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cuddlytogas · 1 month

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Fyre sent me an article that made me Lose My Mind, so instead of sending 800 tweets about it, I decided to just write up my thoughts here

so, in re: ET Fox, 'Jacobitism and the Golden Age of Piracy' --

Fox is definitely exaggerating. His logic jumps from 'ship names and alleged toasts', to 'every pirate was one contact away from a confirmed Jacobite', to "a Jacobite maritime community" (296), with little evidence beyond each previous assumption. He does demonstrate a link with popular Jacobitism, but overstates pirates' political commitment by far.

There's one letter to George Camocke, a Jacobite naval officer, suggesting that the pirate fleet should unite under his command and take Bermuda as a Jacobite base, but the source is shaky, and it went nowhere once Woodes Rogers ousted the pirates. (It's I think from 1718 and unsigned? Possibly from Charles Vane and his crew? Fox only says that, "Through these contacts [unspecified, between Vane and English Jacobites] a letter reached George Camocke" (286), which is suspiciously vague, and I can't access the original to check. Either way, it would still only prove the committed politics of one crew.)

Fox also makes a lot of Archibald Hamilton, governor of Jamaica from 1710-16, who commissioned and profited from the anti-Spanish privateers who turned pirate and made up some of the original Bahamas pirates c. 1715. Since "it has been suggested that [Hamilton] was a Jacobite supporter" (283), Fox claims that these establishing pirates were also committed Jacobites, and therefore the whole pirate community that grew around them must have been. (Which leads to Fox then being baffled when there's no direct evidence of Jacobitism among some of them, such as the crews of Anstis, Fenn, or Rackham.) He relies on these assumptions, and then claims that every connection between pirates proves their mutual Jacobite sympathies.

It's much more likely (and in line with the historians I've read so far) that the Jacobite toasts and ship names speak to a broader anti-authoritarianism among pirates, with no evidence of committed Jacobite actions by them, eg, specifically targeting Hanoverian ships, or materially supporting or trying to support Jacobite rebels beyond that one letter. Indeed, the 1710s/20s pirates are generally agreed to be distinct for not adhering to religious/national loyalties like the C17th pirates usually did. (I'm so sorry, I haven't consolidated my notes yet, but I know Marcus Rediker goes through this, as does Kris E Lane, and I think Tim Travers and David Cordingly.)

Fox does identify a correlation between the rise and fall of Jacobitism and piracy over the mid/late 1710s, but attributes a pretty shaky causation: pirates ceased their Jacobite loyalties due to the suppression of Jacobitism in Britain and Europe. A much more obvious explanation is that both anti-authoritarian movements simultaneously flourished in the post-war, post-succession instability, then were both quashed as the new regime established itself and cracked down on rebels.

So, did many pirates espouse Jacobite sympathies? Yes! They named their ships in favour of Jacobite causes and rulers, and there are plenty of reports of them toasting to King James / the Pretender. (Which it must be said, although the sheer volume lends a ring of truth to the trend, individual claims should be taken with a grain of salt, as Jacobitism was a common accusation against criminals at the time, with or without a basis.)

Does that mean that the 1710s Caribbean pirate community was centred around a heart of politically committed Jacobites, as Fox argues, or largely motivated by Jacobite sentiments? Yeah, probably not.

Anyway, I am SO sorry that this article got me riled up XD the whole point of this is to say, I've never read anywhere that "many pirates were Jacobites driven out of Britain", which I KNOW wasn't even your main point, but I am unfortunately Insane. We can and should talk about expressions of pro-Jacobitism and actual political engagement among 'Golden Age' pirates, but what we know of their actual actions and espoused ideals doesn't speak to a trend of committed Jacobite politics beyond a general loyalty to rebellious causes.

#history #pirates #pirate history #Jacobites #Jacobitism #Togas does meta #this article annoyed me so much omfg #at every step Fox makes a sort of shaky assumption and then bases his next assumption entirely on that as if it's a proven truth #it's like IF hamilton was a commited jacobite and IF that loyalty was shared with the privateers and IF those privateers #retained and spread that belief among the growing pirate community and IF that was the belief that held the community together #then yeah sure i guess jacobitism was a core cause and concern for the golden age pirates #but that's a lot of fucking 'if's among a situation with a lot more obvious explanations #Fox is right that historians so far are probably ignoring the influence of Jacobitism on golden age pirates a bit #it really hasn't come up in all my reading so far and I've done... a pretty fair amount lol #but he goes so far in the opposite direction that it's kind of embarrassing #very BR Burg coded tbh XD (i say as if i've actually read burg >.> but all the reviews are forming a picture for me...)#EDIT: it's also worth noting that Jacobitism was rarely (never?) a charge laid against pirates in all the trials and moralising against them #which you'd think - if they were actually hardcore individual or broad-base supporters of the cause - might've come up more often #but anti-pirate arguments basically always revolve around the threat to trade and property therefore nation/empire #if lawyers and reverends wanted to argue that pirates were traitors - and they did! - you'd think they'd mention any actual treasons #EDIT EDIT: N: Harry M. Lewis (2021) George Camocke’s 1718 Proposal of a Jacobite–Pirate Alliance #The Mariner's Mirror 107:3 pp366-370 #has better detail and context for that letter

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starlit-heir · 2 years

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CHARACTER AESTHETICS . bold what applies !

I. THE FAIRY. chipped nail polish . glitter highlight . tall trees with smooth bark .tangled hair . the taste of cinnamon sugar . talking too loud and too fast . overgrown flowers in your hair . crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature . flirting . walking home at 3am with no coat . platonic hand - holding . blowing smoke out of your nose . dragonfly wings . chaotic good . freckles . fairy rings . secret meetings . gender nonconformity . leather . smudged eyeliner . forbidden fruit .

II. THE REAPER. computer errors . a shiver down your spine . haunting beauty . hard liquor . crowns of thorns . shadowed alleyways . decaying plant matter . shattered mirrors and broken glass . corrupted memories . stopped clocks . the scent of stale cigarettes . tattered black hoodies . walking your friends home . the crescent moon . the sea . a graveyard on a foggy day . cold rings on cold fingers . absolution . looking out the window of an airplane . soft kisses .

III. THE WITCH. graffiti . pretending to know what you ’ re doing . worn paperback books . growing up too fast . parsley , sage , rosemary , and thyme . lace and combat boots . moth wings . candles on every surface . a weathered deck of cards . turning the music up . fireflies in jars . calloused fingers .drawing on your skin . sunlight filtering through clouds . petrichor . a dying rose in a jar . wearing a crystal pendant . illusions and spells . black cats . mint gum . chapped lips . dirt under your fingernails . the cycle of life and death .

IV. THE WOLF. murders of crows . frost-bitten leaves . wolves howling at midnight . knocking on your door . leaving food out for stray animals . the twang of an acoustic guitar . honey . tiny red buds on trees . claw marks on the walls . golden eyes . slightly too long stubble . sharp canines . soft , thick fur . hunger . a small cottage in the middle of the woods . knitted fingerless gloves . sleeping on the forest floor . always finding your way back home .

(totally half bolded lace and combat boots cause she loves lace, can’t wear boots XD ...modders please make boots for the peets)

#Have You Heard? || Headcanons

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stxrcxller · 2 years

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CHARACTER AESTHETICS . bold what applies !

I. THE FAIRY. chipped nail polish . glitter highlight . tall trees with smooth bark . tangled hair . the taste of cinnamon sugar . talking too loud and too fast . overgrown flowers in your hair . crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature . flirting . walking home at 3am with no coat . platonic hand - holding . blowing smoke out of your nose . dragonfly wings . chaotic good . freckles . fairy rings . secret meetings . gender nonconformity . leather . smudged eyeliner . forbidden fruit .

III. THE WITCH. graffiti . pretending to know what you ’ re doing . worn paperback books . growing up too fast . parsley , sage , rosemary , and thyme . lace and combat boots . moth wings . candles on every surface . a weathered deck of cards . turning the music up . fireflies in jars . calloused fingers . drawing on your skin . sunlight filtering through clouds . petrichor . a dying rose in a jar . wearing a crystal pendant . illusions and spells . black cats . mint gum . chapped lips . dirt under your fingernails . the cycle of life and death .

(totally half bolded lace and combat boots cause she loves lace, can’t wear boots XD ...modders please make boots for the peets)

tagged by: @polylerita

tagging: idk, steal it if you wanna do it c:

#GATE in the Saucer || Dash Game #Have You Heard? || Headcanons

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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Dream thought that he can bring server together, he thought that they can be one big family... Well at least he really bond them, even if they bonded to fight against him. Even if that mean he's not part of this server anymore.

right,, the one big happy family thing always destroys me

bc it’s really the driving force behind everything he’s done, the reason why he’s cut off everything he’s ever loved, moved forwards despite everything he’s ever lost. it doesn’t make what he does right, by any means, but c!dream’s longing for a better past, his clinging to a family he loved and lost - it’s so desperately, painfully human and is very much the cherry on top of his whole tragic story. it’s something that tugs at my heart every time i think about it - especially how in the end, pretty much nobody knew what drove him to the lengths he went to, and how everyone still sees him as being motiveless, or doing it all for personal gain and power. it’s reasonable, with their limited povs, but oh man does it hurt when we know his real reasoning.

this,, ended up weirdly long haha but oh man was it fun. have some dream team angst as i cry abt c!dream for the millionth time

tws: death, grief, off-screen murder, implied mental deterioration

Two weeks after Dream dies, Sapnap asks George if he wants to come to the vault.

He almost says no. It’d be an early journey if they want to get out without anyone seeing, and he’s just- tired. He’s been tired for months even though he spends most of his time sleeping, usually can’t even find the energy to pull himself out of bed. The weird dreams hadn’t helped in the slightest, though they’ve been gone for a few weeks, and he’s not seen XD in a long time, save for a few minutes after he first heard the news. In all honesty, he doesn’t want to deal with the mental strain of anything to do with Dream at all.

But- Sapnap is still his best friend, even if they’ve grown apart ever since that fateful night with Dream, and he still knows the Netherborn better than nearly- well, everyone, now, with Dream gone. As much as Sapnap tried to put on a strong front, Dream’s death had taken its toll.

Killing Dream had taken its toll.

He’d been asleep (again) when it all went down, but he knows that somehow, Dream had escaped prison. Somehow, it ended with Sapnap’s sword stabbed hilt-deep in Dream’s chest, an unmarked grave in the forest behind the Community House that he knows Sapnap visits when he thinks nobody’s watching.

So when Sapnap asks, dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, if he wants to come with him to see what belongings they can find in Dream’s old blackstone-brick vault- he says yes.

“There,” Sapnap gestures over the crest of a netherrack cliff above a bubbling lava lake, and George strains to look at what the other is pointing at. There, settled over a small outcrop of netherrack and gravel, a messy bridge of various blocks leading from it, lies the signature black and purple silhouette of a nether portal. “It’s just across that.”

George hums in acknowledgement, and they clamber down in sync. It’s been a while since he’s spent time one-on-one with Sapnap like this; George had half-forgotten what it feels like, to work with someone so different and yet know them so well. Years and years of teamwork means they fall in step almost without thinking, Sapnap easily sliding forward to block a skeleton’s arrow while George nocks one of his own to shoot it through the skull. It is a partnership built on years of bickering and banter and deep-set trust, of having to face a stronger, more agile opponent together through wind and rain and snow.

He missed it, though he’ll never admit that to anyone but himself.

He hesitates in front of the nether portal, pulling Sapnap back automatically by his sweater sleeve. “You sure the other side is safe?”

“Yeah, yeah- it should be,” Sapnap pulls his arm away, lets him enter the portal first before stepping into the frame himself. “Not a manhunt.”

“Mm,” George laughs, tired. “Just checking.”

The portal hums, purple creeping into the corners of George’s vision and filling it until it’s all he can see, and he rubs at his eyes to clear his vision as he stumbles out the other side. Sapnap walks out, seeming unfazed - it’s always been something that George has envied in the other, how unaffected he is by portals, but he’s also always had worse portal sickness than most- “We’re here.”

The place is - put lightly, a wreck, wooden planks scattered all over the floor and inch-deep water sloshing around his shoes. “What’s with the water?”

“I don’t know, someone must’ve come here after for something,” Sapnap frowns, points across the room to a chute leading upwards, filled with a crude spiral staircase of oak. “We’re going up there.”

George nods, letting him take the lead. The staircase is rickety, the bottom steps waterlogged; Sapnap grimaces the whole way up, makes some comment under his breath about how unsafe it all is, but they continue without much issue. The top of it is surprisingly unassuming - there’s really nothing around, just a small hollowed out space carpeted by savannah grass, shorn short. Sapnap tosses him a pickaxe.

“He respawned up here, that day - he’s gotta have a bed up here somewhere.” He gestures at the plain stone walls surrounding them, “My guess is that it’s just behind one of these walls. Just mine two or three blocks in all the way across, I’ll start from this side.”

“Whatever, Snapnap,” George takes the pickaxe anyway, walking over to the other side of the room and ignoring the protests Sapnap throws at his back. Mining the stone is simple, methodical; it’s a steady rhythm of the pick hitting stone and blocks falling into his inventory; if he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that they’re in the middle of a manhunt, and Dream has holed himself into the wall as he always does for them to find him. He doesn’t, because thinking about manhunt does nothing but make something cold and choking claw up his throat, almost like guilt, almost like regret, and he doesn’t have the energy for that in the slightest.

His next swing rings oddly hollow, and when the block drops neatly away the wall opens to a narrow corridor. He calls Sapnap over.

“Here.” Sapnap moves with large, heavy strides, face tightening into a foreign expression of grim determination when he catches the darkness behind the one-block hole George mined, “I found it.”

“Well, obviously,” he rolls his eyes as he takes out the bottom block, looking at George from the corner of his eye. “Nice observation, genius.”

“Hey! You told me to find it, and I did, unlike you- you should be thanking me, Sapnap.”

“Whatever, Gogy,” Sapnap sighs, looking into the corridor, feet settling against the ground into a wide stance that George recognizes as the one he’d usually use in a fight. It makes something long-forgotten ache in his chest, joining the dull ball of hurt that has been there for what feels like months, “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up, will you?” The retort rings hollow, dying on his lips even as he says it, and George watches as Sapnap turns his head away and pretends not to notice.

“Let’s go.”

The hallway is dark, dusty, a hastily made thing as shown by the rough gouges made on either side by a quickly working pickaxe. It opens into a tiny room, similarly carved into the mountain with roughhewn walls of stone; George’s lips thin and press against each other as he takes a closer look at the room, stepping in behind Sapnap.

“This place is a mess,” he states drily, scuffing his foot against the floor and cringing at the trail it leaves in the dust. There’s a bed left in the corner, a thin little thing with the covers thrown off, lying halfway on the floor, and a few chests and furnaces scattered aimlessly against the walls and making the whole thing look more cramped. There are papers strewn over the floor and chests, piles of coal and wood left to collect dust in the corners. It looks like a whirlwind swept through the place, and it’s almost eerie to see this room, completely untouched since the twentieth, a snapshot in time of Dream in the middle of his spiral into madness.

Sapnap kicks at one such pile with a humorless scoff, “That’s an understatement.”

“You looking for anything in particular?” George jabs his thumb at the mess in front of them, “Because I’m not cleaning all of that up.”

