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phantoms-lair · 10 months ago

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Resident Isekai Snip 1

When you say something silly in a twitch chat and then it ends up eating your brain:

Salazar couldn't help but cackle as he saw his work come into fruition. He'd been searching his old records for anything that might help Lord Saddler and come across a ritual for accessing 'The Gateway of Power'. Much like the plagas themselves it was something his foolish family had been guarding from use. Well no more. Now he would use it for the glory of Los Illuminados!

He could feel the energy build as his servants completed the ritual. He couldn't wait to see what form the power would take!

"Holy Shit," Leon whispered under his breath as he witnessed his other guide burning to death on a makeshift pyre. Tucking his binoculars away, he took the side path, hoping to be able to sneak right by the enemy. He was about halfway down the path when there was a strange explosion from far off and a ripple of energy he barely had time to see before it passed through him and kept going.

Leon was knocked on his ass, but otherwise was able to kip up without any problem. He raised his hand to his ear to apprise Hunnigan of what just occurred and froze.

There were two things of import. The first is that his com seemed to be dead without even radio static coming through. That was...bad, but not expected. That energy field could very well be some sort of EMP, especially if his escorts divulged there was an agent with them before being terminated.

The second was that his ears felt very much the wrong shape.

Leon pulled out his knife and used it to check his reflection. His ears were definitely the wrong shape, pointed almost like an elf's. His eyes were also wrong, his irises being the same blue but seeming to almost have a starburst pattern in them. And there seemed to be almost a sparkle to his skin, one he could see in the fingers holding the blade as well as in his reflection.

He was interrupted from taking this in by a cry in Spanish. He'd gotten distracted. He looked up and saw one of the village women. And if he hadn't been a Raccoon survivor he might have lost it right there.

Her torso looked more like a cancerous mass with tendril's moving beneath the skin. Tentacle-like limbs hung limply from her torso, almost as if huddled in the shade of her body. Her mouth a multi-hinged jaw and she screamed and charged.

She was fast but Leon was faster. He met her charge, his grip shifting on the knife and in one smooth move, decapitated her. Her body took a few more steps, as if confused, before collapsing.

Leon stared at the body before him, tendril wriggling like worms from the neck hole. He had trained to the peak of human ability. He was fast. He was strong. He was no where near that fast and strong.

"What the hell?" he muttered as more of the villagers came, draw by the woman-things cries. All of them transformed as monstrous as she had been. Leon swapped his knife for his gun. Whatever was going on, he's have to fight his way out.

He scanned the village looking for a defensible location. He weaved through the crowd and ducked into one of the sturdier looking buildings. He barred the door and was in the process of shoving a bookcase to block the window when he heard what was close the last sound he wanted to here. A chainsaw revving.

A peek out the window he was blocking off revealed a mammoth figure with what looked like a burlap sack over his head. In the back of his mind it struck Leon as strange, none of the other mutant villagers felt the need to hide their deformities. But that was a very much back of his mind thought as he needed to focus on survival, At least in Raccoon City the zombies and monsters hadn't been able to use weapons! The sound of glass breaking upstairs drew him there as the chainsaw began to bite into the door.

A ladder had broken the window and the villagers were beginning to climb up. It was easy enough to push the ladder away and drop them to the ground below. And being brought upstairs had had an unexpected benefit. Displayed on the wall at the top of the stairs was a shotgun.

Leon had had to enter Spain lightly armed. He was a foreign agent and there had been no proof the Baby Eagle had been in the country at all. He had only his service pistol and his knife. But this was no longer the time to care about not making waves.

He took position at the top of the stairs, suppressing his urge to flee as the sound of the chainsaw roared in his ears. (Was is the adrenaline or were his new ears that much sharper? He wished he'd had time to assess.) He held firm as the door broke and the monster of a man charged up the steps. Leon waited until he was halfway up and fired, focusing the shotgun on his knees. The chainsaw man tumbled down the steps. Sadly the chainsaw didn't take him out like Leon had hoped, But he had a few more tries.

The chainsaw man didn't seem to have the mental acuity to change tactics, and proceeded to run up the stairs again. Leon noticed what looked like tiny tendril within is legs acting as replacement muscle, effectively repairing the damage he'd just done. Great.

They repeated this song and dance until Leon heard another breaking of glass. He didn't have time to knock down a ladder and get back into position, so it was time to bail. He saw some scaffolding out the window nearest to him and crashed through. Just in time, as he saw a villager come from the other side of the staircase. Being pincered between him and the chainsaw man would have been bad.

He drew a bead trough the window, only to get blindsided by one coming around the corner. It grabbed him and flung him off the scaffold. Leon braced himself. A fall from the height wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt.

Except it didn't. His body twisted like a cat and he landed lightly on his feet, feeling more like he'd jumped the last few steps of a stairwell than been thrown off the second story of a building.

What's happening to me?

Survival first. He was faster and stronger than before, so he had to take that into account. He was not going to just assume he was pitchfork or chainsaw proof too, and focus on evasion. While the villagers would normally have the advantage of knowing the terrain, he didn't think they had enough of their minds left to use it properly.

Idly he heard a bell ringing but dismissed it as important. He was getting surrounded as more of them seemed to pour in from nowhere, but he could weave through them and get to a new location. Possibly that old bell tower would make a good bottle neck-

And that's when he realized the villagers were no longer attacking. Weapons fell from their fingers, dropping into the the mud and they turned as one entity and began to trudge into the church, whispering reverently about a Lord Saddler and completely ignoring the man seconds ago they'd been hellbent on killing.

In less than a minute Leon found himself in a deserted town square, his only company being chickens and the still burning corpse of the policía.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?" Leon joked, confused but relieved. Then he took a deep breath. He'd wanted time to access and here it was. He was alone in a valley full of monsters, he'd turned into some kind of elf (elf was good, or at least better for his psyche than 'mutant' or 'infected'), and somewhere here the Ashley Graham, daughter of the President of the United States, was being held prisoner. His earpiece remained silent. The radio he'd taken earlier the same. He was cut off. But there was a young girl depending on him.

No way to go but forward.

#Ghost Writing #Resident Evil #Salazar basically isekai'd everyone in Valdelobos #The Plagas are a bit more like mindflayer tadpoles now as they merge with and mutate the host body #Also despite what he thinks Leon isn't actually an elf

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 1 year ago

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Reflections

Chapter Five

Master List / Real People Master List / Reflections Master List

Pairing: Mia MacAlsdair x Au Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: language, misconceptions, 18+ Minors do not interact

A/N: I apologize in advance should my Scottish/English interpretations be incorrect. I am Canadian playing in a world of my own making. Do not @ me.

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It took a couple of weeks to put Kip's commission together. In that time, Mia fell into a routine that suited her so well that the last of the stress and stiffness seeped from her shoulders. She slept deeply; if she dreamed, she didn't remember them upon waking, usually with the sun, thanks to two little rascals that liked to pounce on her hair.

The kittens would follow her as she got up, dressed, ran a brush through her hair, and headed to the kitchen to put the coffee on and give them breakfast.

Cora lived off the kitchen in a suite of rooms that suited her fine. They were former servants' quarters renovated from five smaller rooms into three bigger ones. She had a lovely bright bedroom, a lounge, and her own bathroom. She insisted it was all the space she needed, but Mia still invited her to use the rest of the house as she pleased. The television in the drawing room was large and modern, and Cora used it during the day to watch her shows.

When Mia asked how Cora came to work for her grandparents, she discovered she started shortly after marrying her husband.

Alfred Bailey, a young police officer, swept her off her feet. It was love at first sight. They married within months of meeting and lived in a small flat in Kelso, but Cora jumped at the chance when the request for a cook and housekeeper went out from Ashwood Farm.

It was a ten-minute walk from town, less than that by car, an easy commute. Cora worked for the MacAlasdair family through all three of her children's births, the last being especially hard when Alfred was killed in the line of duty.

As a young, single mother, she said she would have lost her mind if not for Lorna and Douglas, Mia's grandparents. They welcomed her to bring her children, allowed her boys to grow up with the MacAlasdair's sons as if they were cousins, and bought their first rental property so Cora would have a home for her family that didn't feel like charity.

The story plagued Mia's mind afterward, something she thought about on her morning walk around the fields and along the river.

Once the coffee finished perking and her travel mug was full, Mia headed out to walk the perimeter fence. The stone wall was easy enough to follow, and there were gates along the route she opened and closed behind her.

