#Rare Leaf Reserve | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gaypirate420 · 9 months ago

Text

Boyfriend // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock-Hale x male!reader.

A/N: Just wanted to write the Cullen's being a family and Jasper being a ranging homosexual.

Summary: Jasper likes a booooyyyyyy uuuuhhh~

Fluff. Blood drinking (animal).

Esme was in the kitchen, making some food for Bella now that the girl comes for dinner almost everyday. The mother of the household saw a particular blonde coming downstairs with a smile on his face and fingers texting rapidly.

Esme smirked, she was filled with curiousity, Jasper rarely leaves his room and rarely smiles, no, he doesn't smile at all.

"Where are you going, hun?" The woman asked, the blonde stopped on his tracks and his smile has now faded but maintain a polite smirk that seems only reserved for any women that holds authority over him.

"Just goin' for a walk, ma'am." He spoke softly, Emmet from the couch laughed, the mother arched an eyebrow and Jasper narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"He's going to see his boyfriend!" Emmet shouted from the living room, a laugh coming from Edward followed.

"He's not my boyfriend." Jasper rolled his eyes and meet his "mother's" teasing smirk.

"Yet." Alice chimed in with a smile.

"Go ahead, Jasper. Tell Esme who is not your boyfriend." Rosalie spoke after Alice with a playful smirk. Jasper furrowed his eyebrows to his "twin." Should he tell Esme? He doesn't tell her anything anyway.

"Isn't he one of Carlisle's ancient friends?" Edward spoke this time from the couch, Esme tried to guess which one of their friends could be Jasper's type, or at least what she thought it's his type.

"He's not ancient." Jasper spoke with a defensive tone which made the rest of his siblings chuckle.

"He's like a million years old." Emmet said from the living room.

"So who is it then?" Esme spoke politely and took Jasper by his arm but not really touching him. Jasper sighed, he feels embarrassed and angry.

Jasper said your name.

Esme's mouth opened to speak but closed immediately. She knew you, or well, of you. You're not really the extrovert type and the only vampire that hasn't had a problem with you is Carlisle. You're a little too mischievous for the rest of vampires.

"May I go now, ma'am?"

"Yeah his boyfriend gonna be so mad if he arrives late for their date!" Emmet shouted again, making everyone laugh. Jasper thinks about attacking his "brother" to make him shut up, those loud thoughts making Edward feel uneasy now, hitting Emmet with his elbow discreetly to shut him up.

"Do you like him?" She whispered. Jasper nodded, a small smile appearing on his rosy lips.

"Yes, ma'am." The blonde whispers back. Esme nodded and smiled widely.

Jasper is reserved, withdrawn and he seems miserable most of the times, but right now, he looks happy.

"Does he treat you well?" She asks something that is very important for her, the blonde's lips curl into a smile again and his mind reading brother read all of the sweet thoughts he got about you.

"Yes, ma'am."

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

Jasper walked through the forest, the moon was about to rise and the air was cool.

Someone is running near the woods, the leaf crush under the rapid walk.

His golden eyes looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. The trees, he can hear the wood cracking and the leafs falling.

"Look over here, goldilocks!" You shouted.

Jasper smirked and turn around to see you up on a tree. You jumped and landed infront of him.

"Did I scare you, cowboy?" You spoked teasingly as your red eyes meet his golden ones.

"I was trembling with fear, pretty boy." He muttered softly, his texan drawl making you feel all tingly. He couldn't help but to stare down at your lips as they curled into a smile.

"Let's meet at the top of our tree!." You smacked his shoulder softly before zooming out. Jasper chuckled and started to run behind you matching your incredible speed.

You did a spin and take a bunny that passed by. Jasper shaked his head.

"Stop showing off!" The blonde shouted behind you. You laughed.

"You're jealous you're not as cool as I am!" You responded before starting to climb a tree. You could hear Jasper catching up with you before you jumped from one tree to another, feeling the wind hit your face and the comforting smell of plants after a rainy day.

Jasper admired your vampiric beauty as he ran, he felt those strange tingles in his stomach again. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You climbed and jumped until you stopped at the tree you've designated as yours and Jasper's. You looked down at him as he climbed up to meet you.

"You lost." You teased as you hold the bunny on your arms.

"I let you win." He replied with a smirk. You laughed and sat down on the branch of the tree.

"You lost and loser's don't get juicy bunnies for dinner." You bared your fangs at the small animal, Jasper looked at you and smirked.

"I dare you to do it. I want to see you drink the blood of an animal, pretty boy. Actually drink it." He talked between a chuckle. You furrowed your eyebrows and growl at him playfully before taking the bunny and bury your fangs on the small creature.

You pulled away, he could see you swallowing the blood before your face scrunched into one of pure disgust.

Jasper bursted laughing at you.

You smiled, you've never heard his laugh, it made you feel a strange sensation on your stomach. Or it may be the horrible sip of blood you've just drank.

"May I?" Jasper asked holding his hand out for the bunny.

"It's all yours, blondie. I warn you, that's the worst blood I've drank in four hundred years." You handed the perishing animal to his pale hands.

Jasper bared his fangs, his pupils dilate, hiding his golden eyes behind a pitch black wall. He buried his fangs deep into the animal, the bunny screamed but the cries died down quickly as the vampire drains it's life.

A couple of blood drops fall down his sweater. The blonde pulled away and tossed the dry cadaver of the animal down to the forest.

You couldn't pull your eyes away.

That was hot you have to admit. You cleared your throat.

"Do you actually like feeding from animals?" You asked, you always wondered if animals are as tasty as humans, Jasper thinks for a moment about it, he nods.

"It was hard get used to the taste. But it is better than feeling like I want to kill myself after each feeding." He spoke softly and with full honestly.

You lean over and wipe the blood from his lips with your thumb.

Jasper froze for a second. Your touch was gentle, his shoulders relaxed. It's been decades since he felt something so nice.

Your face was now so close to his, your eyes meet. If there's a word that defines you it's impulsive.

You lean over and lock your lips with his. It was a slow dance, shy at first from both parts.

Jasper pulled away, his golden eyes wide and shiny, he was about to withdrawl but instead came back in full force. Kissing you in a bolder way, his cold hand cupping your jaw.

He depends on the kiss, a delicious moan leaves his lips, a groan from your part following after, he's tasting you, touching you and drowning in your scent. He has never felt this way and he couldn't control his urges.

Your back meets the huge tree. Jasper it's almost on top of you now.

The blonde pulls away once more, to take a useless breath. You feel dizzy with happiness because the southerner felt himself radiant with joy.

The two stay silent. Eyes lingering into each other for a couple of seconds before Jasper's lips touch yours a third time. This time it's more gentle and loving.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time...ever since I met you, you light up my world, darlin'." He whispers, you can only look at him, you've never had anyone be this soft and caring with you.

You want to speak, to say you've felt the same way, that he became very special to you, that he made you feel worthy and loved.

But he could feel it too. He knew.

His lips leave a soft kiss on your forehead before he rests his head on your shoulder. You smile and wrap your arms around him.

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

A/N: Heyyyy, sorry I've been away. I'm really focused on school and that's why I haven't written shit. This was on my drafts so here it is. You can still send requests or asks just know I'm going to take a little of time in answering. Hope you liked it!

#jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale #jasper hale x male reader #x male reader #twilight x male reader

503 notes · View notes

venerawrites · 8 months ago

Note

Hey, could you write some Gaara angst. He and his fiancé fought over something and the argument was that bad where he said things that he shouldn’t have. His fiancé has to leave for a mission the next day,a dangerous one at that. Things go wrong on her mission and she’s now in the hospital and it’s hard to say if she’ll live or not. Gaara is in complete emotional distress and guilt because he feels that it’s his fault that his fiancé might not live.

Have a lovely day!

author's note: I saw "she" in the request, so I am rolling with a fem! reader. It's not a secret I love writing angst, so I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you like it as well! <3 Thank you for requesting!

warnings: none, other than reader can be a little bit annoying in the first half lol

This is not how the evening was supposed to go.

As the last day before your two-week mission, you imagined it as a romantic day, filled with lots of laughter, kisses, and good homemade food, which you had spent all day making.

A screaming match in your fiancé's office was definitely not part of the plan.

"Lower your voice", Gaara sighed, his fingers making their way to rub soothing circles on the side of his forehead. You had stormed into the Kazekage's building about an hour ago, and while your demeanour was progressively getting worse and more aggressive, somehow he had still managed to remain collected.

"Excuse me?", you let out a scoff, marching towards his desk and slamming your hands on top of it, "Don't command me like that! Who do you think you are?"

The words triggered something inside of him and he abruptly stood up, slamming his hands right next to yours and getting right in your face. His eyes, usually calm and inviting, were now cold and dark, showing that there was a storm brewing inside of him.

"I am your fiancé, but most importantly your Kazekage", he gritted his teeth, emphasizing his title, " I know you are upset and I said I am sorry! But your shenanigans stop now!"

Tilting your head, you remained silent and narrowed your eyes, determined not to give up on the little staring contest you had going on. Pressing your lips together, you moved your jaw in annoyance, your breathing heavy with the pent-up frustration.

"Well, guess what, Kazekage?", your words came out almost mocking, while a small sarcastic smirk appeared on your face, "If you tired of dealing with my "shenanigans", maybe you should run and complain to your little friend from the Leaf. I am sure he would be more than happy to hear we are on the verge of breaking up because of him."

"Are you hearing yourself?", Gaara finally raised his voice, moving away from the desk, while running his hand through his red locks, "Break up because of Naruto? You are being absolutely ridiculous, Y/N!"

"I am being ridiculous? This is our last day before my mission and you decide to spend it with Naruto!", you screamed, shaking your hands in the air and making a few steps towards him, "One would've thought that you two are engaged, instead!”

A dry chuckle made its way past his lips and he shook his head, trying to calm his mind. Gods knew he loved you more than life itself but in moments like these he questioned how fate decided to bring you together, considering you were polar opposites.

Gaara was a calm, collected, and reserved individual. He was extremely hard-working and devoted to his nation, so naturally every decision he made was always centered around the well-being of others. He always carefully considered all his options before acting, and rarely resolved to action, if the problem could be resolved peacefully with talks.

You ,on the other hand, were hot-headed, impulsive, and stubborn. Always acting before thinking, you often fail to consider anyone else's needs and wishes in moments like this, too blinded by your selfish desire and feeling of injustice. Unlike the red-headed shinobi, who you described as your "better half", you faced problems head-on, even if that meant you would regret it later.

There has always been some tension between you two, even since you met during your Chunin Exams, but no one believed you would get together, especially after Gaara went through his life-changing phase when he realised the importance of friends and family.

Yet, years later, here you were - a Leaf shinobi who transferred to Suna and was engaged to the Kazekage. Somehow your clashing personalities worked in harmony and you managed to bring the best out of each other.

Well, most of the time...

Today, after he decided to spend the whole day with Naruto, Sakura, and Kakashi, thus resulting in him having to work through the evening, was not one of these times.

While the Leaf ninjas were your old comrades, it was not a secret that you did not share a close bond with them, especially with the blonde.

Naruto has openly vocalized his opinion that Gaara is too good for you and he can find a better, calmer half, who would compliment him as a future spouse of the Kazekage. He always made it clear that while he did not exactly hate you, he did not approve of you.

In response, you did not hide your thoughts about their friendship and the fact that your partner was giving him too much credit. Of course, Naruto did have some role in his decision to change for the better, but ultimately it was Gaara who did all the work. Additionally, the blonde was loud, assertive, and loved to poke his nose in other people's business, including your relationship.

"Y/N, enough!", your fiancé's voice boomed, his aura suddenly darker, "Do not talk about my friends like this!"

