#teaser and extras to donate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollandorks · 2 years

Text

shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter two

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: Yay time for another chapter! Going to try my hardest to stick to posting twice per week--I have about 8 more chapters written so far (still only 1/3 of the way through the movie, oops) so we should be good for a while! Once I finish writing the whole thing, I’ll probably post more frequently! That being said, I’m on vacation next week and I’m not sure of the internet situation! Ch 3 will be posted before I leave though!

If you feel like supporting me further, donate to my ko-fi! You can get either a teaser for the next chapter (for lower donation amounts) or the entire next chapter (higher donation amounts). Find more info and the link to my ko-fi here!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2645

“Thank you, Gordon. I mean it.”

He muttered something sarcastic about being grateful under his breath, but she was already gone.

It was still raining when Halloween dawned.

“This reminds me of when we first met,” y/n mused as they ate a late dinner on Halloween night. “You need to be extra careful tonight. There’ll be so many teenagers who could push you off of a roof.”

Bruce rolled his eyes.

She was doing her best to try to distract him. He had something on his mind, and she knew it, but she wasn’t really sure how to help. They’d already argued briefly about her going out with him–it was too dangerous, according to him, but according to her there was too much potential for him to get hurt. She wanted to help. She needed to help. He couldn’t be everywhere.

She wasn’t sure she had won the argument, but he had at least let it drop.

She’d let it drop too, because the guilt of lying to him was still eating her alive. He didn’t know that she was already helping him. And she wanted to keep it that way. To keep him safe. To keep him from being distracted. To keep him from being pulled in too many directions at once.

“Just think,” she continued lightly, “You might not have a cute girl to save you this time. Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, etcetera.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?” Bruce asked dryly as he rinsed off his plate.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. She stepped up behind him and rested her forehead against the warm spot between his shoulder blades. He huffed a laugh. They stayed like that for a few minutes. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself closer. “Please be careful. I mean it. Call me the second you need help.”

“I will,” he said. He rested his hands over hers. “Please–don’t sneak out. Just–let me know. Alright?”

She laughed, face still pressed into his muscular back. “Okay. But I can’t promise that I won’t leave. You can’t be everywhere. And don’t even think of hiding the Batmobile keys again. I had copies made.”

He stiffened but didn’t argue the point.

He finally turned around in her arms. She nestled closer and kissed him.

“Please be careful,” she whispered.

“I will. I love you.” He kissed her again, and then he was gone.

She finished cleaning up dinner to distract herself. She had a bad feeling she couldn’t exactly place. The growing crime despite all they’d done, despite all Gordon and cops like him had done, was worrisome. Gotham was turning on itself, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like what that meant for Bruce. For Batman.

Maybe she could wait it out at the restaurant, pack her gear up just in case Bruce needed her.

She was downstairs before she had fully decided. She picked up the extra earpiece he always left for her.

“Bruce?” she asked softly as she put it in, grabbed her gear, and went back up the elevator. She couldn’t take the Batmobile to the restaurant, as much as she wanted to. Regular cars only, unfortunately. She had conceded a few months into their relationship and let him buy her a car. To compromise, it had been a used car, because she didn’t need him blowing money on her. Plus, he had six other cars already that for some reason he wasn’t happy with her picking from. He wanted to buy her one.

His response was instantaneous. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just–I was going to go to the GP for a bit. Let me know if you need me.”

He didn’t respond–probably busy already, she mused.

He’d changed the earpieces a bit in the past year. He had something in his suit now that acted kind of like a bluetooth connection. He could connect to it with the push of a button and disconnect just as easily. That way they could both be wearing the earpieces without getting too distracted by constant noise. It made it a little easier to watch him go out each night.

As y/n drove through the rain into the city, her body thrummed. She was almost itching for a fight. She understood exactly why Bruce did what he did. Not only to keep the city safer, but because it was…exhilarating.

She made herself drive straight to the Gotham Project no matter how badly she wanted to stop and put her suit on. Just this once, she would listen to Bruce. She’d rather wait on him to need her than be out somewhere, too far to help, when the call came.

At least she had done some good already–she’d gotten the name of Derrick Smalls to Gordon, and it was only a matter of time before the man was arrested. She wished, briefly, that she’d done more than break his hand and punch him in the face, though.

At the restaurant, y/n shoved her bulky backpack into her office and locked it behind her. The Gotham Project was small, but it was hers. It was actually two buildings next to each other. One was the restaurant and kitchen itself, the other was a sort of homeless shelter and supply store her manager Bryn ran for her. It didn’t hurt that Bryn had also been formerly employed by the Iceberg Lounge while she paid her way through school.

“It’s me,” y/n called to the chef who ran things when she wasn’t around. His name was Ollie and he’d served ten years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. He was sweet, overly flirtatious, and honestly a better cook than she was. “I’m just here to check on things.”

Things had been running incredibly smoothly for six months or so. Hiring Bryn and Ollie had been the final puzzle pieces, and things had started simply…falling into place. And with the attention that Bruce’s name got her, well, they did pretty well. They helped a lot of people.

“Hey, boss lady,” Ollie called from where he flitted around the kitchen. Support staff and waiters danced around the space. Ollie currently had cat ears and a tail. Some of the other waiters had costumes, too, all simple and practical. “Busy tonight.”

“That’s great.” She meant it–the busier they were, the more people they could help. People could come and eat like it was a regular restaurant, with the option to pay it forward for someone in need. And then the less fortunate or homeless could come in and have a normal, free meal before getting any supplies they might need from next door. People sometimes took advantage of it and tried to get a free meal, but her staff had gotten pretty good at keeping the assholes at bay.

“Your cop friend is out there,” Ollie said with a flash of a smile.

Gordon came to visit on nights he worked, usually because he was in the area. She constantly tried to get him to eat for free, but he always paid for himself and the next person to come in.

Y/n thanked Ollie and pushed her way out into the dining area. It was busy. At the late hour, a lot of people were filling up before a night on the town. There were costumes everywhere.

Gordon was at his usual seat at the bar, eating a huge plate of the night’s special, carbonara.

“Hey,” y/n said as she slid into the empty seat next to him. “Can’t get enough of me?”

“I’m here for the food, not you.” But there was a hint of a smile underneath Gordon’s mustache.

She grinned. “That’s fair. Ollie’s going to have me out of a job sooner rather than later.”

“Good thing you own the place, then.” Gordon winked. His phone started ringing in his pocket.

“Good thing. I’m going to check on Bryn.” She patted Gordon’s arm. “Enjoy your meal.”

He nodded as he fumbled for his phone. He frowned at the caller ID.

She hovered for a second, overly curious. He shot her a look that said he knew she was eavesdropping, but he didn’t say anything.

“Gordon,” he answered curtly. He set his fork down. Y/n watched as Gordon’s face blanched. His mouth parted, just slightly, before he seemed to realize he was in public. “Shit, I–Shit. Okay. I’m on my way. I gotta make a quick stop first, alright? Lock it down. No, I mean it. Lock it down.”

He hung up quickly and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the countertop.

“What happened?” she asked, because from the look on Gordon’s face, it was bad.

“I–It’s not good. I can’t say anything yet. I gotta run. Thanks, kid.”

Gordon was out in a flash. Y/n quietly took the money and put it in the till, frowning. She hadn’t seen that kind of look on Gordon’s face in a long time. It must be bad, whatever it was. The bad feeling she’d been harboring all night grew worse.

She got her confirmation not fifteen minutes later when the Bat signal flared to life overhead.

It had been an utter coincidence that she’d chosen a spot with an almost perfect view of Batman’s signal. It had felt a little bit like fate, the first time she’d been in the restaurant and seen it lit.

Something churned in her gut.

Not good at all, if Gordon was calling Bruce in on it. Usually that meant something big, bad, or both.

She picked up her phone and pretended to make a call while, over the earpiece, she said, “Gordon was here and got a call. He seems freaked out.”

Bruce’s voice in her ear calmed her. “I’m on my way to him now. Are you still at the restaurant?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Stay there until I know what’s going on.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

She hated being kept out of everything. At least she could look over whatever Bruce had recorded for the night, both with the lens and within his current journal.

Bryn was packing up a care bag for an elderly lady when y/n entered the other half of the Gotham Project with her master key. This side was a little bigger. There were a couple of rows of cots, a few small stalls with showers, and a huge, heavily secured pantry. Bruce had made sure all of the security was top notch, with alerts going straight to his phone, along with hers and Alfred’s too. He even paid for around the clock security guards, which grated on her nerves sometimes. But at least no one would try to take advantage of her generosity.

Bryn was a tall Black girl that ran the place better than y/n had ever hoped. She’d only seen her around the Iceberg Lounge a few times, and hiring her had been a huge stroke of luck brought about by Lena, who had officially introduced them. Y/n had actually tried to hire Lena first, to get her out of the club, but Lena had politely declined and sent Bryn her way instead.

“How’s it looking?” y/n asked after the older lady shuffled away, back into the rain. The woman had declined one of the cots for the night.

Bryn finished writing out the details of the supplies she’d given before answering. “Pretty good. Running low on umbrellas, ponchos, and trashbags, of course. But I already placed an order and it should be here by Saturday. Which means it’ll be sunny.”

Y/n laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure it does. You know, between you and Ollie, I kind of feel useless around here these days.”

“Hey, whenever you’re bored, just let me know. I’d love extra time off.” Bryn winked to show she was joking.

“I’ll put in a word with the boss.”

At that moment, her phone buzzed. She tried not to seem too eager as she yanked it from her pocket.

“Don’t tell me–it’s your sugar daddy.” Bryn had been around in the days when y/n had first started working for Bruce, and she never let her forget it. She constantly teased her about it, about the GP’s funding, all of it. But unlike most people, Bryn didn’t mean a word of it. She adored Bruce and always gave him shit for not talking much, which y/n enjoyed to no end.

“It is,” she said, but it was from Bruce’s “work” phone, not the man himself. His name in it was simply a dark circle emoji. “Because you always have dark circles under your eyes, makeup or otherwise,” she’d joked when he’d asked about it.

Mitchell was murdered.

Y/n’s heart stopped.

The interim Mayor, Don Mitchell, Jr. The man who had replaced Mayor Williams after everything that had happened, and was currently running to be the actual mayor. The man who’d helped bring down Maroni.

Y/n cursed colorfully. If Bruce was texting, it was because he was around too many others to speak out loud comfortably. “You know, Bryn, why don’t you take off early? I’ll finish doing the inventory and help anyone else who comes in.”

“I was just about to quit due to being overworked. Damn. Maybe next week.” Bryn winked at her again. They shared a laugh.

Thankfully, she was joking. Y/n made sure her employees were happy, because she knew better than anyone what it was like to have the world’s shittiest boss. Bryn and Ollie were both training people, too, who seemed just as capable as they were. Y/n really did feel useless most of the time. She didn’t even really get to fill in for either of them much anymore.

Which probably explained the uptick in her…other nighttime activities.

After Bryn left, y/n busied herself doing what she’d promised while simultaneously checking her phone every thirty seconds. Next door, the noise of the crowd slowly died down. A couple of people came in to sleep for the night, so y/n left them and went back to her office, telling Ollie goodnight as he left. She checked in with the security team before locking herself in her office.

The hours slowly ticked by. The bad feeling in her gut grew worse.

It was almost four in the morning when Bruce finally texted again. She’d dozed off on the small couch in the office and woke with a jolt at the chirp of her phone.

The dark circle emoji greeted her. About to head out.

She was back at the Batcave within fifteen minutes.

She flipped on the news first, then the feed for Bruce’s lens.

“This isn’t good,” Bruce said in her ear a couple of minutes later.

“What is it with this city and fucking mayors?” she cursed. First Williams, now Mitchell. She hoped this Bella Real lady proved tougher than she looked, because Gotham apparently had it out for anyone in the position. So if she won the election–however that worked with her competition now dead–y/n hoped the woman spent extra on security.

“Serial killer, maybe. Sadistic at the very least, if he doesn’t kill again,” Bruce said. She could hear a clamor around him. On the screen, she watched him watch a growing crowd from a distance.

Behind her, GC1 announced breaking news.

“He left me a card,” Bruce continued as the anchors announced the death of the mayor. There would be a press conference shortly. The press conference setup was what he was watching. “To the Batman.”

Y/n’s heart stopped again. “He–for you?”

“It was a riddle. I’ll show you when I get back.”

She cursed quietly as she watched two different perspectives of the press conference as dawn rose around Gotham.

Not good. This was not good at all.

She really had a bad feeling about this. Something was brewing in Gotham, and Batman was at the center of it all.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts @cat-purrsonified @blue-aconite @junggoku @ohheyitsrowan @angxlictexrs @glowexe @avengersgirllorianna @brynhildrmimi @takeyour-pants-off @twilightdollie @p-writes @lady-x-red @xingqiusliegee @scxrletwitches @justine-en @philiasoul @srryxmate @thecherrybombcom @minstens @call-me-nayo @cosmicbreathe @deadflowerd @iimawinchester @ventila98 @thecraziestcrayon @blossomedfloweroflove @dcgoddess @nautixa @wordsinwinters @leastlikelytoachieve @slutforblueeyes @pajerita19 @marvelsangels @leiaofthestars @lwtmonster91 @vellania @uncle-eggy @goldbvtton @angelsarecallin @rockagurl @zaminoo @saraallisonphylips @zzzvoid @moonyinthestars @wondergal2001 @livvvmp4 @lexydoodles @lauftivy @clarebear66 @marchingicenotes7 @hazel-light @eoz-stuff @moongarcia @normatural @plaidstiel-wormstache @tembo-ndoto @that-girl-named-alex @lokigoeschoki @johnmurphys-sass @moonlighttfoxx @earthgirl616 @acceptedbyace @sinkin7pm @vi0letblu3s

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #battinson fic #the batman fic #the batman x reader #batman x reader #the batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #battinson imagine #the batman #the batman 2022 #battinson #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #shadows in the night #sitn #always forgetting tags tbh

286 notes · View notes

dollfaceksj · 6 months

Note

Why put it on Patreon? It’s not fair for the other readers that didn’t do anything. The ones that keep sending the ask are probably the same young people and just trolling knowing that it gets under your skin. Especially since it’s a Jungkook fic. His fics are usually on the top search bar so of course people are greedy and impulsive and ask about the update daily even you though you have answered about it billions times

where did i say i’d put in patreon? the answers weren’t serious.

and even if, patreon would only mean some ppl would get it earlier than the rest. or would just have access to teasers, deleted scenes, spoilers.

that being said, if i wanted to put my stories on patreon, i would have done so a long time ago

and to be honest, this isn’t just about jungkook. ppl ask me for updates on cal and my other stuff all the time. that does not excuse spamming authors with asks about updates cause frankly this might sound dramatic but it just gets dehumanizing over time

it’s not like i mind questions like “hows the chapter going?” its the “when”s.

it’s like y’all only gaf abt the story and not about how much time the author is putting into it or just the author in general.

i got an ask not too long ago in which an anon said “i usually don’t like memes in my fics but this was well done” excuse me but when the hell did it become YOUR fic?

it’s something sooo small yet something that bothers me. you never see it being used for other content creators.

no one ever tells a fanartist “i usually prefer my fanart with more shading but this is really good”. no one ever tells an editor “i usually prefer my edits without so many transitions but this is great”.

i don’t want to sound dramatic but for some reason no one bats an eye when someone goes “i prefer my fics like this” despite just being a consumer. how hard is it to just describe them as the fics you read/fics you like? it’s like ppl really just don’t care about authors

anyways. i have a ko-fi account where you can donate if you like my stuff and i’m satisfied with that.

when i start writing/posting the long series that i have planned i might start something like patreon or kofi memberships for early teasers and extra content. for now, i just wanna take my time and enjoy writing instead of feeling like i have to

#clover over

12 notes · View notes

ls-salvation-squad · 1 year

Text

r/Lovestruck Archives Update - 30 Dec 22

Hello everyone!

