#i just wanted to draw some fancy women on fancy night

[vikary401]

fancy date

#one piece #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #fem sanji #fem zoro #zosan #fem zosan #some kind of modern au i guess? #i just wanted to draw some fancy women on fancy night #its good for mental health so you know

[elliespassagerprincess]

Can we please get some milf Abby or Ellie the lesbians who like older women are in a drought

💘

Headcannons: milf!abby anderson x reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who was divorced and who had full custody of her 4-year-old daughter.

☆ Milf Abby who worked as a lawyer and got her daughter into the best schools.

☆ Milf Abby who went to a parent teacher meeting, to meet her daughters’ new teacher.

☆ Milf Abby who met you for the first time and thought you were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

☆ Milf Abby who stood behind everyone else because you made her shy.

☆ Milf Abby whose palms felt sweaty when you walked close to the direction where she was standing.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart rate increased when you asked the parents “any questions?” with a smile.

☆ Milf Abby who went home that night and stared at the ceiling because she just saw an angel.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter about you the next morning.

“What’s she like?” Abby asked as she placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Aubrey.

“she’s nice” the little girl started. “she always likes my drawings, and she tells funny stories!”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s face.

Pretty and funny, huh?

“she’s pretty too” Aubrey said with her mouth full off eggs. Abby chuckled at that.

“Your right baby, she is”

☆ Milf Abby who almost shit herself when Aubrey told you that she finds you pretty.

“You did what?” Abby said frantically.

“I told my teacher that you said she was pretty”

Abby groaned, her large hand coming to rub her temples.

“Baby you aren’t supposed to tell that to people, it was a secret”

“Yeah, it was red ones”

“But Heathers dad brought her flowers, and that’s not a secret”

“what?”

“roses?”

“I think so” she spoke

☆ Milf Abby who gets jealous even though she barley knows anything about you.

☆ Milf Abby who watches Heathers dad bring you snacks almost daily when she picks up Aubrey.

☆ Milf Abby who wants to vomit every time you smile at him.

☆ Milf Abby who realizes she had to make a move.

☆ Milf Abby who was nervous because it’s been a while since she’s asked someone on a date.

☆ Milf Abby who writes you a letter and sends it with her daughter.

“My mommy sent you this” Aubrey ran to you with a white envelope. You thanked her, as you opened the letter, eyes widening at what it had to say:

“Hi, are you Tennessee because you’re the only ten I see.

I’m sorry I know that was inappropriate I didn’t know what to say.

Would you like to go on a date with me? I promise no cheesy pickup lines”

☆ Milf Abby who almost jumps out of her car when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Milf Abby who rolls down the window and tries to act cool.

“Sup” she said, but soon cringed.

You giggled “I’d love to go on a date with you Miss Anderson”

“Call me Abby”

“Abby… I’d love to go out with you”

A grin spread onto the blondes face.

“Friday?”

“Friday”

☆ Milf Abby who fist bumps the air because she’s just that excited.

☆ Milf Abby who almost cancelled because she was so nervous.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her 4-year-old outfit advice.

“What about this?”

“No”

“Aubrey you can’t keep saying no”

“But I don’t like it”

☆ Milf Abby who kisses her daughter goodbye as she bought you a bigger bouquet of roses.

☆ Milf Abby who takes you to a fancy restaurant to impress you.

☆ Milf Abby who finds out you were 20 years younger than her.

Abby blinked a couple of times at the information.

“26?”

“yeah… do I not look my age you?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You really don’t”

☆ Milf Abby who enjoys the date more than she intended to.

☆ Milf Abby who almost combusts when you gave her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night in denial that she liked someone so young.

Age is nothing but a number, but you were years younger. What were you doing with someone like her? Why her? Why not someone your age? What happens if Abby grows so old that you become bored?

☆ Milf Abby who ghosts you for 5 months.

☆ Milf Abby who avoids looking at you when she gets her daughter from school.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your texts because she thought you deserve someone better.

☆ Milf Abby’s daughter who gave her an awaking.

“Can you stop crying at night mommy? It makes noise”

Abby looked up from the stove.

“you hear that?”

“Yes”

A few seconds of silence passed before Aubrey spoke again. “You made my teacher sad”

“she’s sad?”

“yes and she asked me about you”

“and what did you say?”

“Nothing, you said it was a secret” Abby groaned at Aubrey’s response

“you need to stop pushing people away because you’re insecure”

Abby looked at Aubrey with wide eyes.

She was right, because Abby was so insecure she’s losing a perfect girl because she was scared. How sure was she that you would leave her? How sure was she that you were only using her? Maybe you were the one.

“Where did you hear those words?”

“from grandpa” she said with a shoulder shrug.

“He said that to Nora”

Your back was facing the door as you were writing something on the board.

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your classroom the next day with flowers.

“I’m sorry” she spoke. She watched you flinched as you turned around.

“what?”

“I’m sorry for just disappearing and not saying anything”

“ok” was all you said as you turned back around to continue writing.

Abby walked towards you with long strides.

“no- no don’t say ok please- give me a chance”

she watched you sigh as you turned around:

“look Miss Anderson-“

“Abby”

“Miss Anderson” you said through gritted teeth.

“It’s ok, this should have not happened”

“Don’t say that”

“Let’s move on, I’ll pretend this never happened” you said with a fake smile on your face.

“god you’re so-“  before Abby could even finish her sentence she grabbed your face, and caught your lips in a kiss.

☆ Milf Abby who was surprised when you kissed her back.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpered when you pulled away.

“What can I do to fix this?” she spoke as she held your face.

“take me out on a date again”

a smile spread on the blondes face: “yeah I’ll do that”

☆ Milf Abby who realizes you won’t make it easy for her.

☆ Milf Abby who was willing to work for this relationship because you were worth it.

#abby anderson #abby anderson angst #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #tlou abby #tlou art

[echooefrost]

More Designs!

Jasper - Ok, I know he looks weird - he's just a happy boi! pls don't look too closely at the hands. So, I gave him big (and really badly drawn) calves becasue he's basically always doing some sort of exercise/work and Sage once said that he's the strongest, and we never really see his legs so I felt like showcasing those details here. Now his shoes, yet another thing that might look random, however I assure you, that these are what medieval workers use to wear. I kept his design relatively similar to his canon one, although I did have to give him a different hat.

Rachel - out of all the designs, Rachel's is the most historically accurate. it's a common misconception that women were shunned for showing their forearms/ankles but it was actually quite normal! married medieval women would wear veils and other elaborate headwear, however women who were not would either wear their hair loose or in a braid. Rachel isn't married so she wears it loose, I added a little braid that she puts flowers and decorative items in, to make her design a little bit more interesting. (and becasue its pretty)

Frankenstein - Frankenstein is really fun to draw! I don't exactly know why but she just is! She has this big fluffy pelt thing going on, it's made of a lot of fur and owl feathers, why owl feathers? because she reminds me of an owl, that's why. she also has big ol' snowboots because it snows in the swiss mountains and because I think it looks cute. you can't see her gloves but they are dark brown (fyi). she has these vials attached to her belt but they can also serve as an emergencey crystal ball - you know, just in case you have to conjure up some evil spirits, as one does.

Papa Lanyon - I think Papa Lanyon sounds way funnier than Lanyon sr. and it contrasts his serious face. I anticipated that he was going to be really hard to draw, but It was surprisingly easy. I liked his design until I had to colour him, I really don't know what happened there, I'm slightly annoyed because I wanted him to appear very cool and dapper, yet he really looks like a generic king. So this doesn't have to be his official design, he just wears fancy king clothes (it's not that important anyway because we don't see him all that much) he is wearing metal soldier-like boots, solely because I searched up outfit references and they all had soldier boot things.

Now that I've done this, I have no more excuses to procrastinate doing work for the other things in the au. Anyway I hope everyone likes these. have a nice day/moring/afternoon/night!

*just realised I forgot to colour their eyes, I'll add later!

#the glass scientists au #the glass scientists #tgs #tgs au #echo's au's #tgs jasper #tgs rachel #tgs frankenstein #jasper kaylock #rachel pidgley #victoria frankenstein #tgs medieval au

[ayameric]

Monster | W. Maximoff

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE.

Summary: You and Wanda argue about the future, and a certain Russian shows you how much of a fool you're being.

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Symbiote!Reader

Main Masterlist

WC: 3210

TW: None, brief mentions of violence, marital problems. (Message me if there are any you want added)

“Wanda! Come on, please!”

Yelling was pointless, and you looked like a total crazy person shouting at a house in the dark, but here you were.

There came no reply to your pleads to talk, and eventually you were going to have to give in and let Wanda have the space she had requested. But you wanted to show her you weren’t going to give up that easily, that she meant more to you than some stupid fear.

“Let me out! I will get us back inside.” Khaos spoke in your ear, and you shook your head, frowning.

“There’s no point. She’s pissed and wants space.” You sighed, letting your gaze fall to the floor. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Your symbiote chuntered in your ear, some expletives thrown around, but you had learned to ignore the mumblings and berating that often came from the alien whenever she disagreed with you. Beginning to move away from what was your home, but not for tonight, your feet carried you wherever they ended up. Hopefully at a bar, but you knew that wasn’t going to help you get back into your wife’s good books.

It was a stupid disagreement. Something you wished you had never even argued about, but it was bound to happen eventually.

Feeling cold and a little bit sorry for yourself, you had no idea where to go, especially not this time of night. Until Khaos had an idea.

“Let us go to the Russian’s apartment. She will know what to do.” She told you, and to be honest, it seemed like a solid idea. You knew what awaited you, which made you cringe a little bit. A lot of shouting, calling you an idiot which you already knew you were. But Natasha was smart, life smart. She would know how to approach this best. At least you hoped she had something more for you than a Russian rant.

Natasha’s apartment remained in a fancy part of Manhattan, so walking from the suburbs would take you a long time. Khaos offered to take you there faster, to which you initially denied, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself. But you conceded, letting the symbiote overtake your body, and clamber to the rooftops and take you to Natasha’s place.

It was far quicker letting Khaos clamber around and throw herself from rooftop to rooftop. You ended up outside Nat’s apartment, Khaos clinging to the fire escape outside her large window.

Before Khaos could give back over control, a body walked past the window, one neither of you recognised. The woman noticed the large tar like figure snarling outside the window, and screamed in fear.

Panic overtook you, and you demanded Khaos retreat, which she did. But before you were stood as yourself on fire escape, the woman was gone, possibly rushing off to warn Natasha about the alien outside her window. You rolled your eyes, huffing before pushing the window up and letting yourself in.

“I swear to God, Yelena! Right outside that window!” The same voice you heard scream began retelling as three women came into the living room of the large apartment, a smirk displayed on both Natasha and her sister, Yelena’s face.

“Kate, that’s just Y/N and Khaos, relax.” Yelena soothed in her thick Russian accent, clearly finding the whole thing quite amusing. The ‘Kate’ girl was clearly still shaken up from seeing a gigantic monster on the balcony and now a woman stood in front of them.

“Uh, hi?” You tried to offer somewhat of a greeting in an attempt to calm her down, but she straight up looked ready to pass out.

“A phone call would’ve been nice, L/N.” Natasha surmised as she folded her arms. “Probably would’ve saved Kate here a heart attack.”

You looked back at Kate again, who was still trying to regain control of her breathing as she stared at you in a total state of confusion.

“I- but you were- and now you’re-“ Kate tried to speak, but it was all rambling.

You felt bad, which wasn’t great on top of what you were already feeling.

“I have a symbiote. That was Khaos.” You explained, gesturing back to the window lazily with your thumb. “And I’m Y/N. We sorta share a body.” You gestured back to yourself with a nervous chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.

Kate was still in shock, so Yelena wrapped an arm around the girl before guiding her to the couch. “C’mon, Kate. Let’s sit down and breathe like a normal person.”

You and Natasha watched as the two sat down on the couch, already lost in your own discussion which Khaos could hear was about the two of you.

“Scaring people is fun. Halloween will be great this year.” Khaos chuckled deeply, but the thought of Halloween made you think of Wanda, then kids, then the argument. Your mood quickly fell again, which didn’t go unnoticed by the redhead across the room from you.

“So, asshole. Other than scaring my sister’s girlfriend to death and breaking into my place, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Natasha cocked her head the same way your wife did.

You sighed.

“I kinda need a place to stay.”

“Oh my God.”

“What did you do now?”

A chorus of complaints came from both of the Romanoff sisters, and Khaos laughed internally, making you wince at the volume.

“I- I just… we had a disagreement.” You told her, ignoring Yelena and her unhelpful commentary that was most likely going to occur.

Natasha shook her head, before taking you into the kitchen where she made you both a hot drink, gesturing for you to sit down on the stool by the island.