This morning, there was a misty bit of drizzle, but Mia turned up her collar, pulled her hood over her hair, and struck off in her flower-covered wellies.

Jasper and Eddie almost immediately joined her, and she scratched them behind the ear, happy for the company.

The dreich day matched her mood as she walked over the emerald green grass.

"If they were so nice to Cora, why did they have such a hard time with my mom?" Mia wondered aloud, not for the first time.

Neither dog gave her an answer, just trotted off to sniff down burrow holes.

It didn't make sense to her. They were clearly good people. Why be so cruel to their only remaining son? What was she missing in all this? Obviously, there was a part of the story Cora didn't know, but in all the paperwork she signed for Fergus, not one letter of explanation was among the documents.

Covid took her grandparents suddenly. Maybe they didn't think it would happen. Maybe they thought they would have time to explain in person. Unfortunately, time was a fickle thing.

The quorking of ravens caused her to look up and smile at the three sitting in the tree.

Mia drew a plastic bag she stashed dog food in from her pocket and sprinkled some along the top of the stone fence. She'd done so every day since she started her morning hike and noticed they waited for her now. They flew down to feast shortly after she walked away, no longer so suspicious of her intentions. But they only distracted her from her frustrations for so long.

She'd gone through all the papers in her grandfather's office, a monumental task, but there was nothing there. Her next step would be to tear through the attic. Maybe her grandmother kept a diary that would explain. Even as she thought it, Mia resigned herself to the idea that she might never have all the answers.

The soft thud of hooves had her looking up to the hillside. Highpark Castle sat in its stately stone glory, perched atop rolling green hills like a jewel at the top of a crown.

She knew Highpark was home to a stud farm from conversations she had with people around town. She watched as a man rode by on a magnificent horse every day on her walk. Some days, it was black, others red, white, or some combination of the four, but she could tell even at a distance, the person on the horse's back was always the same.

He sat tall, comfortable, his body and hands relaxed. She couldn't make out his face, but his general shape reminded her of Kip.

She turned to lean on the stones and sip her coffee, watching as the man rode by at a slow gallop. It was a pleasant way to start her day, as the horses were beautiful.

"Do ye ken how to ride?"

Mia jumped, almost threw her coffee cup, and spun around, her free hand pressed to her pounding heart. "Dammit, Henry! You scared a year off my life!"

A smirk twitched his lips. "Didnae intend to, but ye were pretty focused on Hiddleston there."

She frowned. "Hiddleston? You mean Kip?"

"Nah, the other one." His brows pulled together. "Ye met Kip?"

"And Emma and her boys at the market. I'm doing a painting for him of his fiancée."

The scowl deepened. "Ye should stay away from Highpark."

"Why?" Mia frowned. "I'm heading up there today to drop off Kip's painting and have tea with Emma."

Henry stepped closer, his eyes intense. "They're not yer kind of people."

Mia snorted. "My kind of people? What the hell does that mean?"

"They're snobs. Yer not."

Mia stared before barking a laugh. "I met them. They're nice! Emma was warm and welcoming. Kip flirted, but I think that's just how he is. He could probably flirt with air."

The scowl deepened on Henry's face. "Kip's a skirt chaser, always has been. Emma's fine, the only decent one of the lot, but stay away from Tom. He's a right dobber. He's not worth yer time."

Mia didn't know what a dobber was, but she suspected it wasn't a good thing. "While I appreciate the concern, I'll make my own decisions about any of the Hiddlestons if or when I interact with them. I don't make decisions based on others' recommendations regarding people. It's not my way."

Some of the thunderous clouds brewing around him lifted. "Is this another of yer 'I'm Canadian' things?"

Mia chuckled, relieved he didn't look so angry anymore. "Probably." Obviously, he had a history with the eldest Hiddleston, but it wasn't Mia's place to ask.

"Canna join ye on yer dander?" he asked, nodding toward the path.

Mia shrugged, strolling away from the fence now that the man and his horse were gone. "Sure. What did you ask me before?"

"Do ye ken how to ride?"

Mia laughed. "Horses? Hell, no. I was a city kid."

"Ye seem to like 'em."

She shot him a grin. "I'm female. Don't all girls love horses at some point in their life?"

Henry chuckled. "Point taken. Though not all. My sister never got on with 'em."

"You have a sister?" Mia had no idea. Cora never mentioned it.

"Had. She passed on when she was sixteen, and I was twenty."

Mia didn't ask. The storm clouds were back on his face, and his tone clearly said he wouldn't discuss it.

Instead, she sipped her coffee. "I wouldn't mind learning. I imagine riding is very freeing."

"Aye, it can be. Yer grandma, she rode. Shame that they died 'cause of the pandemic."

"You knew them well?" Mia asked as she opened the gate between the fields.

"Worked here twenty years afore they passed. Yer grandad was a good man. Before he got sick, he talked about yer da a lot."

Mia glanced up, but he was looking out across the field. "Did they ever say why they fell out?"

Henry shook his head. "Just that they regretted it. When they learned of yer parents passing, it broke something in them. Sometimes, Lorna would be out in the garden and just stop and greet. And Douglas drank on every anniversary. The regret nearly drove them to an early grave. I think it was only searching for ye that kept 'em going."

"I'm not sure how to marry the two sides of all this," Mia admitted. "I didn't even know I had grandparents. My parents never said anything. I always just assumed Dad's parents were dead like Mom's. We used to visit her parents at the cemetery a few times a year, and I kept going back after they passed because that's where Mom and Dad are buried. I guess I assumed Dad's parents were buried somewhere too far away to visit."

She knew he was originally from Scotland; the accent was hard to miss, but she didn't think much about it at eleven. After, she lived in a world of grief, disbelief, confusion, and pain, tossed into a system that was already overloaded and struggling. She'd dealt with her grief mostly alone for the first few years, then ended up in a home where Maria was beyond kind and did what she could to help Mia talk it out. Unfortunately, it was a temporary placement, and Mia couldn't stay with her.

"I canna speak to what happened, Mia, but they were sorry for it. I think they were sorry from the moment Callum left."

"Did you know him? My dad?" she asked.

Henry shook his head. "He was twelve, fifteen years older. Already up and gone by the time I was a teen."

Mia sighed. "No worries. I didn't think so."

They walked on in silence, watching the dogs root and sniff until they flushed a rabbit and gave chase.

Henry whistled hard, calling them off and back to his side.

"I never did learn to do that."

He frowned at her. "Eh?"

"Whistle," Mia chuckled. "I can't whistle."

"Fuck up! Yer haverin' out yer arse!"

Mia blinked, deciphered that to mean he didn't believe her but more in a surprised, haha, you're joking, kind of way and shrugged. "Nope. Never learned."

He muttered under his breath, words she had no hope of understanding as Mia was pretty sure they weren't any sort of English and shot her a glare.

"Ye just purse yer lips and blow," he grumbled. "Ain't hard."

While she knew that was a saying made famous by an old black-and-white movie, Mia couldn't grasp which one, making it impossible to tease him over the reference.

Still, she pursed her lips and blew, sending spit flying, and blushed in embarrassment. "And that's why I don't whistle," she chuckled.

He arched an amused brow before stopping and turning to face her. Mia mirrored him, curious, but was knocked speechless when he grasped her chin in his big hand and squeezed her cheeks, forcing her lips to purse. "Gotta pucker more. Like yer waiting on a nip."

Stunned by his forwardness, Mia stupidly asked, "What's a nip?"

Before she could guess, he dropped his head with very clear intentions, his gaze locked on her mouth.

Mia jerked backward in surprise, her hands firm against his chest. "Henry? What do you think you're doing?"

His eyes widened, his hand fell away, and he stepped back. "Acting the bam, apparently."

Mia didn't know what that meant and sighed in frustration. But there was red in his cheeks, quickly spreading, obviously embarrassed by her enthusiastic rejection.

"Look, Henry," she murmured, but he shook his head.

"Naw, you dinnae need to say it. I read something in that wasn't there."

Again, Mia sighed. "Unfortunatley. I'm sorry if I was giving off signals, as they weren't intentional. I just got out of a five-year relationship that should have ended at four, and while I like you, I… I don't see you that way."

"I figured. And ye weren't, given signals, that is. But yer a braw lass, sweet and generous. Soon enough, the other fellas will start calling. I figured I'd tip my hand first. I apologize for diving in like marr's meat." He nodded and turned to go.

"I know it's cliche, but can we still be friends?" Mia asked, worried she'd fucked up one of the few relationships she had here.

