#vivienne hastings

[daughterofhecata]

Ich muss noch mal diesen Ausschnitt aus "Mord unter Palmen" teilen, einfach weil...

Hübsche junge Frau: Ich weiß nicht, ob ich heute Nacht schlafen kann...

Victor Hugenay: Versuchs halt.

Hübsche junge Frau: Darf ich zu dir (ins Bett) kommen, wenn ich Angst habe? 🥺😏

Victor Hugenay: Meinetwegen, wenns sein muss. Anyway, zurück zum Fall.

[malakinterrupted]

10 posts!

[boothillesque]

vivienne rambles. — shitposting

confessions. — asks

playtime. — games

make haste. — important

ribbons. — reblogs

paintings. — [fan]art

vivienne writes. — all my writing

my dearest [character]. — character tag

from [fandom]. — fandom tag

bookcase. — saving & recommending

mailbox. — all asks

my sweet [name]. — mutuals

greetings [username]. — usernamed asks

secret admirers. — anons

[diawhims]

the hastings family

from left to right 𐙚

octavia (15), vincent/vinnie (11), benjamin (51), vivienne (11), sasha (49), arabella (19)

[faith-less-one]

Fic: Push (1 / 7)

The first chapter of my new Cullen/Helaine fic! Full series here.

Helaine

“You are as bad as Cullen, did you know?” the Inquisitor grumbles, though there is a smile on his face that belies his words. “I didn’t think it was possible, but there we are.”

Helaine frowns in the middle of tying her saddlebags firmly down. “In what way, Inquisitor?”

He glances up at the sky – still mostly dark, though there is a crack of sunlight at the horizon – and then at Cassandra – practically asleep where she sits, her boots lying beside her feet and not yet quite on them – and Vivienne – fully dressed, but lying face down on the ground, possibly stretching out her spine and possibly just asleep again.

(Cole is nowhere to be seen at present, but she has no doubt he will suddenly appear just in time for them to leave, as he had done at Skyhold the previous day.)

“Push, push, push, like there aren’t enough hours in the day, that you have to steal them from the night too.”

She continues to frown.

“We only stopped to sleep a few hours ago,” he reminds her in clarification, shrugging on his Enchanter coat and then kneeling down beside Cassandra, putting one of her boots physically in her hand. It does not seem to help.

“And that was after riding since barely after dawn, with only the meanest of breaks,” Vivienne adds, evidently awake after all, pushing herself up into what Helaine will charitably call Downward Mabari, though their instructors at Montsimmard would likely not have been so kind.

“Ugh,” is Cassandra’s contribution to the conversation, though, to her credit, she does open her eyes and begin putting her boots on.

“We are needed in the Arbor Wilds. It is necessary to make haste,” Helaine says, though with a fair sight less conviction than she had done the previous day, when they were all far fresher. She frowns slightly at the Inquisitor. “You said yourself that you were used to riding hard.”

“There is riding hard and then there is riding hard,” Vivienne notes, thankfully not turning it into some kind of euphemism as she is often wont to do. “There is little point in arriving at the battle already half-dead, darling.”

“We’re practically halfway there as it is,” Cassandra manages to rouse herself enough to say. Helaine does not point out that ‘practically’ halfway means they are still closer to Skyhold than the Arbor Wilds, and how uneasy this makes her. Especially when there is every likelihood that the battle may not wait for them to arrive.

Read the rest on my AO3!

[crackinglamb]

(This thing is too big to share my usual way now. I'm both laughing and crying)

An army had come to Skyhold. A red one.

As she watched, the portcullis dropped with a distant clang and the drawbridge that connected Skyhold to the mountain trail began to lift. The clarion warning was cut off in a flurry of arrows and magic as the mass advanced onto the bridge, but it had been enough to do its job. They were sealed in. Unless Corypheus himself showed up with his dragon, they could outlast a siege. Granted, she didn’t think they would get that lucky. He was coming. She had no doubt of it.

She didn’t bother to stare, but went back into her room to don her armor and grab her bow. She cursed the number of stairs she had to go down just to reach the Great Hall, but managed them without tripping in her haste. Bull and Dorian were already waiting for her, armed and ready. Battle plans would come, but first things first.

“Get the civilians below. Into the old ballroom. Solas can direct them to safe places from there. There’s a ton of passages and ways to escape. He knows them all.”

“On it, Boss,” Bull said, taking off at a dead run. He could move astonishingly fast when he wanted to, and few would dare get in his way when he did.

“D, you and Vivienne see how many mages are in the tower that are battle ready. I would assume there’s Venatori out there.”

“Yes. It’s Haven all over again, isn’t it?”

“Hopefully not.”

DAFF Crew Tags

@warpedlegacy, @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @oxygenforthewicked, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @mogwaei, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie

[yuuniee]

Vivienne Schönheit Birthday Bash!!

💧 “Hey... Where is everyone..?”

*heels clacking in distance*

💧 “Big brother Vil..?”

👑 “Yes, Vivienne?”

💧 “Is everyone in the dorm busy or are they all asleep..? ...Hmm, it is 04:49 p.m. There is no way that everyone can be asleep at this hour...”

👑 “...”

💧 “Did something bad happen to them..? I-I’ll try my best to heal them all, I promise!”

👑 “Fufu~”

💧 “Big brother, answer me please!”

👑 “You will find your answer if you follow me.”

