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mays-simping-for-leona · 2 months

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it's the wrong treasure!(pirate leona x siren reader-part 1)

(im open for scenarios and headcanons)

hi guys! mays is back✨sorry for not posting but i was busy with my family and summer school, here's the pirate leona scenario according to the poll I created a few days ago ⏤͟͟͞͞★

and also i would like to tell y'all that i might start writing about ruggie and epel, i started studying them this couple of days⏤͟͟͞͞★

characters:

pirate leona x siren fem!reader⏤͟͟͞͞★

information:

reader being a simp somehow, sfw, I will include characters that do not exist in twst as members of Leona's crew they are only NPCs, reader is a siren and violent with people on land, Her species is aggressive with pirates and sings with their beautiful voice, They lure pirates to their places in the ocean to catch them and get rid of them, The reader will be violent with Leona since he's in their territory⏤͟͟͞͞★

prompt:

pirate Leona was with his pirate crew in the ocean, heading to find a treasure, and by mistake they found a completely different kind of treasure..⏤͟͟͞͞★

⏤͟͟͞͞★enjoy!

Under the cloud-covered sky, a crashing navy blue bed of high waves decorated the horizon in plain sight, announcing the arrival of the sailing ship to the point of no return. The strong storm and violent waves shook the ship and raised it to the heights of the sky, then slammed it into the face of the ocean again..

The ship whose surface was filled with a crew of scoundrels and bandits, all inside the bottom of the ship eating the huge fish they had earned from a recent theft. At the head of the table sat their leader, the beastman, his legs carelessly above the table, sitting proudly crushing the thorny bones of the fish with his powerful fangs, He was chewing his food while his crew laughed and drank, completely unconcerned about the storm that seemed to sink the ship at any moment. These stinkers were accustomed to these difficult adventures and it no longer frightened them

"You damned bastards, pour more drink! Don't you see that we are close to reaching the treasure that the pirate captain has been searching for for years?!!" One of the pirates shouted as he climbed onto the table and raised his wooden cup, spilling the drink on the food while laughing hard

The rest of them all started cheering and encouraging, increasing the noise in the banquet room, which made the beastman's ears flicker and his eyebrows furrow, clear sign of him getting annoyed

"heey...y'all shut up!! just how many times should i yell about wanting the banquet to be quiet?!! Do you want me to throw you off the ship and get eaten by the sharks??!" leona yelled, slamming his palm on the table as he lift his tricorn off his head "It is too early to celebrate, do not rule out that we will arrive and find the treasure stolen" yeah stolen, he is sure that the treasure is his, He will not say that someone preceded him in finding the treasure, but rather he is certain that the treasure was originally existed just for him

Leona took a sip of his drink as he looked at the map in his hand and contemplated it. Legend says that in the middle of this ocean there is a mermaid queen whose tail is made of gold, diamonds, blue sapphires and emeralds, her face is studded with pearls and her hair is made of thin threads of silver.. Price This mermaid is alive for 100 million, and she is dead for 75 million.."Because of her brightness, her tail and hair can be seen from 100 meters away. How wonderful" Leona grinned, he must find her no matter what the cost because he is a greedy pirate..But while he was immersed in his thoughts..

"BOSS!"

The ship captain came from the deck and descended the stairs. He called to Leona as he stopped in the middle of the stairs "BOSS, I SAW SOMETHING SHINING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN!!!"

Leona's train of thought was interrupted by the captain's screams. His eyes widened and he looked at the captain in shock. He was very surprised that they had just arrived at the intended location, but the captain saw the light so quickly "you're kidding right?!!" Leona quickly got up and ran to the stairs, followed by the rest of the crew. They threw their cups on the floor and left the food, immediately heading to the deck to confirm what the captain had said

While they were running down the stairs, the captain was talking to Leona "boss, i can here the sirens.."

Leona was even more surprised, but his surprised expression quickly turned into a smile from ear to ear, baring his fangs as excitement pumped strongly through his veins "sirens, huh? interesting, this means we are in the right place"

Leona stood at the front of the ship and looked at the place indicated by the captain. The captain was right. There was a golden shine on the horizon. The sound of Siren’s singing could be heard from afar..leona shivered in excitement and turned to his crew who would have screamed with anticipation

“YOU STINKY BASTARDS, ARE YOU READY TO GET THE DAMNED TREASURE??!!" leona screamed, He took out his sword from its sheath place and raised it to the sky. The sounds of the crew’s cheering echoed in the place, covering the noise of the storm and waves

Leona was standing on the edge of the ship, completely wet from the rain, looking towards the shiny thing in the water. He was a little in the water so only the long golden tail was visible..he is a bit..confused, why the mermaid didn't escape? He furrowed his eyes and brought his face closer to the water "is this even a mermaid?.." Leona turned to his crew and looked at them seriously "Get your net and catch this thing!"

The men quickly brought the net and prepared it. It did not take long until they threw it into the water and caught that golden body. It was pulled from the water forcefully and they raised it to the ship, and it was very heavy

Leona's eyes widened.. She is really a mermaid, she has a really shiny golden tail "WTF?" He is completely shocked, is it possible that he caught the queen so easily? Impossible, something must be wrong here "BE QUICK YOU IDIOTS!!!"

Just when the men were going to throw the mermaid onto the deck of the ship, Leona was standing right next to them and grabbed the net to pull with them because the mermaid was heavy... With a quick and unexpected movement, Leona did not feel anything at this moment except two very wet hands pulling him forcefully by his clothes, and the mermaid. She hit the men with her tail so hard that they collided with each other and collapsed to the ground immediately

"HEY Y!!!-" Leona was unable to give a reaction because within seconds he found himself being pulled and falling from the ship into the ocean. He could not see this time because he's underwater, and in front of him was only a mermaid who tore the net and freed herself, grabbing him by the neck and squeezing his body around her long tail... in fact, she was not a mermaid...she was a Siren

You are Siren, you were very angry as usual. Your people sent you to stop Leona's ship because he, like any other pirate, is trying to take the riches of your land and destroy your territory "you bastard..let me see your face.." you pulled the tricorn off his head, laughing at him as you swam to the surface, pulling him out the water so he can take a breath

"HAAAHH!!" Leona gasped hard as he took a breath and coughed after the water entered his lungs. He was in your grip trying to free his right hand. When you were about to curse and mock him again, you remained in your place for a few seconds.. His face.. Is this scoundrel really a pirate?..there's no way a pirate can look so handsome and young..where's the fucking shaggy beard? where's the golden teeth and the forty-something face?

"...are you a pirate?" you spook, amazement clear in your voice

Leona, quickly notice that you are distracted, so try to quickly release his right hand and take advantage of this moment of you lowering your defense "yes i'm the pirate captain, Why does this worry you??"

you were speechless, you are used to the ugly dirty shaggy bearded golden teethed forty years old smelly pirates that when you see a handsome man with legs you felt something inside you awaken..Even the men of your species are usually ugly, the sirens are usually ugly at all and their appearance is frightening, unlike the mermaids..so, for the first time in your life..you actually saw a handsome man, a man that made you have a moment of silence, you just wanted to stare at him for the rest of the day and enjoy that good looking appearance of his

but in the middle of your simping era, you were surprised by him suddenly swinging his sowrd in your face, almost injuring you in your neck and chest, you quickly let off him and swam away, trying to collect back your thoughts and keep up with reality. leona hold i rope that his crew threw to him, he climbed and got out of the water..looking at you almost angrily as he pulled his her back and panted

They didn't give you a chance. Suddenly, you were surprised by a strong bullet trying to hit you, but the shooter missed the target. Someone was carrying a gun on the ship and started taking another flintlock gun out of his pocket to hit you. You knew at this moment that there was no better option than running away. So you swam to the depths of the ocean with all your speed to avoid any serious injury

Leona boarded the ship again. He threw himself on the ground, coughing and feeling suffocated by the water in his lungs. He was preoccupied with the pain in his chest and ribs after you squeezed him hard with your tail

"boss, are you ok??! put the boss in his room and retreat!!! the ship"

"why the hell did you let them go, y/n?!!"

Under the ocean and inside one of the caves where your people used to live, the leaders gathered at you in anger. They sent you to eliminate those in the crew of the Leona ship, but you only failed the mission

you were speechless, You yourself don't know what happened to you. You used to kill these bastard men in cold blood. Why do you kind of feel strange now? You saw a beautiful being for the first time in your life, so beautiful that he made your tail fall loose around his waist, making you lower your defense and actually get..vulnerable

"im..im sorry, i don't know what got me..i just..i really don't know" you stutter, unable to defend yourself in the presence of your leaders, your brain was raising a million miles with all these thoughts

After a long and annoying discussion and reprimand, you were finally taken out. You were now outside the cave, swimming in the ocean, immersed in your thoughts. You remembered that perfect, clean face, the sharp, shining fangs, the green eyes like emeralds, the sharp jaw like a knife, and every detail of his face... just attracted you "why im still thinking about him?! ahh this is stupid!!" You tried to slap yourself and come back to your senses, but that didn't work either. His image is still clear in your head...

A week has passed. Throughout this week, you have not stopped watching the ship from afar, chasing Leona every time he comes out on deck and you approach, trying to get a close look at the man who has not left your imagination for a week, only your eyes outside the water lurking every move he makes. Every day your admiration for him increased more and more, especially when you saw him one day standing on the deck of the ship without his shirt and he was sharpening his sword. His muscles sent you wild, Now he looks a thousand times more tempting than before, to the point where you can't focus on doing anything all day except wishing to see him come out more

And on this day, while you were watching it as usual, you noticed that for some reason the crew members had not gone to the surface since the morning, and even the ship’s captain was not out to steer. The ship was moving on its own without navigation, which made you wonder... Did something happen on the ship?

Curious, you swam closer to the ship, going around it several times and checking the corners, putting your ear to the wood and trying to hear any sound from inside, but no one was talking and there were no sounds of movement...it was as if everyone had suddenly evaporated from the ship

"what the?..were did they go??.." you said to yourself, and when you decided to just go and come back later and gave the ship your back, you suddenly felt a lot of ropes around you, tightening against your torso and suddenly pulling you up

"LIFT HER QUICKLY!!!" You heard Leona's voice shouting at the crew, what?! Where did he come from?! Rather, where did they all suddenly come from?!

You tried to free yourself as last time, but this time the ropes were thick and strong, it was not just a fishing net that could be torn, so all your miserable attempts failed

You tried to scream and call on your people to save you, but suddenly you were silenced by someone putting a vial in your mouth filled with a strange-tasting liquid. You couldn't even tell what was going on, but you swallowed a large amount of liquid by mistake

Now, you were lying on the ground in front of the crew, and you felt a large amount of magic in your body... as if your body was convulsing and your tail was splitting in two, your bones were hurting and your gills were disappearing, the seashells on your entire body were disappearing... something strange was happening to you that you could not explain

You didn't even notice when Leona approached you and put a cloth over your body and wrapped it around you to cover you, because you simply drank a magic drink that turned you into a human. It wouldn't be pleasant for Leona to keep a girl naked in front of his crew, who he know that they are all bastard perverts

After you regained control of yourself and recovered from the pain, you realized what had happened to you. Your body froze completely when suddenly you were able to move two legs instead of a tail. You began to feel your skin, which had become very soft and free of shells. You touched your face, which clearly had changed, you don't feel your features are the same..

"hey, salmon, are you traumatized?" He interrupted your train of thought again, Leona. You raised your head to look at him, confused and frightened

"y-you!!!" You realized how stupid you are. You completely forgot that Leona is a beastman. It is true that he is not human, but that will not prevent him from making you dinner for him and the pirates, or perhaps they will sell you and take you to the land

But on the other hand, Leona was in a completely parallel world... unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. You were ugly because you were Siren, but now that you took this magical antidote, your appearance changed and you became a human being... your true features emerged and you became completely beautiful as the myths say, He was looking you up and down and inspecting every inch of you with his eyes, like any man in the world, of course: he gets aroused by the siren -not too much but just it worked-, it's practically done with him, even though you are now the weak party, it seems that the man will remain a man

"get away from me, don't come clo-!!! AHHAA LET ME GOOO!!!" just a second and you were hoisted up in the air, leona held you on his shoulder like a potato sack and walked to inside the ship "calm down salmon, i won't eat you" was all he said as he took you to his room, kicking it open and then kicking it back closed with his feet, putting you gently on the bed and moving away, standing beside the bed edge

"now, salmon, Can you explain why you've been stalking me all last week?"

im sorry for being shitty and stopping here but i really like making multiple chapters since im basically a 200-chapters-novel writer, but i need to see if there's people who will like this so i continue writing! i hope y'all support me on this so i can write more🫶🏻

⏤͟͟͞͞★thanks for reading!