"Do you keep the same energy when he talks about me?", your brow raised, "When he says how I don't deserve you and tries to fill your head with the craziest ideas about us!"

Gaara let out a puff of air, before turning around and marching towards you. Stopping just a foot away, he lifted his hands towards you, laying them on your shoulder.

"I. Had. Enough!", he hissed each word through his teeth, a sign he was really pissed off at you now, "No one talks about you and no one is trying to fill my head with anything! I don't need anyone to tell me that we are incompatible when I can clearly see that myself!"

The insults and swears that were ready to fall from your mouth got stuck in your throat and your eyes widened for a few seconds, before narrowing again.

"What are you getting at?", this time your voice was quieter, but still with a note of challenge behind it.

Suddenly there was a spark of uncertainty behind his blue eyes. Slowly removing his hands from your body, he walked towards the window with his back facing you.

"I think we need a break. It's just... It's not working anymore", he murmured, gaze focused on the peaceful streets of Suna. He found it easier to say what he was thinking right now if he avoided looking at you.

A minute passed.

Gaara expected you to scream at him, swear at him, or even grab something from his desk and throw it at his head. But when he heard the door of his office opening and slamming shut, he jumped in surprise. Turning around, he found the spot where you were standing just a minute ago, empty, while your diamond ring shined lonely at the edge of his desk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's strange how distorted a person's time perception becomes once they are eagerly waiting for something.

Two weeks, which usually flew by, given his busy schedule, now felt like an eternal nightmare for the young Kazekage. Eaten by the guilt of how your last conversation ended, he severely punished his mind and body by refusing to eat, drink, or socialize with anyone outside his work. He practically lived in his office and if it wasn't for Kankuro to send him to shower every morning, after working the whole night, he probably would had not set a foot outside.

This morning, however, he refused to do even that. You were supposed to come to report about your mission any moment now and he shifted nervously in his seat, mentally rehearsing the apology he wanted to say to you.

An hour passed.

Then two.

Gaara kept glancing towards the door, yet no one entered, except his secretary who kept dropping piles of paperwork on his desk. He tried to question if any ninjas have showed in the building today, but she kept shaking her head "no" with an apologetic smile on her lips.

Finally, just after noon, a small, barely audible knock reached his ear and he immediately straightened his posture and fixed his hair, before giving his response. His eyes gleamed with anticipation and he stood up, ready to greet you back home.

His, smile, however, quickly dropped once he saw that only one of your teammates, Bumi, entered his office. Covered in scratches across his face and hands, he looked like he had taken some rough beating not long ago. Gaara's blood froze.

If Bumi, the largest and the most skilled ninja in your squad, looked like this, what has happened to you?

"Lord Kazekage", the man greeted, before bowing his head. He made his way towards the desk and placed a tightly wrapped scroll on it, but his gaze remained cast downward.

"The report for our mission."

"Where is Y/N?", the red-headed ninja asked, not even glancing at the document given to him. He had a bad feeling about what was happening and Bumi's lack of eye contact and nervous twitching did not help to ease his worries.

Your teammate looked up, meeting Gaara's intense stare for just a second, before clearing his throat and focusing on his shoes again.

"She...", he stopped, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another, "Um... she is not here at the moment."

"I can see that", the Kazekage pointed out, completely unamused, "Which is why I am asking - where is she?"

Bumi moved uncomfortably again, before letting out a sigh and taking a seat opposite his red-headed leader. His knee kept bouncing and he nervously shifted around his seat, before opening his mouth again:

"The Elders warned me not to tell you... yet."

Gaara's glare hardened and he crossed his fingers on top of his desk. Pressing his lips in a thin line, he took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising feeling of panic inside of him.

"You answer to me, not the Elders", he almost growled, his eyes not moving away from your teammate. His jaw tensed and that was enough of a sign for Bumi to spill out what was on his mind

"She is in the hospital", he blurted out and Gaara's breath hitched. His fingers started to tremble and he quickly placed them on his knees below his desk, a poor attempt to cover the shock that hit him when he heard the other male's words.

'Maybe it is just a check-up', he tried to reason in his head, 'maybe it is nothing too serious.'

Almost like he read his thoughts, Bumi decided to continue:

"It all happened so fast", he looked down, mentally reliving what happened just this morning, "We were on our way back when we were ambushed. Y/N... She has been acting weird the whole mission. She kept missing her shots and her reactions were slower than normal... I don't know what happened, but it was almost like she was not herself."

Cold sweat started forming on Gaara's temples and he felt his heart speeding inside his ribcage. He felt like he wanted to jump out of his seat and run to the hospital, but it was almost like his body was disconnected from his brain and it chose to stay frozen in place.

"So when this ninja swung his katana towards her stomach, it was too late for her to block it or move away...", Bumi gulped, his eyes now glossy, "The doctors said the cut was so deep, it damaged some of her insides too. And by the time we arrived, she also lost a ton of blood. They... They are not sure if she can make it."

Gaara always considered himself a man who knew what pain was. He has endured so much during his childhood, that he always thought nothing could hurt him anymore.

But the way his whole soul shattered the second he heard you may not make it, was a whole new type of pain. One that pointed its ugly finger to his face, screaming "It is all your fault!", while simultaneously creating feelings of rage and bloodthirst... feelings that stayed buried deep inside of him for years.

"Which village?", was all he said, his blue eyes now empty and staring at the blank wall at the opposite end of his office.

Bumi gulped, standing from his seat. The look on Gaara's face... He has not seen that look since their Chunin days. He was about to sneakily exit the office when the Kazekage's cold gaze fixated him on the spot.

"They had Leaf headbands...", he mumbled, before quickly adding, "But they could've gotten them from anywhere. I don't believe our allies-"

His words were interrupted by the Kazekage's hand which lifted in the air, cutting him mid-sentence. Getting up from his chair, he grabbed his hat, before walking past Bumi towards the door. Thousand different thoughts and ideas were racing through his brain about how he should deal with the situation, but they ultimately led to his need to see you straight away.

The last words he said to you kept echoing in his mind and he felt like throwing up. If he had shown up for your scheduled date night, if he had kept his tongue behind his teeth, if he had shown up at the gates the morning before you left... maybe you would be here, with him, instead of fighting for your life.

He knew he had to get to you, to be with you and somehow beg you to stay with him. But before that, he had one final request to make:

"Gather the Elders and the War Council", he instructed Bumi, while making his way past him, "Our alliance with the Leaf is over."

cc artwork: concept art for "Assassin's Creed: Mirage"

#gaara x reader #gaara imagine #naruto imagines #gaara of the sand #gaara angst #naruto angst

324 notes · View notes

babsharrison · 26 days ago

Text

Safe Haven - John Wick

(Chapter six)

Pairing | John Wick x Original Fem! Character

Summary | In search of a breath in his tumultuous life, John Wick finds himself in a charming bookstore where he meets a sweet and welcoming woman. As they grow closer, John questions whether she can love him despite the dark secrets he carries. While battling the shadows of his past, he must protect the love that is blossoming and discover if hope and redemption are truly possible.

Word Count | 3.2k (hihi 🤫)

A/N | Happy Halloween, everyone! I know it was supposed to be a Halloween fic with John Constantine, but I totally ran out of ideas for the storyline 😭

Previous chapter!

The park was stunning under the golden sunlight. The weather was perfectly cooperative, as if the universe was on Mia's side that day. The sky, without a single cloud, displayed a deep and serene blue, and the trees around, with their dense and lush canopies, swayed gently in the breeze. Mia felt at peace there, as if the park were an extension of the bookstore—a place where she could feel at home, surrounded by tranquility and beauty.

The event was going better than she expected. The welcoming atmosphere had an almost magical touch, attracting people of all ages. Children ran back and forth, some stopping at the small tables where books were displayed. Young couples and families walked hand in hand, showing interest in the covers of stories carefully selected by Mia and Tom. Some paused to leaf through the books, and Mia noticed the spark of curiosity in their eyes, which made her even more hopeful for the future of the bookstore.

She watched from afar with a discreet smile on her face, satisfied with the outcome so far. The sense of harmony enveloped everyone, as if for a few hours they were immersed in a world of words and stories.

Tom had stepped out for a moment to fetch his girlfriend, Lyla. Mia had always liked Lyla—her striking beauty was complemented by a kindness that won everyone over. Lyla was always willing to help with the bookstore, offering support and creative ideas. This friendship made Mia feel grateful to have her around.

While waiting for the two to return, Mia walked over to one of the tables to organize some misplaced books, observing the satisfied faces around her. The gentle breeze brought the fresh scent of trees and damp grass, mingling with the light floral perfume of Lyla that still seemed to linger in the air since the last time they were together.

She took a deep breath, savoring the moment. The park vibrated with laughter and conversation, but in her heart, there was a serene calm, as if all the effort to keep the bookstore alive was finally being rewarded. Mia felt that this event was a small step toward her dream—a place where people could reconnect with the joy of reading.

For a moment, her eyes drifted into the crowd. Although surrounded by people, she couldn’t help but think of John. He still hadn’t shown up, but she knew he was the unpredictable type. Would he come? And if he did, what would it be like to see him in that environment, so different from the bookstore, where he always seemed serious and reserved?

As these thoughts occupied her mind, the sunlight reflected off the leaves, creating patterns of light and shadow that danced on the park’s ground. It was a perfect day, and she could only hope that fate would collaborate once more, perhaps bringing John’s presence along with it.

Not far away, on the other side of the park, John stood in the distance, shaded by a tree, his eyes keenly observing the movement in the park. He had opted for something more discreet this time—dark jeans and a shirt with a brown jacket over it, quite different from the usual suit he wore. It was rare for him to allow himself to step away from the nearly constant uniform of his professional life, but that day, the relaxed atmosphere of the park seemed to call for a more casual approach.

Even so, his survival instincts were always on alert. The hitman in John never rested. He observed the event as he would any mission, sweeping the area with his eyes and mentally mapping out exits, assessing people and watching for any suspicious behavior. There were families, children running between tables, adults curiously flipping through books. Everything seemed... normal. But normal was not something he easily trusted.

Yet, his gaze always returned to her. Mia.

She looked different under the sunlight—more vibrant, more radiant. The light dress she wore, in a soft shade that contrasted with the surrounding greenery, made her seem like a natural part of that environment. He noticed how the fabric moved with the breeze, accentuating her silhouette in a way that, though modest, drew him in almost inevitably. John wasn’t the type of man to be swayed by appearances, but there was something about Mia's naturalness, her simplicity, that made him want to get closer, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

He watched her interact with people, always so polite, so kind. She seemed at ease there, as if that small event in the park were an extension of the bookstore she loved so much. There was a lightness in Mia’s movements, as if the world didn’t carry the same weight on her shoulders that it did on his. This intrigued him—and, on some level, unsettled him.

As he watched, John assessed the location. There were few easy exits if anything went wrong, and the number of people meant he would have to be careful if any threat arose. He couldn’t help but evaluate each unfamiliar face, paying attention to any odd behavior. That was part of who he was—an instinct deeply ingrained.

But in that moment, there were no signs of danger. Just Mia and her world, functioning in perfect harmony. John clenched his fists, struggling against the urge to approach. He knew the right thing would be to turn away and disappear, but something kept him there. He didn’t allow himself to get involved with "normal" people—not anymore. The cost was always too high.

Still, there was something in Mia that made him hesitate.

He found himself watching as the sun illuminated her face when she leaned down to help someone, the genuine smile she offered to each person. There was a beauty in that, a simplicity he didn’t know. It was as if, for a moment, the world around her was lighter, less dark. And part of him wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of that, even if just briefly.

