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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine - Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 8.5k

TW: Guns, S2 E14/15 ie Revelations (lmao sorry gang), guns, police (acab), torture, character death, mentions of death, dead bodies, rabid dogs, loooots of bible talk, mentions of kissing, brief reminiscing of potentially more sticks to canon pretty closely meaning if you have issues with the Episode Revelations, then this might not be for you, neediness, crying, lack of crying, internalized emotions, mentions of cheating, mentions of past relationship trauma

A/N: So I'm pretty sure this reads as gn! Reid does quote a proverb that references women, but that's because the bible wasn't big on inclusivity when it came to shaming people who enjoyed sex...anywho! I love any and all feedback! Enjoy!

You, Emily, Hotch, Derek, Gideon and the Sheriff sat around the computer, staring at a woman tied up in a barn, in her slip dress, mouth duct taped over. A figure, who had hidden his face, was reading out a passage of the bible. Your eyes were glued to the screen.

A portion of Jezebel shall dogs eat the flesh of.

“No. no.” You turned around, not wanting to watch what was happening on the screen, just hearing it was almost too much.

“Jezebel’s Death.” muttered Gideon, his voice filled with solemnity.

“My god.” Emily turned away from the screen, copying your actions.

Finally, Hotch told Emily to turn it off, but not before the Sheriff jumped up. “Wait.”

You all looked at him, confusion written all over everyone’s faces.

“You hadn’t seen enough.” Derek quipped.

“Those dogs. Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would’ve had them impounded but the victim knew the owner.” The sheriff was sure about it, more sure about this than anything he had seen in his life. “A neighbor, he didn’t want to press charges.”

Gideon stared at him. “You sure?”

“As god as my witness.” The sheriff scrambled for his notebook, flipping to find something. “Three mangy mixes, I knew those dogs looked sick. I called in animal control, but I don’t know if they ever followed up on it.”

“Here it is.” He looked up from the page.

“You have the owner’s name?” Hotch leaned over glancing into the notebook.

“Hankel.”

Your eyes went wide. “Hankel?”

“Tobias Hankel.”

“That’s where Reid and JJ are.” You looked over at Hotch, who watched several waves of emotion fly over your face, trying to control all of them. He nodded and looked at everyone. “Alright let’s go.”

The sheriff yelled out for people to grab their gear while you asked Hotch for a second outside. He nodded and followed you outside to the parking lot. It was cold out, only because of the night breeze, allowing yourself to enjoy the lack of sun and heat.

Hotch was the only person who actually knew about you and Spencer’s relationship, not because you didn’t trust the team, but because the less people that knew about it, the better. You had watched agents lose their loved ones over and over, being used as pawns against one another, and you were terrified of that happening. The team knew you two really liked each other, and you would hope that it showed since you had been dating for almost a year.

You were the team's newest addition, right after Elle, younger than Spencer by a year, but still boasting your own PhD. The two of you clicked right away. And to a room of profilers, it was obvious that you two would work perfectly together, and you did.

So when you started dating a couple months later, you had kept it a secret, just to test things out, not make it public before you were sure. But then the whole “Fisher King” incident happened, and then Elle disappeared, which meant Emily had just joined, causing there to be really no time to just drop another bombshell on a team.

You didn’t mind though. It meant that despite the teasing, you got reassurance that Spencer absolutely had a crush on you, regardless of relationship status. Morgan teasing him over glancing at you one to many times had definitely boosted your ego a bit, but a little confidence never hurt anyone.

You looked up at Hotch, really trying not to freak out, counting your inhales and exhales, timing them so your heart wouldn’t give out. “Hotch if they aren’t…”

“I know.”

“I’m not asking you to promise me that everything is okay and he’s going to be fine, because we honestly have no reason to believe anything is wrong in the first place, but I–I just need to know that whatever might go down, I’ll have your support because…”

He nodded and put a hand on your arm, giving it a squeeze. “I know. I’m going to give you another minute out here, but then we need to go.” He went back inside, letting you close your eyes, breathing in the air, letting the coolness still your chest.

It was hard to only have Hotch know at times like these, or at least confirm his suspicions. You had been alone for about thirty seconds when Derek came out to greet you, bringing you your vest.

“Stressed out there Girl Genius?”

You nodded and accepted the vest, sliding it on, remaining silent.

“Hey.” You looked up at Derek who held his arms out, and you gratefully accepted the invitation. “Everything’s going to be okay. Maybe he’ll finally admit that he loves you if something bad happens.”

His joke landed but not in the way Derek thought. You scoffed. Derek sighed and pulled away a bit. “He really does like you Y/N, you just have to be patient with him.” You almost felt bad for not telling Derek the scoff was because you already had told one another, quite recently actually.

“Maybe Derek. Maybe. But for now, I want to make sure they’re both okay, and I’d rather it be sooner than later.”

The police pulled up to the Tobias household, sirens wailing, lights flashing around. You jumped out the car, gun in your holster, following Derek and Emily.

The sheriff stopped Morgan and told him about the barn in the back, and the three of you moved to the back of the house. You took out your gun and slowly followed behind Morgan and Prentiss, watching the door of the barn swing back and forth slightly in the wind.

Derek clicked on the flashlight, and you two did the same, following behind him as he took the lead into the barm. You shined a light through the empty stalls, rocking back and forth between each side, looking for any sign of either Spencer or JJ.

Emily’s light landed on one of the dogs, dead—shot. You swung your light the opposite way, finding another dog. Just then Derek took a step back, having found the mattress in which the remains of that poor woman was, or at least all of her blood soaked through the entire fabric of the mattress. You immediately turned away, not being able to look at it. You had a very strong stomach, unusually strong since you worked with the FBI and had seen plenty of inhumane things no human should be capable of, but something about this particular scene was unbearable to look at.

“Damn.” Derek whispered before you all whipped around when you heard someone scream “F.BI.”.

JJ. Her hair was matted, eyes wide, chest heaving. She was shaking, eyes running between the people standing in front of her.

“JJ!” Derek yelled her name as everyone had swiveled around to her, all twisting your aim to JJ. .

“Don't. Move.”

“JJ it’s us–Morgan. Prentiss. Y/L/N. Don’t Shoot, it’s okay” He slowly moved towards her, trying to calm her down, get her to put down her weapon. “Don’t shoot. It’s okay. Are you hurt?”

She lowered her gun, eyes quickly moving from each of you, you could watch as her mind tried to calm down, letting the adrenaline dissipate. You approached her, getting close, trying not to startle her.

“It-Tobias Hankel is the unsub.” She let out, eyes still quickly scanning around her, almost searching for something.

“We know.” Emily exhaled, as she placed a hand gently on JJ’s arm. The sheriff leaned over and informed Derek that they were going to call an ambulance for JJ.

“W-W-We just thought he was a witness…” JJ holstered her gun before watching as Morgan looked around as the dead dogs surrounded all four of you.

“I had to kill them.” Her eyes had glossed over.

“JJ, where’s Reid?” Derek spoke, looking at her expectantly, but eyes filled with worry.

“They just completely tore her apart. There’s nothing even left–”

“JJ. Look at me.” You grabbed her hand, causing her to look up at you. “Look at me. Where’s Reid.”

“We–We split up, he told me he was going to go around back.” JJ started to panic again, realizing he wasn’t with you. You also started to tremble, pulling your hand away slightly, exiting the barn before you could hear another word, gun drawn.

You could hear as Morgan followed you, almost running to the back of the barn. You stopped once you turned the corner, slowly creeping forward, eyes scanning across the corn, but also listening in for potentially any sound coming from behind the barn. You saw some trampled stalks, and turned to look at Derek.

“He followed him into the field Derek.”

Derek saw your thought process, and the conclusion you reached as you reached it, which was a matter of seconds. As you went to dash into the field, following the very faint trail, Derek grabbed your arm and stood his ground, meaning you fought against him, and he struggled a bit, but ultimately won. “If you think for one second I am about to let you go into that field, you’re crazy.”

“Dere–”

“That’s clearly a sign that someone got dragged. He’s not in there.”

You huffed, biting your lip. You were trying so hard not to break in front of Derek, but every second you thought about what Tobias Hankel had been doing to people, meshed with every other second you thought about that happening to Reid, it was a miracle you could still even listen to Derek.

“Go inside with Hotch.”

You nodded slightly, holstering your gun, and running your hands down your face. “You’re not going to leave me alone until you watch me walk away from the cornfield.” You grumbled out, looking up at him.

“Yeah.” He sighed and pulled you into a quick hug. “Look. I don’t know what has actually occurred between you and Boy Genius, but you charging off into a field we know he probably isn’t in, won’t help us find him. I’m going to talk to Prentiss and JJ.”

You nodded and pulled away, running your hands through your hair, quickly walking towards the house as Derek moved towards the ambulance, not fully taking his eyes off of you. He was curious as to what the team didn’t know about you two, but pushed it aside since clearly pestering you about it wasn’t going to help any of you find Reid.

The next morning, You had not slept, and were only slightly avoiding JJ, basically walking laps around the outside of the house, trying to let your brain get some oxygen and calm down. Or, you would be standing around a table with the team, sitting in front of the computers, and your leg would bounce, you would tap your hands against your arm, anything to keep yourself from breaking down.

Obviously the team all picked up on it. It’s not even like they were microexpressions, you were just visibly anxious. All your brain could think about were flashes of Spencer, and whether or not he was still alive, completely unaware of his whereabouts since the lead from last night turned out to be a dead end. Hankel was smart, which made you nervous.

You were currently walking around the living room, wearing a circle into the rug, which was barely holding it together, reading Tobais’s diaries, trying to find anything. You heard JJ welcome in Garcia, and you paused to look up at Garcia with a brief smile on your face before continuing. Once they got her set up, Hotch tilted his head, requesting you come a bit closer so you all could talk.

“So, I’m guessing nothing new since I left.” He started.

“Not but,” Emily started. “The good thing is this guy documented everything second of his life. The bad news is we’re still unpiling.”

“From the looks of it, he hasn't left this place in years.” JJ sighed and stared down at all of the notebooks and papers strewn across the table.

“He knew he could pretend to be looking for a motel and throw us off his trail.” Emily looked up at Hotch, but Gideon interrupted.

“No no no, it’s more than that. Sheriff’s office, 911 calls. Every time he engages the police and gets away with it, he reassures himself. God’s on his side not ours.”

You just walked into the kitchen and lightly dropped the notebook you had been reading onto the table, brushing past Hotch. “I need some air.” You mumbled to him, shoving the rickety screen door open and quickly hustling down the steps.

You ran your hands through your hair, trying to breathe, trying to fight the urge to burst into tears and let yourself just lay on the ground. The only reason you hadn’t done so yet was because the urge to find Spencer was so much stronger.

After a moment, you heard the screen door open and someone come down the steps. “Emily I’m fi–”

“Y/N,”

You looked up and made eye contact with JJ. Her hair was flatter, less knots, but you could still see she had been shaken up. It didn’t matter. You were trying, desperately trying to not blame JJ for Reid’s disappearance, and you knew she was struggling with it too, but the fact that they weren’t together meant that he got dragged off somewhere, technically on her watch.

“JJ now’s no–”

“Please let me—”

“JJ.” You cut her off, arms crossed over your chest. You were only truly able to make eye contact with her for a couple seconds before you had to avert your eyes upwards. “Seriously. I’m fine. Go back inside.”

Your voice was curt, and running along the line of unkindness, but you were restraining yourself, trying to give your coworker, your friend, someone who had become your family, an out in this moment, but she just wouldn’t take it.

“You won't even look at me!” That got your attention back to her. “You haven’t spoken to me since the barn, and you’re avoiding me. I-I know what we did wasn’t…”

You huffed, now only staring at her, challenging her. “I’m listening now, JJ. That’s what you wanted right.”

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know you blame me. I blame myself. But I can’t stand you being so distant and I–”

“Look. JJ.” You cut her off again. “I am doing everything in my power not to scream at the top of my lungs how stupid it was, for the both of you to split up.” Your voice was low, and steady—it was unnerving to hear since you had always spoken with such character, such lightness. “But right now, I can’t yell at Spencer. And I really do not want to yell at you. I think it is one of the stupidest decisions either of you could have made. But blaming you for a decision you both made, doesn’t help us find him any sooner. So please. Just leave me alone right now.”

You brushed past her, not making any actual contact with her, since the next person who touched you might actually be the reason you start sobbing. JJ was absolutely shocked, frozen in the yard, trying not to cry herself. You didn’t want JJ to cry, you really didn’t, but she was pushing on something that is usually completely surrounded by walls and locks and gates.

You blinked away your tears and walked back into the house, towards the kitchen. Hotch and EMily looked up at you, both noticing JJ wasn’t next to you, and your face somehow managed to seem more frustrated and anxious than before.

Spencer had bought you a necklace for your one year anniversary. It was a very simple chain, with a small pendant on the front. Inside it was a pressed flower, a small, pressed, red salvia in the center of the clear pendant. You loved flowers, it was very obvious from the way that you always had a small vase of a few fresh flowers in the corner of your desk, or you had a signature pair of floral converse you always wore when you went out. It took Spencer all of three seconds to figure out that you loved flowers, and all of one question later to find out if you knew, and liked, Victorian Flower language; of course you did. When you two had started secretly seeing one another, you had been updating the flowers weekly. It was a part of your regular schedule, so no one questioned it. But suddenly you were becoming deliberate in your mini bouquets, hints of longing (pink camellias), with pops of devotion (heliotrope), or secret adoration (gardenias) sprinkled with I think of you (blue salvia), eventually turning to bouquets of ever-lasting love (baby’s breath) and sunshine in his smile (yellow tulips). Every time you would update the weekly bouquet, the team would comment on how the new bouquet looked so beautiful, the colors brightening up the place. But when Spencer walked through the door, you loved watching his eyes immediately dart for the flowers, decoding the message for only him. The red salvia on your chest was proudly proclaiming forever mine, for Spencer, and no one was the wiser.

When you wore it happily the day after your anniversary, exchanging the previous bouquet for a new one filled with yellow lilies, Spencer cou;d’ve known right then and there that you were over the moon, if you hadn’t already told him, and shown him, the night before. When Derek watched you fiddle with the necklace all day, he had made a joke that clearly you have someone in your life and “Pretty Boy needs to step up his game”, he had misread your slight smirk as a tease on Spencer, and not on himself. It was not a month later that you were fiddling with it in Tobias Hankel’s kitchen, your biggest tell of all, that you were nervous about something. But to most of the profilers in the room, you were nervous and fiddling with your necklace, to Hotch, it was a clear sign that he needed to keep you at a slight distance to make sure your head stays clear. If any of them had been thinking clearly, they might have made the connection from the necklace to Reid, but no one really was.

