#I was already planning to reserve a room there but this seals it

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

8: SURPRISE!

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Bucky's surprise birthday party provides more surprises than you had hoped.

Word count 3.2k

Warnings: Birthday boy behaving badly, Priya is the warning here!

Erik’s sexual intervention had released you of the tension you felt whenever you were around Bucky and you realized that his birthday was quickly approaching. You made it your mission to start working on Bucky’s birthday party. The previous year he had flat out refused to let you throw him any festive gathering and you had only accepted that on one condition: he would get one this year. You had no intention of letting him wheedle his way out of it this year. He had begrudgingly agreed but only if it was something small and intimate with his friends only. 

You had given Bucky a withering look. "Trust me! I know you well enough. You’re going to like it. I promise!"

You felt like a kid in a candy store, who had been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s entire kingdom. Glee was written across your features, you wanted everything to be perfect for your best friend. Steve was your trusty accomplice and you had invited Priya into the fold as a way to make up for your misdemeanors. She had suggested that you order food from Sticks and Stones because he loved the food there and even convinced Victor to help with the catering.

A week before the auspicious day, you had pulled Steve aside to ask him if he would accompany you to pick up Bucky’s birthday gift.

"Did you find it?" Steve asked you.

"The Glenn Miller vinyl?" 

Steve nodded.

"Yeah, I found it! It’s in a vintage records store in SoHo." You smiled.

"Bucky’s going to love it. His family would play them all the time, he was such a natural dancer. It would be nice for him to do that again."

"I’m glad it’s got Captain America’s seal of approval!" you quipped cheekily.

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling relaxed and happy for once. "Do you want to go and pick it up now? I’ll drive. I can pick up my gift at the same time!"

"Oh that would be great, Steve! What did you get him?"

"You know that picture you took, the one of Bucky, you, me, Nat and Sam?"

"Yeah, I know the one."

"I painted it. There is a guy who said he would frame it and he texted me this morning saying it was ready to collect.

"Steve! I can’t wait to see it!" you squealed with excitement. "Let’s go!"

Both of you set off, climbing the stairs that led to the parking garage.

"Oh, Priya, hey! Didn't see you there!" you smiled at her as you noticed her presence at the top of the staircase. 

Priya smiled back at you tersely. 

"Everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Fine."

"Do you need a lift home?"

"No, I'm spending the night with Bucky."

"Ahh," Steve blushed at the implication of sex.

You rolled your eyes and tugged on Steve's sleeve. "Come on, punk. See you later Priya!"

*

March tenth came around quicker than expected. You waited impatiently for Bucky to arrive as his 'surprise’ party. Even though Priya was distracting him, Bucky knew about the events that had been planned. You knew he didn't like loud noises or jump scares, but he had promised to act suitably surprised.

Everything for the party went off without a hitch. The room was filled with dozens and dozens of black and gold balloons. Swing music was playing on the gramophone that Tony had purchased for the occasion. Sam cheekily had a cardboard cut out of Bucky made with his vibranium arm cut off so you could play ‘Pin the arm on Bucky’. You groaned but secretly you wanted to beat everyone.

Thor had made an appearance and was already half way through the bucketful of Asgardian ale, which he claimed to have brought for the birthday boy. Even Ayo, who you'd invited, had graced you with her presence. When she arrived, you flung your arms around the reserved Wakandan warrior. The Dora Milaje did not engage in public displays of emotion, but for you she offered a hug in return.

Things seemed to be going well. Bucky arrived with Priya and was greeted with yells and streamers. Bucky's surprise was convincing… possibly a little too dramatic, making Priya laugh and you groan exasperatedly. You stood on the side of the room watching everyone mingle, enjoying how Bucky's attention was demanded from everyone in the room. His friends were kind enough not to crowd him, or overwhelm him, but also make him feel special all at the same time.

It warmed your heart to see the light in his eyes, the enjoyment on his face. Priya was glued to his side, stroking his hair, whispering in his ear. His arm was constantly around her waist. She was the only thing that marred your perfect vision of the event.

"I am surprised that James chose that woman," Ayo appeared beside you, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Jesus, Ayo. We've talked about you sneaking around. Don't make me tie a bell around your ankles!"

Ayo smiled. "Why isn't that you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you told James how you feel?" Ayo doesn't wait for your reply. "It could be you dancing with him rather than standing here looking like a wallflower."

"Maybe you could dance with me."

"I think not, Y/N." Ayo never used your nickname.

"Way to let a girl down gently, Ayo."

Ayo just rolled her eyes at you and ventured over to Thor who was challenging everyone to a drinking contest, one which no one was engaging in. Steve was beside him, sipping the liquor carefully enjoying the buzz he rarely got to experience. Wanda and Vision were lovingly embraced in each other's arms in a corner, dancing like the rest of the world didn't exist. Nat was behind the bar serving her own special cocktails and flirting with a blushing Bruce. Clint and Laura were laughing with Pepper, while Tony, Sam and Rhodey were playing cards and making the most outrageous noise. 

You loved your little found family, even though you missed the one that brought you up. Coulson's S.H.I.E.L.D. team had inducted you into the world of violence and espionage and aliens and time travel. It was with them that you'd learnt to control your powers and become worthy to call yourself an Avenger.

Agent Melinda May was the only member of the team you saw regularly anymore since she worked close by in the new S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy HQ. She had been your S.O. for many years and held a special place in your heart, despite her prickly exterior. She often joked that you would make an excellent addition to her staff at the Academy and to ensure that you lived long enough to accept the position when retiring from ‘that Avenger gig’. 

You were brought out of your reverie about the past by Priya, who was standing on a chair shouting about it being time for presents.

Everyone cheered and you were grinning like a lunatic now. You felt excited to give Bucky your gift. The first edition Glenn Miller record was safely wrapped in a solid casing. In the Mood was the last song that Bucky and his family had danced to while he had been on leave from the War. His last happy memory of them before he had fallen from the life he had known, before he had been thrust into a world of ice and torture.

About a year ago, you had caught Bucky using your Spotify to listen to music from his childhood and had offhandedly mentioned this piece of information about his past. You kept hold of this precious tidbit for the right occasion.

Bucky had already started ripping open wrapping paper when you ventured over. Wanda had knitted him a black scarf with golden threads to match his arm, which had made him smile. Next Sam handed him a small black box which Bucky opened to find a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

"Thought you could use some props, spice life up a little," he winked at Bucky. Sam had a way of pushing Bucky's buttons, but you could see the mild blush on Bucky's cheeks which deepened when Priya interjected. 

"Thank you very much, Samuel, but James and I don't need such tawdry things in the bedroom."

Bucky shrugged apologetically at Sam and you wondered if he was thinking about your recent conversation.

Sam was pushed aside by Thor, who deposited a large vat of ale into Bucky's arms. "Many happy returns, metal man." He patted Bucky on the back so hard that Bucky almost dropped his gift.

Bucky was depositing the alcohol on the gift table when he was approached by Ayo. "Happy Birthday, James."

"Thank you for coming, it means a lot that you took the time."

"You look like you are doing well for yourself."

"Yeah, it’s good," Bucky smiled.

"This is for you." She handed him a simple box with padding on the inside. Bucky opened it to find a pair of ornately decorated blades made from vibranium. Everyone gasped at how beautiful they looked in the dim lights. They collapsed in on themselves and were discrete and easy to conceal. Ayo pointed out a small device which acted like a homing beacon so Bucky would be able to locate them if he lost sight of them.

"These are incredible! Thank you."

Tony didn't have many words but he did hand Bucky a beautifully ornate envelope which Bucky opened tentatively. Inside was an invitation to a magnificent moonlit dinner on a yacht on the Hudson. Bucky held the gift reverently in his hands, his vibranium fingers barely gripping, as though their strength might make the gift crumble. His eyes glistened in the party lights, a thin film of unshed tears. There had been a time where they were ready to kill each other, and even now they never spent any time alone together. You knew that this gift meant a lot to Bucky.

"Dinner on a boat? I think we'll have to pass on that, I get sea sick." Priya commented, gazing at the gift certificate around Bucky's arm.

A flicker of irritation crossed Tony's face, before he grinned mischievously. "Not a problem, it's not person specific. Manchurian Candidate here can take anyone he likes. Capsicle might not be a fan of the food, but I think Cricket would really enjoy the cuisine."

He turned to wink at you, making you blush. You couldn’t help but notice the scowl on Priya’s face, no matter how short lived it was and you knew you were about to meet your comeuppance when the glowering look she was shooting in your direction turned into a beaming smile.

"Jamie! It’s my turn, baby. I have a very special gift for you!" She hands him a thin square shaped gift wrapped in shiny golden wrapping paper. "Here!"

You felt a sudden weight on your chest, a feeling of dread washing over you. It felt like things were moving in slow motion, watching Bucky unwrap the gift. You didn’t know what you had been expecting when he pulled out a shiny record cover. It was as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you, except you were paralyzed. The color drained from your face as you realized what the album was.

‘The Very Best of Glenn Miller.’

Bucky’s eyes shone brightly as he dropped the wrapping paper and ran his flesh fingers over the cover reverently. "Priya," he gasped in a whisper. "I- it's perfect." Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest and giving her a long, passionate kiss. "I love it! I love you!"

You barely noticed Steve sideling up to you, you couldn't hear him asking if you were okay. That was your gift. It was yours! If you didn’t have the vinyl you’d bought and so lovingly wrapped in your hand, you’d think she had stolen it from you. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, every attempt you made felt futile, like the air around you had left the room. He had shared the same things with her, you thought he trusted you with his past, but you weren't as special as you thought you were. 

Eventually you looked up when Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. He whispered, almost as though his words he was about to use were criminal. "Do you remember when we were talking last week? Before we went to pick up our gifts? You don’t think she overheard us… do you? And…"

In the end, it didn’t really matter. You knew in the moment that you’d lost Bucky forever. Everything felt far away, the room was suffocating, why were there so many people? Tears burned in your orbital sockets, drowning you from the inside out. You couldn’t face them anymore, seeing the happiness on Bucky’s face, knowing that someone else was responsible for that smile, that light inside him, was heartbreaking. Ultimately, you wanted him to be happy but you wanted to share that joy with him, you wanted to be the one to give it to him and watching that mantle being taken from you and bequeathed to another person was soul crushing. Gripping your present tightly, you slipped out of the room, Steve watching your retreating footsteps with sympathy, but knowing not to follow.

A few tears escaped as you found refuge in the kitchen, but you had no desire to explain red eyes and a blotchy nose to any of the other team members or party goers, so you wiped them away angrily, taking a few calming breaths before pouring yourself a strong drink. You sank onto a bar stool, shoving the record onto the chair to your right, you had no use for it anymore. There had barely been time for you to take 2-3 sips from your drink before Bucky popped his head into the room.

"Cricket? There you are!"

"Hey Buck! Having a good time?" You plastered a smile on your face, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Deception in this case was a futile attempt, Bucky was well versed in the movements of your face. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you lied. "Just getting a drink."

"There are plenty of drinks back there."

He looked searchingly into your eyes and the facade you had erected was crumbling. You looked away, dropping your head to try and hide your face with your hair.

"It was just a bit much, everyone there… I don’t know, I feel a little… overwhelmed."

Too much drain of the social battery, Bucky was familiar with that. He pulled out the chair on your left, almost giving you a heart attack because you had momentarily forgotten which chair you’d left the present on.

"If you want to give me my gift here, we can do it privately. Everyone else is done," Bucky suggested, leaning towards you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. Suddenly you felt angry that he was there, why couldn’t he give you a moment to grieve? Constantly invading your space, reminding you of what you couldn’t have, dangling the carrot but keeping it just out of reach. "Well you already have the perfect gift from your girlfriend, what more do you need?" You couldn’t keep the bitterness out of your tone.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. But the damage was done. There was a deathly silence between you where you were afraid to look at your best friend. 

"You know, I thought I would have you both in my life; my best friend and my girlfriend. I feel like you’re making me choose you over her and it’s not fair, Cricket! I’ve tried, I really have but you’re making it impossible! So you know what, I’m going to have to choose Priya. At least she bothered to put some effort into getting me a birthday gift. I can have a future with her."

The worst thing about his words were the disappointment and finality in his tone. And with that he left you alone with only your thoughts for company. A storm raged inside you, a maelstrom of emotions; anger, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, loss, just outright pain. How could he? How could he choose her over you? After everything you had been through together, the bond you had forged, the absolute faith and trust you had put in each other. Did it mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him?

Trudging back to your room, you sought comfort in your giant bed, hoping it would envelope you completely. Wrapping the duvet around your body and over your head, you buried your face in a pillow and allowed the tears to fall. Once the gates had opened, the trickle of tears became a flood as you sobbed into your pillow to muffle the sound.

Why did he have to choose? Why didn’t he choose you? The pain in your chest was unbearable, a physical ache that matched the emotional turmoil inside you. You had tried so hard to make things work, to give him a balance of your friendship with his relationship with Priya, but now it seemed like all your efforts had been in vain. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t with you.

As you lay there in your bed, the tears continued to flow, a never-ending stream of sadness and heartbreak. You felt like a piece of you had been ripped away, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its place. How could you move on from this? How could you ever trust anyone again, knowing that they could just choose someone else over you?

You sighed, you knew now that you would never be good enough for him. Everything you’d tried to hold on to, had done nothing but push him away. You remembered when you had first understood your feelings, you’d considered pulling away to protect yourself. But Bucky had reeled you back in, constantly asking if he had done something to hurt you. So you’d given in, telling yourself you didn’t want to hurt him. But in reality, it had been selfish, you had indulged in a fantasy and ended up hurting the man you loved and getting hurt in the process.

You startled as a door slammed shut nearby. It was Bucky’s bedroom door, you could hear Priya giggling and Bucky’s deep voice through the wall. Your body froze with shock, the last thing you needed right now was to listen to your best friend having sex with his girlfriend. You shoved your airpods into your ears and turned up one of your lo-fi playlists and closed your eyes.

The decision you should have made then, was far more clear to you now. Your friend and old superior officer from your S.H.I.E.L.D. team had repeatedly offered you the chance to teach with her at the newly formed Coulson Academy. She had taught you everything you knew and believed in your ability to impart the knowledge you’d gained to potential agents. It was time for you to take her up on this offer.

As you wiped away your tears and made a decision to move forward, you knew that it was time to focus on yourself and your own happiness. Bucky had made his choice, and now it was time for you to make yours. You couldn’t continue to dwell on what would never be, on the pain of rejection and heartbreak.

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[ranimotia]

╭┈◦❥ • Dark Paradise

Having Goth! Malleus Draconia as your lover includes..

・❥Pairing: Malleus Draconia x reader

・❥Content warning: Goths (lol), GN! Reader, POC friendly, inaccurate to timeliness of game, reader with stereotypically feminine interests

・❥Authors note: ik this isn't too different from normal mal but I liked the idea, Romantic Goth Malleus 🗣🗣🗣

Goth Malleus who's... Medieval-gothic style room gets invaded by a couple of cute and fuzzy plushies you keep at his place for when you stay over.

Goth Malleus who... Treats the plushies with immense care; tucking them into bed and keeping them as clean as possible. After all, they remind him of you.

Goth Malleus who... Often takes you out on historical museum dates, guiding you by the waist through each gallery, whilst rambling on about each object displayed.

Goth Malleus who... Responds to the cute sticky notes you leave for him with long, heartfelt poems detailing your beauty.

"Make sure you unload the drier :) love you xx"

"I adore you beyond comprehension. You consume my every thought, both whilst awake and asleep, you are my moon, sun, stars and more, you are love itself and you consume my mind, body and soul and I'm more than content with letting you consume more of me each passing day-"

You get the idea..

Goth Malleus who.. Lulls you to sleep by reading you historical writings; ranging from 19th century literature to ancient epics. When doing so, he likes having your head rested carefully on his chest. He caresses your cheek every so often.

Goth Malleus who... Wakes up earlier than you and makes you breakfast almost every morning, presenting you with a silver plate of pancakes, sliced fruit, and a mazer of homemade juice when you finally stumble downstairs after waking up.

Goth Malleus who... Owns an impressive jewellery collection of silver chains decorated with either red, green, or purple jewels, accompanied with ornate designs of either roses or dragons. Despite his extensive collection, his favourite piece of jewellery is one you gifted him; a hello kitty ring you had jokingly proposed to him with.

Goth Malleus who... Sends you a bouquet of a dozen red roses tied together with a silk ribbon, alongside a hand written letter detailing your dinner reservations- sealed with a matching black seal adorning a dragon symbol embedded into the wax each morning of your anniversary.

Goth Malleus who... One night on one of your regular nightly strolls, presents you with a gold ring embedded with a raw cut gem of your birthstone in a velvet box. Asking to be yours till the day he dies.

Goth Malleus who... Lets out a sigh of relief at your acceptance, knowing the baggage of being a prince's spouse isn't appealing to most people, promising you he'd repay you for taking up such a tedious role.

Goth Malleus who... Doesn't miss a beat when it comes to wedding planning, already having some some drafts on what your wedding would be like thanks to countless ramble sessions with Lilia.

Goth Malleus who... After months of planning and organising, managed to set your dream wedding, a surprisingly simple affair- taking place in a flower field near an old victorian mannor right as the sun was setting.

Goth Malleus who... Believes you to be the most beautiful person in the world in your wedding attire; which consisted of long custom made floral lace, in a soft shade of your signature colour with matching gold jewellery, complementing your undertones. His own attire consisted of 14th century style robes, black in colour with roses embroidered onto it.

Goth Malleus who... Seals your vows by placing a flower crown on your head and you doing the same to him- a much more intimate break from the traditional kiss.

Goth Malleus who... Only has his closest companions at the wedding; his guardian since childhood, and his two closest guards. You too, are with your two closest friends, even having Grim as your ring bearer.

Goth Malleus who... Dances with you in the field under the moonlight once the party was over and everyone had retreated to their rooms. His arms wrap around you in a warm, loving embrace whilst swaying to a familiar tune he hums.

Goth Malleus who... Takes you to a cottage in the countryside for your honeymoon, holding your hand as you both walk though hidden forest pathways admiring the beauty of nature.

Goth Malleus who... Preserves your wedding bouquet, keeping it on display in your shared room; yet another symbol of your love displayed throughout your home.

Goth Malleus who... After all the years your spend together, still keeps the hello kitty ring you gave him.

