#i. william grey ›› thread.
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gcldforged · 1 year ago
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open starter ›› @francehqstarters where: the library.
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        after  the  second  eldest  grey  had  all but kicked him out of his makeshift office with orders to not return until closer to supper, william had wandered aimlessly through the palace. free time wasn't often in his possession. so it wasn't entirely a surprise that he ended up in the royal library. the baron felt at ease walking through the rows of books, eyes scanning each title. finally he found one. as he pulled it from the shelf, he noticed someone lingering nearby.   ❝ looking for something in particular? most of these are medical books. ❞   he'd gotten familiar with the layout of the royal library after spending numerous hours there looking for books.
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gcldforged · 1 year ago
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        he'd  anticipated  more  of  a  fight  or to be brushed off entirely, not that it'd stopped him from voicing once more his advice, but he wasn't going to question her agreeing. the wound must be bothering her quite badly then. hopefully whoever had treated it first hadn't made it worse, and instead it was simply slow to heal.   ❝ i don't have them here with me, ❞   he explained.   ❝ there're in the my office in the infirmly wing. ❞
He was probably right. There were more logical, more thoughtful processes to end the seething pain in her wrist. But she was far too stubborn to admit defeat, not when she had believed she'd done so well in following the doctor's orders. Perhaps it wasn't the pain that irked her, but rather the lack of things she'd be able to do whilst in that damned bandage, unable to use her hand. "I'll take anything you've got for me," she admitted nearly under her breath, "Especially, if it's stronger or tastes like rum."
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totheblood · 1 year ago
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GLORY & GORE
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CHAPTER ONE: NOW WE'RE IN THE RING
PAIRING: fwb!ellie williams x reader
SUMMARY: a week after you reunite with your estranged best friend, astrid, for the first time in three years, you are heartbroken to discover her sudden and brutal murder. as you dive deep into the world of sagewood university, you uncover astrid's ties to a shadowy society lurking within the institution's walls. in the midst of all of this, you cross paths with ellie, who you met on the very day you saw astrid again. as ellie helps you figure out what happened to your best friend, you're forced to wonder if everything with ellie is truly as it appears, and if trust can genuinely be given to anyone.
WARNINGS: 18+ SLIGHT SMUT mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x
A/N: i've been working on this one for a while... i hope you enjoy! please send asks, reblog, and reply to this post <;3
WORD COUNT: 6.3k
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You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched as you stepped onto Sagewood University’s campus for the first time since Astrid’s death. 
You spent the days following Astrid’s death curled up on your couch, unmoving. Your gaze was fixed on the ceiling as you let time pass by slowly, counting the clicks of the clock on your wall each second.
Your mom would check on you every now and then, before she had to leave for work or when she came back home. She would leave a plate of food on the coffee table near you, urging you to eat something, but you had no appetite. It was safe to say that you weren't taking Astrid's death well.
Suddenly, your phone chimed, a ringtone reserved for one person. 
ellie: You okay?
You picked up your phone, reading the message despite the LED lights burning your eyes. It was obvious to anyone that you weren't okay, so you declined to answer. You put your phone back on the table and stared at the same place on the ceiling. It was starting to look like a face, but you were almost sure you were hallucinating. 
The morning they found Astrid’s dead body sprawled out on a table in the library had started like a normal day for you. The sky was still dark when you woke up to your alarm and dragged yourself out of bed. You pulled on the grey hoodie that had been your staple all semester, paired with a red pair of sweatpants you had worn so much they were nearly falling apart. As you walked towards campus, the streets were silent except for the occasional chirping of birds and the crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers. But when you reached the library all seemed eerily quiet; the wide glass windows had been frosted with police tape and blocked by large, black police cars. Fear started to sink into your stomach as groups huddled together, their hushed voices filled with whimpers and tears.
“Hey, uh,” you tapped one on the shoulder, “what happened?”
“They found some girl dead,” she replied in a low voice, “Can you believe it?” 
“Do they know who it is?” you asked. Deep in your heart you already knew it was her. 
From the very first day you met Astrid, you knew you had found your person. It was like finding the other piece to a two-piece puzzle. Simple, but rare. In elementary school, she was your personal hero, unafraid to get her hands dirty—or bloody, for that matter—when that kid shoved you during recess. 
Middle school was weird for everyone, but less so for you because you had Astrid. You two invented your own secret language, a series of squiggles and lines that looked like chicken scratch to anyone else. Those notes you passed weren't just ink on paper; they were secret jokes, each scribble another knot in the thread that connected you two.
High school rolled around, and the stakes got higher, the emotions deeper. You realized you liked girls, and the moment you told Astrid, the air between you changed—but not in the way you feared. It was as if she picked up the weight of the situation and took it on as her own, lightening your load just by being there, just by listening. She didn't offer grand gestures or theatrical declarations of support; she didn't need to. Instead, she guided you, step-by-step, through the maze of coming out, as if it was the most natural path you could walk together.
And maybe it was. Because when you look back on everything, every scraped knee and every coded note, every whispered secret and every shared challenge, it all led back to a simple, undeniable truth: life was messy and confusing and downright hard sometimes—but less so with Astrid by your side.
College was supposed to be a fresh chapter, a new horizon where you and Astrid could explore the world as adults. But instead, it turned into a ripping of a page you never saw coming. Within the first week, something broke. Conversations turned into awkward exchanges, laughter gave way to silence, and the natural ease you'd always felt around her failed to exist. You guys just stopped clicking and after a big argument, you stopped hanging out altogether. She became someone you used to know, a piece of your past.
Time went by, and you got used to life without Astrid. Then, out of the blue, you got a text from her last week. She said she wanted to meet up.
She asked to meet at the campus coffee shop, Brain Brew, on a Tuesday morning. It was practically empty in there when you arrived, something that it almost never was. You came early, thinking you would need to find a seat, but now looking at all the empty chairs was less of a concern. 
Behind the bar stood a girl, with short auburn hair and freckles littered across her face, on her phone. When you approached, she straightened up, looking surprised to see you. You read the name on her nametag: Ellie. 
“Uh,” she looked you up and down briefly, “what can I get for you?” 
“What's good?” you asked, eyes scanning the expansive menu ranging from lavender latte's to plain black coffee. 
“Anything I make is good,” she shrugged, eyes still waiting for a response. 
“Then, just an iced vanilla latte,” you ordered, tapping your fingers on the counter. She tapped your order into the tablet in front of her and then stopped for a minute, looking you over again. 
“You go to Sagewood?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 
“Yea,” your brows knit together, as you shifted uncomfortably in your place, “Why?”
“I just feel like I’ve seen you before,” she commented, the price of your latte lighting up on the screen in front of you, “6.74.”
Jesus fuck, you thought, this is why I don't come here. 
“It’s a big campus, you’ve probably just seen me around or something,” you tapped your card, looking back up at her, scanning her face to see if you remembered her from anywhere. Then it clicked, “Did you go to Weston Middle School?”
“Shit,” she breathed, shaking her head and laughing, “yea, for a year.”
“I remember you,” you laughed, a smile spread across your face, “you used to eat lunch alone every day and when I tried to sit next to you you told me to ‘Fuck off’.”
You saw her physically wince as she pulled your receipt out of the dispenser, “Fuck,” she shook her head again, closing her eyes painfully, “I’m sorry, that was not a good year for me.”
“I don't think 11 is a good year for anyone,” you joked back, taking your receipt from her, “It’s all good, don't worry about it.” 
She let out a little laugh, her cheeks growing a tinge darker as she scratched the back of her neck, “I’ll get that drink started for you,” she moved towards the espresso machine before stopping and turning back towards you, “Wait, can I get your name?” She paused for a moment, examining the expression on your face, “For the order.”
Smiling, you gave her your name, and stood at the end of the counter, waiting for your drink. Astrid was now five minutes late, and you just realized she may be standing you up. 
“Do you go to Sagewood?” you asked Ellie from across the espresso machine. She looked up at you over the machine, waiting for the espresso to brew. 
“Yeah,” she shrugged, “for psych.”
“Oh, you want to be a therapist?” you leaned your hands on the counter looking around the empty room. 
“Something like that,” she breathed out a laugh, eyes flicking up to you for a moment, “What are you doing?”
“Journalism,” you smiled, watching as she made your drink, “Do you think I could get your number?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could think. You watched as the smile from her face fell, the blood that was in her cheeks being replaced with pale skin.
“Oh, uh” she fumbled over her words almost dropping the cup of milk she was holding, “I don’t really date, it not my-”
“Oh, not like that,” you cut her off, trying to save yourself the embarrassment, “Just like as friends, I don’t really have that many around campus.” 
“Oh,” she breathed out a laugh, relief flooding her features, “Yeah, sure then. I’d love to be friends.”
When she handed you her drink she handed you her phone with the contacts app already open. You took your coffee and the phone, smiling slightly as you put your name and number in. 
“Here,” you giggled, “sorry if that was weird. I wasn’t like coming on to you or anything. I mean not that you aren’t attractive cause you are- But it’s also not like I’m not into girls, cause I am. Jesus fuck,” you whispered under your breath, “It’s just that I also... Don’t date,” you lied. 
You watched the permanent smirk on her face as you rambled off and she took her phone back and let out another breathy laugh. 
“Well, it’s not that you aren’t attractive either,” she rubbed the back of her neck, watching intently as you sipped your drink, “so if you wanted to like, I don’t know, hook up sometime, I would be down for that.” 
You practically choked on your latte when she said that, eyes wide as you tried to cover up your spluttering with a cough, “Um, yeah. That sounds cool, or whatever.” 
“Cool,” she pursed her lips, nodding before turning back to wipe the counter down, “I’ll text you.”
As if it was fate the bell rang behind you, signaling Astrid’s entrance. You turned to look at her and give her a once over. She looked a lot more frazzled since you last saw her, her blond hair was still as long and came past her shoulders, but it was frizzier as if she had just woken up. The circles under her eyes were more prominent, and when you smiled at her, she didn’t smile back. You didn’t want to approach her first, so you just waited until she came up to you and gave you a hint of a smile. 
“Should we sit?” She asked, her voice much raspier now as she looked around to the empty cafe, the tension in her body easing up.
“Sure,” you followed her lead as she led you to the back, away from any windows and farther away from the bar. You looked over to where Ellie was still working, wondering how loud you would need to shout for her to hear you. 
“What did you want to talk about?” you started, noticing her slightly anxious state as she took shallow breaths, “I mean, I missed you.”
“This isn’t about us,” her voice was cold when she spoke, the words hurting you more than you thought it would, “I just think you are the only person I can trust.”
“Okay,” you took a sip of your latte, nursing it in your hands, “do you need to tell me something?”
“No,” she took a deep breath, “Just that if something happens to me, it will have to be you to figure out who does it.” 
“Jesus,” you breathed out, leaning in to whisper back, “What the fuck have you gotten into, A?” 
She winced at the sound of her nickname, looking down at the table before looking around again at the still-empty cafe, “I should be fine,” she sighed, “but if I’m not, you will know what to do.”
“How the fuck would I know what to do?” you spoke a little louder, throwing your hands up dramatically as you leaned back, “I mean this is ridiculous, you completely blow me off freshman year and now you’re telling me I have to worry about someone who doesn’t even want to be my friend anymore?”
“You’re being melodramatic,” she blinked a few times, before sitting up straight, “I didn’t come here to fight you.” 
“No, you just came to make sure I’d be there whenever you got yourself into trouble,” your voice was harsh as you stood up from your seat abruptly, ready to leave. 
“Please, sit down,” she urged, looking up at you with her big round eyes.
“No, thanks,” you replied sarcastically, giving her a fake smile, “Go fuck yourself.”
Go fuck yourself. 
That was the last thing you ever told Astrid before she was murdered. 
The guilt followed you all the way back home that night in stunned silence. You were too shocked to even tell your professor you weren’t coming to class that day, missing a midterm. You knew you would make it up eventually, but now, all you could do was sit and stare and hope to wake up from whatever nightmare you were living. 
To make matters worse, as you sat on your bed, still dressed in your clothes from earlier a note was slipped under your door. A thick cream cardstock, with embossed trimmings covered in gold, and written delicately on the front in script, “Keep your mouth shut, or you’re next.”
At the time, you immediately threw it out, not thinking much of it. Your brain was stuffed with things you didn’t want to think about, flashes of your childhood coming back in brief intervals. The vision of the two of you at the carnival, faces stuffed with cotton candy, giggling as you boarded the Ferris Wheel for the first time on your own came back first. You remember going around with her three times until the sun went down and the houses began to look like stars in the sky. Lit up and far away.
Another memory flashed, her crying in your lap in the 8th grade. Jason Charnley rejected her when she asked him if they could go to the dance together. Innocently, you offered to go with her as you stroked her hair, the cries dying out as you cracked joke after joke. By the time she was supposed to go home, she had forgotten what she was even upset about. 
Then a memory of senior year when she showed up on your front step, a giant envelope addressed to her with a giant “Sagewood” on the front. She knew she was accepted from the moment she applied, but the confirmation was validation enough. What really surprised her was your admission, meaning you’d follow after her to college as you usually did.
Then a memory flashed from a week ago, an unknown number lit up your screen the night you met Astrid in the cafe. 
ellie: Hey, this is Ellie.
ellie: From Brain Brew.
you: wrong number
you: but what are you wearing, ellie?
ellie: Nvm.
you: stooooop come back
you: i was being annoying, i apologize
you: what are you doing rn?
ellie: Come find out. 
That’s how you found yourself pressed up against Ellie’s door, her knee wedged in between your legs, a small whimper falling from your lips that were wrapped up in Ellie’s. Ellie's lips were soft and full, her touch gentle, calloused hands gripping your clothed waist. You could feel her heart pounding in time with your own, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
Your hands, no longer under your own control, moved around her waist to pull her closer still, while her hands roamed over your back, exploring, caressing. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt her hands roam up your body
The kiss deepened as you explored each other’s mouths with your tongues. Her lips were insistent, demanding as if she couldn't get enough of you. You were overwhelmed by the taste of her, a mix of mint and coffee. She slipped her hands under your shirt, her hands traveling up your back, causing goosebumps to rise exclusively where she touched. Her hands found the clasp of your bra, undoing it, her mouth never leaving yours as you moaned into her mouth. Ellie’s hands, still under your shirt, moved to cup your tits in her hand, pushing you back against the door as she did so. 
