walking slowed, right as you were about to cross the facility boundary line. You would have to let go of his hand once you crossed it, keep a professional distance, share your company with others. And once the Batch's business here concluded, then you would have to let him go and watch him disappear into the sky with all the prayers you could possibly send with him. And then you would be on your own. Waiting, waiting, always waiting. And maybe he would return, and maybe he wouldn't.

And heaven forbid you would ever end up alone again.

"Or you can stay," he said. The quietness of his voice betrayed what he really meant, what he really wanted.

And you knew what you wanted, too. Without you realizing, it was getting easier and easier for you to define your desires. And not only that, but to pursue them, too. To know your happiness was worth the risk of disappointment. It was clear to you now that you were not only worthy, but also capable. The man standing before you, holding your hand, gazing at you like nothing else mattered, was proof enough.

And so you said, "Take me with you."

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blueiskewl · 1 month

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Stone With 1,600-Year-Old Irish Inscription Found in English Garden

A geography teacher, Graham Senior, stumbled across a rock with mysterious incisions while tidying his overgrown garden in Coventry, England. The discovery of a small stone carved with an early form of Celtic script has caused excitement among archaeologists.

The rectangular sandstone rock was found by Graham Senior in Coventry during lockdown in 2020 while he was weeding, but its true value was only recently understood.

The 11-centimeter-long and 139-gram rectangular sandstone rock had cryptic inscriptions on it that suggested a history spanning over 1,600 years, all written in the mysterious Ogham alphabet.

Ogham is an early medieval alphabet used to write the Archaic Irish language from the 4th to the 6th century and Old Irish from the 6th to the 9th century. It is usually found carved on stones in Ireland, Wales, and western Britain. It was the first written language in Ireland. The majority of the 400 or so known inscriptions from the Archaic Irish period are family name pillars that were built to announce land ownership.

Ogham is an extremely unique writing system among all writing systems, with lines arranged in groups of one to five only. The stones provide insight into the Irish language before the use of the Latin insular script.

Finds liaison officer for the Birmingham Museums Trust, Teresa Gilmore, told RTÉ’s Morning Ireland that the discovery on an Ogham stone in the English midlands was a rare find.

“These finds do not turn up in the midlands. The bulk of Ogham inscriptions are found over in Ireland,” she said.

Professor Katherine Forsyth of Celtic Studies at the University of Glasgow conducted additional research that shed more light on the stone’s provenance. Her findings point to a period suggesting a timeframe ranging from the fifth to sixth centuries, with the possibility of an even earlier date in the fourth century.

The stone is inscribed on three of its four sides. The inscription on the stone, “Maldumcail/S/ Lass,” puzzled researchers, with interpretations pointing towards a version of the personal name Mael Dumcail, but the meaning of the S and LASS is unclear. Given the usual purpose and significance of ogham stones, it may be a location reference.

Theories regarding the origins of the stone abound, with speculations ranging from migration patterns to the presence of early medieval monasteries in the region.

The rock will be displayed at the Herbert Art Gallery and Museum in Coventry, to which Senior has donated it permanently. It will feature in the forthcoming Collecting Coventry exhibition, which opens on 11 May.

By Oguz Kayra.

#Stone With 1600-Year-Old Irish Inscription Found in English Garden #Coventry England #Celtic script #sandstone rock had cryptic inscriptions #Ogham alphabet #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #celtic history #irish mythology #celtic art

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xximpressions · 1 year

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The Duchess (3)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: You try being social

Word Count: 1,996

A/N: Hi lovely people! I hope you enjoy the next chapter! If you do, let me know what your favorite part's been so far down below 😁😘

Bridgerton Masterlist

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Your slow pacing back and forth continued as you considered the formal invitation in your hand.

The elegant cardstock had been sitting relatively untouched since you first opened it a few days ago, but given that the engagement you were invited to was being hosted tonight, you felt it was finally time to make up your mind about going.

While there were no real obstacles that could prevent you from accepting the invitation, the memories of your last social outing were making you weary about seeking out another.

On one hand, these were strangers. People you barely knew and owed nothing toward.

But at the same time, you could not ignore that the Duchess of Hastings’ offer for friendship seemed sincere and was something you would not mind pursuing given how isolated your life had been thus far.

Since you were raised in the country by an elderly aunt that wanted nothing to do with you, your chances for social interactions had been limited for the better part of your existence. Given your sudden marriage barely a month into your societal debut, and the year-long seclusion you had to endure after your husband’s unexpected death, it was not difficult to recognize a part of you longed for some kind of human interaction.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say a huge part of you longed to feel a sense of connection to someone rather than feel like a mere participant in everyone else’s story.

Staring at the card once more, you also recognized that if you wanted that connection, you were at least going to have to make the effort to seek it out.

That said, you ultimately decided to send your acceptance of the invitation. Although, your nerves were alight as you did so.

Those same nerves stayed with you even after you had arrived at Hastings’ House and were formally announced to the other guests already gathered, though you made sure not to show it as you confidently entered the drawing room.

Though you suppose you should have expected it, you were still surprised when a noticeable hush replaced the once light conversation abound within the room.

Given your lack of opportunities to participate in the ton’s gossip, you have never been quite sure how much power a rumor might have over society as a whole. But based on the stares you were pointedly ignoring as you made your way to greet your hosts, it was clear that it was more than you originally thought.

In acknowledging the reaction your arrival had caused, you also had to acknowledge that this was a situation somewhat of your own making.

You came to this conclusion since one of your lady’s maids recently brought to your attention that a certain Lady Whistledown had written yet another sheet featuring your name.

Rather than discuss your mysterious return as a dowager Duchess once more, the author had chosen to write about your recent promenade through the park with a highly sought after Viscount this time.

Reporting on the details as if they suggested some kind of hidden connection between the two of you, Lady Whistledown was not shy in publicly announcing her support of such a match.

While you were glad to have her approval (as opposed to her abhorrence), you were now realizing it still came with the cost of being the center of attention.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” You thought with a touch of humored wryness.

Completely aware of the amount of curious eyes that followed your unhurried steps, you made sure to give a courteous nod in greeting once you were stood in front of the two familiar faces and gracefully said,

“Duke, Duchess, thank you for extending the invitation to dine with you in your wonderful home tonight. I am delighted to be here.”

The couple bowed their heads as well and each gave a kind smile before the Duchess being addressed assuredly replied with,

“It is our pleasure! Taking into account the impression my spirited sister must have made upon our first meeting, we are only too happy you decided to accept.”

You all shared a brief laugh as you recalled how excited the girl had been which was enough to break the formal atmosphere that currently surrounded your group.

Being honest, you said in an amused tone,

“Your sister seems like a charming young lady who certainly made a great first impression. I feel so lucky to have had the privilege of meeting her, though I do hope she is able to hold onto her ribbons a bit more in the future.”

This response encouraged another round of chuckles to be shared before the Lady of the house caught eyes with her butler from across the room.

After receiving a confirmatory nod from the man, she turned to the rest of the gathered attendees and cordially announced,

“Everyone, we are going into the dining room.”

The chatter that had since picked up from the hushed tone it had taken upon your entrance quieted once again as people began to make their way into the elegant room.

Having found your chair located near the head of the table, you were seated relatively quickly while a few others straggled to settle in.

Since you were focused on reading the dinner menu posted on the card in front of your plate, you did not notice when the seat next to you suddenly became occupied.

But you did notice when a voice said with obviously faux astonishment,

“What a coincidence this is!”

Completely caught off guard, you were even more unprepared to be met with a pair of kind, familiar eyes that had a mischievously triumphant twinkle sparkling within them when you snapped your head to the side.

Stunned to see your handsome rescuer sat so close to you, your mind only had the capacity to say with a touch of breathlessness,

“I do not understand your meaning, Lord Bridgerton.”

Taking in the sight of the well-kept Viscount, you watched as that little bit of triumph grew into a pleased smirk on his face as he answered with a certain coyness,

“I merely meant to point out how fortuitous it is that we are seated next to each other for the duration of this meal.”

Starting to catch on, your eyes began to narrow as you said with a raised brow,

“Oh? So this is all a setup then?”