Goth Malleus who... Each year of your wedding anniversary, takes you stargazing in the exact field you got married in.

"Look Malleus!"

Malleus' eyes darted to where your finger pointed in the deep sea that was the sky; a shooting star, leaving as fast as it came.

"A shooting star, did you wish?" You asked, gaze not breaking away from the illuminated sky and your hand not leaving his.

"No, I didn't have time" He simply stated, staring at the space were the star previously was.

"And there is somthing you wish for?" You asked, now with your eyes ripped away from the veiw and on him, pooling with curiosity.

"Yes," He replied to your inquiry, still not satisfying your curiosity as you continued to stare at him. "I wish," He spoke with a sudden pause, taking a moment to lift your intertwined hands and admire your matching rings, "To continue being your husband, even in the life after this one."

Lifting your hands further to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss against your knuckle. A burning sensation made its way onto your face as you felt your stomach flutter- gosh, who's life did you save to be blessed with a man so loving? You hoped to continue being his spouse in the life after this, too.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 8

A Prayer in the Fog | Loki x Reader

A furious Loki requests Val's help in searching for you, but with Asgard's guards so recently depleated he is forced to turn to the Avengers for support. Meanwhile you contend with you captors, all of your captors.

Warnings: 18+, reader has been kidnapped and imprisoned, flashbacks, Loki throwing things around (only sort of a warning), Avenger arguments.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

“What do you mean there’s no sign of her,” Loki shouted, body bending inward with anger, a protection against the burst of magic he released sending a table flying across the room, behind him Brunnhilde’s books were swept from the shelves, swirling in a whirlwind of green magic that consumed its master. 

Loki’s first burst of anger had been calculated and controlled, an effort to ease the pressure that was mounting inside of him, screaming at him. But his patience was gone. Objects crashed from the shelves, Brunhilde’s glass trinkets and picture frames smashed into shards on the hardwood floor and cut into the soles of Loki’s shoes as he paced like a caged animal. In one hand his magic shimmered, gold and green, aching to be set free. In the other he grasped his dagger, fingers curling around the handle for comfort.

“Loki, calm down.” Brunhilde put her hands out in front of her, gesturing for Loki to sit again, she moved him backwards until his knees hit the armchair and he fell, slumped and defeated. 

He would be sorry in the morning. Loki liked Brunhilde, a simple emotion reserved for so few of his acquaintances. He respected her and he knew he would regret taking out his fury on her home.A curl of ink black hair fell across his forehead and he tipped his head back in exasperation.

“How can I calm down when she is lost? My ásynja was supposed to come back to me, she wouldn’t just leave. She has to be here, she has nowhere else to go!” Loki ran a hand through his hair, already messy from the week he’d spent searching up and down the coastline. “She wouldn’t go anywhere else, she only knows us and those idiotic superfriends.” He fell back again, closing his eyes against the horrible idea that you might have returned to them. 

It was an unbearable thought, but one that had crossed his mind, that you had run away to escape him and return to the almost hermetically sealed world of the Avenger’s Compound. He had been so sure you’d hated it there as much as he did, so sure he was doing the right thing by bringing you to the fresh air and freedom of Tonsberg.

When you hadn’t come back to his cottage that night, Loki had gone out looking for you. He’d planned to take you for dinner, perhaps walk along the harbour again and discuss what you’d been able to discover with Brunnhilde. And then he’d imagined taking you back to his home in Tonsberg to show you the spare room he kept, that even if you didn’t want to be with him there’d always be a safe space for you there if you wanted it. He’d imagined you’d be happy there, together, however you wanted. But that was the unbearable thought wasn’t it. That he could ever be happy, ever have something, someone, for himself to hold and cherish and dote upon. 

He had even found your bracelet by the harbour, still glinting even without light, magically imbued to always shine for you. But there was no other trace that you’d even existed outside of his desperate, lonely, imagination.

Brunnhilde called in help from the village to search for you, but they had been badly depleted on their journey to Midgard and there were few guards or soldiers left who were skilled enough to help. Those that did join the hunt were mostly the very young or the very old, those that had been protected by the fierce warriors of Asgard. 

The only lead Loki had found was that two older members of the village had also disappeared, no one knew them well, only that they were at least as old as Odin himself and twice as reclusive as the volatile king had been. The grouchy men kept to themselves, mumbling in the pub about Asgard’s protection and Odin’s orders, much to the quiet amusement of the younger patrons or, more often, hiding in the small fisherman’s cottage on the wharf. No one had seen their lights on since the night of your disappearance and they were the only villagers to be unaccounted for. 

Brunnhilde had sent two of the newer guards to track them in the vain hope that being young and eager would help them. But she’d insisted that Loki remained in the village, you might return at any moment and, more than that, he was volatile in his current state. 

Loki had paced the living room, certain he’d wear a hole in the carpet before he dared to rest for a moment. And the two guards had returned, their leads as empty and hollow as Loki’s heart. 

“I’ll ask Thor to speak to them, okay?” Brunhilde let her hand fall slowly to Loki’s slumped shoulder and patted him gently, unsure whether his temper was controlled or merely simmering below the surface. 

Loki slumped from the chain onto the floor, leaning back against the armchair, his energy drained. Somehow he could feel you still, and it was these sensations that he clung to as he waited for news knowing that if he could feel you, you were alive, even if you weren’t safe. 

The sensation had changed that morning, triggering his new bout of fury. You were awake, for the first time since he'd lost you, and there was a fire burning inside of you. He could feel its warmth, but also its rage, white hot and powerful, and he told himself you were fighting back. Soothed himself on the prospect of your anger carrying you through whatever ordeal was being thrown at you. Proud that you were harnessing your magic to escape. 

Suddenly the feeling vanished, as if it'd been ripped from him and you were gone. No lucid dreams, not even nightmares. Just darkness. 

If you had returned to the Avengers and his reading of your emotions were correct, they would pay dearly. 

In the darkness you felt a tiara, nestled on the top of your head, it's intricate, itching weight familiar in your dreams. Your dresses were clean, decorative, but not practical as they were on Asgard. A doll, on display for the court, just as had been ordered. And as you touched your hand to your face, feeling the soft skin beneath, the jewels that encrusted your fingers scratching the sensitive skin, you allowed yourself a tear. 

“Stop crying for that pathetic boy” a harsh voice snapped next to you. 

“He’s not a boy, he’s a Prince,” images swirled in your mind as you tried to claw back your consciousness. Childish play, stolen kisses, your last week in Asgard and the secret, forbidden acts that you'd indulged in, revelled in, with Loki. Loki. Loki…

You woke up in the dark, hazy slumber grasping around your consciousness and dragging you back. Sleep, wake, dream, suffer. Your hands bound behind your back, ankles bound to your chair legs. You could smell the sea still and see light coming through a high window, it cast a small shadow around you but not quite enough for you to study the details of the room. 

You had seen enough documentaries when you were cooped up in the little flat to know that any sensible person wouldn't have allowed you a window at all, even without the powers you had been honing. 

There would be a way to send a message though the window and then Loki would save you. You were sure of it. You just had to get free. 

 “Are you awake Princess?” A croaky voice asked from the darkness. You tested your bonds for the first time. Rope, that was it, simple rope, all you had to do was create enough heat to singe the fibres and pull them off. 

 They didn’t know what you were capable of now, but then, you thought, you weren’t overly confident either. Playing with fire was not a skill you'd worked on properly, perhaps you could burn the ropes. Perhaps the flames would take you too. The risk was high.

“Yes.” You answered, sharply, shifting imperceptibly so you could attempt to make your hands smaller, slipping them against the ropes in the hope you could break free. 

“Good. You know you’re not meant to run Princess.” The old man bowed painfully, his back creaking at the movement, “His Majesty, the Allfather, The King of Asgard, the God of War and Wisdom-” the man coughed and began to straighten, “the God of the Heavens, behold-” he opened his arms towards the door as if expecting Odin to step into the room before looking blankly at the empty space and turning his bleary eyes back to you. 

“You know they're all dead, don’t you?” You tipped your head to the side looking for a light source around the crooked figure of the man. A small lantern flickered in the hall outside, you could see the light through the glass at the top of the door. Focusing on the thought of it, warm under your touch, taking in the salty air, eating the oxygen, consuming the wick, it flared giving you a good look at the room.

The man was old, as many of the Asgardians were, but he truly looked it. Wrinkled face half wrapped in cloth, back bent by time and feet hobbled by his dutiful pacing. A gold helmet slipped about on his head, his sunken cheeks no longer supporting the plates, his white hair sticking comically from the edges.

“Pardon, Princess?”

“They're all dead, you fucking idiot. Who gave you these orders, who told you to take me?” You tried to muster as much regal courage and venom as you could, thinking of Loki in his Asgardian leathers, how they made him look impossibly taller, and you channelled that feeling of divine importance into your expression, eyes narrowed at the old man and lips tight.  

“His Majesty.” The man insisted. 

You rolled your eyes, but if he wanted to play by courtly rules, surely you could too? You thought back to the scant memories you had of the Asgardian palace and the time you spent there. Most of your memories seemed to centre on the gardens, rather than the halls and rooms, perhaps the old man could be persuaded to simply let you leave. 

“Would his Majesty mind if I took some air in the gardens?” You offered, fluttering your eyelashes in the most royal way you could muster.

“Come, Princess,” he sighed as if this was a daily discussion, “you know you must stay here-” But he didn’t seem sure. Perfect, you thought, he can be manipulated.

“Ah, as you say - uhm - noble guard of….”

“I have the honour - the honour,” he coughed again, doubled over with the effort, “of being Odin’s personal guard, he has sent me here to collect you, Princess, for protection of course.”

You slipped your hands one last time and felt the rope go slack, blood rushing back to your pinched fingers. You hooked the rope around your fingers, hiding your freedom behind your back. 

“For protection? I don’t feel very protected?” You looked pointedly at the ramshackle room. 

The old man wagged his finger, “it is not for your protection that we must keep you, Princess. The Allfather says we must protect Asgard.” 

The man must be deep in his memories, you thought, to still talk of Asgard in this way. Even you knew that Ragnarok had consumed Asgard months before.

“And what does Prince Loki say?” You needled, hoping he’d slip back into this former version of the world and at least indulge you with some tales of Loki. 

“You must not speak to Loki!” The man was angry suddenly, throwing himself forwards into your space, the change in his demeanour frightening. He smelt like musty old blankets and you hated it, wrinkling your nose in disgust and turning your face away. 

A few short months ago you might not have noticed, too used to the trapped air of your apartment. But you had become accustomed to a new way of life, not just because of the lavish surroundings of the compound, but also because you knew that Loki would never had allowed this man to get so close to you. The thought of his protection thrummed inside of you, shoring up the knowledge that he would come and rescue you from this awful place.

 Your pity waned and bile rose in its place, your nose wrinkled. 

Channelling your deepest memories you took a deep breath, “how dare you tell a Princess what to do!” You thundered, the flame in the hall flared again, licking up the wall and sending eerie patches of dark and light flying up the walls. 

“I, Your Highness, my apologies.” 

The man threw himself at your feet, grovelling and snivelling on the filthy floor and you looked down for the first time. Ignoring the disgusting spectacle before you, you turned your attention to your bare wrist. The bracelet was gone. It felt light as air when you were wearing it, but the loss of it was heavy, your heart sank. What if Loki found it and thought you’d abandoned him? 

You contemplated your next move, trying to ignore the continued snivelling of the man at your feet, when the door swung open again. 

The man who entered was as old as his friend, hunched and twisted with age and war, his sword dragged along the floor where his scabbard had become lose and his joints compacted. 

“What are you doing?” He wheezed, “get up you idiot.” 

Instead of climbing to his feet, the man instead crawled to the corner of the room and appeared to fall asleep, slumping forwards into the wall. 

“Here, child, food.” A bowl was unceremoniously tossed onto the table, the gruel inside making a sludgy trail up one side of the chipped ceramic before falling back into the bowl. 

“How am I meant to eat that? Who’s the idiot now.” You scoffed, keeping your chin up at the haughty angle Loki favoured. Perhaps if you acted the part they would treat you better. 

Your second captor gave a sigh and moved behind the chair to loosen your hands, but instead of allowing him you tossed your body back into the chair and knocked him into the solid wall behind you. He made a wet thump as his head connected with the stone and then fell to the floor. 

Pushing the ropes from your arms and legs, you freed yourself from the broken chair. Hazy, unseeing eyes attempted to focus on you as you stood, brushing dust and debris from your clothes, but you ignored them, attempting to summon any magic you could to clean your clothes and light your way to freedom. 

The old man looked up from his prone position on the floor and gasped in shock, scrambling away from you. His fear, the belief in his eyes that you could hurt him now sparked inside and your magic flooded you. 

“Goodbye.” You waved at the two men, confidently striding towards the door playing with the magic between your fingers, flames climbing the walls in the corridor outside as your concealed rage took over, knocking the door from its hinges before you even touched it. 

“Not so fast,” a voice growled in the gloom.

From the shadows a young man appeared, his hair was tied back in the newer style favoured by Loki and Thor, and his clothes were similar too, draped and colourful where her other captors wore blacks and greys, the patterns were different though, as too was his accent. 

You stopped mid stride, mind reeling. 

“Estrid. You must stop using your magic. You’ll draw attention to yourself.” He barked, but it wasn’t unkind. For a moment you were entirely confused, clawing back at your memories to try and find why this person made your mind itch and your eyes burn. 

A carriage ride through lush green land, a secret meeting, your mother and another man, so bright you could barely see him, and this guard, watching and waiting, holding the carriage door for you. 

Although the memory filled you with warmth, you couldn’t trust him. Hadn’t you experience many memories of Asgard, just for Odin’s men themselves to take you and bind you in that forgotten room.

Your trust was too precious to waste. 

“I think you’ll find I do whatever the hell I want these days. If you want to drug me you’ll have to do better than that,” you pointed at the porridge splattering the tiles. Instead you conjured an ice cream, with a chocolate wafer and sprinkles. “I’m going to look at the sea, we are near the sea aren’t we? Enjoy the view for a while until Loki finds me.” You started to the door, licking the strawberry drips as the made there way over the cone and tried your best to ignore the boring eyes of the new guard. 

“Stop. Using. Magic. Do you want to draw attention to yourself?” The man followed you, his leather boots thumping along the stone flagged floor and echoing in the dark hallway. 

“Yes, obviously. I want to be found.” You rolled your eyes, calling to Loki in your mind. 

“You’re a fool. We’ll have to move you again.” He grabbed at your arm but you pulled it back. 

“No, you won’t, I’m not being caged anymore, get out of my way,” you fluttered your hands. A fork in the corridor appeared as you strode around the corner, stairs on both sides. “Now which way is out. I’ll make you an ice cream if you tell me?” You offered an attempt at a smile playing on your lips. Once this man had been kind to you, and although you didn’t trust him entirely, he had at least two daggers and a sword at his hip that he hadn’t used. Even when he’d touched your arm he hadn’t hurt you. 

“I warned you to stop. Follow me.” The man made a grab for your hand again, but you dodged out of the way and picked a route, but it was blocked. You could see through but couldn’t get further than the first step without coming up against another stone wall. You huffed and your ice cream vanished back into the ether while you tried to figure out a way through. 

The man looked at you, snapping sharply, “you’re the one who brought magic into this, let’s go.” 

With your escape blocked, you were compelled to follow him, keeping a step behind at first to try and gauge his path. 

“Hey, hey, wait!” You jogged to keep up with the man, his strides long and the heels on your boots clicking against the stone. “Why the hell should I trust you, anyway?!”

He turned to face you, his eyes flaring as he reached up and grabbed your arm again, scanning your face, “how do you not remember?” He sighed, you had expected anger but he was disappointed, despondent, when he spoke again, “put the cloak on. Quickly.”

“I don’t have a cloak,” you stopped in the corridor, taking the opportunity to absorb the details of your surroundings. It was still dark and the smell of the sea still permeated the thick stone walls, but there was a fresher smell as well, like wet grass after the rain.

“You can’t walk around like this,” he gestured at your outfit, black jeans and boots, a thick aran jumper.

“What’s wrong with my outfit? It’s cold out there.”

“We can’t use magic here. When we can, I'll find attire suitable for your station.”

“My station. As a Prisoner? No way. Let me go shopping,” you twirled and batted your long lashes teasingly, hoping to distract or annoy him enough that you could make an escape. Although you couldn’t use your magic consistently, you had been learning, very quickly, that some of your talents, like Loki's, were just innate. You didn’t require a spell to irritate a man.

“As a Princess, a Queen in waiting.” The man was furious now, he took your arm and dragged you along until you squealed dramatically and tried to make yourself as heavy as possible until he was forced to slow his pace.

“Do Princesses normally get dragged about? If you don’t like my outfit I can change.��

Mentally you started flicking through all the clothes you could remember. Dresses, skirts, jeans, suits, pyjamas.

“Stop!” The man shook her shoulders “Do not use your magic!” And then there was a flash of light and you fell to the floor.

Thor was fairing no better than his brother. He’d been expecting to crash their romantic dinner with both stories of war and anything he could remember to embarrass his little brother in front of the lady he was so obviously pining for. But there was no mirth in his heart when Loki revealed you’d never returned from Valkyrie’s cottage and he’d joined the search immediately.

When nothing was revealed he offered to return to the Avengers compound in an effort to secure their help, much to Loki’s chagrin. 

 Now, with his head in his hands, he sat in the living room of the Avengers compound and appealed to them again. 

“There must be some system you possess, Stark, to track her? She has magic now and will be using it. Can’t you track that?” He asked. 

“And what does magic use or emit that I could track? Radiation? Pollution?” Tony answered, waving a screwdriver in the air before returning to the small circuit board he was tinkering with. 

Thor looked thoroughly confused. “It’s just magic. Loki’s is green, Estrid appears to have a blue and silver sedir, track the colour.” 

Tony sighed, exasperated, and didn’t answer, keeping his eyes focussed on his work. 

“Are we going to address that you and Loki have been keeping all of this from us?” Steve interrupted, arms crossed. 

Natasha nodded her agreement, “I knew she could shift, what else can she do that you’ve been keeping secret?!” Natasha asked. 