💧 *She pouts but follows him anyway.*

— 👑 — 💧 — 👑 — 💧 — 👑 —

..

....

.......

...........

All: HAPPY BIRTHDAY VIVIENNE!!!

💧 “Ah..!! You guys...”

💧 “...had me worried about you! Did you know how scared I was?! I immediately thought of the worst!!!”

👑 *He sighs.*

👑 “I advise you to not immediately think of the worst, Mein Schatz...”

💧 “DU HAST MIR AUCH SORGEN GEMACHT!!” (YOU ALSO HAD ME WORRIED!!)

💧 *Sniffle...* *sobbing...*

👑 *He sighs, taking her in his arms with a frown...*

💧 “Th-though... Thank you...”

👑 “You are welcome...”

Event Duration: 9th July - 18th July

During this event, you can interact with the birthday girl and (maybe) give her some gifts! You can also play as a canon character! Do your best!! 💜

[ripplesofaqua]

AO3 First Lines Tag Game

First lines meme. Thanks for the tag @linguini17! Rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recent fanfics

Jeeves and the Crimson Tie (Jeeves: Bertie/Jeeves) "Good Lord, Jeeves! What the devil is that?” “This, sir,” Jeeves said, with a face that would make a stuffed frog jealous, “is a tie.”

By the Spymaster's Stolen Drawers (DAI: Leliana/Josephine) “I wouldn’t touch that, if I were you,” Callum warns, slipping the dagger into his palm. “The previous person found rummaging through the Seneschal’s things was last seen running from a possessed bear.”

Lessons from an Engagement (Jeeves: Bertie/Jeeves) September 19-- by Mr Harold Voules: Mr Wooster took it upon himself, in the late hours of Boat Race night, to cycle across the square, sans accoutrement. His apparel is garish at the best of times, but this is the last straw. I handed in my resignation immediately

Like a Tie Askew (Poirot: Poirot/Hastings) “Non, non, non, non, non ! You have not been paying attention, Hastings!” “Oh come now, Poirot, stop fidgeting,” the man replies with irritating calm, his fingers tightening the black silk firmly against Poirot’s throat. “I’ve been doing my own ties since I was in short trousers.”

Jeeves and the Cerulean Stitches (Jeeves: Bertie/Jeeves) “Oh sir, your hands!”

Threads of Red and Gold (DAI: Josephine/Cassandra) “Ughh!” Irritation prickles across Cassandra’s skin, tiny needles of discomfort as she struggles. Oh, how she hates small spaces, enclosure, being unable to move freely.

The Meeting on the Turret Stairs (DAI: Josephine/Cassandra) In the spire high above, the Great Bell tolls the closing hour, ancient voice deep against the swell of song, soaring from the square below.

Comfort (DAI: Josephine/Vivienne) “Imbecile,” Vivienne seethes, “foolish, incompetent man.”

The Moon Over Yanjing (Emelan: Briar & Rosethorn) Her roots itch - the deep prickle of mold working its way under her skin. She squirms in irritation, but the heavy, clay-ridden soil around her does not budge.

Tattered Parchment (DAI: Cassandra/F!Trevelyan) Cassandra turns, unfolding the tattered parchment, and paces along the balcony. The writing is faded, blurring with the movement of her hands, but it's no matter. Time has inked the words onto her heart.

I'll tag @thewindysideofcare, @thereinafter, @thankyouforbeingsowrong, @bryndeavour, @greenapricot, @mr-iskender and anyone else who wants to do this!

[simstryingtheirbestok]

Violet was putting the finishing touches on her latest mystery novel, The Integer Overflow Murders, when the camera jerked suddenly up, away, and across town to let me know that some jackass stylist had gone and set himself on fire.

I don't know why that's any of Violet's business nor any of mine, but okay. Fine! Violet, dear, would you mind driving across town to extinguish the stylist? None of the three other people currently on the scene seem capable of it.

Hmm, Val should be in school right now. Velma and Vivienne are! That's why they aren't standing around doing the Interpretive Fire Dance of Distressed Sims. Way to parent, Jake and Wilona.

--oh, finally. She's here! There's Violet on the left, see, and there's the roasty-toasty stylist on the far right.

Violet does not seem to be in any haste at all.

This is exactly the pace, stance, and facial expression of a cocktail party hostess en route to greet new arrivals.

Violet's nonchalance vanished as soon as she got close enough to realize that holy hell, that's fire! She then commenced the Interpretive Fire Dance of Distressed Sims, interrupted only by my continual attempts to send her back home. She couldn't even click on "Put Out Sim" anymore; she couldn't click on the victim to interact with him at all anymore, so I gave him up for dead.

That's when the real hero appeared: The Tattoo Artist. Maybe she figured that having only a Tattoo Artist in a place that offers both tattooing and styling could be bad for business, or maybe she wanted to finish up with a customer first, before dealing with that whole dude-on-fire thing. She whipped out the fire extinguisher and generously sprayed the stylist with it, then marched directly back into the shop.

Unfortunately, this did not put him out entirely. It isn't visible here, but he still had a small patch on his backside on fire.

I appreciate the local neat freak doing what he can to clean up.

The stylist may have still been aflame, but everyone else on the lot was by now over it.

And Violet had finally heeded my directions to go home. Rather than wait for The Burning Bum to become a raging conflagration again, I reset him.