She broke the kiss, her lips trailing down your jaw, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed and sloppy kisses on your skin. Her teeth nipped at the skin on your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. Her hands began teasing your nipples with gentle squeezes and flicks. She was relishing in every sound you made, every way you squirmed underneath her touch. She could feel herself getting wet from the small sounds alone. Then you moaned out loud as Ellie's lips found their way to your neck, sucking and biting, marking you as hers, and she was gone completely.
Her hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, over the curve of your hips, until they reached the waistband of your pants. Before you knew it, her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, two fingers circling your clit as she worked you.
“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, “this is for me?” The sound of her fingers and your cunt made an obscene noise, her fingers now completely coated in you. Your hands fumbled with the buttons of Ellie's shirt, desperate to feel her skin against yours. You popped them off one by one, fingers faltering as she touched you, revealing her toned stomach, and you couldn't help but run your hands at the place right above her worn-out jeans, feeling the muscles twitch beneath your touch.
Ellie pulled back slightly, her eyes searching her face for any regret, any idea that you wanted to back out now. "You want this?" she whispered, her voice low and rough. You nodded, unable to form words as your body leaned into her.
----
That’s all you remembered that night, slipping out sometime before Ellie woke up. You assumed that since this was “strictly a hookup” she wouldn’t want to see you there in the morning. She did vaguely reference you sleeping over, but you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. 
So before the sun came up, you slipped from Ellie’s grip, slipping on the clothes you came in and doing the infamous walk of shame back to your dorm. This wasn’t a relationship, and the proactive version of yourself had to be reminded of that many times that week.
You began to think that if you maybe hadn’t gotten so wrapped up in Ellie the week after meeting with Astrid, you would have noticed something. Maybe even have been able to prevent her death. A part of you wanted to resent Ellie for that, but you knew at the end of the day you were trying to put the blame on anyone but yourself.
She reached out for help, but you denied her. 
The best friend you swore to protect, who swore to protect you was now dead, and you could have prevented it. Wallowing in it wasn’t helping much, but provided some emotion to feel other than numb. So back in your childhood home, your fingers lingered over Ellie’s contact, wondering if you should text her back. You didn’t have a plan to return back to school yet and you didn’t want to give her false hope.
Maybe she could fuck the grief out of you, or wrap her to-
you: as good as i can be
ellie: This sucks.
you: truer words have never been spoken
ellie: But hey, I need to talk to you. Do you know when you’ll be back on campus?
ellie: I’m not trying to like fuck you or anything cause that would be fucked up.
ellie: Ignore that last message. I’m just realizing now how weird that was. I'm sorry.
ellie: Anyways, I just need to talk to you about something, it’s serious. Don’t wanna text it to you.
you: i should be back soon, i don't know yet. 
ellie: Well, when you do come back, let me know.  
You stared at your phone, your fingers ghosting over Ellie’s message before deciding to reply with a thumbs up. Pathetic, but it was all you could muster as you finally sat up and ate the food your mom left for you. It was about time to return to your life, falling behind not being an option anymore.
You worked too hard to get into Sagewood in the first place to stop now, a year before you were set to graduate. Sagewood was on par with the Ivy League schools, bearing an acceptance rate of 9% and accepting students internationally. There were about a thousand on-campus clubs, sororities, and study groups. There were even rumored secret societies, but you were never one to believe in that sort of thing. People who graduated with a degree from Sagewood were set for life. There was no room to screw up three years of good grades okay grades. 
So that’s how you found yourself back on campus, tightly gripping the straps of your bag. As if snapped back into reality, the memories of that night flooded back. You just began to remember the note you threw away that threatened your life, as you made your way to your morning class, an unsettling feeling setting in your stomach. It almost felt as if you were being watched. 
As you sat in class, you shuffled in your seat as the kid a few rows in front of you turned to look at you. When he noticed you staring back he turned around quickly. The whole class you had your eyes trained on the back of his head, watching as he would occasionally look at you, notice you looking, and turn back around. You knew you were being paranoid when you first walked onto campus, but now you felt validated.
As the teacher dismissed the class, the kid who kept staring at you collected his things and attempted to leave the room quickly, but you wouldn’t let that happen. You rushed to meet him at the door and stood in front of him, a bitter look on your face. 
“You’ve got a staring problem,” you commented accusingly, hands folding across your chest.
“You’re just really,” he coughed, looking around as other people pushed past you to the exit, the professor included, “pretty. You’re pretty, that’s why I was staring.”
“I know I am,” you turned to shut the door behind the last person exiting the room, “but do you really think I’m that stupid? What gives?”
“I’m late for my clas-” he began to stumble out before you took another menacing step towards him. 
“You won’t make it there if you don’t tell me why the fuck you were staring at me,” you pointed a finger right in the center of his chest, making him gulp loudly. 
“It’s just,” he takes another step back, “you were friends with the dead girl.”
“The dead girl?” you spat back at him, your tone laced with venom, “Her name was Astrid, you dick.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He breathed out, “I’m just a true crime junkie, I’m intrigued about her case.”
“Her case?” you questioned him, taking a step back to make him feel more comfortable. To make him open up to you. 
“Just that they have no leads yet,” he scoffed, “which is weird if you ask me. No suspects yet she’s killed in a very public place?”
“That happens all the time,” you retorted, hands still crossed protectively across your chest.
“It’s not as common as you think,” he shrugged, “they haven’t questioned you yet?”
Now that he brought it up, the whole situation was weird. If they were trying hard to find out what happened to her, why weren’t you called in for questioning? It wasn’t like you had done it, but you did have a motive, and you had just come into contact with her again, shortly before her murder. If there was any person to question, it would be you, but yet here you were, untouched.
“No, they haven’t,” you mumbled back, your mind moving a million miles per minute. 
“See,” he smirked, “weird.”
“Wipe that stupid ass smile off your face,” you spat back, “she’s still dead, and just because you ‘like true crime’ doesn’t give you a right to talk about her. It’s not like you’re going to solve her murder.”
“I just might,” he stated simply.
“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, turning towards the door to leave now.
“Did you know she was part of a secret society?” he questioned, making you still for a moment.
You turned back around to face him, eyes squinted again, arms crossed firmly over your chest, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He let out a laugh, shaking his head, something sinister in the way he hung his head, “I do my research and I do it well.”
“You sound like a nutcase,” you spat again, trying to stop the anger from bubbling inside of you. It felt weird to talk about Astrid as if she was a mystery. In all the people in the world, you knew her the best. You knew each and every corner of her life, even when you weren’t speaking. But now, as you stood here, you weren’t sure you ever knew her at all. 
“They are called Oculus Noctis,” he shrugged again, standing up taller as if he had just won this fight, or whatever this was, “look them up, then come find me,” he walked closer to you now, making you want to cower away, but you didn’t. You planted your feet down, straightening your posture. Although he looked more confident now, you could tell he was still intimidated by you, “my name’s Corbin Nott. I run a podcast, look me up too.”
Smiling, he brushed past you leaving you standing alone in the room. You let out what felt like a deep breath you were holding for a while, your breath coming out shallow and shaky.  Your heart felt like it would beat out of your chest, and come out of your ears and nose as you bled out on the floor, but you just stayed unmoving taking deep breaths as you placed a hand over your chest to steady yourself. 
Your hands began to shake a little, trembling as you moved to sit down at one of the desks, a failed attempt at calming yourself. The breaths came quicker as it started to feel like you couldn’t breathe, like your heart was pumping blood into your lungs and you were drowning. Your vision blurred as you stared at the desk, which was now full of wet droplets. Were you crying? You lifted a shaky hand to wipe at your cheeks, and as you expected you felt your damp skin covered in tears. 
You were trying hard to collect yourself now, knowing that students from the next class would probably start flooding in and you wouldn’t be able to move. You would just sit at a front desk crying as whatever poor professor tried to teach. C’mon get it together, get it fucking together, you thought. What was it they said to do? 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, and the other three got lost on you. 
You looked around, and through teary eyes you could see a clock on the wall, ticking slower than usual. You could see the whiteboard in front of you, smugged with black dry-erase markers, and you could see the dark hardwood floors, clean and polished. You watched your hands and your tears on the desk and suddenly your breathing started to feel normal.
Thank god you did because by the time you were wiping your last tear from your eyes, the door to the classroom was swinging open and a student was walking in. You kept your head down, so they wouldn’t see your teary eyes and red nose, but that also stopped you from seeing them. So when the person called your name out, you had to look up, only to see…
“Ellie,” you mumbled, watching the smile on her face drop as her eyes scanned your face. Gripping her backpack straps she walked closer to you slowly, crouching down in front of the desk you were sitting at. Her green eyes darted from your eyes to your nose, to your lips, and to the desk, clearly wet.
“Hey,” she whispered, “are you okay?” She reluctantly reached a hand out to wipe at your face, unsure if you were okay with being touched or if you even liked to be comforted. She wiped a tear away from your cheek, her calloused thumb rubbing your cheek gently, “What happened?”
“I-I’m fine,” you stuttered out, closing your eyes at the skin-to-skin contact, “Still upset I guess,” you let out a shaky laugh, hoping to see a small smile on Ellie’s face as you opened your eye, but she just looked worried. Her brow wrinkled a bit, and it looked as if she was still searching for something in your eyes, but was coming up empty. She cleared her throat before looking away, retracting her hand from her face. 
“You’re not fine.” She grumbled back, standing up now, causing you to look up at her, “You shouldn’t be back here so soon.”
“What?” you joked, “Not excited to see me?”
She rolled her eyes playfully, a small blush tinted on her face as she nudged your shoulder lightly, “Not excited at all,” she commented sarcastically, making you crack a bigger smile, “c’mon let’s get out of here,” she motioned her head to the door, making you stand up shakily and stand in front of her. 
“Don’t you have class?” you asked, your own expression laced with worry. You watched as her face softened slightly at this, pursing her lips and looking you up and down. 
“I can skip it,” she shrugged, “plus, I wanted to talk to you.” 
You let out a small laugh, “God, you sound obsessed with me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed you, walking towards the door, pulling it open, and holding it for you, “C’mon, let’s go.”
Giving her a small smile you walked out with her, your hands placed firmly in your pockets. You stepped out onto the main grass of Sagewood, where people were sitting, laughing, as their lives moved on. The smell of the grass was strong, as you walked down the cobbled path, Ellie looking at you quickly before taking a deep breath. 
“So, I went by your room the day after your friend-” she started, 
“Astrid,” you practically whispered back.
‘Astrid,” she paused, “After she died,” she cleared her throat, “I’m so sorry by the way.”
“It’s fine, you don’t have to say that.”
“Sorry,” she cleared her throat, “Anyways, I went there the day after and you weren’t there, but there was this book on your desk.”
“What?” you stopped in your tracks looking at her, “There was no book on my desk when I got back.” 
“I know,” she sighed, looking around, “I took it,” she watched as your eyes widened and you took a step back.
“Why the fuck would you take something off my desk?” you questioned, anger written all over your face. Ellie shifted uncomfortably, chewing on her bottom lip as you questioned her.
“Because it was Astrid’s, and I thought,” her voice died out, and your wide eyes just pressed her on, your arms once again folding over your chest.  
“You thought what?” 
“I thought that it was evidence,” she breathed out, “I thought that if they found that in your room it would be pinned on you.”
“You think I killed her?” your voice was loud now, making people around you stop and stare. Ellie looked around uncomfortably, closing her eyes as she took another deep breath. 
“Of course not!” she whisper yelled back, “You were at mine the night she was murdered, but if they found that in your room, it would have been on you.”
“So, you stole it,’ you deadpanned, eyebrows raised and accusing, “Why do you even care if I go down for it? You barely know me.”
“Because believe it or not, you are one of my only friends,” she looked away, her arms crossing over her chest as if to protect herself, “Like ever. So forgive me if I didn’t want you to be framed for murder.”
Your expression softened, arms falling to your sides as you looked up at her and then back at the ground, “I appreciate that.” 
“You can have it back, obviously,” she mumbled, eyes trained on her own shoes as her arms uncrossed and her fingers began to play with each other, “I just… didn’t want you to get in trouble. It’s all gibberish anyways, just a bunch of words that don't make sense.”
That made your heart stop, as you blinked up at her. “What did you just say?” She looked up at you, shrugging as she rolled her eyes.
“The journal, it’s like just a bunch of random words, I tried to find out what language it was but I came up short,” she was still playing with her fingers, obviously nervous as she picked at her nails, “But, I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore. It was a weird thing to do.”
“I still want to be your friend, Ellie,” you sighed, “I just need to see this journal, like now,” you watched as a small smile flashed across her face and he shoulders seemed to lose all their tension.
“Yeah, we could head over to my dorm right now,” she began walking, turning her head back to make sure you were following her, “I’m sorry agai-”
“Ellie, if you apologize again I’ll jump you,” you teased, smiling up at her as you walked side by side.
“Doesn’t sound like much of a threat,” she teased back, voice low as she let out a small laugh.
-
As you walked into Ellie’s dorm, you instantly became nervous again, your guilt creeping up the back of your neck. The night Astrid was killed, you were in bed with Ellie, laughing as she traced circles into your inner thigh. She talked about how much she hated her professors, working and Brain Brew, and how weird everyone on campus was. Well, everyone except for you. 
That night you stayed up and watched 30 Rock on Hulu until Ellie fell asleep, Ellie’s laughter gradually fading into soft snores. Her head found a resting spot on your shoulder, her rhythmic breaths warming your neck. You slipped out quietly, walking back to your dorm with a shit-eating grin on your face, and fell asleep unassuming. 
