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oncomingnight · 7 months

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You're beautiful and I'm insane ๋࣭ ⭑˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

Pt. Two of Yandere! musician

Elias cannot fall asleep without you. If you wander away from bed due to you not being unable to sleep, he'll eventually wake up as he feels that you're no longer beside him, then, he quickly follows after you. He'll stay up as long as you need him to, he'll warm up some milk, heat up a packet of chamomile tea, or even cut up some vegetables and make you a bowl of warm soup to help lull you to sleep. Yes, he'd doing this because he deeply cares about you and wants you to be well rested, on the other hand, as I said, he just cannot and will not sleep without you.

He's got a weird sense of humor and it never fails to shine through. When someone he's not too fond of is speaking, he'll silently mock them and pull strange faces. There are too many videos of him on the internet comically eyeing the camera as an interview rambles on and asks him and his band mates odd questions. There have been many times where he's made you laugh to the point the apples of your cheeks are hurting and you're out of breath.

When you're sitting stageside and admiring your boyfriend absolutely ripping on his guitar, he's doing some admiring of his own. He'll repeatedly turn his head towards your direction, sending you a little wink along with a lovingly blown kiss. As soon as he gets off of stage, he's all over you as he whispers on about how much he adores you and how pretty you look in the dress he bought you. Oh, and now he's sneaking you off to his trailer behind the festival's stage. No one is surprised when you both come out of his trailer with him missing some patches of face & body paint meanwhile you're covered in a mixture of colors that rubbed off on you.

Elias enjoys wearing coordinated outfits and even outright matching outfits. He simply thinks its an adorable display of affection and it's a way to show others that he belongs to someone.

He has your name tattooed on his forearm in cursive, written in red ink.

He adores speaking about you to his friends, it's mostly him obsessively babbling & bragging about how perfect you are as a lover and how, soon, you're going to have a heavy diamond on your finger. An interviewer could ask him one simple question about you and he wouldn't stop rambling unless the interview was coming to an end, he loves you desperately, selfishly, and protectively.

Even if there were to be available seating near the two of you, he will always want you to sit on his lap. It's not for a sexual reason, it's more so because he finds it comforting when you put your weight on him

Elias has brutally beat people an inch of their life because they decided it'd be humorous to bother the peace in your life. Though, this doesn't mean he's only beat people. He's done much more gruesome actions towards people that he deemed as negative impacts on your life. He only ever does such things to protect you, his precious, sweet girl. If anything horrible were to happen to you, who knows what he'd do to not only the one who hurt you, but everyone else related to them.

He never lets a second go by without letting you know just how much you mean to him and his existence, he could never go on without you, he wouldn't want to. "No one could ever love me as much as you do and no one could ever love you as much as I do. Do you know what I'd do for you, baby? You've got me stuck, and 'm not complainin'"

He keeps a Polaroid picture of you in his black, leather wallet.

He adores filming you doing random things around your shared apartment, whether its you doing your hair, getting dressed, the two of you cuddling in bed, cooking a meal or baking him a batch of pastries. He also enjoys filming the two of you having sex, he'll prop up a camera on the vanity of your shared bedroom before he starts having his fun with you. He likes looking back on all of the videos he takes but especially the sexual ones, as he can re-experience your reactions and note down what you really liked.

Elias stands at a staggering height of 6'3, he towers over you and he leans down to be able to hear you better if you're in an extremely loud and packed area.

Spoiling you is something that Elias finds extreme happiness and pride in, he's the type of boyfriend to always be eager to grant your wishes in the most pleasant way possible.

He's always excited to introduce you to his favorite metal bands that helped paved the way to his musicality, his favored genre of film (horror) and video games he's fixated on for long periods of time.

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theladyofdeath · 10 months

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Lady Death's Lover {VI}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Oh my word...I have had the most difficult time getting this up this week! I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, likes, and reblogs! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Cassian,

I must admit that I am completely miserable in Adriata. It has rained all week so I cannot go to the ocean, which is the only thing worthwhile to do here. I have also found zero romantic partners which has brought the boredom to a new level of heinousness. I do not think I can stand this place for more than a fortnight. By the Cauldron, I do not think I can stand it for another day. Perhaps I will cut my trip short.

Do have enough diabolical fun for the both of us in my absence, will you? If I know you are causing chaos, that is enough for me for now.

Your Favorite,

Mor

P.S. Try not to attempt to philander with any more married women. It’s very ungentleman-like.

Nesta

My gowns are lovely.

The modiste has truly outdone herself. There are four in total and each matches the other but has its own personality. The fabrics are all deep blues and grays, meant to bring out my eyes. They are the colors I am most comfortable in. In fact, most of my wardrobe consists of blues and grays but no one has complained about it thus far.

After transferring payment, my gowns are loaded into my carriage. Before making my way back home, I take advantage of the time alone and make my way down the street to my favorite bakery. I’ve never been one for sweets but they make the best macarons in Velaris and I cannot help but buy a box whenever I visit the modiste.

It is when I’m coming out of this bakery that I see him.

For a moment, I forget how to walk. Every elegant thought vanishes from my mind and I am suddenly all too aware of the giant box of sweets in my hands.

I pray he doesn’t see me and for a moment I feel I will get away with it, but then he turns from where he walks across the street and halts when he catches my eye. For a moment, we both stand there, staring at one another.

Then the world around me comes back to life.

The city streets around me resume, full of life. Carriages hurry past and people rush in and out of the shops. The sky above, recently clear and bright, opens up and the softest of rains falls down upon me and my macarons.

He still stands just across the street, watching me, although his head has since cocked to the side and a grin has begun spreading across his lips. A sudden sense of embarrassment floods me. I must look foolish, standing here in the rain with a box of baked goods while everyone around me starts to run to safety from the turn in weather.

Oh, gods.

He’s coming towards me.

“Lady Nesta,” he begins when he’s halfway across the street, “your dress. You should find cover.”

I find my voice. “Ah, Mr. Nazari. Yes, I, um…yes.”

I go to turn on my heels but, in true Lord Cassian fashion, he steps in front of me just before I can get far. “A lady should never be caught in the rain.”

“If it were not for you blocking me I would be well on my way to shelter, my lord.” I try not to sound too demeaning, but I cannot help myself. Every now and then that tone just seeps out and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

He finds this funny, apparently. A chuckle escapes him and he nods. “Apologies. Good day, Lady Nesta.”

Not Lady Mandray.

Lady Nesta.

I somehow like it better coming from him, like it better than the title the rest of the ton refers to me as.

Lord Cassian steps aside and I go to stroll past him, but I stop when he begins to walk behind me. Turning, I lift a brow.

He stops and rocks back on his heels. “Do not fear, I am not following you. I walked here and now must walk home, which is this direction. That is all.”

“How far do you have to walk?” I ask, the rain picking up. I worry more for the well-being of my macarons than my hair.

“A little more than a mile, it’s no worry,” he says, shrugging, then continues on his way.

I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t ask what I’m about to but asking it anyway.

“Would you care to join me?” I ask, and he freezes, his back to me. “It seems we’re going the same direction and you should not have to walk in the rain. It seems a storm is brewing. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold.”

Lord Cassian looks up at the dark clouds, the rain falling directly onto his face as he squints. He looks back to me, his face searching mine, but then he asks, “Are you certain? I don’t mind a little rain.”

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes, and I nearly drop my macarons. I swear it’s purely for my benefit when he clears his throat and says, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Lady Nesta.”

I nod quickly as a downpour begins and hurry to my coach up the street. By the time I throw myself inside, my dress is drenched and my hat is drooping. Lord Cassian is in no better condition as he slides onto the bench across from me, his jacket drenched and his trousers sticking to his thighs.

My breath catches at the sight of him and I suddenly feel foolish. It should be impossible for a man to look more dashing sopping wet, but he somehow manages to. That ridiculous, shoulder-length hair of his is soaked and dripping into his cravat. I don’t realize I’m staring until I meet his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of every inch of my body and his. My cheeks turn pink and I have to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking.

The carriage jolts as it begins its journey and it makes me jump, which makes Lord Cassian grin…although he tries to suppress it. This was a mistake. That’s what I get for trying to be nice. This very thing reminds me why I do not do nice things often. Nice things always come back to bite me in the ass.

. . . . . . . . .

Cassian

Lady Nesta looks equally stunning and uncomfortable, although her discomfort is not the type of discomfort that causes alarm. No, it’s the type of discomfort that tells me she does not do this often.

I do not know much about this woman but I do know that she’s not exactly…personable. I’ve heard what other women of the ton think about Nesta — Mor brought the gossip to our recent Monday tea time and I have a feeling Rhys put her up to it — and it’s not good. In fact, the ladies of Velaris think Lady Nesta to be brutally honest and permanently bitter. I, however, value honesty and think a certain level of self-hatred and introverted nature can be mistaken for anger or bitterness.

Not that it should matter.

After my last encounter with Nesta, I vowed never to be around her again. Especially alone. Yet, the second I saw her stepping out of the bakery with a box-full of what seems to be macarons, my feet decided my thoughts should be damned and acted of their own volition. Before I could fully comprehend what I was doing, I was standing in front of her.

Now, I’m alone with her yet again, stuck in a coach as it rattles down the cobblestone. Outside, it’s pouring as it often does in the spring, and all I can think about is how her eyes keep drifting to me.

I’m trying to also be inconspicuous about where my eyes are wandering, but from the way her pale cheeks are turning pink, I don’t think I’m doing it properly.

Her light blue dress is clinging to her skin and I can’t ignore how her breasts are even further on display behind the soaked fabric. It doesn’t help that her chest is rising and falling, rapidly, as if she’s had a difficult time catching her breath since entering the confined space that surrounds us.

“You’re having a ball soon,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say but I know that we can’t keep sitting here in silence, me trying my best to avoid the swells of her breasts, the way I can see her peaked nipples through the wet cotton.

“I am,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Will you be in attendance?”

I clear my throat. “Yes. Thank you for the invite.”

I neglect to mention that I originally did not plan to attend, that being in the same room as her is too tempting and I’m currently going mad, but my brothers coaxed me into going.

She gives me a curt nod before taking a deep breath and letting her eyes wander towards the closed window. I swallow, cursing as my eyes take another dive to her chest and back up again. Once the silence becomes too heavy, allowing my thoughts to run rampant and inappropriately wild, I ask, “Do you do this often?”

Nesta’s eyes snap to mine and she blinks. “Do what?”

“Come into town on your own,” I say, and I watch as she swallows and clenches her jaw. “Not even a maid with you? Isn’t that unbecoming?”

Her eyes narrow and if it wasn’t for the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her skin is flushed, I would think she was offended and not something else entirely. “Are you implying that I do not live my life as a lady should, my lord?”

“I’m implying that it is simply not safe for you to be traveling alone,” I say, and she watches as I run my hands down my thighs, trying to eliminate my sweaty palms. It does not work. “You never know others’ intentions when they see a woman alone.”

“It is the middle of the day,” she says, meeting my eye once more. “And I have my driver.”

“Still.”

We stare at one another for just a moment, but that moment is filled with so much silent, skin burning tension that I feel the need to loosen my cravat, shrug off my coat, but I don’t. I let it suffocate me, let her gaze strip me bare instead.

If I slouched in the slightest, my knees would nearly graze hers. Suddenly the space between us seems so short, too short to make any rational decisions. This was a mistake. I should have stayed on my own damn side of the street. I should have walked.

“Is that what this is, then?” she asks, and I blink.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have poor intentions, my lord?” she asked, clasping her hands on her lap. I swear they’re trembling.

“Need I remind you that you were the one that offered me a ride in your coach?” I ask, then add, “my lady.”

