#sea-dukes-assistant

[harry-sussex]

An emotional support birb is exactly what’s needed. Thank you, my longtime friend

[sea-dukes-assistant]

A photographer says he once had to ask Prince Philip to remove 'The Joy of Sex' book from his office.

Photographer Julian Calder said he once had to ask the late Duke of Edinburgh to remove a book about sex so it wouldn't be in the shot.

Calder, a portrait photographer who has captured the royal family through the years, reflected on his time working with Prince Philip on the latest episode of Hello Magazine's "A Right Royal Podcast," which aired on Wednesday. 

"I once did a portrait of Prince Phillip in his office. And he was standing there, and I was quite young at the time," Calder said.

"And I'm looking through the lens, and I thought 'God just behind his right ear is a book, 'The Joy of Sex,' and I had to say, 'Prince Philip, should we move that?' And he laughed, and he got his equerry to come and move it," he said. 

Calder added that it would have looked "stupid" if nobody had spotted the book during the photo shoot. 

Philip's reaction will be no surprise to those who knew the royal for his famous sense of humor. While the duke's role was filled with formalities, he was often heard cracking jokes during various royal engagements. 

The royal's friend, Sir Robin Knox-Johnston, described Philip as "straight to the point" and as having a "wicked sense of humor" during an interview with BBC Breakfast after his death in April 2021, The Independent reported at the time.

"The Joy of Sex" by Alex Comfort sold more than 12 million copies after it was first published in 1972, according to the author's obituary published by The Washington Post on March 29, 2000. The book, which featured illustrations of sexual acts, was structured as a traditional cookbook and had three sections: "Starters," "Main Courses," and "Sauces and Pickles," according to The Washington Post.

The original cover showed an illustration of a naked man kissing his female partner, with the tagline: "A Gourmet Guide to Lovemaking."

The book was updated by sex expert and relationship psychologist Susan Quilliam in 2011. 

Philip was married to the late Queen Elizabeth for 73 years before he died at the age of 99 on April 9, 2021. The duke was the longest-serving consort in British history. 

The couple kept their relationship private and rarely showed public displays of affection during their marriage.

Queen Elizabeth died on September 8, 2022, at the age of 96. 

(source)

Me, at Sea Duke, while removing the book:

[tarjapearce]

The Immorality Of Love (Pt. 1)

Duke! Miguel O'Hara x Courtesan! Reader.

WARNINGS: Mild angst, power dynamics, emotional distress, sexual tension, No use of Y/N, Mild smut, Oral (M! Receiving), implicit sexual activities. No proofread, Historical innacuracy for the sake of the plot

Summary: More than just directions and simple business.

A/N: ngl, nervous about this, but anyway, hope you enjoy <3. Inspired in the first scene of Pretty Woman <3

Random fact: poverty, insecurity, physical danger, alcoholism, disease and police harassment were just a few of the things that prostitutes around that time were subjected to.

The more papers and seals he went through, the more the need to rip his hair in a rage fit grew. Painfully as the thought was, he'd rather feel that kind of discomfit than keep absorbing the words coming from the other end of the line.

"No, no. It wasn't like that. You know I'm-"

Busy as usual. As ever and probably forever. Something Dana often seemed to forget.

The black and gold metallic tech device rested smooshed against his cheek and shoulders, its cord had tangled underneath his arm, making him fuss through, trying to pry his arm away from it's grasp.

An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as Dana kept complaining.

"Dana, corazón, look-"

His hand rubbed his heavy countenance, awash with so many things he thought his brain would collapse.

"Oh... Okay. Uh... Thanks for your time, ok? I... I had fun. Yeah." He fred himself free from the cord's grasp and put the letters in his free hand on his desk, "I'm sorry. Good luck."

He hung the call as his shoulders slumped with the toll of his stress baggage, that quickly was picked up again as soon as Peter came through the door.

"You're missing your own birthday party, Your grace." Peter loved annoying him with the formal title he strictly forbid him to use.

"My intention precisely."

Peter served him a glass of whiskey and pushed it to him.

"I believe Gabriel won't appreciate this little stunt. You're still working, missing your birthday party-"

"And Dana just dumped me." The chuckle escaping his plump mouth wasn't remorseful, but a relieved one. Peter's brow just quirked and sighed.

"That's perfect then! More reasons for you to just come down and enjoy your own celebration. You're turning Thirty two! Do you know how many people don't make it that far?"

"Are you calling me old?"

"A relic. And grumpy hermit too. Let's go."

Miguel rooted deeper in his seat and Peter's face went blank.

"Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"I just wanna go home for the night, Parker. Drink my new bottle and sleep." He slurred, tiresome.

Peter was about to come up with a quip but Miguel's stomach rumbled.

"Yeah, no, that ain't happening. Move it."

"I am the Duke of Nueva York, Parker. I will not-"

"And I'm your best friend. Move. You gotta eat at least something. Mingle a bit, make the celebration historical by actually remaining for more than an hour, then you can leave."

Miguel's lips twisted in a tired smile, with a resigned heave he gulped down the whiskey and followed Peter downstairs.

-----

As historical as his assistance was, the minutes had stretched incredibly long. His hand reached for his ever trusting golden pocket clock and scowled almost imperceptibly when he noticed the hours. A quarter past nine and his head started to hurt.

In fact, the boisterous mumbles from people had his head spinning. He was already making a fool of himself by faking a laugh to Gabriel's jokes and exchanging pleasantries with people that were only after him for favors or trying to get to know their single female relatives.

But enough was enough when someone begun slurring his words and dripping his drink on the floor. Alcohol became a bit too pungent when he approached the food table, so he turned left, missing some people, quickly nodding a hello here and there, swimming through the sea of unknown people until he reached the main entrance.

His heart dictated it was time to leave, it's powerful hammering resonating within his ribcage. He secured his hat on top of his head and marched towards the carriages.

Damned be his mind if he was to remain another second inside. But damned be his luck for not finding anyone to drove him home.

The door creaked and Gabriel's raucous laugh froze him in the spot.

"Where are you going, Miguel?"

The aforementioned tensed as he approached the carriage with the attached horses.

"Home. Where are the chauffeurs at?"

"Inside, in your party. Told them to take the night off. Go back inside, Migue."

"Ah, cómo chingas. Look... I'm tired, a terrible headache, got job to do and I can smell the whiskey from here on you. "

"You're the only person I know that hides from his own birthday."

Miguel hopped in the front seats of the carriage, the structure creaked and dipped under his weight as the horses tapped the grassy floor. Gabriel's mirthful laugh only deepened the scowl on his already tired face as he mimicked his eldest brother.

"And if I can recall you still fear horses, Miguelito."

"Cállate." He grumbled while securing his clock in his pocket, "Don't get too drunk, I've got enough complains of you to discuss with the king."

If none was to drive him back home, he'd make do. Even if the horses held a secret grudge on him. But if this was what it took to get out and be free to have his own personal celebration in his room, then so be it.

"Ajá. Ya, vete pues." (Right, go on now.)

The younger O'Hara chided as he watched his brother ready to depart. This gave him an idea.

Miguel fixed his hat again and took a hold of the reins. Gabriel approached, sauntering towards the horses and your grace's unsuspecting being.

"I forgot. Happy Birthday, brother of mine."

Miguel's eyes widened as Gabriel slapped the horse's rear, igniting their angry galloping, taking a cursing Duke away from him.

"Cabrón!-" 

-----

For how long had he been wandering the streets? He recognized some avenues and milieu, but a wrong turn had taken him to a relatively unknown area.

Although the buildings kept their refined air, the washed up and cracked walls started making an impromptu appearance in his line of vision. A couple of people stared his way to quickly scramble back into whatever business they thought better to attend.

Even the floor and smells had changed. The duke couldn't help but grumble as the stony and jagged texture of the floor made his carriage to bump and shake erratically. There was no smoothness to make the steering steady, the floral and occasional bakery smell was quickly replaced by the smell of opium, industrial filth and other unpleasant odors.

He didn't know what was worse, to admit to none but himself that he was lost, since his daily route was his manor, the king's palace and the office of his empire. Or the random smells that fought for a spot in his nose, pouncing on his senses.

His discomfort grew the more he ventured into the changing scenarios. But it also gave him a glimpse of those he was assigned by the king to protect and watch over.

Little were the things that managed to surprise him greatly, but seeing the scenery pass and turn into a more rundown, less fancy and acquainted place, got his skin crawling softly under the linens of his warm frock coat.

Even a man of his calibre knew to not tempt fate and with a whip on the reins, the horses galloped faster, wherever it was better than this part of the city he didn't know.

As spoiled as the thought was, he really hated not having his chauffer at his immediate disposition. He wouldn't have to deal with these situations, he wouldn't have to feel like a lost pampered puppy that escaped his guarded home, only to be out there by his own in the cold and unforgiving night streets.

Even the horses refused to keep going forward to a much more secluded and darker area, guarded by the slithering shadows that would play games with his mind if he stared long enough.

A breath hitched on his throat as the horses turned left and took the opposite road, away from the lurking danger. To his luck and awestruck, the horses indeed knew the route and guided him to an area that, although he had seen a couple of times, it ended up in a familiar environment.

The boutiques and coffee shops started to take shape as the galloping kept going through the enlightened stony and steady path. The wheels creaked merrily upon being on familiar territory again.

The crawl on his skin stopped only to be replaced by a sudden gasp when the horses stood in their hind legs as a stray cat crossed their paths out of nowhere, scaring them. Miguel barely could take a hold of the reins, as the horses pulled and his back collided against the hard wood of the carriage.

"B-Basta!" He huffed nervously while he held his hat as the other hand secured the grip on the leather ropes, trying to stop the horses, but they kept running, as if the black tiny monster with beady eyes chased after them.

"Shit!"

The carriage turned into to a bustling area and suddenly halted into a corner, Miguel bounced hard in his seat as the transport parked forcefully above the sidewalk, earning a frightful gasp and murmurs from the people around.

Without much thought he stepped off the carriage and released a breath he didn't know it had been stuck in his tightened throat for a while.

"Condenado gato, asustándome así." His nostrils flared with a heavy sigh, as his hands scrambled underneath the seat to see if he could find anything remotely helpful to guide himself back to his manor. (Fucking cat, scaring me like that)

Miguel nearly slapped himself upon finding a neatly folded map in the further corner of the seat. A hand passed over his impatient face before unfolding it and taking a good scrutinizing look in it. None of the names sounded familiar for him, not even the post with the signal Maxwell's Avenue before him rang a bell into his befuddled head.

Where was he?

The soft clicks of a pair of heels behind him made to look at the lady behind him.

"Are you alright, my lord?"

Even though her voice was sweet with  sultry undertones in it, Miguel could  recognize almost immediately her profession. A courtesan. A fancy and less crude word for a prostitute, whose soft and floral aroma tickled his senses.

"I'm not interested."

----

Upon hearing those words your brow quirked and stared at him for couple of seconds. He was definitely a nobleman, the tallest and most build up man you've seen so far, His frock coat and the golden chain attached to his chest where his clock was, said everything you needed.

A potential client. Although reluctant.

He could redefine the word handsome if someone took a proper look into his face. Sharp features that were as strong as his nose and angry looking eyes. Lips twitched with contained fury the more he stared at the map on his trembling hands.

Your attention wandered to said piece of paper only to let out a humored scoff. Brown eyes snapped your way  immediately upon the noise.

"You're holding the map backwards, my lord. Bid you a goodnight."

You turned around and walked back but his voice calling you with a 'Wait' made your lips stretch into a thin yet knowing smile.

"Yes?", wispy eyelashes fluttered with each blink you gave him.

The man cleared his throat and inched the map closer to you.

"Where am I?"

"Where do you need to go?"

His eye twitched almost involuntarily at your reply, but if he wanted to go home, at this point any help would come in handy.

"Babylon-"

The horses tapped the floor a bit more impatiently as they shook their mane. His hands tightened in balls in each side of him.

"Babylon manor."

Your brows puckered in as he kept turning and turning the map.

"I could take you there, if you wish to."

"No. I just need-"

The horse's forceful neigh made Miguel to clutch his hands tighter, nearly digging his nails in his palms.

"Shut up!"

He roared at the beast that only blew an annoyed sigh his way. Earning a giggle from you.

"You're making the horses and me nervous, my lord."

A heavy and blasé heave came from his nostrils, folding the map in a haste. Mirth crossed your features on his distress.

"Glad that at least I'm amusing you."

"Although, that's my job, my offer to take you there for a little fee, of course, remains."

With little to lose and patience he gestured you towards the carriage. With a proud smile you gave him a little curtsey and stepped on the same spot as he was sitting instead of the inside of the carriage.

His bushy brow quirked at your choice of seat but little he could do about it. You pulled a fan and blew yourself with it as your eyes studied every movement.

Reins a bit too tight on his heavy looking hands, frame so frigid and mechanic you thought he'd break upon sitting next to you, swallowing the space with his sheer size. Lips and brows puckered in an apparent permanent frown and his gorgeous eyes that hid a crimson glint in it, if you dared to look closer.

He whipped the ropes and the horses walked on with a pull that had you clutching to your seat. Fear however begun growing after the speed of their trotting increased, passing and turning blocks in a blink of an eye.

"Stop them!"

"I'm trying woman!" He hissed, more nervous than angered.

Without much thought you took the leather ropes from him and pulled back with all your might. If it wasn't for him placing an arm before you, your body would have lurched forward and off the carriage.

"My goodness..."

Both of your chests rose upon the short and quivering breaths your lungs exhaled

"Are you alright?"

You gave him a shaky nod, while your hand loosened the grip on the horse's command. In truth, Miguel's bile had rose up his throat. For a moment he really thought he'd lose control of the carriage and his name would be in the morning newspaper with the title 'The Duke crashed cause he's unable to drive by himself properly due an irrational equine fear."

"I should ask you that, my lord. You're paling."

But he didn't crashed nor would appear in the news, thanks to you.

"Should I take the lead?"

"You know how to ride?"

"That and more, yes. Though I rather the term drive" His brows crinkled upwards at your reply, taken aback by your quip, earning him another chuckle from you, "But I know enough to get my way around horses without being nipped or kicked."

Your hand caressed the neck and mane, in an attempt to soothe the beast's nerves. Curiosity tugged at his seams. A courtesan that knew how to drive.

Times change I suppose.

His mind mused, and his hands rested on his hips, without much thought he mumbled: "Be my guest, then."

"Hop in then, sir."

You got into the carriage front seat and patted the space next to you. He obeyed.

----

Against all odds, you took him home. Ride back happened smoothly without the horses trying to kill him, they obeyed without a hitch under your command. A clear screw you from the annoying beasts that made him look like an utter useless fool.

Once close enough, you gave him the reins back to him and got down the carriage before his staff approached, leaving his hand on the air while trying to help you to get down.

He followed and straightened his coat and hat.

"Safe and sound, aren't we?"

He nodded as your eyes locked on each other briefly before a valet took the horses away.

"Then, I'll be happy to receive my payment and leave you be, my lord."

The payment, of course.

"Right. And what is this fee of yours for helping a stranger?"

"You say so like I'm robbing you." he chuckled, "I'm sure twenty crowns won't make you less rich."

"They won't." He searched inside his vest and pulled out a 20 bill from his wallet.

"A pleasure to help you, sir."

You bowed to him with a satisfied smile and gathered your skirt.

"Just a quick thing, don't whip the horses too hard. They hate it."

"Noted." he nodded before approaching the door, "Be careful out there."

"Appreciate your concern, my lord. Bid you a good night."

With a final curtsey you turned around and walked towards the corner. Some of his staffs threw discreet glances your way others swarmed Miguel with their attention as usual.

The street had slowly turned less concurred as the night kept advancing, and too bad you had forgotten your pocket watch at home. Walking was always good for the health, but at this hour alone, you rather not poke at the devil's tail to see what he had in store for you.

Miguel watched you for a second, Securing the shawl on your shoulders, an ethereal soft gleam on your skin provoked by the post lamp nearby was quickly covered as you straightened your back, enhancing the sight of your mounds for a moment.

He blinked away the glimpses of your beauty to finally gather his thoughts and walk inside. Not that he was strange to courtesans, Gabriel had once arranged himself a night with a couple, only to be ditched as soon as they laid their eyes on him.

His frock coat and hat were quickly taken away to be hung. He ordered his new bottle of mezcal while his hands pulled and rolled up at the wrist of his sleeves up to his elbows.

His ears perked up upon hearing some jeering comments from a man outside. His steps guided him back towards he just came from. To jis little surprise there was a drunk man, barely supporting on the walls as he spoke your way.

"Kindly, fuck off you twat"

Miguel chuckled at your sharp and dirty mouthed reply to the man that quickly thought his words upon catching him peeking out of the main entrance. The Duke truly thought you had already walked away.

With half wobbly steps the man left as  you shot an apprehensive yet grateful look his way.

"Thanks."

His head bobbed in a brief nod, and slowly approached you again.

"Waiting for someone?"

"Maybe. Do you know them perhaps?"

Miguel quirked his brow with a bit of confusion. You sighed.

"My apologies, drunkards get me on edge. And I am waiting for a carriage to take me back to my district. Don't wanna risk myself at this hours into unknown territory."

He crossed his arms.

"Where do you head to?"

"Doubt you'd like to know that, sir."

Your eyes were keen in the horizon, but no carriage or known face approached.

"Time seems to be a problem for you."

"I'm working. Gotta make the most out it. But since this a new territory and I've seen nothing but empty streets, I'll go back."

A Hmm came out of him while he stood next to you.