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #savanaclaw #twisted wonderland leona #savanaclaw leona #twisted wonderland headcanons #leona kingscholar headcanons #leona kingscholar fanfiction #leona kingscholar x mc #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x female reader #pirate leona #pirates #mayswriting

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 6 months

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''Fight and Die'' Slightly darkAemond x AFAB Reader 18+ MDNI PART 5

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, abusive brother (but its not aemond) mentioned of forced marriages and duels, mentions of parental loss.

🔷Summary: Your ancestors once betrayed the Targaryens and paid a high price. Now you are back at court with your brother, who hopes to sell you in exchange for his freedom.

🔷Author's note: It might still be a little darkish but not as dark as usual. I think this is the closest to show aemond I ever got. So he still is not a unicorn yall but he is at least imo he is decent and nice.

🔷Wordcount :6524

Warnings below the cut

WARNINGS: Abuse (Not aemond commiting it, Aemond is nice in the fic) brother of OC/Reader is a asshole, mention of pregnancy related deaths (oc's mother) and mentions of Oral sex (f recieving) fingering, and a looooot of angst.

Fight and die 5

Your husband stays by your side during the evening, when the sun begins to settle and when the moon and stars once again entertain and light up the night skies. The two of you nestle in the warm embrace of his bed, with sheets and blankets covering your still naked body, that Aemond caresses and kisses as if he is your devoted servant and you his Goddess. Kisses that tingle and make your belly ache, and kisses you want to last forever and forever more after that. “I've never seen such a beautiful creature.” Aemond breathes against the shell of your ear. ‘’Marrying you was the best choice I ever made.’’ He adds, burying his silver haired head between your legs. You are reminded of how this evening started, with him, wishing to taste you. You were a bit nervous, of course. But he took care of you. As he always has.

You brace yourself by allowing him to kiss the same parts of your body that he took. That he touched before and where he pushed himself inside of you.

The pain always frightened you. But aside from the very first time, your body took it well. Aemond told you early on in your marriage that he would not force you.

Sharing his bed, doing your duties as his wife is fun, enjoyable and a blessing. You feel him draw circles with his fingers on your legs, making eye contact all the while when softly wettening his fingers by sucking on them. You let out a soft pitched appreciative cry.

He smiles, bending a bit further and soon you feel his warm, soft tongue lick over your smooth and wet entrance. Aemond moans against your skin, taking a deeper lick, his tongue tasting and taking away all the wetness you have. You clench yourself, your needs increasing as Aemond keeps licking.

‘’Such a delicate, delicious delicacy you guard between your legs.’’ He mutters, between your soft gasps and moans. ‘’I can do this all day long.’’ He promises, darkly and levels his tongue back at your entrance, proving his words with a possessive soft lick.

‘’I’m not sure I can.’’ You breathe out, shakingly. Your pleasure is building fast and you can barely handle it. Whenever you are near, you become a bit shy and embarrassed, as you are not so sure yet how to properly do this.

When Aemond took you, you were a maiden. Pure and uneducated in the way of pleasures. Now you know a bit more, but you and Aemond take it slow.

Your fingers dig in the sheets of his bed as the licks become soft kisses and eventually he is sucking your needy skin as you twist on his bed, your emotions and desire running higher and higher.

‘’Hmm,’’ Aemond murmurs after watching your flustered face with a dark appreciative smirk. ‘’My wife and my lady is just so delicious. I can’t help it.’’ He says, as if he excuses himself.

You know he is teasing.

‘’You are …delicious too.’’ You say, wishing to compliment him back.

Your free hands find his arms, gently touching him. You kissed Aemond before but never bothered to actually take notice of what his lips taste like. ‘’Hmm, I’m not so sure.’’ Aemond says, honest. ‘’Men taste different than women.’’ You want to ask him more about that. You avoided the subject with your brother. Sex was not for pleasure. It was to make heirs and to gain territorial ground.

But with Aemond, your husband…you are curious. How does a man taste? How does a woman please him, properly? Do you do it well as you do, or does Aemond want more excitement and fun?

‘’How does a man taste?’’ You whisper softly. You get no response. You curse yourself. You likely were too soft and he didn't even hear your question. And you don't want to know how a man tastes. You want to know how he tastes.

You lift his chin gently, interrupting his sucking. ‘’How do you taste?’’ You ask him, without missing a beat. Aemond's lips glinster with your wetness and juice as he licks them clean, watching your face speechlessly at your question.

‘’You wish to know that?’’ He asks, his voice a few octaves lower than usual, anticipation and pure lust creeping in.

Despite that he saw you naked and touched you where no one ever did, and despite you calling him your husband, the act still makes you a bit shy. ‘’Perhaps.’’ You calmly reply.

Aemond rubs your legs.

‘’You think you are ready for such things?’’ He wonders out loud. You wonder the same thing. These things take time to learn, time and trust. You are taking things slow with your husband. You two regularly lay together but trust, it is another thing entirely.

You hope to slowly build it with Aemond, stone for stone and wall for Wall until a strong foundation lays at your feet. But your mind, however…

It is curious. Aemond fed it with delicious forbidden things. He teaches you that having sex is a pleasure, not a duty and a burden. He made you appreciate it in ways you never thought possible and that makes you curious for what awaits you both. ‘’What sort of things?’’

Prince Aemond takes a good look at your shimmering wetness, perhaps avoiding eye contact that way as the words that leave his lips are soft and gently spoken as a secret he is hiding. ‘’Pleasuring me.’’

At first you are intrigued. Until you hear your self esteem tell you that you apparently don't do a good job at pleasuring him at all, or else he wouldn't have asked for more. And that makes you a horrible nervous wreck for when your brother comes, as pleasuring the prince was your only task. ‘’Don’t I already bring you pleasure?’’ You quickly mutter.

‘’Yes, more than you know.’’ That brings you relief. He is pleased. You do well. He continues however. ‘’But, you made it sound as if you were curious about more ways to bring me pleasure. Perhaps more ways…’’

His thumb and finger rub your nipples, as his other hand smoothly disappears between your legs, to where you need his fingers. He starts to level them inside of you, grabbing hold of you as you allow his fingers to take you. ‘’For yourself to reach more pleasure.’’ You gasp.

‘’I’m not sure I can handle such ways.’’ You confess. “I'm already at my limit with what I can handle.” He chuckles, adoring you clearly, perhaps you, perhaps the thought he brought you to your limits.

Yet he is gentle with his words, sweet even and considerate. Unlike most men. Unlike most husbands for sure. “You just started this journey. You have much to learn, but I will educate you when you are both mentally and psychically ready for it.” He whispers in your ear, leaving a kiss on your neck. You shiver against him and allow his hands to keep touching you where you desperately need it.

He thinks you can take more. He knows you can handle more. He sees you as a strong thing. ‘’I’ll admit, when I first met you, I thought you were a porcelain doll. One push and you’d shatter.’’ You wait for the compliment. ‘’But, I have gotten to know you and, well… You are not porcelain. You are Valyrian steel.’’ You know of that material. It is said to be strong as nails and nearly unbreakable. It is also lighter yet, making it a perfect weapon. The steel was forged in your ancestral land, where the Targaryens and your family both hailed from.

You feel flattered and beautiful all due to his kind words. But these are more than kind words. When he looks at you, you can see he is sincere in his praise. You wait for his fingers to finish touching you before you top him in an impulse, rolling on top of him and pinning him under you to give him a sloppy messy and needy kiss.

Aemond appreciates it, moving his hands over your back, caressing you as you lay there, feeling his heartbeat close and safe within your grasp.

He pins his hands into your own. You realize you are mirroring the position where you two start when you perform your duties as his wife. He is under for once and you, you are on top.

You feel more heat rise to your cheeks as you try to get off your husband, as this is likely far from what he wants. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to-” You stutter, getting off him as fast as you can.

Prince Aemond is confused, his brows narrowed and his good eye glances up and down your body, clearly worried.

“What is it?’’

You gesture with your hands to his bed and laugh, a bit silly that you acted on such foolish impulses. “A wife is supposed to lay under her husband. Not on top of him.” You say, as your brother has told you many times. ‘’It is known.’’

Aemond remains on the bed, putting his hands behind his head and sighs, deeply. You watch his chest rise and fall, fascinated by the prince’s beauty. Not just his muscles, but his grace. His good eye twitches and sparkles with mischief as he softly smirks, looking at you as if you are his whole world. “What does my wife think of that statement?” You aren’t sure. That is the way things were explained to you. That is the way the world works, in your opinion.

But the way Aemond said it, it changes everything you had known. “It's the truth, isn't it? A man can't…put his…inside her if he's.. not…” Your lips begin to part as Aemond burst into laughter at your statement.

He touches your face, lovingly before he kisses your lips and forehead, caressing it. “I assure you, I'm very flexible. But if you are uncomfortable in this position, or any position, you will tell me and we won't do it anymore. How does that sound?” You are very well aware Aemond could have chosen something else. A wife is a wife and has to obey her husband. Yet Aemond listens to your every wish, every step down the road he has been nothing but kind and gentle.

It makes you worry, because what if Aemond is just acting around you? What if he pretends to be fine, making all these sacrifices and sees women behind your back? What if this is all temporary and a beast is hiding beneath the man? “It's just…I am curious. Do I do well? As a wife?” You ask, sincer.

“As a wife?” He repeats after you.

You force yourself to laugh, trying to appear charming and beautiful.

“Do I bring you pleasure?” You ask, clarifying what you want to know, no must know so badly.

Aemond briefly looks at what is down between his legs, before chuckling softly. ‘’Revaera. You are a Valyrian born, enchanting, stunning, funny and smart woman. And I have only known you for almost a week. I can’t wait to see all the hidden sides that there are to you, I can’t wait to face both joy and doom with you. You make me not only happy, you make me proud to call you my wife.’’

You never have know to take a compliment well, as often, you weren’t complimented at all. You change the subject quickly. “Do you think we'll be in trouble?” You ask, out of the blue. You both denied the royals of this castle by not attending supper. You broke tradition and you insulted the King and Queen. You are sure they have killed for less.

Aemond switches the position of himself, planting himself slightly on top of you, intertwining your fingers lovingly with his own, making eye contact when kissing your lips. “Unlikely. They'll be offended for a few days or weeks at most. They'll get over it.” You hope he is right.

You hear his chuckle. “I'm sure my father didn't even notice I did not attend. So no trouble at all.” He assures you, lowering himself and laying back next to you. You feel him wrap his arms around your body and pull you closer.

You understand he is planning to sleep.

You know you should make use of this moment and seek out your brother to talk with him about the conflicts and the supper you missed. And how and why he is freed from the cage. Someone did that. Someone in this castle, someone with power, freed him. But who? And most importantly: Why?

But the impulse to stay safely within your husband's reach and to keep warm under the sheets of his bed, that impulse is too big for you to fight.

If you are so duty bound to your house, why do you feel as a whole other person when Aemond is near? He makes you want to take risks you never thought of taking. You never would have defied or rejected supper with the King and Queen before.

Next to you your husband snores gently and it is a comforting noise to you. You settle down next to him, and let sleep take you as well.

☆☆☆

“Revaera. Wake up, my love.” You hear your husband's voice gently as you open your eyes. A new day has arrived and a sunny one at that. Aemond sits on the bed near you, already dressed in his usual leather coat and pants.

You size him up, your smile fading as you understand he is heading out. “Are you going somewhere?” He likely is. And that terrifies you. You'll be alone and powerless without him by your side.

He nods, confirming your worst fears. He gently pats the sword he carries around.

“Practicing my swordfighting. I didn't want to leave you without telling you, however. That seemed…” He trials off. “A bit ill suited.” He did so before, and hearing his voice you know he is ashamed and apologizes for that mistake.