John took a deep breath, trying to push away the thoughts that plagued him. The doubts about his presence there and what it meant to be so close to Mia made him uneasy. But even from a distance, her eyes seemed to pull him closer, as if saying it was safe to approach. He knew that wasn’t true—nothing was ever safe in his life. Yet, in that moment, he hesitated, an almost irresistible impulse drawing him toward her.

A car screeching to a halt behind him snapped his attention, jolting him out of his reverie. He turned, instinctively on guard, his survival instincts kicking in. Almost without realizing, he heard light footsteps on the fallen leaves covering the grass, and his heart raced. As he turned, the last thing he expected to see was Mia, approaching with her hands behind her back and a sweet smile that lit up her face.

The sight of her caught him off guard, and he felt his heart skip a beat, an almost forgotten sensation. The lightness in her expression and the joy radiating from her made her seem even more enchanting. It was as if the world around him had vanished, leaving only that singular moment, where nothing else mattered.

John almost looked around, perplexed, wondering how she found him. It was as if she had a sixth sense for locating him, no matter how well he hid. He wondered if, somewhere deep down, she understood him in a way that no one else could. The way her eyes sparkled, filled with fun and an innocence that intrigued him, made his mind spin. He was so used to keeping his distance, but Mia seemed to be a force pulling him to a place he had never allowed himself to be.

“I'm so glad you came!” She exclaimed, her excitement filling the air with vibrant energy. Her smile was contagious, and even though he was reluctant, John couldn't help but feel a small, genuine smile appear on his lips, something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You seemed hesitant to approach, so I decided to come over and call you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, incredulity escaping his lips, but there was a lightness that contradicted his usual distance. “I just... didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding at all! Come on, I’ll show you what we’re doing.” Mia took a step forward, gesturing with her hands for him to follow. “The event is pretty lively. There are lots of people and several tables with books.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the way she spoke, so naturally, drew him closer. “And are you... okay?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yes! I’m a bit nervous, but that’s normal, right?” She laughed, the sound light and sincere. “I just want people to enjoy it and come to know the bookstore. Every person who walks by is a victory!”

John watched her as they walked, noticing how she seemed to shine in that atmosphere. “You really care about this.”

“Of course! It’s a dream I’m trying to keep alive,” she replied, the sincerity in her voice making her even more captivating. “And I hope you, Mr. Wick, feel part of it too.”

He laughed, a low sound without humor. “Mr. Wick? Don’t make me sound so formal.”

Mia stopped and turned to him, her eyes sparkling with fun. “Okay, then you prefer John? I’ll try to remember that.” She tilted her head, looking at him with an expression of camaraderie. “Just don’t make me call you ‘Mr. Wick’ in public, because then you’ll really make me nervous!”

He shook his head, laughing. “Don’t worry, you can use whatever you want. I’m not very good with these title things.”

“Great! So, John, are you ready to mingle?” Mia continued to gently pull him in the direction of the event, her excitement almost palpable. “I promise you’ll have fun.”

He hesitated, but her confidence was contagious. “Let’s see how it goes.”

As they approached the tables with displayed books, John felt his gaze drawn to a thick volume with a richly bound leather cover. His fingers itched to pick it up, feeling the weight and texture of that well-crafted book. There was something almost nostalgic about it, a silent appreciation he had for such details.

“Do you like bookbinding?” Mia asked, noticing his interest.

“I do,” he admitted, holding the book between his hands. “It’s... an art in itself, preserving stories.”

Mia watched him, visibly surprised. “I would never have imagined. I think there are a lot of things I still don’t know about you.”

John turned the book in his hands, appreciating every detail on the cover. “Bookbinding is a form of respect for stories, don’t you think?” He commented, almost as if speaking to himself. “Something that transforms content into something enduring.”

Mia smiled, fascinated by how he viewed the object in his hands. “I’ve never thought of it that way… but it makes perfect sense. A good book can last generations. That must be why I’m so attached to my grandfather’s bookstore.”

He raised his gaze to her, with an expression that mixed surprise and understanding. “It seems he passed on more than just a business to you. It’s rare to see someone so young have such an appreciation.”

“I think it’s one of those things you learn over time. And I... well, I feel like I’m just starting.” She shrugged, a light smile on her lips. “And you? How did someone like you come to like bookbinding?”

John hesitated, but for some reason, the barriers he usually erected seemed less solid. “It’s... complicated. It’s part of a past I tend to leave behind, but... I still like it.” He paused before letting out a small smile. “In a way, it’s almost therapeutic. A work of precision, something that requires patience.”

“Maybe you can teach me one day,” she suggested, joking but with a touch of sincerity.

John raised an eyebrow, a shadow of humor on his face. “It’s a more tedious job than it seems, Mia.”

She laughed, tilting her head. “I’m willing to take the risk. Besides, maybe a little tedious routine would be good, don’t you think?”

He chuckled softly, a rare and warm sound that made Mia feel a slight flutter in her heart. Mia adjusted the books in her hands, her thumb absentmindedly brushing against the worn spine of the bound volume she had just handed to him. John watched her in silence, his eyes analyzing, almost as if he were assessing the safety of that brief moment of tranquility. Even without speaking, she felt the weight of his gaze and, curious, decided not to rush him, allowing him to absorb that instant.

“The cover of this one is a bit worn, but I think it’s even more beautiful that way,” she remarked, glancing at the book before looking back at John. “It seems like it has a story beyond the story, you know?”

John tilted his head slightly, holding the book with an almost reverent delicacy, as if pondering the profound meaning behind Mia’s words. “A story beyond the story,” he repeated, his voice sounding like a soft echo, more directed at himself than at her. The phrase resonated within him, evoking memories of distant times, of a life that now seemed a lost shadow.

Mia noticed the subtle change in his face, as if for a brief moment he were trying to reconnect with something he had left behind. A smile illuminated her face, for she felt that, even without needing words, she had established a small bridge between them, a connection that transcended the present moment.

Before she could formulate further thoughts or share any revelation, a familiar voice cut through the air, calling her name. It was Tom, accompanied by Lyla, who had finally arrived. Their presence brought a new energy to the environment, but Mia couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment she had shared with John still lingered between them, like an invisible, delicate thread connecting them.

She waved to her friends before turning back to John, who also seemed to have noticed their arrival. “John, feel free. I’ll be right back,” she said, tilting her head slightly and offering a soft smile.

Upon hearing the affectionate way she pronounced his name, John felt his heart palpitate with an unexpected strength in his chest, as if that simple gesture of kindness had briefly shattered the barrier he kept around himself.

After Mia’s smile, John remained in his place, his eyes vaguely following her as she moved away to greet her friends. He tried to distract himself, observing the details of the event, but it was inevitable that his gaze returned to her from time to time. There was something in the lightness of her movements, in the way she spoke with her friends, that made him think of everything he rarely allowed himself.

***

Tom leaned toward Mia, speaking softly while casting a brief glance in John’s direction.

“So, that’s the mysterious man from the bookstore, isn’t it?” he commented, a curious smile on his face.

Mia chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yes, that’s him. He came to check out the books.”

Lyla, always with a keen eye, exchanged a smile with Mia. “And he seems to have more than just a casual interest in the bookstore, don’t you think?”

Mia shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “He’s just… different. I think everyone deserves a place to disconnect for a bit.”

Tom smiled, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “Sure, and maybe he’s actually found something here.”

Mia nodded affirmatively, allowing herself a quick glance at where John was, without him noticing. “Maybe. He seems like someone who could use some peace.”

John, on the other side, was trying his best to keep his attention on the surroundings, but even without directly facing her, he perceived every smile and laugh. Although he was reluctant to feel part of anything, that atmosphere—those people—had a strange effect on him.

John allowed himself to be enveloped by the warm atmosphere of the small makeshift bookstore in the park. There was something there—the scent of books, the soft laughter of people around, the gentle sound of music in the distance—that seemed to suspend time, creating a rare refuge amid the chaos of the city. The park was lively, with families, couples, and curious readers exploring the book tents scattered across the grass and surrounded by flowers and small hanging lights.

As John leafed through the book he held—a vintage edition with slightly yellowed pages—Mia approached, noticing his interest. A smile lit up her face as she recognized the title: it was one of her favorites, a classic romance she revisited whenever she could.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said softly, the enthusiasm evident in her voice. “Have you read it?”

John looked up at her, catching the sparkle in her eyes. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. “But it seems like a good choice.”

“It really is!” Mia said, speaking about the author and the passages that had touched her the most. John absorbed every word without seeming to, as if her description brought unexpected meaning to the volume he held. A rare impulse led him to buy it, almost without realizing it.

She guided him to a makeshift table serving as a payment station, near one of the park’s paths, decorated with small flowers and candles. As Mia organized the receipt and wrapped the book, a figure approached among the temporary shelves. An elegant man, with a contained posture and a dark suit that contrasted with the relaxed setting, stopped beside them, feigning interest in some of the displayed books.

“Good afternoon,” he said, holding a random book, his eyes fixing on Mia with a calculated smile. “I didn’t expect to find such an interesting collection in the middle of the park. It seems like a rare opportunity.”

Mia smiled, as welcoming as ever but with a hint of curiosity. “Thank you. We hope readers truly feel at home here. Can I help with anything special?”

“Perhaps,” the man replied, casting a quick, discreet glance at John before returning his attention to Mia. “Marco Vitale,” he introduced himself, with a distant but calculated courtesy. “I’m not usually one to stop at events like this, but… today I felt drawn to this collection.”

The mere mention of the name was enough to put John on high alert. Marco Vitale was a dangerous name, familiar in a way he’d rather avoid. While Marco’s presence there might have seemed coincidental, his light, casual tone didn’t fool John; this encounter felt anything but innocent. Positioned beside Mia, John observed him closely, showing no hint of discomfort, every fiber of his being prepared for any imminent threat.

Marco maintained the same courteous smile, as if John’s presence were casual. Mia, oblivious to the subtext of the conversation, thanked Marco for his purchase and handed him the book. And as she finalized the payment, John noticed that Marco’s gaze lingered on her a bit longer than necessary, before throwing a look at John that carried more than it seemed.

The idea that merely being there could have attracted Marco was a sharp reminder that, no matter how much he tried to escape, the shadows of his world followed closely behind.

Next chapter!

Tagging: @hope92100

#john wick x reader #john wick #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanu reeves x reader #keanuverse fic #fanfic #fanfic writing #romance #fyp #john wick fanfic #john wick fic #john wick series #john wick imagine #thomas shelby x reader #john my beloved

55 notes · View notes

aquamarine-oceanfront · 1 month ago

Text

TADC Tower Records Cafe collaboration information

A few hours ago, the official Japanese Amazing Digital Circus Twitter account revealed that the series would be collaborating with two Tower Records Cafes in the country. Ticket pre-sales begin on the 18th (JST), and the actual collab will start between October 31st and November 1st (depending on the store) and run until the 25th.

What will this entail, exactly? As Tower Records' post on the matter says (roughly translated):

ポムニたちをはじめとしたキャラクターたちのイメージコラボメニューの販売やオリジナルメニュー特典のほか、コラボ限定描き下ろしを使用した店内装飾で皆さまをお迎えいたします！ In addition to selling new menu items styled after Pomni and company, as well as specially-made bonus postcards, everyone who comes will be greeted with in-store collab artwork (made just for the occasion)!

They'll also be selling merchandise (some new, some pre-existing) to people who consume the event's food.

That's the gist of it, but I felt like summarizing all the relevant information I could (near-entirely from the aforementioned blog post) - the fruit of my efforts is just below the jump.

To begin with, attending the cafe requires advance reservations, with each time slot lasting for an hour & twenty minutes. Attendees buy online tickets (worth 500 yen per person, accompanied by a 500 yen meal coupon) tied to the number of seats they'll need - oddly, they're grouped into either 2 or 4 seats independent of the flat 500 yen/person rate, which means that a single diner is still technically in the "2 seats" category despite obviously only needing one.