We are incredibly proud to say that ALL of the LS routes have been completely archived and published on our YouTube channel! The remaining unreleased archive files will continue to be published on a bi/weekly basis on our discord server.

This incredible feat could only have been accomplished by our dozens of archivists and even more dedicated group of editors who tireless laboured throughout the year without much fanfare or recognition due to the secrecy that was needed to keep our project under wraps in the early stages. And the more-than-generous donations to our ko-fi have ensured that these assets and content would be homed safely and accessibly for another 2 - 3 years to come.

But our work ain't done!

We still have a couple of extra surprises up our sleeves, especially for the really OG Voltage USA fans. Keep a look out for an update from us again on 1 Jan 2023 on our respective platforms.

In the meantime, here's a couple teasers for what's to come.

Happy holidays.

#lovestruck voltage #lovestruck archive #lovestruck #queen's gambit voltage #kisses & curses #ren'py #voltage games

58 notes · View notes

tdvzine · 9 months

Text

General Rules

Each participant’s conduct will be expected to adhere to all tumblr, AO3, and discord terms of service throughout the event. Our server rules will include an addition of no kink/ship/character shaming. We reserve the right to remove you from the event if you repeatedly violate TOS rules.

Any form of racism, colorism, homophobia, biphobia, aphobia, transphobia, sexism, xenophobia, islamophobia, ableism, classism, or any other form of discriminatory behavior is strictly forbidden. If any of the aforementioned discriminatory conducts is done by you on any platform and brought to our attention, we reserve the right to decline your registration and submission.

All mods and contributors need to fill out an application in order to participate (arriving September 8th for mods, and October 1st for contributors).

For the mod applications, previous modding experience is preferred but not a necessity.

All participants must be 18+ (if submitting a photograph and or/cosplay, everyone in the submission must be 18+ and have given permission to be included in the picture).

All contributors must agree to not publicly share the exclusive content they create for the event until two weeks after our first batch of physical bundles have shipped. Though teaser snippets, and partial art previews, will be encouraged during a promotional countdown.

All contributors must agree to make every effort to communicate their needs in regards to extra time, and reply in a timely manner to any emails/inquiries regarding participation status, especially if submissions require further editing before the formatting phase. Failure to do so will lead to removal from the event.

Content Rules

All content ratings/warnings/pairings will be accepted; however we will ask content creators to submit applicable ratings/warnings/tags as well. The mod team will be checking each submission, and we reserve the right to add to the submitted tags for both rating and content so each donor can make an informed decision about reading/viewing it. No one will be denied based on ratings/warnings/tags/pairings - this is solely for sorting and purchasing purposes, as we hope to provide both a SFW and NSFW option for the fandom as a whole. The more we sell, the more we are able to donate <3 Further elaborations around this can be found in our FAQ section.

Each fic will need to be a minimum of 1k, with up to 5k - and thoroughly edited for grammar and spelling. If the fic is over 5k we may ask you to “split” the fic up for the physical prints by sharing the first few chapters for the zine, and posting it in full to AO3 (this is contingent on how many writers we have involved in the project, as well as production costs and funds raised). For other forms of writing, such as recipes, songs/lyrics, poetry - we’d ask that submissions fit into one portrait framed page, or one landscape style spread across two pages.

Each piece of art will need a minimum of clean lined art (in any medium), and basic shading. If a physical piece of art, the artist will be required to upload a digital copy, not a photo, for the final product. For other forms of art (such as cosplays, photography, art pieces that would be damaged through a scanning process, etc), we will ask for a high resolution file/image hosting link for formatting. All submissions must fit into one portrait framed page, or one landscape style spread across two pages. All artistic submissions must be in a portrait A5 with a 3mm bleed, OR a landscape A4 with a 3mm bleed, and set at 300 DPI, with CYMK. We will provide PNG templates to double check bleeds and print margins before submissions are due.

Mixed media submissions like sculptures, physical collages, altered books, embroidery, or crafts in general are accepted. For physical collages in specific, we ask that you do not use fanart that has not been created by you, and that any text be readable in the requested size (see details about formatting in the point above). We do not accept digital collages or moodboards as submissions.

While we will not accept AI art (defined here as: “Artificial intelligence that uses neural networks to create new images never seen before.”), we will allow rendering and photoshop layering as part of the creative process over a hand made base (including but not limited to: importing patterns for fabrics, a stock image filtered and manipulated for the background, etc).

We reserve the right to deny the submission if it violates terms of service for any of our involved platforms. Further elaborations around this can be found in our FAQ section.

FAQ

What’s the timeline for the event?

You can see a tentative timeline in our pinned information post, under the cut :)

What does the application process look like?

We will launch an open call application on October 1st through October 15th. We will ask for an email, as well as some basic information like handles, pronouns, and what you’re hoping to contribute. No one will be denied for rating, or ship, this is solely for promotional graphics down the road of having some non identifying statistics to include in the promotional material (for example, “the zine will feature (percentage) of Loustat, and (percentage) of Devil’s Minion” etc). We’ll also ask whether your material will be based on the book, movie, or show, but again, solely for the same style of promotional material.

About a week (or two - depending on the amount of applications), we will send out a confirmation email, and a discord invite. You are not required to join in order to be included in the zine, it’s just an added option for community :)

The rest are under the cut (or you can read this post via our Google doc anytime).

So, submissions of characters/events/places outside of IWTV - like, the broader Vampire Chronicles Universe is allowed? From the books, and the movie, too?

Yup! It’s a free for all! We’ve just been marketing it as an IWTV Zine because we suspect the majority of the submissions will be in relation to the AMC adaptation.

Can I include an OC in my submission? What about a modern au?

Yup! So long canon characters are there as well, OC characters are allowed. Modern AU’s, or canon-adjacent, are also welcome. The only exception is for merch, where designs including OCs will not be allowed

Is a physical sale of anything Anne Rice related even allowed?

We had an opportunity to address that concern in this post, but the TL;DR answer is that we are prepared for a worst case scenario in that we would still offer the digital zine (including merch artist mockups) and ensure all proceeds go to charity. However, between our mod teams prior experiences with other successfully run charity zines, and the writer’s room of the show being so lovely to fandom artists’, we are encouraged to move forward as planned <3

I see that you won’t accept AI, but how will you make sure of that? What if I suspect someone has submitted an AI piece?

If you are concerned that someone’s submission is AI, please bring it to our attention. Our process would be to kindly reach out to the artist to pass on this concern and request to be shown the self made base layer. Since we do allow photoshop rendering (including but not limited to: adobe, photo apps, etc) we can appreciate the base might look rough in comparison to the finished piece, however it will not be passed on to anyone outside of the mod team, it would solely be for the purpose of ensuring it is not AI.

What do you mean when you say ‘We reserve the right to deny the submission if it violates terms of service for any of our involved platforms.’? I thought all ratings/warnings/pairings are welcome?

They definitely are! We love that our fandom has a diverse age range, stretched across international borders, and fans of everything from the books, to the movie, to the show. And we want to be as welcoming as possible to each and every interested participant by removing the specifics of a submission needing to fit within the confines of certain ratings, pairings, etc.

All that being said, we do have the draw line somewhere. The Vampire Chronicles covers some fairly heavy themes, including sexual assault, child abuse, domestic violence, and about every gore tag available. So we also need to include applicable tags for those who would prefer not to read it. This is not commentary about what someone should, or should not be allowed to make, this is solely for formatting and filtering purposes of readers/backers.

We completely understand that when tackling such heavy and/or delicate subject matters in fanworks there might be a depiction of discriminatory language/situations, however some examples that we would decline are:

1. describing the show’s Black character of Louis’ experiences with racism and homophobia in the early 20th century of Louisiana might include racial slurs - which is relational to subject matters tackled, and understandable. Yet, trying to submit a piece where say, Louis’ is a slave, and Lestat is the slave master, and the fic itself is filled with racist tropes in a gratuitous way that has nothing to do with character development, will be passed over. 2. Or another example, might be writing about Claudia’s sexuality, where we would ask you to tag it appropriately, but still accept it; but trying to submit a photo of an underage relative and sell it as “cosplay” would not be accepted. 3. Or, conveying Armand’s tragic backstory, but using Islamophobic tropes in a gratuitous way throughout that have nothing to do with the plot. Or, say, an art piece of Armand, and a prayer rug, but it’s not for religious purposes <<;

So, again, we can appreciate these are fairly extreme examples, and we understand that it is unlikely we would run into them - but we equally felt it was important to be clear.

What if it’s a subjective tag that we disagree on?

If you are unsure how to tag a submission please reach out to us, we want to be as inclusive as possible, while still honoring the informed choices of backers/readers/viewers.

While we cannot guarantee to have one, our hope is to have a sensitivity check team among our participants for a variety of subjects (racial, cultural, religious, etc). We can appreciate that what works for one, might not for another, which is why we hope to include ratings/warnings/tags with submissions solely for formatting purposes. At the end of the day it will still be the responsibility of each participant to ensure that heavy and/or delicate subjects are treated with sensitivity.

We also hope the above process can be helpful if a participant and a member of the mod team might disagree about a tag. Hopefully a check in with multiple people can provide a general consensus so we can help properly label a submission.

Again, we do not suspect this to be an issue, but believe a varied team might help us to view each piece from different angles, so we don’t miss the big picture ;)

Is there a sort of grace period between submissions, but before formatting where if there’s a concern around a tag, or sizing about an art piece, we can coordinate on any editing that needs to be done?

Definitely. Our singular goal is to raise money for charity, by providing an inclusive and welcoming community and encouraging creativity along the way. We want your pieces! We have a minimum 2 week grace period for corrections in late January. The earlier you submit, the earlier our mods can check and the more time you may have if any edits are required. At the end of the day, if we can tell you poured time and energy and love into your submission, we will do everything we can on our end to include it.

How many submissions am I allowed?

We accept a maximum of two submissions per participant. Submissions may be from the same categories (writing, art, and merch) but not the same type. For example, one fic and a recipe? Good to go! Two essays? Not allowed, sorry. Submissions from different categories (say, a meta and a digital portrait) are also fine. If you plan to submit two pieces, we highly encourage you to make at least one of them a colaborarion :)

Can I get an idea breakdown for the categories?

Writing: fic, meta, poetry, songs/lyrics, recipes (food/drinks), etc

Art: traditional, digital, cosplays, photography, faux book covers, etc

Merch: keychains, stickers, pins, postcards/prints, pouches/cases, lanyards, etc

Are there other ways for me to contribute?

Definitely! We also welcome betas, sensitivity readers, fact checkers, and of course, anyone who would like to signal boost across platforms, and contribute to the crowdfunding campaign would be lovely.

I still have a question that I don’t see the answer for?

You can reach out to us via social media platforms, but the quickest reply will likely be via our email: [email protected].

#iwtvamc #iwtv #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #tvc #iwtv fan event #iwtv fanevent #fandom event #fandom zine #fan zine #charity zine #open call zine #rules

9 notes · View notes

nicohverse · 2 years

Text

Entropic Float Biweekly Update #21

I'm running out of images that are spoiler-free enough to share here! So instead of a commission, you get one of my own CGs for the game as this update's featured art. This is for Jazz's backstory- Back when she was an undergrad! The character she's with is named Angel- Of course, someone as extroverted as Jazz would have friends outside of the main cast!

I also wanted to let everyone know that the Steam Page was approved, so while you can't donate when you download over there like you can with itch, feel free to wishlist the game if you didn't plan to donate, or just for convenience sake!

Anyway, we're so close to release now, it's time to do away with the categories and just focus on my tasklists!

My goal progress from last time:

- Draw at least 6 CGs Done! I drew all 12

- Add Steam Achievements Done!

My goals for next time:

Receive and act on remaining bug reports

Assemble and implement end credits

In this cycle, I drew the 12 remaining CGs that were on my own list. I've also received one of the eight that I have commissions in for! Furthermore, I implemented all the steam achievements, fixed a handful of bugs, and added all the text effects that I wanted for both the Miracle Route and the Standard Routes!

I commissioned a song for the end credits, but I have yet to receive a revised version necessary to actually start assembling those credits. Still, I got a headstart on display cards for voice actors and guest artists! I also used these cards to create some tiny character-specific teaser trailers to start releasing on twitter and tumblr each weekday until July. Basically, I'm getting as many extra tasks done as I can, since I'm so ahead of schedule....

In fact, all I've got left to do by release is...

Miracle Route Bug Fixes

Make End Credits

I also do still need to receive a few CGs from guest artists, but that part is out of my hands. Right now, I aim to have a build in for checks before June is over. This should be easy enough- Worst case scenario, I have to push a patch with an image or two if I don't receive them in time. That's about all I've got to say! Keep an eye out for those teaser trailers, until next time!

#visual novel gamedev #visual novel #gamedev #indie gamedev #vndev #indie games #entropic float this world will decay and disappear #official content #nicohverse #entropic float

10 notes · View notes

gyuhanniescarat · 5 months

Text

2024 UPDATES AND ANNOUNCEMENTS 📢

Hi Hiiiii my cutie pies!!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I really hope you all have been doing well over the last few weeks and had a splendidly magical holiday season!! 🥰 Happy New Year luvvies!! 🎉🥂

Welcome to 2024!!! Thank you for sticking by and/or joining me this year too! I truly am grateful and appreciative for every single one of you adorable cutie pies that interact with me on this blog through your messages, asks, likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback on my fics.

I have quite a few plans and quite a few exciting projects to look forward to in 2024, starting with the first installment of the mr. (not so) perfectly fine series. If you missed it, you can read the teaser for part 1 (Mr. Perfect Face) here. Let me know if you want to be added to the series taglist (send me an ask, send a DM, or comment).

Secondly, (don't get me wrong) I really do enjoy writing for Seventeen... but one of the things I'd like to do this year is grow my horizons as a writer and give it a shot writing for more muses. So, as of January 2024, I am opening my Groups I Write For to include more groups, soloists, and idol-actors.

Lastly, after a lengthy period of consideration, I have made a couple of updates in regards to my ko-fi. Life has been extremely rough in the last year (no thanks to my fcking patella/knee), and so I thought one such option I could give my cutie pies as a way of showing support for my drabbles and full-length stories could be through one-time tips (completely voluntarily btw).

In addition, I have decided to add two membership tiers if you want to make a monthly donation. The first tier is one where I'll be uploading a few extra 1-3k drabbles per month and sneak peeks of upcoming tumblr fics in advance.

The second tier gives you those same perks but with the addition of the ability to vote on my next full fic and exclusive access to bonus drabble continuations of my full-length stories. Don't worry, I will continue to post on Tumblr regularly, so don't feel obligated to leave a tip or join my tiers!!