When you two first slept together, when he won you and when you two consummated the marriage. Yet you never once regretted sleeping with him. He was kind, gentle and respectful. It was unlike anything you'd imagine it would be. It was pleasant.

“I know you have your duties, but thank you for thinking about me.” But that horrible feeling of helplessness grows and grows, eating away at your confidence.

The prince chuckles. “I'll think of you, whether I want that or not. You're on my mind quite often.” You hope he means that as a compliment. Aemond seems to see your worried face so he quickly adds with a blink or a wink (it is Aemond after all): “In a pleasant manner.”

You can't fight the smile that his words bring you. That he thinks of you so often is a good sign. Your relationship is improving, you hope.

Finally, Aemond speaks.

“Revaera.’’

“Yes?”

He opens his mouth and closes it, as if unsure how to start this conversation.

“What are your plans?” you freeze. Plans. He knows. He heard of Fyrand’s plans, whatever it is they are.

You try to ease your panicked voice and your fingers that itch away at your skin.

“My plans? I don't have any plans?” You nervously blurt out.

Aemond smiles, chuckling softly. “No, I meant…for today. When I'm absent. What will you do? How will you entertain yourself?”

You ease your nerves, telling yourself he has not have one clue what you and your brother are planning. You have the feeling that Aemond is smarter than he appears, and likely sooner or later will find out.

But for now, you do have a good question to answer. How will you entertain yourself? Aemond is your husband, and besides him, you haven’t made any friends or allies at the castle. You could always swarm around, but you doubt it would end in someone befriending you.

In truth: Being outside this room terrifies you. You are worried about running into the King, the Queen and having to face them after you and your husband missed dinner. There’s also the chance that more servants have heard how you are responsible for the death of two servants. And they already didn’t like you.

You want to stay in Aemond’s room, waiting patiently by his bed until he returns and you can warmly nestle back in his arms again, where he will protect you from the cruelty and cold of this world.

“I-”

You think. “I might help Dyana with folding the laundry.” You think it is a good, productive and kind way to help your maid out and to help your husband as well.

But all Aemond does is shake his head the moment you have spoken out your thoughts. He does not approve of your plans. “I don't want that for you. You are my Lady, my princess. My wife…’ He caresses your face. “You are not my slave or my whore. You are not forced to remain within these four walls when I am gone.” He ends his sentence with a disbelieving chuckle.

He continues, grabbing hold of your hands so he may caress your wrists. You understand he does so to feel your heartbeat. Proof that you are alive and real. “You should find something fun, something that excites you and something that brings you joy. A hobby, perhaps.” He suggests, kindly but it terrifies you regardless. A hobby. He wants to distract you.

Is it because he cares so much, or is it because he is worried you might be plotting something after all? Is he aware?

You never had time for hobbies or entertainment. Fyrand made sure of that. And starting one now, outside of these rooms, in halls filled with people who hate you, without Aemond, it sounds…

Terrifying.

“I never had much of a hobby. There wasn't time for that in Pentos.” You say, dismissevely.

Aemond murmurs something, but grabs your hands tighter. “You are not in Pentos now, love. You are here. With me. We have a big library, a kennel filled with dogs and even a garden with herbs. Painting, writing, singing. It's all yours, darling.” He really wants you to find a hobby.

You are a bit afraid of dogs, so you won’t be doing that, ever. And singing, you aren’t sure Aemond knows, but you can’t sing at all. And painting, you paint your own fingers more than you paint any canvas. “That sounds..expensive. What if I drop the paint, what if the dog runs away or if the glass shatters when I start singing?” You blurt out, your thoughts leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

He laughs, amused thinking you are jesting. “The dogs are very loyal and very used to this lifestyle. It is unlikely they will even entertain that thought. Paint I can easily replace that myself for you, and I'm not sure I ever heard of a glass breaking due to poor singing.’’

He simply smiles and you know he won’t give up this matter any time soon and won’t leave this room until you have given him a proper answer. “I know what you say, Aemond. I do. It's just…For years I've been alone in a cold castle and …you are my light in the darkness. My safety net. Without you, I feel like I'm drowning.” You whisper.

His smile softens and he kisses you once more. ‘’I am not sure what this is between us. There's something there, a seed that needs to be protected. I want to watch it grow; if you do as well.” He studies your face, so you give a nod. You do.

He continues, however and gently gives you a slight push in the direction he wants your relationship to go. “But I know, it is your best interest to start learning how to stand on your own two feet.”

“How do I get the servants to obey me? They all hate me for what that blasted ancestor of mine did.” You scowl, anger getting the better of you.

Yet he seems confident that in time, all will be alright. “You'll learn in time. You already made a friend here. The servant girl will be at your disposal today. The one you convinced me to save.”

You know he made it clear why he wanted them hanged. They dared to question your virtue, therefor any children you and Aemond will have in the future. It is high treason, and Targaryens have one answer to high treason: Death.

But you feel, deep inside, that you must give it one last chance to change his mind for the better. To try to save two necks from a rope. “Did you by any chance perhaps change your mind on the others?” You ask, sweetly and unintentionally you notice you rub his hands.

His lips slowly rise, as he kisses your hands. “You are too good for this world. Too pure and too kind.” He gets up from the bed, pushing you softly aside. Rejected, you watch him.

He walks a few steps in his rooms, thinking. He continues, folding his hands on his back whenever he makes a tough choice and you know he did not change his mind at all. “But no. I did not.”

There is something final in his voice, and you understand you mustn't bring up the matter again, as it will likely cause an argument between the two of you. “I, I wish it was different but..if it's truly so dangerous for our lives and our future…” You trial off, scratching your itching skin. “Our future heir, then I accept your choice, Aemond. I trust you with this.”

Your husband sighs deeply, clearly relieved. ‘’Thank you for seeing it from my point of view. I don't enjoy spilling blood or killing. But this is an insult we must and cannot let stand.” He continues. “I wish to kiss you. Do you want me to do that?”

You laugh, finding it a little silly that he asks. He is your husband, he fucked you, he owns you, in a way. “I'm your wife.”

He does not react to that, remaining resilient. “Yes or no. Are you in the mood for a kiss? Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod, but he is not moving so you give him a verbal proper answer.

“Yes.” Aemond rejoins you on his bed, giving you a soft but loving kiss that makes your stomach flutter.

You grin, brightly and whisper in his ear. “I like our kisses.”

He kisses you again, grinning just as madly as you do. “Our. I like the sound of that.”

You notice he is eying his sword again, and understand he is soon leaving your side. Aemond leaves the bed, but you yank him back by his leg, begging him with your eyes. “Please be careful.”

He nods, smiling gently at you. “I always am. Ser Criston is a respected and skilled swordsman. He would never let any harm come to me or to Aegon.” You haven’t heard much about either Ser Criston Cole or Aegon but you hope Aemond knows what he is doing. He won the duel for your hand. That has got to mean something.

You are glad he dropped the hobby matter. “I'm glad you say that. That eases my worries.” You say.

Aemond puts his sword back on and studies himself one last time in the reflection of a mirror. “Remember what I said, Revaera. You are not my slave nor my whore. Your life is your own now. I wish you to start living it. Not just endure it. Enjoy, not just survive it. Breathe out not to hold your breath.” You sigh, softly.

“I shall do my best.” You manage to say.

He gives you a final kiss before leaving.

“That's all I can ask, see you tonight, my love.’’

You mutter back that you’ll see him tonight.

—

Not so late after Aemond left, a young, blonde woman rejoins your side. She is the woman who spoke up about the bullying of your other ladiesmaids. She also was ready to defend you against Prince Aemond. That was not needed, but still, incredibly brave and kind of her.

You gesture for her to take a seat in your husband’s chair by the fireplace. A little confused and big-eyed, she does as she is commanded. ‘’Good morrow, Princess Revaera.’’ She says.

You smile. ‘’Good morrow. I don’t believe you mentioned your name. If you did, you must forgive me, but memory isn’t my strong suit.’’ It seems to put her at ease.

‘’Dyana.’’ She says. ‘’And, uhm, yes Princess. I had already told you that. But that is fine! You can’t remember every servant’s name-’’ She rambles, a little nervous. “I am forever in your debt and at your service, Princess. You saved my life from the gallows.”

You nod, sitting down. ‘’I just pity I couldn’t talk my husband into sparing the others as well.’’ You murmur. ‘’He seemed so sure that this is the right path to take, but what if we can find another way?’’

Dyana lifts her blonde haired head. ‘’Those ladies called you a whore. They dug their own graves. Your husband is in his right.’’ That is two voices against your own judgment and your own reasons.

You look at Dyana.

“Why did you come in during our talk?”

At first Dyana shrugs, but then she looks at her hands, pulling her nails like you often do. “My mind wandered. Usually when a husband dismisses his wife's ladies she's…” she gulps. “It is not pretty. I could not live with myself thinking he would harm you for things you did not do.” She regains a certain fire in her eyes, when she speaks.

You understand she has a horrible image of how Prince Aemond truly is. A truly horrible image. “Prince Aemond was just worried about me, but I'm thankful for your kindness and your protection, Dyana. It means a lot that you would risk offending the prince, for me. A strange girl you never even met.’’

Dyana nods, eagerly and clearly proud of herself. She has every reason to. “Of course, Princess. My mother always told me I should treat everyone with kindness. Princess or peasant.” She adds. ‘’Oh, I almost forgot Princess. We must also prepare you for a banquet tonight. The King wishes to dine with his entire family, now that Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon and their children have come home from Dragonstone.’’

Dyana helps you find a suitable dress. The last time you were here, the lady's maid's you had forced you to wear Green. It would send a message to the Princess and her family. A message you don’t want to send. You want to play both sides for now, and try to find out what side your loyalty should lie, for the sake of yourself but also for you and Aemond.

So, you pick out a purple with silver gown with golden stitches and a open back. Dyana helps you lace your dress, smiling at you through the big mirror. ‘’You look stunning, Princess.’’

A voice creeps up from behind you, startling you both. “I dare say so.” You turn around, your heart in your throat and your hands sweaty.

“Fyrand.” You say.

The illustrious heir of house Marthyralys, your brother, Fyrand stands behind you and Dyana, eying your silver and purple dress with great admiration.

Your brother smiles, but you can see he is furious. ‘’I came here to see my little sister. You look ravishing for the banquette. Job well done, I’d say. You’ll have Aemond fucking you again soon.’’ That makes you uncomfortable. You didn’t dress for Aemond at all.

You are glad Dyana is still with you, pretending to be busy with small things and matters, but her watchful eyes never truly leave Fyrand.

She pretends to be busy with folding blankets to avoid the eye of your brother. “Fyrand, I don't think Aemond wants you here.” You tell him, truthfully. “He is currently with Ser Criston and Prince Aegon in the gardens, practicing his sword fighting.”

He laughs, as if he remembers something funny. Something ironic you don’t know yet. “O, I don't doubt that they are for a moment. There is much to prepare for.” He grins as if he is experiencing some irony or knows something you do not. You don't like it. “I'm your brother. You can trust me.” He adds once he sees your frown.

He seems to notice Dyana finally. “You. Girl. Go bother someone else.” Dyana does not react nor move at his command.

“Girl. Are you deaf?” He barks, becoming annoyed and approaching her too. You are too familiar with Fyrand’s cruel hand, and you don’t wish to see Dyana suffer.

“Dyana, it is fine.” You tell her, gently.

For the first time since your brother ended, she looks up. Her eyes are full of worry and fear. “Are you certain, Princess?”

“Yes.”

Dyana stops folding the laundry, and leaves you and Fyrand alone in Aemond’s rooms. The moment the door is shut, he turns on his heel, facing you. “Aemond got you a nanny, then. Does he not trust you? Does he not like you anymore? Is that why he is fighting?” You are confused. You and Aemond are doing fine. Aemond is not fighting persé, not in an emotional way. He is practicing.

“Calm down.” You manage to say when he is done firing questions at you. Aemond does seem to trust you, which is why he approved of you having a maid to attend to your womanly needs as he called it. Dyana helps you with dressing, corsets and bathing. Tasks that are a bit difficult for you as you never really had to wear such fancy gowns or look that good.

You always looked decent but never this stunning. You dress for your influence and house now, and also because you know that Aemond will like it if you put effort into it. But most of all, you dress yourself now how you want to dress. You adore the different clothing and the fabrics and how endless the possibilities seem when it comes to design of fashion.