He grinned and tipped his head. "Friends. Aye. Ye didnae do anything wrong saying no, Mia. And if some wank Canadian shitebag said otherwise, then glad I am yer no longer over there."

Mia chuckled and motioned for him to join her again. "Wank Canadian shitbag. Alright, I can roll with that."

"Thought ye might," he snickered, keeping a foot of distance between them now.

She knew it would take time for the embarrassment to fade, but she did like the gruff, grumbly man. He was sweet in a roundabout kind of way one had to get used to, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him naked.

Right now, she didn't want to see anyone naked and changed the subject to something safe.

"So, riding lessons?"

He grinned, and she knew, eventually, they would be okay.

Mia pulled up in front of the freaking castle and stared at the three-story monstrosity.

She'd driven Henry's truck, a beat-up, rusty old thing with a temperament like a cantankerous grandfather, but as it was a short trip up to Highpark, she figured it was a good time to practice driving on the left.

It also looked like it would soak them at any moment, the sky dense and dark with heavy clouds. She would not risk the work she put into Kip's commission with a possible rain storm and asked to use the vehicle. There was her grandparent's car, but the size of the commission made getting it in the vehicle questionable.

However, along with not risking the rain, she wasn't willing to put Henry in the awkward position of taking her up to Highpark when he wanted nothing to do with the Hiddleston family. Nor did she want to lock herself in the vehicle with him after their "moment" this morning.

Cora eventually bribed him with pie, and Mia left with the keys before he could change his mind.

But when she drove up to the lower gate and found a guard in the little guard house, it gave her pause. She hadn't expected that. Still, when he asked her the nature of her business, she said she was there to see Emma and gave her name. He told her to follow the gravel drive around to the right and the signs for 'staff only.' and to use the entrance beneath the porte cochere on the eastern wing.

Before arriving, Mia had to pause to take stock of the fact she was driving up to and about to have tea in a freaking Scottish castle.

"What even is my life?"

Gentle laughter echoed in her head.

"Don't even. You could have warned me about Henry," she muttered to the annoying Mischief God, who took extra delight in teasing her about her admirer.

Where's the fun in that, girl?

Mia rolled her eyes and drove on to stop beneath the stone overhang.

Driving under a mountain of precariously balanced rock was a bit intimidating. Sure, the pillars and archways looked substantial, but two stories of stone and windows still perched on top of them.

You're stalling.

"You're an ass."

But he was also correct. She was stalling because the potential to meet him, the Tom Hiddleston, the man she admired for his work as Loki, was anxiety-inducing. That he gave it up to come home and look after his family said a lot about him as a person outside of his fame.

With a deep breath, Mia climbed out of the truck and walked around to maneuver the painting from the passenger seat gently. It was a good-sized portrait with a three-inch carved wooden frame Mia stripped, sanded, and stained a lovely ebony. She wrapped it in bubble wrap, covered it in brown paper, and tied a pretty piece of twine around it.

Maybe it wasn't very posh to be packing into a castle, but Kip would get what she would give him.

These last few weeks were incessant with his emails and texts. She learned he had a wicked sense of humour that wouldn't quit. He described himself as a 'cheeky bastard' and said his fiancée couldn't wait to meet the woman who could not only put up with him but also hand it back so easily.

Serina sounded delightful. She knew Mia was making something for Kip, though he'd kept the gift on the down-low and was excited to give it to her. As Serina was away for the next few days visiting family with the baby, and Kip was needed at the estate, now was the perfect time to deliver her present.

It wasn't until Mia was halfway up the stairs that she realized she could not knock with her hands full and wasn't sure if castles had doorbells one could press with their elbow. She resigned herself to kicking the door in an uncouth manner when the door swung open before she reached the top, revealing a beaming Emma and her two rambunctious boys.

"I didn't think the lady of the castle answered her own door," Mia teased, causing Emma to laugh.

"She does when the gate gives her enough notice to shoo off everyone else!"

Chuckling, Mia set Kip's painting down gently. "Not to be the weird foreigner, but shoes? On? Off?"

Emma giggled. "Oh! On is fine. Why?"

"Sorry, I just never know. We don't have places like this in Canada, and there, you're unlikely to be welcome back if you walk through someone's house with your shoes on. But when most of the country is covered in snow for upwards of two-thirds of the year, tracking wet through someone's house is just yucky."

"I suppose it would be," Emma grinned. "We have our wet and muck, too, but we do a scrape and scuff. Unless you're mud to your knees, right boys?" she said, eyeing her sons.

"Yes, Mum!" they groaned, rolling their eyes, having heard this lecture before.

"Da always has to take off his boots 'cause they've the horse's shite on them, right, Mum?" Calvin, the younger one, announced gleefully.

"Brat," she chuckled. "Yes, Da has to take his smelly wellies off, but what have I said about repeating the bad words your father uses?"

"That I should say I learned them from Uncle Kip when Granny Adair asks."

Mia snorted and covered her mouth, not wanting to encourage him by laughing if he was sassing back.

Emma shook her head, but her lips also twitched. "Calvin."

He grinned like he was a pure delight, causing his brother to snicker.

"You pair," Emma chuckled, turning back to Mia. "Feel free to laugh."

Swallowing hard, Mia shook her head. "I don't know what you mean. Wasn't funny at all." She held out for six seconds before the crushed look on Calvin's face had her busting a gut.

"Oh, man!" she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You're face!"

"I like her," Keegan snickered, leaning against his mom.

Mia wasn't sure which parent he took after, having yet to meet Emma's husband, but he had the bright blue eyes of his mother and her dark hair, too. And Calvin was his match in every way, almost as if they were carbon copies of each other at different ages.

"Good, because I like her too," Emma smiled, her gaze dropping to Mia's parcel. "Is that Kip's commission?"

Mia nodded.

"Can I see it? Please!" she begged.

"He swore me to secrecy and said he wanted to see it first. He even threatened to come by my studio, but I told him I'd set the dogs on him if he did."

The dogs were less likely to bite than Mia, so it was a hollow threat, but it kept him out of her business. Besides, she knew he was just bored or attempting to escape whatever duties his brother appointed him.

She checked out the website for Highpark after seeing a flyer for an upcoming event in a store window in town. The castle was open to the public four days a week, hosted everything from birthday parties to balls, and held town events for all the major holidays.

It sounded fun but also like a lot of work when you added the cafe, grounds, and tours that tramped around their house.

"Bollocks," Emma muttered. "I was hoping you'd sneak me a peek so I could rub it in later."

Mia chuckled. They evidently had quite the relationship. "I would, but he's paying me."

"Too true!" she laughed just as her phone rang. "Bloody hell," she sighed. "I have to take this, but if you head down that hall, turn left at the end, and go through the second door on the right, you'll find Kip with Tom."

Mia's heart jumped. "Oh, I can wait for you if-"

Emma waved her off. "No, no! The boys and I will wait for you here."

As she already had the phone pressed to her ear, Mia sighed, picked up Kip's portrait, and headed down the hall. By the time she reached the end, she'd worked up a bit of a sweat. Mirrors this size weren't light, and the frame didn't help.

Still, she pressed on, turned the corner, and breathed a sigh of relief when she found the second door on the right open.

Hesitating in the doorway, Mia tried not to gape at the large, wood-panel... office? Den? She wasn't sure what to call it. All she knew was it screamed mancave with the dark, brooding feel, heavy leather furniture, and enormous desk backed by a wall of bookshelves.

At the desk, two tawny heads bent over some papers, one sitting, the other on his feet.

Mia cleared her throat and called, "Knock knock?"

Both looked up, and the resemblance was uncanny. Tom's hair was longer, curling over his forehead and ears, and he was clean-shaven, but that was where the physical differences ended.

Kip grinned as he stood from the desk and rounded the corner to greet her.

Tom's scowl didn't waver.

"Mia, darling!" Kip leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I've missed you terribly."

"Oh, I'm sure. I haven't had fifteen emails today reminding me you were waiting. You must be heartsick with loneliness," she snorted. "However did you keep yourself from rushing to meet me at the steps?"

Kip barked a laugh and ushered her into the room. "Didn't I tell you she was aces?"

"You did," Tom stated gruffly, remaining by the desk. He looked so happy to meet her; she was shocked he wasn't jumping for joy.

Mia cleared her throat, disconcerted. He was wickedly handsome, as she expected, but his attitude stunk. "Nice to meet you."

