#piercing gold coast
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scealaiscoite · 4 months ago
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.☽༊˚ three hundred one-word prompts
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¹⁾ balcony
²⁾ sunlight
³⁾ voicemail
⁴⁾ hillside
⁵⁾ tent
⁶⁾ lavender
⁷⁾ candle
⁸⁾ hipbone
⁹⁾ bandaid
¹⁰⁾ wrinkle
¹¹⁾ scar
¹²⁾ curtains
¹³⁾ armory
¹⁴⁾ shell
¹⁵⁾ bouquet
¹⁶⁾ necklace
¹⁷⁾ shotgun
¹⁸⁾ apricot
¹⁹⁾ cheek
²⁰⁾ floorboards
²¹⁾ jacket
²²⁾ bruise
²³⁾ flight
²⁴⁾ streetlight
²⁵⁾ carafe
²⁶⁾ lipstick
²⁷⁾ scars
²⁸⁾ poolside
²⁹⁾ cockpit
³⁰⁾ petals
³¹⁾ mirror
³²⁾ lawyer
³³⁾ cloudy
³⁴⁾ butcher
³⁶⁾ bleach
³⁷⁾ sawdust
³⁸⁾ crib
³⁹⁾ ribbon
⁴⁰⁾ wallet
⁴¹⁾ pearls
⁴²⁾ steam
⁴³⁾ chain
⁴⁴⁾ deckhand
⁴⁵⁾ whiskey
⁴⁶⁾ frost
⁴⁷⁾ lace
⁴⁸⁾ camping
⁴⁹⁾ bakery
⁵⁰⁾ traitor
⁵¹⁾ cherries
⁵²⁾ lightning
⁵³⁾ hide
⁵⁴⁾ tattoo
⁵⁵⁾ bonfire
⁵⁶⁾ reverse
⁵⁷⁾ passenger
⁵⁸⁾ speedboat
⁵⁹⁾ bare
⁶⁰⁾ concrete
⁶¹⁾ lieutenant
⁶²⁾ chili
⁶³⁾ tiptoe
⁶⁴⁾ office
⁶⁵⁾ skull
⁶⁶⁾ bikini
⁶⁷⁾ cabinet
⁶⁸⁾ lumber
⁶⁹⁾ laboratory
⁷⁰⁾ paint
⁷¹⁾ arch
⁷²⁾ bitter
⁷³⁾ staircase
⁷⁴⁾ priority
⁷⁵⁾ cell
⁷⁶⁾ subordinate
⁷⁷⁾ tapes
⁷⁸⁾ mangoss
⁷⁹⁾ bralette
⁸⁰⁾ whiplash
⁸¹⁾ syringe
⁸²⁾ cinnamon
⁸³⁾ tequila
⁸⁴⁾ garden
⁸⁵⁾ cigarette
⁸⁶⁾ sofa
⁸⁷⁾ rain
⁸⁸⁾ teammate
⁸⁹⁾ oleander
⁹⁰⁾ boss
⁹¹⁾ pillar
⁹²⁾ amethyst
⁹³⁾ footpath
⁹⁴⁾ driver
⁹⁵⁾ massage
⁹⁶⁾ stitches
⁹⁷⁾ jeans
⁹⁸⁾ brand
⁹��⁾ blackout
¹⁰⁰⁾ sunglasses
¹⁰¹⁾ lunar
¹⁰²⁾ velvet
¹⁰³⁾ captain
¹⁰⁴⁾ afternoon
¹⁰⁵⁾ ivy
¹⁰⁶⁾ salty
¹⁰⁷⁾ portrait
¹⁰⁸⁾ strawberries
¹⁰⁹⁾ torn
¹¹⁰⁾ cocktails
¹¹¹⁾ roommate
¹¹²⁾ bridge
¹¹³⁾ table
¹¹⁴⁾ hotel
¹¹⁵⁾ jasmine
¹¹⁶⁾ armchair
¹¹⁷⁾ satin
¹¹⁸⁾ bedsheet
¹¹⁹⁾ hedgerow
¹²⁰⁾ thigh
¹²¹⁾ cliff
¹²²⁾ gravel
¹²³⁾ apartment
¹²⁴⁾ keycard
¹²⁵⁾ coffee
¹²⁶⁾ babysitter
¹²⁷⁾ fire
¹²⁸⁾ chalk
¹²⁹⁾ hurricane
¹³⁰⁾ crickets
¹³¹⁾ amber
¹³²⁾ sherriff
¹³³⁾ lamplight
¹³⁴⁾ flag
¹³⁵⁾ airport
¹³⁶⁾ gasoline
¹³⁷⁾ cherub
¹³⁸⁾ clementine
¹³⁹⁾ scalpel
¹⁴⁰⁾ motel
¹⁴¹⁾ parish
¹⁴²⁾ lighter
¹⁴³⁾ highrise
¹⁴⁴⁾ crowbar
¹⁴⁵⁾ sundress
¹⁴⁶⁾ newspaper
¹⁴⁷⁾ screws
¹⁴⁸⁾ uniform
¹⁴⁹⁾ gold
¹⁵⁰⁾ buckshots
¹⁵¹⁾ coast
¹⁵²⁾ handcuffs
¹⁵³⁾ gunpowder
¹⁵⁴⁾ badge
¹⁵⁵⁾ orchids
¹⁵⁶⁾ chef
¹⁵⁷⁾ levee
¹⁵⁸⁾ tea
¹⁵⁹⁾ helicopter
¹⁶⁰⁾ cemetery
¹⁶¹⁾ ice
¹⁶²⁾ heirloom
¹⁶³⁾ tarpaulin
¹⁶⁴⁾ rural
¹⁶⁵⁾ sergeant
¹⁶⁶⁾ tsunami
¹⁶⁷⁾ lemon
¹⁶⁸⁾ debt
¹⁶⁹⁾ skyscraper
¹⁷⁰⁾ caramel
¹⁷¹⁾ hottub
¹⁷²⁾ rum
¹⁷³⁾ pet
¹⁷⁴⁾ tradition
¹⁷⁵⁾ perfume
¹⁷⁶⁾ bracelet
¹⁷⁷⁾ secretary
¹⁷⁸⁾ degree
¹⁷⁹⁾ braids
¹⁸⁰⁾ prescription
¹⁸¹⁾ invitation
¹⁸²⁾ cocoa
¹⁸³⁾ ransom
¹⁸⁴⁾ boxers
¹⁸⁵⁾ theatre
¹⁸⁶⁾ mascara
¹⁸⁷⁾ sand
¹⁸⁸⁾ collar
¹⁸⁹⁾ shoulder
¹⁹⁰⁾ lipgloss
¹⁹¹⁾ membership
¹⁹²⁾ heatwave
¹⁹³⁾ disco
¹⁹⁴⁾ cabin
¹⁹⁵⁾ popcorn
¹⁹⁶⁾ altar
¹⁹⁷⁾ radio
¹⁹⁸⁾ bayou
¹⁹⁹⁾ bodyguard
²⁰⁰⁾ glitter
²⁰¹⁾ mustache
²⁰²⁾ protector
²⁰³⁾ contacts
²⁰⁴⁾ bullets
²⁰⁵⁾ groceries
²⁰⁶⁾ raspberry
²⁰⁷⁾ microphone
²⁰⁸⁾ coconut
²⁰⁹⁾ villain
²¹⁰⁾ earlobe
²¹¹⁾ purse
²¹²⁾ flood
²¹³⁾ shot
²¹⁴⁾ windbreaker
²¹⁵⁾ granite
²¹⁶⁾ highway
²¹⁷⁾ eggshells
²¹⁸⁾ hoarse
²¹⁹⁾ chocolates
²²⁰⁾ trembling
²²¹⁾ buttercream
²²²⁾ rings
²²³⁾ holster
²²⁴⁾ briefcase
²²⁵⁾ wrist
²²⁶⁾ piercings
²²⁷⁾ cowboy
²²⁸⁾ ashes
²²⁹⁾ ankle
²³⁰⁾ neroli
²³¹⁾ orchard
²³²⁾ tires
²³³⁾ salmon
²³⁴⁾ peaches
²³⁵⁾ rooftop
²³⁶⁾ toast
²³⁷⁾ gala
²³⁸⁾ sage
²³⁹⁾ graduation
²⁴⁰⁾ reporter
²⁴¹⁾ belt
²⁴²⁾ antidote
²⁴³⁾ ship
²⁴⁴⁾ officer
²⁴⁵⁾ wine
²⁴⁶⁾ corridor
²⁴⁷⁾ cold
²⁴⁸⁾ hangover
²⁴⁹⁾ fingertip
²⁵⁰⁾ vintage
²⁵¹⁾ cupcake
²⁵²⁾ saviour
²⁵³⁾ gentleman
²⁵⁴⁾ loan
²⁵⁵⁾ hostage
²⁵⁶⁾ evergreen
²⁵⁷⁾ denial
²⁵⁸⁾ housewife
²⁵⁹⁾ riverbank
²⁶⁰⁾ marshmallows
²⁶¹⁾ books
²⁶²⁾ hockey
²⁶³⁾ lizard
²⁶⁴⁾ silver
²⁶⁵⁾ dinner
²⁶⁶⁾ pear
²⁶⁷⁾ bound
²⁶⁸⁾ waiter
²⁶⁹⁾ tender
²⁷⁰⁾ fallen
²⁷¹⁾ banquet
²⁷²⁾ announcement
²⁷³⁾ roast
²⁷⁴⁾ sneer
²⁷⁵⁾ exes
²⁷⁶⁾ stovetop
²⁷⁷⁾ brass
²⁷⁸⁾ clay
²⁷⁹⁾ valet
²⁸⁰⁾ schoolbus
²⁸¹⁾ exhausted
²⁸²⁾ field
²⁸³⁾ hoodie
²⁸⁴⁾ sugar
²⁸⁵⁾ palmtree
²⁸⁶⁾ burnt
²⁸⁷⁾ diner
²⁸⁸⁾ snake
²⁸⁹⁾ fever
²⁹⁰⁾ domestic
²⁹¹⁾ plaid
²⁹²⁾ wreck
²⁹³⁾ courtyard
²⁹⁴⁾ dozen
²⁹⁵⁾ earphones
²⁹⁶⁾ blueberry
²⁹⁷⁾ anklet
²⁹⁸⁾ shower
²⁹⁹⁾ venom
³⁰⁰⁾ lover
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blueiscoool · 2 months ago
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$1 Million Worth of Gold Coins Stolen From 18th-Century Shipwrecks Found
After an extensive investigation, Florida officials recovered dozens of gold coins valued at more than $1 million that were stolen from a shipwreck recovery nine years ago.
The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission announced in a news release Tuesday it had recovered 37 gold coins that were stolen from the 1715 Fleet shipwrecks.
The fleet of Spanish ships sailed from Havana, Cuba and headed to Seville, Spain on July 24, 1715. The journey was short-lived, as a hurricane wrecked the fleet just seven days later off the coast of Eastern Florida.
The first ship was discovered in 1928 by William Beach north of Fort Pierce, Florida, about 120 miles south of Orlando. Since then, gold and silver artifacts have been recovered offshore for decades following the first discovery.
In 2015, a group of contracted salvage operators found a treasure trove of 101 gold coins from the wrecks near Florida’s Treasure Coast, about 112 miles west of Orlando. However, only half of the coins were reported correctly. The other 50 coins were not disclosed and later stolen.
The years-long investigation by the state’s fish and wildlife conservation commission and FBI “into the theft and illegal trafficking of these priceless historical artifacts” came to a head when new evidence emerged in June, the news release said.
The evidence linked Eric Schmitt to the illegal sale of multiple stolen gold coins in 2023 and 2024, officials said. Schmitt’s family had been contracted to work as salvage operators for the US District Courts’ custodian and salvaging company for the fleet, 1715 Fleet - Queens Jewels, LLC. The Schmitts had uncovered the 101 gold coins in 2015.
During their hunt for the coins, investigators executed multiple search warrants and recovered coins from private residences, safe deposit boxes and auctions, the news release said. Five stolen coins were retrieved from a Florida-based auctioneer, who unknowingly purchased them from Schmitt.
Investigators used advanced digital forensics to nail down Schmitt as a suspect in the case. In most cases, digital forensics can recover data stored electronically on devices such as a cell phone, computer system or memory module.
With the help of advanced digital forensics, investigators identified metadata and geolocation data that linked Schmitt to a photograph of the stolen coins taken at the Schmitt family condominium in Fort Pierce, Florida.
Authorities said Schmitt also took three of the stolen gold coins and put them on the ocean floor in 2016. The coins were later found by the new investors of the fleet’s court custodian and salvaging company.
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Throughout the investigation, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission worked closely with historical preservation experts to authenticate and appraise the recovered coins sold by Schmitt.
Schmitt is facing charges for dealing in stolen property, the release says.
The company commissioned to salvage the shipwreck said in a statement it “was shocked and disappointed by this theft and has worked closely with law enforcement and the state of Florida regarding this matter.”
“We take our responsibilities as custodian very seriously and will always seek to enforce the laws governing these wrecks,” the statement read.
Recovered artifacts will be returned to their rightful custodians, the news release said. But the investigation is far from over: 13 coins remain missing.
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revelboo · 4 months ago
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Everything is alright- expanded cut
Starscream x reader
One more mile to get it together. Except, you’ve been telling yourself that for how many miles now? It’s been halfheartedly misting rain for the last several minutes, but you don’t bother to roll the windows up on your old sedan. Not when you desperately need the chilly feel of the wind sinking icy fingers into your hair and tearing at your ponytail to help numb the anger and stress just there under the surface.
But even with the speedometer pushing 65 on the wooded country road, there’s no outrunning yourself. Or stopping your mind from sifting through the fallout from your latest boyfriend. Letting the intrusive thoughts in. Like maybe he’d been right, and you hadn’t really made enough time for him. Even if you both worked crappy, full-time jobs that consumed more than their fair share of your time and energy.
If anything, it was as much his fault as yours, right? Hands going white knuckled on the wheel, you crank the rock and roll even higher to let the thump of the bass roll through your bones and send your thoughts flying. You’re out past the county line now, the road just an inky ribbon of asphalt snaking through the woods. Occasionally, the setting sun dazzles you through the gaps in the trees in piercing, painful flares of red and gold.
From the depths of your mind comes the thought that you could just keep driving. See where the road went until it ended somewhere on the coast. It was a lovely dream, but just that. You weren’t brave enough to just go. That’s why you still lived in the nowhere town you’d grown up in. Your foot settles a little more firmly on the gas pedal, slaloming around lazy curves as you try to shake off the mellow ache, because now you’re angry with him and yourself.
You could do it. Flip the proverbial bird to everything you know, especially your awful boss, and just nope off into the sunset without a plan. Probably end up living in the car if it didn’t break down before you even managed to cross the state line. It was funny in a decidedly unfunny way, because your own worst enemy? You. It’s always you.
Snorting at yourself, it takes a minute to register the new sound over the wail of an electric guitar pouring tinnily through your speakers. What is that? The fine hair at your nape prickles as it rolls over you, a thunderous scream that locks the breath in your lungs. Eyes darting up to your mirror there’s a moment of blank disbelief, because no. That’s not a jet right behind you, flying lower than a jet has any reason to as its huge wingspan sheers off branches in its wake.
There’s no time to argue with the impossible vision because the belly of the jet slams and scrapes along the roof of your car with an awful shriek, and panic lights you up. You haul at the wheel, foot slamming down on the brake and then you’re sliding on the wet road. Things get a bit funny after that. Trees right there and the noise of the impact. Your forehead bouncing off the wheel and then slamming back as the airbag deploys with enough force you’re stunned again.
Your world blurs into a confusing smear of impossibility when you lift your head and feel your heartbeat throbbing at your temple. For a moment, you can’t figure out the seatbelt, everything hurts, and your mouth tastes like old pennies.
In the distance, a rumble of thunder rolls as the buckle finally unclips. The door is partially dented in by the impact, so you crawl out the window, head pounding to match the thunder. But thunder doesn’t sound like that. This is a staccato thumping that makes no sense. Guns? Probably that jet exploding. Your awkward slide out of the car via the window isn’t dignified or graceful. Twisting to land on your hip instead of your face, you lift your head. Everything’s muddled and you definitely have a concussion. That’s the only way to explain whatever the hell it is you’re looking at. There are giant robots in the road and one of them has wings painted like the stupid, low flying jet that had tried to kill you. And they have guns. You don’t even know what to make of this particular hallucination playing out in front of you. Staggering up out of the ditch and onto the road, it feels like you’re on a ship, the ground pitching and rolling under your feet as your stare up at the nonsense. You definitely brained yourself good. Most likely, you’re still in the car bleeding out and this was your mind’s idea of a consolation prize. Except you’d never actually liked sci-fi or robots.