“I guess- just look through the chests?” Sapnap’s face darkens visibly even despite the dim lighting, and George stifles the urge to poke fun at how the younger clearly didn’t plan this far ahead, per usual. “Just look for anything useful, worth taking back I guess.”

“Mmhm.” He moves to the left-most chest as Sapnap moves to the right, watching from the corner of his eye as the other strikes up a torch to place in the middle of the room. The lid creaks open, and he rummages through the contents, vaguely surprised when his hand meets row after row of glass bottles. He pulls one out, squints at the contents. “Hey Sapnap, is this a regen?”

Sapnap looks over. “Yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes when George pockets it. “Seriously- you know Sam literally has an automatic potion brewer, right. You can just steal from that instead.”

“Or I could just steal from here,” he closes the lid, moving to the next chest. “That’s just his pots chest. He really stacked up, didn’t he?”

“Well, you know Dream. Always had to plan for the end of the world.” Sapnap closes the chest that he was hunched over, tossing over something in a flash of gold, “Was just his food chest. Don’t know why someone needs eight stacks of gapples, but whatever. We can split the god apples later.”

“Sure,” George nods, distracted as he fiddles with clasp of the next chest. This one, unlike the last, seems more worn over the bottom edge of the lid, the wood almost seeming to bear dents where fingers had pressed into the areas right by the clasp again and again. The lid eases open, and he frowns at the chest’s contents; there’s no rhyme or reason to them at first glance. There’s a half-stack of stone in the top left, a couple pieces of leather thrown in the bottom corner, a low-durability crossbow, unenchanted, that he briefly runs his hands over before throwing it back into the chest. He rummages through it for another second, about to dismiss it as a junk chest, when a well-worn book near the back of the chest catches his eye.

He pulls it towards him with careful hands, breath having caught in his throat. The cover is leather, scuffed and scratched in several places, not bearing the dull shine of a book that’s been signed and preserved magically. It doesn’t seem to be titled, no ink against the usual places on the front cover or spine, but the whole thing looks well-loved, the thread of the spine slightly frayed the leather heavily creased from where the cover had been eased open again and again.

He opens the front cover, and sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Sapnap? I think I found something.”

There, nestled between the front cover and the first page, lays a pile of photographs. Unlike everything else in the room, these are clearly well-loved, well-cared for, the corners are sharp, the surfaces shiny, despite how often they must have been thumbed through and looked at. He plucks the first one off the top of the pile - it’s one that was taken from the inside of the old community house before the floor was replaced with crafting tables, string lights hanging from the ceiling in an impromptu party, Alyssa’s legs dangling from where she’s sitting at the edge of the spiral staircase, Callahan leaning against the wall with a slice of cake held between his hands. Sapnap’s sitting in the middle of the floor across from himself, both of their faces glowing softly in the flickering light - his own face is caught in a grimace, Sapnap bent over himself in laughter- Sapnap walks up behind him, gasps at the sight.

“What are-”

George passes over the photo wordlessly as he moves to the next; there’s Sam, grinning at the camera with a newly tamed Fran by his side, tail a white blur against the green of the grass; Bad, hands clutched around a bucket as he yells at someone off the frame, a salmon head poking slightly out the top; Ponk, sitting proudly in the top branches of his first lemon tree.

His breath catches at the next; it’s dim, the sky a pretty blend of purple-pink from the last remaining dregs of light of a sunset, hovering over the dark edge of the ocean stretching out towards the horizon. They’re sitting in boats, the bottom edges lit softly from the coral sitting in the shallow waters below them, brilliant halos of reds and pinks and yellows and oranges and blues dotted with the soft lights of sea pickles painting the wood in muted rainbows. Sapnap’s smiling from one in the back, head tipped to the side cheekily, right hand lifted in a cocky two-fingered salute. George is sitting in the back of a boat in the foreground, glasses lifted to his forehead, eyes mid-roll even as he grins obligingly at the camera-

And then, in the front, there’s Dream.

His mask is pulled to the side of his face, exposing his freckled skin and brilliant green eyes; he’s smiling widely, all teeth, hair wet and sticking up in a ring of untamed swirls and spikes. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, cheeks red, arm stretched forward off-frame from where he’d held the camera in front of them to take the selfie. George’s thumb brushes over the photo, pressing lightly against the dusty mess of hair framing Dream’s face, pausing at the sight of his pure, unadulterated joy.

What had happened to them?

A soft, choked sound comes from behind him, and George tucks the photos away, pressing them between two random pages in the book. His eyes flicker to the book’s contents, finally, finding Dream’s familiar, looping scrawl written on the first page. The words are big and messy, all capitalized and underlined several times, the last four circled roughly.

REMEMBER WHY YOU’RE DOING THIS: ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY.

He snaps the book shut.

“George-”

“Let’s go home, Sapnap.” He throws one last look at the room, at the messy, desperate edges, the remnants of a man lost in his own reckless belief that he could build something beautiful out of blood and ash. He swallows, blinks back the image of a brilliant smile, freckled cheeks ruddy with laughter, at the golden glow of memories long-forgotten that threaten now to burn him with their warmth. He can imagine Dream, settled in the middle of this mess, pressing himself closer to the fire contained in these photographs, these memories, and not realizing how he’s being burned, can nearly see a ghost of him tucked in these shadowed corners, haunting the hopes that he had clung to against all reason with the promise that it could all be worth it.

Sapnap frowns at him tiredly, photos pressed against his own chest. “George,” he says, cautious, and George’s shoulders hunch defensively.

“Let’s go home,” he stands up, hearing more than seeing as Sapnap does the same. “Whatever closure you’re looking for- you’re not finding it here.”

#tw death #tw grief #tw murder #tw mental deterioration #queue <3 #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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officerjennie · 2 years

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a dandelion by any other name

CW: cheating (but not really), smut, blowjob, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, bareback, roleplay (one-sided), misunderstanding, tipsy sex

Summary: Geralt shows up to his show and pretends as if he doesn't know exactly who Dandelion is - and, well. Dandelion is more than willing to play the part of stranger for his fiance.

Taglist: at the bottom - let me know if you want on/off it!

For @thewitcherbog's smut bingo! The prompt was "laughing during sex", and, well...technically that happens xD

Geralt had him pinned against the door. His lips tasted of liquor, his eyes were dark. The name Dandelion was punctuated by him grinding their hips together - and Dandelion let out a breathy laugh, fumbling blindly for the door knob.

"Impatient are we, darling?" 'Love' almost slipped out but it felt too familiar here, and Geralt's mouth on his neck, hands gripping his hips, the weight of him pressing Dandelion into the door - it was all far too distracting. His long lashes fluttered, head dropped back against the wood, rings finally tapping against the doorknob. "Maybe we should- ah-"

He got far too distracted by Geralt's lips, tugging him up into a searing kiss. Licking into his mouth - their love life had always had passion, had never once lost the fire that had sparked between them, but it had been a long while since Geralt had seemed so...insatiable. Since he'd pressed him up against the wall like a horny teenager, who couldn't seem to figure out where to put his hands or where he wanted his mouth.

"Fuck." Geralt took a moment to breathe, pressing their foreheads together. His breathing came heavy, nostrils flaring. Dandelion licked his bottom lip just to see him twitch.

"I certainly hope so," he purred, running his free hand down Geralt's chest. His button-up was already disheveled, Dandelion had made quick work of most of the buttons on their way here. Naughty hands and stolen kisses all down the hall, hardly able to tear themselves away from each other. His hand trailed further down this time, hooking a few fingers in the waistband of his pants and tugging him closer. Geralt's eyes grew darker. "That cock of yours isn't just for show, surely. Can't just tease me with a taste."

He seemed to be considering something. Face stern but for a moment, unnamed emotions flashing through his eyes. But just as quick as that, Geralt was kissing him again, fumbling for the doorknob that Dandelion already had his hand on.

They opened it, still tangled together as they stumbled into the room. By the time Geralt kicked the door shut he was stripping Dandelion of his shirt, Dandelion pushing his button-up in turn. Geralt was impatient, greedy, kissing and nipping at every bit of skin he could reach while Dandelion let out another breathless laugh.

"Knew you'd be good from the moment I saw you," he said, playing into the act as he slipped Geralt's belt free and tossed it away. He leaned into him, kissing his chin, letting his fingers trail up beneath his undershirt and feel his muscles. Gods but he loved this man, and could never waste an opportunity to devour him.

Dandelion sank to his knees at the thought, kissing the bulge in Geralt's pants at the same time he ran his fingers over it. At Geralt's groan, he looked up and told him, "hold my hair back while I suck you off, love."

It was a good thing his wig was made to be abused, because Geralt gripped the curls tight. Dandelion moaned softly and quickly unbuttoned Geralt's pants, jerking them and his boxers out of his way.

His cock wasn't anything special objectively. An average size, perfectly normal, something he'd had ample chance to spoil in the past - and he'd done just that the night before, even. Sucked Geralt off on their sofa when the movie they'd picked had turned out a bit dull. Geralt had sighed and stroked his hair then, had whispered praise while he'd taken his time working him over.

But there was something about seeing it in that room, that night. After his show, with his wig and show outfit still on. With 'Dandelion' slipping from Geralt's lips like a guilty prayer. It felt a bit wrong, felt a bit like a filthy secret.

Dandelion wrapped his long fingers around the base of Geralt's cock, tongue flicking out to taste the tip of him. Already he could taste precum dripping slowly out of him. Geralt had never been much of a leaker, but he was when it was good. Clearly his fiance was enjoying their bit of role play as much as he was.

For a brief moment, Dandelion considered playing full dumb over Geralt's body. Acting like he didn't know exactly how to work him up and make him moan his name. But he considered it, taking the tip of Geralt's cock into his mouth, sucking on it softly as he slowly ran his hand over the rest of his cock with a soft twisting of his wrist.

Why not give him the perfect fantasy, he thought, staring up at Geralt with a fluttering of his lashes and a soft moan. Why not make Geralt feel like a god, like he had the perfect cock that would make even Dandelion weak in the knees.

Give him the best orgasm of his life, or several. Use every bit of knowledge he had of Geralt's body and kinks to give him the 'fantasy' he'd been craving. Maybe after that, after showing he was simply the best fiance in existence (because he was, and Geralt was lucky to have him), he could convince Geralt that kitten play was actually a wonderful idea and something they should experiment with.

With that, Dandelion knew just what pace to set. Worked him up quickly with deep moans and sloppy work, making him feel filthy. Taking a moment and popping his cock out of his mouth, nosing against his sack and lavishing it with his tongue. Once, early in their dating years, Geralt had expressed rather drunkenly that it was a shame people always forgot about balls and he'd abused that knowledge ever since. Sucking on one while rolling the other in the palm of his hand, feeling Geralt's fingers tightening in his wig, grunts and soft noises escaping Geralt while Dandelion spoiled him.

He kept a firm grip on the base of Geralt's cock as he ran his lips up the underside, pressing a kiss to the tip, licking it slowly. Captured Geralt's eyes with his own as he cocked his head, feeling the resistance from Geralt's tight grip of the curls and purred.

"Bet you want to fuck my mouth, don't you?" He kissed his cock again, felt it jump and leak at the suggestion. Saw the hunger in Geralt's expression. "Fuck it like a good, wet hole. I'll let you, if-" he paused, shifting impatiently, his tone almost a whine "-if you can still fuck me after. I'm aching for it, need you in me, need to come with you inside me."

Geralt's jaw tightened, abdomen twitching under Dandelion's fingers as they ran up just to touch him. Oh, he wanted, Dandelion could tell, and he wanted it too. Wanted Geralt to hold his face still and fuck his mouth, make him cry, come down his throat. Rarely did Geralt ever get rough with him and rarely did Dandelion ever want him to, but fuck. The desperation of being all but strangers, to not hold back, to not worry about the gentleness that came with love.

But Geralt swore under his breath, pulling Dandelion's head back by his hair, and all but growled down at him, "I want you on the sofa, pants off. Now."

His eyes flicked away for a moment, missing Dandelion's gasp, and he cleared his throat. "Please. If- if that's alright."

A blink, two. And then Dandelion couldn't help but laugh, standing up to brush his lips against Geralt's, a silly grin making his nose wrinkle.

"You can tell me what to do." He winked, running his hands over Geralt's shoulders and then down his arms, all the way to his hands. "I can take it. And if I don't like it, I'll just say no."

Normally, Geralt might have playfully nipped his nose. Or grabbed his ass to hear him squeak. Instead, he tilted Dandelion's chin up, thumb pressing against his bottom lip as he leaned in close, looming over him, making Dandelion shiver.

"Pants off. On your back with your legs spread for me."

Dandelion was on the sofa as fast as he could be. Watching, his breaths shuddering, as Geralt cocked his head and took him in. Hand gripping his cock, the glide easy with it slicked up from Dandelion's spit.

There was no act behind Dandelion's whimper, his legs spread. "Please."

He wasn't left waiting long. But a moment passed and Geralt was on him, teeth on his lips, his shoulder, his chest. Cock pressing against Dandelion's thigh, hot and heavy, his own trapped between their bodies. One of Geralt's hands spread his thighs wider to accommodate him, the other slipping down to stroke a finger across his hole - and Geralt growled, teeth against his skin as he shot Dandelion a look.

"Greedy little slut." Dandelion whined at his words, as Geralt slipped a finger into him easily - he was still slick from being fucked earlier, from when he'd met Geralt in his office and rode his cock at his desk. Oil and cum still inside him; they hadn't used a condom in ages ever since they went exclusive.

And no one had called him a slut in years. Dandelion bit his lip, blood running hot, a second finger slipping into him and making him whimper. Gods but he'd forgotten how filthy that word made him feel, how he loved to be cock greedy. How many cocks did he used to juggle into his weekends? Sure, this was still just the same one, but the way Geralt looked at him, the way he worked in a third finger so quickly- fuck but he could get used to this.

"Fuck me," Dandelion gasped, clawing into Geralt's back enough to leave marks behind - just the way he liked it, Geralt always loved when he marked him, claimed him.

"Not asking very nicely." All Geralt did was curl his finger, pressing roughly against his prostate with each brutal thrust of them, and gave a wicked smirk that made Dandelion's toes curl. "Ask nicely. Say please. Beg me to fuck you."

Dandelion keened as Geralt's fingers dragged against his prostate, struggling desperately to find his voice, to give Geralt the words that would make him fuck Dandelion into the sofa cushions.

"Please- please, fuck me. Fuck me, I need it, need you inside of me. Gods, want your cock, want to scream your name when you make me come."

Swearing under his breath again, Geralt took his fingers away, leaving Dandelion clenching around air with a whine. Geralt whipped his fingers on the sofa (Dandelion wrinkled his nose, feeling bad for whoever had to clean the room later), and then paused, looking around with an odd expression.

"Condom."

Dandelion blinked, starting and stopping a few words. "Condom?" They hadn't used one in years. He ran his hand down Geralt's arm, his lips pinching together for a moment. "Afraid I don't have any." Wasn't like he was fucking people other than Geralt, but he couldn't exactly say that in their play - could he?

Maybe this was part of the play? Dandelion shifted under him, hooking a leg behind Geralt's and tugging him closer, tangling them together. "Would rather you come in me," he said, breathless. "Come in me, mark me. Fuck me so good and hard I feel it in the morning."