I will also be opening up to taking commissions on my ko-fi as well, if that's something of interest to you.

Any contributions to my ko-fi are a completely voluntary act. Tipping, Monthly donations, and Commissions are considered as a small thank you, from you to me, as an appreciation of my work and artistry 😊.

I love writing fics as a way of continuing to put my english degree to use, and writing in general. I do enjoy writing for free and being engaged in the many fandoms of kpopblr, so if monetary contributions aren't within your means or you don't want to, then please just continue to read my stuff, comment, reblog, and/or give me feedback via asks. All those forms of interaction are a form of payment to my soul.

Anyways, thank you so much for taking the time to read through all of this, and whether or not you ever decide to venture over to my ko-fi, I hope to see you around this side of our beautiful hellsite again soon, and I hope 2024 is everything you've ever dreamed of and more!! 🥰🫶🏻

#gyuhannie talks #jessi's updates #jessi.txt #gyuhannie.txt

1 note · View note

ardenpodcast · 1 year

Text

We're so close to hitting the HUGE MILESTONE of $4000!

Every benchmark we pass during this campaign means we're able to make more episodes in Season 3 and pay our outstanding cast and crew. Thank you for helping us make next season the best it can be!

And to thank all of you Good People who've supported us, we've got TWO surprises in store when we hit $4000:

1. An exclusive teaser regarding next season's episode titles, and...

2. Details on how YOU can take home a little extra Wheyface Industries swag for yourself!

Drop by our Indiegogo campaign to show your support for Arden season 3 - every donation helps!

#arden pod #arden podcast #support arden season 3 on indiegogo now #arden season 3 #wheyface industries #indiegogo #fiction podcasts

1 note · View note

royaltysuite · 2 years

Text

!!!!!NEW STORY ALERT!!!!!

Readers: WAIT WHAT?! RoyaltySuite, didn't you say that the blog was on hiatus?

Us: Yes, but it wouldn't hurt to drop something new every now and then.

Readers: But what about your other series? Are you guys still working on those?

Us: We are. We're just writing out and planning future chapters, but we post teasers every so often.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We know that some of you guys are anxiously waiting for new chapters to be posted. However, the blog is still under hiatus. We continue to ask and appreciate any support that floats our way for our fellow writers in need. But, we still want to produce content for you all to enjoy. So, with that being said, here's the new story alert.

This series is a pretty old one for us, so we thought to revamp it. The original story can be found on our Quotev page @Minegal. On here, it's called RPM: Rev Up the Magic. It's fandom is for the Power Rangers RPM series and there's not really much content for it, so with inspiration found and given to us by @redhairedwolfwitch with their RPM series, we decided to post ours to revive the fandom. It strays a bit from its original genre trope because of the supernatural aspects added to it, but it still follows the show's original plot line.

This post will up on the blog tomorrow at around 12pm EST along with the first two chapters. So, with that being said, we hope that you all continue to support this blog. Stay Classy~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

!!!!!EXTRA ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!!

We've now opened up our blog to being tipped on Tumblr. Tips are always appreciated and welcomed. This is completely the reader's choice to do so. However, we will not accept any disrespect or rudeness from anyone. If that does happen, anonymous or not, proper action will be held. We also have a GoFundMe page for one of our writers who just got out of the hospital. She can barely afford to pay what the hospital is asking of her, so if any of you are willing to donate, please head over to our Tumblr. We will be so very thankful and appreciative to anyone that can donate. The link will be found on our Tumblr.

#once upon a time #arcane x reader #encanto #resident evil #x reader #fnaf security breach #avengers x reader #once upon a time x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #jujutsu kaisen #mha x reader #twilight

8 notes · View notes

mogirl09 · 1 year

Text

Fundraising Frenzy: Bringing Celebrity Skin and The Veil to Print!

Get Ready for the Fundraising Madness! If you’re a book lover, then you’re in for a treat! The fundraising madness is about to begin, and it’s all for a good cause. We are excited to announce that Book Baby will be publishing two fantastic novels, Celebrity Skin and The Veil! These two books are tied to each other, they are my passion projects, That deserve to end up in bookstores, and kindle! It…

View On WordPress

#amwriting #celebrityskin #DailyStory #writerscommunity #About Me #Author #books #Celebrity Skin #Celebrity Skin Series #crowdfunding #donate #erin oliver novel #Eva #Ezra #self publsihing #Short Story #teaser and extras to donate #The Veil #writers

0 notes

hollandorks · 2 years

Text

shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter six

a/n: yay another chapter! Finally hitting my stride and have written almost two chapters this week (eleven chapters total, about halfway through the movie now) so hopefully I’ll keep this up and can start posting more frequently! Thanks for the continued love and feedback, you guys are the best!

If you feel like supporting me further, even a small donation to my ko-fi gets you a teaser for the next chapter! Here’s the information and link to my ko-fi.

Series Masterlist

word count: 3118

She was going into the Iceberg Lounge for the first time in more than a year, and she was going to get some fucking answers.

Bruce was gone by the time y/n woke up.

Following a lead, was all his text message said. She sighed a little, unsure how long he’d slept, but glad that he had slept. Sometimes, that was all she could ask for.

And besides, she had to follow a lead of her own.

She went out and straight to the wig shop, selecting something that was as different from her own hair as she could get. The shop owner showed her how to put it on, then she went straight home to get ready after a quick meal.

She dressed carefully, putting on her old work uniform from the Iceberg Lounge. One of them had been covered in blood, but the other still fit, albeit a little tighter now. It was amazing what not running for your life could do to your body, she thought as she buttoned the small bra-like shirt. She’d gained a bit of healthy weight.

She put on heavy makeup, much darker than she would ever wear, and put on the high-end wig she had purchased just for this occasion. When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself.

Perfect.

Lena was meeting her behind the Iceberg Lounge in less than an hour.

Y/n decided to take the subway instead of her own car. She also kept her taser in her coat pocket. Just in case.

She knew Bruce would be upset that she was going back to the club. That’s why she hadn’t told him. And really, she reasoned to herself, she hadn’t had much time. She’d kind of tried to jump him immediately when he’d gotten home. And then they had gone right to sleep afterwards.

He’d taken the extra contact lens and earpiece for some reason, but she didn’t need it.

All she was doing was seeing her friend and listening to gossip. Maybe serving some drinks, maybe flirting. Asking a couple of questions.

That was all.

Her heart picked up the pace as she rounded the last corner, the all-too familiar back door coming into sight. A million tiny memories flashed through her mind as she inhaled the smell of rain-soaked exhaust and cigarette smoke. A man shoving her against the bricks. Bruce’s arms around her as the Batman. A bullet barely missing her. Marie’s blonde hair shimmering in the street lights. A kiss in the rain on a nearby rooftop.

Breathe, she reminded herself as she saw Lena.

“Bouncer’s newer,” Lena mumbled as they linked arms. “He knows me, tries to flirt, so I’ll deflect his attention and we’ll head straight downstairs. They’ve got extra security on the elevators these days but it shouldn’t be too hard to get by.”

Breathe, y/n told herself again. “You sound like a spy already.”

Lena ignored her as she yanked open the back door.

As promised, the bouncer was immediately flirting with Lena, who batted her eyelashes prettily and introduced y/n with a fake name. She was the new girl, Lena said, only her second time downstairs. Lena had promised to teach her some tricks.

The bouncer was smiling and blushing as he thought about exactly what tricks Lena might be teaching downstairs.

Y/n was barely listening.

The sounds, the smells, the lights, all of it was overwhelming. Her mind was an onslaught of memory after memory, terror after terror. For one brief moment, she was afraid that she couldn’t move her body without a command from someone else. The last time she’d been inside this place, she’d been drugged.

Then Lena was tugging on her hand and she was able to step forward on her own and into the employee elevator, past a guard with a mustache and a broken nose.

“You don’t look so good,” Lena said after the doors slid shut.

Y/n closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. “I think I might have a panic attack.”

“If you get me in trouble here–”

“I won’t, I’m fine. Besides, if you just took me up on my offer–”

“I don’t need your fiance’s money,” Lena said for the thousandth time. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen, just get what you need and get out before you get recognized. I’m risking a lot by bringing you here.”

Y/n grabbed Lena’s hands with both of her own. “I know. God, I know. I’m going to be careful, I swear.” Because her getting caught and getting Lena in trouble wouldn’t mean Lena getting fired. It meant that Lena would be beaten within an inch of her life and her debts would multiply. Or worse, her son might be in danger.

The doors slid open, music pouring out.

Y/n’s heart stuttered, but she straightened her spine and followed Lena straight to the bar.

“I’m in section three tonight, you can shadow me from there until you get the hang of things,” Lena said, all business now that there were people everywhere. Y/n was immediately on alert. She marked faces that looked familiar, hoping to spot a potential target or maybe the girl who had disappeared. She was hoping, more than anything, that the girl wasn’t actually missing. She was hoping she’d been smart and simply made a run for it.

“Busier than I remember,” y/n murmured as they both took a drink tray to section three’s guests. There were also more dancers–pole dancers, to be exact. Strippers. And it looked like one half of the private rooms had been excavated to create private booths.

“But slightly less sleazy, if you can believe,” Lena muttered back. “Only slightly.”

They served drinks, made small talk, even distributed Drops to some of the patrons. Y/n’s gut clenched when she thought about Bruce seeing her hand out drugs.

“See either of the girls you mentioned?” y/n asked after half an hour had gone by. They were at the bar again, picking up drink orders. It was almost too easy to slip back into the club’s rhythm. Things were slightly different but really it was like nothing had changed. The essence of the place was the same. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the shitty patrons. All of it was the same.

“No. Selina usually worked upstairs, but Annika…she was with the mayor a lot.” Lena’s eyes darted around. Y/n knew they were thinking the same thing–girls from this place didn’t show back up alive when they went missing. And now neither did the rich and powerful.

“Anyone else she hung out with?” y/n asked as she hefted the drink tray. It was much busier than it had ever been while she worked there. Things were less exclusive. Probably the Penguin or the club’s real owner figured out they would make more money by letting more people downstairs.

Lena tilted her head slightly to a table the next section over. A balding man sat with a group, all doing Drops and getting generally shitfaced. Drops hadn’t been as big of a deal a year ago, either. She frowned. She thought the bust of that guy Maroni had put a stop to the Drops. Apparently not in the Iceberg Lounge. Not if the amount they were handing out to patrons was any indication.

She recognized one of the girls at the table, Carla, she thought her name was. She had never talked to her, really.

“Carla,” Lena murmured to answer her question as they served drinks to the table. Annika had spent time with Carla, then. Y/n tried not to be obvious as she studied the girl in question.

“Hey, gorgeous. You new?” a man said as he grabbed y/n’s wrist. She tried to contain her shudder and forced a smile to her lips. She forced her fist to loosen.

“I sure am. Save me a dance later?” she said with a fake flirtatious smile.

Images flashed through her head again and took her breath away. Dancing with Bruce. With Maxwell. The private room, light turning from green to red, a cloud of mist in her face. Blood on her hands. Bruce’s blood. Maxwell’s blood. Marie’s blood.

With a trembling breath, she had to turn away. It’s over, she told herself. All of that stuff was over. She didn’t work at the club anymore. She wasn’t trapped. Maxwell was dead, the old mayor behind bars, and she was going to make sure it stayed that way in next month’s trial. Besides–the room she’d been drugged in was now gone, a private and shadowed booth in its place. The rooms on the other side of the dance floor were all red. But the one she’d been in was gone. She forced herself to take another deep breath.

“That’s her,” Lena said, effectively distracting y/n’s chaotic thoughts. “Selina.”

The woman in question had bright red hair that was cut short, eyeing and smiling at several of the men as she made her way towards the table they were still serving.

“--not do this right now?” Selina was saying as she passed by.

Y/n went to follow her, but Selina stopped and turned, eyeballing the bald man at Carla’s table. Lena poked a sharp finger into her back to keep her moving.

“Don’t be so obvious. Get the next order so I don’t get in trouble,” Lena hissed in her ear as she tugged y/n along behind her.

As y/n walked past, she heard Selina say, “Hey, aren’t you the DA?”

Another memory flashed through her head. Hadn’t the DA learned his lesson last year when the assistant district attorney had been killed? Now he was here, in the Iceberg Lounge, doing things he shouldn’t be doing. A wave of rage washed through y/n. She clenched her fists and struggled to keep the anger off of her face.

She had to focus on doing what she needed to do without getting Lena in trouble. She knew what men like the Penguin did to the girls down here to punish them. Her shoulder still ached sometimes with a ghost of pain from the night she’d been beaten.

Y/n cast a look over her shoulder and met eyes with Selina. The girl frowned as the DA leaned in and said something. Selina blinked and turned back to the man at her side, resting one palm on his knee.

She finally caught up with Lena at the bar.

“I need to talk to her,” y/n said to Lena. “Her friend Annika was kidnapped or something.”

Lena went still. “It’s–don’t tell me this shit is starting again.” Her hands shook ever so slightly.

“I don’t know,” y/n said honestly. “But powerful men connected to this place–that seems to be who that Riddler guy is targeting. Not employees. I think Selina might be able to connect some dots for me.”

Lena blew out her breath. “I’ll try and see what time her shift is done, alright?”

Y/n squeezed the girl’s hand and reached for a drink tray. As she did, Selina and Carla appeared to her left.

“Where’s Annika?” Selina demanded. Y/n angled her back to them so she could eavesdrop. She motioned for Lena to go ahead of her and pretended to wait on another drink.

“Out of my face. I don’t know you,” Carla snapped.

“Yeah, but you know her. Who took her? What have you heard? Is she okay?” Selina’s voice was desperate. Afraid. Y/n had to close her eyes for a second. She was remembering too much, being in this place again. God, it was like Marie all over again. She hoped Annika, wherever she was, whoever had taken her, was okay. That she wouldn’t meet the same fate as Marie. That, if she was in trouble, they could save her in time.

“Jesus Christ, keep your voice down. What, you got a death wish?”

A new voice cut in, a man. An all too familiar man. “Hey, what’s the problem, ladies?”

“There’s no problem. It’s just girl talk.” Carla’s voice had shifted. She was all polite deference now.

“Let’s keep it festive down here, all right?”

Y/n froze. She would know that voice anywhere. Her blood ran cold, then hot.

The Penguin.

“Sure thing, Oz.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Carla move past first, then the Penguin, waddling after her. Y/n ducked her head. She was wearing thick makeup and a wig, but she didn’t want to risk being recognized. She wouldn’t get Lena in trouble.

Her ears were ringing. The sound of her own heart beating was louder than the music and chatter of the club.

God, she couldn’t panic now. She had to talk to Selina.

She blinked, unsure where Lena was, the second tray of drinks still untouched on the bar before her.

“Don’t be a stranger,” a man was saying to Selina when y/n was finally able to focus again. She turned in time to see an older man in sunglasses walk around Selina and rejoin the Penguin.

Selina bolted. Y/n hurried after her. She would catch up with Lena later. First she needed to talk to Selina.

The crowd almost made her lose the other girl. At least her hair was bright red. Y/n caught sight of her shoving open the swinging doors for the women’s bathroom, reserved for the patrons. The girls had balls, if she was risking going into a customers-only bathroom.