Turning unsteadily as your whole body screams in pain, you stare from the jet and its fiery red eyes to the other two imaginary head trauma robots. One’s yellow and the other is white with red and blue accents. And they’re not shooting the jet anymore. They’re just staring down at you in the same kind of dumb stupor that's weighing you down. Your legs get a bit cute on you and your knee thumps onto the road. Feeling the grit and loose gravel digging into you cuts through the hazy fog of pain and disbelief.
Because it’s real. And then the panic rears its head, screaming at you to run even as you freeze. You’d always kind of assumed you’d do well under pressure. That you’d at least do something. Kneeling there as the misty rain slowly chills your skin, you don’t move. You can’t. Not even when you see the jet lunge right at you.
****
It's almost serendipity when the human staggers up into the road between him and the two Autobots. Gaping up at them with no sense of self-preservation or fear. Staring at him in the optics like he was no threat to it. Brave, but so stupid.
Because his options are limited even though he’s not exactly outgunned. No doubt the Autobots have called in for backup. Even bleeding energon and one wing hanging on by sheer spite and a prayer, he could handle two of them. Several, though?
And calling in his own backup? Having to beg for help even from his own trine? Weak. He’d never live it down. Or survive it. Weakness didn’t last long among the Decepticon ranks.
Feeling the wound in his side pulling as he lunges, he’s only barely aware of Jazz’s cry. The human is softer than he expects, that soft flesh giving horribly against his servos as he catches it and lifts it out in front of him like the most ineffective shield ever. Aside from a wheezing sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, the human just hangs there in his grip, unresisting. Maybe broken.
All that matters is that Jazz and Bumblebee have frozen. Maybe it isn’t so ineffective. Because the Autobots are forbidden from harming organics. Especially humans. Baring his denta in a feral smile, he backs away from the two.
“Let the human go, Starscream,” Bumblebee says, voice as steady as the weapon still raised toward him in threat.
An empty threat. A laugh escapes him, his smile turning nasty. “No, I don’t think so.”
Whatever is inside humans is hot, sticky, and leaking unpleasantly against his servos. The sensation is almost enough to make him chuck the thing at the two idiots to buy himself some time. Small hands push at his servos as the thing in his grip shudders. It’s silent, though as it looks up at him with big, terrified eyes.
Spark thrumming, he keeps moving back. They were really going to let him go just because he’d nabbed a human with no survival instincts whatsoever. Who still was eerily quiet as they sluggishly leaked red fluid from a gash on their head. Turning on his heel, he pulls it into his chassis as he transforms, pain rippling through him. There’s a terrifying moment of very real fear that his wing won’t hold. That he and his hostage will crash back down, but his turbines roar and he’s gone.
It's no longer silent, he can hear its rasping gasps. Maybe transforming around it had finally broke through its shock. Something definitely had. He could feel its little hands scrabbling at his interior in a panic, the sensation causing his metal flesh to crawl all over. It was inside him. Touching everything. Leaking that sticky red stuff inside him. The only consolation at all was that it wasn’t screaming.
Yet.
“Keep your filthy little hands to yourself,” he snarls as it paws at the seam of his cockpit as if it wants to be jettisoned. Was nearly begging for it. As tempting as that thought was, the docile, little thing had potential. Namely as a way to keep the Autobots from firing at him.
Snatching its hands back, its wide eyes dart around his interior. So, it isn’t quite as addled as he’d thought. Surprising. “It’s talking. The giant, metal death robot is talking,” it mutters, voice soft and raspy with pain as it tucks its hands against its chest.
“Starscream.” The annoyance is immediate and the human flinches at his tone, hunching its shoulders. It doesn’t respond, though. Just makes that weird, gasping sound as it looks around for an escape.
Aside from a low, moaning when he transforms around them a second time, it’s silent as he keeps it trapped inside his canopy. One of its soft hands slaps against the glass to make him shudder, its breathing becoming louder and more frantic. There’s the fear he’d expected. By some miracle, he makes it inside the base and to his quarters without getting stopped. Though, Skywarp gave him a look as he limped past. A low growl and a flash of denta had been enough to discourage his trine brother from needling him for the moment.
Closing the door behind himself, the pain of his ruined wing crests and threatens to wash over him. Servos gingerly touching his side and wincing when they come away wet with energon, he picks up an empty energon cube and pops his canopy. With a startled cry, the human falls out into his palm, and he drops them into the cube. The walls are high enough that he doubts they can manage to get free. Placing it on a shelf, his optics narrow as it scrambles to the far side of its prison, eyes wide.
Huffing out a low vent, he turns and leaves the human to go find the medic.
****
You slide slowly down the smooth glass wall to land on your butt as your legs just give up. The apparently not hallucinatory, brain trauma induced, giant robot stuck you in a big, square aquarium and even though the top is open, you can’t get enough air. Or stop shaking as panic sank its teeth into your throat.
Reaching up, you gingerly touch your temple. There’s blood there, but sticky and not actively bleeding you think. And even if you’re not imagining all this, you probably, definitely, do have a concussion. You can’t motivate your shaking, noodle legs to stand, so you crane your neck to study your prison. The walls are much higher than you are tall and featureless. No way to get a good grip to climb out, even as you very briefly entertain and dismiss the idea of parkouring up the corner of the box to freedom, because that isn’t happening, and you know it.
Which leaves you all alone to wander the shores of melancholy regret in the silence of the empty room. There’ll be no seeing where any other roads go now. No second chances. You tunnel your fingers through your hair, pulling on it as you try to gather yourself. To think it out. Feeling miserable, you look around the big room. It's giant robot sized and surprisingly spartan. There’s a flat metal berth along one wall, a desk and chair, what might be storage drawers, but blessedly little else. No mementos of a life lived. No trinkets. Something about that bothers you, but you don’t dwell on it.
You’re not sure how long your big, evil robot, Starscream, is gone. Hours? You’re almost drowsing in your corner even as you shiver uncontrollably in the icy room. Apparently cold didn’t bother giant robots, but then, it’d been very warm when you’d been trapped inside its interior. Any other time you’d have been ecstatic about riding in a jet. Fear for your life had soured the experience.
You bang your head on the glass wall of your cage when the door opens, and your kidnapper returns. Those glowing red eyes slide your way before dismissing you. Shifting to drag your legs against yourself, you watch it move to an oversized chair and slump. Teeth chattering, a new concern surfaces. This thing knew you needed food and water, right?
“Almost brought down by two weak Autobots,” it mutters, dragging a hand down its face in a disturbingly human gesture. For an alien robot murder machine, its face is uncannily human. It reaches back to prod at one of its wings. It looked better than it had, you realize. “Nearly ripped my wing off.”
Was it talking to you? Unsure, you dart your tongue out to wet your lips. Somehow you hadn’t yet won yourself a Darwin Award even though you’d blundered into the middle of a fire fight between huge, angry robots while gawping like a hick tourist. Did you dare push your luck? “How dare they,” you say, voice a barely-there, raspy whisper.
It hears you, though. That big head turns to stare at you, and you wilt as its wings flit up a little higher and the silence stretches.
“Right?” Starscream demands suddenly, growling voice full of irritation. It sounds like a he, you decide. Though since it was whatever the hell it was, who knew. “I could have destroyed them then and there with one servo.”
It’s almost funny as the alien death machine actually puffs out his chest a bit when you nod in agreement, teeth chattering. And then you run with it, playing devil’s advocate, because staying on his good side? Definitely a good idea. “They wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Of course not,” he sneers, rising to tip his head at you with almost predatory interest. Drifting away to a wall, he retrieves a huge blanket and drops it unceremoniously on you. The material is soft as silk, but some chemical smell clings faintly to it. You still cocoon yourself in it, face poking out to watch your evil robot return to his chair and his sprawl. And falls silent, staring at you in return.
The shivers slowly ease, but don’t go away altogether. That doesn’t stop you from drifting off, though. Your sleep is thankfully a dreamless void that sinks its claws in and drags you under. It’s almost pleasant up until something bounces off your head and the pain you’d left behind in sleep screams through you. Along with the realization that you’re being buried alive. Clawing your way free, you fall on your face, swearing.
And look up to find Starscream staring down at you, his lips twitching in cruel amusement at your expense. Your heart runs wild, rabbit-fast in fear. His red eyes shift behind you then back. Wary, you turn to look and find he’d buried you in a mountain of beef jerky, chips, soda, and- its food. He’s brought you food. That has to be a good sign, right? Why bother to feed you if he’s just going to squish you.
Sure, he could have not dropped it all on your head, but you aren’t about to tell him that. Just like you aren’t going to think too deeply about where the food came from either. It’s not like he can just waltz into a store and buy stuff. You’re snapped out of thoughts of sirens and explosions when you realize those fearsome eyes are scrutinizing you. Waiting for your reaction?
“Thank you?” Your voice is soft and uncertain, but the big, scary robot freezes all the same. Those wings on his back flip up then back down. Like he’s surprised that you’d thanked him. Just like the complete 360 he’d pulled when you’d agreed with him before. Like your captor isn’t too used to being listened to or appreciated. And he not only loves the attention, he might just crave it. Fawning over him is a small price to pay for your life. And that smug, preening smirk paired with those little wing flutters? For a kidnapping, killer robot, he’s kind of adorable. Not that you’re ever going to admit that out loud. You like living too much for that.
You freeze when he reaches into your cage before scooting back from that massive hand. Unwilling to give up your warm blanket, you drag it with you and suck in a sharp breath when he cages you in his hand and lifts you out. His grip isn’t as rib crushing as the last time he’d snatched you up and you cling to his fingers, heart racing as he places you on the desk.
****
Scrolling through reports, Starscream keeps an optic on his new- what, pet? Yes. A pet. Letting out a long-drawn vent, he works and tracks the human as it stands up still wrapped in the cleaning cloth he’d given it and dragging it along as they cautiously move around his desk. It only takes a low growl under his breath to discourage the human from getting near the edge. Those big eyes dart up to him in surprise before moving away from the drop.
Satisfied that it’s not going to launch itself to a stupid death, he resumes perusing reports. “Can you believe those idiots?” He grumbles to himself out of habit. “I told them that mine was unstable.”
He hears the human’s quiet steps as it moves closer to him, little face tipped up toward him. “They should have listened to you,” it says, the words surprising him.
Because they were true. Were humans usually this astute or had he just picked a particularly smart one? His wings adjust slightly as he turns his attention to the tiny creature. “They never listen to me.” Reaching out he ghosts the tip of a servo over their head, surprised by how soft their hair is. It goes still under his touch, head lowering as he slides that finger down its back.
He'd had a petro rabbit once, the tiny, fragile thing so trusting. It would eat from his hand and come willingly to him. Petro rabbits weren’t exactly clever, though. Couldn’t distinguish him from Skywarp. And even though Skywarp had claimed it had been an accident, Starscream had never really let it go. Or believed him. Suddenly unsettled, he gently strokes over the human’s head again. Soothing himself and his new pet.
Because this time would be different. He freezes as it leans into his palm, slowly relaxing. Its skin is colder than he remembered, and he frowns as he carefully curls his servos around it. And it leans eagerly into his warmth with a little noise of pleasure. His optics flit to the empty energon cube as it relaxes further against him, its own big eyes peering up at him trustingly. He'd never actually been this close to a human, he realizes. Certainly never touched one.
Venting softly, he uses his free hand to pull his datapad closer so he can finish going through the reports. Stiffening when the human lays its head on his servo, little hands clinging as it soaks up his warmth.
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comicaurora · 2 years ago
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What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?
Still "most of them," unfortunately.
Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.
An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.
The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.
Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.
They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…
The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.
It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.
A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.
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katerinaaqu · 6 months ago
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Calypso the Beautiful Goddess
So after I made my sketch of Odysseus the other day as you can imagine I couldn't help but also add Calypso, the beautiful goddess (or the One with the Divine Look) or Fair-Tressed Goddess of Ogygia! So this is how I imagined her to look like or at least tried to! Hehe!
My first description of hers can be found to my story Survivor's Guilt and Survivor's Duty (Part2):
"Odysseus weakly looked up to see a magnificent woman. She was tall and slender with dark sun-kissed skin and dark hair carefully arranged in braids adorned with gold and seashells which cascaded down her back like a cape. Her face was heart-shaped and completely clear and pore-less; looking more like the magnificence of marble rather than flesh. Her large almond-eyes had the color of rich honey and her lips were full and shaped like a shell. Odysseus was stunned by her beauty and much more by her soothing voice."
My description was massively inspired by the amazing Vanessa Williams who enrolled the role of Calypso in The Odyssey (1997)
Since sources place her isle in various places, including Gozo island in Malta or to the coasts of Tynisia I wanted to enroll this information to the character's design. While I was drawing I also drew massive inspiration by the beautiful face of Aaliya from the Queen of the Damned for this pore-less skin as well as the skintone of hers which I found simply perfect for Calypso.
I wasn't sure how to achieve that beautiful look Vanessa had and incorporate the multiple braids that I imagined for Calypso so I gave her an extra bun and in a way it works given that I imagined Calypso having very long and very rich black hair.
Her makeup was inspired by Egyptian contexts especially the Malachite over the eyes and the khol around them. The rest of it was inspired by the Queen of the Damned as well as my random details. I know I am not very good with blending I know! But I did try to see how her makeup would work. For her lips I also wanted this classic coral/red shade.
For her dress I didn't have something specific in mind. I did have some images of mycenaean dresses as well as some classical egyptian shapes from New Kingdom but I ended up with a more simple design, partially also inspired by the color I make her wear in the second part of my story.
I was thinking about giving her accessories like jewelry but I wasn't confident I would do it properly so I just gave her a piercing to her ear or something similar and just imagine she wears her bracelets or rings for this one! Haha! Anyway drawing hairstles is also not entirely my forte but I am quite satisfied with this one. Could be worse! XD Some of the beads I colored to resemble corals or something but yeah! Hehe I was apso inspired for her seashell by the classical seashell Cypraea
Hope you like it!
My other sketch with Diomedes can also be found here. Again sorry guys ain't very good at drawing and my marker-pen has a very bad tip so it was a bit hard to ink the lines but I enjoyed making that one!
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chibipeachu · 1 year ago
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Beauty & The Shadow Man | Aleksander M.
A/n: Happy holidays! I've been working on this for a bit now, so i do hope you all enjoy reading as much as i've loved writing this!! Please send feedback! Wc: 9.6k (semi proofread) Warnings: Blood, cursing Pairings: aleksander morozova x fem!reader
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“Once upon a time, there was a rich merchant, a brave and kind man, who after losing his beloved wife, lived on for the good of his six children.” The storyteller flipped the page. “Three boys, three girls, who filled the house with laughter and chatter.” 
Giggles coming from four children, laid across from the maiden. “Sounds a lot like you four!” She joked before going back to the page.
“The man had a fleet of three ships, the siren, triton, and the largest, leviathan.” The children scoot upwards to look at the drawings of the boats. 
“They were stuffed with the finest wares in the land, from jewels, to fabrics and mead. One evening while on their way back to port, a violent storm had appeared. Lighting tore their sails, snapped their masts, the bottom of the ocean sparkled with the jewels and golds that were swallowed up forever.” The children frowned.
“Gone within the month, the merchant and his children were forced to leave their home.” She flipped the page once again.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You rolled your eyes as you listened to your siblings complain about moving to the countryside and having to give up their best valuables. 
Your shoes quietly clacked on the wood as you made your way towards the statue of your mother, your father had made after her death. You sighed as you knelt down and placed flowers in front of the statue. 
“There mother, we have to start a new life...” You sighed as you stared at the statue. “There you are y/n.” You turned to face your father who smiled sadly at you and the statue. “Would she have liked the countryside?” You asked, hugging your father as you both admired her one last time. “She would’ve loved it..” He kissed the top of your head. 
“Then, I'm sure I'll love it too!” You smiled as he guided you both towards the carriages filled with the belongings you were able to keep. 
It was hard to get used to the countryside for a few weeks before you fell into a routine. You tied an apron around your waist before walking up the stairs to your older sister’s bedroom and began knocking. “Get up you two, it’s your turn to help in the garden!” You kept knocking.
“Marie has fallen ill, we’ll take our breakfast in bed..” Anne, the oldest, said, opening the door, her skin dewy with sweat. “Absolutely not, you two are going to help in the garden!” You scoffed and marched in.
Marie laughed and fanned herself. “I’d rather die..” You rolled your eyes and dragged her upwards into a sitting motion. 
“Too bad, I'll come back if you both aren’t down in two minutes.” You threatened, walking into the garden, you walked over to the laundry line and hung the wet clothing. 