Geralt swallowed hard, and the hand gripping Dandelion's thigh shook.

"I- I can't do this, we can't-" He shook his head, and when his eyes met Dandelion's they were sad.

Dandelion reached out to him, fingers light on his cheek. "We don't have to." They didn't, they really didn't. He wasn't sure why Geralt had come to his show, had pretended like the singer flirting with him wasn't his fiance. It was odd but it was just a playful act, and a fucking hot one at that - but they didn't have to.

If Geralt wanted to stop, that was fine. Dandelion would certainly be confused but he'd never force him.

"I..." Geralt leaned over him, lost for a moment, searching Dandelion's eyes for answers. "I want you. But I can't, I- we can't do this."

Give his fiance an Oscar, Dandelion was sold on his acting. His heart ached for a moment, breath catching in his throat. This was a man on the edge of indecision, about to fall off the edge of no return - though some part of Dandelion wanted to laugh at that. He'd already had his dick sucked, and had already done a good job of fucking Dandelion with his fingers. Was sticking his cock in him really that much worse?

Luckily, Dandelion had spent the majority of his life acting. He licked his lips, ready to match Geralt's. Right now, he was the stranger enraptured by him. Who needed him, needed a good fuck, and needed to convince Geralt he was the only one who could satisfy him.

"Who's going to know?" He trailed his fingers down Geralt's cheek, to his lips, tracing them softly. "You. Me. No one else ever has to hear a word of it." Dandelion's eyes flicked up to Geralt's, seeing the indecision there, so he pressed just a little harder. "Just our filthy little secret, darling. Fuck me, take me apart, ruin me - and by morning you'll be back in your own bed, at home, no one else the wiser. No one gets hurt, and all we'll have is memories."

Geralt gave a single, grave nod, and then he was kissing Dandelion as if he was a man half-starved.

He fucked him as if it was the first and last time he ever would. Explored his body like it was new, like he hadn't touched it countless times before. The room echoed with their paired moans, the sounds of their bodies moving together, the slapping of their hips as Geralt drove his cock into him desperate. When Geralt finally touched Dandelion's cock, he didn't rub the slit like he normally would, didn't tease like he knew his fiance loved. The movements were quick, his hand rough, and Dandelion cried out as he came hard.

With Dandelion clenching around him, Geralt did not last long. He spilled into him just as he had earlier, but it felt different. Everything about this felt different, desperate, strange and brilliant and fucking hot. Dandelion whimpered, eyes rolling back as he gasped for air, letting Geralt fuck his cum as far into him as he could.

Eventually, Geralt slowed to a stop, and then all but collapsed onto him, drawing a laugh out of Dandelion once more. He wrapped his legs around the love of his life and nuzzled into his hair, the both of them slick with sweat and now covered in Dandelion's come. It felt sticky and gross and wonderful, and brought back memories of all the tipsy fondling and awkward fucking they'd done in bar bathrooms during their early dating years.

Where had all of that adventure gone? Dandelion hummed pleasantly, smoothing his hand over Geralt's back, clenching around the cock still buried in him just to be a bit of a tease - and earned himself a sharp nip for it. They'd never lost the passion, the fire between them, but they'd certainly got a bit comfortable in their sex life. He'd missed this. The fun, the adventure, the fucking around where they clearly shouldn't.

Probably wouldn't take much to convince Geralt to turn this 'one time, only memories' into many times, at least. Dandelion chuckled one last time, sighing and holding Geralt close.

Memories just wouldn't cut it after this.

It was a good thing that Jaskier had memorized each and every touch of that night, because apparently that was the last time his dearest fiance was going to touch him. He groaned, dropping to the sofa and staring up at the ceiling of their living room, his hand draped over his forehead and a heavy sigh slipping from his lips.

Over a week ago. It had been over a week since Geralt had touched him. Maybe that didn’t sound like a long time to some but they were more of a daily sort of couple. Waking up and sharing stolen kisses, showering together, curling up in each other’s arms every night - there was always at least one wank thrown in there, whether hastily or not, and yet there had been nothing!

He pouted, because being dramatic and pouty was a lot easier than thinking too hard on it. Think about how Geralt had hardly looked at him. How he couldn’t seem to look Jaskier in the eyes ever since he’d come to that show and fucked him backstage.

That night had been incredible. How Geralt had held him down and taken him apart. Taken command like he so rarely did - Jaskier’s breath caught just thinking about it. His hands had been pinned above his head by the wrists near the end, Geralt growling into his ear to moan his name, to come for him, and the way he’d moaned Dandelion right back…

Jaskier missed him. He sank further into the sofa cushions, thinking about his fiance. Who he lived with, saw every day, spoke to every day. Who he’d texted not half an hour before, and yet he missed him. He scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to not let his eyes water. It...it was fine, they were fine.

They were fine. Geralt just...hadn’t really been responding to his texts, and had rushed out of the house as soon as he could every morning. And had hardly even kissed him. And when Jaskier had said he’d love him that morning and kissed the side of his head, like he always did when Geralt was at the table, Geralt hadn’t really responded at all- it was fine.

Couples couldn’t develop problems rapidly over one week, could they?

A car pulling into the driveway drew him out of his melancholic thoughts. Jaskier lifted his head up, catching a glimpse of Geralt’s truck from the cracks in the blinds. With a frown, he fished his phone out of his pants to check the time - apparently, Geralt was coming home early today. That was news. Why didn’t he tell him?

Jaskier reminded himself he was not tearing up over whatever this was, and dabbed under his eyes with his shirt just to be safe. Everything was fine, Geralt was just in a mood of some sort. He had never been as touchy as Jaskier, he’d known that from the very start, he just...suddenly didn’t want to touch or be touched at all.

He was sufficiently put together by the time Geralt opened the door, a brilliant smile on his face as he greeted him with a kiss. One that Geralt only half-heartedly gave back, along with a mumbled word or two as he sidestepped Jaskier and went off to their room to change. Leaving Jaskier standing near their front door, smile slipping from his lips.

What had gone wrong?

“Geralt?” He turned, heading towards their bedroom, his voice soft. They needed to talk - maybe it wasn’t anything serious, maybe Geralt really just didn’t want to be touched right now, but they needed to talk. Right now they weren’t communicating and that was bad. A slippery slope for the both of them. Geralt had a tendency to shut down entirely and not want to talk about anything, and had difficulties even recognizing his own feelings. Jaskier had difficulties talking about himself and admitting to his feelings. Between the two of them, they just- they couldn’t afford to shut down.

But before he could say anything, suggest anything, Geralt was turning to him. And gods, he was not a happy man. Had he not been sleeping? There were dark circles under his eyes that Jaskier hadn’t noticed before, a slump to his shoulders he hadn’t seen. He looked awful, defeated, and when he spoke there was such a weight to his words it sounded as if it took all he had just to speak at all.

“Jask, we need to talk.”

“Did someone die?” Jaskier’s eyes were wide as he flipped through a mental phonebook of all of the people they knew, and the last times they’d spoken to them. Fuck, it had been at least a few days since he’d heard from his mother, but Geralt surely wouldn’t have heard about that first and definitely wouldn’t have kept that news from him. Maybe it was a friend, or- or a family friend from Geralt’s side, or just a dog? Still tragic, but not as tragic-

“No, Jask, no one’s died - why would you think someone died?”

Jaskier blinked, his thoughts stopping for a moment before starting again. “Because we apparently need to talk, and you look like you haven’t slept in three days?” Without potential death to excuse his behavior, the fear was back in full force, his mind trying to come up with random reasons they could be falling apart. It was difficult to put a stopper on the fears once they’d started but Jaskier tried, tried to breathe, to tell himself to just breathe for a moment. Fears and spiralling wouldn’t help him figure anything out, and Geralt wanted to talk.

That. That was a good sign. Him wanting to talk, to communicate. That was good.

“I cheated on you.”

Oh.

Jaskier’s hand flew back behind him, searching for anything to support himself. And when he found nothing he simply dropped to the floor, sitting down hard and staring unblinkingly up at Geralt, his lips parted around words that wouldn’t come to him.

That was, well. Not good.

“I didn’t- fuck, Jask I. Fuck, there’s no fucking excuse in the world for what I did, I just. I’d been drinking, and for some reason he came over and talked to me. And it shouldn’t have fucking mattered that it was Dandelion but it was, and I-”

“What?”

The harsh ringing in his ears stopped at that name, Jaskier frowning, doing his best to process. Geralt’s words had been a flood of white noise that barely sounded like words at all, but...but he’d said Dandelion, and then Jaskier was staring at him with a scrunched up nose.

Geralt was shaking, trying not to cry if the rapid blinking and the very distinct Not Looking At Him was anything to go off of. He ran a shaky hand over his face, pressing it against his lips as he stood there staring at the wall for a minute.

“I cheated. On you. With Dandelion, at- at his show. I hadn’t even meant to go, it was a spur of the moment thing, and he- fuck, Jask, I- I didn’t mean to, fuck-” Geralt shook his head, letting his hand drop. But a moment later it was in his hair, pulling at his ponytail. “It’s not an excuse, nothing can excuse it, but I can’t lose you.”

Geralt’s voice broke, and for some reason Jaskier laughed. It earned him a pained look, but all he could respond with was, “I mean. You always did say you’d fuck him if you got the chance.”

“Jaskier.”

“No, no, he was on your list, wasn’t he?” Jaskier laughed harder, tears in his eyes, as he thought back to that conversation. He’d laughed then, too, thinking Geralt was joking. “If I recall correctly, he was the only one on your free-pass list. I had several on mine.”

“This isn’t a joke, though.”

“Certainly feels like it.” Geralt winced at that, and Jaskier quickly added, “No, I mean. Like, literally. Feels like you’re pulling my leg? Not in a cruel way, just- you really didn’t know?” He got back up to his feet, walking over to Geralt who for a moment looked like he might run away from him. But he stood still, very still, as Jaskier reached out to him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek and catching the few tears that had trickled down it.

“Love of mine, dearest Geralt, my sweetest and silliest himbo,” Jaskier whispered, and then kissed him, and wasn’t even offended that Geralt couldn’t kiss him back. He leaned into him and Geralt still held him, even if he looked horrible and like he was a second away from a self-loathing breakdown. “All these years, and you truly, honestly, never knew that I was Dandelion?”

Geralt stopped breathing, and Jaskier had to bite back a laugh at how he could see the gears turning in Geralt’s head.

“What.”

“I do believe you owe me lunch,” Jaskier mused, kissing Geralt’s chin before ducking down and tucking himself into him. “I mean, it was great sex and all, but you did think I was someone else.”

“What.”

“Pretty sure I should be mad at you. Should I be mad at you?” Jaskier frowned, but then shrugged and kissed Geralt’s collarbone through his shirt. “Tell you what, I won’t be mad if you fuck me that rough the next time I wear his wig. Deal?”

“Jaskier, what.”

His nose crinkled when he leaned back just far enough to look up at his fiance, slipping into Dandelion’s silky voice as he purred, "Impatient are we, darling?"

@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @sulkyshengshou @trickstermoose67

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt de rivia #the witcher #witcher #the witcher fic #witcher fic #the witcher fanfic #witcher fanfic #fanfiction #mywriting #lemony

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squiddokiddo · 3 years

Note

What's your favourite moment in history?

Ohh that's a difficult one.

I've always liked history as a subject and I grew up watching Horrible Histories on CBBC so there's a lot of historical moments that I find interesting.

I liked learning about the Victorians and the two world wars (one of my favourite shows is Blackadder Goes Forth, set in WW1) I also like learning about recent history like the 50's and 60's.

I think my favourite might be the Romans though. When I was 9 (Year 5 in school) we had a few school trips to Roman ruins and at the end of the year we had a project where we rearched and crafted Romany type things. (Eg cardboard armour, shields, I think someone made a Roman cake) The best presentation would win a prize.

Dad and I made a small circular shield like ones that gladiators would use when performing in the ring. We made it out of wood, red paint, a couple bits of metal for the center and a belt for the handle. I didn't win the prize but I was the only one in my class with a useable shield and later used it for stick fights with my friends. XD

I'd also go out into the woods to play with my dog Alfie (Or his ancient Roman alter ego Alfonius) and I'd pretend we were Roman warriors going into battle lol.

Yep it's fair to say that the Romans were my fave. Sorry for the long post, hope I didn't go overboard lol. (;^ ^)

#Copper answers stuff #romans #ancient rome #history #soniabigcheese #squiddokiddo answers

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Harper Alexander x Fem!Reader || Oneshot, [Part 2]

Title: The Fake Love Of My Life [PART 2]

Notes:

I'm just realising Harper and Y/N's relationship is very like Dimitri and Anastasia haha XD

Plot: Fake fiancés, impending murder victims who are actually quite lovely, dancing, jealousy, and engagement rings- oh my!

Warnings: Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh? Jealousy?

"Wait... you two? Are together???"

The words coming out of an 'honoured guest's mouth, aimed at Harper and I as he comes on into the bar, pressing a kiss to my temple on his way past. The guests, especially the one that rode in with that blonde Harper made off with earlier, do not miss it despite its subtlety - given more for the towns folk around us then anything else, obviously, - . And suddenly the fact that Harper just went off flirting with another woman, hits us both in the face.

Well... fuck- and the rest of the town catches it, too; Freaking out also, on the inside. I glance up unsurely at Harper who is still standing close to my seat, but force a tinkering smile that just makes me look perplexed, and that doesn't meet my eyes.

Which, you know, works. Because if we were a real couple, and I didn't, in fact, know perfectly well that he had to seduce these girls then I would look like this; Oblivious. And that's exactly what the guests think is happening.

Trying not to show my nervousness at the situation, a shield that I've mastered at this point, I decide to play the clueless-type. Thoughtlessly blinking and smiling, I tilt my head at the guy. "Yeah," I hold up the back my left hand, and show off the engagement ring (Which so happens to be Harper's actual mothers ring, so I take very good care of it even if it doesn't totally feel like mine, nor will it ever- seeing at the engagement in the first place is a total hoax) and beam. "We're engaged, actually!"

"Uhhh... " The guy's eyes flicker nervously from me, to Harper where his glance becomes hard. You can tell that he's struggling not to tell me out right what my 'fiancé' has been up to, and is gouging what kind of reaction Harper might give if he does do that right now. Still looking blissfully oblivious, I look between the two with wide, confused eyes. "Dude."

Knitting my brows together, I play my part well. A hand on Harpers arm and a teetering tone to my voice completes the act. "Harper?"

"Ah. Y/N!... " He picks up my hand off his arm, and holds it in his own, playing his own part with a side of guilt sitting beside a big serving of regretful douchebag. He doesn't meet my eyes completely, just flickers over them, leaning his shoulder slightly between me and the guy. "Its nothin', don't worry about it. Okay?"

"Hey, its not nothing!" The guy actually shoves Harper out of his way, and my own blow open wide at it as Harper flashes a dark glare his way, silently. "Girl- " I blink up at this man, who's pointing directly at me after that show of violence and I hand him all my attention. Because oh- wow- direct! Okay, yes? I mean I know he's going to be dead in a couple of hours and he's the enemy but wow. He points behind him with a thumb, at Harper. "This guy's been cheating on you. I saw him go off with my girl friend, Jess- and I know her. The way she was lookin' at him... oof," He shakes his head. "They fucked, or something, man. I'm sorry."