I still have no idea how he started the blaze to begin with, other than maybe it had to do with the candles on the tables? Who knows. It made for an exciting first day in town for Violet, but excitement is generally not what Neurotic Bookworm Sims are looking for. It was a lot for a young woman raised in the islands to cope with.

She checked all the sinks once she got home. Then she had a little freakout and, once tranquil again, went upstairs to finish her book.

[ladysunbite]

01. what sexuality does your muse identify as, or most closely with? 04. what non-sexual act of foreplay most turns them on?

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 + 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 || open

01. what sexuality does your muse identify as, or most closely with?

Bisexial would be a correct modern term. Essentially, a need to survive in a hostile world made Orianna adopt a “research” approach to every field of her life. As for a vampiric regard to gender, it begs a separate hc. By now it would be sufficient to say that she identifies as a female, but with a high degree of social freedom, compared to the medival-esque setting, thanks to her high yet not responsibility-heavy status ( compared to Anna Henrietta or Vivienne de Tabris, for instance ). 

04. what non-sexual act of foreplay most turns them on?

The red line, be that pun forgiven, is that in everything Orianna is or does or desires, there are two, often warrying, sides to her. Mainly, it’s due to her upbringing on the precipice of two extremely different cultures - vampiric and human ( with a grain of elven, as Beauclair boasts some elegant architectural ancestry and the general air of hedonism ).

Her natural, vampiric side, longs for the outlet of her base instincts, and is prone to the nostalgia of her mayhem-filled, responsibility-free days of youth. But as with everything nostalgic, that memory has acquired a golden sheen. Invite the sun-eyed to raid a village and bask in the blood and guts of the victims, and she would wrinkle her nose, contemptuously. However “killing out of necessity”, a cloak and dagger variety is a perfect stage for her pent-up, bestial urges. Murder some foes together, compliment graceful ways of slaying, do not shiver at the sight of her claws and her stained mouth, and take the responsibility of covering the tracks and burying the bodies - it’s the best kind of a spontaneous first date in her books.  Her humanized side prefers pleasures of a higher sort - art, and especially, music. Orianna has a lovely singing voice, but lacks the occasion to exhibit it to the full. She never sings at her own soirees, due to the risk of being carried away and hypnotising the hapless audience. Or something worse. In a nutshell, such a display could attract the pestering attention of a witcher or a sorceress, and the sun-eyed values her comfort. If you have coaxed her to sing together, you can count it as a sort of courting. In between exists the realm, which takes from both sides. Orianna is a highly sensual creature; not in terms of a sexual drive, but in her overactive senses ( a natural perk of vampirism, combined with a hc that she lost her sight for a time during her youth ). She can be baited with certain smells, a harmony of colours in a landscape / painting, an ornate glass of sweet blood wine. And a physical touch, naturally. It is as much a lure to her, as the other 4 senses are. Anna Henrietta mentions that her presence inspires a certain eerie anxiety that prompts the other party to depart with all possible haste. And as a result, the sun-eyed is somewhat starved in that department. It’s worth mentioning that Orianna finds her hair being brushed rather titillating ( or her teeth being touched ). But it’s an activity reserved to intimate of partners.

Sculpture Credit: Le vampire / La chauve-souris (1903) by Agathon Leonard

[chasindtrevelyan]

continued from here [x]

He knows nothing until he wakes.

His body feels heavy, limbs refusing to move and mouth dryer than the sands of the western approach. He ached too, a dull pain radiating from his side that throbbed with every beat of his heart. He remembered then what had transpired at Suledin keep, and he tried to push himself up in the hopes of figuring out where he was. His attempt didn’t get him very far, the effort of sitting up almost beyond him. He must have made some kind of noise, because Vivienne appeared at his side in the next instant, a gentle hand resting on his chest to halt his attempt.

“You must lay still my dear,” she scolded, but her voice was gentle. “You suffered quite the injury, and while mostly healed, your body is still fragile.”

That being said, she did help him to sit up, sliding a pillow behind his back to help prop him up and then fetched a glass of water. She held it for him, letting him sip from it slowly until the parched sensation faded.

“How long?” he asked, his voice a raspy whisper. 

“Just over a week. Our dear Inquisitor made sure you were returned to Skyhold with all haste, and you’ve been in the infirmary ever since.”

At mention of the Inquisitor, Max automatically glanced about, rather certain that the man in question would be somewhere nearby. Surprisingly, he was not, btu Vivienne had an explanation for that as well.

“He’s currently in the kitchens, eating something other than apples under the watchful eye of our dear Iron Bull. Had you awakened fifteen minutes earlier, you might have caught him.”

She seemed exasperated, and in all honesty Max could understand why. Talon wasn’t prone to behaving in ways she deemed appropriate for one of his station, and if it weren’t for the fact that he apparently hadn’t been eating properly, Max might have understood. As it was, he was simply grateful that Bull had managed to wrangle him out of the infirmary for however long he managed to keep him away. 

“I don’t imagine he’ll be terribly pleased to have missed your first moments of lucidity, but at the least you’ll likely rouse again in the next few hours.” He would have asked what she meant by again, but her words seemed to bring his exhaustion back to the forefront, and he could feel himself drifting again. He must have made some kind of unhappy sound, because Vivienne sighed and moved out of sight for a moment before returning and draping something over him. 

“Here, perhaps that will satisfy you until the man himself returns.”