And it's not just the fashion that has changed. Your eyes sparkle with something that you can only describe as a harvest. Seeds have been planted and withered away, yet all thanks to your own strength and endurance, you forced the seeds back into the ground to give it another go. And the result is everything you hoped it would be.

Fyrand grabs your throat, bringing you back to so many horrors. Despite having only one hand, he makes up for the loss of that by dragging his nails into your neck. “I am not calming down! I lost my left hand to get us on that ship. I lost everything to save you. The least you can do is repay me back for what you owe me.” You try to get his hands off your neck, and once you start choking, he does so.

You wait for him to explain the plan.

“What is my mission exactly?”

He scoffs at your stupidity. ‘’Gain the trust of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. Aemond likes you and tolerates you. That is clear to see. The King however, does not. I think that will change the moment you give birth to a beautiful silver haired child.” His last remaining hand pets your belly.

You think back of your mother.

“You know why birthing is a difficult topic for me.” You whisper, soft.

Fyrand burst into laughter. “For you? As if you even knew our mother who died when you came out of her, as some monster crawling out of a corpse.” He laughs, oblivious to your own pain.

You don’t understand how this will make the King happy. He has plenty of silver haired grandchildren. “Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena have already gifted him grandchildren. Even Princess Rhaenyra has her own babies who qualify-”

Fyrand groans, warning you of his temper. “Prince Aemond would like to have an heir. And you will like having a son. As all women do. You will like nurturing it and taking care of it.”

You aren’t sure. For you never had a mother to begin with. Who would teach you how to be a mother? “What if I don't? What If I'm a terrible mother?” Fyrand laughs, before hitting you across your face. “Don't test my patience again.” He adds. ‘’Focus on getting pregnant. You and Aemond fuck enough for that happen, I’ve heard.’’

You are seething he dared to hit you. Again. Any other time, you would’ve let him. But not this time. You grit your teeth.

‘’Who freed you?’’

Fyrand smirks, but does not tell you.

‘’We have a foot in the door, dear sister. Your husband isn’t the only one who has taken a liking to you.’’

And with that he leaves you with more questions than answers.

—

Prince Aemond asked you to find a hobby, so you will at least make an effort for it. For your love. For this seed, you both want to see it grow. So, you leave his chambers in your new evening gown and make your way down to the big stairs.

You don’t know where you are going, but somehow, your feet take you to the courtyard. You notice a dark haired male fighting with someone with familiar long, gorgeous and lucious silver hair. Your husband. You smile, approaching the two from a distant, careful to not interrupt their practice. Aemond dodges and drops his shattered shield, before avoiding the morningstar of the man. That must be Ser Criston.

You watch your husband and Cole both give it their all, and you don’t know you are holding your breath until it is all finished and Aemond holds his sword at Cole’s throat. Cole yields, and soon the gathered crowd applauds at the Prince’s skills. Yourself included.

You feel the urge to approach him, so you do, step for step and gently but by doing so, you are listening in to a conversation between Prince Aemond and Prince Aegon.

Prince Aegon is shorter, as is his hair.

‘’Your wife. How is she settling in?’’ You freeze. They are talking about you. You don’t know why, but you quickly hide between two tall men.

Aemond cleans his sword, sharpening it as well, shrugging and clearly trying to hide his smile. ‘’Revaera is doing well, all things considered.’’ You are glad he says so.

His brother grins.

‘’She eyes me as very eager to please. You should exploit that. Perhaps invite a lady into your bed. Revy will do as you command her. Perhaps she'll learn to like it as well.’’ Disgusted, you growl.

Aemond steps closer to Aegon, his sword still in his hand. ‘’Her name is Revaera. She has endured enough torture for a lifetime, I don't intent for it to continue when I vowed to protect and honour her.’’ He lashes out, groaning.

The other Prince scoffs. ‘’Such a protective little husband you have become. And so quickly. Whatever Revaera keeps between her legs must be absolutely divine. Do not forget who your loyalty should be to.’’ Aemond sighs, embarrassed his brother had to remind him of duty for once.

‘’My wife has proven no threat, Aegon. You know them. They were traitors once.’’ Aemond suddenly stops talking, and smiles when he notices you. Instead of berating you, he rushes to your side, sweeping you off your feet for a kiss.

‘’There you are.’’ He declares, as if you went for centuries without one another’s touch. Aegon rolls his eyes and throws his sword on the ground, not even bothering to put it away.

‘’I was uhm...How did the training go?’’ You ask, your cheeks still warmed because of all the eyes aimed at you and your husband.

Aemond frowns as you two make your way inside the castle. ‘’As well as to be expected. I worry for Aegon. He is getting better but I see so much wasted potential and its driving me insane.’’ He confesses, confiding in you. You feel proud he wants to share such things with you. You don’t know what to say that will make it better, so you instead rub his hands.

He smiles, accepting your love.

‘’New gown?’’ He asks, studying your stunning purple gown. He has a good eye. You assumed most men wouldn’t even notice that.

You smile, breaking free from his grasp and make a twirl and a spin for him, so he may see the whole thing. ‘’Yes. Do you like it?’’ You ask, smiling still.

He breaks into a grin. ‘’Very much so, but do you?’’

You think. Yes, you do. ‘’I like how soft the fur coat is. I like the pretty sparkles. Thank you for clothing me. Thank you for spending coins on me. It's the prettiest dress I ever laid eyes upon. ‘’You get a bit emotional too, realizing that this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you.

Aemond shrugs, humble and modest and gives you a kiss on your cheeks. ‘’A dress is like a blank canvas. It becomes art when the artist brings it to life. The dress itself is pretty, but you make it eternal.’’ ‘’And, no worries about my coin and funds, love. I would not have taken a wife if I could not provide for her. And don't feel guilty too, as you can hardly walk around naked.’’ He jests, but he grins, whispering. ‘’Not that I would complain…’’

You chuckle.

You giggle, and your lips share a embrace as if you are two smitten teens. That is when you notice that the Prince has been injured. His hand has a cut, a small bleeding wound.

‘’O,’’ You mutter, looking closer at the wound. ‘’You are hurt.’’

‘’It's just a scratch.’’ Prince Aemond says, dismissively. ‘’It happens when you are fighting.’’

You grab his hands, forcing him to stand still. ‘’No, it's not.’’ It is not just a scratch.

Aemond blushes, smiling at you.

‘’I mean…’’ You stutter, aware you gave your husband an order and defied him.

But he does not seem to care.

‘’Yes?’’ Is all he asks with a kind gentle and hopeful smile.

You take him by his arm.

‘’Come. We shall find a maester for you.’’

‘’That is really not needed, my dear.’’

Yet you can't help but notice the smile on his lips and the gentle shimmer of hope in his eye.

‘’Why are you smiling?’’ You ask, shaking your head at your silly husband. Aemond shrugs, pretending to be fine, but you notice his voice has become emotional.

‘’Perhaps I’ve always wanted someone to worry for me. Anyone who wasn’t forced by blood to do so.’’

----

Yeah let me know what you think of this chapter! Next chapter we have the big dinner and also aemond will be undergoing surgery for his wounds /joke.

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lavareview · 4 months

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x - x - x

MODEL: THE WIZARD

Brand: Lava Lite

Introduced: 1998

Discontinued: 2003

Base and cap colors: black, blue, red, silver

Wax colors: blue, pink, purple, red, yellow

Glitter colors: blue, purple, red, silver

Fluid colors: blue, clear, purple

Size: height 16 1/2", diameter 4 1/2"

The Wizard is a rework of Lava Lite’s earlier 1974 Carlisle model. Like the Carlisle, it has a conical shape and small cutouts around its base allowing light from the bulb to shine through. It is however distinguished from the Carlisle by some notable features: where the Carlisle’s cap had a flat top, similarly to more classic lava lamp models, the Wizard’s cap is pointed, giving it a shape reminiscent of a wizard’s hat. The cutouts in its base are moon and star-shaped, as opposed to the Carlisle’s pinholes, and there is a row of matching cutouts circling the cap.

The Wizard also offered very different colorways from its predecessor: notably, while the Carlisle’s base and cap only came in a brass color, the Wizard offers four different base/cap colors, none of them brass, and it came with many more wax and fluid options, as well as glitter options.

Pictured: every wax color combination offered for the Wizard.

When examining pictures of the Carlisle and the Wizard, it also seems that the Wizard’s globe protrudes over the sides of the base slightly less, giving it a less pronounced “muffin top” effect, though this may be due to perspective. The Wizard is also two and a half inches taller than its predecessor (perhaps owing to the added height on its pointed cap).

Like some other Lava Lite models, the Wizard has a dimmer “for quick start”: the user would initially set the light bulb to 100%, making the wax heat up and flow faster, then dim the light as desired.

Though discontinued, the Wizard remains popular with collectors. It originally retailed for $44.99. Second-hand, Wizard lava lamps are usually sold for $80 to $200. While many Wizards are sold second-hand and it isn’t hard to find one, it may be more difficult to find a specific colorway, and glitter Wizards are more commonly found than wax ones.

MY REVIEW:

The Wizard is my second-most desired lava lamp, but I’ve yet to find one sold in the specific colorway I want (blue base, blue liquid, purple wax) for a price within my means.

In this review, I won't be considering the glitter options of the Wizard, though they're numerous and appear more popular than wax versions. This is because I personally dislike glitter lamps, so including them would negatively impact the review.

SILHOUETTE: 10/10

The 1999-2000 Lava Lite catalogue describes the Wizard as having a “magical draw to its mystical shape”, and I’m tempted to agree. Whereas I find the very similar silhouette of the Carlisle to not be particularly appealing, the Wizard makes a tremendous improvement if only by changing the shape of the cap; and by recontextualizing its conical figure as a wizard’s hat, what could have been an awkward-looking lamp becomes evocative and magical.

DETAILS: 9/10

If any lava lamp model expresses boundless personality through simple and effective detailing, it has to be the Wizard. It avoids being gaudy or insisting upon itself; the wizardly appeal is apparent without the need for tacky visuals. When lit in darkness, the cutouts around its base create a constellation of light pinpricks, further increasing its visual appeal. The only thing I would change about it is the thick black circlet at the very bottom of its base, which isn’t very pleasing to the eye. (In 2013-2014, Lava Lite offered their "Heritage Collection", a throwback to some of their earlier models. The collection included three of the Wizard's colorways, and this time the black circlet was not included - the red Wizard pictured above is a Heritage model.)

COLORWAYS: 7/10

Several of the available colorways are particularly well-chosen: the black base and cap, the purple and pink waxes, and the blue and purple fluids particularly appeal to me. The red base/red wax/clear fluid variation, while not my personal favorite, is also striking. These colors definitely fit my mental image of “wizardry” and add to a magical atmosphere.

Unfortunately, I can’t in good conscience give it full points, as I feel some of the other color options just don’t quite size up. The green wax/blue fluid colorways evoke some sort of alien goo more than any wizard’s spell. The yellow wax/purple fluid and blue wax/blue fluid options are forgettable and don’t do the lamp’s unique design justice. I also generally feel that the silver base just doesn’t look that good with any of the wax and fluid colors.

If I had it my way, the green, purple and yellow wax options and the silver base would be replaced with a variety of new colorways using mainly purple, blue and black in different combinations (such as: a black base/black wax/purple fluid version; a black base/purple wax/clear fluid version; or a purple base/pink wax/purple fluid version, among other potential variations).

My take on alternative Wizard colorways I would have preferred to see.

A number of custom Wizards in various colors do exist and pictures can be found online from collectors - these may have been DIYed (painting bases, switching fluid or wax...) or achieved using alternative globes, such as globes purchased through Lava Lite's Custom Program. While browsing, I even found one matching my imagined "black base/purple wax/clear fluid" version!

POWER: 10/10

Though there are many lamps far more imposing in size, the Wizard dominates through sheer force of personality. The Wizard has no need for unnecessary frills and does not cross the line from “thematic” into “gimmicky”. It is disarmingly pleasant, yet not so whimsical as to become meek or juvenile. Where, had its styling been more heavy-handed, it could have been an inelegant children’s toy, its restrained and confident design instead makes it both esoteric and tasteful. In short, the Wizard is an extremely powerful lava lamp.

