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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 6 months

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Hi my dear !!

My req idea is a fluffy (spicy thoughts can be included) 'seeing each other for the first' time thing with Asgard!Prince!Loki and his betrothed princess yn 🍬💓

💖💖You got it! Thanks for the fun request, @fictive-sl0th! I hope you don't mind that I added a little twist to your idea! Please enjoy! 💖💖

“The Princess and the Stable Boy”

After a lifetime of preparation, you finally travel to Asgard for your wedding to Prince Loki, a mysterious man you’ve never met. After your cruel betrothed repeatedly abandons you during your wedding week, you find a special friend with an open ear to whom you bare your soul. But the situation becomes fraught when, on your wedding day, you find you want to give your heart to someone else.

Pairing: Prince!Loki x Princess!Reader Genre: Fluff, Angst, a little spice Content Warnings: forced marriage, hidden identities, some borderline-smutty thoughts Word Count: 4.5k

MASTERLIST

“And, tell me, what is the Prince’s excuse this time?” you asked, looking at the diminutive maid in your doorway, her plain white robes a stark contrast to the elaborate, guided threshold she filled.

“His father is holding court this evening, m’lady,” she replied, her head bowed, refusing to meet your eye.

Twisting your lip into a skeptical frown, you kept your disappointment inside for the sake of dignity. “Court is never held after sunset,” you answered. “He’s pissed off again.”

The maid didn’t reply. “He did send his regards--”

“--every cursed night for the past four days he’s ‘sent his regards’! We marry in another six and I have yet to see his face, nor he mine,” you growled, frustration rising in your voice as your anger obscured your manners.”Is he deformed?”

“No, m’lady. His handsomeness is unmatched.”

“Does his tastes fall to another sex?”

She denied. “M’lady, the Prince is open about his desires, and he does not discriminate between sexes.”

“Well, does this bastard wish to marry me or not??”

The maid looked helpless for an answer. You softened a little in sympathy. “I suppose you wouldn’t understand.”

She shook her head bashfully. “No, m’lady.”

“Then, just go,” you dismissed, not even bothering to wait in the room for her to leave before scurrying into your parlor and slamming the door, finally letting the scream out that had been building up inside you. It felt like a wonderful release, but it didn;t solve your problem.

You were getting married to a blank face in six days, uniting your realms, as was decreed on the day of your birth. You were raised getting to know your husband through correspondence, tutors, and finishing lessons. You only knew of his interests through quizzes and long hours of study. And for all your hard work, on the eve of the culmination of it all: he hadn;t even bothered to meet you.

It was enough of a humiliation when your entourage approached the palace at Asgard only to be greeted by your future brother-in-law, ready with an excuse that your fiance was ailing. The following day, you’d heard he was spotted hunting on the edge of the city.

The next day, Prince Loki missed your supper with the royal family. Queen Frigga had given you a sympathetic apology, insisting she would send him to greet you personally the following day, assuring you that Loki was eager to wed and merely taking care of some final pre-marital business.

He never appeared at your door, and you’d wasted the entire day waiting for him.

You were a strong princess, full of glorious purpose, ready to wed whether your heart wanted to or not. Prince Loki was making it very difficult for you to keep your resolve the more it became obvious that he was avoiding you. Every minute that passed solidified the fact in your mind that you were going to be nothing but a weight shackled to his ankle, occasionally bearing an heir and appearing publicly at his side. You were about to become an official Asgardian ornament.

What a sad fate for a princess, you bemoaned, throwing open your balcony doors and stepping out into the night air. You overlooked the inner courtyards and fields of the palace property, a tree line off against the indigo horizon. The twinkle of the city itself was off, beyond the north wall, the light pollution dousing the stars above your head. The rolling knolls were difficult to admire in the twilight.

Something caught your eye before you lost yourself in pitying thought: by the west wall appeared to be a stable, occupied with the royal steeds no doubt. You could have sworn you heard a whinny from that direction. Smiling, you decided that perhaps a horse’s ear was better than no ear at all (and you’d already scared away most of your maids).

Within a few minutes, you’d donned a black cape and simple dress so as not to attract attention. With all the free time you’d had not getting to know your future husband, you’d gotten to know the ins and outs of the palace corridors quickly, so it was no time before you were out in the open air and strutting toward the stable. You briefly looked up in the direction of the highest tower in the palace: the tower where the royals themselves bedded. Prince Loki was up there somewhere, not giving a damn about you or how lonely you felt.

“Don’t worry, Loki,” you whispered bitterly before turning away from the palace again, “I won’t say one voluntary word to you for the duration of our lives.”

The stables were clean and impeccably-kept, and the lights you’d seen were still on when you arrived. You stepped inside to find that only one of the stables was occupied, by a tall, sturdy, black stallion. He was contentedly munching on something in a metal bucket hanging off of the side of the cubicle.