His fingers curled into the familiar fabric of Talon’s coat, and he dragged it up so he could bury his face in it. The enchanter had been wise to bring it to him, because as she had likely suspected, the scent of the other man went a long way of soothing him back into a more restful sleep.

With a sigh, Vivienne regarded her unusual patient for a moment longer before leaving to find the Inquisitor. It wouldn’t do to leave him in the dark about his companions awakening. 

[claudia1829things]

"THE A.B.C. MURDERS" (1992) Review

"THE A.B.C. MURDERS" (1992) Review As I had pointed out in my REVIEW of the 2018 adaptation of "THE A.B.C. MURDERS", the 1936 book upon which it is based is one of my favorites written by Agatha Christie. And as I had pointed out, there have been at least four adaptations. In this review, I have decided to focus on the 1992 television adaptation from the "AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT" series.

Starring David Suchet as the Belgian-born detective, Hercule Poirot, "THE A.B.C. MURDERS" begin with Poirot welcoming his old friend Captain Arthur Hastings, who has traveled from his Argentina ranch for a visit to Britain. Poirot reveals a letter he had recently received from a possible serial killer named "A.B.C.", who declares his or her intention to murder a citizen of Andover, whose name starts with an "A". Following the death of one Alice Ascher in Andover, Chief Inspector Japp and Scotland Yard becomes involved when Poirot receives a second letter from the killer, who needles the detective with his/her intent to kill a second victim in a seaside town called Bexhill-on-the-Sea. After the murderer kills a third victim, an elderly millionaire from Churston; Poirot recruits the victims' relations and loved ones to assist him and Hastings in the hunt for the killer. And unbeknownst to Poirot and the police, a non-descript, middle-aged stockings salesman named Alexander Bonaparte Cust found himself present at the locations of each victim. As much as I liked the 2018 adaptation of Christie's 1936 novel, I must admit that I prefer this version over it. Unlike the former, this television movie managed to adhere a lot closer to Christie's novel. Unlike many, I would not consider the latter as a requisite for a good adaptation. I can think of a few first-rate Christie adaptations that were not that faithful to the original source. But in the case of "THE A.B.C. MURDERS", I believe Clive Exton was wise to be as faithful as possible to Christie's 1936 novel. Why? I believe it is one of her best creations and it is a personal favorite of mine. It seemed very rare for mystery writers - especially those like Christie - to create a story about a possible serial killer. The only other time I can recall Christie creating something similar was her 1939 novel, "AND THEN THERE WERE NONE". Another aspect of this story that I enjoyed was the sense of urgency in Poirot and the police's hunt for "ABC" after the second murder had been committed. This was especially apparent in Exton and director Andrew Grieve's use of fast-paced moments of newspaper headlines, newsreel narrations and close-up shots of A.B.C. railway guides. And thanks to Grieves' direction, along with performances by David Suchet and Donald Sumpter, the television movie included an excellent scene that featured Poirot's interview with the arrested Cust. Although "THE A.B.C. MURDERS" is a favorite of mine, it is not perfect. Once again, the series brought in Scotland Yard's Chief Inspector Japp to serve as the main police investigator in this story. I have always enjoyed Poirot and Hastings' interactions with Japp, but I do get weary of the series using Japp as the main police investigator in nearly every episode or television movie. Especially since none of the murders in this story were committed within Scotland Yard's jurisdiction. Arthur Hastings appeared in the form of two problems for me. One, I was not a fan of the running joke involving the dead Amazon Cayman that Hastings had shot and brought with him from South America. I did not find it funny or amusing. And two - as much as I have enjoyed Hugh Fraser's performances as Hastings over the years, I found Exeter's portrayal of him as this idiot rather excessive. Although I consider this adaptation superior to the 2018 miniseries, I must admit that the latter seemed to more style and punch in its production. This movie's first half had style. But after the fourth victim, I had to struggle to stay awake, due to the second half's more plodding style . . . at least until Poirot's revelation of the killer. I have a complaint about the casting, but I will bring it up later. But I do have one last complaint. The movie featured one of those scenes in which involved the police chasing the murderer after Poirot exposes the latter. God, I hate them. The "AGATHA CHRISTIE'S MISS MARPLE" with Joan Hickson was the first to utilize this trope. And unfortunately, "AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT" continued it every now and then. The performances in "THE A.B.C. MURDERS" struck me as first-rate. David Suchet gave his usual fine performance as the Belgian-born private detective, Hercule Poirot. As stated earlier, I was especially impressed by his performance in a scene in which Poirot interviews the major suspect. Although I had an issue of how Captain Arthur Hastings was written for this TV movie, I cannot deny that actor Hugh Fraser gave his usual excellent performance as Poirot's companion and best friend. Philip Jackson was excellent as usual as the tart-tongued Chief Inspector Japp. There were two other performances that stood out for me. One came from Pippa Guard, who gave an excellent performance as Megan Barnard, the blunt and tart-tongued sister of the second victim, Betty Barnard. But the one stand-out performance came from Donald Sumpter, who portrayed the stocking salesman, Alexander Bonaparte Cust. Sumpter did a superb job in making such a non-descript personality so interesting and slightly creepy. The rest of the cast provided first-rate support - including Nicholas Farrell, Cathryn Bradshaw, Nina Marc, David McAlister, Ann Windsor, Peter Penry-Jones, Vivienne Burgess and Donald Douglas. Speaking of the latter - he had been cast as Franklin Clarke, the younger brother of the killer's third victim, Sir Carmichael Clarke. I have been aware of Douglas ever since I was a kid and have always regarded him as a first-rate actor. But I believe he had been miscast as Franklin Clarke, who had been described as a handsome, charming and charismatic man in his early-to-mid 40s. Although attractive, Douglas had been in his late 50s when he portrayed Franklin. Also, he seemed to come across more like some hale and hearty Englishman than what Christie had described the character in her novel. I have no problems with the television movie's production values. In all honestly, I would rate the movie's production as solid. There was nothing mind boggling about it. Rob Harris' re-creation of London and other parts of Great Britain struck me as solid. Only his discovery of the De La Warr Pavilion in Essex struck me as a godsend. I found Christopher Gunning's score solid, but not memorable, along with Peter Wenham's art direction. However, I must admit that Carlotta Barrow's set decorations; especially in scenes that featured Alice Ascher's store, the De La Warr Pavilion, Cust's apartment and various hotel rooms, and Poirot's own apartment; struck me as above par and worthy of notice. But I have to give kudos to Barbara Kronig, whom I believe did a superb job of re-creating the 1936 fashions for characters from various backgrounds and personalities. Anyone with common sense would know or realize there is no such thing as a perfect movie or television production. This certainly applies to "THE A.B.C. MURDERS", the 1992 television adaptation to Agatha Christie's1936 novel. The pacing for the movie's second half had threatened to bog down during a small period of time. The joke surrounding Arthur Hastings' dead cayman had become tiresome and never-ending. And I believe one of the characters had been miscast. However, these flaws seemed trifling in compared to the movie's virtues. The cast led by David Suchet struck me as first-rate. Most of the television movie possessed an energy and style, thanks to Andrew Grieve's direction. And screenwriter Clive Exton had written a first-rate adaptation. I believe he did this after recognizing the excellent quality of the source material. "THE A.B.C. MURDERS" is one Agatha Christie novel I will enjoy for years to come.