“Defeated, pierced by arrows, the young man left the battle, taking refuge in the forest.” You glanced up and smiled as your brother, Thomas, sat in the empty carriage seat, writing a story in his notebook.  
“How’s it going?” You motioned for his notebook, he sighs and tosses it to the side. “Horrible, too realistic.” He scoffed, making you smile as he walked over and helped pin the clothes to the line.
You both turned as your father cheered from his horse, riding up to the cottage with a wide smile. You both walked over towards him.
“Gather everyone, I have some news!” He cheered. 
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“They were happy to see me at the shipping offices, Dumont was charming, his eldest daughter married a count!” He updated, looking at his two oldest daughters.
“It could’ve been me!” Marie sighed. “But the big news is, the mermaid, which was your mother’s favorite ship, has been found!” You looked shocked at his new, leaning forward to hear properly. 
“She was drifting off the coast, and brought back into port.” Your father announced, 
“And the goods onboard?” Your brother questioned, “Intact!” Your siblings cheered, knowing they could return to their typical uppity lives.
“Children, I think we’re saved!” he chuckled as they cheered, not noticing your somber attitude. “Lets go pack our bags! No, we could burn them out here!” Anne clapped, happily.
“I feel tingling, I'm alive again father!” Marie ran over and kissed your father’s cheek.
“We can’t go back into town in this statute, you need to visit the shops, we need to make a list!” Anne squealed as she and Marie ran for parchment. 
“You can come to town with me, show off my successor to dumont!” Your father told Henry, the oldest. 
“I won’t let you down!” They both smiled. “At last, the young man's enemies were defeated, the young man returned triumphant, cheered on by his people!” Your family all smiled at thomas’ ending.
You quickly walked outside to tend to the garden while your sister’s wrote down a list.
Your father noticed as you walked away. He quickly followed and sighed as he watched you quietly pick the vegetables. “What’s the matter with you, are you sulking?” He asked, watching as you dug up a pumpkin. You stood up and faced your father.
“Clearly, if a girl is sad, she sulks, if a girl is happy, she’s mad!” You ranted to your father, placing the pumpkin in his arms and you collected the fruits. 
“Well what do you want us to believe, everyone but you is happy.” He sets down the pumpkin before squatting down next to you.
“I’d like to stay here longer. I like the countryside; it’s peaceful, no judgment.” You sighed. 
“We came to this house to bury our sorrows, our lives aren’t meant to be here..” 
“We both know what will happen, Henry will go back to the thugs he calls his friends, Marie and Anne will go out every evening to find husbands and you’ll be tied to your work again..” You sighed, standing up.
“Y/n, one of these days we’ll go our separate ways, even you will grow up and want to move away.” Your father explained.
Before anymore could be said, your sisters interrupted with the paper.
“Don’t forget a thing, Marie can’t bare it!” Anne sighed, swatting flies away. Your father nods before turning to you. “And what do you want?” He questioned, you sighed and glanced over the garden before deciding. “A rose, I can’t seem to grow any here, no matter how hard I try too!” He nods at your request.
“Very well, I shall return with the items.” Your father walked towards his horse where Henry stood, waiting for him.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“The men arrived at the port to find problems with their wealth; the father has signed the riches over to pay off the family’s debt.” The children gasped.
“Oh no!” The little girl sighed.
“The father had stopped his son from lashing out on the innocent dumont, the eldest stormed off in a fit of rage, leaving the father to follow after him; while searching the father had stumbled into one of the past suitors who pinned after the youngest hand in marriage.”
“Orion Kingsley, highly respected for his time in the war, though now he was considered amongst the town's thugs.” The children’s interest peaked as the illustration showed the man. 
“Is he gonna take his daughter away?” The youngest gasped at the thought. “Well, we’re still in the beginning so who knows.” The storyteller shrugged.
“He questioned the father about his youngest and offered to take her off his hands for a hefty amount but the father refused and continued to try and find his son.”
“After hours of searching, the father left defeated. He let his horse trot to the cottage while he had dozed off for a bit; Somehow while he slept the horse had taken a wrong turn and the pair ended up in front of an abandoned palace.” The storyteller laughed as the children tucked themselves under their blankets tighter.
“The doors eerily opened up by themselves. The father walked in cautiously, he made his way to a dining hall, on the table laid a lavish dinner of all sorts of food, the candles lit up showing the table covered in goods, the man quickly dug in, starved from the ride.” 
“Once the man had finished his dinner, he noticed a corner of the room had lit up, it was a huge chest, he opened and to his surprise it had all the things he needed from the list, minus the rose. The father took the items and made his way out of the palace but stopped as he spotted roses leading to a garden, he quickly walked over and plucked one from the ground, and BOOM!” The storyteller slammed the book, scaring the children.
“A giant soldier jumped in front of the man, the father scrambled, as he went to run away he bumped into a dark figure that towered over him.”
“He yelled at man for being selfish, for the man's punishment he was to return before morning and stay there till his death; A life for a rose..”
The kids gasped.
“If you do not return to me by sunrise, I will go after your family, one by one and I will save your youngest for last, since she is most dear to you! The beast threatened the man..” The storyteller showed the drawings of the man cowering under the beast.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“A story of a beast and a rose? It doesn’t make sense.” Thomas questioned. “How do you explain that? It’s real isn’t it!” Your father motioned over to the chest with everything.
“It’s all our fault! It’s all our fault-!” Marie repeated, Anne smacked her arm. “We’re not the ones who asked for a rose.” Anne motioned towards your frozen state, beside your father.
“It’s no one's fault!” Henry argued back. “Enough! I have no idea who that beast is but I know I must return to the palace in a few hours..”  Your father sighed, staring at the rose on the table. 
“What will he do to you?” The youngest son, Flynn asked. “I have no idea, he said a life for a rose..” You didn’t need to look up to feel your siblings stare, silently blaming you.
“And if you don’t return?” You questioned. “It’s over for all of us…” You all stared at the rose on the table, not knowing what to do next.
The next day had arrived, all of your siblings stayed up to see your father off for the last time, you sulked in your room.
A knock brought you out of your thoughts, in walked your father. “Y/n..” He started, “I know what they all are thinking..” You stared out your small window. 
“What do you mean?” Your father asked. “Mother died, giving birth to me..” You turned to face your father. “I won’t let them blame me for yours too!” Before your father could realize your words you quickly ran out of your room, locking him inside by placing a chair against the knob.
“Y/n! Let me out, Y/N!” Your father called out, Henry looked between you and your siblings who rushed upstairs to let your father out. 
He hesitated, not knowing where to run after. You grabbed your coat that hung up by the door. “Don’t forget me!” You called out before running to take your father’s horse. 
As you rode off, you heard your father call out for you but got stopped by your brothers. 
- - - - - - - - - - - -
As you approached the woods, you leaned down to the horse. “A life for a rose.” You watched as the horse's pupils dilated before taking off into the forest. 
You tried to shield yourself as he passed through sharp branches, you had managed to gain scratches on your arms. After a bumpy ride you had finally arrived at the abandoned palace your father had stumbled onto.
You hopped off the horse and walked to find the entrance of the palace, while exploring you took note of the amount of overgrown vines there were covering the building and a statue in the fountain. As you walked up the steps leading to the doors.
The big doors opened in front of you. You hesitated before walking in, the doors shut making you jump before looking around.
You followed the vines that lead up to stairs, on the top of the stairs was a door that had a bridge leading to a room, you walked into the room and looked around, the ceiling was covered in rose vines, the four bed posts were covered as well. 
You looked to your left and saw a pond of water in a cove looking area. 
“A life for a rose..” A voice spoke out of nowhere, making you look around for the source. 
After failing to do so you walked over to the bed that had a fur blanket on top, you ran your hand through the fur. You looked up and stood shocked, a lavender dress with swirls embroidered into the fabric. You reached your hand out to touch it but pulled your hand back.
You avoid looking at your scratched up hand, you sighed before turning to the water and walked over. 
Swirls appeared in the water, you leaned closer and dipped your hand into the water, within moments, you pulled your hands out to see them healed, no traces of scratches. 
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“The girl was ready to die with the first strike of the bell, as she looked around the beasts palace, a noise echoed through her body; Her heartbeat.” The drawing in the book showed a girl in the middle of a ballroom of sorts, in a lavender dress with jewels across her neck.
The second drawing showed the girl lifting a curtain, behind her stood a beast in the shadow on the fabric.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You quietly walked into the dining hall and looked around for anyone and held your breath as you heard footsteps behind you.
“My name is y/n, i’ve come to exchange my life rather  than my father’s..” You explained to whoever stood behind you. “Seat yourself.” The gruff voice spoke.
You noticed two chairs, one on each end of the table. You walked to the chair near the fireplace and sat down, not looking up to your now captor.
He walked behind your chair and spoke, “Eat, when you have regained your strength, you will be able to walk wherever you want on my domain; but when night has fallen I forbid you to leave the palace,” He told you, leaning in as you picked up a sliced potato.
“If I must die, let it be now.” Your eyes watered up. “You’re braver than your father; Each evening at seven bells precisely, you must be here, do not think of escaping. The forest will close in on you.” You agreed, shakily.
As you listened to his terms, you looked towards the silverware gasped, a scared and bruised hand was next to your plate. You turned to look at him but he was nowhere to be seen, scared you ran back to the room for the night. 
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“Shall I stop?” The storyteller questioned, looking over at the children. 
“No!” 
“We need to hear what happened next!”
“I can’t possibly go to bed now, she barely met the beast!”
“Read more please, it’s sad she’s all alone, poor girl.” The storyteller chuckled. “It’s true she was all alone now; As she walked up the stairway, the girl understood for the first time, she was spending the night away from her family and home. What she did not know was that, living in the palace, the beast had servants living in the palace, she didn’t know but they were going to be very helpful.” The kids perked up.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You sighed as you walked into your bedroom and placed the candle by your bedside and laid down on the bed, it was surprisingly soft and comfortable, it hadn’t taken much time before you fell asleep.
You woke up in your dream, you watched as two girls stared at themselves in a mirror and laughed as a group of hunters returned.
“They’re back!” One cheered. “Shouting, excited and dirty.” The other sighed, you watched as the pair walked over to the men.
You watched as one of the girls smiled and ran towards her husband and kissed him, his friends quickly approached and grabbed him from her. 
“Take your dirty hands off her!”
“Woah!” 
“Ah yes my friend, no stag, no prize for you!” One of them chuckled. The man's wife scoffed, “Are you still after that stag?” The man nodded at his wife. “I’ve hunted it for years, but I know I'm near, luda.” She sighed. “What better trophy, after you?” He grins at the woman.
“He plans on using the cut on the stag.” Luda’s eyes widened at the news. “Ay! I’m thirsty, let's get a drink!” The man’s wife sighed before following the group.
You watched as the room around you changed, it was the room you were staying in but without the rose vines everywhere.
You watched as luda got her hair brushed by a servant. “I mean, he could’ve come back and spent some time with me. I’ve had it.” She sighed, you looked over as the doors opened up. The man from earlier walked in, nodding as the servant excused herself and left the room.
He walked up behind the woman and kissed up her neck, she sighed and turned to look at her husband.
“You smell of game...” He pulled away and stared down at the woman, he picked her up and carried her to the bed and placed her down before kissing her once more.
“My love, I have something to ask of you..” You watched as he sat up to listen to his wife. “I want you to stop hunting that beast.” He paused before sighing.
“What for?” He questioned. 
“I’ve had enough, I've been lonely while you’ve gone hunting..here, without you..” She played with the kefta he wore.
“Agreed, but on one condition.” She nods at his words. “Give me a child of our own.” She smiled softly at him. 
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You woke up, as you went to wipe your eyes of sleep; you jumped at the sight of a scarred man by your bed, you did a double take but by the second glance he was gone. 
You quickly sat up and looked around the room, a new dress sat in the corner. A turquoise dress with a gold belt. You slowly rose out of your bed and walked over to examine it.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“The girl waited for hours in her room before leaving. She feared seeing the beast jump out from the shadows. But her curiosity was far more stronger than her fear. She wanted to explore the grounds that she is now bound too.” The kids listened as the storyteller flipped the page, only a few yawning before shaking themselves awake.
“A deer had caught her attention, it stopped and stared back at her, almost as if it wanted her to follow, luckily she did so, the deer guided her to a secluded garden, a stone statue in the middle of it all. She walked closer and brushed away the rose petals that had fallen on to the statue’s face.” The storyteller flipped the page to continue.
“To the girl's surprise, it was the same woman as she had seen in her dream, “luda” as the people called her.” The kids gasped.
“The girl froze up as you noticed the facial features were the same. “Luda?” she called out, stood back and stared as if luda rose from the stone; Some years or centuries even, another woman had lived, loved and died in the cursed palace.” 
“Why me? Why do you haunt my dreams?” The girl asked, shaking at her discovery. Without a second thought the girl ran back to her room and waited til dinner with her mysterious jailer.”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“You’re late!” You sighed and sat down in the chair, staring at your hands. 
“Do you like your new dress?” He asked, pacing behind her chair. “Never come into that room again.” You said coldly, he scoffed. 
“May I remind you who makes the rules here?” He said, walking to the chair across the table and sat with his back to you.
“You watched me sleep!” You scoffed at him. “Enough, eat.” He commanded. 
“You’re not eating?” You questioned, picking up your fork. “I said to eat.” He sighed.
 “May I speak or am I suppose to eat in silence like a child?” You inquired. “That’s what you are, an arrogant child.” He remarked. “A child that you watched sleep.” You said before taking a bite of your food.
“You talk too much!” He hissed.
“I know it pleases you, that I'm filling the emptiness..” You smirked into your cup. He scoffs. 
“I do have a question though...whose place is this?” He sighed. “Everything here belongs to me.” 
You both went back and forth. “Resist me all you want, but you will be mine!” He stated before storming out of the dinning hall. You rolled your eyes at him.
After dinner you made your way to your bedroom, you jumped as a figure stood in your room, a woman with ginger hair.
“Who are you?” you asked, slightly confused. “Um, you aren’t suppose to be back early...i’m genya i’m a servant to your kidnapper..” She introduces herself to you, holding something behind her back. 
“How do I know you're not lying to me?” You question, ready to throw the candle if need be. “Uh, you traded places with your father!” She said, holding her hands up to show she was innocent and didn’t mean any harm.
“I just came by to leave you this, I saw on your father’s list he had perfume.” She handed you a tiny bottle of perfume, you looked at the bottle and shook your head and handed it back. “My sister’s requested that, i only asked for a rose but you see how that ended..” You awkwardly chuckled before walking to your bed and sat down.
“Is there anything you’d like to keep you entertained, trust me i know how boring it gets here..” You both chuckled. “I like reading, if that helps..” Genya nodded at the information you had given her. 
“I should probably let you rest now, but i’ll keep that in mind..” You nodded and waved as genya walked out of your room.
Once she was gone, you got undressed and slept in your underclothing.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You looked around and quickly realized, you were in another dream, you looked around to see a ball room filled with people. You watched as luda reached out for the man’s hand.
“My friends, today is a great day, the palace will finally have an heir.” You watched as the people around you clapped at the news. The music started to play, luda and her husband both started to dance around the ballroom. 
“What are you thinking of?” Luda questioned.
“The first time we met, by the river.” He smiled. “You were by the edge, undressing.” Luda snickered as her husband got flustered. “You were about to drown.” He quipped back. “I swim better than you!” She teased, you watched as the pair smoothly continued.
“And if we went back to our room?” He smirked, luda sighed. “Don’t forget your promise.” “Which one?” She gave him a stern look.
“The stag, aleksander.” You perked up, finally knowing the husband’s name.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Once you had woken up you got dressed in a new gown, today it was a dark blue, with long sleeves. Once dressed, you noticed a book on the vanity. You walked over and picked it up.
It had a piece of parchment on the front.
‘Thought you’d like to read, one of David's favorites.’ 
(David is another servant to him..) - Genya 
You smiled down at the note and looked through the book and took it with you outside.
After a few hours of reading on the steps, you got up and looked around the palace some more. 
You smiled as you saw red hair hide away as you turned a corner, you walked closer and tapped Genya's shoulder.
“Thank you for the book! I love it so far!” Genya smiled at you. “I’m glad, sadly the books are the only escape for those of us trapped here..” You nodded as you both walked up more steps, your attention was directed to a group of others laughing as they cooked or messed about. 
“How many are trapped here?” You asked, genya sighed. “Several, stuck here to deal with his temper..” She motions for your kidnapper.
“But ignore that, most of us are used to his temper, we actually were excited when we heard a lady had entered the palace.” She gently bumps your elbows together.
“Well if he chooses to keep me alive, i’ll gladly spend time with you all here, seems peaceful away from him.” You both chuckled.
 - - - - - - - - - - - -
For once you were earlier than him to the dining hall, you sat quietly sipping on porridge. 