MY FINAL SCORE: 9/10

Is my information wrong? Did I miss a detail? Do you have a better picture of this model? Is there another model you’d like me to look into? Please send me an ask or submit relevant pictures!

#lava lamp #lava lamps #Lava Lite #1990s #2000s #Wizard #The Wizard #Discontinued

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yuurei20 · 1 year

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Leona Info Compilation part 5: Ruggie (pt3)

We see Leona employ Ruggie in a variety of roles such as protecting him during Beanfest (for a “daily special” from the cafeteria every day for a week), taking on his assignments during Vargas Camp (for a shopping trip that Ruggie took with Leona’s money) and recruit new students for the spell drive club (for doughnuts).

The task Ruggie dislikes the most might be having to pick up Leona’s room and do laundry, which we hear him complain about fairly often, but Leona pays for washing Ruggie’s clothes along with his own.

Ruggie seems to be uncomfortable with receiving charity—when Silver offers to lend him money, Ruggie refuses—which is possibly why Leona is always having to find roundabout ways to support Ruggie financially.

Since Ruggie will not accept money unless he feels like he is getting away with something Leona does things like give Ruggie both his wallet and his permission to buy whatever it is he wants in exchange for standing in line at the school store.

If it weren’t for the appearance of a monster that they needed magic in order to fight off, it is likely that Leona had been intending to let Ruggie smuggle a magestone out of the mines to sell, as well.

In a vignette we see Ruggie talking to himself about wishing he could afford to eat more when Leona suddenly appears behind him.

We do not know how much Leona overheard, but when Ruggie says he needs money to buy detergent for washing Leona’s clothes, Leona tosses him his wallet and tell him to take what he needs and keep the change.

Ruggie points that out he has nothing but large bills and Leona responds, “Why’re you getting all hung up on the details?"

Ruggie reflects that Leona probably wouldn’t even notice if he kept more in change than what the detergent costs, saying, “far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. Cha-ching!”, seemingly unaware that that is likely Leona’s exact intent.

Ruggie charges Leona “at least ten thaumarks an hour” in exchange for his help during Fairy Gala (we never see Leona haggle with Ruggie to try and underpay him; Leona always goes along with whatever price Ruggie dictates), and Ruggie seems free to refuse tasks he does not like, such as passing on messages to Malleus.

When Jamil comments that serving Leona seems “far more painful” than serving Kalim, Ruggie says that serving Kalim would just make him uncomfortable, and there is “a lid for every pot.”

Ruggie himself explains that while Leona is used to ordering people around and is a demanding boss, he is always giving things to Ruggie for him to sell.

Leona also helps with Ruggie’s education, as Night Raven College is Ruggie’s first time attending a school.

Ruggie says that Leona tutors him on lessons he does not understand and provides him with reference books and old exams, as well as “tons of useful advice”, directly resulting in a significant increase in Ruggie’s grades from “bottom of the ladder” to “somewhere just below the middle”.

In addition to never arguing with Ruggie about money Leona seems to follow his demands in other areas as well, such as not skipping classes that Ruggie insists he must attend and reluctantly eating vegetables that Ruggie puts on his plate for lunch.

Leona does not seem to like the food at the school cafeteria (calling the steaks “cheap” in Book 6) which makes sense, as he is a prince, and he is one of the strictest judges in Culinary Crucible (on par with Vil), grading meals with a 4 that Ruggie grades as 8.

However, Ruggie has a voice lines saying, “When it comes to cooking, all I can do it throw together whatever’s on hand, but it seems like Leona doesn’t care as long as it’s edible.”

This seems to insinuate that Leona either just prefers Ruggie’s cooking in particular, or at the very least he refuses to complain about it.

#leonafacts #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twstfacts #twstleona

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materialsscienceandengineering · 3 months

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Silver Recycling

As a metal, silver is considered an infinitely recyclable material, with no loss in quality after recycling. As a precious metal, however, the rates of silver recycling tend to fluctuate in concert with the current cost of the metal - when the price of silver is higher, the recycling rate tends to increase. The United States is considered the world's largest silver recycler, though the rate at which they have recycled silver has decreased slightly compared to a decade ago. Worldwide, it is estimated that around 25-30% of silver produced today comes from recycled silver, though statistics are difficult to track.

The application silver is used for can also affect recycling rates. High purity silver, like that used in jewelry, is easier to consider than low purity silver, such as what is used in photographic applications.

Sources/Further Reading: (Image source - Statista) (Physical Gold) (emew blog) (Burhouse) (2014 article)

#Materials Science #Science #Silver #Recycling #Waste #WasteWednesday #2024Daily

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littlejuicebox · 10 months

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I want to hold your hand.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character/Ranger AKA AstarionxWren

Chapter number: Ten

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / All fluff no smut in this one / Act 1 Spoilers / Angst / Anxiety / Feelings Realization / Violence / Gore / Past trauma / Alcohol / Swear words / Lae'zel being a butthole again (I promise I actually really love her character but, come on, the behavior in this chapter pretty in character for her.) Word count: 2.8K Masterlist: Click here. Song inspiration: "I Want to Hold Your Hand" - The Beatles (But really, more so the version in Across the Universe because the yearning is palpable in that version.) Notes: LMK if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series in a message. :)

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Astarion took a long time gathering enough gumption to finally exit the Druid’s bedchambers. By the time he made his way toward the center of the grove, all the stars were gleaming in the sky, and more than one campfire had been lit. It appeared everyone already ate dinner, made evident by the empty tables full of used crockery and roasts picked nearly to the bone. He heard faint notes of music and an increasing amount of chatter as he made his way up the stone steps to the camp… it sounded like a party.

His other traveling companions were already there, and their tents had all been pitched. He spied Karlach kindly putting his tent up, and Astarion walked over to help her finish the job. Typically, he would've just left the tiefling to the grunt work and walked off to flirt with Wren or merely lounge about, but since Wren had stormed away from him earlier in the evening after their little tiff… he had nothing better to do.

Apart from Wren, Karlach was probably the vampire's favorite companion. Her easy-going nature made it so he didn’t have to perform too terribly hard around her, and he appreciated their rare moments together. Shadowheart was good for some quick banter, of course, but now the cleric’s preoccupation with Lae’zel made that relationship less ideal and he'd found himself avoiding the cleric whenever her green guard dog was around.

The silver-haired elf took one of the tent ties from Karlach and scanned the crowd for Wren. He spotted her sitting by an attentive Halsin. The unexpected sight created a dull ache in his chest, right around where his undead heart sat stock-still. Gods, he had to find a way to fix things before she found herself enamored with someone that was clearly a better alternative and he wasted all his time and effort for… what exactly? What was this thing between them?

The Archdruid towered over the little bird, especially when she was in a seated position. But despite the size difference, the mountain of a man held her arm in a remarkably gentle grip. The vampire tried to ignore the new duo as he thanked Karlach and then meandered toward the pile of booze. Maybe if he just… loosened himself up a bit, he’d be able to talk to Wren about what he was feeling instead of putting his foot in his mouth again. But what was he feeling, exactly? Astarion didn't have the words. Perhaps that wasn’t the point. Perhaps the point was that whatever role she wanted him to perform, he would do it, if it meant he would stay in her good graces. Surely that was a fair price to pay to be rid of the ache in his chest.

As much as the rogue tried to ignore the scene that was making his insides churn, his eyes kept roaming back to the two of them. The vampire watched as Halsin thoroughly, too thoroughly, spread some kind of salve on Wren’s forearm while she occupied herself with chugging whatever she had in her cup. Astarion had a fleeting thought that it should be him applying that salve on Wren's arm, not the big bear. If not him, then surely Shadowheart. Who the hell was this druid, anyway?

Wren had changed from the chemise he’d given her a few days back and into an entirely different, and significantly more revealing outfit. Where the hells had she even found a set of leather trousers? And was she truly just wearing the bodice she wore under her armor on her torso?

After Halsin was done playing doctor with the little bird, the pale elf was sure the sickening rendezvous would end. But then Wren was digging through her bag and revealing the pipe she’d stolen from Halsin with a guilty grin. The Archdruid seemed very entertained by this; he threw his head back as he laughed in pure delight. Halsin said something with a lifted eyebrow and then smiled and returned the pipe back to the little bird.

Gods, Astarion wished he could hear what they were saying from here. He had the strange sensation of being left out, and he bristled at the thought. ‘They are getting along far too well.’

The vampire reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the scene and snatched a bottle of wine from the booze pile. He was in no mood for this little party, but he supposed he would play this part if he had to.

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Wren was tired of performing. The whole self-sufficient, strong ranger woman act was getting exhausting. What was the point? She kept making mistakes, anyway… first losing her own eye, then blowing their cover with Minthara, and then the absolute dragonshitshow of a conversation she’d just had with one of her strongest and most versatile campmates. The campmate that she’d bedded the day before, effectively ending her entirely too long streak of voluntary abstinence. But… had her time with Astarion really been a mistake? She couldn't be sure.

Truly, Wren just wanted someone to hold her. And maybe Halsin wouldn’t hold her, but he’d hold her arm with his warm, comforting hand… and slather some sticky, honey-based salve on her charred skin while she chugged whatever Alfira had just poured into her cup. She liked Halsin. He was nice. He was mature, kind, and held an attractive air of relaxed confidence. It was easy to be drawn to his comforting energy; she saw why the grove trusted him.

Before long, the Archdruid wrapped her arm in a bandage, refused the return of his pipe with an explanation that he had several more, and told her that he didn’t know how to remove the parasites, but he had some ideas they could discuss tomorrow. He cut the conversation short and pushed her into the party, insisting she go and have some fun before returning to business-as-usual tomorrow morning.

Wren wasn’t in any mood for this party, but she begrudgingly obliged. After downing whatever was left in her cup, she found herself roped into a few dances with some of the tieflings and one with Gale. By the third cup of — what was it, wine? — she and Karlach tried to dance without touching, mostly just shimmying and spinning around one another like lunatics before falling on the ground laughing at the stupidity of it all. She needed that laugh, and if she could’ve hugged the tiefling woman then, she would’ve.

After the chortling was over, and the ranger's ribs hurt beyond belief, the two women wandered back to the libations. Karlach flicked her gaze over toward Astarion, who appeared to be brooding and trying to hide the fact that he was brooding, and then she looked back to a buzzed Wren. She filled two more cups with some cherry-scented liquid as she addressed the half-elf. “What’s going on with you and Fangs, anyway, soldier? Normally you two are attached at the hip… or the lip.”

“Karlach!” Wren yelped, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced around to see if anyone else had heard the Barbarian. Her already alcohol-flushed face began to trail the rosy blush up her ears and down her neck.

“Oh, come off!” Karlach exclaimed with a chuckle, rolling her eyes at the ranger. “First of all, you’re a grown woman, so you can do whatever and whoever you’d like. Second of all… it’s not really a secret, Wren. We all know. You should’ve seen the absolute state Astarion was in for those few days you were knocked out after that Gur encounter. I doubt he’s like that for just anyone.”

Wren didn’t know what to say in response to Karlach’s revelation. Her fingers moved up to nervously touch her lip scar and then she shrugged, “I guess… I didn’t know how he felt. I… don’t know how he feels.”

“Well… did you ever really ask him?” Karlach responded with a shrug, as if the answer were quite simple to her, cocking her head just slightly at the ranger before shoving the filled cup into her hand.

Wren almost laughed as she lifted the cup to her lips for a drink. She didn’t ever ask him; she’d been too preoccupied by the parasite, and then losing her eye. She didn't stop to speak to him at all, really. The archer soaked in the irony of her own words from her earlier encounter with Astarion swinging like a boomerang right back to her. The substance in her cup tasted better than the previous drinks she’d been given, and the brunette woman eagerly took another sip as she considered her friend’s words with a soft hum. “Alright. I'll ask him."

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Astarion watched Wren dance with more than one partner. Should he ask her to dance? Would that smooth things over? He knew how to, of course. But then, if she was so angry with him that she rejected him in front of everyone… well the rogue’s pride truly couldn’t stand for that to happen.

The vampire sat frozen in indecision, sipping from his bottle as his eyes tracked the little bird around the camp. She and Karlach had a bit of conversation by the booze table — it must’ve been about him, because Karlach looked his way more than once. Annoyingly, he couldn’t pick up what they said from this distance over the clamor of other conversations and Alfira’s music. The knowledge that he was being discussed made him uneasy, and he huffed, suddenly scanning the party for a distraction. Just as he was about to throw a line at some tiefling in a futile attempt to stroke his own ego, he heard Wren’s enraged voice thundering through the party.

