#I miss grandfather's fashion style

[amira-wayne-al-ghul]

Screaming crying and throwing shit around Father asked me to be Batman angain and now he won't leave me alone help I want to be Midnighter not Batman and his suit for me is fucking ugly

#batman #batfam #batsis #batfam oc #batbro #I miss grandfather's fashion style

[preservationofnormalcy]

[It is January of 2022. I’m entering a wing of the DC Office site that looks older than the others. The carpets are a strange brown, vintage looking, and the lighting casts an almost yellow pallor over the wood paneled walls. I can practically smell the cigarettes. I pass by an empty room labeled “social media office” - boxes piled up by the door. Maybe they’re going to be using it soon. They’ll need it.

I approach a door labeled Necrocommunications, knock lightly twice, then enter. 

I am greeted with the sound of a voice drifting softly across the room. A few chairs and tables sit around me, the same vintage style as the hallway before, the same browns and yellows. A high desk is across the room, and a woman is seated at a control panel. She has black curly hair, done up in an old fashioned style, a polka dotted blouse, and though she’s facing away from me, I can see the edges of cats-eye glasses. 

The panel she’s working at is huge, and resembles the type of switchboards they used to use in the ‘50s, dozens of physical wire connections crisscrossing the device and attaching via plugs. The woman has a headset, one ear covered in a bulky speaker, with a microphone near her mouth. She speaks casually, with an incredibly heavy New Jersey accent.]

I] Oh, him? He’s circled, babe. Taken as hell. Mhmm. And he still asked you? Ain't that a bite. So now you know he’s out of the question and yarding on. Dodged a bullet, hun.

M] Irene? 

I] Oh, god, hold on. My appointment is here. Yeah. I’ll call you later, beautiful. Caio. 

[She hung up the call, taking her headset off and turning to me. She looked like she was straight out of my grandfather’s high school photo album, including the color. Her skin was almost grey, it was so pale, but she didn’t seem like she was sick. She looked me over with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, leaning forward on her desk.]

I] Well, hello Miss Meghan Hendricks. What can I do for you, sugar? 

M] I’m here to interview you for my audit, Ms Donofrio. 

I] All business, aincha? 

M] This is my job.  

I] ….yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I don’t get cute visitors much. 

M] Right. 

I] Pull up a chair, hun. 

M] I’ll just stand. This won’t be long. I came here because of your Occult Communication Tools poster. 

[She sits back with a dramatic sigh.]

I] Yeah, took me forever to convince them to let me do that. We had agents using spirit boards, pendulums, casting runes, tarot cards, ghost boxes, all kinds of shit they brought from home. Bought from Walmart, or worse, a thrift store. I was always telling them, honey, baby, you gotta use our stuff, we maintain it, we disinfect it of ectoplasmic residue, lockout-tagout procedures, the works. It’s so, so unsafe to use anything but our tools. Sure, you gotta do paperwork when you check it out, but it’s better than somethin’ following you home…

M] Right into it, I guess. That’s what Necrocommunications does, right? Talk to the dead? 

I] You bet, sugar. The dead, demons, angels sometimes when they ain’t on our plane or in realspace. Other little spiritual twerps and bugaboos. 

M] I’ve been asking this a lot in the last few months, but…you can do that? Consistently? 

I] Consistent enough to make it worthwhile. S’not perfect. Fails most of the time, depending on who you’re calling. 

M] How so? 

I] Well, some people don’t wanna be called. Some people are chatterboxes. We got a list of likely contacts who we suggest people contact, but…we do other people sometimes, too. Always worth a shot, I say.

M] How does it work? 

[At that, Irene winced slightly and wagged her head from side to side.]

I] We got theories, but more importantly we got procedures. We know different things work for different people. Sometimes it’s cultural. The method that contacts Mr Smith may not work for Mr Chan, y’know? 

M] It’s mostly for information gathering, then. Like the Board of Infernal Affairs.

I] Information gathering’s a big part of it. Someone died with a secret? See if they got loose lips now. Also, y’know, helps with hauntings or gettin’ rid of little jerk spirits. 

M] You mentioned disinfection….

I] Yeah, yeah, there’s….risks, y’know. Sometimes the person you contact ain’t a fink, you know, and they start a whole new haunting. Sometimes one spirit’ll lie and say they’re another. Then they follow you home, start leeching your energy. Happens less when we cleanse the tools. Which is why there’s procedures for this, and every Office staff member in the building is trained on at least the basics.

M] Is it….is it only for Office personnel? Is it something I could…

[Irene’s face grows into a playful smirk as she hears the hesitation in my voice, leaning her face in her hand.] 

I] You got fifty cents? 

[She leads me into a back area of the office. Lining the walls in storage containers are row upon row of spirit boards, each box with a paper listing the dates each was used and then cleaned, along with the name of the person who did it. There are other items, too - pendulums, bags of runes, spirit boxes like you see on ghost hunting shows, and other devices and artifacts I don’t recognize. Irene’s attention, however, is on a phone booth at the end of the room. It’s clean but battered, clearly old and used. It has no door, but an open front, and above the phone itself is a depiction of a figure on a boat, with one word beside it: “Charon.”]

I] We confiscated these in the 80’s. It’s easier to use this one than have to sign out spirit board, y’know.

M] Weren’t you just complaining about that?

I] I complain about a lot of things, sugar. 

[I approach, standing before the phone in disbelief. Irene senses my hesitation.] 

I] Put in the money, then use the keypad to type out the person’s name. It’ll take it from there. Who you gonna call? Grandma? Mom?

M] My brother. 

I] Ah. Shit, honey.

M] He died in California. Two summers ago.

[As I reach for the receiver, I see Irene’s face freeze in some sort of concern.]

I] H-honey, that…was he in—

M] Yes. 

[I put my hand on the receiver, and I feel her hand on mine. She’s cold. She’s so cold and clammy that I jump slightly and look her in the eyes. Her face is sorrowful and scared, searching me.]

I] Honey…you won’t be able to—

M] You said—

I] If he was in…there’s no one there, sugar. He’s gone. 

M] I know he’s gone, but you said I could—

I] No, no, he’s…if he was…he’s gone, gone. There’s nothing left of him. You can pump quarters into that thing all night long and you won’t get anyone.  

M] H…how? I was…I was on the phone with him when it—

[As I watch, her eyes go wide, and she covers her mouth.]

I] Th-that’s how you remember, isn’t it? Thought you were just…in the Office but you hadn’t known about…that’s how you remember.

[I let go of the receiver. I can’t feel my fingers. I’m shivering, but not from the cold.]

M] I know how I remember. What I want to know is why everyone else forgot.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #interview #necrocommications #necromancy #microfiction #sci fi #horror #writers on tumblr

[madebysimblr]

Text Messages To: Alex 😎😘

Sorella: You were right, time is flying by! Sorella: Rehearsal is wearing me and C out though. IDK what state I'll be in once you get here. Sorella: Glad this is a short month. I can't wait to see you again <3 (all unread)

Sorella sighs

Grace: What was that sigh for?

Sorella: [jumps!] Oh. Nothing. Just tired.

Grace: Being overly tired is no good. That's how you get wrinkles!

Sorella: Uh. I guess? Happy birthday though, Auntie.

Grace: Oh thank you, dear. I'm glad you and your family could make it. I have such a soft spot for all of you. Don't tell your grandfather though.

Sorella: [laughs] Not a word.

Grace: [sighs] And I know that your dear father doesn't have a clue about fashion, but I had hoped my daughter had imparted some wisdom.

Sorella: .... What??

Grace: The invite said black and white formal, darling. I know you've always had such a…. different personal style- but really. Jeans?

Sorella: Right… We probably shouldn't let the party miss us-

Grace: Although, those earrings are right on the mark. A gift right?

Sorella: Wh- How'd you know?

Grace: I know Liberty's when I see it. I also know the price point. Who are they from?

Sorella: Uh… My.. My boyfriend. Birthday present.

Grace: Ohhh very nice. So he has money?

Sorella: I suppose.

Grace: You don't know for sure? Better find out, make sure he's not flashing fancy gifts to impress you but doesn't have the bank to back it up.

Sorella: No. I know for sure. He's not flashy about it.

Grace: Oh?

Sorella: I mean… I've been to his apartment. It's really simple. He doesn't wear anything designer. I think. But he pays for everything. He's offered to take me to Tartosa. But I'm not with him because of his money.

Grace: [laughs] Lock that bag down soon, sweetie. If you're already in love with him, that's just a nice bonus.

Sorella: I didn't say that!

Grace: Oh please.

Sorella: It's too soon to feel anything.

Grace: [shrugs] If you say so. But for your branch of the family, in my experience. When you know, you know. Regardless of it's this one or the next, I would love to help plan a wedding for you one day! My children all got married in small ceremonies, your grandparents too! It's a waste of my talents.

Sorella: Uh. Ok?

Grace: I will be holding you to that! Now back to the party with you. It's not about you today! It's about me! And I suppose my brother and sister.

[phone vibrates]

Messages From: Alex 😎😘

Alex 😎😘: Sorry for missing all these! Been a busy day for no good reason. Alex 😎😘: Just gotta make it thru the shortest month of the year, and I'll be there. ❤❤❤ Alex 😎😘: Time will continue to fly. Promise. I miss you too.

#simblr #ts4 #ts4 legacy #sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #cortes legacy #gen 4 #grace #sorella #there is so much going on here #but all i'll say is that- yes sorella has caught feelings #her saying 'you're the best' to alex a few times now is her saying ily before she says ily #also i fcking love grace

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! <This is Part 10!>

* You look at the scattered belongings on the beach, your fingers curling around the smooth suede wallet.

* “I have about five hundred dollars?” You hold it up, only for Circe to shake her head.

* “I have no use for mortal money.”

* “Drachma then?” You ask, holding up the sack full of gold coins, you’re slightly aware of Clarisse, Luke, and Annabeth’s gaping expressions as you pull out enough money to buy an island.

* Circe shakes her head.

* Circe had made it abundantly clear when she led you to her island that saving you had not been from the goodness of her heart, she was especially disgusted with Luke, she just didn’t want a space time disotriation ruining her view.

* She also made it clear that she would not make you a potion just because your grandfather had asked it from her.

* “What about Diamonds?” Circe’s annoyed expression is answer enough.

* ‘Geez what could she possibly want?’

* It makes sense, what use does Circe have for currency? She just spends all day on her island, she’s a sorceress to boot so she can just magic-up herself anything she wants.

* ‘Something she can’t make, something she would want…’

* Your hands clasp around the bright red cloak, thrusting it out to her.

* “This—this is Hades' cloak of invisibility.” Her eyebrow raises at that. “Not only does it hide the wearer visually, but it removes all presence, including smell.”

* This is you last ditch effort, if she doesn’t take this you don’t have anything else, not unless she’s interested in your blood or bones.

* “Here,” a deeper voice says from beside you. Luke sits beside you, pink dusting his cheeks, bare feet pressed into the sand. “These are sneakers from the god Hermes, they let you fly.”

* “This is a knife made of celestial bronze enchanted by Athena.” Annabeth says, from the other side of you setting her knife onto the sand.

* And after they shoot a few dirty looks at Clarisse, she grumbles as she sticks her spear into the hot sand.

* “Ares made this spear himself, it never misses its target.”

* You feel tears well into your eyes. Because you’ve never had friends like this before.

* Circe’s eyes dance from one object to the next, the corner of her mouth twitching.

* “I have no use for knives or spears, or—” Her face wrinkles in disgust. “---anything from Hermes.” Her eyes settle on the cloak, her expression softening. “I will take the cloak of invisibility.”

* She watches you with keen eyes as you rejoice, cutting your celebration short as she beacons you into the small chateau on the island, her lions lazing on either side.

* “Come, there is much work to be done.”

* The black stone pestle grinds the herbs against the mortar, a fine green paste beginning to form.

* ‘Is it supposed to look like this?’

* Circe looks over your shoulder, nodding approvingly.

* “Good work, you’re grinding at just the right pace.”

* Her approving expression fizzles into one of dissatisfaction as she moves onto the others.

* “You are too prideful.” Annabeth’s makes an awkward face into her mortar.

* “You are too rash.” Clarisse only bashes her pestle in even more to drive in her anger.