“Talk to me. What did you guys argue about?” Natasha’s immediate first reaction was to joke about the situation since you had a history of being somewhat of an idiot. But you and Wanda rarely argued, and when you did, it was usually serious. So, she approached this one with care, saving the teasing for later.  

You rested your elbows on the counter, putting your head in your hands as you rubbed your eyes.

“We were talking, just about like…life. And, well, Wanda mentioned about having kids.” You began slowly, and Natasha nodded, already sensing where this was going. “I told her I didn’t want to have kids.”

“Y/N!” Natasha yelled, surprised but not at all surprised.

“I know! I know.”

Natasha placed her palms on the counter, leaning forward slightly, trying to regain your eye contact.

“You know Wanda’s always wanted kids. You knew that when you married her. What’s going on?” Natasha asked you softly. It was an unusual tone to come from her, but when it involved her best friends, she would do anything to help. But first she needed to understand.

"I lied. To her. I want kids, I want that with her, but.” You trailed off again. “I mean, I can’t. I can’t be a parent.”

Before Natasha could interject, you exploded. Your emotions bubbled to the top, and Khaos was being unusually quiet.

“I can’t be a parent! I share this fucking body with an oversized alien with a mouth big enough to swallow a tank! I’m not fit to be a parent anymore, least of all for the family that Wanda wants. Khaos is a monster, and so am I."

“I am not a monster. I am a symbiote.”

“A parasite.” You snapped back to the voice in your head. It was misdirected anger, but you were feeling a lot right now.

Natasha took a deep breath, looking around the room briefly before speaking up again. Part of you hoped that Yelena wasn’t listening in, despite your little outburst. She was not as socially trained as her sister, and would absolutely find a way to take the piss out of you, especially since you nearly stopped her girlfriend’s heart with that little window jumpscare.

“Y/N, look at me.” Nat demanded, and you were not one to disobey a scary Russian ex-spy. “Just because you have a symbiote does not mean your any less able to be a parent. I mean, look at Bruce for fucks sake! He has a kid! But the bonus you have is that you get to be a parent with Wanda. If there was anyone to do something as incredible as having kids with, it would be with her.”

“Are you hitting on my wife?” You tried to joke, but your voice broke and betrayed you.

“Shut it.” She snapped, and your half smile dropped. “Don’t throw away a dream you both have because of your own insecurities. I mean, I know Khaos would never do anything to endanger anyone. She’s a protector. She’s protected you, me, Wanda, the whole team! Why would that change if you started a family? You just get to be the cool parents with superpowers and an extra helping alien-hand.”

Natasha made a good point, unsurprisingly so. She was always good with words one on one.

“Spare room is free. Don’t complain if you hear Yelena and Kate going at it. I put up with living next to you and Wanda in the compound for years.” Natasha told you all at once. Moving around the counter, she took her drink and patted your shoulder as she went to re-join the other girls in the living room.

“Why did you not talk to me?” Khaos asked you, and you let out a sigh.

“Because! I- was parenting ever on your to do list? Probably not!” You yelled exasperatedly. But the symbiote growled in your ear.

“Of course it was not! But, that was life before we met Wanda. She is our everything, and I would do anything to make her happy, including eating that girl in the other room-“ The symbiote began to ramble, but you whacked the side of your head in an attempt to shut her up.

“Dude!”

“I was kidding! My…mission has changed. I protect you and Wanda, including any demon spawn you may have.”

“That was a weirdly nice sentiment, K.” You smirked, the alien humming in approval. “Fuck, I really messed up.

“You’d be surprised what you can achieve from talking.” The symbiote mocked.

“You literally eat people. Shut up.” You grumbled, before pushing yourself up from the island and treading down the hallway to Natasha’s spare room. You pulled your phone from your back pocket as you reached the room, opening your messages to the thread with Wanda. Hesitating slightly, beginning to wonder if texting her was even a good idea and what you would even say to her began to run through your head.

“We’re married, you knew I wanted this! We wanted this!” Wanda yelled at you from across the bedroom.

“I know! But- I didn’t consider the whole, y’know, me and Khaos thing! I married you because I loved you, Wanda.” You tried, but the witch just rolled her eyes, growling.

“You also married us for a future together, Y/N. Last time we spoke, that included having a family and Khaos was very much around for that conversation.” Wanda told you, and you saw the anger growing in her eyes with the flicker of red in her irises.

“She wasn’t exactly talkative during that conversation, back then she was only focused on eating HYDRA agents!” You screamed back. Clearly, the two of you were clearly getting nowhere, and Wanda was losing her patience.

“The lack of communication between you and your symbiote is not my fault!”

“I never said it was!”

“But here I am, suffering the fallout for it because you’re too afraid! You and I both know that Khaos would never hurt anyone, not anymore. Retirement was something I wanted for both of us, and I supported your decision to stay on call for the Avengers-“

“-so this is about me working?” You asked, partially to take the heat of off you.

“You’re being a dick, Y/N.” Khaos chimed in. She was a lot more chilled out now, having begun to settle into a non-violent lifestyle.

“No, it’s not! This is about us! I want this with you, but you don’t want this with me.” Wanda’s tone went calm, but still held venom. “Just, get out. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I have to suffer for this one’s idiocy as well?!”

“Wanda-“

“Get out!”

Yeah, things did not end well.

Writing a big, long paragraph about how sorry you were would mean nothing to Wanda. Actions spoke louder than words, and some half-assed texted apology was not the way to go about making amends with your wife.

So you settled for something straight from the heart.

[Wands <3]

I love you

Delivered 11:49PM

You were surprised when Khaos quickly took control of your hands, her tar-like hands beginning to type on the phone screen.

We love you.

Delivered 11:50PM

“Nice touch, Khaos.”

 You placed your phone face down on the nightstand, shredding your shirt and kicking off your shoes and socks, slightly thankful you were wearing sweatpants. Getting sleep tonight would not be easy, but with every minute that passed would be a minute closer to seeing Wanda again.

Staring at the dark ceiling, you felt stupider than ever for what you said. You did marry Wanda because you loved her, but you married her for everything else that came with loving her, including having a family. You wanted it, but your fear had held you back. But here it was, the fear itself telling you there was nothing to worry about. Khaos was right, she was here to protect you and your family, not harm it.

You just wanted Wanda back. Sleeping in a bed without her was wrong, it felt wrong.

“Khaos! Put me down!” Wanda squealed with laughter as Khaos tossed her over her shoulder, leaving the witch at least ten feet off the ground.

“The louder you scream, the higher you go, Wanda!” Khaos roared back playfully, grabbing her figure, and swinging her around the living room of the compound. It was empty, and Khaos had taken advantage to play around with Wanda.

“Khaos, dude you’re gonna make her sick!” You warned from the inside.

“She is an all powerful witch! Wanda can handle some horseplay!” Khaos ignored your warning, and you smirked internally at their bond. Wanda loved Khaos, her more playful side and less eating-brains side.

Eventually Khaos put Wanda down, who stumbled slightly as the blood rushed from her head. Khaos retreated back into your body, leaving you stood in front of your girlfriend with a goofy smile on your face.

“Khaos will be plenty of fun when we have kids.” Wanda commented half-heartedly, still catching her breath.

“Kids?” Khaos spluttered.

“We aren’t even married yet.” You smirked, slipping your hands around Wanda’s waist.

“Yet. We’ve got all of that to come.” Wanda smiled up at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Mhm. I can’t wait.” You agreed, sealing it with a kiss.

Those were better days, but it only reinforced that Wanda was right. You did want all of that, and it was your fault for not talking to Khaos sooner.

You had only hoped that Wanda would give you a second chance.

The sound of yelling in Russian awoke you. The sweet symphony of two sisters arguing was your alarm clock that morning, and it made you want to get out of there even faster. Pulling on your shirt and shoes, you dashed into kitchen to kiss Natasha on the cheek, slap Yelena on the back of the head and mumble a sorry to Kate before dashing out of the window like a crazy person.

“Thanks guys!” You yelled back as Khaos took over your body and began dashing through the city, building to building.

“She is such an ass.” Yelena grumbled, rubbing her head as the three women stared in the direction of the now open window.

“Yeah, she is.” Natasha mused.

It didn’t take you long to arrive back to your shared home, Khaos retreating and allowing you control back. You straightened yourself out, brushing off some dust on your shirt before sheepishly knocking the door. Well, you were about to when the door opened as you raised your hand to knock.

“Oh, um, hi.” You were greeted with a red-eyed Wanda.

“Hey.” She almost whispered back, your heart breaking slightly as you heard the strain in her voice.

“Look, I just-“ You tried to talk, but instead Wanda just grabbed your arm, yanking you inside the house and slamming the door behind you. Leaving you well and truly trapped between her and the door.

“Talk in here. Instead of, y’know, screaming in the street like a crazy person.” Wanda scolded, despite her initial intent to be playful. You felt shame wash over you, and Wanda must’ve noticed because her gazed softened.

“Wanda. Look, I’m sorry. I know, I know that’s a lame fucking starting point, but it’s true. I’m sorry. I’m a coward for hiding behind my own fear because, now that we’re married it’s real! Having kids is an actuality, and I’m scared. Partially because of Khaos, but because of myself, too. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m afraid that somewhere down the line one of us is gonna lose control and either of us could put our child in danger.” You began rambling, but Wanda let you continue. “I would never forgive myself if something happened. I know you wouldn’t either, so… it was easier to run from the problem. Wanda, I love you. More than anything, and I know that Khaos does too. That’s enough for me- us. As scary as having kids is, I don’t care, because I get to do it with you. I get to do all of that with you! The most intelligent, beautiful, loving woman in the world! We fought fucking aliens together; we can raise a baby. I don’t care what we do, I just want to do it with you.”

Wanda didn’t say anything, but the trembling of her bottom lip and the pooling of tears in her eyes was enough of a tell that you either did a really good or bad job.

“Wands?” You asked after another beat of silence, before she grabbed either side of your shirt, balling it between her fists and pulling you in for a kiss. She slammed her lips against yours, feeling her hots tears fall upon your own cheeks. It was seamless, like nothing had ever happened with the way you deepened the kiss and slipped your hands on her waist.

Wanda sniffled slightly pulling back from the kiss, but still leaning her forehead against yours.

“You stupid, stupid idiot.” Wanda huffed against you, making you both chuckle. “I really love you. And I can’t wait to do all of this with you, too.”

A growl left your body that certainly wasn’t yours.

“Sorry, both of you.” Wanda corrected herself, which appeased the alien within you. “I love you.”

“We love you too.” You whispered back.

“Don’t do that again, you fucking ass.” The witch pushed you away, letting go of your shirt.

“Yeah, fucking ass.”

“Khaos, lay off, man!”

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#wanda maximoff fluff #marvel #fxf #mcu #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x you

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Common Phrases and Words #2

Accuracy Disclaimer & The Other Stuff [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Abeir-Toril Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2]| Languages | Living in Faerûn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | Baldurs Gate | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures --- WIP

Some more random assorted Common vocabulary and phrases - including some LGBT+ terminology and yet more swearing.

An interesting note about insults in the Realms is that you're encouraged to be creative about them. Performers in particular, like playwrights and minstrels, keep a cycle of new and creative phrases coming and going among the population (Earth has social media for its memes, on Toril you can blame the bards).

'tis and 'twas are not uncommonly heard peppered into speech now and then, though the everyday variants we use are just as common.

Badauler - Nonsense, Hogwash

To be "Right darlburl" / "Proper darlburl" - Pissed off

"The thrust of it" - "the gist of it"

Galad! - Wow!

Anyhail - Anyway

Mayhap - Perhaps "Perhaps" is used only in appropriate social settings as fancy etiquette, and only by the upper class and those who wish to affect such mannerisms (bards and the upper middle-class).

Casking - Vandalism (Sword Coast dialect)

a Nightblood - A thief

"The blood of the night" - Thieving, a phrase used by professionals in the trade.

a Sharpjaw - Juvenile delinquent

a Thruster - An aggressively ambitious social climber (not necessarily derogatory)

Brightbird/s - Lover/s

a Rose [Waterdhavian dialect] - Somebody you're in love with, anyone from a crush to a soulmate a Rose [outside of Waterdeep] - A Submissive [BDSM].

a Fancyman/Fancylad/Fancylass - A partner whom the speaker disapproves of. (So, like, your boyfriend knocks on the door and your mother, who hates him, answers, she'll inform you that your "fancylad" is around again.