[prettytragcdies]

[faith-less-one]

Can I ask about Push from your WIP list?

So, this is my main WIP at the moment, and will start to be posted the week after next, I am determined!!

It's the Arbor Wilds fic. The reunion after "Split", the battle, the... aftermath...

Like many (many) of my fics, it started out with quite a simple three chapter bullet-point outline, and then it grew to five chapters, to six, and - as of about 5 hours ago - seven. I'm pretty sure I can keep it to seven, though...

I'm not even going to start to explain the stuff that happens, because a) going to be posted soon and b) already over 30,000 words with a chapter left to write, lol.

BUT. A teaser preview from the beginning of chapter 1 under the cut. ♥

Helaine

“You are as bad as Cullen, did you know?” the Inquisitor grumbles, though there is a smile on his face that belies his words. “I didn’t think it was possible, but there we are.”

Helaine frowns in the middle of tying her saddlebags firmly down. “In what way, Inquisitor?”

He glances up at the sky – still mostly dark, though there is a crack of sunlight at the horizon – and then at Cassandra – practically asleep where she sits, her boots lying beside her feet and not yet quite on them – and Vivienne – fully dressed, but lying face down on the ground, possibly stretching out her spine and possibly just asleep again.

(Cole is nowhere to be seen at present, but she has no doubt he will suddenly appear just in time for them to leave, as he had done at Skyhold the previous day.)

“Push, push, push, like there aren’t enough hours in the day, that you have to steal them from the night too.”

She continues to frown.

“We only stopped to sleep a few hours ago,” he reminds her in clarification, shrugging on his Enchanter coat and then kneeling down beside Cassandra, putting one of her boots physically in her hand. It does not seem to help.

“And that was after riding since barely after dawn, with only the meanest of breaks,” Vivienne adds, evidently awake after all, pushing herself up into what Helaine will charitably call Downward Mabari, though their instructors at Montsimmard would likely not have been so kind.

“Ugh,” is Cassandra’s contribution to the conversation, though, to her credit, she does open her eyes and begin putting her boots on.

“We are needed in the Arbor Wilds. It is necessary to make haste,” Helaine says, though with a fair sight less conviction than she had done the previous day, when they were all far fresher. She frowns slightly at the Inquisitor. “You said yourself that you were used to riding hard.”

“There is riding hard and then there is riding hard,” Vivienne notes, thankfully not turning it into some kind of euphemism as she is often wont to do. “There is little point in arriving at the battle already half-dead, darling.”

“We’re practically halfway there as it is,” Cassandra manages to rouse herself enough to say.

Helaine does not point out that ‘practically’ halfway means they are still closer to Skyhold than the Arbor Wilds, and how uneasy this makes her. Especially when there is every likelihood that the battle may not wait for them to arrive.

“In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. It helps.”

She freezes in position at Cole’s soft words. She had not heard him approach, but then, she rarely does. He is sneakier even than her, much to her irritation.

Luckily, no one else seems to note her reaction, or even that the words are likely meant for her.

Vivienne tuts. “I have told you before, darling, if you wish to learn how, I am happy to teach you. But you must remain present for the entire lesson.”

“I know,” he says, singsong, like a child.

Cassandra sighs heavily, pushing herself to her (now-booted) feet. “We may as well get on with it, then. Ugh.”

Thank the Maker.