“Oh Romanoff, you know, girl magic like Loki, silly things. She changes her hair and clothes.” Natasha narrowed her eyes at ‘girl magic’, but kept quiet. Thor shrugged, he’d never been that enamoured with Loki’s magic, it seemed frivolous to him to spend hours making little potions and writing runes. He was more interested in the armoury and his personal assortment of weapons. 

“We know that, what else?” Natasha grit her teeth, frustrated. 

“She makes little trinkets, jewellery and gems and such. Like I said, girly things.”

“She can manifest things? How?” Banner sat forwards, his elbows on his knees, fascinated. “Can she teach us?” He turned to Tony and nudged him to rejoin the conversation. 

“What? No. I don’t know. Loki taught her. Anyway, she can control flames and I think I saw her grow a plant once.” Thor was bored of this part of the conversation and went back to sipping his mead to steady his nerves. He thought back to Loki’s face as he left, his sunken eyes, devoid of mischief. Time to change tactic, courtly ways were never Thor’s strong point, but he knew enough not to labour a point too much. “Anyway, I brought some new things for you to try Steve, should you be interested in -”

“No not anyway we needed to know these things and you kept it from us. Why the hell should we help you now?” Tony waved the tiny screwdriver again, a magnetic screw dangling precariously from the end. 

Bargaining. Thor could do bargaining, he’d seen his father and Loki use it to various effect enough times. “What if… I got them to help you. Natasha said she needed someone inconspicuous for your next mission, what about someone who can shift?” 

The assassin mulled over the prospect for a moment, “it would help me a lot, it's a simple B&E really but they know all our covers. Loki would be perfect.” Natasha looked at Thor, hopeful.

“Perfect! You come to Tonsberg and find Loki’s beau and I will ensure Loki is most helpful on your mission.” Thor held his hand out to Natasha to shake, but Tony poked it away with the sharp end of his screwdriver. 

“Not so fast. I want Loki and the girl and I want her to stay behind afterwards.” He levelled his stare at Thor. 

“Loki and the girl, it’s a deal.” 

“Fine, fine. We can send two agents. I’m done with this. You can’t keep things from us and then expect our help.” Tony groused. 

“Loki won’t be happy with two agents.” Thor shook his head. 

“I honestly don’t give a fuck what Loki wants,” Steve stood, uncharacteristically angry amidst the growing tensions, “he isn’t on our team. We brought her here and owe her some safety. But after this mission she needs to make a real choice. Is she in or is she out?” Steve stalked off to the gym slamming the door behind him.

There was silence as the other members slowly dispersed until only Tony and Thor were left. Thor followed Tony to the bar set into the wall of the living space, pouring another round of mead into his large cut crystal glass. 

“Candidly, Stark, she has the ability to be quite annoying. My hope is whoever has her let’s her go. But we will need more than two agents.” Thor tipped his head back, swallowing loudly. 

Tony smiled into his drink, he could understand annoying, he didn’t mind annoying. “What makes you so sure she was taken and that she didn’t just run away.”

“Oh, that’s easy, she is in love with my brother.” Thor smiled at the thought of Loki’s dopey, lovelorn expression, “I’m not sure they realise they are in love with each other so deeply, but,” he shrugged, “such is love.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. So he had been right, Loki had been flirting with you and you did seem to prefer the Trickster God’s company, spending a good deal of your time together. But love? Loki?

“I’ll go with you. If she loves Loki she’s a strong woman, we could use some of that.” Tony tipped his head to the side and nodded as he spoke. “But it also means she’s an idiot and can’t be trusted. You understand that, right?”

“Oh yes,” Thor didn’t even look offended. “My brother is terrible and the two of them together? Incredibly vexing. But we must find her. I do not wish to discover the breadth of his wrath and vengeance should she be missing indefinitely.”

“And they’ll work the mission?”

“I’ll endeavour to keep them in line.”

Tony sighed he supposed that was the best he could hope for, dealing with actual gods.

“Wake up,” a new voice echoed in your sore head, waking you from your dreamless sleep. This room was different to the last, rather than rope your hands were now bound with heavy iron shackles etched with runes. 

Your gaze was cloudy, confused, but you still tried to channel your magic into altering the weighty shackles. Maybe you could make a bracelet like the one Loki gave you and simply slip away. But your magic fizzled before it could manifest. Not even a spark, though your head throbbed terribly at the attempt. 

“No magic when you behave like a brat." Your captor spat. 

“You’ll regret calling me that.” You bit back, yanking at your chains. 

His mocking laugh echoed in the early morning gloom, the door slamming shut in the dark and then you were alone again with your thoughts. 

Manoeuvring your heavy hands you sat at the foot of the bed, tucking your feet underneath you and away from the cold floor. With a deep intake of breath you tried to clear your mind and then exhaled, searching for him, for Loki. You prayed, attempting to send a vision of not just your thoughts, but your whole self to him, what you could see and hear, the smell of the sea and the call of the birds outside. You thought of Loki, implored him to save you, sent your thoughts floating into the air as you breathed your plea to him. 

In your prayers you reached out to him through the fog and touched your fingertips to the stone and in return, you were sure you heard him calling your name. 

<<Part 7

Part 9>>

[glimmervoi]

A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - VI The Beginning of the Winter Ball

masterlist

e&b masterlist

notes: phew, that took forever for me to write ;-; i was really struggling with this one and Idk why because i was so excited to write it when i left off at the last chapter. oh well, it's up now - i hope you all enjoy it!! cant wait to get the next chapter up :D

The winter ball shimmered with life and elegance, a spectacle that drew envy from all corners of the kingdom. Dressed in gowns spun from the most expensive of threads and suits tailored with utmost precision, guests from far and wide glided across the floor in a symphony of laughter and music, each step a testament to the grandeur of the event.

The ballroom buzzed with energy as guests mingled and danced. The musicians in the corner belted out lively tunes, adding to the festive atmosphere. Glasses of bubbly wine clinked together as people laughed and chatted, the room alive with excitement and joy.

The ball was just getting started, and you couldn't help but be amazed. Coming from a humble village, the grandeur of the event was like something out of a dream. It was a stark reminder of how far you'd come, even if your presence there was not something you had initially expected nor wanted.

You weren’t supposed to be serving at the ball that night. Rae had assured you that the service maids would take care of it, giving you a rare night off. It was a welcomed relief, as you had plans to sneak off to the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man you had encountered days before.

You were almost certain he was a stableboy by his attire, but when you mentioned the handsome man to Rae, she drew a blank. Still, you felt compelled to check the stables, just in case.

He had lingered in your thoughts since your first encounter, leaving you yearning for that electrifying, joyful sensation he brought. Yet, your plans to visit the stables were ruined upon entering the maids' chambers to change. Sanria's unexpected presence stopped you in your tracks.

An hour later, you found yourself in the small kitchen adjacent to the ballroom, gazing through the open door at the guests reveling in laughter and joy.

Sanria had already departed, leaving behind a chilling warning of a painful beating with the thin wooden rod she kept tucked in her apron. The threat hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the consequences awaiting any mistake or offense against Iseul, the stern head of the service maids.

Iseul, while not as imposing as Sanria, still commanded respect. The young woman's raven hair framed a stern expression, her lips set in a deep frown, and her slender frame seemed more stiff than a stone pillar. Like Sanria, she too carried a wooden rod tucked into her black apron, a silent symbol of her authority and a promise to punish any who angered her.

Isabella, a bubbly blonde maid, stood in stark contrast to Iseul's severity. Despite the initial shock of being summoned to serve at the ball, she had lent a hand in getting you ready. With her assistance, you managed to squeeze into the all-black service dress and frilly apron, a uniform reserved for special occasions.

In Sanria's presence, Isabella remained silent, but her eyes spoke volumes. They conveyed an understanding of your confusion, discomfort, and alarm at the daunting task of serving important guests in such a grand event, especially considering your recent arrival at the castle. You couldn't help but wonder who had requested such an inexperienced servant for such a significant occasion.

You had to shake off the unsettling feeling and muster your courage. Allowing your nerves to affect you would only invite trouble, but if you pretended to be confident and composed, you might just get through unscathed.

You stood in silence, observing as Isabella and Iseul quickly arranged two sleek black trays laden with tall, slender glasses brimming with sparkling wine. You willed the slight tremor in your fingers to cease, your focus fixed on the task at hand. Iseul didn't spare you a glance once she finished, merely snapping her fingers before pivoting to prepare another tray.

Isabella's kind gaze met yours as you approached. "Have you ever carried a tray filled with glasses like this before?" she inquired, her tone gentle. Her presence brought a sense of comfort, causing your tense shoulders to ease slightly. You shook your head in response.

"It's easy, really," she reassured, smoothly sliding the tray from the table onto her waiting hand. The liquid in the glasses barely rippled, and she held the tray with ease, despite there being at least ten glasses resting on its surface. "Just carefully slide it onto your palm. But don't go too fast or too slow. It can practically sense your fear when you do it that way."

Your brows furrowed as you gently tugged on the edge of the tray. Not too fast, not too slow—just right. You hoped you'd get it just right on the first try, before Iseul turned and witnessed you dropping an entire tray of wine on the ground.

You tugged the tray onto your hand, mimicking Isabella's technique, wincing as the wine threatened to spill over the edge of the glass. The blonde nodded her approval and offered a small smile. "Perfect," she said, brushing a stray droplet off the surface of your tray.

"Now, when you go up to serve someone, you must first bow your head like this," Isabella demonstrated by dipping her chin lightly, her eyes cast downward. A respectful and simple action. "Then, ask them if they would like a glass. If they ask what the wine is, it is a Sparkling Snowdrop from Shivermaw. It’s their specialty."

You faintly remembered the name, Shivermaw. One of the girls a few beds down from yours was born there, but had left due to the crumbling economy of the winter city. Supposedly, the Duke and Duchess were doing just fine, and so were the wealthier inhabitants of the city. But the further out from the city's main area you got, the poorer the families were. And that wasn't even considering the rural villages, comparable to your own.

You shook off the thoughts of Shivermaw and nodded at Isabella. "Alright, ready?" she asked quietly, approaching the doorway of the kitchen. You swallowed, tempted to admit you weren't ready and that you just wanted to go to bed. But you followed her, once again gazing into the beautiful ballroom.

"Ready," you said quietly. Then, you both entered. The music swelled, and so did the voices of the guests. The scents of their perfumes enveloped you, making it feel like the air in your lungs had vanished.

So many people, you thought to yourself, trying to steady your breathing. It had been one thing to peer in from the outside, but standing amidst the crowd was another matter entirely. Your legs began to shake; you were terrified. The reality of it all sunk in deeper now that you were actually there. The fear of making a mistake and facing Sanria's wrath felt closer than it had before.

Isabella seemed to sense your anxiety and gently nudged your arm with hers. "Hey," she murmured softly. You looked into her bright eyes, your breath coming out shakily.

"Act like you've been doing this for years. Confidence is key - if you show it, they won't question a thing. All they really care about is having a good time, indulging in food and drink, and enjoying each other's beds," she said with a playful smirk.

Indeed, she had a point. They'd likely glance past you without a second thought; you were merely a background figure. With a resigned sigh, you summoned a faint smile. "I'll handle the right side. You take care of the left?"

Isabella nodded, her gaze filled with reassurance. Alongside you, other maids clad in attire identical to yours were already circulating on the right side as they handed out drinks. You surveyed the area, noting the guests who had yet to acquire a glass of Shivermaw’s wine.

You made the choice to approach a stunning woman with ivory skin and hair that looked to be made of the sun's golden rays. Her gown, a blush colored silk, was adorned with so many pearls that it looked as though it was twice as heavy as she was. Yet, she moved with effortless grace as though it was as light as a piece of chiffon.

You followed Isabella's instruction, gracefully bowing your head as you presented her with a glass of wine. She momentarily halted her conversation with a handsome, dark-skinned man, casting her gaze upon you. However, instead of acknowledgment, her expression shifted from flirtatious to one of disdain. Without a word she turned away, dismissing you with a subtle gesture and once more engaging in conversation.

As you willed away the prickling irritation and embarrassment from her reaction, your focus shifted to an older woman, her hair gracefully streaked with silver. She wore a gown of deep blue, its simplicity heightened by its quiet elegance. With a composed demeanor you approached her, bowing your head respectfully before extending the offer of a glass of wine from your tray once again.

"Thank you, dear," she murmured softly, graciously accepting the glass. A sense of satisfaction washed over you, prompting a gentle nod from you in response. With a silent step backward, you gave her the space to savor her wine in peace. Slowly you distributed the rest of the contents of your tray.

For the next hour, you conducted your own quiet waltz, moving in harmony with the music resonating from the heart of the room. It was a dance of five steps: a “graceful” journey to the kitchen, where you retrieved a fresh tray from Iseul, whose silence remained unbroken. Returning to the ballroom, you distributed the wine, then retreated back to the kitchen to restart your dance. Each repetition carried its own rhythm, blending seamlessly into the elegant cadence of the evening.

On your eighth trip to the kitchen, Iseul abruptly halted your motion as you reached for the replenished tray. Her hand landed firmly on the tray, blocking you. "Let Nidora handle this one," she instructed, her voice carrying a raspy edge. You complied, withdrawing your hand as the quiet redhead silently took the tray, avoiding your gaze as she did so.

"Is everything alright?" you inquired softly, clasping your hands behind your back. Despite your lack of prior experience in service, you had believed you were managing quite well.

Iseul set down the dark blue wine bottle that she had been uncorking and fixed her gaze upon you, her eyes filled with nothing but disdain. "I don't like you," she declared bluntly, causing your brows to raise in surprise.

"O-oh," you stammered, searching for a more composed response. You understood that everyone had their own thoughts and opinions, but you couldn't help but wonder why the head maid had chosen this moment to share hers with you. After all, you hadn't knowingly given her any reason to harbor such animosity.

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before Iseul broke it, her voice tinged with accusation.

"The only reason you're here is because a Prince specifically requested you," she asserted, folding her arms tightly across her chest. You recoiled slightly, taken aback by her words. Instantly, your thoughts turned to Namjoon. He had been the only prince to engage with you, and it was merely a single request... Had you somehow inconvenienced or offended him?

Rae hadn't shown any signs that Namjoon was concerned or dissatisfied with your performance. Surely if you had done something wrong, she would have brought it to your attention? And if you had, why would Namjoon specifically request you? It didn't make sense. Unless... unless he was planning to make an example of you in front of everyone at the ballroom?! The thought sent a shiver down your spine, unsettling and alarming.

You started to tremble, the uncertainty and anxiety swirling within you. What could you have possibly done to provoke such anger from him? Rae had ensured you that he received the correct tea, so why would he single you out? Was it possible that he wanted you specifically to serve it? But would such a minor detail warrant such public humiliation in front of the entire ballroom? The questions raced through your mind, each one amplifying your anxiety.

Iseul's snort cut through the tension, her smile twisted with malice as she observed your shocked expression. "You're just like that whore Kassie. You slept with one of them, didn't you?" she accused, leaning in with disdain. "Now my neck is on the line. If you mess up, the repercussions fall on me. If I wanted to deal with an inexperienced cleaning maid, I would have gladly taken Rae’s position myself-"

"What are you talking about?" you interjected, cutting her off mid-sentence. Panic surged through you, your hands trembling as you braced them against the counter. Leaning forward, you desperately tried to convey your innocence. "I haven't been sleeping with anyone!"

Iseul's nostrils flared, and she uncrossed her arms with a sharp motion, seizing the bottle of wine from the counter. "Your reaction tells me that you’re lying," she stated icily, her tone cutting through the air like a knife as she resumed pouring the wine into the waiting glasses. “I want you to know that if you make a single mistake, I will be the one beating you. And my rod is much more painful than Sanria’s.” 

You attempted to interject, to offer some form of defense or clarification, but she swiftly silenced you before you could utter a single word.

"I do not care about your excuses," she spat, venom dripping from her lips. "Just get back out there and do your job. And do not mess it up." Her words were a cold dismissal, leaving you with no choice but to comply, the weight of her expectations heavy upon your shoulders.

You recoiled, instinctively flinching as she forcefully thrust a tray towards you. The dark-haired maid's stern demeanor left no room for doubt - she wasn't bluffing. If you made a mistake, she would know, and the consequences would be dire. Standing there to argue or seek answers would only further infuriate her. She had already made up her mind, convinced of your involvement with a prince. It was clear that trying to reason with her would be futile. With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to brushing off her accusations and returning to your duties.

Shakily, you grasped the fresh tray and cautiously approached the doorway, peering into the bustling room. Tension gripped you once more, just like it had during your initial entry into the crowded space. If Namjoon had indeed requested your presence, you were determined to avoid the tall prince at all costs. Yet, despite scanning the room, you hadn't caught sight of him all night. Was it a stroke of luck, or perhaps part of his scheme to catch you off guard? The uncertainty gnawed at you, adding another layer of unease to an already tense evening.

You made an effort to steady yourself, taking note of the shifting atmosphere within the ballroom. The tables were now being repositioned, guests darting around with metal keys clutched tightly in their hands. The key matching game was underway, evident from the flurry of activity as people hurried to find their matches.

Your thoughts drifted to the stableboy from earlier, and a pang of longing tugged at your heart. Amidst the chaos surrounding you, you found yourself yearning for his company, wishing you were anywhere but in your current position. However, you steeled yourself and pressed onward, continuing your duties of distributing wine to the newly formed couples who stood together, their keys glimmering in the soft candlelight.

You emptied two more trays, although you remained unsettled from the encounter with Iseul. Suddenly, a familiar tingling sensation coursed through your veins, prompting you to instinctively tighten your grip on the empty tray. A small shiver danced down your spine as you glanced around, a strange feeling creeping over you.

Suddenly, a warm hand rested gently on your shoulder, and a soft voice murmured close to your ear, "I finally found you." Startled, you whipped around, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at the unexpected proximity. Before you stood the stableboy who had occupied your thoughts for days, appearing even more handsome than you remembered.

A smile unconsciously spread across your face as you prepared to ask him why he was there, rather than tending to the stables. However, your question remained unspoken as a glimmer of gold caught your eye from atop his head. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized— he was wearing a crown.

He was wearing a crown.

[gabessquishytum]

Arranged marriage au in which Prince Dream’s hand is given to King Hob in marriage to seal a peace treaty between their two kingdoms in order to prevent war. However, Dream is secretly meant to use this marriage as an opportunity to assassinate the king and take over the kingdom, all but giving it over to his parents. Dream is fine with this plan (he might keep the kingdom for himself though, he hasn’t decided yet), but then he actually meets King Hob, who ticks all of his boxes and also falls in love with Dream at first sight. Oh dear.

