#very cursed how horses have those canine teeth

[finngualart]

drawing eight legs on a horse is so silly and annoying and i was thinking about how they could be more like... spooky astrally projected legs that only appear when said horse is walking between worlds

#horse #skull #tw bones #very cursed how horses have those canine teeth #sleipnir #sketches #pencil #sometimes i feel like not ever picking up a pencil ever again #and sometimes i feel like i should be drawing every waking moment of my life and thats where we are now

[miss-bvnny]

It's my birthday so I can finally be cringe legally. So, here's some bits and pieces of something that I've been playing with off and on since about June. As I sit here and finish off the last of my birthday sushi, I ask myself what I'd regret more: NOT sharing something I'm admittedly proud to have slaved over played around with for the last few months, OR the fact that this basically spells out how I'm a LeFou stan. Oh well. There's only one way to find out.

''One evening, whilst being dragged along on a hunting trip with his self-absorbed meathead of a stepbrother, LeFou gets lost and ends up at a mysterious castle forgotten by time, hiding a secret far more mysterious and peculiar than anything anyone's seen before. But at the same time it is, in every way possible, a tale as old as time.''

There's a whole lotta words to be said about all of this junk, so I'll put it under a readmore for the convenience of all. Please don't be mean to me about my interests.

Sketches 1 and 2 - First (Left) and final (Right) pass of Beast!Nicole

I was very tense in life and about this entire idea when I first started to dip my toes into it, and that definitely translates into my first try at drawing Beast!Nicole. Much like the Beast in the original 1991 Disney classic that has luckily never been turned into an ugly abomination of a live action cash grab remake, I tried to mix several animals in her design. She's got the lower half and tail of a wolf, upper torso of a lion, and her head...where it gets messy. I've always loved the designs of the hyenas in The Lion King, so I drew inspiration from Shenzi for her neck and part of her head. Her mouth/muzzle however is based on some of those cursed photoshops of horses with wolf teeth:

I can remember I'd JUST come back from seeing a special showing of Kung Fu Panda 2 the morning I drew the very first one of Nicole, and I've always LOVED Boss Wolf. I think you can see just a BIT of inspiration from his body shape looking at her. It probably comes across a bit better in the final when I cleaned her up somewhat. I hate looking at that first one so much, actually. It's so unforgivably clunky. BUT I did get the hang of her with time, hence the second pass. Wanna know a fun fact? Those colors were originally just something I kinda slapped together as placeholders. But...I grew pretty attached to them, so they stayed. There is...almost a month between her initial test and her final, btw.

Sketch 2 - Expression test/me having some fun

Yeahhh there was a time when I had no idea how far I was gonna actually try and go with this stuff, so I just kinda...played with it. Beast!Nicole is a treat to draw, so I jumped at any excuse to sketch her. Where the Beast in the movie had to learn to be bit more of a gentleman and control his temper, Nicole is...prone to impatience and outbursts under extreme stress. In this AU, she was forced to take the throne at a young age after the death of the previous king and queen. Going from a teenager to a ruler almost overnight weighed heavily on her, and she's got a short fuse. The night o the party in which the enchantress cursed her was a result of her breaking down and not thinking. I know there's debate in some places about whether or not the enchantress was right to curse an 11 year old prince for denying entry to a stranger, so...I tried to make this version a bit more...ambiguous on who's at fault. Maybe Nicole was being hasty, and maybe the enchantress was wrong to condemn a teenager to Eternal Fursuit just for trying to abide by stranger danger rules. IDK.

Side note - I can't help but imagine that in her Beast form, Nicole sounds like April Winchell. Think prime angry Sylvia from Wander Over Yonder.

Sketch 3 - Smiledog.jpg ''And give him an elegant, ladylike smile!!''

I wanted her to be unsettling. LITERALLY so unsettling. She;s got a horse mouth with canine teeth, I can't imagine that puts a warm feeling in anyone's heart at all. I also just really wanted to redraw that smile scene as an excuse to draw a lot of teeth.

Remember how I said Nicole's got BAD trust issues? Most of that comes from the memory of having suitors, possible consorts, and foreign princes trying to woo and flirt. They were suffocating, and it left her with a lot of lasting bad impressions. Wouldn't call it outright sexism on her part, just...caution based on experience. To the point where the rest of the enchanted objects heard that only true love's kiss could break the spell and they all went ''Hahaha we are so fucked'' Took them forever to even begin to fathom the idea that this LeFou guy MIGHT maybe be the one to break it???

But...in the end, they work together because...they're not typical of what the world expects from them. In MY headcanon, which ignores and disowns any and all alleged ''Live action remakes from 2017'' that may or may not include ''Josh Gad'', LeFou is Gaston's yougner step brother. A headcanon, I might add, that was inspired by @wreckham and their Balto rewrite where Star is Steele's younger brother. What does that have to do with Gaston and LeFou? Well:

A weird hill to die on headcanon-wise, but I'll take it. Anyway, Nicole is a huge terrifying beast. A practical manifestation of how awkward and out of place she felt as a young princess trying so hard to fit into a role she ascended to before her time (Honestly, Nicole is just Twilight Sparkle's bookworm tendencies and lack of social skills mixed with the intimidating aura of Vitani and Sergeant Calhoun. Kiiiiind of a mess). She isn't small and lovely and fair like a young princess should be. MEANWHILE, LeFou is the young brother to the ''town hero'' and...that's kinda hard to measure up to. He's not the huge hulking man that's traditionally sought after. *COUGH* *COUGH*

They sort of...find a connection over this topic. Nicole likes him because he's nothing like the rich stuffed shirts that always flexed their looks and wealth to try and win her heart, and LeFou likes that she doesn't care if he's not a big and tough guy. Every Furry girlboss needs a short king.

Sketch 4 - ''THAT HURTS!!''

TBH the thing about this was...there WERE a few scenes I felt...REALLY obligated to try. The Ballroom scene WAS one of those, but unfortunately you won't see that one, since its over tumblr's photo size limit. Kinda happy about that, since it looks...less than great. Where was I? Oh yeah. Uhhhh this is one of my favorite scenes from the movie so I ABSOLUTELY wanted to give it a shot with these two. Sketches 4-6 are all drawn directly into screenshots from the movie because I was NOT about to try and redraw those backgrounds. God this movie is GORGEOUS but soooo intricate and i am only a little creature who scares easily. Also, I had OTHER things that were hard to draw that I was more focused on. Wanna know what those things were?! LEFOU. I don't know if I'm bad at diverse faces or maybe he's just genuinely a little tricky, but GOD I still have a hard time drawing him. Assume every sketch of LeFou here in this post took me three hours minimum. That's why most of these are of him and Nicole. My deal with myself was that if I at least gave him a good college try, I could ALSO have fun drawing Nicole, who is WAY easier. I mean I'm...getting a LITTLE better at him, but still. He was NOT east the first few times.

Nicole's snarly face in this one was so fun to draw. I looked at a lot of Nala during the chase scene with Pumbaa, and Sabor fighting Tarzan to get her teeth right. Hilariously, I also looked at Steele.

Sketch 5 - ''It's obvious there's a spark between them..''

''You are a strange sight

Some new kind of wonder

With good hidden under

I'm sure that it's true.''

A theme song??? Is for me??? Is for my silly little drawings???

Sketch 6 - Nicole's hour in the fursuit is over

THat's right I KEPT her in the dress for the final fight in this AU. Why??? I DON'T KNOW I wanted to. Maybe it was a reference to the ''running from a T Rex in high heels'' scene in Jurassic World. Maybe it was me trying to convey how Nicole has finally come to own the ''princess'' she never thought she could be. I DON'T KNOW. OH. and by the way. her dress is loosely inspired by the one @Johannathemad drew here

Sketch 7 - A most peculiar Mademoiselle

I was looking at these by @davidgilson and they were SO cute I....KINDA wanted to give something similar to it a shot. That tiny LeFou is going to make me fucking scream he is SO small

You guys wanna know a really embarrassing fact? So...LeFou is voiced by Jesse Corti, right? Who ALSO provided the signing voice for Charlie in All Dogs Go To Heaven 2. So....AHEM and COUGH maybe Ive been listening to these a lot while I draw LeFou and Nicole. What of it.

Um....that's all for now, but....Hopefully there might be some more on the horizon. I've been...kinda burnt out and tired as a result of some work drama lately, but...I have more sketches and ideas with this AU I'd like to do. It's been...really fun to play with, honestly. i had a GREAT birthday tho, and...I think it was more than appropriate that I shared this today <3

#they most certainly do NOT have a theme song list. Why would you even ask that. #beauty and the beast #neato draws #neato fanart #neato ocs #BATB AU

[sadpathologist]

Chapter 2, I guess?

Part one, also it`s on AO3.

So, he`s falling, cold mountain wind punching him in the face, irritating his eyes and making them water, goosebumps raising all over his torso for the apparent lack of clothing on his upper body. For humans, jumping off the cliff is a ticket straight to the end of the journey that is their life.

He was not a human, thankfully.

Jaskier`s not afraid of squashing his face into a bloody mess on the next best rock his head can find, because he knows that just can`t happen. The reason why he was so sure begun to reveal itself, and he moaned and bit his lower lip as the sensation similar to pain starts gnawing at his skin in the area of his shoulder blades.

Magic purrs to him again, and in that instant moment, two massive wings brake out from his spine in a fast, almost painless spurt. They make a few firm flaps, and Jaskier is soaring.

He didn`t fly for so long; he almost forgot the sheer joy of it. Jaskier`s crying from experiencing all those old-new feelings all over again, and there are too many different emotions burling inside him that he can`t quite put his finger on any of them.

Then, he hears magic`s soft call once more, the same sensation prickles at his whole face, and two long horns emerge from the edge of his hairline, repeating their elegant spiral in their way up, his cheekbones become a lot more prominent, his ears pointier, more rhomb-like. Now there are two pairs of canines in his upper row of teeth, and they are a lot more sharper, too. For the last of his inhuman features, a thick flexible scaly tail appears in his right leg pant, and it`s much longer than his legs, so the new anatomy part just hangs from it awkwardly and slightly unnerves him.

It feels like hours passed since the jump, but in reality, he knows it was mere seconds.

The bard looks at the mesmerizing view of Dragon Mountains, and he would`ve enjoyed it if it weren`t the same view he was looking at while being a target of witcher`s misplaced fury. They seem to him downright nauseating, for now, at least.

Not expecting any new bodyparts, Jaskier flaps his wings and sets in the direction of the mountain`s foot, where Roach was left, to retrieve the other bag with his belongings. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for not forgetting about it and clears all the thoughts from his head.

----

By the time Jaskier nears the clearing where everyone left their horses, it is late evening, and cicadas have already begun their twilight's song, accompanying fireflies' sparkling light show. He decides to land not very far from the edge of the meadow as a precaution in case someone might see him. Well, not just him, but his true form. ‘Can`t have anyone know I`m a fae, right?’