[skittidyne]

who wants a deleted scene from ylg2

i’ll also send this out later via email to those who are part of the cool kid club, but also posting it here!

this is a scene that sadly will get scrapped, though it’s a pretty cute scene when isaac and vivienne aren’t sniping at each other. (it’s also written for a way-earlier draft of the first book where sam wasn’t tengu friend, so that’s why there’s confusing distance with mirai!) also, parandrus! those are fun.

“Oh boy,” Vivienne groans, which is the only warning Isaac gets before they’re accosted by a bouncy tengu in the middle of the goblin market. 

One that he recognizes, no less: the magpie tengu from Halloween. 

“Hello, Mirai,” Vivienne says with a rictus smile. “How have you been?” 

“I told these two to deliver a message to you with all haste! That was weeks ago!” the tengu, Mirai, snaps and flutters into the air when they angrily swoop their wings. Their mask may hide their expression, but their glare can be felt. “Little witch, didn’t you give her my message?!” 

“Of course he did,” Vivienne blatantly lies. 

Isaac rarely feels gratitude, but he supposes he just dodged a bullet. There had been a lot going on during Halloween, so how was he supposed to care that a tengu told them to ask Vivienne to hurry up with whatever egg drama she’s embroiled in? Isaac never thought he’d see the youkai again, anyway. It’s always been a different group manning their stall on the main thoroughfare, and even today, it was supposed to be a quick trip. 

“I’m very sorry, Mirai, but there have been a lot of difficult things going on in the human realm that needed my and Mark’s attention,” Vivienne adds with an amount of respect he never would have suspected she were capable of. “I will do my best to convince Mark that we need to hasten our actions to return the First egg to you.” 

“Vivienne really was quite busy,” Sam advises with a stage-whisper, complete with hand cupped around his mouth, like the woman standing next to him wouldn’t hear. “I think she almost died—it was dangerous. So she definitely wasn’t lying to you about us telling her your message or being too busy to fetch that egg for you!” 

Sam is having too much fun being able to lie to someone else (since the two people he cannot lie to are flanking him). Isaac rolls his eyes. 

“Ah, I did smell more death on you than I had before…” Mirai trails off, clawed hand over their mask’s long, beak-like nose. 

“I’ve been told it’s very rude to tell women that they smell bad,” Sam adds. 

“But then how will they fix it?” 

“Okay, you two!” Vivienne breaks back in. “Whatever I smell like to spirits is not the issue here. Sam, please don’t trouble Mirai any further—” 

“Oh, he’s no trouble! He’s very easy to speak with!” Mirai chirps. 

Why does my demon have a way with tengu, Isaac wonders, exasperated. Aren’t youkai supposed to be infamously hard to deal with? Vivienne’s walking on eggshells around this one. And yet Sam had managed not to get his head ripped off by the barn owl tengu, too, the last time they’d come here. 

To Isaac’s annoyance and Vivienne’s visible discomfort, Mirai falls into step beside them when Vivienne tries to beg out of the conversation to continue shopping. 

So much for a quick trip. 

Sam blatantly leans around Vivienne to continue speaking with Mirai. “So you know the barn owl tengu that normally runs the stall here? I was under the impression that it was their egg that was missing, and they were really upset about it.” 

“It is theirs, but it’s my duty to retrieve it!” Mirai replies with their chest puffed up. 

“Hatsu doesn’t seem to think so,” Vivienne mutters. 

“I need to give it back to them—and I want to! Then Hatsu will see how responsible and decisive and brave I am, not to mention how well I keep my vows to them, and then maybe they’ll finally agree to be courted…” Mirai ends with a dreamy sigh. 

Isaac personally cannot believe that tengu, one of the strongest higher spirits around, known for being fierce and violent and exacting, walking vessels of untold magic potential, are also walking examples of romantic period drama tropes. No wonder Vivienne is letting her exasperation show. Has she been dealing with this the entire time? 

“Good luck,” Sam earnestly tells them. 

Mirai continues mooning beneath their mask, complete with clasped hands and fluttering feathers, even as Vivienne’s expression turns flatter. 

Isaac supposes it’s too much to hope that a tengu would be grossed out by having to drag a carcass through the market. He’s not entirely sure what a parandrus is, but apparently they’re big enough that it’ll be an effort to drag a whole one around. Hence the stronger-than-any-human demon Natalie had declared would be perfect for the job. (Vivienne’s there to do the business, Isaac is there as to not stress the contract. Nevermind the fact that he has the sneaking suspicion that he and Sam could be this far apart, and that Vivienne’s presence beside him would likely soothe any discomfort; there are too many loopholes in that damned contract for Isaac to ever understand.) 

Graham Yu’s stall is as much of a zoo as Isaac remembers, complete with that blindfolded basilisk he saw last time. It raises its head and flicks out a large tongue, directly at Mirai. 

Graham wipes off his gloves on a blood-soaked rag and gives them all a beam. He doesn’t bat an eye at the tengu accompanying them. “Vivienne! You’re here for Natalie’s order, right? It was a pain to maintain the stasis spells, so good luck with that—they’ll probably need refreshing once you get back through the door.” 

“Thanks for the warning,” Vivienne replies, offhand but sincere, and ducks behind Graham’s stall with no further invitation. “Strength,” she murmurs and writes down her leg with her finger. She then reaches into that impossible messenger bag of hers to pull out big work gloves to match Graham’s. 