But as if he expected such an inquiry, he was quick to reply with a casual,

“No, this is just a conversation. And given how our last one ended, I simply wanted to ensure that we would not be interrupted.”

As the feeling of being well and truly trapped sunk in, you frantically tried to think of any means of escape, and had to applaud this man’s planning when none came to mind.

Since it would not be socially acceptable to leave when the meal had not even begun yet, and because you were sat directly next to the head of the table at the corner, with a strategically placed candelabrum sitting in between you and the other guests across the way, it became crystal clear that you had little choice but to converse with the only person sitting next to you.

And that just “happened” to be the Viscount.

Though you did not fully appreciate being tricked, you could not deny the pleasantly warm sensation that suddenly went through you as you recognized the amount of effort he put in for you both to meet again.

And while you were the one that chose to part ways, you can secretly admit to yourself that you were glad to be given another chance to interact with your handsome rescuer, even if it was happening on his terms.

With the way your thoughts had been constantly flashing back to the few times you were in the Viscount’s presence as of late, you decided one last conversation might be what you needed to bring you some peace of mind.

So, after clearing your throat, you looked back at the man once you had your composure and openly said out of curiosity,

“I assume the Duchess of Hastings played a part in this?”

Anthony took it as a good sign that you did not appear crossed with him for his deception, and was only too happy to truthfully reply.

“Yes, but Daphne only agreed to help on the condition that I tell you her offer of friendship was a genuine one, and I know she is hoping you will take her up on it.”

Appreciating the honesty and kindness being extended your way, you nodded and said,

“I may very well choose to do so,”

Before shooting a slightly bashful grin in his direction.

The footmen, who were going around the table at this point, chose that moment to serve you both from their trays before moving on to the next guests.

The silence following your first bites continued until you wiped your mouth with your napkin and finally asked after swallowing your food,

“So, what do you want to know, Lord Bridgerton?”

The Viscount in question took his time thinking about his answer before he opened his mouth and calmly said,

“Well first, I would like to know who that man is.”

Knowing exactly who he was referring to, you exhaled a small sigh and allowed your gaze to fall to your dinner plate as you quietly replied,

“He is the younger brother of my late husband.”

At the mention of your husband and his passing, you could see the Viscount about to apologize for your loss—as was the sympathetic thing to do—but before he could get it out, you stopped him with a tight smile and a raised hand. After the fact, you explained with a learned formalness,

“I did not know him, and so I do not feel his loss. Therefore, there is no need for you to apologize.”

Comprehending your story a bit more with that new piece of information, Anthony hid it well, but inside he could not help but to still feel sorry. He was sorry to hear you were apparently married off to a man you did not know. He was sorry to hear you were forced to mourn someone you obviously had no connection to. And he was sorry that this man’s brother was now harassing you on top of it.

Nodding to show his understanding as he mentally tucked away that particular detail, Anthony contemplated you for a few moments before asking in a quiet voice of his own,

“So then, why was your brother-in-law trying to attack you?”

You took a few seconds to think about the best way of answering until you finally just sighed and truthfully said,

“He wants to marry me.”

Not seeing how a marriage proposal could escalate to an assault, Anthony attempted to ask another question but was cut off when you said with a level of reassurance and seriousness,

“There are too many ears here, so I will explain the rest at another time.”

Seeing the warranted doubt clear on his face, you earnestly finished with,

“I promise,”

While gazing directly into his eyes.

When he saw the imploring way you were looking at him to drop this subject, he decided to relent and understandingly said,

“As you wish, your Grace.”

Turning to focus his attention back on his meal, the Viscount could not ignore that his mind was whirling with questions and a new sense of determination.

Catching glimpses of you from the corner of his eyes, he glanced your way for a second or two before thinking,

“No one is going to hurt her again,”

Quickly directing his gaze back to his own plate (lest he be caught staring) Anthony decidedly made a promise of his own when he followed up this thought with,

“And though I do not know how, I do know I am going to make sure of it.”

Previous | Next

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Taglist:

@lilsiz | @selena-187 | @scarwicht

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton x black!reader #bridgerton imagine

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thebarontheabyss · 4 months

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Beneath the light of Memoriam's moon, where gods find their eternal rest, lies the impenetrable Library of Pseudonium.

This sanctum holds the capability to unveil the cosmos' most profound enigmas - the divines' secrets—provided one knows precisely what to seek.

Here's a glimpse of what you might find hidden within.

Tread lightly, for the truths dwelling here, especially those concerning the gods, might be best left undisturbed.

(P.S. TWO MORE DAYS UNTIL THE UPDATE!)

The Divine Procreation

"What, indeed, is a god? In layman's terms, one might liken a god to the very soul of a realm.

Just as our mortal vessels are animated by our souls, so too are realms vivified by their divine essences.

Imagine, if you will, mortals as mere cells within the vast body of a godly entity- But I digress.

Our mortal compulsion leans towards reproduction, the continuation of legacy through biological means.

But the divine? Ah, now that's where our lesson takes a fascinating turn.

Historical accounts abound with tales of deities procreating.

Not in the manner that would, admittedly, fascinate some of the more… whimsical among us—yes, Willfled, your chuckle betrays you!—but rather, birthing entities that are sometimes divine themselves, or powerful spirits.

Consider this: some deities can even be siblings. The most renowned, of course, are Tehomot and Adamot, pillars among The Nine. Believed to be among the first deities, it implies others sprang from them, weaving the fabric of our cosmos.

Gods, in their inherent secrecy, seldom unveil the mysteries of their existence to mortals.

But my hypothesis suggests that divine offspring may arise in two distinct manners: firstly, as a function of their parent's realm, potentially creating pocket realms within it—a process that lays the foundation for pantheons of deities to form.

Alternatively, they might possess the inherent might to carve out a domain of their own, thus ascending to godhood independently of their parent.

But let's examine the first in detail- the cohabitation of two or more deities within a single realm.

Does this herald a peaceful existence, or is conflict an inevitable outcome?

Let us consider mortal familial disputes. They can be… taxing, as evidenced by my first mother-in-law, who became quite the adversary merely three months after my union.

Thus, if mortals can scarcely navigate the waters of kinship, what of the divine? History is littered with tales of celestial discord, suggesting that divine households are anything but harmonious.

So while we ponder the domestic bliss, or lack thereof, among deities, remember—our earthly dramas pale compared to the epoch-spanning conflicts of the heavens."

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strawhatsoraya · 1 year

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GOJO X FEM READER (eventually gojo x reader x geto) | SFW WC: 1.9k CW: none, it's fluff if anything, awkward teenage exchange, some minor mentions of blood, possible second hand embarrassment, gojo is a little shit no matter the age, high school shoujo romance tropes abound SUMMARY: a high school teen romance (might jump forwards and backards in time as inspiration strikes)--Y/N is quiet and reserved, happy to remain as an outlier. Gojo Satoru is charismatic, dazzling, and popular. Although they're both in the same year, they've never interacted before. At least to Y/Ns knowledge. Gojo seems to have a different version of the events but he's not sharing so willingly.

Years from now, you’d look back at this moment, and realize that it had always been like that. That when you were in pain, when your knees were scraped up and bleeding as they were now, the boy with the mysterious aquamarine eyes would suddenly appear; like a phantom, like a thief, like a gift.

Years from now, your heart would race at the sight of him, just like now but the ache that bloomed would be different. That painful scar would come from a wound yet inflicted.

You stand stupefied just within the entrance of the nurse’s office. There was a clumsiness that haunted your bones, ever since you could remember. The floor and you were greatly acquainted. There currently wasn’t a sharp corner of a desk, or door that you weren’t familiar with. Yet, none of it had stopped you moments ago from tripping over what seemed like air in the courtyard.

It was the laughter of your peers, the weight of shame that propelled you forward, and before you knew it you had been blitzing down the hall wondering why the hell you couldn’t have fallen straight through the earth’s crust. At least you would have died in the hellfire of the earth’s core and not have to suffer this embarrassment.

If you had died then, you wouldn’t be standing there like a fool, staring at the sleeping form of a white haired boy. Even laying still as he was, you recognized him. You may be awkward, and a bit of an outsider, but you weren’t completely unaware of your surroundings. It was hard to not know who Gojo Satoru was. Nervously, you drum your fingers against your thighs, trying to decide on what to do.