After waiting for a couple of minutes, the bard finally emerges from behind the trees and strolls to the chestnut mare. He almost steps on his tail, not used to it for twenty years of its absence, and curses then moves it up the leg pant and circles around his waist a couple of times so that it won`t get in the way.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greets his dear companion, " I came to say goodbye."

He pats her white striped muzzle, and she headbutts him affectionately. It seems Roach is not repelled by his unusual for her appearance, and Jaskier is not surprised, to be honest. Animals always loved his kind a lot more than humans.

"It's time for us to part ways again," his hand reached to the horse's mane and started to comb it with his fingers," for the last time, it seems."

She neighs quietly and nuzzles at his neck as if to say she'll miss him. "I'll miss you too, my dear heart." The bard wraps his arm around mare`s neck and hugs her closer, feeling his tears start to fall on her mane. And Roach, the amazing lady that she is, rubs her head against his and his heart breaks that he has to take himself off her master`s hands.

Jaskier pats her once more and begins to untether the bag with his clothes from the saddle. Then, he decides it would be a lot more convenient just to put his smaller bag that he took for the track up the mountain into the second, bigger one.

“You`re a fae.” A sudden comment startles him as he didn`t hear anyone approaching. He looks up and meets the gaze of an older man. ‘Shit, that`s just brilliant.’ Jaskier thought.

“ And you`re a dragon. Are we going to point out some more obvious facts?” he bites back, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. ‘So much for not letting anyone know.’

Borch seems absolutely unfazed by his comment and stares at the bard as if he were a particularly amusing child. “ I didn`t feel any residual magic on you. How did you manage to hide it so well? The witcher doesn`t know, I assume.”

The fae scowls at him some more and breaks the silence, “ I have my secrets. I also much preferred this,” he gestures to himself,” to be a secret. So yes, the witcher doesn`t know.” Jaskier folds his arms on his chest then,” You`re a dragon, as we so helpfully established a few moments ago, the rarest dragon. So unique that the White Wolf himself thought you were a myth. Surely,” he huffs,” you must know fuck-all to figure out how I hid it so well.”

“Contrary to popular beliefs,” Villentretenmerth smiles at him,” the fact that I am an ancient being does not mean I know, as you said, fuck-all.” The dragon keeps his facial expressions quite pleasant to show the other man that he is not a threat and that he has the purest of intentions, but this annoys him a big deal for obvious reasons. The bard sighs.

“What`s the point of this conversation? What do you want from me? I`m in a hurry here,” Jaskier questions and pointedly puts his lute on the right shoulder and the bag on his left.

“All I want to do,” the older man sighs too,” is to give you an advice-

“No,” the fae doesn`t let him finish his thoughts, feeling outraged once more at the dragon`s blatant audacity,” no! I have had enough of your advices!” Jaskier points his finger at the creature before him,” What good did your advices do for Geralt? For Yennefer? For me? Hm?” He gestures openly, his fingers pointing somewhere at the sky.

“ Nothing good, as you can see!” He almost screams, electric blue eyes stare stubbornly at Borch`s brown. Then, the musician takes a deep breath and adds quietly,” I`m done here. Farewell.”

And before Borch can say something else, Jaskier spreads his massive wings and flies up in a quick spurt, shocking even the dragon with his speed.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #dandelion/geralt #geraskier #angst #fae jaskier #creature jaskier #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia

[harlot-of-oblivion]

🤠OC Questionnaire: Beretta🤠

a.k.a. Cowgirl Vampire Reader from the Tales of Miss Fortune series

Full name

Blythe Bale

Preferred name/nickname

Beretta

Generally referred to as

BB, Miss Fortune 

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here’s a portrait I made using Artbreeder:

(but @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate​ photoshopped her green eye!)

SEX: Female.

HEIGHT: 5’7 

WEIGHT: A little hefty due to all the muscle.

BUILD: Toned and muscular thanks to years of fighting wars and winning battles.

HAIR: Long, course, and auburn brown. Her hair comes down past her shoulders. She usually wears it down but sometimes has it in a loose braid with her ever present gambler hat on her head.

SKIN: Brown. Smooth and hard but cool to the touch ever since her Embrace.

EYES: She has heterochromia iridis: her left is russet brown while her right eye is forest green. They always seem to sparkle with mischief and her green eye, also known as her “evil eye”, glows whenever the Beast stirs inside her. Short black eyelashes.

MOUTH: Small mouth with plump lips. Slightly crooked teeth that are perfectly white teeth with very prominent canines that can retract when not feeding. 

NOSE: Small and rounded with a wide bridge and small nostrils.

HANDS: Small hands with medium nails that can extend into razor sharp claws at will. They used to be rough with callouses before her Embrace, but now they’re incredibly smooth and just a little soft.

FEET: Small with wide insoles and short toes. She doesn’t trim her toenails since they’ll just grow back the next night. 

SCARS: She had a scar across her nose when she was alive, but it quickly healed and faded away after her Embrace.

CLOTHES: Her entire wardrobe just screams cowgirl: boot cut jeans, tons of Western style shirts, large belt buckle, long leather jackets, and a few gambler hats. 

OTHER FEATURES: She has vampiric fangs and just an overall air of otherworldliness that everyone notices on a subconscious level.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: To be determined. 

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: She speaks with a very thick Southern drawl. 

VERBAL TICS: She has a tendency to use “tsk” a lot when she’s annoyed.

LANGUAGE: She’s fluent in English, Spanish, Gaelic, French, German, Russian, Japanese, and Vietnamese along with some dead languages her Dame taught her.

ARTICULATION: She’s not the most eloquent when it comes to explaining things clearly, and she tends to go on storytelling tangents sometimes.

EDUCATION: She doesn’t use any long and fancy words since it’s more fun to cram a lot of words when she’s running her mouth off.

LAUGHTER: She has two types of laughter: joyful howling and malicious cackling. Her joyful laugh is loud and proud; it’s what you’re most likely to hear if you stay on her good side. Her malicious cackling sounds like death itself; only those who’ve earned her scorn hear its chilling timbre.

GRUMP: Not very often except for when she’s annoyed, letting out a few agitated hisses when she’s hungry. 

BREATHING: She’ll let out the occasional humph and tends to sniff the air whenever she’s tracking by scent despite not needing to breathe.

Mannerisms

FACE: She has a very expressive face but knows how to hide her true feelings behind a disarming grin.

HANDS: She gestures a lot with her hands, especially when she’s welding guns since that always catches people off guard.

LEGS/FEET: She taps her feet and jiggles her leg as if she’s listening to some long forgotten song in her head.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: She’s prone to emotional outbursts whenever she’s on the verge of hunger or enters a fear frenzy. Lots of hissing, growling, and deathly screeching whenever this happens. But she also yips, yells, and yowls along with whatever mood strikes her at that moment.

HABITS: She randomly bursts into song whenever the mood strikes her, and she fiddles with her guns and whittling knife when she’s occupied with her thoughts. She also tips her hat a lot whenever she introduces herself or just as a general gesture of good will.

POSTURE: She tends to slump over a bit while standing, but she'll stand straight and steady whenever she’s shooting her guns.

WALKING POSTURE: She has a very distinctive swagger to her step that exudes casual confidence.

SITTING POSTURE: She crosses her legs and slouches in her seat.

PERSONAL SPACE: She doesn’t have much of a personal bubble, but has no problem letting someone know they’re not welcome within her space. She respects other people’s personal spaces, but has no problems getting into someone’s face when threatened.

SPACIAL AWARENESS: Her keen vampiric senses pick up even the most miniscule details, so she’s rarely taken by surprise.

OTHER: She likes to share very old Western sayings whenever the mood strikes her.

Health

DIET: Blood...mostly human blood, but she’s acquired a taste for demonic hybrid blood recently. She refuses to drink blood from the elderly, children, mages, and abhorrent mortals.

SLEEP: She doesn’t really sleep anymore...more like falling into a state of repose before the first crack of dawn. And she simply animates as soon as the sun dips below the horizon. She doesn’t have dreams while in this state per se; memories of past death and misfortune flash before her eyes repeatedly in the form of dreams. 

EXERCISE: Not much since her muscles will never develop further than what they were when she died. And she can just buff herself with her blood if she needs a boost in strength and speed.

ACTIVITY: She’s a hard worker but tends to laze around until the very last second before getting to work. She only pushes herself past exhaustion if the task is of great importance.

CLEANLINESS: She bathes regularly, especially after certain bloody activities. She prefers a quick shower over soaking in the bath.

ODOUR: She faintly smells of leather, desert rose, and freshly dug earth. 

MEDICINAL DRUGS: No.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: Besides blood and death? No.

ILLNESS: Besides being a vampire? No.

INJURIES: No.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: She must have blood every day or else risk succumbing to a hunger frenzy. In this state, she doesn’t care about keeping a low profile and she’ll feed without much thought about anyone’s safety. The only way to bring her out of this state is either waiting it out until she’s well fed, knocking her unconscious, or bestowing Final Death.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT: Oh she’s an extrovert through and through! She doesn’t go out of her way to go unnoticed unlike most of her kind; the cowboy boots and gambler hat stay on no matter what! Loud and proud is her personal motto and anyone nearby will hear and see that for themselves.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: She’s a little bit of both; she always hopes for the best but knows that misfortune rears its ugly from time to time.

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: She’s attracted to both men and women so long as they’re outgoing and have a good sense of humor. She prefers women more often than not but she’s had a few relationships with men in the past. And she’s not adverse to other supernatural beings even if it’s taboo within vampire society. She despises anyone who uses magic to manipulate others and will most likely dispose of them before they inflict even more suffering upon the world. 

ROMANTIC: She’s not one for romance but won’t shy away from it either. And she enjoys romantic gestures though she’d never admit it out loud. She was married once before when she was alive but doesn’t plan on remarrying in her new life...and more children are off the table since she’s clinically dead. 

MEMORY: She has a pretty good and very accurate memory, but the memories of her mortal life are starting to get a little fuzzy.

PLANNING: She’s more of a “act now, think later” kind of gal. 

PENSIVE: She pretends to not brood over the past, but she’s guilty of reminiscing over old trials and tribulations that lead her to live such a dark life.

INTUITION: She’s honed her intuition over the years but it’s eerily accurate when death and misfortune are involved.

PROBLEM SOLVING: If they can be solved by shooting them to death then sure! But she’s not above asking for help if that doesn’t work.

GOALS: Her main goal in life is following death wherever it takes her and ridding the world of mages, witches, warlocks, and all other wielders of magic. Her short term goals are taking it easy in between and finding more customizations for her guns, Misery and Woe.

INSECURITIES: She doesn't have many insecurities...constantly being the bearer of misfortune takes a toll on her sometimes. But she hides it very well under her mischievous smirks and rowdy posturing. She rarely reveals her true nature unless forced since most mortals do not take very kindly to vampires. 