"That's it?" Kip scowled. "Nice to meet you?"

She shot him a shut the hell up glare as he prodded her toward the desk where she crouched to set down her work. When she popped back up, she turned her back on the so pleasant older Hiddleston, who looked like he wanted to pat her down to ensure she wasn't stealing the silverware and smiled at Kip.

"I hope it's everything you hoped for."

"My sweet Canuk! You are a gem among women!" Kip announced, sweeping her into a hug that somehow turned into an impromptu dance she failed at miserably, setting them both laughing.

Mia shook her head and shoved him playfully. "You haven't even seen it yet, you nut!"

He bowed grandly to her. "Oh, beautiful artisan! I am certain that when I gaze upon your fabulous creation, I will be struck down with awe and wonder at your magnificence." He glanced up and smirked. "Cash for the remainder is okay?"

She giggled, unable to help herself. He was such a card but so over the top that she knew he didn't mean a damn thing by his flirting. "Cash is fine."

He rose and patted his pants pockets. "Bugger it. I left my wallet upstairs. Tom, be useful and entertain Miss MacAlasdair while I run up."

He was gone before Mia could say he could catch her with Emma and sighed. By the waves of cold coming from the man standing statue at the desk, she was pretty damn sure he didn't want her there.

Mia turned and attempted to force a smile, but his bristly nature shot her anxiety into the stratosphere. "Um, I'll be around a bit longer, off with Emma for, for tea. Kip can find me th-"

He cut her off before she could finish. "Do you make a habit of it?"

Mia frowned as he dropped his arms and took a menacing step toward her. "Habit of what?"

He stalked across the room using the same ground-eating grace he had as Loki. "Flirting and fawning like a strumpet over men who are else wise engaged?"

Shocked, Mia's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

His lip curled into a disgusted sneer. "Kip hasn't shut up about you since he met you at the market. How desperate and despicable do you have to be to attempt to steal a man whose fiancée just had their first child?"

"Wow," she whispered. "You're unbelievable." She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her by the elbow. "Remove your hand before I make you remove it."

He released her as if she burned, but his hatred raged in his eyes. "What you're doing is unforgivable."

"Gods," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "You're so wrong you couldn't find right if it was lit with a neon sign. Look, bud, I get you're protecting your brother, but you can fuck all the way off to fuck off mountain. It's located in western Canada in the Rockies, so make sure to pack some long underwear so your ass doesn't turn into ice."

She stalked off, so mad she could spit, but paused when she reached the door to grasp the knob and glare one last time at a man she once admired. "They always say never meet your heroes, for they are doomed to disappoint."

She flipped him the middle finger and stepped out, slamming the door behind her.

Practically seething, Mia stormed down the hall to the entrance, where Emma was still on the phone, and her boys were chasing each other around the foyer.

She looked up at Mia's arrival, but her welcoming smile fell from her face. "I have to call you back." Emma hung up without waiting for a reply and chased after Mia as she headed for the door. "Mia? What happened? Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, Emma, but I can't stay. Your brother is an absolute asshole. Can we do this another day?"

"Yes, of course, but what did Kip do? He said you got on smashing?" she worried, trotting after Mia.

"Not Kip. Kip is lovely, a flirt and utterly ridiculous ninety-nine percent of the time but always a gentleman. Tom, however, needs a good hard kick in the bal- bottom!" she corrected, remembering the young ears listening intently.

"Oh, fuck! What did he do?" Emma demanded, slamming her hands to her hips.

Mia paused at the door, looked down at the stormy face of her friend in the making and sighed. "He accused me of trying to get with Kip."

"What!" she shrieked. "Oh, that-" She screamed and shook her fists at the ceiling before taking Mia gently by the arm. "I see. Yes, we can do this late-"

A crack of thunder so loud caused the door to rattle before lightning lit up the sky.

"Mia," Emma cautioned when the lights flickered.

She shook her head. "It's not far. I'll be fine, and I'll drive slow."

"It can be very unsafe to drive-"

Mia yanked open the door. "I'll be fine. We have some aggressive weather where I'm from, too. I'll text you when I get home!"

Before Emma could stop her, she ran out the door to Henry's truck.

"Mia!"

She waved, slammed the door, and turned the key. When it turned over and started on the first go, she thanked all the Gods and drove out of the porte cochere into the torrential downpour.

Next Chapter

#reflections #au tom hiddleston fiction #rpf #real people fiction #tom hiddleston

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simpalert · 2 years ago

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a day at the castle [ a lord titan au fic with some brotherly stuff|this is before bo and wen [aka the bloodmoon twins of the au]]

It's a nice and calm morning, lord titan wakes up and goes to make breakfast. while he does have servants to do stuff, it's early in the morning and he doesn't want his servants to waste their energy on breakfast. plus he always likes giving kip his breakfast, mainly just cause of the bright warm smile kip always has when he does.

once breakfast was prepped and ready, he went to kips room to wake up him. he softly nuzzles kip, puffing a bit of warm air in kips face. kip woke up with a soft yawn, sleepily rubbing his eye. he then looks at lord titan with a smile. "morning big brother" kip said happily in a happy morning voice, lord titan replied, "good morning kip, it's time for breakfast. I made your favorite". kip softly gasped and asked "strawberry waffles?!?" he also starts flapping his sleeves/happy stimming.

lord titan nods with a soft warm smile, which makes kip happily clap and grab his plush lamb "cmon prince candy, let's go get breakfast" he says to the lamb before jumping off his bed and rushing out of the room. lord titan follows and they sit and have breakfast together.

lord titan plays with kip for a bit before going off to work, then kip has free reign of the whole castle. he runs around, colors, and draws while watching tv. his favorite shows are looney tunes and rugrats, which is why lord titan always makes sure that the tv has some prerecorded episodes of both shows for kip to watch. kip also has a playroom all to himself. he has plushies, video games, puzzles and so much more. he has a servant make him lunch, which is the same every time. a pb+j with cheese curls on the side, with a super frosted cookie for dessert [super frosted means a but load of frosting].

once lord titan is available/comes home lord titan lets a servant cook dinner, so he can spend the most time with kip, he watches tv with kip, or draws with him. basically, anything kip wants, lord titan will deliver/do. mainly cause he feels bad for being gone doing work. once dinner is done, kip and lord titan sit on the couch eating dinner. once they're finished they cuddle up and watch a movie. they interchange who gets to pick the movie every night so they don't have repeat movies.

finally, once kip lets out a soft yawn. lord titan picks him up gently, making sure prince candy is with him. he then brings kip to bed, tucking him in and giving him a soft goodnight kiss on the forehead.

"good night kip, my sweet little lamb," he said softly and happily.

"good night, my best big brother ever," kip said in reply.

as lord titan leaves he turns on kips star projector and leaves the door open a crack, then goes to his room. which is right across from kips, leaving his door open a crack too. he then turns on his night light lamp and turns off the light. finally, getting in bed, cuddling up with his pastel brown-colored teddy bear named choco bear. drifting off to sleep, ready to face a new day.

i hope ya'll enjoyed this lil fluff fic, i just felt like getting this out. if i still have motivation i may tackle the next installment of "bloodmoon but no harvest"

taglist: @snowe-zolynn-rogers @tenaciouslittlething @inks-ns :]

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hello-jumping-in-puddles · 1 year ago

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mid-year book freak out tag

tagged by @bloody-wonder, thank you!

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2023?

Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente. i dont even know what to say. i want to sit raptly while someone smarter than me explains all the history and symbolism in this book that i missed. haunting.

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2023?

partially just because i've read few sequels this year, The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik wins. I maintain that Orion is boring as hell after book 1 and I don't care about him but the rest of the book? Delicious. El is so snarky and dark. Ooooh im an evil witch princess im so scary my friends have to hold me back from committing evil (devotes her life to protecting other people) (refuses to live in an enclave because it feels like cheating) (shows up whenever people ask for help even if they suck). also the reveal with the mawmouths was just. such fucking 10/10 writing. the punch of understanding. the way the text gives the reader space to figure it out themself and just go HOLY SHIT.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To?

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle. I have it downloaded. I am ready.

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2023?

I have no idea. I just find books when I find them, y'know?