Someone watched the horse, leaning with his back against the opposite stall door. His ankles were crossed, as well as his arms, and he looked deep in thought. His raven hair hung in his face, unruly and thick. His gray shirt was unfastened, hanging open at his sides, barely holding onto his shoulders. His tight green leggings were tucked into shin-high leather riding boots. He had a tattoo of an ouroboros winding about his chest, just below his razor-sharp clavicle. You swore it was moving very slowly, slithering about the man’s chest in an infinity loop.

There was a quality to his profile that immediately stopped you in your path. It was intimidating, but also attractive, as if he was posing for a painting but trying to look candid at once. Upon hearing the shuffling of your boots on the hay-lined floor, the young man lifted his gaze to meet yours, and his blue eyes lit up.

Looking upon his face only added to the haunting, yet rustic beauty of the man. His jaw was angular, his lips perfectly plump and distorted into an amused smile at seeing your face.

“Princess,” he mumbled, his voice low and casual. “You’re a long way from your chambers.”

You rolled your eyes. “How do you know me? We’ve never met.”

He scoffed in reaction. “Everyone in the palace knows of the lovely future Princess of Asgard. I may be just another peasant among the ranks, but I’m not as dim as most of them.”

“You certainly have the arrogance of the Prince,” you sneered back. “I did not mean to suggest that you’re simple.”

The mysterious stranger raised his eyebrow and pushed off from the wall with his shoulder. “You’ve met him?”

Shaking your head, you looked to the side sheepishly. “No.”

“Still?” chuckled the boy, taking another step toward you, but planting himself there. “And you have not tried seeking him out?”

“It isn’t protocol for me to summon him,” you sighed. “It would be considered stepping out of line.”

“Well, from my experience,” said the peasant, “Stepping out of line is the quickest way to get what you want.”

You looked at him again. “I suppose being judged so harshly without having the chance to even please my betrothed isn’t the best motivator.”

Your conversational partner shrugged. “Maybe he is simply nervous himself? Perhaps he feels those scrutinous eyes fall on him as well, and he isn’t sure how to--?”

“--I should have known, you’d never understand,” you mumbled bitterly, turning your back to him. You had no interest in listening to this apologist make excuses for whatever mental game your fiance was playing without your consent. You chose to disengage quickly, not having the energy to stand up for yourself. “My mistake. I’m sorry to have bothered you, stable boy.”

You began to walk away. “My name is Arik,” the boy called after you, his voice heightened.

You stopped. He sounded instantly contrite.

“It sounds as if I’ve thrown a switch I shouldn’t have,” he continued. “Please forgive me, Princess. I didn't mean to further distress you. I was only seeking to console with you a possible explanation as to the Prince’s rude welcome.”

Turning back, you allowed yourself a small smile. It hurt your cheeks to do so after several days of doing very little with your jaw other than bemoaning your annoying situation.

“Arik,” you repeated.

He nodded and clicked his heels, standing at attention like a general, and bowing at the waist. “At your humble service, my Lady.”

You stepped in further, gaining a closer look at the stable boy. Indeed, the tattoo moved on his chest. “I’ve never seen art like this,” you said breathlessly. The details in the ink were beautiful and delicate. Arik seemed to like you moving in and focusing your gaze on his pectorals.

“My br--Prince Thor has a similar one,” he said quietly. “It is a large bolt of lightning shooting down his back from between his shoulder blades.”

“How do you know this? Do the Princes walk about the palace nude?” you laughed.

Arik’s smile widened at your laugh. “No, Princess. I served with the Princes during our mandatory conscription. Close quarters and all.”

You sighed. “Which means the blasted stable boy knows my husband more than I!” you lamented.

He laughed with you. “Perhaps it is time The Prince conquered his bashfulness,” he agreed. “From where I stand, he is the one missing out by delaying his meeting with you.”

You felt a burning blush crawl up your cheek at the compliment. “Arik…” you paused before continuing. “...if you do know the Princes so well…could you tell me about them? If I cannot learn of my husband from himself--”

Arik took your hand in his, bringing it gently to his lips. “--if you are asking me to familiarize you with our sovereigns in their pathetic absence, I would be most happy to oblige you, Princess.”

Your heart fluttered against your ribs, and you began to feel giddy.

“Sadly,” he went on, your optimism instantly dropping off, “my services are required elsewhere in just a few moments.”

You sighed. “Oh.”

“However, if you wished to meet me here tomorrow evening,” Arik suggested, “It would be my honor to take you for a ride through the knolls.”

As much as you wanted to say yes, you knew that you had to turn him down. “The masque is tomorrow night.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot.”

There was no way Prince Loki would be able to abandon you at the masque ball set for tomorrow. It was in honor of your impending marriage. Even if you weren’t going to see his face, you would absolutely be expected to dance with him in front of the mobility of Asgard.