"Alright, then how much for a night?"

You blinked while facing him, "Pardon me?"

"You're still... working, right?"

You nodded.

"Then, how much for the night?"

As unexpected as his question was, the words that flew out of your mouth surprised you even more.

"300 crowns." you blurted.

He pursed his lips in a pondering movement, then nodded.

"Alright. Let's get you inside."

In truth the quantity was just a coy to see if he bit the bait, and it was double the amount you needed to get that lovely perfume you so needed. But money was money.

"As you wish, my lord."

You didn't imagine he'd actually agree. But now that he had, you followed him inside. However, he told you to wait before disappearing for a moment, only to return with a coat and drape it around your shoulders.

"What is this?"

"A coat" Your face went blank, "It'll save us some trouble."

Once again your feet resumed their walking inside, and for a minute, you wished to have eidetic memory to remember everything, so you could print it all out and have a proof of the place's exquisite grandeur, and for Aveline to see this with her own beautiful blue eyes.

She always boasted with descriptions you'd only find in the many magazines Avy managed to steal from their unsuspected client's homes. But now, you were in one of them, walking up the  marbled stairs that were dressed up in a shade of velvet that could be mistaken for a rivulet of blood rolling down under your feet.

But there was not that coppery smell flooding your nose, no. Au contraire, the  place smelled like it was doused in a gentle breeze of vanilla, an appalling contrast to the lavender incense you were used to at this point.

It blended well with the delicate floral aroma oozing from your pores. A couple of staff members dallied around, interrupting with their greetings towards Miguel, some spared a glance your way and of course murmurs ensued. But it didn't matter, you were getting your new perfume and possibly a couple of brand new accessories for all you cared.

The room, the master bedroom you supposed, was as beautiful as the rest.  Majestic and powerful like it's owner. 

A few little statues here and there adorned his room, the smell of vanilla and a tinge of a liqueur you had never smelled before filled in your lungs pleasantly.

He went straight to his desk after closing the door behind him.

"May I remove this now?"

His hands rummaged through the haphazard stacked up papers while you removed and hung up the coat somewhere, not really waiting for his reply.

Your eyes still wandered around as you sauntered over his desk.

"With a place like this, I'd be gladly turn into a hermit. Are you by chance an undercover prince?"

Miguel chuckled and pulled out his pen while sitting properly on his throne

"Close. But no. I'm the Duke."

Your brows rose in surprise but quickly vanished into an amused smirk as soon as he started removing his vest and fiddled with the tie around his neck.

The knot tightened the more he struggled with it. You stepped closer and slid your hands briefly on his chest to have a good feel of him.

Solid, well worked, and a hundred percent real. Your fingers hooked in the tie and pulled him gently towards you.

His lips parted to then swallow an invisible lump at the action alone. Dexterous hands quickly managed to untie the tangled fabric around his too dressed up neck, freeing him from his temporary torment. His perfume was another smell to add to the wondrous list you discovered tonight.

Woody, a hint of cinnamon and a fine vanilla tobacco.

"Didn't know the Duke of Nueva York was afraid of horses."

He grunted and rolled his eyes.

"I'd rather not discuss that."

You chuckled while fetching your small hand purse. You pulled out a piece of hardened paper sealed and signed by a doctor, and placed it before him.

His eyes gazed at it curiously, to then widen softly at the different array of condoms you pulled from the sides of your boots to then seat on his desk.

"You might pick one after you've read my medical checks."

"Quite the safety buffet you have there."

Your shoulders shrugged, "You never know with royalty and I like to be safe."

He nodded with a tiny smile as everything was in order, the card had nothing but a couple of days old. Madame Lewis always insisted in doing regular checkups, and it paid off. You had learned how to recognize the symptoms of some popular diseases by now. Knowledge was sure a powerful tool.

He eyed the condoms and released a brief and deep chuckle. Upon silence you put them back in your purse and faced him once more with a sultry smile. Your spine slanted enough towards him to give him a better look of your mounds.

He wasn't immune towards a lady's charms. Your eyes caught his taking a quick peek.

"So... what now? What will you have me doing?"

"I don't know." his cheek rested against his knuckles and stared your form, even though a courtesan, your taste in fashion was refined and by the quality materials of your clothings, he assumed you were a middle class paramour, "I didn't plan on this, if honest."

"Oh? I see." Your eyes darted through the many papers in his desk, "You do seem the type to plan it all though."

"Of course, someone has to. Excuse my maners, but I forgot your name completely."

A smirk came to your rouged lips,

"How can you forget something that has never been given to you, my lord?"

His nostrils heaved merrily upon your comment while his head nodded approvingly.

"Touché."

You scoffed, "Violet."

"Violet what?"

"Just plain Violet. Yours?"

It was his turn to scoff in disbelief. Were you living under a rock?

"I apologize but, I refuse to believe you don't know my name yet."

It was your turn to laugh, "I'm sorry but, even if my clients won't shut about politics and royalty , I still don't know your name, your grace. It always escapes the confinements of my mind."

His eyes wandered a bit over your face, but quickly averted them, to focus on the flirty frills of your dress. You knew exactly where to flaunt and where to leave it au naturale. He'd be a liar to not say you were one of the prettiest courtesans he had seen so far. He had them twice in his life, and with this a third.

"It's Miguel."

"Oh," you tested his name in your tongue, it tingled with excitement, "I suppose it suits you."

"Does it?"

Miguel stood and served two glasses of mezcal, his hand offered you one. He approached the door and called for an assortment of fruits and other light snacks, then returned to his seat.

"I've never met a Duke named Miguel before. But it sounds... almost delicious to say so."

"Delicious?" He drank his shot in a go, a pleasant growl escaped after the liqueur burned good in his throat.

"Pleasant even." You followed into drinking your shot, face souring for a moment. His tongue swept over his lips, tasting the remnants of mezcal on them.

His gaze turned bolder with the passing of seconds, staring intermittently at your chest, face and neck.

After a couple of minutes a maid knocked, interrupting his line of thoughts and put the tray on a nearby table, gave a curtsey and left you alone again.

"How would you rate my performance as a Duke?"

The question as unexpected and random as it was, escaped his mouth. He was still into work mode and clearly not used to have company. It threw you off for a second.

Your brows rose in disbelief and amusement, "I assure you, that you won't like the answers, your grace."

That's when his shoulders shook with a brief yet genuine titter.

"That bad, huh?"

You shrugged while placing the glass in the table to lean his way, pushing your breasts to a more open sight. Inviting him in.

"Yes. But you aren't paying me to talk about work. Are you?"

"What if I am?" He slouched even more comfortably on his seat.

"Then I believe one bottle of this" You pointed at the mezcal, "won't be enough for neither of us."

-----

The clock had ticked eleven pm, conversation soon branched into different topics, from the ridiculous names some clothes were called, to a bit of surface personal information.

"How old are you turning, my lord?"

You popped a green grape into your mouth as he downed another glass if mezcal. The outer corset had been long gone, same as pretension and the accessories on your hair.

Even though still reserved, his whole demeanor had allowed itself to relax. He ate what he couldn't back at his own party and the mezcal bottle had decreased it's contents.

"Thirty two. Why?"

"Just curious. It has come to my attention that the Duke of Nueva York isn't a wrinkly old man. I'm quite surprised, if honest."

"I will be one in a couple of decades. That if work doesn't kills me first."

He had to order another platter of charcuterie since the first one was entirely devoured by him.

"It won't. You seem too stubborn for it." 

He chuckled, "You're none to talk about being stubborn."

You scoffed, faking offense, "I call it perseverance, and at least I know how to manipulate a map, my lord."

He didn't know if it was the alcohol slowly turning up his senses or your company that against all odds, had been one of the few things memorable for the night. He had lit up the fire to warm the room.

"The map was outdated." he grumbled without actual anger behind it.

You just nodded with a playful smile while sitting before the fireplace to get a bit of warm. He remained sat on his chair, legs comfortably sprawled open on top.

"Of course it was, your grace, I hope  it'll be updated soon so you don't get lost again."

The soft cracks of the wood reigned over the sudden silence. The fire's auriferous gleam bathed your silhouette, investing an ironically beatific sight on you.

"Hopefully not. I won't have the luck to count on your help, I'm afraid."

Your shoulders twinkled with the fire's light as they accompanied your sweet laugh and his eyes closed for a moment.

The day had been quite the feat, but before all of it played as a movie in his head and his mind recurred to the internal and ever pondering monologue, the warm touch of your hands in his thighs grounded him immediately to the present.

Right in the moment where your bare fingers roamed the territory of his clothed legs and hips.

"How are you able to keep this... physical condition?" your hands gave a brief and marveling squeeze and a twitch traveled all over his body.

"Hard work." He heaved when you stopped to rise on your feet, eyes glinting upon confirming he was looking.

Slowly, your fingers danced above your chest to then drag them through the fabric ans reach for the back buttons of your dress with expertise, freeing yourself from the inhibition with each unclasp, to finally remove the first layer.

"I see. It has paid off, I admit."

His lips curved proudly to quickly and subtly licks his lips.

His pupils were blown open when his unabashed stare darted from your mouth to the peeking taut nipples that pushed against the see-through fabric of your chemise, begging to be released.

Lovely, generous and perfect size for his hand.

If his demeanor wasn't trained for self-control, he'd definitely look like a precocious youngster, unable to talk because a woman was getting naked before him.

The right side of his head rested on his index and middle finger, his thumb rubbed in circles in the juncture of his jaw. Watching and enjoying the parsimonious and erotic dance your hands did to remove your skirt, revealing nothing but the long, sheer cream colored chemise that left everything yet little to his growing volatile imagination.

The bustier only donned your waist with a perfect dip to accentuate your also generous hips. His hands would undoubtedly fit perfectly in that curve.

Hid eyes darted to his hands but immediately resumed to your show to not miss anything important. Meaning everything. The lack of underwear in your body stirred up the crawling in his skin.

A calculated turn and bend to reach for your shoes gave him a proper display of what laid under the little remnants of clothes still clinging to you. Purposely torturing his psyche with the corruption of mind and thoughts.

How would you feel like in his hands?

Nothing but smooth and lovely skin. The stockings embraced your supple thighs in a way that for a brief fraction of time, he wished to be the elastic band around them.

He didn't know who to blame for his sudden flustered and urgent state. He could blame the top quality mezcal for making his skin thrum and burn with enough heat to turn it highly receptive to external stimuli.

Your shoes were removed, and soon your hands, deftly undid your bustier.

Or the lack of physical and willing altercation in his lavish bed eons ago.

Or you, for actually entertain him with more than he had originally thought.

Not even he was so sure about his tiredness anymore. Not when you prowled your way towards him, hips swaying in a sultry motion, breast bouncing softly at each step.

His breath hitched when the chemise was gone and you kneeled between his thighs. Dainty fingers unbuckling and undoing his belt and trousers single-handed and deftly. Nothing but the stockings adorned your form.

"As much as I'd love to keep talking," the inner flesh of his bottom lip was trapped in between his teeth as your warm and soft hand ventured within his trousers and grazed the velvet skin of his still trapped erection, "I also believe money must be earned properly."

Damn him for being such a primitive man to surrender so quickly under your touch. For purposely starving his body from the sensations he was going through at the moment.

Damn you for stroking his ego when your countenance lit up in surprise upon watching his cock springing alive in it's full and healthy glory a few inches away your face.

He shrugged nonchalantly and his eyes glued on your next movement

"Consider yourself lucky, my lord. I usually do not engage into the arts of oral pleasures," Your hand took a gentle yet firm hold of him, stroking enough to make him release a pleasurable yet quiet moan, "I'll make an exception for the night though, you're to be celebrated after all."

He gulped a blown breath before it could escape as you marked his skin with soft kisses until you reached his flushed tip.

"Happy Birthday, your grace."

And, oh damned you for taking the challenge between your lips and remind him how much of a man he was.

---

The bird's chirping was louder the more seconds ticked, but it was enough to finally ground consciousness to your body.

You bolted awake. Fear seeped in upon not recognizing instantly your surroundings, but when the bell rang with the memory, the urge to leave increased tenfold.

As heavenly as the bedsheets felt against your skin, you flinched from them and gathered your things, but hips protested. Despite having the experience, none had prepared you for taking The Duke.

A man that was currently missing and out of the rooms sight. The curtains were draped in enough to block the sun's glory to hit you right in the face. You changed as hastily as you could. After all his bed was behind closed doors.

Shit

Even though the walk of shame was unavoidable the least you could do was to look the least tussled as possible. Once you were dressed you searched in your purse, a couple less condoms in your repertoire, to finally reach for the tooth powder and clean your teeth.

One of the many important rules you had self imposed in your licentious life had been broken.

Do not overstay.

As it could only bring nothing but trouble your way. You didn't want a lover, much less to engage into a life that only happened to good and obeying women.

And you weren't good, according to none but your own musings, nor obedient. You secured your shoes and straightened up your posture as you draped your shawl over your shoulders that still tingled with the Duke's capricious hands.

Miguel had been a gentleman, he never once did something you didn't feel comfortable with, yet still, his pleasure was the main focus of everything. It wasn't personal, nor intimate, just plain old business, like you always made it.

You found him reading the newspaper on his desk, a cup of steaming coffee next to him along some other foods that without admitting made your mouth salivate.

His eyes rose to meet you

"Good morning."

"Morning. I overslept, my apologies, sir."

You bowed your head and he sipped his cup.

"It's fine. I didn't know what would you like, so, got you a bit of everything."

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously with a frown at both the food and him. A bit of crumbs of a round sweet bread still remained on the corner of his lips.

"I appreciate your... attentions, my lord. But I'm good and I've got to go."

His body was dressed up in a light vest, his shirt rolled up yo his elbows and pants, ready for another day of work.

"Of course."

He stared at your concern for a couple of seconds before standing up and reaching for his wallet.

He pulled a couple of hundred crown bills and placed it before you. The sooner you got paid, the sooner you'd get home, take a long bath and finally go get that perfume before sleeping properly the day away.

Your hands counted it in, and your frown furrowed upon finding two hundred extra.

"Your grace? Here." You placed the bills on the table where he could see them, "You put some more by mistake."

"Oh, no, it wasn't. They're, uh... they're yours. A gift."

His lips curved softly in a small smile that quickly vanished upon your next words.

"A gift for doing what you hired me for?"

Miguel blinked, "I didn't mean it that way. It's an extra for-"

You didn't know if nervousness or anger was coursing through your veins, but it was unpleasant and you needed it out of your system.

"Let's get something clear, your grace. I'm aware my job is anything but reputable. But I do not take charity nor pity from anyone. Much less royalty."

He gulped, genuinely confused and taken aback from your reaction.

"I-I apologize. thought that you-"

"That I'd accept it? No. you're sadly mistaken. I know life circumstances have pushed me to choose this path of living, but do not dare insult me. Do not mistake my work for affection you can buy."

You left the money on the table and rushed to the door.

"Wait! Violet!"

by the time he reached this bedroom doors, you were already descending the stairs, head high and proud despite the unbelieving and horrified expressions by the staff at your haste to finally leave.

His shoulders slumped with a dragging groan as he remained on the doorframe of his room.

"That's not what I meant at all..."

A misunderstanding with a courtesan was the perfect way to start his day. Gabriel had mentioned him a couple of times to never give extra money to the professional entertainers, selfless kindness wasn't a concept in their life's vocabulary and it could be often mistaken as something else.

Like what just happened.

"Gooddamit."

But there was little to do about it and his mind dragged him out of it to pull him on the working mode again.

----

In his many years of friendship, it was rare when Peter behaved evasive, and fiddled with his hands a bit too much. His friend's pacing over his office had Miguel dizzy.

"Can you stay the hell still and spit it out at once?"

Miguel's terse voice only provoked an annoyed groan on Peter.

"You..." Parker's nostrils flared up with a plucky sigh and faced him.

"The Prince is organizing a little vacation to his villa. He wants us there."

A bushy brow from the Duke raised to then roll his eyes and resuming his work into signing papers and reading reports.

"And?"

"W-What do you mean and? You know whose going?"

"Not really, nor care. I won't go."

Peter's teeth 'tsk'ed' at his reply. "You are to be there. The Prince invited you specifically, and you know how Osborn gets when you ignore his whims."

"Yeah, no wonder why his father doesn't trusts him with Nueva York and I have to correct his stupidities."

Miguel slicked a hand ovef his hair to accommodate the straying strands off their order.

"Right. You have to call Dana."

"She dumped me on my birthday and she's too far, remember?"

"Well, you'll need someone to go with. Everyone is tired of seeing you alone and sulking during those reunions."

"I've got-"

Peter interrupted, knowing his words at this point. "Priorities, I know. Want me to find you someone?"

"Appreciated but no. I already have someone in mind."

Peter blinked and immediately sat before him

"You do?"

"Yes. Where is Gabriel?"

"Traveling outside the city. He'll join us in the trip later"

"Ese cabrón siempre evadiendo responsabilidades... Let me know when returns." (That fucker's always avoiding his duties.)

"Do I know her?" Peter clasped his hands before him, trying to pry more information out straight from the horse's mouth.

"No, which is good and bad."

"You need to start speaking sense, Miguel."

"It's good cause none around here knows her, and bad precisely for that. But since you're eager to help me, you'll do exactly that."

He handed Peter a small paper piece with a name.

"Violet? What's with this?"

"It's the name. Give it to Lyla. She'll look her up. Need an address by the end of this week. Tell her to look up in the neighbor districts.

"What if-"

"There's no what ifs in here, Parker. Split the search."