5. Biggest Disappointment?

ironically, the sequel to question 6, The Return of Fitzroy Angursell by Victoria Goddard. after a book which is about a guy whose whole thing is "really good civil servant" this book was just...not what i wanted. it was about a classic singing robin hood style hero who is charming and cool and magical and does adventures and maybe otherwise i would have enjoyed it but how can i read a book set in the world of my favourite bureaucrat Kip and not read about bureaucracy??? only book so far this year i just straight up didnt finish. also, you can only tell the same vague story about how kip made a joke that one time without actually telling the joke before it stops being "backstory" and starts being "the author never actually figured out what the joke was".

6. Biggest Surprise?

The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard. absolutely bizarre book. there is no real plot other than the emperor preparing for retirement. the first three hundred pages the emperor just. goes on vacation?? i was expecting political intrigue but the political intrigue is 90% just "the rich guys dont like it but our guy, Kip the bureaucrat, is the emperors specialist guy and also extremely stubborn so everyone has to go alone with UBI". the biggest conflict is literally just interpersonal miscommunication but good. i was so hooked it was ridiculous. where did the heterosexuality come from i am perplexed

7. Favorite New Author?

i was about to say catherynne m valente but i actually cant claim that because now i looked her up and ive read other work by her! she did The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making and sequels which were extremely delightful also. so this one goes to Victoria Goddard on the basis of i have apparently read a lot of authors i already know this year

8. Newest Favorite Character?

Cliopher (Kip) Mdang my beloved

9. Newest Fictional Crush?

¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

💕Best Ship💕

¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

okay i guess maybe kip + the emperor? or maybe el + liesel because i was surprisingly a big fan of liesel by the end. though maybe thats just me wanted el to be with someone more interesting than orion.

10. Book That Made You Cry?

i can't actually remember if i cried but Driftwood by Marie Brennan was quite haunting and beautiful and bittersweet

11. Book That Made You Happy?

Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson. now, all brandon sandersons are at least 30% power of friendship by weight but i really do appreciate that this one was like "yeah no we're saying that part out loud. people are heros because they love their friends anything else is just set dressing"

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year?

i...dont think ive watched any book adaptations this year

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year?

don't write 'em, so n/a

14. Most Beautiful Cover?

im going to say Deathless tho i think i am biased because the book hypnotised me

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year?

so many. Ancillary Justice. I also really should read Nona the Ninth but book 2 was so...eugh. i ravenously devoured a bunch of Pratchett's last month and i am waiting on several more from the library. apparently theres a new murderbot out soon? i should check that out.

tagging @a-fish-bee, @foxsoulcourt if you want to do this one :)

#reading #mid year book freak out

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breathe2-fr · 18 days ago

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Eye of the Storm (pt 1)

"Where do we find the Stormcatcher?" The Shifting Wind Clan overed over the edge of the territory, hundreds of miles in the air. From their position it looked completely barren, save for speckles of civilization dotted across the land. Off the coast, a great plateau rose out of the water with a golden-tinged city of metal. "My Queen, He's said to spend most of his time in the Tempest Spire," Kiptalon said. "Is that the spire?" Spelldancer pointed to the plateau. "No, I believe that's Goldensparc, the largest city in the Expanse. It should be somewhere in the cliffs before the ocean." Gloam pointed to an enormous clawed tower on the horizon. "There! That must be it! I think the other towers have those big cables all connecting to that one!" "It's a start, if not the right place." Spelldancer nodded to the dragons behind her to follow. "Wait Spelldancer, we can't rush into the Expanse." Kip pointed toward the storm clouds rolling over the desert, only slightly above their own heads at their current position. "We won't be able to fly through. Crossing the Expanse isn't going to be easy." Spelldancer eyed the clouds. Admittedly, she hadn't given them much thought, but gave Kip her attention. "Why? We have Windsinger's lift on our wings." "With all due respect, your highness--" "Please don't be so formal, Kip." Spelldancer hadn't totally accepted that the others were calling her "queen." "Apologies. But correct me if I'm wrong, but you've never left the Windswept Plateau before, have you? We had His lift while we crossed the Sea of a Thousand Currents, yes, but I doubt the servants of the Tidelord have much concern for the air over His domain. But Stormcatcher will. Those clouds will strike us down." "The clouds will... strike?" "Lightning, Matriarch. Lightning strikes. We cannot fly through those clouds, they'll rip through our clan. Below them isn't safe either." Spelldancer hung in the air, horrified at the thought. She had never seen a lightning cloud, but of course the Shifting Expanse would harbor them. And Kiptalon was right; on a second glance, she could see bolts of lightning dancing across the desert. Even at their best, Spelldancer wasn't sure most of her people would survive a lightning storm. They were so tired from their travel, a storm would be certain death. Kip continued, "Remember, we have not been accepted into this territory. The lands of the gods know who is supposed to be there and who isn't. Without being accepted by Stormcatcher himself, the desert will push against us." Gloam looked helplessly below. "B-but! How can we cross then?! Is it even possible?" "Of course it is, but we can't just rush in. We need to have a plan for how to cross." Spelldancer looked hopefully to the skydancer. "And what do you suggest?" "I don't know that I suggest anything. But it should be discussed." Kip nodded to the clan hovering behind them. "We need ideas. We should rest before crossing the border. Once we do, we can put our heads together about how we'll travel." Spelldancer looked at the beach below, which stretched for miles until coming into contact with bottom of the highland cliff ledge. She gave the order and the clan circled a descent. The dragons hastily set up camp for the night, digging into the last of their food supplies. As the sun went down, Spelldancer sat with her son at a small campfire. She wanted so badly to go to sleep, to dreamshift to safety, but was scared of using the ability.

She wrapped a wing around Gloam and pulled him close, as he shivered from the cold ocean air that swept over them. She was determined to stay awake as long as possible, to give her clan their turn to rest first. But before long, Venomous approached. "Rest, Matriarch," the guardian said. "We have set up a watch to look after the clan in the dark hours." She gestured over to Winter and Paladin, who had positioned themselves away from the main clan. "Then allow me to join your watch." "It does us no good for you to be tired. You'll give poor commands. Rest." Spelldancer couldn't argue, but felt helpless. She pushed her back into the sand to create a cradle of herself and closed her eyes. Wasn't she supposed to be the one looking out of the others? And here she was, being told what to do and obeying. She couldn't be taken seriously as a protector of her own people.

Oh, how she wished Baerka was here - she had spent years training her composure against the Dream, but losing him was shaking her to her core in a way she hadn't felt in so long.

#flight rising #flight rising lore #shifting wing clan lore

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ceruleansageredux · 3 years ago

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here’s a little thought experiment for all my fate followers:

what happens when a servant returns to the Throne, and decides to keep some, if not all of their memories of Chaldea? It could be your Cu, my Gil, your friends Artoria - regardless, they kip off for a little nap, and bring back a memory of someone, a shining star of a Master that they do not wish to discard.

Now, what happens when another Servant from a different timeline does the same thing? Now there are two fragments of superhuman memory, carved into the Throne itself.

Consider what happens when this process repeats, over and over and over and over again. All these Servants bringing in a spark, a piece of someone that, logically, should be basically the same person, right? They were in the same ‘places’, at the same ‘time’, doing...almost the same thing, right? Sure, the beats were different and some words spoken change here and there, but the overall path, the outline of this someone is there, an undeniable trail burned into this otherworldly place where Thoughts and Stories and Memories become physical reality, a place where things that might have happened have the same weight as what did happen.

What happens when the Throne starts pushing these someones closer and closer together, when stars align and a desperate everyman hurls a summons into the Grail and what answers his plea is not an ordinary Servant, but...someone who knows what it is like to be weak and afraid, surrounded by people who wield power like they were born to rule the world.

What happens when Humanities Last Master opens their eyes...and realizes that they are both more and less than the Servants they summoned over and over again, when they realize that their memories are not right - no, that they have Too Many Memories.

The Grand Foreigner is Humanity’s Last Master, and they have no idea if they’re even real.

#fgo #more writing shenanigans #fate grand order

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the-melting-world · 4 years ago

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Can you write about Valerius’s hidden gymnastics/pole dance/Lyra/aerial silks talent?~ (pick whichever lol)

Oooh Mads! Please forgive me for taking so long. I was saving this one! I’m going to go with *aerial* – As in aerial yoga talents. 😉

Tagging some more babes: @apprenticealec @arcanecadenza @miserytheapprentice

~ 1K words

Kipling Bronne visits the palace several times a week to groom her arrangements and care for the more sensitive plants in and around the royal grounds. She often takes her longest break in the shadier section of the garden with Portia Devorak, where they share gossip, picnic snacks, and pets between their familiars.

One day, Kipling decides to bring a couple of yoga mats, hopeful that Portia would want to join her in some sun salutations.