Her lips part, and it’s so slight that one has to be watching them intently to have seen it, which I am.

She shifts on the bench, words seeming to have left her. It’s the silence that makes me say, only because I cannot stand silence and I’ve already seemed to have dug myself into a hole of wickedness, “Perhaps it is you that has poor intentions.”

Her head leans to the side, which is somehow unladylike and beautifully cunning at the same time, and the smallest of smiles plays on her lips. There’s no joy in this smile, only a cruel seduction that has my trousers holding back my hardening cock. Now it’s my turn to shift, and she notes it, those dark eyes trailing down until they’ve settled on my lap. Her eyes flare before snapping back up to mine.

“I am a lady,” she says, simply. “Ladies do not have poor intentions, only charitable ones. What kind of lady would I be if I were to let a gentleman walk through a downpour?”

“Indeed,” I say, and I cannot even help how rough my voice suddenly sounds.

This is ridiculous. I feel like I have never been around a woman before, or like I am once again sixteen and around a woman for the very first time. Furthermore, she’s married. This is highly inappropriate, but I seem to have lost control.

No.

That’s not entirely true.

If I had lost control her dress would be torn to shreds and I’d have her lying beneath me on this bench, worshiping every inch of her body beneath.

“I am grateful,” I add, and she nods her head politely in response. I stay in control until a wheel hits a dip in the road and our bodies jostle, and we touch.

My knee hits hers and her foot lands on mine as she tries to stop herself from toppling forward. I don’t even realize my hand is on her leg, just above her knee, until we both look down at it.

I don’t move it.

She doesn’t ask me to, nor does she move at all. All that moves is the rapid rising and falling of her chest — a chest that my eyes are in perfect line with. Mustering every ounce of self control that I have, I go to lean back, to settle myself once again on the opposite bench until this torturous ride is over, but I don’t make it far.

Just as I move, Nesta places her hand on top of mine and I freeze. She’s looking at me wildly, searching my eyes for something. I don’t think I’m breathing at all. I have no thoughts in my mind whatsoever. All I can focus on is her intent eyes, her hand on mine, my hand on her skirts, her lips that are parted and begging to be kissed.

Neither of us says a word.

“Just—“

Whatever she’s about to say evaporates as the coach slows and when it jerks to a stop, reality steps back in.

Nesta snatches her hand from mine as if she’s been burned and I take the hint, pulling myself back just as the door opens and I’m looking at the front door of my townhouse.

Not wanting to keep the poor lad standing in the storm, I take my leave and hurry to my front door, drenching myself further. I don’t look back at Nesta. I have a feeling she doesn’t want me to.

I have a feeling that whatever she was about to say, whatever would have happened if we just kept driving, would have surely led to utter regret.

Before I shut my door behind me, I watch Nesta’s carriage roll away, gone into the storm.

Calling for my butler, I beg for a drink to calm my still pounding heart.

#nessian #regency au #19th century au #period au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction

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jomiddlemarch · 18 days

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My vegetable love should grow

“But Miss Cressida, it ain’t done!” exclaimed the red-headed housemaid Sally, who had an uncanny resemblance to a fox but without any of a vixen’s daring or speed. Her dark eyes were wet with tears of consternation and darted about anxiously.

“It can be as long as I bring a maid with me. You went along with everything else, you cannot draw some arbitrary line at coming on a call with me during calling hours,” Cressida said, striving to keep her tone even, because she had a positive horror of ranting at the servants the way her father ranted at them and anyone else he deemed beneath him, which was everyone other than Queen Charlotte and possibly the Archbishop of Canterbury. Still, Sally was being difficult and Cressida didn’t have enough pin money left to bribe her into compliance.

“If this works out as I hope, I’ll take you with me,” she said to the maid.

“You already asked me to go with you,” Sally replied. “Did Cook addle your brains when she shouted?”

“I meant, if I am successful and secure the affections of Lord Debling, I should ask Mama to allow me to bring you with me as a maid,” Cressida explained. A more clever maid would have grasped her intention, but a more clever maid would have found a way to refuse Cressida’s undeniably outré scheme.

“A lady’s maid?” Sally breathed, as this was evidently what she considered the absolute pinnacle of existence. She couldn’t do Cressida’s hair worth a toss, however, and her mending was only passable.

“We’ll see,” Cressida said.

“D’you mean to go now, my lady?” Sally asked.

Cressida almost sighed in relief. She’d have boxed the girl’s ears if she had to, but dragging a weeping maid behind her to Lord Debling’s townhouse what not what she’d planned.

“Yes. Fetch my blue pelisse and then we’ll be off,” Cressida said.

“It’s three years old and covered in braid,” Sally said doubtfully. “You don’t want something more fashionable?”

“Fashion isn’t my primary concern,” Cressida said. She suspected Lord Debling would not notice if she wore her grandmother’s hooded wool cloak, other than for its marten fur trim. The blue went with her eyes and she remembered being hopeful when she first put it on; it had been the Season she thought she might make a match with Viscount Aldertwyne and his five thousand pounds per annum and her recollections were all colored with her earlier rosy optimism.

“If you say so, my lady,” Sally said.

It was not good Ton to snap at one’s servants’ vapidity or that of anyone who wasn’t a Cit, so Cressida held her tongue.

It was a significant effort.

Twenty minutes later, Lady Cressida Cowper and her maid stood at Lord Debling’s front door. It was quite tall, but in need of a fresh coat of paint, but the dwelling’s bones, as the saying went, were good and it overlooked a park, which she supposed was some relief to a man who preferred to be out in nature. The park provided plenty of greenery, even if none of it were wild. Cressida imagined the street thronged with carriages as the members of the Ton jockeyed and jostled to get into her latest squeeze, the rooms packed, the ratafia nearly running dry, Lord Debling sequestered in his study or Patagonia.

“Lady Cressida Cowper, to call on Lord Debling,” she announced to his butler. The man did not even blink and she considered that Debling’s unorthodox approach to society would stand her in good stead in her mission. She was ushed down a gracefully proportioned hall that was gloomy due to the paper an earlier Debling had selected. She nodded to herself. She’d avoid all paintings of the hunt and any still-life with a dead fowl, that would satisfy him well enough, and she preferred landscapes anyway.

“The drawing room, my lady,” the butler announced, which was helpful, because it looked little like any drawing room she’d seen. Eloise had dragged her to the British Museum on a rainy afternoon and that was what she felt she’d entered, as the room was full of natural curiosities, some in glass cloches or cases, some merely arrayed on shelves or set down on tables as ornaments. Everything that was not an artifact appeared to be sepia.

The spiky, spiny, curved shell with its pink flared lip seeming vaguely obscene must be a trial for a housemaid to dust.

Lord Debling set down the book he’d been perusing and removed the spectacles which Cressida would have thought would suit him ill yet somehow contrived to make him more attractive. She didn’t need him to be very attractive and hadn’t anticipated how to respond to his appealing countenance and very broad shoulders in well-fitted superfine. She offered a polite smile, allowing her lips to curve slightly and showing a glimpse of her teeth, while she waited for him to approach her with a greeting.

“Lady Cressida, good afternoon,” he said. “It is good of you to call. I trust I find you well.”

He said all the necessities but as if he were bored by them. His eyes drifted down to her hands and when they returned to her face, there was an expression of interest she’d rarely evoked in a prospective suitor.

“The weather is very pleasant,” she replied.

“I must admit—”

“I expect you—”

They both stopped after speaking at the same time, Lord Debling startled into a laugh that was not one Society would approve, too unstudied, too spontaneous.

Cressida approved of it quite heartily.

“I’ve brought you something I hoped you might enjoy, but I’m afraid my aspiration may have exceeded my execution,” she said.

“You would have me set my standards low,” he said.

“It’s a vegetable tart, made from a receipt of the French,” Cressida said, using one hand to uncover the pie from its cloth where it sat perched on her knee. Uncloaked, there was no hiding the fact that some of the unevenly sliced vegetables were burnt and the pastry was sadly pale in places. Possibly raw. She hadn’t dared to poke at those spots and risk the entire collapse of the tart. “I know you eschew meat in your repasts and I thought to convey my…appreciation with a dish designed to suit your tastes.”

“I’m sure your Cook has done an admirable job,” Lord Debling said.

“Oh, no, she had nothing to do with it! If she heard you say that, she’d surely give her notice, to think I allowed anyone to believe this a measure of her culinary skill. I made this myself,” Cressida said.

It was the coup de grâce, or what she believed a coup de grâce was, given the limitations of her last governess whose French was markedly poor, the final blow that would deliver Debling to her or send him fleeing.

“You can cook?” he asked.

“Not very well,” she said, without false humility. “I did not think it would prove that difficult, if it was something a servant could do, but I’ve discovered my talents don’t lie in the realm of cookery.”

Sally, who was amusing herself looking at some pressed leaves or somesuch, made a sound like an incredulous guffaw and Cressida could tell that Lord Debling heard and had schooled his face to remain unaffected.

“I did not think any ladies of the Ton would ever venture to cook or bake or do anything domestic other than prepare a cup of tea with milk and sugar,” he said.

“They don’t,” Cressida said. “I wanted you to understand, I’m not like the rest of them.”

“Do I need to eat the tart to grasp that fact conclusively?” he said.

“Not really,” she said.

“Good. Then I will eat my portion purely for the enjoyment of it,” he replied.

“That will be little enough,” Cressida said. There’d been a savory custard to be poured over the vegetables that had looked curdled but she’d persevered; now she realized she risked maiming or killing him if he consumed much of her possibly poison pie.

“Allow me to decide, Lady Cressida,” he said and she did not think she mistook his intention. “I think I shall like it very well indeed and will owe you a debt of gratitude. You will need to tell me how I may repay you for your thoughtfulness.”

“You might begin with a waltz at Lady Thimbleberry-Fenwick’s ball tomorrow night,” she said.

“And perhaps the supper dance as well,” he replied. “Though she will not present a tart anything like this one.”

“Thank the good Lord for that,” muttered Sally in a carrying whisper.

Cressida did something she hadn’t for over a decade. She blushed to the roots of her hair and all the way down her decolletage. She gave thanks for her lace fichu.

“No one has given me anything that has pleased me so well since I was just out of dresses,” he said.

“Truly?” Cressida said, knowing she sounded for all the world like a miss fresh out of the schoolroom.

“Truly,” Lord Debling said. “I don’t bother with lies. Waste of time.”

#bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton #cressida cowper #lord debling #cressida x debling #rarepair #lady cressida cowper #romance #regency romance tropes #humor #rebooting cressida #chasing lord debling #how to win a vegetarian's heart

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bruhhhh-huhhhhh · 2 months

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first off, i’m special so these aren’t closed for me 😍.

okay i’m like 5’5 i think… dunno.

glasses, medium length brown hair, it’s like two inches above my shoulders, i have a biting problem.

i cannot leave unless i am wearing my converse, no other shoes.

i wear the same outfit everyday, jeans, tshirt, hoodie and converse.

i take way to many photos of the people i love, i looove cooking.

i have both daddy and mommy issues.

i don’t like headphones only earbuds? earphones? (idk help)

i fucking love pink, purple and green.

hmmmmmmmm, i have to listen to music if i’m not at home (i listen to music there too)

i do unfortunately enjoy the taste of cigarettes.

i’m terrified of touch but crave it.

is this good 😰?

fuck yeah boiiiiiii

(id like to formally apologize for that)

Oklay anyway for Overwatch I match you with...