“What the hell did you just say, Lae’zel?” The little bird was standing face to face with the Githyanki, hands clenched into tight fists.

“You heard what I said. I do not need to repeat it.” Lae’zel responded coolly, stepping even closer to the ranger, answering their group leader’s challenge.

The entire crowd had fallen silent, watching the scene unfold. Wren quickly hooked her right arm, and Astarion stared in a ridiculously juxtaposed mixture of horror and delight as it connected with a solid pow on the other woman’s eye socket. Lae’zel, to her credit, took the punch with barely any reaction and then returned it with one of her own. It landed on the ranger’s nose with a sickening crack.

Astarion rushed forward, along with Karlach and Shadowheart, just as Lae’zel was about to withdraw her blade. But Astarion was faster than the alien and he pressed the edge of his dagger against the Githyanki’s neck in warning.

“Now, now, I think not, little viper. You’re clearly drunk. Go lay down with mommy Shadowheart and take a nap before we all do things we will surely regret in the morning.” His voice warned, tone measured but scarlet eyes heated as they glared into Lae’zel’s.

Shadowheart had hold of Lae’zel’s forearm, staying her blade, while Karlach stood a few paces behind the half-elf. Wren was holding her nose, which was now pouring thin streams of crimson. Astarion couldn’t see the blood from where his face was pressed so closely to the alien, but he could easily smell it. Oh, how his fingers positively ached with the desire to slice into Lae’zel’s neck and repay the debt.

Shadowheart spoke, trying with all her might to remain calm and be the voice of reason. “Come on, Lae’zel. You’re drunk… you didn’t truly mean it. Come with me, let’s go lay down.”

The Githyanki relented, inhaling deeply and stepping back, away from Astarion’s blade. The cleric offered an apologetic look to her other campmates before grabbing her lover’s hand and pulling her away from the party, towards their tent.

“Sorry about that, folks! You know how it goes among family!” Karlach shouted, and soon everyone shrugged off the dispute and resumed their conversations, followed by another swell of music.

After Astarion stowed his blade, he turned to check on Wren. She’d already walked towards her own tent and hidden herself inside the little nest. He followed after her, swiftly ducking himself into the canvas shelter before kneeling down to face the little bird. She’d held a cloth over her nose and fixed her closed eyes toward the ceiling, hoping to slow the bleeding.

“I heard it break. Can’t you heal it yourself?” He murmured, cocking his head slightly as he lifted his hand toward her face, removing the cloth for a moment to examine the damage.

“I tried. But it seems I’m out of spellcasting power. I used it all up at the goblin camp. I’m obviously not going to Shadowheart for help, Halsin already helped me with my arm, and fuck Nettie. So… here I am.”

“Hold on.” Astarion murmured, exiting the tent with no further explanation. Wren’s brows furrowed in confusion as she watched him exit, but that caused a sharp pain in her nose, so she groaned and looked back at the ceiling.

The vampire returned a few minutes later, wearing a large amulet with a jade-colored stone that Wren didn’t recognize and carrying his own backpack. He sat back down and moved his slender hands forward, bidding the little bird to lower the blood-soaked cloth. Long, lithe fingers pressed to the woman’s nose and then Astarion uttered a healing incantation.

Wren blinked in surprise as she felt the familiar warmth of a healing spell seep through her skin and into the fragile bones along the center of her face. Soon enough, her nose felt practically back to normal. Astarion seemed to be watching her for an indication that his efforts worked before lowering his hands. She nodded subtly.

The rogue quietly removed his hands and quickly undid the clasp of the heavy amulet, stowing the piece of jewelry back in his pack. Then he rustled around, withdrawing a small bottle of water and a small scrap of cloth. After dampening the cloth, he lifted it to Wren’s nose and began tenderly cleaning the dried blood off her face. He saw the question in her eyes and answered it without her prompting.

“I found it among Counsellor Florrick’s things, when I found your chemise. Seemed worth keeping, but it’s awfully noisy when I move so I don't wear it all the time.” He says in a hushed voice, pausing for a moment when Wren winced as he pressed too firmly to her still-tender nose. He looks at her for a beat and then continues, “Figured I would hold onto it, just in case...”

'Just in case I end up on my own and I don't have Shadowheart or you to heal me.'

A bit of quiet fell between the two as the elf focused on his task, and the woman focused on one of her pillows instead of the rogue. Astarion noticed this, because she normally watched him so intently with those two-toned eyes of hers. It stung, her lack of attention on him, but he kept working, hoping somehow this was a step in the right direction. At least she hadn’t pushed him away. It was clear that in the thick silence of the tent, which was such a sharp contrast to the raging party outside, that the two of them felt the weight of things unsaid hanging between them.

“What did she say?” Astarion questioned in a low murmur, scarlet orbs wandering from Wren's upturned nose to her distant stare, pulling her attention back to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wren huffed, beginning to bristle in response and starting to pull away from the vampire, but his other hand clasped onto her forearm and kept her in place.

The rogue paused for a moment, squinting his eyes at the ranger. Wren could see the subtle prickles of annoyance on his face; her eyes took in the scrunch of his nose and the clenching of his jaw. His tone was stiff, curt, as if he were trying to maintain hold over his emotions. “You said you would tell me anything if I bothered to ask. So, here I am, asking.”

Wren fell silent, as she felt the sting of her own words flipped against her for the second time that night. She moved to thumb her lip scar, and Astarion’s eyes followed her finger for a moment before returning to holding her own eyes in an unyielding stare.

“She…” The little bird looked up at the tent and sighed. Hells, it was going to sound so ridiculous when it came out.

“She overheard Karlach asking what happened to Kol, and I told Karlach that Kol had died. I told her what I told you about the ambush. And then Lae’zel said that I have a type… elves with silver hair and red eyes. And that my history of poor leadership would probably get you killed, just like it had the first one.”

Wren’s mouth hardened into a line, and her voice crackled at the end. Fuck Lae’zel for knowing exactly how to cut into her with words and lay bare one of her biggest fears. Wren didn’t want to be the leader… she didn’t fucking want it! So why did Lae’zel or anyone else have to make it so hard? Didn’t they know she was already beating herself to a pulp for every misstep along the way?

Astarion watched as the little bird rolled her gaze up to the ceiling where she stayed intently focused on the canvas of the tent, trying to conceal her tears. He had half a mind to storm across the camp and cut out the Githyanki’s tongue. Maybe they would all be better off for it; her pessimistic nature wasn’t doing the group any favors, after all. But instead, he sighed, grabbed Wren’s hand, grabbed his own pack, and then stood up, pulling her with him.

“Come on, darling. Let’s get away from this party. The wine is shit and the only company really worth keeping is in this tent, anyway.” He grumbled before walking out of the canvas shelter and heading away from the crowd, toward the grove exit. He kept his fingers wrapped around hers as he led her along.

Wren followed without much of a thought. She spent so much time being a leader, she supposed she basked in the few moments when she got to be a follower. She didn’t know where they were going; she didn’t care. She just wanted Astarion to keep holding her hand for as long as possible.

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Taglist: Hiii @mancsunite

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iamcautiouslyoptimistic · 11 months

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Call of Duty Werewolves🐺 - Part 2!

{Author's Note} Since y'all loved the first part so much, here's a second for you to enjoy! I've included more lore and some cute werewolf snippets for each of the characters I mentioned in the first post so hopefully I managed to write them all accurately. I'll probably do a fic for one of them at some point so let me know who you'd like to see! Thank you for all the love and please feel free to write/ask for more headcanons for this AU! I'm having so much fun with it❤️ Happy Halloween! 🎃🧟‍♂️👻 >Call of Duty Werewolf AU -> Part 1 >Shadow Company Snippet by @http-paprika -> SC Werewolf AU (she's also writing her own werewolf AU fic so go give it some love👀)

~ ~ ~

>Werewolves have fangs in both forms. The human canines are replaced by longer, sharper teeth when natural werewolves lose their baby teeth. In bitten werewolves, the human canines are pushed out within their first month of being turned. While in human form, only the sharper tips are visible, resulting in fanged smiles (just imagine your favorite boy flashing you a fanged grin👀). When transforming, the teeth extend from the gums as the muzzle forms.

>Werewolf hair and nails grow faster and are usually thicker, requiring more frequent trimming, especially after a transformation.

>Werewolves heal faster than their human counterparts. Cuts heal in a few minutes, broken bones take days rather than weeks. Most tissues can be fully regenerated, except for entire limbs. The canine teeth will always be replaced if lost.

>Bones and muscles are thicker and heavier than those of humans, resulting in increased strength and stamina.

>Werewolves digest meat more easily than humans and prefer carnivorous diets. It's healthier for them to consume more meat on a regular basis.

>Werewolf senses are far more acute than humans'. They have great night vision and colors are more vivid to them, as if the saturation has been increased. Their enhanced hearing, however, can be problematic and a werewolf will often have to learn how to tune out certain sounds so they're not completely overwhelmed. Scent is also important to them as it denotes health, emotional state, and belonging. Familiar smells offer comfort, whether they belong to people, places, or things.

>While transformed, werewolves can't really speak. The fangs and muzzle tend to prevent intelligible human speech. On the other hand, their unique vocal cords allow for animalistic grunts and growls, even in human form.

>Transformations will always be painful for both werewolf types. With practice, the process can become smoother and faster but it will always have a pinch, especially as the face changes. Heightened emotions can trigger the beginnings of the change, though it takes a conscious effort to completely transform, unless a werewolf is suffering from moon blindness. Bitten werewolves tend to be more reactive but transform more slowly as it takes longer for their bodies to get used to the shift in comparison to natural werewolves, who are specially built for it from birth.

>A werewolf's transformed state is so dependent on their human traits that they don't always look very wolfish. Some can look like coyotes, foxes, or even bears because of differing body types, features, and hair colors.

>Poisonous to humans, wolfsbane also has an adverse effect on werewolves. It clouds their senses and prevents them from transforming but it won't kill them. It's often used to control a werewolf and keep them in line. However, it can also be mixed into a poultice to treat wounds caused by silver.

>Silver causes mild allergic reactions in werewolves. It only becomes fatal when enough of it pierces the skin and enters the bloodstream, which is why hunters lace their weapons and bullets with silver. Despite this, many werewolves still revere the metal for its association with the Moon.

🌙 🐺 🌙

💲Price is the fluffiest. His iconic beard remains when he's transformed, making him easily recognizable, though he has been mistaken for a bear in the past. If you laugh at that fact, he'll simply huff in feigned annoyance and lay on top of you to prevent you from escaping. Being a natural werewolf, not only does he have more hair but Price's transformations are about as easy as they can be so he'll often use his time with you to relax and catch up on sleep. He sleeps the most soundly when you're cuddled into his chest or back, your face pressed to his fluffy mane. He loves hearing about how much you love his fluff and secretly takes pride in it.

💀Ghost is the biggest. As a 6'4 mountain of a man, he's even larger when transformed. It'll take some getting used to, especially when he transforms in your living space. If you try to make the area more comfortable for him, he'll be especially grateful for your effort. More than anything, he'll just want to be close and feel your touch. His body aches after he transforms and he's more easily overwhelmed so the gentleness of your hands helps him settle into this second shape. No matter how many times you've seen him transformed, he'll always feel some degree of shame around you so make sure he knows just how adored he is.

🧼Soap is the most playful. His transformations tend to energize him rather than exhaust him so expect him to be bouncing off the walls for a bit. If you match his energy level, he'll never let you go. He'll want to chase you and wrestle around but he's hyper-aware of his own strength so any change in your attitude will make him settle down. Once he's burned through that extra energy, he'll just want to listen to you ramble about anything that comes to mind, even if he can't really respond.

🧢Gaz is the sweetest. In the field, he’s known for his level-headedness and clever quips. When he gets home, he’s nothing but a big softie with you. His favorite place to be is in your lap, his wolfish head snuggled against your stomach as you card your fingers through his hair. To know that you accept and love this side of him warms his heart and he'll let you know just how happy it makes him with plenty of cuddles and kisses. He absolutely loves hearing you giggle and does just about anything he can to get that reaction from you.