Your fingers traced the outline of Ellie’s desk, as you eyed Astrid’s journal that was sat in the center of it. It was covered in green felt, her name embossed on the front of it in gold letters. You pulled out the chair in front of the desk, sitting at it to begin reading the book. You paused for a moment, wondering if you even wanted to open it. Flipping open the front page, there was the language you created in middle school on every page. Pages and pages, the book was filled. When Astrid said it would be up to you to solve her murder, she meant it literally. 
On the front page was printed “Fepi Quslo Vurte Dabru” which translates to “My Oculus Noctis Journey.”
“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, finger brushing over the letters on the page, feeling the imprint the pen made on the paper. 
“What?” Ellie stepped forward, looking over your shoulder at the book, “You know what this says?”
You sighed deeply, eyes trained on the words, “Yeah,” you turned to look up at her, “I do.”
“How?” her tone was more curious than shocked, sitting on her bed as she watched you. 
“It’s a language we created in middle school,” you closed the book, stuffing it in your bag as you turned to stare at Ellie. You watched as she looked at you in amazement, eyes wide and mouth hung open. 
“You created a fucking language?” she asked, laughing a little, “Jesus, you Sagewood students are crazy.”
“Ellie, you also go here,” you laughed, leaning your elbow on the desk, “Plus, Astrid mostly created it. She was smart like that.”
Ellie looked at you again, a small smile playing on her face, “You’re smart too, you know.”
“Not as smart as she was,” your smile turned to a sad one as you looked at your knees, not wanting to cry again.
“Hey,” Ellie said, voice low as she tried to get your attention. When you looked up, she smiled at you, eyes soft, “You're really fucking smart, just remember that.”
You gave her a forced smile, looking back down at your feet, “Thank you,” your voice came out cracked, “I needed that.”
“What did the first page say?” 
“My Oculus Noctis Journey,” you replied, shrugging. 
“Oh shit,” she laughed, “she was involved with those freaks?”
You sat up straight at this, scanning her face, “You know about them?” 
“Sadly,” she replied nonchalantly, “I don't know much about them except that they exist. They tried to recruit me, but I don't think they know that I know that it was them.”
“What? What do you mean?” you asked eagerly, words coming out quickly. 
“They recruit people on campus but they make it seem like they are just regular clubs,” she recounted, “Like they had a ‘coding club’ and at the club fair they had this code that they asked people to encrypt, it was extremely hard too. I did it and they sent me this weird email, asking me to do more shit. I just kind of didn't respond but traced the email to their own web service.”
“I thought that the secret society stuff was just like rumors.”
“Nope,” she popped her lips on the ‘p’, “Real shit. I just don't know what they exist for or anything.”
“I think I may have to figure that out.”
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jokeringcutio · 9 months ago
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"This is a Nice Job" - Black Phone & FNAF Crossover - Reader Insert (Implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber x Reader) [ 1/?]
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AN: As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it.
Summary: You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, when you have a chat with the hired magician for the day: The Great Al.
Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black PhoneRating: Teen? Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Nothing Explicit (yet), Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Reader likes her job around kids. Not betaread. [ Support x ]
This was actually inspired by @cartoonykat's ask:
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Loud music filled your ears, interrupted by the occasional shouts of little children as you darted between the tables, a tray of fizzing drinks balanced precariously in your grip. The squeals and laughter of children swirled around you, their faces smeared with icing and joy. You placed a paper cup before each eager set of hands, your smile never faltering.
"Careful now, don't spill," you murmured, patting a small head as its owner looked up at you with wide, grateful eyes.
"Thank you!" the child chirped, clutching the drink like a treasure.
"Happy to help," you replied, your voice a soft melody amid the cacophony of celebration.
Your gaze swept across the room, ensuring all was well, when the sudden hush of captivated little ones snagged your attention. There, at the center of the restaurant, stood Albert Shaw, the hired magician for today’s party. Freddy’s Pizza Place usually had a few performers they worked with, including a clown and this magician. His white-painted face was stark against the backdrop of colorful streamers, his large sunglasses hiding eyes that held secrets darker than the void.
‘The Great Al’, they called him, as he conjured silk scarves from his large top hat, making them dance like serpents charmed by his will alone. With the hat off you could see the shoulder-length dark hair that he hid underneath his hat most of the time. It was already turning grey, betraying his age which was harder to pinpoint with all the makeup covering his face.
He plucked coins from behind ears, eliciting gasps and giggles from his audience, each trick a thread in the tapestry of his dark artistry. He was good with the kids, you thought. His low voice occasionally made its way over the music that he had playing in the background. You found yourself rooted to the spot, your heart thudding a dangerous rhythm.
"Watch closely," he intoned, his low gravelly voice a siren's call that reverberated through your bones. A deck of cards appeared in his hands, flickering through his fingers as if alive. Strong hands, you noted. Thick fingers. Delicious. No – You shook the dirty thoughts away. You shouldn’t be thinking about one of the restaurant’s performers like that.
And then, with a flourish that defied logic, the cards transformed into a flurry of doves, their wings beating against the still air of the restaurant. The children erupted in applause, but you barely heard them. Your pulse quickened. The magician smiled as he revealed a small box and teased the kids with it. It was empty, but after a magical spell, the box was suddenly filled with enough candy to share around. You’d seen this performance several times now, and every time he managed to captivate you.
"Impossible," someone whispered beside you, echoing the disbelief that churned in your thoughts.
Al's performance built to a crescendo, the very air charged with anticipation. With a final bow, he finished, receiving thunderous cheers from his young fans.
"Amazing," you breathed, the word slipping out like a prayer to a deity you were only beginning to comprehend.
"Excuse me,” the voice cut through the din of merriment, stark and commanding. You flinched, recognizing the voice before you turned around. “Could you come here for a moment?"
Oh no, have I done something wrong? The worried voice echoed inside your mind. I was only looking for a moment, Mr. Afton, you thought to yourself, focusing on what you could say in your defense. I was still on the job and paying attention.
Mr. Afton, your boss and one of the restaurant’s owners, stood in the dimly lit entrance to his office, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was tall, his stature was impressive for a man of his age. Already greying at the top, hair thinning, large glasses enlarging his eyes, belly poking out from underneath his arms.
You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the excited group of kids that had gathered around Albert Shaw. But duty called, its voice as inescapable as gravity. With one last glance at the festive chaos of the party, you made your way toward your boss, the weight of his stare pulling you forward like a marionette on taut strings.
"Mr. Afton," you greeted him, striving for a tone of respectful professionalism despite the unease coiling in your stomach.
"Come inside my office," not a question, but a demand thinly veiled with kindness. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, not quite reaching the coldness of his eyes behind those aviator glasses.
Mr. Afton was a tall man, taller than most that you met in your life. His hair was thinning on top and greying but still had a lively curl to it. His eyes seemed larger behind the thick glasses he wore. Strands of grey adorned his pepper-and-salt beard. He was the exact definition of a ‘dad bod’.  In fact, you had heard he had a family, even though you’d never seen them. Rumors said he was divorced.
You followed him inside to see a large desk, files, and papers strewn all over it. There was an animatronic in the corner of the room, purple, with ears hanging. You thought it might be some kind of rabbit.
The thud of the door closing behind you made you jump and you turned to look behind you to see Afton had closed it. His eyes met yours, only for a short while, and you fidgeted nervously with your hands because… had you done something wrong? Had he caught you looking at the magician? That must have been it, there was nothing else it could have been. He must think you to be slacking. But you weren’t. You were still alert, still focused on any peep from a parent or child.
You needed this job and actually liked it more than you thought you would.
"I've been watching you,” your boss started, licking his lips as he walked toward his desk and then turned to lean against it. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his purple tie wrinkling with the motion against his yellow blouse. The sleeves were pulled up, showing strong forearms riddled with veins and scars.
“You have a knack for this,” he started in that low, stern voice of his. “Keeping the little ones entertained."
"Thank you, sir," you replied, shuffling awkwardly in front of his desk. There was a chair there, but should you sit down? He remained standing so you should too, right? Your mind was racing. Had you done something wrong? Had you not followed protocol? Was your uniform in order?
"I just want to make sure they're all having a good time," the words stumbled from your lips, clumsily and awkwardly, but the smile you managed afterward seemed to soften the look in Mr. Afton’s eyes.
"Indeed." He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. "However, I couldn't help but notice you seemed... distracted. By the magician, was it?"
You swallowed hard, caught off guard. "He's very talented," you deflected, but Mr. Afton's gaze pierced through your defenses, reading unspoken words.
“I,” you hesitated and watched as your boss raised a brow. Swallowing down your fear and gathering your courage, you spoke up again, louder this time. “I was still keeping an eye on the kids and delivering orders though. I might have seemed distracted but I was still doing my job.”
“So it seems,” Mr. Afton murmured, pressing a finger against his lips thoughtfully. You watched the wrinkle between his eyes deepen as he frowned.
"Be careful," he murmured, his voice silk over steel. "You are a pretty girl and I have noticed the man has been looking at you. People aren't always what they seem." There was a warning there, wrapped in the velvet of concern, yet it felt like a threat all the same.
"Of course, Mr. Afton. I'll remember that." Your words were steady, but inside, confusion and curiosity churned. Why did it feel like he cared? And why did it matter so much?
"Good." He clasped your shoulder briefly – a gesture that tried to be fatherly but felt possessive. "Keep up the good work. We need employees like you."
"Thank you, sir." You nodded, excusing yourself from his heavy gaze, a strange sense of relief flooding you as you stepped back into the colorful light of the party.
But as you returned to refilling cups and plating slices of cake, you couldn't shake the feeling of Mr. Afton's eyes on you, nor could you ignore the tingling sensation where his hand had been.
What had that been all about?
You wove through the sea of balloons and streamers, your heart still thudding from Mr. Afton's cryptic parting words. The din of the party enveloped you, a cacophony of glee that almost drowned out the lingering unease. Almost.
The magician, Albert Shaw, stood center stage, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his pale eyes sweeping over the crowd like a predator surveying prey. Tiny hands clapped with fervor as he flourished his final trick – a bouquet appearing from thin air. The children squealed, their delight pure and infectious. But when your gaze met his, something flickered there – an abyss that beckoned and repelled.
"Bravo!" The word slipped from your lips, but the echo in your mind whispered caution.
"Thank you, my dear audience!" Shaw's voice wrapped around the room, velvet lined with smoke. His bow was elegant, yet each movement seemed calculated, a dance with shadows only he could see.
As you slipped behind the bar, the festive chaos became a blur. You began stacking cups, the routine task grounding you. You missed Erica and Lucy. They at least pulled you into conversations every now and again. Today, your only colleagues were Mike and El, who were just teenagers whose hormones had started to work and who were way too busy with each other than with managing the tables. And there were Justin and Jax. The two J’s. Boys who had worked here for so much longer than you that they often forgot you were there and were mostly talking to each other.
You were so caught up in your own thoughts, focusing on the music that played from the speakers softly in the background, that you hadn’t noticed the magician’s approach until his presence loomed over you. Albert Shaw leaned against the polished wood, his silhouette casting a long shadow in the neon glow.
"Could I trouble you for a glass of water?" His request was simple, mundane, but it crawled under your skin, insistent.
That voice, you thought, hearing that deliciously dark rasp in it. Was he a smoker? Whatever caused his voice to sound like that, it worked for you. It did things no employee should have to go through during working hours.
Embarrassing really.
"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tremble in your fingers. "It's on the house," you joked. You poured the water, the liquid crystal clear and innocent, an odd contrast to the darkness that seemed to cling to him.
"Generous," he remarked, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that promised secrets, a whisper of sin.
“I do have lemonade, soda, perhaps a fizzy drink?” You offered, cocking a brow. “I know there are cans of beer in the back. I could get a real drink for you. No costs.”
The man’s expression was hard to read, with all the makeup and the dark glasses hiding his bright eyes once more. But you thought you could see his smirk grow. His fingers curled around the glass of water, muscles tensing.
“A soda, then,” he said after a contemplative hum. “I still need to drive home.”
“A soda it is then,” you confirmed, looking at him from over your shoulder as you set to work to get him his free drink. “Most men prefer the beers.”
“Like I said,” his gravelly voice came while he tapped the brim of his top hat. “Got to drive.”
You watched as he sipped from his glass of water. Little droplets of sweat were running down the sides of his cheeks, smudging the white of his makeup.
“Responsible,” you murmured, placing the soda in front of him. “Here you are, sir.”
“Thanks.” He took the glass, fingers brushing yours. Electric. Intentional. You inhaled sharply, the air suddenly thick with something unspoken.
Your pulse raced. This man was danger masquerading as charm, and yet, you were drawn like a moth to a flame.
You cleared your throat and quickly turned away.
"Nice performance," you managed, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. The innocence of the party around you clashed with the intensity of the moment, the frivolity of balloon animals and birthday cake juxtaposed against the enigma before you. You were vaguely aware of eyes upon you, but when you looked up, all of your co-workers were busy minding themselves.
“You’ve seen me perform before,” the magician said. Touché. He was right there. “Was today’s better than all my other performances? Or just not as bad?”
You turned to face him again, forcing a small smile.
“It’s always a pleasure to watch your shows,” you hesitatingly confessed. Were your cheeks red again? Could he see that you were blushing? You hoped not. You clumsily started to wipe the bar with a wet rag, wiping away stains of spilled drinks and oily fries.
"Albert Shaw," he introduced himself formally, though you already knew. His name had been murmured in hushed, awed tones all day. He was on the list in the backrooms, hired via Abracadabra Entertainment & Supplies. You knew Afton and Henry bought most of their balloons and garlands from them as well. Although the agency wasn’t as big as Ha-Ha’s, from which they hired their clowns.  
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw." Your reply was automatic, but your mind was alight with curiosity and a dangerous thrill. You lifted the wet rag, showing you couldn’t shake hands with him, to which he took no notice. He reached for your free hand, despite it being wet from the rag as well, took it without hesitation, and shook it.