JJ followed a minute later, and quietly went back to her seat. It was clear she had been crying, or trying not to, but so were you, so it honestly didn’t make you feel as bad as it probably should have.

“Hey guys.” Emily’s voice cut through your thoughts. “I have got a list of Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Someone’s name and number is written on it, but it looks to be about twelve years old.”

“Try it. There are no bad leads.” Gideon answered.

You sighed, but watched curiously as Gideon stared at the wallpaper. He peeled off a section of it, revealing what seemed to be the same phrase over and over and over again.

“Honora Partum Tuum.” He read aloud.

“Honor thy father.” You finally spoke up. For much of the team, it was the first time they had heard your voice in hours.

Gideon looked over at you, realizing in his eyes, nodding.

“Hey guys. I think I got something.” You heard Derek yell, which meant all of you rushed out of the house, running over towards Derek. He had his gun out, pushing hay off of doors to what seemed like a storm cellar.

Derek pulled open one of the doors, shining his light into the darkness. “Tobias Hankel, F.B.I!” Hotch gave him the go ahead to slowly move down the stairs, then allowing Emily to follow. Hotch then gave you a small look, giving you the impression that you would not be allowed down into that cellar until it was cleared. You stood back slightly, not having the energy to have a bout in front of the others, still holding your gun, and scanning the surrounding area, keeping an eye particularly on the barn and the fields behind it.

You heard Derek yell out “Tobias Hankel” a couple of times, making your pulse beat faster–maybe they had found him, maybe he was okay. There was no other sound than Derek though. Maybe he was dead. Maybe someone else had spencer. Maybe—Derek came out of the storm cellar, covering his mouth.

You looked at him expectantly and shook his head. “Tobias’s father…on ice.”

You exhaled, a wave of emotions crashing through your veins that only left you more stressed than before.

Hotch came out of the cellar next, and motioned for you to follow him. You knew this conversation was coming, and the fact that it hadn't happened already surprised you.

Once the two of you were out of earshot, Hotch looked at you, not as a friend, not as someone who helped you through some dark moments in your life, but as your boss. “Can you continue, or do you need to sit the rest of this case out.”

His tone wasn’t harsh, quite the opposite. He watched as someone he cared for was slowly crumbling, closing off her walls to the outside, meaning you were more in your own head, than truly present.

You nodded, sighing. “If I’m not here, then I might go out there on my own. I’m not telling you that you’re babysitting me.” Hotch tried to cut you off, but you barrelled through. “But I need to be here, because if a breakthrough happens, if any of us find a location, I need to be in that car Hotch. If we find Hankel, I have a full understanding that however I react is the fate of my job. I am well aware of that. And I love this team with basically everything I have, so I need you to trust me, the way I am trusting all of you to find him.”

Hotch watched you for a moment before nodding. His features softened and he placed his hand on your arm again. It was the most contact Hotch ever really gave, but it meant so much. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, managing to keep it together. “No. I’d be more concerned if I was.” You tried to crack a joke, causing both of you to smile before he nodded at you. “I’ll see you in there.”

He left you standing by yourself, giving you a moment to collect yourself, before you followed him back into the house, back into the kitchen, back into the journals.

Spencer being gone for so long meant you had a laundry list of things you missed about him. You missed the way he would ramble on about anything in the world that he knew about. You missed his sweater vests, how they never seemed to match his outfit, but somehow always pulled the look together. You missed his dorky smile at you from across his desk. You missed the notes he would leave you in your apartment when he would get up to get to work, knowing you always had arrived before him at work since you lived closer. You missed the feeling of his hands in yours. The feeling of the hand on your back, on your shoulder.

But right now, you missed how fast that son of a bitch could read. Oh my god. If you had to read through one more of Tobias’ notebooks, you might lose your mind. You placed it facedown on the table and placed your head in your hands, giving your eyes a well deserved break.

After a moment, Derek spoke up. “There’s something weird going on here.” He was slowly pacing around the table.

“You think?” quipped the sheriff from across the room, and you snorted slightly in agreement and amusement.

“No seriously, check this out.” Derek looked up at everyone in the kitchen. “This journal is full of religious ramblings. He notates hour by hour. November 15th, 3:17 – if ye offer a sacrifice of peace offering unto the lord, ye shall offer it of your own will. And it goes on and on. 5:04, 7:41, 10:22, 1:42, but then it goes blank for days.”

You removed your face from your hands, looking over at Derek.

“Maybe he got sick of writing.” The sheriff offered up.

“I think I got it.”

“What is it?” Gideon prodded Hotch, all of you watching him.

“Journal entry, December 6th, Father sick. Wants me to put him down. I say thou shalt not kill, he says honor thy father. Must pray for guidance.” Hotch looked over at Gideon.

“So he kills his father as an act of mercy?”

“This is two months ago. Tobias Hankel’s father had been dead for four months already.” Hotch raised his eyebrows, Gideon and Derek starting to realize what he was getting at.

“That’s exactly it.” Derek moved one of the chairs away from the table. “Look at the floor. These scuff marks are fresh. I mean, it’s like two people were moving the chairs constantly trying to fight for control.”

“So?”

“This journal matches Charles Hankel’s handwriting, but it was written after he died. Upstairs, Tobias’ bedroom—it’s got junk piled from floor to ceiling but the other bedroom could pass a military inspection.” Derek was explaining to the Sheriff, who honestly was starting to get on your nerves with some of these questions.

“So you’re telling me one of Tobias’ personalities was his father?”

“Well, Tobias was raised with a strict religious code. Black and white, right and wrong.” Gideon interrupted. “When his father asked Tobias to kill him, something had to give.”

“His brain couldn’t handle the moral contradiction so it split into two personalities in order to keep his father alive.” Hotch looked over at Derek, a conversation between the two of them happening silently and quickly.

“So who is Raphael?”

“My guess, he’s the mediator between the two.” You spoke up, watching hotch and derek before looking back at the sheriff.

“Angels have no human emotions.” Gideon continued your thoughts. “Live or die, they don’t care. As long as it’s God’s will.”

“We need to start profiling Tobias’ father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid.” Hotch quickly looked at you before looking at Derek.

Derek nodded and started to head out of the room. “I’ll get Garcia on it”.

“Any luck with the rehab contact?” You looked up as Emily and JJ walked in, hoping they would have some answer for you.

Emily sighed. “Well he has no idea where Hankel might be, but we did learn that he has a serious drug problem. Dilaudid.”

“Well that could explain the psychotic fracture.” Hotch nodded over at Gideon.

“What are you talking about?”

Gideon, who had been staring at the photos all along the mirror that they had taped up, looked over at JJ. “Tobias is living as at least three different people; himself, Raphael, and his father.”

“Well this could be some bad news.”

Honestly, to you, it felt like all the sheriff did was bring more and more bad news.

“A computer store was robbed in the middle of the night. A suburb outside of Atlanta Thief got away with four laptops, external hard drives, and a satellite.”

“If it’s Tobias that puts him right back in business.” Hotch cast a quick glance over at you, watching as you tensed up, knowing the images you were desperately trying to keep out of your head. In response, you stood up and left the room, heading over to Derek and Penelope in the next room.

Penelope was sitting at the desk, typing and typing away. Derek looked up as you entered, giving you a small smile. You shook your head. “They think Tobias stole—” Just as you started, your mouth stopped. The screens in front of Penelope had changed, going blank with one cursor in the corner.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Penelope’s eyes were wide.

Spencer filled up every single screen, except for Penelope's laptop, and the one screen she was directly connected to.

“Oh my god.” You yelled, one hand flying to cover up your mouth, the other immediately grabbing your necklace, eyes flitting from screen to screen. This wasn’t real, it wasn’t happening–it couldn’t be happening.

Spencer was tied to a chair, his clothes disheveled, his hair a mess, he was missing both shoes and one sock. The left side of his head was soaked with blood, hair wet with it.

This was your worst nightmare, and yet you could not look away. You watched as his chest rose and fell, giving you at least the calm that he was alive. But tears still pricked the corners of your eyes, breathing was becoming harder and harder, but you couldn’t shut down. Your body wouldn’t let you.

Your yell had the others almost run into the room you were in, all of them barreling into the room, filling it up with bodies. Once they all looked at you, each one slowly realized what you were staring at.

“He’s been beaten.” Emily so astutely pointed out.

“Can’t you track him.” JJ was also struggling to breathe, guilt consuming her entire body.

“Hankel’s only streaming this to his home computer.” Garcia said solemnly, still doing her best to find something, anything.

Hotch turned to look at your face. At this point, most of the blood had left your face, leaving you pale, and nauseous. He tried to calmly gestured for you to leave, giving you an out, but you stared straight ahead, somehow becoming more pale, more sick, when Gideon pointed it out for you all.

“This is for us. He knows we’re here.”

Derek huffed and turned away for a second, trying not to bash the wall in. “I’m gonna put this guy’s head on a stick.”

“Why can’t you locate him?” You could kiss Hotch for staying so level headed in this moment. Your eyes quickly tore away from the screens, looking at Garcia.

“He’s rerouting to a different I.P. address every thirty seconds. I can’t track him.”

Can you really see inside men’s minds?

All of you quickly found a screen to watch as you heard the voice take over.

See these vermin? Choose one to die.

All you could do was stare at his face–his eyes. You had never seen Spencer so vulnerable, so tired, barely fighting at all. You watched as his eyes scanned across something to his right. All of you held your breath, waiting for Spencer to say something, anything.

You choose one to live.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled again as Spencer shook his head slightly, defying Tobias, or whoever’s wishes.

I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior.

“You’re a sadist in a psychotic break. You won’t stop killing. Your words aren’t true.”

The other heathens are watching. Choose a sinner to die, and I’ll say the name and address of the person to be saved.

“I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.” Spencer was staring into his eyes, challenging him. But Tobias, or Charles, picked him up by the collar, both hands, and brought his face really close to Spencer's.

Can you really see inside my mind boy. Can you see I'm not a liar. He chucked Spencer back into the chair, causing Spencer to flinch from another bruise you probably couldn't see. Choose one to die, and save a life. Otherwise they’re all dead.

“All right. I’ll choose who lives.” You inhaled sharply, Derek tensing up next to you.

They’re all the same.

You all waited, in silence, as Spencer scanned what you assumed were the laptops that had been stolen. His eyes flickered to the camcorder, shame in voice, looking back at Tobias or Charles. “Far right screen.”

Marilyn David, 4913 Walnut Creek Road

“You got that?”

“Marilyn David. My name is Jason Gideon with the F.B.I. I need you to close your laptop screen right now. Someone has been connecting into your laptop’s camera and watching you. For your safety, you need to close it.

“Raphael.”

The computer screens went black.

“Garcia, get him back.”

Derek turned away, slamming the door against the wall as he stalked out of the room, beyond pissed.

“Garcia, get him back.” You repeated, absolute horror dawning on all of your faces. Your eyes were frantically running over every screen every ten seconds, hoping that maybe one of them would still hold the image of Spencer.

“I’m t-trying.” She whispered, furiously typing away, trying to hack into something, or find Hankel, anything really.

“So now what. Wait for a 911 call?” The sheriff's voice rang out in your ear, and it grated against you. “And hope we get there in time.”

Once you had gotten the 911 call, you, JJ, Emily, and Derek were told to stay at the house with Garcia. You heard Derek and JJ in one of the other rooms, but you were just standing next to Garcia’s chair, not moving an inch. All you could do was stare at the screens, eyes flitting from face to face on unexpecting potential victims.

JJ walked in, looking more like she had in the barn–disheveled, guilty. “Any more signs of Reid.”

Both you and Garcia shook your heads.

“He just posted the last murder online.” Garcia’s voice was grave, eyes dark. “It had over 17,000 hits in the first twenty minutes.”

“I want to see it.”

“No you don’t.” You answered JJ, not turning to look at her.

“Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want.”

You tore your eyes away from the screens and over at JJ.

“If I can’t watch this…I have no business being in the field.”

“J-ge, it’s not a competition.” Garcia whispered.

“I-I need to see it.”

You shook your head and walked out of the room, not being able to watch it again. You walked into the kitchen where Derek and Emily were, discussing something. Derek’s eyes quickly flicked over to you, surprised slightly by the fact that you had left the screens.

“We can trace their whole family history. Here we got happy smiling pictures of Tobias. Report cards all A’s and B’s. But at eight years old, we got nothing.”

“That’s his mother leaving.” Emily shot you a quick, yet sympathetic smile, before looking back at the mirror. “Six months later, on the other side of the board, we have a form from child services saying they paid a visit.”

“Then Charles starts keeping journals about punishing sinners and needing to remove the devil from his son.” Derek continued.

“Which corresponds to Tobias’ drug use. He’s trying to escape.” You watched as Emily and Derek worked through the profile again.

“So wherever Reid is, It was Tobias’ choice, not his fathers.” Derek sighed and scanned over the pictures, trying to find maybe a common location amongst them.

“How’d you figure?”

“Look at these two lives. They’re like inverse graphs. One’s getting weaker while the other ones getting angrier. Tobias would run away while his father would have stood and fought.” Derek looked back at Emily.

She nodded. “Okay so Tobias uses drugs as an escape. I’ll go back through the journals and see if I can find anything connecting his drug use to a hiding place

“Uh where’s Gideon.” You finally spoke up.

“He’s upstairs. Why? What’s going on?”

“Hankel just posted the latest murder.” JJ walked out of the room that you had just been in.

You watched as she quickly called out to Gideon that the newest murder had been uploaded, and as he quickly made his way into the adjoining room. You heard him panicking, trying to come up with a solution to get people to stop watching the videos.

You were fiddling with your necklace, mind lost on the day before all of this started. It had been sunny in DC. Something you didn’t get all the time, especially when you were only there half of the year. You had gone over to Spencer's apartment, picking up your favorite take out on the way over. He had been teaching you how to play chess. You already knew the basics of chess, which pieces moved where, and how to analyze a board on a move to move basis, but Spencer started to teach you strategies. He would explain every single move he was making, and how he was able to predict a check in three. It was adorable. In return, for every game you would learn together, Spencer would watch a movie with you. He would watch movies if you had asked him in the first place, but this time, you gave him what he thought was the most enthralling commentary the entire time. You would put on your favorite movies and ramble on and on about a certain actor getting sick during this shot, or the fact that the two romantic leads hated one another, or even someone breaking their toe during one scene—he adored listening to you ramble, in the same way you loved listening to him. That night was movie night. You had picked cult-classic “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” you were absolutely enthralled to explain to Spencer the interactive portions of the movies, the screaming at the screen, the details of the pink triangle on Dr. Franknfurter’s smock, the repetition of certain musical themes. You two hands ended up tangled on the couch, giggling about something, drunk on each other’s company—it was perfect.