(Also: they do offer same-day tickets if - and only if - there happens to be vacancy. They don't come with any meal coupons, though.)

(As a second side note, every price I mention in this post includes tax.)

Of course, your ticket won't (entirely) cover the cost of food and drink. The Cafe limits the amount of either you can buy: a single person (500 yen) can purchase no more than 1 food item, 1 sweet, and 3 drinks. (This is also the limit for same-day tickets.) However, the upper limit scales in accordance with the price of the ticket (and, in turn, the amount of people expected to be in your group) - at absolute most (4 people/2,000 yen), diners can get 4 food items, 4 sweets, and 12 drinks.

Right now, I imagine, you're probably wanting to see those food items. Without further ado, here are the two options (both costing 1,890 yen):

Pomni Hamburger: Includes buns, hamburger patty, pickles, a chedder cheese slice, red-leaf lettuce, tomato, and ketchup. Served with French fries & monaka. (I'm not 100% sure about that last one but it's the only translation of モナカ that seemed plausible in this context.)

Ragatha Omurice: Includes chicken rice, a thin omelette "sheet" (オムシート), and ketchup. Served with potato salad, red-leaf lettuce, mozzarella cheese, cherry tomatoes, & monaka.

Now we move on to the sweets:

Caine Cupcake (1,690 yen): A cupcake with strawberry whip, strawberries, blueberries, mixed berries, mint, powdered sugar, chocolate sweets, strawberry sauce, & monaka.

Zooble Parfait (1,690 yen): Includes a strawberry no-bake cake (literally "rare cake," or レアケーキ - I assume it's a cold or at least cool treat), mango ice cream, corn flakes, mascarpone whip, blueberry sauce, yogurt, mixed berries, mint, chocolate sweets, rolled chocolate, & monaka.

Jax Pancake (1,890 yen): A thick hotcake served with blueberry sauce, mixed berries, blueberry cream, whipped cream, strawberries, blueberries, chervil, silver dragees (tiny edible decorations), powdered sugar, monaka, & latte (panna?) cotta.

The drinks make up the largest category by far - each one is priced at 900 yen:

Gangle Berry Tea (HOT): Made with raspberry syrup, black tea, mixed berries, and mint. Also mentioned (but not pictured): whipped cream & monaka.

Jax Blueberry Yogurt: Made with blueberry sauce, drinkable yogurt, blueberries, whipped cream, and mint. Not pictured: monaka.

Ragatha Blue Lemonade (HOT): Made with blue curaçao syrup, lemonade, and lemon slices. Not pictured: whipped cream & monaka.

Pomni & Kinger Strawberry Milk: Made with strawberry syrup, diced strawberries, milk, whipped cream, strawberry sauce, and a cherry. Not pictured: monaka.

Caine & Bubble Cranberry Juice: Cranberry juice with raspberries and star-shaped nata de coco. Not pictured: whipped cream & monaka.

Finally, there's only one takeout option:

Takeout Bottle w/Popcorn (980 yen): Specifically popcorn colored red, blue, & yellow. They make these in-store, and Tower Records recommends you eat them as soon as possible (regardless of whether you open it or not). They're also exempt from the aforementioned purchase limits - buy as much as you'd like. (Or as much as is available - each store will keep the public updated on their inventory through their respective Twitter accounts.)

(Curiously, one of the many disclaimers seems to state that the "collab & takeout menus will be available for the whole [financial] year." I don't know if I'm misinterpreting the original Japanese sentence - コラボメニュー・テイクアウトメニューは通期提供です。)

As an extra bonus, every order (including the takeaway bottle) comes with a bonus postcard featuring some of the event's artwork. The selection differs depending on the date: come before November 12th and you'll get one of these at random:

However, if you come between the 12th and the 25th (the event's closing date), you'll instead get one of these:

Finally, people who pay for any of the aforementioned dishes will be allowed to purchase merchandise on-site.

The above promo picture conveniently separates the new items (top) from the existing ones (bottom). The former includes acrylic stands and badges (sold either individually or as a full set of 8 - the latter being the upper limit for them no matter what), clear files, and mugs (1 per person). The latter is mostly stuff InfoLens made for the Japanese market (some of which will only go on sale on November 7th), with the lone exception of Jax's AniMatez figure. Also: the limit is specifically per person, not per the number of seats - so one attendee won't be considered two people, even if they're technically in the "2 seats" category. (Remember that from earlier?)

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #amazing digital circus #digital circus #tower records #japan

28 notes · View notes

tishots-skvad · 8 months ago

Text

An old, but cozy answer in Wakfu ask... When Aurora was dubbed a manipulator who was "probably even capable of killing Armand"... I decided to make a little joke about this theory. And I'm glad that in the end they were made into a sincere loving couple✨✨✨

────────────────────────────

How is Aurora doing? Well, it's naturally hard for her in her new place. She's still getting used to the palace and our customs.

– I haven't asked the ladies-in-waiting for help to get dressed for a long time. But how the hell to fix this one... a leaf!?

────────────────────────────

But I know she's secretly making big plans...

Next year, if the situation in Sadida kingdom improves, she wants to start designing her reserve. Even, modestly writes to his mother that on our honeymoon we could arrange the capture of rare animals together.

────────────────────────────

– Has His Highness atrophied his sense of tact? What were you trying to find there?

– At least a conspiracy plan.

– Very funny. It's nice that King Sadida has such an increased interest to the life of his wife, but Ozamodas is punished with a dozen lashes for peeping.

– I think I've already received enough...

────────────────────────────

#wakfu #ask #comics #AU #OC #wakfu armand #wakfu aurora #armand sheran sharm #aurora de laurent #armivrora #aurora's tail✨✨✨

68 notes · View notes

eleanor-bradstreet · 11 months ago

Text

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 8: The Lake

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: T - nakey lakey time Word count: 6.1k

Masterpost Previous chapter Next chapter

Author's Notes: This chapter has a lot of segments preserved from the book, the lake scene being widely regarded as one of the golden moments in Benophie's love story. (And good god almighty what goats do I need to sacrifice to make sure we get it in the show?!? 😜) But the immediate aftermath of the lake scene also gives lots of readers the ick - me included - so as always, I have rounded things out to fit the cheeky, gentle character of Show!Benedict. Enjoy 💙

There were advantages, Benedict soon discovered, to a long, drawn-out recovery.

The most obvious was the quantity and variety of excellent food brought forth from Mrs. Wiggin in the kitchens. He’d always been fed well at Aubrey Hall of course, but Mrs. Wiggin truly rose to the occasion with him tucked away in his sickroom.

Another perk of staying abed was the simple fact that, for the first time in years, he could enjoy some quiet time. He read, sketched, and even closed his eyes and just daydreamed - all without feeling guilty for neglecting some other task or chore.

Benedict soon decided that he’d be perfectly happy leading the life of the indolent.

But the best part of his recovery, by far, was Sophie. She popped into his room several times a day, sometimes to fluff his pillows, sometimes to bring him food or her medicinal tea which he genuinely believed was helping, and sometimes just to read to him. He wasn’t sure if her level of industriousness stemmed from a desire to earn the compensation he had promised, or to be useful as a means of thanking him. He was just happy that she came to see him so frequently. She was every bit the nurse he knew she would be.

She’d been quiet and reserved at first, obviously trying to adhere to the standard that servants should rarely be heard. But Benedict had had none of that, and he’d purposefully engaged her in conversation, stretching out the length of each visit.

But mostly he just enjoyed being in the same room with her. It didn’t seem to matter if they were talking, or if she was just sitting in a chair, leafing through a book while he stared out the window. Something about her presence brought him peace.

A sharp knock at the door broke him out of his thoughts and he looked up eagerly, calling out, “Enter!”

Sophie poked her head in, her shoulder-length hair brushing against the edge of the door. “I brought you some more tea.”

“Tea? Or tea and biscuits?”

Sophie grinned, pushing the door open with her hip as she balanced the tray. “Oh, the latter if Mrs. Wiggin has anything to say about it.”

“Excellent,” he smiled. “And will you join me?”

She hesitated, as she always did, but then she nodded, as she also always did. She’d long since learned that there was no arguing with Benedict when he had his mind set on something.

“Your color is back,” she commented as she set the tray down on the bedside table. “And you don’t look nearly so tired. I should think you’ll be up and out of bed soon.”

He smiled gamely, “Do you think so?”

“Yes,” she smiled and lifted the teapot. Benedict watched her hands as she prepared the tea. She moved with an innate sense of grace, and she poured the tea as if she’d been to the manner born. Clearly the art of afternoon tea had been another one of those lessons she’d learned from her mother’s generous employers. Or maybe she’d just watched other ladies closely while they’d prepared tea. Again, he noted that she was a very observant woman.

“Fix yourself a cup,” Benedict said, biting into a biscuit, “and come sit by me.”

She hesitated again. He knew she’d hesitate, even though she’d already agreed to join him. But he was a patient man, and his patience was rewarded with a soft sigh as she poured herself her own cup and sat in the chair by the bed, regarding him over the rim of her teacup as she took a sip.

“No biscuits for you?” Benedict asked.

She shook her head. “I had a few straight out of the oven.”

“Lucky you. They’re always best when they’re warm.” He polished off another biscuit, brushed a few crumbs off of his chest, and reached for another. “And how have you spent your day?”

“Since I last saw you two hours earlier?”

Benedict shot her a look that said he recognized her sarcasm but chose not to respond to it.

“I helped Lizzie and Anne with the laundry,” she said. “Then I borrowed a book from the library and read outside.”

“Really? What did you read?”

“A novel.”

“And your assessment?”

She shrugged, “Overly romantic for my taste.”

“So you do not long for romance?” He gave her a lopsided grin.

Her blush was instantaneous. “That’s a rather personal question, don’t you think?”

Benedict tried to think of a witty reply, but as he watched her face, her cheeks turning delightfully pink, her eyes cast down to her lap, the strangest thing happened.

He realized he wanted her.

He really, really wanted her.

He wasn’t certain why this surprised him so much. Of course he wanted her. He was as red-blooded as any man, and one couldn’t spend a protracted amount of time around a woman as gamine and adorable as Sophie without wanting her. Hell, he’d wanted half the women he met, in a purely low-intensity, non-urgent sort of way.

But in that moment, with this woman, it became urgent. He suddenly had the urge to lean forward, take her face in his hands and kiss her passionately. Then pull her into the bed where he very conveniently already was. He wondered if she had ever been kissed before.

Of course he wouldn’t act upon his urges - he was a gentleman, not a scoundrel. She had proven herself to be a personable, respectable, and highly intelligent woman and she was technically in his employ for the moment. He wouldn’t sully their mutual trust and friendly companionship by leaping upon her.

He frowned, cleared his throat, and tried to push his wicked thoughts from his mind by downing his teacup. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” he croaked. “Any chance you’d like to read some more?”

Sophie looked up at him cautiously. Was he flirting with her? She supposed it was only to be expected. He was a man after all, and had proven he was a cheeky devil in many of their past interactions. She was shaken less by the fact that he had asked her about romance and more by how similar the conversation was to the one they had had at the masquerade. There too he had tried to probe deeper, believing her to be avoidant of attachments. The truth of course in both instances was that she was hiding how much she did long for romance, because she wanted it with him.

She was grateful he had changed the subject. “Yes, I’ll read to you.” She placed her cup down and rose a little too quickly from her chair. She needed some distance from him until she stopped feeling overheated. She perused his bookshelf and they agreed upon a decidedly unromantic Shakespearean tragedy.