Together, they haul a huge, furry body onto the table. It shakes beneath the sudden weight. Isaac can’t see much of the beast, outside of registering long fur and what looks like a horn or antler near the lolling head. 

“Is that your dinner? How will you cook it?” Mirai asks brightly. 

Graham snorts a laugh. “Charming notion, but no, tengu-san. We’re selling the whole beast for potion bits, but most are best when harvested fresh.” 

“The things humans go through for their magic,” Mirai says, head cocked steeply. “Weird!” 

“Sam, your turn,” Vivienne wheezes, rolling the parandrus over to the edge of the table. Thick legs and hooves flop over onto that side. 

Without so much as a grunt, Sam picks up the parandrus and hauls it over his shoulders. He looks absurd, a skinny white boy beneath an ox-sized creature, but there’s no tremble to his arms as he struggles to balance it. “What is this thing, exactly?” he asks curiously. 

“A heraldic beast, isn’t it?” Mirai says, standing on the tips of their talons to peer into its face. Long, rabbit-like ears hang down from its head and antlers knock against Sam’s back. The parandrus’ long fur shimmers as Sam shifts it around. Without meaning to, Isaac reaches out to touch. 

Vivienne slaps his hand away. Isaac jolts, surprised, both at himself and her audacity. “Its fur can change color, yeah, it’s not your eyes playing tricks on you. But we need that, and the oils in human skin can damage it—so no touching,” she orders as she strips her gloves off and stuffs them back into her messenger bag. 

Sam’s hands fly down away from where he’d been holding it, his face the picture of guilt. 

“You’re fine,” Vivienne says with a wildly forced laugh, glancing back at Graham, “because of that spell we did on you earlier! Right, Isaac? Sam, you’re fine to touch it, because you’re our pack mule today!” 

“Oh,” Sam says, though if he really catches on, Isaac can’t tell. He gingerly grabs the parandrus again, fingers knotting in long fur, which subtly changes to match his light skin tone. 

Isaac watches Mirai’s expressionless mask, but it’s still pointed toward the parandrus’ trailing ears. Considering how obvious their body language is, he thinks it safe to say that they don’t harbor any more suspicion than Graham’s eye roll. 

“Tell Natalie that I’m only so generous with keeping whole carcasses for her since she was kind enough to loan you to me with those unicorns!” Graham cheerily informs them, waving goodbye with his large leather gloves. “Oh, but before I forget—how’s that jackalope doing?” 

“That was you?!” Vivienne, who had been ready to beat a hasty retreat with Sam in tow, rounds on Graham with eyes narrowed and finger jabbed at his face. 

Graham offers her a smug smile. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure out the one you’re keen on is the one who fleeced us at cards at Alice’s Halloween party. Gossip travels fast, you know? So how’s the little critter doing?” 

Isaac’s head snaps around, now more interested in this conversation. 

“Dana didn’t know it was a jackalope. I got an emergency call the next morning about a rabbit with antlers!” 

“She was sloshed after she had the guts to try Ægir ale without any filters. And alright, maybe I was drunk too, since Giselle was nice enough to share her other bottle, but I tried explaining how to take care of the little guy. Or, I can recommend someone who can turn him into a nice pair of gloves. They’re just as soft as rabbits.” 

“She named him Pyewacket, and she’s completely enamored,” Vivienne mutters, pinching the furrow in her brow. “Just… don’t go betting cryptids to people who don’t know any better, alright? You could actually get in trouble for that.” 

“I’m properly licensed to handle anything and everything in any realm,” Graham retorts, “and how was I supposed to know about your little drama? We were playing cards with a faun and a siren. At Alice Henderson’s party. I didn’t think that was a place for the uninitiated, Vivienne.” 

She moved her Halloween stream for a party? Isaac sourly realizes. 

“Dana almost got chomped by your unicorns, too,” Vivienne says, maintaining her own sour expression. “Don’t let this become a habit, Yu. I know where you live.” 

“No you don’t, and those were Deirdre’s unicorns. She’d already paid for them and their delivery by that point,” Graham corrects. 

Vivienne shakes her finger at him one last time, then spins back on her heel and escorts Sam with as much dignity as she can muster. Her cheeks turn red when Mirai giggles. 

“Humans are so entertaining with their inconsequential bickering,” Mirai titters, clawed hand to their mask’s mouth. They flick the parandrus’ long ear with their other. “But what an interesting creature! I’ve only heard of them before.” 

“There’s a pair at the city zoo, if you wanted to see one still alive,” Vivienne deadpans. 

“What are you using the pelt for?” Mirai asks. Sharply. 

“…It’s for Natalie, that other psychic friend of mine. This isn’t going anywhere near Mark,” Vivienne replies, looking nervous all of a sudden. Isaac is well aware that there is A Lot of bullshit he’s missing out on—happily—regarding this egg business and Mark Ito. But he doesn’t understand how an animal skin could factor into it in a way that would make Vivienne so jittery. 

“Oh, okay!” Mirai chirps, tone bright once more. 

“I’ll be sure to text Mark as soon as we get back through the market door, and we’ll figure out our plan of very swift action regarding that First egg,” Vivienne adds. 

Mirai cocks their head. Isaac wonders if they’re about to ask what texting is. “I’d hate to have to keep pestering you about this job, so it’s best that you hurry! I’d really appreciate it—and so would Hatsu!” they exclaim instead. 