Nurse Luci was nowhere to be seen. If memory serves you right, you knew exactly where the first aid kit was. You move quietly, taking big slow steps. Every sound you made seemed amplified. Your fingers grasp the handle of the drawer you were aiming for and pull.

There’s a loud screech. Your heart races. You turn your head slowly. Gojo seems to still be sleeping. You almost scream when he turns his body to face the wall. Your hand now against your mouth, you feel nauseous and foolish. Trying to regulate your breathing, you turn your attention back to the drawer. You clasp the first aid kit with whitening knuckles.

“Taking without permission counts as stealing, you know,” says a voice you don’t immediately recognize.

You scream this time, throwing the first aid kit in the air. It lands with a clatter as you spin in place, breath refusing to come back into your lungs. You think your heart might burst, that you’ll throw up on the floor and your brand new school shoes when you spot Gojo Satoru now sitting casually on the edge of the bed.

It’s painful, the way your heart beats against your cage. It feels too big for the small space. It takes up enough room that it seems hard to breathe.

“I wasn’t stealing,” you say quietly, finding the sense to respond. Gojo Satoru doesn’t seem to care about your logic. He cards his long fingers through his platinum hair, brushing it off his forehead. The sun glimmers through the tall windows of the nurse’s office. Its light is bright, and it shines on Gojo’s fair skin, turning it slightly pink. You watch him wince and bring a hand to shield his eyes.

“Ohhh~” he quips at last, shutting his eyes as he paws at the top of the bedside table. Finally, his white fingers grasp his round dark sunglasses. Gojo quickly puts them on, his shoulders relaxing immediately. “So you’re a liar too. Two for two,” he finishes, bringing up his hand to hold up two fingers.

“I’m not lying!” you protest in a loud hiss, clutching your fists by your side. “I was borrowing it!”

Gojo grows quiet. You choose to take his possible contemplativeness for disinterest. It didn’t matter. You’d never speak to Gojo Satoru again after this. It wasn’t in the cards. You didn’t even hang in the same circles. You didn’t even have a circle.

A wistful sigh flies out of your mouth before you can stop it. You flush, embarrassed at the sliver of hope that you didn’t know you were still clinging on to. Desperate to remove yourself from this situation you kneel down to grab the abandoned first aid kit. It had flown open, sending bandaids, and bandages flying everywhere. You groan to yourself, clumsily gathering all the materials.

The thing with Gojo Satoru was that he didn’t think before he spoke. In fact, even if he did, he almost always said the wrong thing. It was something he would laugh off when brought up. He’d wave a large hand, flash a dazzling smile. It was enough to disarm even the most cautious person. They’d forgive and he would never have to face his own flaws head on.

It still bothered him. It bothered him more than he could ever let on.

The dripping drop of blood from your knee down to your shin, soaking in on your white tube socks catches his attention. Gojo takes a deep breath and pushes off the mattress. You don’t seem to even be bothered by your scraped up knees, kneeling there, shoving things back into the first aid kit case haphazardly.

He kneels down beside you, as your fingers wrap around an iodine swab.

“Clumsy too!” he declares with amusement. You glance up to see his crooked smile, aimed at the top of your curly head. You look away quickly before he can notice the way heat beats on your cheeks until red. “I guess that’s three?” He asks you teasingly, turning his head and lowering himself to slip into your field of vision. He’s holding up those long annoying fingers again.

You look up through your lashes, full of aggravation. He was not only handsome, but annoying. How many crimes could a tall freak like him commit at once?

“So what?” you reply with a pout. You’re trying to keep your tone neutral, but managing your facial expression is an entirely different problem. Gojo laughs silently at your sulking face. “Is that a crime? I’m not hurting anybody.”

“Yeah, nobody but your poor bony knees,” he says with a dramatic frown and pointing at your knees with an index finger.

You suck your teeth and groan, really wishing he would stop pointing at you, or using his hands period. You pointedly ignore the fact that he called your knees bony. Was that an insult?

“Leave me and my bony knees alone,” you insist, nodding your head as you stand up. Gojo stands up with you, holding on to some stray supplies you hadn’t gotten to shove back into the first aid kit.

“Uh, sorry, can’t do that!” he declares with a shrug and a tilt of his head. His fluffy hair sways with his movements. It looks silky and soft. You’re annoyed again.

“Why not?” you ask him, walking past him and towards the bed that Gojo Satoru had now abandoned. “You don’t even know me. It should be easy. Goodbye, Gojo Satoru!” you say sardonically, waving a hand as you plaster a fake smile on your lips. You drop the expression at once, and sit down on the edge of the bed.

Gojo stands in the middle of the nurse’s office, hands slipping into his pockets. You stare back at him, his tall imposing figure. His broad shoulders, and dark glasses make him surreal; something straight out of a book or a TV show. It reminds you of the big gap between the two of you. It’s unbearable to watch any further so you set the first aid kid on the bed, ready to finally patch up your knees and get back to your quiet school life.

“I do know you, actually,” Gojo says softly. His tone comes as a surprise. Usually he sounds playful, mischievous even. There was always something hidden in his words, like a riddle you couldn’t quite figure out. He approaches you as you look up, and takes the first aid kit from the bed.

You breathe out in frustration, ready to go to battle with him again when he takes a seat next to you. There’s a hitch in your breath, one that you try to hide with a cough. You hope the coughing fit also helps restart your heart because at the pace it’s going you might end up in heart failure before your junior year is over. Gojo grabs a few items from the kit that you just can’t seem to pay attention to. You’re too busy trying to calm the trembling in your hands. There’s a high pitch scream that echoes in your head, over and over, as Gojo gently pats the cuts and scrapes on your knees with a gauze.

“We’ve met before, actually,” he says as softly as before; just as softly, he drags an alcohol prep pad up your shin, cleaning the trail of blood that dried there. You try to hide the shiver that courses through your body by laughing sardonically. “You don’t remember. I’m wounded,” he says with playfulness back in his voice.

You feel more at ease when he finally puts large bandaids over each knee. Now you had two ugly knee pads. Wonderful.

“You’re lying,” you tell him as you pat your own knees before bouncing off the bed. There’s electricity in your feet, begging you to run out the door, far far away from Gojo Satoru.

“Hmmm!” Gojo hums contemplatively; and there it was again: the riddle you couldn’t solve, the puzzle behind his small smile. “Am I?” He watches you, not moving from his bed as you back up to the door.

You’re almost out when you turn, feeling out of sorts and slightly guilty.

“Thank you,” you say finally, forcing the words out. Your tongue feels stiff, unaccustomed to this much talking. “For the ugly knee pads.” You point down at them with a winding finger.

Gojo laughs softly, and nods.

“See you around, Knee Pads!” he declares with a grin, and drops backwards on the bed again. He folds his arms behind his head, as you gape at him, face turning red.

“My name is not Knee Pads!” you shout. You begin to formulate an argument, in fact you almost tell him your name until you realize that maybe this was part of his masterplan. “Huh. You almost got me there,” you tell him, pointing at him.

Gojo turns his head slightly to look at you from behind his sunglasses. “Huh?” he replies, confusion weaving in his voice.

“Nothing,” you say. You hesitate, unsure why you couldn’t just leave, like you had wanted to all along. There was a sudden curiosity that grew inside of you. You wanted to know more. You wanted to know if he really had met you before. You wanted to know if he knew your name. How much did he know about you? You wanted to know why he was hiding out in the nurses’ office in the first place when he seemed perfectly fine.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. You roll your eyes at your own indecision and settle for the way things were. You were now Knee Pads, the thief, the liar, the clumsy one. Enough damage had been done. You didn’t need to give Gojo Satoru more reason to wound your pride.

You leave without another word, rubbing a sore spot on your chest, hoping the strange ache would go away on its own; never to return again.

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #idc what anyone says i'm entering my shoujo era and you're just gonna have to put up with it or block me

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brokehorrorfan · 4 months

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My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book Two by Emil Ferris will be published in paperback and e-book on May 28 via Fantagraphics. The 412-page graphic novel is the conclusion to 2017's award-winning My Favorite Thing Is Monsters.