On their wedding night, Hob is willing to wait out of respect, but Dream pulls out all the stops to seduce him (all in the name of lowering his guard, and to further cement Dream’s position when he kills him in a few months and takes over), only to be turned into a babbling mess as Hob proceeds to completely take him apart, all with nonstop looks of adoration. It’s the most intense sex in his life, and it nearly weakens his resolve all on its own.

But then, Hob follows this up with day after day of giving Dream both constant attention and complete freedom. He is perfectly content to allow Dream to do absolutely nothing if he chooses, just sit there and look pretty, but the exact moment that Dream decides to speak up and contribute Hob will listen to every word and give it every due consideration. If Dream tries to distract him from his duties by whining and begging for attention, Hob will immediately see to his needs, but will somehow at the same time continue to see to his rule with a gentle and firm hand. Dream becomes more and more genuinely obsessed and loathed to give this up, and soon it stops being an act for him.

(Also, Dream didn’t know this, but Hob’s kingdom is rather hedonistic and very comfortable with public sex. They do their best to hide it from foreign dignitaries so as not to offend their delicate sensibilities, but the first time Dream seduces Hob in front of the court (in an attempt to weaken his position in front of his courtiers and also because he was itching for more sex) they were met with either 1. looks of fond indulgence normally reserved for acts of innocent flirtation, or 2. looks of outright desire and lust, some even taking this as permission to also hook up with their partners. Dream never knew this was something he was interested in, but now that he has it he’s utterly ruined for anything else)

Dream’s parents grow more and more impatient to hear word that their son-in-law is dead, so that they can go “comfort their son in his grief”, and finally are invited to come celebrate their first anniversary. When they get there, to their dismay they see an alive and well King Hob, looking with hearts in his eyes at Prince Consort Dream on his lap. Dream looks like the cat that got the cream, utterly content and satiated, but his parents can read the hidden message in his gaze; they’ve lost their top assassin and the prize kingdom, if they try to kill his husband he will come after them, family be damned.

-🪽anon

(There’s probably room in the middle there for some light drama, as Dream feels guilty over his former plans to kill Hob, maybe Hob knew already or maybe he didn’t, but I’m here to provide smut and fluff and let others do what they will with it 😁)

I love nothing better than a slutty assassin <3

Dream comes from this long and prestigious line of famous assassins/royalty. Super rich, super powerful, always looking for more. (Anime fans, think of the Zoldyck family from hxh. Dream already has the aesthetic!)

Dream is the most ruthless and the most beautiful, and he has quite a reputation... but Hob agrees to the betrothal anyway. He definitely looks at Dream and thinks "aww, I can fix him!!" And he's kind of right? But he also makes Dream immeasurably worse, because the two of them fall in love.

I love to think that Hob knows about Dream’s plan, but he doesn't care - he just gives Dream a pat on his head and tells him that he's such a silly boy, it doesn't matter! Hob has killed dozens of people, he'd be a hypocrit if he got mad at Dream for this. And he knows that the only way Dream will kill him now they're married is through orgasm related cardiac arrest <3

They're fucking so much its actually a bit concerning. Hob loves being railed by his consort, over his own throne is a particular favourite. Dream’s parents hold out a small hope that their son genuinely is trying to fuck his new husband to death, but nooo. He's just channeling his murderous rage into making sure that Hob can't walk properly. More than once Hob has seen to paperwork or matters of state with Dream’s cock pounding him at the other end. If he does extra good with his statecraft then he gets Dream’s cum inside him, and maybe a little break before the next round <3

[wishamongtheflowers]

Bright future goes on

Sobbing echoed off each podium with red shinning out to light the room.

"Why them," A boy wept, "I don't understand."

The screens had his icon crossed out. Those that remained where killed all from a mistake. He knew so! He shouldn't have lived! He was the one who fell into despair!

"You should've executed me instead!"

His scream fell with gravity, into the void.

"Agh, geez." Off and on the past month Amari delt with these random headaches. All he could do was wait them out for a short time till the pain wavers.

Out off all the times he couldn't afford wasting time it just had to be on maintaining the school's gardens and lawns. We all can't win time from time. It wasn't like much was going to stop him from his usual jobs; all was all either or not.

"Almost done here. Just a few more flowers to plant."

"Hey little bro!" The gardener turned his head to see a fellow reserved course student walking up with his hand in the air.

He's one of his close friends from childhood. Wasn't the best time but, it worked out for them.

"Hey there pal. You need anything?" Amari asked.

"Just wondering if you're going to be available this evening? I need some help." He already knew just by his voice what it was.

"What's with that look?"

"Let me guess; you didn't study again Nakano?"

Nakano sighs, "Please help me."

"Alright, wait at our usual spot; there's only two more flowers left to plant."

Nakano bolted off to the school's gate leaving Amari alone. Alas, much to his intuition, he wasn't alone per se. A girl watched him from above. Dead navy eyes who knew yet never knew the gardener completely.

Amari kept his attention on his flowers. Nothing too impressive or new to watch from her protective. She left from her spot going on to handle something Mistress had commanded of her.

"Last one." A blue poppy flower was put into its new home. Gently patting down to fill the small gaps left behind, "There we go."

He took off his personal gardening gloves, putting them in his back pocket. Amari went to the school gates with a pair of eyes watching them.

"Let's mosey on."

Nakano looked over at a tree to find no one in view. He surly saw some girl peeking out. Oh well-

"Nakano!"

"Sorry sorry!" He left in a hurry.

A strange giggled came from behind said tree, "Master is here. Just like Mistress told."

All she had to do was keep track till the day arrives. Distance and out of sight, out of mind will help her in the short term.

'!' The girl stepped on a pair of gardening gloves, 'He dropped these. Luck is turning up!' She tucked them away in her small purse.

She halted her previous mission for now. Now she was wondering amongst living strangers living their own worlds. Each one an ant going to anthills in her disconnected world.

No amount of luck would shield her looks, smell, and constant force playing her strings.

'To the apartment and ready up for another day.' Kido stood at her usual train stop.

Her phone buzzed to life only to quiet once answered, " 8 5 12 12 15!"

"1 8, 1 12 12 9 19 7 15 1 14 7 7 15 15 4. 7 15 20 13 1 19 20 5 18' 19 7 12 15 22 5 19."

Kido giggled then hung up, "Looks like the plan has changed. Got to get some other things done first."

Her crooked lips formed more of a smirk than a smile.

Just what was being said? You had no clue. All you could tell was it looked sinister.

Approach her or not is up to you; your fate is sealed by death no matter your option.

-----------------------[Tags]----------------------

@y0u-f4il3d-m3 @fugitive-detective @human-monokuma @mikado-sannoji and anyone else.

[headfullofpresley]

𝐉𝐨𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 | 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: joe being joe, some inaccurate plot/details of the movie, made some things up myself bc this movie is horrible lol, tiny mention of animal slaughtering, rodeo rider!elvis, lil bit of smut; public sex, mention of pregnancy. the ending is meh but had to end it bc i could go on about this man for hours. ☻

A/N: stay away joe is one of my least fave movies, but i have a weird relationship with it - hate it, but will never stop rewatching bc GOOD GOD, joe lightcloud is a stunner.

masterlist

You work as a bartender at the local bar that is owned by Glenda Callahan.

Because Mamie was obsessed with Joe, she sent the girl off to the big city to live with an aunt.

You and Glenda got along well, so when she offered you to move into her daughter's room, you accepted.

The job was dull, only serving coffee and breakfast to locals that were on their way to the city or dinner to strangers that were passing through.

Glenda wasn't surprised when Joe wandered in the bar and had his sights set on you like you were a juicy piece of meat sizzling on the BBQ.

You weren't her daughter, so she couldn't say anything, but she did warn you about the cowboy casanova.

“Don’t worry, Miss Glenda. He’s gonna have to work for it,”

You weren't as desperate as Mamie, but you could understand why the younger girl had been.

With his tanned skin and cowboy hat resting atop of his head, he was just breathtaking.

But you had heard the stories about Joe Lightcloud and even though you were already planning on having a piece of him, you weren't going to throw yourself at him like all the other girls did.

“Didn’t know they sold shorts as tiny as those,” he'd grin smugly, shamelessly leaning over the bar to take a peek at your exposed legs due to the denim shorts you were wearing.

Arizona was hot, nobody wore jeans unless they'd be breaking bones at the rodeo.

Acting like you weren't phased by his actions or his words, you put a drink in front of him and leaned your hands on the bar with a grin lingering on your face.

“They exiled me outta the city for ‘em,”

You weren't even from the city, but he didn't know that. He moved back onto his family's reservation recently and had never seen you around before despite you growing up in the area.

“Uptight, those city folk,” he’d tease back, that grin never faltering. “How ‘bout you, honey? Are you uptight?”

Giving him an innocent shrug and a little smile, you kept your lips sealed and continued cleaning the bar, letting him use the phone which was the reason why he came in here in the first place.

He could easily use the phone in other places, but he came to the bar pretty much every day after meeting you.

He'd tell you it was because the bar was closer than the stores in town and while you knew that was true, you also knew you were the reason for him coming to your work place.

You didn't mind at all. You were bored out of your mind half the day, so you started looking forward to seeing him and talking to him.

He'd try to win you over, pulling out his best pick up lines and putting on his best smiles.

They made your knees buckle behind the bar every time, but this was a man that had girls falling for him in the matter of seconds and you wanted to see if he was willing to put in an actual effort.

He never met anyone like you and even though he never had to work for a girl's attention, he was determined to win you over.

When his family was granted twenty heifers and a bull to prove that they could raise cattle, he invited you to the party he was throwing at the reservation.

Being the only employee at the bar, you didn't know if Glenda would allow you time off but she fell for your puppy eyes and sweet smile and gave you two days off.

You should've known this wouldn't be a normal party.

It lasted throughout the entire weekend, with people sleeping under the blazing sun during the day and drinking and dancing all night.

All Joe's friends and family demanded his attention but he always found his way back to you, providing you with drinks and introducing you to people.

He'd shamelessly introduce you as ‘his girl’ to everyone and they all believed it.

All your chances of becoming friends with the girls who were there flew right out of the window, because they'd give you dirty looks every time you'd smile at them.

“I ain’t your girl, Joe,” you'd remind him but all he did was laugh and wrap his arm around your waist, giving you that cocky grin.

“Give it time, honey. Give it time,”

You'd roll your eyes but on the inside, you were screaming like a little girl because you knew he was dead serious.

Disaster struck when Bronco, one of Joe's friends, accidentally slaughtered and barbecued the only bull in the herd instead of one of the heifers.

The bull that was supposed to help the Lightcloud's provide for themselves with the cattle they could sell.

Not long after the party, Glenda fired you because you start neglecting the bar to spend more time with Joe.

He borrowed a bull from a friend that's supposed to do the job, but the poor thing would sleep all day and not move a muscle.

Slowly but surely, you moved onto the reservation. His family liked you and at least now Joe didn't have to face the lazy bull on his own.

“C’mon, boy, get your fat ass up,”

He'd tug on the bull's head, trying to lift it from the ground and to get him to stand up or at least move, but nothing was working.

“Joe! Be nice to him, he has feelings, you know?” you'd yell at him as you sat on top of the fence, swinging your legs back and forth while watching him struggle.

“Yeah only not the right feelings,” though the words came out as a mumble, you still heard them and he'd send you a sneaky wink.

“Look here, Dominick! You little fucker,” walking over to one of the heifers, he lands a slap on the rear of it. “All these lovely ladies are willin’,”

Scrunching your nose, you shook your head. “You’re horrible at this,”

Standing up straight with an amused scoff, he'd nod his head and walk over to you.

“Alright, little miss boots. Let’s see you try then,” giving you a squeeze in the cowboy boots you were wearing, he'd grin teasingly at you and lean against the fence.

You jumped off the fence and stole his hat, putting it on top of your head as you told him to watch and learn, approaching the bull.

You weren't specialized in cows or whatsoever, but you grew up around horses. You were confident enough to make this work and you wanted to see Joe's face if you managed to succeed.

Dominick was lazier than you expected but you ignored Joe's laughs and mumbled ‘told you so’s’.

You weren't giving up though and after forty minutes, the bull finally decided to get up to his feet.

“Yes, Dominick, good boy! Come here, you sweet thing!” urging the bull excitedly and sweetly, you stepped closer to the heifers.

Joe couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the bull follow you and paying attention, finally doing what he was here for.

You supressed a small squeal, clearing your throat as you walked over to Joe. Giving him a small curtsy as you dipped his hat, you'd give him your biggest and most cocky smile.

“Voila!”

“I don’t speak Italian,”

“Oh, Joe,” laughing as you took a step closer to him, you'd swing your arms around his neck and kiss him.

He would not hesitate or whatsoever at all to kiss you back, lifting you up from the ground and placing you on the fence.

It wasn't until you'd pull back from the kiss that you saw Dominick succesfully doing his job and you and Joe cheered him on the entire time.

Even though Dominick did what he needed to do that one day, the bull went right back to snoring up a storm most of the time.

Joe found out from the friend he borrowed the bull from that it was actually a rodeo prizewinning bull, so to provide for the family, he started doing rodeo shows.

Okay, he smacked the information out of his friend, but you didn't need to know that. Apparently it was enough for the dude to let Joe keep the bull, so you weren't complaining.

Whenever you weren't watching him at the rodeo, you'd be on the reservation with his family.

Now, his family was crazy but you liked them.

Grandpa Lightcloud was a grumpy old man that you didn't understand half of the time, but he liked having you around because you helped around on the property and didn't try to keep Joe away from his family.

The man would teach you how to do a rain dance and you'd show it to Joe any chance you got, making him roll over in giggles because you'd mess up some of the moves.

Teaching you properly and doing it with you in the middle of the night. You forced him to do it with you every day because Sedona, Arizona desperately needed some rain.

And when the rain came, you'd dance around in it. Usually with very little clothing on, unless the rest of the family was there.

When you did accompany him to rodeo shows, everyone knew who you belonged to because you'd be shouting the loudest to cheer him on and cussing out whoever talked shit about your man.

Sedona was a small and boring town with very little to do. While you and Joe would have dinner at one of the few restaurants now and then, the both of you preferred to go on dates that would take place outside.

Horseback riding was one of the things you'd pretty much do every day.

You'd always accept whenever he challenged you to a race, even though you knew you were bound to lose.

Sometimes he'd rub the victory in your face and sometimes he'd let you win on purpose, because he liked seeing that smug grin on your face.

“Can’t win ‘em all, Joey baby. Better luck next time,”

He absolutely hated the pet name. Would give you a glare, but truth was.. he'd let you get away with any name you'd throw at his head.

“You’re the best, princess. Now come get your prize,”

Your prize was always a kiss. Lots of them.

Picnic dates. 🥺

Which would start off all innocent with you two chatting while eating and cuddling on the blanket while sunbathing, but always ended in you riding him.

His favorite was when you'd be moaning above him, wearing his cowboy hat, sun slowly disappearing behind the mountains.

Since the climate was so damn hot, you were always wearing tanktops and very rarely a bra which he took advantage of by nearly tearing the thin fabric to pieces because he liked seeing your breasts bounce to the rhythm of your thrusts.

Insisted you kept the boots on, because he thought it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

Every time the two of you were intimate, it was usually somewhere outside or in his car.

Your horses have seen some shit. Thank God they couldn't talk.

Joe never officially asked you to be his girlfriend, but after the first time you kissed, you gave yourself that title whether he liked it or not.

He liked it. He liked it a lot.

Meant he didn't need to prepare a whole ass awkward speech about wanting you as his girl.

You were both jealous and didn't like when the other would get a little too much attention.

He'd knock anyone out who would make you feel uncomfortable, touched you inappropiately or looked your way a little too long for his liking.

You weren't any better, having fought enough girls that tried to sneak their way into Joe's arms.

He usually didn't care about two-timing girls, but he actually loved you and he knew you'd tear his head off if he ever cheated.

“Now I don’t mind the attention, ladies, but I got a girl. She might be small, but she’s wilder than an angry bull, ya know?”

Even though he'd always break up the fights between you and other girls, peeling your (freakishly strong) hands out of their hair, he secretly liked seeing you so jealous.

You two didn't tell each other you loved each other a lot, but it were moments like these that he knew.

He'd take both his family and you by surprise when proposing to you after only four months of dating.

You didn't even hesitate to say yes.

You never cared much for weddings and marriage, but you knew that this was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Plus, you loved how your name sounded with his last name.

Joe eventually made enough money to buy Glenda's bar, who took the money and got the hell outta dodge.

He gifted the bar to you as a wedding gift and the two of you moved in at the house that was adjoined to it.

Still, he made sure to provide for his family too and the both of you went over there as much as you could, helping them with the renovation of the house, etc.

Didn't take you long to fall pregnant, giving birth to a healthy son, who Joe was more than excited to have follow in his footsteps to become a succesful bull rider.

[nrdmssgs]

Congrats on your (well deserved) 500 followers! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

May I request...

10+21, with Nik and Zhar please?

Thank you!!

I LOVE THIS ONE) thank you so much!!! "Shut up before I kiss you." + "Am I your lockscreen?" \\ "You weren't supposed to see that."

Masterlist List of prompts Another answer from these series

Lips sealed

"Price! Here is my favorite Captain!" despite Nikolai giving him the biggest bear hug - John looks straight at Olga, standing in the distance.

"What is this one planning?" Price asks her, completely ignoring Niks muffled grumbles.

In any other situation she would tell on Nikolai right away, but this time her lips were sealed, so she just shrugs vaguely and steps into the Captain's house.

It was Zhars fault: she shouldn't have gotten so sentimental around Nik. From them two it was her, who was always reserved, even reticent about their relationship. She tried hard to not react to his lingering touches, play it cool, when he leaned closer and whispered something very personal in her ear. Not only it never stopped Nikolai - it seemed to sparkle some kind of ardor in him. Every time, they were out - he played this little game of 'ok, how many buttons I can push, before she ends up all flustered and panting?'. Eye contact, smirks across a crowded room, raised eyebrows, teasing, lots of it. Today, she herself gifted him yet another 'button', giving him her phone to call Price.

"Am I your lockscreen?" Nikolai tilted his head, inspecting a background picture on a display.