"So this means you're coming?"

"If I say yes, will you shut up?"

"Say no more. I'll look for this Violet to you."

"If you find her do not approach her. Let that to me."

Peter didn't know whether to be excited or scared. But he trusted Miguel.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder, what had happened the previous night? Even better yet, who was this Violet?

-----

Taglist:

@kate-ohara @del-ightfulling

[ickadori]

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄

[summary] neuvillette and the humans under his care have shared many feelings and experiences, yet there’s still a few which are foreign to him. thanks to you, he can now say that he’s experienced heartbreak.

[cws] gn reader -> reader is dating wriothesley. pining. jealousy. reader is oblivious to neuvi’s feelings. this is not as sad as the summary makes it out to be i promise lmao. the end is kinda fluffy.

Neuvillette has spent hundreds of years attempting to successfully assimilate himself into the human world.

He’s read countless books, studied and observed thousands of people, carefully examined every detail in his case files, as well as in the court room, to attempt and understand the motives at play. He’s befriended many humans, and has inadvertently made many enemies. He’s had love directed his way, as well as hate. He’s experienced crippling grief, as well as an overwhelming sense of happiness.

He has seen two people go from being in love, once so smitten with each other that neither could hardly bare to be away from them, to hating each other so fiercely that they couldn’t stomach being in the same room as each other.

And on the other hand, he’s seen two people go from being complete strangers, to being madly in love, their love and adoration for each other shining in their eyes and showing in the way they speak to each other. Yes, you and Wriothesley have been the point of interest for Neuvillette for quite a while.

He had been the cause of your meeting, although he liked to think that the two of you would have eventually met regardless. Fate would have seen it through, as the citizens of Fontaine frequently liked to say.

You had been hired on as Neuvillette’s assistant, a title that had been left empty for centuries due to him simply seeing no need for one. He could handle his workload just fine on his own, and he still can, but he supposed that having a human working in direct contact with him could further his understanding of them, so he had agreed to hire you, after an extensive interview process, of course.

You had since proved yourself to be an exemplary employee — your reports were submitted on time, you paid the utmost attention at every trial, working with the guards to bring forth newfound evidence in a timely manner as well keeping a written transcription of the trial. You took on Neuvillette’s public appearances when he couldn’t make the trip himself, and had even grown quite popular with the public.

Sometimes, when the workload was exceptionally light, the two of you would even converse over glasses of water, a feat that he had always struggled with. Making conversation was not his strong suit, as repeatedly pointed out by that blonde haired traveler, Lumine, and her companion, Paimon, but he found it relatively easy to converse with you.

You tended to lead the conversations, prattling on about this and that, but you’d have a look of wonder and awe on your face whenever he spoke of the past and Fontaine’s history, as well as the distinct differences in the waters gathered from each nation.

You joked with him, and then proceeded to laugh when he didn’t understand the joke before explaining it to him, mumbling about how it was ‘no longer funny if you have to explain it’, but Neuvillette laughed nonetheless.

You were pleasant to have around, and while a selfish part of him would have liked to hoard your attention all to himself, another part, a louder part, wanted a certain Duke to experience the joy you brought for himself.

So, Neuvillette had sent you on an errand down to the Fortress. You had lifted his spirits on many sad, dreary days, so he was certain that you could bring a certain light down to the prison underneath the sea as well. He had been correct, and the love that had blossomed between the two of you had been instant.

The dwindling of your presence had been instant as well.

You were still an exemplary employee, but it was even doubly so now. Your work was finished in record time so you could spend time Wriothesley down in the Fortress, the reclusive man even venturing up to the surface now and again to spend time with you on land.

The lengthy conversations that the two of you had once shared were shortened down to distracted greetings and swift goodbyes. His talks that had a habit of droning were no longer met with that air of sparkling curiosity, but rather with a polite smile as your eyes wandered to the clock every so often. You didn’t explain your jokes anymore, and he had happened to overhear you telling Wriothesley the same one on a sunny afternoon, and the two of you had burst into a fit of laughter before running for cover from the sudden onslaught of rain, smiling all the while.

Neuvillette has experienced a slew of human emotions in his time, and he supposes he’s experienced yet another; heartbreak.

~

“I wonder when the rain will stop.” You ponder, your eyebrows knitted together as you glance out of the window in Neuvillette’s office. “It’s been pouring for days.”

“It has.” Neuvillette confirms, and you turn to him with a small smile as you round his desk. He has a quill in hand, a blank sheet of paper in his other, and you push the bottle of black ink a bit closer to him. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” You watch him write for a bit, his penmanship entrancing you — he’s had the most beautiful writing you’ve ever seen, and it reminded you of the words you’d so often see in the ancient books stored in the library. “Did you know that they say when it rains in Fontaine, it’s because the Hydro dragon is sad?” You had heard it countless times from the children playing in the streets, as well as from a few fanatical adults.

“I’ve heard the saying, yes.” He turns his attention to you, and you clasp your hands in front of you. “Why? Do you believe in it?”

“Maybe? I’m not entirely sure… it could be true. It certainly wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve heard, or seen for that matter.” You place yourself down into the chair facing his desk. “But if it is true, I feel bad for them. I wonder what’s made them so sad.”

“I’m sure their sadness will fade with time.”

You deflate, fingers idly tapping at your thighs. “Yeah, I guess.” It’s silent for a bit when an idea suddenly flows into your mind, albeit a childish one. “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, please don’t cry.”

Neuvillette shakes his head with a soft sigh. “Do you think said dragon is in the room with us?”

“You’re right.” You stand from your chair, Neuvillette watching in curiosity as you head towards the large window overseeing the water. “Wherever they are, we have to be sure they can hear us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, us. You’re going to say it with me.” You twist the lock keeping the window shut, and with a push it’s open, rain instantly being swept inside by the raging winds. You extend a hand out towards him, smile stretching across your face as he gives you a doubtful look, but stands nonetheless and moves to position himself beside you.

You take his hand, his skin cold against yours, and turn to face the window. “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, please don’t cry!” You shout, and you turn to pout at Neuvillette when he doesn’t say it with you. He’s already watching you, lips slightly parted and eyes a bit lighter than usual, and you squeeze his hand before lightly jostling his arm. “You have to say it with me, Neuvi, or else it won’t work.”

He silently stares at you for a moment longer before finally facing the window. You grin and repeat your words together, his voice considerably lower than your own, and a shout of astonishment leaves you when the rain suddenly begins to let up. “Neuvillette! Look! The rain is stopping!”

The dark storm clouds that had resided over Fontaine for days suddenly begin to disperse, a beam of sunlight peeking through until its covering the whole city and surrounding waters. The once pelting rain turns into a light drizzle, before stopping altogether, and a gentle breeze blows over the two of you.

A laugh bubbles out of your throat, and you begin to pull him from the window and in the direction of the door, that look of confusion once again gracing his features.

“We’re going for a walk, the work can wait! We have to enjoy the weather while it lasts.” He allows you to pull him towards the door, and when you look back at him, there’s a small smile on his face.

“I suppose we do.”

[lendeah]

UNBOUND

Chapter 3: memories, premonitions

series masterlist

Summary: Neri continues to face the complexities of her combined spell, prompting her to once again seek assistance from Gale. In the process, her mentor opens up about the grim reality of his condition, revealing that their time together may be more constrained than Neri had anticipated.

Pairing: Gale x OFC!Reader

Tags: Slow Burn, Mentor/Protégé, but everything is healthy I promise, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Gale (Baldur's Gate), Gale Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate), Professor Gale (Baldur's Gate)

Word count: 5.9k

AO3 LINK

Oof this one was long. Anyway, it's not proofread so it may contain mistakes! I will try to revise as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy :)

The darkness was all encompassing, the threads of magic tugging at her from every direction. The air was thick with bursts of energy, swirling and dancing around her like moths drawn to a flame. Her concentration remained fixed on one singular object in her mind, its form and power consuming her thoughts. She could feel its pull, its call to her own magical abilities. With determination and focus, she reached out and whispered the incantation, "Quaerere obiectum cum porta" as she gestured with her hands the different symbols.

As Neri opened her eyes, the room was silent. She could sense the powerful flow of her weave energy as it manifested in front of her. A dimensional door had materialized, pulsing with vibrant purple hues. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Neri stepped forward and placed all her faith in this creation of hers. The feeling of being transported through dimensions was disorienting and nauseating, but soon enough she landed on solid ground once again.

She looked around at her new surroundings, taking in the empty tabern with its wooden furnishings and dimly lit lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The only source of noise came from a gnome bartender who was wiping down glasses behind the counter, and two other patrons - an orc and a human woman - sitting at opposite ends of the room. The three of them were looking at her with shocked expressions, their jaws dropped in disbelief.

"By Odin's beard, 'tis high time I lay off the ale," the orc muttered, breaking the silence.

Neri couldn't help but grimace. "My apologies," she said, feeling embarrassed. "It seems like I ended up in the wrong place."

After a small curtsy, she retreated back into the swirling portal and landed with a thump on her bedroom floor once more. Letting out a sigh, she began the process of closing yet another unsuccessful interdimensional door.

"Where was it this time? A Duke's mansion? The middle of the sea? The astral plane, maybe?"

Eiruk's voice interrupted her thoughts. Neri looked up to see him sitting on her bed, tossing the small planet-shaped crystal between his hands.

With a grunt, she brushed off her robes and grumbled "A tabern."

The boy's laughter resembled that of a hyena's as he responded,

"Wait, really?! That's hilarious. Maybe I should be trying this portal spell too. It would definitely make sneaking out much easier."

Eiruk's comment earned an eye roll from Neri as she took a seat on her bed next to him. She was still disappointed about their failed attempt at finding the crystal that he now held in his hand.

"It's not funny," she pouted. "I really thought I had it this time. Where were you, anyway?"

He simply shrugged. "I was holding it in my bedroom. I came to check when I felt the disturbance in the weave."

Neri rested her head on her hand, her gaze fixed on the ball in Eiruk's grasp. "I can't believe I can't even locate this object in the neighboring room," she muttered to herself. "How in the nine hells am I supposed to find three stones that could be hidden anywhere along the Crionthar?!"

He chuckled and tossed the crystal back to her. "Well, as much as I enjoy watching you fling yourself into different dimensions, I think it's time we take a breather."

She let out a frustrated groan. It was true, she had been searching for that cursed piece of crystal all over the academy for the entire day, simulating it was a Netherese stone, and trying to open a safe passage to it.

However, all her efforts had only resulted in opening gates nowhere near it. Hells, the doors hadn't even lead inside the tower.

"I can't stop now," she said, running a hand through her hair. "I need to make this work. I have to."

Eiruk looked up at her with concern in his eyes. "You've been obsessing over this for days now," he said softly, "why is it that important anyway? You have a whole year to finish the research."

No, I only have three months, she thought to herself, but instead Neri avoided Eiruk's gaze, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from him. She couldn't risk involving him in her family matters, especially when he was already dealing with so much helping with the recovery of the Academy and his own research project.

"It's... complicated," she finally said, not meeting his eyes.

Eiruk's expression turned understanding and he gave her a sympathetic smile. "I won't pry," he said softly. "But just know that I'm here for you if you ever need to talk."

Neri felt her heart clenching with guilt at his words. She mustered up a smile and responded, "Thank you for understanding."

He grinned, reaching for her hand. "I'll be there, no doubt about it," he said before smirking. "But don't think you can use emotional talks to get out of going to the city with me tonight."

She let out a frustrated groan. "I really can't..."

But Eiruk stood his ground. "Consider it my payment for helping you throughout the day," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Despite her efforts to resist, she couldn't help but chuckle at his determination.

"Okay, but we have to be back before the sun sets. And please don't try to charm any gnomes this time. I can't afford to get kicked out of another place."

Eiruk stood with a jump and extended a hand to her. "It's a deal," he said with a grin.

She took it and pulled herself off the bed, her muscles protesting from the day's exertion. She had been so focused on her magical training that she'd forgotten about the physical toll its continuous usage could take.

As Neri and Eiruk made their way through the halls of the academy, Neri couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement at the thought of taking a break from her research. Eiruk's cheerful chatter about how they never did anything fun only added to her growing anticipation.

They soon reached Corlin's room and found him hunched over a pile of scrolls on his desk.

"Corlin!" Eiruk exclaimed, startling the blonde out of his concentration.

Corlin looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What is it? Did you get into another mess, Eiruk?" he asked, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Ugh, always thinking the worst of me Cor! No, we're going out for some fun tonight," Eiruk said with a grin.

Corlin stared at her for a moment before breaking into a rare smile. "Did you agree to this, Neri?"

She nodded, smiling back at him. "I could use a break from all this research and magic," she said.

Corlin's smile widened. "Then count me in."

The trio made their way out of the academy sneaking into the bustling streets of Waterdeep. If Vanja knew of their whereabouts she would no doubt be pissed at them for not getting enough rest to be centered in their resposabilities, but she had never caught them before. As they made their way out of the academy and onto the bustling streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. It had been so long since she'd been out for fun in the city, let alone at night.

Eiruk led the way, his footsteps light and confident as he weaved through the crowds. Corlin followed close behind, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any potential dangers.

Neri stuck close to her friends, taking in all the sights and sounds around them. The smell of sizzling street food filled her nostrils, and she could hear the lively chatter of merchants and patrons alike. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm glow over everything.

As they made their way deeper into the city and into the North Ward, Eiruk suddenly stopped in front of a tavern with a boisterous sign that read "The Grinning Lion."

"This is it!" Eiruk exclaimed, looking back at Neri and Corlin with a grin.

Corlin raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Are you sure this is where we want to spend our evening? Only boring young nobles frequent this place."

Eiruk scoffed. "Come on, Cor! Don't judge a book by its cover. The Grinning Lion is one of the most lively and entertaining places in all of Waterdeep."

"I'm not one for lively and entertaining," Corlin muttered, but he followed Eiruk and Neri inside nonetheless. The interior of the tavern was just as lively as its exterior. The air was thick with the smell of ale and sweat, and the sound of raucous laughter filled Neri's ears.

Eiruk led them to a table in the corner where they could see everything going on without being too conspicuous.

"Let's start with some drinks," Eiruk said, moving over to the bar to order.

As they waited for their drinks, Neri took a moment to observe Corlin. He looked brighter than usual, his blue eyes glittering with excitement. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of how much he had grown since they first met.

Back then, he was barely a teenager – all lanky limbs and a mess of golden locks covering his eyes. But now, as she watched him scan the room with a sense of wonder and curiosity, she saw a handsome young wizard, full of potential and promise.

"Hey, stop staring," Corlin said with a smirk as he caught her looking at him.

Neri rolled her eyes. "I can't help it. You are so grown up, Cor."

Corlin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm not that different, Neri. Just a bit taller," he murmured.

"Oh, Corlin, you have no idea," Eiruk said as he placed three tankards of ale on the table. "You should see how much she used to mother you when we were growing up."

Neri glared at Eiruk playfully before taking a sip of her ale. It was bitter and strong, but she enjoyed the warmth it brought to her body. They laughed and clinked their mugs together, their drinks sloshing onto the wooden table. Everyone around them was caught in their own world of joy and laughter, it felt so liberating to be just one amongst the crowd, unnoticed and unburdened.

Eiruk was in full form tonight, delighting them with his amusing anecdotes and witty remarks. Corlin listened attentively, laughing heartily at Eiruk's recounting of an incident where he accidentally turned himself into a sheep during his first year at Blackstaff Academy. Neri watched them both, suddenly overcome with affection for the two who had become her family in all but blood.

Neri's laughter ceased abruptly as a sharp chill ricocheted down her spine. She spun around in her seat, scanning the bustling crowd until her eyes landed on a familiar face - her father's. Her heart pounded in her chest as their gazes locked, and she didn't know whether to run or stay frozen in place.

Panic set in, and she quickly turned back to Eiruk and Corlin.

"We have to go," Neri said urgently, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eiruk looked at her in confusion, clearly a little tipsy. "What's wrong?"

Neri didn't want to cause a scene, but she knew they needed to leave before it was too late. "My father is here," she said, her voice trembling.

Corlin's expression turned serious as he glanced around the room. "Shit. Don't worry, we can-"

But before he could finish his sentence, Neri's father had already made his way to their table.

Her father's tone was disapproving and frigid as he asked, "So this is how you choose to neglect your responsibilities?"

Neri felt a tight knot form in her stomach as she stood up to face him, Eiruk and Corlin following suit. She couldn't believe this was the first time he was adressing her in months.

"Father, I...I just wanted to have a night out with my friends," she tried to reason, but her father's stern expression didn't waver.

Arsten Thunderstaff glanced back and forth between her and her friends, a disapproving look on his face. "You have responsibilities to attend to, Neri," he scolded. "And it doesn't involve indulging in drinks and wasting your time with these...commoners. That's not why we allowed you to attend Blackstaff Academy."

Eiruk bristled at the insult while Corlin stepped forward, ready to defend Neri. But she placed a hand on his arm, silently pleading for them to not make the situation worse.

"Father, they're my friends," she said firmly. "And I don't see why I can't spend my free time with them."

Her father's gaze hardened once again, "

"Your leisure time should be devoted to preparing for your future role in our esteemed wizarding family, as that is more important than anything else. You are a valued member of one of the most respected families in all of Waterdeep, Neriyra," he reminded her sternly.

"I know that," Neri replied through gritted teeth, struggling to keep her composure, "you remind me of it every damned day."

"Then start acting like it," Arsten said firmly before turning on his heel and walking away.