Its presented as a diary of a 10-year-old girl as she attempts to solve the murder of her Holocaust survivor neighbor, illustrated with ballpoint pen. An excerpt can be read at The New Yorker.

Dark mysteries past and present continue to abound in the tumultuous and violent Chicago summer of 1968. 10-year-old Karen Reyes attends a protest in Grant Park and finds herself swept up in a police stomping. Privately, she continues to investigate her beloved and enigmatic upstairs neighbor Anka Silverberg’s recent death and discovers one last cassette tape that sheds light upon Anka's heroic activities in Nazi Germany. She wrestles with her own sexual identity, the death of her mother, and the secrets she suspects her brother Deez of hiding. Ferris's exhilarating cast of characters experience revelations and epiphanies that both resolve and deepen the mysteries visited upon them earlier. Visually, the story is told in Ferris's inimitable style that breathtakingly and seamlessly combines panel-to-panel storytelling and cartoon montages filled with B-movie horror and pulp monster mag iconography.

Pre-order My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Book Two.

#my favorite thing is monsters #emil ferris #horror #comics #comic #comic art #graphic novel #fantagraphics #fantagraphics books #book #gift

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violetstormms · 11 months

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FNAF Sun and Moon x yn Fic List Update

This is update 1 for my FNAF Sun and Moon x yn fic list. www.tumblr.com/violetstormms/710457016218435584/sunmoon-fnaf-fanfic-recommendation-list?

As always look at the tags and read at your own discretion as while I will try not to include explicit material in this list, the stories can contain other mature content. If you want to see future updates to this list feel free to follow the “Violetstormm fic list updates” tag

When I have more time I will also be adding fics from my mermay list as well just to have everything in one place. The list will still be left up though as people seem to like that one.

Change: old vers Heart, Mind & Soul by SmolShampoo updated to new version.

+All Around the Mulberry Bush by Chaussette_et_Chaussures

archiveofourown.org/works/38251879/chapters/95575312

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey thought 'twas all in fun

POP! Goes the weasel.

The Fazbear corporation has always been surrounded by dark rumors, so was every other heavy hitter in the entertainment industry. Conspiracy theories and creepypastas abound. But when you took a job working as a repair technician, it slowly becomes more and more clear as to why you're the only one anymore. And in the dark crypt-like atmosphere of parts and services, you can't help but wonder if there isn't some grain of truth to everything you've heard.

(Please mind the tags)

`The Unseen Friend by EllaspenFrost

archiveofourown.org/works/47726713/chapters/120307615

"The pizzeria's extensive dark past was lost to almost everyone...

Not you.

A ghost knows all the dirty secrets of its final resting place."

You are the pizzaplex's resident spirit. You were there when the place was built, and watched events unfold for the unfortunate animatronics that entertained the public. Your favorite animatronic, previously performing in the theater, was re-purposed as a daycare attendant. Though it takes several years, Sun and Moon begin to realize that they were never as alone as they believed. Someone had always been there with them.

*Thing on your swing by SourTomato

archiveofourown.org/works/45595288/chapters/114730450

Yay cheap housing!

Why is it so cheap? Probably has something to do with mushrooms!

~A Song of the Seas by StarForgedStories

archiveofourown.org/works/48452437/chapters/122214820

You don’t know what possessed you to buy that boat. Was it just a whim? A wish for a bit of adventure? To flee from the only life you'd ever known? Or perhaps even the call of something far more alluring than just the sea itself...

The sea has many mysteries within its dark depths and you're going to uncover them, whether you like it or not.

+Golden Midnight by friendcharlie

archiveofourown.org/works/48365224/chapters/121985287

Recovering from severe depression and isolation, you're accepted into a position at the newly rebuilt and remodeled Mega Pizzaplex. You're expecting a tedious and boring customer service job, but after meeting your celestial-themed coworkers, it might be more than you bargained for.

~Crush Depth by NaffEclipse

archiveofourown.org/works/48656851/chapters/122737075

You stare out the forward viewport—the window. The sub’s only window. Blood splashes against the thick glass. It is human blood. It fills an ocean on Moon FZ-87. The atmosphere is dark and barren, speckled with the ghostly light of stars that have been gone for decades.

This is the last view you have of anything above the blood ocean surface. Futility sinks roots into your ribs.

DCA x Reader (SFW)

~Song Fish Amid the Stars by NaffEclipse

archiveofourown.org/works/48365212/chapters/121985266

A pang hits your heart, going out to the little fish struggling to escape the cruel and entrapping lagoon.

But they look like mers. Sea monsters.

Mermaid!Sun & Mermaid!Moon x Reader (SFW)

*Celestial Sundown by clutterspace

archiveofourown.org/works/48356314/chapters/121962010#workskin

There was something slumped beneath a tree, and you had no idea what it was.

The sunlight shone brighter where it laid, despite the leaves above not differing from any of the other foliage.

It was such a small thing to notice in comparison to everything else, but it brought a small hysterical giggle out past the lump in your throat as it finally clicked in place what you were seeing.

It was a god.

────

You are a peasant living in the middle of the woods, Sun is the god of day you brought back home with you, and Moon is the god of night tucked away in the Celestial Realm.

+*So(u)l by Strawbubbysugar

archiveofourown.org/works/48206098/chapters/121564951

It will take every single sign the universe can throw at you to realize that you are capable of being loved. Specifically, by an animatronic daycare attendant.

Check out @strawbubbysugar on Tumblr for art related to the AU!

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zennikolai · 6 months

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Ilvernath Eclipse, Town's oldest newspaper covering the Blood Veil Tournament.

A Tradition of Tragedy Unveils Dark Secrets of Seven Families' Grip on Ilvernath's High Magick

Blood Moon Signals Commencement of Lethal Tournament

In the wake of the release of the gripping novel, A Tradition of Tragedy, a harrowing revelation has come to light, exposing the clandestine lives of the privileged elite. Contrary to the idyllic facade they portrayed, the reality proves to be far from beautiful. The book discloses that seven influential families—Thorburn, Lowe, Macaslan, Payne, Darrow, Blair, and Grieve—have monopolized Ilvernath's high magick, wielding unimaginable powers at a grave cost: a deadly tournament fought amongst themselves.

Scheduled to transpire approximately every two decades, the onset of this perilous event is heralded by the ominous glow of the Blood Moon. When the celestial body takes on a crimson hue, the Fall of the Blood Veil ensues about a month later, initiating a brutal contest for supremacy.

As the magick dwindles worldwide, these families engage in ruthless battles for control over the remaining reservoir in Ilvernath. Their insatiable greed, typical of those in power, has stained their hands with the blood of countless teenagers who sacrificed their lives to sustain the adults' dominance.

Quoting a passage from A Tradition of Tragedy, "Most associate high magick with other distant brutalities of the past: pillaging, plague, and lawlessness. But Ilvernath, a piece of that history lingers, every bit as threatening as it once was."

The revelation in the book suggests that these families are willing to go to extreme lengths, even sacrificing the lives of children, to obtain and maintain their high magick. Speculation abounds that the Grieve family may be the authors of the book, given their perpetual misfortune in the tournaments.

With the impending arrival of the Blood Veil, The Seven Slaughter, the participants of the tournament, remain shrouded in mystery. However, one name has surfaced in the public domain—Isobel Macaslan, a figure both reviled and adored. Although the source remains anonymous, Cormac Macaslan, Isobel's father, has seemingly confirmed her status as their Champion.

While other families have yet to unveil their Champions, the Lowe family has become the subject of intense speculation. Renowned for their strength and enigmatic nature, they are perceived as the most villainous of the seven. Anticipation builds as the public awaits the outcome of this year's tournament, with many expecting the Lowe family to emerge victorious based on historical records.

The grand opening ceremony is imminent and is scheduled to take place at the City's Banquet Hall, setting the stage for a chilling display of power and intrigue.

#i had fun doing this and idk ilvernath newspaper might probably written like this #i mean SADIE SINK AS ISOBEL MACASLAN #PLEASE I WANT THAT TO HAPPEN #all of us villains #aouv #all of our demise #aoud #allofusvillains #allofourdemise

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ogata77 · 1 year

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Fireflies can only be seen at night

Less and less to know what will happen to Doumeki and Yashiro in that empty room. Having survived the shock of discovering that Doumeki did have a tattoo, as always I couldn't stop thinking about the mystery so I started to do some research.