“Nice call, Kip!” Portia said as she extended her body into upward dog. “This is a great idea to burn some steam!”

Kipling chuckled to herself as she relaxed from upward dog into a lazy cobra. She honestly had no idea where Portia got all of her energy. It took most of Kipling’s concentration to move through the formations with any sort of grace and synchronization of the breath.

They both slid backwards into downward dog. Poria simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to giggle at the mere thought of her butt reaching for the sky. Kipling struggled to keep her balance through all the snickering and snorting between the two of them.

“Portia! Quit wiggling your butt like that or I’m going to capsize!”

This only invigorated the redhead’s juvenile shenanigans. In the end, they both toppled onto their mats in a fit of giggles and raspy breath-catching.

In the midst of this, Kipling felt the beginnings of a spring shower peppering her face. The drizzling increased, declaring an end to their yoga session.

Portia righted herself and shook her fist at the sky. “Darn it! We were just getting started!”

Kipling rolled up her mat. “Maybe we can find a quiet spot in the palace to finish up.”

A spark lighted in Portia’s eyes. “I know where we can go!” She gathered up her mat without bothering to roll it and popped onto her feet. “It’s a pretty quiet place. Consul Valerius is the only one who might show up, but I’m sure he won’t notice we’re there.”

At the mention of the courtier, Kipling suppressed the urge to reach for her ghost lock and tug out of nervousness. Instead, she stood up slowly and clutched the rolled up mat to her chest. Pretending to be more interested in the rain, she asked, “The consul?”

Portia skipped ahead at a brisk pace. “Yep. I’m certain he thinks no one knows what he’s up to in there. You’ll see.”

Kipling made a curious sound as she picked up her own pace. She hoped it wouldn’t betray her intrigue at the thought of spying on the consul. When she and Portia reached their destination, they were unexpectedly apprehended by a servant, who made it no secret that they were desperate for Portia’s help.

“Mind waiting for me while I handle this, Kip?” Portia asked as the other employee practically dragged her away.

Kipling hesitated. “Uh…”

“Okay!” Portia waved over her shoulder. “Be back soon!”

When it was clear that Kipling was indeed on her own, she steadied herself with a few deep breaths and passed her cowrie shells between her fingers. Then she entered the room.

Three thick, sturdy beams were anchored above. The window shafts revealed how hard the rain was coming down. The warbled roar brought some calmness to Kipling’s nerves. Her eyes locked onto the silk ribbons cascading from the beams. And then on the figure rotating languidly from a cradle of lavender silk.

Kipling drifted behind a stray ribbon panel, but she never took her eyes away from Consul Valerius. His eyes were closed, head tilted back, spine gently arched against the taut fabric that held him aloft. He only needed to build a little momentum in order to launch himself into one constellation after another.

Cygnus. Capricornus. Leo.

His body unfolded.

Lyra.

Kipling wandered into the light where she could get a closer look. Valerius was in between formations, hanging upside down when he opened his eyes. His gaze, pale and golden, found Kipling’s. Her breath caught as she detailed the recognition on his face.

And then, just like that, it was gone.

Kipling tensed as his gaze passed right through her. Valerius carried on with his routine as if he never saw her. But something was different…

Consul Valerius wound himself higher and higher, closer and closer to the stormy heavens. Kipling envied the strength in his upper body as he propelled himself further into his aerial dance. His braid followed him in a poetic arc as he briefly surrendered to gravity, unraveling dangerously towards the marble floor before the ribbon finally caught.

Kipling gasped, realizing too late that it was all intentional.

He’s showing off, she mused. But was he doing it to impress her or simply to prove that he could?

As if to answer her question, Valerius made eye contact with Kipling. She looked deliberately into his cloudy irises and arched her brow, daring him to take this acrobatic venture further than the stars.

A lovely sheen collected across his forehead as he accepted the challenge. Kipling listened to his breath become more labored as he manipulated the silk and relaxed into each pose. She marked the asanas that she recognized – warrior, pigeon, crescent, crow. The rest she admired for how the consul could contort himself to achieve something so sublime.

Suddenly, Valerius stretched out the ribbons, creating a hanging tent. He disappeared inside. The ribbons descended until he hovered a foot off the floor.

Kipling approached the suspended hammock. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Valerius leaned forward enough to use the fabric as a swing. His braid was barely hanging by a cross section, making Kip wonder how many he permitted to see him this way.

“It’s interesting,” said the consul as he swung towards her, “the heights one can reach when they believe no one is watching.”

A small smirk found its way on Kipling’s lips as her eyes drifted away from the consul’s and down his chest. With a turn of her head, the delicate layer of sweat clinging to him almost glistened in the soft, gray light.

Valerius cleared his throat. “So then.”

Kipling looked back up.

“Why are you here, Miss Bronne?”

Kip considered the ways she could answer him. She could be honest and say she came to complete her own asanas. She could flirt and say that he was the reason she was standing there. Instead, she came close enough for their knees to brush whenever Valerius swung forward.

“To escape the rain.” Kipling settled on this, unafraid of the way the consul’s gaze took her in.

“Were you successful?” He swung forward for the last time, anchoring her knee between his. Kipling stumbled into his lap. His hands found her waist and steadied her.

“No,” Kip whispered as she let her palms slide against his wet pectorals. “Not quite.”

Valerius regarded her evenly. “Pity.”

Then he pulled her down with him into the hammock. Kipling entered a dark realm of weightlessness. Valerius shared more of his sweat with her. She gave him bold, restless affection. The ribbons held them in a snug cocoon. Above the ground. Protected from the rain.

#valerius #consul valerius #my asks #kipling the apprentice #valerius fluff #arcana fluff #portia devorak

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angstiism · 3 years ago

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he couldn't fault them for not having parents, although kip had them, he didn't actually know them. he was abandoned as a kit, because he was the runt, he was weak and his mother assumed he would die. he looks down at the ground, as he recalls his youth, all while listening to the man before him speak. he is mindful of their distance, appreciative that they were truly trying.

none of it really made sense - to be created by someone, living as a servant . . it was sad. he couldn't just assume they were making it up, either because it made sense. there were plenty other creatures that existed he simply just didn't know about. "then . . your creator or master, they must be like your parent . . right? what are they like?"

although he had his questions, mentions of a home turn the cat silent. he didn't have a home of his own, and that becomes obvious when he frowns and shakes his head. hands coming together in nervous habit of picking at his nails. "i live in a sanctuary with other people like me, doctors and nurses take care of us all. there's a lot of us, though . . i don't really have much privacy so i leave often, during the day . . like today. if i don't come back before the sun goes down, they get worried."

“ well, he’s very observant. he’s always somewhere in the shadows or in the form of a crow, watching from the sidelines and gathering information. he’s the only powerful and authoritative person that i know. if he sees something that intrigues him, he goes and takes it no matter what. when i look at him, i get shaken up by how even though he seems patient on the outside, it’s like he’s calculating his next move on the inside. being around him keeps me on my toes because i don’t know if he’ll praise me or torture me. ”

it was hard to describe sergio since he didn’t stick around the other for too long. his days were consumed by work & trying to stick by kip when he had the free time to do so. from the quick glance he had on kip, the talk of home life seemed to garner a negative reaction but he listened as the other explained their situation. a flip was switched inside him, maybe he could acquire a home on earth - maybe then kip could have the privacy and freedom the facility he was at wasn’t offering. on the other hand, it caused the demon to slowly get excited at the thought of coming home to kip and having the other all to himself. wrapping his arms around himself, the dark haired male needed to contain himself or else he felt he might do something strange.

“ have you ever broken the rules and didn’t come back on time ? i want to spend more time with you … i feel pretty empty when you’re not around. ”

#demon dog: uwu oh how thrilling it would be if kip broke the rules for me... a demon can dream

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theladyofspaceandtime · 4 years ago

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Yeah Marian (or Marion, as it's spelled in RoS) nearly gets forced into a marriage a couple of times. Or, well, with de Belleme in Robin Hood and the Sorcerer I would say it's more like an excuse to get her to his castle so he could sacrifice her for Magic Ritual Stuff. But in Herne's Son she actually does get forced into a marriage, that's true.