🦿Alex is the most sensitive. All werewolves tend to be very in-tune with their surroundings, especially in the military, but Alex is even more so. His job as a secret agent of sorts has honed his ability to pick up on the tiniest changes in his environment and, when it comes to you, he's even more aware of your reactions. A slight change in your scent or heartbeat will immediately have him hurrying to your side to check in. More often than not, he can tell if he's actually needed but you're always grateful for his attentiveness and respond with a reassuring hand to his head or chest so he knows you're alright. When you're not, prepare for some inescapable werewolf cuddles.

🪦Graves is the most stubborn. As the Commander of Shadow Company, one of the most notorious groups of werewolves around, he's used to getting his way. When it comes to you, however, he tends to give in far more easily, especially so when he's transformed. A simple scratch around his ears or under his chin will make him melt in seconds and he'll never be able to resist when you run your fingers through the sandy blond hair covering his neck. The usually snarling and snapping werewolf commander will want nothing more than to hold you close, peppering your skin with gentle kisses and warm huffs of breath. Just don't let his Shadows know or he’ll withhold his cuddles.

🐺 🌙 🐺

*BONUS: Werewolf features! Thought it'd be fun to do short descriptions of how I imagine the boys! This includes height, eye color, and hair color for each of them. Pretty straightforward lol

💲Price - 6'2" -> 7'2" ; blue eyes ; brown hair w/ strands of gray

💀Ghost - 6'4" -> 7'4" ; brown -> yellow-amber eyes ; dirty blond/brown hair

🧼Soap - 5'10" -> 6'10" ; blue eyes ; dark brown hair

🧢Gaz - 5'11" -> 6'11" ; dark brown -> orange eyes ; black hair

🦿Alex - 6' -> 7' ; blue -> silvery-gray eyes ; light brown hair

🪦Graves - 6' -> 7' ; blue eyes ; sandy blond hair

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #alex keller #phillip graves #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty au #cod au #werewolf au #werewolf #werewolves #lycanthropy #Ren's writing #mine mine mine

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blurredcolour · 1 year

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The Night Moves | Part Two

The Night Moves Masterlist

Alternate Universe

supernatural!Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader; supernatural!Jacob Seresin x Female Reader

Summary: An internship with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History should have been the highlight of your academic career. The perfect addition to your resume while you worked on your doctoral thesis. An interdepartmental assignment, however, sees your reality ripped apart by incomprehensible forces. Five tumultuous days will leave you forever changed and inextricably linked to two men born centuries apart.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Alcohol, Emotional Struggles, Crying, Discussions of Violence/Blood/Gore, Supernatural Themes, Historical Inaccuracies, Institutional Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only

Word Count: 4795

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-Wednesday-

Your alarm had gone off at its regular time, jarring your barely-rested body rudely into consciousness. Your eyes, feeling more akin to sandpaper than anything, had only suffered being opened to mere slits, allowing you to simply grasp at your phone weakly and turn off the ever-increasing sound. There had been no internal struggle about calling in late today, nor had your supervisor had any issue with it given what you had gone through the night before.

You had pinned a lot of hope on three extra hours of sleep, and while you certainly felt more human the second time your alarm went off, it was nonetheless a struggle to throw back the covers. Untangling your limbs from the sheets you had wrenched from the mattress at some point in the night, you peeled your tired frame from the bed. Exhaustion had somehow kept you asleep, but the disarray of your bed linens spoke to the restlessness of your body during the night. Scrubbing your hands down your face while exhaling a jaw-cracking yawn, you planted your hands on the bed and leveraged yourself to standing, shuffling into the bathroom to start getting ready.

The apartment felt unsettlingly quiet, the usual white noise of the rest of the complex waking and preparing for the day absent at this hour. Toothbrush in hand, you worked the bristles along your teeth as you ambled down the short hallway passed the dining room and around the corner into to the living room to turn on the TV. Not pausing to listen, you made your way back to the washroom to spit a frothy gob of toothpaste into the sink as a local news update about an unidentified body found not three blocks from your home played unheard in the other room.

A hot shower and, what you realized was your first real meal in nearly twenty-four-hours, had you feeling nearly human and on your way out the door. Living at the terminus of the silver line in Ashburn usually guaranteed you a seat on the train, but at midday there was very little competition anyhow. Just over an hour later, you were riding the escalator up onto the Mall, blinking into the blinding light of the sun before making your way across the street and into your building.

The atmosphere at work was understandably subdued, and you had only just arrived when you were pulled into the first in a series of debrief meetings that descended down the organizational chart until you finished with the curatorial team at three o’clock. Having used all your reserves the night before, you faded quickly through the day, and your supervisor strongly recommended you take the last few hours as compensatory time for the night before rather than try and remain functional with only two working hours left.

The idea of returning home to an empty apartment, however, with six idle hours until you could somewhat justify going to bed filled you with a sense of dread that had you turning not toward the staff exit but instead through the door connecting to the public exhibits. There were just over two hours before closing, a rare opportunity for you to enjoy the displays, and you found your feet carrying you toward the Price of Freedom exhibit – specifically the area focusing on the War of Independence.

It honestly seemed counter-intuitive, to be looking over artifacts from the same era so closely tied to the horrors of the night before, yet your mind seemed unable to focus on anything else. Leaning in to get a better look at a surgical kit from the period, backdropped by a diagram of an amputation from a 1768 medical text, you were startled to see a familiar reflection in the glass. Turning to look over your right shoulder, your eyes widened in surprise as your moustachioed rescuer from the Mall was making his way through the exhibit, just a few displays behind you.

As if sensing your gaze, he raised his eyes to meet yours, grin stretching across his features as he strode forward to your side.

“Is this also part of your job? Perusing the galleries?” His tone was warm and teasing and somehow, despite everything, managed to summon a smile to your face.

“Done early today, just taking advantage of the rare opportunity to enjoy the place during open hours. I see you took my advice?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Seemed like as good a place to start as any, first one at this end of the Mall, cute girl works here, might actually remember to ask for her number if I run into her this time…”

You smothered a laugh, despite the giddy thrill that raced through you, pleased that he had the same regret about your parting earlier that morning. Unlocking your phone, you held it out to him. “Please, text yourself so there’s no mix-up, I am only marginally more functional than the last time I literally ran into you.”

You watched as he took it carefully, swallowing tightly at how small your phone appeared in his hands, pleased to hear his phone vibrate before he handed yours back. “Done. So, aside from shorter, I hope today was also better than yesterday?”

Exhaling thoughtfully through pursed lips you eventually conceded with a nod, clicking your tongue against your teeth. “Not normal, but certainly more bearable.”

“You have some time to show me around?” He tilted his head, and you worked your lower lip between your teeth for a moment – not because you needed to consider his request, but because you did not want to appear over-eager.

Once you trusted your voice again you nodded. “I’d be happy to, where were you before I interrupted?”

He walked over to the display where you had been standing, even though you both knew he hadn’t gotten that far and pointed at the box lined with green velvet. “What is that?”

“A surgeon’s kit, carried by a battlefield doctor.”

“They do a lot of amputations?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at the enlarged medical diagram.

“Quite a few. Musket balls were made of lead, quite a soft material, that would flatten on impact. They left gaping wounds but still shattered bones. The primary medical treatment for such injuries was amputation, though infection was still very much an issue due to the lack of understanding of bacteria at the time.”

Nodding thoughtfully, he walked with you over to the next display before frowning. “And they were doing all that in the time of blood letting?” He pointed to the kit labelled for such a purpose and you shrugged.

“It was an important tool for treatment in that period. I shudder to think what standard practices we rely on today that will seem horribly outdated with the advancement of medicine in a few decades.”

“Or centuries, even.” He looked over the foreign instruments and you could not help but admit the idea of taking blood from an already sick and weakened individual seemed utterly ridiculous to your modern sensibilities.

“Is this really boring for you?” Bradley leaned in to ask quietly, pulling you from your thoughts and you looked to him warmly, shaking your head quickly.

“I spend most of my time with the collection in storage or newly received items, I very rarely get to visit the ones on display. And honestly, I’m trying not to bore you with too many facts.” You smirked gesturing with a set of sarcastic jazz hands that elicited a raspy chuckle from him.

The sound sent your stomach somersaulting end-over-end in your abdomen, and you were convinced it might have the power to end your life.

“Promise it’s not possible.”

“Is that a challenge, Mr. Bradshaw?”

The pink flash of his tongue darting out to wet his lips had your knees losing their structural integrity and you took a sharp inhale through your nose before locking them back into place lest you crumple onto the exhibit floor.

“I feel like only a fool would challenge you, sweetheart.” He rasped and it took all your will power not to stare at the way his pretty lips formed words and sounds.

“Smart.” You murmured and swallowed, trying to rehydrate your dry mouth with saliva as you moved onto the next display.

Bradley remained delightfully curious and actively engaged in listening to your explanations. No longer concerned about holding back your extensive knowledge on the subject matter, you found yourself expounding at length on topics like conditions in camp, the Battle of Saratoga, and the fall of Charlestown. One conflict proceeded into the next – the War of 1812, the Mexican War, the Civil War – and as you spotted the chairs Grant and Lee sat in during the surrender at Appomattox Court House your excitement got the better of you. You grasped the cuff his jacket, barely noting the quality of the suede, and tugged him over to the glass to look them over eagerly.

“These are the chairs used during the signing of the surrender in the house of a man named McLean. Four years earlier, he had lived in Manassas, and the first battle of Bull Run took place on his land. So, he had moved further north to escape the fighting, but still somehow ended up right in the middle of it. Supposedly, he’s to have said ‘The war began in my front yard and ended in my front parlor.’”

“How could anyone get bored of things like that?” He replied, deftly lacing his fingers together with yours, overtaking your grip on his cuff. “I am in awe of your ability to recall these things with such ease.”

The warm, callous-roughened feel of his skin against yours left you flustered, words abandoning you for the first time in over an hour, so you simply smiled sheepishly and shrugged. He winked in reply, squeezing your entwined hands before moving onto the next display.

You had just made it to the Wyllis jeep from World War II, suspended from the ceiling, when the final closing announcement echoed throughout the museum. “I’m sorry we didn’t quite make it all the way through, but I think the docents might murder me if I were to linger any longer…”

“No apologies necessary if,” he paused for dramatic effect and you looked to him quickly, “you’ll allow me to buy you dinner.”

You eyed him quizzically as the pair of you exited the gallery with the last trickle of visitors. “I may only be a historian, but I am fairly confident that doesn’t really add up? I owe you so you’re repaying me?”

He stepped onto the descending escalator in front of you, smirking cockily as he leaned back against the railing to maintain eye contact with you. “I assure you my math is sound, and my offer stands. But, you’ll have to tell me where to take you because I still don’t know anything about this city.” He finished with a shrug that had you tilting your head back and laughing brightly.

“Well, what kind of food would you like to treat me to?” You asked once your laughter subsided, stepping out with him into the gathering dusk.

“Hmmm, something you’ll enjoy, nothing too pretentious but still delicious? Distance isn’t an issue, my car is just parked over here.” He gestured toward northwest fourteenth street. “In the Ronald Reagan building.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you headed off in that direction, teeth sinking into your lower lip as his hand slipped into yours once he caught up. “I think I know a place and its close to a Metro station too.”

There was a pause as he seemed to be thinking something over but whatever it was, he didn’t share with you. The pair of you headed into the building, stepping into the security line. Because the building was located so close to the White House, anyone entering was required to undergo a screening process similar to that of an airport. After placing your work bag onto the conveyor belt, you stepped through the metal detector, retrieving it once it passed through the scanner.

Bradley followed shortly behind you, collecting his keys and wallet, leading you over to the elevator. When the doors opened, it was already pretty crowded but the pair of you managed to squeeze in, pressed side-by-side.

“What floor?” A gruff, balding man ask from nearby the row of buttons.

“B1.” Bradley replied easily and you swallowed thickly at the feeling of his voice vibrating through you.

“Already pressed.”

“Great.” He replied with an easy smile, tilting his head to catch you eye, raising his eyebrow in a silent check-in.