After reviewing information about yakuza tattoos, I believe in the theory that Doumeki has been getting this tattoo, better known as IREZUMI, for quite some time and that the last retouching that was done helped Yashiro realize, due to the injuries, that he was tattooed While theories of what Doumeki got tattooed abound everywhere, I want to focus on the deeper meaning of the act itself.

First of all, with the tattoo reveal, Doumeki finally showed that he was serious when he said that he would do anything to stay in Yashiro's world, just look at his reaction upon finding out.

The last scene of the first arc shows us Doumeki plunging into the darkness going down the hospital stairs, then we see how he assures Amou that he is willing to go against his own principles in order to be close to "that" person and finally the statement he makes in the sake bar: "my time and my BODY belong to me", by the way, this is one of my favorite phrases. But words are carried away by the wind, so what better tangible display of his tenacity than getting a tattoo.

In Japanese culture, tattoos have always had a connotation related to the criminal world, so it is not uncommon for the yakuza not to display this art publicly, but there is something much deeper in the concept of privacy of Japanese mafia tattoos. Horiyoshi III, one of the most legendary and favorite tattoo artists of the yakuza, explains that he does not believe that they get tattoos to say that they are loyal to a group, rather it has to do with the ninkyō concept that means helping the people below you, therefore, when a yakuza gets a tattoo, he would want to show that he has the strength to help the weak. If we take this to saezuru I couldn't agree more because Doumeki finally had to reinvent himself to gain strength if he wants to protect Yashiro in any way.

Horiyoshi III (in the image) also explained that the yakuzas only tattoo themselves in places of the body that are protected by their brand new suits, tattooing hands and neck would be prohibited by the afore mentioned. With this information I think I can understand Yoneda's vision of not showing Doumeki tattooed until the precise moment in the story arrived, the final rapprochement with the person he loves. Why would Doumeki have to be showing us as readers something that is so private to him?

This last thing made me remember that I had a book called Junichiro Tanizaki's Praise of the Shadow. The author through different disciplines such as architecture, art, design, etc. It shows us that fascination that the Japanese have since time immemorial for what cannot be seen so clearly. One of the examples that interested me the most was when he recounted how beautiful the Noh theater of yesteryear was where there weren't too many advances in lighting. The old theaters barely illuminated left enough, the development of the works of the moment, to the imagination of the assistants.

When I read this I couldn't help but relate it to Yashiro's phrase "being a yakuza is like being an actor", every time I read these cartoons I thought about contemporary actors but what if Yashiro was talking about traditional Noh theater actors. These actors are almost completely covered with their clothing, only their hands and neck are visible because their faces cannot be seen either because of the masks they use to represent the different characters.

You don't know how excited I was when relating these facts and thinking about the moments in the manga where we discovered Yashiro wearing or removing that mask. On the other hand, Doumeki has always paid close attention to what Yashiro says and after several years it is not evident that he has become quite an actor to the point of deceiving many of the readers at some moments in the story.

My conclusion about the meaning and importance of the Doumeki tattoo is that Yoneda, as always, has masterfully known how to use Japanese tradition, delicacy and mystery to precisely show us everything under a dim light where each reader has to discover this story for himself because the beauty of all this is as Horiyoshi III said: "Fireflies can only be seen at night."

You know, if there are problems with the text, it's Google translator's fault. Thank you very much if you read this far.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru #saezuru fandom #twittering birds never fly #saezuru analysis #Doumeki tatoo

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aquaticlime · 3 months

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₍ ⌨ [aquaticlime] is typing ... ₎

˗ˏˋMOVIE IDEAS´ˎ˗

In no particular order here are some projects I Star or just take part in.

Feel free to use these ideas for your own DR, not all of these are my own original ideas, I borrowed some from TikTok.

|‘𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒆’|

"A group of treasure hunters race against rival teams to find a hidden treasure in an ancient temple, but they soon discover that the temple contains a powerful entity that will stop at nothing to defend its treasure. Suspense, adventure, and danger ensue as the treasure hunters face off against not only other teams but also the power of the ancient temple's protective entity. Exciting and thrilling, ‘Battle Royale’ is sure to be an action-packed and adrenaline-fueled adventure."

|‘𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆’ |

"Set in the heart of the 1960s counterculture revolution, follow a couple of young free spirits as they find themselves at the iconic Woodstock festival, As the music plays on and the world around them transforms before their eyes. Set amidst the music that inspired a generation, enjoy the heartwarming tale of love and discovery as our couple takes a chance to follow their hearts and embrace a connection they never knew possible."

|‘𝑬𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔: 𝑺𝒂𝒗𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝑶𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒔’|

“Archeologist Dr. June Moone uncovers an ancient artifact, unleashing a spirit hailing from another dimension. This leads to a dangerous and thrilling adventure deep into the jungles of Peru, where she must fight for survival as well as uncover the hidden truths behind the her newfound superhuman abilities. Suspense, action, and mystery abound as ancient truths behind the entity’s origins come to light, after millennia in the dark.”

|‘𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒍’ |

"A hilarious and entertaining comedy-drama that perfectly captures the comedic and dramatic side of roommate living. With engaging conflicts and amusing misunderstandings, the movie follows a group of roommates who try to throw a surprise birthday party for their difficult but beloved landlord. ‘Party Foul’ successfully balances the chaos and craziness of living with roommates while also highlighting the importance of friendship and empathy. It's a wonderfully entertaining and heartwarming tale that leaves viewers with satisfaction and delight."

|‘𝑫𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅’|

“A group of friends decide to take a trip to a vacation spot, but they soon realize that their hotel has been double-booked and they must compete with another group for the best rooms and amenities. Comedy and competition ensue as both parties fight for the best accommodations while also trying to enjoy their holiday, resulting in a hilarious and action-packed vacation experience."

|‘𝑴𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝑭𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚’|

"In this hilarious and heartfelt tale, enter the extravagant world of Versailles Palace, where our band of maidens work tirelessly in the background to provide the essential services that keep the palace of Versailles running smoothly and the royals satisfied. Despite their seemingly minor role in the court hierarchy, they soon discover that their presence is not limited to just scrubbing floors and polishing silver. Amid the eccentric demands of their employers and the constant struggle to keep up with the court's social dynamics, our maids find a way to carve out their own space and make a name for themselves in this wild and luxurious world. Full of humor and hijinks, this comedic story is sure to entertain readers of all ages.”

╰─▸ @[aquaticlime] has

. . . . logged off

˗ˏˋReturn to masterlist ✦ main masterlist´ˎ˗

#shifting to desired reality #shifting consciousness #shifting motivation #shifting community #reality shifting #desired reality #shifting blog #shiftblr #fame dr #actress dr

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theblackbookofarkera · 9 days

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Hazut-kleg

Hazut-kleg is a city of secrets and wonders, perched on the edge of the island continent of Kathos. It overlooks the Bay of Hazut, where the water sparkles like sapphires and schools of silver fish glide beneath the surface. The warm breeze carries the scent of salt and spices, soothing the souls of the city dwellers. The buildings of Hazut-kleg are marvels of architecture and art, adorned with surrealistic murals and statues that reflect the king's eccentric taste. The king demands that every house and street be kept in pristine condition, except for the Galma Ward, where the poor and the outcasts live in squalor and fear. The king has no interest in the Galma Ward, for his eyes are fixed on the port, where the black galleons arrive from the faraway land of Kalakar. These ships bring rare and exotic goods to Hazut-kleg, such as plants that produce the finest and most vivid pigments and dyes. But they also bring something else, something dark and sinister, hidden in their secret chambers. No one knows what the black galleons carry, or what the king does with them, but rumors abound of strange noises, eerie lights, and forbidden rituals. Hazut-kleg is a city of beauty and mystery, but also of danger and dread.

