#thxoracle

[loredrops]

closed starter for @thxoracle

“ you keep staring at that coffee like it’s poisoned. relax — if i wanted you dead, i’d have let oz’s thugs finish you in lockup . " bishop’s tone shifts from dry humor to something darker as he references her time behind bars — a pointed reminder that he chose her over loyalty to oz. " but i'd love to hear how you plan to make him pay … starting today. you're a free woman ... ” the mention of revenge is a test: does she trust his intel enough to strike fast, or will she second guess him again? his fingers drum the table, a restless tell betraying how much he wants her to say we instead of i .

[rosesonbreeze]

@thxoracle | Javier and Elizabeth (Betty)

"Rumor has it that her father is from money, with some gorgeous chateaux in France." A morsel of gossip wasted on her close friend and confidant, court's most valiant Knight. Far too loyal and honorable to partake, but that never stopped Miss Elizabeth (known as Betty to her friends) from talking his ear off. "What do you think? Will she do to your most discerning standards?" She asks as a tease, watching every twitch and shift in Javier's mood for a sign. For years, Betty has inserted herself in his life as a 'matchmaker.' And everytime she nudges him to a prospect, something falls flat. But at the end of summer ball, the lady's maid is as determined as ever.

"A man of good fortune must be in want of a wife." She read as much. "Why won't you let me help you? I am keenly observant."

[amomentxofhappiness]

@thxoracle h&d

Today had been tough. Mme. De Morcef had brought her dress, had helped her in it, both Juan and Cristobal had cried seeing her dressed up in it and she had faked being just as happy, at least for a little while.

After being excused and changing into more comfortable clothes (her warm woolen pants, boots and sweater and his boyish jacket and hat) she had snuck into the barn and gotten her horse. She needed to get away from Haydee Diaz de Vivanco; she needed a good cry.

She found herself by the ruins Dante mentioned and after securing the horse, she started wondering around them, pocketing her hat and lettinh her hair fall over her shoulders and back. Eventually she sat down on the grass, back to one of the walls and wondered how much longer she'd have to live this lie.

She missed the freedom they had away from here, she miss her friend whomlved away, but most of all ahe missed her mom that day. Mme de Morcef had been kind and warm but she was a poor substitute of Elizabeth.

Her thoughts and tears over her lost life suddenly stopped when she got startled by a twig breaking not too far, and she instinctively went for the knife in her boot, keeping it hidden behind her forearm. "Who's there?"

[someotherdog]

continued from here! / @thxoracle

no. you’re the first.

tom didn’t know if he was relieved that she was his, or if that terrified him. could he even be sure that she was really here? could it all be a trick by that clown? it would do that—tom suddenly remembered. it would take their greatest fear—at the time, sharks were his—and personify it. manifest it. it would pretend to be his older brother sometimes, calling to him from the dark. back when tom would follow his brother anywhere. not anymore, though. he was grown now, and his brother was in prison for the rest of his life. the clown couldn’t trick him by making him think his brother was there, but could it with the mirage of his childhood love?

he had to believe maddie was real, because he had no idea what she would’ve looked like as an adult. tom had kept off of social media since his brother’s trial and their hometown had been a distant memory in his mind years before even that. he had to believe she was real, or else his mind might’ve permanently broken. regrettably, maddie had turned into a brief story of his first love, their friends were just the kids he had hung out with. there was no memory of a clown, or the shark that had chased him through the quarry lake, or any of the other horrors that befell them that summer. it was all just… gone. until he got that call.

after living in self-exile for a few years now, tom had been surprised to see a number he didn’t recognize with the area code of his hometown. his parents had died years ago, and with lawrence in prison… the moment he heard nick’s voice on the other end of the phone, though, it all came crashing down on him like heavy sleet. each memory of their shared childhood rushed back, almost strong enough to knock him over physically. he had no choice but to come. he made an oath, he owed it to his childhood friends. he owed it to himself. her question received a shallow shrug. “i don’t know. i hope so.” then he shook his head, “i hope not. i don’t know.” tom sighed deeply, turning toward his former home. he wondered if the current occupants were looking back at them. he wondered if the clown was looking right at them. “how much do you actually remember, maddie?”

[rosesonbreeze]

@thxoracle | Lenore and Frederick

"It's not what it seems." Because if he were to leave it to Lenore's imagination, then the gold coins and expensive jewels dripping between her fingertips appear like evidence. Some proof that the seemingly kind, cheeky, trustworthy traveler she let stay in her cabin in the woods is a thief. When in reality, he simply enjoyed their time together. In the anonymity of the wilderness, he's come to care for the beautiful woman with potions and antidotes. It healed something in him, and oh how he longed to stay. But she holds proof of his actual life in hands, and he licks his lips in trepidation.