* “You…” Luke’s paste is perfect, almost identical to yours, he looks up at Circe with eager eyes. “Disgust me too much.” Luke’s expression immediately falls.

* ‘That’s pretty harsh.’

* “All of you have no talent, go into my garden and bring me back mint, thyme and sage.” She shoo’s them out of her home, each one grumbling as they leave.

* All things aside, Circe has a pretty nice house here on the island. It’s a little rustic, in an old fashioned Greek style, the walls are bronze and textured, the furniture is simple with uneven shapes. But it’s nice.

* At Circe’s feet a lion sleeps, watching you with a disinterested gaze as you both work in silence.

* “Is this good?” you ask, showing her your wasabi-like paste, she nods beckoning you closer.

* “You have a talent for this,” she murmurs, inspecting the paste before mixing it into a cauldron.

* ‘I didn’t think anyone used those outside of cartoons and movies.’

* “We’ll have to boil this for some time, tell me godling when is your deadline.” Her words are spoken with all the authority of a statement. You have to count backwards in your mind.

* ‘One day since we left the train, three days since we left camp before that…’

* “I have ten more days.” She sucks her teeth, eyeing the contents of the pot.

* “It will be hard, but with your help…maybe.” At her feet the lion yawns.

* You fall into a steady rhythm on Circe’s island, you wake up at twilight, stretching your limbs, before tugging Circe’s shawl over your shoulders, yawning as you make you way to the her—well it’s a little like a home office but for magic— following whatever instructions she has, more often than not ending with an approving nod from her.

* The other’s wake up later, and make breakfast, usually something simple like porridge, occasionally dark grain bread with goat cheese.

* Afterwards the others will tend to Circe’s lions, and collect herbs and whatever ingredient fo the day she’s determined, and then you all make dinner together — usually pasta since that seems to be her favorite— before turning in for bed.

* She’s started warming up to Annabeth and Clarisse, she even ruffled Annabeth’s hair the other night. But she remains cold to Luke.

* “You’re wondering why I hate the boy so much.” Your eyes lift from the bubbling pot to the woman in front of you.

* “Is it because of his Father?” You recall Dionysus saying something like that, that they had an affair or something.

* “Hermes is one of the nicer ones…” Her voice trails off. “But he’s just as bad as any god, child, make no mistake.”

* You learn about Circe in jagged non-linear tales, each one a puzzle piece to the entirety of her existence.

* On the first day you learn that Hades is the only god who’s ever been kind to her, Helios and her mother excluded.

* On the second you find out that her magic had not been inherent, it had come ot her gradually, at first through accidents, acts she didn't even realize she was committing—only that she had the will for these things to happen. Later it became art, and when the titan war was over, within a handful of years she was a prisoner on her island.

* “I’m sure my father bartered long and hard for this punishment, Zeus would have preferred it if I had been reduced to dust or maybe sealed away in some cavern—cut to pieces like Kronos.” A strange expression crosses her face, but her eyes remain tender. “Your father supported Helios, spoke on his behalf.”

* “Hades did?” You stop sifting herbs mid-motion, tilting your head. Hades didn’t strike you as the particularly sentimental type.

* “In a way, he and I are living the same life. He was pushed to the underworld in the guise of being granted a kingdom and I was banished to my island as punishment for acts that would have been praised on another man so no one would dare use me to disrupt society as we know it.”

* You say nothing else, silently working beside her.

* On the fourth day, as you boil the pot counter clockwise under the moon that appears in the day Circe asks: “Do you love that boy?”

* You raise an eyebrow looking over to where Luke’s tryin to discreetly scratch his butt.

* “No, definitely not.” She nods, sprinkling dust into the pot, watching as it changes color.

* “I was in love once, or maybe twice.” She tells you of how there was a man named Telemochus who came to her by the wind, she lived with him for a long time, changing her form so their ages would match, sighing when his soul finally stuttered out of his body.

* On the fifth night Luke sits across Circe on the beach campfire during dinner and says:

* “If you hate my dad that’s fine, because I hate him too.”

* There’s a stunned moment of silence where you, Clarisse, and Annabeth study CIrce with bated breath.

* “I doubt that would hurt him.” But the corner of her mouth twitches as she says it.

* On the sixth day, taking a page from Luke’s book you ask why she hates Hermes so much.

* “It’s not just him, I hate most of the gods on Olympus.”

* You don’t miss the way she says Olympus, specifically excluding the underworld.

* “In the early days, when everyone was too afraid to come by, only Hermes would come,” There’s a long cold look on her face. “He wasn’t as vile as Zeus’s other offspring, but anything he did was for a flicker of amusement. He would bring a civilization to ruin if it meant a hearty chuckle.”

* She turns to you, a hard look in her eyes.

* “Don’t trust a god child,” her eyes become sad. “They’ll only let you down.”

* On the seventh night, when the others are in bed and you soak hydrangea in white moonlight, Circe whispers to you of beings even more powerful than the gods.

* “The titans?” You ask, and Circe shakes her head.

* “Even older than the titans. Beings that have been here since the creation of the universe, that arrived from a rip in the space time continuum. Beings that could dethrone even Zeus with a single flick of their wrist.”

* “Then why don’t they?” You whisper, and she shrugs.

* “Power, social positions, wealth…these are the desires of children, these beings simply do not wish for it.”

* On the eighth day, while the others try to make hummus and bake pita bread, you ask her about something you’ve been wondering about since you met.

* “Circe, are you a fertility goddess?” She sputters.

* “How do you know that term?” You bite the inside of your cheek, looking down at the white powder.

* “I heard Hera and Persephone are fertility goddesses.”

* ‘And that dad is one too.’

* Circe is quite for a long moment.

* “No, I am not.” There’s a moment of silence and her amber eyes burn a hole into you. “Well, go on.” She encourages, a small teasing smile twisting on her lips.

* “What is a fertility god?”

* “A fertility god is someone that has the power of life within their body, they’re able to replenish waning life forces for any living creature, they’re also able to craft life as well using any natural element, and…” she pauses, as if remembering something painful. “And they’re able to grant someone else that power as well, if they wish.”

* You don’t say anything more.

* On the eighth night, sitting on the shore with your cauldron, and the thirtieth version of this potion, watching as the stars begin to lose their glimmer you admit:

* “You know, I wouldn’t mind staying here for the rest of my life.” And you mean it, in another life maybe you would have shown up at her doorstep with a letter of introduction begging to be a witch's apprentice.

* “Now child, do not forget all those that are waiting for you on the mainland.” Her voice is soft, a hand caressing your cheek. You hear her loud and clear.

* ‘She wishes I could stay too.’

* She presses a bottle filled with amber liquid into your hand as morning breaks over the horizon.

* “It’s the day of the deadline.” Luke says his backpack strapped onto his shoulders.

* “The three of you will travel by air.” Circe says, giving them what seems to be a three person skateboard. “Be careful to not crash into airplanes, I’ll get an earful from Dionysus if that happens again.”

* ‘She and Dionysus talk huh?’

* “What about (Y/N), they can’t travel by air.” Annabeth chimes in, a worried expression crossing her face.

* “(Y/N) will be traveling into the underworld directly.” There’s shouts of protests, but you wave them away.

* “I’m a child of the Underworld, it’s the safest place for me.” Even Clarisse has a hesitant expression, but you shake your head. “You guys go back to camp and let Dionysus know what happened, I’ll just take this to the underworld and be right there!” You wave goodbye, telling them to save you the last of the summer strawberries, before turning to Circe.

* “I thought the only way to get into the Underworld is in Los Angeles?”

* “That’s just something they say since it’s the easiest entrance. You can enter from anywhere if you tap on the ground three times and say the old name.”

* You’re about to kneel down when you’re stopped, something glints in her hand.

* “Is that?”

* Circe huffs, a rosy tinge beginning to form on her cheeks.

* “I’m not about to let my apprentice go into the underworld without their own staff.”

* It’s a simple thing, uneven like the furniture in her home, and carved from wood, a glittering orb on the end. But the second it falls into your hand it transforms, the orb fills with the inky black of space, singed with streaks of blue and white, wings sprout from either side, and branches begin to grow sprouting leaves and flowers.

* “It can be used as a witches broom as well, so you can ride it.”

* “But the air isn’t safe for me.”

* “The air up here is not safe for you,” Circe points to the cloudless blue sky. “But the air down there is your domain.”

* You don’t miss the look in her eye as she eyes your staff, her mouth creasing into a frown as she watches you tap the ground three times, whispering ‘Erobos’, and watching a chasm open in the ground, a torch lit staircase descending into the underworld.

* ‘It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.’

* Your heart beats in your chest, your grip tightening around your staff as you look into the dark depths.

* “Wait!”

* A dark colored garment is in her hands, one that she passes to you.

* ‘It’s my jean jacket.’

* She’s modieifed it, lining the oversized jacket with red silk.

* ‘Is that?’

* “I hope you don’t mind, Hades has terrible taste when it comes to clothes.” She whispers, tugging the jackets over your arms. “I fashioned it into something more modern.” There’s a red blush on her face as she secures a pin on your collar that has her symbol on it.

* “The underworld is teaming with monsters, some of which won’t care whose child you are.” She pats your shoulders, looking at you like a mother about to say goodbye to her child.

* ‘She gave me the cloak back.’

* You can’t understand this god, who’s been alive for thousands of years, most of which have been spent in solitude.

* But the one thing you do understand, is that–

* ‘Circe likes me…and I like her too.’

* You wrap your arms around her, hugging her like only a child can, and you find her own arms wrapping around you, holding you like you’re made of glass.

* “Can I come to see you again sometime?”

* You’re not sure if you’re imagining the tears in her eyes because that’s what you would like to see, or if they’re really there.

* “I would…like that.” She says softly. You engrave this memory into your mind, devastated you don’t have a camera to capture it. Circe against her lush green island, on her snow white sand beach, the infinite blue ocean behind her, before taking one final breath, giving your best smile and descending into the abyss.

Tag List: @holybatflapexpert @atomicsoph @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @ladylapize @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @bluegremlin108 @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek @marsbars09 @smolfrogz @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie @the-nerdy-fangirl

#percy jackson and the olympians #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #Percy Jackson imagine #lore olympus x reader #lore olympus imagine #lore olympus x y/n #lore olympus x you #lore olympus #hades #hades x y/n #hades headcanon #hades imagine #waking up in pjo #waking up in Percy jackson #Circe #superhero--imagines

[stargirlstudio]

Rhaena and Aemond headcanons?

Hi I hope it’s okay if I did modern!headcanons, I’ve been on a modern au kick lately:

I feel like their relationship would be long distance, but they can afford to see each-other every weekend or hell some days out of the week depending on their university schedule

Aemond would fly out the most though, mostly because he doesn’t want to be at home, but also because he absolutely loves how happy Rhaena gets when she can show him new things

Rhaena is studying textiles for her study abroad in YiTi. Aemond is in absolute awe of every project she does since she’s a fashion design major

Aemond and Rhaena rarely got to see each other during the earlier semesters since their universities, King’s Landing University and Seven Kingdoms Design Academy respectively, sat about 45 minutes from each other

Everything became much more lax as they entered their junior and senior years, but Rhaena of course wanted to follow in the footsteps of her grandfather and did a study abroad. Aemond misses her dearly but supports her efforts to further her career

The relationship is very much muse x artist, with Aemond being the muse and Rhaena being the creative visionary

Aemond was often used to test out designs she created, constantly putting something on or taking something off

Actually he walked one of her final project shows and he was terrified but he pushed through because he wanted to make Rhaena happy

Oh I forgot to mention, Aemond likes to get Rhaena a plushie before he flies out and a small bouquet of flowers

Rhaena likes to kiss his temple near his sapphire eye while he likes to kiss her on the cheek. They also kiss on the lips duh

Oooh they wanna be different, they both think kissing in these places is much more intimate and their silent way of saying “I love you” transcends affections oooh

Aemond isn’t much of a digital or social media person so Rhaena takes couples pictures on film. He has a couple of frames of the both of them in his room

He also has a small picture of her in his wallet. All 35 of them.