#conworld #worldbuilding #low fantasy #world building #arkera #creative writing #dark fantasy #fantasy world

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sappy-witch · 8 months

Text

🎃🌙 Samhain: the Witch's New Year 🍂✨

Hello darlings 🥰

As the wind turns brisk and the leaves dance in shades of crimson and gold, Samhain approaches this October 31st, marking the witch's New Year. 🎃🌙

🍁A Time of Transformation

Samhain, also known as Halloween, is a bewitching time of transition. It's when we bid farewell to the abundant days of summer and welcome the mysteries of the darker half of the year. 🍂🌟

💀 Honoring Ancestors

At Samhain, we pay tribute to our ancestors. Create a sacred space adorned with photos, mementos, and offerings to connect with those who've crossed the veil before us. 💀🕯️

🔮Divination & Mysteries

Embrace the energy of Samhain for divination. Tarot readings, scrying, or pendulum work can reveal profound insights during this season of profound introspection. 🌌✨

🎃 Pumpkin Magic

Carving pumpkins isn't just a Halloween tradition; it's an act of enchantment! Each Jack-o'-Lantern can hold protective energies, tell a story, or light the way for wandering spirits. 🎃🔥

🪬 Protection Rituals

As the veil thins, ethereal energies abound. Perform protection rituals to safeguard your space from unwanted influences.

🍂 Seasonal Magic

Harness the enchanting magic of the season. Use autumnal herbs, like sage and rosemary, in your spells and rituals. They offer both protection and wisdom. 🌿🌟

🔥 Candles and Altars

Set up an altar with candles, crystals, and symbols of the season to honor your personal deities and invite Samhain's spirit into your sacred space. 🕯️🌠

Samhain, the witch's New Year, invites us to remember, reflect, and embrace transformation. As the wheel of the year turns, let us revel in the magic and mysteries of this sacred season. 🌗✨

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ingo-ingoing-ingone · 2 years

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Submas Fic Rec

Part 1! This is for @waywardstation :)

I’m just going to be giving names and authors, no links. One, because I want this to show in the tags, and two bc all my fanfic links save for a few are on my phone lol. I read most of these as they were coming out, you lucky ducks get to binge em. :P

Type: Happy ending Shipping: None Length: Variable Status: Complete (almost all of them) AUs: Light on the AUs

Thrown Home Again by FluentInFangirl12 - Ingo arrives back in Unova and must readjust, while having sustained several injuries in Hisui that left him disabled. Multichapter, complete, verrry sweet. One of the first submas fics I read!

After All These Travels by SilverheartSP - Basically an A-Z story about how Ingo and Emmet still manage to mirror each other despite the separation. Slow burn to a happy end (that, much like my fic, almost didn’t happen according to the author lol). REALLY GOOD short little snippets.

The Hand by Grimtrack - This one is a LITTLE dark but also funny in chapter 2? Anyways, Ingo arrives in Hisui... but the portal also dropped off a mysterious severed hand with him. Almost like someone had tried to grab him before the portal closed. I find the concept really interesting! Really interesting writing too.

The Hashtag Train Twins Collection by Magical_Awesome_Kid - MY FAVORITE series (yeah this one is three fics not just one!) about the Nimbasa Trio and their shenanigans on social media. Truly funny, I laugh out loud when I read this. One of my favorite fics of ALL TIME. Covers the Hisui separation but manages to make it lighthearted, and of course there is a reunion. Sibling shenanigans abound!!

Intermittent Retention by NeoAsh - Ingo remembers everything. But only while in spacetime distortions... But he makes it home regardless of this. Really neat concept I am really glad this author explored.

recollection, retrospection, recognition by ApatheticRobots - (hiiiiiii Salem lol) Ohhh this one is so GOOD. I beta’d it, my friend is a verrry gifted writer! Ingo falls to Hisui and forgets nothing. A lot changes, but a lot also stays the same... Truly magnificent characterization, I love it so very much.

Standard Operating Procedures by layren and pointvee - Oh man. This is my favorite fic. It is LONG and hurts to read. It hit me VERY close to home but somehow also in a good way? It’s fucking BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN. And the ending is absolutely superb. But it is heavy. It remains heavy for quite some time. Anyways, Emmet pretends to be Ingo, and that Emmet is missing. He tried at first to play both parts in some form of normalcy, but, caught acting as Ingo, he lies. As that all comes crashing down SPECTACULARLY, there is the thread of “much changes, but much remains the same.” Cried. Cried so many times reading it. But it does hurt until it stops hurting, so yeah some caution advised.

The Sound of Silence by FluentInFangirl12 - Ingo returns to Unova and his brother thinks he needs to get his hearing aids fixed. Short and very sweet!!

You Don’t Have to Do That by FluentInFangirl12 - Ingo’s back, but he’s acting different than Emmet knows him to act. Emmet explains that he no longer has to mask in public. He can just be himself without worrying, and figure out what foods he likes again. More readjustment to modern times!

Null Point Exception by twixtthelines - In Hisui, though he didn’t remember why, Ingo always did his point and call pose. Always felt off though. Then, eventually, it feels right again. Really good 5 + 1 fic!

Another Detour by Grimtrack - Just realized this author wrote two of my favorite shortfics exploring really interesting ideas, HUH! Ingo returns... And learns that his brother pushed himself to the breaking point and passed away in his absence. The heartbreak does NOT last long (this is a two-shot) because Ingo IMMEDIATELY goes “oh absoLUTELY not” and fucks with time and gets his brother back. Another favorite of mine, it hurts then heals. Can’t explain why, I just. Love it.

Through Fire and Fury, You Will Come Home by ToriiStorii - Has one of the coolest titles lmaoooo. Emmet gets eeby deebied instead of Ingo! And ends up Braviary’s Warden! And then. Ingo shows up to get his brother back. Contains so many shenanigans lol. Longer fic!

coming home by KaitoKitsune - A series of 2 oneshots that explore both twins’ perspectives on a reunion!

familiarity by clockworkcheetah - Another Ingo readjusts to his old life. Can you tell I have a type. Characterizations are lovely here, author really captures how off-kilter it must make one feel.

Arrival at a Familiar Station and The Journey Home by agonyaster - Two views of a reunion, with Akari in tow :) Love the scene the author set with these two!!

Gloves by WhisperingImagination - Another one that is funny! Ingo and Emmet have to come to terms with exactly... how popular they are when a video goes viral. Based on some wonderful fanart, contains aroace Subway Masters and Elesa being a great friend. FUNNY AS HELL I LAUGHED SO HARD.

A Touch of Love by Bluegamergirl11 - Series of drabbles about the subway boys, Akari, Elesa, and Sneasler and how they show affection to one another. HUGS.

Why do you do that? by AquaMarina924 - Akari looking out for her Uncle Ingo <3 He tries to be more expressive so people can read him better, but Akari insists that he does not need to

Null and Void (Your Smile Shines Like the Stars) by PhantomBagels - Based on the famous reunion comic by @/pigdemonart, Ingo has a confusing as fuck time before his brother literally crash lands on him

Five Times Ingo Roasted Documentaries + One Time Someone Else Did by BloomingMiracle (Luna264) - Much like in our world, historical documentaries can be a load of shit. Ingo and Akari/Dawn find this out by watching some. Oh, so inaccurate lol

I HOPE YOU ENJOY AT LEAST SOME OF THESE AAAA all of them are 100% read by me and contain no shipping of brothers. I can guarantee that much lol

So I don’t consider ‘not canon compliant’ to be an AU really. Especially considering a) we have no goddamn clue what Emmet is up to, and b) we have no GODDAMN REUNION >:( SO. Most of these are just explorations into what could be.

Also yes, YES I know a ton of these are reunion fics. I really, really have a type, and I hope you guys don’t mind! XD Also I did not put my own fics on there. Pester me about those separately if you want!

#submas #submas angst #pla era #reunion #submas fic recs #this took an hour and a half #i have so many submas tags open guys #so many #here's the 20 happiest ones though!!!#reunions *rolls around in fic pile*

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ashandquiet · 9 months

Text

My Most Unswerving Devotion

Chapter 3: Picnicking and Parties

Regency! Soma Jarlskona x F!Reader

Summary: Since coming to Norfolk to stay with your family, the conversations have all revolved around matrimony. Just when your aunt has found a match for you much to your chagrin, quite by accident you fall for the wealthy Duke of Cambridgeshire; Soma Guthrumsdóttir. Can circumstance truly keep you apart?