Junkrat

Honestly my boy loves how much shorter than him you are

Don't worry though he won't make fun of you for it

not too much anyway

everything he buys you is pink, purple, or green after you tell him those are your favorite colors

offers to do your top surgery (don't let him he'll use bombs)

he doesn't get your obsession with converse (neither do i, buddy. neither do i) but he'll get them for you anyway

sometimes forgets how much touch scares you

it takes roadhog telling him off for jumping on you for him to get it

he'll be more careful after that

He loves posing for your pictures

no shame at all

will also let you take nudes of him but anyway thats for later

please cook for him he never has time to eat normal food

compliments your cooking all the time

he will get on his hands and knees and beg for you to cook for him bc its so good

also has a biting problem

likes to nibble on your shoulders

has broken your glasses at least once and roadhog had to fix them for you

and for Resident Evil I match you with...

Chris and Leon!

(i couldn't pick one LOL)

Best cure for daddy issues tbh

They both smoke I'm pretty sure, so you'll definitely get your taste of cigarettes when you kiss them

Leon would definitely help you cook dinner

Chris, meanwhile, is banned from the kitchen because he can't cook to save his life

no one can tell me otherwise

anyway

Leon would definitely try and get you to branch out your outfits a little more, but Chris honestly finds your outfits cool as fuck

mostly because he wishes he could pull that off all the time

You have the best photos of the two of them arguing or doing stupid shit

Because they literally never stop arguing or doing stupid shit

Leon supplies your music addiction while Chris sits there and tries to talk to you, not realizing you have your headphones in

I'm talking full ass conversation that only stops when Leon tells him that you're listening to music and can't hear him

They never speak of it

Leon does use it as embarrassment fuel for whenever you aren't around

anyway thats all i got hope this is good idk im half alseep rn

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mbakuetshurisprincess · 1 year

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Out of the Darkness

AN: Hey y’all! This request was simple, like very simple, like all I had to do was write something very fluffy and cute. Unfortunately, I cannot accomplish such a mission, I must force myself to write an emotional plot into all of my fics lol. To @sundownimup-1 who requested this LMAO I apologize if you wanted something not so deep, I uh, failed in that regard. Also, you requested this forever ago, I promise I do see y’all’s requests they just take me a min. Hope everyone enjoys tho!

Request: “Shuri x fem reader fluff. Since it's almost Christmas..The reader and Shuri are in a cabin in the woods and it's snowing, they are drinking hot cocoa.”

Summary: A much-needed break for Shuri and her girlfriend as the year winds to an end.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tbh no idea, its mainly fluff so maybe nothing? I don’t even think I curse, don’t quote me tho. I do mention the death oh T’Challa and Queen Ramonda so be warned.

Word count: 1,439

Suggested listening: Bloom (Bonus Track) - The Paper Kites

“In the morning when I wake. And the sun is coming through. Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness. And you fill my head with you.”

You felt the bed next to you dip and instinctually you reached out for your partner, only to be met with a chuckle.

“You’re so needy in the mornings usana.” Shuri cooed as she leaned her back up against the headboard. Once she was situated she grabbed your hand and brought it to her mouth placing a soft kiss on the top of your hand. She then let it fall to rest on the part of her thigh where her boxers ended, placing her hand on top of yours.

You blinked for a second, allowing your eyes to adjust to the bright white light that flooded the room. It took you a minute to remember where you were, expecting to be awoken to the warm sun of the Golden City, not this white light. By the fourth blink, your brain remembered where you were.

Shuri knew not celebrating Christmas was going to be hard for you since it wasn’t something Wakandans took part in. She also knew that you two had been missing each other, her spending most of her time in the lab coming into sleep at ungodly hours and you working with the Outreach Centers, getting up way earlier than you normally would to account for West Coast time. By the time she was laying down to sleep, you were waking up for work. Passing each other as you operated on different timing. You greeting her with a “Goodnight, my sweet.” and her responding with “Have a good morning, sthandwa.” Not even having enough time to share a kiss.

That prompted Shuri to ask M’baku if he knew anywhere she could take you, just like a week-long getaway to allow a break from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Graciously, he offered the cabin that had been passed down through his family, it was deep in the Jabari woods, surrounded by trees and covered in snow.

That's how you ended up with your hand on Shuri’s thigh blinking up at her with a dumb smile plastered all over your face.

“What?” She asked, matching the smile on your face. You shook your head at her, your expression never changing.

“Nothing, just love you. That's all.” You answered, rubbing circles into her thigh.

Shuri broke eye contact with you, looking away as she tried to fight off the deep red color flooding into her cheeks.

“C’mere.” Was all it took for Shuri to say and you were moving. She opened her legs and you slid yourself over top of her so that you were in the middle of her two legs. You peppered kisses all over each of Shuri’s thighs before you laid your head down in between them. She looked down at you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for this.” You said quietly as you peered out of the window, the large trees stayed put while some of the smaller ones swayed with the strong winds outside.

“You deserve it, my love, you deserve so much in this world. Sometimes I-” Shuri cut herself off and you looked up at her. You could see her biting her lip slightly, one of her tells she did when she was nervous.

“Hey,” You said, tapping the outside of one of Shuri’s legs, signaling that you wanted her attention. You waited until she finally looked down at you before speaking. “It’s just us here, yeah? Just me and you. Tell me what's on your mind.”

The look in your eyes calmed Shuri’s nerves, you always had that effect on her. But she knew if she was going to say what she wanted to say right now, she couldn’t look at you. She turned her head to look back out the window at the snow falling. “It’s just that sometimes, sometimes I thank Bast for you Y/N. I thank Bast that she brought you into my life, I can say I don’t know where I would be without you here, with me.”

It had always been hard for Shuri to express her emotions to you, even before the passing of her brother and mother. But their deaths seemed to exacerbate the problem, so you relished hearing Shuri openly talk about how she felt. Thanking Bast yourself for this moment of vulnerability.

“For a while, everything was so dark you know? When brother passed I- I didn’t know how I could go on but I had mother, and I had you, so deep down I knew I would be fine; even if it took a while. But when mother passed, it was like the darkness swallowed me whole and I couldn’t get out, I felt as if nothing could save me.” She paused and finally brought her eyes down to you, surprised at how intently you had been listening. “But there you were.”

You noticed the tears forming at the corners of her eyes and it caused your breath to hitch.

“No matter how much darkness surrounded me whenever you were around I swear I could always see light. It was small at first, but little by little you brought the sunshine back into my life. And- And I wanna thank you for that. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for never leaving my side, no one else has done that for me.” By the time Shuri had finished, the tears that were brimming at the edges of her eyes began to fall over, softly landing on her shirt.

You instantly sat up and turned around, wrapping your legs around Shuri’s waist, putting them between her back and the headboard she had been leaning against. You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her body into yours, wanting to get as close to her as you could at this moment. Her hands wrapped around your midriff, holding you just as tight as you were holding her.

“I’m sorry usana I-I didn’t mean to cry, I just was so overwhelmed with gratitude,” Shuri spoke with her head buried in your shoulder, you felt the material of your sleep shirt dampen slightly with the few tears she let out.

“Hey, it’s okay my love. You don’t have to apologize for that, expressing your feelings is never an issue between us, yeah?” You calmed her down by rubbing your hands up and down her back. You rocked her back and forth for a few moments, allowing her to expel the last of her tears. “Can you look at me, baby?”

Shuri nodded and pulled her head from your shoulder looking up at you through teary eyes. You quickly wiped away the stray tears from her face and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks before placing one sweetly on her lips.

“I’m not going to leave you, okay?” Shuri once again nodded in response. “I am filled with nothing but gratitude for you that you choose me every day to be your girlfriend. I am honored that you let me see every side of you. Truly my love, you are my favorite person.”

You could see Shuri fighting off a smile on her face which only led to a grin appearing on yours. She leaned in and pecked your lips once before pulling away and doing it again, she repeated this over and over till you were both laughing and you were pulling out of her arms.

You squealed out once you finally shimmed your way out of bed, doing a victory dance as Shuri lay back watching you with a shake of her head. You looked over at the coffee table and noticed two mugs sitting on them with white puffs sitting on top of them. Wondering what exactly it was you made your way closer and peered into them.

“Shuri!” You exclaimed. “You made hot chocolate for us! When did you even have the time?” You went to turn around and ask but the feeling of her hands wrapping around your waist stopped you. Mentally you cursed her black panther abilities for allowing her to sneak up on you like that. You placed your hands on top of hers as she rubbed circles into your stomach with the pads of her fingers.

“That’s how you like it right? With the little…” The word escaped Shuri’s mind but you were happy to fill it in for her.

“Marshmallows! Aww, baby thank you, really.” You turned around and wrapped your arms around Shuri’s neck drawing her into a hug. She welcomed your touch and encased you with her arms.

“You more than deserve it, my love.”

#shuri x y/n #shuri x reader #shuri black panther #shuri imagine #shuri udaku #shuri fanfiction #shuri x you #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #black panther fic #black panther fandom

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dustedmagazine · 1 month

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Listening Post: Mdou Moctar

Mdou Moctar is, without question, one of the pre-eminent rock guitarists of our time, as much a master of heavy, hazy grooves as of double-tapped Van Halen-esque shreddery. His music is steeped in a very specific desert blues aesthetic, the swaying, side-to-side rhythms that evoke camel caravans, the keening call and response that suggests lonely attempts at communion in remote campsites, the hard-bashed but intricate percussion, the silky multi-colored tunics that the band sports onstage. And yet, it’s universal in the same amp fried lineage as Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Eddie Hazel and, oh right, Eddie van Halen.

Dusted has been enamored of Mdou Moctar for quite some time, beginning with Patrick Masterson’s highly entertaining review of the Akounak Tedalat Taha Tazoughai OST in 2015—the music for a remake of Prince’s Purple Rain in the Tamashek language— on Sahel Sounds.Masterson observed, “The idea of a Tuareg Purple Rain would have been unthinkable in 1984, not least of all because —and I cannot stress enough how funny I find this — there is no Tamashek word for ‘purple.’ Yet, 31 years later, here we are — the magic of a smaller world has helped bring an academic outsider’s joke to life. The punchline, of course, is that it’s as good as advertised.”

We collectively fell for Ilana (The Creator) and its out-of-hand shredding in 2019.Isaac Olsen noted, “If you still have a punk-induced allergy to flashy guitar solos, be warned; there’s not a track on Ilana where Moctar doesn’t take every available opportunity to — no other word for it — shred. Fortunately, Moctar earns the right to play his ass off by recruiting a band whose hungry energy matches and spurs on his own and by, for the first time, writing a whole album of tunes worthy of his chops.” The record brought a normally fractious Dusted roster to unity and dominated the 2019 Mid-Year feature.

Two years later, Afrique Victime won praise for its less showy, more groovy vibe. Said Jennifer Kelly in her review, “While he’s been one of rock music’s best guitarists for a while, the larger platform takes him out of the niche desert blues category and into the broader multinational arena. He might be excused for capitalizing by leaning into the rock elements of his sound, but instead, he’s putting forward the droning, mystic, call-and-response twilight magic of northwest African guitar music.”

And so we come to Funeral for Justice, another scorcher. The new record is as sharp and impassioned as any Moctar and his band have done so far, and it is inflamed with political energy. It comes after a period of exile after civil war in Niger. It calls out the injustices of colonialism, economic inequality and exploitation in cuts including the title track, “Oh France” and “Modern Slaves.” It cooks on the strength of a band that has never sounded better or more locked in, and it has one or two guitar solos, too.

Intro by Jennifer Kelly

Jennifer Kelly: How are you all liking the new Mdou Moctar? I’m feeling like it’s the best thing he’s ever done, not different exactly but more intense and volcanic. Definitely turned up to 11.