Neri stood frozen, watching her father getting out of the busy tavern. She took a deep breath, trying to push down the anger and frustration that was bubbling inside her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly to her friends, feeling guilty for ruining their night out.

Eiruk put a comforting hand on her shoulder, while Corlin spoke up in indignation.

"He has no right to speak to you like that. Or us, for that matter."

Neri forced a smile at her friends, grateful for their support. "It's alright," she said, though it was anything but. "Let's just...finish our drinks and go."

Eiruk and Corlin both nodded, worry evident on their faces. As they left the tavern and made their way through the crowded streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel the weight of her father's words bearing down on her. Eventually, they reached the entrance to Blackstaff tower and Neri let out a sigh of relief. The familiar stone walls provided some comfort amidst the chaos of the night; this was her true home, after all.

"I need to take care of some business before going back. You'll be alright now?" Eiruk asked, still clearly worried.

"I'll be fine," Neri reassured him with a small smile. "Thank you for coming tonight. It was fun."

"Yeah, we should repeat soon," Eiruk replied with a small smile before heading off towards the dark hallways.

Corlin lingered at Neri's side, his gaze filled with concern. "I will walk you to your bedroom," he said softly.

Neri nodded gratefully, leaning on her friend for support as they made their way through the familiar corridors of Blackstaff tower. She couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and anger that still lingered from her encounter with her father.

Corlin hesitated before speaking up again.

"You know, Neri, I never understood why your father is so hard on you," he said softly as they walked through the quiet hallways of Blackstaff tower.

Neri sighed, her thoughts still consumed by her argument with Arsten. "It's just how he is," she replied with a shrug.

"But it's not fair. You have more magical talent in your pinky finger than most wizards have in their entire body," Corlin insisted, his frustration evident in his voice.

Neri smiled weakly at her friend's words. Corlin was always quick to defend her and boost her confidence when she needed it most. "Thank you, Corlin," she said sincerely. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to her in that moment. She had always felt like an outcast among her own family, but Corlin and Eiruk had never made her feel that way.

His voice trembled as they reached Neri's room. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, and finally whispered, "You know," he started, unable to meet her gaze, "you don't have to face this alone. I... we'll always be here for you."

His words brought a lump to Neri's throat. She nodded mutely, finding herself momentarily overwhelmed with emotion.

The younger boy took a step and grabbed her into his arms, and she took the moment to hug him tightly. He felt warm and solid, a rock she could grab into, even on the darkest moments. Neri closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of wood smoke, lavender, and the earthy smell of books, a comforting aroma that enveloped her like an embrace.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other and Neri gave Corlin a small smile. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

Corlin nodded understandingly. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day."

Neri gave him a grateful nod before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

The next evening, Neri found herself once again entering Gale's studio with a stack of scrolls perched precariously on her arms. Despite her determination to figure out the combination spell on her own, she couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat as she approached her mentor.

"I'm sorry," she began, interrupting Gale's work yet again. "I know I am interrupting over and over, but I can't seem to find the right way to locate the object while also evaluating the surroundings to create a successful gate. I don't know what else to do." She let out a frustrated sigh as she dropped all her belongings gingerly on a nearby table.

"My dear Neri, you are like a reflection of myself. Yes, as a young man I too thirsted for knowledge like a parched wanderer in the desert." He said wistfully from somewhere inside the room.

Neri let out a small chuckle at Gale's dramatic statement. She scanned the place looking for her mentor. "Why do you speak as if you were fifty? You are still young!"

"I have spent many years studying and honing my magical abilities, giving me a unique perspective on life," Gale replied as he emerged from behind a pile of papers.

Neri grinned, and then was taken aback by the sight of him looking... revitalized. His skin had some color back, and he appeared refreshed with clean clothes and hair falling in soft waves around his face and shoulders. She felt her cheeks flush slightly at the sight of him.

"You look much better." She blurted. What? Why did she say that?

Gale chuckled, running a hand through his now clean hair, and looked to be blushing a little. "I have been known to clean up nicely when I put my mind to it. A good night's rest or two also does wonders," his eyes posed on her, "you look like you need it yourself."

A rosy flush spread across Neri's cheeks as Gale's words hit her, but she made a conscious effort to keep looking directly into his eyes. Despite the awkwardness, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the wizard seemed to be doing better.

Clearing her throat, she gestured towards the scrolls on the table, "Well, the lack of sleep means I have been able to dig on the combination spell, and as I said, I'm still struggling with it and was hoping you could offer some insights. Do you think it could be the incantation causing issues? Or perhaps my mental state isn't properly centered?"

Gale smiled, gesturing for Neri to sit down at the soft orange sofa with him. "Let's take a look at what you have so far."

Neri quickly made her way next to the wizard and spread out her scrolls and notes in front of them. Gale studied them intently, muttering under his breath every now and then. After a few minutes, he leaned back with a thoughtful expression.

"I think I can see where you are struggling," he said. "You are on the right track with the combination spell, but I think you may be overcomplicating it."

Neri furrowed her brows, "What do you mean?"

Gale went on, "To successfully find and create a dimensional door, precision and focus are crucial. But attempting to combine it with another spell, like location, is splitting that concentration. Perhaps the solution is to view it as one cohesive conjuration instead of two separate ones."

"That's a great suggestion," she said eagerly. "But how would I go about approaching it as one conjuration instead of two?"

Gale smiled, "Think of it like this - when you combine ingredients to make a potion, you don't mix them separately and then pour them together. You add them all at once and let them blend into one cohesive mixture."

Neri nodded, "So I just need to find a way to seamlessly merge the two spells together during the incantation instead of focusing so much on them independently?"

"Exactly," Gale confirmed. "It may take some trial and error, but I believe that is the key to successfully casting this combination spell."

"I see..." Neri thought to herself, taking a moment to process Gale's words. "But why don't you do it yourself then? It seems like you could do it much faster and easier than I am."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment before finally meeting her gaze with a small smile.

"I am afraid my condition makes me too frail to conjure any complex spells."

Neri could sense a hint of sadness in his voice and she immediately regretted her words. She wanted to ask him more about the condition, but she barely knew him, and felt like it might come off as a little intruding.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I just worry that it will take too much time for me to perfect it on my own. We are running out of time, after all..." She sighed sadly. It's not that she thought she lacked the skills; but mastering it would probably require several months of learning and practicing. And that wasn't even counting the time it would take to find the stones.

After pondering for a few seconds, Gale spoke up again. "You are right. Perhaps we could utilize my limited weaving abilities to guide you through the process?"

Neri's eyes widened with excitement.

"You mean we can combine both our spells into one? I never even thought that was a possibility."

Gale nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I could cast the locate spell and guide you through opening the dimensional door.

It would require us to channel the weave together and meld ourselves into one cohesive force, but I believe it would be a more feasible task than attempting it alone."

The thought of merging her consciousness with Gale's was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a level of intimacy Neri had never dared to try before, not even with her closest friends. She pictured their minds intertwining, their thoughts and emotions blending into one swirling confluence of energy. It was a daunting prospect, but if it meant the success of their mission, she would do it.

She nodded resolutely at Gale, offering him a small smile. "I'm willing to try."

His eyes also held a spark of excitement. "Very well. You must know, it will not be an easy task, but I believe in us. We are both outstanding wizards, after all."

Neri laughed softly as he stood and reached out a hand to help her up from her seat. Together, they walked towards the center of the room where there was enough space for their spell. They sat opposite each other, palms pressed together, and concentrated on channeling their magic. Neri could sense Gale's energy merging with hers, bringing a comforting warmth and renewed vigor. Sharing the same Weave was an intimate act, almost like a gentle whisper or tender touch.

The air around them began to hum, and Neri could feel a warm tingling sensation coursing through her veins.

"Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao," Gale chanted softly, his voice blending harmoniously with Neri's. She felt a surge of power within her at the sound of the words, and then her own sense of self fading away as she became one with Gale's consciousness. She could sense him: concentration, relaxation and... pain. So deep she almost faltered. He kept it so well hidden behind his humor, his verbosity and his infectious enthusiasm, it was hard to believe it was there. Gale's pain was a cold, dark undercurrent that Neri could tell it was a deeply rooted issue, likely tied to his condition.

"Now, let's try to combine the location spell with the dimensional door spell," he whispered through the connection they now shared with a mix of effort and exhilaration. "Keep breathing. Keep flowing."

As Gale and Neri stood facing each other, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could feel his magic humming in the air, creating a slight pressure in the back of her head. While her magic felt consuming but messy, his felt small yet precise. With Gale's steady guidance, she followed the trace of his location enchantment until she found the perfect point to open the gate between their worlds. Neri focused all her energy on that spot, channeling it into a stable connection and muttering the words for the door spell. As she did so, she could feel the power of their combined weave intensify, creating a tingling sensation throughout her body. Suddenly, a bright light burst forth from the spot they had been focusing on, growing larger and brighter until it formed into a shimmering portal before them.

"We did it!" Neri exclaimed in amazement as she opened her eyes. When she turned, Gale was looking at her with a soft smile. She could feel the warmth in his gaze, and it brought a sense of comfort and belonging to her. With their magic still intertwined through the Weave, Neri could sense his genuine pride in what they had just accomplished together.

But just a moment later, the portal made a loud sizzling noise and closed with a sharp pop. She felt her spirits deflate as their efforts seemed to have been in vain. Gale, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh at her disappointment.

"Ah, don’t be so downtrodden about the situation. It was amazing for our first try!", he sat up and began to stretch, “You are really quite excellent at learning things quickly, you know that?”

A warm feeling spread through Neri's chest, and she couldn't help but smile at Gale's praise.

"Really?" she asked timidly.

“Absolutely!” Gale beamed at her,

“You have a natural talent for grasping the intricacies of magic that I still struggle with, despite my years of experience. Trust me, it's not easy to adjust one's own spell casting to match that of another wizard."

She didn't need words to understand the authenticity in his message; their bond gave her all the confirmation she required. A pleasant sensation radiated from Neri's core, and she couldn't help but break into a smile upon hearing Gale's compliment. "I appreciate that," she replied with gratitude.

Gale chuckled and ruffled her hair gently. "Now come on, let's take a break and grab some dinner. We can resume our practice once we've filled our bellies."

"What? But we barely started practicing," she protested.

"We did, but I can sense your stomach grumbling, and I think it's telling us that lunch is more essential than magic training right now. Plus, we need to fuel up before we dive back into magic. For what good is a magic practice without nourishment to power it? It is like trying to start a fire without kindling, futile and fruitless." he added.

"I- I couldn't possibly accept Mast- Gale. I would not want to impose on you."

"Nonsense, my dear. Nurturing your mind and body is not an imposition but a crucial part of our journey towards mastery. Besides, I owe it to you for helping me clean this room the other day." he adds with a cheeky grin "And I might add, I am an outstanding cook, for that matter."

She is about to refuse again, but her stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly. Traitor.

Gale just laughed and pulled her up from the floor.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now let's go fetch some food before my apprentice starves to death."

Neri couldn't help but roll her eyes at Gale's dramatic flair. "Fine, but only this once," she relented.

"Excellent, then it's decided," Gale said with a wide grin. He glanced at Neri, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Prepare yourself for a feast."

Neri quirked an eyebrow, trying to hold back a smile. She doubted of his cooking skills after seeing the mess of his office the previous day, "I'll believe it when I see it."

As they strolled together towards the kitchen, Neri couldn't help but feel a newfound bond between them. The magic they shared had brought them closer in an unexpected way. Even with her previous Master, who was also around the same age as Gale, she had never felt this way. With Gale, it felt more like a genuine friendship, where he saw her as an equal rather than just a student. But then again, maybe it was just the effects of the Weave connection.

Once they reached the first floor, Gale moved confidently toward the kitchens, leaving Neri to follow in his wake. He slipped an apron over his wizard tunic, tying it at the back with ease. It was clear he'd done this before. Neri observed him as he worked, transfixed by the way he moved around the kitchen – so different from the erratic energy he possessed during magic practice.

"Sit," he ordered gently, pointing to a wooden stool on the other side of the counter. "And prepare your palate for my immaculate Hundur sauce."

Neri obeyed, surprised by Gale's assertiveness in this setting. As he started chopping vegetables, Neri couldn't resist asking, "How are you such a good cook?"

"Master Dekarios had a lot of free time while he was alone in his tower." Tara said as she appeared behind Neri, her fluffy tail wagging slowly.

Gale coughed akwardly "Well, it was more of a necessity, and in the beginning, I was terrible at it. But with practice and some helpful tips from my mother, I managed to become somewhat good."

Tara meowed loudly, seemingly agreeing with Gale's statement. Neri watched as Gale effortlessly cooked up a storm, adding spices and herbs to the dishes with practiced precision. The aroma that filled the kitchen made her mouth water.

As they waited for the food to finish cooking, Tara hopped onto Neri's lap and curled up into a ball. Neri stroked the soft fur gently and felt herself relax in the cozy atmosphere of the kitchen.

"Why you were alone for so long here?" Tara

lifted her head and meowed softly."Sorry, I mean, you and Tara."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I should come clean. You'll find out eventually anyway."

He turned away from the stove and leaned against the counter, facing Neri with a serious expression. "This affliction of mine...well, I wasn't exactly forthright about it before. It's a rather long and complicated story," he began slowly."I was what one might call a wizard prodigy, and from an early age could not only control the Weave but compose it, much like a musician or a poet. Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself the lady of mysteries."

"Mystra." she whispered.

Gale nodded, his expression a mix of sadness and nostalgia. "Indeed. She became my teacher, my muse, and eventually my lover."

Neri's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, I was aware were Mystra's chosen, but you were her lover too?"

"Oh yes we enjoyed each other's company

body mind and soul. But even so I desired more." he explained "You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave. Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond. I sought to cross her boundaries,"

He let out a trembling exhale, resting both hands on the countertop in front of her.

"Gods Gale... what did you do?"

Gale's gaze dropped to the counter, his hands still gripping the edge.

"I...I tried to convince her. But she only told me to be contempted." He looked up at Neri again, pain and regret evident in his eyes. "Can you believe it? I was sharing a bed with a goddess and I seeked to prove myself to her."

Neri reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She felt it tremble slightly.

Gale took a deep breath before continuing. "I found a Netherese tome with a fractured piece of the Weave. I thought, what if

after all this time I could return this lost part of herself to my goddess?"

Neri listened intently. She could only imagine the weight and responsibility he must have felt, being chosen by the goddess of magic and yet still never feeling enough for her, deserving of her.

"What was the answer to your question?" she asked softly.

"I obtained the fabled book and took it

into my study" Gale paused, his voice filled with remorse, "as for what happened next..." he took a step in her direction, grabbing her hand and placing it over his chest, "let me show you."

Neri looked at Gale in confusion, but did as he asked. She placed her hand over his heart and, a faint glow coming from it. She moved closer and was able to see the intricate lines that etched from his chest to his cheek, almost like a permanent tattoo. And then, she felt a pull, followed by the deepest darkest pain she had ever experienced. It was as if she had been thrust into the depths of an endless abyss. She screamed as she felt her soul being ripped apart and scattered to the winds.

Neri's mind was filled with images and memories that weren't her own. She saw Gale standing in his study, holding the Netherese tome in his hands. She felt his desperation, his need to prove himself to Mystra.

But as he began to open the book, a dark presence emerged from within it, engulfing him in its powerful grip. Neri watched in horror as Gale's body twisted and contorted under its influence.

And then, with a deafening roar, the darkness burst forth from Gale's body and consumed him completely.

Neri was pulled out of his mind and back into her own body, gasping for air. She looked up at Gale with wide eyes, tears streaming down her face.

"How...how in the nine hells are you still alive?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his big eyes filled with sorrow.

"Neri, I am dying."

taglist: @cookydildorecs

[vaultingfist]

@shinuchi-ulti

The morning was much like any other on New Spa Island; guests rose up from bed to enjoy the luxurious meals prepared by the staff in the dining room, the facilities began to open up during the calm, and finally, new ships from all over the grand line began to pour in. Meanwhile, the Duke of the Island watched the glistening beams dance of the crystal blue sea, enjoying a cup of tea and a blueberry scone. He enjoyed the little home he established in red hair territory, no worries of marines when you had proper protection.

Just as he was going to take another sip, a ringing came from the transponder snail on his desk. Brows furrowed as he took the call. "I'll be right there." A scowl formed upon his lips; why couldn't some people just act normal when on vacation? Making his way down to the artificial island's port, he saw the source of trouble: a group of pirates getting too touchy-feely with his employees. His fists blackened with haki, just in case negotiations went south.

"Gentlemen, it seems you have forgotten the rules here. My clientele all happen to be pirates from around the world, and I don't mind a few rules being broken, but you crossed the line when you touched my crew. Apologize and leave. Now." Arms folded, icy glares exchanged. A fight was about to begin, but just as blows were about to be traded, a wrathful demand for the rowdy band to shut it echoed throughout the port. Before Wriothesley could even react, a young woman jumped from her ship, smashed her head into the other captain, and sent them flying onto their ship, and the boat itself soared out of the island's line of sight.

"I...." His gaze rested upon the unknown hero, a short woman with radiant blue hair and pink hues that looked like they could kill. He knew that face. A beast pirate with a four-hundred million beri bounty, a rare sight in red-haired waters. She was steaming; for whatever reason, though, she saved him from what could've been a brutal brawl. His chest filled with gratitude, and his mouth forming a smile, he gave the woman a bow of gratitude. "You have my thanks. For both your assistance and understanding. Why don't we get your ship and luggage all settled, and we can check you in, Miss....?"