Miss Peaches and Boone flash eachother a smirky, secret glance at that while most people are looking at me for a response or glaring at Harper like some of the guests are, Buckman's watching this whole scene like a show at the theatre and he's on the edge of his seat, Hucklebilly is silently urging me with his eyes to do something already. Like hurry. Hurry up. Hurry! Hurry!!

Dragging my gaze away from Huck's, I make myself slowly look from the guy that 'told me'... to Harper. Before a new expression can take hold on my face, I ask, in a deadly tone; "... what?"

Harper immediately comes forward again, looking desperate and pissed off- though its not me, he's angry at. "I don't know what he's talking about, Y/N, I swear- "

I get up from my seat and he steps - stumbles? - back at the terrible glare on my face. As terrible as I can muster, when I want to laugh at his reactions. You know? Sometimes this pretending thing can be a lot of fun. Taking a deep breath, I take off the ring he gave me, and under the gaze of the man that told me Harper was 'cheating'- I hand it back to him. Then I clear my throat, as he looks from it... to me. And does 'heartbroken' so well. "... Um- whether you did, or not. I- I cant wear this... u-until, I know. You know? Um... sorry."

Then I manage to slip past him and out the bar door, into the empty square before a smile fights onto my face and giggles topple out of me. I collapse against the side of the building, letting the laughter come out as I cover my face. Oh god... the looks on Harper's face! Oh, he was good.

He must have run out after me a moment later - after the appropriate amount of staring heartbrokenly at my empty seat, I'm sure, - because then he's poking around the corner, finding me, and enfolding his hands into his pockets as he saddles lazily up to me.

But he does not fool me- he's pretty damn amused too, I see, as when I glance around my fingers; Theirs a grin on his handsome face.

Sighing, I calm down and press my head back into the wood. "That was good! You did well!- Coulda cried, though. I mean, you were being left by me, after all."

Rolling his eyes, making me giggle again, Harper sets his jaw. "You sure think a lotta yourself, don't ya?" His slow drawl is back to normal, no longer desperate like he was acting before. Perfectly, annoyingly shirty. He leans in towards me, giving me a raised eyebrow-look. "I didn't see you cryin', neither, Y/N. Not even one, stray, tear."

"Hm. Not even I am that good an actress, Harper."

He smirks back at me, and for a moment , before returning to his straight standing position, and sighing. He looks back at the building, his mouth twisted into a displeased, put-out frown. "Well, I guess we're fightin', now... Should we be yellin'?"

Scrunching up my nose, suddenly tasting something gross in my mouth, I scowl at him. "Do we want to be the kinda couple that screams and yells?"

"Well, it is just an act."

"Yeah, but still."

"Hmmm... " Harper, looking dissatisfied with my objections, looks away again and thinks. "Okay. How about we just say we fought, then? You can jog in place for a minute and look like you just ran a marathon or something when we get back in."

Gaze flickering up to him, my eyes narrow. "Oh I am only running, if you let me squeeze your cheeks to make it look like you got red-faced."

He does not look like he likes that idea, at all. "... Okay. What if I didn't find you, then? 'N instead I walked around looking for you for a while. You can go back in now and I'll wait out here for a while before comin' back in."

"Yeah, lets do that." I push off the wall and ready myself to go back in their, looking all down, when Harper pulls something out of his pocket and tries to give it back to me. As soon as I realise that its the ring though, I shake my head good naturedly and push his hand back. "You hold onto it, until this is all over. I don't want it falling out of my pocket." It was his mothers, so its important, and if anything in this relationship is real its our shared devotion to keeping that ring safe. I would die if I lost it.

Harper stalls for a moment, displeased by my response if I didn't know better, before shoving it and his fist back into the pocket of his trousers. "Alright then... Until this is all over."

"Right." I assure him, awkwardly. Before patting his shoulder and passing him by. "See you back in there!"

"Yep."

Its nearly 45 minutes before Harper comes back into the bar, a sullen look on his face still, like normal. I look away almost immediately, pointedly- returning to the conversation I'm having with Miss Peaches. "... As I was saying, yeah we are having nice weather toda- "

The guy from earlier - the one that had informed me of Harper's 'infidelity'. I think his name was Matt? - suddenly pushes out of his seat a few tables over, seeing Harper come in also and saddles right beside my chair. I cut off again, and look up to him. Hello? Mister?

Not looking at me, rather glowering Harper's way, Matt offers his hand to me. Shoving it right in front of my face. I blink, surprised at its presence and the gesture. "Miss? Would you like to dance?"

"Uh- " What? I look from him, with wide, surprised eyes to Miss Peaches who just looks pretty darn amused at it - in other words, entirely unhelpful, - , as I feel quite put on the spot and unsure. What is he doing?? The whole room seems to still once again, noticing the scene that Matt is creating, and I glance Harper's way.

His sullen look has just begun to look hazardous to anyone standing near to him and I fight not wince under its power, myself.

Matt breaks his gaze from its locked position with Harper's, and looks down to me; His gaze softens, a bit, and I understand that he's only trying to make me feel better. And if this whole thing wasn't fraudulent in the first place I would probably be grateful. So letting out a careful breath, letting go of my nerves and surprise at being put in a position like this, I place my hand in his and let him guide me up to my feet.

Oh god- now I just really want everyone to stop looking, at us. At me. Stop, stop, stop-

A booming clap sounds throughout the room, and just like that everyone's attention is stolen clean away by our enigmatic mayor, who's stood up and grinning. "What a good idea! Go on everyone, lets have ourselves a good old-fashioned hoedown. Grab a partner and get to the dance floor!"

As everyone immediately starts liking that idea and getting up from their seats, and music starts play from the little wooden stage in the corner, I let myself relax. Thank god. Bless that man. Long live the mayor.

"Hey, so, are you okay?" I'm broken from my relieved thoughts, as Matt walks me to the middle of the dance floor and guides me in front of him- setting one hand on my waist while the other holds my hand. His words are sweet and low, so no one else really hears, and damn- I'm going to sure be mournful when he dies. Even if he is a yank.

Offering him a small, strong smile as we begin to dance to the reasonably paced guitar music, I set the hand of mine that isn't holding his securely up onto his shoulder. He's just wearing a sleeveless under shirt, so I feel a bit of the skin of his shoulder which is odd but I've long since given up holding new-comers to any of the same expectations we have. "I'm holding up, thank you. I just never thought he would do something like that... its so not Harper... "

Speaking of Harper, I glance around the room slowly to see where he is now, and catch his glare from the side of the room with Miss Peaches. Evidently she's asking him if he wants to dance with her while I'm busy, but he seems unresponsive. Too busy playing jealous.

I quickly look away. Matt shrugs. "Yeah well, you can never really tell with douchebags. Sometimes they're real nice guys, until they aren't."

"Yeah... I guess so... "

"Anyway," Matt suddenly lets go of my waist, carries my hand up to above our heads, and spins me. A cant help the delighted giggle that tumbles out of me at the move, my skirts flying around me before he pulls me back to his body. He flashes me a grin back, and as the music's tempo speeds up, so do we- the dance becoming faster, and more fun. "Lets see if I can distract you from that bullshit for a little while."

Smirking back to him, I feel like forgetting about who I'm supposed to be, now - engaged and heartbroken, - in order to just have some fun. Because damn, it has been a long time. Yes at parties I dance with men - Lester, Hucklebilly, Buckman. Even Granny, though she isn't a man, - but that's not really the same. That's like dancing with my brothers, or my father - or mother, - . Theirs nothing quite like dancing with a man you don't know, not because you want him to court you or because he wants to court you, but just for fun.

"Lets see if you can."

A couple of hours later I finally sit back down again, a beam on my face and my cheeks warm - aching for a glass of water or twelve, - as Matt excuses himself to go to the bathroom- but promises that he'll be back. "Take your time, I'll be here!"

He smiles, patting my shoulder comfortingly, before turning and heading off out of the building.

Its a few moments later, after I've acquired a drink of water and am sipping at it at the bar, that Harper slips into the seat next to me. I turn and- immediately, catch myself. I was about to smile, and ask him how his night is going.

But I remembered just in time that I am supposed to be mad at him, and take a deep breath; Looking away again.

Without saying a thing to me, he orders himself a shot of whiskey- a heavily grumpy look on his face. I glance at him, wondering what's going on in his head and if he's had any fun at all tonight or if he's been preoccupied acting like a jealous bastard the whole time. I worry that its turned his actual mood sour.

I hope not.

"So... " He finally speaks, still not looking at me. "You been havin' a good time, with that yank?"

"Um... " Glancing around us, I see a group of the yankee girls nearby within hearing distance, and look nervously at Harper. Because for whatever reason, I get the inkling that he isn't acting anymore, and I don't want him thinking that anything that comes out of my mouth, is true. "That's... not, really, any of your business- is it?"

Finally he looks at me, and theirs a pissed off gleam in his brown eyes as he looks down on me. "Oh yes it is. You're my fiancé, ain't ya?"

My jaw nearly damn well drops. Has he been drinking before now?? I didn't see him dancing at all throughout the night. What's wrong with him? Theirs definitely something odd about what he's saying; How he's looking.

Not even Harper is this good of an actor.

"Harper... " Lowering my voice and leaning closer, I tug gently at the side of his clean white shirt. "Are you alright? Do you want to leave and talk?- "

"What's happenin' here, huh?" Oh for fucks sake- I turn to see Matt suddenly back, on my other side and standing over both Harper and I- but turning his stony, protective, angry look on my 'fiancé', obviously. I mean, I appreciate the efforts but you really have the worst timing, Mathew-

Harper doesn't back down even an inch from the more imposing figure that is my dancing partner for the evening. In fact he just pulls up his whiskey to his lips, letting his hand dangle lazily before him as he raises his brows at Matt. "I'm talkin' to my lady, a'course. What are you doin'?"

"Oh, your lady?" Matt scoffs, and I feel like red lights should be flashing and alarms should be blaring. Their tones are dangerous. "First of all, this is the twenty first century man so she has a name. Second of all- did you mean Y/N or the girl two seats down from you?"

Oh, hell. My eyes widen as that particular dig leaves Matts lips and, knowing Harper's already prickly personality, turn slowly to him. A flickering of a tiny - dangerous, - smile flashes across his lips as he nods and looks away, before taking the whole contents of his glass in one go. Then he turns to me - to me! - , an only marginally softer look in his eyes. "Y/N, lets go."

"Uh- " I cut myself off, unsure of how to respond. He continues to look at me, waiting impatiently for my response, and Matt looks swiftly down at me before picking up for, me.

"Y/N's not going anywhere with you if she doesn't want to, man. So back off."

"My apologies, was I talking to you?" Harper turns his gaze up to Matt again, and my eyes tear around the room for some help, but for the first time today no one, is stopping to witness the drama.

Hell, violence could be ensuing, and no one here cares?? Seriously?! How drunk is everyone?!

"No, but someone has to be good to Y/N."

Harper doesn't flinch but you can tell that he wanted to, as one of his eyes slowly squints, and the frown lines in his face deepen. "... do you wanna take this outside?"

Immediately I whip around to face him fully. A hand slamming down on the table between us and I am deeply concerned. "Harper do you even see the size of this man!?"

"Love to, but I don't feel the need to remedy all my problems with violence, mate." Matt smirks, crossing his arms. And first of all, thank god, but also- the look on Harper's face at hearing that is horrifying. How could this man have made things worse, by not punching Harper in the face?! Now I kind of wish they had gone outside.

"Okay!" Before Harper can respond, or take out the sharp throwing object I know he has in his pocket, I get up out of my seat and back off from them both. "You both need to stop this, before it becomes a dick measuring contest. First of all, Matt, I had a really lovely night so thank you, but I'm leaving now, so goodbye. Harper- " The moment I turn to him, I stall, and calm down. And I mean it, when I say; "I'll talk to you, later."

Then I turn around and head for the door so that I can walk out into the night and go home- when I suddenly hear a horrible hitting noise and a crash, followed by gasps and Buckman yelling 'HELL'- and whip right back around. My eyes blow open wide the moment that I see Matt, fallen into a chair behind him holding his jaw, and Harper shaking out his fist, still managing to look tough even as his fist must be killing him, looking down on Matt. I gape, about to say something - or yell something, - but Harper suddenly turns to me, and grabs my hand on his way storming through the horrified crowd and out of the building. I just try to keep up so he doesn't tear my arm off.

Once we're down the road a bit, I manage to rip my arm back away from him, and get glare in response. I tough it out, though, and scowl back at him. "Harper what the hell?? I mean I know we're kind of invested in our scheme but you're acting weird, now. And- you- you hit him! Why would you do that??? What is wrong with you??"

"'It's what my 'character', woulda done," He almost growls, through grit teeth.

"You really don't have to go that far, Harp!" He really, really, doesn't!

Rolling his eyes up into his skull, I watch as he finally takes in a deep breath- hands on his hips, bracing himself. After a moment of silence, and I'm thinking he's calming down now thankfully, his gaze flashes to me and I see clearly that he's still burning.

Reaching over to me, he once again takes my hand in his and drags me off. Not quite so angrily this time, so I don't fear that my arm will be removed from my shoulder at all at least, but I'm still totally lost. Where are we going, now??

We don't go far, as it turns out, and he quickly presses me against a wall between two houses close by to where we were, and in the darkness I can just make out a clearer look entering his eyes, finally. Like his sight is finally, - finally, finally! - not so clouded by fury anymore, as he breathes in fresh night time air. Silently, I watch, waiting for him to speak first.

Is he okay??

Taking his hands off of me, he runs a hand back through his hair, and finally lets his shoulders relax. "... Okay. Okay. I'm fine, now. Sorry for makin' you uncomfortable."

"Are... are you sure you're alright? Do you want to talk about what just happened??" Because I definitely think we should-

"My character just got away from me, that's all. I got too into it... I apologise." Yeah, he says that, but he still isn't looking me in the eye. Everywhere but my eye, actually. And an idea occurs to me that makes my heart start to beat louder, in my ears. Carefully, I reach up, and lay one hand on his shoulder while the other curls up into his hair.

I literally feel his body relax more, under my touch. A sigh escapes him, that I'm sure he would've preferred me not hear. So he looks stony, again.

Letting go of my bottom lip, as I had nervously been chewing it, my gaze flickers up to his face. "Um, would it help, if... my character, were to, 'forgive', you?" Still against his better judgement I'm sure, Harper perks up, at my suggestion. I set him with a focused, serious look. "Because she does. She knows that you have to touch other girls and its not because you want to, and in fact it has nothing to do with her. Me."

"... yeah?"

I nod. "Yes." Giving him a smile, I start to take my hand away from him and step away. "So don't fret! We're okay. Still engaged, and in 'love'- "

Suddenly, before I can get away completely, Harper grabs my hand again and tugs me back- and further, to his lips, where he presses a passionate kiss. A moan is torn out of me immediately and my eyes quickly fall shut, reciprocating before I can think better of it.

This happens a lot, now; The kissing. It helps us get into character, I suppose. Makes us feel like two people who are actually in love, rather then Y/N and Harper who just pretend to be. And it feels really, really good.