A/N: In which our titular heroine joins a picnicking party and gains new friends, information and intrigue abound. Thank you for your patience, I hope I haven't been away too long. :)

Read it on Ao3

The morning before the dreaded picnic, you snuck out in a simple smock of a dress and overcoat at first light. Having woken up incredibly early in a cold sweat an ever-present feeling of unease churning in your stomach.

You felt sure a walk would clear your head, though you were more than aware of what today meant for you. You would be expected to put on airs and behave the part of a lady most enticed by the prospect of marriage. As if it was something you wanted, to be married to a man. It sickened you, felt like the crushing weight of destiny lay before you, akin to an out-of-control carriage barreling headwards into a collision. You, the unwilling passenger with an indifferent driver and dubious footman. Barrelling ever onwards with locked doors that blocked out your cries for help.

Feeling quite woozy in the head and sick to your stomach you stopped on the path and sat down in a patch of soft-looking grass. You couldn’t even seem to bring yourself to care that it was still wet with morning dew.

The brisk morning air washed over you, and your thoughts slipped back through yesterday’s events, and it was as if every fiber of your being could still feel the deft yet temperate hands of the lady gentleman.

Upon returning to the magnificent manor house after your disastrous encounter in the fields, there was much fuss over your injured wrist and grass-stained dress. You had recounted your tale as clearly as you could in your flustered amorous stupor to your fussing aunt and her maids; yet when it came to the topic of the owner of the handkerchief tied round your wrist, you froze up. You had heard how they gossiped about the Lady Gentlemen that resided in the country, of Soma Guthrumsdóttir and her companions. If they gossiped so fervently about a Duke surely, anything less than that would be such a foul creature of scorn in their eyes.

So you had lied and stated that it was simply just a gentleman like any other, and when they pressed for a name, well there was no reason to lie, you simply forgot to ask. They dithered on about the joys of a mystery urging you to divulge any details of your supposed rescuer's appearance which you fruitfully ignored.

Once your wrist was treated for the soreness and bruising with chilled water and bound in place with bandages, with your head bowed in quiet shame you excused yourself for the evening.

While heads were turned you glanced at the lace-trimmed handkerchief that lay discarded on the side table.

Acting quickly you snatched it up and disappeared up the stairs to your room. There you had spent the rest of the evening in silent pity, occasionally glancing headlong at the handkerchief that you had neatly folded and placed on the window sill. It was embroidered with primroses of a pale yellow, and in one corner, stitched with a slate blue thread there were the ornate letters “ SG ”.

You held it now, the delicate fabric worn and so clearly well-loved was soft in your hand. A faint scent of perfume lingered in its threads, delicate like fresh lilacs and something smoky and herbal. Your head swirled with thoughts about the owner's preferred fragrances, and how she would adorn herself and her clothing with them. The embroidered letters brought you a moment of solace, having such a delicate, intimate object with you seemed to provide every comfort in the world.

Ever so carefully you tucked it away and rose back to your feet, the object's comforting presence enough to urge you forward into the day, fate’s cruel hand shaken from your spirits for just a while.

Returning to the manor house you dressed, with some assistance, in a simple country frock and tied a long white ribbon in your hair, swatting away the hands of the maids who attempted to even out the ribbons' tails. You even refused to acknowledge the looks from your aunt as you strode past her with a book in hand.

“You truly mustn't dress so plainly dearest, you’ll want to make a good impression!” She cried in vain as you walked out to the carriage, barely lifting your dress from the ground.

“Oh come come, my Love,” your uncle laughed heartily as he followed behind you beckoning for his wife. “It's a glorious summer day, let us enjoy the picnic, she has no need to be weighed down by frills.”

Your uncle smiled and offered a kind wink in your direction as you climbed aboard the carriage.

With a sidelong glance at your injured wrist he chuckled, “Perhaps, she should dress plainly to prevent another tumble.”

You huffed lightly sitting, laying the novel on your lap, and resting your injured wrist on its leather cover. You refused to glance your aunt’s way as she boarded the carriage and sat across from you.

“My dearest niece, how can you expect to find time to read when there are such friends to be met today,” She chortled, glancing from the book to your face.

“Perhaps dear Aunt, I have no intentions of meeting friends today, when there is such knowledge and friends to be met in a book,” You replied and glanced out over the front gardens.

Your aunt bristled and shook her head indignantly, surely preparing to snap back about an attitude most unbecoming of a lady, but uncle swooped to your rescue. He sat and commanded his driver to go, grabbing his wife’s hand in a shushing motion.

“It is a beautiful day in July, let us enjoy it how we please, and if our niece would like to spend it with a book, then that shall be her day,” He said in a firm and commanding tone, yet his spirits were light and he smiled happily to himself as if pleased with his proclamation.

The carriage ride was a jolting one, winding down from the manor into the parsonage beyond the grand estate. The picnic was to be held in the shade of a beautiful apple orchard belonging to the parish that your uncle presided over. When united with the larger group he chatted gayly with the men of the party about how he was glad to have leased it so long to a family of tenant farmers known as the Grants.

His prattling seemed like nothing but noise to you, but all the men nodded and chided along in agreement and admiration. Yet the chatter of the ladies as they talked of fortunes and matches made for ladies of the gentry, seemed even more foreign to you still.

You strode away from the group to better grasp your surroundings, looking for a comfortable place to sit just close enough to avoid scoldings, but far enough for a moment of blissful peace.

A low-hanging apple tree dense with young fruit seemed to call to you, its drooping bower a welcoming shield from the sun. Just as you were about to make your escape, there was a great commotion from the group. Turning around, you took stock of the situation. A young man, who looked to be no older than five and twenty sat atop a dusty-looking yellow horse that danced about on its hooves. He was dressed plainly in an olive green tailcoat, and he held his riding hat in his hand as a much older man attempted to catch the reins of the young horse.

“Hold the bloody bastard still Oswald!” The older man growled, his accent was Scandinavian in origin. Perhaps he was the younger man’s steward.

“I’m trying-” the young man, Oswald said as yanked the reins firm to his body. Patting the horse’s neck with his hand and drawing circles into its sweated fur. “Easy Diamond- Woah… there-there boy, that’s a good horse…”

With the yellow horse calmed he was able to dismount. While handing the reins to his steward he replaced his hat on his mess of golden curls. You watched him intently as he strode over to the rest of the picnicking party. Not so much confidently as ungainly, perhaps wobbly from the ride. The women inclined their heads to him and he gave each a polite nod and a “Hello”, the men greeted him with smiles and pats on the back.

Just as you were sure the conversation would turn to his deft riding skill and congratulations on taming such a riled-up horse, your aunt called out; “Oh (Y/N), come here dearest! Where did that girl go?”

For a moment you debated running, you glanced at the path between the trees, where the orchard gave way to meadows, and meadows to hills and streams. But the thought of obligation and strong wrestling feeling of guilt drew you back. Running would accomplish nothing, tarnish your name, and destroy whatever small holding in society you may have now. So you turned round and made your way over to the party at your own snail's pace.

“Oh, there she is!” Your aunt cried and made her way to your side grabbing your arm firmly, if not too roughly. “Now come come dearest niece you must meet Mr. Egerton, for he has ridden all this way to meet you .”

You bristled at the way she crooned out the last word, seeming to drip with ever the slightest it of disdain. You watched as Mr. Oswald Egerton turned his full attention to you, scrutinizing your every step, his neutral expression turned to what you hoped was a kind smile. He had the kind of eyes that seemed to expose his every thought and feeling. You dreaded the introduction but you knew, he was your intended suitor. He was on the shorter side, nothing about him was too handsome, and he appeared to be perfectly safe, if not a little plain. He gave a polite bow in your direction, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit smug that even in your poor fashions you had still managed to out-dress a gentleman.

“My niece, Miss (Y/N) (S/N),” Your aunt introduced you, and you gave a polite smile and nod. You hoped the smile didn’t look too forced.

“A pleasure to meet you Miss (S/N),” Oswald smiled kindly.

“Likewise sir,” You chided crossing your arms behind your back to hide your book and injured wrist.