[mischiefmanaged71]

Let’s Fall In Love For The Night - (1/10)

Summary: Being the eldest daughter of a Duke and Duchess means that Lady Y/N has been prepared for society; to fulfil her duties as the next heir to her family name and estate. However, she dreams of so much more than that, particularly, finding someone she truly loves rather than a political match. Intrigue sparks an idea with the introduction of Tom Bennett, a soldier she meets on a Press tour - forming a new relationship that could either make or break her apart should things turn against her favour.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! reader

Indifference sweltered through her mind as the car drew round the bend. The sky was cloudy and grey, as per usual, suiting the desolate mind overrun with curious thoughts and possibilities. Y/N had always been a child pondering questions, wondering about the world and the endless paths one could take. New discoveries became intriguing topics of conversation as she asked everyone and anyone at her beck and call about her curiosities. She held an appreciation for learning and knowledge which became a founding part of her character.

Many years later, the woman at present sat next to her father. He watched her stare out the window with a calm demeanour she wore in the face of others, habitually clasping her hands in her lap. 

“Darling?” his voice brought her back.

“Yes?” she glanced at him, the car slightly jostling her shoulder as they approached their destination.

“Have you put any thought to what we discussed?" he caught the confusion in her eye, “With your mother and I?”

Recognition flashed in her eyes. He was referring to the topic of conversation regarding her prospectives. She had brushed them off on various occasions, dismissing their regards for her future partner. Y/N was rather attached to the idea of finding love naturally, rather than through any political means.

She wasn’t interested in the idea of an arranged ordeal, nor would it work for her. Not for their lack of trying. Her parents were supportive, but they didn’t grasp her intentions. There were certain expectations as the daughter of a Duke and Duchess. While unmarried, she was living under their roof with the title of a Lady.

“My opinion has not changed.” she stated.

The Duke was curt, addressing her as if he were in discussion something else entirely. “Have you considered it at all?”

She turned to him, “Yes and I am still firm in my belief. I want to travel and experience the world through my own means. Not trapped in a Duke or Lord’s house under his authority.” 

“Not even a Prince would sway my decision.” she retorted.

“Entertaining and offer or engagement with a gentleman does not mean a life of solitude under his guise. Your mother can attest to that. We want to help you move onto the next part of your life.” he glanced at her.

"Father, it's not in my interest to fall under someone else's hands."

"Not even a Prince's interest?"

The sound of his sigh filled the car as they passed through an aisle of people, flashing lights catching her eyes. Y/N shook away her hardened resolve, forcing a smile for the oncoming Press. The door opened, a hand offering assistance which she took gladly. The sea breeze brought the ocean to her senses, a slight chill as well, as she held back a shiver. The crowd cheered at their arrival, many bellowing for their attention as Y/N smiled, waving to the people. 

Her mother was entertaining important guests at the manor, as well as, her younger siblings. Two younger brothers, ages 12 and 7, the older holding the title of the rightful heir to the estate in the event of their father's passing. She adored her brothers all the same, not finding interest in the title, rather only the stance it provided in certain circumstances of decision making; particularly of political and social matters.

Y/N was now at a suitable age for marriage, as inferred by the various suggestions from her parents, Aunts and varying other figures who bestowed their unwanted opinions. She joined her father as a courtesy on occasions where the Duchess was unavailable, learning more of the duties expected of her standing.

Y/N brushed her dress, an anxious tick as she looked around. Her father caught her gaze as she swiftly followed, tucking her hand into his arm. Many watched the Duke and Lady approach the ship, men awaiting to greet them aboard. She spotted the line of soldiers overlooking from above, witnessing the grinning faces and smirks of many as they caught sight of her. The first beautiful woman they had seen aboard in many months, possibly the first woman aboard ever seeing as it was a naval ship preparing for deployment.

They knew of their House from photographs in the newspapers, several mentions in regards to the Duke’s first cousin of the reigning House of Windsor, making them of great interest in England’s eye.

Flashes followed them, a second hand offered to guide the Lady onto the step. She graciously thanked them, turning to her father and who she presumed was the captain.

“Welcome aboard his grace, the Duke of Richmond, Richard II and his daughter, the Lady Y/L/N. I am Captain Thomas Barrett. We are honoured to have you both aboard, your grace.”

“Thank you for entertaining this tour, Captain Barrett. We are pleased to meet your acquaintance. Shall we?”

The Captain guided them up the stairs to the top deck, Y/N following closely behind. The deck opened up to rows of the soldiers now lined for up in their uniforms. A shy smile crossed her face at the eyes following her, holding her head high.

She knew of the attention she held, intentionally ignoring the incessant stares and averting her gaze to the ocean. The breeze flowed through her hair as she looked around, her gaze wandering over the edge. Her dress fluttered with the wind, a calm settling over her as she watched the waves with ease. A distant call brought her attention away as her father called her. She met a sailor eye as he moved back into his spot in the first row. She stepped toward her father, hearing his encouragement to talk to the soldiers, what with the photographers surrounding them.

***

Men fumbled around, moving close to the edge as the sound of roaring cheers reached them.

Tom made his way through, curious as to the source of their cheers. He spotted the approaching car and the head that turned towards the ship.

His thoughts halted at the sight of possibly the most beautiful woman he’d seen in his twenty-two years. She had a grace about her that was unique, her hair perfectly styled in soft curls which framed her attractive features. Tom found himself drawn in for some reason he could not comprehend, nor express in words as he paused where he stood.

Her smile was pleasing as she waved at the crowd before looking up at them. The men whistled and shouted along with the crowd, the woman shyly bowing her head at the attention. 

“That’s a pretty bird, isn’t it?” someone said, rising noises of agreement, “Wonder if a Duchess sings all the same.”

“She’s not a Duchess. She’s daughter to one.” another corrected.

“All the same.” the man echoed, laughing as another man patted his shoulder. “Bet I could teach her a lesson in some areas. Don't reckon those posh bastards know what they're doing.”

The remark irritated Tom in a way he couldn’t describe. He didn’t care much about royalty or titles, but he found the remarks disgusting all the same, especially coming from these men that stared at the lady with hungry looks.

“You best treat her with more respect than that.” Tom stated, walking away from the group.

“What did you say?”

Tom glanced back, squaring his feet “I said show some respect. She’s a lady, after all. Not one of your...acquaintances.”

The man chuckled, stepping forward in a move to intimidate him, he assumed “I can say what I damn like.” he retorted, “Why’d you care anyway?”

“I don’t. I’m simply making a statement. Should you embarrass yourself, doesn’t look good on the rest of us.” Tom made a flippant comment as the man got into his personal space. “Besides, your well beneath her. You glanced in a mirror lately?”

“I outta teach you a lesson, boy. Suddenly he cares for appearances, does he? Why don't we can see what she actually thinks about that when I beat you to a pulp.” the man snided, a fury in his voice.

Tom smirked, “You can damn well try. Don’t think you can land the punch, though.”

The man snided, going to raise his fist when Pete stepped in, tugging Tom to the side before the cheers could begin. 

“I can’t leave you for one minute before you’re starting things up.” his friend sighed, tugging him into line as they prepared for the line up. 

“You know I can’t resist. They make it so easy.” Tom replied, a grin dying on his lips at Pete's deadpanned reaction.

The rest of the men followed, Tom ignoring the glare set on him. He clenched his jaw, concealing a grin as the sound of approaching steps reached them. He looked straight ahead as the Captain and Duke approached, a figure behind them. Tom felt his heart skip a beat as he caught a close up of the woman. She scanned the group, including him before walking to the edge. He could hear the murmurs around him as the men stared at her, hoping to get a word in.

He tuned it out, caught up in her graceful demeanour. Everything from her walk, to her pinned hair. The flow of her dress around her and the softness to her features; a refreshing change to the harsh nature of those around him. The Duke called her over and then met his gaze.

“Good morning, sailors.” her voice was soft, addressing the group as they crowded around.

“Mornin’, love.” someone remarked, to which she smiled politely in return.

"Your grace."

“How are you today, my Lady?”

Tom watched her smile and address each remark, but there was a definite practiced answer for each behind her facade.

“I’m doing well, thank you.” she clasped her hands, “Thank you all for your service. When do you depart?”

“In two months time.” 

"And I suppose you're training in the mean time?"

"Course, have to prepare to sink all those Germans." Another piped up, rising a round of laughter. Although she didn't laugh at the comment.

“Will you visit again?” another voice asked.

Her eyes dart around, forming an answer, “I am not sure. There are many ships across England. It would be difficult to visit them all, especially more than once.” she hummed.

“Come on, love. Can’t spare a bit of time for us, lads? Where we’re going are lonely waters.”

She nodded, “And your country thanks you.”

“I’d love more than a thank you.” someone murmured in the background, rising a few laughs. It was probably intended to be a unheard, but Tom caught the recognition in her eyes as her expression hardened. He clenched his jaw at the comment, seeing the shy look depart from her as she reformed a poised exterior. Y/N ignored the flippant comment, evidently used to the behaviour of men. 

The Lady moved along, obvious to Tom that she was unnerved by the interaction. Her eyes meet Tom’s and he feels his heart skip a beat as the crowd parted for her. Tom doesn’t retreat from her gaze, intrigued by her attention now set on him. The pair of mesmerising blue eyes that enraptured her, the blonde hair that she felt the urge to run her hands through. The strong lines of his face and jawline that were sculpted by artists, his full lips that she flickered her gaze from.

“What is your name?” she asked, diffusing the men to silence as they glanced at who she addressed.

He paused, his confident demeanour softened at her stare “Tom.”

She leaned forward, mouth slightly parted at the sound of his satisfying voice; his accent.

“Bennett.” 

She smiled, glancing at Pete who replied with his name as well.

“How long have you been in service?”

Tom confirmed, “Joined up last week.”

“Quite recently.” she echoed, tilting her head, “And your family. How do they fair?”

He nodded, “I’ve got a dad and sister. They were...surprised at my decision.”

“Proud nonetheless, I’m sure.”

Tom strained to hold back his quip that they were most certainly not, given his track record. They bet he would lasted longer in a jail cell than fairing in the war.

He wore a small smile in response, asking a question of his own. “And what is a Lady’s opinion on the war?”

Pete wore a stunned expression as he glanced between the pair.

“We all have our duties. Fighting for one’s country is honourable.” she recited practiced words.

“Yes, we know that, but I asked what you thought.” he held her gaze, genuine interest at her surprise, her mouth agape. Usually people weren’t so forward with her. 

“I think its a very brave act to fight for freedom. To devote yourself to a cause.” she responded.

“Even if we have to die so others can live?”

The light in her eyes dimmed at the thought of death, Pete opening his mouth at the scandalous statement to say something when Y/N cut him off.

“No. I think every death is a tragedy. It takes more than simply courage to stand up for what you believe.” she held his gaze, “I firmly believe in the idea of following your own intentions in life, rather than the opinions of others. But, sometimes we are unable to fulfil those desires because of duty. And sacrifice.” 

He held onto each of her words, not noticing the quiet in the room as the other men listened accordingly.

“You speaking from experience?” he whispered.

“While I can’t bear arms for my country, I know my fair share of sacrifice and duty." she responded, "No one else will know your experience more than yourself. They can't tell you how to live it."

They were two sides of the same coin, equal opposites which were plain to see even within their accents. The stark differences in Tom’s Manchester accent and slang, aside to her elegant voice primed for public speaking.

His next statement was cut off by the Captain addressing the group, instructing them for a photograph.

Tom tilted his head curiously, holding her gaze as she enraptured his attention.

"If I had one wish, it would be to put a stop to the war and any bloodshed before it happened." Her smile falling.

"But we don't live in a perfect world."

"No...we don't." She replied solemnly.

Y/N settled next to her father at the centre of the group, standing with her hands clasped in front of her. Y/N found his gaze again in the crowd four spaces down. She felt breathless, glancing away right as the flash shuttered. This sort of feeling rising in her chest was unfamiliar to her as she followed closely behind her father.

But right as they were departing, she felt a hand brush her own in the crowd, the sensation sending shivers along her arm. A pair of blue eyes studied her with interest, and Y/N fought the urge to stay there, holding onto his stare forever as it seemed.

TAGS

@pearlstiare @dothrckis @aemonds-sapphire @xcharlottemikaelsonx  @filipinamultifandom ​ @padfooteyes ​ @aemondsvhagar @batsyforyou @yentroucnagol @cl-0-vr @viviartsy @h3k3t @arcana-greenleaf  @yummycastiel @amysnowflake92 @lauraneedstochill @ladybug0095 @rntrsna @schniiipsel

[standfucker]

@thermaldischage

I went for bullet points, but this kinda outgrew them, so I'll call it a drabble. It was still written with bullet points in mind so it's in a bit of a simpler style. I hope that's all good with you. Thank you for your patience!

Inuarashi Falling in Love with You

CW: none

Your ship was mangled by a storm. You clung to a piece of the hull, fighting to stay afloat among the waves. While the wood is sturdy enough to support your weight, it’s been two days and dehydration is starting to make you see things. For example, the walking continent that’s been growing larger on the horizon for some time now.

As it gets closer, the continent takes the shape of a creature. It’s so unfathomably massive, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a god, coming to take you to the afterlife. You feel yourself starting to lose consciousness as it gets close enough to cast shade over your section of the sea. The last thing you remember before blacking out is the sensation of being lifted, as if to the heavens…

You wake up in a clinic with an IV in your arm. There is a goat man peering into your face.

You scream. 

He screams. 

A squirrel woman yells at you both to get a hold of yourselves.

After a long explanation, you learn that you are on the moving island of Zou, and that the “god” you saw was actually a supermassive elephant, carrying an entire society on its back. Apparently, it lifted you out of the water and placed you on its back, where you were found by someone they’re calling Duke Inuarashi. This is, apparently, a huge deal to the minks.

Speaking of which, it’s your first time seeing minks in person. Thankfully, you’re also a huge animal lover, so it’s not too great a shock. The bigger concern is wondering what became your ship. Neither mink can answer that for you, but say you must speak with the Duke when you’ve recovered. At least you were sailing alone, so no one else was lost.

Recovery takes a day and a half of IV fluids and rest. You’re given a simple breakdown of how mink society is structured in the meantime. The following morning, the goat man, Dr. Miyagi, gives you a clean bill of health. 

Outside the clinic is a beautiful, old-fashioned looking city with buildings hewn into the rock. There’s a lion mink waiting for you right outside the door. He rather intensely introduces himself as “Full Power” Shishilian before guiding you through the city.

Every single mink you pass by turns their heads to stare and point. Some even start following you, whispering to each other. “Don’t mind them,” Shishilian says. “Most of them have only seen humans in pictures.”

You’re a little stunned when you first lay eyes upon Duke Inuarashi. He’s so grandiose, so poised, so…gentle. Despite his size, he’s gentle when he approaches, gentle when he shakes your hand, gentle when he tells you there’s no one to take you home–their only seafaring mink are currently out on a supply mission. The mink leader is humble, refined, and thoroughly soft for all his majestic appearance suggests, and just from exchanging a few words you can sense the wisdom he carries.

You respond that without a ship, you don’t have anything to your name anyway. You were on your way to another island looking for work. If there’s work to be had on Zou, you say, you’re great with paperwork and organizing, and could take up a job while you wait for the traveling minks to return.

Inuarashi says he has been considering taking on an assistant to help out with administrative work. He doesn’t tell you that it’s a good way to keep an eye on you until he decides whether you’re trustworthy.

You’re set up in a side room in the Duke’s very home, and the ringing of the Welcoming Bell marks your official introduction into Zou. 

Inuarashi is exceedingly polite and well-mannered. His office situation? Not so much. It’s a mess, completely disorganized with stacks of books and papers everywhere. You have a lot of work to do.

After a full day of labor, you finally have everything sorted into piles. Inuarashi protests that you should rest, but you’re used to long hours and stay up late anyway. You soon discover why he was concerned–the moment as the clock strikes 6, he falls asleep right then and there on the floor. He didn’t want to leave you by yourself, it seems.

You cover him with a large blanket, struggling somewhat to drag the massive bedding over his body. Then, looking left and right to make sure no one’s watching, you pet his ears. They’re smooth and soft beneath your skin. The touch makes him kick his leg in his sleep, knocking over a pile of papers. Whoops.

After that, you stop working late, simply going in with Inuarashi in the early evening. Having not yet adjusted to the mink’s schedule, it’s far too early for you, so you clean up around his home as thanks for being allowed to room there.

Inuarashi wakes up to a spotless house and you out cold. One sniff of the floral-scented cleaner tells him you stayed up late, so he decides to let you sleep in.

By the following week, everything in his office is put away and has a place. You talk to Inuarashi when he’s not busy, and find that he makes for excellent conversation. He always has a good perspective on things, or an interesting anecdote to share. The days don’t go by very quickly, but on Zou, that’s a welcome thing, as the work isn’t nearly so dreary as it was in your old life.

Inuarashi wants to trust you, but he lets a little part of him remain shrewd, just in case. He has to look after his people, after all. But you make it hard with your habits.

You call minks Mr. or Miss, plus their species name. The first time you referred to him as Mr. Puppy, he was immediately reminded of his friends in Wano. Another mink that overheard you snapped at you to show respect, but Inuarashi stopped them. “I find,” he said, “that the people who refer to us that way are kind ones.”

It was also amusing to hear you refer to Nekomamushi as “Mr. Kitty”, making him bark out a laugh at how much of a mismatch it was to the Cat Viper’s abrasive personality.