"Oh fu-, give me that back!" She tried to pull a phone from his hand, but Nik didn't let it happen. "You were never supposed to see that!" Zhar facepalms and looks away, hiding a growing blush.

"I was never supposed to see, someone's secretly fangirling over me?" Nikolai clearly exaggerates, because her lockscreen is just his hands. But he can't deny himself in ravishing in this moment. "Ok, if it's not for me to see - how about we send it to straight to John? You know, he too has a soft spot for me - maybe you could organize a little cozy fanclub together?"

"You are walking on a very thin ice, Nikolai. One more joke about you and Price, one slightest mention of this, while we are there, and..."

"And? You'll need a rope, my treasure? Or you'll just convince me to be still and obedient for you?" Zhar only hissed incoherently in return. The evening haven't yet started, and she already felt, that a few next hours of her life won't be the easiest.

"So, I guess, we are discussion your next mission with Price, after all," added Nikolai, still not letting her have her phone back. "And if you have another opinion - feel free to change a topic and tell him, how I made his former Lt swooning with my charm."

And just like that, Zhar now couldn't stop Nikolai from dragging Price into a plan, that she specifically tinkered so accurately, that all that Chimera would be risking is her. To her relief, Nik wasn't reorganizing the whole operation - he just wanted to hide her somewhere for one night, to give her some time to rest.

"So, do you think, you have anyone in Scotland?" Nik smiled benignly, stretching in his chair.

"Anyone? Nikolai, we have MacTavish, and it's the very best, Scotland could ever offer you." Prices velvety voice mixes with a thick cigar smoke in the air.

"I know, but..." Zhar tenses, waiting, how Nikolai concludes his phrase. This is a very delicate matter, and he should think twice, before telling Price the whole truth.

"...but i would very much like to put a good distance between our pal Johnny and a car full of what can in theory be considered as weapons of ma-"

While Captain was fighting to not spit out the last sip of whiskey, he took, Zhar jumped up and dragged Nikolai away from the room.

"Price, we'll be back in a minute!" She hisses, leading Nik deeper in Johns house so eagerly, that his comment 'Price, we WONT' is left unheard by his friend.

As soon, as she sees an open door leading to the bathroom - she pulls Nikolai there and slams him against the wall. It's soft enough to not harm him, but harsh enough to make her point.

"Someone's feisty today," Nik chuckles, his hands snake up her spine. "Should I mention, that I do indeed have a rope in my trunk?"

"You should shut up for good. This is my plan, my operation, and only I get to decide who will be involved there. Telling Price, what exactly am I going to transport there is making him involved!" If she could, she would burn a hole in him with her eyes right now. But that seems to not bother Nikolai.

"You are forgetting, who is the boss here, Zhar." He doesn't try to break free - only pulls her closer. "And as your superior, I'd like to conduct a masterclass, nebo moye*. You see, when you have someone trapped like me, and you need them to do something for you - you should also make it clear, what happens, if they don't follow your orders."

Zhar freezes, not believing her own ears. Somehow, Nikolai seems to not care for a secrecy of Chimeras plans, when it comes to his best friend. The only thing, he seems to be interested in right now is her bare skin under his fingertips, as his hand slipps under her coat.

"So if you want me to shut up..." He leans towards her ear. "... make me."

Her breath hitches. Looks like there is one man on this planet, that can make her forget, how angry she was just a moment ago. And she was lucky enough to end up with this man. She fights her beating heart, fights the blush appearing under his satisfied and mischievous gaze. But if there's anything, she learned after months spent with him - It's that she loves, what he is doing to her. It makes her feel alive, wicked, wild, almost almighty.

"Shut up, or I'm kissing you right here," she whispers.

A wide grin spreads on Nikolais face. Not breaking an eye contact with Zhar, he addresses to Price, who still sits in a dining room. "Hey John, you know, what I found on Olgas phone this eve-"

She cuts him off, bringing her lips to his. Their kiss is hungry, full of desire, suppressed from both sides. Nikolai is the one pinned against the wall, but he still stays the one in charge, not letting her go as long as she doesn't surrender completely, and her body starts lightly shaking.

"Horoshaya moya, tak bistro uchishsya*... Ok, you wanted my lips sealed - be it your way." Nikolai exhales, melting under her hot breath on his face.

When they both finally come back to Price, he asks Zhar if she still takes any medication.

"Ehm-m-m, no... no, i'm fine." She is genuinely taken aback by this question, not understanding, what is Captain getting at.

Instead of an answer, John takes out another glass, pours whiskey in it and hands it to her.

"You two crazy Russians are not leaving my house, till you confess, what are you tinkering there, with weapons of mass destruction behind my back." Prices tone brooks no objection.

Zhar throws a desperate glance on Nikolai, but that scoundrel is just making himself comfy in his seat. "Sorry, nebo moye, it's your call now - my lips are sealed..."

nebo moye - my sky/my heaven

Horoshaya moya, tak bistro uchishsya - my good one, learning so fast

[lunawings]

Animaniacs in Concert, 2/17/24 in Bristol, CT

Or, the story of how I ran into Rob Paulsen and immediately threw up.

Not on him, thankfully.

Where to begin? From the beginning, I guess.

I talk a lot about Japanese voice actors on this blog and I have almost no thoughts about American anime dub voice actors (no offense, I just don't know their work). However, if you asked me my favorite American cartoon voice actor, it's Rob Paulsen. I knew his voice before I even knew he existed, and if you ask me, he's one of the most recognizable male voice actors in Saturday morning cartoons.

He's probably most known as being Yakko on Animaniacs, and "half the Ninja Turtles" as he puts it. ("Maybe if I live to 102 I can voice all of them!") I also personally really liked him in The Mask cartoon, I think it's some of his best work. (Even though he was doing Jim Carey, he kind of wasn't at the same time. He made it his own.) But even beyond his leading roles, he just seems to pop up all sorts of places, and it always makes my day when I recognize him as additional voices.

While Japanese voice actors are often young and excessively beautiful people you're supposed to swoon over, 80s/90s American cartoon voice actors aren't... quite... the same. And yet. I sorta do, in a weird way. I mean I've known Rob Paulsen's voice for as long as my brain has been making memories and that's a pretty huge impact on a person. A few years back, I stumbled upon a few videos of him on YouTube attending cons performing Yakko's World and such, and I just loved his personality and energy so much. So, I added seeing him perform someday to my mental list of goals to accomplish if I ever returned to the US.

Fast forward again to the 2020s, the Animaniacs revival comes out on Hulu (I don't care what anyone says I freakin loved it) and I hear he's touring again with Animaniacs in Concert. I looked up the dates and none of them were remotely near me. As I checked back one day, mourning the possible missed opportunity and debating how far I might go, a new show popped up in Bristol, CT. How random, I thought. I checked if it was doable for me, and it was! It wasn't feasible as a day trip, but still doable. And once I saw there was one FRONT ROW SEAT LEFT, the deal was sealed as I quickly bought the ticket and reserved a room at the only hotel I could find in the area, the Bristol Double Tree.

Fast forward to yesterday. I arrived in Bristol just after noon following an uber and FOUR different buses. I'd woken up way too early, I was hungry and tired, and not feeling too great. I decided food would be my first plan of action, and since I didn't quite understand how to order room service (the menu wasn't loading on my phone anyway) and there wasn't anything within walking distance, I decided to just head downstairs and eat at the hotel restaurant/bar.

As I was waiting for my impossible burger and fries, I decided to take off the Yakko's World hoodie I'd been wearing.

I bought it specifically to wear to the show, and I'd already spilled a little coffee on it this morning and didn't want to risk having to wash it again. So I tucked it behind me in the booth.

Shortly after that, another group walked in and sat at the table next to me. An older guy and some ladies. I wasn't paying much attention to them as I thought they were maybe a part of the wedding party I heard was at the hotel. My food came and I focused on that.

But then someone else walked in and joined them. Someone I very much DID recognize. "Oh there you are!" "Hi, I'm Rob!"

The next moment is kind of a blur so I'm not exactly sure whether I jumped a little or if I did the dramatic eyes widen slow turn, but I definitely had some kind of a visible reaction as I looked over to the table. It was then that I locked eyes with who at that moment I first realized was Maurice Lamarche, voice of Brain (from Pinky and the Brain) and many MANY Futurama characters (more than I realized as I learned later). He was the older man I mentioned earlier, and had been sitting there the entire time. And at that moment I thought perhaps he knew everything. (Both the fact that I recognized the new person who had just walked in, and the fact that I hadn't recognized Maurice himself until now.)

So I'm pretty sure I have at least mild prosopagnosia (face blindness) so it is hard for me to recognize people right away.

But there was something I could never fail to recognize, and that was the voice of Rob Paulsen, who was the person who had just walked into the room and joined the table with Maurice.

I'm not sure how they knew the women they were dining with, but they were all catching up, asking them if they were going to the show, etc. I listened a bit as Rob happily talked to them about the impact of the show and its fans. Such as how devoted fans would actually fly in to see them and how the average age of the audience was about 40 (hah ha... not yet but I'm getting there). He even mentioned Tress MacNeille at one point! Maurice was right in my view, but Rob was at an angle where I couldn't see him without turning my head but oh lord it was definitely him.

I had no idea what to do at this point. Do I say something? Do I not? Would it be terrible to just say hi and that I'm looking forward to the show??

I've been to a lot of events with voice actors in the past, especially in Japan, but I still just... cannot handle meeting famous people that I admire. Actually seeing them up close is intense enough, but actually TALKING to them? I don't know how anyone can do it.

I'm reminded of Amari in Idol Land PriPara, that episode where she meets Hibiki...

Yeah, basically me. For the people who visualize in their head while they are reading something, just replace whatever you imagine I look like with Amari and this story will fit very well.

All while this is all racing through my mind, I'm still shoveling french fries into my mouth while trying (and probably failing) to stay calm and act normal (even though I'm pretty sure Maurice is onto me) and I soon realize I've got a couple fries stuck in my throat (as often happens when I'm eating without paying attention, as I'm a very fast eater). I exaggerated a little in my previous post when I said I was choking, but it was hard to swallow and I realized I'd have to sneak off to the bathroom to deal with it without causing any more of a scene. I basically threw my credit card on the table and ran, though (which was dumb in hindsight, but I didn't want anyone to think I was dine-dashing).

In the end, after I came back, I decided to just quietly pay the bill and leave without saying anything, scrunching and hiding my Yakko hoodie the best I could. I didn't want to interrupt them during their private time, and for that reason I didn't try to take any photos or videos either. So I have no proof that this happened but it very much did.

And it made sense, I realized later. I already knew that the Double Tree in Bristol was literally the only hotel in the area, where else would they be!!?

After leaving the table I was so worked up I basically walked straight out of the hotel because I didn't know what else to do and headed to the Carosel Museum of New England where I killed at least two whole hours sitting on a bench looking at intricately carved 100+ year old wooden animals while nursing my exhaustion and caffeine cravings. (The museum isn't that big, I just literally did not know what else to do with myself.)

But I learned that most carousel horses are only decorated on the side that faces the customers. And since they were all hand-carved back then, the opposite side would often be carved by a less experienced carver in training or something. ISN'T THAT NEAT?

I thought that was neat.

Anyway.

Eventually I downed an energy drink I bought from a convenience store as I went on my way to the venue of the show.

I was still super early since I ran out of the hotel super early but there was already a crowd gathered outside. At first I didn't know this was the reason people had gathered, but the first 40 people to line up were eligible to sign up for a "meet-and-greet" with everyone after the show. And when I reached the front of the line, it was still open.

"Sure?" I said, not really fully understanding what I was signing up for. And so I headed inside.

The show opened with Yakko's Universe (SUCH A BEAUTIFUL SONG) and of course closed with Yakko's World as the finale. What came in between was quite random. Despite not being an actual cast member, the real star of the show was composer Randy Rogel. Rob of course voiced Yakko and his other characters, and Randy voiced... almost everyone else haha. Just using his own voice most of the time, but still. He sang as Dot a lot.

And it seemed like he picked the songs they played not necessarily by what songs were popular, but by what songs he and Rob had stories to talk about. For example, they did a bunch of songs from the failed show Histeria when Rob literally broke into tears (he was acting) while talking about how Randy had to actually, physically, go to a library to research the topics he was writing about back in those days. Randy also played an alternate version of the song LA DOT that had sat untouched in a folder for decades.

Rob's voice doesn't sound quite the same as it used to, as anyone who has seen the 2020 Animaniacs series would know, but he can still do it all! And considering he survived throat cancer, and came back to not only work again but sing live!? He sounds amazing!

Maurice Lamarche was also of course a part of the show, and although he only "sang" one song as Brain, his interactions in character as Brain with Rob as Pinky were probably the highlight of the whole show. (They did a whole "Who's on First" sketch talking about what countries to conquer, with Pinky misunderstanding "Hungary", "Turkey" and "Chili".)

Maurice also did a showcase of his voice, including so many other Animaniacs and Futurama characters I had no idea were him, not to mention frikkin Toucan Sam and the narrator of Lexus commercials.

The only thing that disappointed me a little about the show, was they didn't really do anything from the 2020 series, but I guess Randy wasn't as involved with the music in that. So, oh well.

I didn't take many photos/videos during the show, since I wasn't fully sure of the etiquette (still kinda have my Japan brain for these sort of things) and since I was in the front row I wanted to give them my full attention. I think there are plenty of videos online anyway, since at least one segment was one I'd already seen before.

So, after the show ended, people began to line up for the meet-and-greet, and it was then that I fully understood what I had gotten myself into.

Each of us would get about a minute to talk with them individually, get their signature, and get a picture if we wanted. I was really kicking myself for not bringing anything to sign! I really had no idea it would actually be an option! (In the days leading up to the show I had been looking at Rob's website where I noticed he normally charges $60 for an autograph, so I didn't think he would do it for free.)

But more importantly, I realized I was going to have to actually face them. TALK TO THEM. The exact thing I had run away from earlier in the day.

And again, I considered just running away. But I had taken a spot on that list. A spot that could have gone to someone else and it was too late to give away now. So, I told myself, I had to see this through. No matter what.

As the line inched closer I panicked over whether they would recognize me from the hotel or not as I rehearsed in my head over and over again all the things I could say. I was honestly juggling between two or three entire scripts by the time it was finally my turn and when realized... after all that...

I did not need to say anything.

Rob saw my hoodie ("It's me!") so he knew I was there for him, and he knew I was nervous. So he did all the talking. (After all, that is his job. Literally!) He took my hand and complimented my hoodie, my hair, and everything. He said so many nice things about me (I even got a "Hellooooo nurse!") and even broke the ice by introducing me to "his friend the Brain" so I got to shake hands with Maurice as well. (I STILL THINK HE KNEW. So I felt a little awkward then but other than that) it was just such a wonderful interaction. Rob was so nice and kind and I got the impression he really, really cares about his fans.

So I missed out on the autograph, but I did get a picture, and I left the entire experience feeling so warm and fuzzy and oddly complete. Childhood dream achieved.

It took me another four busses and an uber to get home today (I left around 8am, walked into my door after 4...) but it was all very worth it.

I'm mostly at peace with how things turned out, but if I ever get the chance to see them again, at a Comicon or whatever, I'll be sure to bring a Futurama DVD boxset for Maurice to sign and maybe try to acquire an old Animanics or Mask the Animated Series VHS for Rob!

You know, it's pretty ridiculous how easy it is to meet and get signatures from famous voice actors in this country. That almost never happens in Japan. I mean, I'm planning to go to an actual Love Live concert in Japan next month, and here I am oddly depressed I can't fly out to Seattle to see Chiemi and Coco at Sakura-con instead because I might get to actually meet MEET them there haha.

Even though it would be another disaster if I actually did.

Hahah...

[shadowthief78]

Go On & Tear Me Apart

Short ficlet, Bachira Meguru x reader, Blue Lock.

CW unhealthy relationships and bad mental health, etc

.

Bachira knows you two are bad for each other. He knows it, Isagi knows it, hell, probably half the world knows it given how thoroughly and devaststingly the press chronicles each and every little detail.

Him drinking too much the night before a game. You, storming out of his apartment building with your hands balled into fists amd hair still wet. The both of you glaring sullenly and trading snippy insults over a reservation neither of you are willing to cancel.

So when he's out at midnight and the world is spinning, it takes him a good minute to remember that the reason he's so dizzy is because you are no longer there. He texted you a rigidly composed breakup hours before and immediatly turned his phone over to Isagi and Chigiri's custody before going out.

It takes him hardly any effort to slip the phone from Isagi's bag and into his own pocket during the taxi ride home, Isagi, after all, is also barely able to stand up straight. He makes it back to his apartment and fumbles with the key, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

He blinks when he opens the door. The floor is covered in his uniform, separated into neat pieces, scattered everywhere.

His muddled mind jumps toward you. His vision blurs and he sees the wisps of his monster rise up again. It takes his breath away for a second.

How many years has it been since he sealed it away? It gives him that familar grin, reaches down, and seems to delight at the systemic and calculated revenge you left. Something moves out of the corner of his eye, the faint trace of another entity. His breath catches. It's you, or at least, a trace of you.

You have a monster too. It told you to do this and it listened. He can imagine you, sitting here, burning with cold rage as he drank himself silly, confident that he would be away long enough for you to plan and execute all this.

You pick up on the fourth ring. "Did you do this to all my clothes?" He asks, picking up half a jersey neatly pulled apart st the seams.

"I put sugar in your gas tank too," you say, sounding only slightly drunk. "Fuck you. I don't care about anything anymore."

Bachira sits down, missing the edge of the cushionless sofa (the pillows are somewhere across the room) and landing on the floor, wedged between the coffee table and an armchair, legs tangled and cramped. "I still love you."

"Fuck off," you spit through the phone. "It's not even been a day and you want me back already?"

"Yes," he says, only half awake. "Your monster is beautiful. We--" It's getting harder to keep his eyes open. "I'm not mad, really. We'll never be lonely again."

Your voice is wary when you ask, "You promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Good," you say. "Next time, I really will make sure you die."

Danger kink, thy name be Bachira Meguru.

[thescorpionmonarch]

Astro Forecast. Scorpio New Moon on November 13th, 2023. (It happens in the early morning for those in the America's)

----Sun and Moon conjunct scorpio's traditional ruler Mars in Scorpio.