But the sound of Spencer’s sob ripped through your thoughts. It took you three strides to be back with Garcia and Gideon, watching as Tobias slammed his fist across Spencer’s face. Your hands moved to your mouth as your eyes watered.

You heard as he begged Tobias to help him, bruises flowering across his face, a cut across his lip breaking the once smooth skin.

He can’t help you. He’s weak. Confess. Confess your sins.

You watched as Spencer’s chair was chucked to the ground, while he was still tied to it. Every single atom of air had left your lungs. You could feel the pit of your stomach drop, unable to move, unable to blink. Tears welled up in your eyes as the love of your life was being beaten to death, and you couldn't do anything about it.

Several studies have shown that plants can feel pain. Whether or not they are completely and one hundred percent credible is something you and Spencer have jokingly argued about multiple times. You liked to think that they didn’t considering you managed to bring in a fresh crop of newly cut flowers each week. But these scientists claim that plants can feel pain. They can feel the pain of being cut from the vine or stem, and they can feel themselves dying as you watch them wilt in the vase. You and JJ were quite similar in feeling like you had to prove something to yourself, that if you couldn’t handle what was happening, maybe you shouldn’t be in the field, shouldn’t be in the BAU.

Watching Spencer have a seizure on the ground, unable to run to him, unable to save him, unable to do anything but just watch in horror, made you feel every single ounce of pain you could have ever imagined. When his body stilled, and Tobias exited whatever building they were in, you were still standing there, completely and utterly in shock. Hotch took your arm and wordlessly tugged on your arm, but you couldn’t move. Your feet were cemented to the floor. Even if you wanted to run the other way, you couldn’t. Hotch tried again, but you just stared at the screen, constantly flipping the necklace over and over and over and over again. If you moved, you might start sobbing, you might collapse, you might have just died on the spot.

Spencer's lips were still. His lips would ramble when he had something he found quite interesting to speak about, they would fidget when he got nervous, they would form quirky expressions when he had a moment of realization. But not once have they ever been this still. And it was dissolving your heart. Moment by moment another small section would boil down to dust, not even letting you have the chance to have your heart ripped out, because that would mean your heart would still be together, still be beating, just not with you anymore. Your heart was dying because Spencer was dead.

The first stage of grief is denial. All you could do was hope, pray, anything that this was some sick and twisted joke, that Spencer was okay. That Spencer was alive. That you weren’t staring at Spencer’s body on the screen, not knowing where he was, and if you would ever find him, or his body.

Lucky for every single person in that room, and lucky for Tobias Hankel, you watched as he burst back through the door, dropped down to his knees, and tried to resuscitate Spencer. Your eyes widened as you watched every single chest compression, every single moment of mouth to mouth. After the longest thirty seconds of your life, Spencer convulsed, air filling his lungs, coughing.

“Oh my god.” You almost threw up into the hands that were covering your mouth because you were so grateful for the fact that Spencer was breathing, that his dead body was somewhere you might never have found it.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Emily leaned over to Garcia. “When was the video of the last murder poster?”

“9:23.”

“And what was the time of death?”

“The 911 call came in at 9:04, and the murders must have been moments later.”

“That's only a 19 minute difference.” You spoke up, figuring out what Emily was getting at.

“How long would it take to post the mpeg.” Derek chimed in.

“2, 3 minutes.” Garcia looked over at you all.

“Lets call it 2. You figure a maximum of sixty miles per hour in a residential area, that means Hankel has to be within a seventeen mile radius of the crime scene.” Derek reasoned, looking over at Hotch.

“Garcia, can we see it on a map?” Hotch leaned over Garcia.

“Call Farraday. I want that area locked down like it’s martial law.” Gideon turned to Derek, ready to give more instructions but you interrupted.

“Guys.”

You came back to life.

Spencer was looking up at Rapheal now. The complete shift in tone from Charles to Raphael to Tobias always made your hair stand on edge, but you could hear the anger that Raphael held.

There can only be one of two reasons.

“I was given CPR.” Even after he was just given his life back, he still managed to crack a joke.

There are no accidents. How many members are on your team?

“Seven”

You paused, ready to speak up, but Tobias beat you to it.

The seven angels who had the seven trumpets who prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and fire, mixed with blood and they were thrown to the earth.

“He thinks it’s revelations. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death.” Hotch explained.

“Hotch there are eight of us on this team.” You spoke, this time garnering the attention of everyone in the room. “He’s lying to Hankel, that's considered a sin right? If Hankel finds out—”

You were interrupted by the sound of a chair hitting the ground. Hankel had yanked Spencer’s chair upright, watching as he was jostled around.

Tell me who you serve.

“I serve you”

Then choose one to die

“What”

Your team members choose one to die.

“Kill me”

You inhaled sharply causing one of Derek's hands to find the small of your back. You had already watched him die once, but you can’t give CPR to a bullet through the brain.

You said you weren't one of them

“I lied”

Your team has six other members. Tell me who dies.

“No”

All of you watch as Tobias pulls one bullet out of his pocket, and clicks open the revolver. He placed it in, and spun the barrel, letting it close with a click. Spencer playing Russian roulette was not on your bucket list of things to do this year. Maybe force him to go kayaking with you, let him teach you some other game like Go, maybe even take a few days off for a real vacation and work each other up so desperately. But you could guarantee, this was not on that list.

Each time Spencer refused, and you heard the empty barrel fire, your heart gave out, again.

Choose, and prove you’ll do god's will.

“No.”

Click.

And again.

Choose.

“I won’t do it”.

Click.

And again.

Life is a choice.

“No.”

Click.

And again.

Choose.

Spencer’s pause made everyone hold their breaths. He had a 33.33% chance of getting shot, and luck had to run out, it always did.

“I-I choose…” You all waited, no one truly knowing what he could possibly be thinking. “Y/N Y/L/N.” Derek's hand on your back tensed up, all eyes looked at you, and all you could do was stare at Spencer on the screen. He wouldn’t just hand out your death sentence like that, he wouldn’t do that to you. Right? Right?

“Adulterer, cheating on my for months now. Puts their own needs above others and their feelings.” Your brows furrowed, hand immediately at the necklace you were wearing around your neck. This accusation confused the absolute shit out of you, since you had revealed to Spencer your history with a previous partner who had chea–oh. He was speaking to you.

“Oh my god.” You whispered.

“I would come home to bouquets of crimson roses and rosemary, or there would be begonias and clematis. I've only ever bought red salvias with baby’s breath—their favorite.” Spencer chuckled, putting on an act for Tobias.

“Pen! I need a pen.” You yelled, everyone now concerned you had lost your mind, but Garcia had quickly handed you hers as you tried to write down the flowers Spencer had listed off. Once you had all of them written down, you quickly ran out of the room.

“Genesis 23:4, For the lips of an immoral woman are as sweet as honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil. But in the end she is as bitter as poison, as dangerous as a double-edged sword.”

You only paused for a moment when you heard a gunshot, but you kept going, hoping and praying that you were right. You had found one of the empty pages of Tobais’ journals and wrote down the flowers:

crimson roses - mourning rosemary - remembrance clematis - poverty begonias - beware, watch out

You looked at the list of the flowers, over and over. “Mourning…” You mumbled, when it hit you. Quickly, you grabbed the bible on the table, flipping to find Genesis 23:4.

Morgan walked into the room, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Look I don't know about this potential relationship that you and Spenc-"

“I’m not a cheater.” You cast him a quick look, still flipping to find the page.

Derek started. “He’s not in his right mind Y/n.”

Gideon quickly followed. “Come on, look you can’t think anything of that..”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Well, yes, it is, but that’s not–”

Hotch cut you off. “He’s panickin—”

“Everyone. Stop.” They all obliged, watching as you picked up the notebook you had been writing in. “What is my worst quality?”

They all just stared at you.

“Okay I’ll start, I can be a total bitch.”

“You miss a concerning amount of briefings.”

“You can get overly emotional sometimes.”

“You’re extremely stubborn.”

“You don’t trust anyone easily.”

“Okay good, I’m all these things, but none of you said that I would ever put my needs over anyone. Especially over other’s feelings. Reid and I had a conversation about two weeks ago about my ex who would repeatedly cheat on me, among other things.” You took a little breath before continuing. “And he knew I would obviously remember a conversation like that. He also knows I love Victorian Flower Language, it’s one of my favorite interests. Some of the flowers he listed off, correspond to flowers you send in mourning, when someone has died, not the flowers you send someone to admit their love or hide it.”

You handed the bible to JJ. “And he also quoted Genesis Chapter 23, verse 4, Read it.”

JJ read out: “I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you, that I might bury my dead out of sight.”

“Spencer would never get it wrong unless it was on purpose. He’s in a cemetery.”

“I don’t see a cemetery” Garcia had pulled up the 17-mile radius again, looking between you and Hotch.

“Call up the first time we saw Reid.” Gideon was rubbing his hands together, trying to remember something.

“I won't choose who gets slaughtered, and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.”

Spencer had looked right at the camera, fucking brilliant man. He had been trying to contact you all since the first time he was on camera.

“Check to see if there are any reports of poaching in the last couple of days.” Hotch nodded at Gideon while Garcia speedily typed out her parameters, getting a response almost instantly.

“Okay uh, a farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property.”

“Where are we talking?” Derek was behind you, watching as Garcia zoomed into a five mile radius around the farmer’s land.

“It would be someone that was old, dilapidated, run down. Clematis is a sign of poverty.”

JJ pointed to a small section on the screen. “What’s that patch of green there”

“Marshall parish, I think it's an old plantation.”

“Wait.” Emily quickly flipped through a journal, trying to find what she had remembered. “Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from Marshall.”

“Guys. There's a cemetery on the grounds.”

“Alright.” Hotch nodded at all of you. “Let's go.”

As you all headed out, Hotch stopped you, pulling you past the kitchen and into the living room. Derek shot you a sympathetic smile as he and the rest of the team exited the building. The living room would be far enough away from Penelope's prying ears, but it’s not like it mattered anymore—it was pretty obvious you and Spencer were sleeping together, if not dating.

“You’re not going.”

You scoffed at Hotch, expecting nothing less, but still willing to fight him about it.

“I’m serious Y/N. I need everyone out there to be as level headed as possible, and you and I both know that the second Spencer put his life on the line, second time round, you were about to raise hell and earth to get to him. If you can promise me, right here, right now, that your head is completely clear, then I will let you go with us, no questions asked.”

You pinched your eyes, letting out a hefty sigh. “Hotch I cannot be here in case he needs me.”

“If he gets hurt, you will not be able to function as an agent, and that is a risk I am not willing to take.”

Hotch is right. He almost always is.

The porch door swung open with the loudest screech yet, Derek appearing in his bullet proof vest, holding Hotch’s in his hand. “We’re heading out.”

Hotch nodded at you, a brief hand on your arm, before walking to the door.

“Hotch?”

He looked over at you.

“The last flower? Begonias?” He nodded at you, not sure where you were going with this.

“If you were sent begonias…it was a subtle warning that you were in danger. Please, be careful.”

“We will.”

And with that, the door slammed shut, and suddenly you were stuck in a ranch house, wondering whether or not Spencer was okay, and whether or not your team would even make it on time. You clutched at the necklace, twirling the pendant, watching as the headlights faded into the darkness, with the very real possibility, someone might not come back.

Next Part

#spencer reid #x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x gn!reader

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mejcinta · 10 months ago

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Speculating events from the trailer(s):

1. Green Council meeting after Luke's death? Or war council.

Judging by how playful Aegon is here it's hard to believe he's witnessed the horror of B&C. But we shall see.

"To war then!" could be his response to news of Rhaenyra officially rejecting his terms. I also think he'll be defensive of Aemond's actions at Storm's End. He knows they can't survive while Rhaenyra and her sons live. Alicent could disagree with him and Aemond.

2. Alicent counsels Aegon.

Following Aegon's disregard for the grave reality war is, Alicent could seek him out to counsel him. He's already stumbling and it's just his first days as King. She tries to offer alternative solutions other than violence; but Aegon might use this opportunity to assert his independence from her and Otto.

3. Aegon sits the throne officially.

And he shows Otto clear disregard on his way up. He wants to be a king in his own right, free of influence or control. But he clearly still has a lot to learn and is taking this as some kind of joke or a way to get back at Viserys and Rhaenyra. He's not invested.

4. Aemond seeks Criston.

Criston is a father figure to Aemond. And Aemond might have pressing issues to discuss with him, that he would not dare share with Alicent or Aegon. Ep 9 established that Aemond expresses his vulnerability to Criston. Could this meeting at night be where he confesses that he accidentally killed Luke?

5. Blood and Cheese.

Helaena and her children with Aegon are attacked same night. Aemond, who I assume is still with Criston here, appears to have heard something. Aegon, still wearing his kingly attire, tortures/kills the suspect in Larys' presence.

6. War is officially declared on Jaehaerys' funeral day.

The chants 'Behold the work of Rhaenyra the Cruel' are heard as little Jaehaerys' body is carried through the city to a cremation site. The Greens have made up their minds that this was done under Rhaenyra's orders, possibly based on Blood naming Daemon as the culprit when Aegon was torturing him.

#hotd trailer #the greens #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #aemond targaryen #criston cole #otto hightower #helaena targaryen

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jamesfrain · 3 months ago

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‘I believe I have not cried since Esher'

Of the entire episode from last Sunday (17/11), I believe the most significant moment was the sequence of scenes at the end. Cromwell's encounter with Dorothea, Wolsey's daughter, cast a shadow of doubt on Thomas, making him question his declared dedication to Cardinal Wolsey in his final moments.

This scene intrigued me, especially after seeing various interpretations on tumblr. I revisited the books and some historical resources that I think can shed light on the dynamics in that scene and the inspiration behind Hilary's writing.

As I have mentioned previously, the encounter between Cromwell and Wolsey's daughter leads Cromwell to question himself and the actions he took in support of the Cardinal.