Power - Divine magic

a Tavernmaster - Barkeeper

a Clevershanks - Know-it-all (usually used for men) a Clevertongue - Know-it-all (usually used for women)

a Highborn - Noble (polite) a Highnose - Noble (rude), also means "has a stick-up-their-ass"

a Holy-nose - Priest; mildly rude, but more rough than offensive.

a Thruss - Lesbian a Liyan - Gay man (elvish loanword) a Praed - Gay man (gnomish loanword)

a Dathna - Twink

a Harnor - Butch

a Tasmar - Bisexual (masc.) a Shaeda - Bisexual (fem.) (elven loanword)

a "No-thorn" - Asexual

a One - An agender term, similar to using they/them.

Sildur - Trans I didn't see much extrapolation on this one, so I assume it's an adjective: a sildur woman, a sildur man, a sildur one or just "I'm sildur" when providing your gender, I guess.

a Brightcoin - Nouveau Riche. Somebody rising through the social ranks.

a Highmantle - Old Money, or somebody with the etiquette and bearing of one

a Turncoin, Coin lass, Coin lad - Sex worker. Something of a generic term, but also refers more specifically to those unaffiliated with brothels and festhalls.

a Laughing-lad/lass, Highcoin lass/lad - A more affluent sex-worker

a Brightspear, Highcoin Lady/Lord - Sex workers who play the part of the noble and draw clients from that crowd.

"Sark!" - The impolite way to say "gods fucking damn it!" (in contrast to haularake - the polite way to say it)

"Bind me and tar me" - An oath of astonishment, milder but similar in form to "well, fuck me." "Bind me" - short version

"Dark!" - "Damn it!"

"Straek" - "Go drown yourself, right now and painfully." No, really, that's the translation given.

"To stlarn up" - to screw up "Stlarning it up" - Screwing up "Stlarn" - a mild "damn" "Stlarning [thing]" - "Bloody [thing]"

"Tluin" - an emphatic "fuck off"

"Those of all the Nine Hells take you!” - the full version of "Hells"

"Happy Dancing Hobgoblins" - a curse used by the old fashioned and parents trying too hard not to swear in front of infants, rather like that old lady I once met on a train who unironically used "jiminy cricket." Hobgoblins are noted to be unimpressed by this particular phrase.

#the worst typos are the ones that happen to typo into legitimate words so that spellcheck doesn't tell you about them

[clovermine13]

It's been awhile since an IF has managed to completely take over my brain in awhile so I decided to get a drawing of my @infamous-if MC Delilah Rose, commissioned from @inorheona, who always does a fantastic job.

OC Fun Facts below

Pansexual

100% has a praise kink, she wants to explore that more but the kind of sex she has doesn't usually leave much room for conversing.

Has been wildin' in the club since she broke up with Seven, like a lot, probably to much, maybe needs therapy. Definitely needs therapy

has a very particular Pen Preference and while she will use whatever is available, she might complain. Also, prefers to write in one of her many notebooks over her notes app.

She does drink, she does do drugs (Coke or Oxy depending on her mood) but tries to stay sober and makes sure her friends get home. Also, she sleeps around and would rather do that as sober as possible.

Has definitely written lyrics on the back of a one night stand. In sharpie, she was very sorry. She always dedicates that song to that poor women.

Would kill to play a rain show. She has a thing with rain storms.

Loves to read romance novels. especially fantasy ones, ESPECIALLY spicy ones. Its trash but she loves it.

Is she still actively in love with her ex, probably, is she planning on avoiding that with every fiber of her being, absolutely.

I like to think she is part of a VERY casual FWB situation with the lead singer of another band where they meet up when they are in the same place and send each other memes. For two rockstars, its pretty wholesome.

Would absolutely love to be in a committed relationship, monogamous or otherwise but is too afraid to even try.

Wants a big family, is looking forward to being an aunt, is convinced she is going to be a horrible mother, which isn't true but she doesn't think highly of herself, also she doesn't know how to balance her music and the relationships she has that aren't directly tied to her music and having a baby scares her. (She is very careful)

Is okay with the idea of being married but doesn't think it's necessary, catch her with her lover initial around her neck, or initials tattooed on her wrist.

Is super committed and very touchy in a relationship, really enjoys PDA but wants to keep as much of her relationship private as she can, just for them.

Will eventually write love songs but hasn't written one in a long time.

Is completely unaware of how she affects people, not is a mean way, she just doesn't think she is that important outside of her music. She is sweet, just sad and a bit oblivious. She is a sweetheart she just doesn't believe you really like her.

Says she is indifferent about her parents, that's kind of true, she still wishes they liked her (Head canon wise, I think her Dad does and wants to reconnect but at this point he doesn't know how and her Mom resents Delilah, she never wanted kids and D is aware of this. )

She is Chinese on her Dads side and Portuguese on her Moms. She is First Gen American and doesn't really know he extended family.

I think friends would call her D if nicknames ever become a thing.

Would love to have pets, maybe a bird or some bunnies. But she is literally never home.

Love language is a tie between Physical Touch/ Words of Affirmation

Loves pet names.

A pacifist unless she needs to fight then she can.

I like to think she has a lot of half baked talents like her parents put her in a ton of activities to keep her busy and supervised when she was young so she can sew, tie fancy knots, put up a tent, build a fire, has basic tap/ballet, karate and can raise goats and ride a horse.

Is an absolutely mid cook. She tries but generally hates cooking.

Has everyone's things in her apartment. Like she has a spare room and in that spare room is two dressers and a closet full of the bands stuff and they can sleep there whenever.

Has a top secret email that Fans can use to get in touch with her and there is a higher chance of getting a reply. Sometimes people use it as free therapy (She is not someone who should be giving advice) or different artistic pursuits, fanart, short stories. I think she has written songs based on short stories sent to her email, she gives them credit and dedicates those songs to the author. Has she received fanfic to this email.... Yes.

Is artistic and tends to work on other projects while idle. Right now she is crocheting a baby blanket.

Has so many belts.

Favourite Colour- Green

Favourite Show- Black Mirror

Favourite Movie- The Princess Bride.

I only create one MC per game. I am not a multiple MC girlie. So she will romance everyone but as an angsty, second chance romance girl, Seven is probably gonna be her main. (Although G is a close second.)

#infamous oc #infamous if #Spotify

[cyndrastic]

aight update on the future au:

polls not over yet but it’s leaning heavily at McCormick, so i’ll give you my pcov designs and some headcanons for the McCormick parents rn cause out of all the adults they’re my favs 💕💖

i love them so much you don’t understand (also surprise surprise Kenny married Butters [changed his name to Vic], no one could have ever guessed that considering one of my first art posts on this account was a bunny comic 🙄)

anyway they both have mullets cause i just really like mullets, and Vic shaved the side of her head cause that’s my headcanon of what butter’s hair is in the show (cause his little tomato puff makes no sense) and i feel like he would have kept those.

more details and explanations for some things under the cut (aka im ranting about my fav characters and how they work as a couple with little bits of au lore sprinkled in)

Vic-

you may notice i’m jumping back and forth between he and she for Vic, and that’s cause he uses she/he. Don’t get me wrong, I love Butters and Marjorine, but i’ve seen the argument between them so many times. “Butters is a Cis guy!” “Marj is a trans girl!” fuck it Vic is a gnc icon and picks whatever gender he wants depending on whatever the fuck he wants and he’s hot both masc and fem. and i mean very hot. Butters in the show gets a couple descriptive things, namely in the “It’s Butters!” song hes said to have dimples, and more importantly when his father thinks he’s wearing his mom’s makeup when he’s not. that means this kids got perfectly flushed cheeks, nice eyelashes and eyebrows, and unblemished porcelain skin even at 8 years old. that paired with his blonde hair and presumably blue eyes (i’ve never met a blondie without blue eyes), emphasized cheek bones we see in the pcov special (implying he’s got a more slender face and likely more slender and long figure in general, which is the what literal modeling agents tend to look for btw [i would know my grandma and mom were models because they were both pretty with thin frames and lanky limbs]), and the scar over his left eye makes him insanely attractive.

the scar especially gives him something to stand out with; make people remember him (sometimes he even takes out his glass eye just so people get a good look at his empty socket and that image can be seared into their brains). being androgynous also helps make everyone, whether they’re attracted to men or women, find him hot. no one even knows if Vic is short for Victor or Victoria, and that’s the point. also due to how he grew up in this au (spoiler alert, Vic’s life was awful for a lot of years between beginning of high school and when he reconnected with Kenny as an adult [that’s an understatement Vic is by far the most traumatized character in this au]), he doesn’t feel particularly comfortable with being on one perfect end of the gender spectrum; girl or boy. So no matter how he’s presenting, he’s always going to look somewhat androgynous.

Kenny-

Kenny is kinda the same, i just wanted him to look more cool and unhinged. I got rid of the full beard cause i can’t draw it and also hated it, but i added snake bites cause they’re cool. I also got rid of the beer on his shirt cause I feel like after being raised by two alcoholic assholes he wouldn’t drink much as an adult. oh yeah and he’s a he/they now cause you can’t tell me princess kenny didn’t awaken something in him. i feel like he would go to a fancy award ceremony for some massive science breakthrough in a gown. he’s the typa guy to accept some prestigious award for his scientific findings in a slutty silk dress. Basically everything I changed in Kenny’s design was to make him look more like the wacky uncle who gives children weapons (spoilers he is). i kept how the pcov specials made his stockier cause honestly i just like him a little bit bigger. I feel like that’s a treat to himself. he spent so long in a home where he’d probably have to starve some night cause they couldn’t afford to eat, so when he becomes an extremely successful adult, he can give himself the luxury of eating three meals a day or eating junk food that was too expensive for him. he can finally afford to be a little bit heavier; it’s just proof that he’s made it this far from where he came. He’s also more of a mad scientist in this au a la Dr. Mephesto, but far more ethical in what/how he runs experiments.

both-

Their dynamic and characterization in this au is by far the most fleshed out because of how much I like these two characters, and it’s genuinely my favorite couple in the au. I might make a whole separate post on how they operate as parents because they’re both so horrifically worried that they may accidentally follow in their own parents footsteps. Yknow, generational trauma and whatnot. They’re also both insanely unhinged. Both of them are just balls of the walls crazy, which stems from both of them being traumatized (i mentioned Vic is the most traumatized in this au, Kenny is the second most cause of dying thousands of times over his whole life).

Kenny has lost all grasp of physical or mortal fear cause by this time in his life he’s died so much he’s lost any sense of connection to injury, even to other people. It’s difficult for him to register that other people are mortal because it’s such a foreign concept to him, and that can lead to some issues in the lab given that it’s such a dangerous place to work. Meanwhile, Vic has the people she cares about, and has a hard time grasping that people she doesn’t care about aren’t just stepping stones. She was used her whole life, then used and hurt people as an adult (yes she was an NFT bro, no she’s not anymore), but now she has a hard time not snapping back into the NFT thing and scheming every cent out of whoever gave her a dirty look at Walmart. Kenny and Vic can and generally do help each other out with these things, but they can also be each others worst instigators (“oh yeah you should absolutely do that consequences be damned” “no he had it coming to him don’t worry” “yeah fuck him up! beat his ass!” typa shit. they support each other non-conditionally but sometimes that leads to them getting arrested).

#cyn’s sp next gen au #south park #south park au #south park fanart #cyn art #kenny mccormick #kenny sp #sp kenny #kenny fanart #kenny south park #post covid kenny #butters stotch #pcov au #butters sp #sp butters #butters south park #butters fanart #post covid butters #victor chaos #south park post covid #south park post covid au

[adarkrainbow]

Edmund Dulac's Fairy Tales go to War

Jstor Daily published an article with the catchy title "Edmund Dulac's Fairy Tales go to War". Of course I had to read it. The original article is here if you want to check it out, but I'll still copy-paste it below because it's crazy info. (And given it is quite long I will put two thirds of it under a cut)

Edmund Dulac’s Fairy Tales Go to War One of the best-known illustrators of the “golden age of children’s gift books,” Dulac was also a subtle purveyor of Allied propaganda during the Great War.

By: S. N. Johnson-Roehr and Jonathan Aprea ; December 16, 2022

Once upon a time, there was a young artist named Edmund Dulac, who built his early reputation on his illustrations for J. M. Dent & Company’s 1905 edition of Jane Eyre. Almost instantly, he became a leading name in the book arts, producing illustrations for the Brontë sisters and popular magazines. Annual exhibitions of his drawings and paintings at the Leicester Galleries, London, drew the attention of both the European and American art world. In 1910, critic Evelyn Marie Stuart, writing for Chicago’s The Fine Arts Journal, described his work as “rich with poetry and imagination, and strong in the possession of that decorative element which renders a picture universally pleasing.” His drawings were like "things seen in a vision or a mirage; or traced by the fancy of a child in the lichens on the wall, the water discolorations upon a ceiling, or the light shining through a broken crumpled shade; or, even like the things we try to decipher in the leaping flames and glowing embers of an open fire—many of these delightful sketches suggest to our fancy in some detail a variety of objects."