“--mob spot,” Selina was saying as y/n pushed open the doors.

“I don’t have a relationship with him!” Selina almost shouted after a brief pause. She looked up into the mirror and locked eyes with y/n. Who was Selina talking to? Y/n hesitated. “Forget it,” Selina muttered, leaning forward and sticking a finger into her eye. “Listen, I can’t do this anymore.”

Y/n froze as Selina popped out a very familiar looking contact lens.

“Where did you get that?” she asked before she could stop herself. Her heart stuttered a bit.

“What?” Selina asked, whirling around. She rested her hands on the lip of the sink behind her. Y/n hated that she noticed how, well, gorgeous Selina was. She was petite but curvy in all the right places, her skin a warm brown, her eyes done with perfect makeup. This was who Bruce was working with? She sucked in a sharp breath and reminded herself of the ring that currently rested between her breasts, hidden on a chain. Being jealous was stupid. Besides, Lena had said she thought this girl and Annika might have been involved.

Y/n crossed her arms. “The contact. Where’d you get it?”

Selina glanced away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, alright?” she said defensively. She made to walk out, but y/n stepped in front of her.

She held up a placating hand. “It was him, wasn’t it? The Bat.”

Selina went utterly still. An unnatural stillness. It almost reminded her of Bruce.

“Listen, I’ve worked–I worked with him before, so I know what that thing is. And he–he was with you the other night wasn’t he? When your friend was taken?” The words came spilling out of her in a rush. “She’s missing, right? There have been missing girls from here before. I cracked that case, me and him.” Her words were coming in a rush, barely making any sense, but she needed Selina to understand. They were on the same team.

“I–” Selina started. Her heavily lined eyes blinked slowly. “That was you? How do you–”

“It doesn’t matter how I know all of that, okay? I used to work here. I know how things are. I want to help you.” Y/n felt a familiar desperation curling within her gut. She would not let herself think of Marie. Of the girls before Marie that she had failed to save.

“That’s why he recognized you. Just now. He was shouting in my ear, but–” Selina huffed a humorless laugh.

Y/n’s stomach sank. “Oh, he is going to be so pissed off that I’m here.” Pissed off was actually a bit of an understatement, but Bruce could get over himself.

“Why are you here?” Selina asked. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Y/n knew she was suspicious. She would be too, if their positions were reversed.

“I’m tired of girls like us getting caught in the fucking crossfire,” she said vehemently. “I want to help you find your friend.”

“You’re the only one,” Selina muttered. “Your friend the Bat is kind of a dick, you know that right?”

Y/n bit back a smile. “He’s worried about the bigger picture. The Riddler’s murders. But I want to help you find your friend.”

“How?” Selina’s voice broke ever so slightly. She was worried, y/n could tell that much.

“I don’t know. But I have a feeling it’s all connected. Do you know anything about potential targets? Like the DA you were talking to?”

Selina shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. He said something about a rat, but–I just want to keep Annika out of this mess.”

Y/n bit her lip and thought hard for a second. So Bruce had been watching Selina’s exchange with the DA. He would be following that lead. “Did Annika hang out with anyone other than the mayor?” she finally asked.

Selina shook her head. “Just him. They–they had a thing together, you know? He stole her passport to hold over her, but…he was the only one she was seeing. We were…we were supposed to get out of here. Together.”

“Do you remember anything else that could tell us who took her?”

Selina shook her head. “No, I figured it was some crony of the mayor’s. Trying to clean up his mess.”

Y/n nodded. “Okay. I–here, let me give you my number.”

Y/n had adopted a “work phone” like Bruce had. It had helped in cases like Kendra’s, when she needed more information without revealing her identity. Bruce Wayne’s fiance got almost as much attention as he did, after all, and she didn’t want anything tying her to the Batman if she could help it. Or to her nighttime activities.

“Let me know if you find out anything, okay?” y/n said after typing her information into Selina’s phone. She wasn’t sure where the other girl had been hiding it in her tiny little leather outfit. “I promise I’ll keep trying to find her.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks. I have to go.” Selina flashed a smile and was gone before y/n could blink.

She sighed and looked at her own unfamiliar reflection in the mirror.

It was time to go face Bruce.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts @cat-purrsonified @blue-aconite @junggoku @ohheyitsrowan @angxlictexrs @avengersgirllorianna @brynhildrmimi @takeyour-pants-off @twilightdollie @p-writes @lady-x-red @xingqiusliegee @scxrletwitches @justine-en @philiasoul @srryxmate @thecherrybombcom @minstens @call-me-nayo @cosmicbreathe @deadflowerd @iimawinchester @ventila98 @thecraziestcrayon @blossomedfloweroflove @dcgoddess @nautixa @wordsinwinters @leastlikelytoachieve @slutforblueeyes @pajerita19 @marvelsangels @leiaofthestars @lwtmonster91 @vellania @uncle-eggy @goldbvtton @angelsarecallin @rockagurl @zaminoo @saretria @zzzvoid @moonyinthestars @wondergal2001 @livvvmp4 @lexydoodles @lauftivy @clarebear66 @marchingicenotes7 @hazel-light @eoz-stuff @moongarcia @normatural @plaidstiel-wormstache @tembo-ndoto @that-girl-named-alex @lokigoeschoki @johnmurphys-sass @moonlighttfoxx @earthgirl616 @acceptedbyace @sinkin7pm @vi0letblu3s

214 notes · View notes

handeaux · 3 years

Text

17 Curious (And Occasionally Famous) Cincinnati Dogs

Early Aeronaut

Richard Clayton, proprietor of a watch shop on the corner of Sycamore and Second streets in Cincinnati, gained international fame in 1835 when he flew a balloon from Cincinnati to Monroe County, Virginia. Shortly after liftoff from an amphitheater on Court Street, between Race and Elm, Clayton released a parachute which descended slowly to earth. Suspended from the parachute was a little (and unnamed) dog, who was returned safely to its owner. The owner refused large sums of money to part with his pioneering aeromutt.

Lusus Naturae

Cincinnati witnessed the birth of a most unusual dog in 1858. A bull terrier owned by Smith Betts of Western Row (today’s Central Avenue) gave birth to a litter including a puppy with three normal legs and a foreleg from which, where a paw should have been located, was a perfectly formed puppy head. According to the Cincinnati Commercial Tribune [17 May 1858]: “The little curiosity was as lively as a cricket, but Mr. Betts procured the service of a lad, who, for a dime, drowned it in the canal.”

Dog Days At The Zoo

In its early days, the Cincinnati Zoo offered displays of dogs. On the Zoo’s opening day in 1875, visitors could view a Newfoundland, two mastiffs, some poodles, “Danish hounds” (Great Danes) and greyhounds. Some of these dogs were trained performers, but others merely illustrated unfamiliar breeds. Cincinnatians could purchase dogs from the Zoo if they wished. The Zoo advertised Saint Bernard dogs especially as “docile . . . but a terror to tramps and evil-doers.”

A Canine Con Artist

Attorney John J. McCarthy had a friend who owned a dog. The dog preferred the company of Mr. McCarthy to that of his actual owner. As the Enquirer [27 January 1891] told it, the dog, on command, would sit up, wear a hat and smoke a cigar while displaying the “most sage look.” McCarthy turned down multiple offers to sell the dog, repeatedly explaining that he did not own the mutt. Some buyers persisted, however, to the extent that McCarthy took their money and turned over the dog. After every purchase, however, the dog was back at McCarthy’s feet within the hour.

A Dog With A Job

Willie Theobald was a clerk at the American District Messenger Office on Vine Street in 1894 and he owned a dog named Purp who followed him to work. In the days before email and faxes, a lot of business communication traveled through the city by messenger and Willie supervised a troop of young messengers – and a dog. While Willie sat at his desk, making assignments, Purp accompanied messengers on their rounds and often delivered messages on his own. Purp waited patiently until the receipt book was signed, then trotted back to Willie to await his next task.

A Vet’s Pride

Veterinarian L.A. Anderson was known throughout Cincinnati because of his dog, Jeff, esteemed to be the smartest canine in town. One day in 1894, Jeff was, as was his habit, holding the reins of his master’s horse while Dr. Anderson attended to some business. When a rainstorm blew up, Jeff led the horse onto the pavement and under the awning of a nearby store. As the rain abated, Jeff led the horse back into the street to await Dr. Anderson’s return.

It’s Not easy Being Green

Oscar A. Stuckenberg, a clerk in the city engineering office, donated to Cincinnati’s Natural History Museum the freshly deceased body of a greyhound pup which had died 36 hours after birth, 23 February 1897. The color of its coat was distinctly asparagus green, except the head, which was the ordinary grey color. Museum curators scrubbed the corpse with soap, then soaked it in alcohol for several hours, but were unable to remove the color. “Mr. Stuckenberg's assurance that the pup was born with the green color can not be doubted,” they concluded.

Pug In Lieu Of A Ring

Margaret Harrison was one of the most sought-after young ladies in Cincinnati, if not for her own charms then for the riches of her father, Learner Blackman Harrison, president of the First National Bank. She accepted the proposal of Ezra Howard Child, son of a wealthy Massachusetts manufacturer but, it being 1900, thought engagement rings were too old-fashioned for a modern couple and requested a dog instead. Margaret’s fiancé complied, and a pug, decorated with a white satin ribbon, accompanied her throughout the ceremony, attended by one hundred guests, at her parent’s house on Grandin Road.

Cincinnati’s Most Intelligent Dog

Word got around in 1902 that Prince, a white and brown water spaniel owned by Mr. and Mrs. Walter M. Wirthwine of Evanston, could do anything except speak. The Wirthwines talked to Prince continually as they trained him and this, it was believed, educated Prince to understand every word spoken, so that he followed every command to the letter. Although 10 years old, Prince was described as frisky as a puppy, and much beloved by the neighbors on Harvard Avenue.

Cincinnati’s First Police Dog

Visitors to the Greater Cincinnati Police Museum are greeted by the stuffed remains of a scruffy mutt in a display case. This is Handsome, beloved companion of the Cincinnati Police who patrolled Rat Row, Sausage Row and the other unsavory neighborhoods that constituted what is now The Banks but was once known as The Bottoms. Handsome’s feats of investigative skill spread far and wide. On his demise in 1915, the cops chipped in and had Handsome preserved through taxidermy. For a while, he decorated police headquarters, but he’s now at home in the museum.

An Extra Leg

In 1926, somebody dropped off an unusual dog to Hamilton County Sheriff Richard Witt who, back then, also served as the county’s dog catcher. There was nothing wrong with the little puppy except that it had five legs. Witt turned the little fellow over to his deputy, Charles “Buck” Hauser, who promised to take care of it. Hauser had a history with freak animals; he also provided a home to a three-legged rooster.

Danny Dumm’s Greyhound

Cartoonist Harold E. Russell inked daily sports highlights for the Cincinnati Enquirer over a 52-year career that ended only with his death in 1966. Along the way, Russell is credited with inventing mustachioed Mister Red and the Cincinnati Royals logo. He also created a miniature alter ego named Danny Dumm who provided commentary on Russell’s cartoons for decades. In 1928, promoting racing meets at a Springdale greyhound track, Danny adopted a dog and the Enquirer ran a contest to name the pooch. Inundated with thousands of entries, Russell got two assistants to help him pick the eventual winning name – Big Swig – submitted by Miss Evelyn Klopp of Norwood.

Big Jon & Sparkie’s Pooch

For a decade, beginning at WSAI in 1948 and later on the ABC network, the most popular show on radio, “Big Jon & Sparkie,” was produced here in Cincinnati. Big Jon was the show’s host, Jonathan Arthur Goerss. Sparkie was an elf from the Land of Make Believe who wanted to become a real boy. Most of the characters were based on writer Don Kortekamp’s Cincinnati childhood, including Sparkie’s mischievous dog, a Boston toy terrier named Bunny.

Uncle Al’s Dog

From 1950 to 1985, it seemed mandatory for every kid in Cincinnati to appear at least once on WCPO’s Uncle Al Show. In addition to host Al Lewis himself and his wife, Wanda, aka “Captain Windy,” the show featured a multitude of supporting characters. Many of the subsidiary roles on the Uncle Al Show were created by artist and set designer Thomas York, including Ringo Rango the cowboy, Lucky the Clown, Chief Red Feather, Charley the Horse, the Merry Mailman and, of course, Pal the Dog.

Hattie The Witch’s Hound

At least two generations of Cincinnati children grew up with the Larry Smith Puppets, from his days on the Uncle Al Show on WCPO-TV through his decade-long run as the host of Larry Smith’s Cartoon Club on WXIX-TV. In addition to “Batty Hattie from Cincinnati,” Teaser the Mouse and Rudy the Rooster, the central canine character in this puppet menagerie was Snarfy R. Dog.

WEBN’s Program Director

When radio station WEBN first went on the air from a small, blue Considine Avenue house on “Price’s Mountain,” the owner and chief on-air personality, attorney Frank Wood Sr., was meticulous in crediting the talents of program director Miles Duffy. Visitors to the station may have suspected something funny about a dog bowl labeled “Miles.” In fact, Miles Duffy was a cocker spaniel, drafted into that significant position to give the impression WEBN’s employee roster was larger than it was. When Miles went to doggy heaven, the Woods had him taxidermied.

Cincinnati Reds In The Dog House

No review of Cincinnati dogs could be complete, of course, without featuring Marge Schott’s Saint Bernards, known as Schottzie and Schottzie 02. Reds managers were subjected to rubdowns with dog hair in often-vain attempts to attract good luck, groundskeepers had to pick up dog poop off the field, players had to dodge the beasts during pre-game warm-ups and the dogs sat front and center in the team photos during Schott’s ownership of the team.

#cincinnati dogs #danny dumm #marge schott #uncle al #larry smith #big jon and sparkie #cincinnati zoo

15 notes · View notes

colonyworkshop · 2 years

Photo

Jon, a hardy Stag Beetle, makes his journey across Arboria carrying all of his possessions and his little friend- Bluebottle. They travel South in the hopes of finding somewhere to settle down a bit further away from the capital. I have basically been working on this drawing since I got back from hospital and it feels so good to finally have it finished (and in time to upload today!). This was drawn from a sketch I put together last year and have had to work on this during short drawing sessions while I recover. It's still a little difficult for me to sit up and draw for more than a couple of hours and I keep pushing myself a bit hard, but I'm just really desperate to get back into it! 🦋 I recorded a timelapse for this one which can be viewed on YouTube! It shows a lot of the extra effort and design choices I had to make along the way, and is really interesting to see it all come together at the end! You can watch that here- https://youtu.be/UeCr_Ovd3as I also recorded a compressed version of the timelapse that I am hoping to post as a teaser on some sites. I'll post this in a few days and if it goes well it will be something I add to my upload schedule as a regular thing. While I'm here making a big ol' post I want to take a moment to say Thank You! to all of my lovely supporters on Patreon who have been backing me for the past couple of years and have been patient during my recent time off sick! ❤️ If you aren't currently supporting me and enjoy my weekly posts please consider pledging as little as £3 per month via Patreon, or making a one-off donation of £2 via Ko-fi! These income sources are massively helpful for supporting the time I put into creating the Colony WebToon and for putting towards tech costs and upgrades. Patreon members get access to extra drawing WIPs, sketchbook scans, and early access for episodes of Colony: Rise of the Monarch! 🦋 Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ColonyWorkshop Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/colonyworkshop

#stag beetle #fly #insects #bugs #fantasy character #fantasy art #Character Design #digital art #timelapse

2 notes · View notes

lucarioisinthevoid · 3 years

Note

Twitch Streamer AU???