Rhaena likes to get him YiTish skincare and watches. If there’s one accessory he likes it’s a watch. He’s learned a lot about styling different prints and textures, while still keeping his iconic all black outfits.

One time they went out clubbing because Rhaena’s fashion school friend invited them out and while Aemond wasn’t expecting to get drunk he did get a little more tipsy than expected

“I’m going to get your name tattooed on me. On my face or my back wherever you want it,” He yelled. Rhaena of course went 😟 and insisted he doesn’t do that

Aemond 100% wakes up embarrassed the next day and DENIES he ever said that

He definitely spoils her with material things to try to make her forget he ever said that. She’s not complaining because he absolutely loves buying her stuff. She’s used to that kind of behavior from her own family members so Aemond has to step up

If Rhaena wanted a designer item he would set up his laptop, computer, and phone to make sure he has a winning chance. Bots have nothing on him

Managed to get her a nice archive piece for her birthday and she fell even harder than she thought

Definitely recreated the Maison Margiela kiss shirt

They have to hold hands while going out because BOTH of them have the tendency to wander off

#modern hotd #rhaemond #aemond targaryen #rhaena x aemond #aemond x rhaena #modern!aemond targaryen #rhaemond headcanons #king’s landing uni-verse #modern!rhaena targaryen #Aemond targaryen x Rhaena targaryen

[pickypickypeak]

thoughts on wish. (spoilers below)

just a nice, harmless, old-fashioned disney movie. not disney's best by far, but far far FAR from bad

animation was good. full stop

the soundtrack. julia michaels is an amazing songwriter and I feel like her style gives this movie soundtrack a very unique vibe among disney classics. maybe she went just a little too pop-ish in some parts that required more broadway styled tunes and lyrics

loved the introduction with the classic disney book

some critic said the disney easter eggs and references were distracting or like,, they were trying to cover up a bad plot with easter eggs for fanservice. well not true lol. I don’t consider bambi’s mom blink and miss cameo as fanservice I consider it childhood trauma coming back. where’s the fanservice in it

people from all over the world coming to rosas. liked that

“welcome to rosas” was okay I just wonder if she does this for any person coming to rosas. like. like it’s a job? she’s getting paid?

asha is a nice character, despite falling a bit under the "adorkable" main girl stereotype. I still feel like she's well characterized, she is stubborn, selfless and will do anything for her family. stan

valentino's not annoying as you'd think

asha's friends are so cool please I love them all so much HOWEVER some of their lines felt a little flat?? they could have been WAY more fun easily I just wish they had more screen time

gabo is wasted potential you can't tell me otherwise

dahlia was literally nerfed you know that

I love that they picked simon to be the depressed one (he’s meant to represent sleepy from seven dwarfs)

bazeema randomly disappearing because she's an introvert she's so right we do that sometimes

I've seen people complaining about disney being politically correct (as always...) for finally making a movie with a classic villain and then making him redeemable, well he's not?? movie ends up bad for him just like with old villains?? this is literally what we’ve been asking for, a villain who is just a villain. king magnifico has motivations of course but still does bad things and gets punishment for that. classic old school disney villain. don’t know what you want

queen amaya, my love whom I owe my life, marry me

“at all costs” listen. this felt a little out of place. that’s because they apparently changed the context to the song. it was supposed to be a love duet between asha and a scrapped human version of star who was like. a jack frost-y character who fell in love with asha. in the final movie, asha and magnifico are singing to the wishes. it still kinda works, but I really wish we got to see the other way round. looks like they really didn’t want to go full classic love story route, but it’s a shame. I’m sure that would have been beautiful and very very disney. the demo version sung by julia michaels and benjamin rice gives you a glimpse of what might have been and it’s just so good, you should really listen to it

actually listen to all the song demos

that one lady screaming in the crowd I forgot her name but shout out to her

asha's family was there

her grandfather turning 100 just like disney and wishing to inspire people and then composing when you wish upon a star after the credits?? so what??? this man is disney???? wtf????? crying

“this wish” bop. next

star’s not annoying as you’d think

the animals were cute john the bear my beloved also the mushrooms please

“I’m a star” actually empowered me okay!!! you know what that squirrel is fucking right we are fucking stars!!!!

“thank you for not eating me john” “you’re welcome bambi” that was wild

breakdancing chickens and it didn’t feel cringe. a miracle perhaps

asha’s friends are so normal about star

simon being sad about making star sad… certified good guy

did I mention I wish we got more of asha’s friends

anyway why does star only grant the animals’ wishes. why do all animals just wish they can talk human

I'm thinking screaming lady's name was sania maybe??

“this is the thanks I get?!” is the perfect song for magnifico. way more in character than “at all costs”

magnifico coming to asha’s house was scary

asha really can swim is she also moana or smth

simon betraying her broke me. never trusting a himbo again

“knowing what I know now” instant bop. please all of them singing together about magnifico being a bastard? queen amaya suddenly entering the room and the music stops and they all just stand there like oh man we fucked up? and then the queen just slams the door and bursts into singing about her husband being a bastard too?? that gave me major chills like yeah girl leave him take me instead

asha and wands: a love story

the bunnies please

“this wish (reprise)” they really defeated the villain with the power of friendship AND by singing this is the most disney movie to ever disney

queen amaya becoming the single queen she deserves to be you go girl (but I'll still have her if she wants me)

simon my man we forgive you you were depressed. it’s not your fault

asha becoming a fairy godmother is actually kind of cool

"oh so you wanna fly? nice. meet peter pan" honey you say it so casually

A BIT SALTY ABOUT THE ENDING. it's not bad but that would have been WAY more emotional if they let us see asha say goodbye to star. especially because they say it's gonna happen soon, so what's the point in not showing us?? asha and star hugging and crying and then star flying up to the sky. asha looking up at the stars, smiling with tears in her eyes and then the camera moves up to the sky and star has become THE star like the one in pinocchio and princess and the frog. all of this with the "this wish" instrumental. that was a perfect way to wrap it!! also oh my gosh imagine asha saying goodbye to star boy!!! ç_ç

the credits with various characters were a nice touch but why on sweet planet earth did they put yokai as a representative of big hero 6

the credits song, "a wish worth making" just... exists. the lyrics though. they hit hard

I really stayed until the end of the credits just to watch 3 seconds of sabino playing music

final verdict: was ALL the hate for this movie deserved? hell no maybe you should just remember you’re a star and relax

#disney #disney wish #wish #wish 2023 #asha

[luciehercndale]

congrats on your new milestone 🎉🎉 Don't know if you still take requests, but if you do, can I request a free card on Wessa or Jessa or Herongrastairs. you chosse 💖

Thank you very much! 🥹✨😺

And this is for you <3 It isn't set during a specific time. Let's say it's between TID and TLH. It's mainly Wessa, but a lot of the TID characters appear and help solve the plot. I hope you like it! 💖

Read on A03

To Beard, Or Not To Beard

One day, Will decides to grow a beard.

Will Herondale liked to change style every once in a while. He wasn’t the type of person to follow fashion – it moved too fast for his liking – but somehow, thanks to his tailor Lemuel Sykes, he was able to stay updated with the latest trends. 

“You know, Mr. Herondale, there’s something missing in your style,” the tailor mused one afternoon, admiring how the black velvet made Will’s eyes pop. “Especially with this outfit you’ve requested. And the coat.” The suit wasn’t finished yet, and it was meant for a masquerade ball that would be in a month away at the London Institute.

“I’m curious, please tell!” Will said enthusiastically, always looking for fashion advice. “Perhaps it’s a hat? A scarf? A bowtie? I will have to attend the ball –”

“A beard,” the werewolf replied bluntly. “You should grow a beard, why haven’t you? With those cheekbones and those eyes…” he sighed. “It’s very fashionable among people your age. Plus, you’ve shown me the photograph of the character you’re impersonating at this ball. The fella has a beard.”

Will didn’t seem too sure. “I’ve never grown a beard, it’s a hassle when you eat. I thought I could still do the costume without,” he frowned. “And I wonder if my wife will like it?”

“Then ask her,” Lemuel turned away, checking some brocade fabric on a chair. “But, if you ask me, I’d say yes,” he chuckled, then disappeared into the adjoining room and Will knew he was dismissed. 

He thought about the beard on the way home. Sykes was right. The character he was going to go dressed as at the party had a beard, a medium beard, at that. Would it be the same without the beard? Probably not. He used the disguise the invisibility rune gave him, to stare at the mundanes minding their business in the busy streets of London. He was fascinated with how many different kinds of beards people could wear, and he told himself he could try growing a beard too. After all, what impersonation would be credible without such a signature feature? 

First, though, he wanted to hear other people’s opinions about the topic. “What do you think about beards, Tess?” 

Tessa sat at the vanity in their bedroom brushing her hair, and she stopped for a moment to glance at him from the mirror in front of her to answer him. “Well, it depends on the beard. Which beard are you talking about? Sideburns? Mustache? Van Dyke?”

“A nice one that won’t make one look like a rascal or like a grandfather,” he replied, checking himself in a small mirror he had on the nightstand. “Something not too excessive.”

“Are you thinking of growing one, Will?” she inquired, a hint of a smile on her lips. 

“Would you hate it if I did? The tailor suggested it, and I never thought about it until today,” he revealed. “I thought I could grow it in time for the masquerade party.”

Tessa mulled over it as she walked to the bed, after tending to her long brown hair. “I don’t think I would hate it, but it’s your decision to make,” she sat down next to him. “I think you would be handsome with a beard too, but,” she sighed, and drew in a long breath.

“But what? Perhaps I would look ancient?” he wondered. “Maybe I shouldn’t indulge in this. The costume would be good even without the beard.”

“Quite the opposite,” she studied him, tracing his face with her finger, stopping on his chin. “I think you would look even more desirable than you are now. People would covet you even more.”

“Covet? I think that some would mock me, that’s for sure,” he took hold of her hand and kissed it. “I would only rethink this if you found me obnoxious.”

“Then you’re set? You’re getting a beard?” Tessa questioned with interest. “In case you don’t like it anymore, you can still shave it.”

“I hereby declare,” he stated with a firm voice, “that I’m going to grow facial hair. This is my final decision, Your Honor.”

It didn’t take long for friends and family to acknowledge Will’s new style, even when his facial hair was barely a five o’ clock shadow.

“Have you been on a trip recently, Will?” his sister Cecily asked him a few days after he had made his decision. “Or maybe you are sick?”

“The answer for both is no,” he folded his arms on his chest. They were waiting for the tea and the scones to arrive. “Why do you think that?”

His sister glanced at her husband, who sat beside her, and she bit her lip. “Because of the thing on your face, Will,” Cecily answered, stifling a laugh. “Have you lost your shaving set? I didn’t know you fancied this style.”

“Well, what if I did, Cecy?” he peered at Gabriel, noticing that he was smiling too. “If Gabriel got a beard one day, would you kick him out of the house?”

“I would not, under any circumstances, get a beard,” Gabriel declared firmly. “I don’t want to look older yet, nor does it suit me.”

Will opened his mouth in disbelief. “Then it means you tried once! Too bad I wasn’t there to witness,” he said, and Gabriel rolled his eyes, hinting that he was probably right.

“Too bad we are here to witness it,” he echoed, and Cecily couldn’t stop laughing until they left.

Two weeks later, the stubble had grown so much it looked more like a serious beard. “You can barely see my skin underneath,” Will told himself while looking in a mirror in his office. 

“Will, we’re here,” Charlotte announced herself and Gideon, who needed to visit the Institute for bureaucratic matters. “By the Angel,” she gasped when Will turned, a hand placed on her chest. “I thought it was Maurice Bridgestock for a second.”

“I can’t believe you’ve just compared me to that sick rat, may he rot in hell,” Will sneered, adjusting some documents on the desk. “I see you’ve noticed my beard, or what is truly beginning to resemble one,” he scratched his chin proudly.

“It’s impossible not to notice, Will,” Gideon commented sourly. “Did you make a bet with someone?”

“Why do you all think I made bets or I am unwell,” he shook his head, trying to find a pen. “Even your brother and my sister believed the same thing. I don’t think I am that predictable.”

“You’re right, you’re not predictable,” Charlotte agreed, “but you’re also someone who keeps his promises, when they lose bets with random people in town.”