“If only I could leave him alone in the middle of the floor for once,” you muttered bitterly. “I’m sure he regrets our appointment tomorrow night more than I.”

Arik smiled. “I admire your passion. Perhaps, though, it would be prudent to wait until you meet the Prince, to pass your own judgment.”

“He doesn’t deserve you as a loyal servant,” you remarked.

Arik shrugged. “If you do find yourself in need of more flattering company, I have a small trundle here. As long as the nights are warm, I spend them out here. Come find me at any hour, and I will be your humble ally.”

“Thank you,” you said tenderly. “I needed a friend to find me tonight.”

“As did I, Princess,” he said, holding out a hand, brushing a small piece of hay from your hair that had settled. That tiny, intimate touch from another person was enough to make your nerves tingle. You’d gone for such a long time without any comforting physical contact.

“Then, Arik, I will leave you to your duties,” you said, pulling away before anything even more wonderful could happen. Awkwardly not knowing how to address the strapping young peasant as you left his sight, you smiled and backed out of the stable.

Arik called out after you. “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

He was all that you thought of as you went through the motions the following day in preparation for the ball. You were fitted for your gown, a rich, golden fabric draped loosely over your body and held to you with green and black ribbon. Your mask was green with gold feathers. Your hair was swept up into a complicated braid and laden with emeralds. Yet even more jewels were fastened to your ears and throat, all submitting to the green and gold palate.

Just as the palace was beginning to saturate with the odor of roasting meats and breathing bowls of wine, you were ready and escorted to the Great Hall, where the festivities were already in full swing.

Even as the room stopped to acknowledge your entrance at the top of the grand staircase, your thoughts were with the stable boy who’d been the first in Asgard to treat you like a creature with a soul, with needs and fears. No one in this room knew a thing about you even as they praised you as their new princess.

The crowd parted as you descended the staircase, revealing a tall figure dressed in green finery and Asgardian military insignia standing precisely in the center of the room. His hair was slicked back and tucked under a golden diadem, his high-necked jacket fastened from jaw to hip, a lacy black mask curling down his face so that nearly his entire visage was obscured to you.

Great, even looking right at him, I can’t see, you complained inside even as you bowed cordially, reaching Prince Loki for your first meeting. You immediately got the scent of wintergreen and pine from him when you reached proximity.

“Princess,” said a deep, restrained baritone from underneath the mask you faced. Prince Loki clicked his heels and bowed formally at the waist, which only made you long for your secret stable boy more. He shared the Prince’s posture, but that had to be from their shared military days.

“Your Highness,” you barely mustered. “At last we meet.”

“You sound disappointed,” the Prince suggested.

“Only at the bitter reception from Your Highness,” you boldly answered. “What Prince treats his betrothed as such garbage as I have been?”

Loki didn’t twitch, blink, or acknowledge your cheek. He simply took the first position of a groom about to dance with his bride with all the restricted grace of a automaton.

You went to take your position at Loki’s front for the dance. You only did so out of obligation. However, before you could touch his arm, you found yourself stepping back again in spite of yourself.

“No,” you said.

Gasps echoed about the room.

“Princess?” Loki asked, sounding insecure for the first time.

“You’ve been treating me worse than a scullery maid since the day I arrived. I’ve wanted nothing but to please you and please your subjects, but after being held in this palace like a prisoner in a cage of glass and gold, I’ve come to realize this: you don't deserve my hand. However, seeing as I am being forced to give it to you regardless, I am choosing to retain a mote of my own autonomy tonight by refusing this dance.”

No one had seen this coming from you, let alone Loki.

You sucked in your breath bravely. “If you permit me to leave this annoyance of a party right now, I will consider it our wedding present.”

Committing to the offense, you spun on your heels and quickly walked back up the staircase as the murmurs and gasps grew to a louder hum.

“Princess!” Loki was pursuing you, calling to you as you retreated.

“So NOW you seek me out, now that I humiliate you in front of the assembly?” you hissed as soon as you turned the corner. “I won’t be anyone’s ornament! May you be damned!”

He eventually gave up and remained behind. You found yourself stomping about the corridors alone, making a beeline for the stables.

Tonight, the air was even warmer. Your gown fluttered in the breeze behind you as you made your way to the stables, where no one seemed to be home.

“Arik?” you called, going inside to find no one, not even the horse, around. “Arik? Are you here?”

After a few moments of you pacing up and down the row, and you heard the sound of shuffling feet outside. You rushed back into the open night, and sure enough, Arik was returning, the black stallion bridled and tethered to his side. The horse was already wearing a saddle built for two.

“My Lady?” Arik called, slightly out of breath.