As the bell rang out you heard rushed footsteps into the room. You kept your eyes low and watched as the bottom of his coat trailed behind him; He walked over and stood behind your chair. “I’d like to apologize for myself last night, You were right...you do fill an immense emptiness..Do you like my gifts?” He asked, raising a hand towards you.
He sighed when you didn’t respond. “Why don’t you answer me?” He questions.
“I miss my family..” You answered. He scoffs before moving towards his turned chair.
“Forget them! They’re gone, you live with me now” He stopped, besides your chair. 
“It may be helpful for you to turn your back on the past but I can’t.” 
“What do you know about me?” He waited before answering. “Nothing!” “Nothing, you’re right..” You sighed, placing down your spoon.
“I’ll make you a deal, a few hours with my family..” You trailed off. 
“And for what?” He questioned. You stared at your feet. “A dance; in exchange you let me see them..” You proposed, thinking back to your dream.
He sighed. “You’re treating me like a beggar.” 
“I can lead if you’re afraid.” You offered, he scoffed and with a wave of his scarred hand, your eyes were covered by darkness.
Being somewhat of a gentleman, he guided you to the abandoned ballroom and walked you both to the middle before letting go of your hands.
You did a slight curtsy and held up your hand. Unbeknown to you he bowed back before taking your soft palm in his and placed the other on your waist.
You prayed to the saints you wouldn’t step on his feet or your dress, saints know how embarrassed you’d be. 
You quietly moved your other hand up to place it on his chest, perfectly aligned to his heart. 
The two of you waltzed around the ballroom, your gown brushing away stray leaves on the floor. You leaned in closer to him. “You lead.” Without a beat he started dancing with you once more.
 - - - - - - - - - - - -
“The girl felt as if she had stepped back into the dream as they waltzed around.” The kids smiled and got closer as the page showed an illustration of a pair dancing and with the girl blindfolded with some kind of shadow thing.
“They’re in love!” One of the children declared with a grin. 
“Not quite yet; For the first time since being taken away the girl felt at peace with him, as he moved them around she gently laid down her head on his chest, his heart fluttered at the sight of the girl.” The storyteller grinned.
“Does she love him yet?” Another questioned. “Let’s keep reading, shall we?” The kids nodded.
 - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Do you think you could love me?” He questioned, making you snap your eyes open and turn to face him.
Pushing him away, you huffed. “We made a deal…keep your promise..” you stepped back.
Unbeknown to you, he stepped forward towards you. “It’s been a while since I've had to promise something.”
Being upset, you let out a scoffed. “You dress yourself in fine clothing to cover up that you’re just a cruel and lonely beast that disgusts anyone!”
You could hear his footsteps leave the room, leaving you alone with a blindfold of darkness.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
It wasn’t till hours later that genya noticed your absence and while searching the palace that she helped guide you to your room for the night.
Once you knew genya was gone, you got up from the small vanity and opened the door and walked out to the hallway and explored.
As you roamed the palace, you had noticed as you approached the south wing, it had gotten messier.
You could hear two voices coming from a room.
“Just let her breathe for once!” It was genya.
“I have to kill her genya..” 
“..you what?” Genya let out a gasp at his words. 
Before you could hear more, you slowly backed away. Your blood ran cold as your back touched a wooden frame, you turned your head to look and froze at the portrait.
It was an old painting of luda and aleksander with their faces slashed out. The poor couple must’ve had the same fate..
You swallowed the scream you desperately wanted to let out and ran to the main hall where you had first stepped foot in.
As you stepped outside you quickly found your horse. After hopping on you had hoped for a way out of the hell you had been trapped in.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
A frantic David brusted through the doors making genya jump.
“What’s the matter david?” 
David panted, clearly frantic at his news. “She’s left the palace..” 
Genya snapped her head towards the beast who clenched his jaw before storming down to the main hall to find you, it was impossible for you to escape him now.
As you rode your horse through the frozen over lake, you panicked as growling came behind you, with a single glance you felt your hands start to shake, volcra. 
Without noticing your horse bucked you off, making you fall onto the ice, you were too panicked to hear it cracking under you.
As you went to block yourself from a volcra that came sweeping down, a slash cut it in half.
You watched as dead volcra dropped around you. 
You gasped as your savior straddle your legs, your eyes widened, it was aleksander…he was much more scarred then he was in your dreams. 
“Now you know who I am;” He leaned in closer towards your face.
“Tell me again, how i disgust you.” You panted, trying to catch your breath as he leaned forwards, his eyes drifting towards your lips.
As he reached your lips the ice beneath you broke, dropping you into the freezing water.
Unlucky your dress had only weighed you down, you closed your eyes that felt heavy.
Aleksander sighed and quickly reached his hand into the water and pulled you up by your bodice.
He quickly took off his winter cape and wrapped you up and carried you back to the palace.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“The beast gently laid her down on her bed, demanding his servants to help aid the girl.” The children gasped as they listened.
“Is she gonna be alright?” The smallest of the group asked, clutching onto the blanket sprawled out on their lap.
“Possibly?” The storyteller grinned.
“Possibly?!” The oldest squawked.
“You all should really get to bed now…it is pretty late…” The storyteller teased the children by closing the book and stood up from the chair.
“NOW!?” 
“WHAT?”
“NO!”
“I won’t be able to sleep!” Their protests made the storyteller laugh before raising their hands in surrender and sat back down.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You groaned as you opened your eyes to see the beast’s back towards you.
Due to the shock, you had a hard time recalling the moments before, you shook your head as Aleksander's face popped into your head.
You did manage to spot genya with the beast, the pair talking in hushed tones.
Genya smiled soft;y at you, noticing how you sat yourself up a tad.
Genya motioned in your direction with her chin.
You grasped the blanket in shock, it hadn’t been your memories clashing together, it really was aleksander in front of you.
“Leave us be for now genya..” The redhead nodded before leaving the room after placing down some more books.
Aleksander turned to you, if you hadn’t looked up at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the tint of concern in his dark eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Alright..” You mumbled back.
“That’s good..” He said as he rolled up his shirt, you let out a soft gasp at his forearms.
They had long open scratches on each arm, it was from the volcra..
“Thank you for saving me..”
Aleksander scoffed, moving his hand to hold pressure to his wounds, he had directed his attention to you that the painful stings were hardly there for him.
As he sat down on the vanity chair, you slowly moved from your bed and walked over to the pond of water and grabbed a cloth from the side and soaked it before ringing it out and walked over to aleksander, who had zoned out, his jaw still tensed.
You gently took hold of his arm before dapping the cloth onto the wound.
Aleksander hissed and went to yank his arm away. You huffed and tugged it back before dapping the cloth again.
“That hurts!” He hissed, in pain. His face closer to yours.
“If you stay still, it won’t sting as bad!” You hardened your features and stared at him, keeping the same distance.
Aleksander sighed and stuck out his other arm for you.
After re-soaking the cloth, you softly dapped the outside of his scratches. You both stayed silent. “Thank you again..” You spoke softly, watching how much pressure you placed on the wound.
“You’re welcome..”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
As the week passed, aleksander had genya and healers constantly check your health after the incident; in a panic aleksander had placed you on bed rest, in case you had harmed your bones somehow.
The days you had spent lounging in your bed, reading or talking with the others.
You perked up as the door creaked open, aleksander walked in, carrying in two plates of food. You had taken note of how softer he had become with you being injured, for a peculiar reason it had warmed your heart a bit.
“What’s for tonight?” You questioned, placing your book off to the side as aleksander handed you a plate and sat down in front of you.
“Lamb with potatoes..your favorite..” He joked.
You lifted your head letting out a small laugh.
“Yeah, love when it's scalloped too..” You teased, making aleksander grow a tiny smirk before taking a bite of his food.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Aleksander stood on his balcony, watching as you and David strolled through the garden, occasionally stopping to feed the birds.
He watched with a small smile growing on his face as you fell into the snow from bumping into David's side a bit too hard.
He froze as he noticed his own expression, genya glanced over at him. 
“I think I wanna do something for her..but what?” Aleksander questioned. 
Genya smiled at his words. 
“Books.” Genya trailed off.
Aleksander sent genya a confused look. “She likes books, and I believe you have just a room for her.”
He grinned back at genya before nodding to himself.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“Close your eyes…” You gave aleksander a weary look as you closed your eyes.
“Don’t bump me into anything please..” You pleaded, making aleksander chuckle before gently taking your hands and guided you down a hall. “I’ll try, very big on the try..” he grinned as you scrunched your nose up.
“I wanted to show you something..” He led you inside his library. 
He left you in the middle of the room before moving to open the long curtains, you scrunched up as the light hit your face. 
Aleksander glanced around the room before nodding to himself, he turned back to you and smiled.
“You can open your eyes now.” 
Slowly you blinked your eyes, lifting your hand, trying to adjust your eyes to the light.
You gasped as you looked around you, it was a filled library. 
“Oh my, it’s beautiful..” You admired the room, glancing everywhere.
“Then it’s yours, you can visit it anytime you want.” You glanced over to aleksander and gave him a smile.
“Thank you, this has to be the nicest thing someone’s done for me!” 
Aleksander watched you explore the room with a subtle smile on his face.
“She could be the one..” Feydor smiled at Genya, who leaned against the doorway as you led aleksander to a bookshelf.
“I hope it’s her, he looks happier with her near..” Genya smiled.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“Aww, he cares for her now!” The oldest girl grinned.
“A whole room?! For herself?” The youngest sat on their bed, mouth opened in shock at the drawing of the room.
“The girl and the beast slowly grew closer, even developing feelings, they would constantly be found in the library, the girl reading to the prince often. The girl had realized her new found feelings one day while the pair had gone on a walk through the palace grounds, the beast had given her his kefta to help keep her warm.” The storyteller smiled as the children were in awe of the story.
“The Beast had gladly accepted an invitation to have a dance with the girl. Each had spent hours preparing, knowing it'd be the night their feelings for one another would change. The girl had worn a beautiful ball gown chosen by genya.” The drawing on the paper had shown the girl in a black ball gown and her hair done.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“You clean up pretty well..” You teased aleksander as you walked down the steps into the ballroom.
“Well, you look beautiful in that dress. Genya has good taste..” You both smiled, aleksander bowed before you, in return you curtsied back before placing your hands on his shoulder and in his palm, letting him guide you both around.
You watched with a smile as the bottom of your dress swung around the floor.
You both looked at each other as you both danced around, you occasionally helped him with the dance.
“Just don’t get my toes.” You teased as he pulled you closer. “I’ll try to avoid them..” He chuckled, glading you both towards the big window where the moon hung perfectly.
You both stopped, your eyes going to the lit up sky, while Aleksander's eyes went to your bright eyes.
You glanced over and blushed as aleksander stared at you with a loving expression. You both leaned in closer to one another.
Holding your breath as you could feel his breath on your lips, both of you closing your eyes as you leaned in further.
You both stopped as a bunch of whispers came from the doorway. You both pulled away, chuckling and feeling flustered.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Aleksander stood in the corridor of the library and watched as you sat peacefully in front of the fireplace, reading and occasionally stopping to get a sip of tea Genya had brought you earlier.
As footsteps approached, you glanced up from your book and smiled at aleksander. “Hello, care to join me?” He nodded at your words, sitting down beside you.
“What’s this story about?” Aleksander questioned, scooting closer to you. 
“Maiden in the tower, it’s about this young girl who was kidnapped as a child, by this lady who was secretly thousands of years old. The girl had just found out she’s apparently her kingdom’s lost princess..” You explained the story as you turned the page to continue on.
As you read the reunion of the maiden and her family, Aleksander's eyes wandered from the page to the side of your face that held a bit of sadness.
He hated seeing you like that, knowing it was his fault you were separated from your family. Your eyes continued to move downwards across the page.
Aleksander sighed and placed his hand and lowered the book, gaining your attention.
“Y/n,” Aleksander sighed as he cut himself off.
“Yes?” You questioned, tilting your head a bit.
“I’ll let you return to your family on one last deal..” Your eyes widened at his words.
“What kind of deal?” You questioned, scooting closer to him.
“Promise you’ll never forget about me, I truly wished I had met you under different circumstances..” Aleksander sighed, placing his hand on your cheek, making you lean into his hand.
“I won’t, you were the first who put up with my “childish” self..” You teased, a few tears spilling from your eyes, realizing this was your goodbye. 
“Here, this is for you.” He handed you a small necklace with a small rose on it. You smiled at the necklace and put it on, before pouncing forwards and tackled him into a hug.
“I’ll always remember you aleksander.” You hugged him, making the beast grunt at the strength of your hug, he wrapped his arms around you one last time before letting you go.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You could hardly contain your enjoyment, after months of being apart, you’d finally get to be with your family, it did pain you to leave the palace and everyone behind.
As the horse trotted up to the house, you noticed the boarded up windows, you hopped off your horse and walked closer to the house.
Once closer the door swung open, revealing henry. He tugged you inside the house before hugging you.
The sound of the door had alerted the other, making them rush to see what had happened. “y/n..” Thomas said in disbelief.
You smiled and took off Aleksander's kefta and hung it on the coat rack. Unbeknown to you each of your brothers eyed your dress but stayed quiet.
Your eyes drifted towards the messy table, covered in maps, old food and weapons.
You scoffed and turned to your brothers. “Look at this mess, what are you doing with those weapons?” 
The youngest let out a scoff.
“Ask henry..” Tristan sighed, looking over to the oldest who huffed at him. “Be quiet and go back to your post.”
“My post?” He questioned.
“HIs post?” You looked at your brother with wide eyes before shaking your head.
“So, you’re playing general now, are you?” Tristan egged on.
“Enough, just go back over there.” Thomas sighed, stepping between the pair. 
“Stop taking sides, you big coward!” Thomas scoffed and went to swing but you and henry stopped both boys.
“Look at yourselves!” You called out to the pair, making them stop. “Here, y/n, follow me.” Henry said, walking up the stairs.
You followed shortly behind. Once on the top of the stairs, Henry gestured towards your sister's shared room.
You nodded and opened the door quietly. 
“I just know they’re going to sell us to dirty sailors to pay Henry's debt!” Anne said, groaning hidden behind their loveseat.
“We’ll just say we don’t know how to clean-!” Marie tried reassuring her but the pair froze as they heard your footsteps.
Marie’s eyes popped over the seat and quickly widened at the sight of you. 
“Anne…” Marie gasped out.
“What?” She whispered back, peeking her eyes over the seat too.
“it’s y/n’s ghost, she’s come back to haunt us!” Marie cried out. 
“Maybe we’re dreaming still?” Anne questioned, watching you intensely. “It’s not a dream, i’ve come back with one last message..my dear sisters i loved you both truly.” You played into their frantic state.
“Even dead, she’s pretty..” Marie whispered out. 
“I wanted you to know, i alway thought about you two..” You slowly walked closer to them.
“We thought about you everyday too!”
“It’s Anne's fault, she made me take your room..” Marie pointed subtly to the oldest sister.
You gasped and jumped on the loveseat in front of them. “You what?!” They screamed and jumped back.
You chuckled and looked at the both of them with a smile, “Where’s father?” You questioned, looking in between them.
“...since you left, he’s gotten incredibly tired, hasn’t woken up since..” Anne updated you.
You quickly rushed across the hall towards your father’s room.
You gasped as he laid in his bed, deeply asleep. You walked closer and held his hand.
“Father..I'm home now, you can wake up now..” You whispered to him, but nothing happened. 
You let your tears fall, you carefully laid your head beside his on the other pillow and cried as you hoped he’d wake up.
While you fell asleep upstairs, Henry picked off a golden shank button on Aleksander's kefta. “This is worth hundreds, i could sell this and rid us of my debt!” Henry smirked, placing the button in his pocket.
“Not that, I forbid you!” Tristan protested, standing in front of the door. Henry sighed and looked at Thomas, who looked away. Henry pulled the button from his pocket.
Henry nodded to himself and tossed the button and caught it, he swiftly punched Tristan, making him pass out, Thomas quickly caught the younger brother and dragged him away from the door, they both left him laying on the ground before walking outside.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You looked around and quickly spotted a glowing stag across the lake from where you stood.
“Look at her glossy coat..” You jumped and turned behind you to see the same group aleksander had hung out with in previous dreams.
“It’s finally her time.” One smirked, aleksander scoffed and raised a hand.
“She’s mine alright.” They all stepped back as he watched the animal move around before moving his hands.
The stag froze and looked in his direction before sprinting away.
Aleksander groaned before quickly chasing behind it.
You watched as the animal ran and was caught in the palace garden. You watched as aleksander stood in front of the others and hopped off his horse and walked closer to the animal.
He quickly raised his hands up and used the cut, at the moment it all had clicked in your head. 