(I planned on pushing out a FEW AU asks, but then realized I don’t even have so many. There’s going to be a FNAC event, but that will be an event, not a specific AU ask, so- I guess this is it! Very cursed AU, thank you very much Anon Small warning for mentions of blood, I think? Nothing too bad.)

Streamers, youtubers, content creators. Some people are all of these, some people are none, and some are just one- because each of them needed a very different talent. Those who could do seemingly everything were few and far between- And they ruled the entertainment scene! Thankfully though, the main three as most called them, were also always out for new content to watch. Thus they boosted those that they saw potential in. With some taking the boost and then going off to do their own thing- And some becoming good friends. It always started with a letter. Mike had the habit to do things on stream, as long as no personal details were not visible on them. He used a false email which he regularly changed, and he generally kept himself as safe as possible. Opening emails on stream could be rather fun, even if it was a risk. Sometimes it encouraged people to send bad things- So to prevent the worst, nothing would be downloaded and all emails containing images would be put into the spam bin. Better safe than sorry, the internet was full of terrible people. This day so far had been successful. And by successful it meant that Mike was SCREAMING. “I HATE SUPER MEAT BOY. I WILL COMMIT VIOLENCE AGAINST MEAT IN A MINUTE. I HAVE A BIG F-CKING STEAK IN THE KITCHEN, AND I WILL THROW IT AGAINST THE F_CKING WALL. I WILL GET A HAMMER.” The chat was going wild, cheering. The chat’s phrase of today was “tender Mikey” and it didn’t help at all. “I DID. NOT. HIT THAT! I DID NOT!” A donation popped up, with a robotic voice. ‘Oh hai Mark!’ “NOT FUNNY! NOT F-CKING FUNNY. I’M SUFFERING HERE AND ALL OF YOU SUPPORT IT. YOU’RE ALL F-CKING MONSTERS HERE, I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT. AND I’M NOT F-CKING TENDERIZING THE MEAT WHEN I SLAP IT AROUND, I’LL RIP IT INTO PIECES AND CONSUME IT RAW!” Standing up, he genuinely went to get it- And fifteen minute later he had slightly calmed down, his hands and room slightly bloody. The chat was still celebrating and donating- another thing that never failed to make Mike BEG them to stop and use the money for something GOOD and SENSIBLE, LIKE THEM-FUCKING-SELF- but he had gotten out most of the energy. “Alright. Alright everyone. ENOUGH. I gotta stop you HERE. It’s email time.” A celebratory jingle played, as Mike booted up the website, opening the inbox. Memes, storytime, I’m-not-fucking-reading-that-and-you-know-it, and- One of the emails caught his- and the chat’s- attention, however. Sender: Fazbear Entertainment Topic: Challenge Needless to say- once again the chat was out of control and this time there was NOTHING Mike could do to stop them. After opening the email, Mike slowly took a deep breath and looked into the camera, between concerned and honored- But that wouldn’t be enough to rip him from his carefully maintained persona. So he audible scoffed- albeit him being unable to hide an excited grin. “Alright bitches and bastards in the audience- we’re firing SuperMeatBoy up again. You won’t be catching ME losing to a pink son of a bitch anytime soon!” After the letter- provided it was accepted and responded to, the production happened. The deal was that a teaser was dropped on the big channel- The entire video itself was put on the smaller one, attracting the viewers over and hopefully make them more likely to want to see the other works the creator had put out. It was a win-win overall, the big channel being able to vary their content, testing the water for new things- and the smaller channel getting a boost and a lot of tips from very experienced creators. Henry and Dave were very generous people. Jeremy was sitting there, taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm. So far, everyone seemed to be rather kind, even if Jeremy was basically a complete nobody. Hell, he never wanted to be anybody. He just wanted to stream himself baking, for those who never had someone baking with them. Because baking could feel stressful, especially when you were missing ingredients or- many reasons, actually. Not only baking, but cooking too- Sometimes playing games on request, but not much in terms of requests ever came in. And now he was here in an actual studio, soon to be seen by an insane amount of people. A cooking competition. Sounded silly- you couldn’t really FIGHT in something like that… But… Henry and Dave had promised it would be fun. And they were nice. With and without the cameras rolling. Speaking off- There they were, approaching, their assistant coming along. He wore a weird phone-head, to ensure his privacy. Or something. It was kinda weird, but he had just accepted the answer he got. “Why, there you are, Jeremy! Would you like to see the equipment we have prepared?” Henry warmly asked, reaching down with his hand to help his guest stand up. “We have gotten a few extra things, just in case.” As they entered the studio, Jeremy’s invisible eyes went WIDE. “Woah- that looks really nice! I love it here! This is high quality stuff-!” “Fantastic!” Pleased Henry opened his arms in his typical theatrical manner- Before being abruptly interrupted by Dave jumping in, halfway over Henry’s shoulder. “ARE YA READY TO GO!? CAMERAS ARE READY!” “Ah- I- I guess- but-“ “YOU HEARD HIM, BOYS! GET IT ROLLIN’!” “W-wait, I don’t even have-“ “Everyone! Welcome to NOTHIN’ AT ALL!” Henry swiftly fitted in, continuing on with the intro. “Todays challenger is the man, the legend, the baker and occasional chef- Jeremy from Baking With Jeremy!” “Wait, what- that’s seriously your channel name, pal?” A bit offended Jeremy looked into the eyes of the people behind the camera. “U-uh- you guys here- I mean- he has literally called his channel Henry Miller! I- uhm- I-“ Snickering Henry put a hand on his guest’s shoulder. “You are very right about that. Say, are you nervous about losing?” “… n-no. I mean- maybe a little. This place here is big and very professional and I’m not used to many people looking at me…” Taking a deep breath, he gave off a nervous smile for the audience. “… yet, I know- it’s a good thing! And as long as everyone has fun, everything will work out!” “Awwwww, look at him!” Dave said, pleased. “You’re so right! We’ll be havin’ fun!” “But also, I will win.” Henry pointed out. “That is when I have the most fun.” Slightly playful Jeremy smiled. “K-keep that attitude, that will make it even easier to blindside you!” Simon whistled, clearly bemused as he held the camera in place- And Henry smirked. “Sure. Anyhow, the stakes are-“ “Steaks? We’re makin’ steaks? I thought we planned on-“ “Dave. I swear to god.” Henry looked at him from the side, before shaking his head. “What is on the line is easy to see- we have roughly an hour to cook the best meal. If Jeremy wins, we will donate 5000 to a charity of his choice!” “And if the young pal loses, he’ll be joinin’ our channel!” Dave chirped. This was news to the brown-haired boy. “W-wait, we never agreed to that-“ “GET TO YOUR STATIONS!” Someone in the back announced. “WHO’S TODAYS FAVORITE?” Simon checked the stream. “The chat says Jeremy is a clear winner. Nobody trusts Henry to keep his two braincells together for long enough to not forget the salt or something.” “Excuse?!” Not only Henry was APPALLED by the chat, Dave joined right in. “Ya guys have NO taste. I’ll be clearly winnin’… but hey, maybe ya peeps don’t know that I plan to cheat!” Surprised Jerry looked over to Dave’s cooking station. “How… how can you cheat at cooking-“ Before he could finish his sentence, he shrieked as Dave pulled out a flamethrower. “HELL YEAH BABY, I AIN’T WAITING 30 MINUTES FOR SOMETHING TO COOK IN THE OVEN, I’LL BE DONE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES MAX!” “W-WAIT THAT DOESN’T SEEM SAVE-“ Henry just raised his hands, cheerful. “Ready… set…” The Phone Guy made eye- well, rotary- contact with Jeremy, slightly raising a fire extinguisher that was by his side. … alright, it seemed the people here were well-prepared for this scenario. So instead he focused on the ingredients in front of him. Almost manic, Henry’s voice rang. “GO!” And… … that was it! Some joined, with amazing results- Mike rubbed his face. “Who thought that was a great idea. I fucking hate this.” Dave next to him on the couch just grinned. “It’s amazin’ what these websites all offer to sell. You won’t be BELIEVIN’ what’s in this box!” “I’M NOT OPENING IT.” “YOU WILL. OTHERWISE IT’LL HUNT YOUR DREAMS. I’LL PUT THIS BOX NEXT TO YOUR BED. YOUR TOILET. ONTO YOUR DINNER TABLE. INTO THE FRIDGE. I’LL ORDER MORE OF THESE BOXES.” “Jesus CHRIST, calm DOWN-“ “I WILL FIGHT YA TO THE DEATH OLD PAL-“ - and some people just went back to the usual pattern, with the occasional raid from Fazbear Entertainment. They asked first, of course. Each of them fulfilled their own niche, each of them had caught Henry’s and Dave’s attention in one way or another. Henry and Dave however- Well, Dave was the varied creator. Henry liked his niche. He played horror, investigated ARGs, read stories about real and fictional crimes against humanity. The world was a terrible place, wasn’t it? Yet he reveled in it. Aside from that he showed extra effects, he built machines and thought everyone one or another thing about creating special effects at home. From dry ice to genuinely ridiculous chain-reactions, Henry showed them it all. Blood too, multiple forms of it, depending on how and where it would be used. Sometimes breaking it off with more light-hearted one-off games and listening to what his community wanted to see… but the most comfortable he was with horror and analysis. He was a youtuber, a streamer, a content creator… … and one thing more. It wasn’t easy to find the code. But his intended audience were a very small amount of people. A small number of strangers. There was no way to know if anyone ever made it to more than one show, but Henry did not care. It wasn’t for them that he did this. Him and William moved down, down below the set, into the lowest regions of the house. The workshop. Nobody really question why you added what to your home if you were a creative person. Even less so if you were a famous, eccentric creator. Yes, the free reign was what he REALLY loved about his job. Maybe he should build his studio somewhere else- But like this it was so much more thrilling! Wordlessly both of them put on their suits. It would hide their identity perfectly- especially the animal heads that contorted their voices a bit. Enough. Today’s participant wore a mask too- another phone head, differently made, different style, but to hide their identity too. However, the voice was in no way muffled. Panicked the person dragged on the chains keeping them attached to the chair. “H-HELLO!? HELLO!? S-SOMEONE- IS SOMEONE HERE!?” A noisy one! Delightful! Both Fredbear and Springbonnie stepped out of the shadows, one form each side. While Springbonnie put his hands gently on the shoulders of the whimpering person, Fredbear stepped in front of the camera, bowing. “Ladies and gentlemen-“ The low voice sounded more like the one of an animal than from a person. Yet it was smooth and comforting. “- I welcome you to yet another installment of our show. I am Fredbear, and over there is my wonderful assistant, Springbonnie. Today we have brought a simple stranger, a nobody who might not even be missed. Thusly I encourage you to truly be creative with your ideas. And while your votes roll in, maybe I point out that next time we will have another little game-show, with quite the effects. We might even get a real bull! You will not want to miss it.” The board above the camera blinked up, as a bitter fight of votes started, everyone wanting to see something else. Three tiers to vote on! Foreplay (light injuries), main course (heavy injury leading to death) and of course what to do with the body. Below it was a little measure for “face reveal”. Some of their viewers really enjoyed seeing the expressions during and after. It came with a risk to Fredbear and Springbonnie, as the victim being recognizable meant their general area of activity was more obvious- thus it was incredibly expensive. They knew there was every now and again law enforcement mixed up between the genuine watchers. It was thrilling too- Yet Fredbear wanted to keep this game alive as long as he could. Thus it was important to hide what they could. Fredbear was a creator first and foremost, an entertainer second- And there was nothing that attracted an HONEST, an UNRESTRAINED, a PURE audience quite like violence. Once blood spilled, humans degraded and it was wonderful. Behind him, the victim began rattling even more erratic. “WHAT- WHAT IS THIS?! LET ME OUT- PLEASE- LET ME OUT- PLEASE- I- DIDN’T DO ANYTHING-“ Burying his hands into the shoulders of Springbonnie downright cackled, enjoying the mania that always accumulated in these situation. “Be still, new friend! The audience HATES too much whining, y’know? And at least you could die with your tongue still intact, wouldn’t that be nicer than having to swallow the thing? Once it almost killed someone, boy, that sure was a bother!” His voice was changed to a cartoonish, upbeat pitch- “While the votes come in, how about we quiz today’s friend… maybe if you are smart enough, they will want you to live! It happened before… o n c e.” Fredbear took out a long scalpel, the face a morbid grimace. “Surprise us!”

7 notes · View notes

hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

Whatever Your Heart Desire

Harald+Fake Prophet! Reader (Vikings Era)

The Ambitious King

Prologue

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

As I have promised, this is the entire part of the brief teaser I had pubblished!

I am low key... very very nervous about it, because let me tell you... I am worried when I write fics for new characters, even more because of the content and ‘length’ of it, so I really REALLY hope I did my best.

As always: feedback makes our heart beast faster and our hands writer faster, it also makes us better and more experienced, so be sure to leave a comment or a reblog with something writte.

And if you want to be extra and help us writers in our free adventure, you mgiht buy us a symbolic coffee over HERE!

SUMMARY: After Harald's first visit, he has kept on coming to your hut, but he isn't the only one, as one day you found a familiar face in your hut, searching for Harald's gold, setting an entire plan in motion.

And you are only left to accept Harald's proposal.

WORDS: 12 K

WARNINGS: Dark Themes, Attemped and Mention of Rape, Graphic Description of A Poisoning Attempt, Harald Being A Cranky Old Man, HIstorically Inaccurate and Not Following the Series’ Timeline (although it is set after Halfdan’s and Astrid’s deaths!).

You didn’t worry as you saw a horse being left in front of your house.

Harald had come to visit you every Thursday since your first ‘prophecy’ to him, to gain the knowledge of his future and to know the mistakes of his past.

And today was indeed Thursday.

No matter how much you didn’t trust fully the king, his money was very much welcome in your home, no matter the fact that you were walking over a thin line, constantly risking to be discovered for the fake prophet you were.

You hadn’t pleasant words for him, because if you did, you wouldn’t have been able to properly make him believe that you were truly foreseeing his future.

Because you knew men like Harald: their future wouldn’t have ever been as successful as they wished it to be.

So, the first thing that you had told Harald when he had come to you again, after your first session, was that he had to focus on himself and not on his external ‘enemies’, which had made the blame away from him.

‘You might want the world, but you can’t have it without feeling well with yourself first’ you had explained, as you pushed him down onto the chair he was raising himself up.

And he had looked at you as if you had revealed some hidden truth.

He had handed you a hefty amount of cash, after that, and the following day he had proclaimed that he’d be staying in Vestfold, after his return from the war, instead of trying to take again Kattegat.

And although you could hear the familiar dissent through his earls, you knew that his people were happy to have the king back for a bit.

Even simply because they had to pay less the war taxes.