“Did I find you at a bad time? You look disheveled,” you remarked, taking in how Arik looked like he’d thrown himself at a pile of laundry and decided whatever garments stuck to his body would create his wardrobe for the evening: a white peasant shirt loosely tied at the neck, and black pants.

Arik shook his head. “Alvis was startled by a serpent. Reining him in proved a challenge.”

“Then, perhaps he wouldn’t be amenable to the possibility of a ride this evening?” you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Smiling, Arik raked a hand through his hair. “I think he can be persuaded, but…shouldn’t you be at the gala, Princess?”

You scoffed, taking the ribbon tying your braid together and unfurling your hair, shaking it loose until every gem fell to the grass. “If His Highness wished to dance with me, he would have thought of this before casting me off like an old glove.”

He snickered. “It didn’t go well, I take it?”

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t even stay for supper.”

“Well, that won’t do, Princess. This has already been a trying week for you. You need sustenance.” He indicated the double-seated saddle on the back of Alvis. “I’m sure the horse is well now, my Lady. I can take you to a place I know of on the edge of the kingdom, where we can remedy that.”

Nodding enthusiastically at his offer, you stepped up to the horse, suddenly realizing that you’d never ridden before. Arik seemed to be able to read your mind, scooping you up into his arms and placing you on Alvis before quickly mounting the horse himself.

You got the briefest hint of wintergreen and pine as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Arik took you through the knolls and orchards south of the city proper as the sun descended and night returned. The shadows of trees along the path fell across your faces as you rode through the lawns and groves, away from everyone else and off into a better place. Arik showed you how to stretch your arms out to pick apples and pears off the fruit trees you brushed past along the way. You laughed as you made a game out of who could nick more treats before being caught and chased along a few meters by an irate farmer who happened to be walking offside.

You were brought to a waterfall on the edge of the kingdom, where you and the handsome stable boy sat on a boulder, close enough to the falls to feel the chilly mist. As you feasted on your ill-gotten fruit, Arik told you about your intended, and answered every question you had.

He was beautiful in the soft moonglow. A perfect specimen, healthy and strong, but also brooding and sweet. Ridiculous as it seemed (it had taken less than a day), you were completely in love with Arik. He was more of a god in his humble rags as he sat before you now than Prince Loki could ever be while arrayed in his furs and finery.

Something bothered you while he spoke: Arik spoke very fondly of the Prince in spite of your criticisms, almost as if he was trying to sell him to you. It was as if Arik could sense your growing feelings for him, and he was perhaps trying to protect you by throwing you off of his trail.

“Tell me, Arik,” you implored, “Do you think Prince Loki even has the ability to love?”

“Princess, do you expect love to come from your arranged marriage?”

You shrugged. “I was hoping for some.”

Arik smiled tenderly and took your hand. “If I know Prince Loki, he will take care of you and your children for your whole lives.”

Shaking your head, you pulled your hand away. “That isn’t what I want! I want love!”

“But--”

“--I can’t ever love Prince Loki,” you said decidedly.

Arik’s shoulders dropped, and his smile disappeared. “That is very sad to hear, My Lady, That notion will only lead to a woeful match. If I know him, he wishes only for your happiness. But why do you sound so certain of this?”

“Because without trust, there can be no love…and how can I trust someone whose face I’ve never seen?” you explained, breaking down in tears at last, leaning against Arik’s broad shoulder.

He gripped you tightly, and you felt safe in his arms, wishing you could be there forever. “Let’s run away.”

He didn’t respond. You found yourself doubling down. “I mean it, Arik. I could live a thousand years with you starting tonight.”

He pulled away from you far enough to make eye contact. His face was once of concern, of seriousness. “You can’t mean this. We barely know one another.”

“I do! I do!” you said quickly. “Arik, you see me as not a Princess, but a woman, someone who wants to make the best of a fraught situation. You understand my soul,” you wept.

Arik looked touched. He pursed his lips as he thought of what to say next. “My Lady, I don’t know what to say…”

“Take me away with you. Let’s go tonight,” you proposed.

“No, Princess,” he insisted, pushing you away, standing straight. “You are engaged.”

“So, you won’t have me, and he doesn’t want me…no one wants me,” you whispered.

Arik’s heart broke for you, and he returned you to his embrace. “Eloping would be instant death for us both, my Lady,” he said quietly. “If it weren’t this way…”

“Oh, Arik, I wish you were the Prince!” you cried, laying your lips against his and putting your palm against his cheek. He kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your whole body tightly.

“Will I see you again after tonight?” you asked softly once your lips parted.

He sighed. “It may not be a good idea,” he mused, breaking your heart. “Even this beautiful kiss we’ve just shared is enough to condemn us.”

You nodded. “I would never wish to cause your death, Arik.”

“Then, let’s stay out tonight,” he suggested. “With the promise that we won’t ever address the notion of running away ever again.”