You stood frozen, uncertain of what to do or how to react, when his hand was already long gone. But Albert was already talking, seemingly unaware of how the little gesture – that little skin-on-skin contact – had rattled you.
"Please, call me Albert." His tone was insistent, a command cloaked in courtesy.
"Then you should call me…" You cut yourself short, almost giving away more than you meant to, "a fan of your work." Not that he wouldn’t know your name by now. It was on a badge on your chest.
"Perhaps one day," he said softly, "you'll show me what you're a fan of up close." The suggestion hung heavy between you, tantalizing and terrifying.
"Maybe," you breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.
As he leaned forward, his finger darted out to the badge on your chest. “Pretty name,” the words tumbled from his lips far more erotically than they should have. “Fits you.”
He then leaned back on the stool in front of the bar and picked up his glass while you spun around with cheeks all flushed, the wet rag still in your hands. You made the error of pressing the rag against your forehead, making you wince and leave for the backroom to get rid of it and dry your head.
This man was making you do weird things.
Upon your return, he was still at the bar, finishing a talk to one of the parents, and seemed to have taken his glasses off. Finally. Wearing sunglasses indoors was weird. As the dad left, Albert turned back to you and nursed his drink. Your eyes deliberately focused on the kids playing, rather than on the way the magician’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.
Yup. Definitely not going to look at that.
“You’re enjoying this job, aren’t you?” Albert’s words caught you by surprise and you turned to him.
“Well, yes,” you said, because it was obvious. At least you hoped it was.
“You’re smiling radiantly. Like a bright star in the night,” Albert said, a toothy smile cracked the white of his makeup.
“Well," you replied, trying to steady your breathing. "Their laughter, it's... it's infectious." Your words fluttered out, betraying the turmoil within.
"Laughter, yes," he echoed, but something about his tone felt off. It gave you that weird shivery feeling down your spine. "The sound of pure... innocence."
He drank the soda, watching you over the rim of the glass, and you knew that this was no ordinary thirst. This was the thirst of a man accustomed to getting what he desires, by means unknown and best left unexplored.
You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his stare heavy on your skin and you vaguely excused yourself. “I got swipe behind here too or the boss will think I’m not working.” Anything to get away from his eyes.
“Of course,” Albert replied, the grin never leaving his face.
“Didn’t he used to perform as well?” Albert’s question surprised you and you blinked up, already holding a broom in your hands.
“Huh?”
Albert hummed. “The yellow bunny suit, if I remember correctly. He told me about it once.”
You had to stifle a laugh. “What’s up with you performers and hiding your faces?” You asked. “You, the clowns, all use makeup. And the acrobat lady too. Or they wear big suits with masks.”
"Ah, but we all wear masks, don't we?" Albert tilted his head, a lock of greying hair falling across his brow.
"Sometimes without knowing it," you agreed, feeling the truth of those words more than you cared to admit. Then you sighed, the broom nearly slipping out of your hands.
“I don’t like wearing masks though,” you admitted almost dreamily. “I like to show the world who I really am. Putting on a front seems incredibly tiresome to me, don’t you agree?”
When your eyes met those of Albert, they were unreadable.
“It’s an astonishing thing, to be bashfully and unashamedly oneself.” The words came out brittle, then he reached into the pocket of his black coat.
"Here," he said, slipping a card from his sleeve with a flourish that made you jump. The black and red design swirled before your eyes, hypnotic. "In case you ever need a touch of magic."
His smile was a predator's grin, yet oddly charming.
“Got to do all my advertising myself. And since you were impressed…”
"Thank you," you stammered, feeling the card's smooth edges as you took it. The numbers danced under your fingertips, promising things unsaid.
"Call anytime," he added with a wink. It felt like a secret pact, one you weren't sure you wanted to be part of.
"Maybe I will," you murmured, pocketing the card, the heat of the exchange lingering like a spell.
As he turned to leave, Mr. Afton's shadow fell over you, icy and suffocating. You looked up to find his gaze locked onto yours, unreadable. Was it anger? Curiosity? Longing?
"Good work today," he said, each word measured and precise, but there was something else in his tone. A darkness that coiled beneath the surface.
"Thank you, Mr. Afton," you responded automatically, trying to sound unaffected. But your heart raced, betraying your composure.
"Keep our guests happy," he continued, his voice low, commanding. "That's what keeps them coming back."
"Of course," you nodded, but his eyes never left yours, pinning you like a butterfly in a case.
After a silence that felt like an eternity, Mr. Afton’s stern gaze finally left your face and he turned away from you. “Good girl,” it was but a low whisper, and you had to blink, wondering if the words had been real or if you had imagined them.
The moment you came out of your daze, Mr. Afton had returned to his office, seating himself behind his desk and leaving the door ajar so that he was in your field of vision. Your eyes searched the bar, but it seemed that ‘The Great Al’ had left.
As you watched Mr. Shaw vanish behind the swinging double doors, a shiver crawled up your spine. Laughter and chattering filled your ears, pulling you back to the here and now. And when you looked up, it was to see Mr. Afton as he lifted his eyes from the papers he was working on. Pale eyes that rested upon you for just a tick too long.
You loved your job, but whatever was going on here, you had no clue. The possibilities that filled your mind were too weird to consider. Patting the card hidden away on your body as a silent reminder to put it in your bag before you went home, you decided to ignore the weird tension that had been in the room earlier. And with a smile on your face, you went back into the sea of kids.
You loved this job and all the odd people you met through it.
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AN: Guys, I did a thing (: Have you noticed the Arthur Fleck/Joker hints in it.
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gcldforged · 1 year ago
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        a  healer  was  never  a  predator  except when he was chasing down death, but under the dowager duchess' gaze, he felt a little too close to prey for comfort. containing the feeling wasn't difficult. she wasn't entirely a stranger, though it had been many years since he'd last seen her; russia wasn't a place he visited often - or at all. will chuckled.   ❝ well, your husband wasn't one of my patients, ❞   he reasoned, pointedly focusing on that element of the statement and not the implication filling the rest of the words.         ❝ if they know anything about me then they know i am my work. ❞   which he knew didn't make him the best company but it did make him a gifted physician and that's what england needed.   ❝ it's not only rural medicine. the other physicians here have been kind enough to discuss their own research. but surely the widows cannot be that bad. ❞
As if Elena had not tempted fate with her first illicit affair with an English lord. She tempts it again, circling the handsome and seemingly noble Baron with a Cheshire smile. So unlike anyone that's ever caught her eye, with his practical nature and strong work ethic. Elena did not know if she was drawn to his virtues, or simply compensating for an almost twenty-year tenure of improper lovers. Whatever the case, the haggard look on her face prompts a seamless transition. "Baron William," she repeats in formality, before relenting quickly. "As a widow, I can safely say. Even in the loss of a husband, I would be thrilled to hear from you." Elena gushes unabashedly, inhibitions lost somewhere in her 30's.
"Maybe it is because people would much rather converse with you, than your work." A near fruitless suggestion. For as long as she's known the Baron, his work takes precedence above all other matters. "But I'll gladly take facts on rural medicinal practices than a spot of tea with the widows of the ton."
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brian-in-finance · 30 days ago
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Inside A Hundredweight of Stones • Part 1
🧵Outlander_Starz: I still haven't recovered from the roller coaster that was Episode 711 and to be honest... I'm not sure l ever want to.
Here's your behind-the-scenes look at what it took to bring all the delicious drama to the screen. Much of the drama takes place inside Lord John Grey's residence at Chestnut Street... and what a backdrop for an episode that will go down in Outlander history!
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Video 📹
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🧵Outlander_Starz: Both Set Decorator Stuart Bryce and Production Designer Mike Gunn called the Chestnut Street House their most difficult set this season but for entirely different reasons.
For Bryce, the challenge lay in covering the walls with an opulent silk (surprising no one, Lord John's digs are pretty fancy).
The concept for the Chestnut Street House was a chestnut tree, so we used varying shades of green and autumnal gold. We completely covered the walls with silk. When candle and film lights hit silk, it gives you so many layers of depth and texture that you'd struggle to get with a paint finish in the amount of time that we filmed in Liverpool [playing as Philadelphia].
Silk was predominant at the time in higher class houses and it was the first time we've ever been able to play with that on Outlander! — STUART BRYCE, SET DECORATOR
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🧵 Outlander_Starz: For Production Designer Mike Gunn, it was more a matter of logistics. While everything looks seamlessly connected on screen, you may be surprised to learn this set actually spanned three stages! Connecting rooms and corridors were doubled across stages to make it look believable that actors were walking around the house.
One of the most significant scenes in the entire season happens at the threshold of Claire's bedroom at Chestnut Street. So much happens in the same spot within two minutes. It's a massive scene with so much action, so much emotion, so much story, so much consequence...
The challenge was for the set to reflect all these emotions and have the staging to allow Jamie to appear, William to appear, fights to happen, Redcoats to turn up, and for them to escape. — MIKE GUNN, PRODUCTION DESIGNER
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Inside A Hundredweight of Stones • Part 1 of 3
Threads 🧵
Remember… the crew found the Chestnut Street House their most difficult set this season.
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kylorengarbagedump · 2 months ago
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Playing Soldier: Chapter 16 (NSFW)
Read on AO3. Part 15 here. Part 17 here.
Summary: I learned that it is (was?) also called 'morning glory' in the UK. How delightful.
Words: 5700
Warnings: no <3
Characters: William Tavington x Reader
A/N: Co-written with @bastillia <3
*throws this chapter up before disappearing into Thanksgiving*
HELLO!! Thought we'd give thanks to y'all by getting (read: me forcing Bastillia to stay up late and edit with me) a chapter up before the holiday. So so happy the last couple chapters were well-received, we were both so delighted to hear you enjoy what we're trying to do here <3
We shall sadly take a break from smut for the next couple chapters, but there's much more to come (cum. lol.)!!
We love y'all so much, happy holidays to those who celebrate, and see you soon <3
It was a dream. Or divine intervention. Or perhaps it was your mind, finally untangling the yarn of your thoughts in its half-conscious liberty. Whichever it was, it struck you like an epiphany, throwing your eyes open.
You were the cub. Papa was the bear. Catawba was the bear’s den.
You jolted upright in a triumphant shout. Next to you, William Tavington flew awake, snatching his flintlock from the bedside table and pointing it directly between your eyes.
“What the—” You scowled, backhanding his wrist to shove the gun aside. “Good morning to you as well.”
The man across from you blinked into thought, his hair draped in messy ribbons over his face. His gaze focused, finding you in the bed beside him, and scanned your naked, bewildered figure before his arm relaxed and the pistol fell onto the sheets.
“Christ alive, woman,” he grumbled, rubbing his temple. “I’d pity your other bedfellows had they ever existed.”
You rolled your eyes. “I can’t say I envy any of yours if they received a greeting as welcoming as mine.”
He snorted. Glimpsed you as if about to say something. But instead tossed his hair from his face and sank onto his pillow before replacing the gun where it had been resting.
As of the haze of sleep cleared from your sight, you found yourself unable to look away from him. The morning sun opened like a magnolia flower, petals of light streaming color through the window and highlighting the stubble sprouting on his cheeks, the mahogany branching through his hair, the grey budding in his irises.
You wanted to be closer to him—to press your lips to the underside of his jaw and feel the scrape of beard, to push your hands through his hair and wrap it like thread around your fingers. You wanted to seal yourself against him, soak in the heat of his skin, wanted to whisper his name and hear his breath catch in his chest.
And as you stared, rolling that strange and saccharine fantasy across your palate, you realized that his name now labeled the space he occupied in your mind. No longer could you gaze at him and think Colonel, or Tavington without his name attached, too. The man who laid next to you was William. And you wanted to invoke it like a prayer.
Shifting toward him, you paused. You’d definitely just had a revelation about where your father was headed. Was rolling around in bed with a British colonel the most responsible action for you to take? If anything, you needed to be leaping into your clothes and—
William rolled onto his back, stretching his shoulders. You immediately shelved your scheming.
A tent sprang from the sheets between his legs. And despite the discomfort between your own, your eyes widened, vision tunneling on that silhouette like a fox poised to pounce.
Your throat worked.
“You’re…” You didn’t care how inexperienced it made you appear. You couldn’t not stare at it. “Eager.”
He raised a brow. From the corner of your vision, you saw him seek your gaze only to realize you were far too fixated on his erection. Pausing, he considered you, eased back against his pillow.
“Well,” he murmured, “if you’re so curious…” He pulled the covers back.
Your throat thickened with lust. In the light of day, his cock was even more impressive than the one in your memory. Thick, even girth, a slight curve all the way to its pink head, long enough for you to sob when he bottomed out inside you. Tiny veins pulsed underneath the skin—you wanted to trace them with your fingers, your tongue. Wanted to feel it throb like it had in your palm. Like it had when he’d emptied himself between your thighs.
At some point, your jaw had dropped open. Drool was seeping from the corner of your mouth. William said your name, which you intended to respond to, except you kept thinking about how his seed had tasted and how you wanted more.
Then two of his fingers trailed from the base up the underside of his shaft, making it twitch. You choked, drew in a trembling breath, and finally managed to look him in the eyes.
“Uh,” was the only sound you could make. You wiped your chin free of saliva.
His lip curled in amusement. “Do you want a turn?”
You didn’t know what to say. His fingers slid back down in a slow tease, and he seethed, his stomach tightening with pleasure. Desire shook you, and you squirmed, putting pressure on your clit with your thighs. As he dragged a finger around the root, earning another needy throb from his cock, you shook your head.
Right now, you were fully content to watch and learn.
Encircling the base with his thumb and forefinger, he dragged back up, pushing skin to the tip, then coasted over that sensitive little place where the head met the shaft. He inhaled, his jaw stiffening, then looked at you, studied all the flesh you’d left exposed to the sun. Eyes focused on your breasts, he gripped his cock and led it through a long, firm stroke.