Although Cromwell doesn't express his distress to Dorothea, he breaks down after leaving her presence. This marks the beginning of his self-doubt. In the company of Christopher and Riche, he attempts to rationalize everything he did during Wolsey's final years. In the book (TMATL), even as Riche recounts Cromwell's numerous contributions to the Cardinal, Thomas strives to remember the moments he managed Wolsey’s affairs. He articulates:

He thinks, Riche would not fault me, if I had betrayed him: what use is a fallen magnate? He says, ‘If not for me, the cardinal would have been killed in those days of his first disgrace, or if he had lived he would have lived a beggar. I put myself in hazard for him, my house and all I had. If I treated with Norfolk, it was only to speak for my master. I did not like Thomas Howard then and I do not now, and I was never his man and never will be, and if he came to me for a post as a pot boy I would not employ him.

He thinks, I tried by every means to save my master: I tried by exhortation, by prayer, and when that failed, I tried accountancy.

It is clear to me that Thomas was troubled by the possibility that he had not done everything possible to save his master. While he doubts himself, he simultaneously highlights his efforts on Wolsey's behalf, seemingly to alleviate his conscience of any accusations.

‘The girl is right. There was rank ingratitude, there was false dealing, there was perjury, defamation and theft. But I was true to Wolsey, or God strike me down.’

He says, ‘I shall go back in to Dorothea. I shall explain it to her.’ Christophe says, ‘You cannot undo what she has been believing for so long. Let it rest.

Although these parts didn't make it into the show, I believe they express his desperation.

Oh! This part disappointed me a little. While I understand they likely want to maintain the mystery surrounding Wolsey's presence, I think it would be marvelous if they included an explanation of Wolsey's absence. We have in the book:

‘I hear,’ Rafe says gently, ‘you were ill-received.’ ‘You counselled me,’ he says, ‘you and my nephew – you said, you must let the cardinal go. Whether I would or no, he was prised away from me. But I did not know he would go as far as he has gone now.’ His hand describes the space of the room. ‘I am used to his visits. I see him in my mind. I ask his advice. He is dead but I make him work.'

I appreciate how Rafe managed the situation in the show, he demonstrated genuine concern for Cromwell's state of mind. I believe many people witnessed Cromwell's efforts to save Wolsey, but unfortunately, his own thoughts are working against him.

I believe that Cromwell's doubt showed in the novel can be explained by a series of events that took place in 1529 and 1530. According to historian Diarmaid MacCulloch, Cromwell was serving two masters during this time: the King and Cardinal Wolsey. He notes:

In any case, that All Hallows’ Day (1529) Cromwell was in a highly emotional state, ‘the tears upon his cheeks’. Lamenting that he was ‘like to lose all that I have travailed for all the days of my life, for doing of my master true and diligent service’ and that he was ‘in disdain with most men for my master’s sake’, ...(Diarmaid)

I believe Hilary took inspiration from this event when in Wolf Hall we see:

If he were to give himself a piece of advice for Christmas, he'd say, leave the cardinal now or you'll be out on the streets again with the three-card trick. But he only gives advice to those who are likely to take it. (Wolf Hall)

In 1530, we will also have a series of events that put Cromwell at risk, especially regarding Wolsey's actions in the north.

Many such warnings against indiscretion and ostentation would follow, and not just from Cromwell; none was heeded. There may have been calculation in what Wolsey was attempting. To judge not merely from George Cavendish’s admiring account but also from a hostile and well-informed writer of a slightly later generation, the Archbishop of York adopted a new style calculated to build an image as a self-negating, generous Father in God: feasting the nobility and gentry, but also showing himself open to the poor; distributing alms; abandoning his horses to go on foot and greet beggars; happy ‘to say Mass many times among the common people’; and ‘whilst he sat at meat … well pleased to hear a chapter of the Old or New Testament read’. (Diarmaid)

There are signs that Cromwell felt deeply (and understandably) insecure about his own future. Despite his royal service, he had not travelled any further up the social hierarchy, to be styled ‘esquire’ rather than just ‘gentleman'. (Diarmaid)

Wolsey’s ongoing folly was not merely a matter of showing off in the North. About the time he left the Thames valley, he began putting out his own secret diplomatic feelers to Europe’s two most powerful monarchs, King François of France and Charles V, then to King Henry’s spurned Queen Katherine and Pope Clement V. (Diarmaid)

Hilary highlights this in the novel

Once more he bends his head over the cardinal's letters. Wolsey is writing to the rulers of Europe, to ask them to support him, vindicate him, fight his cause. He, Thomas Cromwell, wishes the cardinal would not, or if he must, could the encryption be more tricky? Is it not treasonable for Wolsey to urge them to obstruct the king's purpose? Henry would deem it is. The cardinal is not asking them to make war on Henry, on his behalf: he's merely asking them to withdraw their approval of a king who very much likes to be liked. He sits back in his chair, hands over his mouth, as if to disguise his opinion from himself. He thinks, I am glad I love my lord cardinal, because if I did not, and I were his enemy – let us say I am Suffolk, let us say I am Norfolk, let us say I am the king – I would be putting him on trial next week. (Wolf Hall)

August: the cardinal writes to the king, a letter full of complaint, saying that he is being hounded by his creditors, ‘wrapped in misery and dread’ – but the stories that come back are different. He is holding dinners, and inviting all the local gentry. He is dispensing charity on his old princely scale, settling lawsuits, and sweet-talking estranged husbands and wives into sharing a roof again. (Wolf Hall)

All of this shows the enormous effort Cromwell put in to help Wolsey from himself and the king's wrath.

To conclude my thoughts, I believe that Dorothea's understanding of Cromwell in the novel is shaped by the following:

George Cavendish, with his acute nose for the dynamics of Tudor Court politics, noted that Cromwell’s duties during 1530 were the real foundation of his future success: by his diplomatic attention to satisfying the greed of those battening on Wolsey’s estates, while constantly consulting with the Cardinal himself to keep the damage within bounds, ‘now began matters to work to bring Master Cromwell into estimation in such sort as was afterwards much to his increase of dignity. (Diarmaid)

Even though I believe that Gardiner is the devil behind her perception. 😈

#wolf hall #wolf hall spoilers #wh #wolf hall the mirror and the light #aaaand the 'theft' part is about Henry for suuuure #thomas cromwell #fefa speaks #sorry if I don't make any sence #I drank wine at 10 a.m.#txt

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sealixirfairytales · 3 months ago

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New OC based on Vesper, my con artist :)

Name: Vasca Silversand

Class: 2-B, Seat 15

Age : 17

Birthday: June 21

Homeland : Pyroxene

Height: 179 cm

Best Subject: Art

Club: Film Studies

Likes: Attention, Rare artifacts, Theater

Dislikes: Critics, Hard Work, Cold Weather

Hobby: Creating “Performative Installations”: He stages elaborate, ephemeral "artistic" shows using magical illusions and dramatic rhetoric.