“I agree.”

He returned you just before dawn, to the door of your chambers, giving you one final kiss before leaving. Just before he turned the corner to return to the stables, he stopped to give you one more piece of advice.

“I really do know the Prince intimately, Princess,” he insisted. “And if I know him, I know that if you give him your hand next week, he will give you his heart.”

You felt a hot tear sting your eye. “I trust you,” you said with a small nod.

Arik smiled. “Then, perhaps, there can be love here after all.”

It took all of your strength to be reserved as you closed your door to the last hope of ever having a happy life with Arik the stable boy.

As promised, Arik had disappeared, removing any temptation you’d had to seek him out and go back on your own word to bind yourself to Prince Loki. You let the depression settle over you, painting you in a numbing glaze of complacency in your own imprisonment. You were meant to be a shackle on the Prince’s ankle, as promised by virtue of your birth. You would have to resign yourself to that, and be content with that.

Five days later, at dusk, you were escorted down the long hall leading to Asgard’s throne room. You wore a grand gown in peacock-blue, your hair down and loose about your shoulders, a golden circlet draped across your forehead, your face obscured by a veil so thick you needed a bridesmaid to guide you to your palace at the groom’s side for the ceremony.

Goddamnit, even now I don't know what he looks like, you admitted the defeat bitterly. Your face was stone. You’d mentally prepared yourself for this, but it required a stiff upper lip to endure.

The ceremony was grand, but brief. A cauldron of eternal fire received your written vows to one another, and as the smoke formed the great tree Yggdrasil above your heads, you braced yourself for the moment where Loki would lift your veil and look upon your face.

You closed your eyes as the Allfather gave Loki permission to greet his new bride with a first kiss. The ambient light increased behind your lids as the veil lifted. You waited in silence for several moments for the kiss.

Instead, you heard a familiar voice say “Open your eyes, my Lady.”

Obeying, you didn’t expect the kind blue eyes that belonged to your beloved stable boy to be looking down at you from the face of your husband. Confused, you raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “Arik? But…Loki?”

He shook his head and said softly, “We are one and the same, my dear.”

“No,” you mumbled. “It can’t be!”

The deceitful Prince took your hand and quickly kissed it. “I came into this match with the same fears as you, my love, and I had to know that you could love me for who I was, and not what my title was.”

“But…you were so mean to me…”

The Prince shook his head. “Please accept the grave mistake I made in choosing to avoid you. I thought that you’d already resented me due to our reluctant arrangement.”

“I wanted to meet you, to know you!”

“And so you have,” Loki said with a tender smile. “I assure you that Arik is in my heart. He was the real mask I wore, in order to have the courage to meet you for myself.”

You couldn’t believe it. “So, now we’re going to go forward and build an entire life off of a charade?”

“You said you trusted me,” Loki added. “Perhaps we can begin there, and with a kiss.”

The line was pure Arik. You were sold.

“It IS you!” you smiled happily, a warm wave of affection making your head spin.

As the Prince leaned down to give you your bridal kiss, Arik’s lips met yours and removed the last doubts you would ever have.

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#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki/reader #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #asgard #prince loki #forbidden love #fluff #princess reader #no y/n #reader insert #secret love

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beansprean · 2 years

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My fav thing about the classic flowershop / tattoo parlor au is assigning the objectively wrong roles for no reason other than my own enjoyment. ID under cut!

[ID: 1. Full body of a modern flowershop / tattoo parlor au with Stede and Ed. They are standing together in the wall space between their shops, meeting for the first time. Stede’s shop on the left says “tattoo” in large red letters on the window as well as a sign with their hours. Inside there is a small piercing display. Ed’s shop on the right has “flowers” in blue lettering on the window as well as the beginnings of a phone number with area code 246. Inside there is a tiered display of various types of flowers including sunflowers, roses, lilies, and carnations. Stede has three studs in his ear and snake bite hoops in his lip and is wearing a dark gray blouse with frilly sleeves, a purple waistcoat with silver detailings, a silver pocket square, a cravat pinned with a large purple jewel, and black trousers. He has several rings on each hand and black nails and is holding a cardboard box labeled “gauges.” He turns with pleasant surprise to look at Ed, smiles, and says “Oh!! Hello!” Ed, on a smoke break, just stares at him with pink-cheeked surprise in response. He has his long hair up in a bun and is wearing blue jeans and a pink tee shirt over a pale green apron with “Queen Anne’s” stitched on the breast. In his left hand is a lit cigarette, and the right is in his apron pocket fumbling with a red cloth. All his usual tattoos (save for the eagle on his chest and the marae on his wrist) are now floral designs, including a long leafy vine winding down his right arm, several pink carnations and falling petals, palm leaves on his left bicep, and a patch of sunflowers on his left shoulder and neck.