Bill Meyer: My first reaction is that while Funeral For Justice definitely foregrounds the shredding, I miss the layered sound of Afrique Victime. But I’m tickled to hear the increased prominence of electronic percussion and autotune. It’s kind of a roots move, given that the first time a lot of people heard him was on a tune originally identified only as “Autotune,” which appeared on the Sahel Sounds compilation, Music From Saharan Cellphones.

Tim Clarke: I saw Mdou Moctar live last year at a music festival, and it was very loud and thrilling. This is the first time I've listened to a full album. It makes me realize how little I'm drawn to fast guitar playing! And the band's trademark "cantering" rhythm feels like a bit of a musical rut. But when they explore outside these parameters, things get more interesting, especially when they play around with a mix of recording fidelities at the start of second track, "Imouhar." I also like the fact the record is concise and well-paced. Definitely piqued my interest to hear more of what the band can do.

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Christian Carey: The combination of desert blues and intense rock solos is amazing - and fairly singular. The group vocals create an appealing contrast to Mdou's shredding.

I'm not sure that he can raise the intensity level any higher than this — turned up to 12?

Jennifer Kelly: I'm so glad you guys picked up on this. Lots to think about.

First regarding Bill's comment about a "rootsier" sound, it's complicated isn't it?

We look to third world artists for authenticity, which in its most reductive form means less electrification, fewer electronics, etc. But as Bill points out, Mdou's early stuff was heavily autotuned, as for instance here:

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And a lot of the Sahel Sounds’ (and thanks, Bill, for making sure we gave them credit for being first with this stuff) cellphone compilations have a very slick, disco-electronic vibe. And that's music largely produced for African audiences without much consideration of a global audience. So which is authentic?

Also, my understanding, Tim, is that the rhythm is based on the way camels walk and a nod to West Africa's nomadic culture and heritage? You hear the same beat in Tinawarin's stuff.

Tim Clarke: I can definitely hear the camel's gait in the cantering rhythm section, that slightly awkward, loping feel. It's certainly unique.

Bryon Hayes: The almost hard rock riff in the intro of the title track originally confused me (did I put the right album on?), but I found it really powerful upon further spins of the album, especially how it segues into the cantering rhythm. Also, the roar as the lower fidelity section of “Imouhar” transitions to a higher fidelity is downright mind-melting! He’s experimenting with song form, and it really works.

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Michael Rosenstein: As much as I've liked Mdou Moctar's music, I have to admit that this one is starting to lose me a bit. But that has way more to do with my musical proclivities than it does to the music at hand. What originally drew me to Moctar's music was the rawness of it; that uneasy balance of "shredding" that others have mentioned with a trance-like, cyclical flow. That was really foregrounded in his early albums like Afelan or Anar both of which were released a decade ago. This new one sounds, to my ears, much more heavily produced and fussed over. I admit, though, that I'm really uneasy with my assessment in that, as much as I hope I'm not, I fear I am just bringing my old, white, privileged judgement to bear. Is this just me judging that the music is no longer "authentic" enough? Or is it just that he is embracing the rock leanings inherent to his music and that just resonates less with me?

I do find it curious that, as far as I can tell, none of Moctar's music on Sahel Sounds is available anymore (including the one track on Music from Saharan Cellphones: Volume 2 referenced by Bill.) I have no idea if that is by his choice, by contractual obligations with Matador, or by the choice of the Sahel Sounds folks.

Jennifer Kelly: I noticed that those records were missing, too, when I looked for the Sahel Sounds records to hear the autotune. I wonder what happened?

Some of the songs are still very trance-y..."Imouhar," for example, especially at the beginning (it gets loud later), "Takoba" all the way through. The production seems about the same as on Afrique Victime to me, clean but not overly so. (Though, I will admit that I probably like the rock stuff more than Michael does.)

We haven't really talked about the political backdrop to this record, have we? The fact that Civil War in Niger has left them stranded in the States since 2023. I don't speak Tamshek but it seems that a lot of the songs with English titles are about politics and colonialism, which may affect the way they play and present the material, yes? It's different from writing songs about village life or falling in love with the local beauty.

Ian Mathers: I'll admit, there's at least a part of me that wishes this whole record was just unabashedly Going For It as hard as the opening title track does. Not that I don't like the relatively more restrained material; I'm not terribly knowledgeable about African music in general but "Takoba" reminds me of one of the few records from the continent I do very much know and love, the one Ali Farka Toure did with Ry Cooder (Talking Timbuktu) that my dad played all the time when I was in high school. Toure was from Mali, which at least shares a border with Niger, so hopefully I'm not being too ignorant hearing similarities in some of the guitar playing there. The more monomaniacally the band gets cooking here, generally, the more I like it (I really like "Sousoume Tamacheq," for example). I think I probably like it a little more than (the also excellent!) Afrique Victime, although I think for similar but opposite reasons to Michael, that it's just more to my taste and not necessarily a better record.

I'd also love to see a full set of lyrics/translations, and everything I've read about the sociopolitical context of the band and this music has been fascinating, but mostly right I'm just appreciating and enjoying this record in a similar way to, say, Oneida's "Sheets of Easter" or that U SCO record I picked for our 2023 Slept On round up.

Tim Clarke: Further to what you're saying about enjoying the "everything on 11" aspect of Moctar's sound, I can't help wondering what the band would sound like recorded by Steve Albini. That I'd like to hear!

Ian Mathers: Oh, good point; maybe because we talked about African Head Charge a while back I'm now also wondering what Adrian Sherwood would make of them.

Bill Meyer: I don’t think you’re too far off the mark in seeing a similarity between Moctar’s and Ali Farka Toure’s music, Ian. Toure worked with the languages and styles of several ethnic groups from the Malian interior, soI’m sure he would have been acquainted with the precedents for what Moctar does. Moctar is from subsequent generation, so his music is more in touch with what has been popular in the Sahel in this century. But another thing they both have in common is that they’ve been worked a lot on non-African stages, gotten hold of gear that isn’t particularly available back home, and undergone a personal course of development on a world stage.

Their politics are different, though. I think Toure was the mayor (or something similar) of his town. He was pretty invested in fostering the stability of the existing Malian state, thus all the songs in different languages that encouraged people to get along. He was the big man in town who responsibly leveraged his popularity as a musician to obtain resources for his community. Your CD purchases generated income for Niafunke’s farming community. Moctar, on the other hand, was just another guy on the street, albeit an artistically ambitious one, until musical opportunities permitted him to tour and make records outside of Niger. His stance, as far as I can grasp it, is critical of African leaders who don’t look out for their people, and even more critical of the foreign powers that have run roughshod over his country (mostly France and the US).

Matador came through with the lyrics.

[Here are some excerpts.]

“ FUNERAL FOR JUSTICE”

Dear African leaders, hear my burning question

Why does your ear only heed France and America?

They misled you into giving up your lands

They delightfully watch you in your fraternal feud

They possess the power to help out but chose not to

Why is that? When your rights are trodden upon

“ MODERN SLAVES”

Oh world, why be so selective about human beings?

My people are crying while you laugh

All you do is watch

Oh world, why be so selective about counrties?

Yours are well built while ours are being destroyed

Yours are well built while ours are being destroyed.

Jennifer Kelly: Wow, that is fiery stuff.

Ian Mathers: I can also see in the translated lyrics even more of a connection between the two countries, with Tamasheq described as "A helpless orphan abandoned by 3 countries / Mali-Niger, Niger-Mali and Algeria as the third." Interesting to note the gap between Toure and Moctar's respective places in society (at least right now, for Moctar). I didn't specifically think of reggae when I was reading the lyrics, Bill, but once you point it out there does seem to be a number of shared themes, maybe even some metaphors and imagery, there.

#dusted magazine #listening post #mdou moctar #funeral for justice #matador #sahel sounds

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textingtroublesanswers · 9 days

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[Lore attachment: The concept of ghosts in tf2 always confused me. You can go to heaven or hell but also the Mann brothers ended up as ghosts (and eventually tried to drag the other to hell in a previous halloween map) and there were ghosts with rocket launchers in the halloween maps. My theory is that it's like usual ghost rules where theres unfinished business that needs to be done, meaning someone else can conplete that business to let their souls be free to go to heaven or hell.]

To all of the mercs, if a bomb were to drop on all of you while everyone was in the base, destroying all your possessions (which will remove the "unfinished business is an object" unless they didn't bring it to the base.) as well as destroying the respawn machine, rendering all of you true and permanent deaths, where would you all end up? Would you go to heaven? Hell? Or would you haunt the living?

(Have fun with this one! You can even mix it up a bit with other people being in the base with them as it happens! Like the babies, Zhanna, Miss Pauling etc. etc. This is all hypothetical so maybe even the characters themselves would bring it up! This is why its a bomb and not just that every merc dies.)

-🤡 (made this in french colors for fun hehe)

Before you're even done talking, Ludwig is already gone from the room. No one knows where he went, no one even noticed him leave, not even Misha. He is just gone, & everyone realises this very quickly.

"Do you think doc left an experiment on the bunsen burner again?" Tavish asks while scratching his beard. He & Mikhail were the first to notice Ludwig's absence, & Tavish was the one to bring it up to the others.

"He usually doesn't leave them on when we get questions," Dell says, scratching under his helmet. He's just as confused as the rest of the team, "But, going back to the question, I'd hope I'd go to heaven, although I'd probably end up as a ghost. I have a lot of blueprints to work on, & I'd hate to leave them all unfinished, even if I never get the chance to build them."

Jeremy shrugs, "Eh, doc's weird. He's never really been on board with the whole heaven & hell thing. See, one time Bug & me were talking to him, & he says that he grew up Christian, right, but his family was actually Jewish, so he grew up with a weird mix of ideas, but then as a young adult he stopped believing in god cause what sorts god would force him to live through all the bullshit he lived through." The rest of the mercs stare at him for a moment, wearing matching looks of confusion.

"Vati said that?" Bug squeaks.

"Yeah, when he was drunk. All three of us were, but you the most, so you don't remember it."

"Oooh, right."

"Anyway," Jeremy continues, "I'm going to heaven, duh. I'm god's gift to humanity after all."

Mick is shaking his head, draping an arm around Jeremy's shoulders, "I'm not getting into all that with doc's past, if he knew you knew he'd probably dismember you. But, I know for a fact that I'm going to heaven." There is a chorus of mumbles from the other mercs, ranging from Mikhail & Tavish saying they'd hope they get to heaven, to Jane claiming he is immortal & could never die, to Bug saying she'd prefer hell because of all the fire.

"You've been rather quiet, French toast." Dell says, coming over to Jacques.

Jacques takes out a cigarette, & looks down at Dell, "With all of my sins, I thought it was obvious I was going to hell. However, I can't shake the thought that Ludwig is not telling us something."

Dell wraps his arms around Jacques, standing on his tip toes to lean up for a kiss, "Ah, when is doc not, not telling us something? You know how sensitive Lu is about his past, he hasn't had an easy life."

"No, but this is different, labourer, I'm telling you. That man cannot be stealthy to save his life, & yet no one noticed him leaving," Jacques sighs, "He is hiding something from us, & I simply hope it's nothing bad."

Dell smiles sadly, "He hides a lot of stuff from us, Spah. A lot of stuff, trust me."

#Texting Guests #tf2 #tf2 ask blog #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #practical espionage #🤡anon

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lya-dustin · 9 months

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Shock and Delight

Or the Aemond x Aemma (oc) Bridgerton!AU no one asked for x this week's prompt from @hotd-bigbang (September 22nd: "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad." (Moby Dick))

Please do not ask when i am returning to my other wips as i have no control and by the looks of it just started a new one.