Unique Magic : "Ephemeral Canvas": Creates elaborate, dazzling illusions that captivate all who see them, drawing attention away from flaws or hidden intentions. The illusions vanish if someone doubts their authenticity or questions their meaning.

~~~~~~~~~~

His charm and manipulative nature align with Scarabia's resourceful, cunning spirit. His knack for persuasion and theatricality fits the dorm’s penchant for wits and social prowess.

Some other Scarabia students compare him sometime to a "desert mirage"—beautiful to behold but ultimately deceptive and fleeting.

He don’t like working. He prefers to charm or manipulate his way to success.

Vasca excels at weaving illusions and creating dazzling magical displays. His work impresses with its grandeur, even if it lacks depth.

His dramatic flair and love for staging performances make him a natural in this club. He might even act as a self-proclaimed “director.”

Positive Traits:

Charismatic, eloquent, and effortlessly charming.

A visionary with a unique sense of style and flair.

Negative Traits:

Manipulative, self-centered, and envious of true talent.

Deeply insecure about his own abilities, masking it with bravado.

Quirks:

Snaps his fingers theatrically to punctuate his words.

Voice Lines

Greeting:

"Ah, my dear audience! You’re right on time. Shall we begin our little… show?"

"Ah, finally, someone who knows how to appreciate true art. Care to stay awhile?"

Summon:

"I suppose my presence alone is a prize, but if you insist…"

"Ah, you’re fortunate! It’s not every day I bless someone with my company."

Exam Success:

"Naturally, I dazzled them. Did they really expect anything less from me?"

"Success, as effortless as breathing. Talent, after all, is an art."

Exam Failure:

"They wouldn’t know true genius if it stood before them, clearly."

"Hm, how irksome. Perhaps they were simply... unprepared for my brilliance."

Unique Magic :

Glimpse the allure, before truth unravels. Ephemeral Canvas!

Friendship :

"I’m not used to sharing my secrets… but for you, I might make an exception."

"You’ve proven yourself worthy of a front-row seat to my life. Consider yourself special."

Battle Victory :

"A flawless finish—just as I planned. I hope you were watching closely!"

The character he's based off:

#ocs #oc art #disney #disney artstyle #original story #original character #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland disney #twst #disney twst #twst oc #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst fanart #twisted wonderland oc #twst original character

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shunin-gumis · 3 months ago

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Designs of Happiness - Track B02

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: Active Theory of Happiness

Characters: Nagi, Ryui, Toi, Netaro, Kafka

Summary: At the 4th Ward Mayor Appointment Ceremony, the cue card that Nagi prepared for his speech was completely drenched for some reason…

Thank you aca @/463ce6, myun @/myuntachis and Niri @/Niri_riri for helping me with proofing!

Kafka: “...and I bet my life on revitalizing tourism in HAMA.”

Location: Ceremony Venue

Kafka: Does having no large-scale commercial facilities or redevelopment investment make our region less attractive? The answer is a firm “no.”

Kafka: Finding value in resources that are already available to us and putting them to use effectively to change our circumstances positively–That is what HAMA Tours is working towards.

Kafka: I’m certain that most of you gathered here today are from Wards 15 through 18. Know that your wards are indispensable strategic zones in HAMA.

Kafka: As you had all witnessed earlier, these five members have been newly assigned as Ward Mayors—

Nagi: …*trembling*

Yodaka: Nagi, remember to breathe.

Netaro: Psst, can I eat my popsicle now?

Toi: Do you think it’s okay as long as he doesn’t make any noise, Ani-sama…?

Ryui: ‘Course not. Put it away.

Momiji: (The Ward Mayor Appointment Ceremony… This is the fourth time I’m experiencing this, but I’m still as nervous as ever…)

HAMA Ward Member A: Well, I suppose we don’t have anything flashy like Chinatown here. But I like how peaceful it is instead.

HAMA Ward Member B: Still, it’s sad that we didn’t have a single candidate after the very first Ward Mayor.

HAMA Ward Member C: The other 14 Wards managed to have successful Tours thanks to them, don’t you think we have a chance too?

HAMA Ward Member D: Right! Having twins act as Ward Mayors shows how novel they are at selecting fitting personnel. Not to mention, the two of them are super adorable!

Daniel: The seats aren’t all filled, but you can tell the folks present are all people who wanna see their own wards flourish.

Momiji: That’s right… Do your best, Night Team…! Please try to put the peoples’ minds at ease!

Kafka: With the addition of the Night Team, I hereby declare once more, as representative of all the Ward Mayors, that we shall perform our duties to the best of our abilities for the specially designated tourism wards.

*clapping*

Kafka: Now, Nagi Hachinoya, the Mayor of Ward 16 and leader of the Night Team: Please come forward.

Nagi: Yes.

*Nagi moves to the front, jumps back from the mic, before standing in front of it again*

Nagi: Um… Hello. I’m Nagi Hachino–

*thump*

HAMA Ward Member C: …He hit his head on the mic.

Nagi: …Ouch… Oh. Um, Sorry. Right…

*Nagi completely freezes*

Nagi: ……

HAMA Ward Member B: …Did the mic bug out? Need to fix that…

Momiji: N-Nagi-kun, calm down! Or wait, maybe he’s too calm right now…!?

Netaro: He’s come to a full stop~

Yodaka: Right… Just looking at him is making me anxious too.

Ryui: Oi oi, are we seriously letting someone like that be the leader…!

Toi: C-Cue card! Nagi-kun, look for your cue card! In your pockets…!

Nagi: Oh, right. I have those, um…

HAMA Ward Member D: Oh! He’s moving again!

Nagi: ……

HAMA Ward Member A: …And now he’s stuck again.

Nagi: (The cue card… is completely drenched for some reason. I can’t read a single word.)

Nagi: (Oh, that’s right… I was thinking about what to write for my speech when someone called for me, so I left the room after tucking the card in my pocket and then I put the clothes for wash, not to mention I also got splashed by the fountain toda–)

Daniel: …He’s been quiet for too long. The folks are getting restless.

Momiji: Oh no, what if Nagi-kun gets a bad rep over this…

Nagi: (Can’t be helped. I’ll have to give up on this.)

Toi: Huh? He put the cue card back in his pocket…

Nagi: I asked myself if I’d done everything I could until now.

HAMA Ward Member C: …He started talking all of a sudden, but what’s he on about?

Ryui: Where’s the context, dumbass…!

Nagi: All my life, nothing ever turned out right, so I always get cold feet when it comes to doing anything at all.

Nagi: Life would always pass by me, just like a river… and I was someone who could only watch it from the side.

Nagi: But then I tried running up a hill for someone else’s sake, and then I grabbed onto someone with all my might… Um, what I’m trying to say is, I jumped into the river and went against the flow, and the result was actually good for once.

Nagi: That’s why I decided I’ll try my best with everything.

Momiji: ……

HAMA Ward Member C: …He looks refreshed. Wait, is he done already?

Nagi: Um.

HAMA Ward Member A: No, looks like he’s still got something to say…!

Nagi: Our washing machines can erase both stains and cue cards. That’s all.

*silence*

Nagi: HAMA Nice Trip.

Location: Ten Nights of Dreams BAR

Nagi: I think I gave the best speech I could.

*Ryui grabs Nagi*

Ryui: In what world!? Were you TRYING to kill me from secondhand embarrassment!?

Nagi: Ugh… Please don’t shake me so much.

Sonia: Leave Nagi-shan alone~!

Mashiro: The two of you, please, do calm down!

Laika: Down!

Momiji: Um, good work at the ceremony today, everyone! Eat and drink as much as you want so you can have a fresh start tomorrow!

Yodaka: Good work on your speech, Nagi.

Chouun: It was very impressive.

Toi: He did his best…!

Netaro: It was hilarious!

Nagi: Yeah. Though everyone left immediately after.

Daniel: Oh yeah, I heard some gramps say it was over for us. Couldn’t help but laugh at that.

Momiji: Wha- Manager…!

Daniel: What? It’s not like I’m down in the dumps about it.

Momiji: (Maybe not YOU, but what about the others!? What if this makes Nagi-kun depressed—)

Nagi: Chief, the future looks bright.

Momiji: Huh?

Nagi: …I’ve always thought of myself as powerless. But then, I managed to stop Ryui with my own two hands—

Ryui: Literally.

Nagi: I got Toi to smile again. The happiness from that day still gives me strength, even after all this time. I’m brimming with sparkling energy.

Daniel: That the face of someone sparkling?

Yodaka: Quiet, Danny.

Nagi: …All this time, I let go of so many things because I was afraid that I’d fail to be happy

Nagi: Now, it’s like there’s someone telling me it’s time to take them back.

Netaro: Is this the work of a guardian spirit or some sort?

Toi: Hm, I don’t think that’s—

Ryui: A person with no confidence can’t do shit.

Nagi: In that case, I’m sure I can do anything now.

Momiji: (Nagi-kun’s never spoken so positively before…!)

Momiji: That’s right! As long as we’re alive, we have to find a way to be happy.

Nagi: …! We have to be happy… You’re right.

Netaro: Since happiness is a chemical reaction, anyone is capable of replicating it. Should I lend you some references?

Nagi: Yes, please. I’ll read them all. And then–

Nagi: I WILL be happy.

Momiji: Yep yep!

Nagi: And after I become happy, I’ll put that energy into flowers and scatter them all across the world.

Momiji: That’s a great idea!

Ryui: Scattering flowers everywhere…? Sounds disturbing for some reason.

Daniel: Right, Ryui, about your shop…

Ryui: I know. I need a shop to be a Ward Mayor, right?

Momiji: That’s right. The criteria for selecting members of the Night Team is that “they own a shop with roots in the local districts” after all.

Ryui: I’ve already been looking into some properties with Toi.

Toi: We managed to find a property with the perfect feng shui. Not only is it facing the right direction, it’s even well-balanced between yin and yang energies. But…

Ryui: We’ve got a problem with the owner.

Toi: The Master of the house… In other words, this person is an old friend of our grandfather.

Ryui: Not sure if he’s pulling strings behind the scenes, but our negotiations are going nowhere.

Toi: I’ve asked them personally too, but…

Ryui: You don’t have to go through all that trouble. But, thank you.

Momiji: (I remember Toi-kun mentioning that Ryui-kun doesn’t have good relations with their family…)

Ryui: If he wasn’t in the picture, this wouldn’t be a problem, fuck’s sake.

Netaro: Is he a hindrance?

Ryui: Yeah.

Netaro: In that case, how about I control him using brain waves? The human brain is surprisingly easy to—

Nagi: -Easy to understand! He’s saying we should deepen our bonds by helping out our fellow men.

Netaro: Or perhaps I could falsify the registry after making a clone–

Nagi: He’s offering to take out a loan to buy the property, yeah.

Ryui: What the hell are you on?

Netaro: Oyoyo?

Toi: I’m sure he was just trying to help in his own way. Thank you as always, Netaro-san.

Netaro: Toi is my precious human after all.

Toi: Huh…! Um, you’re precious to me too, Netaro-san…

Netaro: We have to watch the continuation of “Crash Landing on AI?” after all.

Toi: Yeah! Let’s buy lots of popsicles on the way back home too!

Netaro and Toi: Yay~

Nagi: The two of them first bonded over Studio Ghizli.

Ryui: …Hah?

Momiji: (Ryui-kun’s in a terrible mood right now…!)

Yodaka: So, have you decided on what kind of shop you’d like to run?

Ryui: …Don’t feel like telling you.

Yodaka: Oh my… Fufu, are you the type to hold secrets? Or perhaps you enjoy surprises?

Ryui: …Tch.

Toi: Wha~ It’s still a secret? I haven’t heard yet either…

Ryui: ……

Toi: Ani-sama, please tell me~?

Ryui: …Can’t be helped. I’ll tell you, and only you.

Toi: Okay!

Momiji: (They’re whispering to each other… How cute. They’re close as usual.)

Yodaka: The young man with an eyepatch who hides the name of his castle… There’s a certain romance to it.

Daniel: What’s the point when we’ll find out soon enough.

Momiji: Let’s let him be until he decides to open up on his own, okay?

Note:

I’m not 100% on this but I think AIの胴体着陸 (AI Belly Landing) is a parody of Crash Landing on You, a romantic Korean drama, which is localized in Japanese as 愛の不時着 (Love’s Crash Landing) where AI and Ai(meaning love) is the closest connection I have, since both Toi and Netaro enjoy watching romance and Netaro watches shows in other languages, including Korean.

Masterlist

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vicompte-de-latarteaucoing · 1 year ago

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Ooooooooh 😳😏 I think I like this vision !!

Parodied B&M AU where Olrik does nearly everything humanly possible to get on Blake or Mortimer's way (bonus point if both at once 🙃) just for the fun of it, and also because he secretly actually likes them, and because there is nothing more satisfying than to get to watch with a cynical smirk as their eyes go wide and they exclaim in unison an ever so absolutely stupefied «Olrik !?!» (though they should already expect it)

And Nasir is that one person keeping the sacred braincell, and his friend's plan B, and litteraly has to drop everything and run around the world to go save his friends and try to stop Olrik (rather than just getting himself into trouble while trying to save Mortimer and ending up having to be saved by the professor)

Just curious about which character is the most appreciated in the fandom.

#i just love this kind of random comments ! it's just so precious !!#this one specially made my day and left me giggling alone like some weird moron ! thank you so much !! 😊#your vision definitely totally slays @jeremiagoeswoah ! thank you for sharing ! i just love it XD #parodied B&M AU short dumb thing because i'm a hopeless moron :#Olrik : *evil smirk* Once again my dear eternal adversaries. you have fallen right into my trap just as planned #Sharkey : But boss we hadn't planned-…#Olrik : Shut up Sharkey. everything went according to the plan. i'm the one who makes the plans. of course they are infallible #Blake : By jove ! you will not get away with this Olrik #Mortimer : Sure. by now Nasir is already on our trail. if i were you i would enjoy our company while it lasts #Olrik : Oh no need for that dear professor. he will never find you gentlemen #Olrik : Mark my words Mortimer. NEVER ! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAA (evil laugh)#Blake Mortimer and Sharkey : *silently looking at each other not really convinced*#Razul (bursting into the room visibly alarmed) : Sorry to interrupt boss but we have a slight problem…#Olrik : If you tried to create a plasma by microwaving grapes again i'm throwing you overboard immediately #Olrik : and also i'm making sure you are deprived of tiktok for the rest of the week #Jack (appearing right behind Razul) : An hydroplane is flying right above us and just ordered us to surrender and free the prisonners #Olrik : Police ?#Jack : No. worse #Meanwhile outside :#Nasir (shouting through a megaphone) : Olrik you dim-witted dumbass ! Release them or we shall see the colours of your guts !#Sharkey : Already ??#Blake : Checkmate Olrik #Mortimer : I told you dear Colonel #Razul : So can we let them go ?#Olrik : HOW THE HELL DOES HE KEEPS ON SHOWING UP EVERYTIME ?? WE'RE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAMNED PACIFIC OCEAN FOR HELL'S SAKE !!??#blake et mortimer #blake and mortimer #long post

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jongsigf · 4 months ago

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Airport Dreams | Nishimura Riki

Synopsis: You are one of the top students of your university and you recieved a scholarship to a prestigious college of music in the states. You were really excited as this was a special scholarship given to very few gifted students across South Korea. It gave you a chance to make your dreams come true.

THEMES: Airport crush, fluff, Skinship

WARNING(S): pet names, (lmk if there are any more!!!)

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

[Author's Note:] Hope you all enjoy this sweet short story <3!!!

The airport bustled with conversations, suitcases rolling against the floor with the speakers beeping occasionally. You had your passport in one hand as you gripped your suitcase handle in the other and a duffel bag slung onto one shoulder.

This was it, you were finally going to the states to pursue your dream of becoming a producer for music. Excitement bubbled inside you, imaging all the cool things you would be able to explore in a new country, meet new people, eat so many new foods. But you also had this sinking feeling of having to leave your family behind. It was the first time you would be travelling alone. But you had to put on a brave face.

You straighted up your back, letting out a determined exhale. "I can do this. Anxiety shall not-" but the second you were about to step further into the airport while motivating yourself in your head. Your foot slipped on ground as you landed flat on your butt.

You groaned as you hit the ground, your eyes falling onto the bright yellow 'Wet Floor' sign which was well in view yet you had missed. "Great, just how I wanted this to go." You sighed pushing yourself back up to your feet and dusting yourself off. Scanning the place, hoping nobody had witnessed that embarassing moment.

You made your way to the luggage claim, following directions and weight checks. You watch as your pink pearly suitcase rolled away on the conveyors. You took a breath. Well there was no turning back now. You wouldn't see your suitcase for another 15 hours until you landed in New York.

You nodded a thank you as walked further into the airport to the security checks. You always had that small ounce of fear of being caught with something even though you make sure to follow the rules of what to bring.

Luckily, your fear was short-lived as you made it through just fine, carrying your duffel bag, passport and plane ticket. You then went in search of your gate. You looked down at the ticket in hand which had 'Gate 7' printed. There was still time before your flight and your stomach was growling with hunger. You decided to head over to the food court to eat.

As you entered the vibrant food court, a complete contrast to the cold and dull area of the secuirty checks, you looked around wondering what could fill your appetite. Airport food was fairly expensive but you had plenty of savings from summer jobs. That also reminded you that you hard to figure out how to get a job when you arrived at the states. Guess not everything can be fun and adventerous.

As your eyes scanned the food outlets, your eyes landed on a tall guy. He was at the Sushi outlet speaking to the cashier over the counter, even from so far he looked so tall compared to the people around him which made him stand out, plus his unqiue sense of style.