ACHIEVEMENTS: She���s proud of her outlaw exploits as Miss Fortune and being well traveled even if it’s because her curse demands to dwell near copious amounts of death. 

ANXIETY: Any notion of anyone figuring out her true nature. Fire and holy places make her really anxious. She’s also not fond of seeing children in distress. 

OVERWHELMED: Not feeding enough causes a lot of stress.

SELF-HELP: She doesn’t until it becomes a nuisance. Then, she just tries to deal with it as quickly as possible.

COMFORTS: Hanging out at a bar with good music will always make her happy...even better with the right company to keep her entertained. She also likes to whittle whenever she needs peace and quiet.  

BAD HABITS: Her constant paranoia is kind of like a bad habit.

PHILOSOPHY: She abandoned all her previous beliefs after her death, but she wasn’t really religious to begin with. She does pay proper respect to the Dark Mother of all Lillum whenever possible though.

TRIGGERS: Fire and terrified screams of children. 

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: She had a very good relationship with her parents growing up; still has fond memories of helping her Ma with the chores and tending the horses with her Pa. Her relationship with the woman who Embraced her is not as warm though; very austere and aloof but she does show her caring side on rare occasions. 

SCHOOL: She was homeschooled at her father’s ranch and she was a very bright kid. 

ADOLESCENCE: It was difficult since her mother died before she could teach her about the changes in her body. And her father tried his best but he usually just let her figure it out on her own. 

LEAVING HOME: She didn’t leave home until her father’s death. It was heartbreaking since she had to sell the ranch in order to provide for her daughter. 

FURTHER EDUCATION: A higher education wasn’t available due to her social status, but she definitely broadened her horizons soon after her death. 

FIRST JOB: Her first job was cooking and cleaning at local inns and bars. It wasn’t the best job nor was it as rewarding as her work on the ranch, but it paid for the roof over her head and food on her table while raising her daughter.

LIFE EVENTS: The birth of her daughter was one of the happiest moments of her life. She was forcefully recruited as a spy by a mage, which led to her eventual Embrace as a vampire. And being drawn to the Russian Revolution led to saving and Embracing a young woman.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Her daughter was on the brink of death due to the meddling of a mage.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She made a blood bond with her rowdy cowboy.

LESSONS: Those who wield magic bring nothing but trouble and should be dealt with immediately. Sometimes you get and sometimes you get got. If it doesn’t seem worth the effort then it probably isn’t.  

LOOKING BACK: If she could replay her life and do something different, she would try her damnedest to keep her father’s ranch and raise her daughter in peace away from another man’s war. 

Relationships

FAMILY: The only family she had growing up was her Ma and Pa. They made a living for themselves on her father’s ranch raising horses and tending to their own modest farm. She would’ve been an older sister but her mother and baby brother both died during childbirth. 

Her Dame, the woman who Embraced her, is more like a strict tutor than a mother but that suits her fine. She’s much closer with her older “sister” and they traveled together often until going their separate ways. And she’s also close with her own “daughter” even though they bicker a lot about the dumbest things.  

FRIENDSHIPS: It’s hard for her to keep many friends since she travels a lot but she doesn’t mind the occasional company from time to time. Anyone who doesn’t take life too seriously and can let loose is okay in her books. She can’t call anyone who falls under one of the codes of her clan a friend.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She lends them an ear every now and then but she usually distracts them with a good time drinking at the closet bar. She’ll sometimes offer some strange old sayings that sound like sage advice but otherwise will just let them vent before encouraging them to just drop their worries at the door while they drink their worries away.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She tends to deal with her problems on her own since she doesn’t have any close friends to confide in. The few friends she has made do worry about her often though but her carefree attitude convinces them to not pry into her private affairs. 

ANNOYANCES: She usually deflects from arguments and disagreements with loud and rowdy humor.

ROMANCE: She lays it on thick with the flirting until one of them makes the first move. She looks for someone with good looks and wicked sense of humor...bonus if they tell great tales about their crazy exploits. 

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She tried to be open about any problems with her lover but sometimes the old habit of deflecting with humor crops up. But a good ol’ fashioned fight (depends on her mood if it's verbal or physical) or a few rounds in the bedroom usually loosens her tongue.

ADVERSARIES: Anyone who takes themselves way too seriously.

ENEMIES: Anyone who embodies the very reason why her clan exists is instantly her enemy by default.

STRANGERS: She’s respectful enough to strangers but has no problem telling them to back off if they step on her toes too much.

FUN STUFF: She likes to hangout at bars even though she can’t drink anymore. She also likes to go horseback riding in the middle of the night but doesn’t mind joyriding on a motorcycle either. 

DATING: It doesn’t matter what they’re doing so long as she’s with her lover. She still likes to be wined and dined too...just in a more vampiric sense now. 

BEST FRIEND: Her crow could be counted as her best friend...mostly because she doesn’t have any real friends.

LOVE: Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter who somehow wrangled her undead heart. 

WORST ENEMY: There currently isn’t anyone who she considers her worst enemy...yet.

RESPECT: Depends on the person. She had no respect for anyone who breaks the codes of her clan and shows no mercy when dealing with them. 

Interactions

MINGLING: She’s quite the mingler and gets along well with others.

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s great at striking up random conversations among strangers and friends. And she has no problem shooing them away with a harsh glare if they make her uncomfortable. 

PHYSICAL: She can be a little touchy-feely from time to time, usually in the form of pats on the back or shoulder. She only shares hugs with people she sees as a good friend. 

GROUPS: She’s comfortable hanging out in a big group since there’s a greater chance for some rowdy fun.

OPENNESS: She’s open to an extent...she won’t talk about anything personal with others unless they prove to be trustworthy. 

GENEROSITY: She usually makes her gifts and only buys treats if she couldn’t find a good piece of wood for whittling. She’d only lend money to a friend if she trusts them to not waste it. And she gets excited when someone buys gifts for her but it always comes with a reminder that they really don’t have to waste their hard earned money on a lazy bitch like her.

JEALOUSY: She’s usually not the jealous type but her dark nature rears its head and sometimes...and a jealous vampire is very dangerous. She usually deals with it by just plain ignoring it while going for a ride in the night.

TEMPER: She can be patient up to a point before getting worked up when it starts to grate on her nerves.

EMPATHY: She’s able to empathize with another person’s feelings since some of her vampiric abilities allows her to read their emotional state. 

AFFECTION: She shows affection by giving one of whittled woodworks with all the charming compliments. She also likes to snuggle and nuzzle their neck with a soft purr if they're really close.

DISTASTE: She’ll outright tell someone she dislikes them to their face. She’s been known to stare at them while using her Evil Eye if she REALLY doesn’t like them. 

ETIQUETTE: She can be very polite in social situations so long as everyone else plays nice, but she has no problem being rude if someone insults her.

RESPONSIBILITY: She’ll begrudgingly admit when she’s wrong and will try to correct it to the best of her abilities.

SELF ESTEEM: She sticks up for herself no matter who’s giving her a hard time. Her Dame taught her to never appear weak in the eyes of men since they always seek to tear down strong women. 

CONFIDENCE: She doesn’t give a damn what others think of her.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind honestly even if it might upset someone.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s more of a lone wanderer but has no problem slipping into either roll when the situation calls for it

PARTY TRICKS: She’s real quick with her guns, loves to whittle wood into a work of art in no time flat, and she can also sing surprisingly well.

PRAISE: She loves receiving compliments. 

FAILURES: Her lazy and laid back attitude as well as her boisterous hollering can be a tad annoying to some people.

CRITICISM: She can take criticism so long as it’s helpful with just a little bit of back talk.

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She usually just laughs it off before biting back with some of her own insults with her venomous stare.

EMBARRASSMENT: She’s not easily embarrassed but if it does happen, she’ll straight up hide her face with the brim of her gambler hat before making a quick exit.

FLIRTING: She can be real flirty for two reasons: scoring a meal or genuine attraction.

ATTENTION SPAN: She has great concentration and can hold it for an exorbitant amount of time so long as she’s fed beforehand.

SITUATIONS: Some of her vampiric abilities can deal with difficult social situations, but she’d rather just talk it out if possible.

Life

CAREER: She's a wandering mercenary who specializes in neutralizing mages and witches. It’s a well paying job with high risks but she derives joy from it. 

PROMOTION: She’s quite happy with her current position. 

BOSS: She’s her own boss. 

DUTY: She’s a specialized tracker who shoots down bitches. 

TECH: She’s adequate at using modern technology but prefers to not rely on it too much. 

POLITICS: Not very political unless a mage is involved...then she’ll fucking kill them. 

COMBAT SKILLS: She’s an expert with firearms and is very experienced with fighting hand to hand. 

HOME: She doesn’t stay in one place for too long, so she really doesn’t have a home. 

DAILY LIFE: She goes through her day-to-day tasks with her usually laid back attitude. Going out and doing a couple of jobs helps her relieve some stress. 

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent since striking out on her own after selling her father’s ranch.

COOKING: She was a decent cook when she was alive but she hasn’t tried cooking after her death since all food tastes like ashes now. She does have a keen palate for blood though and can tell you all the complex notes hidden within.

BUILDING: She’s great putting together furniture, mending clothes, and just all around basic DIY.

CLEANING: She really doesn’t have a place she calls home, but she would be terrible at keeping up chores if she did.

SHOPPING: She’s not one for shopping sprees, only going to the store when it’s absolutely necessary.

DRIVING: She can drive if she has too but prefers riding on horseback instead. 

FINANCES: She’s financially stable but doesn’t trust banks to keep her well earned funds safe. And she doesn’t really have to worry about paying bills since she has no home.

MARRIAGE: She was married a long time ago for a short time but now she’s single, and she doesn’t plan on getting married again.

KIDS: She had one daughter when she was alive.

PETS: She has a crow named Catha. She also tries to get a horse whenever she’s outside city limits. 

DEPENDANTS: She has a vampiric daughter but she’s old enough to be out on her own.

LAW: Oooooh yes, she’s broken a lot of laws during her time as cowgirl and still continues to do so for various reasons. 

COURT: She’s never been to court. 

PRISON: She’s broken into prison a few times to free some friends but she’s never been an inmate herself.

TRAVELLING: She’s very well traveled but every day is a holiday to her.

MEDICAL: She doesn’t need conventional medical attention anymore thanks to her vampiric nature.

ILLNESS: She has PTSD and suffers from bouts of paranoia.

WORRIES: She worries about her daughter from time to time.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet when she’s in the mood but she prefers the hustle and bustle of people and great music over straight up silence. 

PARTYING: She can never say no to a lively party!

HOBBIES: She likes to whittle wood into intricate pieces of art, usually in the form of lil statues and knick knacks. 