----All of these Trine Neptune in Pisces. ---Also opposite uranus in taurus.

---Sun, Moon, and Mars are in a loose sextile with Pluto in Capricorn

---uranus and neptune are sextile each other. Uranus in a loose trine with Pluto too.

---Mercury and Saturn in a square (sag and pisces)

---Jupiter in Taurus Trine lilith in Virgo. Lilith Opp Saturn

Death or rebirth initiation has begun. For many up north of the equator, this is the start of a cocooning process. Many are gathering the last of their harvests or a peak harvest and bulking up in resources or even weight gain to get through the winter. Semi hibernation time. Many will see less working hours and more sleep. This is about being efficient with energy reserves while you rest. Some of you are already burnt out during the busiest season of the year for most businesses.

The earth needs to replinish its resources. Organisms related to helping decompose used or left-over material are symbolic. Is there any way you can reuse or recycle the material you do have?

Winter is still a good season for bon fires or wood burning to stay warm or even to cook vs using gas or electricity. Many dead pieces of trees are perfect for this. Leave some wood for animals that need a home too.

Take your vitamin D supplements. It's SAD season.

Communication may feel a tad fuzzy between parties because of the Saturn square mercury in mutable signs. Too much assumption of what someone meant via words or behavior. Projecting ones ideal view of what was heard or said. Mental health issues can come up impacting ones ability to communicate or understand what is being communicated.

Mercury in sag square saturn in pisces transit is also at risk for maladaptive daydreaming. Which is a type of disassociation coping mechanism. If you are trauma heavy, you'll find this too easy to do to cope. Learn how to use dream analysis on daydreams to understand what the daydreams mean for you ay a subconscious level. Some of this is intense clairvoyance and needs an artistic outlet.

"I don't want to be room mates or house mates with another woman."

"I don't trust my own kind to give me help."

"I am afraid to network with my own kind."

---- Both are Lilith opp Saturn vibes.

Jupiter in retrograde during this period means a good time to review how you gained and used resources this year. What is a good resource and what isn't. What did I over look or underestimate? What did I over estimate? How much did I save and how much did I waste?

Good timing to review the year in prep for New Year goals or affirmations.

"It's not over until it is over."

---- says uranus aspects

Keep in mind resting season is often when you have time to make kids. Either just increased frequency or you have rested more. Keep it in mind if you plan a pregnancy or want to prevent it.

Sex Magick energy is Still High. Venus in Libra Helping.

This may also be a time to seal a deal relationship wise. Moving from casual to committed.

Time to increase your use of cinnamon. Not just the first of the month, but for health and for kitchen magick stuff.

A few are rebirthing. Those who love winter and do better business in the winter are waking up. Those into winter sports are waking up. Winter hunters...

[lunaetis]

@75bpm asked :

❝  stop saying i’m jealous.  i’m not—  i just.  i don’t like having to share. ❞ conrad and cattleya ofc in any verse cos ueueueueueueuueueueue

JEALOUS, FIERCELY PROTECTIVE & TERRITORIAL PROMPTS. || accepting

─「カトレア」─  given the TIME OF THE YEAR, it was only expected that the amount of work for each auto memories doll would be through the roof due to the high demand of people wanting to send letters to their loved ones in blessing of new year. as one of the most popular dolls in ch postal company, cattleya herself had a long list of requests lined up throughout the month itself. a duty to which, of course, she had taken with great pride and dedication.

                that said, some of the customers did have a bit of underlying motives in coming to see her aside of REQUEST for letter-writing, clearly observed with the way they would stay behind even after their business had been done and their requests in the process. not to mention the repeated invitations for lunches or dinners, or even a day off proposed her way, to which the DOLL had politely declined.

                however, today she had already made plan with a CERTAIN SPECIAL SOMEONE that had her in a better mood than usual, and it seemed her sweeter smile had charmed a few of the passersby enough to have her lover looking rather grumpy from where she spotted him.

                " i apologize, but i already have plans for today. thank you for the invitation. i hope you have a nice day ! " with a grin and a friendly wave, she made her way back to her beloved who was waiting at the door. her arm immediately looped around his own, head tilting with a tender look in those amethyst hues. was he pouting, she wondered ? how rare.

                " there's no reason for you to be jealous, you know ? i only have eyes for you. " a teasing poke followed her words, hoping to bring a smile back to his face to which he immediately countered —

                ❝  stop saying i’m jealous.  i’m not—  i just.  i don’t like having to share. ❞

                the words themselves made her hold back a gentle grin of her own. really, while she felt a little GUILTY for holding back a laugh, cattleya couldn't help thinking how he was absolutely adorable when he's like this. he had always been a mature and reasonable man, after all. so to see a more childish side to him was a treat all on its own. not to mention that it made her heart well in warmth and delight to know he was acting like this because of her.

                with a giggle, she stopped him from walking out by pulling him back. arms then threw upwards to loop themselves around his neck, guiding him down and lovingly placed an affectionate kiss upon his lips. the touch itself was like a brush of butterfly's wings, but soft enough for him to feel her LOVE reserved for no one but him.

                " you're so cute when you're jealous. " before he could protest, however, she silenced him with another kiss to his lips, a LONGER and slightly deeper one this time. it was fortunate that no one was left in the room by that time, not that cattleya had any qualms showing her affection in the eyes of others. head tilted to the side, and she weaved her fingers through his hair, brushing over his eyes before sealing the deal with a peck to the corner of his mouth.

                " there's no one who could own my heart like you do, love. i belong to you, and you alone. " a tender laugh escaped her.

                " ah, but i have to confess. i can't help feeling so happy when you get jealous over me, so much that i want to see it more. would you forgive me for that, dear conrad ? "

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

She Wore Gardenias In Her Hair - chapter one

a Stephen Strange x Female Reader fan fic

summary: It's an historic day for Stephen Strange, and those that know him best. His wedding day. It must've taken a very special woman to capture the heart of this Master of the Mystic Arts--let's see if the day turns out as romantic as his fiancee is hoping for. And if this once very confirmed bachelor finds the sort of happiness he'd never dared to dream could someday be his.

characters: Stephen Strange, Female Reader/Y/N, Wong, Cloak of Levitation, more to follow in future chapters

genre: pure, unadulterated romance

rating: general...for now 😉

word count: 2.6k

Stephen hadn’t gotten quite the full night’s rest that he’d been hoping for. Well before midnight, he’d seen you to the door of the suite your parents and sisters had taken for the holiday weekend and had lingered as long as he could before kissing you goodnight--tasting your sweetness one last time before the vows to come, which would change both your lives forever. Then he had opted to walk several blocks downtown towards Bleecker Street, just to take the time to reflect upon the momentous step he was about to take. One which Stephen had never imagined actually taking place, either in his old or new life. But one he knew now was as wonderfully inevitable as the fate that had brought him to Kamar-Taj--a broken man who, by virtue of his once unbearable misfortune, had discovered that his true vocation was unselfish service to humanity. Well worth the price of the loss of both his hands’ utility as a surgeon par excellence—as well as the loss of most of his petty vanities.

When convenient, he’d ducked into an unlit alley and portaled the rest of the way back to the Sanctum. Cloak, along with Wong-- who took his responsibilities as Best Man with dedicated relish-- had been waiting up for Stephen in the small study attached to the Sanctum Master’s rooms. In lieu of a bachelor party—the groom had flatly rejected the idea of such an event at the very first mention of such—but knowing Stephen’s educated taste for bourbon, Wong had managed to purchase a seven-year old bottle of Maker’s Mark Weller Special Reserve (certainly with the proceeds from his Shanghai fight club wins, Strange assumed). “A toast to the bride, my friend,” his fellow master told him, cracking the seal on the bottle and pouring out into two antique crystal tumblers that had been part of a gift to the New York Sanctum from Benjamin Franklin--whom history failed to report, had dabbled in a bit of magic himself from time to time. 

“How you ever stumbled upon such a smart, gentle woman with a heart soft enough to tolerate your ego and overlook your usual rash behavior, remains a continual wonder to me,” he announced, and then chuckled warmly, slapping Stephen’s back for good measure, “But I’m damn glad you had wisdom enough to not look the Universe’s gift dumbly in the mouth, and took her up for all that she is worth!”

His glass still raised, Stephen nodded his head in unstinting accord. “I’ve never agreed with you more, Wong. As the most undeserving of men, I can only think I must have done something very right in my…” he framed his next few words in a one-handed air quote, “…‘in my youth or childhood’ to be given the mercy of her love. And I plan to give her every reason to stay by my side, every chance that I’m allotted.” He took a long quaff of the rich, amber fluid, enjoying the good burn as it went down.

“See that you do,” Wong grunted, before swallowing down his own.

Soon enough, Wong capped the bottle, telling Stephen he had promised you to make sure your fiancée’s sleep went uninterrupted; except for the most dire of emergencies, Wong would be taking up the mantle of Sanctum Master until the newlyweds returned from their too-brief honeymoon. Thus, he had practically ordered Strange off to bed, although Stephen was happy to oblige. He had already planned on meditating, hoping it would ease him into a night with dreams filled with only the best of things. With only you.

It wasn’t wedding jitters or a case of cold feet that had denied him his full rest. ‘Twas sweet anticipation of what had longtime been unthinkable for Stephen—pledging his heart in a lifetime commitment to a wonderful soul who understood him as no one in his past ever had and loved him without reservation despite the wealth of flaws he’d been working to overcome since he had had dedicated himself to protect and defend Earth as an initiate of the Mystic Arts. This night, his mind had wandered back to the lucky day he’d first seen you in Metropolitan General’s ER.

Stephen had been there to visit with Christine Palmer—their first face-to-face meeting since he had Blipped back into existence. Both their schedules had been hectic and overfilled. His with attending to shoring up the cascade of fissures in, and allaying the disruptions to, this reality’s stability, in the wake of his necessary tampering with the integrity of Space and Time to resurrect countless lives across the Universe. She with an overwhelming host of medical emergencies brought on by the sudden return of patients that had disappeared five years ago, mid need, and new ones created when those Lost tried to piece together their old lives in a world that had long since moved on. Watching Christine in action, confident, commanding, and compelling in her unique way, had left Stephen aching in places he hadn’t had time to even consider since his return. That old ache, which could never be satisfied, to be a doctor once again, and jump into the fray at her side. And the quiet ache of knowing that he had missed his chance to love her properly—as they both had deserved of him—and build themselves a life together.

Still, Stephen had hung back a while, envying the vital purpose of the doctors and nurses all around him. There were so many new faces since his tenure there had ended, some much younger and more fresh-faced then he ever remembered being throughout his internship and residency. A pretty, dark-haired nurse attending to a crying preschooler caught his eye. The little girl seemed to be lost, having apparently wandered in off the street. He found himself moved by how gently the woman took the child in hand and calmed her down, eventually making her giggles bubble forth amidst the hectic ER. There’s a special kind of magic in that, he remembered thinking; one I never mastered, nor even attempted. But this one makes it look effortless. Stephen had assumed correctly, that you had a background in pediatrics—and was doubly impressed when he went on to discover you were a board-certified midwife as well.

The next time he’d seen you, he’d stopped by the hospital cafeteria to grab a quick cup of coffee with Christine. Touching base only, for she had made sure that Stephen understood she was seriously involved with someone. She’d already been seated when he got there, with a large cup of coffee waiting for him, just the way she remembered he preferred—and was deep in conversation with the pretty nurse from that day in the ER. He ended up sitting opposite you, with his old flame making introductions, but having to dash off a few minutes later at the behest of her pager.

Left alone, the two of you had settled into a comfortable conversation, which went on longer than it felt—a good half hour until you had to excuse yourself to meet a laboring mother-to-be in Admissions. Before that, Stephen eventually mentioned having seen you with the crying child that afternoon—and you dared to ask if he was the Doctor Strange from the Avengers. The hero who had traveled through time to find the solution to set the world to rights. He’d been quite taken by two things at that first meeting: the honest respect in your eyes—not hero worship, but a smart appreciation for the work he did and the painful sacrifices you had intuited he had made in that arduous quest…and the pretty shape of your mouth. The easiness of your smile and the tender looking fullness of your lips. Lips that any man might speculate had been made especially for kissing. Even then, he’d been willing to wager your kisses would be as magical as your bedside manner with that young girl. So that as you rose to say goodbye, he couldn’t not ask for your number—eagerly hoping that you’d agree to see him again, and sometime soon.

Nineteen months later, you were practically living together, as well ensconced in his Sanctum quarters as in his life—and Stephen had never looked back. Not once. Your relationship had grown so naturally, and you had quickly acclimated to the magical aspects of life as a world-famous Sorcerer’s girlfriend, with your feet planted firmly in your work, and your arms ever ready to welcome him home from his extra dimensional travels and supernatural battles. You’d filled his heart with a happiness he had never anticipated could be his, and his bed with the warmth of being well and truly loved—and a passion that brought back the vigor of his youth. Forcing him to set warding spells to soundproof every room of his quarters; you might appear decorous to your patients and co-workers, but you sure knew how to let him know how much you loved him—and how very well he satisfied you.

For Stephen, your relationship was the one good thing that came out of The Blip. If not for those five years, you’d never have met—as you would still have been in training for your dual career. And likely with your age difference, he wouldn’t have given you a second look. The twelve-year gap was a helluva lot better than seventeen. You were mature enough to know what you wanted, without needing to compromise to get it. While being young enough to remind him that life didn’t come to one, hat in hand—one must pursue happiness with the gusto of youth, even with silver at one’s temples. As he had pursued you; as you had pursued one another.

Yes, the two of you were naturals together alright; your softness and compassion, your sly sense of humor and loving heart, the perfect fit with his sometimes snarky and tunnel-visioned angles and edges—and that the deep heart, which he had only come to realize was his since discovering the mystic arts, was most fulfilled when he was doing the right thing. No matter the personal cost.

It was your second Christmas Eve together when Stephen slipped a modest diamond ring upon your finger. By New Year’s Day, you’d set the date, and now it was here. Memorial Day weekend, late spring in New York City, a long weekend that would enable your far-flung family and friends to attend. Stephen’s guests were far fewer in number. Except for an estranged brother, he had no immediate family. He had never had the time or inclination to cultivate a coterie of friends in his old life, although those he’d made among his fellow Masters were loyal and true. He was glad to tailor the wedding plans to your needs, for your happiness had now become his own. Besides, Stephen firmly believed that he was getting the better end of the deal.

His trip down memory lane had soothed him enough to override the low-level beat at the back of his brain, which had grown more and more insistent in the past week. I’ve never been husband material…I’m too cocky and self-absorbed, too impulsive and sardonic, to be the life partner you deserve. And my life’s work now—it’s not at all conducive to domestic bliss. Not when I can’t say with any certainty where in the world, or worlds or dimensions, I’ll be at any given time—let alone the ordinary…tomorrow. Plus, he just couldn’t shake the overall feeling that he simply wasn’t good enough for you. Stephen knew very well how you would answer each of these justly arrived at estimations of himself, with a loving wisdom that dispelled his doubts and reservations as though there were as insubstantial as the ghosts of his past. Seeing himself through your eyes was the sole remedy that made him feel worthy of the love you offered him.

And so, sleep at last overtook him, and when Stephen awoke by habit, just a few minutes before his alarm, he couldn’t remember nodding off, but knew it was thoughts of you alone that had ushered him into his rest. Unlike habit, Cloak was hovering bedside, and even without the physical connection usually required for him to read its emotional state, Stephen could feel that its nerves were near as frayed—for his sake--as a typical groom’s on his wedding morn. “Everything’s going to be fine—I promise,” he chuckled as he swung his legs over the opposite side of the bed, “You know that. Besides, you’ll be with me the whole time, and no one besides Y/N and Wong will even have a clue.” Cloak approximated a nod, and then zipped over to the wardrobe, where Stephen’s suit hung waiting. “It’s hours until the ceremony—relax, please. Keep this up and you’re gonna make me nervous.” Cloak’s shoulders drooped a bit, and it floated over to the window, nudging aside the draperies to let in the sunshine and keep watch until Stephen would be suiting up for ceremony.

A knock upon his sitting room door spurred Stephen to grab his robe before padding over to answer it. He opened the door to find Adept Miriamme with a loaded breakfast tray. A vegetarian omelet, with sides of bacon and sausage, buttered toast, orange juice, and fresh coffee. He could smell the added chicory rising above the rest of the aromas, and his stomach rumbled. “Master Wong wanted to be sure you had a good breakfast, Doctor Strange,” the timid Miriamme squeaked, and Stephen had to refrain from chuckling again. The new initiates seemed to be getting younger and younger these days—or was he simply getting older?

“Thank you, Adept,” he told her, motioning her to put the tray on the end table beside the two-cushion sofa.

She nodded, looking very much in awe of finding herself in the Sanctum Master’s rooms, set it down and quietly headed to the door, before turning back. “Best wishes on the day, Sir.”

He grinned, “Thank you, Miriamme. It’s kind of you to say so.” She smiled back, looking a mite relieved her chore was done, and then left him to his breakfast.

Stephen was surprised at the hardiness of his appetite, grateful for Wong’s wise provision, and ate nearly every morsel--while realizing that the next meal he sat down to would be as a married man. So many firsts to come, so much to look forward to. And he planned to experience each of them to the fullest. Before his life in the mystic arts, he had sleepwalked his way through the simple joys and pleasures of life, always in pursuit of more spectacular things; of fame and accolades, and the considerable fortune that came with them. His vocation in the Mystic Arts had proven to him that a humble life of real service had so much more to offer than that of his medical career. While you had taught him that love—real, honest, head-over-heels, unselfish love—was the key to the exact happiness that had eluded him since he’d set out on his journey as an adult.

Enrapt in these pleasant musings, feeling the sweet butterflies of anticipation for all that he was gaining today, Stephen checked the time before jumping in the shower. He smiled to himself as steam filled up his bathroom, knowing that his wedding gift to you would be delivered soon. Imaging the beautiful smile that would light your lovely face once you finally opened it.

This story is being undertaken in collaboration with @annesthaeticc .Please visit her blog for a sample of some of her fabulous works!

Feedback/Reblogs are incredibly meaningful. Please support content creators by doing us the honor. Thank you!

[writer-akihiko]

Hello! Can I ask a headcanon between dorm leaders with S/o that somehow getting hypnotized by their stalker (ex: like the sea witch hypnotize prince erik). I want to see how they gonna save her. Thank you~ Have a nice day/night!