Following Inuarashi’s example, the minks pay no mind as to how you referred to them, accepting it as one of your quirks. You get along well with the minks, fitting right in. You love snuggling up to them (so soft!) and they love the physical affection. You run around playing with the mink children, help their parents with chores, and gradually make a place for yourself among their kind.

You take on a lot of tasks alone–you tell Inuarashi it’s because you’ve always lived by yourself. You wanted to be a zoologist, but were from a lower class family that couldn’t afford the schooling, so you simply worked from a young age and never really stopped. To call it a dull existence would be ungrateful, you say, as you had just enough to meet your needs and should be thankful. Inuarashi listens quietly, contemplating.

You need a pack, he thinks, to stop relying on yourself so much. The next time you’re working yourself too hard, he stops you right there, tells you you’re done for the day, and takes you out to the town center. There’s a beautiful garden situated there, and he walks you through rows of shrubs and flowers and saplings, pointing them out and explaining how they grow best when planted next to varied species, each one taking advantage of differing levels of shade. Inuarashi plucks a flower and places it in your hair. “It’s good to appreciate what you’ve been given, I suppose. But…you-gara never got the chance to stop and enjoy the bounties of life.”

“There was no time,” you say.

“There’s time now.” He looks up, over the sprawling, beautiful city. “You don’t have to rush back home. Stay a while. My house will remain open to you for as long as you see fit.”

You smile. “You’re just saying that because your space is clean for the first time.”

He chuckles. “It’s certainly a nice bonus.”

You grow closer. Inuarashi comes to trust you fully, now comfortable with letting you explore the island by yourself…but he finds that he doesn’t want to, that he prefers keeping you by his side. He finds excuses to do so, feeling a little ridiculous for it all the while. He should be beyond such foolishness.

“There’s no urgent need to visit the forest. It’s getting dark, after all. Why don’t we go another morning, together?” He’ll offer, and so on.

You start noticing the change, too. There’s the obvious signs–his tail starts wagging when you return home, for one thing. For another, he starts to refer to you informally, by just your first name. There’s smaller, subtler signs, too: his large hand alighting on your shoulder when you’re beside him, at your waist when you’re out together, or on your arm when you converse. His occasional sniffs in the air will switch to subtle, indirect sniffs of your hair when you walk by. You’ve learned each other’s preferred tea blends, and he always has a cup of your favorite kind waiting for you when you inevitably wake up after him.

You start napping together after lunch, he curled up on his giant couch and you nestled against the curve of his side. His tail thumps lightly when you first settle in. Still, you don’t think much of it until one day Carrot walks in on you two asleep, and later informs you that the Duke does not, in fact, nap with his subjects as a general rule.

“Aw, he must really care for you,” she says, and your face heats up as you stammer.

“Do, do you really think so? you ask.

“I haven’t seen the Duke be in such a good mood in ages. And why wouldn’t he be? You’re sweet.” Carrot leans in and lovingly chomps on your ear, making you yelp.

Inuarashi, never far from where you are nowadays, skids to a stop around the corner, rushing up to you two. “I heard you scream, what happened–ah, Carrot!” he scolds. “We don’t bite lesser mink. Their skin is delicate.”

Carrot apologizes, kissing the shell of your ear instead. You giggle, ticklish, and say you’re fine, but please keep it to kisses from now on.

That evening when you’re both winding down with mugs of tea, Inuarashi clears his throat where he’s sitting across from you on the couch.

“Carrot goes overboard with her garchus sometimes,” he says.

“I noticed,” you touch your ear with a giggle, and he frowns slightly. “It’s fine. It didn’t hurt too much. And she made up for it, so no hard feelings.”

“Does she do that often?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Kiss you.”

You pause. It’s an unusual question, coming from the old canine. Something about it makes you feel weird. Uncertain and hesitant. You decide to just tell the truth: “Only on the cheek.” 

“Hmm,” is all he says. It wasn’t unusual for minks to kiss or lick each other’s face as part of their greeting. Kisses on the lips were treated the way humans treated it–as either a romantic gesture, or between a mother and young child. Inuarashi’s frown dissipates, and he seems to relax, focusing on stirring a cube of sugar into his tea.

“That’s normal, right?” you ask. “I’m not missing anything in terms of mink culture, am I?”

“Not at all, my dear. You’re doing very well,” he praises. “Don’t pay me any mind. I was just being a nosy old dog.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Naturally, who you-gara choose to get close to is all up to you. Especially if you plan on staying long-term.”

Another odd statement, but it makes your heart leap. Was he implying you could become a citizen? “Is that really okay?”

“I don’t see why not,” he says. “You’ve acclimated well to life here, and you-gara seem to be happy. I can’t speak for how you felt before coming to Zou, but if it’s been an improvement, then staying would be the logical choice, no?”

“You’re talking about permanent residence, right?” you ask, and Inuarashi smiles in response. “Where would I live?”

“With me,” he says automatically, as if it wasn’t even a question. He pauses, looking sheepish. “I mean…if you would be alright with that–”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes, I’d love that!”

His tail sweeps the floor behind him as he beams. “Then it’s settled. Or…at least, it would be,” his tail stops, “the truth is, if you-gara wish to become a citizen, you need permission from Nekomamushi as well, loath as I am to admit it.”

You’ve never met the Cat Viper in person before, though you’ve heard Kingsbirds like Wanda and Carrot speak highly of him. All you really know for sure is that he and Inuarashi must never, under any circumstances, see each other.

“I’ll send Wanda to take you to him,” Inuarashi says. “The forest is difficult to navigate after dusk.”

A few nights later, you, Wanda, and Carrot (who tags along) take a Warney into the Whale Forest. You haven’t been around the crocodilian beasts much, but they’re surprisingly docile for how fierce they look. An hour of riding later, a gorilla mink stops you at an entrance to a clearing, defined by cultivated trees and shrubs. After talking to Wanda, he steps back and lets you in, revealing a sprawling little village set deep within the forest.

It’s like a repeat of the day you first arrived, with plenty of mink focused on you. One of them stands tall above the rest, even more massive than Duke Inuarashi, a monstrous cat mink–Master Nekomamushi. He’s friendly enough, though he has a serious air about him, making you nervous when he invites you–and only you–into his home to talk.

“I’ll start this off by saying I have nothing against you-gara staying here,” he says, and you feel relieved for just a moment before he adds, “but there’s something you should know.”

He leans back in his chair, puffing on his pipe before continuing. “Wanda filled me in. You-gara have been living with him this whole time, right? You smell like him. Hmph.” He pauses, and his face is hard to read, but you think he’s conflicted. “There’s no easy way to put this…but Inuarashi has been deceiving you.”

“...What?” you say. You know the two don’t get along, but Nekomamushi doesn’t seem to be messing with you. “I’m sorry. What do you mean, Mr. Kitty?”

“Nya ha ha! You-gara are just like some old friends of mine.” His grin falls, and he sighs out smoke. “All the worse that he’s been doing this to you. Listen up: Inuarashi doesn’t trust you. I know him better than anyone on this island. He let you live with him to keep a watch on you. To be honest, I probably would have done the same…”

You feel your stomach sink.

“He keeps you by his side constantly, right? Why do you think that is?” Nekomamushi says. “Because despite that kindly act of his, he has to keep his people safe from outside threats.”

“I’m,” your voice is quiet as your chest gets tight, “I’m no threat.”

“Not to him, maybe. But you-gara were a stranger. Unpredictable. That Zunesha saved you may mean a lot to the citizens, but it doesn’t give you a free pass to run about…of course, none of this is your fault.”

Inuarashi only kept you close to him to watch you? You could have sworn that he was fond of you…that he looked at you differently. Were you reading too far into things? Because you were lonely? Tears sting at the corners of your eyes and you blink quickly to get rid of them.

“I thought…” you swallowed. “I thought we were…I mean, I thought he trusted me. He acted like he liked being around me.”

“Not surprising. Inuarashi and I have fond memories with our old human pals. And, as they say… Dogs are man’s best friend, after all. I’m sure he likes you-gara. Doesn’t mean he trusts you.” Nekomamushi picks up on your unease, his nose twitching and his look pitying. “I’m sorry, Y/n. But you deserve to know the truth. I won’t let him continue lying to you-gara.”

You droop in your chair, trying to hold yourself together under this awful new information. Nekomamushi reaches out and gently pats your shoulder with one massive hand.

“Inuarashi told you-gara that our minks capable of sailing have left, I assume?” He asks, and you nod. “He didn’t count me among them, as I have duties to see to here. However…if you so wish, I will gladly take you home. I’m a better sailor than all the other minks. I can get you there safely.”

You look up at him, surprised. Nekomamushi gives you a kind smile. “You-gara don’t have to decide right now. But if you want to go home, all you have to do is ask.”

The ride back to the city is miserable and silent. Wanda and Carrot can sense that something’s wrong, but you refuse to answer them, too twisted up inside. What comfort could they offer, anyway? They adores Duke Inuarashi, and would likely side with his reasons for deceiving you. Your heart feels like it’s breaking. You love it here, and you love him, but you don’t want to live on Zou if he doesn’t return your feelings.

You barely talk to Inuarashi the next day, responding in short sentences and avoiding him where you can. Like Wanda, he knows something’s wrong, but you won’t elaborate. Inuarashi fears the worst–that Nekomamushi rejected your request for citizenship. While the Duke falls asleep promptly as usual, his sleep is troubled and restless. It’s almost like he can sense you leaving that night, visiting Nekomamushi once more in order to tell him that you’ve accepted his offer.

Nekomamushi has a boat prepared. In the meantime, you pack your things, and the following night, after Inuarashi is asleep, you go out to meet the Cat Viper for the last time at the edge of Zou. It’s childish, but you can’t help but wish that Inuarashi would stop you somehow. If only he would come after you. But you know that the two mink kings can never lay eyes upon each other.

Nekomamushi helps you get into the boat, and you get your things settled and prepare to descend. The minks working the pulleys barely touch the ropes when you all hear it: a howl pierces through the forest.

A moment later, Inuarashi bursts out of the treeline on a galloping Warney. He leaps off his mount and sprints toward the edge. At this distance, you can see that he’s blindfolded. Two mink leap into his way to keep him from getting too close to the edge, nearly getting bowled over but managing to stop him. Your heart pounds as Inuarashi cries out your name.

“Please, listen!” he howls. “Carrot overheard you speak to Nekomamushi. She told me everything. Heed my words, Y/n! I never meant to deceive you! I only wanted what was best for my people. I just forgot that ‘my people’ included you! I only kept you on such a tight leash because I was selfish. I was a bad dog. I wanted all your attention and affections for myself. Please, forgive this foolish old man, whose only crime was not telling you he loved you sooner.”

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as he speaks. You blink, and they streak down your cheeks. Before you can think twice, you try to leap off the boat and nearly fall. Nekomamushi catches you with his quick reflexes, and sighs, carrying you back over onto Zou and setting you down. “Dumb mutt…” he mutters, but you hardly register it.

You run to Inuarashi, who’s fallen into his knees. As you get closer, he sniffs the air, and his tail starts to wag. You take his large muzzle and pull it close to your chest in an embrace.

“I was never sure,” you say, voice warbling through tears.

He lets you hug his head against your body, then picks you up and holds you close. “I owe you a lifetime of apologies, dear Y/n.”

“Don’t ever make me doubt it again,” you sniffle. He can’t see you smile, so you kiss his snout. His tail wagging goes into overdrive.

Inuarashi needs a few extra hours of sleep to make up for pushing past his natural clock. This time, you both sleep together in his bed, and for the first time, he’s the one who sleeps in. You make sure to have a cup of his favorite tea ready for him for when he wakes up, then slip back under the covers to enjoy the sleepy, early hours with your new beloved.

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

flash that angle, grind a smile

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x gn!Actor!Reader

Writing Genre: story

Genres: fluff, pining, co-workers to friends to lovers

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: very brief discussion of poisoning & blood, it's my first time writing for Vil so hopefully he's not too out of character

Notes: I was listening to 'Sculptures of Anything Goes' by Arctic Monkeys and my mind started drifting to creating this fic -- so here it is! <3