The household of the Princess of Dragonstone is always a sight to behold at court. Whether it is by its sheer size ---the Realm's Delight in her piety has had a child for each of the Seven and her mother’s heart welcomed Lady Laena's daughters as if they were her own bringing her up to the unholy number nine---, the cohesion of it or its variation in coloring, you find yourself looking at them.

Unfortunately, their good looks, dragons, and enviable familial bond do not make up for the fact that, in comparison to Queen Alicent’s four children, they are rather ordinary. Yes, dear reader, that observation includes newborn Princess Visenya.

One has to wonder if their rank in the succession and dragons will be enough to find them all good matches now that the eldest two are to join the violent and bloody melee that is polite society.

--- the Morning Scandal

“I told you the printing press was a bad idea.” Daemon comments as the week’s scandal is read to him by his wife and niece.

“You sound like Otto.” Rhaenyra said refusing to take down her idea of a free ---but moderated--- press. “Besides it’s not hinting at It, the printer checks with me before letting things like these harmless little paper circulates around the world.”

“If the scandal sheet is as harmless as you say, then why are you going all out on the twins’ debut, sweetheart?” he asked looking smug at knowing it got to her.

No one could see them as ordinary, if people know they are not as special as they appear they will begin doubting the place they have in life. They would see Rhaenyra was an ordinary woman and wonder why ordinary bastards were called so and hers cannot.

The myth created by their culture protected them, if the smallfolk believe the gods spat the Valyrians onto land and gave them dragons and dreams to conquer the land they would not dare to harm her family.

Aemma, the elder of the twins and her heir, could not be seen as an ordinary girl. Not when her crown would pass on to her and give them the boost needed to push for absolute primogeniture as Queen Alysanne and Prince Aemon had hoped to do so only to have his own fucking father deny the legality of his will by calling the Great Council.

People will contest her father’s will; Otto Hightower was not wasting his time hoping to change her father’s mind as Alicent did and was doing everything to have enough allies for when the time came.

“You saw Maester Orwyle and Lord Beesbury’s letter, he is dying, and it won’t be long before Otto shoves me out the way to put Aegon on my throne. If Aemma weds the right man, we can prevent needless bloodshed and make sure we keep on this path of peace.” Gods, Rhaenyra hated how much she sounded like father these days. It was as if the roles were now reversed ---only she knows Aemma wouldn’t be so naïve as to give up her maidenhead to the only young man who treats her as a person and not a meal ticket.

Jace could only marry a Celtigar, a Velaryon or someone with Valyrian coloring to secure his place as future Lord of the Tides. Despite truly being Laenor’s son, her sweet little boy did not look the part. Something that could be remedied if he wed, say, Vaemond’s sweet girl, Daena.

Aemma needed to have an advantageous marriage. She needed a lord with a title, wealth and something to get the Greens to rethink their plans. Rhaenyra could have her wed to Aemond knowing her father will say yes, but there is a possibility that her little brother, like her late first husband, prefers roast duck.

Even Mysaria cannot find a woman in his past or present save for the whore Aegon hired when he was three and ten. Poor boy must have been traumatized, as if him losing his eye and that clusterfuck afterwards hadn’t been enough.

Nothing wrong with his preferences if it was true. Rhaenyra enjoys a good goose from time to time as does his mother, she just didn’t want to damn her daughter to her life. Her sweet Aemma deserved a man who would love her as a husband should.

Unfortunately, the younger generation was plagued by an unholy number of heiresses and hardly any heirs. The Princess of Dragonstone could count on her hands the number of men young enough to wed Aemma without being old enough to have courted Rhaenyra.

“I thought you wanted her to marry someone of her choice.” Her husband reminded her, they had agreed no arranged marriages for their children.

“I do, as long as he fills all the requirements we need.” His wife assured him and pretended not to see the scandal sheet go under the rest of the news printed on this morning’s newsletters. He thinks she doesn’t know he reads it while in the privy, but she does, just as she knows who writes it.

“You are a madwoman, Nyra. How will you manage to find this mythical creature?” the Rogue Prince asked. This was the same man who managed to find two women perfect for him ---after the convenient death of his first wife--- through blind fucking luck.

“All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.” Rhaenyra laughed and asked him not to speak of this once the children came in and sat down to break their fast as they always do.

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #bridgerton!au #aemond x aemma #aemond targaryen x oc #hotd bigbang #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targeryan #daemon targeryan

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bugtransport · 1 year

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Kamen Rider Amazon finished March 7th, 2023

#hongoposting

Pictured: just a little guy

Okay. I really liked Amazon. It’s short and sweet and to the point. I cried multiple times while watching it but also it made me feel considerably less insane than X made me feel. That typically would leave me with less to talk about (the show was pretty tight and while I could go gushing about all the things that I thought were cool, that isn’t really as fun as going completely off the deep end) except actually no I do have something that I want to talk about really badly. Amazon is pretty different. He’s not a borg, first off, and while sure okay, Riderman was mostly human, he still was part borg and I count him as one because he had identity issues about it. Amazon hardly even seems to realize he’s transforming for the first few episodes; it feels completely instinctual. He’s scared of bikes the first time he encounters them. They actually dyed the foam red (among other colors) this time and it got my livetweets flagged on Twitter for violence? He doesn’t really know Japanese for the first half of the series. Sure, Tachibana’s there, but none of the other riders make an appearance like they’ve done up until this point. The guy who helps Amazon is a reformed monster. It’s really different as a series than anything that came before it… but also it was mentioned to me that Amazon was an attempt to bring Kamen Rider back to its roots post X and I have to say, I kinda get it? Forgive me for taking this one here but if you’ve watched the series you’ll probably get where I’m coming from. I think I have just one question left on my mind that I really, really need to ask:

Ishinomori, buddy? Personal fucking question to ask of a guy I know but like. Do you have sensory issues? Is that what’s going on here?

This isn’t me being rude here because like, me too my good man; this question comes not with ill will but to see if we’re wearing the same hat here and if that hat is like, a little itchy and is it bothering you as well? Do you think we can take it off soon?? I know the whole matching thing is fun but I feel like I’m going to explode. I’m just looking at what you and the gang have made here, 4 series and 6 riders in, and I really can’t help but see that this is a concept you keep coming back to. Especially now that we have a guy who came into being a Rider completely removed from Hongo and – I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s take a step back here. I cannot for the life of me remember what all I’ve said about Hongo where so I’m just going to start in:

Hongo. Uh. Hongo. Just, like, take a look at the way that he interacts with the world.* My brain short circuits when I try to talk about him sometimes and I think that’s happening right now. I have so many feelings about why he is the way that he is and it’s something that’s just constantly on my mind. Hongo’s the kind of self-sacrificial guy who will put everything on the line to better the world but when it comes to himself, he doesn’t really extend the same courtesy. You can see through the series that things just get to be too much for him and while I think sure it’s most apparent in his first stint on the show when things are fresh and they’re introducing what it means to be borged and he’s trying his damnedest to understand his new strength and enhanced senses… there are still points throughout the series where you can tell it’s just too much for him. There’s not really any one thing I can point to as an example even, it’s just the way that he’ll be comfortable in dark places or bite the side of his thumb when he’s focusing on things or feel pain in the wrong way and muscle through it. It’s like discomfort is part of his daily life and has been for a while, it’s just ramped up now to the point where he can’t really ignore it like he used to be able to sometimes. That probably doesn’t help with the whole struggle with his humanity thing that he’s dealing with constantly; the world should be something that he can handle and he’s not able to and that’s just rough.

Hayato I think I kind of covered a while ago with this post but my feelings for his borg senses are kind of the same as my feelings on Kazami’s: Hongo obviously had the chance to be there for the two of them and while my thoughts that he helped finish up the work on Hayato are totally headcanon he was explicitly borging (haha) Kazami so yeah, I think given the fact that Hongo obviously has so many issues with how he experiences the world, and also the fact that this feature ended up malfunctioning in canon later on, I totally think that him putting a limiter/regulator on Kazami’s nervous system was his way of making sure that he wouldn’t be inflicting the same kind of pain on someone else, and you know what fuck it maybe he adjusted Hayato too to make things easier for him. It’s such a genuine act of care for someone else and fits his personality; he doesn’t want to have more borgs in the world but if he has to if he really has no choice but to do he’d still feel damn bad about it but he’d at least be able to do that for them.

(Riderman doesn’t get a spot here because he doesn’t seem to have Issues in this arena, but I wouldn’t really expect him to seeing as he’s only got one arm borged up. I do totally think that him and Kazami should umm, calibrate that thing together because I’m sure the input from it is whacked compared to his other arm and maybe he could use an extra person to help him test the sensation but that’s uh that’s not what this space is for. I just thought I would mention it x)

Then we move to X and oh jeez, I don’t want to give Jin Keisuke’s dad any credit here, but if he did want his son to take over his shitty fight for him I guess I can see that maybe he wouldn’t have made the extra sensory input so overwhelming. Jin Keisuke clearly still has it: there’s that one part in X when he’s meeting Tachibana who’s listening to the radio on headphones and Keisuke pops in like “damn boss I could hear that all the way from outside what’s going on with the news” and Tachibana clocks him as a borg, but it’s not shown to be upsetting to him, it’s just shown to be like he is. Which I think is good. Jin Keisuke has enough to deal with without that additional issue. Fuck his dad but at least he didn’t screw him over in that way.

Pictured: lonely little guy, don't worry, you'll find your people soon.

I know that Amazon isn’t a borg. But… he has the same issues that Hongo does. There’s always the possibility (probability even, I mean, again, look at the guy) that Hongo was predisposed to this kind of thing before and that being borged and having his senses enhanced just pushed him past the point where he could reasonably cope with it. He’s also had to function in society; as I think anyone who’s had to deal with shit like that can attest to there’s a certain level of day-to-day discomfort that you’re just expected to put up with so you learn to. Amazon hasn’t had to do that and lived in a place where him being able to sense things in a way that other people couldn’t likely helped him quite a bit; it’s no wonder that suddenly having to deal with the sounds of the city and the sensitivity no longer being a boon would push him over the edge.

Pictured: Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you want to go apeshitt?

It feels good to watch him jump out a window and run away from reporters and try and make his way through the subway when the lights are too bright and the conversations are overlapping and everything feels claustrophobic and trapped. It feels good to watch him get scared by the noise that motorcycles make and so when Tachibana gives him one when he’s not acclimated to or prepared for the gift he gets so overwhelmed that he lashes out and throws it in the ocean and says that he hates it. It’s even fine watching him get frustrated because people blatantly misunderstand his intentions because he’s not operating according to the rules they’re used to people following and getting pegged as a bad guy when he’s trying to help but not being able to articulate how they’re wrong in that moment because he lacks the vocabulary or the ability to use that vocabulary.

Pictured: NO I DON'T WANT IT YOU CAN'T MAKE ME

Pictured: ACAB

It feels good to watch those things because they suck and I get where he’s coming from and I feel that way too sometimes, but he’s able to act on those impulses and be frustrated and get mad about it in a way that Hongo wasn’t? It’s a little cathartic to see it and be like “oh yeah, he’s not having a good time and neither would I be in this situation.” The “damn he’s just like me fr” effect. This is not the representation I came into Kamen Rider looking for but it’s something I’m glad I encountered?? I think it makes the sudden change to being able to speak Japanese and fit in better in society less… if you catch the vibes, less like the same thing that happened with X when they changed his fighting style and made him more Classic Rider towards the very end of the show. Amazon didn’t meet any other riders, and while I’m sure that Tachibana told him about those that came before him, he wasn’t trying to fit into a mold that was created for him. I don’t think it’s bad that Keisuke wanted to fit in that mold either, this isn’t me retroactively shitting on X, because it kind of works for him; I think he needed an identity after his father kept stripping his from him. Amazon didn’t, though. He already had a pretty strong sense of self. They managed to make it feel like he was just learning how to adapt a bit better.