Dorm Leaders + Hypnotised!MC

I took inspo from your sea witch and Prince Erik example, so there's the notion of a marriage proposal between you and the dorm leader

Warning: Yandere tones, Poisoning, Mentions of Torture but not explicit

One day, on the day of your awaited date, your lover stood there and wondered why you were late. He had prepared everything for this day because today, he held a box containing a singular ring, as you had described it as the way most people in your world proposed marriage.

What he didn't expect was for his lover to look at him with utter fear as he opened your room door...

Malleus Draconia

He didn't comprehend that you were hypnotised, since he was focused on the fact that you were crying at him in fear, muttering about a monster arriving

He doesn't know what to do, he gets on his knees, begging you to look at him

He's quick to get angry at your reluctance, forcing you to look up at him

It was then he noticed a difference of your eye colour. It was a shade duller than its original colour... Which he gathered were traces of hypnotism magic

His anger vanished, reserving it for the caster of the spell

It didn't take him long to dissipate the magic. He was a powerful magician after all

However, his methods rendered you tired and sleepy. He caught you, holding your much smaller body against his own as his eyes softened at your sleeping form

"Lilia, call for Vice Dorm Leader Viper," He said, cradling you against his chest. He pressed his lips on your forehead, wishing well dreams to you. "The caster is one of his students. No doubt, the caster learned from Viper to get to YN..."

"Bring him to me alive. He'll burn for his crimes."

Riddle Rosehearts

He's immediately angry at the situation, which doesn't help your fear

Trey snaps him out of his rage, but it was futile once you yelled "Stay away from me!" To Riddle. He'd be lying if his heart didn't break a little

You were in hysterics, and Riddle had no choice but to use his magic on you. Even if wasn't sealing away any magic, it would restrain you enough for him to inspect you

Riddle's magic prowess wasn't enough to identify the exact magic, but he told Trey to take notes of anyone could use controlling magic

Seeing that you weren't hostile around Ace and Deuce, you were left in their care

On the other hand... Cater and Trey found the caster. With Riddle's unique magic, it broke the spell

Riddle was more than angry at the caster, but your safety was first. He had to deal with the caster in a more... secretive way

"YN, oh YN..." He held you close, although he kept you in the hug since he didn't want you to see his tears. "You're back..."

"The person who did this to you will face punishment for breaking my rules..."

Kalim Al-Asim

He panics at first, but then he turns to Jamil, begging him to take a look at you since something was clearly wrong with you

When you called him scary and a monster, he was in denial, muttering about how you were sick, and just needed rest

He wasn't rational about it, trying to figure out why you were sick through normal medicine but it wasn't working

He was desperate, causing you to run away from him. Under your hypnotism, you ended up in the arms of your stalker

Jamil was quick to report your disappearance, and Kalim did not wait for a single second to rescue you

Kalim's connections made it easy to find a person that was able to undo the spell on you, although you had to undergo intense recovery as well

Kalim rubbed your tired hand, marvelling at the fact that you accepted his proposal. It was a desperate one, not as he imagined but happy tears fell at your sentiment. "YN... you don't have to apologise for the mean things you said. I know it's not you..."

"The culprit will be punished severely! He harmed the future bride of the Al-Asim family after all!"

Azul Ashengrotto

He knew it was the influence of magic when Jade reported the oddity to him. He knew, and yet...

It hurt. It hurt when you said those hurtful words to him. In his heart, he forgave you but he was focused on saving his future wife

Times like this, he was glad he chose to invest in those magical orbs that spied on you in secret

Floyd was a winning key. The caster was no match for him, although Floyd had to be lightly told off to not immediately kill on-site

Once the caster was brought, it was a matter of getting the teachers to remove the spell. Azul, for as much as he wanted to do it himself, wanted you to be safe. It was better to be safe than sorry

Oh, the joy he had having to punish the caster since the student was also part of the Octavinelle dorm...

You were well-rested, although you were still comforting your soon-to-be husband Azul as he still cries over your well-being. "YN... You're safe and that's all that matters..."

"That student is already suffering at the hands of the twins anyway... So don't concern yourself with him."

Idia Shroud

Initially, Idia thought you stood him up. If it weren't for Ortho, he wouldn't have searched for you

He wished he didn't, because the words you said stung. He kept his tears in though. It wasn't your fault nor the right time

He knew what was going on. He didn't have the latest technology spying on you for nothing

He had ignored those devices since he was so nervous about his proposal, but he wished he hadn't

Even though Idia wasn't the strongest magic user, he knew his way around magicians, particularly his influence around the other stronger students like Malleus

The spell was removed, and you were safe. Idia ignored any further punishments to the caster, since it was a later problem...

Idia held his breath as you got up, steadying yourself from your recovery. "YN... I'm sorry that I wasn't fast enough... Thank you for trusting me..."

"Oh? The caster? He's burning in the River Styx. Where people like him belong..."

Leona Kingscholar

He never planned this to happen! The one thing he puts effort into and it's ruined by some lowlife!

He doesn't care about the insults you say. It filters out. He's used to it. Somehow... your insults linger a little longer than the ones from others...

He doesn't deal with you. He needs to find the person who did this and he needs to find them NOW

If it means turning them to sand, so be it. He wanted you back, no. He needed you back

With Jack's sense of smell, it doesn't take long for him to command the entire beastmen gang under him to find the caster

The caster ends up in his claws, primed for him to rip him to shreds... The spell reversal was quick, and Leona held you close to him. It was tempting to slip the ring he got onto your finger...

He kept the ring next to you, as well as a photo of you both. Once you woke up, he'd say all he meant to say that night. "YN... I'm gonna have to leave your side for a while."

"There's prey I have to hunt."

Vil Schoenheit

He felt like screaming and pulling his hair out when he found you in such a state. No... No, he, as a queen, must keep his composure

He turned away before any of those hurtful words reached his ears. He couldn't bear it if he heard such things from you

He called for Rook immediately, trusting his abilities to trace back your doings before the spell took place

Vil, on the other hand, took up his magic pen to conjure up a poison much more lethal than the one he submitted to become the dorm leader...

Epel, he had to admit, had the intimidation that caused the caster to reverse his spell. Vil spent time pampering you, even when you were recovering... It was as if he was your Prince curing you from the evil curse of the apple...

He brushed away your hair, pouring you a new cup of tea. You were quite weary after the whole ordeal, but you couldn't stop looking at the twinkling ring on your finger. "I'm glad it suits your taste, my sweet potato..."

"If I'm not mistaken, that rotten stalker should be rotting... on the outside too, with that new poison I made..."

[hardwareabstractionlayer]

The Calligraphy in Su Manor 苏宅书法

Calligraphy is one of the highest Chinese art forms, and displaying calligraphy in your house is a common thing to do whether you’re an ancient scholar or modern Chinese person with disposable income. As both art and writing, calligraphy simultaneously expresses the meaning of its text and the spirit of the one wielding the brush; as decoration, it imbues the surrounding space with its style and helps you project a certain image of yourself to visitors. Let’s take a close look at all the Su Manor calligraphy in Nirvana in Fire.

Though the calligraphy shown above is probably the most memorable, there are actually a total of five pairs (ten total) of hanging scrolls of calligraphy in the main room of Su Manor, plus the entrance calligraphy to your right as you enter. Here’s a floor plan of the room that I’ve redrawn based on a Chinese fan-made floorplan to highlight where the calligraphy are located, pair A being the main pair (arrows indicate the side you view them from):

Let’s start with the simplest, the four-character entrance calligraphy mounted to the wall, as seen here in wide view relative to the right scroll of Pair A and as a close-up:

If you’re unfamiliar with ancient Chinese writing, it’s read top-to-bottom then right-to-left (Mainland China writing is nearly all left-to-right, top-to-down now, while Taiwanese and Hong Kong print are still mostly in the original orientation). These four characters, 上善若水, is a quote from Laozi, the founder of Daoism, in the foundational text Dao De Jing. The literal meaning is “Water is the highest form of being.” This is meant as an adage for how one should conduct oneself. The next few lines in the Dao De Jing explains it further: water provides for every living thing but doesn’t fight with any; water settles in places disliked by people, so it is close to the way of Dao. One should strive to be like water, content to be humble, to be of reserved character, to be kind to your friends, to speak as honestly as water is, to govern as orderly as water flows, to be as capable as water is, and to wait for the correct opportunity to make one’s move, like water. Only those who are non-confrontational like water will be free of worries (水善利万物而不争，处众人之所恶，故几于道。居善地，心善渊，与善仁，言善信，政善治，事善能，动善时。夫唯不争，故无尤). Mei Changsu is projecting an image of himself as a scholar striving toward Daoist and Confucian ideals, so it definitely makes sense that he would have something like this on his wall (not saying that he wasn’t actually striving for some of those ideals himself, either, but that’s more of a topic for another time).

Now, for the writing itself. This is a good time to mention that there are multiple distinct scripts in Chinese history (more on this later), and these four characters are written in a hybrid style borrowing from seal script (篆书; seal meaning engraving and not the animal) and clerical script (隶书), two of the oldest styles after the very ancient oracle bones script. During the Northern and Southern Dynasties, which NiF is loosely set in, seal script had already been largely reduced to ceremonial and decorative purposes (like all the overhead building signs you see in the show), and clerical script was a popular style of writing (many street banners and writing samples in the show were in this).

So here are the four characters compared to typical seal and clerical script characters from fonts (I say typical because these renderings have been popularized enough to become standard font sets in these scripts, but there are many variations and no one “true” way to write these characters), plus real samples of ancient handwriting that show some of the many extant variants:

These samples are from shufa.supfree.net and humanum.arts.cuhk.edu.hk/Lexis/lexi-mf, two great sites for ancient calligraphy. Some things to note:

Good/善 and water/水 are relatively closer to clerical script while the other two characters are closer to seal script, but because clerical script evolved from seal script, there is a lot of overlap in its early forms with seal script, and the transition isn’t sharply defined.

Clerical script looks so much wider and shorter than seal script (and other scripts, too): that’s not me stretching pictures for no good reason—a popular explanation is that it was due to clerical script originating from writing seal script quickly with a brush on bamboo slips, and the texture of bamboo fibers led to the distinctive head and tails of the horizontal strokes as well as shorter vertical strokes.

Though I’m by no means an expert, I agree with the author of an excellent blog post on NiF calligraphy [1] that this calligraphy really doesn’t look very good. The strokes are crooked and sloppy in unsatisfying ways and the widths vary for no apparent reason. They’re neither like standard clerical script strokes, with the classic rounded and strong head and tapering flared tail (蚕头雁尾), nor standard seal script strokes, which should be balanced and of uniform width and strength. Most of the real samples look noticeably better to me.

Of course, rules are made to be broken, but when you’ve seen enough you get a sense of what’s convincing as a personal style, and what’s not. I have to imagine that Feiliu wrote this while Mei Changsu held his hand or something, and maybe that’s why Su-gege would prominently display this writing.

The hanging scrolls

The calligraphy on the hanging translucent gauze scrolls are all written in cursive script (草书), which is infamously wild and difficult to read if you don’t know what you’re doing (like me). The author of [1] comes to the rescue by saying this is an imitation (临本) of 《自叙贴》, which basically means “autobiographical note calligraphy.” It was written by by Tang Dynasty monk and calligrapher Huaisu (怀素; his name is romanized like this because Huai isn’t his family name—Huaisu, taken together, is his monk name) around 777 CE and is one of the most renowned pieces of cursive calligraphy in history.

(An aside on imitations: It’s quite common to do calligraphy in the style of a great master in order to refine one’s own calligraphy and to gain new insights and appreciation on the original, both in the past and present. There’s no pejorative sense to this kind of imitation unlike what the word might carry in English.)

So here’s the original—one long horizontal scroll that I’ve chopped up into four pieces given the limited page width (go to Wikipedia for the high-res version):

Some things of note:

The actual calligraphy by Huaisu is in the drawn red box, but it only takes up about half of the scroll because there are also extensive sections written in other scripts, not by him—these are prefaces and endnotes (题跋) by later collectors. The four giant seal script characters at the start (top rightmost) of the scroll is by a later calligrapher and says 藏真自序, 藏真 being Huaisu’s courtesy name and 自序 means autobiographical note (it’s a synonym for 自叙). It’s part of traditional Chinese art appreciation for the collector to add to a piece of good art with their own comments, which range from a simple note of name and date to analysis and admiration of the work, sometimes having great literary value in their own right. There are also a ton of stamps (印跋) from different collectors, including emperors, so as to leave their mark. You can tell from the massive number of stamps and notes alone that this is a highly esteemed work of art that passed through many admiring hands.

The calligraphy is in wild cursive (狂草) script, the most unrestrained class of cursive script, one where the writer should be in a fervent, passionate flow state to create an unbridled expression of one’s inner spirit; in highly stylized scripts, this transmission of the creator’s inner mind and emotions to the reader is often more important than what the characters themselves say. Some of the hallmarks of wild cursive that you can see here: hugely varying character sizes and spacings, idiosyncratic ways of writing characters, and characters very connected to each other. Being able to write many characters in one continuous stroke (一笔书) is a state of creativity held in high esteem, like the common expression “to create with one single exhale” (一气呵成). A good piece of cursive calligraphy should show moments of calm amid the dynamism and order in its chaos.

Like the vast majority of calligraphy and ancient writing, there’s no punctuation or breaks. Classical Chinese has certain characters that act as function words (虚词) to indicate where breaks occur. Though Chinese writing is usually punctuated nowadays, modern calligraphy, as a continuation of an ancient art, is still generally not.

There’s some controversy over whether any of the surviving scrolls (there are several copies) are the actual calligraphy by Huaisu himself; many believe that the original is lost, and what we think of as 《自叙贴》 is an imitation by a Song Dynasty calligrapher. Even if so, it’s still a highly esteemed work of art.

Let’s start with Pair A, the most prominently displayed and therefore easiest to figure out. Here’s a full view of the right scroll in episode 18:

Here it is cleaned up and put next to the original calligraphy it corresponds to:

The first line of the scroll on the right starts at the top of one of Huaisu’s lines, but the other lines are broken differently because they’re obviously two differently dimensioned surfaces, and the imitation also ends in the middle of one of Huaisu’s lines.

This is what the three lines say in Traditional Chinese, written left-to-right, up-to-down instead of up-to-down, right-to-left (we’ll get to the meaning later once we find out what all the scrolls):

形恠狀翻合宜人人欲問此 中妙懷素自言初不知語疾 速則有竇御史冀雲粉壁

The last line has one fewer character—as I mentioned above, cursive calligraphy is about expressing your inner spirit and not about making sure the number of characters in each line is consistent, though these lines in the imitation are much more consistent in character size and number than the original.

Now let’s take a closer look at the calligraphy, focusing on the first line of the imitation. Here’s a comparison of the Huaisu original, what’s on the hanging scroll, and the other four main calligraphy scripts:

I chose this order because it’s the commonly accepted order of these scripts being developed: seal, clerical, cursive, regular, and semi-cursive (篆、隶、草、楷、行). Although technically semi-cursive derived from clerical and originated before regular, it wasn’t in wide use until later.

Some things to note:

The one big difference in style is how Huaisu often wrote with a dry brush, but the imitator didn’t. For beginner calligraphers, it’s usually considered important to always load your brush properly so you always have nice full ink. But Huaisu is a calligraphy master, and the dry brush is a deliberate artistic choice that adds to the forceful feeling, as well as a consequence of wanting to preserve the flow of writing many characters in a row and not pausing to load the brush. While there are gradations in ink shade in the imitation, they’re hard to see in normal lightning without all the adjustments in Photoshop.

If you’re curious why 人人 is written 人 and then two dots, in calligraphy you can write the second character of two repeated characters as two dots if they form a doubled phrase together, as is the case here (not sure what the two dots in 此 is supposed to be in the imitation—there are no dots in the character).

It’s not as obvious in this example, but the imitation is less connected than Huaisu’s calligraphy, but losing to one of the greatest master calligraphers in history is not something to feel bad over.

I made this comparison to stress that cursive script isn’t different from modern typography because it’s old, but because it’s an artistic style; other forms of writing with thousands of years of history, developed before and after cursive, are much more similar to modern typeface and readable to modern eyes without training. One of the wonderful things about Chinese is how you can easily read a lot of writing from over two thousand years ago (though understanding the meaning is much harder!).

Now, on to the other pairs, which are all thankfully imitations of the same work. These are more difficult to find since they show up infrequently and at inconvenient angles. This scene in episode 34 is one of the few that shows the top of pair B clearly and the bottom portion of pair A, left scroll (and also a rare occasion of Mei Changsu using the couch):

With this view, I can figure out the excerpt corresponding to the left pair A scroll:

間興來小豁胸中氣忽然絕 叫三五聲滿壁縱橫千萬字 戴公又雲馳豪驟墨列奔駟

From some other partial views and the reasonable assumption that these line are continuous portions of the original, with no characters omitted, the Pair B right scroll says:

向使師得親承善誘函挹規 模則入室之賓捨子奚適嗟 嘆不足聊書此以冠諸篇首 (this end might be a character off, I couldn’t find a view of it)

Left:

似則有張禮部雲奔蛇走虺 勢入座驟雨旋風聲滿堂盧 員外雲初疑輕煙澹古松又 (again, end is uncertain here)

Here’s the new years scene in episode 14, with pair C shown in the back:

From looking at that and some other partial views, I get for the right:

其筆力勖以有成今禮部侍 郎張公謂賞其不羈引以游 處兼好事者同作歌以贊之 (end uncertain)

And left:

代杜度崔瑗始以妙聞迨乎伯 英尤擅其美羲獻茲降虞陸相 承口訣手授以至於吳郡張旭 (end uncertain)

Pair D can be seen in episode 18, after the housewarming party:

Right:

懷素家長沙幼而事佛經 禪之暇頗好筆翰然恨未能 遠覩前人之奇跡所見甚淺 (end uncertain)

Left:

錯綜其事遺編絕簡往往 遇之豁然心胸略無疑滯魚 箋絹素多所塵點士大夫不 (end uncertain)

Pair E is the most elusive, and besides some views where it’s fluttering in the background, I could only find any of its text in the same episode 34 scene as above, but unfortunately extremely blurry. I was about to give up and post this anyways, but then I tried a deblurring tool, and what do you know:

The left is the original screenshot from the show, and the right isn’t the best example of deblurring, but you can see how the characters are much clearer now and I can make out key characters like 故 and 英.