You swallowed again. Your cunt clenched, your clit ached—you shifted your hips, squeezed your thighs, trying in vain to relieve the tension between them. But as he stroked himself again, and again, each movement releasing a quiet breath of relief, your efforts became futile. You needed to touch yourself, too.
William’s attention remained on your breasts until you revealed all of yourself from the sheets, settling onto your pillow and easing your legs apart. The pain from your core was humbling—even as it tightened around nothing, it made you wince—but your clit clamored despite it. Watching as he guided his cock leisurely through his fist, you snuck your hand over your stomach and to the crux of your thighs.
He exhaled, smirking. “You’re eager.”
Your first finger skimmed over the throbbing hill between your folds, and you huffed, shocks of delight darting to your toes. “I…” Speaking like this—naked and unabashed and gazing at one another—felt dirty. Filthy. Made your face burn.
You loved it.
“Perhaps I am,” you admitted, and drew a languid circle around your clit. “Oh…”
His throat bobbed, and his jaw shifted. “I would think better of your innocence had I not been the one to make you bleed.”
“I said I was a virgin,” you replied coyly. “Not innocent.”
“Mhm.” William’s smirk grew wider, and he pinched a drop of fluid from the head of his cock, slicking it around the head and pumping it along his shaft. His eyes fluttered, his breath faltered. “Perhaps we’ll have to explore that more thoroughly.”
Excitement lit your spine, and you gasped, nodding. The thought of it—finding yourself in his bed over and over, of being the object of his desire and the subject of experimentation, of becoming familiar with William—broke a smile across your face. You swirled around your clit, mouth parting with an ecstatic moan.
“Yes,” he said. “You’d like that.” He rolled his wrist, teased himself by sliding his fingers up the underside before thrusting into his fist again. “You’d like to be my very own whore.”
“Hell,” you gasped, the thrill of it ratcheting the tension between your thighs. “I would.” Your finger moved faster, you imagined him finding you in the hospital tent and bending you over one of the tables; imagined the groans grazing your ear while you climbed astride him in his bed; imagined staring into the stars as he fucked you in the field. “A-anywhere you wanted.”
William huffed, his thighs tensing, his cheeks and chest flush. His lust-laced gaze hung on your cunt, his breath picking up. “For anything I wanted,” he muttered. He gripped his cock tighter, his hips bucking now, seeking more and more of his fist. “Hm?”
Anything he wanted could be anything, and if you were of sober mind, you may have hesitated at that. But watching the most beautiful man you’d ever seen stroke his cock to the thought of you; watching the blue in his eyes grow a hunger and depth like the sea as he stared at your cunt, your breasts; watching his cock twitch and pulse with the intensifying need to come… well, the less terrifying that seemed.
In fact, anything sounded like a contract. One to which, in your current state, you’d happily sign your life.
If this was how he would tame you—oh, how desperately did you want to be tamed.
“Perhaps,” you said through your shallow breath, a grin sneaking onto your face. “If you believe you can compel me."
His lip curled in a sneer. “You will come to heel when called,” he said, and his free hand reached to snag your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you close. “After all,” he breathed into your ear, “we both know you cannot resist coming for me.”
Before you could whimper in assent, he captured your mouth with his own.
William—how strange and awful and exhilarating to call him that each time—consumed you, kissed you as if your lips alone could bring him deliverance. You whined, returning his ardor, desire surging you in gooseflesh. Your fingers moved faster, flicked and played at your stiff clit, and you moaned into him, your orgasm burgeoning at your thighs.
You didn’t want to break. Not yet.
Gasping, you released yourself and grasped his cock at the base. William stifled a groan, stuffing it down into his chest and ceding control. You squealed, elated, mimicking his movements until you felt his fingers tighten in your hair and his teeth clamp onto your lower lip.
“Christ,” he muttered, and groped between your legs until he found your heat. “Determined, aren’t you?”
With a nod, you caught his mouth again and slipped your tongue into it, humming in bliss when he caressed your swollen, tender clit. You were so wound, so taut with need already that the friction of his rougher, thicker fingers made you spasm to your shoulders. More fluid leaked from the head of his cock, and you glazed his shaft with it, relishing the way he pulsed in your fist.
A finger moved toward your entrance, making you cry out, a stab of pain locking your joints. If this concerned him, though, you couldn’t tell—he stuffed that single finger inside of your core and growled as you constricted around him.
“That’s it.” His thumb rolled over your clit, sketching fast rings around it. “Do you feel how tightly you grip me when you’re near to breaking?” he said, his breath husky with pleasure, his voice low. “I’d apologize for the pain…” His finger stroked a spot inside of you that made you twist with ecstasy and agony at once. “... but you do so enjoy it.”
Your head fell back as you convulsed with desperate breath. Like a sudden, furious tide, your climax loomed upon you. Your muscles froze. And with a brush of your tender clit, the encouragement of his finger, it crashed into you.
He kissed you as you came, swallowing your wails as his hand followed your jerking body. It came in angry, exhausted swells, as if your nerves were flayed open, and you melted into its dissipation, nipping at his lips before control returned to your limbs.
It was perhaps a miracle of his own that he hadn’t yet covered your hand in his seed. Thank the sweet Lord who you hoped was not looking down upon you at just this moment, though. There was still so much you were curious about. And you were, after all, nothing if not one who learned best by being hands-on.
Or, as appealed to you in particular this morning, mouth-on.
William’s tongue darted across your lower lip one final time before he drew away, easing from the quivering depths of your cunt. He brought his hand up between you, letting the morning light play across the slick sheen of your pleasure coating his finger. In a rush of pure instinct and before you could think too hard about it, you leaned forward and enveloped it with your lips.
He made a soft noise deep in his throat, and when you tentatively suckled at the pad of his finger, his hips flexed into your slackened grip. The taste of your own undoing zipped like lightning across your raw senses, grounded by the earth and salt of his skin. It exhilarated you. You needed more of him.
Flicking your gaze to his from beneath your lashes, you drew his finger in further and dragged your tongue to the tip, this time mirroring the act with a slow stroke of your hand up his shaft. Just as he had done, you lingered at the little valley below the head, teased it with the barest touch.
William seethed, crooked his finger behind your teeth and tugged your jaw open. His eyes stormed with something primal, dancing between your open mouth and the needy cock twitching at your palm.
“One might think you long for your lips to be wrapped around something else,” he growled.
Face hot, you nodded. Even without him prying your mouth apart, you’d hesitate to say it.
He tutted. “Judiciousness doesn’t suit you in this instance.” He released you, and you coughed. “Speak, girl. Tell me exactly what you want.”
You glanced at the shiny head in your hand, his desire dripping from the tip. You’d read enough, overheard enough married women giggling behind their palms to know exactly what you wanted to do, you just hadn’t imagined yourself actually ever wanting a man enough to do it. To your embarrassment, your mouth watered as you envisioned yourself settling between his legs and—yes, dear sweet innocent and hopefully oblivious Christ, yes. That was what you wanted.
“I…” You swallowed, and met his stare. “I want…” You could envision it, and yet the words felt trapped beneath the anvil of your tongue, your cheeks stoked to furnace-heat.
William frowned. “A shame,” he said with affected disappointment. “And your mouth was functioning so adeptly just moments ago.”
“I want,” you spat, fueled by his imperiousness, “... to…” Fire blazed in your face, but you wouldn’t let it stop you now. With a huff, you forced your lips to form the words. “I want to use my mouth.” You circled your thumb slowly over the swollen head of him. “Here.”
His hips bucked. A muscle fluttered in his jaw. His gaze flashed, the fever behind them melting the last links on his restraint.
“Now,” he said, “was that so difficult?”
You rolled your eyes, forgetting yourself. “You're impossible.”
A smirk—like he'd been waiting for you to show just a shred of snark—split his face. “Actually,” he purred, his hand slinking behind your head to nest itself in your hair, “I find myself rather amenable to your request.”
His nails scraped your scalp, and he forced your face toward his cock.
All you could do was loosen your jaw, eyes wide as you took him in your mouth for the first time. Whimpering, your tongue pressed to his shaft, your lips sealing around it, saliva pouring from your cheeks. He was hot, like he’d been kissed by the sun, his taste a mixture of his skin and the brine of his seed. It made you groan, made your vision fuzz with lust.
William held you there, his breath trapped in his chest. But there was no way you were rushing this. You shifted, dragged your fingers over his thighs, making sure you had his attention before sucking softly on the head.
Instantly, his body tensed, a grunt escaping, the grip on your hair tightening. The reaction made you cunt revive itself from stupor—you did it again, and again, holding his stare, humming against him, as if his cock was a delicacy you were delighted to devour.
As he hissed, groaned in bliss, his chest rolling with quickening breath, you thought perhaps there could be an argument made in favor of that thought.
You slid your tongue up and down the tender dip at the head of his cock, suckling at him like he needed savoring. He twitched against your tongue, and you moaned, spurred on, taking him another inch into your mouth.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “More.”
Swallowing against him, you took the barest advance, now aware he wanted to use your mouth just like he used your cunt. But you coughed, halted by reflex, and you eased back, returning to sucking at the head.
His jaw stiff, William gripped your head, pushed you further onto his cock until the tip hit the back of your throat. You choked, gagging spit down his shaft as you lurched away, but he held you there, excitement alive in his gaze as he watched you writhe, watched tears build in your eyes.
“More.”
Lip furling, he snapped his hips into your mouth, and you heaved, helpless against him, groaning pathetically until he finally released you. You wrenched free, spit stringing from your lips as you retched, coughing away the urge to eject the contents of your stomach.
“I thought you wanted to use your mouth.”
Eyes watering, you cleaned your face with the back of your hand. “I did,” you managed to say.
He was unmoved. “Then I suggest you continue.”
You coughed again, glaring at him as he coldly returned your gaze. Taking a breath, you lowered yourself to his cock again, slicking him with your lips. Watching him, you started to bob your head, ignoring each time you wanted to gag, until finally, the instinct subsided. Instead, you whimpered in gratification, saliva soaking his shaft as you stared at him.
You couldn’t imagine what you looked like: naked, your lips wrapped around his cock, your head bouncing like a buoy as you sought to drain him dry. But you didn’t begrudge that, didn’t recoil as you thought you might have every other time you’d heard of women doing this. Instead, you ached for his approval, your heart raced at the thought that he could actually come off in your mouth.
Even suggesting it to yourself made you whine, made your eyelids flutter. You held him in your focus, the heat between your legs burning bright as his breath became rapid, as his jaw began to slacken. You shifted, your hands suddenly so limp, so empty; you curled one around the root of his cock, pumping it in time with your mouth, pulse skipping when he gasped in bliss.
William ran his fingers through your hair again, his head almost falling back. From the pink in his cheeks, his panting in uneven rhythm, you knew he was getting close—he grew harder, more swollen in your mouth, and you squeezed him tighter, swallowing him over and over.
“Yes,” he groaned, “that’s right.” His eyes were slivers of sky, barely able to focus. “So much—so much prettier like this.”
You whimpered, something like joy flooding you, and he grunted, his head falling back, his fist twisting in your hair. His muscles hardened beneath you, his cock throbbed. You held your mouth on him, moaning onto him as he came.
His seed spilled from his cock in warm spurts, filling your mouth and smothering your tongue. It was just how you remembered: the unmistakable essence of him. You swallowed it all, kept your tongue to his shaft and felt it pulse with each release, entranced by the way his brows pinched together, the way his teeth grit out his bliss. His hips rolled with his climax, and you worked his cock gently until he stuttered to a stop, collapsing into heavy, labored breath.
As you eased off of him, you realized you were trembling, your thighs were warm, your belly tight. You swallowed again, falling onto your side, watching as William meandered his way back to reality, his gaze falling on you from under hooded lids. He looked to the ceiling, exhaling through his nose before glancing at you again and wiping the ring of sweat that had begun to bead on his forehead.
“Passable performance,” he said, taking another breath before pushing himself upright and moving to leave the mattress.
“Such eminent praise,” you mumbled, yet unable to stop yourself from grinning.
As you watched him rise from the bed, you rolled onto your back, not content to miss a moment of his body in the daylight. The sun rose over his skin and shimmered where you'd scratched him, where you'd sunk your teeth into him. Between that and the pleasant aches where he'd choked you, bitten you, rended you, you were satisfied that even if you never did this again, the both of you would remember it for some time to come.
Would you do this again? He had said as much, but that was in the throes of passion. You weren't sure how reliable those words were.
"So..." You sat up straighter, eyes following him as he pulled on his stockings. "Did you..."
How did one ask the question? When shall you take me next, William? Shall we meet each morning so you may feed me your seed? Ah, excuse me, but I must needs inquire when I can expect to come off around your cock again.
No, none of those felt right.
"Did I..." William looked at you, brow raised. "Did you have a question, or were you inquiring if I, at one time, sewed?"
"What?" You blinked, shook your head. "No, I—why would I ever care if you sewed?"
He shrugged, eyeing you with a smirk as he stepped into his trousers. "Absurdity has never precluded your inquiries in the past."
You frowned. "Don't be an arse." Shifting on the bed, your attention drifted to the window. "I was pondering if you... If we..." To run outside nude and fall face-first into a pond would feel less humiliating than this. William seemed to know it, too, since he was waiting far too smugly for you to speak. You glared at him and glanced at the ceiling. "Were you sincere?" you asked. "When you implied we should do this again."
"Ah," he replied dryly, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, "that makes far more sense than an interest in my experience with textiles." Before you could roll your eyes, he started to throw on his shirt. "I see no reason to complicate the situation."
"Ah," you said. That answered exactly zero percent of what you'd asked. "Which means..."
He glanced at you. "Of course.”
You were only a bit surprised when your shoulders unbunched at his response. Of course. You were two adults who enjoyed some level of sexual association. Of course you would do this again.
And, of course, the next question on your mind: when?