And yeah RoS Marion is very much an action girl (in Witch of Elsdon she actually beats Robin up to convince him that she's no more a liability than any of the other outlaws). At the time I think that was somewhat new, having her be a part of the gang so to speak. She doesn't get to do a lot of the hand-to-hand fights and generally has no melee weapon, but she shoots as well as any of them. Or better even, maybe. At least in "Seven Poor Knights" in the beginning when the outlaws were sort of competing on who could shoot most accurately, she and Robin were the only ones of to hit the target. But on the other hand in actual fights they always hit the target when it matters, so that doesn't narratively count for anything.

I did get around to watching the first episode of BBC Robin Hood, too, and one sort of half-similarity I noticed is that Much is /definitely/ not the sharpest tool in the shed in either. I find it way more irritating in BBC RH, though. Dunno why. I guess it's just that in RoS Much is not so much stupid as just... well, naive, really, and inexperienced, and youngest of the group (the actor was the youngest, too, only 18 or so when they started filming the show). Whereas with BBC RH Much it's more like cliche comic relief character stupidity which for some reason really gets on my nerves sometimes.

With what you said about Robin and Guy's relationship in Robin of Sherwood... yeah, you're partly right. Keep in mind, RoS has two separate Robins, though (if you've done googling I think you'll probably have already found that out, right?) Gizzy is half-brother to Robert of Huntingdon, but not to Robin of Loxley. Robin of Loxley canonically has no biological siblings, but he was raised by Much's parents so they're basically brothers, the two of them. (Considering that I do find it funny that they have different enough accents that even I can hear it, and I'm not a native English-speaker and my accent ear is downright horrible.)

Fun fact, by the way: according to Kip Carpenter (who created the show and wrote almost all episodes), the reason Guy and Robin number two were revealed to be brothers is that the cast and crew of the show were at some party at one point, and someone pointed out to Kip how funny it was that the only two blondes in the room were Jason Connery and Robert Addie, who played Robin and Gisburne.

I find incredibly funny, by the way, that BBC went and made their Robin Hood both Robin of Locksley and the Earl of Huntingdon at once, and Robin of Sherwood had both Robin of Loxley and Robert of Huntingdon (although Robert wasn't the earl, just the earl's son and heir) as Robin Hood, but kept them separate characters. Like, my understanding is that most adaptations choose one of those two, but not these shows I Guess.

I'll have to admit that one thing that is going to take me some getting used to in BBC Robin Hood is how clean and kind of new everything looks. Like maybe the difference is just made by the sharper image of newer cameras, but like everything in RoS, even various noblemen's places, looks kinda rough around the edges, worn, lived-in. Like in Nottingham castle, there's straws scattered on the floor, servants hurrying somewhere in the background, an open fireplace in the center of the hall rather than on one wall or something, there's always some random items scattered about, and so on. Whereas my first impression of BBC Robin Hood's Nottingham Castle is... kind of like it's all new and shiny, you know? Everything's clean, in perfect condition and orderly, very few things have a look as if they'd been in use for a while.

And I feel like it shows even more with the lower class characters. Sure, their homes and their clothes are less impressive, less showy... but even the buildings don't really look that old, the clothes seem clean and straight as if recently ironed, and it doesn't look as if they've seen much use.

Compare Robin of Sherwood. The ordinary people's homes look kind of shaggy and while they're in good condition, they don't look as if they've been built yesterday, you know? And everyone's clothes, and that includes the outlaws (except Nasir whose clothes somehow always stay neat, but then again half the time Nasir's there mainly to look good so whatever), are kind of like... there's a little bit of stain in them, you might see some mended tears (in some episodes you can see the outlaws actually repairing their own clothes, too, I think) and patches, and frayed edges and such. They're still in good condition, obviously, but they've seen enough use that they no longer look new.

I'm not complaining, mind you, but it just feels weird because I'm not used to it. (So does the show starting by Robin returning from the Holy Land to find everything a mess, even though I think it's a fairly common way of starting Robin Hood stories. In RoS neither of them was at any point involved in the Crusade stuff.)

Yeah, BBC Robin Hood is known for not being accurate with the times when it comes to physical appearances, hence it’s contemporary edge. I mean, the costumes are kind of obvious with it: (Guy’s leather biker armor, Marian’s hair going from straight to curly as if by magic, and a good majority of the characters costumes in general. I could keep going.) And as you’ve pointed out, even some of the sets look as if they are perfectly neat. Despite taking place in the 12th century, they also allude to political things of the 21st century at times and use contractions not yet used in those times. I think they made it this way though to help adapt it to modern times when it came on in 2006 and keep it interesting for the kids (since it is still a kids show too.) It’s cheesy at times, and some things are just so damn obvious it hurts or makes you laugh, but that’s why I love this show. I think the costume department started to do a little better towards the middle of Season 2, but Season 3 is where they really shined with the more historically accurate costumes thanks to new costume designers. I can’t say anything different about the sets though XD.

As for Much, the writers sadly made him the Butt-Monkey a good majority of the time in the show. And it’s sad, cause I actually see a lot of wonderful potential with Much and adore his character as Robin’s former man-servant and best friend. I’m glad to see they have Much in ROS and like the idea of him being Robin’s foster brother. I will warn you that the writing for some characters may get to you at times (the fandom knows that all too well), but it’s still worth the watch. <3

And yes, they are two separate Robin’s which surprised me. In my previous reply, what I was talking about concerning Archer was if the show wasn’t canceled, the writers were planning to make Archer the new Robin (spoiler spoiler), so the two different Robin’s kind of reminded me of that along with the whole half-brother thing. I’ll probably find it a bit weird to get use to, especially since that was something I didn’t like about the Russell Crowe one, but I’ll get to that bridge when I get to it. :)

I love those little tid bits though about how the crew just sat together and was like: lets make the only blondes in the cast related, and bam, Gisborne/Huntingdon became half-brothers. Haha, nice!

#erdariel #chats about Robin Hood

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andoryuanzuru · 5 years ago

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4 Masters got together to fight who has the best servant~

My week-long fun project is done, putting together some mastersona I've seen on the TL together! Wanna thank each of their creators for making nicely design characters and love for their servants to make me wanna draw them <3

Danni- @herecomesbeef Kip- @peishiwn Rin- @rinnylovespocky

[TWITTER][COMMISSION][KO-FI][PATREON][PORTFOLIO]

#artists on tumblr #drawing #fate series #fate grand order #mordred pendragon #siegfried #oda nobunaga #oda kipposhi #okada izou

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darkredehmption · 5 years ago

Text

Solo written by ‪@OfFeatherNFang ‬

#Solo ‘The Night is for Hunting’

#Part1

Mentions @DamagedBrother and @PanwerePredator

****

As the wind tore at my wings, threatening to push me off course, I said yet another string of curses, each of them lost in the turbulence.

Battling the elements forced me to consider the fact that the universe itself was telling me i should never have left the manse, but of the few things I had to my name, my word, my honour, was among the most priceless. As a Hunter, that meant even more. No one wanted to work with a hunter they couldn’t trust, and hunters that couldn’t be trusted didn’t last long.

So I forced my exhausted body to keep fighting, drawing up whatever dregs of strength I had left to keep myself airborne and heading in the right direction. This would’ve been so much easier if I could just dematerialize, but it was one of the few vampiric traits I’d wanted and not received.

Thinking of vampires only distracted me, my thoughts turning to Zsadist like a sunflower turned to follow sunlight. Leaving the male at the shifter’s bedside had twisted at something deep and primal in me, and now it screamed at the fact I’d left; left, when he was already unsteady from nearly losing his friend.

There was no reconciling that part of me, no soothing it as it tore strips off me inside and berated me with cold words. I could only do as I’d promised - help my hunter friend, and return. Keep my promise to return.

By the time I reached the address Ethan had given me I was ready for that biting wind to blow me over. Landing was more of a bracing stumble, my wings trembling as I tried and failed to fold them to my back. When that didn’t work, my primaries trailing in the mud slick grass, I gave up and retracted them completely. Even that Divine effort cost me as I paused, counting to ten as the world tilted then righted itself.

The house was the very last at the bottom end of a street. It’s closest neighbour was boarded over, the signs of looking even more decrepit than I felt. Stepping over the threshold into the yard, I did the usual sweep. A jet fuelled lawn mower wouldn’t have made a dent in the gardens, the grass too high and wild. The pathway itself was cracked and broken, pieces of cement slowly starting to creep away into that sea of swaying yellow brown. One slab looked like it’d been overturned at some point, dirt flecked across the surface. I managed a tired smile as I realized there was probably some sort of magical ward now painted on the other side.

Though I wouldn’t want to perform an exorcism in my front yard, it helped that there weren’t neighbours too close to witness it.