He had jet black fluffy hair which trailed down to his nape, mullet style with one side bangs. He was wearing a simple white tank top with black jeans and a navy and orange jacket with sunglasses which were more than half way down his nose, showing off his sharp, elegant gaze.

The thought of food had completely vanished from your brain. You stared in a daze as your eyes scanned the guy up and down. You were known to be a hopeless romantic and fall for almost any guy you saw, but this guy was different, cause man he was ethereal.

You stood still, frozen in your tracks as you kept your eyes on the guy. It was almost like he was moving in slow motion. He then thanked the cashier as she handed him a small bag of food and began walking in your direction. But you were so out of it as you watched his figure get closer and closer.

You finally then realised he was heading in your direction making you slight panic as your heart thumped even faster, yet you didn't move from your spot, keeping your eyes on every movement when he was just a feet away you suddenly inhaled sharply which came out as a gasp as your passport slipped out of your hand, the leather cover slapping on the ground as both you and the guy darted your head to the floor.

You raised your head again, noticing the guys gaze on your fallen passport before he glanced back up and you for a moment, then crouching to the ground, picking up your passport in his hand and getting back up holding it out to you. "Are you ok?"

His voice was as deep as the titantic boat horn. His accent was slightly off but so addictive. Like you could listen to it forever. "Y-yeah. Thanks." You said, trying your best not to stutter as he flashed a small grin nodding to you and beginning to walk off.

His smile sent butterflies down to your stomach. You watched him walk away. His broad shoulders and long torso back on display. You wanted to yell out and continue a conversation but your words were stuck in your throat as he slowly disappeared into the crowds.

You just sighed letting it go. It wasn't like you would ever likely see this guy again. You headed over to go get your food, with the thought of the guy still roaming your head. Making silly delusional scenarios in your mind, imagining to meet with him again and somehow ending up together.

Later on it was finally time to board your plane. You tread over to your number gate as you began boarding, heading to your seat. The aisles were crowded as some passengers has already settled into their seats while your eyes scanned the numbers of each seat row to find your seat.

Finally you made it to your row as you eyes settled on the three empty seats lined up on the right side of the plane. You had succesfully purchased the window seat which brought you a little relief after a whole day of worrying and overthinking, at least maybe the view could comfort you.

You looked up to your overhead cabin where you had to stuff in your duffel bag. There were a few other bags already placed inside, giving you little space to work with. You slid it off your shoulder gripping the bottom to lift it up but your height was definitely not helping, plus the weight of the dang duffel bag. You swore you didn't pack much.

You tried getting on your tippy toes but that was helping either. Here we go again, this was so embarrassing. "Do you need some help?" You heard a familiar deep voice as you shot your head in the direction to see that attractive guy from the airport looking at you with a gentle curious gaze.

"I-I-" You couldn't get words out from his unexpected apperance. You stood like an idiot, stuttering and struggling to speak as his expression didn't falter, waiting for your response. But even after ten seconds of trying to say something he spoke up. "Here, let me help." He took the bag from your grip, his fingers grazing yours as he effortlessly pushed the bag into the overhead cabin along with his small backpack, shutting it easily.

You looked at him almost amazed, your eyes scanned him up and down. He was much taller up close. You could practically feel his body heat radiating off him from the extreme proximity.

He let out a gruffy exhale as he lowered his arms looking down at you with a soft smile. "There we go."

"Thanks..." You managed to finally find your words, smiling back awkwardly. "No problem." His smile did not falter as he tilted his head slightly as scanning your face like he was analysing you. "You're the girl from earlier? The one who dropped her passport."

Your heart skipped a beat. He recognised you. Not that it had been such a long time after your previous encounter. "Yeah, that's me." You chuckled awkwardly scratching your nape.

"What a coincidence, guess we're gonna be plane buddies." His smile widened more as he gestured for you to go to your seat first. You nodded a silent thank you, easily slipping into your window seat but instead of sitting beside you he had taken the aisle seat, leaving you in slight disappointment.

"Well that's ashame, thought we could sit together, I would've liked to get to know you." His voice deep yet so soft and friendly.

You had to hide the blush forming on your cheeks as you just smiled back. "Yeah that's too bad. Maybe no one will come sit here-" But just as you finished your sentence a man had squished past the guy's long legs and settled into the seat between you two, covering your view of the guy. You sighed in disappointment as you just leaned back in your seat looking out of the window.

The plane then soon took off and you were in the sky. This was going to be a long 15 hour flight. You thought you could be able to talk to the cute guy after ending up in the same seat row but you had to have the worst luck to be just two seats away from your airport crush.

As the plane steadily flew, hours later. Flight attendants had started walking around with beverages to drink. You didn't feel like drinking anything so you didn't bother getting anything, but you could hear the man and cute guy ordering a few drinks of their own.

"I'll take a coffee thanks." The guy's deep voice almost echoed in your ears. It was so soothing and comforting like a melody on it's own. "I'll take a black coffee, I'm lactose intolerant." The man beside you also spoke though you didn't pay much attention.

Later on the guy was listening to his own music in his airpods, sipping on his coffee when he glanced at the man subtly who was reading one of the magazines and at his coffee cup when he got an idea. He cleared his throat before turning to the man. "Excuse me sir, I think one of the cabin crew was calling you down there. You might want to check it out"

The man looked at the guy curiously. "Oh really? I'll go see then." The man got up and left down the aisle. You felt movement beside you and watched the man walk off before the guy looked at you with a mischevious grin as you looked back at him with a confused and curious expression.

The guy proceeded to open the man's coffee cup that he had left, lifting the lid and pouring his own coffee in. Your eyes furrowed as the guy motioned you to stay quiet, pressing his slender finger to his plump lips.

The man then returned back to his seat looking a bit confused as he had gone and come back since no one had actually called him but just sat back down, reopening his magazine and sipping on his coffee.

After about five minutes. The man had finished his cup of coffee when he felt a weird feeling in his stomach gurgling. He pressed a hand to his lower stomach, getting more sick by the minute before suddenly standing up and rushing down the aisle into a bathroom.

You watched in more confusion, wondering what happened to the man but you heard a deep laugh coming from the cute guy. You glanced back at him as he shuffled into the man's seat beside you, making your heart race again.

"He's going to be in there for a while." He proudly smirked, getting comfortable in his new seat. "What did you do?" You asked glancing in the direction the man had dashed in.

"Put some milk in a lactose intolerent man's coffee~" His smirk only grew like he was bragging while your eyes widened. "What!?" You barely yelled in surprise.

"Relax, he won't die." he scoffed laughing while shaking his head. "Besides, he was keeping me from talking to a cute girl." Those two last words were more than enough to heat up your cheeks. A dark pink shade clearly visible.

"Oh? Did I make you flustered, princess?" He grinned staring right at you while you couldn't form words and just kept turning more and more red.

"So, may I know your name?" He asked, his gaze soft and expectant as he waited for your answer.

Your face cooled down a little from the change of topic but his words still rang loudly in your head. This was definitely a first. A major first. "I'm Lee Y/N..." You said softly, just above a whisper.

"Pretty name, I'm Nishimura Riki, nickname Ni-ki. But you can call me anything you want." He winked to get another reaction out of you. You felt like your were about to explode. This guy was bold for sure. But you kept calm and collected yourself.

"Nishimura Riki? Doesn't sound Korean." You furrowed your eyebrows a little waiting for his response.

"I'm Japanese, from Okayama." His smiled nodding. "I came to Korea as an exchange student." You were more intrigued when he said he was an exchange student. He didn't look much older than you anyways. "Exchange student?"

"Yeah, you look surprised. Do I look too old?" He chuckled deeply. "No, no, just a little surprised. Where are you headed?" You shook your head putting your hands up, hoping you didn't offend him.

"Why? You wanna come with me?" He smirked before chuckling. "I'm kidding, I'm headed to New York, I got a really cool scholarship to a music school."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "No way, me too" You smiled. What a conincidence. First this guy ends up on the same plane and seat row as you and now he's also going to New York for a scholarship?

"Really? Which college?" He asked, equally surprised at the conidence.

"New York College of Arts and Music." You answered, a wave of hope and nervousness passing through your body.

"Me too! I'm going for my 'Fine Arts of Dance' degree." He said, his smile widening even more.

"I'm going for song writing and music production" You added. You were so stunned at the amount of concidences that was happening with this guy.

"That's super cool. Guess you are going to come with me." He chuckled as you couldn't help but laugh along to. The inital nervousness fading as you got more comfortable.

Soon the plane had landed and you and Ni-Ki could not stop talking. He helped you get your bag down and even assisted you around before you both finally made it out of the airport. Breathing in the new fresh air of New York City.

"Ever been to the states before?" Ni-ki spoke up breaking the comfortable silence as the breeze picked up and thudded against your ears.

"No never. First time." You grinned glancing at him before turning your view and gazing at the tall skyscrapers with the sun shining from behind.

"Me too, why don't we explore together?" He spoke with a grin, his tone almost like he was hinting something else.

"Are you asking me on a date?" You smirked turning your gaze back to him as he had a mirrored experession as he shurgged. "Maybe I am. Would you come with me?"

"I wouldn't oppose" You responded calmly but inside you wanted to jump and scream and just kiss him already. He laced his hand with yours, your fingers interwining with his as he pulled you down the footpath to grab a taxi.

#enhypen #kpop #bias #kpop bg #nishimura riki #ni ki #enhypen niki #enhypenff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen riki #fanfiction #fanfic

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yoursweetheartsrevenge · 13 days ago

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Your Blood, My Love - Chapter Two - Come To Me - Allara

Summary: Harrenhal was haunted. A beacon of darkness that attracted dark magic and monsters. When Alys and Allara Rivers’ birthright is stolen from them by a mysterious buyer, the sisters will stop at nothing to take back what is theirs, but who has called who to the darkness?

Chapter Summary: Allara and Alys journey to meet the new owner of Harrenhal as a darkness calls out to Allara.

Read on Ao3

Read Chapter: One

Warnings: smut (female masturbation), MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 3.1K+

Author’s Note: Let’s hit everyone over the head with the Dracula and Nosferatu references, shall we?

Dividers done by: @firefly-graphics

More.

In the blackness she felt it. Allara felt it at her tender neck. The pull of flesh against cool sinking hardness was too much to bear. It tore into her sharply, like a knife digging through mud to find wetness, desire.

More.

She felt that wetness inside her. It seeped to her aching mound, let her body give into the arousal that teased her. The wetness settled between her legs and on her neck. She could smell the salt of sticky sex and the tang of iron blood. The wet sound of lapping at an open wound perhaps excited her. Her flesh tore, dragging long twin knives down her neck hoping for . . .

More.

She awoke to a sore neck twisted in sleep and her hand on her mound rutting at the erotic dream. Her core twitched in need. She could not stop herself now.

She was lonely and in need of release.

Allara let her fingers move passed her panties, drenched and silken. She teased her swollen bud in sweet slow strokes. She whimpered, clenching her thighs at the sensation.

“More.” She breathed out a cloud. The air chilled from the darkness of night, from the comfort of her bed. “Come for me. Come to me.” Her words felt as if not her own as she called out for the darkness. The night was chill, but not cold enough to see her breath. Yet as she spoke she saw her breath as if the winter had come early.

Allara continued to fuel her desire and need. Her fingers dipped into her folds as she arched her back at the desirable feeling. She licked her lips feeling her mouth go dry for a moment. Her eyelids hung lazy in half sleep, somewhere between waking and dreaming.

“Come, please.” Her voice called out, warm and welcoming. Her other hand felt herself up through the thin silk of her lacy silver pajama top. “Come for me. Come to me.” She hitched her breath before letting her eyes wander to her window.

Tall and lithe he stood watching her. His hair was platinum, slicked back. He held his hands behind his back looking almost poised to see her crumble under his gaze. It was a singular gaze, for in his left eye held a large sapphire met with a deep reddened scar. He wore a black suit with black tie watching very sure as to what he was witnessing.

He was exactly what she wanted.

More.

Her eyes fluttered closed squinting as the wave of stuttering pleasure coursed through her heart to her core. She cried out at first before her breath became empty in the cool air.

“Come for me. Come to me.”

It was not her voice this time.

It was his .

The train ride to the countryside was bothersome.

It always had been and always would be. Allara could see it was especially bothersome for her sister, Alys. The woman had spent time braiding her long black hair into a swirled bun on her head. She had fretted over what to wear as if this meeting was some sort of business venture rather then what it was. Show and tell. Alys had opted for a simple tailored white pants suit with laced up ivory heels.

She looked sharp and stunning as always.

“That is an outfit.” Alys had told her sister once they were about to board the train and no sooner.

Alara did not normally dress sweet and fanciful. However something had called her to negate her usual black attire and high collared lace garb for something more innocent and bright. Her light blue dress with a peter pan collar had been hidden in the back of her closest. The one and only time she had worn it was when Harwin had invited her out for tea with a heavily pregnant Rhaenyra Targaryen. It had been her third pregnancy and Allara could plainly see the pair were madly in love.

She had hoped to dream a better future for her half-brother, but instead she only dreamed of flames.

It reminded her of happy times. The outfit would make a fitting first impression to the new owner of Harrenhal. The buyer would understand how magical a place the grounds of the castle could be once he heard Alys discuss it. She was excellent at lecturing, bringing fun into historical events that even she found boring at times.

The women scrolled through their phones occasionally looking up at the countryside. Memories of spending summers and long winters at the black castle bubbled in their brains. Sporadically Alys or Allara would recall a memory of friends or family. Memories of finding an oddity at a local shop or drunken encounters that made them both blush. They’d remember parties in secret. Memories of their mother cursing abusive sheep owners.

Every memory held a piece of their heart.

Every memory reminded them of what they were losing.

“Worse part,” Alys started putting her legs up underneath her. “Is that toad killed them. And we can’t even prove it.”

“The Cassandra Effect.” Allara nodded.

“Nobody believes you.”

The train ride was a few hours. They arrived at the station at mid afternoon. In the rural town just outside the limits of Harrenhal, not many exited the train car as the town was lazily peaking in autumn with not much to do or see. The residents were small and scattered, less than a hundred Allara suspected. Nobody paid the sisters mind as they had completed this train ride hundreds of time before. Their shoes had clicked against these same cobblestones. Their hands had grasped each other tight and sure every time, sometimes with heavy bags to stay a time, sometimes with just their purses and a begrudging smile.

A black horse drawn buggy was there to greet them.

It was an ill omen to be sure.

Leaning against it was a man, broad shouldered with slicked back brown hair. He had stubble around his chin and above his lip, light, but well trimmed. He wore a light grey three piece suit with silver cufflinks he pulled at impatiently.

“You must be the Rivers’ sisters.” He said with a slight lisp. There was a poise about him that was familiar to Allara. “My master has sent me to retrieve you.”

“Master?” Alys laughed. “Really? We could have just gotten an Uber.”

The gentlemen did not seem to notice Alys speaking. He simply opened the carriage doors waiting. Allara looked to the horses. She could feel their uneasy hearts in her ears. What could have these creatures so on edge on the inside, but their outsides did not reflect such distress?

“Your horses are terrified.” She pointed out staring at the black creatures swinging their tails gently.

“They are used to such fear.” He simply said encouraging them inside.

Alys went first slipping into the dark bed of the carriage with ease. Allara took one last look at the horses, daydreaming of fresh hay and cold water when they arrived. She pulled herself in to sit on the lush dark red, nearly black cushions. The girls knew exactly how long a car ride from the station of Harrenhal was. One hour and forty seven minutes. Almost the time of their favorite movie as girls, My Neighbor Totoro .

They had no such comfort in the carriage.