“Of course,” Vivienne replies, sweating. She all but shoves Sam along with a hand on his back. 

“We’ll get it sorted out for you, rest assured,” Sam advises like he actually has some part to play in all of this. (Like hell he will, and if Vivienne tries enlisting Sam’s help for further tengu business, Isaac will bite her.) 

He turns, walking backward, though still at Vivienne’s pace. Sam waves goodbye to Mirai—then almost gets shoved face-first to the ground when he blindly attempts to go through the goblin market door with a creature the size of an ox on his shoulders. 

Vivienne’s smiling, albeit tightly, when she helps him back around, hands hovering over the parandrus’ fur. “You’re a friendly little bean, aren’t you,” she murmurs. 

“I’m not a bean,” Sam replies, affronted. 

“We’re working on it,” Isaac answers instead. He knows what Vivienne had meant; friendliness has its drawbacks in the realm of the supernatural. “You and Graham seem to know each other well.” 

“The magical community is pretty small. Which even you have to know, Isy,” Vivienne replies. “Here, Sam, crouch down and go kinda sideways—yeah, like this. Anyway, yeah, we all know each other, and apparently half the magic community knows about my thing with Dana.” 

“Your thing,” Isaac repeats, disgusted, because he does not need to know anything more about Vivienne’s personal life. It’s bad enough he’s sharing part of a demonic contract with her. 

“My epic romance with someone else I’ve dragged into the world of magic,” Vivienne says with a hand to her forehead, pretending to swoon. (Sam puts out a hand to help her anyway.) 

“What’s a jackalope?” Sam asks. 

“Like a rabbit, but with antlers,” Vivienne says, putting her hands up over her head to mimic them. With a flat expression, Isaac points to the very obvious, very real example of the parandrus’ antlers. “Well, yeah, those too. Cute little thing, I can show you pictures once we’re out of sight with this thing. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet him, though.” 

“Why not? You bring your cat to the shop all the time,” Sam says with a pout. 

Vivienne looks up at him, balking, surprised. Isaac doesn’t feel any sympathy for her, though he understands her; she hadn’t expected she’d have to explain why they’re not introducing a demon to everyone ever. Sam’s guileless personality makes it easy to forget he’s a demon, but they shouldn’t forget he’s a demon. 

“Maybe later,” Vivienne hedges, which is weird, because Isaac would’ve straight-out told Sam that he can’t meet new people who haven’t been vetted. “Dana’s still new to a lot of things, and I think she’s already getting overwhelmed. Anyway, I’m a little too busy with Mark’s eggy bullshit right now to be arranging pet playdates. Ugh, we have the fucking egg, we need to just figure out a time and what to ask for…” 

“You already have it?” Sam asks, astonished, and stops like he may very well run back to the goblin market to tell Mirai right now. 

Both Isaac and Vivienne seize him by the arms to keep him walking. 

“We have it, but it’s not as easy as giving it back to Mirai in a tupperware tub. It’ll be a pain to transport it, and moreover, we have to arrange payment and a time and I have to talk that idiot psychic into actually doing it!” Vivienne exclaims. “But that’s my ballgame, not yours. You two have the job of laying low and out of coven sight right now, remember? And whatever Nat asks you to do to help her out.” 

“You seem very busy,” Sam remarks with a narrow-eyed look down at her. 

“Tell me about it,” Vivienne groans. 

[girlmeetsuniverse]

hi, welcome to my blog, my name is claire ♡

here's an unorganized list of my interests, basically my blog will revolve around these most of the times.

don't mind interacting with me, i don't bite! :-)

boy meets world, eric matthews, topanga lawrence, cory matthews, shawn hunter, pretty little liars, hanna marin, spencer hastings, aria montgomery, emily fields, alison dilaurentis, vivienne westwood, chanel, juicy couture, tiffany & co, murder house, jem and the holograms, my little pony, boa, blackpink, legally blonde, mean girls, kamikaze girls, black swan, the virgin suicides, thirteen, the twilight saga, the princess diaries, descendants, clueless, heathers, romeo must die, felicity: an american girl adventure, samantha: an american girl holiday, hot chick, scary movie, enchanted, cruel intentions, bratz, bride of chucky, seed of chucky, orphan, diary of a wimpy kid, barbie, blythe, littlest pet shop, monster high, rozen maiden, nana, chobits, vocaloid, mahou no tenshi creamy mami, peach girl, kitchen princess, dengeki daisy, boys over flowers, alice 19th, princess jellyfish, idol dreams, american girl, momoko ryuugasaki, nana ozaki, felicity merriman, samantha parkington, elsa, rapunzel, mulan, tiana, cinderella, evie grimhilde, gretchen wieners, elle woods, alice cullen, veronica sawyer, yasmin, tiffany valentine, rodrick heffley, sebastian valmont, annette hargrove, cat valentine, jade west, andre harris, memoirs of a geisha, ariana grande, aaliyah, britney spears, kyoko fukada, audrey hepburn, lana del rey, lolita (j-fashion), pullip, super dollfie, disney, lalaloopsy, pop, r&b, pop punk, rock, city pop, whatever lana del rey's music genre is, project diva, makeup, beauty, photography, fashion, modeling, designing, pink, teal, purple, blue, black, red, white, brown, stuffed animals, deer, cats, dolphins, squirrels/chipmunks, dogs, fish, birds, frogs, bunnies, cows, horses, pigs, perfume, coquette