If you’d been smart, you would’ve stuck with Lottie and gotten on the carriage to the Goddard home in Charleston (you hoped she wasn’t too worried about you). But now, you weren’t even sure what the rest of the day was going to look like for you, let alone what William’s plans were. Would he return to the field? Would the expectation be that you and Lottie would return with him?
Was it proper to wonder about any of this, or to even ask?
There was still some part of him, you knew, that didn’t trust you, and rightfully so. Because beyond even your worry for the next minute, the next hour, you worried for Grace.
If the bear’s den was indeed Catawba—which you were sure it was—that meant that Papa and the rest of his soldiers were headed in that direction, and that could mean any number of things. The most reassuring thought was that it meant nothing. But given your last conversation with him, how casually he tossed out Grace’s name as a proxy for your correspondence, you were far more convinced it meant something you would very much not like.
Perhaps your father would be disappointed that you hadn’t managed to get any useful information from the British in the meantime, and you certainly wouldn’t if you headed home, but that had long lost its importance to you. His insistence you collect intelligence was his delusion, not yours, and you were clearly incapable of doing it anyway, since your most daring attempt to do anything surreptitious ended with you bleeding and coming on a British officer’s cock.
Your relief for Papa’s well-being was still palpable. But the insinuation that he might bring violence even within a mile of your home made your palms sweat. Plus, there was now the issue of Patrick Ferguson, who appeared genuinely enamored with Grace, and whose proximity to her had the capacity to place her in even greater danger.
More than putting your mouth on William Tavington’s body again, or having a part of his body inside yours, you needed to get to Catawba.
You continued to lie on the bed, watching as William crossed to the bedside table and grabbed the black ribbon he’d unwound from his queue the previous night. Sitting on the bed, he ran his fingers through his hair before separating it into strands.
He felt your eyes on him, obviously, as he turned, brow raised.
"Something the matter?” he asked, voice laden with sarcasm.
“No,” you replied, averting your gaze. But that didn’t feel satisfactory. You realized you wanted to say more. And it wasn’t even for duplicity’s sake. “How well do you know Major Ferguson?”
His brow lowered in irritation. “Only the Lord could grant me insight as to why you’d inquire about that name.” He placed the end of the ribbon at the base of his scalp and started to plait it into his hair.
“I’m just curious about his character.”
“What do you mean, curious?” His gaze flicked over your frame.
You sighed. If Ferguson was already asking to write her, then there was no secret to his affection. “He’s…” The thought alone made you shudder with disgust. “He wants to write my sister,” you said. “He seems quite taken with her.”
William snorted, continuing to wind the ribbon through his braid. “If her familial association hadn't brought me to pity her before, I certainly do now.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Or perhaps I pity him,” he mused, “if she is as mendacious as her sister.”
You frowned. “You know nothing about her,” you said, your voice low, “so I suggest you stop speaking as if you do.” When he didn't reply, you added, “Besides, he deserves no pity. He’s awful.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say awful,” William replied, with the clear indication that he was indeed saying Ferguson was awful. After tying off the end of the plait, he started to wrap the ribbon around the tips. “Perhaps she maintains a predilection for chimerical, self-serving, aspiring martyrs.” He paused, as if his next words held deep meaning. “May remind her of her father.”
A growl rumbled in your chest. “I don't know if you think you're being amusing,” you said, “but I am not amused.”
“Amusing?” he said, glimpsing you with disdain. He tucked the ends of the ribbon into the queue. “No. Merely stating my observations.”
“There's nothing for you to observe.” You gathered the sheets to cover yourself. “So don't sit there and pretend as if you have insight on my family that you could never claim to have.”
“Far better than your willful ignorance, I'd say.”
About one thousand swords leapt to your tongue, and you imagined yourself wielding all of them at once. One in particular unsheathed itself, ready to plunge—you being undeserving of your parents' love doesn't deem all families devoid of it—
Glaring at him, you opened your mouth. Met his eyes. Remembered what he'd said last night. How he'd said it.
Why apologize for speaking truth?
William spoke his own truth at this moment. He had never, and likely would never know love as you had known it. And for that, your fury collapsed into something with far fewer teeth. You shook your head, chuckling to yourself.
“Something entertaining?”
“No,” you said dismissively. “It’s… I pity you, I suppose.”
His jaw tightened, his shoulders locked. “I don’t deign to presume what a choleric bog woman finds pitiable about me.”
“There is nothing more important to me in this world than my family,” you replied. “Without them, my life would be rather empty.” You glanced at him. “I imagine your life must feel quite the same way.”
“Your imagination deceives you,” he said. “You fail to consider that, perhaps, you'd be at liberty to define your life free from their influence.”
You raised a brow. “As if all influence is uniformly negative.”
“No,” he said, a thin, sardonic smile on his lips, “and clearly the influence you’ve received has molded a most modest, affable, and submissive young lady.”
“And your lack thereof has provided all the favors for your manners and mercy,” you snapped, sitting forward.
William’s mouth quirked, as if you’d proven his point. You glared at him, your hands curling in and out of fists. You were, for some reason, irritated that you'd lashed at him. A part of you had been sincerely perplexed by his perspective, but you’d somehow managed to steer him into bickering with you again. It seemed that every vine of curiosity you extended also had to be tempered with rows of thorns.
Regardless, there was no point in trying to salvage the conversation now as long as he was going to use it as a way to goad you into an argument. You were beginning to suspect he gleaned some demented little thrill from it.
Then again, you may not have been innocent of such an accusation, either.
Grumbling, you relaxed against the headboard. Released your rage in a long exhale.
“I’m going to Catawba.”
For all of the spite in his tone, his brows furrowed in a flash of disappointment. He looked utterly sour. “You what?”
“Not for long.” You shrugged, crossing your arms. Even if you hadn’t already been looking forward to having sex with him again, having knowledge of British movements still gave you the greatest opportunity to keep your family safe. “My sister is there. I haven't seen her in months. I'm worried for her.” Pursing your lips, you sought his gaze. “I want to see her.”
William stood, plucked his waistcoat from the floor. “Allow me to think on it,” he said. “Given your recent—and poor—attempts at subterfuge and a history of collaboration with the Continental army…” He leveled you with his stare. “No.”
“What?” You sat forward, leering. “Surely you don’t believe you can mete out your own form of punishment,” you replied. “I don’t need your permission. My parole has been cleared since before I started serving in the field hospital.”
“Precisely my point,” he said, finishing the buttons on his waistcoat. “You serve the British Army, my cavalry, and, therefore, myself. We depart tomorrow for Fort Carolina. I expect you to be part of the marching order.”
You felt your hackles raise. “Well, firstly, I’m not a soldier,” you said through gritted teeth. “Secondly, I’m asking for a few days. Send me with an escort if you think it’s necessary.” He glanced at you, brow raised. “I just want to see my sister.”
William grabbed his jacket and slipped his arms into it, silent as he adjusted his boots and then glanced at himself in one of the mirrors on the wall, running his hand over the wisps of hair that hadn’t been integrated into the queue. With a sigh, he turned toward a leather satchel that had been placed next to the bedside table and started to rummage through it.
“Major Ferguson is slated to head in that direction from Charleston, I believe,” he said, as if it was the most incredible burden for him to admit it. “You may join his caravan, if you so wish.”
“Ferguson?” You frowned, and he met your gaze with the barest but still infuriating sparkle of glee. It made you want to tackle him to the ground and bite his throat. “You are punishing me. This is punishment.”
He stood, a tin of pomade in his hand. “No,” he said, smirking. “This is serendipity.”
You huffed, knocking your head against the headboard to demonstrate your displeasure. You supposed you couldn’t disagree with that. “Yes,” you admitted. “Fine.”
“You know…” He slicked the pomade over his hair before pocketing it. “You’re far more appealing when you decide to agree with me.”
You rolled your eyes. “I truly, genuinely, positively loathe you.”
“Mm, a mutual agreement then.” William stepped forward and pressed his mouth to yours, biting your lip before pulling away. “I’ll inform the major.”
Just the tease of his attention was enough to revive the warmth in your belly. You screwed your expression into a frown, cocked your head. “What, shall I go like this?” You gestured toward the sheet half-covering your body. “Depart with unlaced stays and a ball gown?”
“Carriages have been arranged for officers and their company,” he said, almost as if he was irritated by the question. “They’re set to leave for Charleston before noon.” He grabbed his satchel and holstered his flintlock. “Ferguson will gather you there tomorrow.”
You studied him for a moment, then nodded. “And where are you going?”
“Meddlesome creature, aren’t you?”
Heat rushed your neck. “No,” you insisted, “I want to know if I need to be leaving this room or if you’re coming back here.”
William stared at you a moment, lingering on your mussed hair, your purpled flesh. “You’ll want to depart soon,” he said, and turned toward the door. “Though it’s not a quality you possess, I expect you to try to be discreet.”
“Oh, yes,” you replied. “So simple when you’ve had the same effect on my torso as a volley of roundshot.”
Sneering, he opened the door and disappeared behind it. The sound of boots marched down the stairs, becoming distant as he met the first floor.
You gazed at the room, taking inventory of your stockings, your shoes, your petticoats and bodice. Your broken stays.
A small, not-insignificant part of you felt almost—to your utter horror—disappointed that he was gone. You glanced between your legs and silently cursed what lived there. Perhaps a break was for the best.
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nodanova18 · 3 months ago
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I can't send this as an anon in your black clover next generation blog so I'm sending it here if you don't mind, can you give us a list of all the next gen ocs and their parents? I love your designs btw!!!
Hello! Don’t worry I don’t mind! It’s quite a long list so bear with me.
Black Clover Next Generation(Nodanova’s AU)List of Parents/Kids
Going in order of captains, black bulls, and others + other kingdoms
Clover Kingdom
• Yami Sukehiro/Nacht Faust
Yami Kaya (Light Magic, 23 yrs)
Yami Kaeda (Dark Magic, 23 yrs)
• Charlotte Roselei/Vanessa Enoteca
Dimitri Enoteca-Roselei (Briar Magic, 20 yrs)
Chloé Enoteca-Roselei (Thread Magic, 15 yrs)
• Jack The Ripper/Nozel Silva
Adrius Silva (Steel Magic, 25 yrs)
Acier Silva II (Slash Magic, 20 yrs)
Argent Silva (Lead Magic, 19 yrs)
Adeline Silva (Mercury Magic, 15 yrs)
• Fuegoleon Vermillion/Bridget Oriel || The Salamander (@t-f-t’s interpretation of the fire spirit)
Felicity Vermillion (Catalyst Magic, 23 yrs)
Calix Vermillion (Wind Magic, 20 yrs)
Titaia (???, ???)(not my oc, but she’s canon to my au)
• Mereoleona Vermillion/Dorothy Unsworth
Reina Unsworth-Vermillion (Magma Magic, 24 yrs)
Alistair Unsworth-Vermillion (Nightmare Magic, 20 yrs)
• Rill Boismortier/Charmy Pappitson
Louis Boismortier (Paint & Cotton Magic, 19 yrs
Riley Boismortier (Food & Cotton Magic, 4 yrs)
• William Vangeance/Patri
Willow Vangeance (World Tree Magic, 17 yrs)
Second Unnamed Child (Light Magic, 10 yrs)
• Asta/Yuno Grinberryall
Licita Grinberryall (Sun Magic, 19 yrs)
Elias Grinberryall (Wind Magic, 17 yrs)
Lune Grinberryall (Moon Magic, 15 yrs)
• Noelle Silva/Kiato
Kaiyo Silva (Water Magic, 19 yrs)
Delphine Silva (Water Magic, 15 yrs)
Third Unnamed Child (Performance Magic, 13 yrs)
• Gauche Adlai/Grey
Ella Adlai (Mirror Magic, 18 yrs)
Malachi Adlai (Transmutation Magic, 17 yrs)
Luca Adlai (Transmutation Magic, 6 yrs)
• Magna Swing/Luck Voltia
Seihi R. Swing (Lightning Magic, 19 yrs)
Faith Swing (Fire Magic, 16 yrs)
• Zora Ideale/Kirsch Vermillion
Erik Ideale (Ash Magic, 20 yrs)
Zoe Ideale (Cherry Blossom Magic, 17 yrs)
• Zora ldeale/Nebra Silva
Liana Silva (Steel Magic, 15 yrs)
• Finral Roulacase/Finesse Calmreich
Fiore Roulacase (Spatial Magic, 18 yrs)
Laurence Roulacase (adopted, 10 yrs)
• Gordon Agrippa/Henry Legolant
Harriet Agrippa (Poison Magic, 21 yrs)
Leslie Agrippa (Poison Magic, 21 yrs)
Ethan Agrippa (Poison Magic, 15 yrs)
• Liebe/Ladae Silva(oc)
Loelia Silva (Steel Magic, 18 yrs)
Lizbeth Silva (no magic attribute, but can use mana, 15 yrs)
• Leopold Vermillion/Neige
Theodore Vermillion (Fire Magic, 16 yrs)
Nieve Vermillion (Snow Magic, 14 yrs)
• Mimosa Vermillion/Langris Vaude
Sherry Vermillion (Plant Magic, 19 yrs)
Gin Vermillion (Spatial Magic, 15 yrs)
• Solid Silva/(oc)
Flavius Silva (Water Magic, 18 yrs)
• Sol Marron /Fragil Tormenta
Fiera Tormenta (Snow Magic, 19 yrs)
Vicente Tormenta (Earth Magic, 16 yrs)
• Kahono/Mura(oc)
Merodi (Song Magic, 15 yrs)
• Sally/Millie Maxwell
Molly Maxwell (Gel Magic, 20 yrs)
Diana Maxwell (Alchemy Magic, 19 yrs)
Sullivan Maxwell (Alchemy Magic, 17 yrs)
Diamond Kingdom
• Mars/Fana
Jupiter Ezra Diamond (Crystal Magic, 21 yrs)
Phoenix Ezra Diamond (Fire Magic, 16 yrs)
• Fanzell Kruger/Dominante Code
Alexis Kruger (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)
Ari Kruger (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)
Alec Kruger (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)
Heart Kingdom
• Lolopechka/Gadjah
Princess Menodora (Lightning/Blood Magic(artificial), 21 yrs)
• The Spirit Guardians Children:
Floga: Pyrrhus (Fire Magic, 20 yrs)
Sarado: Acker (Earth Magic, 22 yrs)
Smurik: Saru (Wind Magic, 24 yrs)
Potrof: Meadow (Plant Magic, 23 yrs)
• Bow Nocde/Dazu Tayak
Dhara Nocde (Catalyst Magic, 21 yrs)
The Zogratis Legacy
These children were created by the magic of Morris Libardirt, Lucius Zogratis, and The Dark Triad
• Lucius Zogratis/Morris Libardirt
Micah Zogratis (Modification/Knowledge Magic(artificial), 25 yrs)
• Dante Zogratis/Vanessa Enoteca
Seraphina Zogratis (Body Magic, 25 yrs)
• Vanica Zogratis/Acier Silva
Vivienne Zogratis (Plasma Magic, 25 yrs)
• Zenon Zogratis/Allen Fiarain
Aiden Zogratis (Fire Magic, 25 yrs)
Hino Country
• Yami Ichika/Imari Komari/Kezoukaku Ginnojomoriren
Yami Himawari
Yami Chisana
Yami Ginnojomoriren
And these are my most relevant and/or favorite next generation kids! If you’re still reading, thank you! If there are any more questions, feel free to ask!