You watched as the stag laid on the ground, aleksander approached the stag and quickly froze as the animal revealed itself, there laid luda, a severe cut on her stomach.
You gasped at the sight. “Luda!” Aleksander yelled, running towards her.
She laid on the ground, she slowly raised a hand up to his face and gave him a tired smile. “You didn’t know any better..aleksander.” She shakily inhaled.
Aleksander weeped as his wife died in his arms. “I didn’t mean for this to happen..” He held her close.
You noticed how the sky quickly turned gray and stormy.
“Saints, forgive him, for he didn’t know.” You watched as aleksander’s friends where attacked by volcra, you turned around to face aleksander and luda and watched as volcra started to swoop down and attack him, earing brutal scars to his face and exposed body.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Thomas and henry stood in the snowy forest, waiting for orion to arrive to make a deal.
“You are betraying y/n..” Thomas paced back and fourth.
“I’m saving us, she’ll understand.” Henry’s expresson was stoic as he looked around the forest.
Before thomas could say anymore, Orion rode up on his horse, his men following shortly behind.
“What are you doing here, I thought we were meeting at your little shabby shack.” Orion smirked at the brothers.
“I brought my handsome men for your sisters..” He motioned towards his men which were known as the towns laziest drunks. 
“I have a deal to make with you.” Henry dug the button out of his pocket.
“No more deals with you..” Orion sneered.
As orion and his men went to leave, henry moved towards them more.
“I’ll give you my sister..” Thomas froze at his brother’s words.
Orion turned to face henry, a smirk on his face. “Which sister are you talking about?” 
Henry swallowed harshly, “Y/n, my family’s youngest.” he cringed as orion let out a joyus laugh.
“Perhaps, your sister could pay your debt.” 
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You woke up sweating, you looked around the room and saw your father still asleep beside you, yelling came from the bottom floor.
You quickly got yourself together before walking odwnstairs and froze at the sight of orion who sat comfortably on the small couch, his filthy hands admiring your previously worn kefta.
“Ah, my bride is awake.” 
Your blood ran cold at his words. “Bride?” You questioned. 
Henry walked towards you, moving form where he stood against a wooden pole. 
“You are to be orion’s bride to pay for this family’s debt.” henry gently grabbed your arm, you quickly yanked yourself away from him, orion scoffed and stood up from the couch and stepped closer to you.
“I refuse!” You backed up and bumped into thomas who had a stoic look on his face as he pushed you into orion’s arms.
“Not your choice!” Orion snarled in your ear as he brushed back your hair, making you cringe.
Thomas’ eyes grew wide as a glow from your necklace lit up before dying down to a slight glimmer.
“The forest..” a gruff voiced whispered, making you looked around the room and noticed the lack of orion’s men inside and out.
You took a deep breath before elbowing orion’s nose before running to your horse outside.
“That bitch!” Orion groaned, following you outside as you rode off into the forest.
You shuttered as you rode deeper into the cold forest. The sounds of horses flooded your ears as you glanced up and saw orion and his men.
In a panic, you leaned into the horse’s ear and whispered. “More than life itself.”  You leaned back and watched as the pathed opened up, you ducked as the horse sped up and ran through the prickly tress and frozen land.
As you approached the front, you eagerly hopped off your horse and ran to aleksander who stood outside the palace doors, almost if he was waiting.
He held you tightly as you huffed, tired of the journey back.
“I’ll keep you safe.” He told you, a scared hand brushing over the back of your head in comfort. 
“There she is!” A voiced called out, making you jump as an arrow missed you both. Aleksander quickly lead you into the palace, you noticed the amount of people in the entrance, waiting for aleksander’s command.
“Looks like we have un wanted visitors, take care of them.” He commanded, leading you towards your room.
As you climbed the stairs to your room you caught a glance of aleksander’s grisha opening the palace doors to face the visitors.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“As the beast lead the girl away, gaston had managed to slip through the doors and followed the trail. Outside the palace, saffin commanded grisha to attack two men who approuched the stairs but pleaded for them to give mercy, the two men had kneelded and whispered a name that struck saffin’s soul.
Saffin had froze and got a look of the men and saw the similar features the two shared with the girl, she quickly allowed them to pass into the palace, once in the brothers soon found gaston’s trail.” The storyteller spoke, pausing to flip the page.
“I hate gaston!” The youngest girl pouted in her bed, arms crossed as she listened.
“Is he going to kill the beast?!” 
The storyteller chuckled before shrugging at the children.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
As you and aleksander walked into your room, you gasped as a knife deeply grazed aleksander’s side.
You looked behind his shoulder and saw orion not the far behind. 
You quickly knelt down to aleksander’s side to help aid his wound.
“You’ll be alright we just need to get you to the-!” You gasped as orion held you against himself, a blade against your neck. “Let her go.” Aleksander rasped out as he held his side in pain.
“What are you suppose to be? A lion? A kitten?” Orion taunted, holding the blad closer, the steel pressing into your neck. 
“I’ll kill you if you harm her.” Aleksander warned, you gasped as orion move you and himself into a corner of your room, using your body as a shield aleksander off. “Useless threats..” Orion chided aleksaner.
Before the pair could argue the door opened to your brothers, tristan and thomas who held their weapons in preperation. 
“Y/n!” Tristan said, frantic as he noticed your positon, being used as a shield to a beast.
Thomas pointed his weapon towards aleksander which made you thrust forward but was jerked back. “Don’t, he tried to protect me from orion!” You groaned as orion nicked your throat, making a droplet of blood fall to the floor.
A red rosed blossomed from the bloodstain, you looked at aleksander who’s eyes followed the blooddroplet before lunging at orion, pushing you away and into your brothers side.
You hit you head on the floor but you looked in time to see aleksander use the cut on orion, who before being killed thrusted his blade into aleksander’s stomach, making him crumple over.
You quickly scrambled to aleksander’s side as he laid on the floor, holding his stomach.
“No, no, no, this came happen.” You whispered to yourself as you placed his head into your lap. 
He coughed, blood staining his teeth, you sobbed as he let out a ragged breath. “You can’t die, you can’t..” You cried as he slowly raised his hand to your cheek and smiled as he brushed hair away, aleksander wanted to make sure his last moments were of his last love.
You watched as his breathing slowled down and his eyes got heavier. “Aleksander?” You tapped his cheek twice but no response, you fell forward and weeped.
In the corner of you tears, you saw a trail of glowing light leading toward’s the small pond of water, quickly connecting the dots you lifted yourself up and turned to your brothers who watched in pity as you cried for your lover.
“Help me, please.” You pleaded, thomas and tristan quickly tossed aside their weapons and helped lift aleksander into the pond, you placed your forehead against the edge and pleaded to the saints as he was submerged. The glow surround aleksander’s body.
Your brothers watched in shock as aleksadner’s scars slowly washed off under the water, his wounds began to heal closed. 
Aleksander slowly opened his eyes and looked around in shock, he was alive once more.
He smiled softly as you whispered for him to be healed, he leaned closer. “I believe we’ve missed dinner.” 
You gasped at his voice, quickly raising your head and smiled as he looked back at you, healed from any scars. “You’re alive!” You cried out, hugging him tightly, not caring if your gown got wet.
“Always alive for you.” He grinned, embracing you tightly.
On the outside, the palace overgrown look had started to vanish, the garden being washed over by a wave of light, genya looked up and smiled as she saw the vines on the palace vanish, you had broke their curse to the palace.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
You smiled as you and aleksander stepped out onto the ballroom floor, surrounded by other couples.
“Certian as the sun,
Rising in the east
Tale as old as time,
Song as old as rhyme,
Beauty and the beast”
You smiled at aleksander as you both danced. “What is it? Do i have something on my face?” He quickly rised his hand to wipe his beard, making you smile and laugh.
“Is it bad, i want to have your scratched up face again?” Aleksander’s eyebrows rose up at your words.
“Oh? Is that how it is wife?” He snickered, drawing you in close to kiss your cheek.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“They couple had gotten married and had a huge wedding, y/n’s sisters had found husbands amongst aleksander’s grisha, henry had apologized to y/n and aleksander which after a few years they made up. Tristan had taken up being a guard for his sister, and thomas had gone on to write books, several for his children and nieces and nephews!” 
“It’s over?” The youngest boy questioned. 
“Sadly, but I say they lived happily ever after..” The storyteller grinned at the children.
“Genya looks like ms saffin from the book!” a flicker of the lights made the kids turn to the door where you stood with a grin.
“Bedtime check, goodnight munchkins!” You grinned as your nieces and nephews all said goodnight to you and genya before settling down, as you closed the door you heard them talking about the story to each other as a bedtime talk.
“Thank you again genya!” You thanks the woman who smiled and shook her head. “I have to get practice for the newst member.” SHe winked at you before walking to her quarters.
You quietly walked towards your bedroom on the top floor, You quietly opened the door and smiled at the sight.
“Mommy!” Your little boy squealed flinging himself at you from the bed. “My loves!” You smiled as aleksander walked into your bedroom his hands behind his back. “What are you hiding?” You questioned, making aleksander grin as he pulled out a red rose and handed it to you. “Fresh from your garden.”
“Thank you but i believe the garden full of roses are enough of your affection for me.” You teased, kissing aleksander.
As you and aleksander slid into bed with your son in between you all talked for a bit before he asked for a story. 
“Alright, i’m a bit rusty so apologiges but, once upon a time there was a rich merchant.” You smiled at the story and snuggled into the blanket as aleksander sat up to tell the story to your son.
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jaidens · 1 year ago
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He Got That Boyish Look That I Like In A Man
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pairing [s] : daniel larusso x reader
warning [s] : nothing! | this really sucks 😭 I just wanted to release something cuz I've been lacking on yall
a/n [s] : requests are open! [ALSO! should I challenge things? like flufftober??]
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Whenever your job offers you a raise to become an Automotive Director of Engineering for the dealership in Reseda, California you take it without warning. In an attempt to get away from slushy winters in the small state of Connecticut, you moved swiftly to a small apartment with lovely neighbors and a new life. You had been to California on some vacations with family, but living here had never crossed your mind.
You walk into your office that smells like fresh paint and cleaner, and set your books and purse down on the dark-oak table. The company had hired some individuals to work for you, which felt weird to say, as you used to be the same person. Your assistant walks in with a tap on your glass door, and she walks in. “Hey! I’m Shannon. Anything you need, I'll be across the hall. I've already started on the connections with Toyota and Nissan!”
You smile at her and shake her hand that she was holding out for you. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Y/N L/N, but I assume you already know that!” You laugh and let go of her hand to hide any awkwardness and anxiety you had about being in such a high position.
“Okay well, I'll see you! And, someone has already set up a meeting with you!” Shannon says before walking away and shutting the door behind her.
You rub sweaty hands against your clothes and turn on your heels. The air-conditioning rumbles on and you wrap the small cardigan you had brought around you and begin staring at the paperwork that was placed in front of you. You start the work: scribbling works and many, many signatures with red pens and black pens. A knock is gentle against your door and you look up, and see Shannon and a very recognizable man standing there in a Navy suit and a smile on his face.
“This is Mr. Daniel Larusso. He owns Larusso auto parts and he said he wants to speak with you,” Shannon says, pushing her glasses up her nose and walking away.
The name sends a shiver down your spine as you hear it, and the face is suddenly very recognizable. The fateful summer vacation of 1986, fifteen-years old and young, and a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
You're sitting on the bench near the beach in a swimsuit and a big t-shirt, peeling through the boom. you had brought to your family vacation. Your family is on the beach setting up the tent and towels all across it to mark the place on the beach. The warm sun heats your skin up as you lay against the bench and continue flipping through your book that suddenly becomes boring.
A tan boy emerges from the water in orange trunks and black hair slicked back with salt water. An older and shorter man follows him up the coast and talks to him. You stare at him with your eyes following each of the tan’s movements. He notices your staring as he stares right back at you, eyes piercing into yours deliciously. His smile exposes his teeth and he knocks his head to the side and waves at you. The older man slaps the side of his head and scolds him.
You laugh at him before he tells the older man something then jogs over to you. His warm skin is a bronzy, and you swear there were twinkles of gold mixed in his skin shining against the light. “Hey, I’m Daniel. What are you reading?” The New Jersey accent rings out and you can't help but feel warmer.
“Oh some dumb romance. My name is Y/N, it's nice to meet you Daniel. Is that your Grandfather?” You cover your book up subconsciously to attempt to not get embarrassed, and point at the older man who seems weirdly angry next to the old car from the 40s.
Daniel shakes his head in response. “No, no. That’s Mr. Miyagi, he's my karate sensei. Is your book good?” He asks and you nod at his explanation, showing him you agreed.
“Yeah, my book is pretty good. You like karate? That's pretty awesome.” You tell Daniel and stare into his eyes. They're a soft, dark brown with a puppy-look inside of them. He looks your age, as he gets thrown a West Valley High soccer shirt that's bigger than him as he shrugs it on over his shoulders.
Daniel leaves with the older man after inviting you to the beach for a party held by the Football team and Cheer Team. You showed up in a baggy sweater and a pair of shorts. Daniel waved at you whenever he saw you, as he kicks around a soccer ball impressively on his two legs. You walk over to him and he laughs and kicks the ball over to you, and you catch it and throw it back to him with a shared laugh with him.
He sits down in the sand and you scoot closer to him. You're handed some hotdogs and sticks to cook over the fires made on the beach. You start one and hold a conversation about where you're from, why you were visiting, etc. The conversation was long, and filled with laughter and glances held longer than usual. Daniel handed you a drink and you declined, and he didn't drink as well.
You and Daniel just talk; it feels quite amazing. You haven't had a conversation like that in a long time, but everything falls out and you let your hand fall into his as you star-gaze further away from everyone else who was drunk and half-a drink away from throwing up on the beach. You almost find yourself staring at him more than the stars, admiring him underneath the full moon and stars. He looks beautiful both times: morning and night.
How are you supposed to leave Reseda and not think about Daniel when you leave back to Connecticut?
“I’m Y/N L/N, nice to see you again.”
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passionateseadruid · 8 months ago
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broken beyond repair?
Summary:
It had been 65 years since you died and six months earlier you'd killed your husband. About 67 years ago you'd married the man who'd come to be known as Vox.
Notes:
Okay a few things: It has a slow intro but I promise it get's good. Not historically accurate also it takes place 2022 (Hazbin Hotel I'll say takes place 2024)
Cw: Abusive relationships, older man/younger woman, misogyny (well, it is from the 50s), pre canon, Vox’s (theorized) human name, also Valentino is mentioned.
Your parents smile at you as you look over the ticket to the set of JacxBox News. JaxcBox has several different television/radio shows but your favorite by far was the news channel. Now, don't get it twisted, the news is boring as hell (even back then (Back now?)); But the host has a sexy voice and the pictures of him in the newspaper made him look like an Adonis.
"Thank you Mama! Thank you Daddy!" You hug you parents (specifically your father).
"Molly Mayberry's parents had the idea to send you two girls to the see the live show." Your mother explains to you. Molly Mayberry; heiress to the Mayberry country club. She's been your best friend since you were five.
Your parents both worked to be able to afford the private school you went to, raising scorn and mockery from the rest of the community. See, you weren't rich but you were determined to change that. Someday you were going to marry a banker or a stock broker and you'd be able to set your parents up in a nice home maybe somewhere on the coast, and when they'd grow old you'd get them the nicest nurse your future husband's money could pay for.
"You mind if I call Molls? She's gonna be so jazzed." They nod and you flop down into the couch. You dial her number on the rotary, and hear it ring. "Hey! My parents just told me! So what are we gonna wear? Are we gonna match?" 
"Who cares about that! My daddy says we can use his new blue fliptop! Hummy and Angie are going to be so jealous when we see them at tennis." Angie "Hummy" Drew and Eliana Pheen make up the rest of your little clique. Hummy is a sweet girl but she isn't very bright (at least that's what everyone else says); she's often humming to herself as a way to calm herself or focus her mind on the task at hand. Her parents have tried everything they can to "fix" her, with no shortage of funds coming from her fathers jewelry company. Eliana on the other hand is the strongest and tallest girl in the graduating class of '53; her dad was a world-famous tennis player for the national Spain tennis team in his youth and won gold for them in the 1936 Olympics. Her dad had to take her mom’s last name when he came over to live here.
"Sounds like a jam."
"I know! I'm gonna meet Vincent Audire! Now don't be jealous when he absolutely falls for me." Molly giggles. She was the leader of your guys little clique and if she liked a boy the other girls weren't allowed to pursue him. Your pretty sure that every time you liked a guy she tried to snatch him away. Your not sure why you were friends. 
"He'll just adore you." You say supportively, despite the fact that it breaks your heart.
"Duh! Who wouldn't."