Reaching the front door, I eyed the windows either side, all covered, and then the frame of the door itself. Kernels of salt poked out from under the door, and I knew the inside would be a thorough line. The heavy duty wards against demons didn’t go uncatalogued as I managed to lift my hand and knock.

A voice I didn’t recognise answered.

“State your business!”

An understandable request, but after fighting off a narcissistic vampire to save his human servant’s soul and then flying hours to get here in what could only be categorized as aerial hell, I was less than jovial in my response. Besides, I’d already stepped over the demon ward - if anyone was bothering to pay attention that should’ve been hint enough I was, mostly, human.

“I bring good tidings of the word of the Lord,” I called back, sounding as tired as I felt. “He says he can save your immortal souls if you’ll only open the fucking door and get me a beer.”

Indeed the door cracked open, but the strange face that leered out did not look altogether impressed by my banter. Somehow, I mustered up a grin.

“You some sort of smart ass? Donchu know you got about four rifles pointed at you son?”

I huffed a sigh. “Only four? I’m insulted.” His brows drew together in a frown, so I quickly pushed on. “M’ here for Ethan, buddy. He’s calling in a favour and here I am.”

“You’re a hunter?”

His disbelief and sarcasm was only marginally more endearing than his unfaltering skepticism. Lifting one hand, slowly, I braced it on the frame and leant forward. The rifle nosed its way into the gap, pointed right at my chest.

“Look, Chief of Security, I travelled a long way very quickly to be here for /Ethan/,” I repeated his name with emphasis. “So if you want my help, now’s the time to go get him. Otherwise, he can stick his favour and I’ll head on home.”

It was a lie. I doubted my ability to walk to the end of the street at this point, but I needed this shit to move along faster than it was, and after a beat, the guy playing guard dog seemed to agree with me. Backing away from the door, rifle still trained on me, he allowed me the courtesy of stepping in and shutting out the miserable weather behind me.

He hadn’t been lying about the number of rifles. From where they’d been aimed at me in cracks at the windows they now swivelled to track me inside. I didn’t falter, used to the greeting.

“Ethan!” I called.

There was a thump, then a curse, then the scrabble of footsteps as someone hustled from another room.

“F’fuck’s sake, can’t a man get an hour of rest~” He cut himself off as he rounded the corner to catch sight of me. He whistled long n’ low, a grin splitting his face as he ignored all the weapons to step through the group and take my offered arm in a warriors embrace. “You made it here fast.”

Thumping his back, I gave a nod and eased away. The others, at last, lowered their weapons.

“Flew. Wouldn’t have made it here until tonight if I’d taken the car.”

“We’re still waiting on a few faces,” he admitted, eyeing me. “Maybe it’d do you some good to kip as well. You look like shit man.”

“Feel like it,” I agree. “I left that little problem I spoke to you about and came straight here.”

He looked almost guilty at that, nodding his head.

“Sorry to have called in that favour so fast but... we have a situation here n’ I wanted to deal with it before they got wind of us coming.”

I glanced to the other hunters, all of whom were watching and listening carefully.

“You invite a bevy of hunters to one small town n’ you don’t think they’ll notice?” I asked quietly, arching a brow.

“He still needs to be tested!” Guard dog piped up. The way Ethan’s lips thinned let me know that he wasn’t exactly a fan of the guy either, but endured for the hunt. As we all did. He shot me a look and i simply shrugged, waiting for the flask of holy water to be passed over by GD. I took a swig, but like he didn’t believe I’d swallowed (and trust me, I do) he flicked the container at me to spray a little over my chest. I answered by squirting a stream of it back between my teeth.

Ethan snorted as GD jerked away, cursing and scowling.

“Can I get a real drink now?”

Flashing me a grin, Ethan grabbed one from fuck knew where and tossed it over. Then he gestured at the others.

“Our doorman here is Will. That’s Jack, Sarah and Tyrone.

I spared each of them a glance and a nod, before Ethan looked to them and gestured at me.

“This is Malachi.”

“Well, how did Malachi get here if there’s no car parked outside?” Will groused, keeping a firm grip on his rifle even if it wasn’t pointed at me.

The duffel slung over my shoulder felt like it weighed a ton as I shifted it into a more comfortable position. He had a point though; the only things that arrived without wheels in this world were angels and demons.

“Mal is a special breed of help,” Ethan soothed, before I could open my mouth and come up with some semblance of a half decent lie. “Why don’t y’all go back to keeping watch, eh? I got shit to discuss with Mal.”

I wriggled my fingers in a cute wave, Will bristling even as the other three either gave nods or tried to hide smiles. Following Ethan through the house, I noted the towers of books, most occult, the shell compress and trays of silver bullets, as well as the symbols drawn on every available surface. Floors. Ceiling. Walls.

“What is this place?” I murmured, pinning the spot between Ethan’s shoulders with a look.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, pausing before a bedroom with two cots and gesturing in. I stalked to the cot that seemed the least slept in, and dumped my kit at the end of it. The relief of having it off my shoulder was exquisite as my body begged for me to lie back on that creaky cot and close my eyes.

Instead I sipped from my drink and sat, bracing my elbows on my knees. Ethan sat across from me. By the look of the tangled sheets, the thump I’d heard on my entry had been him falling out of this same cot.

“How’d your shifter problem work out?”

His voice was almost guilty, and I shrugged as I glanced to the boarded up, salt lined window.

“I think it worked. He was still alive when I left.”

“Hey… m’ sorry to call in my marker so fast~”

I held up my hand to silence him, shaking my head.

“If you called it in so fast it must be urgent. N’ my people are looking after the shifter. So… it’s fine.” It wasn’t. “I’m here.” Reluctantly…

Ethan nodded, looking at his hands joined in his lap, then back up at me and managing a rueful smile.

“Your shifter could be the first one to live through the bond that I’ve heard of.”

“He’s not my shifter,” I replied automatically, thinking of Hadrian and taking another sip from my bottle.

Thinking of the panwere had my mind turning to Zsadist, and I thought of the vampire with a sharp pang of longing. What had it been, a few hours? And I already felt like some piece of me was missing.

“What m’ I here for, Ethan?” I continue, arching a brow.

Leaning back on his cot until his back was half slumped against the wall, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The faint light he’d managed to conjure in his eyes, even in such a tired state, faded away.

“Things are moving Mal. Have you heard anything from upstairs?”

I balked at the question, and the fact he’d even bothered to ask. Few knew who and what I was, and even then they tended to know better than to ask if I had any input from the Creator. Shaking my head, I leant back from my braced position, beer forgotten in my hand.

“You know I don’t get office memos, Ethan.”

He made a face, though not at me, as if he resented the fact I was out of the Divine loop.

“There’s a nest of demons here.”

I blinked. “Demons?”

He nodded, finally meeting my gaze again. “At least a dozen or more. It’s as if the local town has become a vessel port. Demons come in and board the ships and sail on into their lives.”

“Cute metaphor,” I muttered. “Then what’s the plan? Exorcism or extermination?”

A calculated look.

“Whatever doesn’t get us killed. I’ve called in a few more markers, and we’re just waiting on them to arrive as well. Then, tonight, we’ll move.”

“Tonight?”

There was incredulity in my voice, and I couldn’t help it. Facing off against a demon horde tonight meant I was still a minimum twenty-four hours from flying back to Zsadist and the Brothers. It felt like forever.

“They meet after dark. And generally when they do, their numbers swell again. We need more bodies to help us but if we wait any longer we’ll be facing a small army,” he explained, raking a hand through his auburn hair and lifting one leg to brace on the cot. “We’ve assessed where, and we have a few plans, but once the rest arrive, we’ll finalize everything. Then we move. Until then?” He arched a brow and looked me over, then tilted his head toward the cot. “You should get some rest. You look like hell.”

Letting out an exasperated noise, I finished my drink and set the bottle beside my cot on the floor. Then I kicked off my boots.

“The dream team out there got this?”

Ethan grinned and nodded, turning and laying back himself to tuck one arm behind his head. I reached for the blanket folded at the end of my bunk and pulled it up and over myself. As I lay back, my exhausted body chirped in gratitude.

“They got this. Get some beauty sleep. Lord knows you need it.”

I flipped him off as I grinned and dropped my head to the pillow. A beat later, I thought of Z, of his golden eyes and the warmth of him at my side in bed.

A beat after that, I passed out.

#sls #black dagger brotherhood

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