That doesn’t mean that they completely got rid of everything that made him unique, either. He still prefers to do his little friendship hand symbol instead of shaking hands. He still wears the same clothes, just with a shirt as well. He still makes his own medicine and is the only one so far to hit the thigh wound trope but not the one for collapsing through the doors of the Tachibana Rider Base beat to shit only to get a stern talking to about getting back on that horse and fighting. He still talks to people at awkward distances, both too close and too far away without seeming to realize what he’s doing. He still rides the Jungler which, can I just take a minute to gush, never once made the rider bike noise. You know the one. Tachibana introduced Amazon to the bike after he rejected it at the start by showing him how everything worked and showing him how it would be useful and then letting him take it for a spin when he was ready to make the decision himself. He realized that the thing that was bothering him the most was the noise and so he built him Jungler, a nice quiet bike with a friendly face, and that solved that issue. He does take a lot of missteps and there's of course that whole classic Tachibana masculinity pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps-soldier stuff thrown in there occasionally and sure, he doesn’t really get the guy, but that was honestly a surprisingly good way for him to handle things. I was impressed? Amazon’s never framed as being wrong for being the way that he is, he’s just different. He’s still the hero! His fighting changes a bit and he seems to gain more control over himself but I mean, he’s still out here biting people. It warms my little heart to see.

Pictured: Jungler my good friend Jungler!

Yeah, I totally get it being “back to Rider basics” if we take “Rider basics” to mean a guy navigating a world that’s not really right for him, but instead of Hongo style internalizing everything and having two boys and an uncle propping him up when he needs it, it gets a little easier by the end. That’s the main thing that stuck out to me and I think it was something I needed to see? Thanks, buddy. It helps.

Pictured: real friends don't judge you for shit like that

The rest of Amazon? That’s just a fun show! That’s just a funky little guy running around and biting people and protecting both his home and Japan! There’s so much joy to be had there. The rainbow foam blood and how it splatters Amazon’s little white scarf and he just waves his arms around and chirps in it. The shockingly good suits especially in the first half of the series; good lord these people were pulling the weirdest animals out of their hats to make monsters out of and the way that they were designed and acted just really pulled things together cohesively for me. I would have never thought that they’d be able to make a snake work? Or a crocodile? Those aren’t really human shaped but damn if they didn’t end up working. Sure there were some duds (like that owl? That was sure a choice) but on the whole they were pretty damn good. Just my onion. Masahiko was very cute and honestly a great addition to the show, especially for how young he was. I liked everything with Mole which… is a treat I’m going to leave for you to experience on your own if you watch Amazon because I think he’s best experienced that way. Nothing really seemed to drag, but it’s also so short that there wasn’t really any space for it to do so.

Pictured: an "owl"

I’m gonna be so bold as to say: if you’re interested in Showa Rider and you haven’t dipped your toes in before and you don’t want to watch ZO (which is a banger, and my first, and still my ULTIMATE intro recommendation) you might want to give Amazon a shot. Yeah okay it’s definitely different than the other ones but that makes it really simple to watch on its own without having to get into a whole “oh right, that guy’s from a different series, here’s his whole deal” or “ohhh yeah okay so here’s how these organizations work” kind of a discussion. It’s not a huge commitment like ‘71 Rider, which is of course another wonderful place to start, but is also 98 whole episodes long. I don’t really think that there’s anyone I’d warn off Amazon.

Watch it! Do it!

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

*I feel like I use the phrase “the way [he] interacts with the world” to point to the intangible things about characters as sort of a catch-all for the demeanor and caution (or lack thereof) in which they don’t just approach situations themselves necessarily but in which they generally tackle the circumstances of their everyday life. Which does include situations but also includes: how they dress, how they talk, how they pick up an object, where they begin to explore said object, how they sit, how they stand, the mindless habits they have, what they do when they need to withdraw from a situation, how they calm themselves, their level of presence at a given moment, etc. I think I mostly use the phrase because it helps communicate a sense of presentness regardless of intentionality that usually is the kind of stuff that I’m pointing out. Haven’t found a word that properly conveys that same feeling and didn’t want the specific nuance to be lost, and I feel like a lot of the character building in Showa Rider is done through those casual and immaterial moments.

OKAY DONE FOR REAL NOW!

#official bugtransport 2023 media recap #as always this was written in like 18 different sittings and also please don't reply in the reply function x #HAD TO GET THIS ONE OUT BECAUSE I CRIED. GOOD SERIES #rider roundup #kamen rider amazon

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classywritings · 2 months

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On Fire's Wind: the Untold Stories

Chapter 10

Description: the untold stories of On Fire’s Wind, featuring small snippets of stories untold in the main series’ work. This takes place after Smoke.

Words: 1,020

On Fire's Wind series: side-stories

Note: this is the final installment of On Fire's Wind. With the addition of this chapter, this series is now deemed complete.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Side-stories

His hands are warm, ever so warm, as they always will be. Akira smiles serenely, the corners of his eyes crinkling, showing the same warmth as his crimson irises. Boldly, he brings them upwards, eyes never leaving your own as he kisses them both.

“You’re beautiful—more beautiful than anything on this plane or the next.”

“I could say the same for you,” you breathe, heart fluttering restlessly. Akira enjoys dressing elegantly, but today he has donned his finest attire, a dark outfit inlaid with gold embellishing, red patterns, and bright rings on his fingers, glittering as prettily as his freshly polished horns. They, too, glimmer in the iridescence of a thousand colored lights, his left capped with gold on its end with a small ruby dangling from it, reflecting all the colors surrounding you both.

Akira chuckles, eyes sparkling. “Best be careful, lest our restless audience get a show they’ll never stop singing about.”

You join his little laugh, but then grow serious. “My love, the light of my life, do you promise to uphold your vows as my consort—to love me and bring light to my darkest nights? To hold me during fraught and war? To provide for me, in sickness and in health?”

“I do.”

You drop his hands and turn, and Ryuji steps forward, holding out a bright, golden ring on a silk pillow. Smiling at him, which he returns with much exuberance, you take the ring delicately. When you turn back, you can’t stifle a little gasp as Akira gets down on his knees and bows his head. You knew this was coming, but you simply can’t help it. It’s a blatant show of trust you never expected from anyone in this kingdom but Akechi.

The warmth within you turns hotter, making your cheeks flush. Steadying your breaths, you carefully bring the ring downwards, lining it up with his right horn. It slides on with nary a sound, stopping snugly just a few inches onto it. It’s intricately crafted with filigree, woven with threads of golds and darker metal you cannot identify, small rubies and garnets laid throughout the band at perfect intervals.

Akira raises his head after it’s on, and you can’t help it. You reach downwards and put your hands on his cheeks, holding his face lightly. His eyes close, an inaudible purr rumbling through him. He is a living fire in your hands, caressing your very being with his flames.

“You may rise, my love.”

When he does, you let your hands drop from his face, but his are faster, snatching one of yours before it can fall at your side. He turns a wicked grin your way that makes you laugh.

“Not so fast, my queen, everyone must know you are mine, too.”

“Of course.”

Small laughter sounds from your audience, most of it coming from the band of thieves on either side of you both. It silences quickly, but the light seems brighter for a moment because of it.

Akira opens his free hand, and you gasp at what you see. A gold ring matching his own sits in his palm, though this has a white metal instead of the darkness in Akira’s. It, however, bellies a large ruby unlike any other you’ve seen, even in your treasury, flashing with rainbows of iridescence and sparkling as brilliant as a star. It’s been cut into the shape of an unfurling flower, its petals soft despite being a hard material.

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. All he does is smile at you.

“It is the tradition of the dragons to gift their kin with an uncut gemstone from their hoard when they come of age, to use for a ring they will give their mate. My mother, Cassandra Kurusu, gifted this to me centuries ago. It is now yours, my treasure.” Carefully, he slips it onto your ring finger. A perfect fit. “The flower it was carved into—masterfully crafted by dwarven hands—is a Dragon Fire Rose. They are the only roses in existence that can withstand any flame. With it, may the fire of our love burn long after we have turned to ash."

Tears well in your eyes. You look from the ring to your lover, giving him a warbling smile. He returns it, taking both your hands again. He gives them a comforting squeeze, eyes bellying everything he, too, feels.

For a moment longer, you stare at one another, then your shoulders raise. Not minding the tears that are threatening to fall, you grasp one of his hands then turn to the crowd of gathered nobility and commoners alike, the garden that you both cherish packed to the brim. Clearing your throat, you speak, voice strong despite your emotions.

“My people, this nation has seen much hardship over the years of my father’s rule. Many have suffered. Many have been lost. Shido tried to crush our spirit and resolve, including my own, but no longer. This kingdom from here onwards will be one of hope and renewal, where all beings are accepted, including those of magic, non-human nature, and everything between. It shall be a safe haven for all to flock to and call home.” Akira and you exchange a look, his expression full of pride and love. “Our love is an inferno that has burned this nation anew—let it bring about the winds of renewal as we enter this new era."

Cheers erupt, crescendoing into the air and lifting to the skies. You smile, light entering your being and exploding brighter than any firework, rejoicing with your people. Beside you, the thieves rejoice too, cheering more loudly than anyone else, their raucous cries deafening.

Suddenly, you're grabbed, arms encircling your body. You have a second to gasp, then searing, soft lips are upon you. Bawdy cries erupt, lots of them from the Phantom Thieves, yet you pay them no attention. Instead, you throw your arms around your husband’s shoulders, a hand entangling in his messy hair, kissing him back passionately.

Through the fire and through the smoke, love conquers all, as it shall and forever be.

THE END

#persona 5 protagonist x reader #akira kurusu x reader #ic: dragon!akira #persona 5 #p5 #p5 royalty au #persona 5 royalty au #I am still emotional over having finished this series #6 years in the making and I can't believe it's over #I hope you've all enjoyed reading it over the years #and will remember it fondly

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patheticbatman · 5 months

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Part Two

I’m very proud of these dolls, and I’m also leaving them at my parents’ house, so I did a little photoshoot with some books as background so I can have nice pictures of them.

This is the second post, so check out the first for more info!

First up we have Pocahontas (real name Matoaka) with Elatsoe, by Darcie Little Badger. It’s a why-dunnit, not a who-dunnit, about a Lipan Apache girl who has some serious ghost powers. Pocahontas was a tough one, but I decided to go with a book I love about a modern Lipan Apache (Indigenous) girl, written by a modern Lipan Apache (Indigenous) woman. I know a lot of people have strong feelings on both the real life Matoaka and the cartoon Pocahontas, and how she symbolizes a lot of sad and terrible changes for Turtle Island. So I thought putting the doll and this book together would provide an interesting contrast, one that the real life Matoaka may find horribly interesting.

Second is Esmeralda with At Night All Blood Is Black, by David Diop (the French title means Soul Brother - I believe that the title is a play on the English Idiom, At Night All Cats Are Grey, meaning you cannot see meaningful differences in the right circumstances). It’s a very interesting though sorrowful novel about a Senegalese Tirailleur (Infantryman) who was sent to France during WWI. I don’t think Esmeralda would read this normally, but if she was in a sad mood, I think the theme of fluctuating humanity during conflict, and being a Person of Color in France (even centuries later!) would interest her.

Third up is Mulan with Lady of Ch’iao Kuo: Warrior of the South, by Laurence Yep. When I drew pictures for Mulan’s poem (years ago now!) I headcanoned in my explanation that Mulan and Lady Xian, princess of the Li Xian people in modern day Guangdong, were close enough in history that they *might* have met and been friendly. Mulan is typically from further North and West than Guangdong, and would be part of the colonizing side in this case sadly, but I feel like they would respect each other as fellow powerful women.