#beretta #cowgirl vampire reader #OC questionnaire #Tales of Miss Fortune #YEEHAW! 🌹🤠🌹 #harlot writes #harlot speaks

[thechurchofv]

Binding with Briars Chapter 1

Slow burn, flirting, Canon Divergence, V is only V, NSFW will be included.

“Hey! Rise and shine there, sleeping beauty!”

You made a weak attempt to shield yourself from the blinding sun as Nico yanked open the van's small curtains, and gave a groan. You buried your face in your pillow.

“Nico, didn't Nero say something about how I'm supposed to be 'recovering’?” Your voice was muffled as you made a bolder attempt to reclaim sleep.

Your head abruptly smacked against the bench you had been sleeping on as Nico yanked your pillow out from under you. You bolted upright.

“What the fuck--” Your pillow came back at you, hitting you square in the face. You tossed it aside to see the mechanic already dressed, her dark hair pulled back into a pony tail, a hand on her hip and brows knitted together.

“Nah ah, don't you give me none of this 'recovering’ nonsense, you've been layin’ about for the better part of three days.” Nico handed you jeans and a plain shirt, and as you struggled to move your arms above your head to put the shirt on her stern expression softened.

As you finally stood you heard, “Look, girlie, we're all real sorry about what's happened to ya and all, what with being stuck in that hellhole for a few days, losin’ your family to that damned houseplant”.

You winced at both the pain in your arms and at the mention of Redgrave City. You didn't want to think too hard about what you had seen and the people you loved and lost when the Qliphoth emerged. You tugged on your jeans and stood, tiny jolts of pain running up your arms from where the injuries to your joints were still on the mend. You tried to remind yourself you were lucky just to be alive, but somehow it still wasn't very cheering.

Nico sighed, moving back to the makeshift kitchen to pull together a cup of coffee. She turned back to you, setting her mug down on the counter with a thump.

“But cha gotta get up at some point, gotta get back at it! That bastard demon tree that caused all this ain't gonna kill itself, and you got a stake in this here fight now too”. She gave you a firm nod and waved her coffee cup at you. “The sooner ya start back at it, the better.”

“How can I even help? I didn't do much of anything while I was in Redgrave but run and scream.” You were more than a little embarrassed that you hadn't risen to the occasion as a hero, and instead scrambled wildly for survival. You grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot, savoring the first hot thing you've had to drink since you were rescued.

Nico shrugged. “Well shit, those buildings you were hidin’ out in were basically mazes, and even without a whole lotta fightin’ you made it out alive. I'd say that makes you our resident strategist.” Nico nodded to herself, proud of her own leap in logic.

You sputtered as you choked on your coffee, gasping as it scalded your tongue and splashed down your shirt. “A strategist? Nico, just because I found an escape route for me doesn't mean I can find one for 3 or more people.” You shook your head as you attempted to wipe your shirt clean “it's just too much for one person.” Your head spun at the overload of information.

Nico rolled her eyes, shook her head, and moved past you toward the front of the RV. “Quit your whinin’, it's already been decided, Nero and I talked it all over ‘fore you even woke up. We all earn our keep round here, fightin' demons, and since we did the hard part-- saving your ass, mind you--, and you got nowhere else to go, you'll stay and help us out.” She smiled and rested her hand on the headrest of the passenger seat. “ 'Sides, you won't be strategizing for all of them boys, just one of them”.

You pulled off your now coffee soaked shirt and went digging through the nearby laundry hamper for a new one, pulling it half on as you called out “Well, I guess that's more manageable, then. All depends, who am I paired with?”

A smooth voice split the silence. “You'll be joining me”.

You gave a little cry as you frantically pulled your shirt on the rest of the way, scrambling to cover yourself as a dark haired man rose from sitting in the passenger seat. His carefully neutral expression didn't give away whether or not he had seen anything.

“How long has he been--”

Nico waved her hand and cut you off. “This is V, y'all might've met before, but I don't think anyone would blame ya for not remembering. You were pretty banged up for a while”.

One hand gripped a cane, and V's other hand gave a polite half wave. A subtle smile played at his lips. “It's good to see you that you've recovered”. Your cheeks burned as you tried to focus on something other than the intricate tattoos that spanned his torso and arms, left visible by the long black vest and low slung jeans he wore.

V cleared his throat loud enough to get your attention, and the blush you were fighting crept up your face as you looked down at the floor.

You took a breath to refocus. “Thank you, I'm fine.”

V's tongue caught the edge of his canine tooth bringing his lips into a smirk; he arched an eyebrow. “So it would seem you are.” By the time your eyes had reached his face it was once again carefully neutral. You shook your head slightly, you had to have been hearing things.

V stumbled as Nico clapped a hand to his shoulder.  “Well the way I see it, V ain't too great with fighting neither, 'cept with them fancy shadow demons of his, so he'll need all the help he can get”. V leaned on his cane and stood upright, moving more toward the door.

“And we've got a mission this morning, you and I”. V pushed open the door, letting in blinding sunlight in large streams. Your stomach dipped at the mention of you both as a team.

“Just keep an eye on me, watch my back, and everything should go smoothly” V lead the way out of the RV as the door shut behind you. As you hurriedly yanked on your shoes leaning against the van, you looked up to find V already a few steps ahead of you.

V looked over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. “Though it doesn't seem you're able to watch much of anything else, hm?”

The blush on your face might as well be permanent it's so frequent. Your reply came out as a stammer.

“I don't know what you mean. I'm just nervous for the mission, it's not like I've ever been one before anyways.” You ran to catch up to him, struggling with the uneven pavement.

V chuckled, giving a quiet “hmm” of consideration. “How good it is to be a lady's first”.

You opened your mouth to reply when V's hand wrapped around your waist, abruptly yanking you closer to him as the ground beneath you gave away. A shriek of surprise left your lips as you both fell to the pavement away from the gap in the street.

When you sat up V was flat on his back, and to your mortification you realized you were essentially straddling him, one knee on either side of his hips. He arched a brow at you.

“For someone who is supposed to excel at strategy, you seem to be a little... distracted.” He gestured with a free hand to your position and his other hand grabbed his cane.

You hurriedly stood up, blindly moving forward down the path where the road collapsed down to meet the earth. You jumped as V crept up from behind, his voice low and smooth in your ear, “Perhaps we'll save that for some other time”. You tripped over the uneven pavement, your focus lost as your cheeks burned. You gave a groan as V forged the path ahead once again.

“Can you stop for one second?” You snapped. V scaled down into the sewer system extending a hand to you.

“And what exactly do you want me to stop doing?” V's face betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

“All of that... talking! Or whatever it is you're doing. Stop trying to throw me off.” You looked away from him as he took your hand and helped you down into the sewer tunnel.

V looked irrationally calm. “I'm afraid I fail to see what you mean. It's no matter” he waved a hand, cutting off your dissent. “Now the real mission begins”.

“What are we hunting down, exactly?” You had forgotten to even ask, and you cursed yourself for following blindly.

Any hint of humor that had been there prior was gone from V's expression and replaced with a serious face that sent a chill down your spine.

“We're going to kill the Elder Geryon Knight and his steed.” V's voice lowered conspiratorially. “What they don't know is you're also going to help me find the Devil Sword Sparda, to end this war with the Qliphoth and it's king, Urizen.”

As you both headed into the sewer system and away from the light of day, V whipped around to be face to face you, walking backward just to keep ahead of you. The tunnel grew darker and darker. “And they don't need to know. It shall be our little secret.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Is this whole fight some kind of game to you? I lost family you know, friends, and I'm not here to--”

You stopped as V pressed a finger to your lips. His voice had gained a new edge, something dangerous lurked beneath his words. “A horse misused upon the road calls to Heaven for human blood.”

You blinked, more confused than anything. You thrashed your head, freeing yourself from his grip. “I don't know what that means, and I'm going to need some answers if we're supposed to be a team.” You spat the last word as if sarcasm could be a curse.

“It means don't test my resolve, little wanderer. I want this war to end more than you could possibly ever understand.” His hand encircled your wrist, yanking you forward into the dark, his pace much quicker now even with his cane.

“Punishments await those who those who fail me. You have yet to prove yourself as a capable strategist.” You shivered as you followed hurriedly through the dark. V chuckled, though it sounded humorless.  

“Here's a good chance for you to prove yourself now. Unless you'd rather see the punishment, that is.” Light leapt forth from V as a large panther sprung into existence, a smile that was all teeth on V's face. In the glow he seemed almost predatory. You gave a cry as the light revealed a horde Empusa demon, shrieks rising up as they squirmed under the magic glow.

V looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Now's a chance to put your staring to good use, little wanderer.” He gestured with his cane to a higher ledge. “If you please, watch over me.”

#devil may cry 5 #devil may cry #V #dmc vitale #dmc v #dmc5 v #dmcv #dmc5 #slow burn #binding with briars

[legolasgoldy]

VI. The Lovers || VIII. Strength || XVIII. The Moon || ★ Seven of Pentacles || ☆* Two of Wands || ◥█̆̈◤ Four of Cups || ━━╋⊂ Three of Swords

Tarot-inspired Prompts

// Phew, sorry this took a few days these questions are so gooddd. It took a lot of typing, I hope its not too much to read!haha XD Thank you so much!!❤  @blind-mutant //

VI. The Lovers - have your character’s heart and mind ever been at odds with one another?

X-men verse: Yes, a few times. When he first started getting his mutation and really struggling to come to terms with it, he was really confused as to what he should do.  It took him a month or two to decide, and ultimately his head chose to leave to spare his family from any problems his mutations would cause even though his heart told him to stay and have their support.

Also with Rhys, there was a lot of his heart telling him something his mind hadnt quite realized yet. It was a very subconscious thing because he knew he loved him, but never thought about in what way. It was obvious to everyone else, he absolutely adored him, loved his smile, his voice, everything about him and spent time always thinking of him. The problem was, it didnt click in his mind right away that all of those feelings were much more than friendship. All he knew, was that being with Rhys made his soul happy. When he did finally realize, everything just seemed to make sense but due to the whole drunken night incident a whole new struggle arose. He didnt think Rhys would feel the same way so that made his head clash with his heart a lot. All of it was a misunderstanding of course

In Mainverse: Phew, Im only going to list one time and make it brief or else we’ll be on this one question forever. When crossing the Helcaraxe, it was nothing but a mind and heart battle. He was constantly aching for comfort but hating everyone for hurting him so badly, but somewhere in his mind he knew he didnt hate them, he loved them and thats why it hurt so bad. It took the whole elven 30 years in the Helcaraxe to finally cope and his mind and heart match as much as it could.

VIII. Strength - is there a moment your character has ever had to fight for something or someone?

X-Men Au: In his usual X-men verse he hasnt had to do anything extremely drastic, but he does defend the people he cares about from judgemental people on several occasions. It sounds awfully tame but I think eventually when on his own and living with Rhys, both of them having jobs, having a happy life. He feels like they did a lot of work to get there too. Finrod helped Rhys through a lot of hard times, and they overcame past demons to live happy and together. Sometimes those demons do resurface but they fight back against that.