“Unlike someone,” he stared directly at Gideon, “I always pay my debts.”

“Who did you pester this time?” Gideon wondered instead.

“I did not pester anybody, Mr. I pretend I don’t owe Will a few pounds,” he glared at his friend, who pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I chose to grow this because I wanted a change and because of my costume for the masquerade party.”

“Are you going to dress up as Frederick Barbarossa? Because if so, I suggest to use red dye –”

“Please, do not give him ideas, Gideon,” Charlotte frowned, her voice laced with worry. As if there was something to be worried about. 

It was just a beard.

Will wondered why everyone wasn’t taking him seriously, but he had expected it. He took a few days to get used to his fresh appearance as well, but after a while, he believed the beard made him look powerful. He thought himself a Roman hero who, stranded in another country, was fighting a war for his Empire and was hoping to survive. A hero from another period, one who couldn’t have possibly shaved because there wasn’t the time. At least, Jem liked it. Or so, he thought. When they met, he stopped in his tracks before he could come closer to Will. He took it as a sign that he was deciding whether or not it suited him.

I see you changed your style, Jem told him. Change is good, but not for good.

“Do you like it?” Will showed him the sides, but Jem didn’t say anything. Cryptic as ever. Perhaps he was just speechless. Either because the beard blinded him, or because it disgusted him.  

He hoped people in the London Enclave would fear him more with this new imposing look and not mock him like his friends did. He was aware that people talked behind his back. Either way, the beard had a purpose, he did not care what anyone thought. Nor did he mind what his son and daughter thought. His mustache was growing, but for his costume, he had to grow it a little more.

“Can I write a character who looks like you? A pirate who is earthsick and who is feared among the seven seas,” Lucie studied him, taking notes. 

“An earthsick pirate? Does that word even exist?” Jame scrunched his nose. “Papa, I think you look weird,” he confessed. “But you also remind me of someone.”

“Write whatever you want, Lucie,” Will conceded. “Who do I remind you of, Jamie? Let’s listen,” he tilted his head on the side, “a hero? A Romantic poet? I will tell you who I’m going to dress up as at the ball, if you guess correctly.”

James couldn’t recall the face, and why he looked so familiar. Only when his father left, he remembered the picture of the man who resembled Will with the beard. He’d seen it in the newspaper a lot recently. It was the photo of the heir apparent to the British throne. 

The day of the masquerade party finally arrived. Will's beard resembled the one of his original inspiration after a month, and he was beyond himself with excitement for the ball because he couldn't wait to show it off. 

“The resemblance is close,” Tessa observed, stroking her husband's beard. “And I like facial hair, it’s so soft to the touch. I may grow attached to it.”

“Then perhaps I should keep it for a while,” he stated. He will think about it after the party. “Let’s go get the rest of my costume before it's too late. The party is going to start soon.”

When Will tried the rest of the costume, the tailor couldn’t help but admire his handiwork. Sykes finished the suit a week prior. It already waited in the closet of Will and Tessa’s bedroom at the London Institute, and he couldn’t wait to wearing it.

“I admit, Lemuel, that your work is astounding,” Will commented, moving from left to right to look at the waist-length velvet coat with a row of gilt buttons on the front and gold embroidery on the cuffs. “It is identical to the one he wore in the newspaper.”

“Thanks, Mr. Herondale, but you know that I’m the best,” Sykes offered a smile as he adjusted the coat on Will. “And you’re one of my best clients, and one of the most handsome,” he winked, but Will only wanted to know Tessa’s opinion.

“How do I look?” he asked, but his wife’s grin and her sweet and lovely eyes were already telling him what she thought.

“You are very handsome, indeed,” she said, and moved in front of him to fix the lapels of the coat, but to also steal a caress on his cheek. “I can’t wait to wear my dress so we can match.”

The tailor sent them away because he was running late, and Will and Tessa hopped on their carriage to go back to the Institute.

“My desire for tonight is that our family and friends will like this party,” Will said later, when they were seated in the comfort of the carriage. “And I hope that they come dressed as famous characters as we requested. Otherwise, what kind of masked party is it?”

“They will, I made sure to specify that in the invitations, don’t worry,” Tessa said. “I wrote that they should be dressed as a person from history.”

“Do you think they’ll get the assignment? Sometimes I think that –” The carriage abruptly came to a halt, and the jolt pushed Will and Tessa against the upholstered seats. They glanced at each other, both startled but otherwise unbothered. “Are you okay?” Will asked his wife, his hands on her shoulders protectively. 

Tessa nodded. “Yes, I’m fine, simply shaken by whatever blocked our path,” she told him, her heart beating loudly in her chest out of stupor. “Should you check?”

“We’re not moving yet,” he observed, his head tilted toward the window in hopes to hear sounds of whatever ruckus had stopped the carriage. “Maybe it’s just a mouse, Balios is scared of them,” Will mused, “but I should check the horse nonetheless, in case it sprained its leg.”

“It’s better if you do,” she agreed, although she wasn’t sure why she felt a wave of uneasiness crawl down on her spine. A sensation she couldn’t put off after the carriage had halted. “Just,” she cautioned, resting her hand on his shoulder, “be careful. It could be a demon. Evening fell, after all.”

Will’s expression softened. “I will come back before you know it, fy nghariad,” he kissed her lips briefly. “I won’t let any mouse nor demon stop me from attending this party,” he offered her a smile. “Stay here,” he told her at last, before he came out of the vehicle to see if everything was really fine. 

Tessa waited sixty seconds. If everything was fine, Will would come back inside before time was up, she told herself. He wasn’t the type of person who would want the people he loved to worry, and he had been excited for days on end for this party. She knew he wouldn’t want to lose time to get ready and for the celebration to start. 

She counted silently in her head, but she came out of the carriage before she got to thirty. She should’ve come out of the carriage when he did, she chided herself. If her husband protested, she would say she wanted to make sure everything was okay. She didn’t need any excuses for wanting to check on her husband, when all she heard after he exited the carriage was silence. I didn't hear your voice and came to check, that would be her excuse. 

She thought there was an explanation for silence, the carriage was, after all, driven by Balios alone. When she came outside, though, that feeling of agitation crept in her stomach again. The street was peaceful and lonely, a sign that most of the shops had already closed for business for the day. 

She would take even the smallest sound as a sign that Will was where he told her he would be, but when she got to the horse, she found it waiting by itself. He grunted when it saw Tessa.  “Balios, where is Will?” She asked the horse, knowing that it would understand. It bobbed its head as if bothered by something, which made Tessa notice there was a handkerchief on the muddy cobblestones. It was Will’s, she would recognize it anywhere. It had his initials sewn on the bottom left in dark blue. She wondered where its owner was. 

Tessa looked around, her heart beat louder than after the shock of a few minutes ago. Her heart protested that Will wasn’t there, there was no one there but her and the horse. She didn't know what to do, and she didn’t want to lose control. She couldn’t lose control. They had been married for years, it wasn’t the first time they found themselves in such circumstances. It wasn’t the first time they lost sight of each other, and then found each other again. 

The first thing, the easiest thing she could do immediately, was screaming his name to the empty street around her. No one answered, but at least she had tried. But she had to try harder, otherwise – she didn’t want to think about it. She would find him, and they would go to the masquerade party together, just like they had planned. She tried not to panic. She needed help.

She knew that the masquerade party would start any moment, and that even without them, Lucie and James would greet their friends and family in their stead. She shook her head and scoffed. It wasn’t the time to think about the party, but the party was probably the only place she should go asking for help. Thus, she got on the front of the carriage with a new resolve and ordered Balios to take her to the London Institute, hoping to get a helping hand or two.

As she suspected, a few carriages were already parked outside of the Institute when she arrived, and a few more were on their way behind her. She spotted her best friend Sophie coming out of one that had just stopped near the steps with her husband, both of them wearing a mask, and she ran to her frantically. 

“Tessa,” Sophie acknowledged when she looked up after descending her family carriage. “What happened? You are in distress,” her brows knotted with worry.

“I’m coming from Kensington,” she started, “we were ambushed.”

“What? Who ambushed you? Was it a demon?” 

Tessa tried to keep calm, but it was impossible. “I don’t know,” she said desperately, as Sophie held her hands, “we were coming from the tailor when the carriage halted. Will came out to check if the horse was hurt, and then I didn’t find him outside anymore.”

“Wait, what? Did they take Will?” Gideon asked. In the meantime, Gabriel and Cecily also arrived and joined their little group. They also wore masks and fancy dresses. “Who could have done this?”

“He has a lot of haters,” Gabriel said, trying to be funny, but Cecily elbowed him in the stomach and tried to comfort Tessa. “I mean, it’s true.”

“I don’t think it was someone we know,” Tessa replied sullenly, trying to gather her thoughts. “I didn’t hear any sound, and it couldn’t have been a demon. It wouldn’t have vanished just like that.”

“What’s this?” Sophie asked, seeing that Tessa had something in her hand.

Tessa showed them the customized handkerchief she found on the scene. “We can try using a tracking rune, can't we?” she wondered. “That’s why I came here and I didn’t go after him by myself.” I can’t do anything with my powers, she wanted to add, but she didn’t want to sound more desperate than she already was. 

“It’s better that you came to us,” Cecily said. “If someone took him, they could’ve taken you too.”

“Cecily is right, it’s better that you alerted us,” Gideon nodded. “This way, we have better chances to safeguard ourselves when we find him, and to get him out of wherever he is. We don’t know who kidnapped him.”

“Do you think they kidnapped him, then?” Gabriel wondered. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Tessa affirmed firmly, offering the white cloth to whoever was willing to draw the rune that could help them find him.

It was Cecily who took the kerchief. “I’m coming with you, that’s for sure,” she glared at Gabriel, who didn’t seem too bothered. 

“We’re all coming with you,” Sophie added, squeezing Tessa’s hand. 

Cecily finished the true north rune by then, and it started pulsing. She felt an electric current running through her, then she started to move towards the gate, letting the rune lead her where to go. The five of them followed her, and they went back to Kensington, from where Tessa came. She realized they were approaching the exact place when the carriage had halted, and was about to tell her friends, when Cecily stopped as well. 

“It led here” she informed the group, glancing at the tall building in front of them. It was a bakery, and Tessa remembered it was already closed for business when she and Will passed.

“How can it be,” Tessa sighed, “this is where they ambushed us. How can he be here?”

“They could have taken him inside of this shop. It would be the perfect decoy,” Sophie commented. 

“Maybe the shop has a basement,” Gabriel added, looking closely. “A lot of these shops have them. They have kitchens where they prepare bread and other pastries, so they don’t need to get the product from a seller.”

“How do you know that, Gabriel?” Cecily seemed impressed. “I think we should open the door and get inside, just, you know, to check. It won’t hurt.”

“We can use an open rune,” Gideon agreed. “This way, the owner won’t know that we entered his shop. Even if he discovered us, we shouldn’t care,” he shrugged. “The tracking rune took us here, which means that he should be inside of this building.”

Sophie, who was closer to the door, drew the open rune. Before entering, everyone but Tessa drew a silent rune to avoid being heard. It would be useful to be noiseless, but everyone did what they could, and she was doing her best. They found the door that led to the basement behind the counter, and one after another, they descended the stairs. She hoped that Will was there, otherwise, she would have to find him in other ways.

When Will came to, his head was pounding. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting fast to the darkness of the room, the only source of light coming from a row of windows at the top of the wall he was facing. 

He faintly remembered what occurred before he woke up in that place. 

He remembered that today was the day of the masquerade party they organized at the Institute. He also recalled that his tailor Lemuel Sykes had made him the perfect costume, and that he and Tessa, his beautiful wife, went to get it before the party would start. Then, he remembered the jolt. The carriage halted in the middle of the road, he got out to check what was wrong, but someone came from behind. Lastly, he remembered the acrid smell of a substance, and darkness following. 

Tessa. Where was she? Was she with him?

He scanned the room in search of his wife. He thought whoever took him prisoner might’ve taken her too, but he was alone. He was relieved, at last, but what if they took her somewhere else? He tried to free his hands, but they were tied behind him. Unluckily for the wretches who were holding him hostage, he knew how to free himself from ropes. 

“I wonder how much he’ll take to wake up,” he heard someone say behind his back, footsteps approaching. 