Fourth is Melody (Ariel’s daughter) with A Song Below Water, by Bethany C. Morrow. I think she’d go into the book with certain expectations, like I did, about the plot, and then get drawn in by the real story. Let’s just say the cover gave me assumptions that lead to a great twist for me personally. Also, I think Melody would relate to the mystery of her magical parent’s true background. The book celebrates the lesser known fantasy species, and approaches the danger of traffic stops, police brutality and protesting for Black people, and how that intersects with being a woman, with care and love. If they ever make a live action Little Mermaid 2, I feel like that would also speak to Melody.

Fifth is Kida with The Ones We’re Meant To Find, by Joan He. Kida is from a fantasy ancient civilization, and this book depicts a sci-fi futuristic one, but there’s more similarities than one might initially think. Both exist due to the hubris of humanity, and in reaction to serious pollution topside. And both explore (or at least mention) a relationship between two women separated by the change in their civilization, and with a boy who seems to know too much. I’m not sure Kida would necessarily read this story, aside from its attractive and exotic (to her, at least) take on the world above, which she has not seen for millennia, but this story is similar enough to Kida’s movie that I felt it fell under the adaption category instead.

Sixth is Jane (from Peter Pan 2, Wendy’s daughter) with Peter Pan on Scarlet, by Geraldine McCaughrean. The Disney movie is NOT based on this book, but both do mention Wendy’s family being affected by a World War, though this one has WWI and the movie has WWII. Interestingly, both have a sympathetic Hook initially. ‘Twas a lovely read, and in my opinion matched the original book based on the play.

Seventh is Giselle with The Wind in the Willow, by Kenneth Grahame. I just felt Giselle would enjoy the idea of cute talking animals (but not so much the war storylines of Redwall) so I put her with this book.

Eighth is Tiana (<3) with Wildwood Dancing, by Juliet Marillier. Funnily enough, I do actually have the *sequel* to the book her movie was based off of, but I’ve never read the original, so I decided it doesn’t count. But this is my favorite mixed up fairy tale novel that features a Frog Prince storyline, so I went with it. The villain is also a greedy butt who doesn’t care for his own people, and the protagonist is often underestimated, due to her appearance and gender. In any case, I love this book so much that I illustrated the first chapter, lol.

Ninth is Rapunzel with Rapunzel’s Revenge, by Shannon, Dean and Nathan Hale. I loved this adaption since I was a kid (honestly more than Tangled) and I’m pleased to finally own it.

Last is Merida, with The Edge on the Sword, by Rebecca Tingle. The book is about a warrior princess a thousand years ago in what is England today, with a forced engagement storyline, so I figured this would be right up Merida’s alley.

Part One

Part Three

Part Four

#dp dolls book photoshoot #elatsoe #at night all blood is black #Frère d'âme #lady of ch’iao kuo #a song below water #the ones we’re meant to find #Peter pan in scarlet #the wind in the willows #wildwood dancing #Rapunzel’s revenge #the edge on the sword #Esmeralda Melody Kida and Jane #oh and Giselle and arguably Tiana were all painted by me

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ranchracoon · 2 months

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Ch. 24 A Wedding

"I apologize that it took so long, the internet isn't very fast out here neither is phone services. It takes a few days for anything to come or go, however I did manage to contact the lawyer in charge of the will. Unfortunately, you still need to be married to do anything with it. Including giving it to another person."

"I understand. Thank you Mother Miranda." You said calmly.

You hung up the phone with a soft click of the receiver, swallowing thickly as you stared off through the window toward the waterfall. The thought of being Donna's wife made your heart soar with happiness, but you didn't want her to think you were marrying her only because of the will. Perhaps you should take your own advice, and just talk to her. It's been another since Mother Miranda and Dimitrescus visited, Dona has been more communicative about her needs and boundaries. Maybe broach the subject lightly. You snap out of your thoughts at the sound of glass dropping, running toward the sound you push open the door to one of the seating areas to find Angie hovering over some ceramic bits.

"Oh dear. Y/N, go get me a broom please."

"Please? Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh shut it and get me a broom."

You chuckled and turned away to go get the broom and dust pan, when you returned you knelt down to carefully sweep the shards into the pan. Once everything was clean and clear Angie smacked her lips and huffed with her fists on her hips.

"That was my favorite mug. Now I'll have to go to the village and get another one. Blasted."

"I would like to go with."

You jumped from the intrusion of Donna's voice, even Angie gasped a little from surprise. You looked over at Donna standing in the doorway, her hands rubbing each other nervously as she looked from you to Angie.

"Fine, but I ain't waiting for you to catch up." Angie scoffed.

Angie waddled out of the other door and you gave Donna a half smile, she only stared back at you then followed you to return the broom. You gathered your cloak that was kindly returned to you and tightened it around your neck, Donna put on a thicker coat than normal over her attire. Fall was coming to an end and Winter was starting to rear its cold heart, the mornings were always frosty but the afternoon sun was still plenty warm. It's mid November which means the Fall Festival will be arriving soon, and everyone in the village needs to stock up and winterize their homes. Winter means life or death this far in the mountains, Donna's manor is plenty warm and Angie said that Lady Dimitrescu often opens her castle when blizzards hit.

"Are you sure about this Donna?" You asked.

"The entire village saw my face anyhow, I cannot live in hiding any further. I need to do this."

You sighed and took her hand into your own with a smile, she squeezed it in return and pushed the door open. You walked next to her in silence, the walk was nice with the fall breeze blowing through the trees. Donna tilted her head upwards and breathed in deeply, a smile crept over her lips and she paused for only a moment to savor the air. The sun highlighted her dark hair, giving it a blueish tint and matching the dark colored outfit she wore. Eventually the gate to the village came into view and Donna hesitated, her eye drifted over the wooden gate and you squeezed her hand in reassurance.

She walked beside you as you passed through the gate into the heart of the village. Her hand tightened on yours so hard that your fingers started to tingle as people passed by. Some of them smiled and bowed their heads toward Donna, others moved out of the way but otherwise said nor did anything. You stretched out your neck to look toward the bay, the same fishermen and women carried their catches to the town square, some of them wore black while others didn't. Donna led you toward the church path up the hill, she paused again outside the door of the church. When you looked up at her, her eye was closed and her head was down with her chin against her chest. With how tightly she was holding your hand, her pulse clashed against your own with how fast it was going.

"You know, I've only been scared three times in my life." Donna said suddenly.

"Really?"

"The first time was the night my father attacked my mother and I. The second was when Moreau knocked me down. Up until then I had not feared death, in fact, I would have welcomed death like an old friend had I not met you. I was so scared I wouldn't see you again."

You sucked in a sharp breath and twisted around to rest your other hand against her cheek. She looked over at you, finally opening her eye to meet yours when she blinked slowly and a single tear rolled down her cheek. You let go of her hand and placed it against her mask, running the pad of your thumb against the smooth porcelain. She raised her hands and placed them over yours, you wiped away the tear and she chuckled under her breath when you broke the silence.

"When's the third?"

"Right now." She answered.

"Why?" You chuckled out.

Donna gave you another smile, she straightened up and broke free from your grasp then leaned over and opened the door to the church. It swung open with a loud creak and thud, you looked at her confused and she nodded her head in the direction of going inside. You walked down the short hallway and gasped when you came into view of the inside of the church. Inside was Angie, Alcina, and her daughters all sitting in the pews with Johanna and Ina sitting with them. Mother Miranda was at the podium and white fabric was strung up along the ceiling and walls. Lights were strung up in the banisters of the ceiling coating the entire church in a warm glowing light. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothing and they turned to look at you with broad, knowing smiles. You whipped around to look at Donna who stood next to you, she held her hands behind her back.

"Because I'm scared you'll say no." She whispered.

You looked at her shocked.

"Angie told me about your conversation with Cassandra and I told her that I wanted you to be my wife regardless. She came up with a plan and I agreed to it because I knew I wouldn't ever have the courage to ask you otherwise."

Donna turned to look at you, she knelt down onto one knee in front of you, "Y/N, will you marry me?" She asked, looking up at you.

You stared at her, your eyes darting between hers before looking over to see everyone in the church waiting for you to answer with baited breath. You smiled brightly and felt tears threaten to spill over your eyes as you nodded your head and used the palm of your hand to wipe your eyes.

"I'll marry you Donna. Even if it's only for my money." You joked.

Donna laughed and the girls swarmed around you in an instant, they dragged you along toward the back of the church. You glanced over your shoulder to see Donna being taken away by Alcina and Angie to another part of the church. Inside a small room in the back were two strikingly white outfits: a dress and a suit. The suit was a three piece suit with a ruffled collared button up, a jacket similar to Donna's with the six buttons on the front, and slacks. The dress was the same height as you with a mermaid cut and a deep V neck that would accentuate your breasts. You picked your outfit and was whisked away behind a curtain to change into it, once you did Daniela shoved you into a chair and sat in front of you. She did your make-up, highlighting your best features while Cassandra made sure your hair looked nice.

Bela pulled out a camera and started to take pictures, you laughed loudly at their contagious excitement. You never thought you would get married so you never daydreamed about your dream wedding, but this set up felt absolutely perfect for you. When you were ready they took you back outside and fixed you up in the tiny hallway by the front entrance. Daniela, Bela, and Cassandra of course held bouquets of fake flowers to be the bridesmaids. They walked down the aisle first as a piano started to play, Alcina appeared around the corner and smiled at you warmly.

"Mind if I walk you down dear?" She asked, offering her arm.

You smiled brightly and took her arm with your own, a ping of gratefulness struck you in that moment. You lost your parents, your aunt, and didn't have any friends to share this important step with. Alcina was there though, and she was closer to a motherly figure than your actual mother ever was. She pulled you along down the aisle and you locked eyes on Donna who stood at the podium next to Mother Miranda. Of course she was wearing an all black suit, a white button up, a black neck tie, and all of the buttons on her suit were shimmering silver. Better yet, she wasn't wearing her mask and you could see her entire face beaming with happiness when she looked at you.

By the time Alcina handed you off to Donna you were blinking feverishly to fight back the tears and not ruin the make-up that Daniela worked so hard on. Donna however was letting her tears flow freely, her eyes had a tint of red from them but her smile never faltered. She held both of your hands in her own, she looked down at you and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"You look so beautiful." She whispered through a choked sob.

"And you look so handsome Donna." You replied.

"Thank you everyone for coming to celebrate the matrimony of Donna Benviento and Y/N L/N. I call upon the Black God to oversee this union between two souls to be forever joined. Let us pray." Mother Miranda announced.

"Great ones, hear our voice, together as one in reverence. We call on thee within the endless dark to deliver us into fate's hands. As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice and await the light at the end." Everyone but you and Donna said.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks burned, Donna only smirked at you when the realization hit you. She chuckled lowly and you squeezed her hands, narrowing your eyes at her as your face only burned hotter. Thankfully Mother Miranda cleared her throat to grab your attention.

"Donna Beneviento, do you take Y/N L/N as your partner, a part of your soul, to lift her sorrows, to be the drink that fills her cup, the light to guide her through darkness, until the end of eternity?" Mother Miranda asked.

"I do." Donna said proudly.

"Y/N L/N, do you take Donna Beneviento as your partner, a part of your soul, to lift her sorrows, to be the drink that fills her cup, the light to guide her through darkness, until the end of eternity?"

"I do." You answered.

"Please exchange the rings."