He does have a verse where he and a friend were captured, and he protected them from Hydra, and for the sake of not writing a lot of gore, in short theres a lot of biting and fighting. He gets muzzled, his hair cut, tested on, but eventually he gets his friend and they get out but the friend doesnt make it far, the friend supposedly drowns in the river. Key word being supposedly. XD

MainVerse: Yes. There is a lot of war throughout his lifetime that he fights in and a lot of emotional turmoil. He had to fight to be with Maglor the moment they first fell in love. Feanor forbid them to be see each other, Maglor had to marry someone else, etc. That was the least of his problems though, when they all were fleeing Valinor he had to fight to try and keep his cousins/friends from killing each other ( which they did) at the first kinslaying. He also had to fight and struggle to keep his family alive in the Helcaraxe. Then there was just so much fighting in Middle Earth. The only time there wasnt, was in the time of great peace when Morgoth was quiet, and Finrod was free to run his kingdom happily and be with his family and lover, still in secret, but he’d take it. After all that crap, keeping their romance secret wasnt as big of a deal anymore. Thats not to say it didnt bother him sometimes, but there were worse problems.

XVIII. The Moon - what is the most significant secret your character has discovered?

X-men AU: Aside from finding out what happened to Rhys, there isnt much else significant. His life in this au is relatively calm compared to all other aus. Unless you count teenage talk, and secrets swapped between friends. Theres tons of those but none of those are massive secrets.

MainVerse: Probably when Ulmo came to him and gave him a hint of what was to come and what he needed to do to prepare. Any secret from a Vala is  hella significant. Similarly, the most significant secret he ever kept himself, is that he was shagging his half-cousin for centuries and they in fact were kinda secretly married twice XD Also, any events of his foresight telling him something can also count.

★ Seven of Pentacles - what tests your character’s patience more than anything?

Prejudice.The only smidge of patience he has for it, is giving them a chance to educate themselves on the matter and be a better person. He’ll even offer to educate them. If they keep squandering that chance then he has no patience for them. You can lead a horse to water but cant make them drink, if hes gatta just forget them and protect innocent people from them then oh well. He tried. Hes not gonna tolerate someone whos ignorant biased hateful views hurt people.

ー☆* Two of Wands - has your character ever had to make a tough decision between two choices?

X-men AU: This goes along with the first question. Most of his tough decisions were due to his mind and heart saying two different things.  When his mutation started surfacing, not only did he feel like he had to choose between leaving and staying, he felt the need to either keep in touch or break up with his boyfriend. Those were two very very hard decisions. Of course he had only just turned 16, he was such a young boy and in his mind at the time those were his only choices.  He got so afraid that his family would suffer if someone judged him, he wanted them happy. The same with his boyfriend, they had both planned to go to go through highschool together then attend a college of the arts to study music. They had such big dreams that he suddenly didnt think he could do anymore. The thought of trying and failing, then hindering his boyfriend from achieving his dreams was too much, he couldnt find it in himself to risk everyones happiness, and/or safety. Heaven forbid him being a mutant were to effect his parents jobs! Or people pick on his little siblings at their schools. He thought of everything bad that could happen, and in that already stressed/very frightened state he decided to leave. Of course Charles Xavier found him and told him about the institute, and this whole thing was mended but it was devastating at the time.

MainVerse: Whether or not to leave Valinor was a choice that changed his entire life, and set his entire future in motion down the path of doom. It sounds really dramatic and it was. ;-;. When all the Noldor decided to leave when the trees were killed his mother wouldn’t go with them, and he couldnt bear to leave her but he felt the need to go and protect his father and siblings too. So he told her he would take care of them for her. At that time there was no doom of Mandos, and there could have been a way back to see her at some point and time. It wasnt too unreasonable to think seeing as the Valar said they could go, and they hadnt committed any crimes yet.

After the kinslaying he had a choice to turn back with his father and his people, to be forgiven and have the curse of doom lifted off him but he couldnt leave his siblings, cousins, and lover. He had to choose to stay with them, and thus making the decision to never see his parents again until he died. In a way he had no choice, he couldnt let his siblings, cousins, and lover go to middle earth, where the dark lords were,  alone. Theres no way he could so in that aspect it was an easy choice, but hard and heartwrenching all the same.  Another tough choice was to travel through the Helcaraxe but that wasnt his sole decision, its more complicated so I wont mention that one.

◥█̆̈◤ Four of Cups - how indecisive is your character?

Finrod is pretty decisive, the only decisions that are difficult for him are the ones where his heart and mind clash like the other questions asked about. He has such a big heart, he always tries to consider everyone and do whats best but sometimes the situation calls for a lot of thinking rather than acting on emotion. Something that important takes a lot of thought.

━━╋⊂ Three of Swords - what was the worst betrayal of trust your character has ever experienced?

X-men au: I think going back to the tough decision question about his mutation beginning to surface. At the time when that happened, he felt very betrayed by his own body. Everything just started tumbling to pieces in front of him. His body kept changing and his teeth were growing so his mouth was incredibly sore around his canines not to mention accidentally biting himself a lot. His ears, and sense of smell, and taste were malfunctioning from the change so noises that didnt normally bother him hurt sometimes to the point of bleeding ears, things that normally tasted good suddenly tasted bad, he kept smelling things he didnt want to smell. Not to mention his voice started doing really weird things and he suddenly got abnormally strong. Not only was all this suddenly happening to him, his fear of what would happen to everyone else just made him feel betrayed by the world for not accepting him and forcing him between a rock and a hard place. Of course later, things did work out and he realized there were a lot of people who supported mutants too, and that he just had to see it. The longer he had his mutation he felt like it was who he was meant to be, now he wouldnt know what to do without it. Just being so young and everything happening so suddenly did make him feel betrayed for several months.

Mainverse: Hm, well theres several betrayals that he went through although things like the kinslaying wasnt directly to solely him so I wont elaborate on those.  I would say its a pretty good tie between his uncle Feanor refusing to let  Makalaure/Maglor be with him and basically forcing Mags to marry someone else specifically to keep them from ever being married was a pretty bad betrayal at the time. Feanor had always been rough around the edges, but Finrod had never expected that extent of a betrayal.

The biggest betrayal of his entire lifetime I would say is what Curufin and Celegorm did in Nargothrond.  Finrod had been one of the best kings in history, he was sweet, compassionate, loyal, trust worthy, he cared about everyone not just his own subjects. His kingdom thrived and was so happy, he kept it hidden from evil all that time. There was such an immense level of respect between him and his subjects, and Curufin and Celegorm specifically visited Nargothrond to try and undermine that respect and trust. They widdled away at it and planted all kinds of seeds of doubt to the point when Finrod decided to go with Beren to retrieve a silmaril, it was absolute mutiny. Everyone in the entire kingdom turned on him because of what Curufin and Celegorm had done and said to them, only a single handful of people remained loyal to him. A single handful, thats it, out of that entire massive kingdom. Finrod simply took off his crown and tossed it on the floor bc thats all he could do,  it was such a betrayal there was nothing else he could have done.  Finrod went into Angband with only part of that handful of people because no one else would follow him. They all died except for Beren who Finrod died protecting. Luckily his nephew Orodreth got the crown and not Curufin and Celegorm, but much good that did..Not long after Nargothrond fell and Orodreth and his daughter was killed, and most of Nargothronds people were either killed or enslaved. So.. yea. Massive Betrayal. Hugee. Lead to the entire kingdom and its people being dead.

#this-is-gizmo #Hopefully theres no bad typos i dont think i can read through all that again X'D i wrote too much #blind-mutant #Thank you <333 #My Finrod Headcanons #AU: Xmen #but also main #answered

[icewraiths]

Shadow

Part 3 of the kelpie fic. Sorry about the wait, I took my sweet time writing/posting this. -__-

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.

The kelpie mare snapped at the rack of ribs, opening her mouth to reveal actual canines in the place of wolf teeth. It was just as Renata had seen in her vision--she knew, then, that the mare would have killed her yesterday had she not foreseen it and made an offering instead.

The girl's heart nearly leapt out of her chest when the mare's head darted forward; the apprehension followed by sudden movement had caused her to flinch visibly.

The brook horse did not seem to mind. She lifted the entire slab of meat with her teeth and pranced away, dropping it on the gravel nearby before she set into devouring it properly.

Ren watched the mare as she tore meat and sinew off the bone with ravenous enthusiasm. She saw the hollowness of the fae's flanks and understood--the creature needed meat to survive, and she was only barely getting enough to scrape by.

She pondered this; the reports of missing people and animals had been a fairly recent happening. There was a good chance that the kelpie was originally from somewhere else, and that external causes had forced her into this lake in the lowlands to hunt. Given all the recent Pandoric activity, along with environmental changes thanks to GED's meddling, Ren could hardly blame the mare for having to move closer to people out of necessity.

She ventured a question.

"Kelpie, mare, you aren't from here, are you? Or did you always live here, in this lake?"

At Renata's words, the gray looked up from her meal. She fixed the girl with another of her icy stares--and yet, there was a twinge of sorrow behind her eyes this time. The mare turned her muzzle pointedly northward, pricking her ears as she did so, and seemed to direct Ren's gaze up towards the northern range. The headwaters of the lake welled forth among those peaks; the mare seemed to be implying that she'd originated from one of those remote streams much farther out.

The kelpie turned back to Ren, making eye contact again, and flattened her ears. Even as foreign and equine as she was, Ren could still read the pained expression on the mare's face. Humans did this to me, she seemed to be saying.

Her ears flopped forward again, and she resumed picking bites off of the chunk of meat.

"Humans chased you out of your home, huh?" Renata ventured. "So you eat them. Out of revenge."

The mare swished her tail in complacent affirmation. Ren sighed.

"Fair enough. We should probably work on that, though."  

Once the hunk of ribs was picked down to the bone, the mare submerged her muzzle in the shallows and resumed grazing on water reeds. The girl continued to watch her quietly; she wondered what kind of life the brook horse had left behind when she fled to the lowlands. Were there more of her kind, still hiding in undiscovered wilderness?

It was well into the afternoon, by then. Renata dusted herself off, frowning at the bloodstains on her jacket, and decided she should head back soon if she wanted to return before nightfall. She paced back over to the discarded burlap, peeling off her jacket and tossing it in the bag. She could wash it later, she figured--it would definitely be easier to hide it for now. The locals would be suspicious if she wandered back into town at dusk with sleeves covered in red stains.

Ren heard a sound behind her. It was soft--a barely audible scuff of hoof against fine gravel--but it was enough to make her turn.

The kelpie mare stood just behind her, eerie and silent as death. Renata nearly jumped out of her skin for what felt like the tenth time that day.