He started untying himself nonetheless, trying to be as silent as he could. He saw the faint shadow of a person on the wall. They brought a gas lamp or perhaps a candle in the room, and he realized they were indeed in a basement. A kitchen basement, to be precise. There is a bakery store in Kensington, he thought, maybe I am closer to home than I think. 

“The effect of the chloroform lasts for half an hour only,” another one replied. “I think.”

“What you goin’ to do when he wakes up, duh? Just threaten the royal family that we got this lad, and they, ugh, give us money?”

“I thought we talked about this,” a female voice said, “yes, we are going to threaten the royal family. We are going to send a letter saying we have his royal highness the Prince of Wales George, and that if they want him back, they need to give us 5,000 pounds.”

“They really gonna give us that, Emy? They would want to see he is the right fella,” the guy huffed. “We sure this lad is this George heir?”

“Of course we are,” the lady, Emy, answered with confidence. “Didn’t you see him trying on that royal costume at the tailor shop? I’m positive it’s him.”

Someone snorted, and he heard footsteps. “I don’t know, I believed his hair was lighter, judging from the photos in the newspapers, y’know.”

“You know nothing, Danny,” Emy spat. Will thought she was the boss here. Interesting. “Let’s see if he wakes up, shan’t we? It’s going to be a long night.”

Will knew they were coming to see him now, and he wasn’t afraid. He was a shadowhunter, and these three – he imagined it was three of them, judging from their voices – were mundanes. Unless they used deathly weapons on him, he was sure he could best them and come out of that basement unscathed. Or so he hoped. He had been hoping too much lately, but it didn’t hurt to hope more. Hope was free, and so he would be, in a few minutes’ time.

He had already untied his hands while they were talking, but he didn’t remove the ropes just yet. When he heard them approaching, he closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious. 

“Still sleeping, I’ma afraid,” one of the men said, kicking one of Will’s feet. “Should we wake him?”

“Suit yourself,” Emy said. Her voice seemed further than her sidekick. “But be quick. I’m starving. Let him confirm that he is who he is.”

“Should I call him your majesty?”

“No, call him jolterhead,” she suggested. “He’s not a majesty yet, you idiot.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yo’, jolterhead! Wake up!”

“Danny!” Emy chided, stomping her feet on the wooden floor. “I didn’t mean it literally, you stupid!”

Will decided that was the time to act. He opened his eyes at once and freed himself of the ropes around his hands, but he did not discard them – they could be useful as he found out that they took all his weapons. Emy and the sidekick were still arguing when they realized he freed himself and got up from the chair. 

“Danny, get him!” but Danny was not very fast, and when Will kicked him between his legs, he crumpled to the floor crying, and then ran away from the room altogether when he realized things could get messy. “Useless piece of trash,” Emy said, irritated. “I didn’t know princes of Wales could fight,” she looked left and right for the other sidekick, but he was nowhere in sight.

Will grinned devilishly, the rope tight in his hands. “I didn’t know people could be so daft, either,” he commented. “Mistaking random people from Wales to be princes,” he snorted. 

“And you’re a good actor, too,” she clapped her hands. “It’s useless to lie, you highness.”

“It’s useless to kidnap innocent people who know how to fight, too,” he echoed. Emy unsheathed a knife from her coat, and she aimed at him, but Will dodged her easily, using the rope as a means to shield himself. “And you also stole my knives, thief!” Will said, trying to get it back, but the woman wasn’t bad at protecting herself. 

“I steal whatever I want,” she tried to elbow him, but Will anticipated her moves, swift as an arrow. They kept this dance for a while, until Emy’s knife cut the rope in two, rendering it useless. Will frowned, fuming. He glanced around for a makeshift weapon, but the closest object available on the kitchen counter that he could have gotten was still too far from him. Emy took advantage of Will’s distraction and grabbed his beard, pinning him to the wall, the knife she was holding dangerously close to his throat. “What, now? Cat got your tongue, prince?”

Will grunted. He felt the blade of the knife she stole from him graze his skin. It was a runed knife, but still, it was a knife all the same, and if he wasn’t careful –

Everything happened fast. “Bloody hell!” Emy cried in pain. Will barely registered a knife hitting his captor’s hand. She let go of his beard because of the shock, and the knife she was holding clattered on the wooden floor. He took the chance to stomp on her hand with his foot, he didn’t care she was a mundane. She was still a mundane who tried to murder him. Emy helped, but at least she was sedated. She cried in pain, holding her bruised hand in her other hand.

Will gazed up, trying to see whether the person who threw the knife was a friend or a foe, and he beamed when he realized who was at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Tessa!” he called, but it was short lived.

“Will, behind you!” she shouted, and he turned just in time to dodge a blow by the third sidekick, elbowing him in the stomach. The man fell on the floor unceremoniously. 

“What a pest!” he exclaimed loudly, hearing Emy cry in the background. “Serves you well, thief. I should call the police, should you kidnap the real prince George. But unfortunately, I have a party to attend.”

Everyone but the kidnappers either rolled their eyes or chuckled. 

They got back to the Institute using the Lightwood’s carriage, which was too small for six, but they had to make do. His sister Cecily, along with Gabriel, sat in the driver’s seat, while Sophie and Gideon sat with Will and Tessa inside the carriage. 

Will explained what happened after he woke up, after he had fainted because of the chloroform. They tried to be ironic and say that it was the beard who got him into trouble, but Will brushed it off as being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. And having the wrong costume. His friends didn’t seem so sure but it didn’t matter. Then Tessa explained to him how she found his handkerchief and how their friends helped her track him.

“I let it fall when I realized someone was behind me,” Will said. “I knew it would be useful. And it was,” he glanced at Tessa first, then at his friends. “Thank you all for helping Tessa.”

They returned to the Institute, and the party was still in full swing, and it would be for a couple of hours still. The Lightwoods took leave once they got inside, claiming they needed a drink in order to refresh. Will couldn’t blame them. They had, after all, helped Tessa with the True North rune, and it was thanks to that, that they had found him. They deserved anything they wanted, and more.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs and rest, my darling? You’ve had quite the day,” Tessa said, lingering outside of the doors of the ballroom, where everything was quieter. “You must be tired.”

“Shouldn’t we also call Jem to check on my health?” he wondered sarcastically, but Tessa frowned disapprovingly. “I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean to brush off your suggestion, but I think I should stay. I really wanted this party, and the only way for me to distract myself from my misadventure is living the party.”

Tessa wasn’t convinced, and he suspected that was the reason why she kept in the alcove close to the ballroom but making no move to walk over there. “What if they drugged you? Maybe we should call Jem, you know,” she bit her lip nervously, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“Tess. Tess. Tessa,” he smoothed her cheek with his forefinger. “My love, don’t cry,” he grabbed her, and she held the back of his vest in her fist as she sobbed quietly. 

He let her vent until she had enough, his hand caressed her back to calm her down. “I hate this beard,” she muttered.

Will chuckled softly, holding his wife’s body closer to his. “You know what, I dislike it too.”

“Then why did you grow it?” Tessa asked, gazing up into his blue eyes.

He mused about it for a moment. “First, because Sykes’ suggestion wasn’t bad. I never tried growing one, and I was curious how I would look,” he shrugged. “Second, it was because of this damned prince of Wales costume,” he rolled his eyes. “One thing is for certain, though. I’m never attempting to grow a beard ever again.”

“I concur,” Tessa managed a smile. “Even though, I must admit, I will miss it a little. I liked trailing my hand through it when we kissed,” she beamed.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you can still trail your hand through my hair while we kiss, or when you want. I still have plenty,” he made a crooked smile, and he knew she liked the proposition. 

“It is a good consolation prize, indeed,” she nodded. “Thank you very much for the proposition, your royal highness, prince of Wales.”

He shook his head. “Only until the party is over,” he declared gravely. “Then I want it gone. Erased from my face. Can you do it for me, when we retire in our rooms, Tessa? I want to go back to being the old Will Herondale, please.”

“I will do anything you want, Will,” she touched his cheek lightly. “But first, let’s get something to drink and to eat.”

“Whatever you want, my darling. Whatever you want.”

Ending Notes: jolterhead is an authentic insult from the Victorian and Edwardian era, it means "a stupid fellow".

#tweety's celebration #tsc #tsc fanfiction #tlh #will herondale #tessa gray #wessa #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #gideon lightwood #sophie lightwood #gabrily #sophideon #the infernal devices #clockwork princess #clockwork prince #clockwork angel #tweety.writes

[byghostface]

I love that fact that Nika is a huge Talia simp xd, don't you?

Yeah! I love to imagine that Nika goes all starry eyes when Talia (and Ra's Al Ghul) brings the ninjas into the arena, watching her(and Ra's) effortlessly controlled the whole scene. Nika just wants to be a girlboss like her, and she DID take over Lord Death Man's empire later, she’s a Yakuza leader now.xD

The way she just looks at Talia once, instantly becomes a fan, then chooses to dress in the similar style of clothes, a leather-wearing, hooded cloak with a strip on the edge of the hem(Al Ghul's fashion?) in later issues… for me, Nika really is cute and childlike like a 15-year-old girl who looks up to the idol she admires, and felt connected with.

-[Robin2021#Annual / Robin2021#16 / Shadow war:Omega]-Artist: Roger Cruz / Roger Cruz / Stephen Segovia-

And I can't stop thinking about how confident and stylish Nika is. Like in the annual, she comes prepared in a skeleton attire(I'd like to think that she also had taken inspiration from her grandfather's cross-bone gloves), and requests to be Lord Death Men's apprentice. Now I feels like she is determined to impress Talia with her new clean fit too, to give a great impression to her ideas of mentors, match up their aesthetic(if she ever get a chance to show it).

-[Robin2021#Annual]-Artist: Roger Cruz-

To bad that Robin2021 comes to the end so soon(good ending actually), I'm not sure what things will the future writers pick up on Nika and continue her characterization, but I certainly hope that she could truly become Talia's ally, and it would be a little funny if she dating Damian but always takes Talia's side anytime.

Would love to see Nika bonding with other batfamily members too, especially the woman and girl members, cause Nika's own big sister is quite mean to her, and her mother looks really passive from the annual, it would be cool if she gets more great female roles to hang out and look up to.

-[Robin2021#Annual]-Artist: Roger Cruz-

And ngl I kind of want to see Nika team up with Rose, or interact with her again... Rose was so good to her(like a good big sister unlike her own), and I miss it</3 Really sad that she didn't make it into the final issue and have a beach day with the rest of the Lazarus kids :( (Need to see Rose's reaction after she found out Damian and Nika did have a thing, it would be so amusing, because she has been teasing them so much).

-[Robin2021#8 / Robin2021#9]-Artist: Gleb Melnikov / Roger Cruz-

#talia al ghul #flatline #nika #damian wayne #rose wilson #robin 2021 #team talia #lord death man #flatline dc #nika dc #nika dc comics #dc comics #robin 2021*annual #shadow war omega #robin 2021*8 #robin 2021*9 #robin 2021*16 #nika's family #flatline's family #artist: roger cruz #ink artist: ​norm rapmund #artist: gleb melnikov #colorist: luis guerrero #artist: stephen segovia #hi-fi color #flamian #gravebird #damiline #long post #ask

[mstolo]

A small preview of the document that contains Jung's backstory which is still incomplete but, I'am working on it to my best of ability, I'm barely working on the backstories since I wanted to focus my full attention on the main document but now, I am slowly starting to work on it. :') now regretting that decision.

A few head-canons I have currently for Jung and Lanh but, I'll write more as time goes on:

•They were originally from Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam before moving to Casper, Wyoming due to their father's job, Jung was 4 and Lanh was 8 when they moved to the United States.

•English is his second language, but he prefers the speak Vietnamese more often

• Both Lanh and Jung learned a traditional Vietnamese fighting style called 'Võ thuật' but, Jung is more skilled in the practice.

•Jung vaped at 14, still vapes even after his attack and a bit of his lungs were damaged, his favorite flavor is Cotton Candy

•Jung is very close to his Vietnamese grandfather ever since he was a kid, Jung attended his funeral when his grandfather passed away, since Jung was 'missing' he had to watch the funeral in the distance.