////////////////////////////////////////
It was a few days later and You and Molly sit in the audience and watch as the news is being recorded both on film and over the radio.
Vincent was a handsome man with dark, almost jet black, hair. He had there piercing blue eyes and a stunningly white smile. Your heart skips a beat every time he looks over at you two. Before the show he even winked in your direction. Of course Molly's sure it's for her. Why wouldn't it be. She's the one dressed to the nines in jewelry and a nice cherry red wiggle dress. She lent you some accessories to go with the dress you'd converted from an old poodle skirt Molly gave you into a petticoat. 
After the show was over Molly sent you away to "get her something from the snack table in the lounge" so she could go cozy up to Vincent.
It didn't work apparently because he shows up in the lounge 50 seconds after you finish scooping something up for Molly. 
"Hello sir." You smile at him.
"Hey doll. You come with that lady in the slim red dress? You two are rather young aren't you?"
"I don't s'pose so sir. We graduated just last week. Neither of us really fancy College. Molly's father prolly' gonna make her go to Radcliffe to meet one of those Harvard men. She's far more interested in you though sir."
"Oh really? What about you doll?"
"Me?" You ask surprised. "Well I s'pose I won't gonna go to college. I'll just marry one of Molly's father's friend's sons. Be a cute lil housewife, for a handsome rich man." You bat your lashes at him.
"Well that's probable for the best. Being a trophy wife suits someone of your skillset better than a housewife."
"And what do you mean by that sir?" You hesitate to ask. Oh if Molly saw you now she'd rip your head off.
"No one's being fooled by the botch job done on your dress. An old poodle skirt to a petticoat? You'd be better off using that pretty face of yours to please your husband." He ran one of his warm pale hands against your cheek. His knuckle feels alien yet comforting against you. "Doll. You wouldn't happen to be free tomorrow night would you?"
"I am."
"Would you want to go to my favorite restaurant with me? We could meet earlier and go get you something presentable."
"I'd love that, sir."
"Please Doll. Call me Vincent." He kisses your knuckles and walks off. "I'll meet you on boardwalk by the pier at noon." he says looking back. You nod and rush back to Molly with her snack.
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The next day he brought you around to a few fancy shops and bought you a tiki dress for dinner. He brought you out to this cute little Hawaiian Restaurant.  
Later that night as he was walking you back to your front door he leaned down and kissed you straight on the lips.
"How forward of you Vincent!" You blush. He chuckles and hands you the bags from the shopping trip.
"Here's my number. Call me tomorrow to set up our next date doll." He kisses your cheek and walks back to his car.
"Okay. Have a good night Vincent."
After your second date he asked you to go steady. He takes you out every weekend. This went on for a while and your friend noticed.
"Alright, what's going on?" Molly asks almost annoyed.
"I'm going steady with a boy." You smiled dreamily.
"Hm? What's he like?" Hummy bounces her leg as she asks interested.
"Get your head out of la la land and focus on the game!" Eliana shouts from across the court.
"Don't see why you're upset. You two are winning." Molly snarks. "She's right though. I wanna win this game."
"Molly, no one's ever won against Eliana." You point out.
"Papa has!" Eliana exclaims.
"Oh thank you Eliana, for correcting me that the only person who's ever beaten you is the world famous tennis champion who taught you." You roll your eyes.
////////////////////////////////////////
It had been about six months of going steady and no one has been aware of it. But one day he went on the news channel, his smile slightly forced as he announced that in about two months he'd be taking two weeks off to go on his honeymoon. He called you onto the set with him and introduced you to the world.
You don't fail to notice the tight grip he kept around your shoulder. You don't think that he's all to pleased about what you told him just the night before.
Neither was Molly when she saw you on the news channel that evening. She was screaming, throwing things around her room, and according to Hummy she even assaulted one of the help. 
You haven't seen Molly since you went on TV, but that wouldn't last long. She found you when you were out one day with Vincent.
"HOW COULD YOU!!" She charges at you and your Fiancé's bodyguard, Parker, steps in to protect you.
"Go back to the car Vincent I'll be there in a moment." He rolls his eyes but does as you say.
"You tramp! You knew how much I loved him!" Molly cries as tears stream down her face.
"I'm sorry Molly, but Vincent wants me."
"You... you really are dense! He doesn't want you! He wants an easy girl. He'll have his fun with you but in the end rich men will marry the daughters of other rich men."
"That's where you're wrong. I'm having his baby, that's why he put this rock on my hand."
She screams. She goes to pull on your hair but Parker steps up and in between the two of you. He escorts you back to the unpleased man in the black car.
////////////////////////////////////////
A year later you were living with a baby boy who absolutely adores you; and a husband how tosses you around like a used sock.
So here you sit. In the kitchen of your husband's mansion, feeding your beautiful baby; seeing as the help having the day off. 
Your husband Vincent isn't exactly the nicest man. You have no idea what happened to him. The day before you told him you were pregnant he was buying you flowers and dresses, taking you out for dinner and spoon feeding you 100 dollar parfaits. then the second you told him his mood shifted.
Molly was right, you know that now. Vincent wasn't the marrying type. However, if you'd gone public with the news of your pregnancy his carrier would be over. He had no choice but the marry you.
"Hello Junior, how's my big man today?" Vincent asks, ruffling the boys black locks. As much as he now hates you you're glad to see he holds no resentment towards his son. It almost made up for the times he'd get drunk and throw things, complaining how you'd ruined his life (though thankfully there were no mentions of his son in those arguments), or all the nights he'd leave you cold and alone in bed, coming home with tacky shades of lipstick all over him. Yes he loves his son, but his wife on the other hand...
"Doll. Where's my drink? I told you I wanted one an hour ago." His demanding voice cut you out of your thoughts.
"You're not getting a drink. I'm done being your servant." You mumble, gritting your teeth.
He rolls his eyes and snorts, "Okay. Doll get me my-" He cut himself off as he felt a searing blinding pain in his side. He looks back at you, the silver knife in your hands now stained with crimson. He pushed you to the floor and headed into the living room. He tripped as you locked the door to the patio and closed the blinds.
"Honey... let's..." he pants, "lets talk about this, okay? You don't have to do this. I'm... I'm so sorry. Look love, you don't have to worry... I won't tell anyone. We'll say a tripped and fell onto a blade in the garage. I still love you, doll."
You grab the whisky from the drink you were supposed to fix him and splash it all over him.
"For what it's worth, I'll always love you Vincent." You tip the TV over on him and watch as it shorted out and caught fire. You quickly grabbed your son and the two emergency bags you'd packed the night before for the two of you and snag the keys to the car. You'll get the hell out of dodge, wait for the fire to spread and come back to put on the helpless wife routine.
////////////////////////////////////////
You s'pose karma has a was of coming back to bite you in in the ass.
Only six month after you'd killed your husband your old friend Molly broke in and stabs you. Luckily Junior was away with your parents for the weekend.
////////////////////////////////////////
When you awoke in hell you woke up to simple jabbing pain in your arm. "Ow." You see a few kids poking at you with forks. they had gray skin and black eyes.
Instinctually you pulled a needle out of your hair and pointed it at them. You hit it straight into the ground which caught the attention of some adults. 
Some of them came up to you and you grab one and held the needle to their neck. "Everyone stay back, or the creepo gets it!" About five minutes later of you holding this man hostage and demanding safe passage to a safe haven a tall woman popped through the small crowd that formed. 
"What's going on here?" She asks clearly unpleased.
"Where am I? Who are you? What's going on?" You ask voice breaking as you speak, from fear or frustrated tears you're not sure. 
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that? You come to my town and start making demands like this, threatening my people."
"I don't want to! Those kids were poking me with a fork! I just... fear and adrenaline overtook me and now we're here. I just want to go home! I just want to see my baby boy again." Tears flowed from your eyes. 
"Tina, Tommy! We do not play with or pick at our food. And we also do not eat living people. 'Kay darlin', just let Frankie go and we can talk." You did as the taller woman asks. 
You still held the needle out just in case. "Darlin' I'm an overlord. A measly needle won't do you much good. The names Rosie. From what my people told me you got fast reflexes, and an itchin' to stab. We could use someone like that here." She wraps her arm around you. "You poor, poor thing. It's gonna be okay. Let Aunty Rosie take care of this mess. I'll explain everything to you but you gotta come with me. There are eyes and ears everywhere."
"You can say that again." She giggles at your little comment.
"Alastor will just adored you."
////////////////////////////////////////
It had been 65 years since you died and you'd been working for Rosie every day. You'd met Alastor on a handful of occasions and only briefly had conversations with him when you saw him. He was a nice enough fellow, albeit a bit spooky. Anyway back to your job for Rosie. You'd get requests from the cannibals and you'd go out and get them the meats they requested. Your Demonic power allowed you enhanced battle reflexes and speed as well as seeing where to get tools for different modes of murder and the steps to kill in different ways. Yes it was morbid but it kept a roof over your head and the sinners always grew back so it's not like it was really hurting anyone. While you hadn't sold your soul to her she basically owned you and protected you. It was nice to have someone who actually cared for you.
But that all came to a stop when you saw an add one day while walking back with your freshest orders. VoxTek with their signature slogan "Trust us... with your safety." The man on the screen, the voice telling you to trust him...
"Oh Vincent, what happened to you?" You stood there almost entranced as a voice called out form behind you.
"You happened to me." He placed his hands on your shoulders and you spun around and elbowed him in the stomach. "Oof! Okay doll, I see you wanna play rough." He hoisted you over his shoulder and Teleported you both through a street camera to a nice looking building.
"Valentino and Velvette are gonna kill me. Val especially."
"Let go of me!" You squirm and tried to hit him with your needles in your hair but neither make a dent.
He threw you onto a bed and paced back and forth in the room. The bed itself was nice. Prussian blue silk sheets and rose red and royal blue comforters sat on top of the bed. 
"This is bad." Vincent, no, Vox paces back and forth. "This is really bad."
'You can say that again.' You think as you look around the room to see if anything can help you escape. You could take the comforters and sheets and wrap them around his head or his neck. You could...
"This is all your fault!" He shouted at you.
"My fault?! How is this my fault?!"
"You just had to stab me and end up down here didn't you!"
"Are you seriously going to blame me? Firstly We got together when I was 18 and you were 33 the blame should not be on me in that situation, and secondly You were the one who plopped down and took me back here!"
"You could have refused!" He defended. 
"I did! I said I didn’t want to go with you when you kidnapped me!" You retorted.
"I meant every time we had sex! Every time we kissed! You weren’t complaining when you got a nice dress out of it! What, you think I wanted you to stab me? I begged you not to, I said we could talk, I told you I still loved you and would forgive you!" He grabbed your arm.
"Oh you loved me? Did you love me when you hit me? Did you think of me when you were fucking those prostitutes with that tacky orange lipstick? Were you jumping for joy on the inside while scowling at me when I told you I was pregnant? Did you ever love me or did you just love my holes? Huh? Did you?" You push and hit his chest. 
He grasps both of your hands. "Of course I did! But you just made it so hard!"
"Oh did I?" You asked sarcastically.
"Yes, you did! If you hated it so much why didn’t you leave?"
"It was the 50's Vox! If I asked you for a divorce I'd never be able to see my son again, I wasn't willing to lose him!" Tears form in your eyes.
"But you were willing to loose me?"
"I really don't believe you were ever mine." Tears fully streamed down your cheeks.
"Oh and you're such a saint? The woman who said she'd always love me turned her back on me and tried to flee to live with the best friend of my greatest enemy."
"I said that I'd always love Vincent, not Vox."
"Are you Fucking kidding me? We're literally the same person!"
"Oh really? Vincent wouldn't hurt others to get what he wants."
"It's Hell babe." He rolls his eyes.
"Vincent wouldn't have kidnapped me." You point out.
"Vincent also wouldn't want his ex-wife to be able to spread rumors about him and ruin his image. Neither does Vox."
"I had a good thing going "Vox"! I had a job and I haven't thought of you once!" You screamed at him.
"Yeah well I'm more well off than you could ever imagine. I have a wonderful Boyfriend and we have a wonderful platonic friend who lives with us!"
" Okay, we worked out our problems, I won't spread any rumors about you and your harem or whatever. Can you please let me go now? I really don't care who you're fucking. It was till death do us part remember?"
"I can't let you go. What if you tell someone. I'll need some insurance."
"What do you want then?"
"I want your soul." He grins sinisterly.
"What...?"
"Think about it. You could continue to hunt people. Do whatever you want. Go wherever you want. Fuck whoever you want. Of course you wouldn't be allowed to live with any other Overlord especially not one that's so close to Alastor, but I'd let you live as far away from me as possible (I'd probably prefer that in all honesty). You could even continue to work for your little girlfriend. I'll get you all set up on the other side of Pentagram City and protect you should anything bad happen. After all, I am far more powerful than your little girlfriend. All this and all you have to do is keep your mouth shut and give me your pretty little soul." He circles you like a shark looking to attack it's prey. "And should you refuse. I'll throw you from the balcony and have someone pick up your splattered remains off of the ground to do it over and over again."
"I can have freedom and ALL you ask is to have me soul in you possession and for me to never speak of you again?"
"Correct... Doll." He chuckles darkly, holding out his hand.
"Deal."
Notes:
I left it open ended in case I ever feel like making a part 2 I also am looking into getting a banner.
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cyberphuck · 11 months ago
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ROYAL ASSASSIN ABRIDGED: PART ONE My friend Razz wants to understand my shitposting about Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy, but they don’t want to actually have to read the books, so I’m summarizing it for them (and you)! When we last left Fitzy-Fitz, it was a really fucking long time ago, sorry, I stopped going to church and learned to chainsmoke (and this book is LONG, I mean it’s LOOOOOOONG, so I kept avoiding getting started on Abridging it, lmao). You can brush up on the frankly insane amount of different characters here at the Royal Assassin Cast of Characters post, or find the links to the rest of the Farseer Trilogy Abridged series here at this link here.
- Fitz awakens one fine October morning in a bed at Jhaampe hospital, where he's been recovering from being poisoned and poisoned and bludgeoned and kicked and drowned. At first he was having eighty seizures a day, but now that it's down to only twenty-five seizures a day, he and Burrich figure it's high time for the two of them to skedaddle before they get snowed in.
  Then, exactly like that scene in Attack on Titan where Eren reaches for a spoon and accidentally turns into a Titan, Fitz drops a spoon and accidentally turns into a seizure. It's a lot less cool. He wakes up hours later back in the same damn hospital bed with Jonqui the King's Sister and now healer sitting beside him.
  "This sucks," he whines.
  "Time heals all wounds, Pull-Out Fail," Jonqui says sagely.
  "Shut the fuck up. I'm fifteen and obviously know a lot more than you about healing, and I've decided I'm never going to get better."
  Burrich strides healthily into the room with a swanky new skunk stripe in his hair where his skull was recently cracked open. "What-ho, Lil Accident, are you ready to go back to Buckkeep?"
  "No. Everybody's gonna make fun of me. You go back without me."
  "So long as you wear that collar," Burrich says solemnly, "I must follow you."
  Fitz touches the black collar with the word DADDY on it in gold letters. "The way you followed my father?"
  "Yes."
  "Was it like, a sex thing?"
  Burrich, who has enough hidden piercings to set off a metal detector at twenty paces, asks, "Are we going back to Buckkeep or what? I'm getting kind of bored sitting here watching you do the Harlem Shake."
  "Also, I heard that Molly's candle shop was foreclosed on and she had to go live with relatives in a town that's about to be raided by Vikings," The Fool says from under the bed.
  "Gosh, I wish I could talk to King Shrewd or the Fool or find out what's happening to Molly," Fitz sighs, then sits up as the room fills with the wavy lines and harp glissando of a dream sequence.
  "Wake up, King Shrewd," the Fool says. He's sitting on a chair, not under the bed or in a hay bale for once, and Fitz finds it extremely disturbing.
  "Fool? What are you doing here?"
  "Oh, King Shrewd and not Fitz, I have to be here because you're sick and old," the Fool fools. "Here, let me fluff your pillows and feed you soup."
  "This is so weird," Shrewd-Fitz says. "I feel like... oh, the Skill line is ringing. What? Vikings are viking Siltbay so late in the fall?"
  "You know, it's creepy when you talk to yourself like that," the Fool mutters.
  But Shitz (Shrewd-Fitz) is already on a Skill video call, watching the Red-Ship Raiders pulling up onto the coast. Vikings run through the town, viking everything in sight. The raiders are wading through blood up to their knees, people are running around headless and on fire, it's awful. The raiders aren't even stealing anything-- they're just wrecking stuff, which anyone who's been to a Raiders game can attest to (go Cowboys).
  "Fool," Shitz says. "You can see the future, right?"