"Those are my belongings." Items he hid over the summer of his stay. "My initials are engraved in the gold ring." F.W. Frederick Wentworth, a noble name for a noble man. "I'm not... I am not the tradesman I said I was. I'm--" Breathing softly, his gaze cracks. 'I'm a Prince."

[slashcrz]

➥ closed for @thxoracle

inspired by this!! 💜my muse takes on the role of muse b. feel free to make any adjustments or directional changes plot wise as necessary to fit any muse of yours!!

        BURY A FRIEND. all throughout high school and college, muse a was bullied by their group of friends… except no one really knew, and just assumed that they were a regular part of that group. unknown to anyone, muse b begins to kill off that friend group and muse a thinks that they’re next. what they don’t know is that they’re the reason their friends are dying: muse b noticed the bullying, and wanted to put a stop to it.💜

secrets weigh heavy on the soul who burdens with them- and this secret was becoming an impossible weight to shoulder. raleigh was quiet, fingers piking at a hangnail until a small droplet of blood appeared. he was growing used to seeing red. it followed him, no matter in the waking day or in his dreams at night. and he hadn't minded... remorse was nowhere to be found, until he'd realized the mistake of his actions.

he didn't realize that he'd scare them; that they'd lose sleep, worrying when their time would end, too. it was supposed to be protective, some fucked up way of expressing how much he cared, and... he never planned to fess up to his actions, either. only now did the guilt settle into his bones; not for the lives he'd taken, fuck no. just for the life he'd freaked out so badly. " i... i don't know. " raleigh shrugged, forcing himself to raise his steely blue hues to meet theirs. " i don't- i mean, if you were next on the hit list... why hasn't the killer made a move yet on you, you know? maybe it's not like that. maybe- maybe it's, just, a weird coincidence. "

[molinxsdeviento]

@thxoracle c&c

The plan was going eerily well. With one of the three going insane from bankrupcy, there was now two to go. They had decided to leave Fernand for last and now the fowl man was temporarily gone from town, an opportunity that Cristobal would not let to go to waste.

With Haydee's upcoming presentation into society, they had found a socially acceptable way to have Claudia home more often than was proper, today being one such case.

"Stay," Cristobal breathed out to Claudia reaching for her hand to hold in his. "He won't be back for another fortnight," he took a deep breath taking a step closer to her, lose enoigh to feel her breath over his skin. "I need you."

[ofdisregard]

closed starter. | @thxoracle

Many had their opinions about the gods. Some claimed they were merciless, cruel in the way they stripped flesh from fate and left nothing but bone and grief behind. And maybe they were. Maybe the gods had laughed when they tore him from her, when they ripped him from the cradle of her arms. Maybe the gods had watched them suffer and done nothing but keep score. But Eirik ⸻ Eirik chose to believe otherwise.

Because if they were cruel, they would have ended him long before now. They would have buried his body beneath the snow and let his bones be forgotten. They would have kept him from her, from this, from the sound of her voice and the scent of her skin and the fierce, endless devotion in her eyes that still made him feel like a man worth loving. No, the gods hadn’t been cruel. They had been merciful. They had allowed him to live long enough to return. They had granted him this one unearned thing.

Her.

The second his eyes found her again, it was over. Whatever strength he’d used to keep himself upright on the battlefield, to endure the hunger, the cold, the weight of command pressing into his spine like a second sword ⸻ it collapsed. The ground could have split open beneath him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Because she was there. Real. Breathing. Not a dream carved from memory but her. His wife. His anchor.

His arms had found her without hesitation, a low sound escaping his throat before he could stop it, something animal, something desperate. He had held her too tightly, he knew that, could feel the tension in every muscle screaming not to let go, even as his body trembled from the restraint of not falling to his knees. He hadn’t let go since.

They had locked the door behind them, hidden in some quiet chamber at the edge of the camp, and still he clung to her like something might come and tear her away if he loosened his grip for even a breath. His hands moved with reverence and need, fingertips memorizing the shape of her spine, her waist, the curve of her shoulder beneath his calloused palm, his mouth pressing kisses to every part of her skin he could reach, as if devotion might be enough to make the world leave them alone.

❝I will slaughter anyone who dares knock on the door,❞ he muttered, the words rough and low, half-choked between kisses to her brow, her temple, the spot beneath her jaw where her pulse beat steady and strong. ❝Let them freeze outside. Let them burn.❞