Sophie kept her eyes down and read aloud, uninterrupted through the entire play. As she settled the book in her lap she found that Benedict had fallen asleep again. He could have been sleeping for an hour and she wouldn’t have known. He did look much healthier, which signaled to her that he was no longer in need of a nurse and she would have to leave soon. She hadn’t yet put any effort into looking for a new position, she had been too overwhelmed with navigating Aubrey Hall, interacting with the staff, and caring for Benedict.

She would start looking tomorrow and would likely be gone before the week was out. She would leave Benedict for the last time. It pained her, but she knew it was for the best. She sat in silence by his bedside watching him breathe, studying the angles of his face, trying to capture the moment in her memory forever. She looked about the room too; the opulent fabrics, gleaming wood, and all of his artwork. She would miss Aubrey Hall, the beauty of its furnishings, and the warm, homey feeling it gave her. Quietly, she stood and walked around the perimeter of the room, slowly taking in each image on the walls. Sunny green landscapes bled into winter scenes which were overlapped with charcoal sketches of hands, flowers, the back view of a woman’s cascading hair.

Leaning against the desk she noticed the large sketchbook he sometimes had in his lap. She chewed on her lip, deciding how intrusive she should be. Knowing she would leave soon anyway, curiosity got the best of her and she sat at the desk, quietly lifting the sketchbook and laying it open. The first pages were of varied landscapes. Some were of Aubrey Hall and some were of Bridgerton House in London, dressed in climbing wisteria. Most of them featured no architecture at all, just a babbling brook or a windswept tree, or a rain-dappled meadow. And the amazing thing about his drawings was that they seemed to capture the whole and true moment. Sophie had that familiar feeling of stepping into the landscapes which she had confided in Benedict. He was a more talented artist than he had professed to be.

The portraits were fewer in number, but Sophie found them infinitely more interesting. There appeared to be at least one of each of his family members. Several of whom she thought must be his mother, then two dark-haired men, one dour and one jovial, who she recognized as Colin. Both of them looked incredibly similar to Benedict. A younger boy with dimples, then a series of four lovely young women. Three of them were smiling serenely, but the one with the darkest hair had a chin set with determination and eyes staring off, looking as if she were ready to conquer a nation. He had beautifully captured the new raven-haired Viscountess, whom she also recognized from the masquerade. The last portrait was of a devastatingly handsome dark-skinned man with short hair, scrunching his face in laughter. Sophie had no idea who that could be.

Her favorite drawings were of what appeared to be some sort of outdoor game. At least five Bridgerton siblings were holding long mallets, and one of the girls was depicted in the forefront, her face screwed up in determination as she tried to aim a ball through a wicket. Something about the picture made Sophie smile. She could feel the merriment of the day, and it made her long desperately for a family of her own.

She glanced back at Benedict, still sleeping quietly in his bed. Did he realize how lucky he was to have been born into such a large and loving clan?

With a sigh, Sophie flipped through a few more pages until she reached the end of the book. The very last sketch was different from the rest, if only because it appeared to be of a night scene, and the woman within it was holding her skirts above her ankles as she ran across -

Good god! Sophie gasped, thunderstruck. It was her!

She brought the sketch closer to her face. He’d gotten the details of her dress - that wonderful, magical silver concoction that had been hers for only a single evening - perfectly. He’d even remembered her long, elbow-length gloves and the exact manner in which her hair had been styled. Her face on the other hand, was less recognizable and almost wholly hidden by the demi-mask. Perhaps the contours of her cheekbones and chin were somewhat accurate, but the features of her face seemed soulless, nearly blurred. This made sense, she realized, given that he’d never actually seen her face in its entirety.

Well, not until now. Her heart began to pound. So he had thought of her after that night. He had thought of her enough to remember her in great detail and commit the time to drawing her, even if only just once. He had wanted to remember her - whether as a beautiful ornament of a mysterious evening or for some other reason, she could not say. But her discovery made it all the more clear - she needed to leave Aubrey Hall. She needed to leave before her secret was discovered and complicated matters any further. She would start to look for a new position right away.

___

The next morning after breakfast, Sophie decided to take a walk around the estate. Before she consulted with Mr. Dewitt about finding her next position, she wanted to form a complete picture of the grounds in her mind. She wanted to take in the fresh air and say goodbye to it all.

As she set out through the gardens and across the lawn toward the lake she thought of Benedict, of how kind he had been to her and how much she would miss him. She would miss him more now than she had for the past two years, if that were somehow possible. Where before she had longed for the idea of him, constructed from their brief hour together at the masquerade and otherwise a bunch of fantasy, now she would miss him as she had come to know him. A gentle, witty man who had treated her with the utmost respect. It actually aggravated her. If he would just treat her like a servant, she’d have no trouble remembering that she was an illegitimate nobody and he was a member of one of the ton’s wealthiest and most influential families. Every time he treated her like a real person (and it was her experience that most aristocrats did not treat servants like anything remotely approaching a real person) it brought her back to the night of the masquerade, when she’d been, for one perfect evening, a lady of glamour and grace - the sort of woman who had a right to dream about a future with Benedict Bridgerton.

He acted as if he actually liked her and enjoyed her company. And maybe he did. But that was the cruelest twist of all, because he was making her love him even more, making a small part of her think she had the right to dream about him.

And then, inevitably, she had to remind herself of the truth of the situation, and it hurt so damned much.

Emotions swirling through her, she surveyed the expanse of the lake and marched onward into the wood that bordered it on one side. It was a lovely day, unseasonably warm and sunny, and the air held the gentle fragrance of the first blooms of spring. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d taken a walk for the simple pleasure of enjoying the fresh air. Perhaps in the forest she could find herbs or mushrooms to pick and bring back to the kitchens, maybe even go to the lake edge and dip her toes in the water if she was feeling particularly daring. The water was surely still freezing, so early in May. Still, it would feel good. Anything felt good that gave her a fleeting sense of leisure and peaceful, solitary moments.

Sophie picked her way through the forest, stepping over tree roots, and pushing aside low-lying branches, letting them snap back behind her. The sun barely peeked through the canopy of leaves above her, and down at ground level, it felt more like dusk than late morning.

Up ahead, she could see a clearing, which she assumed must be the lake edge. As she drew closer, she saw the glint of sunlight on the water, and she breathed a little sigh of satisfaction that she still had her bearings about her.

As she drew even closer, she heard a large splash and realized with equal parts terror and curiosity that she was not alone. She was only ten or so feet from the edge of the lake, easily visible to anyone in the water, so she quickly flattened herself behind the trunk of a large oak. With her eyes she began to chart a path back through the woods that would be the quietest and most concealed.

Her thoughts were broken by a crowing shout from the lake, “Aha!” Then the whistling noise of an object in flight, and a thud on the ground a few feet away from her. Completely bewildered, she looked over to see a ball roll to a stop in the dirt. It was wet and lavender in color, small enough to be held in one hand.

What on earth was going on? Had she been seen? Was someone throwing things at her? If she had a sensible bone in her body, she’d turn right around and run back to the house, but she just couldn’t quite keep herself from peeking around the tree and looking to see who might be lobbing objects into the woods and be mad enough to splash about in a freezing lake.

Dropping to a crouch to try and stay hidden, she leaned slowly around the trunk until she could see the surface of the water.

And she saw a man.

A naked man.

A naked Benedict.

It was wrong of her to stay.

So wrong.

So very, very wrong.

And yet she did not move an inch.

She found a large, bald-pated rock, mostly obscured by a short, squat bush and sat down, never once taking her eyes off of him.

She still couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. He was, of course, partially submerged, with the surface of the water rippling against his rib cage.

The lower - she thought giddily - edge of his rib cage.

Or perhaps if she were to be honest with herself, she’d have to rephrase her previous thought to: he was unfortunately partially submerged. What she could see of him was magnificent. He had lean, smooth muscles and broad shoulders. Water droplets glistened in his dark hair and across his pale skin, making him sparkle like a gem.

Sophie didn’t care if it made her wicked to stare. Dash it all, she was curious, and she was already in love with this man. She’d spent her life taking the safe road, the prudent path. Only one night in her short life had she completely thrown caution to the wind. And that night had been the most thrilling, most magical, the most stupendously wonderful night of her life.

And so she decided to remain right where she was, stay the course, and see what she saw. It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose, as she was planning to leave anyway. And so she sat back, tried not to move a muscle, and kept her eyes wide, wide open.

___

Benedict had never been a superstitious man, and he’d certainly never thought himself the sort with a sixth sense, but once or twice in his life, he’d experienced a strange surge of awareness, a sort of mystical tingling feeling that warned him that something important was afoot.

The first time had been the day his father had died. He’d never told anyone about this, not even his older brother Anthony, who’d been utterly devastated by their father’s death. But that afternoon, just moments before he had heard his brother’s cry for help and his mother’s screams from the front lawn, he’d felt an odd, numb feeling in his arms and legs, followed by the strangest pounding in his head. It hadn’t hurt, precisely, but it had sucked the air from his lungs and left him with the most intense sensation of terror he could ever imagine.

He had been with his siblings in the drawing room, watching them play while his pregnant mother rested in the conservatory nearby. When he managed to regain control of his limbs amidst the shouts from outside, he gathered the children, holding little Gregory by the hand, and guided them all out the door to see what was going on. By the time they saw the bent form of their mother holding their father on the grass, he was already dead, having collapsed after being stung by a bee. Anthony had marched toward them all, eyes wide with shock and streaming tears, and could barely speak as he ushered them back inside, beginning the darkest period of their lives. Benedict still had difficulty believing that a man as strong and vital as his father could be felled by a bee, but there had been no other explanation, it was just a cruel twist of fate.

The second time it had happened, however, the feeling had been completely different. It had been the night of his family’s masquerade, right before he’d seen the woman in the silver dress. Like the time before, the sensation had started in his arms and legs, but instead of feeling numb, this time he felt an odd tingling, as if he’d just suddenly awoken after years of sleepwalking.

He’d stepped outside to steady himself with some fresh air, and then he’d seen her, and he’d known she was the reason he was there that night; the reason he lived in England; hell, the very reason he’d been born.

Of course, she had gone and proven him wrong by disappearing into thin air, but at the time he’d believed all that, and if she’d let him, he would have spent the rest of his life proving it to her as well.

Now, as he stood in the lake, the water lapping just above his navel, he was struck once again by that odd sense of somehow being more alive than he’d been just seconds earlier. It was a good feeling, an exciting, breathless rush of emotion.

It was like before. When he’d met her.

Something was about to happen, or maybe someone was near. His life was about to change. It was the last thing he had expected when he decided to go for a swim that morning, to test his renewed vigor and shake the lethargy of being bedridden for days. He took a step into slightly deeper water, the soft sludge of the lake bottom squishing between his toes. The water reached a few inches higher on his body. He was bloody well freezing, but at least he was mostly covered.

He scanned the shore, looking into the trees and down in the bushes. There had to be someone there. Nothing else could account for the strange, tingling feeling that had now spread throughout his body.

“Who’s out there?” he called out.

No answer. He hadn’t really expected one, but it had been worth a try.

He squinted as he searched the shore again, turning in a full circle as he watched for any sign of movement. He saw nothing but the gentle rustle of the leaves in the wind, but as he finished his sweep, his eyes landing on the ball he had tossed ashore, he thought he could see something in a nearby bush, and he somehow knew.

“Sophie!”

He heard a gasp, followed by a flurry of activity as the bush shook and twigs began to snap.

“Sophie Beckett,” he yelled. “If you run from me right now, I swear I will follow you, and I will not take the time to don my clothing.”

The sounds of her movement ceased.