You knew that war had taken quite the toll on the people of Vestfold and you, on your own, had tried to help a few of the poorer with donations, although you had to admit that selling medical herbs and your own medical knowledge didn’t exactly permit you a luxurious life.

Harald’s money were indeed quite useful.

But although you were well aware that being Harald’s little ‘seer’ was quite fruitful, you knew that you couldn’t exactly last for much more than a season, even more when Harald wouldn’t see immediately the fruits of your suggestions.

He was an ambitious and impetuous man.

He wouldn’t wait to see what he had sowed.

He’d prefer to burn up the entire camp.

Hence, you had been trying to spare some coins to move away at the first signs of Harald’s disbelief in your methods.

Powerful men were downright dangerous.

Even more when they had a personal vendetta against women.

Your mother had known that all too well.

But till now, Harald had been nothing more than a lapdog, more than willing to endure your tongue-lashings in hope that they might win him new kingdoms and riches.

Poor fool.

He had already enough of that, alongside glory and fame.

And yet he searched for more.

He didn’t know that the Gods always frowned upon those who reached further than They allowed.

And eventually they’d strike them down for that.

You didn’t need to be a seer to see that Harald’s fatal flaw would have been his end.

And no matter what sweet words you spoke in his ear, destiny wouldn’t change.

Nobody could escape theirs.

You felt your head full with those thoughts, still, and pushed them away as you went to caress Harald’s horse, a soft white mare that immediately softened under your touch, as you questioned what had made Harald choose such a less threatening company, since he usually would come to you with his black stallion.

But you didn’t think too much of the horse, simply collecting store information in your mind.

What would you tell Harald, today?

That he shouldn’t underestimate the power of guilt he felt for having killed his brother?

That he had to finally confront the fact that he had reached the purpose he had set for himself, but it was still not enough for those around him?

Or that he fucking should stop pushing the blame on anyone but himself?

But you halted immediately as you moved to the threshold of the door, smelling a softer perfume than the one Harald wore naturally on his skin, something that brought you back to a shop you had visited earlier on your week.

The seamstress’ store.

Hence you weren’t surprised to find Jorun, the seamstress’ only son, who helped her out in the shop, inside your hut.

He was bit younger than you, but quite built and you couldn’t hide your uneasiness as you found him in your house, because one thing was to let Harald in, a dangerous man, but with an honorable conscience…

… and another was to let a boy like Jorun in.

An uncomfortable shiver run through your spine, as you tried to keep your breath even, comforting yourself and slapping a soft smile on your face.

You weren’t unused to finding guest in your house, but they certainly didn’t look as if they had been caught red-handed as Jorun was, looking through your herbs’ jars, a few crushed at his feet.

And you were quickly able to understand why Jorun was there.

You had spent quite the sum of money at the seamstress, a few days ago, the only vanity you had allowed with Harald’s money, ordering a few furs in case you were forced to run in the further North, and a dress, a pretty dress because you had fallen in love with the fabric, and asked Vidgis, the seamstress, to realize a dress for you with it.

Jorun had, probably, overheard your conversation and had formed this strange idea that you had gained quite a big sack of money for your services to the crown, and he had thought about stealing from you.

He knew where you lived.

He knew that you hadn’t the security measures many kept inside of the city, thinking that nature and whatever magic you wielded might would have protected you.

And he knew that you were a woman, easy to overcome, in case you came home early.

Like it had just happened.

He had lost his father in Harald’s many wars for conquering lands, and you knew that Vidgis had been struggling with her own shop.

Not many had enough wealth to buy a new dress, he certainly didn’t.

And he thought of taking what he thought was rightfully his.

In the end the money that Harald was paying you were the same ones that he paid monthly to him.

“If you had asked me, I would have given you the money” you breathed out, as you shifted against the threshold, aware that you hadn’t much choice, because if you had chosen to run away, he’d have laid waste to the hut and more importantly the few memories that you kept close to your heart “… I can still give you the money”.

And before you knew it, he was onto you, a knife at your throat, as you pleaded with him not to make any rushed decision.

Had Vidgis told her, she would have gladly given her the money she needed.

She would have paid straightforward the dress to help the woman.

But Vidgis was a proud woman, exactly like Harald.

But her son had had enough.

“Then show me where you stashed it” he intimated you, and you tried to push yourself a bit away from the blade of the knife at your throat, because you knew that with the way Jorun trembled, he could have made a big mistake.

This boy wasn’t cruel.

He hadn’t been born that way.

But hunger and vengeance had done this to him.

“They are under the fourth tile of my bedroom floor” your mother had taught you that: people could devastate an house and look through every trunks, but they wouldn’t have ever raised tiles to see what they hid.

Hence, they hid the most amazing of treasures.

“Then to your bedchamber, lady” he grimaced at you, as he led you through the small room, throwing you onto the bedroom, something for which you were grateful since his grip was so strong that it hurt you but he kept the knife unsheathed as a promise and he went to search for the money, finding it effectively.

But it was quite less than he had expected.

You had been hiding some somewhere else, deep in the forest.

And you had no intention of giving him that.

“That can’t be all…” he protested, as he threw the small bag of money across the room, before he jumped onto you on the bed, as you tried to shriek away.

Had you been able to reach out in the nightstand, you might have found your knife, stashed in the small beside table.

And although you had no intention to stab him, you hoped to put some fear in him.

Jorun wasn’t cruel or bad intentioned.

He was desperate and angry.

And that made him extremely more dangerous than a common criminal, so you hoped that pushing him to feel more fearful would have maybe made him to back off from you.

But as you were reaching out, he pushed you down on the bed, pinning your legs under his, effectively making you cease from moving any further away from him, as you tried to move your hands to push him off your body.

But although he might have been starved and malnourished, he still managed to be an unmovable rock against you, eventually pushing one of your arms back onto the bed with one of his elbows, the bone of it pushing down on your tender skin.

You certainly would have a bruise there the following day.

“Fucking tell me where you stashed it all, you whore” he spoke, although his voice left its strength through the quote, as it became more a whine, but you just fought against him, trying your best to get through him, to push him off you “… Harald must pay you well for fucking you”.

And then his mind became suddenly sharp, as a cunning smile appeared on his face.

And a shiver went down your spine, as you froze under him.

His eyes became wicked and he lost any pretense of humanity, becoming an animal guided from pure need and rage, and before you even knew it, he ripped the front of your dress, effectively baring your chest at him.

You shrieked and fought with one hand to hide yourself from him.

As you fought with your legs to try to kick him off, finally realizing what he’d do to you.

You’d already been in such a position, and the last time you had been barely out of childhood, praying to the gods that it’d end quickly but it had just continued, as your mother’s cold body laid a few steps away from you, her eyes looking at the sky as if they were sparing you the shame of catching her daughter in that act.

You had done everything in your life to try to fight this weakness.

To avoid returning under a man.

But now, it was happening.

And Jorun moved to push his pants down, as he scrunched your dress up, freeing your hands, which moved to slap his face, effectively blinding him and you managed to make your legs escape his hold, shooting a knee up and hitting his soft skin between his legs.

Then you tried to turn away, rolling off bed, your legs lightly numb but you were able to cradle as you felt Jorun screaming in pain.

If you could reach the door you’d been safe, you could close the door and push some piece of furniture against it, effectively trapping Jorunn inside your room.

But before you could move past it, you were yanked by a leg and Jorun this time straight up jumped onto you, as he fell on you, pinning you to the ground under his heavy body and you heard the noise of a bone breaking, before you felt the pain of it.

And with Jorun over you, you weren’t able to move away or try to free yourself from his hold, as he again scrunched up your dress, pushing his lips onto your neck, as you felt your body shaking and trembling as it all went back to that time, when a similar thing had happened.

And you closed your eyes, your body surrendering itself to the pain.

“… let me know why a king like so much sinking between your thighs, a fucking whoring bitch” and you closed your eyes, holding a tight breath in your chest.

And then you heard a scream, a male scream and you thought that you had been mistaking your memory with the present.

It sometimes happened to you that you’d forget where you were, because suddenly the past would overtake you and you’d be left in the memory of your shame.

But it wasn’t, and soon the weight of Jorun was pushed off your body, and you turned worried that he might have chosen to do something worse to you, but as you opened softly your eyes, you found out that you weren’t alone anymore with Jorun, but king Harald was holding him down against the ground, as the boy had done with you on the bed.

You tried to shift your weight in order to bring yourself back on your feet, but you leaned on the wrong arm, the pain of the broken bone inside of it making you hiss painfully, enough to attract Harald’s attention, who knocked out quickly Jorun slamming his head against your bedside table, before he came to you.

And more out of instinct than anything you pushed yourself away, fear shining in your eyes, as the king took it in, gently crouching down to you to calm your fear, offering you an hand, and waiting for you to accept it.

He pushed a blanket away from the trunk it was placed upon, and he gave it to you, to cover your naked breasts, not daring a simple look.

Then he helped you up, steadying you against him, but immediately leaving you as soon as he felt your discomfort, going to patrol over Jorun passed out body, a hint of blood coming out from his broken nose.

Hadn’t he tried to rape you a few moments before, you would have felt bad for him.

“I do think that you know him” mumbled Harald, slapping his face to see whether he was simply faking being passed out or he was truly, as you moved past him to check his pupils, finding out he had effectively passed out.

“He is Jorun, the seamstress’ son” you replied, tightly, as you tried to move over to the kitchen, where you had some herbs for the pain that was shooting through your arm, as if part of the bone had pierced the skin.

“Was he taking your measurements?” humored darkly Harald, following you, something for which you were thankful because he reached out for you to the taller shelves, as you showed him the herbs that would help you feel back to normal.

You proceeded to boil them as Harald took a seat on the kitchen table, as if you hadn’t a passed out boy in your room.

“He was trying to find the money you give me for my suggestions” you confessed, thinking that it was definitely not worth hiding anything, even more because Harald didn’t seem a man who liked being lied around.

It had already happened to him too many times.

“… then he isn’t only a rapist, but he is also a thief” he mused as he almost seemed to think about it “… I’ll bring him to justice, don’t fear my lady”.

As much as you hated the thought of letting Jorun go unpunished, you knew that having either his hand or his prick cut off for thievery and assault wouldn’t have done him or his mother any good.

“Don’t” you mumbled softly “… it won’t look good that you punish a rightful citizen of Vestfold for a witch, like me”.

Because although people wouldn’t certainly reject your coin, they hadn’t accepted you.

And you knew what they called you when you turned your shoulders to them.

And you knew what they said already about Harald for coming to you, every week.

Commoners could come to you to know whether their harvest would be good or not.

But their king?

It was shameful for him to be controlled so easily by a foreigner.

“… you know what he tried to do to you” he sent you a pointed look.

“I know” you mumbled, once the boiler whistled, signaling that your herbs had finished being boiled and you threw them in a bin nearby, grimacing at the strong smell in the pan, downing the beverage in one go “… but it wouldn’t… it’d make them do worse things to me”.

Your mother had taught you to act like a shadow in case things like this happened.

The villagers wouldn’t ever accept the meddling of a foreigner in their affairs.

“I can’t simply let him go” he spoke, almost as if he was seriously worried about you “… he would come back here and I am sure that this time he won’t try any attempt of courtesy”.

“You call almost raping a woman a ‘curtesy’?” you questioned him with harsh eyes, as he simply replied to you with a rough smirk on his face as if to say ‘then you know how much you are risking’.

“I won’t certainly leave you alone, at least for tonight” he proclaimed, As he moved from the chair he had sat onto, adjusting himself as if he owned the place, a sight you didn’t like “I’ll sleep with you, tonight, and then I’ll send some men, here”.

“That’d be a waste”.

You couldn’t understand why Harald felt this need to protect you.

He certainly valued you as some kind of trusted advisor.

But this didn’t justify the intense need of protecting you that he had gained after Jorun’s attack.

“… who is the king, (Y/N)?” he muttered tightly between his teeth, as if he didn’t expect you to deny him “My word is law”.

But you were a woman full of surprises.

“Because you are the king, you shouldn’t stay here” you retorted tightly “… I can handle myself”.

He shot a quick look at your locked bedchamber, where Jorun was sleep, as if to say: ‘are you sure’.

“I’ll stay here” he seemed unmovable and you believed that not even shoving him out of your house would have worked.

But at the same time, you didn’t want to shove him out.

“Do whatever you want, my king” you simply bit your lips, as you moved towards another small cabinet in your small kitchen, feeling Harald’s sharp eyes on you, meanwhile you got a few gauzes out of it, to properly push the bone in its rightful place, helping yourself with thin layers of wood.

Once you were done, you had a bit of relief, as the broken arm slung from your neck to keep its position steady, meanwhile Harald observed you carefully, almost fascinated by your knowing movements, helping you once you moved to the table to lay down your broken arm.

He passed you the gauze, as you pushed the bone in the rightful place, lightly number by the herbs, but you still felt tears coating your eyes, and Harald gently dried them with his rough thumb, without uttering a word, for which you were thankful.

Once you were finished, you both heard noises from you room and you turned to each other, now realizing that Jorun had woken up and before you could move to do anything, Harald lunged to the door, effectively coming face to face with a rather angry Jorun.

Whose face went straight up white as he took in his king.

“My… my king” he stammered, as Harald just looked at him with an annoyed look, before grabbing him by the scruff of his head, as he dragged him away, meanwhile Jorun protested, pleading and begging.

“I shouldn’t be the one who you need to address” muttered darkly Harald, as he sent you a light look, to make the boy know that you were the one on whose hands would come either his damnation or his safety.

“… lady… (Y/N)” he spoke softly, as he fell onto his knees, more for fear than true contrition “… I am sorry”.

“Harald… don’t…” you muttered, unable to withhold Jorun’s gaze, almost as if that pushed you to feel him again on top of you, entering the sanctuary of your legs, as your eyes shifted on Harald’s “… it is enough”.

“I don’t fucking think that it is, but… I’ll honor a lady’s word” he ushered at the boy with one last look.

And then he dragged him out, making sure that the moved onto his horse, before he released him from his glare, as you looked at the whole scene wondering what the Hel you had found yourself in.

---

“You’ll have to sleep on the floor” you mumbled as you took in the smallness of your bed.

Not that you had any intention of letting Harald sleep in your bed.

He might be a king, but he was a man.

A dangerously beautiful man.

“I have slept on worse” he mumbled, as he sat on the cold tiles, but you just shook your head, collecting a few blankets and an extra pillow for him, even going back to get some straw to make him feel better.

All mansions that Harald took upon himself, as he ushered out of the bedroom, leaving you a private moment that you took to slip in a nightgown, covering yourself with a thick fur, grateful for its warmth.

Harald had insisted, the entire night, for you to relax, but you hadn’t let him cook you dinner, since not only you had hidden a few poisonous herbs in your cabinets, but you didn’t trust him around a fire.

But still except that he had brought you anything, treating you almost as a goddess.

Something that made you blush and made your conscience heavy.

‘Why are you helping me?’ you had asked, as he washed the dishes, almost making a few crash, and destroy themselves on the ground ‘… I am nothing’.

‘You are a subject of mine’ he had answered, softly turning to you as you found yourself so close, that you could almost trace his wrinkles with the tip of your nose ‘… and you told me to take care of my subjects’.

But there was something more beneath it, lingering in his eyes, that for now you could only describe with curiosity lingering in his eyes.