•Jung is "missing" Only Lanh knows the truth

•He dresses in grunge clothes or in slutty sleeveless turtle necks. Or just dresses up in pajamas if he doesn't feel like changing clothes.

• he's def self conscious about half of his face being burned off so he usually invests on skin care, and like stuff to make it look appealing

•type of guy that would be into fashion and thrifting

•bad w kids, ban him at babysitting, often makes them cry because he thinks its funny and would usually give kids his cotton candy vapes

•he has a collection of knives, very avid weapon collector

•he likes a mess and considers himself somewhat of an artist, making his murders sort of grafitti art-ish

•after his kills though, contrary to popular belief, since he values convenience above all most of the time, he'd be organized somewhat during the aftermath (cleaning his equipment, disposing of forensic evidence, change gloves etc)

•Kinda toxic to his friends and people around him because of his head trauma

•trash talks everyone and puts his ego on top, relating to his head trauma

•Jung is nice, chill guy but his head trauma causes him to spiral and to have erratic episodes

•aromantic but, he's curious about gay at the same time

•He has long hair that reaches his tail bone, He usually braids it, puts it in a bun, ponytail or just keeps it messy

[Prob more but that's all I got, small thanks to a discord friend for giving me some headcanons]

#jeff the killer #Jeff Is Jung now #creepypasta au #idk my first headcanons #CRP Misfortunes' #creepypasta #Jeff/Jungs headcanons #srry if it rambles off #This is my first headcanons #bare with me pls

[themalhambird]

why I never get significant amounts of writing done, or, a liveblog of my last three hours working on a Mansfield Park fanfic:

Trying to figure out Yates' family for Julia-meets-her-in-laws purposes:

-> he's "the younger son of a lord with a tolerable independence" (MP XIII)

And now I'm down a rabbit hole trying to figure out what Austen means when she says 'a lord'. If she meant an Earl/Viscount/Baron, she surely would have specified "the younger son of a[n] Earl/Viscount/Baron with a tolerable independence." The Law Lords come in too late for that to be applicable.

...The younger sons of Dukes and Marquesses were styled as "lord ---" so Yates could conceivably be the younger son of a younger son. It might be that it's the lord (Yates' father), and not Yates, who has a tolerable independence from his father/our Yates' grandfather. But Dukes and Marquesses seem too aristocratic for Austen's taste: she never seems to aim beyond Earls (Lord Ravenshaw, Colonel Fitzwilliam's father.) Besides, Yates has an estate of his own (MP XLVIII)

[side note- estate as in "area of land"; estate as in "all money and property [he] owned" in general; or estate as in "condition in life?"

"there was comfort in finding his estate rather more, and his debts much less, than [Sir Thomas] had feared" (MP XLVIII). "rather more" seems to fit best with money and property in general: condition would surely be "...his estate rather better." And an area of land might be found to be "[worth] rather more", but just finding it to be bigger in general doesn't mean anything. Like, an extra acre of farmland is one thing, but an extra acre of fetid swamp water isn't gonna generate much income. Besides, younger sons not having their own land is Kind Of A Thing in MP, and Julia's visit to some of Sir Thomas' relatives is attributed to "some view of convenience on Mr. Yates' account" (MP XLVII). "The cousins...live near Bedford Square" (MP XLV), a very fashionable address, and as Yates is described as fashionable and expensive (MP XIII), it seems feasible that Yates has a permanent residence in London, also near Bedford Square...?

And then again, 'Lord' may have been perfectly common parlance for Earl/Viscount/Baron when the specificity of the rank either doesn't matter, or would have been obvious to Austen's original readers thanks to context clues I've missed entirely. The lack of specificity could be deliberate, drawing attention to how little the family at Mansfield Park actually know about Yates. I assume that Yates' father is alive because otherwise why frame him as "younger son" instead of "younger brother"?

....*shakes Jane Austen* you could tell your relations that Mrs Norris' "great sum" she gave William was £1 but you couldn't give them a detailed Yates family tree???

...and then it finally occurred to me to just google "what is a Baron", at which point the OED tells me:

noun

1.a member of the lowest order of the British nobility. Baron is not used as a form of address, barons usually being referred to as ‘Lord’.

So, we learn two things: 1) Yates' father is a Baron [I'm 99% sure] , and 2) I make life far more complicated for myself than it needs to be.

Progress made: plausible existence of Baron Dad Yates (still alive) established. At least 1 brother (older) confirmed. Biologically speaking, can assume a mother also existed or exists.

Words Written: Big Fat 0

...now repeat a similar process for every even semi-significant detail. Like trying to decide whether Bedford Square itself was fashionable enough for Yates (no, but Grovsenor Square or nearby to Grovesnor Square, about 25 minutes away probably would be...)

#John Yates #Mansfield Park #my fic (sort of) #we know that Yates doesn't think much of parental claims #I'm imagining his father as Mr Woodhouse-esque and his mother as very Mrs Jennings-like. #Julia Bertram is going to get at least one parental figure who will hug her if I have to make them up myself #Firmly on team Yates and Julia making a strong go of it and being very happy

[ceescedasticity]

Here, have the first scene of a very weird one-act play I wrote in a college playwriting class:

Mandate of Heaven Characters:

Alexandria Mondragon, about 21

Signy (SIG-nee) Villasenor, about 17, Damian’s twin sister

Damian Villasenor, about 17, Signy’s twin brother

Devika Mondragon, about 16, Cyril’s younger sister.

Barnabas Mondragon, about 23

Cyril Mondragon, about 22, Devika’s older brother

Costuming suggestions:

While these are of course only suggestions, keep in mind that these are very idiosyncratic people, and their clothing should reflect this.

Alexandria: long, straight dress and medieval-style tabard; otherwise, something relatively simple and anachronistic

Signy and Damian: anything a little peculiar and eerily similar, or possibly a little peculiar and very different

Devika: torn jeans and a tank top, with an improbable number of ostentatious necklaces, bracelets, and rings; otherwise, anything that will look really strange with the rings, which are necessary

Barnabas: three-piece suit; otherwise, something conspicuous by its normality

Cyril: black leather pants and jacket for a sort of clean-cut biker look; otherwise, something that contrasts violently with Barnabas

The setting is the Mondragon family library. Its decor is old-fashioned, hearkening to the Victorian era or earlier. It’s relatively dark, and the atmosphere is near-claustrophobic.

Mandate of Heaven Scene I AT RISE: The room is deserted except for ALEXANDRIA, who sits at the desk at the side of the room, surrounded by books and papers. The pseudo-Victorian decor is marred by the two anachronisms of Alexandria’s clothing and the laptop computer on which she’s working. She is clearly intent on her work.

(SIGNY enters the library silently, and moves, apparently unnoticed, to stand behind ALEXANDRIA and read over her shoulder.)

ALEXANDRIA:(without looking up) This isn’t anything you’d find terribly interesting.

SIGNY:(not bothered by the brush-off) Are you certain?

ALEXANDRIA: Certain enough. Just weather patterns.

(ALEXANDRIA pushes back her chair slightly and turns to look up at SIGNY.)

ALEXANDRIA: Signy.

SIGNY: Cousin Alexandria.

ALEXANDRIA: You’ve grown.

SIGNY: I’m older.

ALEXANDRIA: Time has passed. I suppose that does follow. (pause) You’re alone.

SIGNY: Oh, Damian’s around. I just came to look for you. I’ve missed you.

(ALEXANDRIA stands and they hug, a little stiffly and awkwardly, especially on Alexandria’s part. However, it’s SIGNY who pulls away and wanders to the other side of the room. She stands regarding the furniture. ALEXANDRIA looks at her for a moment, then sits back down and returns to her computing.)

ALEXANDRIA: I assume you’re here because of the Old Man.

SIGNY: Of course. We wouldn’t stay away at a time of this kind… even supposing our immediate progenitors would.

ALEXANDRIA: How are Aunt Artemisia and Uncle Nestor?

SIGNY: They’re handling it well enough, I think. They’re off with…

(She trails off, groping for the right words; ALEXANDRIA supplies them.)

ALEXANDRIA: With the rest of that generation.

SIGNY: Yes. And Grandfather and Great-Aunt Sophia. (pause) Alexandria… you wouldn’t happen to… have any idea how those discussions are going, would you?

ALEXANDRIA: If I did I ought not tell you. I have responsibilities, Signy.

SIGNY: So he has told you something?

ALEXANDRIA:(slightly annoyed) I did not say that. I said that if anyone were to tell me anything, I wouldn’t tell you. Or anyone else, unless the Old Man asked me to. Responsibilities, Signy.

SIGNY:(disappointed, but conceding the argument) Of course. I understand. (she pauses) It’s just that it seems very… unsettled, here.

ALEXANDRIA:The Old Man’s dying, Signy. Things are certainly unsettled. (she hesitates) However, I think it violates no confidences to tell you that certain individuals among the cousins have not been aiding the cause of tranquillity.

SIGNY: What, our generation? (pause) Cyril.

ALEXANDRIA: Cyril. I have been attempting to decide whether now is not the time or exactly the time to engage in these sorts of maneuvers. Unfortunately it probably is the time.

SIGNY: Hmm.

As she contemplates this, DAMIAN appears in the doorway.

DAMIAN: (to SIGNY) Here you are.

SIGNY: (smiles) Indeed I am. I wanted to find Alexandria. And where else to look--

DAMIAN --but the library. Cousin Alexandria.

ALEXANDRIA: Damian.

DAMIAN: (crossing to stand next to SIGNY) So--

SIGNY: I’m asking her about the succession. She won’t tell us.

ALEXANDRIA: (evenly) It’s simple politeness not to give up secrets that aren’t yours to reveal.

DAMIAN: Ah. Unfortunate that she’s right.

SIGNY: As usual. We abase ourselves before our cousin--

SIGNY and DAMIAN: Alexandria Mondragon, the All-Wise.

They make obeisance. ALEXANDRIA gives them a Look of Minimal Amusement and turns meaningfully back to her work. SIGNY and DAMIAN laugh.

SIGNY: She doesn’t like it any more now--

DAMIAN: --than she did when she was ten.

Arm in arm, they walk to one of the sofas and sit.

SIGNY: However, she was just telling me about some… turmoil, among the cousins.

DAMIAN: Cyril? Well, I suppose we knew this was going to happen eventually. What do the elder generations think of it?

SIGNY: More importantly, what does Barnabas think of it?

DAMIAN: Oh, Barnabas. Well, we can guess that much.

SIGNY: But not the details. It hasn’t come to bloodshed or we would have heard, but--

DAMIAN: --that still leaves a great many options.

Electing to rejoin the conversation, ALEXANDRIA pushes back her chair a bit and turns in it so she’s more or less facing them.

ALEXANDRIA: They haven’t spoken. Or even argued. Things were postponed until you got here.

DAMIAN: So… we are welcome at the deliberation, this time.

SIGNY: We weren’t the last time we were here.

ALEXANDRIA: You were children then. As Signy pointed out to me, time has passed. And it isn’t as if you missed very much. The deliberations then, for our generation, were primarily Cyril and Barnabas alternating between bickering and trying to tie my pigtails in knots.

SIGNY and DAMIAN exchange glances as they consider the mental image of ALEXANDRIA in pigtails.

ALEXANDRIA: Things are far more serious now. The Old Man is dying. All disputes over succession suddenly seem more meaningful.

DAMIAN: (tentatively) Grandfather said, when we arrived, that it won’t be too much longer.

ALEXANDRIA: No, likely not. (sighs)

DAMIAN: Mmm. The world without the Old Man. That just seems so…

ALEXANDRIA: Sad?

SIGNY: Well, yes, but we were thinking implausible.

ALEXANDRIA nods agreement. There is a silence.

SIGNY: What’s the time?

DAMIAN: Oh! Yes. I meant to tell you that dinner will be served soon.

SIGNY: I suppose we ought to go get ready. Cousin.

DAMIAN and SIGNY exit; ALEXANDRIA shuts down the laptop, packs it into a case, and follows them, with the computer. A moment later she returns and turns off the light (with an ordinary switch).

ALEXANDRIA: Fiat tenebris.