Read it on ao3!

~~~

Silently sipping on your delightfully warm latte, you observed the scene being produced in front of you.

“And if the Grand Duke hears about this? What do you expect your fate to be then?” one of your co-stars voiced worriedly, trying to reason with the antagonist.

“My fate is of no concern to anyone but me.” Vil’s character Antoine glared at the man before continuing, “I’m sure there are plenty of cases for you to investigate in the city. Entertain yourself with one of them and move along now, Dorian… lest you find your destiny lying with His Highness.”

You fought back a chuckle, being mindful of the cameras still rolling.

Dorian seemed slightly dejected as he quietly left the Prince’s office – a physical foreshadowing of the character’s motives that were to be revealed later on in the series.

As the scene came to a close the floor manager called out, “And cut! Great work today everyone! Get a nice meal and a good rest – I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow!”

The formerly quiet set began bustling with various audio engineers, camera operators, runners, and assistants. Rising from your chair, you stretched before deciding to strike up a conversation with Dorian’s actor, Killian.

“Hi, Kil! Your performance was fabulous today!”

“Mine? We should be talking about yours! The dinner scene was phenomenal! The way you portray such a deceiving Marchioness is almost frightful.” he finished with a wink. Your bubbly conversation with your co-star continued for approximately fifteen minutes until you decided to bid him farewell.

—

After changing back into your everyday clothes and having your hair and makeup undone, you felt content to return to the trailer you would continue to call home for the weekend. As you finished gathering your things, you heard your favorite voice speak from behind you.

“Good evening, Y/n. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I would like to discuss our scenes for tomorrow’s filming.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Vil. Why don’t we talk in my trailer over salad?”

He looked contemplative for a moment before agreeing.

—

You had always held respect for Vil’s love of his craft, and seeing how dedicated he was to ensuring both his and your prime performances began turning that respect into admiration. Working on the newest season of Twisted Wonderland’s most popular historical drama for the last few months had brought you closer, and you felt yourself drifting nearer and nearer to the sea of love. It was always hard to decipher the blond’s feelings due to his consistent air of professionalism, and although sometimes it was irksome, at the end of the day it was yet another aspect of him to appreciate.

“Y/n? What’s got you so distracted?”

Your body jolted to attention as you focused back on your conversation, quickly sipping on a glass of lemonade you had gotten after dinner.

“Nothing, I apologize.” you laughed off lightly, “Please, continue.”

He eyed you with suspicion and knowing before clearing his throat.

“Anyways, as you know Antoine’s plan will be accelerating to prepare for the next season after the finale tomorrow, and the masquerade scene we will be filming will run the longest. Since our characters are slowly blossoming into each other’s love interests, I think the scenes of them dancing together will be the most important to master, especially since they represent the turning point in their relationship."

You nodded along to his words before asking, “Should we go over the dance one more time?”

“I would say that we could do it now, but unfortunately there is not enough space in here. We can arrive at the set earlier to rehearse, however.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Vil checked his watch before sighing, “As much as I wish to continue our meeting, I must prioritize my schedule. Tomorrow will be important, and I want to feel and look my best. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have to be off now. Have a great night, Y/n.”

You wished him a good night as well, before starting your own routine.

–

A huff exited the actor’s lips as he braided his hair – a pointless action as hair and makeup would style it accordingly – but alas his frazzled thoughts needed a calming activity. His brain continued pestering him by replaying your conversation last night. He knew why you were distracted, and the feelings behind it are what made him hesitate to take your offer. But upon further reflection both last night and this morning, he found that he was not entirely averse to the idea. You had become casual friends during the long period of filming, and he had to admit to himself that there were many things about you he found appealing.

A knock on his door broke him out of his thoughts.

He tied off the braid and adjusted his hair before rising from his vanity to answer it. Who else stood there but the single person who occupied his mind as of late.

“I figured now would be the perfect time to practice since it’s still early enough for the set to be empty. I also brought this for you,” you spoke, handing him a simple hot lidded cup. “It’s just green tea, as I thought that would be more your preference in comparison to coffee.”

“You would be correct.” he replied.

“Great! Now let’s go master these waltzes.” you smiled brightly, turning to the large building that was home to your ballroom.

—

The Grand Duke fell to his knees in his chambers. His muscles shook heavily and his heart tightened. Blood seeped from the corners of his lips.

A cut back to the masquerade.

When a passerby couple made eye contact with Antoine and nodded, you knew the plan was fulfilled.

The Prince chuckled as he leaned down to your ear and whispered, “Just what have you done, Marchioness?”

Your character smirked before replying, “I believe I should be asking you that question. After all, you have a reputation for being a prodigy in poisons.”

He coyly retorted, “Hm. Is that so?”

You made knowing eye contact while you continued your dance. Around and around the ballroom you spun, circling the Prince’s figure and weaving through his arms. When word of the ruler’s death made it to the grand party, the guests entered a frenzy.

The Prince and the Marchioness however, continued spinning about the floor.

“And cut!” the floor manager yelled.

You finished off your spin before steadying yourself.

Soon claps and cheers echoed across the extras, cast, and crew in celebration of the last day of filming. It was a bittersweet feeling, but knowing that you would be coming back next year helped lift the weight off of your heart.

The director made an announcement about a special event being hosted for every member of the cast, along with the stars of a new sci-fi series and an up-and-coming adaptation of a popular fantasy novel. It was to be hosted at one of Pyroxene’s most famous museums – L’histoire de la création.

Excitement bubbled around the room and as it fizzled out it was replaced by a contentedness over the crowd. After bidding your co-stars farewell, you went to your assigned room to change out of costume and put on a knitted sweater and trousers. You cleaned your face and applied simple skin care products before choosing to sit on your sofa and bask in your remaining time on the set with a book about the show’s time period.

About twenty minutes later a knock rapped on your door and you perked up upon hearing it.

Marking your place in the book, you approached and answered the door.

“Oh, hello, Vil.”

“Hello, Y/n.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

You opened the door wider and stepped to the side, allowing him to enter.

For being so notoriously put together, the actor carried traces of nervousness in his gaze.

"What did you need?" you queried.

"Not much, I simply had a parting gift for you."

Surprise blossomed on your face before you spoke, “It doesn’t seem like you to give out gifts to just anyone.”

He let out a sound somewhere between a huff and a laugh, “You’re not just anyone.”

Your heart jumped – what exactly did he mean by that?

Taking the gift with a slightly awkward thank you and opening the lavender-colored box, you were greeted by a shimmering gold bracelet. A heart embedded between daggers sat in the center, with two rows of amethyst vines leading to a clasp. It was dazzling, and seemed to carry the very essence of Vil.

“I… it’s beautiful, thank you, Vil.”

“You’re welcome, Y/n. I look forward to seeing you wear it.”

—

Completing the finishing touches on his outfit, Vil stepped gracefully into the night and to his awaiting chauffeur.

“Good evening, Francis.” he spoke, watching as the man opened his door.

“A lovely eve to you too, Mr. Schoenheit.” he replied, allowing the blond to step into the vehicle.

After Francis closed the door, the actor felt a peculiar mixture of nervousness and excitement begin bubbling inside of him. He never felt such a way at the prospect of attending events – they were simply another aspect of his work and another way for him to flaunt his efforts and attributes.

“To L’histoire de la création, correct?” his chauffeur questioned.

“Yes.” was his only reply.

When his eyes drifted from the rear view mirror and arrived at his reflection in the window, he observed his amethyst and gold earrings and came to a somewhat shocking conclusion.

He was looking forward to seeing you again – his heart was racing in fact.

It had been a month since you had last seen each other and he was ready to dismiss his feelings and get back to his former routine. But now, as old emotions dredged up, he had no choice but to reflect before coming face to face with you once more.

—

“We have arrived, sir.” the chauffeur spoke.

“Thank you, Francis.” Vil said, waiting for his door to be opened.

Reporters and the paparazzi stood along the carpet leading to the museum, and as soon as the model stepped out of the car, all of the flashing lights turned to him.

His fashion for the night consisted of his signature purple in the form of a button down, layered underneath a maroon vest with gold details. His black trousers matched with the onyx blazer he wore which ended after his torso in the front, and continued to lightly trail on the floor behind him. The coat held golden embroidery, matching with the gold jewelry he wore and the details on his sleek black heeled boots. To top it all off, his hair was tied into a braided bun with two curled stands left to frame his face.

Needless to say that he was sure to be going viral by the end of the night.

After traversing the media show with class, he finally entered the venue. Witnessing the lovely stone architecture embellished in gold after so many years made him feel a sense of nostalgia. Fellow actors and actresses cavorted across the space, looking at paintings, statues, and antiques from throughout Pyroxene’s history. A waiter came by carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres, but the model waited patiently for one to bring drinks.

“Pleasure seeing you here.” you voiced from behind him.

Vil turned and gazed upon you for the first time in thirty days. Your outfit unknowingly complimented his, and he immediately felt that rumors would be circling. A raven and violet ensemble highlighted with gold – most notably the bracelet he gifted you on the last day of filming.

“I see you’re wearing my gift tonight.” he spoke mellowly, trying to keep a somewhat low-profile among the crowd.

“I’ve worn it everyday since you gave it to me.” you whispered.

For once, Vil Schoenheit was left speechless.

Trying to recover quickly he responded and lightly teased, “It must be timeworn by now. Would you like a new one?”

You chuckled before replying, “No. What I would really like is you.”

Did… you mean what he suspected you to?

“I’ve had a lot of time to look at what exactly I feel towards you. How exactly to handle it. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I should not repress these feelings just because of my public image. While you may not feel the same way, I at least wanted you to be aware.”

You most certainly did, it seems.

He took a few moments to ponder what to say. You waited patiently, visibly anxious to hear his thoughts.

“I must admit, Y/n, that what I feel for you is the same.”

You started beaming at his admission.

“I do wish however, that we keep this relationship private for the time being. Our images require great care and I would like for this to be something that is ours – not the world’s.”

“I accept your terms, Schoenheit.” you voiced playfully.

Throughout the rest of the eventide you would sneakily link your pinky in his, cast loving and frisky glances at each other from across the room, and meet to whisper in front of the renowned art.

It seemed that Vil was incorrect in his assumption, however, as the next day only photos and articles documenting his attendance to the event circled. He laughed lightly – it seemed that at the end of the day, you truly were some of the best actors.

[dailydemonspotlight]

Forneus - Day 19

Race: Fallen

Alignment: Neutral-Chaos

April 16th, 2024

Unsurprisingly for a series focused around demons, the Ars Goetia is a great point of reference for several demons in the series. The text, essentially a handbook for summoning demons, contains up to 72 kings of hell to bring about to the world to assist you, do your bidding, or just to fuck around with. Among these demons, particularly the 30th, Forneus, Marquis of Hell, makes himself known- a great sea beast.

Unfortunately, the Goetian grimoire wherein Forneus originates is very, very hard to read for my proclivities, but I'll try my best to transcribe it. Described in the text as a great sea monster of unknown proportions, Forneus helps to make those who summon him become well-versed in rhetoric, particularly to gain social status- as the book goes, "He teacheth, and maketh men wonderfully knowing in the Art of Rhetoric. He causeth men to have a Good Name, and to have the knowledge and understanding of Tongues."

Effectively what this means is that Forneus can be one's teacher in debate, and will help people to obtain social power through obtaining a good standard when it comes to speaking with others. Also promised is the delivery of the ability to speak in any tongue, provided one is able to even understand it, and an ability to mend rifts in one's relationship with another as well. "He maketh one to be beloved of his Foes as well as his Friends," the book proclaims.

While hastily described, Forneus's depiction as a beast of the ocean fits well with his design within SMT, being that of a manta ray with a human body on its back, hands long and outstretched, giving him a far more eerie appearance than what would normally be let on. The peak of the human head poking out from the stingray's back gives its top half an uncanny, human-esque appearance, and the crown dictates his stance as one of the dukes of hell.

The Ars Goetia is a strange text to read through, one filled with sigils and proclamations of real abilities to summon demons to the world, and it's one I've found myself utterly entranced with, mayhaps like a demon's spell in-and-of-itself. Overall, though, like most goetic monsters in the Megaten series, Forneus's depiction is incredibly faithful and unique, making his mark as a fan favorite demon that I find myself loving as well.

[minigirl87]

The Laird & The Lassie series Prt 1

An Au Duke Leto Atreides x F'Reader

Summary:-

This is an au that was inspired by Oscar Issac in his black kilt suit at the New York fashion week. Set in the Scottish Highlands in modern days. I've set Caladan in the North Scottish West Coast in the Lochaber area of Fort William, which is beautiful and surrounded by mountains and water. Some points of interest on Fort William, its the road to the Isles and West Highland way. It is the home to Ben Nevis and the mouth to the rivers Nevis and Lochy and is where you can get the Harry Potter train to cross the famous Glenfinnan viaduct. And History wise, it is where Glencoe is. I've set the Lairds castle as Inverlochy Castle, which is beautiful ruin which historic Scotland look after and it sits in front of river Lochy. This is my first Duke (Laird) Leto fic. Please be kind if it is not perfect. Please feel free to like, comment, share, and leave feedback. Please Enjoy

There are some Scottish words in the story that I was a fun idea.

Warnings:-

Angst, mentions of road traffic accident, reader ends up in hospital.

Word Count:- 5,997

The air smelled thickly of a mixture of heather and peat as the Laird walked his two Gordon setter dogs along the river Lochay. It was a driecht afternoon, the sky a dull mixture of grey that the autumn leaves broke up with splashes of reds and oranges dancing in the breeze and scrunched under his boots.

“Archie and Angus, come here now!” Leto shouted to the two barking dogs that had spied a pheasant. In the distance, castle Caladan sat against the backdrop of the Munro mountains. Caladan was a beautiful area of Scotland’s west coast surrounded by rugged coastline to the north sea and the Munro’s but the beauty also held the long ago history of bloodshed.

As a Laird of the land of Caladan, it was his duty to get married and have an heir. But he never found the right woman for him. They were always interested in what he was, not who he was. Leto was kind, caring, compassionate, man. Who worked hard and had respect from not only local people but also nationwide? He longed for a woman the same as him to give his love and life. To give her the gift of his children to be a dream family.

Caladan castle was mostly a hauntedly beautiful ruin of golden sandstone. Where Leto would often think of his families his of generations and to which he was the last Laird of it all. But despite this ruin that the public could see through a walled gate stood an 18th-century baronial style tower, and that was his home. His lonely cold home only made better by her, his little thistle.

Walking into the entrance hall, he was greeted by her, his housekeeper, his only member of staff. She walked towards him with a smile.

“Good afternoon, sir. Shall I assist with your coat?” she said the smile still formed on pretty face.

“Aye would be most helpful” Leto chucked as Y/N helped him with his coat. The two Gordon setters bound happily, wagging their tails into the kitchen.

Leto watches as Y/N hangs his coat up. He watches her hips as the black dress clings to them and then admires her legs in the black seemed tights. He knew it was wrong to think of her this way, but his desire burned for her burned inside him. He longed to touch her, hold her, and make her his.

Quickly adverting his gaze as Y/N turns to speak to him. “Would sir like tea in the drawing room?”

“Aye my Lassie, that would warm my cockles up” smiling as Y/N walked back to the kitchen, as he himself headed to the drawing room to await his little thistle. Y/N had worked for him for many years, fulling almost every whim without complaint. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of his home and dogs when he had to travel for his duties. She was almost like a wife to him. He longed to tell her his feelings, but he couldn’t bear losing her.

Y/N knocked on the drawing room door, awaiting permission to enter.

“away ye come lass” Leto’s voice lulled through the heavy oak door. As Y/N walks in with a tea tray, setting it down in front of him. And then pokes the fires glowing embers as the howling wind cast shadows in the back of the hearth’s the logs cackle and crackle like the witches in Macbeth.

“Sir. You’re remembering it's my evening off tonight? And I’m going into the town” Y/N says excitedly.

“Ye canny be going out it that, there’s a storm a coming tonight” worry laced in he voice as he tried to reason with her.

“och I’ll be fine sir, nae need tae worry about me” trying to reassure him. “I’ll be back by the morning”

As Y/N leaves the room, Leto stands and strides over to the window, the rain is lashing down, and the winds howling like a banshee. Whispering to himself “she can’t leave in this weather”.

An hour passes, and Leto goes looking for Y/N and finds a note on the kitchen work top next to the kettle. The only line he sees says I’ll be back before the morning, sir.

“I can’t lose her, if anything happens to her I’ll never forgive myself” as he stares into the darkness from the kitchen window.

As the storm raged quickly the time stood still for Leto as he heard every hour chime till in the wee hours there came a tremendous thudding at the front door causing Archie and Angus to start barking loudly awakening the Laird.

As Leto put his hand on the door handle and was about to playfully chastise Y/N for forgetting her key. He was quickly taken aback, and his face lost all colour as his view was filled with yellow, high visibility jackets from the Scottish police service. As they asked him his name and if his was the residence of miss Y/N L/N.

In shock, Leto responds that it is and that she’s his housekeeper of many years. The officers go on to in form him that Y/N has been involved in a traffic accident and is in hospital. That she is stable. At those words, his mind goes blank his little thistle is hurt. He needs to see her, and he needs to comfort her. He has to tell her she is loved and safe.

At the Hospital Leto walks silently through the quiet corridors the noise that he could hear was his heart drumming away loudly and the humming of machines which had him felling the blood rushing through his veins As the thought of his little thistle. The light was low as he approached the little room that Y/N lay in.

She looked so small and doll like, a vulnerability that she would never show normally. He had called her his little thistle as she was soft and sharp, she knew how to sting with her wit. But that wasn’t visible now. A salty tear rolled down his cheek into his beard. He failed his love. He’d never forgive himself.

He sat on the chair next to her and gently took her hand, caressing the back of it with the pad of his thumb. He could see the scratches on her hand and body. He sits and talks gently to her about how he will love her and protect them, but she has to stay with him.

He stands up, looking down at her softly smiling, as he moves some stray hair with his fingers. Leaning down to kiss her forehead as he straightens up he sees to his hearts delight Y/N slowly blinks awake looking at him with her beautiful Y/E/C and a gently smile on her lips.

Softly she speaks to him “Hello”

Too be continued............

Story photo made by me.

Borders by @cafekitsune

@melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @jake-g-lockley @steven-grants-world @romanarose @campingwiththecharmings @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @welcometostayingawake @novanitee @micheleamidalajedi @annautumnsoul @guruan-is-not-here @ivystoryweaver @whirlybirbs @whatthefishh @lonely-dark-moon @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @lonelyisamyw-0love @madlittlecriminal @midgardian-witch @saturn-rings-writes @silvernight-m @ominoose

[templeofoccultpractices]

29-Dutchess Astaroth

Enn:Tasa alora foren Astaroth

Other Names: Ashtaroth, Ashtarot, Ashtoreth, Astarot

(Astarte is another name, though often thought to be a separate entity, potentially Ishtar.)

The Twenty-ninth Spirit is Duke/Dutchess Astaroth. A spirit of divination/scrying, love, and friendship. He appears in the form of an hurtful angel riding on an Infernal beast like a dragon, and carrying in his right hand a viper. He is ghostly pale in color, something like a corpse with blackened eyes – no pupils. He gives true answers of things past, present, and to come, and can discover all secrets. He will declare wittingly how the spirits fell, if desired, and the reason of his own fall. He can make men wonderfully knowing in all liberal sciences. He rules 40 Legions of spirits.

Astarte

Astarte/Ἀστάρτη, is the Hellenized form of the Ancient Near Eastern goddess ʿAṯtart. ʿAṯtart was the Northwest Semitic equivalent of the East Semitic goddess Ishtar.

In the Baʿal Epic of Ugarit, Ashtart is one of the allies of the eponymous hero. With the help of Anat she stops him from attacking the messengers who deliver the demands of Yam and later assists him in the battle against the sea god, possibly "exhorting him to complete the task" during it. It's a matter of academic debate if they were also viewed as consorts. Their close relation is highlighted by the epithet "face of Baal" or "of the name of Baal."