There was no telling how long two terrified horses would taken to drag the rickety buggy across the rocky hills and dipping meadows of the village. The gentleman entered the carriage sitting across from the girls. He opened a window instructing the driver to press forward.

The first few minutes of the ride were met with rocky silence as they swayed. Allara knocked into Alys a few times who seemed to be just staring daggers at the young gentleman. He seemed unfazed looking to his phone before switching to an iPad typing rapidly.

“Which of you is the historian?” He asked not looking up at the girls.

“I am.” Alys said proudly. She cleared her throat not liking to be talked at. “Does your ‘master’ expect a performance from me? Because he will be -”

“My master simply would like to know the history from a learned individual rather then a Google search.” The man sighed looking up finally. It was as if he expected her response. He gave a soft smile. “It is better to get the milk from the cow then the bottle.”

“Sorry, did you just call me a cow?” Alys said with a brow raised.

Allara couldn’t help, but smile.

That is when the man blushed slightly.

“Apologies my lady I was just -”

“My lady? What is this the 18th century? It’s just Alys. Or Miss Rivers. Whatever you prefer, mister . . .?”

“Ser Criston Cole.” He declared looking back at his iPad. “Allara, you appear to be the quieter of the two sisters? Why is that?”

The question took Allara off guard.

“Forgive me . . . Ser Criston was it?” She let her magic reach out. Look at me, she whispered in her mind on instinct. His eyes lazily glanced upward. His eyes were a deep haunting brown nearly blown black. There was a sliver of fear reflected in his eyes now that had not been there before. “But I am afraid I have not much to say on the history of Harrenhal. I am not sure why your master insisted on me coming along.” She probably would have tagged along anyway as she did not want her older sister to be alone with a stranger.

Even if Larys was there.

Especially if Larys was there.

“Oh, but you are the one he wants to speak with the most.” Ser Criston held his gaze as if he feared to look away. “Seeing you now I can confirm his suspicions.”

He knew.

He knew what she was.

Ser Criston and the mysterious buyer knew more about the Rivers sisters then she dared to share.

“Your master,” Alys cut in, sharp as a blade. “Why did he want Harrenhal? He paid so much for something barely worth that price.”

“You know why he desired Harrenhal, Alys Rivers.” He was still looking at Allara, tears in his eyes as he could not blink. “Why does darkness seek darkness?”

It was not Ser Criston’s voice.

It was him .

“Because we are lonely.”

Allara wasn’t sure if it was her voice or her sister’s who spoke those words. Perhaps it was their mother’s warning from beyond the grave.

“Break free, Ser Criston.” Allara said aloud watching his panicked eyes blink heavily away from the girl. “You are but a part in the dark path laid before us.” She leaned forward reaching for his hand. It was as cold as the dark pool of a river iced in winter. She held it, spreading warmth into his hand. He grabbed her as if she were a beacon. “You know not what you do.”

She could feel the flutter of his eyes as heavy tears ran down his face from staring too long. His pink tongue snaked from his lips to catch the tears.

“My dear,” He said softly, nearly choked by emotion. “It is you that knows not what you called for.”

The grand entrance was just as obnoxious as when Alys was sending her selfie after selfie over the last six years of the old castle’s restoration. It was hollow and bright with a dual staircase that held marble tiles against dark amber walls. The floors had been restored to the original stone work causing the girls’ heels to clack as they strode across, settling at the entrance of their former home.

Allara could hear Larys’ cane smack against the floor with the uneasy slide of his clubfoot.

Perhaps an ill omen itself as Larys had been born in the walls of Harrenhal.

“Sisters.” It was a word he said so matter of factly as he strode from the side of the house that harbored a grand study which he no doubt filled with documents that continued his deceit.

“Well, brother,” Alys looked onto him with the cold eyes of a woman who would murder if given the chance. “Let's get this over with then.”

Allara could feel the night begin, the sunset as they spoke, letting the whispers into mortals’ ears. She saw Larys twitch as Harrenhal awakened from its slumber.

Ser Criston Cole stepped forward to the landing of the stairs nearly kneeling as a man, a shadow began to emerge from the darkness above them.

“May I present Harrenhal’s new lord, Aemond Targaryen.” Ser Criston bowed and nearly quivered as the shadow loomed above them.

It was him .

She should not have been surprised to see him. The man from her dreams. The man she called for in a lustful need. But still her heart caught in her throat, a burning desire raging through her core to the spot on her throat that ached to be torn into. He had his slicked back hair, platinum or silver. His face was slim and regal, a true Targaryen from old country, Valyria, an ancient country destroyed by greed and fire. He wore a leather green suit jacket and pants, hands held firmly behind his back as he moved, like a shadow invisible in the night.

His eye followed her, blue as the tepid water.

The other laid empty under a silver eye patch, flexible metal against his naked scar.

She felt the gem stone, the sapphire that replaced it, hungry to be seen.

“Fuckin’ Targaryens.” Alys said under her breath.

By Aemond’s smile it was clear he heard her. The sisters stood strong, not unlike the name their mother refused to give them. Their pinkies reached out in comfort, a silent promise assuring they would be there.

“I am honored to be in your presence,” Aemond began descending the stairs slowly, deliberately. “Witches.” It was not a spat out word, but instead a word said with utter curiosity and fascination. “Tell me,” His feet landed off the stairs looking between the women. “Which of you had prophesied my arrival or do your powers not see what I am?”

“Why a sapphire?” The question was said with a tilt of Allara’s head. It caused an echoing silence in the room. It almost seemed as Harrenhal held a breath as Aemond Targaryen turned his head to observe Allara, curious and steadfast. “A diamond would be more worthy. Even a false eye crafted to look like your own, but you chose a sapphire.”

She stared at it as if she could see the perfectly crafted stone.

It hummed to her.

It called to her.

“Can’t you hear?” He wondered. “Hmmmm.”

She could. It was as if she could always hear it.

“You asked us here, Lord Targaryen?” Alys cut through the tension like butter.

“I did. I want to know about the roots of the castle I now possess.” His eye never left Allara’s gaze, unwavering, nearly unblinking.

“Yes, of course, I brought a couple of texts that could help and floor plans. Perhaps we could look them over in the dining hall.” Alys strode passed pulling Allara with her at her side making their way to the long dining table they once hid under in a game of hide & seek from their older brother, Harwin.

“You know what he is.” Alys whispered loudly to her. “Harrenhal called a shadow, a demon, a blood drinker here.”

She knew.

Allara was no fool; she could plainly see what had taken root in their former home. Perhaps she had called him here in her deseperation to find a companion that was not her sister. Her feet pulled her to the table as the women spread out blue print and large tomes from Alys’ small suitcase.

“Do not be lured by him. Do not let the darkness call to you.” Alys’ voice was her mother’s at that moment. He thinks we are both prophets. He doesn’t know what you truly are yet. It was thought lowly in a voice that told Allara it would be dangerous for him to find out what she could do.

“Ser Criston knows.” It was a shutter of a fact. Surely he would find out soon.

Aemond settled with his hands steepled together at the head of the table. He watched and listened with rapt attention as Alys let the historical details unwind from memory. It started from the first build of the castle, the intangled Weirwood trees beating in the frame, the owners cursed and lain about, the abandonment during the first half of the 20th century. She pointed out where the bombs during the war had hit nearly wiping out the entire Strong family save one tender teenager sent away to war. He returned with ghosts at his back to save him. He worked hard to rebuild the place.

“The framework is sturdy. It is full of the blood of the Strong legacy and -”

“And you believe it belongs to you?” Allara had been so engrossed with the tales. She had not noticed how Aemond had seemed to grow with curious indifference.

“Us.” Alys corrected, letting her eyes fall to her sister, too sweetly dressed to be in the presence of Aemond Targaryen. “It belongs to us. We are the only ones who can tame it.”

“Tell me, why is that?” He actually looked on with interest now.

“You know why it is.” Alys was tired of his games.

“No I do not I wish to -”

“We are the darkness it desires, it craves. It knows us. It loves us. It does not love you, Aemond Targaryen.” It was as if Harrenhal was speaking through Allara Rivers or perhaps she was speaking for Harrenhal.

“If that is so, why has fate brought me here?” Aemond asked without missing a beat. “Surely prophet hungry girls like yourselves can speak to fate. Know that I would not be here if fate had not designed it.”

“Larys Strong designed your arrival six years ago.” Alys finished beginning to gather up her paperwork. “We are done here.”

“Oh my dear we have only just begun.” Aemond held Alys’ wrist, stopping her, squeezing her, hurting her.

She saw the look in her sister’s eyes and acted without thought.

Sitttttt , she thought looking directly into Aemond Targaryen’s living blue eye. He stumbled back on that leg knocking against the table. His hand still held Alys’ though she slipped out easily as the man stared wide eyed at Allara. Now she encouraged. He quickly found himself a chair fumbling into it.

“There she is. There is my confirmation.” His eye was still wide in unease of not being in control of his body. “The rarest gift of all. A desirer.”

Come to me.

Come for me.

She remembered those words.

She remembered that call.

Who had spoken it first in truth?

Who desired who?

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x ofc #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewan verse #vampire!aemond #yoursweetheartsrevenge fic #modern aemond x ofc #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanction

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thegamingcatmom · 4 months ago

Note

you walk into Castle Dimitrescu with a fully functioning smart phone. What are you showing each sister? (songs, memes, etc.) 🤔

ASKJASKFAKSFKSA

I LOVE THAT ONE!! 😭❤️

classical music

pop music

I feel like she´d be a huge Ava Max fan

fanfictions

especially self/reader-inserts of any kind

but especially the ones about drama or mystery/thriller

memes of any kind

...instructions unclear - she doesn´t find em funny

at all

(help)

oh wait nvm-

I showed her Ebay and now we´re back to being besties

stock trading apps, sites etc.

I think that´s smt she could lose herself in, which means she´ll forget about me :D

...shit, stocks have dropped and now she´s mad

and blaming me for it

(help)

WAIT-

*shows her LinkedIn*

...she´s buzzing, literally

"Oh, this will increase productivity and flow immensely! I shall be the FIRST to show Mother!"

*buzzes off*

thank f-

*buzzes back*

fuck

"Mortal! Show me where to find the status of their purity!"

...

why do I feel like I have done smt terrible? :(

porn

fanfictions

especially lemons and those that play in the A/B/O universe

yall just know that shit would drive her crazy

heavy metal or rock music

"Master Of Puppets" (Metallica) anyone?

Temu

cause she loves it used and cheap

(yall understand I´m referring to her general preferences here, right?)

(therefore: jk, Temu✌️)

(...or am I?)

vids about blood and death

in hopes it will distract her enough to forget about my blood and death

the Dark Web

(I feel like this would become her 2nd home)

...shit, what have I done-

*quickly shows her some more porn*

whew

that immediately got her attention

crisis averted

YouTube Shorts

I reckon those quick vids are exactly her thing - girl isn´t just made of flies, she also has the attention span of one

Netflix

...

she´s just discovered Netflix and Chill

oh boy

some maids will get very (un)lucky indeed

fanfictions

especially those about "enemies to friends to lovers" OR "roommates to friends to lovers"

cute and funny dog videos (which will hopefully spare me from a rather gruesome fate)

cute and funny dog memes

cute and funny things to get for your dog

she strikes me as a dog person

Lady Gaga

her favs are "Bad Romance" and "Stupid Love"

Candy Crush

she´d get hooked on that one, I just know it

which means I get some time to get the f outta-

...

HOW DID SHE LOSE ALL HER LIVES ALREADY??? D:

TikTok

she can´t get enough of lip sync

...also because the poor thing has yet to realize that this isn´t their actual voice

"How do they do that?? That´s not what they sounded like before! *gasps* Can YOU do that??"

"...I-"

"DO THE VOICE!"

...

(help)

Amazon

...that was actually genius omg

she´s way too busy ordering useless stuff via Prime to remember she was about to off me :D

...nvm, her sisters are back

(help)

BONUS:

One thing I´d show ALL of them: Tumblr & Resident Lover

So they may witness the absolute depravity carried out in their names.

(Cass couldn´t be prouder of herself.)

Honestly? There´s probs SO much stuff you can do with/show on a phone that I´m not remembering rn. The possibilites in our time and age are pretty much endless. 💀

But also, given they (probs) have no idea an outside world even exists-

Just show em Google and they´ll be busy for quite a while, honestly. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Thanks a lot for your ask! 💋

#tumblr asks #resident evil village #re village #resident evil 8 #re8 #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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rainintheevening · 8 months ago

Text

Susan Anna Pevensie

No one else could have picked out the tremor in those graceful loops of ink, but she did. He did.

His hand, as he took the pen, was warm, and she caught his whisper as he bent down: "See there, you are an artist. What do I keep telling you?"

She smiled, just a little.

He signed and dated, and she leaned into his hip, grateful, throat aching as she wrapped her fingers tighter around the bouquet in her lap. Five white lilies, and two red roses, and forget-me-nots all around.

They would drive out to the cemetery afterward. Fred had been the one to suggest it, to let her know it was alright, even natural, to remember the dead on a day celebrating new life.

She looked up, sat straighter as he laid down the pen and made room for the witnesses to step in.

Fredrick Maxmillian Pilkington

She let herself smile at the dreadful, smudged left-handed signature. "No, that's what tells me you're the artist, dear."

"I suppose I'll have to choose which name to put on the paintings," he said thoughtfully. "Ah, Pilkington for the bad ones, Pevensie for the good ones, I suppose."

And when her eyes filled up with tears, she felt his arm around her shoulders, and his kiss in her hair, and she closed her eyes, thinking I don't deserve him. I don't deserve him at all. How did he ever come to choose me?

She was so uncertain about things, so careful and guarded and prickly. She had very nearly driven him away twice. But he had come back, he had stayed in her life, and now he was choosing to be in it for the rest of it.

As long as we both shall live.

Susan closed her eyes as their lips found each other, let the tears spill down her cheeks.

I don't think I deserve it, she was saying in her heart. But I choose you back. I choose you too.

The tears didn't show in the pictures, only her standing there in Mother's old wedding dress, clutching her flowers, and Fred in his old uniform, arms around her waist, resting his chin on her head.

Susan, from the Hebrew Shoshana/Shoshan, meaning lotus flower or lily, also suggestive of purity and beauty. The name of Dr. Susan Crocker, a pioneering physician. The name of Susan B. Anthony an American suffragist. The name of Susan Hiscock, MBE, who crewed with her husband aboard their sailing ship.

A name, before it's explosion of popularity c. 1930, characterized by several poets, societal reformers, physicians, journalists, and freethinkers.

It was his suggestion, taking her name on the end of his.

"Look, I've got five older brothers, Lord knows there's enough Pilkingtons in the world. We aren't rich, we aren't titled, honestly, I'm not sure my parents would even notice if I went and became a Communist. They won't mind. I'd be honoured to carry on the Pevensie name, and no mistake."

Susan had thought of her father, how she'd brushed him off, ignored his advice, called him old and 'stuck in tradition'. She hadn't said anything mean when she'd left for America, but she certainly hadn't said anything kind or particularly loving.

She'd come back after the accident, come back to England with one suitcase and a hatbox, and never even considered leaving again.

How could she leave when all that had really mattered was here? Here but gone. All gone to ghosts, holes in the fabric of her reality, in the space of an empty armchair, a silent kitchen, rumpled sheets on a bed, unfinished letters, overdue library books.

Fred had been the first real, solid thing in her life After.

And she couldn't help thinking how her father would like him. All this time, and she still cared what he thought, wished he could have been there to walk her down a church aisle– She tried not to think too hard about that.

"Fredrick Maxmillian Pilkington Pevensie. That's as posh a name as my mother could possibly wish for." Fred had taken her hand, let his grin fade down to a soft smile. "But only if it's alright with you, love."

To her knowledge, Peter had been quite comfortable as a bachelor, but Ed had been close to engaged (she'd found the ring in his sock drawer); they would both have been wonderful fathers, both would have liked Fred.

She'd wiped her cheeks. "Sorry, I keep thinking I'll stop crying one of these days."

"Doesn't have to be today," he'd said, passing over a hanky.

"I think they'd be honoured," she said at last. "To have it be you. My family name—it's something I share with them, and... I'd be happy to keep it."

"Then keep it you shall."

Anna, Latin form of the Hebrew Hannah, meaning favoured one or one shown grace. The name of a prophetess and attendant at the dedication of Jesus who is called Christ in Jerusalem.

"And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all that looked for redemption in Jerusalem."

An elderly widow, a faithful worshiper of God in His temple, great in fasting and prayer, one of the first evangelists.

The taxi pulled away from the cemetery as the sun set into a bank of rising cloud, and Susan knew that rain was on its way.