2. A new day, Stede now in a blue waistcoat with embroidered fleur-de-lis and light blue blouse and cravat and Ed with his hair half up in a bun, wearing a red tee shirt, apron, and brown gardening gloves. Stede is leaning toward him looking excited, declaring, “Lilac?? I would love to design that for you!” Ed, leaning back and looking flustered as he blushes and avoids eye contact, flexes his hands at his side and laughs nervously. “Uh, haha, really? Idk if my artist would like that.” To the side, we see a small drawing of a sullen Izzy with large gauges and a vee neck shirt, holding a buzzing tattoo pen. Text next to him in parentheses reads “current artist.”

3a. The same day; Ed sitting on a tattoo chair with his left arm extended while Stede, wearing nitrile gloves, doodles a lilac branch onto the blank spot on his forearm with a tattoo pen. Ed, staring at Stede shyly but warmly from the corner of his eye, offers a small smile and says, “You’re always so covered up, I’ve never even seen any of your tattoos.” Stede, smiling absently as he works on Ed’s tattoo, responds, “Oh! I don’t have any.”

3b. Ed whips his head toward Stede in shock, forgetting his shy attempt at flirting in favor of gaping openly at him. Stede, none the wiser, continues to draw and hum to himself.

3c. Close up of Ed’s face from the previous panel zoomed in, hearts popping up in his eyes and cheeks going a dark red. Text next to him reads “you are so fucking fascinating”

/end ID]

#OFMD #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #mlm #flowershop tattoo au #modern au #my art #fanart #our flag means death #image described

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iww-gnv · 10 months

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This is part of a series of frank accounts of the strike from Hollywood writers at different levels in their careers. I guess the AMPTP forgot the first lesson privileged parents quickly learn: Do not short-change The Nanny. Carol Lombardini did just that, and now SAG-AFTRA will strike. First, let’s rewind: The pavement was as hard as it’s ever been. The heat, unbearable. Numbers, thinning. The loneliest place on earth, the picket line by Universal’s Main Gate — where the sidewalk literally fucking ends. Paramount was all airpods and sunburns. (Some gracious restaurant handed out lemonade. God bless them.) Even the family-friendly line at Disney felt a little like a chain gang. Not gonna lie, we knew it would be hard. But by day 72 our souls were cracking. The distant horizon of the strike loomed long and large. But then the AMPTP fucked up. Big time. Quite possibly the stupidest exec in the business fed Deadline the most monstrous article, in which they finally let the mask slip and said the unsayable: Let the writers starve. “It’s been agreed for months,” the anonymous source confessed. The studios want to break the WGA, drag this out until the writers are “losing their homes.” “A cruel but necessary evil” to protect their bloated, unjustified C-suite compensation. Those are real quotes. Even Marie Antoinette winced. Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb. Writer Twitter lit up with rumors of a morning-after Zoom where screaming studio heads pointed fingers at each other. Whatever moronic flack allowed that to happen will soon be living thousands of miles from Los Angeles, probably printing up flyers offering 2-for-1 Blizzards at the Bangor, Maine, Dairy Queen. The fun, new parlor game on the picket lines this week is guessing who was dumb enough to say the quiet part out loud. But thank you, whoever you are. Because those quotes turbocharged us. They reminded every writer why we’re doing this. Why we can’t give up — and now, you better believe there is not a single writer who doubts this is possibly the most important strike in the history of our craft and our industry. Nothing unifies like a Big Bad. Nothing makes heroes like an unrelenting villain.

#sag aftra #wga #unions #hollywood #news

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frost-queen · 1 month

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Tempting fate // part 4 (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

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Summary: Putting yourself to the front, you bluntly ask Colin to marry you, yet his answer is not what you expected. Torn and haunted by his actions, need Colin to clear the doubts in his mind. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 ]

“What has happened?” – Colin asked. You took him by the hand, pulling him away. Out of the house as you didn’t wish to look upon your sister anymore. Colin confused yet obliged followed you without any restrains. Outside you kept tugging Colin along. – “Y/n wait… what is…” – he asked terribly confused, looking over his shoulder back to the house.

You weren’t listening, simply dragging him along as he put you to a stop. Grabbing your shoulder to stop you and turn him to you. – “What am I missing? Has something happened between you and your sister?” – he wanted to know. The moment his eyes met up with yours, it was enough to give you the clearing. – “My sister is right.” – you outed without a warning.

“I never do anything for myself. Always put my own happiness to the side so my sisters can thrive.” – you went on grabbing Colin by his shoulders. – “I have to think of myself.” – you added looking with wide eyes at him. – “So Colin marry me!” – you expressed with a wide smile. Your words stunned Colin. Making him flutter confused with his eyelashes. He then chuckled nervously taking your hands off him, to gently hold in his grip. – “Are… aren’t you rushing things Y/n?”