She exits again. A little while passes, then DEVIKA enters, carrying a flashlight. She goes at once to the desk and begins examining the books on top of it, flipping each one open to see what it is. None, apparently, are what she’s looking for. Increasingly frustrated, she turns away from the desk, then turns back to put the books where she found them and start going through the desk drawers. Again, she doesn’t find anything. Getting down on hands and knees, she checks under the desk, but just gets frustrated and slams a fist at the floor.

DEVIKA: (cry of frustration) Aauugghhh!

Finally, she leaves.

End of Scene I

#i have no explanation for this

[sohemotional]

Prompt: Santana is a Fire Nation firebender and Britt is an airbender living in the FN. Maybe no one but Santana knows of her airbending. San would be the crown princess and everyone is confused why San hangs out with and protects Britt who's basically kinda the town's weirdo.

Wildfire

A/N: So I'm imagining this happening in an AU where there is no 100 Year War or AN genocide. Most of the FN, especially the Royal Family are still prejudiced/don't understand or respect the Air Nomads and are ignorant of their teachings. 

 FIRE and AIR 

Air fans Fire, and causes it to burn more brightly, stimulating enthusiasm and excitement–or inciting passion and anger. Too much Fire can burn up the oxygen in Air, making it difficult to breathe–and too much Air, such as a strong wind, can cause a flame to flicker even more dimly. Excerpt from Linda Goodman’s “Love Signs”

Santana sighed, grunting as she wiped sweat from her brow, the last flames from her hands dying out. She panted heavily, leaning against a giant monument of her great grandfather, a previous Fire Lord, in the courtyard. Life in the palace afforded her a level of privilege most ordinary Fire Nation people could only dream of, yet Santana was lonely and unhappy.

As the seventeen year-old Crown Princess and the only child of the Fire Lord, her duty was to constantly hone her firebending abilities in addition to enduring constant lessons in history, etiquette, strategy and politics. One day she would be in charge of the military and her parents never let her forget about her duties as the next leader.

It was so early in the morning that even the servants were asleep as she went through her firebending drills, wearing full armour. A sudden rustling in the nearby bushes and a flash of pale skin moving through them took her by surprise. At first she thought it might be a cat. She was so shocked and afraid that the words were caught in her throat. Could it be an assassin?

"Who goes there? I'm warning you, if you think..."

There was more rustling as Santana approached with a ball of fire swirling above her palm as a weapon, just in case. The figure emerged from the bushes and Santana instantly attacked, pelting torrents of fire as she executed swift kicks and punches with powerful movements.

"Fight me!" She yelled, annoyed when the stranger was running away from her and hiding behind monuments or trees everywhere Santana turned.

"Okay, I guess if that's what you feel like doing." The stranger said with a shrug.

To her surprise, the would-be assassin just effortlessly dodged every blast she sent their way, whipping and swirling in a graceful fashion. Their movements were pretty to watch and not aggressive like Santana's own. There were constant flashes of pale yellow hair and white skin but it was difficult to keep up.

Santana was so confused because she had never seen anyone fight in this style before with these circular, evasive movements, gusts of wind flowing around them like a whirlwind. Her actions were all defensive and she did nothing to directly attack Santana. Yet the firebender was becoming easily overwhelmed as she constantly pumped out waves of fire that kept missing her opponent. The figure stopped moving for a moment, levitating on a spherical ball of air.

The black-haired firebender felt flustered, heat rising to her face at the realization that the warrior she was fighting was a girl and a very pretty one at that who was somehow fully naked. Santana had never seen another woman naked before and the girl's beauty was mesmerizing.

"Who are you? What do you want?" She demanded in the deadliest tone she could muster, though she stuttered a little, trying to avert her eyes.

"I'm Brittany. I'm not sure why we're fighting but this is fun!" The girl answered in a sweet, playful voice in response to Santana’s threatening tone. The girl sounded very casual and relaxed, her blue eyes glinting and a little smile on her face as if this was an ordinary thing for her to be doing. Santana huffed, summoning all the strength she had to explosively fire an attack at the girl but she was again too quick for her.

"I'm not really into violence but I can play a game with you."

"This is not a game!" Santana insisted through gritted teeth.

Everytime Santana moved, Brittany was behind her, or above her, or slipping between Santana's legs or arms effortlessly, simply gliding through the wind. Each time she thought she got her trapped between her arms, Brittany would slip away from her. This was so frustrating that Santana growled in annoyance. She had never heard of any Brittany before.

"It's like a dance! Are we dancing?" Brittany cheered and indeed her agile, lithe movements were like those of a very skilled dancer as she mimicked Santana's movements, moving to the left everytime the firebender punched right and vice versa in perfect timing. Santana kept trying to corner her with a barrage of blasts but it wasn't working. Each time Santana took a step forward, Brittany would take a step back then they would do the same thing in reverse, then she'd shift from side to side as if they had choreographed this.

"You're leading it so well too. I'm not wearing my dancing shoes but I'll do my best."

“I’m not dancing with you!” Santana sputtered at this absurd statement, her face feeling hot. Brittany didn't seem to have any qualms about invading her personal space either and her being in such close range made it difficult for Santana to hurl flames at her. "Are you making fun of me?"

Santana was so confused by all of this. Eventually she was too distracted by Brittany's body and tripped on her own feet, Brittany looming over her with a smirk.

She placed her hand over Santana's, somehow extinguishing the final flame that the firebender was trying to ignite. Santana shuddered at the feeling of the girl's hand and pulled hers away, ignoring the little spark she felt when they touched that wasn't from firebending.

"I guess Brittany wins." The girl smiled teasingly, pushing her long hair out of her eyes.

"W-what are we doing?" Santana stuttered after a while, finally regaining her ability to speak as she continued to keep her eyes averted and crossed her arms over her chest.

She was irritated at losing the fight, especially to such a weird opponent who wasn't even fighting her. Santana never lost fights but no matter how much power and muscle she packed into her fire attacks, it was useless against the other fighter. If you could call Brittany that.

"Why are you naked, Woman? You're a trickster! Are you a seductress sent by our enemies to take me down - to tempt me away from my duties? Is this part of your battle strategy to use your body to overpower me?"

Part of Santana realized how ridiculous she sounded even to her own ears. Brittany began to giggle at Santana's words and the scowl she was wearing.

"Oh, wait, I'm naked? Oops. My bad!" Brittany looked down at her body and covered the important parts. "Sorry. I guess I lost my clothes somehow when I fell from my glider."

Santana was completely confused by this pretty girl with her cat-like blue eyes and long blonde hair who seemed to have flown there. She wondered if this was some kind of dream she was having.

"Glider? Why are you here in the royal palace?"

"Sorry, I should have introduced myself before," Brittany replied in her friendly, easygoing way, accepting the dark red cape Santana took off of her own back and offered her to cover herself up with. "Let's start from the beginning. Flameo, Hotwoman! That's what people say here, right? So anyways, I was flying overhead on my way to the Southern Water Tribe but I think my coordinates were off and I got distracted by this really pretty cloud in the shape of a catgator..."

"Can you please get to the point?" Santana begged, keeping her arms crossed defensively as she stood up and trying to ignore the fondness she was starting to feel for this girl even though she wanted to dislike her. It was easier to feign anger than admit she was so attracted to this girl.

"Oh sorry, I ramble sometimes. Anyway, I kind of fell into your backyard I guess a few minutes ago when I got caught in this windstorm. That happens to me sometimes. Then I saw you training and I wanted to watch because you're so hot, no pun intended."

Santana raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side.

"Don't you know who I am?" She was surprised this girl was daring and confident enough to speak in such a way to her. It kind of bruised her ego that Brittany didn't seem to know or care how important she was.

"Not really." The blonde girl deadpanned.

"I've never seen anyone who looks like you before."

"Cool. I've never seen anyone who looks like you before either." Brittany replied with a friendly, disarming smile.

"Do you realize you're in the Royal Palace of the Fire Nation?"

"Really? That's awesome." She gasped.

Anyone else would be intimidated and even embarrassed but Brittany just seemed thrilled.

"So you're not here to kill me?"

Brittany just stared at her blankly frowning.

"Of course not. Why would I want to do that?"

"What were those weird twirly movements you were doing when we were fighting? What kind of strange firebender are you?"

"Firebender?" Brittany echoed in confusion. "Oh no, Silly! I'm an airbender."

It was the first time Santana had ever met an airbender and she couldn't believe how eccentric they were. She had only heard of their culture briefly in the geography classes she took but they seemed so unusual that she almost thought they were made up.

That explained the girl's ability to fly and manipulate the winds. It also explained why her eyes and hair were so different from anyone in the Fire Nation. Her own family and the other nobles always sneered at the Air Nomads, treating them like they were a big joke.

"Princess Santana? Is that you?" A voice called.

"You're the princess?" Brittany asked. Santana nodded, surprised but kind of pleased that Brittany didn't treat her any differently after this reveal. At first she thought she wanted the girl to fawn over her like everyone else did but instead she felt relieved that Brittany wasn't idolizing her. The rest of the nation treated Santana as if she were a god descended from the heavens and found it overwhelming to even be in her presence. "I'm not surprised. You look like royalty and act like you're some queen."

They heard the palace servants moving around and Santana grabbed Brittany by the shoulders, placing a finger to her lips to silence her. If anyone found out there was an airbender here, Brittany would be in trouble.

They might even try to imprison her. She couldn't let that happen. Not to mention, the Crown Princess being caught with a half naked girl in public would definitely be humiliating if anyone ever got word of this. She could only imagine what kind of rumours would spread.

"Shh, we can't let them find you here. I can't believe I'm saying this but come with me. We have to hide you." Santana said hastily, quickly guiding Brittany in the direction of her bedchamber on the other side of the palace and slipping them in through a window. Her dark eyes darted around nervously, making sure no one was watching. Somehow they made it there without anyone catching them.

---

"This is your room? Flamin'!" Brittany exclaimed as Santana felt a smile tugging at her lips at her use of the antiquated slang while the blonde took in the sight of the luxury Santana lived in. "Is it smokin' or flamin' that you guys say? Sorry I haven't been back to the Fire Nation for a while."

"It's fine." Santana responded with a genuine laugh then glanced at Brittany again, clearing her throat. "Um, we do need to find you some clothes."

She browsed through some of the many expensive and exquisite garments she had been gifted from various noblemen and noblewoman who were friends of the family. She didn't like them and had never worn any of them but Brittany's eyes lit up when she showed them to her.

"Pick any one you want or all of them."

"Oh, I want the pink one!" Brittany insisted. Santana raised her eyebrow when the blonde selected a very soft, muted pastel pink wrap to go over her chest and a matching short skirt. Santana herself preferred much bolder shades of dark red and magenta. She squeaked when Brittany let the cape drop and just started dressing right in front of her with no warning.

"Hey! You can't just do that... I'll just... I won't look, don't worry..." Santana cleared her throat again awkwardly, turning her back to Brittany as she slipped on the garments. Brittany just giggled at how flustered Santana was. 

"Done."

Her face felt hot when she turned around again and Brittany was finally dressed. Her slim waist and flat abs could be seen in the revealing garments, along with her endlessly long legs. Aside from her colouring, she now looked like any other Fire Nation girl.

"How do I look?" She asked, batting her eyelashes.

"Stunning..." The word slipped out before Santana could help it and she cursed herself for not being more careful. Brittany just turned an adoring blue gaze on her.

“What should we do today?”

“What should we do? It's Saturday. I'm expected to read the longest scroll ever about war tactics, then attend my family's banquet with leaders from the Earth Kingdom tonight.” Santana grumbled.

"That's boring. I think we should go out instead. Hey, there's a Fire Festival on today."

"You're seriously asking me to go to the festival? We only just met. I'm not even allowed to go out anywhere without my guards and chaperone and besides, royalty don't go to ordinary places like that."

"Why not?" Brittany tilted her head to the side as Santana frowned nervously, in disbelief that the girl was asking her something like this. "Wait a minute, Santana have you never been to the Fire Festival before? Don't worry, I'll show you what to do."

"Why would you want to go with me anyway? I just tried to attack you."

"Cause I like you, Santana. Can we be friends?"

The sides of Santana's lips curved upwards and her entire expression softened. It had been such a long time since she had a friend who she genuinely liked, instead of being forced to entertain the stuck up teen children of her parents’ noblemen friends. 