(An aside on deblurring, as if we haven’t had enough asides: you can think of an out-of-focus blur as a transformation that takes each bit of focused light from the original source and spreads it by the rules of optics. If these bits of light were randomly smeared out, it would be hard for us to recover anything sensible. But because the rules of optics at human-level scales apply the same way to each ray of light, and we know what they are thanks to millennia of science and math, we can recover the original information if we guess that transformation correctly and apply the inverse. The foreground, which was in focus before, is distorted from said transformation. The author of the deblurring tool I used has a good blog post on this.)

From a lot of fiddling with the tool and squinting:

Pair E left:

詩故敘之曰開士懷素僧中 之英氣概通疏性靈豁暢 精心草聖積有歲時江嶺之 (end uncertain)

Pair E right is the one I’m least sure about. I think the first character might be 開, but the other visible characters don’t seem match the corresponding excerpt, and it wouldn’t be next to the left scroll on the original like the other pairs are. I did also watch various behind the scenes Su Manor footage, but none showed clearer views of the scrolls. Rather than risk misidentifying it, I’ll leave it as an unsolved mystery for now.

Here’s Huaisu’s original again (ignoring all the pre- and postscripts), with the portions that have been imitated for the hanging scrolls highlighted:

And here’s the full text of the original with each of the scrolls labeled. As with most Classical Chinese texts, the punctuation was added by modern scholars because it would be quite hard to read otherwise. The full text is also one of the notes written on the end of the original scroll itself in regular script (but without punctuation):

[D-right 懷素家長沙，幼而事佛，經禪之暇，頗好筆翰。然恨未能遠覩前人之奇跡，所見甚淺]。遂擔笈杖錫，西游上國，謁見當代名公。[D-left 錯綜其事。遺編絕簡，往往遇之。豁然心胸，略無疑滯，魚箋絹素，多所塵點，士大夫不]以為怪焉。顏刑部，書家者流，精極筆法，水鏡之辨，許在末行。又以尚書司勳郎盧象、小宗伯張正言，曾為歌[E-left 詩，故敘之曰：“開士懷素，僧中之英，氣概通疏，性靈豁暢，精心草聖。積有歲時，江嶺之]間，其名大著。故吏部侍郎韋公陟，覩[C-right其筆力。勖以有成。今禮部侍郎張公謂賞其不羈，引以游處。兼好事者，同作歌以贊之]，動盈捲軸。夫草稿之作，起於漢[C-left 代，杜度、崔瑗，始以妙聞。迨乎伯英，尤擅其美。羲獻茲降，虞陸相承，口訣手授。以至於吳郡張旭]長史，雖姿性顛逸，超絕古今，而模楷精法詳，特為真正。真卿早歲，常接游居，屢蒙激昂，教以；筆法，資質劣弱，又嬰物務，不能懇習，迄以無成。追思一言，何可復得。忽見師作，縱橫不群，迅疾駭人。若還舊觀，[B-right 向使師得親承善誘，函挹規模，則入室之賓，捨子奚適。嗟嘆不足，聊書此，以冠諸篇首]。」其後繼作不絕，溢乎箱篋。其述形[B-left 似，則有張禮部雲：「奔蛇走虺勢入座，驟雨旋風聲滿堂。」盧員外雲：「初疑輕煙澹古松，又]似山開萬仞峰。」王永州邕曰：「寒猿飲水撼枯藤，壯士拔山伸勁鐵。」朱處士遙雲：「筆下唯看激電流，字成只畏盤龍走。」敘機格，則有李御史舟雲：「昔張旭之作也，時人謂之張顛，今懷素之為也，余實謂之狂僧。以狂繼顛，誰曰不可。」張公又雲：「稽山賀老總知名，吳郡張顛曾不易。」許御史瑝雲：「志在新奇無定則，古瘦灕驪半無墨，醉來信手兩三行，醒後卻書書不得。」戴御史叔倫雲：「心手相師勢轉奇，詭[A-right 形怪狀翻合宜。人人欲問此中妙，懷素自言初不知。」語疾速，則有竇御史冀雲：「粉壁]長廊數十[A-left 間，興來小豁胸中氣。忽然絕叫三五聲，滿壁縱橫千萬字。」戴公又雲：「馳毫驟墨列奔駟]，滿座失聲看不及。」目愚劣，則有從父司勳員外郎吳興錢起詩雲：「遠錫無前侶，孤雲寄太虛。狂來輕世界，醉里得真如。」皆辭旨激切，理識玄奧，固非虛蕩之所敢當，徒增愧畏耳。時大歷丁已冬十月廿有八日。

These fragments often start and stop at the middle of phrases and don’t have coherent meaning on their own, but that makes total sense once you realize the calligrapher started each scroll at one of the start of the lines in the original.

What does it mean?

As I mentioned, the calligraphy itself is the more valuable part of this writing, not what the words mean themselves. There are some famous pieces of calligraphy that are also original poetry or prose of high literary value, but this isn’t really known as one of those. But we can’t come so far and not talk about the meaning!

Here’s my translation (consulting [2], [3], [4], [5] for the translation from Classical to modern Chinese) with the portions on the scrolls roughly bolded:

Huaisu is from Changsha and a devout Buddhist since young. When not reciting scripture or meditating, I have a keen interest in calligraphy. I regret not being able to see the marvelous calligraphy works of past masters with my own eyes—what I’ve been able to see is quite limited. And so I took up my book chest and monk’s staff to the west to journey to the capital. I visited with famous contemporary scholars and discussed the intricate art of calligraphy with them, and was able to see many classic pieces that had been difficult to view before. Now my mind is expanded and uncertainties reduced. Though my calligraphy has many parts crude and unsightly, the scholar officials did not object to it.

Yan Zhenqing of the Ministry of Justice is a renowned calligrapher—his brush is masterful, as are his calligrapher appreciation skills, like the endnote he wrote for my calligraphy. In addition, because the Bureau Official Lu Xiang and Minister Zhang Zhengyan (courtesy name of Zhang Wei), once wrote a poem set to song for me, Yan wrote this preface for it:

“The eminent monk Huaisu is outstanding among his peers. His character is wise and frank, his disposition clear and free. He has admired and imitated the absolute masters of cursive calligraphy for years now, and is famous from the Yangtze River to the Five Ridges. The former Deputy Minister of Personnel Wei Zhi saw Huaisu’s strokes and added encouragement, saying that it is accomplished; the current Deputy Minister of Rites, Zhang Wei, appreciates Huaisu’s wild spirit, associates with him, and introduces him to others. In addition, famous poets who love calligraphy also wrote poems to praise him that often filled whole scrolls.

Cursive calligraphy originated in the Han Dynasty. Du Du and Cui Yuan brought it to an art form; then in late Han, Zhang Boying’s calligraphy stood out among many with its unique beauty. Afterwards there was the father and son Wang Yizhi and Wang Xianzhi who continued the cursive tradition, then inherited by Yu Shinan and Lu Jianzhi in the Tang Dynasty, who not only passed down the oral tradition but taught calligraphy hands on. This continued to Official Zhang Xu of Wu County. Although he’s self-indulgent and headstrong, his wildness and unrestrainedness unsurpassed by others past or present, the method of his brush is and his calligraphy are good enough as models, his way with the brush meticulous and of the highest purity. Zhenqing often associated with him and learned from him as my calligraphy master when young, but my disposition was poor and I was busy with other affairs, causing me to not learn seriously, achieving nothing as a result. Now I wish I could have his instruction again, but it is too late.

Then I saw Huaisu’s cursive calligraphy and it reminded me of my late master’s, how its strokes are bold and unusual, the brush speed astonishingly fast. If we can go back to the past, and this master monk can receive instruction from my late master, then no one would be more suited to reaching the highest level of the art. I can’t quite express my feelings, and so I wrote down these words as a preface for now.”

After this, many words of praise were written, enough to overflow the book chest.

In these include what Minister Zhang of Rites said: “His brush is like a wild venomous snake running in the grass, or like wind and rain suddenly descending upon the room, the whole house echoing its sound.”

Official Lu said, “At first, light smoke shaking millennia-old pine trees, and then, ten thousand knife edges of mountain peaks.”

Wang Yong of Yongzhou said: “Like the withered vines shaken by winter apes while drinking water, like the strong man heaving metal in the mountains.”

Scholar Zhu Yao said: “The touch of brush to paper is like lightning and thunder, flowing ceaselessly; when the character is complete, it flies away like an awe-inspiring dragon.”

For evaluations of my personality and style, there is the Imperial Censor Li Zhou who said: “When Zhang Xu did calligraphy, people called him the mad Zhang. Now Huaisu does calligraphy, and I want to call him the wild monk. Who says ‘wild’ can’t be the successor to ‘mad’?”

Minister Zhang also said, “He Zhizhang of Mount Ji was once famous for his calligraphy, and the mad Zhang was also impressive in his style.”

Imperial Censor Xu Huang said, “If one seeks originality, one cannot be bound by rigid rules. Thin characters are like a parched stream, a brush without ink. Two or three lines written while drunk cannot be replicated when sober.”

Imperial Censor Dai Shulun said, “The hand is led by the heart. This calligraphy is novel, the shapes strange but unexpectedly appropriate. Everyone wants to know its secrets, but Huaisu himself says he can’t explain it, either.”

For evaluations of my calligraphy speed, there are these examples. Imperial Censor Dou Ji wrote this poem, “Across white walls of a colonnade, when in the proper spirited state, he can cry out three or five times and fill tens of walls with thousands of characters.”

Minister Dai also said, “His brush races like a galloping horse, the whole room exclaiming over its impossible speed.”

For evaluations that criticize me for being foolish and inferior, there is my uncle and official, Qian Qi, who said, “You are a lone crane flying far without a companion, a singular cloud in the empty skies. In your wildness you scorn the entire world, but you obtain true understanding in your drunkenness.”

These are all profound words of encouragement that someone superficial like me obviously doesn’t deserve. I only feel more guilt and dread from them.

Written the 54th calendar year, winter, 28th day of the 10th month.

Serious props if you actually read through all that. The short version would be: I, Huaisu, am a humble monk and poor calligrapher, but here are a lot of quotes from these other cool people who say I’m an amazing calligrapher. I don’t deserve the praise, of course.

Have another bulleted list:

There are multiple points of contention in the passage among the translators to modern Chinese, some over the identification of individual characters and some over the meaning. In particular, Classical Chinese being very concise and often dropping subjects makes it hard to tell who the sentences are referring to. I picked whatever makes the most sense to me.

All the mentioned names are still known historical figures, and Yan Zhenqing (颜真卿), in particular, is another renowned calligrapher who has his own eponymous style. That long quote from him was an earlier preface he wrote for the packaged bundle with the poem-song praising Huaisu, with an interlude about the history of cursive stuck in there.

The last quote from Huaisu’s uncle isn’t exactly saying he’s foolish and doesn’t quite read that way either—it’s more a combination of praise, warning, and encouragement. As his senior relative, his uncle can’t just praise Huaisu directly, he has to do it in a roundabout way. Your relatives supposedly dissing you while secretly being proud is definitely a common Chinese experience.

Why are these displayed in Su Manor?

Time for a bit of speculation. Let’s ignore the anachronism of Tang Dynasty calligraphy showing up in a pre-Tang setting, since NiF isn’t supposed to be fixed to a historical period anyways. Wrist strength and agility are commonly considered crucial for good calligraphy, and exactly what Lin Shu lacked after his poison treatment that caused him to change his handwriting from regular script (with a touch of semi-cursive) to clerical script (I’m dubious that clerical script actually requires less wrist to write well, but that’s probably another investigation for another time). Perhaps the calligraphy is a mundane choice, set up to give him the image of a cultured scholar who appreciates the fine arts; maybe Mei Changsu likes the humblebrag text, or maybe, he chose this calligraphy to remind himself of what he had lost, what he aspires to be?

I want to end on some reasons why the cursive scrolls are particularly memorable for the viewer, outside of the universe. Aesthetically, I find them a beautiful design choice: everything in the house is neat and orderly, and the wild and unrestrained vigor of the cursive lends a great contrasting sense of movement in the stillness even though it is, of course, not actually moving. Unlike the most typical presentation of hanging white paper up against the wall, these translucent banners, especially the main pair, are striking spatial elements that have a real presence in the room, like harmonious ghosts.

And most of all, a strong spirit written on a delicate frame is exactly who Mei Changsu is. When the scrolls show up again in NiF2, tattered inside an empty room, barely given a glance by people who have no idea what once existed here, it’s a real gut punch of dramatic irony for the audience (even though it’s totally different calligraphy with different characters and handwriting—let’s call it meta-commentary on how history and memory corrupts).

Revisiting this moment, after I’ve spent a good number of hours with the scrolls, I can’t help but see it in the context of Mei Changsu’s legacy. Even though very few remember him decades years later, what he did mattered, and there are traces of it dispersed everywhere in that world. The act of putting brush to paper is ephemeral, but the piece of art remains for as long as history will allow it; justice is difficult and peace is fragile, but both are worth fighting for.

[bi-bard]

Better Than This - Dean Winchester Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Better Than This

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Word Count: 1,174 words

Warning(s): mentions of arguing

Summary: (Inspired by Better Than This by Set It Off; takes place in season 8) After his experience in purgatory, Dean knew that something had changed. The problem was admitting that and taking action to change it.

Author's Note: Hi! Sorry again for that little hiatus!

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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

I think the breaking point for me was when we found the bunker.

Having a place to call home and to make our own just exaggerated what had already been straining Dean and I's relationship.

The most blatant moment was when I went to put my bag away.

"Where are you going," Dean asked. We had started walking in opposite directions in the hall.

"To my room," I replied.

"Aren't we sharing," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I froze.

After he had come back from purgatory, he hadn't been acting like he had wanted to share a room with me. We shared a hotel bed, but he would leave his back facing me and would lay as close to the edge of the bed as he could get without falling off. Every time I reached out to hold him, he'd move away.

It was like a constant cold shoulder.

"I... I didn't think you'd want to," I shrugged.

Dean didn't reply, eyebrows still furrowed.

I looked down for a moment before turning back in the direction I had been planning on going, "I'm gonna go get my stuff set up."

Dean didn't say anything else as I walked away.

The cold shoulder wasn't just reserved for when we were going to bed.

I never wanted things to get to the point that they were at. I had tried to reach out to him. He would snap at me and tell me that everything was fine. But I saw the differences. The change in temper, the way he avoided me in almost all forms, the shoot first and ask questions later attitude that had formed. We had started fighting about his behavior, but nothing was really coming of it.

I was desperate to help him and to get him to open up to me, but I couldn't do much when he shut me out.

All of it had led me to believe that we were just not as far into our relationship as I thought we were. That's why I stepped away. Why I wanted my own room.

The first night in the bunker felt strange.

It was the first time that I had spent the night alone since Dean had gotten back from Purgatory. I didn't like it. All I wanted was Dean to be there, but I knew that he wasn't going to be there.

I couldn't be the only one fighting for us to find some kind of normalcy.

It was around three in the morning when there was a knock on my door. My instinct was to reach over to my bedside table, hand barely brushing over the gun that was sitting there. The records said that the bunker was sealed and protected, but I didn't quite trust that yet.

"(Y/n)," Dean said from the other side of the door. "It's me."

I pulled my hand away from the gun and shoved my blankets off of my body. I walked over to the door and paused for a moment, wondering if I could act like I was still asleep.

"I know it's late, but I really need to talk to you," he added almost as soon as I had paused. Sometimes it felt like he could read my mind.

I pulled the door open slowly, just enough to actually look at him.

It was very clear that neither one of us had slept that night. On a regular basis, we may get a few hours. When we didn't even get that, it showed. Sunken in eyes, slumped shoulders, very smile just a little more forced.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," I replied. "What do you want?"

There was a brief moment of silence, "To apologize."

I tensed a little bit, shifting on my feet and looking at the floor for a moment.

"I've been treating you like shit," Dean explained. "I'm sorry that I couldn't admit it, but you're right; I wasn't acting like I wanted you. I've been a dick since I got back."

My eyes shifted away from him.

"Things are different now, I understand that," he continued. "One thing that isn't different is how I feel about you. And, if you let me, I want to do better and show that to you."

I leaned on the doorframe a little more. All I wanted was him back. I just wanted the Dean that loved me back.

"Can I stay here for the night," he asked. He forced a chuckle. "Can't really sleep on my own anymore."

I looked at my bed for a moment before sighing and looking back at Dean. I nodded.

A look of relief crossed his face as soon as I nodded. He smiled at me and waited for me to pull the door open.

He shut the door behind himself as I laid down under my sheets. I was pulling the blankets up when Dean laid down next to me. After he had switched off the bedside lamp, his arm wrapped around me so he could pull me over to lay on his chest.

I let a small smile form on my lips as I closed my eyes.

"I love you," Dean whispered.

"I love you too," I replied quietly.

For the first time in weeks, I felt like there was a chance for things to get better. I felt like trusting Dean was the right choice. I was just hoping that he lived up to his promise.

--next day--

I was heartbroken when I woke up alone. Either I was having some very vivid dreams, or Dean had run off before I even opened my eyes. Neither answer brought me a lot of comfort.

I sighed and sat up, getting ready to get out of bed. However, before I could, the door slowly opened. It hadn't been shut all the way, allowing Dean to push it open with his back. He walked in with two mugs in his hands

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey," I mumbled. "I thought you left."

"We have our own coffee maker now," he explained, handing me the mug. "Gotta take advantage of that."

I nodded and looked down at the coffee, "God, I feel dumb for worrying."

"There's no reason to feel dumb," Dean kissed my head as he crawled back under the blankets. "But you should know that I'm not planning on going anywhere. I'm gonna stay right here for as long as I can."

It was more comforting to hear "as long as I can" than it was to hear "forever". It felt like he understood where we were and what we faced on a daily basis.

He rested against the headboard and pulled me backward, so I would rest against him.

"I love you," I mumbled, kissing his shoulder before resting my head in the same spot.

"I love you too," he replied.

I grinned to myself.

I let myself feel safe again. Things were going to get better. Not the same as before, but they were going to get better.

That's all I could've asked for.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

Maisie Peters - “You Signed Up for This” Writing Challenge Masterlist