“Don’t… don’t you like me?” – you asked nervously. – “I…I do…” – Colin responded still trying to normalize what you just said. – “So marry me.” – you insisted upon finally claiming something for you. Colin lowered your hands with a soft sigh. – “That’s not how you…” – he started taking a soft breath. – “I like you Y/n I do, but marriage. It isn’t something to take lightly.” – Colin explained as if he had more experience with it. – “We kissed did we not?” – you let out taking a step back. – “We did.” – he replied looking at the ground. – “Then why won’t you marry me?” – you called out.

“I don’t know!” – Colin shouted back in desperation. Hardly knowing what he felt or wanted. Lip quivering, you slightly shook your head, backing away. – “Y/n…” – Colin said softly. – “I should’ve never…” – you whispered turning around as you wiped your cheek. Walking off trying to keep your head up high. Sobbing loud, you caught yourself falling even deeper. First your sister now Colin.

You didn’t understand why everyone was so against you. Everyone around you turning into people you didn’t recognize. No one to rely on. All becoming one by one strangers to you. Wiping more tears away, you felt your heart go bitter. Not wanting any more of the heartache it was causing you. You rather wanted it to be ripped out then continue to feel it bleed.

Colin returned home with his head low. He entered the Parlor as Benedict looked up with a cheeky smile. – “How was your visit to the Featheringtons?” – he teased with his hand under his chin. – “Forget about it!” – Colin said snappy making Benedict blink stunned. Not the reaction he expected at all. Eloise came moving around the sofa’s to him. – “Has there been more talk about Y/n?” – Eloise gasped concerned.

Colin threw his hand up. – “Not everything is about that woman!” – he replied. – “Somone is prickly.” – Benedict commented chuckling. Colin sighed loud taking his leave. On his way out of the Parlor he almost bumped into Francesca. – “What is with him?” – she asked as Eloise and Benedict both pulled their shoulders up. Colin went straight up to his room, letting himself fall onto his bed. Staring up to the ceiling as he felt the room spin around him. Why didn’t he know?

Mother came home with Phillipa and Prudence. Prudence sighed loud taking off her shoes. She started to rub her feet. Phillipa gave her hand a slap to stop it before sitting with her. – “Penelope! Y/n!” – mother shouted loud. Not a moment later appeared Penelope in the waiting room. Mother looked surprised at Penelope alone. – “Where is your sister?” – she asked. Penelope adverted her gaze. – “With Colin I presume.” – she commented with a sarcastic undertone. – “Bridgerton?” – Phillipa said confused.

“How many Colin’s do you know?” – Penelope answered bitsy. Phillipa moved her shoulders up innocently or too dumbfound. Prudence shook her head with a soft sigh. – “I shall call upon her.” – she said getting back up. – “Why is Y/n with Colin Bridgerton?” – Phillipa asked rubbing her still sore foot. – “I’m hoping doing a better job at courting than you girls.” – Mother insultingly commented. Prudence left, taking the carriage to ride over to the Bridgerton household.

The doorman opened the door, allowing her in. He announced her at the house. Prudence walked into the Parlor, bowing to the Bridgerton’s. – “Prudence… what… what a lovely surprise?” – Violet said slightly confused yet still upholding her manners. – “I’ve come for my sister.” – she answered. The Bridgerton’s looked confused at each other. Prudence picked up on that, feeling a bit foolish now.

“Is… is she not here?” – she asked fumbling with her fingers. – “Penelope said she was with Colin.” – she finished, looking at anywhere but them. The Bridgerton’s all looked at Colin. – “Don’t look at me.” – he answered holding his hands up. Violet looked to Prudence and back to Colin. – “You were at their household were you not?” – she questioned.

“I didn’t leave with Y/n, if that is what you are suggesting mother.” – Colin spoke folding his hands together before him. – “Well she is not at home either…” – Prudence replied softly. – “Has there been anything that would suggest something?” – Prudence asked taking a step forwards. – “No.” – Colin said with a clearance of his throat and looking away.

Violet kept looking at her son, trying to figure out if he knew anything. He wasn’t letting anything loose. – “My apologies Prudence, but your sister is not here. I do hope you find her soon.” - Violet commented with a small bow. Prudence curtsied back, taking her leave. Hoping you had somehow returned home upon her arrival.

Moving your hands higher over your arms, you pulled your knees closer to your chest. Head down, sobbing quietly underneath the tree’s shadow. Back against it’s bark. Thinking of what you have all done wrong to be treated like this. At first you didn’t want to notice Colin’s kindness towards you. Then you had accepted it as it felt so glorious. To be noticed by someone that only seemed to have eyes for you.