There was an awkward silence that was quickly broken by one of the men, “Mr. Egerton, say how is your estate at Elmenham? I hope your tenant farmers are doing quite well.”

“Oh yes, quite well indeed,” Oswald nodded. “Everyone is doing quite well this season. But I can’t say the success is all mine, Finnr has been working himself to the bone keeping everything in order.”

The steward, Finnr waved his hand towards the younger man in a motion of dismissal with a grunt as he plucked an apple from the branch of a tree. He was a much older and gruff-looking man dressed in almost out-of-date fashions of the 1780s, his hair greyed and long. His facial hair was almost too long to be considered proper for a man of society, but perhaps the Scandinavian fashion was different.

You found yourself pondering the details of the lands across the sea, you had read somewhere about how Sweden once had a girl king who had refused to marry. Much like the lady gentlemen that now populated the country. Perhaps soon the whole of society would be populated with them, women holding positions of power and dressing like gentlemen, marrying women. You blushed at the thought, the feeling of butterflies in your stomach returning.

“Um, Hello…?” an apprehensive voice tore you from your thoughts and you jumped slightly. Oswald was standing to your left a small awkward smile on his face that morphed into one of concern.

“Are you quite alright Miss (S/N)?” He asked kindly.

You shook your head to dismiss your thoughts of women in waistcoats and breeches, “Yes I’m alright sir I appreciate your concern,” you tried not to sound indifferent to him, as he had been kind thus far.

He offered his hand palm up, “If you would be so willing, would you join me for a walk about the orchards?”

His smile was inelegant, brows knit with unease, and his hand trembled. You regarded it for a moment and spared a glance to your aunt and the other ladies. They stared hungrily at your hands like wolves regarding a sickly lamb. Minds likely swirling with tales of success to gloat about for hours, to talk of nothing but fortunes and houses, your potential bride clothes, and where you'd buy them. Feeling the weight of consequence you nodded with an inaudible sigh and offered the coltish gentleman your arm.

Oswald took your arm in his and you began to feel ill, it wasn’t that he was terrible to look at but the thought of any prolonged amount of time with the man sickened you.

He did not tug you forward so much as he suggested a slow and delicate gait, and you followed his lead to appease the party of older women who cooed about the match made between you two. Together you walked paces out of earshot of the ladies and he withdrew his arm from yours with a polite yet awkward smile. You paused but happily accepted the respite from his touch.

“Um,” he began. “You see, it is not that I wish to lead you on, or to let you down per se, but I am- have had, my eye on another young lady for some time.”

You paused and looked at him, “You have? Then why… why would you entertain the idea of coming to the picnic?”

Oswald’s face reddened and he fixed his collar walking ahead two paces, “Well you see, it is that the young lady was in an unwilling entanglement back in Denmark, before her brothers and she came to England at the behest of their cousin. And our amour is quite secret…”

You followed him resting your injured hand against your back, turning ideas over in your head, “So because it is secret, you must keep up appearances?”

He grinned sheepishly back at you, “Precisely, I planned to formally propose but I doubt her brothers would grant a blessing of the marriage. So to maintain appearances I entertain the whims of my patron until I can secure a firm answer. I had hoped, when I noticed your apprehension that perhaps you weren’t enthusiastic about the match as well…?”

You fought to hold in a snort of laughter, “No,” barely containing your smile you shook your head. “I had no interest in this match. No interest in any match that is.”

“Thank heavens,” Oswald let out a visible sigh, his shoulders relaxing and he touched his chest as if calming his heart. “I mean no offense of course Miss (S/N).”

You waved your hand at him lightly, “I take no offense, sir, you're quite alright.”

He smiled, “Perhaps we can be friends, I could help you avoid potential matches, and perchance, you could help me woo my lady?”

You strode ahead of him to gaze at the clover buds blooming in the grass. He made a good offer, friendship in exchange for matrimony. He was a young gentleman with an estate, and he likely had resources, resources enough to help you find the lady gentleman.

“I would like that, perhaps,” You tried turning towards him. “In exchange for helping you woo your paramour, you could help me with something.”

“Well of course! What can I do for you Miss (S/N)?”

“I need your help finding a particular gentleman,” You said pulling the handkerchief from your pocket with a smile.

ꕥ

You regaled Oswald as you walked about the orchard with the story of the lady gentleman and your romp in the fields that caused your injury. He made no attempt to interrupt your tale listening heartily his brows knit together quizzicakly. When you finished your tale you offered the handkerchief his way so he could examine the details of the embroidery.

“Well this is quite the conundrum,” Oswald puzzled brushing a thumb over the lettering before handing the handkerchief back your way. “The countryside is quite literally crawling with these Lady Gentlemen.”

You bristled feeling indignant, “You all keep saying that, as if they are mice. I have yet to see more than one. If the countryside was crawling with them you would think I would see more.”

Oswald laughed an awkward boyish laugh, “Perhaps you are right, but there are a noteworthy few. Most likely you have encountered a friend of the Duke of Cambridgeshire, her estate is near here, no more than a two-hours ride on horseback. I will see what I can learn for you (Y/N).”

You took back the handkerchief tucking it away in your dress pocket, nodding thanks. Perhaps if Oswald was successful in his promise, you could learn the name of your elusive savior who ceased to escape your thoughts.

“So,” Oswald drew out awkwardly. “You enjoy the writings of Sappho?”

You turned to him flushed with embarrassment and indignation, you had yet to voice this to anyone but the fatted and lazy tabby tom cat that patrolled the kitchens who seemed to only care that you were a human, and humans bring food from the heavens to fatten his belly further. And a cat, could not go about spouting to others about how you would rather divine kisses from the lips of another woman. Yet you supposed if he trusted you with his secret perhaps you could allow him this one of yours.

“And if I do?” You countered a bit more snippily than you originally intended which caused you to wince.

Oswald raised a hand in a show of submission, “Not to worry, your secret is safe with me. I am a friend of a lady who also prefers the company of other women, though I doubt she is the woman you encountered, she’s blonde. And I wouldn’t always count her among gentlemen, or women for that matter, but she is a friend of a great many other lady gentlemen.”

You couldn’t help yourself from smiling, “Is it possible that she might know who it is that helped me then? Your friend?”

“Oh, Eivor? Yes, I will write to her as soon as I return to Elmenham,” Oswald smiled and offered you his arm again. “Shall we return to the picnicking party?”

“If we don’t soon I fear they’ll have too many scandalous ideas swirling about their heads to even function,” You quipped taking his arm.

Oswald laughed and led you back through the orchard to the picnic. When you neared the party you were surprised to see a tall black horse had joined Oswald and Finnr’s horses that grazed lazily about in the orchard grasses. Another individual had joined the picnicking party and was heartily regaling the group.

As you approached you could see that the person was a lady gentleman. You felt your heart quicken at the possibility of it being your savior. But when she turned to face you and Oswald you could see that wasn’t her, this one was tall, her voice jolly and light, and she had a joyous smile that reached from ear to ear. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she was dressed smartly in an all-black gentleman’s suit, similar to the other lady gentleman you had encountered yesterday.

You came to stand near your uncle letting go of Oswald’s arm and avoiding your aunt's gaze.

“... we would happily receive you all in a week's time for a masquerade ball,” the Lady Gentleman finished speaking and beamed her eyes landing on you in particular. You could tell she was being sly as her eyes flicked from your face and down your body making you blush hotly.

She smiled and winked before waving, “I bid you all good day!”

The group exploded into whispers and exclamations of joy, the prospect of a private ball was all enticing, yet you had arrived too late to receive the name of your hosts.

“Uncle,” you tapped his arm lightly to draw his attention. “Who will be hosting?”

Your uncle folded his hands neatly against his lap and smiled, “Why Soma Guthrumsdóttir, the Duke of Cambridgeshire.”

#soma jarlskona x reader #soma x reader #soma jarlskona #soma ac valhalla #ac valhalla #austen inspired #regency inspired #regency au #my fics #i know it may be weird of me to pull such obscure characters from the game for the sake of the plot #but i like oswald and finnr #doesnt help that my cat is named oswald #anyway i hope you enjoyed it

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