Dulac’s themes tended toward the fantastical—scenes from the Arabian Nights and Omar Khayyam’s Rubáiyát—with roots in the Pre-Raphaelites and not far removed from the work of Arthur Rackham and Kay Nielsen.

Born in France and naturalized as a British citizen in 1912, Dulac understandably awarded his loyalties to the Allies during the Great War. To support the war effort, he contributed his art and design skills to several charity books, including Princess Mary’s Gift Book and King Albert’s Gift Book, both published in 1914. If there remained any doubts as to his feelings about the Axis powers, they were surely erased when he published Edmund Dulac’s Picture-Book for the French Red Cross in 1915, with its cover proclaiming “All profits on sale given to the Croix Rouge Française, Comité de Londres.”

Even more convincing—and more inventive—was his use of fairy tales to not just further his charitable efforts but to possibly encourage the United States to join the war. Published in 1916, Edmund Dulac’s Fairy-Book was a subtle but persuasive example of wartime propaganda. Subtitled “Fairy Tales of the Allied Nations,” it included Dulac’s own adaptations of folk tales gathered from the nations fighting with Great Britain: France, Russia, Italy, Belgium, Serbia, Japan, and China.

Below, courtesy of the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, are reproductions of some of the illustrations from Edmund Dulac’s Fairy-Book, accompanied by brief explanation of each story.

Snegorotchka: A Russian Fairy Tale

Snegorotchka (more commonly transliterated Snegurochka), the “The Snow Maiden,” is a recurring character in Russian folklore, playing various roles, from child to adult, in stories bounded by the winter and spring seasons. By the late nineteenth century, Snegurochka had blended fully with the traditions of Christmas, often serving as a helper to Grandfather Frost (Ded Moroz).

In Dulac’s version of a common tale, Snegurochka is a girl made from snow, brought to life to add joy to the waning years of a childless couple. An elderly man and women all but will the girl into being as they shape a tiny body of snow in the woods. Snegurochka leaps to life, filling their home and souls with warmth throughout the winter. Tragically, the little girl disappears with the heat of spring weather, leaving the parents bereft.

Another version of the Snegurochka tale formed the basis of a play by Alexander Ostrovsky, which was subsequently adapted into an opera by Rimsky-Korsakov.

The Buried Moon: An English Fairy Tale

Sometimes known as The Dead Moon, The Buried Moon highlights the dangers of living in the bog country of Northern Europe.

Traveling through a bog, a personified Moon becomes entangled in magical, malevolent branches. After some struggle with “all the vile things” that love darkness (witch-things, bogle-bodies, creeping things, and the Scorpion King, to name a few), the Moon finds herself buried deep in the mud, held down with a black stone.

Of course the humans miss the Moon, lamenting her failure to appear in the sky on schedule, but who even knows where to search for her? Even the Wise Woman of the Mill can’t see any trace of her. Fortunately, just before her entombment, the Moon had managed to briefly shine her light to guide a lost and wandering human out of the treacherous marsh. Remembering this moment, the man spreads the word. Emboldened by the Wise Woman’s words of encouragement as well as the Lord’s Prayer, the local people march to the bog, fight off the Horrors of the Darkness, and rescue their beloved Moon

White Caroline and Black Caroline: A Flemish Fairy Tale

Folklorist Antoon Jozef Witteryck collected White Caroline and Black Caroline (Wit Karlientje en Zwart Karlientje) and included it in his 1899 Old Flemish Folktales (Oude Westvlaamsche volksvertelsels), an annotated version of which was republished by Hervé Stalpaert in 1946. The story can also be found in the Annales de la Société d’Emulation pour l’Étude de l’Histoire & des Antiquities de la Flandre (Bruges, 1889).

White Caroline and Black Caroline depends on the familiar figure of the evil stepmother, a woman who loves her ugly daughter (Black Caroline) more than her beautiful stepdaughter (White Caroline). Everyone and everything, from townspeople to lambs to dancing dogs, love White Caroline and equate her beauty with good. But the mother prefers her own daughter, noting “Black Caroline was so ugly;—but she was good all the same!”

And indeed, Black Caroline is good. Her mother tries no fewer than three times to murder White Caroline, and each time, Black Caroline intercedes. Poison thorns in the pillow, poison in her meatball dinner, an “accidentally” falling millstone—none manage to kill White Caroline, thanks to Black Caroline’s quick thinking.

The abrupt entrance of White Woman, queen of all the water and the woods, brings the murder attempts to a close. Not surprisingly, White Woman also loves White Caroline and promises to give her whatever she wishes—beautiful grapes, a dress of silk, a nice sailboat. Luckily, White Caroline is also good: she wishes to have Black Caroline with her. More than that, she wishes they could look alike. The White Woman has an idea:

“Little white feathers appeared on their shoulders and spread until they were entirely covered; and there they stood together, two beautiful white swans! And ever after they swam up and down on the peaceful water and no one could tell one from the other.”

The Seven Conquerors of the Queen of the Mississippi: A Belgian Fairy Tale

While there may be an actual fairy tale underpinning The Seven Conquerors of the Queen of the Mississippi, the story’s title reveals Dulac’s probable agenda. It takes no large leap of the imagination to read the “seven conquerors” as Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, Serbia, Japan, and China, all seeking an alliance with the Queen of the Mississippi—the United States—on the fields of Belgium.

The story is straightforward and structurally repetitive—each conqueror swears an oath of loyalty, and their individual strengths combine to win the Queen and kill the King (hello, Kaiser Wilhelm II).

Dulac, or some unnamed collaborator, has penned a verse that cuts through the first half of the tale with a modern rhythm and vocabulary.

“Will you travel with me, my pippy?” “Oh! Whither away? To Botany Bay?” “But no; to the far Mississippi, Where a Queen—tooral-ooral-i-ay— Is waiting for what I’m to say.” “I am yours! And the bounty?” “Either here or in Botany Bay!”

‘Will you travel with me, my pippy?” “Oh! Whither away? To Rome or Pompeii?” “But no; to the far Mississippi: There’s a Queen of great beauty that way, And there’s no one but Cupid to pay.” “I am yours! And the bounty?” “Name your price: it shall be as you say.” And so on. Travel with me, my pippy!

The Serpent Prince: An Italian Fairy Tale

The Italian poet Giambattista Basile collected The Serpent Prince (sometimes translated as The Enchanted Snake) in the seventeenth century, including it in The Pentamerone: Lo cunto de li cunti (The Tale of Tales). Folklorist Andrew Lang drew upon Basile’s version for The Green Fairy Book (1892).

Dulac has created his own prefatory material for the familiar story, opening with the popular nursery rhyme:

The old woman who lived in a shoe, Who had so many children she didn’t know what to do,

allegedly “lived about the same time in another part of the country” even though The Serpent Prince was collected in Naples.

As the story goes, a forester’s wife, Sapatella, finds a tiny serpent in her firewood. Childless, Sapatella is startled but amenable when the serpent offers himself up for adoption (“she was a kind-hearted woman and very, very lonely”).

The serpent grows—as children do—and soon demands a wife. And not just any wife! The serpent must marry the king’s daughter. Surprisingly, the king agrees to meet this demand. Or does he? He will give his daughter in marriage only if the adopted son-serpent can turn all the fruit in the royal orchards to gold.

It’s not clear why anyone is surprised that a talking serpent can wield the magic necessary to turn fruit into gold. Nor is it clear why the king would think the serpent would fail at any additional challenge placed before him. Turn the walls into diamonds and rubies? No problem. Turn the entire palace into gold? Absolutely (“not gold plate either: it was all solid gold of the purest kind.”). The king is forced to cede the battlefield. The princess will marry the serpent.

Of course, the serpent is really an enchanted prince, and here you would think the story would end: the affianced are wed, their kingdoms allied. But thanks to an additional foolish act by the king, the prince is again enchanted (and worse), and only the princess can save him. But will she be able to outwit the wily fox standing between her and her beloved?

The Hind of The Wood: A French Fairy Tale

Dulac offers a faithful retelling of The Hind in the Wood (La Biche au bois, also translated as The White Doe or The Enchanted Hind), written by Marie-Catherine Le Jumel de Barneville, Countess d’Aulnoy. A talented and creative storyteller, Countess d’Aulnoy gave us the very words “fairy tale” in 1697, when she published her first collection under the title Les Contes des fees (Tales of the Fairies).

Though the titular hind is the star of the story, the scene opens with an unhappy, childless queen encountering a talking crayfish. Though “hearing a big Crayfish talk—and talk so nicely too—was a great surprise to her,” the queen listens carefully to the crustacean.

The reward for her attentiveness is a kingdom transformed. Beneath her feet appears “a carpet of violets, and, in the giant cedars above, thousands of little birds, each one a different colour, [singing] their songs; and the meaning of their melody was this: that cradle, woven by fairy fingers, was not there for nothing.” Soon she will be a mother!

A troupe of fairies gather around the suddenly expecting queen and ask that she welcome them on the day of birthing so they can give special gifts to the babe, who will be named Désirée. And on that special day, the queen indeed remembers to bid them come to the palace. Sadly, she neglects to invite the talking crayfish (who is really the Fairy of the Fountain) to the celebration.

Curses. But only small ones, in the scheme of things. The Fairy of the Fountain warns the royal parents to keep Princess Désirée from seeing daylight until she turns fifteen. That’s all.

Alas, the Warrior Prince lies on his death bed. Just a portrait of Désirée is enough to make him fall in love and abandon his plans to marry Black Princess. Yet he cannot see her—she will not be fifteen for a few more months. To save the Warrior Prince, Désirée agrees to travel with her two ladies-in-waiting by darkened carriage to his kingdom.

Unfortunately, one of those ladies-in-waiting, Long-Epine, is a traitor. She slits the cover of the carriage, exposing Désirée to daylight. Just a drop of sunlight turns the princess into a dazzling white hind. She instantly runs off into the forest. And that is the curse: by day, a doe; by night, a lonely princess.

The Warrior Prince wanders this very forest and soon spots the white deer. Annoyed that the animal tries to keeps its distance from him, he looses an arrow and pierces her flank. He’s sorry! Especially when he finds out the hind is his beloved, enchanted.

She isn’t enchanted for much longer, however. The Prince, even knowing all, loves her. And that is enough to break the spell

Ivan and the Chestnut Horse: A Russian Fairy Tale

Variations of Ivan and the Chestnut Horse are abundant in Russian folklore. Sometimes Ivan rides a chestnut horse, sometimes a dun. A common version of the story, known as Sivko-Burko, was collected by A. N. Afanas’ev in the mid-nineteenth century. Included in Jack V. Haney’s comprehensive The Complete Folktales of A. N. Afanas’ev (Tale #179, Vol. II), this version gives Ivan a magic black steed.

Ivan and his brothers have just committed themselves holding daily prayers over the grave of their recently departed father when they hear that Princess Helena the Fair has decided to wed. To win her favor, her suitor must leap on horseback to the top of the shrine on which she sits, kissing her as he flies through the air.

Ivan, the youngest of the siblings, offers to take on the burden of graveside prayer for a week so his brothers can curl their hair and train their horses for the challenge. One week stretches to two, and then to three. The brothers ignore their filial duties to dye their mustaches. So much attention is paid to their appearance that they even neglect to feed their horses.

And yet, when the day of the leaping contest arrives, the older brothers dash away on their mounts, leaving Ivan alone to pray and weep over his father’s grave.

It was thus that two out of three brothers miss their father’s resurrection. Shaking himself free of the damp earth, the father offers to help his youngest son. He begins to call out in a loud voice—one time, two times, three times. Ivan discovers his father is summoning a beautiful chestnut horse!

Yes, this is the enchanted steed that will take Ivan to the shrine of Helena the Fair, where—after two failed attempts—it rises to the leap, allowing Ivan to press his lips to those of the princess “in a long sweet kiss, for the chestnut horse seemed to linger in the air at the top of its leap while that kiss endured.”

After summoning the steed, Ivan’s father immediately vanishes. No matter, because Ivan is soon welcomed to supper with the father of his bride, Princess Helena the Fair.

The Blue Bird: A French Fairy Tale

The Blue Bird (l’Oiseau Bleu) is another tale that comes to us by Countess d’Aulnoy. Though there are many variants of the story found across Europe, scholar Jacques Barchilon notes that d’Aulnoy’s version is remarkably robust, appearing in a French Canadian collection, “word for word the version of Mme d’Aulnoy’s with all details,” as late as 1960. Andrew Lang also included it in The Green Fairy Tale Book.