A different narrative, so-called "Myth of Astarte the huntress" casts Ashtart herself as the protagonist, and seemingly deals both with her role as a goddess of the hunt stalking game in the steppe, and with her possible relationship with Baal.

Call upon Duke/Dutchess Astaroth for

⬩Answers on the past, present, or future

⬩Divination and scrying

⬩Discovery of secrets

⬩Liberal sciences

⬩Love and friendship and finding them

⬩War and hunting

⬩Ask him what else he's willing to work with you on⬩

⊱•━━━━━━⊰In Ritual⊱━━━━━•⊰

Enn:

Sigil:Posted above

Plant:Laurel

Incense:Sandalwood

⬩Green candles or objects

⬩Ask Duke Astaroth what he likes⬩

⬩It is important to learn protections before trying to work with any spirits. You can get tricksters and parasites if you don't.

Cleansings- cleaning your space of negative energies. You can burn herbs or incense for this.

Banishings- forcing negative energies out of your space. The lesser banishing ritual is one of the most commonly used.

Warding- wards keep negative energy out of your space. Amulets, sigils and talismans do this.

Set up a your space and do a cleanse and banishing. Have wards up in your home. Meditation is to calm yourself and get your mind ready. The sigil (symbol) is what you draw on paper. The enn is what you chant or say to call forth the spirit.⬩

[sea-dukes-assistant]

Not me outside the door playing the chorus of Rammstein’s “OK” when Sir finna give his wife epic Royal Navy D...

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 14

1523 – The famous artist Benvenuto Cellini is sentenced – for the fourth time – of committing sodomy on both men and women. He was an Italian goldsmith, sculptor, draftsman, soldier, musician, and artist who also wrote a famous autobiography and poetry. He was one of the most important artists of Mannerism. He is remembered for his skill in making pieces such as Perseus with the Head of Medusa.

Pier Luigi Farnese with his father Pope Paul II & another of Pope's sons

1540 – Pier Luigi Farnese is the Duke of Parma and the son of Pope Paul II, He mounts a manhunt in search of a boy who had refused his sexual advances. In 1537, Farnese was accused of raping Cosimo Gheri, the young bishop of Fano who died shortly afterward.

1850 – Julien Viaud, who wrote under the name Pierre Loti, one of the most popular and respected French novelists of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, created a series of novels that chronicle the struggle of a man to understand his homoerotic feelings and their implications for him.

Viaud was born in Rochefort on January 14, 1850, to one of the city's few Protestant families. He attended high school in Rochefort, and then the Lycée Napoléon (today Henri IV) in Paris to prepare for the entrance exam for the Naval Academy.

While he was there he also studied art, and for the rest of his life found pleasure in drawing and painting. The works that survive show a real talent, and some of the drawings reveal a clear interest in the male body.

Graduating from the Naval Academy in 1867, he began a career as an officer that extended over 43 years and took him to many of the exotic lands that he used as settings for his books. Unlike Conrad or Melville, who left the sea to pursue writing, Viaud published his more than twenty novels and travelogs while still in the service.

In 1886, in part to end pressure from his family, in part because he wanted a son, Viaud married Blanche de Ferrière, a woman whom his mother had picked out for him while he was away at sea. The marriage was not a happy one, and in 1906 Blanche Viaud returned to her family.

In 1910, despite his efforts to remain on active duty, the navy finally forced Viaud to retire. When World War I broke out, however, he managed to obtain a commission in the army as assistant to General Galliéni, military governor of Paris after the flight of the French government in the face of the Geman invasion. In addition to diplomatic missions that he was able to perform because of his friendship with several of the crowned heads of Europe, Viaud covered the war for the Parisian daily Le Figaro and the weekly L'Illustration.

Back in civilian life after the War, Viaud became subject to depression and declining health. He published several volumes of somewhat fictionalized memoirs and, with the help of his son Samuel, revised the diary he had been keeping since he was sixteen. Viaud died of uremia and pulmonary edema on June 10, 1923, shortly after a last visit from his friend Sarah Bernhardt.

Because of the homosexual themes in a few of his early novels and Viaud's sometimes flamboyant lifestyle, the French popular press of his time depicted him as gay in satirical cartoons. These cartoons and the rumors that gave rise to them fixed Viaud in the public's mind as gay, to the extent, for example, that French senator Cécile Goldat grouped Viaud with Gide and Cocteau as a distinguished gay writer when legislation concerning homosexuality was debated in the 1980s.

Notwithstanding these widespread assumptions, however, there is no definite evidence that Viaud ever had homosexual relations himself. Edmond de Goncourt, in his diary entry for September 21, 1890, wrote that Viaud had been caught in flagrante delicto with a sailor, but Goncourt was a malicious gossip and not always reliable, so this entry proves nothing.

Viaud's family, especially his grandson, has always denied that he was gay. Near the end of his life, Viaud and his son Samuel went through his diaries, excising and rewriting, so even if they had contained evidence of his homosexuality at one time, they no longer do.

Yet, there are barely disguised homoerotic plots in almost all his novels, often paralleled in a heterosexual situation. In his fourth novel, My Brother Yves (1883), there is no heterosexual romance cover. Viaud recounts the love of his protagonist, French naval officer Pierre Loti, for the handsome Breton sailor Yves Kermadec in a fairly direct manner. (Jean Genet alludes to this novel repeatedly in his own tale of a naval officer's love for a Breton sailor, Querelle [1953].) The mystery, never resolved, is to what extent Yves reciprocates that love and shares Pierre's homosexual feelings.

Madame Chrysanthemum (1888) became one of the sources of Puccini's Madame Butterfly and the musical Miss Saigon. In it Pierre "marries" Madame Chrysanthemum for the duration of a tour of duty in Japan. The author makes it very clear, however, that, unlike in the theatrical works derived from it, the officer has no romantic interest in the young geisha. He is, rather, more than a little worried that Yves might become involved with her.

Viaud's novels never deal with homosexuality directly, but works such as My Brother Yves were obvious enough to foster rumors about Viaud's homosexuality in the popular press of the day. Read in chronological order, Viaud's novels present the story of a gay man working to come to an understanding of his feelings and who he is as a result of them, the first novelistic corpus in Western literature to do so.

 Beaton with Audrey Hepburn for My Fair Lady

1904 – Writer, costumer, photographer, designer and raconteur Cecil Beaton was born on this date in London (d.1980).

Beaton launched his career as a `society' photographer in 1920s. Beaton's fascination with glamour and high society prevailed throughout his life and in 1937 he became court photographer to the British Royal Family. Beaton often photographed the Royal Family for official publication. Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother was his favorite Royal sitter. Beaton took the famous wedding pictures of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. During World War II, he worked for the British Ministry of Information, as a documentary photographer. In 1953 he photographed the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II.

Beaton also became a successful stage and costume designer, most notably for My Fair Lady (1956) which led to two Lerner and Loewe film musicals, Gigi (1958) and My Fair Lady (1964), both of which earned Beaton the Academy Award for Costume Design. He also was the winner of four Tony Awards. He died in 1980.

Though primarily homosexual — the great love of his life was the wealthy art collector Peter Watson – he did have relationships with women. Beaton also claimed to have had an affair with the American actor Gary Cooper, who was a close friend of his for many years.

In 1972, he received his knighthood, but suffered a stroke two years later. This hindered him from photographing for five years. He picked up the camera again for a short while in 1979, but died the following year.

Cris as Chip in 'On The Town'

1920 – Cris Alexander, born Alan Smith, (d.2012) was an American actor, singer, dancer, designer, and photographer.

Born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, by his teens he was calling himself Christopher, a name he thought befitting of a distinguished actor. Then, as he recalled, he visited a spiritualist, who asked what he most desired. "Success," he shot back.

"Well I can guarantee you success if you do one thing," he quoted her as saying. "Call yourself 'Chris' and take the 'h' out." The next day Cris went to a radio station and got a job as an announcer, even though he stuttered. (He would eventually overcome that speech disorder.)

"I came to New York because I thought they were waiting for me," he once said, recalling how he fled Tulsa, Okla., in 1938 with a high school classmate, Tony Randall.

In New York, Cris Alexander didn’t reach the peaks when Tony Randall did, but Cris did land a major part in "On the Town," the 1944 musical that introduced Broadway to its composer, Leonard Bernstein; Betty Comden and Adolph Green, who wrote the book and lyrics; and Jerome Robbins, the show’s choreographer. But rather than on the stage, Alexander made it in New York as a photographer, taking portraits of the likes of Martha Graham and Vivien Leigh; having gallery shows; working for Andy Warhol’s Interview magazine and the New York City Ballet; and providing droll pictures for the best-selling 1961 satire of a movie star’s memoir, Little Me written by Patrick Dennis and later adapted for the Broadway stage by Neil Simon.

He had begun taking pictures with his mother’s Brownie at 11 or 12. As an adult, his photography was uninhibited. He gave costume parties and took vivid pictures of his friends, whom he characterized in the Show Music magazine interview as "very gifted fools." One day Patrick Dennis, famed for his oddball novels, admired the "fools" hanging in Mr. Alexander's bathroom. "These are your real work," Mr. Dennis told him. He suggested they collaborate on a "documented autobiography of someone who never was." The result was Little Me.

And he found love. When marriage equality became a reality (and legal) in New York in 2011, he married Shaun O’Brien, the celebrated character dancer with the New York City Ballet. They had been together for more than 60 years and died less than two weeks apart — Mr. Alexander on March 7 in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., at age 92; Mr. O’Brien on Feb. 23 at 86. They shared a Victorian house in Saratoga Springs.

1925 – Yukio Mishima was the public name of Kimitake Hiraoka, a Japanese author and playwright, famous for both his highly notable nihilistic post-war writings and the circumstances of his ritual suicide by seppuku.(d.1970)

Mishima's early childhood was dominated by the shadow of his grandmother, Natsu, who took the boy and separated him from his immediate family for several years. Natsu famously did not allow Mishima to venture into the sunlight, to engage in any kind of sport, or to play with boys; he spent much of his time alone, or with female cousins and their dolls.

Mishima returned to his immediate family at 12. He entered into a relationship with his mother that some biographers have described as nearly incestuous; it was to his mother that he turned always for reassurance and proofreading. His father, a brutal man with a taste for military discipline, employed such tactics as holding the young boy up to the side of a speeding train; he also raided the young boy's room for evidence of an 'effeminate' interest in literature, and ripped up adolescent Mishima's manuscripts wantonly.

At 12, Mishima began to write his first stories. Although his father had forbidden him to write any further stories, Mishima continued to write secretly every night, supported and protected by his mother Shizue, who was always the first to read a new story.

Mishima began his first novel, Tõzoku (Thieves), in 1946 and published it in 1948. It was followed up by Kamen no Kokuhaku (Confessions of a Mask), an autobiographical work about a young latent homosexual who must hide behind a mask in order to fit into society. The novel was extremely successful and made Mishima a celebrity at the age of 24.

After Confessions of a Mask, Mishima tried to tie himself to the real, physical world by taking up stringent physical exercise. In 1955, Mishima took up weight training, and his workout regimen of three sessions per week was not disrupted for the final 15 years of his life. From the most unpromising material he forged an impressive physique, as the photographs he took show. He also became very skillful at Kendo (the Japanese martial art of swordfighting).

Although he visited gay bars in Japan, Mishima reportedly remained an observer, and had affairs with men only when he travelled abroad. After briefly considering an alliance with Michiko Shoda — later the wife of Emperor Akihito — he married Yoko Sugiyama in 1958. Over the next three years, the couple had a daughter and a son.

In 1967, Mishima enlisted in the Ground Self Defense Force (GSDF) and underwent basic training. A year later, he formed the Tatenokai (Shield Society), composed primarily of young patriotic students who studied martial principles and physical discipline and who were trained through the GSDF under Mishima's tutelage.

On November 25, 1970, Mishima and four members of the Tatenokai under a pretext visited the commandant of the Ichigaya Camp - the Tokyo headquarters of the Eastern Command of Japan's Self-Defense Forces. Once inside, they proceeded to barricade the office and tied the commandant to his chair. With a prepared manifesto and banner listing their demands, Mishima stepped onto the balcony to address the gathered soldiers below. His speech was intended to inspire them to stage a coup d'etat and restore the Emperor to his rightful place. He succeeded only in irritating them and was mocked and jeered. Unable to make himself heard, he finished his planned speech after only a few minutes, stepped back into the commandant's office and committed seppuku. The customary decapitation at the end of this ritual had been assigned to Tatenokai member Masakatsu Morita. But Morita, who was rumored to have been Mishima's lover, was unable to perform this task properly: after several failed attempts, he allowed another Tatenokai member, Hiroyasu Koga, to finish the job. Morita then attempted seppuku and was also beheaded by Koga.

Mishima prepared his suicide meticulously for at least a year and no one outside the group of hand-picked Tatenokai members had any indication of what he was planning. Mishima must have known that his coup plot would never succeed and his biographer, translator, and former friend John Nathan suggests that the scenario was only a pretext for the ritual suicide of which Mishima had long dreamed. Mishima made sure his affairs were in order and even left money for the legal defence of the three surviving Tatenokai members.

While his end may have been intended as a sort of spiritual testament, the theatrical nature of his suicide, the camp nature of photographs he posed for and the occasionally bathetic nature of his prose have taken their toll on his legacy. In both Japanese and Anglo-American academia today, Mishima is virtually unspoken of, especially as his ostensibly 'right-wing' opinions are not politically correct. Nevertheless, outside of academia Mishima's works remain popular both in Japan and throughout the rest of the world.

1967 – The "Human Be-In" takes place in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, launching The Summer Of Love. Between 20,000 to 30,000 people attend.

 Kevin Bourassa (L) & Joe Varnell (R)

2001 – Kevin Bourassa and Joe Varnell become the first same-sex couple to be married in Canada.

Kevin Bourassa (b.1958) was raised near military bases in Ontario, in France, and in Germany and moved to Toronto in 1976. He is a former manager at the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce, specializing in process management. His husband, Joe Varnell (b.1969) was born in Toronto and is a former e-commerce consultant.

Today Kevin works full time as a human rights advocate and writer. Joe is now a manager at the bank where Kevin used to work. Their book, Just Married, has been published to critical acclaim in Canada (Doubleday), the United States (University of Wisconsin Press), and around the world in French translation (Les Editions Stanke).

Just Married is an account by Bourassa and Varnell of how their church, the Metropolitan Community Church of Toronto, decided to test the Canadian marriage laws, and how they and a lesbian couple agreed to be the ones to make the attempt.

Under the Ontario Marriage Act, any adult couple can be granted a marriage license if a church, following ancient tradition, reads the marriage banns on the three Sundays prior to the wedding. Joe and Kevin had long wished to be legally married in their church. They expected controversy, but little expected the massive scale of the international coverage that occurred, as reporting on their intentions and their wedding of them shot across the Internet and their photographs appeared in newspapers not only across North America but also in Europe, Asia, and South America.

On January 14, 2001, Kevin married his partner of three years Joe in a Metropolitan Community Church of Toronto service. They became thus the first gay couple anywhere in the world to be issued a government marriage certificate. The marriage would not become fully legal, however, until the Ontario provincial government registered the marriage, and it refused to do so. Bourassa, Varnell, and their church brought a lawsuit asking for legal registration.

On June , 2003, Bourassa and Varnell and the other litigants received a favorable decision from the Ontario court of appeal in their suit against the provincial government.

[ltwilliammowett]

Mary Anne Talbot - a female Soldier and Sailor

Mary Anne Talbot is one of the women who have the adventure of serving at sea disguised as a male sailor. She was born in London on 2 February 1778, the illegitimate daughter of William Talbot, 1st Earl Talbot. Her mother died at birth, her presumed father when she was four years old. She was brought up by a wet nurse at Worthen in Shropshire until she was five, after which she attended a private boarding school in Chester, run by a Mrs Tapperly, until she was 14. The only relative she knew was an elder sister, an Hon. Miss Dyer, who also died quite young in the birth of her child in 1791. She enlightened Mary Anne about her presumed parentage before her death and left her a handsome fortune of £30,000 sterling. From this fortune Mary Anne could have had an annual income of 1500 pounds, but her sister's chosen guardian, a Mr. Sucker, did not provide for her further education, but gave her to Essex Bowen, a captain in the 82nd Regiment of Foot.

Mary Anne Talbot, by G. Scott, after James Green, published 1804 (x)

The latter took her to London, where he made her his not-so-voluntary mistress in 1792. But already in the autumn of 1792 he was to go to Flanders and simply took her with him. To this end, he passed her off as an errand boy, who took her to St. Domingo as John Taylor. From there she went to Flanders, where she was now listed as Drummer Boy. As such she took part in the capture of Valenciennes on 28 July 1793, where Captain Essex was killed. She now deserted the regiment and made her way through Luxembourg to the Rhine, until in September 1793, out of necessity, she signed on as a cabin boy to the captain of a French lugger called Le Sage. The lugger, according to her account, had been captured by Lord Howe in the Queen Charlotte, and "Taylor" (as she still called herself) was assigned to HMS Brunswick 74 guns under Captain John Harvey (1740-1794) as a powder monkey, in which capacity she took part in the great victory of 1 June 1794, but was severely wounded by a grape shot that shattered her left ankle.

Captain Essex with his footboy John Talbot (x)

She spent four months at Haslar Royal Naval Hospital in Gosport. She then became a midshipman on the Bomb Vessel Vesuvius. However, this was captured off Normandy by two French privateers. As a prisoner, Taylor remained in Dunkirk for 18th months. After her release, she signed on with the American ship Ariel under Captain John Field, sailing to New York in August 1796. In November she returned to London on the Ariel. There she was picked up by a press gang in Wapping. In order not to have to re-enter the Royal Navy, she revealed her true gender, whereupon she was discharged. She then haunted the Navy's pay office for some time, and various donations were collected for her. But she was intemperate and spent her money frivolously. The Duke and Duchess of York and the Duchess of Devonshire, it is said, interceded for her.

Mary Anne Talbot resisting a Press Gang, by John Chapman (x)

After a series of employments including a gig as a jeweller's assistant or a performance in a small theatre in Tottenham Court Road in the Babes in the Wood, and a stay in Newgate from which she was rescued by the Society for the Relief of Persons confined for small Debts, her misfortunes forced her to take refuge as a domestic servant in the house of the publisher Robert S. Kirby in St. Paul's Churchyard, who recorded her adventures in the second volume of his Wonderful Museum, 1804 and continued her story in  The Life and Surprising Adventures of Mary Anne Talbot, 1809. After three years' service, a general deterioration, caused in part by the wounds and privations she had suffered, rendered her unable to work regularly, and she was removed to the house of an acquaintance in Shropshire at the end of 1807. There she remained for some weeks, and died on 4 February 1808, aged 30.

Mary Anne Talbot, by G. Scott, after James Green, published 1804 (x)

Perhaps some of you have noticed that there are certain similarities to Hannah Snell. And in fact, her story is very much in doubt. Because there are great inconsistencies with the times and the ships that she had given in her biography. Because there is no Talbot on the ships listed and there was no Talbot on the Vesuvius at the time it was captured, and the capture itself is also questionable because the ship was not off Normandy at that time but in the West Indies. Whether she just mixed things up here or whether they were chosen to spice up her story is questionable, and it cannot be ruled out that this story was a product of fantasy.

[aimeedaisies]

Hunstanton Royal National Lifeboat Institution crew welcomes top officials to meet its members

By Jenny Beake - 6th June 2023

A crew has welcomed top officials to its lifeboat station to meet its members.

Two senior officials from the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) visited Hunstanton lifeboat station where volunteers welcomed them.

Mark Dowie, chief executive of the charity that saves lives at sea and Vice Admiral Sir Timothy Laurence, its vice president and former deputy chair of its board of trustees and chair of the operations committee, toured the boathouse on Sea Lane on Saturday morning.

They met some of the men and women who respond to emergencies on its inshore lifeboat, Spirit of West Norfolk and its hovercraft, the Hunstanton Flyer.

They also spoke to members of the shore team who assist with launches, some of the volunteers who work behind the scenes at the station and staff from its souvenir shop, which helps raise vital funds towards the work of the RNLI.

Rigil Kent, lifeboat operations manager, said: “They were here to look at the kit we’ve got, how we use it here and how we think it could be improved.

“It was a very positive visit.”

“They even brought some good weather with them.”

Mr Dowie and Sir Timothy were on their way to Wells for the naming of the town’s new Shannon Class lifeboat, Duke of Edinburgh.