He pulls back not even an inches worth of space for a moment, solely for air, and my eyes crack open a tiny bit; Enough to see him gulping down air so he can come back. "Harper... "

He presses right back quickly, guiding me forward back into the wall behind me. Wood digs into my spine but I cant bring myself to care, too wrapped up in the body of the man kissing the hell out of me and my endeavour to taste him back, and maybe gouge a moan or two from him. Because I want to hear it. I don't know why, but I need to. I feel like all I ever see from him is spite and crankiness and I need to know he has more, for me. Especially, for me.

Tugging gently on some of his hair seems to win me what I wanted, as I swallow the vibrations of his groans. Then I slowly pull back, my heels finding the ground again and opening my eyes delicately, and look up at him as he sighs; Understanding that its over as he still leans over me.

Tilting my head, breathing slowly in order to return to former breathing patterns, I catch his gaze. "... Feeling better?" My voice is low, talking carefully as I look up at him from beneath my eyelids.

"... almost."

"Hm?" What else can I do? I'm just wondering what else it could possibly be that he, or his character, wants from me when to my surprise Harper slips down to one knee before me. My eyes widen slightly, looking down at him and wondering what he is doing. "Harp? Your knee hurt?"

He takes my hand in his and, not looking me in the eye as my heart starts to beat unbelievably louder- the sound reverberating hot in my ears. "I just figured, that, our engagement is missin' something."

Oh... Harper takes his mothers ring back out of his pocket, and slips it back onto my fourth finger; Where it now lives. "Y/N L/N, we've known eachother a long time now, basically our whole lives... unfortunately, I think I've only just cracked the surface of what their is to know when it comes to you... and I'd sure like to spend the rest of my life trying to learn the rest."

"Aw... Now, I kinda regret that we didn't do this in front of people. You did that really, well. And telling me my last name! Nice touch." I tell him, because its true, but adding a little joke because I have to as I slip my hand out of his grasp and examine the ring back in its place. My ring.

It really is pretty.

"I ain't done." My eyes snap back to Harper's and my cheeks heat up even more then they had been already, and close my mouth quick.

"Oh."

Flashing a little smile that looks so good on him, he tilts his head. I nearly forget that this is fake. "Will you marry me?"

Breath hitching, because that is the softest, least disapproving-of-me thing he has ever said and it makes my stomach drop- In a good way. But I hope that he does not see how mushy he's made me- because that might complicate things.

He might think I'm falling for him... And I'm not...

I try to keep it out of my voice as I respond, even as a gentle smile warms onto my face. "Yes, Harper Alexander... I will marry you. Now get back up here."

He smirks and gets up, and I lean up to press a quality kiss to his lips, in thank you. When I pull back, he picks up my left hand in his and I catch a serious and forlorn look cross his face as he looks at the ring. His voice is quiet but firm when he speaks. "... I don't want you ever taking this ring off, again. I didn't care for that, at all."

"Well it was just for show... "

His jaw clenches. "I know."

"Hey- " I grab his arm, pulling him gently but abruptly from whatever angry place he was disappearing back into, and flash him a comforting grin. "How about we don't go back to the bar. We can just go back to my house, and avoid the headache. Alright?"

"I'd like that." He grins, a lovely grin that we very rarely see on on him anymore unless he's faking it, a hand hovering over the small of my back as we turn and start heading off to my house.

#Harper Alexander x Reader #Harper Alexander #2001 Maniacs x Reader #Harper Alexander x Reader Oneshot #Part 2 #Harper Alexander Oneshot #Harper Alexander x Reader Part 2 #Harper Alexander x Reader Oneshot Part 2 #The Fake Love Of My Life Part 2

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leafenclaw · 3 years

Text

So uh, I have a lot of WIPs

Tagged by @raeofalbion, thank you! ^^

The rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Followers can send an ask with the title that most intrigues or interests them in exchange for a snippet or info about it.

Tagging: I have no idea who did or didn’t do it, so I sort of want to just... let you do it if you feel like it? But also I’m pretty sure @theteadetective hasn’t done it so there. XD

Divided by fandom, then by progress made on each story. WIPs = Excerpt available (older ones are only available in French) Notes = I can give detailed explanations but no actual writing has been done on this project

Harry Potter

WIPs

Welcome to Hogwarts

Papillon [French]

30 jours pour un ouvrage de compagnon [French]

Eleven Months

Ce n’était qu’un jeu [French]

Cycle des Ténèbres [French]

Impact [French]

Le chant de l’Augurey [French]

Phénix [French]

The Paintings Room [French]

Ω [French]

Notes

Courtship

Cursed

Going the Muggle Way

I Am Snake

Muggle

The Chessmaster

Magic isn’t real

Memories (that haven’t happened yet)

New Body

Secret Keeper

Survival

Reversal

Whirlwind

The Mentalist

WIPs

Eighteen Hours

Kindred

RJ goes after Lisbon

The Road

Fearful Symmetry

Amour Courtois

Visions

Castles in the AIR

The Lives Not Lived

Little Lady

Damned if We Don’t

Gem

Notes

Tag Project

Carnival

Adrift

Born into magic

Con after 4x10

Cyberpunk AU

Sedoretu

Coma

Post-BB Island

Ace!Jane/Lisbon

Jane is Red John

Jane missed the plane

Dreams

Pilot AU

Magic AU

Blind

Carmen & the BA

Earthquake

Haunted Necklace

Hypnosis

Jane drops RJ

Sheriff of Napa

Killer (Kill Her)

Empty Glamour

No Bursting Bubble

No Deed

OVNI

Post-Fugue Pregnancy

It’s over (is it over?)

Red Moon AU

RJ is Wainwright

Rover Death

Rover Sharing

Rush to Lisbon

Tiger cubs at the zoo

Vegas AU

Witch Revenge

Working with Haffner

Wrong RJ (ties in with Fearful Symmetry)

Ring, no ring

Undercover Pretend Relationship

Winter Coffee

Office Gossip

Thwarted

In the Woods

Crystal

The Job Conundrum

Youtube Sensation (ties in with Eighteen Hours)

Timeless

WIPs

You know you want to (click)

Definition of Happiness

This side of the road

Flogan Thing

Notes

Crossroads

Fate, Uncertainty, Free Will

Burn

Believer

Garcyna Shared Past

Solarpunk (Fanboy Wyatt)

Garcy Inter-worlds

Negative Outcome Universe

TM Crossover (Beach edition)

Emma raises Lucy’s brother

Internet Cryptid

How to make things worse

One Trip

Trapped in the past

Wyatt AFAB

Emmaley

A reason for turtlenecks

Memento

Elementary

WIPs

Haptics

Rarefied Heights

Ashes

Letters across worlds

creatures!Holmes & Moriarty

A Game With Proper Stakes

Brownstone Shenanigans

Graveyard Conversation

Death Day

Notes

Butterfly

Conversations

Sabbat - E Version

M&M - Switch/canon compliant/AU

Matching Stims

Haunted

Inversion

Coffee Shop Not-Quite-AU

Restaurant VS Coffee Shop

Already knew

Ginger Candy

Incarceration

Powers (reality)

Amnesia (Unknown)

Jamie has 7 cats

Fandom

Immortals (keeping score)

Mermaid AU

Neighbours

Nocturne-verse

Shared Fingerprints

Werewolf AU

Collapse

Daemons-verse

HP AU (+potato verse)

Labyrinth AU

Siblings-verse

Timeless AU

Bell the Marshall

Cell Sharing

Elevator Hit

GD over Morland

Head of the Organisation

Irene wasn’t there

J works with J

Kidnapping

Kitty

Media Room (keeping up the act)

Moran killed

ONS before 2011

Potato-verse

Search History Dating Website

Snowed In

WF’s fanfic (RPF consequences)

Everyone’s Videos

Vikner’s TA

Pins Everywhere

Criminal Trio

Stepping Up (Not Always A Great Idea)

Reset (3 versions)

BBC Sherlock

WIPs

Bed

Elevator

Crossover Thing

Notes

Fae human & Changeling

AJI College

On Needs and Needing You

No Trauma (right)

Snowed In

Jumanji

Notes

Soulmates (Meet Before Time)

Bodyswap (different from canon)

Detention

Judy wins

Wrong clues

Missing Piece

Nigelstone

no touching

Nonbinary

Tattoos

Feel free to ask about any of these, but please add the fandom with the title so I can find which story we’re talking about more easily XD

#thank you for the tag!#writing #fandom: harry potter #fandom: the mentalist #fandom: timeless #fandom: elementary #fandom: bbc sherlock #fandom: jumanji #asdfghjkl #blast from the past lmao #I was wondering why this ask was so familiar #then I realised it's the last meme I answered on LiveJournal in 2011 #the funniest thing is some of those stories I already had on my list back then

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second-chance-stray · 3 years

Photo

RP Log: Bertram helps Cravs with a bug problem. They meet each other, but fail to connect the dots...

Cravendy Hound pants heavily as she BOOKS it, sprinting away from a swarm of bugs and microchus that nip at her heels. She hadn’t even been doing anything prior - just going on a walk by the stream. Just enjoying the crisp, cool air. But it would seem that the elementals had had enough of her target practice, and now the woods don’t seem as peaceful as they were in the past.

Bertram Windshadow had been attempting to do the very same with his own time on this particular day. There were always a myriad of things upon his mind these days. It did him good to simply step out and move without particular direction and unrestrained pace. Wherever to the wind lead him. That is, of course, until he spied a roegadyn woman being harried by the denizens of the Black Shroud. 1/2

Bertram Windshadow came to a stop within the canopy of a moderately sized tree before dropping down to the forest floor so that he could get a better assessment of the situation. He wasn't about to leave someone in trouble . .. in trouble. 2/2

Cravendy Hound stretches her arm back, aims her gun at her pursuers, and fires a couple of rounds. Some of the shots hit microchus, splitting them from the mob momentarily...though, with every one that was dispatched, two would spring from the bushes and take its place. Meanwhile, for the bugs, I simply present to you this question...have you ever fired a gun at a housefly? Would that work? The answer is no. No, it would not work.

Cravendy Hound: “Godsdamned, bleedin’ flyin’ pieces of shite! Overgrown spinach!” Cravs swats at the air as bugs relentlessly buzz around her. In an attempt to get them off her back, she jumps off the side of the cliff and into the river...however, she misjudges the depth of her target. It’s much too shallow to keep the bugs away from her. And now, she’s drenched AND annoyed.

Bertram Windshadow watches quietly for a moment as the stranger attempts to ward off the pests with her firearm. An attempt that causes the highlander to wince slightly just before she plunges herself into the drink . .. well, at least as much as she could manage in the relative shallowness. 1/3

Bertram Windshadow could only assume that the single-minded focus of these creatures could only come from one place. She'd done something to annoy the Elementals. Not enough to rouse them to outright *anger*, but . .. enough to peeve them. It was an easy mistake to make and Bertram figured they'd more than learned the lesson no need for further assault. 2/3

Bertram Windshadow reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a small orb. With a firm press, and a quiet click, it began belching out a stream of smoke or fog. The man then quickly rolled it in the direction of Cravendy in the hopes of helping disperse the swarm of bugs! 3/3

(Cravendy Hound) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnHmskwqCCQ )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( *dies* This was what was *exactly* what was playing in my heat. ))

Cravendy Hound is too busy swatting away the bugs and plant monsters to notice the source of the sudden smoke, so she thinks it’s the Elementals toying with her further. Her confusion serves to make her even angrier. “If yer gonna kill me, just do it an’ be done with it!” What follows is a long-winded, story of a swear that ends with a coughing fit.

Cravendy Hound - The smoke, meanwhile, does disperse the bugs. They now hover at the edges of where the cloud stops. You can’t see through it, though you can certainly hear all sorts of things happening beneath its foggy exterior.

Bertram Windshadow bobs his head to the side slightly and makes his way forward at a slightly accelerated pace, breaking his way into the opaque cloud and speaking so that he can make his presence known. "I don't think you're going to get killed today, stranger, but we should probably get you closer to Gridania ..." He calls out before attempting to reach out and touch Cravendy's arm to let her know where he is.

Cravendy Hound: “Who, in the name of Llymlaen’s left teat, are you?!” Upon being touched, she instinctively aims her gun right at Bertram, and then glances to the side. “Behind ye!”

Cravendy Hound - Her aim shifts ever so slightly, from being pointed at Bertram’s forehead to something else entirely. The shot rings out, wind brushing dangerously close to his ear, and then sinks directly into a microchu that had been sneaking up behind them. “Gods, ye...let’s get out of ‘ere.”

Bertram Windshadow winces visibly -- or invisibly given the current circumstances -- at the sound of the gunshot so close to his ear. The ear on that side of his head was nothing but ringing in the moment and he could barely make out the latter half of her speaking. My this woman was an aggressive one. Some dots were starting to connect regarding the Shrouds current state of upset. 1/2

Bertram Windshadow called out in a voice slightly louder than necessary, "Let's get out of here," he echoes her sentiment without realizing it. "They're just going to keep coming if you fight them like that." 2/2

Cravendy Hound nods. She had no desire to let the ‘friendly, forest friends’ have their way for any longer. “Gridania’s a tad far...But Hyrstmill’s just a rock skip away. Let’s find a ‘ovel to ‘ole in and be done with this.”

Bertram Windshadow has to strain to hear the suggestion, but he calls out with an affirmative sound before reaching in to the same pouch again to remove another sphere. With a 'click' the smoke begins to spew and he pivots on a heel to face the direction of the small outpost. As he does he throws his arm back and then swings it forward; throwing the smoke-spewing orb like a bowling ball. In its path it leaves a trail of smoke. "That'll hopefully then thin the herd and give us an opening!"

Cravendy Hound stares curiously at the orb, and then back to Bertram. It clicks in her mind. The smoke? Not the Elementals. This guy. This...stranger, who happens to have smoke-spewing orbs in his possession. Questions would have to wait until after they weren’t being hounded by angry flies and grass. She makes a break for Hrystmill, coughing all the while.

Bertram Windshadow set his pace to match Cravendy's as he kept himself in her wake. He felt compelled to keep an eye out for anything that might lunge at the woman while she was making a break for it. This wasn't exactly what he was expecting to do with his day but it certainly beat being stuck in his own head. "Just keep running they'll break off eventually!"

(Cravendy Hound) LOL I'm seeing an unintentional, but reoccuring theme...in an earlier rp, cravs sucked in a feather and had a coughing fit. After this, she's gonna be super hoarse xD )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( Hahaha! It helps in sounding grumpy!! )) (Cravendy Hound) let's move to hrystmill! :3 )) (Cravendy Hound) LOL 6-pack a day scratchy voice. "WATER..." ))

Cravendy Hound - As they run, they can hear, but not see, the monsters pursuing close behind. But eventually, as Hrystmill comes into view, the noise grows fainter and fainter. In reclaimed silence, the sound of hearts pounding and panting breaths come back to the forefront. Cravs lets out a long groan and falls to the ground in a kneel. She beats the dirt twice with her fist, gets back up, and faces Bertram. She has no idea what to say.

Cravendy Hound: “.................So. That ‘appened.”

Bertram Windshadow eases as the sound of pursuit fades a quiet breath draining from his lungs as he finally gives himself a moment to glance over his shoulder. It hadn't seemed like they were in *mortal* danger, but it was hard to say when an elemental would decide to be a little extra cranky at any given moment. He dusted his hands off on his legs as he shifted his attention back to Cravendy. "Sure did ..." he answered, allowing himself a quiet laugh before bobbing his head to the side.