Then it’s all taken away when you had tasted too much from it. Perhaps he only liked you to flirt with. Not seeing marriage material in you, for who would ever marry a Featherington. Sniffing loud, you lifted up your head, seeing that the sun had begun to set. Not a part of you wanted to return home, but you had no options. Staying out here was too dangerous. With a lot of effort, you dragged yourself back to the house.

Mother gasped loud when she saw you pass in the hallway, hurrying over to see it better for herself. – “Where have you been?” – she shouted concerningly. – “To be alone.” – you answered, dragging yourself up the stairs. Mother sighed deep touching her forehead. Finally she was able to head for bed, knowing you were home. The other girls had gone to bed hours ago.

Mother insisting to stay awake till she heard news from you. The Featherington household grew silent, all gone to sleep. At the Bridgerton house was but one member still awake. Anthony working in the study on some papers. Managing the estate hasn’t always been easy. Kate had gone long to bed, trying to stay by her husband’s side, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Upstairs going down the second floor, in one of the rooms was someone restless. Tossing and turning in their sleep. Breath loud and sharp as they were tormented with flashes of scenario’s. The image of you appearing in their mind. The look in your eyes as he heard himself repeat his words. Colin turned his head restless, trying to say other words, but it was useless. No matter how hard he tried, he kept repeating his words from before over and over.

Each time, his dream settled on your face. Seeing the moment your heart broke over and over again. Tormenting him with each word. Till he no longer could bear it. Colin gasped loud, jumping up from his nightmare. Pressing his palms against his eyes, he hoped it would all be a dream, yet it wasn’t. Turning his head, he saw little time had passed. Knowing he wouldn’t sleep anymore till it was sorted out, he putted on a shirt, going downstairs.

There was a light coming from the study, walking up to it. There was a soft knock on the door, making Anthony lift his head up. – “Yes?” – he said curious watching as the door opened. – “Colin?” – he said startled setting his papers down. Colin walked in, staring lost in front of him. – “What is it?” – Anthony asked gesturing at the chair at the other side of the desk. Colin shuffled more into the room, closing the door behind him. – “I… I… have you ever said anything you regretted?” – he asked his big brother.

Anthony looked puzzled at Colin. – “Has this anything to do with the Featheringtons? Perhaps Y/n Featherington?” – Anthony asked, gesturing at the chair once more. Colin walked up to the chair, grabbing it from behind. – “What happened after you visited them?” – Anthony questioned needing a bit more context. Colin swallowed nervously turning his gaze away. – “I might have been stupid. The stupidest I have ever been.” – he explained still not sitting down. – “What did you say?” – Anthony wanted to know, feeling a bit worried about the possibility’s of his brother’s stupidness.

“I kissed Y/n Featherington.” – he confessed. Anthony’s eyes widened. – “When?” – he called out trying to keep his voice low, but his concern took over. Colin avoided his brother’s stern gaze. – “A ball or two ago…” – he went on, spilling his gut. Anthony could only stare at him in shock. – “Has anyone seen you?” – was Anthony’s next question. – “No!” – Colin blurted out, looking right at his brother.

Then his gaze drifted shyly away. – “Colin!” – Anthony shrieked out in a panic. – “I don’t think so!” – he called back in an equal panic. Anthony sighed loud, sinking back in his chair. Colin swallowed nervously. – “What more have you done?” – Anthony begged to know, hoping he wouldn’t get a heart attack from it. Colin noticed how his brother was looking at her.

“Nothing like that!” – he called out, knowing what he was hinting. He wouldn’t be improper with you like that. – “I’ve… I’ve just been an ass.” – he spoke letting himself fall in the chair with a weary sigh. Anthony folded his hands in front of him on the desk. – “Well go on, it can’t be any worse… or can it?” – Anthony responded hesitant. Colin shook his head then shrugged his shoulders.

“What did you tell her?” – Anthony asked calmly. – “She… she asked me to marry her today.” – Colin confessed with sweaty palms. Anthony’s eyes widened again. – “I… I kind of told her off… in a way…” – he went on. Anthony shook his head with a sigh. – “I can’t stop thinking about what I said.” – Colin moved closer to Anthony’s desk, leaning forwards. – “I could see her heart break through her eyes.” – he felt a bit ashamed of himself.

“Do you like her?” – Anthony asked. – “I do.” – Colin answered without hesitation. – “As more than a friend?” – his brother corrected, finding his answer a bit too easy. Colin adverted his gaze unsure. Anthony sighed again, pinching his nose bridge. – “Don’t be stubborn as me brother. If you love her, let her know before she slips through your fingers. Believe it is not a feeling you wish to feel.” – he spoke referring to the moment he thought Kate would die on him from her horse accident.

Colin groaned soft, moving his hands through his hair. – “It all feels so foggy.” – he spoke. – “Then make it clearer.” – Anthony simply answered. It made Colin lift his head up with wide eyes.

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