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gcldforged · 1 year ago
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        ❝  plus  we're  technically  outside  now.  masks  are for the ball in the ballroom. ❞   he managed a smile that he hoped masked some of the tiredness he felt lingering in his muscles. hours in the hospital could pass without him wavering at all yet at these events wore on him far faster. all the more evident in how quickly his gaze sharpened as she leaned against the railing.   ❝ traveling can be draining, ❞   he answered without missing a beat.   ❝ all the more reason you should sit. rest a few minutes. let me get the water. ❞
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"  so  i'm  not  the  only  one  ?  that's  good  .  "  internally  ,  she  winces  at  the  blatant  non-joke  ,  even  as  she  tries  to  pawn  it  off  as  one  .  but  ,  more  content  to  fade  into  the  background  whenever  possible  ,  it's  good  to  hear  she  isn't  the  only  one  shirking  the  rules  (  temporarily  ,  in  her  case  )  .  she  shakes  her  head  at  the  question  ,  free  hand  gripping  tighter  to  the  railing  as  she  leans  back  .  "  i  …  i  can  go  get  it  .  i'm  just  …  tired  .  i  haven't  traveled  this  much  in  a  while  .  "  she  insists  , though as the words come out of her mouth she knows they're not convincing .
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gcldforged · 1 year ago
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closed starter ›› @moltengcld who: william & alexandra.
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        he  was  fiddling  with  his  tie,  wandering thoughts making it take longer than normal. his busy schedule hadn't granted him much free time, which meant he hadn't seen her in person. nervous wasn't the right word, rather excited. while he'd tried keeping in steady contact, texts and calls weren't the same as having her there after he finished a surgery or when he was off call. will paused when there was a knock at the door. his surprise was followed by a smile when she walked in.   ❝ you look beautiful, andra, ❞   he greeted
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lookatallthembooks · 10 days ago
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2024 Reading Wrap
I read 41 books in total in 2024 which wasone above my goal! They were all fantastic.
(Disclaimer: I'm aware that some authors on my list are problematic with their views. I became aware AFTER reading them or I was aware and bought them at a very discounted price to minimise any funds that go to them. Reading IS and always has been political).
What i read:
Geek Love by Katherine Dunn
The Changeling by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley
Poor Things by Alasdair Gray
Crazy to Leave You by Marilyn Simon Rothstein
The Backbone of the World by Stephen Graham Jones
Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros
Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield
Welcome to Our Hillbrow by Phaswane Mpe
Well by Lisa Kron
In the Dreamhouse by Carmen Maria Machado
Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan
A Good Girl's Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson (reread)
In Between Two Worlds by Steven Cranston
Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros
Upgrade by Blake Crouch
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
Tangerine by Christine Mangan
The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks
These Infinite Threads by Tahereh Mafi
The Cruel Prince by Holly Black
The Wicked King by Holly Black
The Queen of Nothing by Holly Black
All This Twosted Glory by Tahereh Mafi
Part of Your World by Abbey Jimenez
Twilight by Stephanie Meyer (reread)
The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien
Caraval by Stephanie Garber
Legendary by Stephanie Garber
Finale by Steohanie Garber
The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allen Poe (short story)
What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher
Weyward by Emilia Hart
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
The Ghost Woods by C.J Cooke
Nightwood by Djuna Barnes
Brainwyrms by Alison Rumfitt
Ness by Robert Macfarlane and Stanley Donwood
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
The Inmate by Frieda McFadden
Spectacular by Stephanie Garber
The Christmas Tree Farm by Laurie Gilmore
I thoroughly enjoyed each of these books (because I will DNF if I'm not enjoying it ngl) and rated quite a few of them five stars. However, I do have my favourites:
5th : Well by Lisa Kron
This is a 'well' thought out play that had me inteuiged from the start. It reflects on illness through a neighbourhood of people and different characters, specifically character Lisa's mother. It's funny and reflective and a big recommendation! What i really loved about this is the creativity of it. Creating this through the form a play creates an interesting idea on a stage, rather than on a page! I also just had a lot of fun reading it.
4th: The whole Caraval series by Stephanie Garber
A young adult series that follows two sisters who decide to join the game of Caraval. It's a young adult series so a nice, simple read. It's perfect for resting your brain and escaping from reality for a little while, which is exactly why I loved it. The characters were fun and it was filled with magic, something I need after a hard semester. Not only this, but also how fast paced each book was! It was such a fun and easy going read!
3rd: Poor Things by Alasdair Grey
I love this book so much and genuinely think the film did not do it justice! Please, if you can, READ THIS BOOK. Based in Glasgow, McCandless befriends scientist Godwin Baxter, who saves a woman's life after she jumped from a bridge. What i really loved in this book is the medical/scientific illustrations, which usually reflect on something in the chapter. I also loved the reversal of gender roles and how the book raises the question 'where does a story really begin?' Also the ending was a masterpiece (and completely different from the film. BETTER than the film) (I'm not hating on the film, it's a great movie, but a horrible adaptation).
2nd: In the Dreamhouse by Carmen Maria Machado
A real life story from Machado's life. Her experience of abuse in a lesbian relationship and her reflections. What makes this book great is the structure- she writes in second person narrative whilst writing about the abuse, and first person when talking about herself BEFORE the abuse. This was such an incredible read, yet not very enjoyable due to the themes. Her formatting is genius and puts us in the situation. Literally. She uses a 'choose your own adventure story' as a chapter to make the reader experience everything with her. Her use of chapters in general is fascinating and is why this book is 2nd on my top 5 list. Specifically the 1 page chapter 'dreamhouse as epiphany'. Such a hard hitting page that really makes you reflect and close the book for a few minutes. I could talk about this book all day.
In the Dreamhouse was fighting for top spot but my heart just really feels that there was a series above all else. I was hyperfixated for months (and still am) and wouldn't stop yapping about it. It's plot twists had my jaw hanging. The characters had me laughing and sometimes panicking for them.
My top book (series) of 2024 was The Cruel Prince/Folk of the Aire series!
These books have such a chokehold on me. The end of part 1 in the 1st book had me gasping. My eyes were traveling back and forth across the page so fast and I really couldn't put the book down. I had to force myself to stop after The Queen of Nothing, rather than going onto The Stolen Heir, to try calm my obsession down a little. The politics in this book are incredible and well thought out. The drama was so well written and Black really was good at the twists and turns of the book. I never expected half the things to happen!
Also, Jude may be my most favourite character i have ever read. She's so cool and clever. Kinda crazy too but that's why she's such an interesting character. Cardan's character development is amazing too and his back story made me feel so genuinely sorry for him. All the other characters are so good and well written too. Theyre so diverse in personality. Just overall, this series was a big wow and I am still obsessed.
So that was 2024! I'm not setting myself a book goal this year, even though I found my 40 quite easy. It's unecessary pressure on myself! I have a busy year ahead, but so many books to read, so I'm just going with the flow. I can't wait to read more new books as I have fantastic ones up on my shelves waiting for me to pick them.
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Paramore Wipe Social Media Accounts Clean + Delete Website + Fans Have No Idea What’s Going On
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Paramore have wiped their Instagram and X (formerly Twitter) accounts clean, updated with a blank profile picture. The band's website no longer exists either and fans are confused.
The timing of this latest scrubbing, however, is especially curious as Paramore recently expressed that they're not sure what the future holds for the band or if there even is one.
The Changes to Paramore's Social Media Accounts + Website
Every single post on Paramore's Instagram and X accounts have been deleted and the profile pictures have been changed, showing a stick figure head and torso against a grey background.
Paramore's profile picture on Facebook has been changed to the same image, however their pre-existing posts are all still there, the latest coming on Dec. 17, wishing guitarist Taylor York a happy birthday.
Regarding Paramore's website — paramore.net — that landing page now reads "404 Not Found. The requested URL was not found on this server."
Fans Have No Idea What's Going On
Fans have flocked to the r/Paramore Reddit thread to discuss these latest activities, pondering the significance of these moves in relation to those recent comments about a murky future.
Some claim (as of four hours prior to this post being published) that they were still able to access the website, while others were greeted with a message that read, "Future home of something quite cool."
One fan posits, "I think they're making big 'left the label' moves," while another wondered if Paramore's previous label — Atlantic Records — had managed the social media and webpages and that this is a transitional period for the accounts and site.
Elsewhere, fans urge everyone to remain calm and don't panic, opting to wait this out to see a new announcement will be coming soon.
The new profile picture on Facebook has generated over 11,000 comments with a mixed bag of reactions. There's comments using Paramore lyrics in an ultra dramatic fashion, ones with optimistic outlooks and some that are all doom and gloom.
The Recent Uncertainty of Paramore's Future
On Dec. 14, Paramore posted a quote from their interview with UPROXX in a candid assessment about what's next for the veteran group.
Paramore's Instagram story contained the following note, which is an excerpt from the feature (not a direct quote from the band):
Now that Paramore has spent the year touring behind This Is Why (and making sure to take better care of themselves while they’re at it), a chapter of the band’s career has come to a close. They’ve now fulfilled all label obligations and are effectively free agents. As for the future of Paramore, all three members agreed that there’s a level of uncertainty.
"The only thing that matters is we will still get to be each other's community,'" says Williams, while drummer Zac Farro adds, "I just hope we can keep building the Paramore empire and then rule the world."
Elsewhere in the interview, Williams laments the state of social media and how difficult it is to casually joke around and engage with fans without some small anecdote being blown up into something much larger and/or deceitful. Ensuring private and professional barriers are kept intact is often challenging.
The singer does, however, see how beneficial TikTok can be, especially as a tool for self-promotion for artists.
Paramore in 2024
Despite all the chatter about an uncertain future, Paramore have a slew of tour dates on the books, opening for Taylor Swift on a European and U.K. leg of her ongoing The Eras tour.
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prophecey · 11 months ago
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WHO DO I HAVE TO SPEAK TO ABOUT IF THEY CAN REDO THE PROPHECEY?
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INDEPENDENT + MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE MULTIMUSE . current muses can be found under the cut, but all former muses are available by request. KT + twenty nine + minors / personals DNI.
CARRD + MEMES + MUSE INFO .
RULES:
this multi-muse blog is private and very selective with low to moderate activity and will be heavily plot and dynamic based. if you don't interact ic or ooc, i will softblock.
plotted interactions are preferred. romantic ships will require plotting and ongoing ooc interactions as well as ic interactions. familial and platonic ships are just as important.
i will be using basic formatting on this blog. threads will be small text with bold and italics for emphasis. if you want me to change/simplify my text for any reason, just ask. i prefer to write longer length replies.
muses are from various media, some that contain mature themes i will tag everything with the #TRIGGER CW format, but if i miss something, please send a dm so i can fix it. there may be sexual themes present on this blog but nothing will be explicitly written.
don’t be a dick! in character drama is fun, but keep it between our muses. if you unfollow me, please soft block. i will not interact with anyone that writes problematic themes or uses problematic or deceased fcs.
graphics belong to me unless stated otherwise. not affiliated with any of the media, characters or faceclaims represented on this blog. all content is my own creative property so do not use my lore without permission.
PRIMARY MUSES:
alex claremont diaz. rwrb, bridgerton. taylor zakhar perez fc.
andrés cordero. tsitp oc. maxi iglesias fc.
anthony bridgerton. bridgerton. jonathan bailey fc.
ben de vaillant. bridgerton, modern royalty. damian hardung fc.
conrad fisher. tsitp. christopher briney fc.
drusilla elmsworth. bridgerton oc. alisha boe fc.
evie grimhilde. bridgerton, modern royalty. sofia carson fc.
harry bingham. tvd, the society. alex fitzalan fc.
indira petrova. bridgerton oc. aubri ibrag fc.
josephine "posey" lovelace. bridgerton oc. kristine froseth fc.
kieran night. original demon lore. maxence danet-fauvel fc.
luna castillo. original familiar lore. sofia carson fc.
neil josten. all for the game. froy gutierrez fc.
rebekah mikaelson. tvd, bridgerton. claire holt fc.
rosalie hale. twilight, bridgerton. simay barlas fc.
sophie beckett. bridgerton. courtney eaton fc.
tris prior. divergent, thg. daisy edgar-jones fc.
violet bridgerton. bridgerton. ruth gemmell / rose williams fc.