Bertram Windshadow: "I hope they didn't get any nasty bites in ..."

Cravendy Hound: “Couple of bruises and scratches, but nothin’ major. Gods, first dodos, now bugs and bloodthirsty flowers.” She lets out a long sigh. The world was conspiring against her, which...well, was fair, as she had a lot to answer for. But she wondered, why now? Why not before, or later? One thing is for sure, though. She’s thankful that this stranger was here to help out.

Cravendy Hound sizes up Bertram. He looks kind of familiar, but she shelves that feeling off to the side. “Thanks for ‘elping out. I’m Cravs. And ye are?”

(Bertram Windshadow) (( Would Bertram know that nickname? I don't *think* he would, but I figured I'd check before having him be oblivious, hahaha (Cravendy Hound) hmm I mean, she refers to herself as such, but idk if others would to her?? haha )) (Cravendy Hound) up to you really :P )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( I think Lin has only said Cravendy to him! So I don't think he'd make the immediate connection! Not yet anyway! ))

Bertram Windshadow bobs his head to the side slightly, "I can't pretend to know *why* but I think you did something to upset the elementals," he offered quietly as he finished dusting himself off and glancing around Hyrstmill, ". .. they can be a bit sensitive about how you treat the forest." He pauses for a moment before dipping his head toward the woman. "It's nice to meet you Cravs. Most folk these days call me Windshadow."

Cravendy Hound brings a hand up to her face and covers it in thought. Upset the elementals...no. Her target practice? She had thought since it was an accident, it’d be fine, but perhaps not. Blast it all, now she’d have to get a conjurer to help her apologize to those, frankly, eldritch spirits.

Cravendy Hound: “Windshadow. Now that’s a title -and- a mouthful...any reason why people call ye that?” Her brows knit together and her eyes narrow. He clearly wasn’t your average adventurer, judging from his gear. “That yer secret, crime fightin’ identity or somethin’?”

Bertram Windshadow blinks in surprise, though not that one could tell from behind the visor, at her comment. He'd never really thought about it like *that* before. There's an awkward pause before Bertram's hand rises up to the back of his neck and he shook his head. "Oh, no. It's nothing like that," he responds with a laughing tone, "It's ... an epithet. A Gyr Abanian thing."

Bertram Windshadow: "I can be ... pretty fast when I need to be. Quiet too."

Cravendy Hound just realizes that she’s smiling. Everything that had happened in the past hour. The smoke, the running...and now, Windshadow standing here, as polite as could be. He was an amusing enigma to her. “No need to be bashful. If people call ye something like that, then I doubt ye only go ‘pretty’ fast. But can ye outrun a chocobo? I’d be willin’ to bet against ye.”

Cravendy Hound laughs - the challenge only half serious. “But seriously. Ye saved my ‘ide back there. What can I do for ye...’ow about round of drinks on me?”

Bertram Windshadow can only laugh a bit more fully at the prospective challenge, his head shaking slightly as a smile finds solid purchase upon his lips. "Depends on the terrain and distance, honestly. A 'bo's going to out last me in the long run on flat ground." He shakes his head gently, as though he was dismissing the thought as overly self-indulgent. He cleared his throat at the new offer. "I ... " he pauses, tilting his head to the side, "... I wouldn't turn down a drink or two, no."

Bertram Windshadow: "But I'm just glad to have been at the right place at the right time."

Cravendy Hound scratches the back of her head, amused by how seriously Windshadow is taking the chocobo challenge. She can hardly imagine what it’d look like for a hyur to move that quickly. Would he send himself sailing forward like a rocket, or would he just move his limbs -that fast-?! Either way, she steps over and playfully bumps his shoulder with her fist. “I know a spot nearby that serves a solid Mun-Tuy Brew. Over ‘ere.”

Cravendy Hound would bring the two of them to an unassuming establishment. When she enters, she dips her head towards the Elezen barkeep, who returns the gesture. By the time Cravs takes a seat, the barkeep has already set out two cups and a bottle of brew on the table. The usual.

Bertram Windshadow laughed -- albeit a bit nervously -- as Cravendy bumped his shoulder gently while passing by while making her way further into the town. He certainly couldn't complain about a good drink of mun tuy so he followed behind her whilst glancing around the village with a thoughtful expression. He didn't say too much on the way but, as he settled in before the second cup of drink, he couldn't help but ask. "What had you out in this neck of the woods anyway?"

Cravendy Hound has already finished a cup and is halfway through pouring herself another glass. She places the bottle back to the center of the table with a satisfying, though loud, thump. “......Ye’d be surprised ‘ow far those critters chased me. That said, I come out ‘ere now and again. Nice trees, nice folk.” She clears her throat, and then says in a slightly lower voice: “The drinks not bad too.”

Bertram Windshadow might have -- perhaps -- been attempting to discern what the woman might have down to agitate the elementals, but ... he didn't seem like he was about to start prying where he wasn't invited. It didn't seem like he was Like That. Instead he bobbed his head forward and began a much more *measured* approach to his drinking. "I find it similarly calming. Spend time up in the boughs can really help clear the head when you're feeling a bit overwhelmed."

Cravendy Hound raises a brow. “So, ye run really fast, and ye have orbs that shoot out smoke. What are ye, some kind of courier? If ye feelin’ overwhelmed, then just tell the big man to stuff it. Don’t work so much.” She lifts her cup up with a grin. “Lifes too short not to indulge in the good stuff.”

(Cravendy Hound) lmao I can't get over how these two haven't connected the dots )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( It's *pretty* great! Hahaha. ))

Bertram Windshadow tilts his head to the side slightly as he listens to Cravendy's Words of Wisdom. He sips upon his drink thoughtfully for a moment before giving a concessionary bob of his head. He certainly found himself dwelling on the bad recently. Though it wasn't quite related to work as she might be assuming. Given his effective unemployment at the moment. "... I suppose that's true." He murmurs quietly, maybe more to himself than to Cravendy proper, "Is that what you were doing out there?"

Cravendy Hound leans back on her chair, feet propped up on the table. “Chin up. Ye seem the earnest type. Try at somethin’ long enough and it’ll change, eventually.” She takes another sip and listens to the sound of the waterwheel turning on the river. Windshadow’s second question gives her pause. “What? Was I...out ‘ere to indulge, ye mean?”

Bertram Windshadow quietly nods his head in response to her further words of assurance -- though it seemed difficult to determine how they were received behind the vidor -- before she asked her clarifying question. "Oh," he cleared his throat and shook his head, "Well, that or just ... enjoying the 'good stuff' as it were."

Cravendy Hound smirks, and gestures to the alcohol on the table, as if that was answer enough to his question. The two made an interesting drinking duo, and Cravs found herself drawn to her withdrawn, fast-running companion. When they eventually parted ways, she let him know that he was welcome to swing by for another round of drinks...or perhaps, she would find him, and make good on her bet that he could outrun a chocobo.

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Bertram Windshadow #A LATE POST BUT #fddkjsl these two #the power of BEEs have brought them together #Cravs just thinks Bertram is a very very professional courier

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svpe-a · 3 years

Text

Fantasy Aesthetic.

bold what applies

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘. chipped nail polish. glitter highlight. tall trees with smooth bark. tangled hair. the taste of cinnamon sugar. talking too loud and too fast. overgrown flowers in your hair. crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature. flirting. walking home at 3am with no coat. platonic hand-holding. blowing smoke out of your nose. dragonfly wings. chaotic good. freckles. fairy rings. secret meetings. gender nonconformity. leather. smudged eyeliner. forbidden fruit.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑. computer errors. a shiver down your spine. haunting beauty. hard liquor. crowns of thorns. shadowed alleyways. decaying plant matter. shattered mirrors and broken glass. corrupted memories. stopped clocks. the scent of stale cigarettes. tattered black hoodies. walking your friends home. the crescent moon. the sea. a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers. absolution. looking out the window of an airplane. soft kisses.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇. graffiti. pretending to know what you’re doing. worn paperback books. growing up too fast. parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. lace and combat boots. moth wings. candles on every surface. a weathered deck of cards. turning the music up. fireflies in jars. calloused fingers. drawing on your skin. sunlight filtering through clouds. petrichor. a dying rose in a jar. wearing a crystal pendant. illusions and spells. black cats. mint gum. chapped lips. dirt under your fingernails. the cycle of life and death.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅. murders of crows. frost-bitten leaves. wolves howling at midnight. knocking on your door. leaving food out for stray animals. the twang of an acoustic guitar. honey. tiny red buds on trees. claw marks on the walls. golden eyes. slightly too long stubble. sharp canines. soft, thick fur. hunger. a small cottage in the middle of the woods. knitted fingerless gloves. sleeping on the forest floor. always finding your way back home.

tagged by: @smokinmirrors <3

tagging: @embracedself, @nctavillian, @sheprotec (i dont know what blogs you lot are even on anymore but consider all 3 of you tagged xD), @kryptcnborn, @luthority, @luthcrborn, @thedevilwearspierce, @brbievmp & everyone else who wants to do this

#‘ you're much stronger than you think you are ’ ⇾ ic ┋ character study #‘ busy saving the world ’ ⇾ ooc ┋ queue

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shadowdianne · 5 years

Text

Emma smiles on her way through the portal and Regina just nods her wordless goodbye. That very night Emma comes back, because she just can't leave her, even though she swore she could. [asked by @waknatious]

A/N I’m not going to focus on the series’ plot. Let’s consider this a stretched pocket in time so Regina and co will be sleeping in the forest disregarding everything that happened after the end of the second episode of the blasted seventh season.

Also, hi! Yes, I’m alive; apparently Xd All the love to @waknatious for this one. I admire a lot of things in you, W: your heart is one of them. A very big one.

PS: It’s been a couple of weeks since I wrote a one-shot of these two. I apologize if I sound rusty xd

The fire crackled as it protested under Regina’s stare and the brunette took a shivering breath as she blinked away; the whispering woods offering nothing but shadows that danced and swayed outside the protecting circle the bonfire created. A few feet away from her, soundly asleep, two figures snored, and her gaze fell into the youngest one; a soft smile curling her lips as she did so.

It had been too long since she had had the opportunity to see Henry sleep; far too long for her brain to superimpose the image of the young man who had his back turned to her to the one of the boy, the teen truly, that she had seen ride away from her in a motorbike that she would have loved to not have seen him on it ever. She still tried, however, as the fingers of her right hand kept on playing with the grass blades she had used to cast the barrier that -as an almost silver thread- encircled the three of them as they waited for the sun to rise.

The image came to her, but it was blurry, and she let her eyelids fall as she attempted to quiet her breathing; ears perked in an almost subconscious way. It had been also too long since she had last slept in the middle of nowhere after all; her body, her magic, felt sluggish and changed and she hated the prickling sensation of it, of the sparks that jumped inside her bloodstream with a more weak pull than the one she had grown accustomed to feel back at Storybrooke.

Opening her eyes once more, she casted a last look to Henry before jumping to the second figure; the profile of a man she had grown to despise creating a ripple sensation within her chest that made her swallow before she returned back to her fire; the one she had promised to tend to as her guard passed. Guard that she knew was a simple white lie for everyone involved as it was not needed. Not with the magic she had used.

Curling her fingers around the grass before smoothening it once again, Regina let her mind wander once more to greens and dirty white; the same shade the purple on her kept on calling in a silent scream. It was a stupid reaction, she knew as much, yet her magic, her power, kept the call; as if waiting, expecting.

She had made her peace with the way she had glanced at Emma a few hours ago; the realization that had hit her the moment Emma had looked at her not a new one but still as bitter and deadly as the first time she had stared at the woman only to realize she was about to commit what had, probably, become the most painful best move on her entire life. Turning her hands into fists, Regina let the magic engulf her; the push of it biting the inner side of her wrists a reminder of the way her heart kept on pumping.

Emma had decided way before she had been standing in front of that portal; pretending otherwise was a disservice to the way Regina’s heart had ached the second she had seen the ring on her hand, the second Emma had knocked on her door with a tremulous smile -the kind of one she had started to use whenever Regina was around after Henry had left- and words had flowed out of her, falling like lead on top of her already tired heartstrings.

I’m pregnant.

It still hurt. Hurt in the way that Regina could already tell it would keep on hurting for a long while and, maybe precisely for that, she kept herself awake: a punishment to her mind she wasn’t entirely sure it would help. Not with her magic calling for the one she had grown so used to search for whenever a battle was about to happen; its presence calming, soft and warm.

It was maybe that, the need for it, what made her blind and deaf to the woods around her even after she had promised herself a constant vigilance around trees and secrets that were similar but not the same as the ones she still could imagine whenever she thought to the forest she had grown up in. It didn’t matter, of course, because the second she blinked owlishly as she pushed away the memory of the arc her own neck had created as she nodded; surface calm, insides in disarray, she felt a soft response to the continuous call her magic kept on making.

It was tenuous, dampened by the magic protection, but it was there; an echo that embedded itself onto her much more quicker than anything else; from the scent of the still-burning wood to the already damp smell the ground around her had.

However, she still felt her lips parting as she glanced up, towards the clearing in where she still could picture the residual specs of a portal being opened and closed in a whooshing movement that made the lower branches of the trees around them quiver.

Muscles taut, she stood and glared at the corner of the woods that now grew painfully still, darkness seeming to grow for a moment before something resembling a flashlight cut through them; scattering dots that danced minutely before the flashlight moved briskly towards them; the sound of footsteps reaching as Regina swallowed; sadness being overtaken by worry.

Worry that fell flat before she could rise her hand, fire transferring from the bonfire to dance between her fingers, before she could ask for help.

Because, there, on the other side of the protective barrier stood Emma with wild eyes and wilder blonde hair; lips devoid of any color and eyes far too green and glinting.

She couldn’t see them; Regina intellectually knew as much as the barrier resembled the one Storybrooke still had yet she took a step back as if calling forth the shadows she now wished would envelop her. They didn’t, of course, and Emma narrowed her eyes at where she was, prying from her side of the woods; the ones in where darkness kept on dancing, casting silver-hued shimmers as the inherent magic from the soil found the one the blonde kept close to her own heart.

“Regina?”

The call was a soft one; a whisper and Regina thought that if she remained mute for the right amount of time Emma’s own call to her magic -the one that had transformed from forlorn to something that burnt through her- could diminish enough for the younger woman to, maybe, think she had been wrong.

However, she felt her lips part once more, tongue wetting them, as she kept on staring at Emma’s face, dimly illuminated by a fire the blonde couldn’t see. She had grown so accustomed to the pale version the woman had crafted around her that seeing her in the middle of the woods was a jarring reminder of the image Regina kept on protecting: like a picture already starting to crease. Changes, however, were unmistakable; from the leather jacket to the jeans and boots, from the hilt of a sword on her right side to the shade of a gun on her left, attached to a belt in where the marks of a badge could still be seen if she focused enough.

And, she realized with a start, from the way her shoulders were set; locked in place and under enough light for her to see the shape of a backpack strapped to her, there was something else there: a decision about to be made.

It was that detail, she would later say, the one that made her lower her hand as she took a step towards the edge of the barrier, hands already prickling as she considered what would be for the best; to pull the woman within the barrier or walk outside just enough for her to truly see her.