"Damn it! P-please don't sneak up on me like that. Aideen's sake." The girl cursed under her breath, knowing the mare could hear her anyway. She looked back down at the bag containing her jacket and the remnants of the meat wrappings. "There's no more left in here. I'm sorry."

The fae seemed to understand this already. Her pale eyes were fixed on Renata, not the bag.

"What? You going to eat me?" Ren didn't know what else she wanted.

Stretching her neck down, the gray sneezed into the gravel dismissively. The girl realized that, if the kelpie had wanted to eat her, she'd have done so already. After all, she was able to walk right up behind her without notice.

"You want me to bring you more food? Ugh, I'm going to have to start mucking stalls for pay again in order to afford that. I can be back tomorrow, around the same time. After that, I don't know. This can't be an every-day trip."

Renata waited for the mare to take the hint and return to the water, but the brook horse stood still. Shrugging, the girl turned back up the trail, figuring she should check on the Swedish mare she rode in on.

When she reached the meadow where the rental mare was grazing, Ren hesitated. The stout black draft looked up in alarm as soon as the girl set foot in the grass. Puzzled, she turned to look behind her again, knowing that the draft didn't startle easily.

Sure enough, the kelpie stood a few paces away, having followed the young woman up the trail.

Ren sighed.

"You can't eat the horse I rode in on, either."

Again, the gray seemed to have acknowledged this. She tilted her head to gaze at Ren with one eye as if waiting for her to realize something.

Exasperated and more than a little unnerved, Renata turned back towards the draft, packing up the burlap bag and re-bridling her. The kelpie would just have to wait until the next day for more food. She hopped back into the saddle, kicking the rental horse up into a canter and brushing past the kelpie.

The pair of them loped back up the trail and onto the road. As expected, Ren heard the light scrape of unshod hooves against the paved stone behind them. She kept her mare in a canter, sat deep, and turned to glance over her shoulder.

The brook horse was keeping pace with them effortlessly. When the girl turned to look at her, she lengthened her stride, running abreast of the draft mare.

Ren felt her face pale; it seemed she wasn't going to be able to shake her new friend. She had no idea what else the fae wanted from her. Perhaps she was just lonely, but even still, that was probably wishful thinking.

The kelpie stayed apace with them for the entire remainder of the journey. When they neared civilization, the silver mare seemed to hesitate.

"I doubt you can come back into town with me, mare. It's full of people. You know, like the ones that ruined your home?"

Renata's words seemed to strike a nerve, and the fae shivered. Like a startled foal, she shouldered up against the draft mount, crossing her neck over withers and pressing her head to Ren's torso. The draft mare tried to sidle away, but her rider calmed her, understanding the kelpie all at once.

The girl dropped the reins and hugged the gray's face. The poor thing was frightened--wherever she'd come from before, she'd probably been part of a herd, and now she was slowly starving, alone, in unfamiliar lands.

It was a very mortal fear to have, Ren surmised, but it appeared the fae was not completely exempt from the hard rules of this reality. She was a magical, unusual specimen, but she was not invincible.

The kelpie relaxed a little after a moment, and the girl continued patting her muzzle reassuringly.

"I won't let you die. It'll be all right, mare. But you probably should lie low for a bit, at least until I figure out how to pass you off as my horse. Otherwise, it'll just look like I stole you, or something."

The fae's eyes softened, and she stepped away from the draft mare again.

Renata looked around, trying to get her bearings on her surroundings.

"Let's see... If the town is that way, then I think if you follow the road south for a bit and turn off onto the deer trail with all the ferns, it'll take you to a secluded little stream. Just try to stay off the roads and out of view, okay? I'll come find you there tomorrow."

The brook horse trembled, her shoulders twitching, but she seemed to understand. She gave Ren one final, doleful look, and then shuffled off into the forest at a steady trot.

The draft mount sighed and lowered her head once the kelpie was out of sight--it was clear that she understood the fae was a predator to be feared. Renata patted her mane.

"I know, I know. It's been a long day, but you're safe now. Come on. Back into town we go," she said, nudging the draft into a trot.

When Ren dismounted back at the stable block, she loosened the Swedish mare's girth, and was met at the barn doors by the same lass from earlier that morning. The barn hand took the mare's reins from Renata, noting that the draft seemed ill at ease.

"Did you run into any trouble out there? This gal hardly ever spooks at anything," she said, patting the mare's dark muzzle.

"She must've nosed wolves, I think." The lie came easily to Ren. "I could have sworn I saw some tracks on the way back, near the road that heads south."

"Really? We rarely have problems with wolves this close to town." The stable girl frowned. She ran the stirrups up on the saddle, and began helping untack.

"Yes. The prints looked too big to belong to foxes, or even dogs. You should probably tell other riders to avoid that area for a bit." Ren waited until the stable hand was occupied with unbridling the mare, and then she quickly pulled the burlap containing her bloodied jacket out of the saddlebags as discretely as possible. She shuffled the mess into her backpack, making as if she were digging around for loose shillings.

By the time the stable hand had turned back towards her, Renata had fetched a small amount as a tip.

"Here," Ren said, offering the girl the money. "Thanks for the help."

The barn girl smiled at her, her expression tired but genuine.

"Aw, thank you!" She accepted the tip, and Ren bid her a hasty but polite farewell before scurrying out of the stable yard.

The young woman headed away towards the inn for the evening. Her stomach hungered for a decent meal, and she knew she'd have to figure out how to wash her jacket without suspicion, but overall she considered the day a success.

Renata hesitated, turning to look back towards the city gates. The sun was setting, darkening the treeline in a way that seemed almost ominous. She nodded in the direction of the wilderness; under her breath, she reassured the kelpie that she'd return to her with another meal in due time.

(Part 4 is here.)

#SSO #Star Stable Online #SSO fic #Renata Winterdawn #tbh ive been headcanoning that this entire interaction takes place in firfall-mistfall so i was stoked to see the news update

[sabraeal]

Fruits Which Unknown Orchards Bore

The air smells of fire at Beltane.

Even beneath the mound, she catches its scent on the wind. It is not yet time; the hours run strange in the realms of the sidhe, and though by her counting it has only been three months since her flight, magic never lies. The nights grow shorter and the days longer, coming to meet in compromise like husband and wife, and the veil between world grows thinner, letting through the sent of human magic like earth and fire.

But all that is lost today, overpowered by the medley of magicks mingling in the city.

“A goblin market,” she gasps, gripping onto Obi’s sleeve. The material is slick beneath her fingers like water, like shadow, and the coppery tang of his geasa rolls over her tongue. She’s used to it by now and does not flinch, not from that, nor from the cold bite of iron that nips at her skin.

A rumbling noise rolls around in his chest, something gentler than thunder. He’s laughing at her. “I wouldn’t call it that, Miss.”

“No?” She bites her lip in consternation. It is so hard to learn all the rules here; they are meant to trip up mortal minds, meant to give the sidhe reason to take offense. Every time she opens her mouth it is as if she speaks snakes and toads.

Amber glints at the corners of his eyes, speculative. “The luchorpan aren’t very fond of it.”

“Luchorpan?” She cocks her head, letting the sounds roll around her mouth. “You mean lep--”

“Ah-ah.” He holds up a hand, grinning. “Not much fond of that either.”

She lets out a frustrated huff, raising a hand to adjust her cowl. She feels wispy flyaways tickling her palms, and she tucks them more firmly under. If only she could do the same with her inconveniently flushed skin.

“Hey, Miss,” Obi murmurs as she bobs down the stairs beside him. His eyes are on her again, inquisitive. “You wear stuff like that?”

“Ah...” She runs her fingers along its edge, taking comfort it the silken fabric lining its edge. “It depends on the place. When there’s a lot of people I...prefer it. It’s...safer.”

He hooks his hands behind his head, mouth tugging up into one of his smirks. “Certainly nothing safe about being here.”

An understatement, if there ever was one. “I just hope I don’t offend anyone.”

Obi laughs at that, head tipping back. “Don’t worry, Miss. That’s why you have me.”

The market is overwhelming, a glut of scents and sounds and sights. It should be unpleasant to have her senses so taxed, but instead she revels in it. This is what her gift is for, this extra sense -- so she can more fully appreciate such a place.

In brightly colored silk pavilions the luchorpan work, small heads bent over cunning clockworks. Their clever fingers dance across cogs like a bard might a lute, making symphonies out of metal. She’d never seen such things as these: a doll who moved on her own, a dial that told time without the sun’s light, a dozen other trinkets she could not divine the purpose of.

A pod of merrow surrounded one, webbed fingers prodding at levers and pushing at buttons. She’s close enough to taste the bitter of their slippery magic, briny on her tongue, salt stinging at her eyes. Wide ropes of their kelp-like hair fall to their waist, limp on dry land, but she sees the way Obi’s gaze lingers at their small waists, their wide hips. One of them catches him, her generous mouth opening to call out in their lilting babble, but he turns away.

“She seemed friendly,” Shirayuki offers, glancing back over her shoulder. The merrow has already returned to her sisters, Obi forgotten. “You could go talk to her --”

“No, thank you, Miss,” he says, voice oddly strained. “I’m a little too old to make those mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

He coughs, pink shadowing his cheeks. “Take my word for it, Miss. Don’t kiss anyone who tastes like drowning.”

“Ah...” She blinks, feeling her own cheeks flush. “I wasn’t...you didn’t...um...”

He grins, wide and wolfish. “None of my geasa are good for breathing water.”

In one square, a smooth-faced aes sidge plays the pipes, the sound as sweet as spun sugar. A drove of Puca dance around him, shifting from shape to shape with a merry sort of ease. The air here is soft with their magic, plush, and when she grabs at Obi to show him the spectacle, it cushions her from the blow of his own.

As fine as their jig is, it does not hold her attention long. Instead, her eyes are pulled to a group of green-robed woman, their hoods falling stiffly over pale faces. Red and orange curl over their breasts, cascading down their fronts like fire made water.

“Ban sidhe,” Obi tells her, lips curling with something between humor and affection. Fondness, maybe, though it seems foolish to presume it from a man like him. “What is it your poets would say? Hair that shimmers like wild fire.”

Your hair is like an apple’s sheen, Zen told her once, back during that fearful flight. It had been his brother, the sharp point of his canines peeking over the edge of his smile, who said, she’s a flame, brother, to hold her is to burn.

“It’s like mine,” she whispers, fidgeting with the edge of her hood.

“It is.” Obi’s mouth cants, so sly. “Perhaps you are not quite as human as you think.”

Not all the stalls are run by the luchorpan or covered by their cunning machines, of course.A stoatish far darrig presides over a table of spice and herbs, chittering to her with red cap in hand as she asks after some of the stranger stalks on display. Obi idles not far away, knives cutting shimmering circles in the air. He’s bored; though he takes some interest in what she plants in her boxes, he has none in the wagging of tongues she must do to get them.