You offered a soft smile in return before the doors opened at the Concourse level and you were both forced to step out to let a series of people get off the elevator before stepping back on. The next floor was thankfully yours. Bradley gently grasped your hand to carefully guide you over to a classic Bronco in the prettiest shade of blue you had ever seen. Had a car ever suited its owner more? Unlocking the passenger door, he opened it for you, offering a hand to help you up onto the white vinyl seat.

“Thanks.” You hopped up, setting your bag in the footwell as he closed the door carefully before coming around to the driver’s side. You tugged off your lanyard and shoved it into the front pocket of your bag, not wanting to wear your identification badge out in public any longer than you already had.

The Bronco growled to life, and you struggled not to openly stare at his command of the vehicle. Thankfully, the drive to the restaurant was less than ten minutes and a parking spot proved shockingly easy to find. Somehow you had the wherewithal to add your name to the waitlist online during the drive over, so you only had to loiter in the lobby for fifteen minutes. Scrolling through the menu together with heads bowed precariously close over your phone, the feel of his breath caressing your cheek made it difficult to focus on food and beverage choices until two seats to open up at the counter.

Seated on the bar stools with Bradley’s knee grazing against yours, it was no easier to focus on the menu. A waiter stopped by to get some drinks started; Bradley ordered a beer and you managed to blurt out the name of one of the cocktails off the list. To your great relief, when you took your first sip, it was quite delicious, and the alcohol relaxed the tension in your limbs.

Sufficiently braced with liquid courage, you leaned in asking, “So where did you live before your recent move here?”

You were treated to the sight of his tongue swiping foam from his upper lip before he replied, “Virginia Beach, born and raised.” He tucked his chin into his chest, playfully chagrinned. “Promise not to think less of me?”

Laughing warmly, you shook your head, reassuring him. The pair of you became so involved in getting to know one another, trading questions back and forth, that when the waiter returned to take your food order, you looked up to him guiltily. Bradley easily placed his order, giving you time to quickly scan though the options and choose your meal as well. Trading bites of food and bits of personal information, before you realized it two hours had passed. The crowd at the restaurant had thinned somewhat and your fatigue snuck up on you, forcing you to try and smother a yawn behind the back of your hand.

“I should get you home to get a good night’s sleep for work tomorrow.” He sighed reluctantly, gesturing for the bill and insisting on paying the full total. “This is my thanks for the private tour, after all.” He teased in response to your protests, which were admittedly weakened by alcohol and lack of sleep.

Stepping out into the dark of evening, you hugged your jacket tighter around you as the warmth of the day had disappeared with the sun. “The Metro station is just two blocks that way,” you gestured, “so I’ll leave you here.”

“Oh, I’m driving you home, didn’t I tell you?” He shrugged when you shook your head, bewildered. “Well, I am, come on.”

“I live out past Dulles, it takes half an hour to drive out there and then you’ll have to come back to your place…” The words died on your lips as he slid his hand into yours once more and tugged you towards the Bronco.

“I don’t mind, I enjoy driving. And I’m guessing it’s faster than the Metro?” He raised an eyebrow, and you huffed in defeat before conceding with a nod. “Then it’s decided.”

Settled back in the front seat, he handed you his phone to input your address in the map app for directions. “I’m paying the tolls, though, ok?” You insisted stubbornly, pulling up a blank note on your phone. “I just need your licence plate number to pay online.” You typed it in carefully as he rambled it off easily, going to the Express Lanes website to sign up for a notification for when the tolls for today’s trips would be ready.

“Why do you live so far out of town?” He asked, turning on the radio to an oldies station but keeping the volume low, easily following the navigation instructions.

“I wanted outdoor space, a separate bedroom, and to be able to eat. That combination of things is easier to find outside DC, plus I don’t mind the commute. I listen to music and wake up slowly on the Metro. Being the first stop means I usually get a seat, too.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “So maybe living in a crappy studio with one window facing an air shaft for $1800 a month wasn’t my best choice?” He grinned ruefully.

“Leases aren’t forever? You can always move.” You nodded encouragingly. “Sometimes it takes a few times before you find the right place.”

“The included parking space is the best thing about it.” He chuckled and you laughed warmly in response.

“That will definitely have to be prioritized in any search parameters if you decide to start looking for a new place. Can’t leave this pretty vehicle just anywhere.”

He flashed you a smirk before pulling onto the toll road, glancing at his phone balanced on left his knee to confirm the exit number. You settled back into your seat lazily, watching him drive, listening to his music choice, finding an easy smile resting on your lips. It seemed all too soon that he was pulling off the exit ramp to Ashburn, heading towards your building.

Straightening in your seat, you clumsily kicked over your work bag, hearing some of the contents hit the floor mat. Cursing under your breath you leaned forward in the intermittent flashes of streetlights to gather some pens, lip balm, and your keys. Apparently, you had neglected to zip up the front pocket. You sat up as he turned into your apartment complex, a group of four apartment blocks around a play structure, barbeque area, and pool, guiding him to the building in which you lived. He pulled into a visitor parking space, and you hopped out of the car, scanning the floor to ensure you had all of your belongings before you heard Bradley’s voice behind you.

“Have everything?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You nodded, slinging your bag over your shoulder and walked with him up the stairs to your second-floor apartment. “This is me.” You turned to look at him softly. “Thank you again for driving me…and for dinner…”

“Thank you very much for a lovely day.” He smiled in returned.

The pair of you stood, neither moving, both watching the other. Perhaps waiting for an indication, or for someone to initiate something. Fearing the moment might evaporate, that he might turn and head home, you leaned forward pressing your lips against his cheek gently. He sighed softly as you pulled back and you snagged your lower lip with your teeth nervously, glancing at his face.

“We need to work on your aim, sweetheart.” He chided fondly as his hand moved to cradle the side of your face, guiding your lips to meet his warmly.

Your eyelids slid shut as you leaned into his kiss, shivering at the feel of his moustache tickling the tender skin of your upper lip tantalizingly.

“Better.” He rasped as he pulled back. “We’ll need to practice but for now you need to sleep a full night…” His hand caressed down your jaw to rest against the side of your neck, your eyes fluttering open lazily.

“Mmmhmm.” You replied wordlessly, licking your humming lips. “Good night, Bradley.” You managed to summon the words.

“Night, sweetheart.” He smiled fondly, watching you fumble with your keys until you were able to slide them home in the deadbolt and step inside.

Giving one final wave you stepped inside and closed the door with a dreamy sigh. Unfortunately for you, the fatigue from the car did not translate easily to sleep. You followed your normal routine, crawling into bed in your sleep shirt and pajama pants, turning out the light. Thoughts that had been kept at bay by the daylight, by Bradley’s warm and steady presence, immediately flooded your mind. Memories of the night before – a face contorted in centuries-old anguish, a dark and unfamiliar hallway, blood-soaked fabric, the gurgling sounds of a man drowning in his own blood, a pair of eyes vacant in death.

You must have tried for an hour, laying on each side, sticking a foot out of the covers because you were too hot, pulling it back in because you were too cold, before tossing the duvet aside in frustration. You were exhausted but sleep refused to come. Your mind refused to give you peace. Sliding a sports bra under your sleep shirt and a hoodie over top you grabbed your keys and phone, stepping outside for a walk. It had served you well in the past; when a project at work had you nervous, or when you were waiting for news of medical test results from a friend. The grounds of complex were tree-filled, safe, quiet. You could only hope a circuit of them would be enough to provide some relief tonight.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs you turned away from the parking lot, heading toward the courtyard, inhaling sharply as a man was walking towards you. Face illuminated by the security lights that ringed the building, you were struck not only by his longer sandy blond hair, pushed back carelessly from his handsome face, but his piercing green eyes. There was something unsettling about them – predatory, sinister, not unlike a cat preparing to toy with its meal. You offered a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to appear stand-offish to one of your neighbors, before continuing on your planned path. Feeling the hairs standing on end at the nape of your neck you risked a glance backward and exhaled in relief to see he was not following you.

Walking along the wrought iron fence, you made your way past the swing set, the wind moving the empty seats slightly as it picked up, and onward towards the barbeque area before your path was suddenly blocked by that same stranger from the hallway.

“Out for a stroll, Miss Intern?” He spoke smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of the South yet something about the way he spoke was utterly unfamiliar.

His gaze impaled you, your feet were rooted to the spot, and you found yourself unable to continue your walk.

“Can’t…sleep…” You murmured despite your inherent suspicion of him, your mind working as efficiently as wheels spinning in mud. Puzzling unhelpfully over the fact that his grey Henley shirt seemed several sizes too large for him.

His fingers reached out to brush along your cheek bone, the coolness of his touch making you wince. “Perhaps you are simply in need of companionship.”

“Mmmm.” you reply noncommittally, the world hazy. You watched wide-eyed as he stepped closer, his movements blurred while the sway of the tree branches in the distance behind him seemed impossibly slow.

He slid his nose along your jaw before burying it against your neck below your ear. “You truly smell divine, please, I need to taste more. One drop is not enough.” He whispered, cool lips brushing against your flesh, making your full body shudder, goose flesh erupting across your neck. “I beg of you, Miss Intern.” His fingers curled into the thin fabric at your hips, pulling you closer.

Your eyes slid shut involuntarily. Why did he keep calling you that…

The sound of your name being shouted sharply across the courtyard pulled your attention and you turned your head in a daze to see Bradley hurrying toward you. The blond stranger was suddenly gone, sending you stumbling a few steps backward into a nearby picnic table. You leaned heavily against it, head swimming, as Bradley closed the distance between you with remarkable speed.

“Found your key card in my Bronco, thought you’d need this tomorrow” He spoke normally, not at all winded, your lanyard dangling from his index finger, but his eyes were darting around the darkened space. He leaned in closer his posture shielding you defensively. “You alright?” He looked you over, concerned.

“Oh shit, thank you so much” You tug your lanyard from his hand and tucked it into the pocket of your hoodie, straightening as your head cleared. “It’s late, thank you very much for coming back with it.” You continued, not really answering his question as you weren’t entireley certain what your response would be.

“I figured it was important…” He shrugged, pulling back slightly to give you some space. “What are you doing outside?”

You sighed deeply, glancing around before looking to his concerned expression. “I’m having trouble sleeping, honestly.” You swallowed tightly before it suddenly came pouring out of you. “Someone died in front of me last night.” Once you started speaking them, you found the words did not stop. The story was disjointed, by no means linear. You doubted Bradley would be able to fully understand what happened, you surely didn’t, but he stood there in the brisk Autumn wind, near midnight, listening to you ramble about the thoughts that had been plaguing you while you had been attempting to sleep.

Eventually you ran out of steam, ran out of things to say, a hush falling over the courtyard once more before he pulled you close into a warm embrace. You burrowed your face into his neck and squeezed your eyes shut against a sudden flood of tears, but they proved as unstoppable as the flow of words. His palm drew soothing circles on your back, and he pulled you closer as you dissolved into sobs, body shaking against his.

In a tremendous show of patience, he continued to hold you, waiting for your tears to subside. Eventually you were able to take a deep breath without it catching in your throat, and the ache in your chest had eased somewhat. You straightened carefully, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, eyes glancing at his shyly.

“Sorry about that…” You croaked and he shook his head quickly.

“No apologies necessary, but you’re freezing.” He frowned as his fingers swept away the last of your tears, feeling the chill in our skin. “Can I get you inside?” He asked hopefully and you nodded with a sniffle, in desperate need of some tissues.

Sliding his arm around your shoulders he led you back past the swings still dancing in the wind, down the hallway, and up the stairs to your door. You turned and hugged him tightly once more.

“Thank you yet again, Bradley. Good night for real.”

He squeezed you tightly in return. “Get some sleep for real, ok?” He murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly before ushering you inside.

You stepped into your apartment, shivering at the warmth awaiting you there, and glanced the doors out to your balcony, suddenly filled with the unusual urge to close the blinds. Yanking on the cord repeatedly, you sent the louvres flying toward the centre of the sliding doors before you tugged on the chain to spin them shut.

You felt instantly better once the night was shut out of your home. Making a circuit past the front door to ensure the deadbolt was lock and chain was in place, you finally returned to your bed, pulling on an extra blanket. Focusing on peaceful things like the feeling of Bradley’s arms around you, and the heavy exhaustion in your limbs, you finally convinced sleep to overtake you.

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Read Part Three

The Night Moves Masterlist

Tag list: @moonyinthestars

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