  "This is a weird time to reveal that particular nugget of information, but sure. Let's see... ah, yes. I see a bard who can't fucking read the room trying to find a rhyme for 'dismembered child.' That is not something Jaydee made up, it's a real line from the book."
  "Thank you, Fool, that's extremely fucked up," Shitz says. "Oh wait, who's this on the video call... It's Molly! Oh SHIT, it's Molly and Vikings are going to vike her!"
  But Molly wasn't called Molly Nosebleed as a kid because she's a trembling little violet. A Viking tries to vike her and she stabs him to death, whirls around and shouts "WHO WANTS SOME, MOTHERFUCKERS?!"
  Then a house falls on her.
  "Oh god, oh fuck," Shitz says, panicking. "Fool, use your future vision and tell me if Molly's okay!"
  "A bunch of women died in a bunch of horrible ways," the Fool says. "Do you want me to list them?"
  "No," Shitz says, and so the Fool doesn't spend two pages describing the graphic sexual assault, murder, and maiming of a bunch of townsfolk. Shitz sits back in his bed. "Run off and let Verity know Siltbay is being viked."
  Ever loyal, the Fool cartwheels down the stairs. Then Shitz sighs and says, "Man, being old sucks."
  "Yes it does, so quit your fucking whining about your little seizures and come home," Shrewd says, and ends the Skill call.
  The next morning, Fitz-Fitz packs up his stuff and heads out with Burrich and Hands to make the long boring trip back to Buckkeep.
The return to Buckkeep sucks especially hard because they have to take the 99 instead of the I-5 like last time, and Fitz is getting carsick. Along the way they keep having to stay in incredibly sketch Super 8s, which wouldn't be that bad (free soap and free weird smells!) but Burrich and Hands overhear someone standing out in the hallway talking loudly on their phone about how much King Shrewd fucking sucks.
  "Yeah he keeps raising taxes to 'defend our country' or whatever but Vikings are still viking the beach towns as much as they want," had said the Buckboi in the hallway. "You know who rules, though, Prince Regal!"
  "What towns did Buckboi say were viked?" Fitz asks.
  "A town no one cares about," Hands answers solemnly, "and the one where Molly had a house fall on her."
  After that incident, Burrich decides that they're gonna make the rest of the trip using surface streets and driving through people's yards. "If Regal finds out you're out here, he'll send someone to kill you," Burrich explains. "Verity's definitely not gonna protect you."
  "Is that because he consistently sees me as a tool first and a family member and human being second?"
  "Look," Hands interrupts. "I see Buckkeep-shaped lights in the distance." They ride up to the gates, which are guarded by a kid who was born a thousand years too early to be the squeaky-voiced teen working at the drive-thru. “Halt,” he squeaks. “Who the fuck are you?“
  Burrich scoffs. ”Who the fuck are YOU?“
  ”I asked you first!“
  ”I asked you sec—“
  ”All right, all right, who's holding up the line?“ The last book had a rich and exhausting cast of random extras murmuring in the background, but this one used all of their budget on talking CGI wolves, so they had to fire most of them and give almost all of their lines to Blade, The Guard Captain. His job is to appear at important moments and say things like 'hear, hear!' and 'how big WAS she?' “Holy shit, it's Burrich! Twitter said you and Chivalry's Post Nut Regret were dead!”
  “It's called X now,” Fitz says, emerging dramatically from the shadows.
  “Oh.” Blade says, while four of the other guards die of secondhand embarrassment. “H-hi, Chivalry's Pos... I mean... Fitz. You uh. Did you have a nice trip? Hey, you... did something with your hair, it looks... it looks good!”
  “Prince Regal was going around telling everyone I was dead, wasn't he,” Fitz says flatly.
  “Sometimes I can still hear his voice,“ Regal sighs from somewhere in the castle.
  ”What? No. What?? No! What?! No!“ Blade laughs as six more guards thud to the ground. ”No, of course not! It was just, you know, like, you know. YOU know. You know. I didn't really believe you were dead, I did retweet the link Regal posted but I commented with 'big if true,' so it wasn't really...”
  Fitz smiles. “Ho ho ho, Captain, don't worry your sweet little tits about it. Everyone falls victim to misinformation from time to time, and I accept the apology I assume you were about to provide me. Do carry about your business.”
  Halfway up to the stables, Burrich pulls Fitz aside. “Listen, Lil Accident, we're not at Grandma's house anymore,” he hisses. “You can't talk to people like you matter or Regal's gonna get his panties in a knot about it.”
  “And then he'll choke me,” Fitz agrees.
  “What?”
  “With his knotted up panties.“
  ”I'm also still alive,“ Hands offers after a long silence. ”Fitz, you're too weak and pathetic to wax your own horse, let me do it.“
  ”But...“
  ”Come on, Fitz, let Hands, my new favorite child, take care of the important work.“ Burrich takes Fitz's arm. ”Now go on up to the castle, that collar is making everybody question their sexuality.“
  ”What's a sexuality?“ Fitz asks, just before he's shoved into the castle, screen door banging behind him.
  Inside, Fitz looks around and notices that the place looks cleaner than it had before he'd left on the world's worst road trip. All the beer cans and ash trays have been cleaned up, someone's taken down the band posters and put up tasteful watercolors of succulents, and the 'NICE COCK' that had been scrawled above the toilet has been replaced with 'live laugh love.'
  ”Wrow,“ muses Fitz as he passes a sign on Verity's door that reads 'IF THE WARSHIP'S A-ROCKIN', DON'T COME A-KNOCKIN'. ”I'm kinda gonna miss the crusty sock smell. Good thing my room still reeks like teenaged boy.“
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jessiemeows · 2 months ago
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Lost & Found
Prologue: Waking Up in a Tadpole's Nightmare
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A/N: Hello! This is just the prolouge so its sort of short, the actual first chapter I plan to post in a week or so! It depends because I'm writing a little christmas thing after the events of game so it may be the week after :). Basicly the story is how I see things went down in the game between my OC Durge Amaya and how they both fell in love 🎔
Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion
Rating: 18+!!! mentions of violence, blood, corpses, death, basically durge things if you know how that character is
WC: About 900
A/N again: I've only recently gotten into creative writing again in the past 5 years, until the last 5 years I used to write 1D fandfic's when I was 14-16 lol. So if there are any grammatical issues, spelling mistakes, or more, I'm very sorry!
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Story:
Corpses littered the landscape, a grotesque carpet stretching as far as the eye could see. The earth was saturated with blood, the grass strewn with chunks of flesh like obscene ornaments. Above, the sky loomed a deep, foreboding crimson, as if it had absorbed the lifeblood of the millions massacred below.
Each step through the sodden grass sent lightning bolts of agony through her legs, up until her arms. Fever gripped her body, and sweat beaded on her skin despite the bitter wind. A thunderous laugh rolled across the sky, its echo piercing her skull. As her gaze dropped to the blood-soaked ground, certain bodies caught her attention—strangers whose faces tugged at her memory. One in particular made her heart stutter: an elf with silver curls. Tears spilled down her cheeks unbidden.
The vision twisted, and suddenly moonlight bathed Amaya's skin as she knelt in the middle of a dark forest. Through tear-blurred eyes, she saw an ethereal figure approaching—a pale elven woman with raven-black hair, dressed in white and midnight-blue robes adorned with silver patterns and moonstones. The woman's touch on Amaya's cheeks felt like moonlight made tangible, her warmth spreading like starlight through Amaya's body.
"I know you're scared," the woman whispered, her voice as gentle as a summer breeze, "but you are so much more than what he made you. Be who you are meant to be."
Before Amaya could speak, the woman dissolved into shimmering moondust. Her eyes snapped open to harsh reality—she lay sprawled in burning sand, the merciless sun beating down on her face.
Hours had passed since she'd crashed the mindflayer ship onto the Sword Coast. Pain pulsed behind her eye where the tadpole writhed, a constant reminder of her predicament. The beach around her was rather grim: bodies strewn across the sand, the nautiloid's wreckage still smoldering. As she sat in the hot sand, she grasped at the fragments of her identity—Amaya hadn’t a clue who she really was. She knew only a few simple details: her name was Amaya Othzál, she served as a cleric of Selûne, and she had to return to some place called Baldur’s Gate urgently. A place she believed she called home.
Rising unsteadily, Amaya approached the nearest corpse. A wave of nausea struck her, retreated, then returned with savage force as she touched the body. Her blood seemed to boil, and her lips twisted into an involuntary smile. Horrified, she tried to suppress these dark impulses, but her body rebelled. Pain sliced through her wrist as if carved by an invisible blade. The nausea intensified until she retched, her skull threatening to split from the pressure building within. Time stretched like taffy as she fought for control, each second an eternity until the episode passed.
Questions plagued her: what kind of person could she have been to smile so cruelly at a person who never should have died? Why was her body rejecting her so much when she rejected these sick thoughts? Was it the tadpole? Or was it something much worse? Her hands trembled as she collected a map and a few gold pieces from the corpse. With no answers forthcoming, she turned East, leaving her questions scattered in the bloody sand behind her.
Astarion huddled in the shadows, a fugitive from the sun that should have burned him to ash. Confusion clouded his thoughts—he'd lain exposed to daylight for unknown hours, yet survived without the expected agony. He remembered a human woman on the beach, her words garbled in his memory like a broken music box. His instinctive flight had saved him when the nautiloid's monstrosities claimed her life.
From his hiding place among the wreckage, he watched the brain-creatures stalk their territory. A woman's raspy voice cut through his deliberation, the familiar cadence of a speak-with-dead spell reaching his ears. He sneered at such foolishness—until her voice rang out again: "FLAGRA!" Radiant white magic flung from her fingertips, incinerating one of the brain-creatures instantly.
He watched, transfixed, as she dispatched the remaining monsters with brutal efficiency. Despite one of the brains clawing at her, she moved like a dancer, her daggers finding their marks with deadly precision. Recognition flickered in his mind—she'd been among the three women he'd glimpsed on the tentacled freaks ship while trapped in that accursed pod.
The tiefling captivated him. Her freckled skin, though pale, held warmth; dark curls escaped her ponytail to frame a face that could command attention with a single look. Those eyes—large and expressive—could doubtless bend the strongest will. Her horns set her apart from others of her kind, dark brown with tips that glowed like embers.
"A pretty little thing," he mused, imagining how Cazador would have coveted such a prize—rare enough to turn rather than merely drain. The more he looked at her something began to stir in his dead heart, a warmth he hadn't felt in centuries. He shook off the distraction, focusing instead on strategy. She was wounded, vulnerable—perfect for extracting information. Steeling himself against the sun's glare, he darted up the path, tracking her limping form as she made her way toward the Chionthar.
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blessedbyahuntress · 2 months ago
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Daughter of the Hunt
Chapter One: 'Cause apparently Werewolves were not enough
Prev/Next
A/N: I think I might be getting a little dizzy just by how many times this chapter jumps around. Then next chapter will stay firmly in one scene, I think.
Warnings: Swearing
Words Count: 894
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The day I fucked up my own life was also the day I almost decapitated a innocent boy.
Hey. I’m Zoe Wilde, Centurion of the Second Cohort, or more commonly known as ‘Camp Jupiter’s Huntress’. Reyna wanted me to inform you about my life, because according to her, nobody knows of the granddaughter of Apollo who sailed with the seven. Yes, I was there too. Glad to see my practor was right.
But I won’t start at the beginning. We’d be here for way too long.
 
I hate running errands.  
(Yes, that’s how the story starts. Now, shhh.)
My errands are never something simple, like picking something up from the grocery store, or dropping something off at Fedex. 
Nope. I get to tromp around New York looking for Greeks that do not exist and kill them.
Now, I wouldn’t have a problem with this order if- let’s say Reyna or Dakota or pretty much anybody but Octavion had given it. And of course that lying, stupid, idiot, son of a-
Sorry, I’ll try to stay on track now. See, Octavian knows a little secret of mine, and he’s not one of those people to take your hands and say something cheesy like, “your secret is safe with me”. No. He uses it to bribe me, get me to prance around different states looking for imaginary Greeks.
So eventually I had ended up at the East-Coast, and the only things I’ve had to slay are the annoying Werewolves that hunt me.
I pause, hand pressed against a tree trunk as I pant. My silver arrows will never run out, I know that, but the werewolves are careful to stay either out of range of my bow, or close enough to cause me to whip out my golden daggers.
I press a hand to my left shoulder as howls ring in the distance, much closer than I’m comfortable with.
I can’t afford to rest for any longer, so I’m up and running through the thick forest that surrounds me. 
I’d like to say that I put a great deal of distance between myself and the wolves. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case. 
A low growl, and the hairs on my neck stick up. 
I act purely on instinct, just as Reyna had taught me in our private training sessions. My daggers are from their sheath so suddenly, even my eyes have a hard time following them. Gold gleams in the moonlight, and I know that this is an impossible battle for me.
“Lycaon,” I hiss through gritted teeth over the sound of metal against claws.
“It’s King Lycaon to you,” he corrected. And let me tell you, while sinister smiles are ominous, it’s so much creepier when directed at you from a large, dangerous monster who wants to dismember you. 
I duck under another blow that would have taken my head. While I’m low, I exchange one of my daggers for a silver arrow. 
Lycaon seems to smell my change in weaponry, but he backs out of the way a little too slowly; my arrow is already embedded deep into his ribcage.
As his piercing cry of anguish echoes through the forest, I force my legs to move, breaking into a sprint as I dash away from the wounded werewolf.
A dark haze starts pulling at the corners of my vision and I slow, just a bit. 
I keep running, though I’m not sure how long I’ve been at it. Does it really matter? 
A hand. Fingers enclose around my wrist, forcing me to a stop. Without turning, without a glance to see who would dare, I say, “I’m holding an imperial gold dagger right now, so I would suggest you get your hand the fuck off of me.”
I’m actually pleasantly surprised; whoever it is releases their grip on my forearm almost immediately, which makes me the only tiniest bit sorry for when I whirl around, ducking low to the ground as I sweep my left leg beneath the feet of whoever it was.
I feel a rush of satisfaction when I hear a thump and a wince of pain.
I’m standing above a curly-haired boy, about the same age as me, his blue eyes flickering from me, to the weapon, probably to my bloodstained clothes, and then back again.
I glare down at him and press a foot to his chest. “Who are you, and what gives you the right to touch me?” I demand. 
The boy abandons the strategy of laying on his elbows as he raises his hands non threateningly. 
“I said, who are you?” I bring my dagger closer to his bobbing Adam's apple.
“Connor Stoll,” he says finally. “Son of Hermes.”
My eyes widen. “There are Greeks here,” I murmur more to myself than Connor. 
Then I remember my orders and wince. 
“Alright, Stoll. I’m giving you ten seconds. Run. Get away from me.” 
Connor looks at me like I’m crazy. “What?” He asks. “Why?”
I turn my head away from his questioning gaze. My voice is soft and quiet when I answer. “I have to kill you.” 
My back is turned, so I probably don’t see when Connor sneaks up and plants a rock to my skull.
“Sorry!” I hear him yelp. 
And then the darkness finally takes all of my vision as I slip into unconsciousness.
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estera-shirin · 20 days ago
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Funerary mask—Lambayeque/Sicán (modern Peru), 900-1100 CE
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This funerary mask belonged to the Lambayeque (also called Sicán) culture.
According to the Met: "This mask, made of hammered sheet gold alloy and covered in red pigment, once adorned the body of a deceased ruler on Peru’s north coast. Powerful dynasties arose in this region between the eighth and the fourteenth centuries A.D. and amassed great riches in gold and silver before they were conquered by the Inca Empire in the late fifteenth century. The lords of these dynasties were the patrons of vast workshops where finely crafted ornaments and ceremonial vessels were created (see 1991.419.62; 66.196.27). At death, the lords were buried deep in monumental mud-brick platform mounds along with large numbers of objects of precious metal, shell, and cloth. In addition to beakers, disks, and other ornaments, the burials included large masks made of sheet gold. As many as five masks were placed into one burial: one attached to the head of the textile-wrapped body, and the other four stacked at the feet of the deceased.
This mask was made of an alloy of 74 percent gold, 20 percent silver, and 6 percent copper which was then hammered into a sheet and shaped into the form of a face. Interestingly, cinnabar, a red mineral pigment, covers much of the cheeks and forehead of this mask, obscuring the gold surface. The cinnabar may emulate the patterning of face paint worn by individuals of importance: according to early colonial accounts a courtier was charged with the task of maintaining such paints. Faint traces of the textile wrappings that once enveloped the mummy bundle can be detected in impressions on the red paint. Masks in museum collections are often missing such surface embellishment (see 1979.206.556), as the pigment would have been removed in modern times to highlight the golden substrate. The eyes of this mask have thin, skewer-like projections emerging from the pupils, perhaps suggesting powerful or even piercing vision. In other masks these projections include small beads of amber and emerald, which have led scholars to interpret the projections as tears. On the ears and ear ornaments can be seen restored examples of the silver-surfaced overlays (now corroded green) that would have also been originally present attached to the mask. Further surface additions include danglers on the U-shaped nose ornament. Such spangles would have caught the light of the bright sun and conveyed a sense of movement and life as a mummy bundle was conveyed to its final resting place.