And you weren’t sure it was a good thing.

As Harald came back he adjusted the straw and blankets to his own taste and then laid down there, and you took it as a cue to move yourself comfortably on top of the bed and go to sleep.

But you were sure that even ‘numbed’ with the herbs you wouldn’t have slept much.

“… if you need any more blankets, just ask me” you mumbled tightly, as you turned on the opposite side of him, hearing a grumble of assurance, as you spent the following first hour of sleep turning around in bed.

You were so unused to have somebody else in your room, that when you heard Harald’s voice you almost jumped out of bed, having forgotten for a moment that a king was sleeping on your floor.

“… (Y/N)?” it was your name and you moved to his side, worried that his old age had made him unable to move, but he looked honestly worried.

And not for himself.

“What is it?” you asked, faking a sleepy voice, but Harald didn’t buy it in the slightest.

“… are you cold?” he teased you, and you huffed at it.

“No, I am not”.

“Then what is making you roll around that bed, like a bear in lethargy” he retorted with a charming smile, that almost made you want to smack him across the face “… are you having trouble sleeping?”.

“… maybe” there wasn’t any need to lie.

The evidence was in front of his eyes.

And Harald would have probably annoyed you to death, hadn’t you given him an answer.

“Want to talk it out?”.

“I thought I was the advisor”.

“Something horrible has happened to you, I wouldn’t blame you, for…”.

“Honestly, you aren’t the person I’d like to talk about that with” you replied, as you turned far away from him, hoping that your bitterness would get him to leave you alone “… hope it didn’t offend you”.

“… just… it wasn’t the first time it happened to you, didn’t it?”.

You rolled on your back, focusing on the roof to shield yourself away from the memory of what had happened years ago.

“It is none of your business”.

Although you knew that with your words you had already said enough.

“I saw the way your body went taunt and still, under him and I…”.

“You knew it because you did the same Jorun tried to do to me”.

It certainly didn’t take a genius to know that men like Harald didn’t care for a ‘no’.

You knew it on your own skin.

It hadn’t been a normal soldier who had taken advantage of you.

“… it is war” he spoke, as if it justified the act, but you could almost taste the shame in those words, as if he wasn’t truly convinced of them “… it is different”.

“Not for the women” you mumbled, biting on your lips to keep you in that bed and not on the ground that ten years before had stolen your innocence “… it is always the same for us: laying on our back, hoping that the pain will be soon over as we feel the weight of our shame onto us”.

“(Y/N)” he tried to call you out, but you were too in deep in that memory.

“… pleading to be left alone, shrieking away and yet, pinned under your sweaty and horrible…”.

Harald’s hand reached out for yours, effectively pushing you out of your trance, as you opened the eyes you hadn’t realized you had closed, shocked back to reality by the sudden touch.

Your breath was heavy and for a few minutes you needed to calm yourself down.

As Harald moved himself so that he could sit on the bed, without touching you.

“… I know that…” he tried to speak, but your gaze was lost in the woods of your own mind “… I am sorry”.

“It doesn’t make up for anything…” you commented, breathing deeply as you brought your knees under you, closer to your stomach, which was starting to hurt due to the agitation in it, the tense muscles clenching almost painfully “… nobody will give me back my innocence”.

Harald seemed shocked by that as you turned to him, with your eyes teary and he reached forward, almost as if it was the most natural thing, brushing them away, much more softly than you had believed those rough hands to be.

And before you knew it, it all fell down.

The pain and hurt you had been feeling made you crash as you slumped against Harald, his arms gently circling you, as they didn’t understand whether you wanted to be hugged closed or to push him away.

But you quickly solved it for him, reaching out completely, as you felt your entire body finish its energy as you ended up falling in a dark hole.

---

You woke up with a heated body against you.

And for a moment you thought that you had gone back to the time you and your mother would sleep together in the single bed you owned, to warm up, since during many winter nights you hadn’t enough wood for a fire.

But soon, you felt something scratchy against your face, immediately realizing that you had a male beside you and as you raised yourself, careful about the heavy broken arm on your chest, as you took in Harald, still asleep next to you.

He looked so peacefully that you gently shook off a few strands of hair that had exited his tight braid, as your hands lingered further on his face, as you weren’t able to push yourself to leave that male handsomeness alone.

And eventually he woke up.

Much to your and his surprise, as you immediately moved further away, acting as if nothing had happened.

As if you hadn’t slept next to the king, breath to breath.

Your cheek was slightly irritated by his beard, having slept so close to him that you had been almost in his lap.

Something that just made you blush further.

And to his own advantage Harald didn’t ask you anything of it, once he woke up, meanwhile you adjusted your hair in a quick braid, trying to look busy as the man next to you moved to stretch himself a bit and then collect the leather straps and his chest piece he had had discarded to sleep more comfortably.

You both moved uncomfortably around each other, both unused to being close to another, but you couldn’t help but laugh a bit for the way the king seemed so awkward and embarrassed.

It eventually made you gain the upper hand, after the outburst of the previous night.

… which made you want to almost bang your head against a wall.

If there was one thing that your mother always said, it was to never show your weakness to men: they’d either treat you like an idiot or they’d take advantage of it.

But Harald simply didn’t want to talk about it, looking at you like a lost puppy looking for direction.

And you decided to spare him, asking him whether he’d stay for breakfast, something for which his stomach replied for him.

‘I don’t need my power to know that you are quite famished, my king’.

He had just shook his head away from you, laughing lightly.

‘… and by the way you men are either hungry or…’ flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind ‘… horny’.

‘You don’t have a high opinion of my gender, do you?’ he had replied, softly, not a reprimand, but almost a different question from the one he had uttered, under his words.

That you couldn’t answer.

‘Can you blame me?’.

Your algid voice caught him unprepared and he just shook his head, lightly before he moved to the kitchen, leaving you the privacy of pushing on a proper dress, and to freshen up yourself as you were solely able to rub painfully the water on the zones that Jorun had touched.

You’d also need to change your gauzes, and to check whether the bone was starting to straighten itself or not.

You hoped it would, because you needed very much your hands for your work, and if not for that… you surely needed them to defend yourself, because sadly, you’d be as good as dead, without a working arm.

You adjusted a few flowers in your hair to help yourself brighten your appearance, since it looked quite pale and you looked definitely as ghostly as you felt in the inside.

Swallowing bile and piercing the skin of your palms with your nails.

For a moment a tight image appeared in the mirror, a you, bloodied and bruised you.

Your eyes held none of the will of living, you had always owned.

And you turned the mirror, hiding yourself from your eyes.

You instead focused on the lovely smell you were feeling coming from the kitchen.

And then you recognized it, rushing forward as you saw Harald trying to peel a few fruits that you had in your house.

The small tin of spices in front of him, but you could already sniff that he had dipped some of it in the brew he had made, contained in a glass, and you rushed to grab it as you checked how much he had consumed, knowing that not only this spice was expensive, but you wouldn’t have found it for sure at Vestfold.

“I didn’t think it was poisonous” excused himself Harald, noticing your worry, as you moved to hide away the spice “… please tell me that it wasn’t poisonous”.

“That depends…” you mumbled, as you saw the man’s skin turn deliciously red, as he sent you a worried look, which made you smile lightly “… if you have taken too much, your old stomach might trouble you”.

“I am not as old as you think I am” he retorted grumpily, with an adorable expression of indignation “… how old do you truly think I am, little one?”.

“I don’t know…” you pondered, with a finger to your chin “… had Odin already defeated the giants when you were born or…?”.

He flipped you off and you couldn’t now stop yourself from laughing out loud, as he soon joined you, welcoming you in front of him, as you took also a fruit and a knife, feeling your stomach being quite troubled, but at least peeling would have kept your mind off.

Although you weren’t sure that it was a good idea for you to hold a knife so close to you.

Harald seemed to agree, pushing his already peeled fruit in your hands, taking the knife and the fruit away from you, as if he was completely unbothered by it all, almost used to this routine.

You let him do it, as you played around with the fruit, eventually daring for a small bite, just as the king dared to speak:

“You’ll come with me today, I’ll bring you in the hall, to be safe” his voice was a clear order, but you didn’t let it push you down.

“I can handle myself”.

“You said so too, yesterday” he mumbled now softening his tone, as his eyes moved to your broken arm, a clear weakness for you “… but I don’t think that you are in any shape to kick some ass”.

“Yet, there are other ways” you replied, tightly.

You could have hidden for a few days in the forest, it wouldn’t have been pleasurable and getting any sleep would have been impossible, but you had done it after your mother’s death, and you could do it again.

“You pointed out yesterday that you aren’t welcome in the town, so I don’t think that you can stay a few days with someone” he pushed the reality in front of your eyes, searching them as he finished the peeling of his own fruit, taking a good bite at it, as juices dirtied his beard “… and I know that you haven’t any family here”.

“Have you been doing researches on me?” your blood froze in your veins, although you tried to utter those words with as much indignation as you owned in your body.

“My earls haven’t been… happy of your presence and I had to reassure them” he looked honestly embarrassed, almost as if your tone had had its effect on him.

Harald Finehair, the toughest man in all Sweden was proving himself to be quiet tamer than you had thought.

“Did you?” he shot you a confused look “… did you reassure them that I am a true witch and not solely somebody who is here to use your money and then take your throne?”.

“You wouldn’t take my throne” his voice was now rough, but sincere “… you have this power in you, and yet you live in a hut”.

Now it was your time to blink as you lowered your head pitifully, looking at the half-bitten fruit.

“… I like my hut”.

“You don’t have the ambition to be a rebel” the arrogant affirmation made breath come out of your lungs.

You hadn’t always been like this.

You had been a happy child, puffy cheeks and soft eyes, always running away from your mother.

But something had been broken in you, a long time ago.

And you had lost all your ambition.

Although right now it shone brightly in embers.

“… excuse me, but fuck yourself, king” you mumbled, as Harald’s eyes dropped, recognizing the anger in his voice “… if you treat women like this, I now do know why they run away from you”.

You had said that to anger him, you knew it.

But Harald looked almost heartbroken at your vicious word, and lowered his own head, pushing down his knife, and piercing his hands with the core of the fruit, all it was left of it, to the point that you were sure he was going to snap it.

“You’ll come with me at the hall, today” this time it wasn’t a veiled order.

It was an order.

“… then tomorrow I’ll arrange for a guard to station here, for a few days, at least till that arm get better. If you want you may ask my healer to check on it, but I am sure that stubborn head of yours won’t allow it”.

And before you could come up with any smartass reply about your ‘stubborn head’ Harald had moved away to get his horse ready, and you were left alone, thinking about whether you had just signed over your own death sentence.

---

The ride with Harald back to the hall was quiet.

You had taken enough for a night, hoping that your staying wouldn’t prolong itself for further than that.

Although you didn’t like holding onto places, you felt comfortable and safe in your hut.

Although you weren’t sure you’d be able to wash away the stains of Jorun’s memory from your body and the tiles of your floor.

Since you didn’t have a horse and your arm was broken, you shared Harald’s.

He had to settle himself behind you over the horse, to guide the animal as you were gripped by his essence and touch.

Something that would have made you uncomfortable after what had happened, the previous day.

Harald also seemed to realize it, settling himself so that you wouldn’t have any contact unless necessary, but you couldn’t help but feel almost protected by him, as his rough manly smell, mixed with yours, probably taken meanwhile you slept together.

It felt almost good.

Lulled by the rhythmic moving of Harald’s stallion, under you, you fell asleep.

Only waking up as you felt yourself being moved off gently by the horse, as Harald held you softly in his arms.

Which you escaped immediately, looking around to see if there was anybody around as you slowly came back to your senses, simply seeing a few guards, who were extremely careful in hiding their smiles.

“I can walk” you mumbled, once you were back to your feet, as Harald nodded with a smirk on his face “I didn’t break my leg”.

“You snored, pretty loudly” he said, once you were inside, nobody there except you, since it was pretty early, and it was a market day.

“Never as your father last night” you retorted, showing him a bit of a foul mouth that surprised him, before he shook his head, amused, and brought you to a guest room, as you held tight to yourself your small bassoon.

“You are a true pain in the ass, little seer, and the worst is that you know it” he mumbled more to himself than for you, but you still gave him a light smirk “… don’t wander off, without a guard”.

“Don’t tell me what to do” you retorted effectively challenging him.

“… I would gladly have you closed in your room, but you said that it isn’t the best way to a woman’s heart, so I’ll avoid it…” why did he have to be such a smartass?

Using your own words against you.

“… and also, there isn’t much that you can do with a broken arm”.

And you showed him exactly what you could do with a single finger, before he moved off, leaving you to push yourself for comfort, as a guard came to take a stand in front of your door, asking you if you’d need any help.

‘Yeah, I’d like to erase the fact that a man tried to take advantage of me again, and that king Harald, the man I have been conning, came to rescue me and he has been taking care of me as if he cares for me’.

“No, thank you” you simply replied, with the fakest smile on your face, as you closed the door right in his face.

You passed the afternoon, basically probing at your swelling arm, as you let it out of the gauze, glad that the bone wasn’t crooked or anything, but certainly for a good month you wouldn’t have been able to use it properly.

But it was better than for it to have broken out of your skin, which was lightly bruising with broken veins of a purple color.

You dosed on it some of the lotions that you had brought with yourself, alongside a change of clothes and your spices, comforted by their familiar smell, as you decided to try to exercise a bit the arm.

But you were mostly annoyed, feeling like you had just made yourself a prisoner.

You didn’t want to go out, both fearing the judgement of the people outside and both fearing something happening to you.

Although Harald was a smartass, he was right about a broken arm being a pretty weakness.

So, you were left to your own boredom.

And your own thoughts, which was even worse.

Because now you could feel your mind spiraling.

And then a thrilling laugh woke you, from your dark thoughts.

And you moved to the door with your ear against it, as you caught another two women’s voices, as you realized that they had been talking about you.

“… the king has brought a new lady” said the voice that had laughed, light and soft, almost airy and breathy “… do you think that he kidnapped her too?”.

You already liked these people.

“No, sadly… the guards said that she is here because the king said so” mumbled a quieter but steadier voice “… which if you think might be indeed considered, kidnapping”.

“Saga! Frigg! Shut your fat mouths!” this voice was graver and you linked it to an older woman, probably their mistress, since the giggles immediately quieted “… you’ll get your tongues cut for saying that”.

“… Ingrid! Just let us have a bit of fun! At least as long as the master isn’t home!” complained the softer girl, who you thought was Saga, because the second one replied, lightly:

“Saga is right! We should enjoy our freedom for a bit, since he’ll stay the entire day at the market”.

“He has been low key spending more and more time away from here…” pondered Saga, not that I am complaining, I can do my chores with more ease”.

And the girls continued on chirping in about Harald.

Meanwhile you couldn’t help but realize that Harald had been acting on your suggestions.

‘Stay with your people, show yourself around and share their burdens’ you had told him, on your first sessions ‘… that won’t make them see you as an unknown king, but you’ll be their king and they’ll be loyal to you, for sure’.

He had seriously… been following your suggestions.

And you felt your heart chirping as the girls outside of the doors, at that.

And again, the want to smack yourself across the face came back.

In the end, you’d have gotten nothing from keeping up with that overthinking and decided to open lightly the door, gaining a few ‘oh’s from the ladies waiting outside, who tried to move themselves further than they had been a few minutes, to hide their own spying.