SECONDARY MUSES:
allie hayes. off campus. scarlett leithold fc.
andrew minyard. all for the game. conor doherty fc.
campbell riley. tvd, grey's. abigail cowen fc.
daniel le domas. ready or not, bridgerton. adam brody fc.
dean di laurentis. off campus. matthew noszka fc.
elena gilbert. tvd, grey's. nina dobrev fc.
feyre archeron. acotar. simay barlas fc.
garrett graham. off campus. felix mallard fc.
grace le domas. ready or not, bridgerton. samara weaving fc.
hope mikaelson. legacies. danielle rose russell fc.
isaac lahey. teen wolf, tvd. daniel sharman fc.
jeremy gilbert. tvd. froy gutierrez fc.
john tucker. off campus. ken bek fc.
josie saltzman. legacies. kaylee kaneshiro fc.
liv parker. tvd. penelope mitchell fc.
lizzie saltzman. legacies. jenny boyd fc.
samantha larusso. cobra kai. mary mouser fc.
steve harrington. stranger things. joe keery fc.
steven conklin. tsitp. sean kaufman fc.
summer di laurentis. off campus. madelyn cline fc.
tyler lockwood. tvd. michael trevino fc.
valerie tulle. tvd. elizabeth blackmore fc.
REQUEST MUSES (plotting required!)
alex karev. grey's. justin chambers fc.
azriel of velaris. acotar. berk cankat fc.
cassian. acotar. alperen duymaz fc.
demetri alexopoulos. cobra kai. gianni decenzo fc.
jasper diggs. original character. hugh dancy fc.
jean moreau. all for the game. archie renaux fc.
landon kirby. legacies. aria shahgasemi fc.
luke patterson. jatp. charlie gillespie fc.
mat hatter. original character. alex fitzalan fc.
nell crain. thohh. alycia debnam carey fc.
scarlet graves. original character. sandra bullock fc.
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melpomeneprose · 2 years ago
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CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE !!
Tagged by: myself.
Tagging: @withinycu, @adrienne-lafayette-official, @johngravessimcoe, @cavalrylad, @musenssang, @philip-hamilton-official, @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins, @virgosjukebox. 💙
✧・゚   𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.
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► BENJAMIN TALLMADGE.
Name: Benjamin Tallmadge.
Alias(es): Ben, Major Tallmadge, 2nd Continental Light Dragoon, Tall-boy, & Captain Tallmadge. “Beagle tilting his head.” (Creator of Washington’s spies tv).
“Beagle” “Washington’s hunting dog” (affectionate & derogatory, from both sides)
Gender: male (he/him).
Orientation: not your business.
(Bi, repressed and ashamed about it, but bi, in my personal portrayal and reading/headcanons, having read his memoirs & letters, but the truth is… as with Alexander Hamilton, we’ll never know). Age: 22-24.
Date of birth: February 25, 1754
Place of birth: Setauket or Brookhaven, Long Island, NYC.
For simplicity he’ll say, New York, sometimes.
Spoken language(s): English, Latin, trying really hard for French thus far not succeeding. Do code books count?
Occupation(s): soldier, spymaster, congressman, statesman. (au: lawyer) (modern verse: law student).
★  ⸻   APPEARANCE
Eye colour: blue, the kind you can drown in, it’s his most attractive feature, according to popular opinion.
Hair colour: dirty blonde.
Height: 6’0” (tall by 18th century standards).
Other: rarely ever seen out of uniform.
Has anxiety & PTSD, should probably touch grass. Deserves a hug and deserves better.
★  ⸻   FAVORITE
Colour: red, white, gold and blue, neutral black that suits everything or gray works to.
Song: Benjamin’s playlist.
Food: bread, salt, cheese, or fish.
Drink: brandy or wine.
★  ⸻   HAVE THEY...
Passed university: Yale college, top of his class!
Had sex: not your business.
Had sex in public: no.
Gotten pregnant/someone else pregnant: wants kids, but not that way, and not at this exact moment. Given the war.
Kissed a boy: no. (Yes) Nathan Hale.
Kissed a girl: yes.
Gotten tattoos: no.
Gotten piercings: no.
Been in love: he’s not sure if it counts, to be blunt, but for reason of answering, yes.
Stayed up 24+ hours: for the cause, yes.
★  ⸻   ARE THEY...
A virgin: not your business, also a construct society cruelly and hypocritically only applies to the fairer sex. (No).
A cuddler: yes.
A kisser: circumstantially.
Scared easily: most certainly not!
Jealous easily: yes!
Submissive: switch.
Dominant: none of your business.
In love: verse/thread dependant.
Relationship status: I am married to honour and the revolution until this is over. (Single).
★  ⸻   RANDOM QUESTIONS
TW for self-harm/suicide mention.
Have they harmed themselves: not unless you count accidentally falling in the Delaware river.
Thought of suicide/ideated: under the pressure of war, atrocities, violence and bloodshed. Yes. But rarely.
Attempted suicide: only if you count a Protestant martyr complex, as the son of a preacher it runs in the family.
Wanted to kill someone: side eyes Simcoe.
But he didn’t enjoy the killing in question.
Have/had a job: Washington’s staff.
Fears: death, abandonment, losing control, not being enough, losing the war, tyranny, his own capacity to help vs harm and the moral dilemma of mundane human existence and soldiering.
Sibling(s):
Samuel Tallmadge.
William Tallmadge.
John Tallmadge.
Isaac Tallmadge.
Parent(s): Susannah Tallmadge (née Smith)(deceased)/Rev. Samuel Tallmadge sr.
Children: verse/thread dependant.
Children In history:
Frederick A. Tallmadge
Maria Jones Tallmadge
William Smith Tallmadge
Harriet Tallmadge Delafield
Benjamin Tallmadge Jr.
Henry Tallmadge.
Significant other(s): Nathan Hale (deceased), Sarah Livingston (ex lover, kinda, sorta, it’s complicated & traumatizing).
Significant other(s) in history:
Mary Floyd (1784 to 1805).
Maria Hallet (1808 til death in 1835).
Pet(s): he should like to have a beagle, or grey hound, but, none presently.
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Benjamin’s Wikipedia.
Benjamin’s memoir.
In canon: TURN.
Culper ring.
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funky-sea-cryptid · 2 years ago
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go apeshit!
TRAP CARD!!!! YOU HAVE ACTIVATED HYPERFIXATION TRAP CARD!!!!
it's all gonna be beneath the cut so i dont clog your dash
black clover time!! the protagonists are asta and yuno, who are fifteen year olds from a place affectionately called the boonies and officially called the forsaken realm because they're poor as shit. they're both orphans, both raised at the same orphanage under the care of father orsi and sister lily, they share a birthday they have an incredibly homoerotic relationship that depends on their rivalry to become the wizard king which is like. the head of the magical clover kingdom law enforcement, the magic knights.
the wizard king position actually has a fair bit of lore behind it. five hundred years before the start of the story, a demon was rampaging around the clover kingdom and it was so powerful that people were like "this is it this is the end :(" until the first wizard king defeated the demon and now its bones hang out in the forsaken realm.
the difference between yuno and asta however, is yuno is dripping with god sauce mana to the point where he gets a legendary four-leaf grimoire and asta uh.
area man has no mana. he's beefed up but beef means nothing when he has no mana no grimoire and everyone's like "well now you can't be the wizard king" except against all odds asta does recieve a grimoire, albeit like a few hours later. and this one has five leaves. which is where the devil lives. asta has officially become Bearer Of The Curse, and now owns fuckoff awesome swords coated in this shit called antimagic which nullifies magic obviously courtesy of the devil hiding out in his grimoire. demons and devils are different things btw jot that down.
anyways asta and yuno head out to do the magic knights exam and join one of the squads. yuno, because he's fucking doused in god sauce, gets into the best magic knights squad, the golden dawn, lead by prettyboy extrordinare william vangeance, while asta gets into the worst squad known to man, the black bulls, lead by man of all time yami sukehiro.
members of the black bulls include: yami sukehiro (legend with dark magic who's from a place called hino), asta (none mana left beef), noelle silva (water magic, owns 90% of the money), charmy pappitson (cotton magic and food magic because she's an eldritch deity, eats whatever she can get her hands on), luck voltia (lightning magic, tends to get into fights a lot but he's skrunkly so it's okay), magna swing (fire magic, luck's homoerotic rival, has the best aesthetic), finral roulacase (spatial (portal) magic, no attack spells, whiny lesbian), vanessa enoteca (thread magic, witch, her gender is alcoholism), gauche adlai (mirror magic, crippling older sibling complex), grey (shape changing magic (?), gender, god i wish they were me), and gordon (poison magic, he's really sweet but he looks creepy and everyone's scared of him which makes me so so sad), nero (bird). there are four other members but they're introduced later in the series.
asta and the black bulls have a giant found family arc and it means the world to me tbh <3. also the current wizard king, julius, is mega autistic coded and i love him.
in the first arc of the series the main antagonists are the nobility (sort of) and this cult called the eye of the midnight sun, lead by a guy called licht (who has the FUNNIEST TWIST KNOWN TO MAN) and the third eye, vetto, fana, and rhya. their goal initially is like. fuck the nobility (based) and they're gathering these magic rocks by any means necessary to redistribute the mana (also based). so the magic knights are out trying to stop these hoes from getting the rocks with varying degrees of success.
along the way, vetto and fana are blown up which is devastating to me, a third eye enjoyer. vanessa revisits her old trauma, asta gets both his arms broken and proceeds to "fuck it we ball" all over the clover kingdom until vanessa fixes them, there's a competition to become the "royal knights" in which finral is smote into oblivion by his half brother bc of langris vaude's intense superiority complex. but you know, asta claps him into oblivion which is very fun. introducing my best friend zora ideale to the black bulls roster. the royal knights head over to fuck up what remains of the eye of the midnight sun and what follows are successively the funniest twists known to man.
william vangeance rolls up to julius and he's like "julius :) thank you so much :) for being kind to me as a child :) i love you so much. however" and he takes off his mask to reveal: it's licht. william has been helping the enemy the entire time. licht loses his entire shit when julius refuses to die but eventually kills him. he goes back to his cult and kills all of them because it turns out him and the third eye are reincarnated elves and they HATE humanity. homie forcefed his cult the koolaid, reincarnated the rest of the elves, including....the actual licht. YEP. THIS IDIOT ISNT EVEN THE ACTUAL LICHT. TURNS OUT HE IS JUST SOME KID. HIS NAME'S PATRI AND HE WAS FIFTEEN WHEN HE DIED. vetto and fana come back btw this is important to me.
shenanigans ensue, the elves fuck around, turns out another devil manipulated everyone oh and remember the wizard king thing? 500 years, the demon, yeah uh the demon was actual!licht after the elves were all fucking murdered by clover kingdom nobility and the actual licht was married to mr 1st wizard king's sister, tetia. the devil who caused all this, zagred, has been manipulating patri's incredibly just anger at being fucking murdered and turns him into a dark elf and steals his fucking grimoire rip baby you did your best. asta undarkelfs him and they all fuck up zagred with the help of actual licht and the first wizard king who's brought into this with the magic rocks. also his assistant secre who has been nero the entire time. bird girl i love youuuuuu. the elves mostly get exorcised sans patri, rhya, vetto, and fana my beloveds. william gets really gay about the elf sharing his body. julius is back from the dead but he's 13 now?
also henry legolant enters the black bulls roster he's been living in the house and he eats mana. wonderful little man.
some guy named damnatio is like "devils bad" for obvious reasons but he goes about this by trying to kill asta and secre bc devilisms and almost murders a child for some bullshit. the black bulls get exiled to learn about devils more? very fun. they go into the heart kingdom, they have more found family shenanigans. secre's a member now. then these hoes known as the dark triad step up. the dark triad are. well. spade royalty (they got here by ursurping the grinberryalls, the actual spade royal family)
i mean. they're real fucked up. devil contracted hoes, all siblings in the zogratis family. dante (body magic, contracted to lucifero, giving him gravity magic too), vanica (blood magic, contracted to megicula, giving her curse magic), and zenon (bone magic, contracted to beelzebub, giving him spatial magic). they invade the heart kingdom to get princess lolopechka and open the gates of hell so now the magic knights have to stop them. yami and william get kidnapped because their specific magical attributes can open the gates of hell.
enter the final member. vice-captain nacht faust. contracted to four devils, and so SO mentally ill he's like "hey you wanna help right?" and asta's like "yeah" and nacht's like "alright time to do illegal shit" and asta meets his grimoire devil, liebe, and they become besties in spite of nacht's insistence they need to Not. anyways spade raid happens, the gates of hell are opened, devils everywhere, dark triad all gets fucked up by some epic meat fistery. nacht continuously gets folded on his quest to save his husband who he loathes. asta claps the supreme devil directly into hell and all is well.
WRONG.
remember juilus? well. he's just turned into the fourth zogratis sibling, lucius, and now he's calling himself god and a year after devil shit he turns a nun into a paladin (host of a purified devil spirit) rip sister lily, and then claps asta out of the sky and he's presumed dead.
asta wakes up in hino and meets yami's sister ichika hi ichika who's like "my brother sukehiro KILLED OUR FAMILY" and asta's like ">:( leave my captain alone" and he's training to get stronger so he can clap lucius back so hard he hopefully dies. the paladins roll up to hino to fuck shit up and asta unpaladins sister lily and that's as far as the manga is up to.
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gcldforged · 1 year ago
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        william  nodded.  mind  drifted  to  soldiers  he'd healed before; he doubted the attacks had caused anything that severe, but he also doubted there were many not shaken by them at the very least.   ❝ only take a spoonful of this in the evening to start. if you're still having trouble sleeping, we'll discuss increasing the dosage. ❞   he held out the tonic bottle for her to take.   ❝ it's good you've been able to still do hobbies you enjoy. but if need to talk, my door is always open. ❞
"Is it really...?" her voice had the tiniest hint of hope laced within her words. One of the biggest problems with being a little princess was often the feeling of loneliness, like every growing pain, every struggle was a unique experience all on her very own. But Lord William speaks with wisdom in his words that seems to break the storm cloud above her head. Suddenly, she does not feel so strange. "Mostly just tired, but I find that staying occupied with something makes me feel better, like walking outside in the gardens or talking to others about the castle all day."
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