But the rain was just as important to the spring as the sunshine, she thought, and shuffled over on the seat to curl into Fred's side.

He patted her knee, left his hand there, warm and heavy. Real. Solid. For all his dreaming artist eyes, Fred was solid, certain, strong enough to hold her on the difficult days, of which there were always more than she wanted.

The ring on her finger was its own kind of heavy, permanent, binding, and she needed that, needed a promise, needed something to quash the fears that choked her in the night.

They took a taxi home on their wedding night, home to the house she'd sworn she couldn't stay in, found she couldn't sell, and so compromised by working two jobs, and hardly ever being there.

Home to the old house she'd grown up in, rebuilt from the bombings, adapted and weathered and haunted by the empty places of people gone.

It had gotten better since Fred. She'd changed things, deliberately, a curtain here and a painting there, opened up the crates and jumbled everybody's books together on the shelves.

As they climbed the steps, she saw the lamp glowed in the front window, with another light shining back in the kitchen, and smiled, thanking Coraline in her heart. Her friend would no doubt be ducking out the back door that very moment, scampering across the back garden, and shimmying through the hedge, as if she were a girl of sixteen, and not a woman of thirty. There would be something warm in the oven, and the kettle waiting on the stove, and two places laid.

"Well, Mrs. Pevensie." Fred put his hand on the doorknob, drew her close against his side. "Shall we?"

Shall we go in? Shall we go into the home that is everything that came before, but is ours now too to make new? Shall we start something? Shall we continue? Shall we come home together?

She stood on her toes, and kissed him with a tremoring smile. "Yes, Mr. Pevensie. With pleasure."

#she carried the fourth child through that door #a little girl in a soft blue blanket #'grace' she said #'grace' to helen and pete and tommy crowding round and talking fast like a flock of crows #'her name is grace'#susan pevensie #post last battle #narnia fanfiction #my writing #chronicles of narnia #loved using the middle name anna #it's my name :)#and grace. she finds a lot of grace in it all at the end of it all #fred i actually invented a few years ago #i love him so much #he's an absolute brick #peter and edmund really would like him a lot #narnia

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femalemonsterhunter · 1 month ago

Text

Before starting the drawing, there’s something randomly popped into my silly head a new silly idea to include a typical crossover concept drawing between my Crossover AU project, Star Heart and my new but loosely rebooted/reimagined version of the Dovhonosyky Show, The Long-Nosed Out. So, resolutely I included my Corpse Bride Next Gen/Star Heart OC, Eliot, and Iva (the Host), who relate to each other as a platonic but frankly friendship duo between a human and an alien, who have witnessed cases in which they are almost involved with, and yet have beautiful but separate human women they so favorably crush on.

Yet, interestingly, that my new reboot project, sets after its own events, shall appear in my Star Heart only in the fourth fanstory. Essentially, Eliot and Iva are supposed to be interdimensional main protagonists with their split scenarios between A and B, which is loosely inspired by the split scenarios of Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield from Resident Evil 2.

And also, this artwork may be the last post of this year. However, I will continue to draw something only for next year after January 1st, ig. At least, Happy (early) New Year, folks! And see you soon!

Art, Eliot, The Long-Nosed Out and Star Heart AU projects are belongs to me (C)

The Host (Iva; in my version) from the Dovhonosyky Show or The Long-Noses Show (Ukrainian: Шоу Довгоносиків) are belongs to PRO-TV (Ukrainian: ПРО-ТВ)/Viktor Prykhodko (Author and director of this show) (C)

Corpse Bride belongs to Warner Bros. Pictures/Burton Projects/Laika Studios/Patalex II Productions/Tim Burton (c)

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months ago

Text

Burn Bright White - Chapter Five.

Thanks to my lovely Diana and Lindsey for their enthusiasm, as always <3

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments. DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,513

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Also, while I have tried to remain as true to how Niklas is in reality as I can, I have to have a little creative freedom of my own with him in this. If you don’t like it, simply scroll on by. Bitching isn’t tolerated here. At all. Remember, it’s fiction, not a documentary ;) It’s also worth mentioning that while Taissa has qualities of being quite charming at times, she is not, by any means, a good person.

After returning to the bar, she headed inside to wash the blood from her hands and tidy herself a little, buying another round. Sitting there, still buzzing from her altercation, it was violence they found themselves discussing firstly. She firstly learned he had a background in martial arts, but the way he delivered answers to some of her questions, well, it was certainly unique.

He was, at times, the conversational equivalent of a broken sat nav; he could never get from point A to B without several detours, more often than not never even arriving at point B at all. Of course, she’d witnessed that in him, watching him being interviewed, knowing it was a mixture likely borne of his desire to be vague when it suited him, and surprisingly candid when it didn’t.

“I have my father to thank for my temperamental streak,” she began, lighting a cigarette and knocking the pack across the table to him. “He always said to me, ‘Tai, you were blessed with your mother’s looks, but cursed with her small stature. But it is no matter. I will show how to be tiny, yet mighty’, and he did.”

Niklas had indeed noticed that it was only her choice of footwear that made her tall, Taissa continuing. “He taught me how to shoot, wield knives and bare-knuckle fight. Well, when he wasn’t in prison, that is. I went from the piss-weak, skinny little kid to the one turning over the playground bullies for the money and trinkets they’d stolen from other kids fairly quickly.”

They had a paternal common ground, it seemed. “Prison is where my father remains. He’s... well. I’m my father’s son, let’s put it that way. Except he’s much worse than I am.”

“I think I’m probably at the same level as hostile as my dad when antagonised, except I’m not a Nazi and he is, unfortunately. I still adore him, though, that aside. He looks menacing, too. Imagine Zakk Wylde with a shaved head, but over two metres tall and covered in Neo-Nazi tattoos, and you have my papa.

“Some might call it perverse that my taste in men is somewhat similar. I like a tall guy with more hair on his face than his head, covered in ink.” She paused, reaching to drag her finger in a slow glide down his cheek. “What’s scary to some is sexy fucking beast to me.”

Turning his head, he bit her finger, sucking it into his mouth, Taissa’s eyes narrowing at him although a smile danced upon her lips. “What did I tell you about biting me, Kvarforth?”

Releasing her finger, he looked mildly incredulous, reaching beneath her hair to stroke the purple bite at the side of her neck. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

It jolted through her, the memory of his groan when he’d bitten her, the feel of his cock flooding her with cum as he’d pounded her against the hallway wall. The air seemed to crackle as they stared at one another, both in silent challenge of the other to look away first.

“Did you say your apartment is two minutes away?”

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat as desire began to lap in waves through her, remembering the heat of it, having him all over her. It didn’t help matters when his fingers began to glide across her neck, the touch chasing a herd of goose pimples over her skin. “Shall we go now?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, standing slowly. “No. I think I’ll make you wait for it a little longer first.”

Bastard. That wasn’t to say she’d take it lying down, though. Well, eventually she would.

“So, tell me. Why did you choose your career path, lucrative payoff aside?” he asked after returning from the bar, placing the bottle of Never Say Die bourbon he’d been requesting down on the table. There was just under a third left, and so as not to have to suffer being inside the bar any more than he absolutely had to, he’d talked the barmaid into selling him what remained.

“I enjoy having that power over somebody. I have what they need, and I get to profit off of that. Much like you, I am not a people person, beyond what they can do for me. I live a very good life from their addiction, their weakness. This will never cease being thrilling to me.”

Brutal honesty. He respected that. Seldom few were the same.

“Before I started buying from your brother,” he began, Taissa rapidly shaking her head.

“Me. You buy from me. I stand at the helm,” she interrupted.

“From you,” he continued, “I used to buy from a man named Stefan. I think he was probably one of the most fantastically dark individuals I have ever known. He used to have one hell of a kink, engineering it so junkies would overdose and masturbating as he witnessed them die. I went with him once, but she didn’t fucking die. Shame, I’d have liked to witness that.”

Taissa knew exactly what he was doing, seeing if he could force some kind of shock reaction from her. She gave none. “Did you hear how he died?”

Curiosity piqued within him. “He’s dead? I assumed he’d been arrested when I could no longer reach him. That was usually the way when he went quiet.”

“No, he did a Michael Hutchence. Died by autoerotic asphyxiation. He was found hanging in his bedroom, cock still hard, with a twelve-inch dildo suctioned onto the floor beneath him.”

Niklas couldn’t help but laugh at that. “This does not surprise me in the slightest. That man propositioned me multiple times.”

Her eyebrow raised. “And did you?”

“No, men don’t do it for me,” he revealed, sipping his drink. “I am alas a fucking slave to what you women have between your legs.”

“Alas?” she questioned, kicking off her shoe beneath the table, beginning to slowly slide her foot up his inner thigh. “Why is that?”

“Because you are all cunning, terrible creatures.” His eyes flitted down, seeing her red-painted toes press into his crotch. “Case in point.”

“Guilty as charged,” she shrugged, beginning to massage his cock with the ball of her foot. “But you like it.”

Her assertion was correct, but he didn’t confirm, shifting in his seat a little as he felt himself beginning to harden. Fuck, this woman. Tempress didn’t cut it.

Just then, the sound of gears being furiously crunched attracted their attention, both turning to see a car haphazardly shuddering up the street. At the same time, they shouted the exact same words.

“Put it in H!”

Niklas’s eyes snapped to her in an instant. A Simpsons fan. He rarely met them these days, it seemed. “So, not only can she quote The Simpsons, but she can recall the most obscure quotes, too. Interesting.”

Taissa pointed to the car, the driver of which continuing to struggle. “She’ll go three hundred hectares on a single tank of kerosene.”

He couldn’t help but begin laughing. Her impersonation of the Crazy Vaclav character was utterly perfect. “What country is this car from?”

“It no longer exists.” They both fell into soft laughter at that, their little skit from the cartoon having them both feeling entertained.

“I remember the first episode I ever saw, with Homer repeatedly falling down the cliff,” she reminisced, snorting with laughter. “I was about five, I think. My mother thought I was warped to find it so funny, but it’s the funniest moment for certain,” she spoke, Niklas yanking her foot away from his crotch and resting it on his thigh instead, idly playing with her toes.

He clicked his fingers, pointing at her. “Agreed.” It was a strange juxtapose, two people who so revelled in the darker, more criminal side of life, both having an affinity for the iconic, light-hearted cartoon. “A close second is him losing it in episode based on The Shining. No TV and no beer make Homer go crazy.”

She beamed, obliging him in continuation. “Don’t mind if I do!” Her enactment of Homer indeed going crazy had him booming with laughter, people turning to stare. It was utterly ridiculous, the black metal musician and the drug dealer, broken from the veneer of hardness surrounding them, as well as their mental and sexual teasing by the reciting of a kid’s cartoon.

He topped up their glasses with the last of the bourbon, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, offering her one, too. All while his other hand preoccupied itself with her foot.

“How are you enjoying my toes?”

Looking down at the dainty foot, he then stared at her intently. “I’ll be enjoying them much more when they’re in my mouth.”

Oooh, the wink he followed those words with. Her pussy clenched in an instant. “Got a thing for feet, hmm?”

A thing was putting it mildly. “You could say that. Feet, feet in high heels, in nylons. Legs in nylons. My fetishes are well-documented.” Running his index finger down the centre of her foot, he rotated it a few times before returning it to tickle over her toes. “What are your fetishes?”

“Money and power.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I meant sexual, and you know that I did.”

“Who said money and power can’t be sexual?” Watching him, she knew from his lowered gaze, the expectance in his eyes, that he wouldn’t accept that. Well, if there was ever a time to tease a little more... “Having the weight of a man on me, feeling pinned, being held down. I’m boss in every aspect of my life, and I rarely deviate in the bedroom. Sometimes, though, I like to submit.”

She certainly had when he’d picked her up and fucked her against his hallway wall. Then again, with the sexual force of nature that was Niklas, she’d had little choice.

The information shared was met by a look of appreciation, his glass lifted, the contents sunk in one gulp. “Drink up, and I can make that happen for you.”

Pulling her foot from his grasp, she slid it in a slow glide down his leg, looking out from beneath her long lashes at him. Picking up the glass, she made a show of licking her lips before tipping the warming bourbon down her throat, slipping her foot back into her shoe. “Let’s go.”

Time seemed to move slowly as they walked to the end of the row, turning the corner, Taissa keying in her code on the front door. It felt like a storm brewing, the heat gathering thickly as they stepped into the elevator, heading three floors up, the air becoming heavy, glances stolen, the anticipation creeping over them like a fog.

Putting the key in her door, she felt him sweep her hair from her neck, teeth biting down, the pin pricks of pain melting like icicles trickling down her spine, turning to pull him to her level and kiss him with ferocity. He herded her backwards, lifting her with ease, the open plan of the large space meaning he didn’t need to inquire over bedroom location. Clothes were shed en route, their bodies hitting the bed, mouths locked together as he pinned her beneath his weight, taking her wrists in an encircled grip and pressing them either side of her head.

“How’s that?”

How was that? Enough to feel the petals of her cunt begin to become slick for him, Taissa transfixed at watching the blue of his eyes almost eclipsed entirely by rapidly inking pupils. “Amazing, but it can wait.” Pulling from the grip, she pressed her hands to his chest, pushing him off of her and back to his feet. “Right now, there’s not much I need more than your cock in my mouth.”

He hummed a chuckle, raising an eyebrow as his hand tangled in her hair, giving it a short, sharp tug. “I’m not about to stop... that.”

The pause between words couldn’t be helped, his breath hitching, watching himself vanish completely between her full lips. She kept him swallowed back, her mouth pulsing around the very base of his cock a few times, tongue flickering the underside before slowly gliding back up his shaft. Just that, and she already had him mindless. The feel of her nails scraping down his sides only added to it.

“Fuck,” he whispered, chest shuddering, transfixed at the sight, his hand tightening in her hair again sharply. “You look even prettier, choking on my cock.”

Pushing further into her throat, he triggered her gag reflex, Taissa releasing him to spit on his shaft, pumping it with her hand thereafter, tongue gliding over the tip. It made lightning begin to flicker at the base of his spine, roughly forcing himself back between her lips again, grunting quietly when her fingers began to pinch and twist at one of his nipples.

“Oh, even though it’s a little late, you’d better not fucking have herpes or anything else nasty. I’ll fucking cut your balls off if you do,” she spoke, sucking the head of his cock, Niklas laughing through his nose. He didn’t doubt she would.

“Surprisingly, I actually don’t. I got forced into an STI test recently, so I know I’m fine.”

She paused, her eyebrow fluttering. “Forced?”

“Mm,” he hummed, watching himself disappear in her mouth once more. “If you bareback two patients in the same mental facility as you within the space of forty-eight hours, they make you get tested.”

“Animal,” she quipped, turning her head to bite the side of his hip.

“I have a feeling that is exactly what you like about me.” He wasn’t wrong, Taissa returning her mouth to his cock and once again, making him vanish. Fuck, she was too good at sucking dick, Niklas feeling himself beginning to ascend quite rapidly, fingers weaving tighter in her hair as he began to fuck her mouth, his chest starting to rise and fall more rapidly.

Feeling him becoming firmer within her mouth gave her the most delicious little shocks of excitement, becoming dewier at her apex, imagining how it would soon feel to have him inside her, her arousal glowing like moonbeams through the very depths of her.

That gathered excitement spurred her mouth quicker upon him, her tongue teases becoming more potent, Niklas’s hand still clutched hard upon her hair. His gravelly groans became more frequent, her lips tightening, oh, so tight around him, pleasure skittering over his tremble-wracked body.

The embers began to crackle, glowing, ever nearing bursting into flame, Taissa sensing it, speeding her mouth up until she felt him pulsing between her lips, shooting his load onto her tongue with a guttural grunt as his hips swayed forward, swallowing back every last hot spurt.

“Sufficiently ruined?”

The look he gave her was all darkened lust, pushing her back on the bed, yanking her legs up and taking one of her feet, sucking her toes with a groan. “No. Trust me, though. You’re about to be.”

She could barely wait.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining band #shining #black metal #metal guys

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