Donna winked at you when you started to panic that you didn't have a ring. Someone tapped your shoulder and you looked over to see Cassandra holding up a ring in her fingers. You sighed with relief and took the ring in your hand, Donna held out hers and you slipped the simple band onto her ring finger. She then took your hand and slipped on a golden ring encrusted with small diamonds along the top.

"Then by the power invested in me by the Black God, I pronounce you two bonded until the end of time. You may kiss."

Donna leaned down and you didn't hesitate to jump up and wrap your arms around her neck. You clashed your lips against hers, everyone clapped and of course the girls cheered loudly as Donna locked her arms around your waist. She pulled you close to her, your body molding against hers until nothing could pass through. You broke away from the kiss and finally let the tears roll down your cheeks.

#resident evil village #re8 #alcina dimitrescu #donna benviento x reader #donna beneviento #x reader #resident evil women #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #fluff

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tenebrius-excellium · 3 months

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You guys I spent too much time randomly browsing Instagram yesterday and ended up having the coolest dream EVER.

It was Percy Jackson (2023) x Live action Httyd (2025). And it was freaking GOOD.

Listen listen listen - think a large, fantastical Roman/Greek city bustling with life. At its edge, picture Httyd2's dragon racing setup mixed with a huge, beautiful colosseum-like war arena. The design is a harmless, fictional movie aesthetic but it's BIG FUN. There are lots of colorful flags and banners, lots of ropes and nets hanging everywhere, and the atmosphere is roaring and excited like a stadium at the world cup. Behind the walls of the arena, what's meant to be the Mediterranean but absolutely looks like a dreamy tropical sea, stretches endlessly into the horizon.

Walker Scobell is young Hiccup, Leah Jeffries is young Astrid. The teens have always been good friends. Now they're late to the dragon training festival and are hurrying there to make it. They know they have to fight each other first and then the captive dragons of the city to determine who will get to slay which dragon at the end. The final face-off is supposed to be a sort of meet-your-match arrangement, an almost sacred encounter between each human and the dragon that challenges them best. A fierce bond of mutual respect and hatred is supposed to develop between the human and their special dragon, locking them in an equal and deeply personal match of life and death in the final round. Only one can ever make it out alive. It's meant to earn them their place in society. If the teen wins, they are showered with the honor and glory and the rights of a warrior, if the dragon wins, its ability to survive is just as respected and it gets released back into the wild.

The pre-show has Alexandra Daddario looking like older Httyd2 Astrid, while her name remains Annabeth, absolutely toying with multiple dragons. She is the city's famous dragon warrior champion fighting simultaneously against one or two Hideous Zipplebacks, a Monstrous Nightmare, and several water dragons. She bests them all. Maybe she's younger Astrid's older sister. Young Astrid aspires to be like her. At one time, Httyd2 Astrid-Annabeth puts out a Nightmare's fire with her dripping wet, gorgeous long, blonde hair. Doesn't even hesitate. The crowd goes bananas. (This looked so cool in my dream - like she was mopping up fire with her hair. Since it was soaking wet from the water, that somehow didn't do any damage lol. Dream logic, bwahaha)

Now, all the dragons in their cages look like massive beasts, a mix of bears, beavers, walruses and really bad dragon CGI from the 90s. Except the Monstrous Nightmare which looks normal, which is no surprise if you know me of course. Toothless is held captive there too. He's an old dragon whose shape looks more like a manta ray in this non-animated version of events.

He and Hiccup have already singled out each other to face in final combat. Yet already there's also kindness connecting them. The old dragon and the young child have too much mercy for each other's fate to give hatred and ferocity and the bit much effort. So when it's Hiccup's turn to enter the ring...and Toothless is already waiting for him there... Hiccup chooses to enter the arena from a jumping plank above. Why? Because he can also "accidentally", conveniently open the dragon release hatch from there. He does it, Toothless shoots out from under him - and Hiccup JUMPS, perfectly landing on his back, the audience gasps, and - Hiccup and Toothless fly out of the arena together and soar over the endless, turquoise, tropical summer sea. Until they cannot be seen from afar anymore.

Toothless is so old he can't fly for long, and he sets Hiccup down in some shallows of these warm, beautiful, tropical ocean waters. He then introduces Hiccup to young Toothless, who is actually his grandson, and asks him to protect him. Hiccup promises to do so. Old Toothless goes away to die peacefully, and young Toothless and Hiccup become the best buds we all know and love.

Cue Walker-Scobell-Hiccup and young Toothless bringing peace and friendship to Greek-Roman-Colosseum Berk with young Leah-Jeffries-Astrid's help. Behind Httyd2-Astrid-Annabeth's back, naturally, because she is the one who doesn't approve it out of tradition and because it might threaten her status as the beloved hero of the city. Love it. Lol. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it??????

Idk I really loved this story concept!!!

If you made it all the way down here, thanks for reading!

#I have the BEST dreams sometimes #wherethekiteflies #httyd #httyd2 #pjo #httyd fandom #pjo fandom #crossover

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eponymoussquared · 1 year

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15 questions tag.

Thank you to @duckingwriting for the tag! Sorry for the late response. I do try to respond to every tag game I get, assuming it isn't the same one multiple times in a row, but I do get sidetracked...alot. Nonetheless, I do appreciate being included.

Rules: Answer the 15 questions as one of your OCs, or as yourself. Tag up to 15 people.

I'll be using an, as of current, not-yet-introduced character: Ashmedai, the the king of Sheidim. You may know a bit of him already, but I'm excited to show you my take on him nonetheless.

tagging: @doikayt @dogmomwrites, @mariahwritesstuff, @creating-with-words, @writernopal, and anyone else who'd like to do this, because it is alot of fun.

Questions below the cut. Template can be found in the post linked at the top.

1 - Are you named after anyone?

"No, I am not."

2 - When was the last time you cried? "Rather rude of a question. An I was crying, it would be reasonable to ask, but otherwise? I prefer not to answer."

3 - Do you have any kids?

"No. Some of my subjects are like children to me, and I am responsible for all of them, but I have no biological children. We are all born from the same mother, after all."

4 - Do you use sarcasm?

"My words, when spoken in Even Chanting, can cause great destruction if left unchecked. It is better for me not to play word games."

5 - What's the first thing you notice about people?

"The feet. Its a habit, but when you can shapeshift any part of the body save for your own feet, it can be disorienting seeing feet that aren't that of a chicken."

6 - What is your eye color?

"...My eye is composed of multiple colors. My sclera is red, my iris's are yellow, and I my pupils are also yellow. or I suppose I should say second iris, as they are not really inside the first."

7 - Scary movies or happy endings?

"Why not both? Fear is necessary for relief to have any true value."

8 - Any special talents?

"I am excellent at being contradictory. Being a king requires you to be tolerant and strict, both compassionate and cold, both merciful and merciless. I would say I manage it quite well."

9 - Where were you born?

"In the dreams of people long dead and forgotten."

10 - What are your hobbies?

"Studying. Yes, I know you may find it boring, but I find learning quite fulfilling. I mostly learn Talmud, but I occasionally dabble in other philosophy as well. Human views on life are fascinating."

11 - Do you have any pets?

"No, and I have never understood the appeal of taking an animal from its native home and forcing it to become dependent on me for food and sustenance. Nor the lure of doing this on such a large scale that they cannot survive anywhere else. It is truly interesting where an individual mind chooses to draw the line between moral and immoral, yes?"

12 - What sports do you or have you played?

"Well, I made sport of that old fool Shlomo till the day he died, but I do not think that was what you meant."

13 - How tall are you?

"You are asking this question to a king of a race of shapeshifters. I suppose the closest answer I could conceivably give would be my maximum height, which I have not measured. I can confirm that I can become large enough to block the sun from reaching an entire castle. Yes, castles are different sizes, but the biggest one you can think of, I'm sure I can match."

14 - Favorite subject in school?

"I never went to school."

15 - Dream job?

"A Rabbi." "What? Surprised? Being king is a necessity, but if I could relieve myself of it to someone who I knew could do it well, I would retire to my mountain and happily do nothing but study the words of wise men and women long dead for the rest of my days."

#tag games #15 questions #writing #this one was alot of fun #its a good thing this wasn't 16 questions #or Ashmedai would've had to kill whoever was asking #And since this is a non-canon 'interview' of sorts #its hard to do that without breaking character #Anyways the next Sheidy Business chapter will come out...#...when I'm done writing it #which is hopefully soon but no promises

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pxperplxnets · 2 years

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lia alfonso character headcanons/facts:

-she has raging adhd

-shes pansexual

-also demi-gendered (she/they)

-shes argentinian

-her favourite colors are dark blue and sage green

-her favourite fruit is passionfruit

-she always watches argentinian football matches

-doesnt matter where she is, she watches them religiously

-sleeps either with one of ollies shirts or with her own oversized shirts

-her favorite animals are capybaras

-her favourite drivers of all time are michael schumacher and kimi raikkonen

-when she counts she always starts in english but changes to spanish when she gets to 13

-”eleven, twelve, trece, catorce…”

-i know thats oddly specific but i do that and i feel like she would too

-she kind of just forgets how to speak english sometimes

-this makes things very dificult when shes trying to communicate with ollie

-she speaks spanish, english and italian

-her favourite school subject is lunch

-cant do math for the life of her

-treid to be vegetarian but forgot she was and ate meat the next day

-she has a sister that is 6 years older

-she had a rottweiler called tupac back home

-she lived in the us for a long time before she moved back to argentina

-when she clips her nails she always skips one without realizing

-her favourite shows are new girl and adventure time

-painting has been her passion since she was very little

-she plans on going to art college

-her first job (apart from babysitting) was face painter at kids parties

-she is very conected to music even though she cannot sing

-she whistles all the time without realizing

-jak hates it

-”can you please stop whistling?” “*whistles aggresively*”

-her favourite singers are mac demarco, taylor swift and lana del rey

-she had a one direction obsession

-she likes to anotate books and normally makes them really artsy looking

-she has three stick and poke tattoos

-one of them is a tiny heart on her ankle which she got matching with her girl best friend

-the other one is a spiral on her shoulder

-and the last one is a j on the side of her finger

-j as in jak bc he would not leave her alone when she got the heart with her other best friend

-the plan was her getting a j and him geting an l

-he chickened out

-she designs jaks helmets

-she met jak because her mom was really good friends with his mom and they moved next to them when they moved to the us

-moving on to some headcanons about her relationship with ollie

-once they got together he asked her to design a helmet for him

-ollie once tried to read and anotate a book for her an failed miserably

-since she likes to wear really baggy clothes she steals his all the time

-first time she went out to track wearing his shirt he couldnt focus for the rest of the day

-her and jak jokingly fight for ollie all the time

-”sorry babe, i made plans with jak” “i told you i wanted to hang out with ollie today, you asshole” “stay mad hoe”

-always joking tho

-jak is not the only third wheel

-sometimes ollie third wheels them

-or lia third wheels them

-going back to lia

-she hates orange flavoured candy

-totally right to do so

-her biggest childhood crush was barracuda from an argentinian show called chiquititas 98

-never quite got over the fact that he had to leave the show

-she always paints her nails

-once jack got into a fight with another kid because he insulted her

-she is that one bitch with the two braids

-i am too its fine

-she wears glasses

-or wears contacts

-babe is blind as shit

-i cant think of anything else

-oh well she is the only one of my motorsport oc’s whos name doesnt start with an a

-annoyes me to no end

-we love her tho

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

authors note:

trying something new to give you all some content and give you some facts about the girls.

Anyone in special that you guys want next? let me know!

#lia alfonso #oliver bearman #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x oc #ollie x lia #Jak Crawford #lia alfonso headcanons #pxperplxnets #f3 #f2 #prema racing #Prema #ollie is in f2 as well now #lets cry

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