Our story opens with a rich but miserable king. He’s inconsolable, having only recently become a widower. Hoping to comfort him, his courtiers present him with a woman dressed in mourning clothes and possibly crying even louder and longer than the king himself.

Finding solace in their similar sorrows, they decide to wed. Each brings into the marriage a daughter from their first marriage. The king’s daughter: “one of the eight wonders of the world,” the young and lovely Florine. The new queen’s daughter: “neither beautiful nor gracious,” the young Truitonne, with a face like a trout and hair “so full of grease that it was impossible to touch it.”

The queen loves Truitonne much more than she loves Florine, which wouldn’t matter if the king didn’t love the queen so much that he cedes to her every wish. For instance, he allows her to dress Truitonne in jewels and Florine in rags when Prince Charming appears at court. Despite the heavy-handed costuming, however, Prince Charming only has eyes—and love—for Florine.

The queen schemes. The queen plots. She enlists maid, frogs (“for mind you, frogs know all the routes of the universe”), and fairy godmothers. And yet the Prince will not be deflected from his plans to be with Florine. Finally, exasperated with his stubbornness, Truitonne’s fairy godmother turns the prince into a blue bird—for seven years!

It’s not too bad, at first. In bird form, the prince finds it easier to woo Florine—until the queen discovers that he flies to her window every night. Wielding her dark magic, Truitonne’s fairy godmother sends the blue bird to his nest to die.

Fortunately, every bad fairy seems to be balanced by a good fairy. This bright character finds the dying blue bird in his nest and heals him. It doesn’t seem to help much—the queen is determined that Truitonne will marry the prince even if only by trickery and deception.

The queen’s shenanigans never seem to end—this is a long fairy tale—but eventually the universe, or at the least the good fairy, finds a way to bring Prince Charming and Florine together.

The Friar and the Boy: An English Fairy Tale

The Friar and the Boy, also known as Jack and his Stepdame, reaches back to the poetry of medieval England. In volume three of Remains of the Early Popular Poetry of England (1866), William Carew Hazlitt records a c. 1585 London imprint of the chapbook verse that underpins the modern version of this tale.

The story begins with Jack, a young lad wronged by his stepmother. She starves him, she yells at him, she altogether doesn’t care for him.

One day, sent to the fields to watch the sheep, Jack encounters a hungry old man. Jack’s lunch isn’t much, as his stepmother is loathe to feed him decent food, but he gives it to the stranger. In return, the old man gives Jack three wishes.

Wish one: a bow and arrow, charmed such that the target will never be missed. Wish two: a pipe, its magic strong enough to make anyone dance who hears its tune. Wish three: an enchantment that will turn his stepmother’s harsh words into laughter.

Jack instantly puts his granted wishes to work. When his stepmother begins to scold him, her words turn to laughter. She laughs herself sick. When the Friar is sent to chastise Jack for his impudence, he ends up dancing through the brambles to Jack’s piping. Soon Jack has the entire village dancing to his tunes!

Alas, his poor old father begs for a rest. Jack loves his father, so he ceases to play. Not surprisingly, the Friar takes advantage of the pause to have Jack called before the Judge, “be-wigged and severe.”

The Friar makes his case: “the prisoner here has a pipe, and, when he plays upon it, all who hear must dance themselves to death, whether they like it or not.”

Intrigued, the Judge asks to hear this so-called Dance of Death. Jack is happy to oblige and takes up his pipe to play. Soon everyone in court is on their feet, dancing madly to the tunes. Even the judge joins in, “holding up his robes and footing it merrily.” He’s a believer, but he soon asks the boy to stop.

Jack agrees, but only if everyone promises to treat him properly.

“I think,” says the Judge, “if you will put your pipe away, they will consent to an amicable arrangement.”

Court is adjourned.

The End.

#edmund dulac #fairytale illustrations #fairytale art #french fairytales #british fairytales #english fairytales #edmund dulac's fairy book #world war I #wwI #fairytales and war #fairytale propaganda #russian fairytales #belgian fairytales #flemish fairytales #edmund dulac's fairy-book #italian fairytales #political fairytales

[visd3stele]

i just finished episode 5 and OH MY can you please please write something for ser criston? like maybe trying to calm him down after the wedding or something i just JSHPSJSYWCSBMGWGQUGSAA

am i sensing hurt&comfort? YAAAS!

a/n: I think I'm better at pure angst than hurt&comfort, so let me know what you think of this

masterlist ; requests

Soothing stars

As children, you and Criston would climb together in the highest tree near your parents' houses. Each of you trying to be closer to the top than the other.

As teenagers, you and Ser Cole trained together. He would sneak past your parents in the dead of night and teach you all he learned during the day. Sparring, shielding, parring, defence, offence.

As young adults, you traveled to King's Landing together. Him, for a chance to join the kingsguard and bring honor to his name. You... well, you lacked a good reason if you were to be truthful. You just didn't want to marry any of the men your father brought home for you. And parting from your best friend was a thought you couldn't bare even as a suggestion of your imagination.

So here you were now, tailing a proud in the saddle Criston Cole. "Maybe I'll charm a dragon prince, or princess, while we're there." You joked.

"I thought you don't want to marry," Criston turned to shout at you. "And hurry up, we want to make it to the palace in time for the tournament."

"Well, we should have left when I told you to, then. But who decided to be a lazy cunt? That's right! The all mighty knight." You lowered your voice, imitating Criston's timber: "One more day, y/n, I have to be ready and maybe if I train more and am tired when I come home, my dear, sweet, best friend will pack my stuff too."

Criston laughed and a wide smile flourished on your face as it usually happened when he was happy. More importantly, happy because of you. "This is not what happened. I really needed to train more. The best fighters in Westeros will be there. It's not my fault you took pity in me."

"I know, I know," you sighed dramatically, "I have a too good heart for my own good."

Criston slowed his mare until his shoulders were next to yours. Reaching out of his saddle, he put his arm around your neck, bringing you closer so he could smooch a kiss on top of your head. "You, indeed, are, y/n. Please don't let the court change you. Not even when you became queen." He added, winking at you with an amuse licker in his deep, dark eyes.

You shook the heat warming your cheeks. It wasn't the first time Criston kissed you. Growing up together, he has been very affectionate of you. And you with him. But lately, you felt knots twisting in your gut each time you were in his presence. A nest of butterflies releasing inside of them every time he smiled. Or laughed. Or hugged you all sweaty, glistening in the sun after a long match with the other man in town, happy that he won. No matter how friendly, brotherly even, he looked at you, your heart twisted painfully at Criston Cole's sight.

And how could you not have caught feelings? It wasn't just the thickness of his brows framing those impossible dark eyes, the long eyelashes drawing attention to the glimmer in them too, the curl at the corner of his lips, always welcoming in a dear smile, the muscles pulsing beneath his dainty skin. No...

You saw him with other women. You even helped him gain the attention of some. He was so romantic and careful with his lovers. He gifted them small trinkets, plaid them songs under the balcony, risked the wrath of their fathers to take them out on a ride. To the lake, to the clearing in the forest where a river passes through, to the abandoned tower to gaze the stars from its roof.

His romantic antics would be the death of you. His sweet heart, full of love to offer to the right person, always putting so much into even the smallest fling. His soft, bashful smiles when he talked of a lady he fancied a bit too much for your liking. The energy pouring in his voice whenever he talked enthusiastically loud of dreams for a future he shall design.

One that became inexplicabily void of the love he sought.

"Tell me again why you want to enter the kingsguard? I would have thought you a match for the poets with that romantic soul of yours. And every poet needs a muse."

Criston's face darkened then. His father's expectations heavy on his shoulders shadowing his eyes.

"It will bring honor to the Cole's name."

"A name that will end with you."

"But it shall be singed about in tales of bravery and honor for ages to come. If I am the last in my house, then I will make it to be a worthy, meaningful one."

You bit your lips, letting your eyes drift to the side of your horse as silence fell around the two of you. Your pulse picked up, burdened by your heavy heart. You didn't want to hurt him. But you didn't want to lose him either. And lost will he be with the White Swords.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The court had been different that what you expected. Grimmer. No amount of brilliant gold, rich clothes or delicious food could make the nobles pleasant. You took a job in the kitchens, finally putting all the years your mother insisted to have you learn to cook to make a good wife to good use. One that benefitted you.

In the heart of the gossips - as the kitchens were the point where servants gathered to catch their breath - you learned many secrets of the lords and ladies of the palace.

They, the cooks, the maids, the pages, have taken you in like a member of their large, supporting family. It helped you when Ser Cole made less and less time for you.

"Gossip isn't a good attribute for a knight. Even more so a White Cloak."

He never cut you off like that. Not until now. You used to tell him everything your friends let loose when you got together to sew. The talks, and the laughs you got from them, made the wifey duties more bearable. To the point where you started to enjoy the sewing, the cooking, the field labor and the cleaning. See them as abilities for your own self rather than things you owed to a man.

And Criston has been such a pilon in your self discoveries. Always eager to hear you rant - first filling him in on the story at hand, then offering your own analyze of it. "But at the end of the day, it's their lives," it was the ending line of all of your statements. Criston would scrunch his nose and knit his brows, trying to understand why you spent so much time thinking about matter you have no care for.

But he never judged. He lowered his head in your lap, letting you stroke his hair as you spoke and enjoyed the sound of your voice, the spark in your eyes.

When he first turned you away in his new uniform as kingsguard, you thinned your lips, nodded and left with a bowed head. Maybe the the crouched position would salvage some of your stabbed heart.

It didn't end there. The first weeks nothing changed. He trained more, yes, but his nights were all yours. To share impressions of the court, to talk about your new lives, to joke and make the cold palace a home. Then he was welcomed in the guard and took shifts around the castle's grounds. Each spare time, lesser and lesser, was spent in your presence.

Almost every woman - and some men as well - swooned over your best friend. They'd trail you around, asking about Ser Criston and the nature of your relationship.

"I can't even imagine your hurt," one of the friends you made shook her head in sympathy. "To lose your lover to the realm. You are so brave and loyal."

You didn't tell her Criston has never been your lover. The pain was the same. And the thought sooth it a bit.

Now, Ser Cole barely had any time for you. You considered yourself lucky if you could catch a moment with him in the kitchen when, each morning, the knight came for a rushed meal. The lead cook always let you pack Criston's lunch. A small solace as you were losing your best friend.

Stolen looks, packed food, quick chats and waved hands compiled all the interaction you had left with your best friend. It grounded you, though. Knowing he still cared, even though his duty worked its hardest to take him from you. And being the only one he willingly, without any obligation - bound by manners or commitment - offered his time, love and attention to.

Until a new friendship bloomed on the grounds of Westeros' kings home. Princess Rhaenyra, the realm's delight, the heir to the throne, thus Criston's future patron, absorbed your best friend.

"Do you think there's anything more between the princess and her guard?" A mean voice suggested once, when the kitchens were full, readying the food for a banquet.

"Don't be ridiculous," you forced your voice void of any jealousy or longing. Just an amused tone, a bit patronizing as you knew Ser Cole the best. "They are friends."

"They seem closer than."

"Well, they're not. This is just how Criston is. Kind and close to his good friends."

The lead cook came to your rescue, noticing the bowled fist around the knife you were holding. "As you know, the princess is a friendly soul too. She has just lost Lady Alicent, a friend for so long, to her father. Ser Cole is right to offer princess Rhaenyra another chance at normalcy in her young age."

Yes, you thought bitterly, the good knight in shining armor to save the princess.

You didn't want to be mad at the princess. Rhaenyra hasn't been named the realm's delight for naught. An aura around her as bright as her Targaryen hair, unbending will as the gems her purple eyes were cut from, the heir was simply as magical as the blood of Velarys was rumored to be.

No wonder Criston has fallen for her. Because, despite your words, you knew he harbored more than platonic feelings for the princess. After all you could read him better than anyone, sense the difference between love and friendship in his demeanor better than everyone. You witnessed it and have been at the receiving end of it for all your life.

You covered for him as much as you could: dismissing the yarning gazes some pages noticed, assuring them the fierce protection Criston showed for the princess belonged solely to his knightly duties, smothering the talks around the maids and servants that surfaced anytime Rhaenyra and Criston were spotted together, laughing.

But one night, you couldn't help Ser Cole no more. The talk spreaded like a swift seaside breeze, carrying Criston's dishonor around the palace as waves bring algae to shore. The knight has been seen sneaking from the princess' chambers, late under the cloak of dreaming lords and ladies. But servants never sleep.

"Imbecile," you muttered under your breath as soon as you heard. You wouldn't let the pang in your heart take breadth. Not when it could be hidden by the furious worries of a good friend.