“You’re cute.” 

Santana nearly erupted in flames at these unexpected words delivered so flirtatiously, almost singeing them both in her flustered state as she scowled at Brittany. Brittany fanned herself to help with the heat as smoke was left behind.

"Don't say that. I'm not cute." She whined.

“Whoa, that's hot. Can I say you’re pretty too or would you set me on fire for that?” Brittany giggled. Santana pointedly ignored Brittany's flirtations, crossing her arms.

"Fine, Brittany, we'll go to this festival you speak of but whatever you do, you can't use airbending anywhere in public. I mean it."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Brittany saluted her cheerfully, floating around on a spherical ball of air she used like a scooter.

Brittany spent the day hiding in Santana's bedchamber. Later that evening under the cover of darkness, the two of them sneaked out under the cover of darkness, wearing cloaks for disguise.

---

To be continued

#Brittana #Santana Lopez #Brittany Pierce #Brittana fanfiction #ATLA #Glee #Avatar: The Last Airbender #ATLA AU #Glee fanfiction #my fics #wildfire #Firebender Santana #Airbender Brittany #Fire Nation Princess Santana #I'm gonna continue this on AO3 soon especially if it gets any traction here #thanks for the prompt

[calling4glaives]

Nyx's Cork Board, pt II

Moving on to the left side of the board!

Here's the link to part I, if you missed it.

Nyx has several interesting pictures. The first is a family portrait with Nyx’s mother and presumably father (based on the rather extreme resemblance to Nyx), the kids, and an older man. Who is the older man? An uncle? A grandfather? Another father?

Young Nyx apparently has already found his signature hairstyle, with his sides shaved. Based on their relative sizes and face shapes, I’d guess Nyx is around nine to eleven here, and Selena around seven, but it’s hard to tell at this age and level of details. Your thoughts?

It’s so nice to actually see not only these important ladies, but some examples of female Galahdan fashion. Both have long hair, though Mama for sure has hers pulled up, and both are wearing these chain-like hairpieces. Many cultures have unbound hair as a sign of an unmarried or younger woman, perhaps that’s the case here. Selena’s jewelry goes over her hair, and Mama’s under, which could be another indicator of maturity. Selena has two braids visible, one under each ear, though the details of them are not very clear between the damage and the darkness of the picture.

Neither woman has visible tattoos in this shot, though that doesn’t mean they don’t have them. Both appear to be slightly made up, with Mama wearing foundation and possibly lipstick and both women with eyeshadow or liner. Though that could just be the Standard Female Eyeliner that is just how movies imagine all women look constantly.

Mama is wearing black with a high collar and long, fitted sleeves – fashion choice, women’s wear or widow’s wear? Selena has a lighter, looser shirt with a pattern on it, with a v neck that might possibly imply overlapping panels like a kimono and a polka-dotted scarf tied around her neck. 

The heavy candlestick or lamp in the back of this photo (seen more easily in zoomed-out pictures) and the tiles on the wall (or square, glazed windows?) next to a possible incense burner, vase, or statue, might indicate this is at home, or perhaps a shrine? Either way, the photo, despite being crisp, is badly damaged and hard to make out.

Map of Galahd

Star Junco has convincingly argued that this is a map of Galahd underneath all the other items here. In addition to her excellent map analysis, I want to talk about the “x” on one of the islands. Nyx’s hometown, perhaps? Or one of his parents’? Or something else?

In the cluster of artwork at the bottom, two of the pictures appear to be less formal, shall we say. The lower watercolor-like shows two black-haired figures with wide open mouths – one with a ponytail and pink patterned dress, one with shorter hair in a blue shirt with a red cape – either swimming or flying on a blue background above green plants. I think this was definitely done by a kid – one of Axis or Pelna’s theorized kids, maybe? Or someone Nyx helped? Or perhaps, judging by the bangs and relative size of the images, a drawing of Selena and Nyx by a young Selena? It looks rather like Superman, which makes us wonder about Lucis’s comic book scene.

The next image is a painting of a malboro holding an orange sphere and is labeled Nyx very neatly. While this could be another kid drawing, I’m inclined to say this was painted by a glaive or adult – it’s not super stylized, and while not sophisticated, seems to have a fair amount of control. Perhaps someone mad at Nyx for stealing their orange? Whatever it shows, there’s definitely a story here.

Under the more home-made art, there appears to be a woodblock-style print or perhaps detailed drawing of an almost meso-american type figure surrounded by a border of possibly hearts. It might possibly represent Quetzalcoatl based on some of what it is holding – a snake and a scepter or weapon – as well as the spines and feathers on the back and the spirals on its chest and ear like a shell or comma. See:

(images courtesy of the wikipedia article on Quetzalcoatl)

The other item the drawing holds could be the fire serpent of Huitzilopochtli, a deity associated with war and the sun, and the weapon itself has interesting lightning/war associations. Is this a Galahdan depiction of Ramuh? Bahamut? Someone else? Or perhaps a dawn/sun mythos, as Quetzalcoatl is associated with the formation of the fifth sun? Some more mythology and archaeology information on some of the symbols and Quetzalcoatl can be found here and here.

As best I can decipher, the certificate says “Nyx Ulric: XXXXX to the XXX XXX lands beyond the wall. ??? V 744” and is signed Regis Lucis Caelum in cursive, the only instance of cursive in the series I know of. Interestingly, it doesn’t have any titles for Regis, nor any ornaments on the paper itself, which is very crisp still. It looks almost like Nyx printed this off himself, as a matter of fact, and Regis’ signature is so regular it’s either a stamp or a font. Hmmm…

Selena’s letter is also so crisp it looks like a photocopy. The limits of CGI, probably. It’s much more legible: “Dear Nyx, Happy 20th Birthday! It’s weird to write a letter when we live in the same house, but you’ve been working (I think?) so late that we never get to talk, so you’ll just have to read this in my voice. I made you a good luck charm to commemorate the occasion, pretty sweet, right? I put my … it, so hold onto it, will ya?”

T_T What is the good-luck charm? It could be the Lil Malbuddy charm, but that looks too manufactured. Part of his uniform, maybe? The Malboro!Nyx drawing?

The “(I think)?” is often construed to mean Nyx is doing resistance work, but as discussed above that’s slightly confusing timeline-wise. One of Nyx’s bios says he is a "Native son of Galahd who fought alongside the local Resistance before arriving in Insomnia to serve Regis in the Kingsglaive." Does that suggest Niflheim was there before the attack, or that he participated in it for a very short time between the attack and going to Insomnia? Maybe Selena died in a later raid? Perhaps when they say 'resistance' they really mean something more like 'militia' and they were going outside of Galahd to help. Or perhaps it was just laziness and the rule of making it relate to the protagonist as much as possible >.>

Finally, let’s look at the board as a whole, all these memories topped by a cluster of plants and stiff ribbons of red, green, white, and yellow. The bouquet appears to mainly be green leaves, perhaps with some flowers hanging down. If these are artificial, could this be Selena’s charm? It doesn’t quite look like either sasaki or shikimi, the two plants most associated with Japanese shrines from my quick research. I wonder what they are?

Propped up like this with the incense burner and candle, plus the bouquet at the top, it definitely seems to have spiritual significance. A memorial seems the most common guess, but there are definitely living people on it as well – the picture of young Nyx and Libertus in uniform plus the letter from Regis seem to apply to more than just the dead or lost. And the haphazard organization – overlapping images, unused pins at the top – seems to imply something more casual. What are your thoughts?

Thanks again for sticking with us through this whole thing! Again, if you haven't yet done so, please fill out our survey for our next event!

#kingsglaive #ffxv #Nyx Ulric #deep dive #part ii

[meganutriland]

Dear Great Grandma, let me express how much I do appreciate every summer you looked after myself and my sister; let me bring these beautiful memories and how you taught me to be grateful and strong, how you did share your knowledge with us. You are my inspiration, history teacher, mother of 3, looked after your sick disabled aunt and sick husband, run the whole house, little farm and educate us all. We, Me and my cousins should be proud of having you even now when your 91st Birthday is approaching. But I do celebration of Grandma Day first and the rest will be continuing party. I do love you, miss you and I am grateful for your strong words, reliable pray, care, unconditional love; for routine, boundaries and the most precious- life lessons. I know my worth, I know who I am and do promise that will fight for my health and happiness ♥️♥️♥️ #grandfather #grandmalove #greatgrandma #greatgrandparents #grandparent #grandchildren #grandad #grandkids #greatgrandma #handmade #art #fashion #love #handmadewithlove #design #smallbusiness #homedecor #handcrafted #jewelry #diy #handmadejewelry #style #shopsmall #etsy #n #hechoamano #crochet #craft #supportsmallbusiness #instagood #accessories https://www.instagram.com/p/CnVCJW9s3P3/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#grandfather #grandmalove #greatgrandma #greatgrandparents #grandparent #grandchildren #grandad #grandkids #handmade #art #fashion #love #handmadewithlove #design #smallbusiness #homedecor #handcrafted #jewelry #diy #handmadejewelry #style #shopsmall #etsy #n #hechoamano #crochet #craft #supportsmallbusiness #instagood #accessories

[adultswim2021]

Moral Orel #14: “Elemental Orel” | December 4, 2006 – 12:15AM | S02E04

Orel has opened his own Encyclopedia Brown style detective agency who settles disputes with the word of god. When most of the collection plate goes missing during church (thanks to the mischievous Joe who was put in charge of it and OBVIOUSLY DID IT) Orel volunteers his services. Joe immediately accuses Marionetta of stealing it because she just happens to pass by while the fallout from the theft is going down, so Orel cites both of them as prime suspects. The theft includes Orel’s donation: a dollar bill that his grandfather gifted him. He actually wrote the birthday greeting on the bill itself, which will very obviously pay off. 

Orel’s mystery solving relies on the ten commandments and the word of god, so he concludes wrongly that Marionetta actually did the theft because she defied her parents (the fifth commandment) to skip church (gasp!) in order to help the crippled for a Meals on Wheels type program (double gasp!). Joe actually attended church and even honored the fourth commandment to keep the Sabbath holy by refusing to cut his grandfather’s grass. That makes me wonder if the show made Joe live with his grandfather just so he could technically be in the clear for commandment number five? 

So, by proving that Marionetta didn’t go to church (where the theft took place), she is proven to be the one who did the deed, because she proved herself to be a commandment breaker. So if she’ll break commandments four and five, what’s to stop her from breaking commandment eight?? This is also ignoring the fact that Joe has a big expensive ice cream cone, even though he claimed to not have any money earlier at church. See, this is what I mean by Joe clearly doing it.

While this is going on, Orel uncovers a different mystery: his mother has been spotted scrubbing somebody else’s floor, breast-feeding their baby, and acting distant to somebody else’s husband. The gravity of the situation weighs down on Orel, so he doesn’t even notice when Marionetta runs up to Orel with the marked-up dollar bill, along with the Ice Cream Man himself to testify on her behalf. Distraught, he confronts his mother only to find his father also there, behind the couch, acting as a voyeur. His parents are swingers! Clay explains this to Orel in a fashion and that’s the end. 

This one isn’t too strong, humor-wise. The concept of using the word of god to solve mysteries would make for a better TV Funhouse sketch or something like that. It might have made a good Moral Orel episode, too; it is a great idea! But I almost wish this one were from season one, which was more joke-driven than some season two episodes. The concept of the parents swinging but just replicating their own loveless marriages with other partners is pretty funny too. It’s conceptually strong but the jokes are light, which is a shame.

#moral orel #adult swim #adultswim2021

[realtime1960s]

July 14, 1962 - Norma Beatriz Nolan (pictured with Gene Rayburn) of Argentina was chosen today as Miss Universe of 1962. The black-haired model was picked from 15 international beauties. “I do not think I will win,” she remarked before stepping on stage. “All of the girls are prettier than I.” Miss Nolan later said she would like to model in France or Italy. “All the fashion designers like to copy the styles used by the models in France, but that is the old story. Now it is Italy.” The new Miss Universe is 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighs 120 pounds. She is 24 years old. Her grandfather was an Irish farmer who migrated to Argentina.

#missuniverse #miss universe #beauty #beauty pageant #argentina