Masks such as these, with their characteristic ovoid eyes terminating in a point, are associated with the Lambayeque culture, named for a region near the modern city of Chiclayo on Peru’s north coast. This polity, also known as Sicán, erected great monumental centers such as Batán Grande, Chornancap, and other sites. Recent excavations at Chornancap by Carlos Wester and his team have revealed that such masks were part of the burial regalia of high-status women as well as men. According to myths on the north coast, gold was particularly associated with male rulers, silver with noble women, and copper with commoners. A mask from Chornancap, found in the tomb of an importance priestess, was made of silver.
The pointed ovoid eyes on this mask and others, sometimes referred to as winged eyes, have been identified as defining features of a being known as the Sicán Deity. According to Izumi Shimada and colleagues, an individual interred with such a mask would have been thought to take on aspects of the Sicán Deity’s power, and would have been transformed into a venerated ancestor upon death."
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metalupyourazzzz · 11 months ago
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Siren // Orm Marius
Orm Marius & my OC, Cora
Description: Cora is a young girl living off the coast of Amnesty Bay, Maine. She's known Arthur for years after he saved her when she washed ashore. After years of being tangled with the League of Assassins, Arthur comes knocking on her door, Orm in tow. He comes with news: David Kane is intent on destroying the world, and he needs her help to stop him.
Set during Aquaman 2
Status: Ongoing
Rating: Mature(some blood and gore, maybe some smut)
Can also be found on Wattpad: metalupyourazzz
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Chapter 1: Take it Off
Years ago
A beach outside of Maine
Arthur stood on the white sand, panting.
“Again.” Vulko commanded, hands laced behind his back, “You’ll never claim the throne if you do not have proper training.”
“This is bullshit,” Arthur cried out, “I just want to meet my mother, my brother. I just want to see Atlantis!”
He shifted his weight, twirling his trident gently, scraping the end in the sand.
“Patience, my young prince, everything good happens with time,” Vulko stated, pacing around, sand kicking up behind him.
Arthur began to speak, when the waves crashed, and something washed ashore.
Someone.
He ran over to the huddled lump and the first thing he saw was the bright green of her eyes. She wasn’t breathing, yet her gaze pierced through him like a knife.
“Vulko?” He whispered as the man stood grimly beside him.
She started coughing, salty water spewing from her mouth, and she rolled over. She had a large gash in her forehead, and she slowly stood to her feet.
“Where am I?” She asked hoarsely, blinking the salt from her eyelashes.
“Don’t worry,” Arthur cooed, “You’re safe.”
Today
09:00 hours
Amnesty Bay, Maine
Cora wasn’t sure what woke her up first, the sunlight peeking through the thin, filtered curtains or the loud knocking on the door. Grumbling slightly, she peeled back the heavy blankets on her bed, and sat up, rubbing her temples. She hoped it helped rid last night’s tequila before she answered the door. A soft yawn escaped her lips as she picked up her phone, groggily scrolling through the 16 missed calls and various texts, all from the same number.
“Arthur Curry, you’re the reason I drink,” she mumbled to herself as she pulled her long blue locks up into a ponytail, quickly combing her fingers through her unruly bangs.
Stepping out of bed, she grabbed the nearest shirt and threw it on, padding across the cold wooden floors to the door. Slowly opening it, she stood somewhat dumbfounded on who stood on the other side.
“Hey squirt!” The tall Hawaiian yelled, picking her up in a tight hug, spinning her before setting her down.
“Arthur, always good to see your face,” she said through a forced smile, his loud voice cutting knives into her head.
“The place looks good,” he remarked, doing a 360 around her dinky studio. He looked a lot different than she remembered. He was more muscular, his hair was longer and more blonde, and he had a ridiculous spandex suit on. His eyes weren’t their normal brown, they glowed a dark gold color, and he had rings and bracelets adorning his arms and fingers.
“Arthur, what are you doing here?” She asked, walking over to her kitchen, pouring a steaming cup of coffee, “Last time I saw you, you had less clothes, and you were less…all of that.”
She finished her sentence with a small motion to his attire and big smile, “You still with the JL?”
He shrugged her questions off, “We are here, because we need your help.”
“We?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Arthur motioned to the door, and that’s when she noticed the other man standing there. He was shorter than Arthur, and from what she could tell, a lot different. He had no shirt on, tweed pants that hung low off his hips, and sandy hair that covered his face, alongside a rugged beard.
“Arthur why is Rob Zombie in my apartment?” She asked.
Arthur snorted, and she could’ve sworn she saw the other man roll his eyes.
“That’s my brother, Orm.” He whispered to her.
“Oh, the righteous douchebag that tried to kill humanity, gotcha.” She whispered back, before she turned to him, “C’mon sunshine let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Arthur if you haven’t forgotten we have better things to do.” The man said, “We have to meet my supplier.”
Cora raised her eyebrow, looking between the two. She shook her head, grabbing a chair and kitchen scissors, “Sit.”
Orm looked at her skeptically, “You’re surely not using those on me.”
“It’s either that or I shave you bald take your pick,” she snapped. He immediately sat down, and she draped a blanket over his chest.
“You still have suits here?” Arthur asked, thumbing through her record collection. He picked one up, and blew the dust off of it, setting it into the record player. Soon the hard melodies of ‘take it off’ by KISS started drifting through the room. The slow snipping of the scissors mixed with it as she worked on Orm’s unruly hair.
“Yeah, I’ve got supplies as well. The League brings me some every so often. I think it’s just an excuse for Talia to keep an eye on me.” She replied, letting out a small laugh. She gently pushed a lock of Orm’s hair out of his face as she worked on the front of his hair. His piercing blue eyes met hers, and she flicked her gaze back to what she was doing.
Soon enough, his hair was at a reasonable length, no longer covering his eyes. He was watching her as she moved, with a grim expression.
Filthy surface dweller, he thought to himself, touching me like I’m a peasant. Treating me like a peasant.
She moved quickly, shaving off his beard, leaving no trace of the torture of being locked in the Fisherman Kingdom. As she worked, she heard a small crash, and something tinkered across the floor, and Arthur picked it up.
“Cora?” Arthur asked, quietly. She looked over to see him holding a crown. One that brought her almost to tears. She dropped the scissors she was holding, and they skittered across the floor.
“A-Arthur, I can explain.”
She barely got her sentence out when he was standing in front of her. His once happy expression was turned to a grim one. His face contorted into an angry frown, as he put the crown almost against her. She trembled as she looked up into his eyes. The fire in them terrified her, it reminded her of the one wearing the crown. The day she never wanted to remember. The one that brought chills down her spine every second she thought of it.
“Cora.” Arthur whispered, voice shaking in anger, “Why the hell do you have my father’s crown?”
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melestasflight · 1 year ago
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For the holiday prompts, could I please request 🌄Sirion and "still hope may seem bright"? Thank you! <3
still hope may seem bright
Idril stands at the edge of a rocky outcropping whose body has half-sunken into the water and stares into the Great Sea. She can feel the coolness of heavy water droplets against her bare ankles as the waves crash against the rock, again and again, in a steady rhythm that is most welcome for her unruly thoughts.   
The water here at the feet of Sirion’s bluffs deepens quickly, only a few steps of shallow sands, and then a sudden abyss opens, housing the massive coral reef that gives life to the Bay of Balar. Idril pierces the depths with her gaze, letting herself be enthralled by the sea forest beneath the surface.
Flung about by the waves, pulled by the currents, tossed this way and that by the entire power of the sea, the seagrasses sway in the tide. Fish, big and small, and critters and crawlers of all sorts wade between their tall green bodies, feeding on them, hiding between them, using them for survival. Flung, and pulled, and tossed, the grasses choose not where they go, the most vulnerable beings in the sea though all life starts with them.
Idril sees something of herself in these simple plants of the sea for she also has been tossed around from one land to the next, pulled by currents much larger than herself, uprooted time and again from each place she has called home. Here she stands at the edges of Beleriand, by the sea after so long, yet not of her own making. How Idril had longed for the sea during her first years in Gondolin, for there is something of that scent when the algae bloom, of the ways salt crystals form along the skin, that never truly leaves someone who has known them. 
Now that she is returned to the gentle embrace of the coast, Idril has little strength left to rejoice. Questions weigh heavily upon her, of the hurts her people still carry, of the favors she must ask and has nothing to offer in return, of dark winter nights that are soon to find them, of kingships and crowns. She still owes an answer to Ereinion on that last matter and has promised to deliver it before nightfall.
The sea breeze picks up to snatch at Idril’s tresses, tossing them around playfully and bringing with it the lilt of cheerful laughter. It is a most familiar sound, most beloved, yet one she has not heard in close to a year. A very long year. 
Idril’s heart chases this sound desperately and her eyes follow down the beach to where Eärendil runs to Tuor, hands overflowing with shells and pebbles. The treasures fall out of his small palms and he must pause to retrieve them from the sand before sprinting, the merriment spilling from his lips again. Tuor laughs too, though quietly, its resonance lost between the coming and going of the water. Their bright heads shine brilliantly in the afternoon light and when they are joined, Eärendil’s gold next to Tuor’s early silvering, it is as if the Sun has met the low Moon.
The sight is so beautiful and soothing, almost a dream, as something Idril’s mind must be conjuring to find a temporary refuge from the questions that give it no peace. A vision or no, Idril dares not interrupt and remains watching how Eärendil offers the gifts to his father with a beaming smile, how Tuor falls on his knees to receive the offerings, how they both touch and turn each shell as if examining a most remarkable jewel. Tuor explains something with utmost care and puts a big round shell next to their son’s ear. Eärendil listens, and then his eyes open wide and he shrieks with delight. 
The laughter reaches Idril’s ears again, clearer and brighter this time, and it is as tangible as the cold water beneath her own feet. This is not a dream. Her boy laughs again, for the first time since Gondolin.
The tears that come then are not the familiar murky streams of grief but of a heart opening itself to hope again. Idril lets the water flow out of her, fall down her body, and mingle with the spray of waves until she is one with the Sea. Still hope may seem bright, Idril believes, if Eärendil keeps laughing like this, if Ulmo’s waters keep their steady rhythm. 
A decision settles in Idril's heart. She will not rule, her head will bear the weight of no crown in Beleriand. She will be like the seagrasses. Stand tall for her people against whatever comes, be the home they have lost, guard them, and nurture them, and then, when the time is right, let the currents take her where they will.
Idril gives thanks to Sea and turns away to deliver her answer to the one who shall now be a High King to their people.
For ghosti.
If you enjoyed this story, feel free to drop me a note/kudo on AO3. It makes my day!
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tristennedarkmorn · 5 months ago
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They anchored just off the coast of Khaz Algar, close to where a good chunk of Dalaran had landed ashore. While whatever was left of the city on land was well protected, the bits that exploded into the surrounding waters were ripe for the picking. 
Perfect for a salvaging job!
Perhaps not the most respectable course of action, but they did plan on turning over any important looking heirlooms or personal items still intact and not ruined by the sea. But surely no one would miss some gold or valuables thought lost to the depths. They weren’t the only crew with this idea, but given they were typically larger in numbers and more experienced, it wasn’t difficult to chase away most of the other vultures.
“So we can finally stop pretending that Khaz Algar doesn’t exist now? Thank fuck.” Ryland mused as he leaned against the deck rail, glancing below to watch over some of the crew down in the water.
Red simply smirked and exhaled a cloud of smoke up towards the sunny sky. Of course any sailors would know about this place, but the pirate’s code was strong in them. You don’t speak of treasures no one knows about. “Just wait til they find out about -”
“Where is Taric?”
Red hummed and gestured towards the shore, “He’s off picking flowers, you know how it goes with him. He’ll likely want to stay in the city to study with any herbalists and alchemists he finds there. Plus I don’t think he cares to be anywhere near the crash site right now. There’s a lot of general confusion and unfinished business among the dead here.”
The ‘Darkmorn gift’ had allowed both Red and Taric to see and speak with the dead, and while Red was able to block them out when necessary, Taric had the unfortunate ability of always being ‘half in, half out’ of the veil. He understood his nephew’s need to get away from it. Large-scale traumatic events were always the worst for him, especially when still this fresh. Ghosts lingered, and always had many questions that would have difficult answers.
“Are you going to help?” Ryland raised a brow in question.
Red rested the cigarette back between pierced lips, inhaling deeply to stall his response. “I probably should. There’s a lot of ‘missing person’ reports that could easily be cleared up. It’s always a bit of a toss-up though. Some people like to hold onto hope, and the truth would devastate them. On the other hand, closure can be a relief, no matter how difficult it is to hear.”
“You don’t have to do it, you know.”
“I know, I’d want to know though. I think Taric will come around eventually. He just needed some time doing his own thing for a while.” He rubbed his hands down his face and stubbed his cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. That was enough of that, while it wasn't a topic he spoke of often, the crew were well aware of his abilities and it was obvious that it was difficult to block out in this specific location. “I’m gonna go into the city for a bit and see about grabbing a copy of the list of missing persons.”
@rylandfalkov @taricdarkmorn @felonous
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thekimspoblog · 13 days ago
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Art by @geeklovesstuff
When the dreams started back in 2004, they started out simple: two pink lines on a home test kit, the flood of questions which would naturally follow. Maybe - if Kim was lucky - a glimpse at the face of the would-be infant. Those piercing blue eyes.
But twelve years had given the dreams time to metastasize. To grow legs and arms and teeth. And now every time Kim laid her head down on the pillow, depending on what time of the month it was, there was a one in seven chance she would be confronted by this other reality. It was beginning to take over; to feel more real than her waking world.
In the recurring dream, she would find herself standing in the midst of a desert wasteland. It could have been New Mexico, but it's hard to say. It felt somehow blanker, like the space was yet to be defined. The stranger was standing with their back to her, staring out over the expanse. The wind blowing through the mop of brown curls and the billows of their indigo blouse. Kim knows the name, but she hesitates to speak it.
"... Iris?"
The stranger turns around slowly to face her. A masculine young woman or a feminine young man, it was impossible to tell, but either way the dirt and scars on their face couldn't hide the glow of some eternal puckish quality.
"Hi, mom" Iris greets her with weary serenity.
They'd stand there and talk for what felt like hours. Things Kim never felt comfortable telling anyone, not even Jimmy. Her daughter seemed to understand instinctively. Kim tried to deny that she was falling in love with the idea, but the fact is the creature before her was beautiful. Brave, clever, funny, everything she never knew she wanted. When she reached out and brushed her thumb against their cheek, it was hard not to get emotional.
She'd offer up all her prepared defenses: "It's too late for me", "I would be a terrible mother", "Jimmy and I aren't good together", "There's no guarantee you would be this healthy", "It wouldn't be fair to burden you after everything I've been through". Iris humored her with every argument but made no pretense of being moved. Kim realized she was really trying to convince herself. The same way she did any time before going through with a bad idea anyway. Iris would never berate her in explicit terms, but there was an underlying bitterness in how they spoke to Kim. They would value their life. They would value the chance to eat ice cream, run barefoot, to play music, and they would deal with the price as it came. But if Kim didn't? Iris understood. It was a long shot, after all, and millions of kids already needed good homes. It's all good... right?
Kim Wexler was never the type to remember her dreams. But these were different; so vivid, so much more vibrant than her waking life. What was that quote from the Matrix? "Like a splinter in your mind"? It lingered as she filled out expense reports for Palm Coast. It was there as she watched Dorothy tell her clients "I wish I could do more". It hung in the air as she sat in an Applebee's, questioning what the point of this date was when she knew the man sitting across from her would run for the hills the second she told him she'd watched a man die. When lifting the lighter to her cigarette, she began to hesitate.
On November 10, 2016 as Kim settled into the second leg of her flight to Cheyanne, her mind danced at all the new possibilities opening up to her. It felt like coming home for the first time. When she closed her eyes and laid her head against the seat cushion, she expected to see Iris happy, grateful for the change of heart. They were. But with the dreams now allowed to take on more detail, the tone of the dreams had become more urgent. This wasteland was the future, whether Kim liked it or not. Although the landscape now looked more like the Midwest than the South West. The only thing Kim had a modicum of say in was what might survive in it. Iris fidgeted with the gold ring on their right hand. Kim noticed they were wearing fatigues this time as opposed to the business casual she had seen them in before.
Iris inhaled deeply. "Do you smell smoke?"
Kim could swear she did.
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