That same night, while Ser Cole laid still awake in his bed reminiscing the eventful moments that led to his blissed out state, you knocked loudly at his door.

You heard him groan on the other side which earned a roll of your eyes.

"Y/n?" Criston finally opened your door. You pushed him inside and locked it.

"What have you done, you fool?! The whole palace is vibrating with your vicissitudes." A hit of your palms landed on his chest punctuating each and every word.

The glare in your eyes diminished at the sight of Criston growing paler and paler under the storm of your news. If a worn out beatitude grazed his pupils seconds ago, how horror filled his orbs. The realization of what he has done seemed to settle in. He took several steps back, collapsing on the edge of the bed.

"The whole palace... my acts..." he mumbled incoherently. "What have I done?"

"That is what I would like to know as well," you hummed, not yet so touched by his distress that you wouldn't hold him accountable over his idiocy.

"My vows..." A chocked whisper, banging off the quiet walls. "No, no, no, y/n, I had one job and I screwed it all up.

"Well, that was one choice of words," you couldn't help but taunt him. As much as you loved Criston, you had to admit he had issues he needed to sort out. He has always been like this: acting without thinking then wallowing in self pity until all is forgotten and he can move on.

There would be no moving on if king finds out.

"Y/n," Criston begged of you in a small voice. Not entirely sure himself what he asked for. Mercy, to spare him of the cruel voice of reason you always have been for him? Comfort, to hug him and assure him everything will be alright? Or help, silencing the dangerous voices within the dragons' layer?

You breathed a long, resigned sigh as you sat down next to him. A silly man he may be sometimes, but he was your silly.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Time flew by in a whim of fate. Your days looked all the same: wake up, work, sleep, repeat. At least you haven't heard anything about Ser Cole's affairs. You hadn't seen much of him either, but you felt oddly content. His place as kingsguard was safe, his honor intact. He grew careful in his interactions with the princess. Criston tried to work on himself and his mistakes and you were so damn proud of him!... even if it meant less time around your best friend.

But then the illusion of progress and a better man broke. It was the celebration of Rhaenyra's wedding when you stumbled outside the hot kitchen for a needed breath of cold, fresh air. You walked a few steps to stretch your legs, cracking every stiff joint in your body. As soon as you finished a plate, another order arrived. The tables, especially the ones of desert, were wolfed out by too many guests for your peace of mind.

"Flaunty nobles," you whined, face towards the sky with closed eyes as you rolled your body as far back as you could, snapping the strain from your limbs.

You were about to make your way back when a ragged sob caught your attention. "Criston?" Your best friend, knelt on the grass under the starry night, had a sword positioned to spear through his chest at one swift push of his wrists. "What in seven kingdoms are you doing?"

There was no time to cringe at how much you sounded like your mother, nor to make assumptions of the Ser Cole's motives. Mind empty, you let your body take control. In a second of haste, you were by his side, stopped in your tracks mere centimeters away, hands sprawled forward. A gesture you hoped would temper him.

"I have broken my vows, y/n. Dishonored my name. I was supposed to bring dignity and respect to my house and instead I repeatedly fallen in forbidden sin. I deserve to die."

You ignored the ache snaking in your heart, but you couldn't let the disappointment slide. Repeatedly. He has laid with princess Rhaenyra even after you told him the word got out. Even after the crushing weight of guilt broke him that night right in front of you. Has he forgotten it all? The reason he left home, the reason he gave up his dreams of marriage and children. Could he not restrain himself?

If he wanted to, Criston would have. You knew it as you knew the sky is blue and fire burns quickly and trimly. But he wanted the princess more.

Anger like you never felt before munched on your insides. Something else too. Betrayal. How dare he feel sorry for himself when you did everything you could to help him achieve his dreams? He sabotaged it, counting on you to clean up his mess. He...

You took one long breath of air inside your heated lungs. Taming the hurt and fury, you kneeled next to Criston, doing what you always did best. Being his keeper.

Softly but surely, you prayed his fingers open, taking the sowrd's handle in your own. Criston protested weakly, scared that if he moved too largely and intently he might end up cutting you. Little did he know he has already done so.

"Listen to me, Criston. No one knows. Only the servants talk of it and even them... all they have are speculations."

"I confessed."

You blinked. Once. Twice. Taken aback.

"To whom?"

"The queen. I- I asked Rhaenyra to run with me. Build a new life in Esos. She refused..." Criston trailed off, his tighten throat unable to sustain his voice any longer.

You hide the grimace off your face at the image of him and the princess together in a small, homey house far away from the ordeal that was the court.

"You wanted to leave?"

"Tonight. I had to, y/n. I am no knight worthy of this cape. It was the only right thing to do."

Leaving. Without you. Not even telling you a single word of parting.

Your eyes hardened, void of any compassion. When you spoke your voice was hoarse. Cold. "You have to forgive yourself, Criston. The queen pardoned you, did she not? You wouldn't be here if she hasn't..."

"I asked her the mercy of choosing my death. By my hands."

"Then you shall ask her the mercy of sending you home. To take your sword instead of your life."

"But..."

"No, Criston. It's well due time you listen to me. You are an amazing fighter and the finest swordsman in all the seven kingdoms. But you are not cut for being a kingsguard. And that's alright. In fact, it's more than alright."

Now that the sharp weapon laid on the grass at your side, you crawled closer to Ser Cole, cupping his face and bringing his gaze into yours.

"You have a grand heart. One that follows love against all odds or consciousness. You feel so much and true it's a miracle you haven't bled out from your pores already with how much your heart pours in this world. You made some vows you couldn't keep, but it doesn't make you a failure. It makes you stubborn, as you knew this isn't what you wanted. And hard headed. Which would be fine, too, if you wouldn't beat yourself so harshly.

You should have been true to yourself, Criston. Because you always knew what you wanted and it's not this. Any of these. It's a warm home with a woman you love and kids running around. Growing horses in your stables and teaching them to ride." You smiled. Many times you have pictured yourself as the woman in his home, your kids giggling as they learned to sit in the saddles.

"It's a beautiful wish. An accomplished life because it makes you happy. And it's not less worthy than the noble solitude of a knight. It's precious and important just because it matters so much to you and that is what life is all about. Chasing happiness.

I know you don't want to hear it, but I'll tell you anyway. These nobles? These rich, entitled lords and ladies that have everything the need and so much more, aren't happy. They scheem and stab each others in the back, all to gain a bit more. Never enough, never fulfilled. They have to sleep one eyed open and hire knights like you to watch their backs and in the end they die wishing they could have lived because no amount of coins or political advantages will keep them company in the last sleep."

As silence surrounded you two, you regained your breath. You have spoken in earnest, letting all the pent up emotions paint Ser Cole an image he would believe, understand and never forget. The ice in your voice melted halfway through your speech, putting in front of Criston all the pain, broken winged hope, ire and love you strangled between your vocal chords for so long.

Tears glistened in your eyes under the shy light of the moon. Your cold fingers shoveled red marks in Criston's cheeks. "Sorry," you whispered hoarsely, shoving your gaze from his.

But Cole immediately gripped your wrists, keeping your hands in place. He searched your eyes until your looks locked again into each other.

Doubt still lingered in the pit of his orbs. He has been told he need to earn his worth in battles, give his name a meaning, his whole life. Now you throw it all upside down. He wanted to believe you. He didn't know how to.

You closed the gap between, touching your forehead to his. As on cue, both of you closed your eyes. "You tried. You can't be a man you're not. But you tried. That's all you owed to do. And now you owe it to yourself to be yourself."

"I don't even know who that is, y/n."

"A good man. A romantic soul. A good fighter, but not a kingsguard. A loyal friend, even though oblivious and stepping astray sometimes. And so much more you need but to let yourself discover."

Criston sighed. The brush of air over your lips sent shivers down your spine. You felt him shift, bringing you even closer, if that was human possible. One of his hands climbed to the back of your neck, The other rose to cover your palm still on his cheek. A feather light touch of his lips to your wrist. A tilt of his head promising your mouth the same gift.

You dreamt of it for so long. A kiss. Maybe some more. A love with Criston Cole.

You pulled away.

You snatched your hand from under his, pressing them both on his chest. You couldn't do it. It wasn't right. Not now.

"Sorry," Criston jumped as if a bucked of cold water emptied on his heated body disturbed a beautiful dream. "I don't know what has gotten into me. Shit! Y/n, I'm so sorry."

You shook your head. "Don't be. You're vulnerable now. I helped you. It's normal to feel this way." The sad timber in your voice didn't escape Ser Cole.

"How do you know it's only because..."

"I don't. Apparently neither do you. Its just, well, you are the one who needs to figure it out. I did for myself," you explained, kissing lightly his cheek and getting up. "Let me know when you're sure. I'll be waiting. And in the meantime I will keep being your friend. Skies knows how much you need me."

Criston laughed. For the first time in months, you taunted him and he laughed. It felt so good, a promise things might return to normal between the two of you. And maybe some more than what your relationship used to be.

"You're right. I do need you. I can't believe the notice has escaped me so far."

"You can be a bit slow yourself, Ser Cole, but I knew you'll come around... eventually."

You returned to your post in the kitchen, leaving Ser Cole to work around his own service. Hope fluttered in your chest for the first time in so long. And a girlish chuckle left your mouth as the last words you heard before entering the palace again were Criston's dreamy "I couldn't be happier that I did."

#ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #ser criston #criston cole x reader #criston cole #my writing #my wriitng #my words #my fic ideas #my fic #my fic writing

[gwilymz]

thinking about a stewy x roy reader scenario. they're having a secret affair, and they're at one of their fancy ass business galas, and reader looks delicious. stewy is trying to be subtle but he just wants to touch her, and be near her, but they can't risk the family finding out. sexy sexy times ensue... <3

YES. i’m so hot for stewy like i know he fucks you rough and hard. being their youngest sibling and kendall especially is so protective of you because he sees how fucked up everyone in the family is but he doesn’t want you to turn out the same way.

kendall literally telling you that you can’t get involved in waystar—he instead convinces you to go to college and just find your own path. and even though logan really wants you to come to galas and events, kendall just doesn’t want you sucked up into that world at all.

but you see stewy all the time. and of course stewy has noticed you. he tries to tell himself you’re ken’s little sister. he cant. but he has to.

and you are obsessed with stewy. you randomly run into each other quite a bit (maybe partially because stewy remembers your favorite cafe and where you go out the most.)

and that’s how you see each other one friday night. you’re at a club with your friends and stewy is there and oh how his eyes light up when he sees you.

your cute little skirt and tight top and that glint in your eyes that is so corruptible.

“hey, y/n!” he comes up to you and your friends, cocktail in hand, his other finding the small of your back. you never want him to stop touching you.

and you talk to each other the whole night, enthralled by everything and nothing at the same time; you’re just addicted to the proximity, stewy’s laugh, his body heat. he pushes hair away from your face and draws circles on your thigh and maybe it’s because you’re drunk but you end up straddling him in a back corner somewhere, his hands on your ass as he kisses you hungrily. obsessively. his words are filthy in your ear, his hands rough as they pull on your hair. his beard burns your throat as he kisses you there but you love it. gasping and grinding against him until you’re caught and stewy grabs you by the arm and you leave like giggly teenagers.

after that, it’s sneaking around a lot. hiding under stewy’s desk when you surprised him with a blowjob at work because kendall showed up to talk about a deal. stewy eating your pussy anywhere and everywhere he can. booking expensive trips just to get away. nobody has really caught on to the details, but they’re getting suspicious about things.

kendall tells you to come to a gala because he’s convinced there’s something off with you— plus he hasn’t seen you in awhile. you know stewy will be there and your judgement is so cloudy when it comes to him, of course you agree.

so you buy a pretty gown and do your hair perfectly and put on this lipstick that makes stewy hard like a pavlovian response.

when you get there, kendall greets you and tries to introduce you to some interns around your age, but you see stewy’s back and his suit fits so well and you aren’t here for anyone or anything else. just him.

stewy turns around and sees you. the curve of your hips, the swell of your ass and how your cleavage looks. he’s obviously eyefucking you, but he sees kendall right next to you and doesn’t know what to do. he opts to walk over, but to just keep it together.

“y/n,” he offers, clinking his glass with yours. “this your waystar debut? they corrupting you because they saw you were too content, huh?”

his way of asking what are you doing here?

you shrug. “just thought i’d come by. why not?“

“well.” stewy swallows, his eyes boring into yours. “you look fantastic.”

and then he walks away. you want more. the whole night you steal glances at him while you talk to interns and assistants and logan’s old cronies.

you see how other women fawn over stewy. he’s rich and his suit fits just right and he has that smile that’s so self assured it’s almost cocky. it makes you swoon—and apparently, he has that effect on the whole room.

but stewy’s eyes don’t leave yours. pupils like saucers when the skirt of your dress sways in tune with your hips, when your lips curl around your champagne glass.

and maybe it was the worst idea he could have conjured up to get you two alone, but god he was fucking desperate. that’s how his vodka soda spilled all over the front of your dress, cold ice making your nipples peak as stewy apologized.