“It’s alright,” he called out, trying to show her he was good humored, despite having to yell. “Show yourself.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by some more rustling and slow, hesitant footsteps. He watched as she emerged from behind the bush and moved to stand at the shore, dressed in her threadbare cloak and the lavender dress of the housemaids. Her hands were balled into fists at her side and her jaw was locked. She was flustered, and it was adorable.

“What are you doing here?” He grinned at her.

“I was on a walk. What are you doing here?” she countered. “I suppose this means you are fully recovered, though that” - she waved her arm toward him and, by extension, the lake - “can’t possibly be good for you.”

“I am feeling much better, thank you.” He continued grinning, loving how it seemed to make her grow more aggravated. “I had to get out of that stuffy room and refresh myself. Were you following me?” He sank down and began to tread water playfully.

“Of course not,” she replied and he believed her. “That would be indecent.”

And then her face went completely red, because they both knew she hadn’t a leg to stand on with that argument. If she had truly been concerned about decency, she’d have left the area the moment she’d seen him, accidentally or not.

He lifted one hand from the water and twisted his wrist as he motioned for her to turn around. “Turn your back and wait for me to come out,” he ordered. “It will only take me a moment to dress.”

“I’ll go to the house right now,” she offered. “You can have your privacy and…”

“I’ll need you to walk back with me,” he cut her off, “in case the water has brought my cold back and I fall ill.” He stuck out his lip in an exaggerated pout and could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. “Or if I twist my ankle.” Still she glowered. “Or if you twist yours.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she sighed, exasperated.

“Stay put,” he ordered and started to advance out of the water.

Once he moved, her eyes bugged out of her head and she whipped around, turning her back to him.

Sophie crossed her arms and stared at a knothole in a tree trunk as if her very life depended on it. The infernal man wasn’t being particularly quiet as he went about his business, and she couldn’t seem to keep herself from listening to and trying to identify every sound that rustled and splashed behind her. Now he was emerging from the water, now he was reaching for his clothes, now he was…

It was no use. She had a dreadfully naughty imagination, and there was no getting around it. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and she was certain her cheeks must be eight different shades of red. A gentleman would have let her weasel out of her embarrassment and hole up in her room back at the house for at least three days in hopes he’d just forget about the entire affair.

But Benedict Bridgerton was obviously determined not to be a gentleman this afternoon and was clearly taking his time getting dressed.

“I’m sorry I came upon you unexpectedly sir, but it feels like you are just toying with me,” she grumbled.

“You are free to face me at any time,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “I assure you that I asked you to turn your back for the sake of your sensibilities, not mine.”

“I’m fine just where I am,” she replied. The absolute devil was in this man.

After what seemed like an hour but was probably only three minutes, she heard him say, “You can turn around now.”

Sophie was almost afraid to do so. He had just the sort of perverse sense of humor that would compel him to order her around before he’d donned his clothing.

But she decided to trust him - not, she was forced to admit, that she had much choice in the matter - and so she turned around. Much to her relief and, if she was to be honest with herself, a fair bit of disappointment, he was dressed, though his white shirt was clinging to him and transparent with the water from his skin. She swallowed to keep her composure.

“Do you truly need me to walk you back to the house?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” he said. “Take it as punishment for spying on me.”

“I wasn’t - “ Sophie’s denial was automatic, but she cut herself off halfway through, because of course she’d been spying on him.

Benedict raised an eyebrow at her, smirking, “That’s what I thought.”

She scowled at him. She would have liked to have said something cutting and witty, but she had a feeling that anything emerging from her mouth just then would have been quite the opposite, so she held her tongue.

“It’s very bad form to spy on one’s host,” he said, crossing his arms and managing to look both authoritative and relaxed at the same time.

“It was an accident,” she grumbled.

“Oh, I believe you there,” he said. “But even if you didn’t intend to spy on me, the fact remains that when the opportunity arose, you took it.”

“Do you blame me?” She had found her witty retort.

He grinned. “Not at all. To tell the truth, I’m quite flattered.”

“It was academic curiosity,” she smirked back at him. “I assure you.”

His smile grew sly but he didn’t say anything further. He just held her gaze until she felt her legs would give out beneath her.

“Well,” she chimed, tearing her eyes away from his. “Now that we have that settled, shall we return to the house?”

“Let’s,” he nodded, stepping toward her. “Ah,” he bent and picked up the lavender ball, giving it a toss in the air. “Almost forgot this.”

“What is that?” she asked.

“This,” he grinned, holding it up triumphantly with a raised pinky, “Is my chance for redemption.”

Sophie just stared at him with a furrowed brow.

“Pall mall. Have you ever played?” She shook her head. “Well, it’s something of a family tradition you see,” They started to walk slowly through the trees, Sophie following at his side as he explained. “Every season when we come here for our country ball we start things off with an annual tournament. My brothers and sisters and I have been playing since we were children and now the competition is…” he stared off, searching for the right word. “Well, it’s brutal. A key part of the game is to knock your opponent’s ball off course and there is quite an established history of balls ending up in the lake.”

Sophie smiled, intuiting the rest of his story.

“Last year,” he huffed, “my sister Eloise was rather overzealous and managed to send my ball,” he held it up again, “straight across the water. I had to sit out the rest of the games.”

“You couldn’t use another one?” Sophie asked.

“Oh no, no, no,” Benedict shook his head emphatically. “There are rules and we honor them. Well,” he smirked. “Some of us do. Anyway, there are no other balls to play with. The rest are all claimed, except red of course,” At this point they had stepped out of the wood and were back on the sloping lawn beside the lake. He looked pensively out over the water. “We never managed to find that one.”

Sophie smiled again. “I’m glad your swim reunited you with your ball and it didn’t share the same watery fate.”

Benedict looked down at her and stared into her eyes, saying nothing. He was looking at her today with a new intensity, a burning behind his bright blue eyes that reminded her of how he looked during the masquerade. It made her shiver in a wonderfully delicious way. She needed to make it stop.

She turned on her heel and began walking up the lawn toward the house. After a beat he followed behind her. “So, your family will be hosting the country ball again this year?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yes,” he mumbled. “They should arrive in a week or so.”

“Oh,” Sophie paused, remembering her task for the day was to look for a new position and make ready to leave Aubrey Hall. Now with the whole Bridgerton family and their aristocratic guests en route, it was more imperative than ever that she depart quickly. “I’m sure it will be lovely,” she said weakly.

At this point they had reached the edge of a garden bordered with flowering cherry trees. She slowed her steps, taking in the sight of the beautiful blossoms and enjoying the fragrant air.

“What are your plans for the day, Miss Beckett?” Benedict asked behind her.

She turned to face him. “Actually, seeing as you are well again,” she took a deep breath, “there is no further need for me here. I shall find a new position as we agreed upon. I expect it won’t be too difficult and I should be gone before your family arrives.”

She was not expecting his face to fall the way it did, the way his lips parted and his brow knitted as if he had just received terrible news. His eyes darted for a moment, then he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Of course,” he nodded. “I’m sure Mr. Dewitt can assist you.”

“Yes,” Sophie sighed. “I’ll go and meet with him now.” But her feet were rooted to the spot. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to leave Aubrey Hall and she didn’t want to leave Benedict. Especially not when he kept looking at her like that, and not when he seemed to share some of her sadness at the thought of parting. But what was she supposed to do? Ask to stay on and work as a maid, drawing herself deeper into the heartache of being around him and risking the discovery of her secrets? Throw herself upon him this very moment and kiss him? No. Her mind knew what was right, even though her heart and her feet were not obeying it. So she stood, warring within herself until she managed to lift one foot and turn back around, feeling as if she had lead weights in her shoes.

Her eyes had barely left his when Benedict reached out and grabbed her by the arm, “Miss Beckett,” he yelped with urgency.

Sophie froze. He had never touched her, not unwarranted like this, since they had been reunited. He had helped her onto his horse and she had held him while they rode to the inn, but he had not reached out to her in any way since. Why would he? He was an aristocrat, her employer, and she was just a maid. But his grip was around her elbow, not too tightly, but insistent nonetheless. She looked back at him.

Benedict seemed to realize how inappropriate he was being and released her with a small nod of apology, “Sophie,” he said, softly. “Before you leave,” his eyes were darting again. “Would you allow me to paint a portrait of you?”

“A portrait?” This was certainly the last thing she had expected to hear.

Benedict nodded, “A small one,” he grinned nervously. “You can keep it as a token of my gratitude.”

Sophie didn’t know what to think. Again he was showering her with kindness, piling favors and gratitude upon her when she had done little more than use common sense and help him get over a cold. No one had ever painted her portrait before and she was unlikely to get the opportunity again. It was an aspect of life reserved for the upper classes. Her father had never included her in the family portraiture when he was alive and family was the last thing the Cowpers regarded her as. She was everyone’s shame to hide, to be forgotten, to be erased from memory. Benedict’s offer moved her deeply.

“How long will it take?” she asked, trying not to sound rude. “I really should go before the country visit.”

“Not long, One sitting, maybe two. I’ve done plenty in my time.” He smirked. “I’ll finish it while you look for a new post.”

Sophie felt her heart swelling. There was no reason for her to refuse him and of course she wanted to spend more time with him. If she could leave Aubrey Hall with his painting she would have some small piece of him to keep forever. Whenever she ached for him, she could look at his initials and touch the brushstrokes made by his hand. Maybe it would help ease the pain.

“I don’t have anything to wear for a portrait,” she blushed, looking down at her simple servant’s uniform.

Benedict smiled gently. “It doesn’t matter. I only need to capture your face.” He stepped closer, inches away, looking down into her eyes with that fathomless smolder again. She could feel his breath on her skin. “The rest can be whatever you’d like.”

Sophie had to stare at the ground or she feared she would fall over. She nodded briskly, “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. I would be honored by such a gift.”

She could hear his relief as he exhaled. “Very good,” He backed away, making it safe to look at him again. He looked practically giddy. “Tonight after dinner, meet me in the nursery. My supplies are in there. Come as you are.”

Sophie nodded, unable to hide a smile from her own face. Then, while her legs were still in working order, she turned and strode quickly through the garden and toward the house, leaving Benedict to make his own way, her punishment be damned.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan

#let me be your anchor #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #head canon

60 notes · View notes

ve1il · 1 year ago

Text

Here is a list of perfumes that i think Nanami would wear.

Before starting let me explain my vision. The perfumes on this list vary between very strong scents and fresh ones, i feel he would have this big collection of perfumes and he would choose very wisely and planned for which occasion or when he feels like using it and of course he has a very refined taste.

(Everything here came from the sephora site, if you guys want to check it out)

TOM FORD Ombré Leather

Fragrance Family: Warm & Spicy

Scent Type: Woody Spices

Key Notes: Black Leather, Violet Flower, Jasmine Flower

Fragrance Description: A distinct floral leather, Ombre Leather Parfum intensifies the original scent, fusing heated leather florals with woods. This perfume merges black leather with powerful violet leaf and sensual cedarwood laced with a hint of green tobacco—capturing the unbridled sensuality of the American west.

$275.00

JO MALONE Wood Sage & Sea Salt Cologne

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Earthy Green & Herbs

Key Notes: Ambrette Seeds, Sea Salt, Sage

Fragrance Description: Enwrapping and joyful. Windswept walks along the beach, the air fresh with sea salt, the mineral scent of rugged cliffs and earthiness of sage.

$165.00

CLEAN RESERVE Reserve - rain

Fragrance Family: Fresh

Scent Type: Fresh Aquatics

Key Notes: Bergamot, White Flower, Vetiver

Fragrance Description: This unique unisex perfume captures the dewy scent that lingers in the air after a lush rainfall. Crisp, watery cucumber notes and airy musk blend with vetiver and patchouli adding a touch of earthiness to create the calming scent you inhale walking in the woods after a passing rain.

$110.00

ARMANI BEAUTY Armani cold parfum

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Mandarin Essence, Bergamot Essence, Rosemary Essence, Vanilla Extract, Cedar Wood Essence

Fragrance Description: The Code Le Parfum rewrites the code of a timeless masculine fragrance, infusing the powerful and seductive signature tonka bean with fresh scent notes of iris, sage, and bergamot, to create a woody aromatic fragrance blend that is long-lasting and uniquely distinctive.

$144.00

YVES SAINT LAURENT L'Homme

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Bitter Orange, Oakwood, Vetiver

Fragrance Description: L’Homme Eau de Parfum is a warm and woody men's cologne inspired by an orange bourbon sour. Sparkling bitter orange creates tension with the warmth of bourbon notes from oakwood infusion and vetiver, reinventing the iconic L'Homme signature in a more intense version with a sensual trail.

$129.00

TOM FORD Oud wood

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Classic Woods

Key Notes: Rare Oud Wood, Sandalwood, Chinese Pepper

Fragrance Description: A composition of exotic, smoky woods including rare oud, sandalwood, rosewood, eastern spices, and sensual amber—revealing oud‘s rich and compelling power.

$295.00

(I’m planning on doing with other jjk’s character too so stay tuned)

#nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami #nanamin #jjk nanami #jjk kento #jjk nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk headcanons #nanami kento headcanons #kento nanami headcanons #nanami headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

64 notes · View notes

blindmanspuff · 2 years ago

Text

Aganorsa Leaf Announces Rare Leaf Reserve Maduro - Cigar News

Aganorsa Leaf Announces Rare Leaf Reserve Maduro - #Cigar News @casafernandez #cigars

Aganorsa Leaf has announced a brand new cigar, and a sequel to their successful 2021 Rare Leaf Reserve, Rare Leaf Reserve Maduro. This new cigar is exclusive to their Aganorsa Select Program members. Like the original Rare Leaf release, the company says the maduro uses select lots on their best farms that produce exemplary leaf unique in both flavor and aroma. They also claim this is the boldest…

View On WordPress

#Aganorsa Leaf #Rare Leaf Reserve #Rare Leaf Reserve Maduro #Terence Reilly

0 notes

inconspicious-random-thoughts · 9 months ago

Text

My Opinion on Who Controls Alastor

The fanbase is going nuts guessing who hold the end of Alastor chain while there are post already Im sure (I haven't read any-sorry!):

Lilith: Their AWOL absents lines up. Also can reason why Alastor lay his life on the line for the Charlie and the hotel on the day of extermination because Lilith commanded him to protect Charlie. I admit, its plausible.

Eve: Suspiciously absent from the show universe except the mention of her biting the apple in the first few moments in the first episode. The suspicious absences leading to a plot twist reveal. She does have motive to be upset. If she cast into Hell, being the first sinner because of being coerced into biting an apple, I would be pretty pissed at Lilith and Lucifer too.

But my money is on Roo. The root of all Evil. Which existed before Adam and Even and "found its way to Earth from that first act of sin."

I mean....look at those red eyes and does that overly stretched smile look familiar? Also the image of "evil finding its way to Earth" moved similar to Alastors own magic.

Alastor seem like a perfect minion for someone like Roo to use while hiding behind the scenes and pulling strings. He the perfect agent of mayhem that him/Roo control. Alastor has little to no reservations acting out depravities, and in fact, embrace it, enjoys it, entertained by it and proud of it.

I'm positive Roo end goal is to reach Heaven and bring it destruction. Extending her evil reach from Hell, to Earth, and ending in Heaven. Charlie hotel is the key and the knowledge of extermination revealed to Heaven is key. Heaven order is experience discord that leaves perfect opportunity to plant seeds of corruption.

When the Hotel learn that sinners can be redeemed, Alastor is adamant that he irredeemable despite Charlie trying to persuade him to turn a new leaf now there's proof. Even if he wanted to, despite all of his many many atrocities that for unfathomable reason can be forgiven in the name of redemption, how can he be redeemed when he an extension of evil incarnate herself?

I have no doubt that Alastor the reason why Lilith is AWOL on Roo orders and sustained a great amount of damage on that act to explain his own absences.

At one point, it will be revealed that to everyone at the Hotel that Alastor was responsible for Lilith disappearing. The information devastating to Charlie who has defended and trust Alastor nonstop. Lucifer might begrudging started to trust Alastor at this point to only for it to shattered now. Which is unfortunate for Alastor because was trying to figure out a way out of his deal before any of this and I think he really grew to care for everyone, even if it was reluctantly so. He may even had a very rare heart to heart moment previously with Charlie only for her to throw it in his face with the lines of "what about (inserted reference of heart to heart moment here), was that just a lie? another way to manipulate me?" and Alastor rare genuine of vulnerable emotions he shared is rtainted and assumed to be all lies and nothing he can say can prove it otherwise.

Anyways those are my two cents.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin theory #hazbin thoughts #hazbin hotel the radio demon #hazbin hotel thoughts #hazbin headcanons #hazbin roo #hazbin hotel roo #hazbin lilith

29 notes · View notes

undertale-fic-librarby · 4 months ago

Note

Any fics centrées around Uf papyrus?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

The Recipe for Lasagna... And Love. by Stingynugget (Teen And Up, Complete)

Papyrus really needs cooking lessons. So Sans finds a chef to teach him.

Red’s Guide to Caring for Your Sick Edgy Papyrus Without Dying by PorterHawk (Teen And Up, Complete)

Red gets a call from Undyne with some unexpected news. He gets the day off, but it’s only to look after his sick brother. Fell has come down with something serious, and he isn’t too receptive to Red’s help. How is Red going to do this without getting dusted for his efforts? (Fell Sickfic)

Entranced by Coils by Gallavantula (Explicit, Complete)

A Swap Papyrus named Amber goes on a foreign exchange trip to the Amazon to conduct research and complete his thesis. A Fell Papyrus named Fang, belongs to a race of Ancient Nagas that want little to do with outsiders. A culture clash between different species of monsters, undergrounder and surfacer. Can they hope to get along? Can Amber stay focused long enough to conduct research? Will Fang ever find true love?! Written to satisfy my need for more Nagas in this fandom. Spicyhoney

Raspberry Leaf Tea by SkellyTelly (Teen And Up, Complete)

Cyrus (Underfell!Papyrus) has to get used to there being a new neighbor in the apartment right next door to his own. This new neighbor seems to need some help.

Personal Training by SheeWolf85 (Mature, Complete)

"Outside the sparring room, Slim was quiet and reserved, shy even. He rarely spoke to anyone other than Razz and Papyrus, or, more recently, Edge. Inside that room, however, he transformed into the fell monster Edge knew him to be. His bones bore the same marks Edge’s did, breaks that had healed and broken again, healing into ragged scars that marked him as a fighter. A survivor." A little story about Edge and Slim falling for each other and navigating such angsty things as communication pitfalls to try to finally come together.

#fic rec #fic recommendation #ao3 fic recs #utmv #underfell #underfell papyrus #not suitable for minors #ask #mod sleepy

11 notes · View notes

briaberri · 2 months ago

Text

Secret lovely sanctuary

Long ruminated on a head cannon that Azriel has grown a bathroom greenhouse in his spartan, private loft apartment of Velaris. Azriel is a studious perfectionist (poor kid), who wouldn't indulge except in the most exceptional circumstances. The vulnerability of that act is something he would keep deeply private -- even in his own space.

I imagine Azriel's apartment is a utilitarian, clean, but lonely place of monochromatic greys and blacks (and the occasional blue, hand woven blanket hidden in a trunk -- momma's don't let their babies go without:). In this stark space, w he has two bathrooms: one for rare guests (just his brothers), and another behind his closed double doored suite where no one is allowed. There's no mirror in his private bathroom, but there is a large window and skylight. He doesn't need to look at himself, alone. He cannot abide a home without abundant natural light.

Every surface and wall is loaded with houseplants he's learned to cultivate as a secret sanctuary where he feels closer to Elain. He started with just one, a maidenhair fern, to understand her passion and learn more about who she is. It began as curiosity of this new, overlookable member of their family, this new friend. It grew to wonder -- and then swelled to a fascinating, unrestricted refuge where he imagines her presence everywhere. (Did Elain cast a spell on him that began with absence and desire? Certainly <3 #deborahharknessshoutout)

In this one space of his life, he doesn't have to reserve himself, or mask his wishes. This lush, bright bathroom becomes a secret, lovely sanctuary where his desire to nurture can explore without eyes, and he remembers her in every leaf he touches. He's not naturally a green thumb, but he's naturally a studious and meticulous student, so he becomes one of Elain. And plant by plant... the exercise of growing life from his own hands becomes revelatory for possibility.

There in the quiet, moist air, away from any eyes or knowledge, he studies, and practices everything she explains as they kneel in the gardens where she works. Elain, of course, notices the specificity of his questions. She will, of course, be the only person who ever sees what he's created. And of course when she does... <3

#also i would like to bathe in a greenhouse #pro elriel #azriel's greenhouse #the seer and the shadowsinger #azriel's apartment #velaris #headcanon #azriel x elain #biophiliacs

11 notes · View notes

rjzimmerman · 8 days ago

Text

Excerpt from this story from Smithsonian Magazine:

Suctioned to a leaf bottom in the rainforests of South and Central America, glass frogs seem to vanish in plain sight—the transparent skin of their undersides erasing the hard edges of their silhouette, making them difficult for birds and other predators to spot. The most transparent of the roughly 160 glass frog species, found from southern Mexico to the northern tip of Argentina, offer living anatomy lessons, revealing intestines, red beating hearts and sometimes clusters of eggs. Many have green bones to camouflage their legs. The northern glass frog, which ranges from southern Mexico to Ecuador, even conceals its blood to render its body more translucent, hiding nearly 90 percent of its red blood cells inside its opaque liver during its daytime slumber.

But these furtive amphibians can’t always rely on stealth alone. After the females of some species of glass frogs lay their sticky eggs on the undersides of leaves that dangle above flowing water, the males guard the fertilized eggs from hungry insects, fending off wasps with sharp kicks until the eggs hatch and wriggling tadpoles drop down into a forest stream.

Those streams, and the intact forests that house them, are essential for the health of all glass frog populations. The northern Andes Mountains are a key glass frog stronghold and home to more than half of all species in the group. This region encompasses hyper-biodiverse cloud forests, montane rainforests that Jaime Culebras, a wildlife photographer and researcher who has helped discover new species of glass frogs, describes as “mystical places” where clouds float through the treetops and orchids and bromeliad flowers erupt from every crevice.

However, that magical, misty home is being destroyed. In Ecuador and elsewhere in the region, copper- and gold-mining operations are deforesting habitats and polluting streams that the glass frog tadpoles need with sediment and toxins such as mercury and arsenic. To try to protect the frogs and other threatened species, Ecuadorean conservationists are turning to a novel legal strategy, citing a 2008 change to Ecuador’s constitution that endowed nature itself, from rivers to rare animal species, with the rights to exist, persist and regenerate.

In recent years, communities invoking these “rights of nature” have won legal decisions that blocked mining activities in Ecuador’s Los Cedros Reserve and Intag Valley. Documenting rare and sensitive species proved crucial in winning these cases and protecting the animals and the fragile ecosystems they inhabit.

#glass frogs #Andes #mining

5 notes · View notes

littlefeatherwitch · 1 year ago

Text

𝓢𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝟎𝟑 : 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Chapter 04 of The five stages of grief

Wanda maximoff x fem!reader

Tags / Warnings : no smut, death, major character death

Word count : 2k

Summary : When you die you learn that grief is not only for the living and that there is a certain stage to go through before you really pass to the other side. A fiction based on the 5 stages of grief, a chapter will correspond to a stage. There will be 6 chapters, the first one is reserved for the introduction of this fiction.

Spoiler alert : Multiverse of Madness || WandaVision~ This chapter will continue elements of Multiverse of Madness / WandaVision but note that Wanda does not possess any form of magic. The Scarlet Witvh does not exist and everything she discovers about magic is not real, it's just ancient writings without real meaning.

This is a more spiritual phase where the person will try to find alternatives to bring the person back, such as turning to God or a higher power.

This phase is linked to the realization of one's powerlessness, but the hope of a return is still present. It is essentially a phase of illusion.

_______________________

It had been 3 months since you and Wanda were going through the stages of grief together, after the anger came to the negotiation stage. The redhead was convinced that there was a way to bring you back or at least to communicate with you, you observed her leafing through all the books of the university and then finding nothing she decided to go around all the libraries of the city, she read all the articles on the internet talking about reincarnation, coming back to life, other articles talked about being able to communicate with the beyond.

Never satisfied with what she found, she even planned to travel to Nepal where there is the largest resource of books on spirituality and everything related to it.

You knew you couldn't do anything so you put all your hopes in Wanda hoping that she would find something, when someone opened a book you took the opportunity to read it at the same time hoping that it would help you but rare was the person who was interested in bringing someone back to life or in communicating with the dead... It had been night for a while and everyone in the world of the living was sleeping. You used to sit next to Wanda in the bed you shared even though neither of you could feel the other's presence, even though you no longer felt tired or needed to sleep. You liked this little ritual that made it seem like nothing had changed.

As before, you put your head on the chest of the redhead and pass your hand on her belly; in normal time Wanda would have caressed your hair and you would have fallen asleep by hearing the beating of her heart but since you had to learn to do without her heat and her caresses.

Sometimes you would wake up with a start just to check that her heart was still beating, even if you wished to see her again you would never want her to join you in this in-between world that seemed to you more and more horrible day after day. As soon as you heard her heartbeat you sighed reassuringly and most of the time you went back to sleep until her alarm clock rang.

This night had been different, Wanda had left an internet window open whose subject was magic and portals to the beyond; the redhead had been to many psychics and she had quickly realized that none of them were really helpful so she had decided that she would do it on her own. This way you understood what she was going to do in Nepal; she wanted to go and learn magic in the very country where spirituality was born.

You glanced at the calendar on the wall and noticed that the trip was scheduled for the day after tomorrow; you smiled to yourself that Wanda would manage to bring you back, that you would manage to talk to her one last time, just to apologize for not listening to her and to ask her not to feel guilty; maybe in the best case she could even bring you back. You needed this hope, somewhere deep inside you had accepted your death but you had not accepted that you could never see Wanda again.

The Sokovian pretended to be on a university trip so that Yelena and all those who cared for her would not worry about her disappearance or ask too many questions about her true intentions about going to Nepal. They had all been skeptical at first but Wanda tied up her lies so well that even you had doubts about what made her go on this trip.

When she arrived there, the redhead was greeted by a person who seemed to already know about her arrival and who also seemed to know her, but you had never heard of this person even though you had known Wanda since your childhood, which piqued your curiosity.

"Wanda, how are you? Did you have a good trip?"

"I'm fine, if you can call it that; it was a nice trip thank you for helping me Mr. Strange"

"You can call me Stephen you know, what brings you here tell me everything"

"Sorry I guess that's something I'll never get used to" the redhead chuckled falsely before resuming, "You were the doctor who saved me during my mother's pregnancy, and after your wife died you came here to study ancestral art; that's two different worlds why... why did you change so much"

Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle came together in your mind, Wanda had already spoken to you about him but she had never had much contact with this man. On the other hand, at the mention of his past you understood better why Wanda had turned to him; you tried not to ramble too much in your thoughts in order to be able to follow the conversation that was going to unfold before your eyes.

"After she passed away I did everything I could to bring her back or be able to communicate with her. I needed to try everything I could".

"And you succeeded?" asked Wanda cutting her off and your heart went into overdrive hoping that the answer that came back was positive

"No unfortunately I did not find anything"

"Did you keep looking?"

"I searched for more than 5 years, then I finally resigned myself; we can't do anything against death; my soul found peace here because I understood that it was useless, there was nothing I could do except face reality" explained Stange and you could feel yourself breaking inside just like Wanda even if she tried not to let anything show. "Why all the questions Wanda? I didn't know you were interested in spirituality."

"Oh well, actually I'm writing a thesis on the relationship between life and death and I wanted to include a section on the relationship between the two... I thought that you were the one who would help me the most in my research" she lied with an ease that baffled you and if you didn't know the truth you might have thought that what she was saying was true.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you... however I could provide you with my research, perhaps something that might interest you for your thesis".

"Yes that would be fantastic thank you very much Str- Stephen I'm sure that will help me"

"How long are you staying here? We have a big library so even with a lifetime of reading you won't have time to read everything but I could recommend some books".

"I have two weeks to spare, that's the time I negotiated with my university to make this trip".

"Well then, I will prepare a small pile of books for you even if I let you have free access to the whole library".

"That's amazing, thank you so much for everything you're doing for me"

"No problem, I'd be happy to help you as long as you quote one of my articles in your thesis" Strange teased as he accompanied Wanda into a small room containing a bed, a wardrobe and a desk. "This is the bare minimum so I know it's not the great luxury you must experience in New York but I hope you'll be comfortable there; the library is down the hall"

"That's perfect thank you very much, I won't forget to quote you don't worry"

Wanda dropped off her things and decided to take a nap, tired from jet lag, but as soon as she woke up she headed for the huge library where she hoped to do better than the man who had greeted her. You watched her select the books that seemed most appropriate for her research and sat beside her reading at the same time. She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote utensils, taking notes on everything she could read.

This went on for the first week, the redhead was sleeping less and less and the dark circles under her eyes were getting deeper with each passing day, she was barely eating and you were starting to worry about her. Wanda continued to lie with ease every time Strange came to check on her and you were desperate to see her go down like this and now you hoped she would find something not because you needed it to communicate with her but because you wished it would all stop so she could finally rest.

Three days before Wanda left Strange walked into the library where Wanda had fallen asleep and gently woke her up, the redhead continued to lie to everyone, she continued to believe that bringing you back, talking to you was possible but on your side you understood that it would never happen, moving on to the next step faster than she did and this was the first time that you did not move through the stages of grief at the same time.

It reminded you of what Natasha had told you, that you had stopped moving through the stages when Natasha had died and that is why she never got to leave and suddenly you were afraid that Wanda would do the same thing as you.

"Stephen? Sorry I fell asleep, is everything ok?"

"Yeah don't worry Wanda, I just wanted to tell you that a woman told me about a book she found in her house and I thought you might be interested in it for your research"

"Really, that's great, where is she?"

"She's not here unfortunately; she lives in New Jersey, she said you could go see her if you wanted to"

"Yes, of course I'll go, that's great, thank you"

"My pleasure Wanda, I'll write down her address for you now try to get some rest; since you've been here you've hardly slept or eaten"

"Sorry I had very little time here and I wanted to put it to good use I will rest when I get back to New York don't worry"

"As you wish, but the doctor who saved your life absolutely wants you to take care of your health"

"Well doctor, you have my word for it" chuckled Wanda getting up to go to her room taking with her the book she was reading before falling asleep on it.

The last few days of her trip passed and Wanda had to return to New York, but she was convinced that she would eventually find something, and her conversation with the medium Agatha Harkness about the book she had found in her home helped her to keep that glimmer of hope alive in her heart. So the day after her return to the United States, the Sokovian got into her car and turned on the GPS so that the device would show her the way to the small town of Westview where this famous woman lived.

It took her a few hours to get there but the redhead was determined to meet Agatha and learn what she had to say. Checking the address written on the paper she parked and went to a house to check the number before knocking gently on the door. Quickly, a brunette opened the door with a smile on her face. Wanda, like you, deduced that this woman should not receive many visitors, but this did not worry you and followed the redhead inside.

"You must be Mrs. Harkness"

"Call me Agatha angel, indeed it is me"

"My friend Stephen Strange told me about your discovery of an ancient book that could help me in my thesis research".

"I was planning to go to Nepal so that they could expand their library but your friend told me that you might need it; what is your research about?"

"I'm a psychology and neuroscience student and I have to write a thesis whose theme is "The relationship between life and death" and I would like to integrate a whole chapter on the links that can exist between the two; however science is not advanced enough for that so I turned to spirituality" to explain Wanda as she thanked the brunette for the cup of tea she had just brought her.

"It sounds exciting, I myself as a psychic have often had many clients ask me to communicate with the dead but I had to explain to them that it doesn't work like that and that I can't do anything for them.

Wanda listened intently to every word that came out of this woman's mouth while you sighed next door just wanting to stick under the covers in your New York apartment while Wanda let a sitcom run in the background.

"Did you flip through that book?" the redhead asked curiously.

"Yes I did but it's definitely not my field of study so I prefer it to benefit someone else" explained Agatha as she rummaged through one of her drawers to pull it out and hand it to Wanda who was studying it with precision "From what I've read this book is very old it's a transcription of evil spells hence the name of this book"

"What is it" asked the surprised Sokovian

"It's the 'Darkhold' but from what I've learned some people also call it the book of the damned".

The two women continued to talk like this all afternoon while you were curled up in the corner of the couch listening to them without really paying attention to what they were saying to each other, of course you could have stayed in New York but you didn't want to take your eyes off Wanda even though whatever happened you couldn't interfere.

"I'm going to have to go now but it was a pleasure talking to you Agatha"

"It was a pleasure shared darling, come back and see me whenever you like; it's rare that I have company it would be nice to have some"

"I will, this town sounds lovely"

Wanda slipped the grimoire into her bag and placed it at the foot of the passenger seat as you sat down without anyone noticing.

On the way back to New York, the redhead sat on the couch and leafed through the grimoire, which spoke of different universes in which it was simply an alternative reality and thus that everything we had lost could exist in one of them, which seemed to fascinate Wanda. These researches lasted months, during all this period you simply wandered in all the apartment hoping that one day she decided to realize that all this was for nothing and that you would never come back.

You were starting to get tired of seeing your girlfriend like this, she spent her time pretending that everything was fine in public but as soon as she came home she would go back to that room in the apartment that she had specially set up for her research. That day Wanda seemed to find a new lead, and that hurt you even more and not being able to stand the loneliness that this bridge world offered you, you got angry even if nobody could hear you.

"Wanda there is nothing more to do! I'm gone rebuild your life, go on, give up this idea of bringing me back because there is no way I'll ever come back I'm fucking dead!" you yelled as only an echo came back to your ears while the redhead continued to read the book she had in front of her eyes.

After that you dropped to the ground understanding that nothing you could say or do would be heard by anyone. By the time you got here you understood the principle of this gateway world, it helped you move through the stages of grief along with Wanda and all your other loved ones, but now all your loved ones had reached the end of their grief and each of them had resumed their normal lives without your presence among them. All of them... except Wanda.

Of course you yourself had not reached all the stages but seeing your loved one like this did not help you finish the grieving process and it was at that moment that you asked yourself what this world was really about.

Several more passed, you had no physical matter, you were only a specter, but you were still exhausted, which was a strange feeling. It was a mental, spectral exhaustion that you could never have known during your life.

Wanda on the other hand continued to torture her mind, persuading herself that there was a way to bring you back; this lasted until that famous day which was like a revelation for the young woman.

#florence pugh #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda mcu #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x y/n #yelena belova #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel women #natasha x you #bad grief #grief/mourning #loss #emotional #bargaining

23 notes · View notes