She turns away with her prizes, satisfied, only to run her body directly into another. “I’m sorry!” she blurts out, hardly thinking. From the corner of her eye, she sees Obi stiffen. Ah, curse her manners.

The sidhe, however, merely smiles. He is fair of face – as much as Zen, though in a different way. Where Zen is light, this man is dark, skin as swarthy as a southerner and hair a curling black, the color of a raven’s wing. His eyes are the same, dark and bottomless, and her heart flutters when he flashes her an even-toothed smile. Her cheeks flush, and she opens her mouth to speak –

“Enough of that,” Obi drawls, catching her elbow, dragging her away. The man’s smile fades to a pout, and she’s about to question Obi’s rudeness when the man turns his head, and she sees the madly flicking horse ears that sprout from it.

“Oh!” she gasps, and she heard her guard chuckle behind her.

“You best be careful, Miss,” he teases in his lilting voice, steering her away. “The head he wanted wasn’t just the one that marks you a maiden.”

She flushes at the implication, and she means to scold him, she does but –

“Ah, Master!” he calls out with a grin. “Over here! You’re just in time,” he informs Zen as he draws close, Kiki and Mitsuhide at his heels. “Miss just finished her shopping.”

She forgets when they are not close how handsome Zen is; the white of his hair shimmers in the bright sunlight washing over them, his skin practically the same, and for a moment he is more idol than man, marble made flesh.

“Are you ready?” he asks, teeth bared wide, showing off the point of his canines. “There’s more to see.”

“Ah!” She nods, flushing, coming to his side. “Yes, I’m ready for anything!”

Shirayuki does not miss how Obi takes him aside not long after, how both their gazes flitter toward and away from her as Mitsuhide and Kiki question her about her intentions. They seem to know her answers already, and a part of her is glad that they see her as reliable, as a stalwart supporter of Zen, but even so --

Another part of her rankles at her fate being assumed. She is not just following the path before her blindly because Zen has set her on it, but with eyes and heart open, and she --

She is not sure it is in the aes sidhe to understand that.

When they are rejoined, his aides make noise about a swordsmanship competition, and Zen feigns disinterest, shaking his head and urging them on.

“We could go,” she offers. She doesn’t find warfare as scintillating as the others – especially the bloody practice the aes sidhe prefer – but it’s nothing she could not stomach, if he preferred.

His smile flashes sharp teeth. “What reason do I have to go with them?” he asks lightly, flush staining the pale of his cheeks. “I’d rather it be just the two of us.”

Her heart stutters in her chest, and she leans closer. Something in her recoils from him, just on instinct – his kind are not so gentle with hers, and the soul remembers – but she does not fear him. The nerves she feels around him are not that of prey before a predator, but –

But as a woman before a man. She thinks. She’s never quite – she’s never felt this way before. But she knows she does not want to leave his side, not even when he bids her farewell at her rooms at night.

“Shirayuki,” he says, so serious, and she likes the way his voice wraps around her name, as if he is carrying it so gently in cupped hands. “You cover your hair.”

Her mouth pulls tight. “Ah, yes!” She pats self-consciously at the cowl. “I find it’s easier this way.”

“Did you have problems, back in your homeland?” he asks, eyes fixed to the hem of her hood. “Besides with your lord.”

She hold up her hands, as if she might ward off his worry and her embarrassment. “Ah, yes, but not anything more than here.”

“Than here?” He steps to her, eyes dark as midnight. He look dangerous, looks like – like his brother. “Have you been bothered here, Shirayuki?”

“Ah, no, not –” She grimaces. “It’s not like before. It’s just that people always stare and I –” She shakes her head. “It’s habit. Like how you wear that knife at your hip, though no one would dare to attack a prince.”

He blinks, staring down at the blade as if he had forgotten it was there, as if he was surprised to find it was not just a part of him. “That is not…”

He grabs her arm, pulling her into the shadows, and draws the blade. She knows nothing of metalwork, but even she can see the ripple in the metal.

“Silver and iron,” he tells her, voice limp as a corpse. “Folded a thousand times. It is one of a kind. It is insurance.”

She stares up at him with wide eyes, but his gaze is elsewhere, among the castle’s spires. “I call it fey killer.”

Her blood runs cold, and where his arm lays along hers her skin is ice. She forgets sometimes; he may smile and tease as boys back home did, but he is not one of them. He is something else, something inhuman.

“Zen,” she breathes, but it is lost under a louder, “Zen!”

They both turn, watching as Mitsuhide bounds across the pavilion toward them, Kiki at his back. He looks guilty.

“I lost Obi!”

Zen’s face is sharp like a hunter’s, nose lifted to the air as if he, like she, could scent him on the wind. Perhaps if it were his geas upon him, he could, but like Mitsuhide, it is the king who wove his magic through Obi’s bonds. With the overwhelming amount of magic that clutters the market, it is nearly impossible for Shirayuki to find his among the rest, and so she trails behind Zen, trying to pick out his familiar form in the crowd.

“There,” Kiki says, stopping short, her face pointed down at the pavilion below them like a hound. There’s a press of rough-looking men, all shouting as two competitors step out on the stones.

“A fistfight?” Mitsuhide murmurs, brows drawn in confusion. “You think Obi would –?”

“Yes,” Zen hisses, bending over the bridge’s balustrade. “There he is.”

Sure enough, Obi’s lithe form slinks out into the court, clad all in black. They pound down the stairs, but they reach the bottom only when the match starts, and –

And she has never seen him move like this.

He moves like smoke, like water, like shadow, only becoming solid when the man he faces throws too solid a punch and he must slap it aside to avoid the blow. It happens more and more often in the moments since the fight began, and for a moment she wonders if he is tired from the day, if she wore him out winding through market stalls and nearly being stolen by glashtyn, but –

But then his leg kicks out, and he is solid, he is earth, and his opponent is thrown to the ground with the force of it. The man does not get up. Obi grins, a feral, bloody thing.

“Nanaki wins!” the master calls out, holding up Obi’s arm .

Ah, she had forgotten. He may be human, but he is also one of them.

Obi is collecting his winnings when he finally sees them, hand closing around the purse before he bounds up the stairs to them.

“Master!” he calls out, mouth parted wide in a grin. “I won!”

Zen waits until he stands with them, arms folded over his chest and shoulders tense.

“What are you doing going off on you own?” he snaps, only making Obi’s smile draw wider in response. “What even is a Nanaki anyway?”

“Are there not times where a man wouldn’t want his name to be known?” Obi tells him with smug and purposeful enigma.

Steam practically curls from Zen’s ears. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget about that.” Mitsuhide leans it, eyes bright. Even he seems more alive after watching a good fight.“I’m interested in how you learned to move like that, Obi.”

Obi returns his grin, so feral. “Want to fight me sometime, Mister?”

“Sure!”

“Zen,” Kiki says, eyes fixed to the horizon. “It’s time.”

“Right.” Zen nods at the two of them. “Until later.” He looks at Obi. “I’m leaving Shirayuki in your care, Obi.”

They watch them leave, prince and aides, and Obi slants her an amused look. “You want to see the rites when they happen, don’t you?”

She nods. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“Ah, right. As a human, you wouldn’t.” He turns to her, and there’s a strange look in his eye. “Before that, Miss.”

His hands come to the edge of her hood, pushing it back. Her heart pounds in her chest, even more to when his hands come to wrap around her neck, when they reach up into her hair and –

And ties something around it. Her small hosetail bobs, tickling her neck.

“You can have this,” he murmurs, voice strangely low. It makes something in her belly quiver.

Her hand raises to her hair, and beneath her fingers she feels a ribbon, embroidered with things her fingers cannot pick out. They prickle with magic, like static after lightning hits.

“It was the prize,” he tells her, “for winning the fight.”

A strange purse for a fistfight, but she doesn’t say anything, just ducks her head as he lifts her cowl back over her head.

“Make sure to show Master later,” he says, voice lighter. “Tell him it’s the sort of thing girls like.”

She doesn’t, but Zen sees it anyway. It’s too long for her short hair, drifting down over her shoulders when it slips from its hasty bow. It suits you, he says, tying it back up. When he pulls away, he shakes out his hands, as if he’s scalded them.

When she is by herself, much later, she runs her fingers over the ribbon, a bright green stitched in silver. The pattern is simple knotwork – it must have took a deft hand to make – but when she breathes in, the magic is not unfamiliar, not some strange scent of stranger but –

Pine and copper. Honey and mead.

Some prize indeed.

#obiyukibingo #obiyuki #Fae AU #magic au #my fic #ans #one of the gift giving scenes i had to cut for time #i'm mixing my folklore a bit with the goblin market #BUT I CARE NOT #I DO WHAT I WANT

[imagineclaireandjamie]

A Hundred Lesser Faces

@surana17​ said

Hi :) not exactly a prompt, but more of a musing. What do you think would happen if Claire went to Lallybroch first, instead of Edinburgh/printshop? Thanks for your great fics, girls!

Welp, musing it might have been, but here we now are! Thank you for an inspiring prompt!! -Mod Bonnie 

One

November, 1766

“Hello, again.”

A breeze carried my words overtop the horse’s head, bearing them toward the neat stone walls just visible in the distance; and having said it, I felt something—yes—relief shudder down my spine. Despite the years, despite everything…it did still feel like my home. Divinely-sent or mere desperation, I took the reassurance with all my heart, and kicked my mount hard toward Lallybroch; toward home. 

It had been a last-minute decision, to come here, instead of to Edinburgh. In fact, I’d been fully through the stones and in Inverness boarding the carriage that would deliver me south! Then something clicked into place and before I even stopped to question myself, I was exchanging the coach fare for a horse and saddle, wondering why Lallybroch hadn’t been my plan from the start. 

Well, no—I knew exactly why. Because the idea of going anywhere but directly into Jamie’s arms had seemed ludicrous. 

He was ALIVE. And so close—I was *so close* to having him again, it was like a physical pain in my chest. the longing—the wanting….

But *think*, Beauchamp, I’d counseled myself in those vital seconds on the mounting block: a visit to Lallybroch will yield me *actual* information as to the whereabouts of those arms; a far cry more reliable than your hunch from a two-hundred year old artifact! I mean, *good Lord*, consider all the variables, here! Perhaps he’s moved to new premises across town! What if he’s abandoned his nom de plume for another and there is no longer an A. Malcolm printing in Edinburgh? What if he’s been so successful in his business, he’s moved to London to join a larger firm? Hell, what if he’s decided to make his fortune as a fur trader in Canada, for heaven’s sake?? 

Yes, the closer I got to Lallybroch, the more confident I was in the wisdom of my sudden volte-face. Even overlooking the more remote possibilities that may have taken him out of Scotland, a quick chat with Jenny and Ian could easily save me days or even weeks of roaming around Edinburgh asking after red-headed printers; and as an unarmed woman traveling alone and with limited funds, this was more than prudent, no matter how you looked at it. 