“oh, i’m so sorry y/n!”

he pulled you into a bathroom, locking the door as you naively blotted your dress with paper towels. when you looked up from your concentration, stewy was on his knees, bunching your skirt up, pushing your panties aside.

“get on the fucking sink.” he stood back up and hoisted you up, pocketing your panties like a handkerchief.

holding your jaw and kissing you like you’d never have the chance to again, his fingers plunging into your cunt. he laughed at how wet you were.

popping his fingers into his mouth, he sucked your wetness off before rubbing your clit in tight circles, cooing in your ear.

you moaned into his mouth, your hands in his hair. his beard burned in the most addictive way possible.

“i know,” he hummed, his fingers curling inside you. your hips jerked; a gasp fell from your lips. “ah ah ah—be quiet.”

you nodded, looking into those deep brown eyes that never looked away from yours.

“your family thinks you haven’t been corrupted yet,” stewy spat in your mouth, his fingers moving faster in your cunt. “—but you’re a dirty fucking girl.”

you mewled, nodding.

“you agree?” his tone was authoritative, commanding. “that you’re my fucking slut?”

“all yours,” you said. “f-fuck.”

and then stewy kneeled in front of you, his hands keeping your thighs apart as he spit on your pussy. his moans sent vibrations through your core as he licked your cunt, lips wrapping around your swollen clit.

it didn’t take long before you came on his tongue, his name on your own. those thirty seconds of bliss before you had to worry about how to hide the beard burn on your cheeks and the dark lipstick all over stewy’s face.

#succession #stewy hosseini smut #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini

[pinkacademic]

How to get a Pink Academia FIX in the Summer

If you're still in school or university/college and the summer months have you craving eduction even when you're not constrained to the classroom, or if you're finished up and still living for the aesthetic, here are some ideas for how to maintain your little grey cells with a little pink twist.

- Get Ahead! Have a look at study guides for next year's modules or classes, and dedicate a bit of time to learning. This is especcially good if you're doing something transitional like GCSEs and A-levels (for anyone outside the UK, those are exams we do between the ages of about 14-16 and 16-18 respectivly) and you want to do better next year or maintain your marks. Make sure to make it fun and don't forget to actually enjoy your Summer! Try maybe a few hours in the week where you dress in your best plaid skirt and pearls, pour yourself an ice tea and make some colour-coded notes. Maybe make a day of it with some like-minded girlies (girlies in gender-neutral btw) and head to a cafe with your laptops.

- Reading Dates with your significant other and/or bffs are nice way to hang out together in the same space while doing separate things. You can make it into a book club and all read the same books and discuss, or you can read separate books and just enjoying each other's company, ocassional chit-chat (and ranting about how the author must die for the suffering they've put you through), and perhaps a hot beverage. You could also listen to an audio book together. Its like binging a series but much more pretentious!

- Learn Something New! Personally this year, I plan on dedicating my summer to a big craft project where I'll be learning new things that I've never tried before. You can paint or draw, learn a language, follow a couple of K-pop dance tutorials, whatever takes your fancy. Set aside a certain amount of time, maybe invite some friends over, and try anything! Make sure to make a purposeful time to it to encourage dedication.

- Turn your movie nights or your series binge into a film/tv analysis. Learn about different kids of film, videography, sound editing, history of televised media, and themes and analyses. All my fellow English students, apply anything you know about classic literature and apply it to your films. To get really Pink Academia about the whole thing, analyse adaptations such as Emma and Clueless, Little Women, Pride and Prejudice etc. If you're more scientifically minded, you can research NASA's most scientifically accurate films list, or look into the behind the scenes aspects such as light, sound, and effects... you can also lok for NASA's worst movies too and rant about how terribly inaccurate they are!

#Pink Academia #Pink #Academia #Pink Academic #Summer Academia

[hippolotamus]

TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Sorry not sorry, I always screamed it as a kid, we weren't allowed to do it much, so the few times we were I screamed it, in defiance. I now realize I was annoying the treat-givers. Oops 😬)

*whispers* thank you! 💜

TRICK OR TREAT!!!!!!!! Scream all you want here! A snippet of with my heart in my lap for you 💖 I'm not 100% in love with it but more than I was

Less than two minutes later Twyla emerges into the night, ready to follow Alexis. White light, from a nearly full moon, bathes the ground, illuminating their path. The further they walk, the number of houses decreases while the amount of grass and shadow between each one grows.  Alexis is grateful to be expending all of her nervous energy walking, unsure what else to do with the chaos building inside her. When they reach the edge of their meadow she begins to question dragging Twyla out with her. What will she even say?  As if she can sense what Alexis is thinking, Twyla takes her hand and threads their fingers together. She gives Alexis a reassuring smile, a reminder that things will be okay as long as they’re with each other. Which, of course, is part of the problem. Because soon they’ll be separated and Alexis won’t have her best friend to ease her trepidation.  They wordlessly arrange themselves near the thick trunk of a solitary tree while a warm breeze rustles through the tall grass and wildflowers, accompanying chirping crickets in a quiet, disjointed symphony. Twyla’s hand easily finds Alexis’s again, as if they’re two magnets meant to always be connected.  A jumble of words crowd on the tip of her tongue, fighting to be the first ones spoken. They weave between her teeth, blending with uncertainty, self-doubt, and stubbornness among other emotions.  “I’m leaving soon,” is what ultimately comes out, flat and sterile. Twyla shifts the tiniest bit closer and Alexis can feel the warmth radiating against her skin. It doesn’t make any of this easier.  “Of course you are,” Twyla responds resolutely, stroking her thumb across the flesh of Alexis’s palm. “Just like you were always supposed to. Everyone knows you’re meant for great things, Lex.” Yeah, everyone except Alexis. She accepts that she’s had an exceptional upbringing, that she has access to anything she could ever want. And she does want some of those things, it’s always nice to have options. But what good is any of it, really? “You know I don’t want to go,” Alexis reminds her.  “But you should. I would if I could afford to. It’ll be so great for you.” Twyla’s words are strained and practiced beneath the reassuring, bubbly tone she tries to wrap them in.  Irritation builds under Alexis’s skin. This is them – Alexis and Twyla, Twy and Lex – who have always been honest with one another. Why would Twyla hide from her now?  “Great for me?” Alexis scoffs. “For what? So I can have a fancy piece of paper? Mom and Dad can have something to tell their friends about at their stupid dinners?” Hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes, making her feel worse. “No, Alexis. That’s not what I—” “The worst part,” Alexis continues, voice already cracking, “is that it won’t mean anything. College isn’t the same for women as it is for men. It’ll be four years thrown away so I can become a- a housewife.” Alexis wrinkles her nose at the word. “Assuming my parents don’t find someone to marry me off to before I graduate.” She sighs, drawing her knees up to her chest so she can rest her chin on them. “It’s not that I don’t respect women who do want that. But Twyla, it’s not for me.”

#hippo gets mail #statueinthestone #hippo writes #fic: with my heart in my lap #twylexis fic #come trick or treat!! #👻🎃🕷️ #i hope you like it

[devil-doll13]

Inspired by @rottent33th and her OCs to create my own! I hope you all like her lol this is kind of a WIP I just wanted to get my ideas down.

Abigail Williams 🖤

Name: Abigail Williams

Meaning: ‘Joy of the Father’

Alias(es): Abby, The Witch (I only call her this for convenience but that’s basically what she is lol)

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 23

D.O.B: November 1st

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Current Residence: Unknown

Occupation: N/A

Appearance Description: She is a young woman with pale skin, long wavy black hair reaching down to her hips, and green eyes. On the slimmer side, a little angular and bony.

Style: Black dresses. Black boots. Lace. Fishnets. Chokers. Silver Jewellery. Dark Makeup. On lazy/hot days band tees and black jeans/shorts/leggings.

Height: 5,1ft

Eye Colour: Green

Hair Colour: Black

Notable Features: Eye-bags from lack of sleep, little scratches on her hands from cats. Also has numerous scars on her arms and some on her legs. A more notable scar is from a knife near her ribcage where her heart would be, faded with time. Her veins are dark and prominent. Twirls her hair as a habit. Smells like mist and petrichor.

Personality: An introvert. A little shy. Calm & quiet. Private and can be secretive. A gentle lady, can be very sweet towards those she cares about. Creative and passionate, can get stuck in her own head with her thoughts. Thinks a lot. Feels deeply but this isn’t entirely obvious, as she is generally subtle about it. Artistic, has a great appreciation for aesthetics. Sentimental with a love of the romantic and a flair for the dramatic at times. Enjoys dark humour, can be quite grim in general. A bit whimsical, prone to flights of fancy that may seem to come out of the blue. She has the capacity for intense love and attachment but isn’t sure if she can trust anyone that much anymore. Can be destructive, vindictive and revengeful at her absolute worst.

Likes: Cats, The Moon, The Night, Candles, Roses, Graveyards, Spiderwebs, Autumn, Forests, Snakes, Ravens/Crows, Bats, Thunderstorms, Cinnamon.

Dislikes: Alcohol, Sand, Peanut Butter, Extremely Hot Weather, Being In The City For Too Long, Religion/Priests, Gossip, Parrots, Large Crowds.

Hobbies: Drawing/Painting, Reading, Dancing, Writing Poetry, Collecting Bones, Cooking/Baking.

Rough Backstory

Tw: Death

The circumstances surrounding Abigail’s conception are still unclear, as no one knows who the father was, or how her mother got pregnant. What is known is that her mother Lucy gave birth in a local cemetery on the 1st of November, probably just after midnight. She had most likely died from a combination of malnourishment, injuries (from some kind of beating she’d apparently had) and the strain of giving birth, but the baby girl was healthy. Her cries alerted the elderly undertaker, who rescued her and got in contact with the rest of her family.

Named Abigail after her deceased grandmother, there seemed to be a black mark on the girl since the day she was born. Her mother was a dark secret of sorts, cast out and disowned for some grave sin that was never to be spoken of again. Abigail was similarly a black sheep, down to the colour of her hair, which was a pitch black. This was unheard of in the women of her family, all blondes and redheads. It must have come from her father, they said. (although he was never found out…) Still, her relatives were under obligation to take her in as their own.

Abigail was a quiet child, and whimsical in her ways. Not a bad one by any means, but very strange, with strange little habits. Mysterious, some might even say supernatural occurrences were common around her. She was already distant from the rest of her family, but this made it even more difficult for any of them to connect with her. Abigail also had a hard time making friends with other children, and so instead she spent her time alone.

As time passed, the mysterious happenings started to become more prevalent. More sinister. Someone would fall down a flight of stairs and break their neck, or become horribly sick and then suddenly feel well again, only to become sick yet again... (It was noticeable because she never became sick alongside them.) Doors and cabinets would slam shut and lock themselves, furniture would be set ablaze without warning, a deathly chill would follow her in a bad mood. Death, illness and misfortune seemed to follow her around wherever she went. This led to her having to move around to different relatives during different periods of her life. Some of the more superstitious ones held the belief that she was cursed, whether they said it aloud or not. No one could prove anything either way. Only one called an exorcist, and died soon after from an accident.

Around the time of puberty, the innocence of her childhood had been lost and she began to become more aware. She would think it all over and soon became very interested in the circumstances surrounding her mother as well. All she knew (because it was never spoken of, as a rule) was that whatever it was, it had apparently killed her Grandmother, the one whose name she shared. She learned to become secretive, not openly speaking about or showing what she would do in the past. Abigail would become very interested in the occult around this time, although she always had knowledge of such things deep inside, as if it was as easy as breathing. She remembered one time a blackbird she had been preserving had suddenly sprung to life, just after the death of her aunt. Then came back all the times she had spoken to the children up in the attic of an old house she once lived in, and how their names were etched on a gravestone from 1907. She did not think much of it as a child, but it had all begun to add up. Abigail realised then she was not a normal person at all.

All of this would culminate in a particularly horrific incident near her 18th birthday, and after this she would disappear altogether. Now she wanders all over America in search of shelter, a purpose, to know why she is the way she is, to find others like her. There is something off about her that people still pick up on, something otherworldly, so when she comes into town there is always a sense of foreboding and doom that comes with her…

Fun Facts

Her favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.

Her favourite film is Evil Dead

Her favourite bands are The Cure, Siouxsie & The Banshees, Type O Negative, Bathory and Mercyful Fate.