The older one, Ingrid you thought, immediately pushed herself forward, in her lean and tall form, her hair peppered with grey and her eyes tired, and asked you if you needed anything, taking in your discarded figure and more importantly your limp arm.

A dark glare was shared between Saga and Frigg as they took it in.

“Ahem… not really, I just…” you felt awkward, since it had been quite some time since you had last been able to chat without contracting prices or defending yourself.

The best talks you had had in quite some time, although you weren’t proud to admit it, were with Harald.

“… is your arm hurting you, lady?” asked the blonde girl, lightly curvy and with puffy cheeks, something that resembled the Saxon definition of an angel, and you were able to link the name Saga to her, as her soft tone completely wrapped around you.

“A bit, but I took some herbs to numb the pain” you explained, glad that you could answer question.

“… did you fall from a horse?” asked Frigg instead, a pretty brunette girl, the smallest of the three but with a fire in her eyes that brought her to shine as bright as a star “… it seems serious”.

“Not too much, actually, I was lucky the bone didn’t break out of my skin” you explained as you withhold her gaze, to make her understand that it hadn’t been Harald.

Because that had been the question in her eyes.

And you couldn’t help but find endearing her worry.

Maybe if you had met more people like her, you would have liked spending more time with them, instead of hiding in the full nature.

“… do you want us to get some gauze and wooden bars to help you straighten it up?” asked Ingrid, eager to help, almost as if she was used to being ordered around and she thought it wasn’t ordinary not to be commanded by Harald’s guests.

“Ah, thank you, but I am mostly letting it out to avoid the skin being too dry and having blood problems later” you explained, but Ingrid’s worry didn’t look lessened in the slightest ad you asked her to get you some lotion, which seemed to make her extremely happy, as you felt Saga’s eyes on your limp limbs.

“Can I touch it?” asked Saga, pointing to your limb, as Frigg lightly decked her on her arm “Ouch!”.

“Sorry, my lady, my sister doesn’t think before talking”.

You looked at the surprised, because they didn’t look like sisters in the slightest: whereas Saga was puffy and soft, Frigg was tight-wounded and sharp, both beautiful but as distant as the sun and moon.

Frigg seemed to finally understand your surprise at that news and blushed lightly, before elbowing her sister, who spurred on croaked.

“My family took in Frigg, when her mother died”.

Your gaze immediately softened as Frigg, lowered her head, something similar to shame on her face.

“… I am sorry to hear that” you mumbled, gently offering your uninjured arm to the smaller girl, who seemed surprised by your gentleness “… I have also lost my mother, ten winter ago, I can imagine how difficult it can be”.

And for a minute you and Frigg were brought together in some kind of magical spell.

Your eyes sharing respect for another survivor.

And then Saga touched your swollen arm, making you hiss as Frigg pulled her eyes to the roof above you.

“That’s so cool!” commented Saga, as she lifted her eyes to you, seeing that you weren’t exactly comfortable “… sorry”.

“Saga wished to become a healer…” mumbled Frigg, justifying her sister, as she brought her a bit away from you “… or a torturer”.

“I did! But…” her eyes suddenly became lightly lost “… father said I am not very smart”.

You couldn’t help but dig your nails in the soft skin of your palm, as you heard that.

“Well, you don’t need to be smart for being a healer” you mumbled softly “… you just need a good teacher”.

Saga’s eyes brightened a bit, as a small smile appeared on Frigg’s face.

“I am not a proper healer, but I can teach you a few things” you proposed softly “… you can help me band up my arm”.

“I wouldn’t suggest that” Frigg commented “… lady, she is particularly clumsy”.

“Well, first of all: there is no need to call me lady, just (Y/N)” you insisted “… and believe me there isn’t much damage she could do, since it is already broken”.

---

And although you had to admit that Saga hadn’t the most careful touch, she learned quickly and moved even more, having your arm bandaged ever quicker than you could do, as Frigg observed around the room, looking curious, but justifying it as checking if you needed anything.

And you let her do it, since you didn’t have anything dangerous…

… laying around, at least.

Then the girls gossiped a bit with you, something that made you almost feel normal and you were more than happy to indulge them in your silly talks, as they laughed at your surprise when you heard the scandalous rumors of the town that had never let you in.

Till Harald walked in.

And then both Frigg and Saga moved to their feet, bowing at the king, almost as if they didn’t know whether to stay with you and have some fun or to move away, now that Harald was there.

But Harald solved it for them.

“Don’t you have chores to do?” he asked simply, and the two women excused themselves scurrying off, as you moved to send him an annoyed stare “… they are servants”.

“They brightened my dull afternoon” you replied with a sharp tongue.

“… you could have asked me to spend it with you” now it was him who had a smart smile on his face “… I certainly would have made your afternoon less dull”.

“Why do I even bother?” you muttered, facing away from him, an annoyed look on your face.

“Because I pay you” he spoke gingerly “… and because after all you like annoying me”.

“I just don’t like when you do it to me” you tried to appear completely unbothered “… I should be the only one allowed to do it”.

“That’d be unfair, milady”.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and you turned to Harald, who had gently closed the door behind him, making you understand that what he wanted to discuss with you wasn’t to be heard.

“I went to Vidgis” he spoke, making you send him a small look “… I told her to send the dresses you ordered here, alongside mine, because I sadly can’t let you go back, to your small hut”.

“Do you seriously intend to kidnap me?” your shock activated your immediate sarcasm.

“… I have been having a few small riots at the borders, and I need all my guards there, so I won’t have anybody protecting you and your house, for these days” he explained quickly, making you grimace lightly.

“I can go back on my own”.

“And risk getting attacked by Jorun’s friends? I want to avoid that” he uttered, his tone an order that you didn’t want to hear “… why is it so ‘horrible’ for you to stay here, in my castle, all sheltered and with a servant for every need of yours?”.

“Why do you care so much about me?” you replied, with the same annoyed irritation “… because I am nothing to you, Harald, truly. I am not blood and neither a lover”.

He seemed taken aback and you wondered whether for a moment he had thought that your gentleness with him was your way of flirting with him.

To get him to be your lover.

You felt suddenly choked.

But Harald shook himself quickly.

“Why do you have to question the hand that feeds you?” he mumbled, hissing the question through his teeths.

“Nobody does anything for nothing” you replied “… name your price, because if it is my open legs…”.

“Woman, would you stop thinking badly of me for a minute?!” his face was red, and you couldn’t help but be a bit surprised by such an intimate expression as his eyes didn’t try to meet you “… I wouldn’t do that to you… I just…”.

“What do you want, Harald, then?” you pushed him further and he raised his eyes to meet yours, shining with an honesty and an ache that made you for a moment, ashamed.

“… your suggestions are useful, although you speak with such a sharp tongue” now his tone was back in check, extremely kingly “… that’s why I want to keep you around, because others won’t tell me where I go wrong, but you won’t hesitate to make me notice even in the slightest any flaw of mine”.

You were speechless, taken aback completely.

It was so utter sincere, that it should have hurt you.

But you were reassured to know that he hadn’t no further reasons to care for you.

That it was simply… for his own advantage.

No, it didn’t hurt you in the slightest.

And even if it did, you couldn’t just show it to him right now.

“I’ll stay” you were now hurrying to get yourself rid of him “… for a week, and then I’ll go back home, and you can’t stop me”.

“Wouldn’t even think about it”.

---

Your dinner had been consumed in silence.

And your night had been as well, as you had fallen in bed suddenly feeling tired.

You didn’t dream of nothing more than the intense black night that fell onto you, caressing as a mother.

But your sleep wasn’t long, and you woke up as soon as the Sun peaked through the curtains, making you turn and turn on the bed, till both the side of the bed were warm because of your movements.

And eventually you thought about waking up.

The covers being too hot, and your arm screaming for attention, as you disentangled your home-made cast, as you pushed yourself to the window of your room.

You looked at the calm moving of the sun, yawning because although your mind was active, your body wasn’t, hence you kept your day lazy as you went through the first thoughts of the day.

Harald’s confession.

You shouldn’t have been surprised by his admission of needing your suggestions to survive.

You had prided yourself with that thought.

But now, it just… it seemed almost stained with shame.

Because Harald was genuine towards his need to help you, almost protective in a way that he hadn’t any obligation to be.

Something that still pained you.

Because you didn’t deserve it.

And you were still worried it wasn’t genuine.

But you had put yourself in this game.

And you’d get yourself up.

As soon as it was a decent hour, you moved out of your room, intent on moving in the kitchens to be allowed to eat there, since you had no intention of revealing your presence there to Harald’s subject.

They already thought that you were his whore.

Oh, how were they wrong.

Because had they witnessed the exchange of words of the previous night, they’d have certainly realized that he was your whore.

Doing your bidding and taking care of you.

You were glad to find on your way to the kitchens both Frigg and Saga, who were even more than glad to lead you there, surprised by your decision to eat with the servants, but your stomach had just grumbled so loudly that they hadn’t questioned your decision further.

You were glad to spend some more time with the girls, since it was easy to talk with them, and they were quite chatty, definitely pushing away all the bad thoughts in your mind.

It had been such a long time since girls had come to you as friend and not clients, with eyes full of suspicion, that just made you uncomfortable.

But the two sisters were more than happy to exchange a few laughs with you.

And they even accompanied you back to your room, to help you get ready, mostly to bathe, since as Saga had commented after a few minutes.

‘You smell like a horse more than the arse of a soldier’.

Frigg had just decked her sister on the arm, and meanwhile you were finishing the bath, you heard small giggles coming from the main room, linked to the small private bathroom definitely made for a female, either Harald’s wife or daughter.

Something that made you a bit uneasy.

But he had good taste, if he had been the one who had set it up.

It was clean and homely, maybe a bit more than it was fashionable, but for Harald, a man who thought more with heart than his dick, it wasn’t that strange, and it made you feel less uneasy about having left the hut.

If you had to stay there for a week, you wouldn’t have certainly complained for the place.

As you moved out, the girls’ giggles were due to your dress having finally arrived and they were admiring it, immediately blushing as they were caught by you, and you simply told them to keep on looking at it, since you couldn’t do much, till at least your hair were wet.

Saga had a malicious smile on her face, and it didn’t take her long to ask you whether she could try it on.

‘Oh, Gosh, Saga! Don’t you have manners!’ complained Frigg ‘… and you aren’t in the slightest like lady… I mean… (Y/N)’.

Saga had immediately looked discouraged, but you had insisted she did try it on.

‘I do think that the color would suit you better, Saga’ you suggested ‘Do try it on, please’.

And she didn’t need to be told a second time, as she hurried in the dress, with little shame for her undressed state, as she put it on quickly, fastening lightly the ties, behind it, helped by Frigg, who had slowly moved in a less sour mood, enjoying the small smirk that was on her sister’s face.

The dress was a beautiful creation of a bluish fabric that complimented your skin tone, but even more it had been shaped perfectly for the body of the wearer, suiting Saga enough, that you almost thought that it wasn’t worth to keep it.

That you should have gifted it to her.

It was sultry and lightly shiny in its front, to bring out the attention to the right parts of your body.

It caught almost fire as light touched it, in a heavenly creation.

And then something happened.

Saga turned to you, and suddenly her smile became a grimace, almost as if she had pricked herself with a needle, and for a moment you thought that she had, although it wouldn’t have been extremely unprofessional for Vidgis to forget one inside the dress.

But then she turned to you and started choking on air.

And before you knew it, she fell onto the ground, Frigg immediately on her knees beside her, alongside you who pushed the other girl aside to check on Saga, as she was shaken by convulsions.

You quickly checked on Saga, who had started becoming quite purple-y, effectively her air being stolen by her lungs, and you didn’t think this was accidental, in the slightest.

Saga wasn’t in the slightest unhealthy, so it had to be the dress.

You quickly pushed your robe away from your body, standing naked in front of the girls as you moved to bind together the robe over your hands, to avoid whatever the dress had been drown in sticking also to your skin.

Uncaring of the expensive fabric, you opened the dress, rapturing its stitched to get it even more quickly the dress away from Saga, helped by Frigg, who although shocked, followed quickly through your actions.

Although Saga, breathed deeply, her body was shaken by feverish convulsions and you could finally realize that the dress had been poisoned.

You just had to understand with what.

You pushed a bit of the fabric of the dress, close to your body as Frigg asked you what to do.

But you couldn’t do much, till you understood what had been introduced in Saga’s body.

The dress was full of the smell of Saga, which covered the poison.

But there were also many poisons that wouldn’t leave out any distinctive smell.

Irritation for yourself coursed through your veins, as you thought about what Vidgis might have laced in the dress.

On what she might have put her hands on.

And then you found out what.

And rushed in your bag to take back the antidote, something that had been saved by Jorun’s rummaging in your house.

Saga would have to thank Odin, if she survived through this.

You rushed to her, pushing the antidote through the mouth, making her choking back to it and spit it back, something that made you and Frigg hold a breath, as the younger mumbled tightly:

‘Please Saga, I won’t ever make fun of you… please…’ she pleaded softly, as you tried to grasp onto her hand but she was too nervous ‘… please breath’.

And almost as if spurred on by an order, Saga breathed, normally.

And it made you realize something.

And you rushed out, quickly putting on a fur over your naked body, stopping an handmaiden, and asking her where Harald slept.

The poor woman was too confused by your presence and crazed eyes to think that you had any suspicious intention and gave you quick instructions as you ran to his room.

And opened the door to a shirtless Harald, the new clothes laid neatly in the paper that they had been wrapped in, something that made you let out a deep breath of relief.

“If you were so in need of my naked chest, all you had to do was ask” he mumbled tightly.

“Don’t touch the new clothes” you screamed immediately, uncaring of his sarcasm.

“… because you are going to rip them away from me, don’t you?” he asked tightly, with another smartass smirk.

“No, you idiot, because they are fucking laced with poison”.

And this was enough to get his smirk away from his face.

“How… do… “ and then he rushed to you grabbing your hands, almost as if he wanted to check on you “… are you alright?”.

“Yes yes” you spoke, as you felt all the tiredness of these events falling onto you “… it was Saga who…”.

Suddenly you couldn’t help but realize the shocking truth.

That dress had been made for you.

You should have been the one barely breathing like Saga.

You should have checked on her.

But as you made to turn around, Harald’s hands that were still linked with yours brought you back to look at him.

“Vidgis tried to poison me, you know what that means”.

That she had almost committed regicide.

An act of treason.

“I really need to check on Saga, but then we’ll have a talk about this” you promised to him, the warmth of his hands going unnoticed to you.

Almost as if it was a natural gesture.

“… this isn’t anymore a personal attack to you” he spoke, his voice suddenly rough “… this is a betrayal to my crown”.

@maggiescarborough @isthisreallife2017 @okayytayy @dopeybubbles @rls905 @gearhead66 @fantasydevil2002 @crazy-fan-101 @pinkisokay @naaladareia

#Harald #Harald Finehair #Vikings Harald #Harald Reader #Harald x Reader #Harald Imagine #Harald Fic #Harald Finehair Fic #Harald Moodboard #Harald Fanfic #Harald Fan Fic #Harald Angst #Angst #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine #Vikings Reader

47 notes · View notes