AND…. well…

I mean, surely, even if he did still occupy the shop in Carfax Close, he would visit home occasionally….

….and there was always the chance that even NOW, he might be…he COULD be…

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Beauchamp. One leap at a time.

I dismounted and led the horse on foot for the final approach up the road toward the house, as much for my own pounding heart as for the beast’s sake.  Dear God…almost exactly the same as I left it twenty years ago. 

The trees overhanging the dooryard; the sounds of cooking and chatting and children playing from inside the house; even the customary pack of dogs that heralded my arrival through the archway, howling and barking as befitted their time-honored station…Yes, it was home. My home. 

“What do you think, lads?” I laughed softly, holding out my knuckles for the slobbering, leaping home guard to sniff. “Do I pass muster?” 

Apparently I did, for they all began vying for my attention. I obliged happily, scratching behind ears with my free hand and murmuring dog-lover-nonsense to each of them in turn, wondering if goodwill and trust could be passed down canine generations.

“A good morning to ye, Mistress!” 

I turned to see a stableboy of about ten hurrying across the dooryard toward me. A stranger, to my eyes, but with a warm, friendly manner, he bobbed a quick bow. 

“Good morning!” I replied with a grateful smile as I relinquished the horse. “And what’s your name, lad?”

At my words, he jumped and uttered a gaelic curse, his reaction so violent that he dropped the reins and caused the horse to rear. It wasn’t until I’d reclaimed the beast—nearly getting my teeth knocked in— and turned panting back to the boy, to his pale and frightened face, that I realized what had been his curse: sassenach. Said not in affection, the way Jamie had from the beginning, and Jenny and others had picked up from time to time in jest: but in fear and disgust. The vehemence of it felt like a blow to my gut, and for the first time, I felt afraid, ludicrous as it was to be bowed before a young boy. Before, I’d been only suspicious to Highlanders. Now, after Culloden, after the Clearances—I was, objectively, the enemy. 

The boy, to his credit, recovered with a good show of politeness, retrieving the reins and offering a murmured apology. He did *not*, though, offer his name.  “Are ye expected at the house this morn, Mistress?” (Do you have a reason for being here, or are you an English informant fixing to burn the place down?) 

“I’m an old friend of the family,” I said, with a concerted confidence and ease that I hoped would reassure him, “but, no, I’m not expected.” 

In fact, I could say with absolute confidence that I would be the least expected person ever to darken Lallybroch’s door. 

“Oh, aye,” the boy said. Polite. Wary. “If you’ll just follow me, Mistress, I’ll put awa’ the horse and then show ye inside until someone will be in to receive ye.” 

Someone. Someone. 

My heart thumped and my hope screamed piercingly in my ears:

Jamie. Jamie. JAMIE. 

My hands were shaking. I had to swallow and moisten my mouth to get the words out as I followed behind the boy toward the hitching post. “I beg your pardon, but does the…?” Nothing to lose, at this point, I suppose. “Is the laird in residence?”

“Mr. Jamie?” the boy asked over his shoulder, clearly surprised by the inquiry. “Aye, ‘course.”  

He was here. 

I nearly fainted where I stood. 

Thank God!! Thank GOD I trusted my gut and came here instead of going to Edinburgh. 

Jamie was near. My Jamie could be HERE at any moment! 

God, what will—

“But he’s no’ to home just at present,” the boy added hastily. “Went up to Broch Morda for the day.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s—that’s quite alright.” In fact, it was a relief. I would have time to think, to plan; to prepare myself. 

Dear God, Jamie! 

“Shall I send a message after him to let him know you’ve business wi’ him, Mistress?”

It should be alone, when we met — to give him time to react in private — Lord, would he faint? Scream? Regardless, I did not want to be responsible for giving Jamie a premature cardiac arrest. 

 “That’s very kind, lad, but no, I’ll wai—”

“It’s Jamie Murray, he means.”

I whirled, my heart crushed with realization before I even finished the turn. Of *course* Jamie Fraser was no longer the laird; I’d known that; I KNEW that.

But even the ache of my desperation for Jamie vanished for that moment as I took in the sight of the woman standing in the open kitchen doorway. Older, weathered, just like me–but the same. My eyes filled with tears of joy and love and relief and I gave a little sob as I made to run to her, to embrace her. 

But I was halted by a cold voice I didn’t recognize. “He’s no’ here.” 

I stared as a dead person stares, looking but without conscious thought. It was a stranger speaking, a hostile stranger showing not a scrap of surprise or pleasure at my appearance. And her eyes—God, those blue eyes so very like his—staring me down— so bone-chillingly cold —

No, not just distant…..

LIVID — 

Jesus, I wanted to whimper, Don’t you recognize me, sister? It’s ME…

But she did recognize me; and she did not like what she saw. 

I braced my shoulders. Met her eye. And tried not to let my wounds show. 

“Hello, Jenny.” 

#;mod bonnie #A Hundred Lesser Faces #canon divergence #book: voyager #more of a prologue really #lots of Jenny in this one naturally

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

(Original Story) My Four Horsemen

Just some drabble I got to thinking about. It’s a little abstract but I hope it’s fun to read nevertheless. Not sure what I would call the mood of it though...

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

Fury. Contempt. Forethought. Patience.

These four concepts haunt me like an apocalypse that nobody else will ever know. My personal companions no matter which way I blow. Once, I was nothing, a vacuum of unfilled space and then two forces conjoined in a chance encounter and I was created. Perhaps many see this as a gift or something to be held sacred. For me, it is an unbridled curse celebrated by everyone but myself. Because they do not see what the gift saddled me with; they merely see the wrapping paper, colorful, bright, dappled in clipart of roses. They don’t know the duct tape holding the package underneath together at the seams.

No, for many, my friend, creation is a precious gift, unrivaled by gold or any amount of blood. Yet, I did not ask for this. I did not get to discuss the circumstances of my own presence. I was produced and shuffled along with nothing but frustration for my discontent. You may find yourself asking why, if so many hold this gift so dear, that I find it so upsetting; for you, my friend, I will answer. I may never know your name but at the very least you will know my story.

Since my inception, I have found myself at the mercy of the law of club and fang. Those that see me figure they know all there is to know about me. They see my colors and my shape and decide what they know is best for me. They know of my class in society. I am but a lowly dog. Dogs are obedient and want nothing less than to please their masters, the ones that bear the clubs and the whips and the leashes and collars. Brandishing these items like weapons to remind the dog of its place, they care not for what the dog has to say. The dog must growl, bark, whimper, whine, howl to convey a meaning, but those sounds are still just that: sounds. Sounds that often fall on deaf ears. The dog may not express its frustrations, though. A bite to the hand that grooms, no matter how roughly it pulls at their pelt, is a fatal mistake. The club comes crashing down and the dog learns their place back in step with the rest of the world.

From the corner of the dog’s eye, a horse blazes the road past, whinnying and crying blindly in rage. It stamps its hooves and churns the earth beneath it. Black as the night and massive as a truck, it barrels in circles, uncontrollable, ferocious, wild. Yet, it chases its own tail, spirals in circles around the dog. Regardless of how much it howls, the horse is unbothered and unchanged. It is the first of the four horsemen: Fury. Fury is ignorant to its surroundings and follows a circular path, a self-defeating prophecy. It stirs the dirt in its path until it becomes a raging tornado which blows it down and exhausts it. Fury snuffs itself out regularly, but not before sending the dog it gallops freely around up in the tornado it spawns.

When Fury is too tired to move, a spotted feline stalks its downed form. Quick, cunning, and malevolent, the feline preys on Fury’s exhaustion. Every time Fury goes down, the feline leaps at the dog, and sends it running. No canine on Earth is large enough to threaten this feline back. It is far too intelligent and far too stealthy. It, too, is a horseman: Contempt. Contempt is silent, but not unheard. It swiftly bites down on prey without warning, sinking needle-sharp fangs into its victims, but the feline never dispatches them with a snap of the jaws around the dog’s throat. No, Contempt lunges at the dog and pins it down, snapping teeth at its ears, muzzle, paws, tail, but never anywhere vital. It chews the dog from one end to the other, leaving it feeling hollow and soulless until not even a howl can be made. Instead, you would only see the bitter scowls from that canine’s face, the only symptoms left over from Contempt’s visit.

Swooping in once Contempt has eaten its fill, an owl lands ahead of that scathing glare from the dog. It stares back, unaffected, long black stripes dashed across its pale brown feathers and large, round brown eyes gazing deeply at the dog. It understands the beast’s pain. It can swivel its head to any angle and spot any danger coming from a mile away. Sometimes, it’s capable of warning the dog before Contempt can have its way; sometimes, it can even calm Fury before it begins to rave. But there is nothing the owl, Forethought, can do for the canine it pines to care for. Forethought is a horseman by accident. Forethought had no choice in the matter. It may have seen the fate coming from a mile away, but with no way of communicating its wishes, it was forced to take the role. It does its best to settle the other three, but there is only so much the mute horseman can do… and even then, Forethought has one dastardly flaw.

A wolf’s howls will send Forethought into a frenzy. The owl may be patient and even remorseful over what the dog may go through, but it cannot stand the wolf that trails the dog wherever it goes. Track the dog the wolf does, however; it has determination unknown to the other three, capable of loping endlessly without tiring, and no matter how far the dog runs with intent to free itself from the wolf’s nose, there is nowhere it can run to forever escape it. Patience, as the wolf is known, knows no bounds. The dog eventually runs ragged and slumps against the ground and there, Patience finds it, and lays against it. Patience touches its nose to the dog’s and wishes to remind it of where it came from. Of rugged instincts that kept ancestors alive long past.

These four horsemen guide me much like they do the dog. Because I am a dog. I do not speak with; I listen, or I speak against. Speaking against is a deadly choice. Nobody else knows these horsemen like I do. Fury’s mindless, circling pursuit, Contempt’s piercing bite, Forethought’s boring stare, and Patience’s ceaseless shadow are all ghosts of my own to snap at. No matter how much I snap at them to chase them away, my teeth never connect with their bodies. They have none. I remember then you can’t hurt an apparition.

Despite their metaphysical presence, they are there, as real as the air I breathe or the water I drink. Explaining that to anyone else, however, is impossible, and it is what makes me a dog, trapped in a cage of wordlessness. They are all I have in that void. What sets me and the dogs you pet and hug daily in your lives, however, is that people give dogs the benefit of the doubt. If a dog bites someone, the owner typically questions what the victim did to provoke their perfect pet.

I do not get such a reprieve. I am guilty regardless. I am smart. I am strong. I am perfection. That’s what they say. Truth be told? I just think they don’t want to face the facts that I may be suffering. To acknowledge so would be to take responsibility for personal failure. Because if I am the dog, then they are both the handler and the victim, and tanking the blame themselves is simply too difficult a thought to bear.

How easy it is to blame something that cannot speak to defend itself.

#non pokemon #writer things #writing