It could be a trap -her mind insinuated with that residue of her mother’s snarl she still hadn’t eradicated no matter how much time it passed. An image or glamour the woods could be using on her. A trace, she retorted to it, throat dry and lungs filling themselves with Emma’s scent; ozone tickling her nostrils, was impossible to duplicate. The woman she had in front of her was Emma. Of that she was sure.

And, as soon as her brain settled on it; her muscles did too.

Taking the final few steps between the blonde and herself, Regina stood in front of the younger woman; the green eyes changing to dirty white the second her magic was close enough for the blonde’s to sense it.

“I know you are here.” The whisper was not a plead, but Regina still caved to it as she reached through the barrier and took a step outside, the power letting her cross as it opened and closed at her back.

“Then why are you here?”

It came out of her with a bite she hadn’t expected herself to have and she almost sighed as Emma winced; taking a step back as soon as she appeared in front of her, flashlight falling to the side as she did so, one hand dangling as if she had intended to be the one who reached for her.

Who sought her out.

Ultimately, Emma answered with a still low voice. The kind of one she would get when they had been searching for the author; much more intimate than anything else they had shared during those nights.

“I made a mistake.”

Regina wanted to scoff at that, to keep on the pretense of the almost anger she wished she could tap into with the easiness she had done once. It didn’t surprise her that Emma could read her posture, though, that Emma knew before she even did she had needed to hear such a thing. Emma had always known how to see between the cracks after all. Even when she had liked to pretend she didn’t.

Shoulders rolling and back arching, Regina peered into Emma’s eyes as her eyes grew accustomed to the change in lighting, the coldness of the woods tracing goosebumps she fought against.

“What do you mean?”

They weren’t supposed to be talking about this. Regina knew as much. Not when Emma was there after she had crossed away, but she didn’t stop the question from falling. They had always been like that after all.

Running a hand to her hair, Emma pointed towards Regina’s back with the flashlight hitting the brunette’s eyes for less than a second to where the campsite was even if neither of them could see it from their side. Regina didn’t blink but she pressed her lips together, unsure.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

Regina wanted to believe she had finally fallen asleep; that this was a simple last laugh her mind was having at her expense. It would hurt, she surmised, when she would get awoken by Henry with Emma gone and a conversation that would never happen an aftertaste on her throat. Another part of her, however, knew that this was true.

Yet she couldn’t let that one win. Because it would mean that, for a reason she still couldn’t understand, Emma was truly here and, apparently, ready to stay.

“Emma…” She began but left the name hanging around them, the doubt halting her as much as Emma’s shake of her head.

“I knew it the second I crossed.” The younger woman began, voice low but strong and, as she lowered her chin, Regina could see the truth on her words. “I wanted… I didn’t know. I only knew that I needed to come back.”

“Why?”

It was the closest Regina felt like being able to say to a much more difficult conversation. The one that had changed the day she had been told Emma was going to give birth at some point in the future. The one that had ended the moment Regina had finally broken and wished aloud for Emma to see what she saw when she looked at her; a potential, a gorgeous, beautiful potential of something else, something more.

It had frozen her in place as soon as the words had been out, fingers already closing on Emma’s shoulders and the ghost of a biting kiss bleeding against her tongue.

Emma hadn’t said a thing; she had kissed her as hard, however, leaving after it with fire on her eyes and words hanging around them in even thicker ink lines than before.

So now, as the “why” echoed around them, Regina settled for the many possible paths she would be forced to face; because Emma was there, in front of her, and she wanted to ask her to stay even if she had had sworn she was okay with seeing her leave.

“Regina.”

It came as an exasperated mutter and the brunette almost laughed at that, stopping herself as she was brought back to Emma’s eyes, to Emma’s hands as the blonde rose the two of them; flashlight hitting the highest part of the trees. There, where Regina had grown accustomed to see two rings, nothing but fair skin awaited.

“I can’t leave my family.” There, a tremble, a hiccup, and Regina ached as she crossed her arms and dipped her fingers into the skin of her ribs, one hand falling to her own stomach, keeping the magic at bay. Magic that was already swirling, entwining itself with another.

I can’t leave you.

“I thought you had decided…” She was stopped once more. Not by a no but by a sigh and she glowered at it.

“I kept taking the coward’s route.” Self-deprecating smile shining on her teeth, Emma shrugged, nervousness rolling off her features as she lowered her hands once more, light pooling at her feet. “I knew as much when the portal closed. I made a promise…”

And there it was yet again, the words Regina had already heard a dozen times; the ones that were said as apologies, the ones she felt she would love to destroy.

“One you already fulfilled.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

It was true, however: Emma had brought happiness, had battled for them again and again, tightening ropes made of promises and expectations so strongly around her Regina wished she would be able to burn the rope without destroying her in the process.

Or maybe it was, indeed, a lie. A lie the two of them had fed as Regina had kept on glancing at Emma: falling in love with her in the process until there was very little of that animadversion left, the one she had wished to be able to experience the moment Emma had smiled at her in her vault with nothing but coldness surrounding the two of them.

The one she had rejected after all. Because she was proud, she was stubborn, and it didn’t matter how many sides of her split away from the version of what she had built within her core.

“You are pregnant.” It was weak; stupid but she still tightened the muscles on her jaws.

If this wasn’t a dream, her mind said, if Emma was indeed in front of her and watching her walk away once more would hurt more, pain her more, than the first time it had happened. She would not let that happen; not if she dared to consider the ludicrous possibility of Emma staying, with them, with her. Not when what the blonde was throwing away was, aside from Regina’s personal feelings regarding it, a much easier option than the one she seemed about to make.

Eyes sharpening, Emma nodded at it before her features softened, hands reaching as the barrier hummed at Regina’s back; the resulting spark one that the brunette gulp; about to give in.

“I won’t leave tomorrow.”

It wasn’t an answer to Regina’s words, but it was still a response to a fear so deeply settled Regina felt as if her spine was being ripped out of her; her bones malleable as she was the one who, this time around, was who moved forward, breath hitching.

“And the day after that?”

It wasn’t a perfect situation; Emma was still, somewhat, running and the two of them knew as much. But, Regina thought, wasn’t it time for her to be selfish once more? For a second, a quarter of a moment so brief she felt as if she was about to fall?

The whisper that answered that was enough for her to nod.

“I won’t.”

“They will ask questions.”

“Let them.”

And so, as the woods shivered around them and two sets of eyes glanced at each other from within the barrier, unseen by the two women who stared at each other with questions mounting inside chests and hearts, Regina let herself resume a conversation that had been stopped in the foyer of the mansion that wasn’t her home anymore, a kiss deepening as Emma promised in slowly increasing staccato, that she would not run away.

(And when the day came the blonde wrapped her hand around Regina’s in a tentative move so slow the two of them decided to pretend it wasn’t there and stayed.)

#swan queen #SwanQueen #prompt #hey i'm back

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demonsofhunting · 5 years

Text

All My Sins - Chapter 7

Pairing: priest!Cas x demon!Dean

Summary: Castiel can't avoid the truth any longer. Dean did bad things. It's likely that he will continue to do so. But should the priest betray the love of his life? Won't it break him, eventually?

Warnings: soooo much angst, feelings, descriptions of violence

Words: about 1600

A/N: Welcome to chapter 7! <3 I still can't believe that I made it this far! Seriously, for you this might not be much, but for me it's like the longest thing I've ever wrote. Even though I still struggle sometimes ( well, who doesn't? XD ). But your comments and reblogs motivate me so much! Keep going, guys! You're awesome! Thank you soooo much! *hugs literally everyone who walks by*

I hope you'll like this chapter! Enjoy! <3

Catch up here ( Masterlist ) :D

"Mr. Novak? Are you sure that you're alright?" The voice rings in Castiel's ears, brutally. He buries his face in his hands, nodding. His head hurts like hell. I have no idea what I'm doing right now... "I'm fine. It's just...the last day was pretty exhausting for me," he rasps, looking up again, and his broken gaze meets the policeman's. The nice guy drove him here, after Cas' little...break down. Actually, the priest was unconscious for roughly five heartbeats...he woke up laying on the ground, the policeman shouting in his face, worried. Well, that was more than just a little awkward. Now, they're at the police station, sitting in a separate room in 'which they can talk without being interrupted'. The room is bright and friendly, there's a large bookshelf in one corner. The windows are big with blue curtains, the desk between the priest and the policeman is pale and made of wood. Cas wraps the blanket, that a kind woman, who works here, gave to him, tighter around his shoulders. He blinks, trying to make the headache fade. It doesn't work. "I want to know what happened to Dean. Please," he says, trying to hold eye contact to the person in front of him. The other nods. It's the first time that Cas notices the name on the folder that lies in front of the policeman on the wooden surface. Mr. Jones. What an average name. "Well," Jones begins, swallowing. Cas raises his chin. "Please. Go ahead," he says, firmly. "Okay. There was a massacre going on yesterday night. It happened in the town next to this one. There were about ten people involved. Three of them died, their bodies were found at the bar where the slaughtering took place. Four were injured - to be exact, three of them are on the verge of death right now - , and the rest of the people, who were involved, managed to flee. We assume that they were the ones, who started to attack the others as a group. But due to some eye witnesses this didn't seem to be the case. A woman said that she was in the bar's restrooms as hell broke lose. She took a look outside, and claimed that she saw only one man, who attacked the barkeeper, randomly, while the other guests tried to stop him. Maybe, the majority of the people, that are still missing, could manage to get away from the murderer, who must be still out there. What leads us to the difficult part of the story...I'm sorry to tell you - " "No." "Excuse me?" "No," Castiel repeates, shaking. His heart is racing, and his head feels like it's about to explode. This is too much, too much, too much... Jones' gaze softens, and Cas can tell with one look that the policeman feels bad for him. Really bad. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Novak. But we found some pretty clear evidence at the crime scene. We found DNA that matches the one of a man named Dean Winchester. Someone who already has some history with crime. I went through his files, and I have to admit that he looks like he would be definitely capable of doing something like that." Cas shakes his head, rapidly. "No...this can't be..." But there's a tiny, bad whisper in the back of his head, telling him things... Of course, it can. Where do you think the body in his living room came from? Maybe he killed the woman at first, and after that, he felt like going on a little murder spree would be a fun thing to do. Jones sighs. "Again, I'm sorry. But you need to cooperate with us, please. We know that you are a friend of his - or were. When was the last time you saw him? We need to know everything." The priest bites his lip, nervously. If they find out about the body that I buried, they won't let me go...I need to be careful. Come on, Novak! You need to stay strong! Castiel swallows, then he says: "The last time I saw him was yesterday. We...we went out for a walk together. We're both really interested in nature, you know? We love to challenge ourselves with hiking paths in the woods near town. It's fun. After that, I drove him back to his house, then I made my way home." Good, good. I'm gonna make it... Jones nods, writing something down. His brown eyes are meeting the other's again as he asks: "That was the last time you saw him?" "Yes," Cas confirmes, confidently. "Okay...did he act strange when you were hiking? Did he say anything - or did something - that was suspicious in any way?" The priest shakes his head, shrugging. "No. It didn't notice anything. He wasn't...different. Just himself. Kind, funny. Easy - going." "What about the last couple of months? Anything?" "No, nothing. Nothing that I noticed as strange." Jones hums, quietly. He tilts his head, thoughtfully. "We're almost done. I just need to ask you one more thing: Where do you think he could be right now? Any suggestions? He isn't at home, we already checked on that." Castiel pretends to actually think about it, then he answers: "I don't know. Obviously, we weren't as close as I thought we would be. In fact, I don't know much about him besides his name and his address. Maybe you should search for his car. I think he drives an impala. I can give you his licence plate...at least the parts that I remember." I need to get out of here. I need to contact Dean. I need to warn him. I need to - "Thank you," Jones nods, "It would be great if you could do that. It helps a lot." After Cas wrote the numbers and letters, that he remembered, down on a small note, he hands it to the policeman, and asks, carefully: "Is there a big search going on?" Jones raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "It is," he says, lightly surprised, "If there's a psycho killer running around, we have to stop him. The search for him everywhere in the whole country. He might be still dangerous. It will be all over the news within the next days. We'll get him, I'm positive. I feel very sorry for you. Sometimes, our friends are our worst enemies."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's around ten o'clock in the morning as the policeman's car reaches Castiel's home once again. The priest thanks him, and steps out. He watches the car as it disappears into the foggy morning, thoughtfully. Dean...what did you do...? And...and...why? Suddenly, he can't hold back the tears any longer. He cries out loud, his fists balled, painfully. He looks up to the sky, hopelessly. "Why are you doing this to me?!" he screams, and repeats the words until his lungs feel like they're burning, "Why?! All I did was following my heart! Isn't that what humans are supposed to to?!" And with these words, he storms into the house, runs up the stairs until he reaches his apartment, steps in, and closes the door behind him. He leans against it, closing his eyes. Slowly, he begins to believe what the policeman told him. He need to say it, needs to feel the words on his tongue. "Dean is a murderer," he whispers, and it feels like he's drowning. Sharp knives are stabbing into his heart. Again. And again. And - "Dean is a murderer," he repeats, crying, "He...he is a murderer, he - fuck!" Cas sits down, slowly. He shakes his head. "And I still love him...I love him so much...I need him," he mutters, sobbing, "I need to find him, we...we can get through this, we...I bet he had a reason to commit these crimes, probably, he - " He doesn't even know. He punches against the wall, his fist is hitting the firm surface with a loud bang. The pain that pulses through his arm at this moment is nothing compared to the agony in his heart. With shaking hands he pulls out his phone, and tries to call Dean. It rings, but his boyfriend doesn't answer. In this moment there is so much pain, anger and desperation inside him, that suddenly, all Cas manages to do is chuckle. He doesn't even know why, it just comes out of his throat. It sounds wrong, strange, and everything but good. He doesn't like it. But it feels like it awakens something inside of him. A determination, and that's something he can work with. Finally. He blinks the tears away, and gets to his feet. The priest just realised something. The police will probably question me again. It's very likely, that - sooner or later - they'll think that I have something to do with the massacre. I need to find Dean, no matter what. I need to warn him. And I need to do that before they catch him...if they're faster than me, we will be damned. Castiel wipes over his face with a tired gesture. The irony of his thought makes him shiver. "Well, maybe I should say: 'We will be more damned than we already are'", he mutters.

( A/N: CHAPTER EIGHT <3 )

Thank you so much for reading and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit, I will love you forever! <3

Destiel/Forever Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @rebeloftheseas @ablavalba @smodernlife @ignis-glaciesque @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @xsghn @trenchcoatsandfreckles @helpmeluci @legendary-destiel @leahslovelylibrary

"All My Sins" Tags: @emodestielshipper @emumag @waywardtricksterangel @didntwanderstillgotlost @angel-e-v-a @burnigontheceiling

Taglists are open!

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sushigirlali · 5 years

Note

32: “ I came to say goodbye. ” + Bellarke

Prompt: “I came to say goodbye.”

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Clarke Griffin [Bellarke]

Continuity: Post Spacewalker AU

Rating: T

A/N: This ficlet is an alternative take on the events after Finn’s death. It really did seem like Bellamy and Clarke held romantic feelings for each other in the early seasons, and I’m still holding onto those episodes with both hands XD Enjoy!

——————

For: @grlie-girl

Love: sushigirlali

Last Goodbye

——————

Bellamy sprinted through the woods, worried now. Clarke had been missing from camp for more than an hour and no one seemed to know which direction she’d gone.

“Dammit, Clarke,” he muttered. “Where are you?”

Once Octavia had brought Clarke’s absence to his attention, he’d left Raven in charge and taken off without a second’s hesitation. His co-leader was too important to leave behind, not only for the security of the 100, but also for his personal peace of…

“There you are,” Bellamy panted, spotting her telltale blonde tresses through the tree line. She was sitting with her knees tucked beneath her in the middle of a clearing, staring straight ahead. It was a hot day on earth, but the ring of greenery surrounding the area provided ample shade and cooled the humid air.

Clarke didn’t look up as he approached. “Is everything okay?” she asked a little huskily.

“Everything’s fine, but we’re about to roll out.” Bellamy tried to mask his annoyance but knew it was pointless with Clarke; she’d always been able to read him like a book.

“I know,” she said softly, not taking offence at his harried tone. “I just…I came to say goodbye.” She motioned toward a spot a few feet away.

Bellamy looked beyond her and promptly realized what she meant. Clarke wasn’t just kneeling in the middle of a random patch of dirt; she was kneeling in front of Finn’s makeshift grave. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she exhaled. “I thought I’d visit him one more time before we leave the area. I doubt we’ll come back now that the grounders have turned hostile.”

“Do you…are you…” Bellamy bit his tongue to stop himself from asking the one question that had been burning him up inside for weeks.

“Am I what?” Clarke said curiously, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“Bellamy,” she sighed, “just ask.”

“Okay. I just want–that is–I need to know–are–are you still in love with him?” he stammered.

Genuine surprise flashed across her pretty face. “No,” she replied with conviction. “I cared about him, in my way, but I was never in love with him.”

“Then why are you…?” he left the statement open, wanting to know the answer but not wanting to push too hard.

“To ask for forgiveness? Permission? I’m not sure,” she said wistfully.

“Permission?” he wondered.

“Permission to move on,” she clarified. “I did care about him, but not in the way he wanted me to. I’m sorry he died the way he did, that I had to be the one to do it. He allowed it to happen to save me, to save us, even knowing that I could never return his feelings. And I just…” Clarke trailed off, choking back tears.

Bellamy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Clarke. We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.”

“No, I need to say this,” she insisted, reaching up to lace her fingers through his. “I just…feel so guilty. If I hadn’t led him on, if I had just been honest about my feelings for…for you, then maybe he would still be alive.”

Stunned by her confession, Bellamy could only gape at the back of her golden head.

“Bellamy?” she inquired, turning her cheek against their joined hands. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I…I don’t…” he stuttered, at a loss for words.

She looked up at him at last, appearing resigned. “I’m sorry, I know this is the worst possible time to have this conversation. Just pretend I didn’t say anything and we can go.” Clarke gently pushed his hand away and stood.

“Clarke…” Bellamy watched as she dusted herself off, trying to figure out what to say.

“It’s okay,” she smiled, but her expression was sad. “Come on, I’m sure the group is getting anxious.”

“Wait!” he said without thinking, pulling her around to face him.

“What?”

“Before we go back, I need to know.”

“Know what?” she frowned.

Bellamy gritted his teeth and went for broke. “How do you feel about me?”

“Well, I…love you,” she returned simply.

“You do?” he said, dumbfounded. “She loves me? She really loves me?”

“Yes.” Clarke stepped closer, clearly encouraged by his reaction. “Do you love me too?”

“Yes—no—I don’t know,” he said, distracted by her proximity as much as her declaration. “She smells so good. How does she always smell so good?”

Clarke smirked at him, placing her small hands on the front of his worn jacket. “Which is it, Blake? Yes or no?”

Knowing she could feel the rapid beat of his heart, he didn’t even pretend to misunderstand her. “Yes.”

This time, her smile reached her eyes. “Finally.”

“No kidding,” he chuckled, encircling her waist and pulling her against him. “We make a great team, princess.”

“Even when we don’t agree?” she joked, pressing her soft pink lips to his.

“Especially then,” he murmured, thrilled to be kissing her smart mouth instead of trying to shut it for once. “We’re at our best when we’re forced to work together, you know.”

Clarke looped her arms around his neck, hugging him close. “I wish we would’ve been honest with each other sooner,” she said forlornly. He didn’t have to ask what she meant; he could read her mind too.

Peering over her shoulder, Bellamy regarded Finn’s grave with mixed emotions. “I’m sorry about Finn, Clarke, but what happened to him wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she said, drawing back, “but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. We can’t lose any more people, Bellamy. Not anyone, okay?”

He nodded but didn’t speak again, knowing her wish was impossible to grant. But for now, at least, they could pretend. Caressing her tearstained cheek with his knuckles, Bellamy leaned down to kiss her again. “I couldn’t protect you, Finn, but I can protect her. I’ll do everything in my power to keep her alive. I promise.”

And he did.

-FIN-

——————

A/N: I’ve turned into such a softie lol what is this ship doing to me?! Can’t wait for April!!

#bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarke fanfic #bellarke fic #angst #kinda #canon au #prompts #thanks wifey #my fanfiction #sushigirlali #last goodbye

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tacosandtomcos · 6 years

Text

Spoiler Review for The Book Of Spells! pt 1

So how this is going to work is i’m going to list fun little facts about each queen and list a brief view of each section. buckle up, it’s gonna be a LONG post!

And since it got so big, this is gonna be a bit of a parter.

So we’re just doing the first three queens here.

The intro is basically glossaryck treating you like the next queen in his glossaryck way, he explains how he was born, and that he created the high commission to be contact points between the queens and realm of magic.

apparently he was literally made to serve the queens, from the moment he was born he was called to help them.

Also his hair is white because of silkworm slime, which can kill you...

also there was a high commission member we haven’t see before: Reynaldo the bald plate, but we’ll get back to him later.

Skywhynne

Fun Facts:

She didn’t believe in the stump

There were 27 queens before skywynne, so this rule has been going on for a LONG time.

middle name was lavender

they seem to say the first queen had a wand summoned to her because of her magic? But then again, that might just be a tale...

her mom was so eager to give up the throne, skywynne became queen at 17, and now her mom lives in a volcano. :p She literally sucks, she thought a book of fashion was more important to save then the book of spells. (Her name was lyric and she had a broom-wand).

The freaking lucitors pulled down half of mewni’s people into the underworld a century ago.

Her mom brought dragons to her wand ceremony, which destroyed everything. The castle was made of wood, some from the stump, so guess how that went? And the old book was destroyed because of it ( That’s the excuse for why we don’t see those 27 other queens). Skywynne started this new book and the castle we know today was being built.

Her mom made her pick fashion for her people to wear, skywynne literally just flipped and picked something random without a care in the world.

Had a make-up wand ceremony with just her parents.....on top of the destroyed castle.

her wand crystal is the clock’s face, and the ringing can be heard by certain creatures.

I think her mom was trying to set her up with Dip Kelpbottom but she just spent a ton of time using magic to kick them out. When she realized time was repeating herself and this was why, it’s what triggered her time powers. She used this to trick everyone into thinking they were building the castle in a day, which was actually 5 YEARS.

She really hated her mom pushing dudes on her, used it to fuel her magic XD

Made food with magic, it literally rained from the sky.It got to a point where it felt like the people of mewni only liked her for making them food to her. . Eventually she stopped doing so which lead to corn. Which scattered more monsters from their homes and made room for crops so her people could feed themselves and the population doubled.

Deleted gravity once.

Invented star’s lasso spell, warnicorn stampeade, and of course the time spell she ended up using.

Opened pandora’s box.

Raised the dead from the underworld for fun. Apparently zombies don’t eat brains but clown zombies do.

Only guy she liked was Sir Gem-Robin, failed to talk to him for four years when he got a gf. Which leads to -

Blew up a dimension using the spell star used to destroy toffee to take out her anger. (Apparently mewni is earth, just you know..another dimension of it). This was how she first dipper down, being pissed at her crush.

when the population doubled they took away more and more monster territory for them to live in, also teaching her people to fight.

She built a school whose title is clearly based off professor Xavier’s school from the X-Men.

After sir gem-robin got divorced, they got together. Also they eloped in a rock dimension surrounded by worms she saved from the dimension she destroyed.

She thought the fire killed gloss by he just spent all those years in the new book eating or on a trip. He has pet bugs living in the book. Skywynne is fond of bugs tho. Jushtin was two by this point and solaria was not even a twinkle in her eye yet, gloss was surprised she had a boy.

Skywynne saw great potential in jushtin, and let him hold her wand at times, thought he’d be a mighty magic wielder and a mighty ruler like her.

Gloss turned rhombulus’s hands into snakes to teach him a lesson....that snakes for hands sucked.

All in all, skywynne was alright, she is rather relatable if you’re one of those people who hate it when your parents pressure you into dating people or get annoyed at people who feel like they use you. She also was the queen that did start a new system and era for mewni. There’s not a ton to say though she got herself into ALOT of crazy messes on accident.

Jushtin

Jushtin has a new title, he’s no longer “The boy-queen” he’s now known as “The uncalculated”. Not sure what this change was for but it’s not the only change in this book.

Apparently jushtin’s wand is alive.

He likes boy-bands, soda, was friends with a prince called Sazmo, had a crush on his math tutor, oh and we see what may be a spiderbite ancestor in here based on well....the bites. He had a crew which consisted of this spiderbite and his best friend, but also some weird mole man prince and an old man?

Jushtin speaks like he’s some weird gangsta, he has a crew but he spells this like “Tha cru”. He used “Tha” , “Mah”, “Ma”and “Cur” a lot. And this applies to ALOT of other words he also misspelled because i think he thought it make him sound cool. (He put “Luv u mom” in his intro chapter.).

Wanted to make mewni a destination and put it on the map.

HE USES THE TERM “LIT” OMG.

Jushtin cares about cool cars that make him and his crew cool.

Made a spell to give horses wings? And make your chariot comfy? The punchline is, he literally does the same movement on all his spells.

Him being a math expert is no joke, despite his weird lingo he actually went through the effort to consider the math needed for the horses to lift the carriage.

His mom left him a note letting him know he left the book in a place filled with horse poop. Gloss was scarred for life. His mom wasn’t happy with him and wanted him to take better care of it.

His mom woke him in the middle of the night to let him know he was going to be having a sister and she was gonna take the wand and book. Y’know, considering they live in a matriarchy. Jushtin words this in a way that implies his mom was really sad about this, but she actually was SUPER happy about it. Jushtin pretended she was “Masking the pain” by jumping up and down and being excited.

Jushtin’s chapter was “Understandably since he was queen for like. a year”, short. I’m actually a bit sad we can’t see more but then again his lingo is so ridiculous i got no idea with him. It’s actually really funny for him to speak this way and sound like he’s trying to be a cool gang member, while also speaking math like a genuis. Weird mix.

Jushtin is arguably the most innocent queen in this book, he had no affect on the monsters and though he was very irresponsible i feel bad for him since it’s clear he REALLY wanted to be a ruler.

i actually feel slightly bad also cause it kinda seems like his mom had solaria simply because she lost faith in her son to literally do anything. But then again i dunno how serious he took being ruler based on his short chapter.

Solaria

She speaks like you’d think she’d speak, like a warrior.

Has the same millhorse her mom had so i guess these three shared the same horse.

Solaria made an INDEX on her chapter to see all of her entries. Her chapter could be it’s own book.

Saw monsters this way, why respect them when they don’t respect us? Queens need to expand their reach regardless what the monsters think. She also thought they were jealous and wanted their power.

She thought the past queens let the monsters get away with too much, decided to take this into her own hands. She wanted the monsters right under her thumb and wiped away from the land.

Alphonse the worthy and her tried peace, but war was inevitable when monsters attacked some of their bases. Alphonse was the secretary of the monster peace council.

She met with her council, Alphonse and hekapoo being involved, and they declared war. (Some of these members may be past royals of other kingdoms).

Solaria was losing until she decided they needed a new kind of warrior to drive the monsters back. She found some old spells from the old book and from old tomes and came up with a solution. She wanted to create a superpowered magical army. (Basically she wanted to make super-soldiers).

Had peasants volunteer for the experimentation of these spells as she learned to weave them together to make her army. These soldiers were called Solarians.

Mina was the first to volunteer to be one. She is endowed with a weapon as powerful as solaria’s wand and it’s terminal to monsters. She became solaria’s most trusted solarian and her age seems to be result of this experimentation. (Not sure about her mind tho?)

Solaria was already allied with the ponyheads by this point, not so much the lucitors yet.

The solarians were successful in driving the monsters back. and they celebrated by burning the dead monsters on a pyre. (This book gets dark).

Soalrias had literally no interest in having a king, so it was just her and eclipsa.

Eclispa ran off to meet a young globgor and solaria thought he kidnapped her (Best way to meet your future in-law). Eclispa hid alot in the caslte and she begged her mom to talk to him but well..solaria of course thinks he’s a slobbering monster who will hurt her. Solara thought she snuck out to find her, but it’s clear she snuck out to see him. She also thinks eclipsa’s sad reaction is because she almost died...and not because she missed globgor and that he might’ve almost died.

Solaria gushes about eclipsa ALOT, about how smart she is and precious she is.

this chick literally has a page on how to kill monsters. The funny thing about his page is these SAME monsters are from eclipsa’s monster dating page, but here they are depicted WAY more evily then eclipsa’s chapter, which probably drew them more accurately. She also thinks they are happier dead, and would advice killing a frog man by cutting him in pieces. (She has no idea how to handle the lizard men properly cause eclipsa figures that out after she’s dead)

She sarcastically “Thanks” rhombulus for crystalizing her mewmans on accident. And provides a way to avoid dealing with that.

Though she was already friends with the ponyheads, she, alphonse, jushtin, and hekapoo worked together to make an alliance with the lucitors and ponyheads to help them in the war. This was successful and was the start of the lucitor-butterfly-ponyhead alliance. This helped them draw the monsters into the woods.

She had NO respect for the monsters, and would not ceasefire for them, she literally wanted to murder them all. She was going to make her wand a super weapon.

Monsters fights lessened and her talents became less needed. She couldn't get her wand to become a super weapon and she felt like a failure.

She and gloss did not get along, she hated that he was apolitical and suspects he disliked her refusal to ceasefire on the monsters and kept the war going. Solaria thought the monsters would never stop till they took over and made them their slaves.

She kept a drawing eclipsa did at age 7 for her through the whole war as a token.

After her failure on that spell she decided eclipsa should now have the book.

So yeah, solaria has alot on the monster-mewman conflict and has a bunch of lore to think about. We know know why mina is so powerful, though not why she’s crazy. Though i wonder what happened to the other solarians?

And yes, she’s vicious about the monsters during a time of war. And this chapter has a lot of very dark implications and thoughts.

She does very much love eclipsa though, and adored her with all her heart. She seemed to love all her family an awful lot, never spoke bad about any of them.

Alphonse is important, because he’s actually the captain on star’s wall. I’m not kidding, he’s the SAME GUY.

and keep this in mind cause i’m gonna get back to that in-

PART 2!!

Yeah this post is getting so long we’re gonna have to split this review in a bunch of different sections.

But be patient with me, it’ll be worthwhile as we move onto eclipsa.

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #svstfoe #spoiler alert

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