Her favourite colour is Black (No. 1) But she is partial to red, green and purple as well.

Her favourite foods are apples and pie. And apple pie lol

Her favourite drink is coffee

She doesn’t like anyone calling her Abby except someone she’s very close to. It feels too personal. And there’s really no one like that anyway.

She did not know her mother but still loves her despises anyone insulting her. Abigail will always believe she was a good person despite what anyone else said.

It’s most likely her mother was involved in a cult or a witch coven or some kind, at least from what she’s found out in her investigations.

As a child she was very attached to her dolly, and even today she secretly enjoys cuddling stuffed animals. She’d be mortified if anyone knew about this though. (The doll was given to her by the man who found her as a baby, but was stolen or lost at some point. She was devastated about this)

Is sentimental in general, and with things she has emotional attachment to she always takes very good care of. Any gift is treasured.

Has a small collection of animal bones in a box she’s been keeping since she was a child.

She likes dogs, (she likes most animals really) but they don’t like her. They seem to sense something off about her and will either become unusually aggressive or afraid, whining and cowering away. On the other hand, cats adore her and even the most antisocial ones will approach her for scritches and pets. The feeling is certainly mutual. She has an affinity for crows/ravens, bats, reptiles and frogs/toads as well.

She has undergone an exorcism before. It didn’t work. (It did leave her with some trauma though.)

Has a touch of insomnia. She’ll often wake up past midnight for no explainable reason, filled with some strange energy.

Her dreams are often vivid and intense, they are strange to the point where she would keep note of them in a diary to try and understand them. Not nightmares necessarily, but they really knock the breath out of her and leave her in a state. Sometimes the feeling is more euphoric, because they were wonderful dreams.

She is good at sewing and handicrafts, having been taught by one of her relatives as a child. Has made/modified some of her own clothes as well. Finds the process quite calming.

Due to her wanderings she isn’t employed, but she has her own ways of getting the money she needs generally. She’s never really had a stable home anyway so she’s used to it, although some part of her longs for a home to call her own.

She can drive and enjoys doing so, there’s something peaceful about it. She prefers it to taking public transport or hitchhiking.

As a child under the custody of her relatives she travelled mostly around the mid-west of America. The graveyard she was born in was located in north-central Massachusetts however.

Abigail doesn’t like big crowds, but that dislike seems to not matter when it comes to music. Her trips to larger cities often have her searching music venues and goth clubs to go dancing in. It’s something she’s always enjoyed.

Has a distinctive laugh, like a cackle. A little embarrassed/insecure about it.

Her name was inspired by Abigail Williams, one of the girls involved in the Salem Witch trials.

Her cousin, Judith Bell, is a hunter of the supernatural. She became one after an encounter with Abigail. (I’ll probably write a story about this one at some point! She’s sort of like her final girl)

(Credit to @decayedgrave for gif)

#my oc #Abigail Williams #Abigail #slasher oc #horror oc #my stuff #my writing #Spotify

[emeritus-fuckers]

Ooooh a match-up event! I've never submitted for something like this, so im very excited...

1. Hey, I'm Jay! I am a 28 y/o Transmasc Non-binary, He/Him/They. Im Achillian Biromantic AceFlux (I'm Bi, with a heavy preference towards men. I love my men twinky and sassy and my women strong. Also my sexuality I joke is [Under Construction]-) and I am a bottom leaning switch.

2. Papas and Ghouls!

3. I am 5'10" (average to tall height depending on who you ask), I am heavy, with long lashes and brown eyes and short curly brunette/blonde hair (It looks brown most of the time but I've been old its technically blonde?) My hair is short around the back and sides and fades into being longer and fluffy on top. My preference for dressing ranges from Soft Boi to Victorian.

4. I consider myself a Soft Boi (tm). Im a fun mix of opinionated and full of anxiety. If I trust you, I'll talk your ear off, otherwise I assume you do not want to hear me- I'm the type of person who matches energies for the most part. If you're excited, I'm excited! If your chilling, I'm chilling. I am always ready and wanting to lend a helping hand and show my love through physical touch and acts of service. My friends also say I am a humanized Golden Retriever.

5. I love to draw, I actually have a degree in illustration! I hope to one day be able to work as a full time freelance artist! I also love to roleplay, and I love Dungeon's and Dragons. I also love video games, Books (queer romance is my favorite genre, which is expanded 10 fold for space or fantasy pieces). My music taste is hard to pin down, but I usually go to Musical Theatre/Show tunes and then like pop punk / pop rock (My 3 top bands are Ghost, Mariana's Trench, and 3 Days Grace if that helps).

6. Other Trivia. I am AuDHD. Im messy but organized. My favorite animals are Dogs (Golden Retrievers especially) and Foxes. I am a maximalist who holds onto everything, very sentimental in that regard. I work as an Admin (Fancy Secretary).

Thank you in advanced!

This post is part of the 1000 followers match up event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your match is...Phantom

Phantom is so sweet, you can't help but trust him. Xey saw you and just kinda ran over to you. It was practically jumping up and down on the spot he was so excited to meet you properly and talk to you.

They are very chatty and then you started opening up and talking more. You just kinda chat away happily all day.

Swiss fondly says you are both like puppies, golden retriever puppies. He'll often say this while patting Phantom on the head and then grinning at you.

You both show your love through physical touch. Phantom is very affectionate. Xey'll crawl onto your lap on an evening and just kinda stay there. Cuddling you and kissing you.

It'll nuzzle into you and want to stay like that all night. If you try and get up he'll give you puppy dog eyes and kiss you some more. You have to point out to them that you just want to go and lie down in bed with him. It practically sprints past you and jumps into bed before holding you close to xem.

He will also kiss you a lot, at any point any time. If it sees you they will run over and kiss you.

If xey see you drawing he'll kiss your neck and face as encouragement then try and leave you be for a bit. It thinks your art is amazing and they want to support you in anyway he can.

~

Written by Nyx edited by Jez

#starscream-squarepants #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #match up #match up event #phantom ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul #phantom ghoul ghost #swiss ghoul

[vilixpran]

my shadow and bone s2 running thoughts

"there's only one bed!" speedrun

sometimes hot people can't act

this is actually.... not good

wow being incognito lasted three minutes

no hesitation to blow your cover

what a kind northern Irish village gentleman

the bitch is back, long live the bitch

show me a 40 year old! not every person alive is 25 and hot

genya's wig... ain't it

all he is is dumb and hot

let the fake Scandinavians mispronounce jail, show me realism

ah yes, we do cool nods at the wall of weapons

the ears are the sign of a good tracker, and mal sure does have two ears

Sea Whip, That Was Easy™️

all tell, no show, that's the way that we go

god inej is fit

total stranger, for now xx

they're just putting their faces close together on purpose

daaaamn these bitches dead and deading others

ah yes, ignite the bombs while you're in the room

pirate ship cult

Nikolai is a dork

how small is this ocean....

kazs PTSD, a running gag

baby girl, you won't "finally eradicate it for good" right now, it's episode three

aah so they fucked

TINY ROLLINS WEE SCOTTISH BAB

"hey babe, expose your knife wound while i trauma dump plot info"

god inej is fit

nina knows

god nina is fit too

*saoirse ronan* "women"

how many times can this man get stabbed in the shoulder? we're up to three

murder is good, murder is chill, i've got no qualms with murder

too many characters, too many plots, disproportionate amount of time spent on the crows and god bless them for that

"hey bro can i propose to your girlfriend bro"

the mood lighting in this plague cemetery, vibes

HORRIBLE FAKE SCANDINAVIAN LANGUAGE, HORRIBLE -10000/10

girlie pop, youve got to lose the signature fancy hat, you are the most recognisable

dat ass

my man is here to be petty and he's bringing friends along for the ride

no plot! only flirting! as we deserve

let them all be lesbians

SPEEDRUN WESPER

episode four and they're already fucking thank Christ

good good wylan and Jesper are off shagging, I can brood in peace

"no"

time isn't real! geography is a myth! our boats will get there when it's convenient for the plot!

we are criminals, rats of the barrel, and occasionally help foreign royals when they ask nicely

"warm, and wet" the crows in Shu han, the gift that keeps on giving

can't believe I have to watch some reylo shit all over again

Dominik Dominik I sense an ex friend with benefits with our man Nikolai

good let the twink talk to butterflies and ignore the suffering of his friends

deforest station

happy to have a himbo in tolya

not so much a slow death by poisoning as a chance for nice life affirming trips to remotivate our heroes in the ninth hour

"throwing up or hallucinations" the only two possible outcomes of poisoning

she's the avatar!

one night stand to soulmates pipeline

ah yes, continue to make out in the background for everyones big character revelations

"you're a part of me mal, I can't loose you" well murder him and eat his bones and he'll be with you forever

boyfriend to organ donor pipeline

star wars levels of hand amputation, now featuring Mother's Good Finger Bones

"and there was only one set!"

yeah like, they definitely used to fuck, surely

twenty minutes of this episode and no crows, for shame

the crows aka Deus ex machina but make it fun flirty and bisexual

more finger amputations, moooooreeeeee

woohoo C plot lesbians

queue the fire benders

little viking boy, drawing crosses in the sand

Matthias villian origin story set up for season three

fun fact, I don't actually want to see another finger amputation

blue skies and sunny yet these bitches can't see a thing

the location scout must have been so proud of themselves for finding this fort, so proud that they spent two episodes having two identical groups chasing each other around three walls

you know what this big battle scene needs? some music

unecessarily squishy icicle stab sound effects

FIVE MORE FINGERS CUT OFF JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

oh damn she actually did it

slaaaayyyy

"series regular" shows up every two episodes for a single scene unrelated to the main plot

why aren't they lighting the kindling from multiple places and especially from lower down?

good for inej

again with the tiny ocean and instantly finding exactly what you were looking for, ofmd logic

uh oh hehe

gross

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #shadow and bone s2 #i very much enjoyed it but also yall this show is objectively not good #i read the crows books but not the main one so i have no idea how accurate it was of an adaptation #i just know it was very silly and im happy i managed to binge it in 24hrs despite having to go to work #wesper #slay #inej #also slay

[grav3yardbb92]

JUST A GIRL IN A BAR

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

TW: general mentions of show violence, language and alcohol mentioned

****************

It was a normal Friday night, and I was a at a bar with some friends. A few hours into the night, an attractive man with dark features and a scar on his face, Sat on the stool beside me. I'm sure I don't know him, but there is something familiar about him. Out of nowhere, the young girl behind the bar comes up to us and bumps my glass over, spilling my drink onto my silk dress. She quickly pulls me behind the bar, mumbling something about club soda and shoved me into the broom closet, telling me to stay here before closing the door behind her. Standing alone in the dark, I begin to think about the guy at the bar. That's when I remember, the young FBI agent who approached my friend and I earlier. He showed us a pretty vague drawing of a suspect, who was picking up women and killing them. I now realize what just happened. That bartender saved my life.

 ~5 months later ~

The close call earlier this year led me to a life change. I've moved to DC and even got a job at the FBI headquarters, nothing fancy, I just file paperwork and organize files for team leaders. It's been a few weeks since I started working here at Quantico. I've gotten to work with great people, and I turn, I am helping them to make a difference and help others.

I am now on the fourth floor, where the BAU is offices, I've been here before, passing files to Agent Jareu and receiving some in return to file. But this time, I have another agenda. I am seeking out a specific man, Doctor Spencer Reid. It took me a few days to learn the name of the agent who gave out the profile, and now I need to thank him. And just my luck, I step from the elevator and spot him right away.

" um, excuse me" I say, stepping toward him. He stops and turns to face me. " you probably don't remember me, but yo...." He interrupts " actually, yeah. I gave a profile to you a few months ago, right?" He almost sounds more nervous than I do. I can't believe he actually remembered me; he must have seen hundreds of girls that night. " Uh. Yeah, that's right. I, uh. I wanted to thank you " " thank me, what for?" He asks, awkwardly shuffling his shoulder bag. " Well, I, uh. I was actually in trouble that night and uh, a bartender, she, got me away from the guy. The one you were looking for. I tried to thank her, but couldn't find her, so..." I trail off realizing I was probably boring him, but I looked up to notice him paying full attention to my every word. I smile at him before continuing. " I, uh, well. Would you like to, uh, get coffee or something?" I finally ask. Why do I have to be so nervous, he probably thinks I'm stupid..... " Uh, yeah. I'd love to" his voice breaks through my thoughts. He smiles sweetly at me, and we make arrangements to meet tomorrow morning. We say our goodbyes and he begins to walk toward the double doors.

" Hey, Doctor " I call out, gaining his attention again. " My Friend was wrong. You look nothing like the unsub"

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagines