#/ I love sparkling sylvia eyes ;;

[aro-pokeverse]

Alola? To be honest I've never been here, but I'll give it a go since the ads showing the region is diverse and beautiful. Maybe with Kitie, maybe with the whole company.

Also... I have online friends here. They were Espeon and Umbreon, but they love opposite times. Would be nice to met them in real life!

Oh, also, thanks, I like it here, though it's a bit lonely without Kitie... I wonder where did she go...?

Sylvia approaches Nat. She SO exited to see the human. "Hiiii! How's goin'? It is sure is really nice place. Anyways, your golden jewelry is... SPARKLING!" Her eyes are sparkling with smile.

[They were genuinely bashful about it, fidgeting with the bands on their wrist.]

I don't normally wear gold, I've always had a weird relationship with it. But after heading out to Alola recently, I decided to give it another go.

I hope you're liking things though! If you need anything, you're welcome to ask.

[whinlatter]

trick or treat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ginny and the hummingbird: a meta

“Oh, look!” said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar. Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draft, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

have wanted to write something about this moment with ginny in the department of mysteries for bloody ages so decided this trick or treat challenge was as good an excuse as any. the meta below explores the symbolism and significance of the bird in the bell jar in the series, and what it means for ginny and harry as characters. thank you for this @evesaintyves! 🐦

TW for brief discussions of mental health and suicidal ideation

‘He knew it at once by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry’s eyes became more accustomed to the brilliant glare he saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room… He led the way forward down the narrow space between the lines of the desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind…

this tiny moment of ginny captivated by the plight of a hummingbird trapped in the bell jar in the room of time in the department of mysteries in OotP is one of my favourite scenes in the whole bloody series. it’s such a tiny, overlooked moment that raises a whole host of interesting world-building questions and potential character insights at a pivotal point in both harry and ginny’s character development. if we understand the different rooms of the department of mysteries as dedicated to those aspects of existence that are most mysterious and perhaps least explicable by magic (love, death, time…), it’s clear we’re supposed to think about the contents of the jar as a question.  the symbolism of the jar, the current of the wind, the hummingbird doomed to forever hatch but never to fly free, and especially the significance of having ginny be the character most entranced by it… it’s my lifelong hyperfixation, it’s the reason why all the chapter titles in beasts are bird-themed, it’s the reason i can’t sleep at night, it’s… the ginny and the hummingbird scene. so let’s ramble about it! 

what is the significance of the hummingbird in the bell jar?

i’ve broken this down into the following elements: the jar itself, the hummingbird, the progress of the bird, and the wind.

the jar itself: the enormous crystal jar of course suggests confinement of an object or creature for display and examination. the presence of a seemingly live bird existing within it is really evocative, too, because animals placed for display in bell jars are usually dead - it certainly makes me think of age of discovery taxidermy and famous museum collections of natural scientific material held here in the uk (often retrieved during colonial voyages and conquests). obviously, this is the department of mysteries, where wizards undertake research into mysterious magical queries, so the jar serves as an example of something that’s being studied and examined by department staff. but invoking the bell jar as an image, especially in a book that explores trauma and mental distress more than any book in the series, does inevitably bring to mind one of the most memorable images in twentieth century literature: the bell jar of sylvia plath. plath’s bell jar is a metaphor for the experience of being inside a person’s own tormented mind, within one’s own madness, a feeling of being isolated and trapped with nothing but thoughts of mental distress and of death. the text says the jar is ‘quite as tall as [Harry] was’, drawing the jar and harry’s own body together in a brief parallel in the reader’s mind. of course, that plath’s bell jar is such a specifically gendered construction that serves to illustrate the experience of female madness is also interesting to think about here, because it’s specifically ginny who is most drawn to the jar. OotP is the first book in the series that has ginny very briefly reveal her own private, lingering battle with her difficult traumatic memories and experience of extreme mental distress, alienation and torment. that it’s ginny who is transfixed by the bell jar i do not think is incidental. when the death eater later trips and falls into the jar, we discover that the jar is not made of crystal at all, but instead something magical, because the death eater’s head goes right through it without injury (more on what happens to him in the next bit). so the bell jar seems to give the illusion of a cage. that it’s the death eater’s head that penetrates its surface only futher reinforces these associations of the bell jar as some kind of equivalent of the human mind. 

the hummingbird: why a hummingbird! hummingbirds aren’t native to the UK, so having this bird under examination be a colourful, prominent beaked hummingbird adds to this sense of the ‘exotic’ (and of colonial discovery). the hummingbird itself has all these lovely sensory associations with colour and beauty, the humming sound of its wings in flight (suggesting a delicate nimble strength), and with flavour and the extraction of sweetness through its lovely long beak. the hummingbird represents a positive image of an endearing creature in pursuit, a stand-in for personhood, of a sympathetic living creature attempting to make its journey. because i am horrendous, i have spent too many afternoons rummaging around for the hummingbird in literature to try and think more about what the hummingbird is doing here. plath herself actually draws on the image of the hummingbird in her poem miss drake proceeds to supper, where she uses them to conjure up ideas of life’s fragility, describing a woman on a hospital ward, walking barefoot  towards a dinner table ‘among her secret combinations of eggshells/and breakable hummingbirds’. 

the most notable usage of the hummingbird as a motif in literature is by emily dickinson, where it features repeatedly in her poetry and correspondence. in ‘a route of evanescence’, dickinson describes the flight of the hummingbird - in transit and constant motion,an exoticised, sensory feast:

A Route of Evanescence, With a revolving Wheel - A Resonance of Emerald A Rush of Cochineal - And every Blossom on the Bush Adjusts it’s tumbled Head - The Mail from Tunis – probably, An easy Morning’s Ride –

the photograph above is taken from annie leibovitz’s 2011 collection of photographs called pilgrimages, which explores, among other things, the influence of emily dickinson on leibovitz’s work. (i’ve never really thought much about annie leibovitz, but this short blog on leibovitz’s photographs of hummingbirds in relation to dickinson is v interesting). dickinson is, of course, known for poems that engage explicitly in themes of death and natural, animalistic imagery (in the interest of the author being intensely problematic, condemnable and eyewateringly annoying but not dead, it’s worth noting that jkr is almost certainly aware of dickinson’s work, and i do wonder if this is a deliberate invocation. but we move)

the progress of the hummingbird: the endless birth and rebirth of the hummingbird, surrounded by a room of clocks and time-turners, is clearly supposed to invoke ideas about the passage of time and growth. the death eater whose head ends up in the jar ages backwards, his head becoming that of his own head as a baby (cue that great moment where harry goes to attack him and hermione goes ‘you can’t kill a baby!’ - she now views the death eater as an innocent). the hummingbird is born over and over again, rises on the current of the wind in the jar, but never succeeds in its flight. it’s not clear whether the hummingbird intends to escape from the jar, but it certainly can’t continue its progress in its life - it never makes it far down the life course, instead being returned, over and over, to the egg which bore it. 

the wind: the wind keeps blowing continuously - it is otherworldly, wind made up of glittering light. the wind is probably the most elusive aspect of the jar. is the wind supposed to represent time? is the wind something else - a different guiding hand, an external force over which the bird has no control and which determines the course of the bird’s life without any hope of intervention or redirection? it’s striking that the hummingbird keeps trying, over and over again, to make some kind of progress, before being returned to the confines of the egg. is this a moral point, about the constant pursuit of something - something sweet; in the canon of liberalism, of ‘the good life’, as a moral condition as well as a symbol of prosperity’ - against the wind’s wishes that try to blow it off course? maybe - but the wind seems to guide the hummingbird throughout - both in its birth, but also in its return, like the bird is at the mercy of the wind throughout.is the wind a stand in for some kind of omniscient god or external universal force, then? this is the bit i’m least satisfied thinking about, but which i will continue to ponder on my walks/in the bath/for hours as i try to sleep xoxo

…“Keep going!” said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg’s progress back into a bird. “You dawdled enough by that old arch!” she said crossly, but followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.’

then there’s the why ginny question that i’m still very much stuck on. the bird could be seen as a stand in for something that unites the young characters of the series, a coming-of-age, a progress through time from childhood through to adulthood throughout the duration of the series (given the fruitlessness of the hummingbird’s plight, that’s certainly an interesting idea). ginny is not alone in being interested in what the characters find in the department: she, like many of the others, is intrigued and curious about many aspects of the department’s work, including the veil (“On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Hermione took hold of Ginny’s arm, Ron Neville’s, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door…”) but while the narration notes that harry, luna, neville and ginny are all drawn to the veil, the great symbol of death and barriers between the mortal world and the beyond, it’s so striking that only ginny seems entirely captivated by the hummingbird’s plight. what about ginny as a character suggests a singular interest in the progress of the hummingbird? does ginny - girl in flight - see herself in the hummingbird? is this one of the examples of foreshadowing ginny’s association with life, birth and family – maybe, but that’s kind of an unsatisfying answer, given the hummingbird seems to symbolise much more than that (and isn’t a linear illustration of birth, growth, life, and death). i did think that the hummingbird sort of mimics the life of fawkes the phoenix - reborn from the ashes, over and over again - with the phoenix obviously having a role in ginny’s rescue from the chamber. but i’m not happy with that either - fawkes is not that significant to ginny at any other point in the series (other than fawkes’ cry during dumbledore’s death, the night harry sets in motion his decision to accept the role of the chosen one and sever ties with ginny: ‘And so he steeled himself to say what he had known he must say ever since Dumbledore had died…’, HBP)

lastly – what to make of this conflict between harry and ginny?  harry, impatient to get to sirius, orders ginny away from the jar she is so entranced by; ginny calls him out on his hypocrisy, reminding him that he also slowed down to observe and ponder the veil. obviously it continues this theme of antagonism between the two of them that runs throughout ootp: they argue constantly in this book in very delicious ways, and ginny calls harry out on his hypocrisy two other times including this one (‘lucky you’ and ‘you’re too young’). while the narration does note how interested in the veil ginny is, it’s clear that harry is much less interested in the jar and the hummingbird than ginny, who is singularly captivated by it. so if harry is most interested in the veil, and the mystery of death, what does it mean that what most interests ginny is the mystery of time? i don’t know! and i would love to know other people’s thoughts, because i cannot make head nor tail of it. what do you reckon, folks?

[beautouslysandy]

Set Up To Be

Dallas Winston x GN!Reader

By-Sandy

Warnings: Might be language

Word Count: 715

______________________________________________

__________________________________________

-Your best friend, B/F/N (best friend name) has seen you go through traumatic breakups to toxic relationships with trashy boys. -Tour B/F/N is dating Sodapop Curtis. She is happy and in love but can’t help but notice that you aren’t. Y’all have been friends since grade school and she would give nothing more to see you happy, and not for it to fake or temporary. True happiness.

-Sodapop is not real close with Dallas but ever since Sylvia, Dallas hasn’t been himself, they were never the real real thing but what she did to him wasn’t right. Sodapop feels bad, and he thinks that you and Dally are a good fit for eachother.

-B/F/N happens to think otherwise, she knows Dallas type and doesn’t want you to end up with tears and empty ice cream pints���again. But Sodapop told her, to trust him. And she did. Let’s see how this goes?

-You are perky, bubbly, and outgoing person. You have the brains and the beauty. Your parents have a steady income, you live a nice generously sized home with a white picket fence. On the outside, you have the life everybody is praying for. You are what everyone wants to be. (A soc) -Dallas is rude, obnoxious, and….a delinquent. That’s what your parents call him. He doesn’t have his parents, he dropped out of school a long time ago, can’t hold a job and sleeps on people couch’s. But he doesn’t care what people think or he did until he met you. (A greaser) -Complete opposites but Sodapop thinks it would work so….

••••••••

You were at the concession stand at the Nightly Double with B/F/N, y’all were deciding what to get for a snack. You, B/F/N, Sodapop and Steve were watching the movie playing tonight. Y’all are all close and have a lot of fun together. You are estatic that your best friend had finally found someone, which she well deserves but you can’t help but notice her looking at you every now and then like your a kicked puppy. She is worried, again.

A guy you were dating, broke up with you, predictably. It’s how it always ended, you have never broken up with someone…it’s always you…getting dumped. This time the guy you dated all of for 5 seconds, cheated on you with some random girl at a party last night. He ended shortly after, good for him but bad for you. You were in tears but not over the guy but over the fact that you couldn’t find one decent guy that was willing to date you longer than 2 months.

“Y/N..?” B/F/N asked worriedly as you were asking for two large popcorn and 4 cokes. ”Hmm?” You hummed as you took your money out to pay

“I was talking to Soda and…he wants to set you up with someone….”She said hesitantly

“Sodapop said this?” You said looking at her with surprise as you grabbed the snacks and drinks with the help of your best friend.

“Yeah…in fact he is talking to the guy right now…” She said almost apologetically

You sighed and took a bit of popcorn “Tell him I said thanks but I am gonna pass.” You said with a sad smile

“No, your not.” She said shaking her head with a sigh “You are going to talk to him and make the most of it…..okay? For me.” She said pleadingly with a sparkle of determination in her eyes

“Fine.” You agreed softly as she smiled widely “Great!” She gleamed walking over to Soda and the tall brunette with the drinks You took a deep breath and walked over, you were a bit flustered as your best friend's boyfriend had set you up with a date.

When you got close enough to make eye contact with the brunette you could tell he was thinking the same exact thing.

“Hey..”He said smirking with his hand behind his neck

“Hi” You said smiling at his smirk

Once you all sat down and the movie began, it was not so awkward. “My name is Y/N..” You said trying to create a conversation with the brunette because you could feel B/F/N's eyes watching the two of you.

“Dallas.” He said shortly as he lit a cancer stick You nodded, he clearly wasn't interested in a side conversation “So... you're a Soc...like Soda’s girl?” He said looking you up and down with a grin. Clearly judging your well-picked-out outfit. “A what?” You asked confused, you have never heard this term well you have but the term has never been explained to you

“A soc...you know, the south side of town?” He said looking at you stunned as he took a breath of his cigarette

“Oh...I am from the South side but I dont think that qualifies me as a “Soc” You said signing air citation on the word soc

“Hmm. Well you are.” He said smirking “Okay and you aren't?” You asked now intrigued by these stereotypical titles

“Glory, no! I am a Greaser...” He said with a tone of hurt

“Oh..." You said clueless

••••

Dallas Winston wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be. He was sweet a bit snarky but that fine, you can see past it. You and Dallas have been hangout on your own time. You didn't really read into much because friendships with you always lead somewhere that is never good.

Dallas made you feel safe, and you felt you didn't have to put up your guard around him...you...could be yourself. You were falling in love with Dallas Winston, and you had no clue whatsoever.

You got the whole package, butterflies, flushed pink face, stuttering, and everything yet you had no clue. The best part is that he felt the exact same way, but he knew.

The question is, will Dallas Winston say anything, or will he let you slip away?

[strictlybecca]

Hey I love you!! Have you considered writing Donna Noble organizing 14th doctor’s first official family birthday party? What about Joe and Nicky cooking together? Buck and Eddie clothes sharing?

hi bb i love you!!!! 💕 thanks for filling my brain with all the best thoughts, you are the goddamn best. here's the doctor's first birthday with the noble-temple crew:

It’s honestly the look on the Doctor’s face when he steps into the back garden and sees old friends and new (he and Ms. Tabitha from down the road have taken to sharing gardening tips and shortbread recipes) and the darling little bunting Rose made to loop around the pergola and the carrot cake Shaun baked that afternoon with fourteen sparkle candles sticking out jauntily. (Crookedly, Donna thinks, but knows the Doctor will think they’re perfect.)

Donna rather hates that she’s become a happy crier, but seeing her little family so ridiculously pleased and smug, seeing the Doctor beaming his stupid little face off - it’s all a bit too much. She pretends she’s just futzing with her mascara but waves her mum off when it looks like she might come over to pester her. Instead, she lets herself just look.

Rose is grinning madly with her arm linked through the Doctor’s as Shaun claps him on the back and gives him a good shake. She can’t hear what they’re all saying, but they all break into the kind of giggles that are so common in her house these days. (“Oi,” she’ll end up yelling up the stairs, hearing their laughter from a floor away, “Can we cackle as we wash our hands? Dinner’s ready and it’s getting cold!”)

“You,” the Doctor says accusatorially, when she finally wanders over, his face twisted up in her favorite of his little boy gleeful smiles. “You did this.”

“I helped,” she allows with a shrug, looking self-satisfied and not trying to hide it in the slightest. “But it was Rose’s idea. And Shaun insisted on the surprise bit. I’m mostly shocked neither of them spoiled it.”

“They have been running around furtively for the past few days,” the Doctor agrees. “I just assumed they were trying to hide something from you.”

“Pfft. They know better by now.” They fall into a comfortable kind of silence that comes easier these days, watching as Mel and Wilfred share a grin over some glasses of lemonade and as Sylvia and Shaun bicker lightly over how to cut the cake. “Still good, Spaceman?” she asks quietly, nudging him with her elbow. She’s not asking about the party, but she knows he knows that.

It’s been about a year since he came to stay and although she’s loved every second of it - though teaching the Doctor to do laundry was a nightmare none of them ever want to repeat - she still worries. (Eyeing Sylvia fussing over Rose halfway across the yard, she sighs. She comes by it honestly at least.)

“Oh Donna,” he says, turning to look at her directly, his face in a kind of helpless grin. She can tell he got a little too much sun last weekend at the beach and there are freckles dotted across his cheeks that she’s not sure she’s seen before. His eyes crinkle up at the corners and there’s a spot on his jaw where he missed shaving. He looks a little like a nutter, to be honest, in his suit vest and slippers, but she loves him unreasonably. “It’s the best.”

“Of course it is,” she sniffs, cracking a smile only when he loops an arm around her shoulders and drags her in to his side. They watch the party like that for a little while longer, knowing they have all the time in the world to stand and let their wobbly blue planet spin and their days slip idly by.

[andallthatmishigas]

Top 5 The Nanny moments

I've been rewatching recently and there's so many I love so so so much.

in Mommy and Mai, Fran and Max have an exchange that just makes me melt where she asks why he has an extra little sparkle in his eye and he says "Because I'm looking at you" and they make out and it's very hot

The entirety of the London episode

When Max finally says I Love You (and doesn't take it back)

Bette Midler chasing Fran around the house

Tbh this rewatch is giving me such a great appreciation of Sylvia. She's so fucking funny. Any time she's onscreen, I'm very happy.

[swirly-potato]

This is a story about a changeling and his sister.

Not so long ago there was a woman who wanted so desperately for a perfect family that she did the unthinkable. She made a deal with the fae—they would give her what she wished for, but at a terrible price: When the child turned thirteen, the fae would come to take it away.

True to the agreement, the woman had her firstborn—a lovely, laughing baby boy with curly rowan-brown locks and a face covered with freckles. She waited, but the fae did not come to mark the child, so she raised the child as her own, gleefully thinking she had outwitted the High Court.

Three years passed, and the baby boy grew strange and fretful. His hair was now unruly and tangled, and he shrieked whenever his mother tried to comb it. He turned difficult and stubborn, with hands that pulled and yanked and a mouth that screamed and bit but never spoke. His mother, who had begun to view the child as a curse from the woods, contented herself with caring for her second-born—another girl, with clear, sparkling blue eyes and hair as yellow as summer sun. She named the second child Sylvia.

Sylvia’s hair never tangled, she never arrived home covered in mud and dirt, and she never cried—but she never laughed either, not that the woman noticed. Meanwhile, the older child—growing quite resentful of his sister—found himself drawn to the woods, pulled by a mysterious feeling that he could not quite place. 

The boy’s fingers continued to twitch, and his mouth continued to move—creating beautiful harmonies that drew nature itself to him. But his mother hated the noise, and, being a very proud woman, locked him in his room whenever he sang. She called him cursed child, witchblood, hobgoblin, faeryspawn, but never his name—which he picked for himself, a lovely name, Rowan.

When young Sylvia was thirteen, the High Court came to collect what they were owed. Her mother fell at the feet of the terrifying creature before her and begged them to take her son instead. The fae refused. We have come to take your child, it said, and although the boy is your son, he was never your child to you.

Young Rowan, who was now a man of sixteen, whose charm and sensitivity and song had formed him into a capable youth, stood before the slavering magical being. Sylvia hid behind him, crying and confused, blue eyes sparkling not with sunlight, but with terrified tears.

“Why have you come to take her?”

It was the bargain, the fae replied.

“No.” Rowan raised his chin and looked the creature in the eye. “Why have you come to take her? What will you do with her once she is in your world?”

I do not know, said the fae. Perhaps she will be a worker, or a pet, or a slave. Perhaps—its eyes gleamed in a way that the youth greatly disliked—she will be a lover for one of the High Court–

Its words were cut off abruptly by the impact of Rowan’s fist to its face. 

The magical creature sputtered in anger. You dare—

Once again, its words were stifled by the impact of Rowan’s other fist. 

“The bargain says that a fae will take Sylvia away when she turns thirteen,” he said menacingly. “Can that fae not be her brother?”

You have made an enemy of the High Court, changeling boy, threatened the fae (already halfway out the door). For your own good, pray that our paths do not cross again.

Rowan turned to his younger sister and the woman who called herself his mother. Timid Sylvia shook with fear, while the mother shook with rage. The latter stabbed a finger at him. “You ruined it,” she snarled. “You ruined everything. My perfect family. My perfect daughter—”

Her beloved golden Sylvia flinched away from her.

[sheplayswithlifee]

Charleigh arrived at Elixirs and Brews, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness about meeting her blind date, Sylvia. As she walked inside, she noticed the bar was bustling with people enjoying their drinks and conversations. However, Charleigh and Sylvia had agreed to sit outside and enjoy the pleasant weather.

Charleigh spotted Sylvia sitting at a table near the entrance, and she approached with a smile. Sylvia looked up and returned a polite smile, though her body language seemed slightly guarded. They exchanged greetings and sat down, settling into the outdoor seating area.

"So, how's your day been?" Charleigh asked, attempting to break the ice.

Sylvia shrugged, replying, "It's been alright. Just the usual, you know."

Charleigh nodded, trying to find common ground. "Do you have any hobbies or interests that you're really passionate about?"

Sylvia seemed thoughtful for a moment before responding, "Hmm, not really. I'm more of a homebody, to be honest. I enjoy reading and watching movies."

Charleigh's eyes lit up. "Oh, I love reading too! What kind of books do you enjoy?"

Sylvia hesitated before answering, "Well, I'm into dark psychological thrillers and horror. I like books that mess with your mind."

Charleigh's smile faltered slightly, as she wasn't particularly fond of those genres. She tried to find something else they could connect over. "Hmm, how about movies? Any favorite genres or directors?"

Sylvia pondered for a moment. "I'm a huge fan of independent films and documentaries. I appreciate thought-provoking storytelling."

Charleigh's heart sank a little, realizing their interests were diverging even further. She made a valiant effort to keep the conversation flowing. "That's interesting. Have you traveled anywhere recently?"

Sylvia shook her head. "Not really. I prefer staying close to home. I find comfort in familiar surroundings."

Charleigh's disappointment was palpable, as she enjoyed exploring new places and cultures. Their incompatibility became increasingly apparent, and the conversation started to dwindle.

As Sylvia excused herself to go to the bathroom, Charleigh watched her walk away, assuming she would be back shortly. However, minutes turned into an unusually long wait. Charleigh began to feel a sense of unease as she realized Marissa wasn't returning.

Concerned, Charleigh decided to check inside the bar, thinking that perhaps something unexpected had occurred. She stepped inside and glanced around, searching for any sign of Sylvia. However, she couldn't spot her anywhere.

Charleigh's eyes wandered around the bar as she prepared to leave, feeling a mixture of disappointment and curiosity. That's when her gaze fell upon a beautiful dark-skinned woman sitting alone in the corner, engrossed in her knitting. Charleigh couldn't help but be drawn to the sight, as she had a passion for knitting herself.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Charleigh approached the woman with a friendly smile. “Strange place to create.” She said to start conversation.

“Only if you intend to really make something. It’s more of a conversation starter.” She smiles.

"What are you working on?"

The woman chuckled. "Oh, just a scarf. I've been trying to get the hang of it, but it seems to be giving me some trouble."

Charleigh's face lit up with excitement. "I'm actually pretty good at knitting. Would you like some help? Maybe we can figure it out together."

The woman's eyes sparkled with delight. "That would be wonderful. I could definitely use the help."

Charleigh reached into her inventory and pulled out her own knitting needles and yarn. As they worked side by side, their conversation flowed effortlessly. They exchanged stories, discussing their love for creative endeavors and the solace they found in crafting.

As they continued knitting and conversing, Charleigh couldn't help but feel a genuine connection forming. Their shared interest in knitting served as a foundation for a deeper conversation that transcended their initial encounter.

Time seemed to pass quickly as they worked on their respective projects. By the time they finally finished, the woman's scarf had transformed from a tangled mess to a beautiful creation, thanks to Charleigh's guidance.

The woman admired her finished scarf with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much for your help. I don't think I could have done it without you."

Charleigh beamed with pride, delighted to have made a positive impact. "It was my pleasure. I'm glad I could assist you. And thank you for allowing me to join you."

They both chuckled, and Charleigh extended her hand. "I'm Charleigh, by the way."

The woman shook her hand warmly. "I'm Arianna. It's a pleasure to meet you, Charleigh."

[almalvo]

STAR TREK: DISCOVERY | S1E3 "Context Is For Kings"

[I will react to each episode individually and in full, raw reception and then post as is unrevised here onto my tumblr for the full span of every and all NuTrek episodes and series that have been and will be released. If this falls under your field of interest - I welcome your company in joining me. Enjoy the ride.] -------

Rated "mature" huh. [suspicious face] man seeing the starfleet symbol ugh man look outside its so pretty i love the colours i keep saying this but i looooove the colourssss ugh these effects are so are SOOO whoa nice suit on the pilot the filming style is odd in DISCO pacing wise rn still but whats cool is it no longer feels like that almost stagnant "another day in star trek" type feeling. everything feels very specialised episode by episode - very "limited series" - cuz it is. what ship is this it looks kinda like an idic pin from underneath NCC OH SHIT ITS THE SHIPPPPPP OHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKK THIS IS DISCOVERY?!!?!??!?!??! OH MFUCK ITS NAME IS AFTER A SHIP YEAH OK DUH BUT ALSO WHAT THE FUCK ugh this intro listen youll read this probably the next 50 times over how i just gawk at the everything that im eating right now with my eyeballs the Discovery ship has such an odd shape no but its literally IDIC the ship but also its SOOO cool to see the evolution of the ship designs until we land at the PERFECT ratio of NCC-1701 Enterprise.

fuck that just made me think - oh SHIT---

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh who HO\ WHO WHO LEADS THIS SHIP WHO WHOOOOOOOOOO LEEEAAAAAAADS THHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS SHHSHSIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP whoa eyes with pretty reflection/not reflection nvm who is this????????? gabriel lorca? ok sry not to be underwhelmed but i am too eager its my fault alright mr. lorca - lets see what you about. i have never seen someone just eat fortune cookies like an everyday snack in a wooden bowl. discovery has a very interesting feeling, more..

door just shut in her face wow WHO ELSE IS ON THIS MASSIVE SHIP THOUGH NO NO NO ALSO ITS A FUCKING SCIENCE VESSEL. SCIENCE. VESSEL. SCIENCE. Whos this lady? aw she seems cute sylvia tilly? aw poor gal id shake her hand yo i like these beds mickey nah nahhh no thanks sylvia. sylvia. listen. dont be weird now. black alert. intersting what the hell ? its so PRETTY THOUGH whoaaaaa WHAOSSSS WHOAAA yeah no WHAT the hell IS going on on this ship please do tell??? new replicator hi saruuuu he is very fitting as first officer what are you eating? hahahahahhahha wow they nailed that one blueberries huh yeahhhh not me thinkin he eating larvae or somethin nope no sirrr i like the bowl hes eats from from though ugh hes so TALLLLL hes such a nice stick

idk why the title image of this show with burnham giving the vulcan salute only NOW is hitting me with its potential significance

fearing a black woman huh idk bruh come on now star trek not today bro not today

stamets why does this name sound familiar tf is this so fuckin weird though must we be so discriminatory tho lmao this stamets? whats this sparkle wahts happening stamets are you gay sir are you gay damn sir wonder what you gon do also burnham giving the vulcan brow ugh itll be so cool to have holographic text though? man how can we get that to work without a backlight of aerosol straal? straal and stamets. excuse me. ARE YALL LOVERS ??? ARE YALL A'LOVIN??? KISSY KISSY? YALL BOYFREEENNNNS??? lurkers lol ok. lurker such a fuckin nerdy word lmaooo stamets and straal huh. i got my EYES on you ew also give me that starfleet towel WHERE ARE YOU BURNHAM THIS LOOKS SO FUCKING BEUATIFUL OH MY GOD I HAVE ENVISIONED SOMETHING SO MUCH LIKE THIS ONBOARD STARFLEET SHIPS LIKE WE ALL HAVE OH MY GOD that put a chilll through my spine in a wonderful way

lorca has a mouth and rbf eyes like Homelander his face kind of reminds me of homelander lmaoo hi sylvia yall need to smile a bit mroe lol you better apologise the green screening is almost perfect but the border is still there the border of sylvias face against the greenscreen behidn the glass is too hard when its blue outside when irl the face woul have a light that really diffuses about the curfature of her face anwyays astromycologist fascinating. i like what hes talking about though tickles the science degree in me hahaha man what is this research im so curious what project is lorca up to? ugh so juicy im SOOO curious ugh shuttlepod looks fucking sexy. alright whos gonna die in here. whos the redshirt in this away party. whoaaa the mangling is nicee WHAT WAS THAT oml star trek horror though is SUCH a grand idea fuckkkk meeeee bruh this deadspace or what no lie i like the OG bat'leth design more of the blades splayed INWARDS than out

thats big bruh this is liteally deadspace its not gorn in here right lol its not right idk gorn gorn. gorn can do this right thats the first thing i thought when i saw any of this damage. sylvia you brave owowowoww NEVER MIND WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT someone give me a star trek indie horror game RIGHT NOW DO IT ill fucking do it if no one does ill fucking DO IT. oop well guess we know who the redshirt is. broo the way their bodies are twisted like that is wickedddd i dont think ive seen bodies STRETCHED and wrung like a towel before stamets is so calm he dont give no fuck. stamets my man what have you BEEN through?

big space mole looks like a fuckin cow-size tardigrade JEFFERIES TUUUUUBEEE burnham's composure is crazy ugh she recitin what? it better not be another "literary classic" bullshit. this is literally a giant tardigrade. ugh look at the bridgee i love this shot from the outside in why it blurry at the end tho ay ooo who this freeza droid XD GIVE ME THOSE BOOTS YO i want my room to be the bridge oh my god if i had money id remodel my house and make my room the bridge the viewscreen would be my personal theatre fucking bigass monitor projection did I hear that--- TRI TRIBBBLEEEEE EAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAAAAAAA THAT IS A FUCKINGGGG TRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ONNNNNNNNNNN HIIIIIIS DESSSSSSSSSSKKKKKKK they really are just having this conversation with a tribble just chillin on his desk son. i knew that sound anywhere oh my god GIVE ME ONE RIGHT NWO GIVE ME A BLACK ONE RIGHT NOW.

FUCK. bye tribbleee oooo in-ship transport what is this box what is the research what the fuck is happening. that is so pretty ohh intersting organic propulsion this is fascinaatingggg oh i really like this lorca has great delivery i BELIEVE in his role god the magic of masterful actors. love it WHOA THIS IS TOO FUCKING BEAUTLFUL NOOOOOO TAKE ME AWAYYYYY oh i love this pacing just now this whole scene was so good im so enamoured right now ugh its so nice to see creative cinematography why the tendrils on saru though what purpose do they serve wtf man wonder if we gon have more that typical star trek alien sexy-time lmaooooo ugh alice in wonderland really when we done with this shit :/ sylvia you wanna be captain? u know what - maybe you might be. if you dont die getting there. (you didnt hear that from me ahurghurghurgunrguhg-)

FOSTER FOSTER MOM AND HER SON??? YOU GREW UP WITH SPOCK????? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK WHYYYYYYYYYY HOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU TELLIN ME BURNHAM IS KIRK'S SISTER IN LAW GET THE FUCK OUT

imn losin it whoa dead spcimens who whats in ITS THE GIANT TARDIGRADE sir you did this on purpose what you plannin lorca whats your grand design ughhh the scale of this ship though ugh EAT ME UP no i like that scene a lot though the one with cap lorca talking to burnham in the box - please intellectual star trek lore on mainstream play with modern techonological representation PLEASE oh im so intriguedddddddd.

bring it the fuck on.

kirk's sister in law, what even the fuck--

[clem-fandang0]

ENHYPEN 8TH MEMBER

Members Profile: Millie

Stage Name: Millie

Birth Name: Jung Millie

Korean Name: Jung Min-Yeon

(Face Claim: Kim Dayeon of Kep1er)

Position: Main Vocalist, Centre

Birthday: 24th August 2003

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Chinese Zodiac: Goat

Height: 173 cm (5'7")

Blood Type: A+

MBTI: ESFP

Nationality: British-Korean

Representative Animal: Mouse

Facts about Millie:

Millie has a twin brother and an older sister, but she's closer with her brother (Applicant Profile)

Born in London England. She moved to Korea with her brother when they were 15 because she wanted to pursue a K-Pop career and her brother wanted to become an actor.

Training Period: 1 year, 8 months.

She ranked 3rd in the final episode of I-LAND with 1,179,633 votes.

Lovelies is Millie's fandom name created by fans.

Education: St Albans High School For Girls, Hanlim Multi Art School.

Habits: Chewing her lower lip (in interviews, the members can be seen pulling her lip from her teeth), flaring her nostrils when she's mad, smoothing her left eyebrow when concentrating.

Millie's favourite colours are purple and maroon.

Her family have a pet dog named Sylvia and a cat named BB.

She is a former SM Entertainment (2017-2018) and BigHit Entertainment (2018-2019) trainee.

Her role models are The Boys' Q, TXT's Taehyun and BTS' V (Applicant Profile).

Millie's charm is speaking English to the members to help teach them, but also forgetting words in Korean/English and filling them in with the other language.

Specialty: Singing, dancing, eating quickly and ice skating and badminton (Self-Revised Profile).

Hobbies: Watching TV shows that she's already watched, dancing in the rain (Self-Revised Profile).

Charming Point: Impressions, sparkling eyes, wink (Self-Revised Profile).

Her nicknames are Mills, Millington (Jake), Milton (Jake), Millicent (Jake), Minnie, Yeonie, Neo (Self-Revised Profile).

Likes: Jungwon, Jake, all the members, chocolate, massive hugs, forehead kisses, kimbap and ENHYPEN (Self-Revised Profile).

Dislikes: Being lied to, staying inside when it's raining, people bad-mouthing England (Self-Revised Profile).

Her motto is "Oh well..." (Self-Revised Profile).

Click here to read more about Millie

[ao3serketlurks]

At The Shrine of Your Lies

by Serket8lues Fandom: The Scorched Throne

Tags: the victor's ball, dancing, songfic, song: Take Me To Church (Hozier), angst, lies, fluff, Sylvia x Arin

Not Rated | No Archive Warnings Apply -

Arin offered his hand. “I believe we have an agreement.”

“Have you learned your steps?”

Arin swept me in a turn, hooking me under his arm and spinning me out...He reeled me in with a grin that I wanted to pocket. “At the age of nine.”

“Liar.” I shook my head with mock outrage. The music swelled as I took his hand, my white gloves in his black ones - mine worn to hide and deceive, his worn for protection from the outside world. We were opposites. We were imperfect pieces. We understood each other.

The musicians began playing a slower song, and the woman at the front sang:

My lover’s got humor, She’s the giggle at a funeral,

My eyes were locked on Arin’s, intense, and what I used to see only as expressionless but now understood to be focused. The corner of his lips twitched when I said “Are you sure you don’t want to hear my joke about the Heir and the Champion?”

Knows everybody’s disapproval, I should’ve worshipped her sooner.

“Don’t tell me,” he whispered, “show me.”

If the heavens ever did speak She’s the last true mouth piece.

“But showing you is no joke,” I bit my lip. I mouthed “I love you, Arin.”

I was Jasadi. He was Heir of Nizahl, Lord Commander of the charge against the magic in my veins. But we were both made of flesh, of bone, of soul.

Every Sunday’s getting more bleak a fresh poison each week We were born sick You heard them say it

Magic was madness, they said. It drove the best people to no good. Humans brought war, I thought, for the army of the magic-less nation had torn the children of Usr Jasad into blood. And yet, Arin of Nizahl gazed into my eyes. And yet, I gazed into his.

My church offers no absolutes, she tells me, ‘Worship in the bedroom’ The only Heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Our steps lead us from beside the musicians to the center of the ballroom. The faces of the royals, the guards, and even Supreme Rawain faded from my view. The short space between Arin’s chest and mine while we danced was somewhere else, somewhere private, and the warmth radiated through me.

I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well A-, amen Amen, amen

When the orchestra picked up, I twirled him, and laughter colored his cheeks. His eyes were bright, sparkling, and he gasped “I love you, Sylvia.”

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death, oh, good God, let me give you my life

An ache trembled in my chest. Sylvia, my chosen name, what I told him I preferred to be called when I told him I was Mervat, a different Jasadi noble. He still didn’t know the threat I was, didn’t know that the Jasadi of his forbidden affections was not only Jasadi, but Essiya, the Jasadi Heir.

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death, oh, good God, let me give you my life

My eyes flickered down to the spot where I'd held my knife to his throat, the day that he told me that knife threat would be my last. It felt like a lifetime ago. His hair had shaken loose into a curtain of silver, and hidden from the eyes of the ballroom, my lips ghosted over the spot. Arin made a happy sound, so quiet I felt it more than I heard it, and I pressed my mouth to his skin.

If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight To keep the goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice Drain the whole sea, get something shiny

Sultana Vaida was glittering across the room, the avatar of Lukub's opulence. Felix and his attendant had been lifted into laughter at something one of the other royals said, and the mirth in the room was decadent. I could almost see why our fathers and their fathers had chosen selfishness and corruption in the face of such splendor. They forgot that every life was sacred, and every person born was worth love. That was why my grandparents had locked my mother away in her tower, and her love was why she wailed there for the rest of her life. They couldn't bear to see such truth. To my mother, her husband shone more light than the Awals and Awalas themselves. No jewel in the world could compare to Arin's eyes as we danced.

Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful

The cord of a necklace peaked out from Arin's collar, just for a second. He was wearing the date necklace I'd given him. I smiled as I remembered the underground kitchen, and how this man, this literal prince was content eating gruel til my complaining became annoying enough. But then, maybe it wasn't just annoyance. I remembered how Wes and Jeru bantered, and how they'd marveled that Arin had instructed one of his best guards to spend a day surveying the markets by Mahair, to discover what sort of menu Omalians were accustomed to. Arin was so careful and thorough in everything he did. So steady.

That looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work

We turned to let past two servants carrying large trays of drinks, and Arin's cheek pressed against mine for a beat. My magic slipped, much to my surprise, and I saw a brief glimpse into his mind, an image of what could have been if we'd stayed in my bed. In his mind's eye, I was exposed, lying supine on my the bed, eyes closed and whimpering his name. My thighs were clenched around his head, and the heightening sensations of pain and pleasure welled up in him while he kissed my most private place. The glimpse lasted only seconds, but I could see he was blushing, and I swallowed hard, trying not to squirm.

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death, oh, good God, let me give you my life

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death, oh, good God, let me give you my life

"Why do you keep saving me?" Arin had asked days ago, before I understood that I had fallen in love with my enemy. "Why do you keep needing to be saved?" I'd shouted back. Now at present, in the ballroom, all I wanted to do was stay in the safety of his embrace forever.

No masters or kings when the ritual begins There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene Only then, I am human Only then, I am clean

I wanted to kiss him. I couldn't. My magic would pain him. My escape plan would be ruined.

Oh, oh, amen Amen, amen Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death, oh, good God, let me give you my life

Arin's own self-control battled behind his icey eyes. His pupils were blown wide with lust, and his hand was firmer now on my waist, his breaths a little heavier in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion. The music hushed to a hum before the final chorus, and in the beat of near-silence, I wasn't sure if the pounding in my ears was my heartbeat or his. Just as the singer began again, Arin twirled me.

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog

"I love you," he whispered in my ear when our steps brought us back together. "Sylvia. Suraira. Jasadi. You."

at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins,

"I love you," I said desperately, coming up empty for words to explain in kind. "Arin...Lord Commander of Nizahl... Your Highness... I love you with my whole being."

and you can sharpen your knife

It was like the dangerous words were as freeing as being invisible on a walk at night. It was the truth, it was painful, and yet it was as comfortable as my favorite ways to hide.

Offer me that deathless death, oh, good God,

The song ended, and the musicians transitioned into a livelier beat, one with less chance for closeness, but appropriate for a celebration.

let me give you my life.

We danced.

[lyubochka]

i haven’t introspected or really talked about myself on here so i answered this favorites questionnaire. read if you want

@ringtailes​ @virgeauxsun​ @weepingvines​

yall can do it if u want u dont gotta tag anybody idc fjeiofewjfo

1. Favorite candy? dark chocolate

2. Favorite song? ptolemaea by ethel cain

3. Favorite food? sushi or a decent caesar salad

4. Favorite drink? an iced caramel macchiato, or apple sparkling water

5. Favorite band? Artist? fleetwood mac or ethel cain

6. Favorite movie? scream

7. Favorite book?

the bell jar by sylvia plath

8. Favorite restaurant? chick fil a. love homophobic chicken

9. Favorite person? myself

10. Favorite hair color? Eye color? black hair and green eyes

11. Favorite website? bulbapedia

12. Favorite board game? Video game? clue and silent hill 2

13. Favorite sport to play? To watch? i don't. iceskating

14. Favorite school subject? literature 15. Favorite state? City? new orleans, louisiana

16. Favorite number? letter? 7, A

17. Favorite animal? bears

18. Favorite TV show? reba

19. Favorite quote? "who can face the sea and not inherit its loneliness?", olin ivory

20. Favorite nickname? honey

21. Favorite store? target

22. Favorite color? pink

23. Favorite article of clothing? i like a good turtleneck sweater

24. Favorite type of perfume or cologne? chanel no 5

25. Favorite memory from this year? all of the times my cat has curled up next to me to sleep.

26. Favorite age? these are ridiculous questions. 45.

27. Favorite trait? a homogenous one

28. Favorite music video? what???

29. Favorite time of day? midnight

30. Favorite Tumblr? my own, of course

31. Favorite phone brand? apple

32. Favorite shoe brand? louboutin

33. Favorite fashion style? i wonder what op would answer this question with. "goth"? the avant garde victorian style looks of dior fall/winter 2007 haute couture

34. Favorite pattern? the one i'm noticing in these questions.

35. Favorite gift? the gift of foresight

36. Favorite humor? blood

37. Favorite chip brand? Flavor? kettle brand salt and vinegar peak

38. Favorite band to see live? i'm poor

39. Favorite teacher im an adult

40. Favorite celebrity? im an adult

41. Favorite news station? WHAT

42. Favorite DIY? my mother birthing me

43. Favorite instrument? cello

44. Favorite genre of music? deathcore

45. Favorite season? autumn

46. Favorite experience? level 35 dark grass audino OHKO on lucky egg

47. Favorite shirt? a slightly unbuttoned men's button up, navy blue, sleeves folded at the elbow

48. Favorite bottoms?

myself

49. Favorite interpretation of love? a tongue on my clit and fingers buried in my cunt

50. Favorite existential thought? we create god through our praying to him and the moment we stop, he ceases to exist.

51. Favorite scent? gasoline

52. Favorite human interaction?

prayer.

53. Favorite music genre? didn't you ask me this already

54. Favorite compliment? "you are the most interesting person i've ever met"

55. Favorite insult? "if i were you i would have killed myself a long time ago"

56. Favorite phone app? NOT wordscapes thats for sure

57. Favorite type of phone? my own

58. Favorite reading position? doggy style

59. Favorite sex position? i made that joke too soon. also doggy style

60. Favorite pair of shoes? love thy neighbor

61. Favorite animal? i know for certain you asked me this already. i love my cat

62. Favorite body feature (on yourself)? YESSS a good question. my tits

63. Favorite body feature (on others)? that cock

64. Favorite YouTube video? lasagna cat

65. Favorite YouTuber? i bet you'd like it if i said jerma wouldn't you

66. Favorite meme? is anyone even reading this

67. Favorite Tumblr post? the one i'm making as we speak

68. Favorite typeface? monospaced

69. Favorite selfie? absolutely not

70. Favorite holiday? valentine's day

71. Favorite computer brand? hal

72. Favorite lyrics? "Playing in the swamp of alligator blood Behind our house in the marshy lawn He'd always hold my head Under the water a little too long 'Cause he wanted me to be all guts, no glory "All survivor, no guilt," he said But he calls me his crocodile tears While I'm chained up to the bed"

73. Favorite moment? this one.

74. Favorite advice? my mother once told me to never bluff with a gun.

75. Favorite message you’ve ever received? purity is what you make of it. god loves you all the same.

76. Favorite message you’ve ever sent? i love you more than anything.

77. Favorite outfit? nothing at all.

78. Favorite aesthetic? menhera

79. Favorite musical instrument? hmm

80. Favorite car brand? ha

81. Favorite fandom? ew

82. Favorite emoji? ✨

83. Favorite hobby? poetry

84. Favorite TV show character? jughead riverdaleF JFWEIOJFWEIOFJ

85. Favorite book character? jughead riverdale

86. Favorite movie that’s coming out? how do i know if i like it if it hasn't come out yet

87. Favorite designer brand? versace

88. Favorite dessert? tiramisu

89. Favorite kink? not on main

90. Favorite dance move? raise the dead

91. Favorite diet? cocaine addiction

92. Favorite rap verse? does anyone actually answer these

93. Favorite drug? see question 91

94. Favorite country? City? lebanon

95. Favorite feeling? being choked while i cum

96. Favorite picture on the Internet?

97. Favorite phone and/or computer background? i like a good calendar

98. Favorite weather? overcast snowy

99. Favorite mode of transportation? boat

100. Favorite console? wii was superior

[rose-demica]

Heya! So I stumbled across another A/B/O / Omegaverse story app and got hooked on one of the stories. Then the thought came to me, where would Kyoya Ootori fit if he were in that universe? The answer? I don't know... I would love to here other peoples opinion! Let's discuss where Kyoya would fit?

Here though, is the one shot that spawned from that thought and wouldn't leave me alone until it was written. Huge thanks to the amazing @mariekoukie6661 for checking over this and making sure I had my omegaverse facts right. (I did not, and now might need to do more research). Divider a gift from the lovely @buckys-zomdoll.

Fandom: Ouran High Host Club

Pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Violetta Tatsuya (OC, part of a larger fic that will appear one day).

Kyoya frowns, catching Violetta as she glances at him, before returning her gaze to her manilla folder and giggling. She’s been doing it for the past - 8 minutes and 43 seconds by his count, and he’s had quite enough. What could she possibly be doing that was causing this much amusement? She had barely said hello, and hadn’t gotten up to greet him when he arrived, instead folding her folder shut while he came to her. She’d given him the briefest kiss before apologising, saying she really needed to finish up with this case and then she’d be all his. Not abnormal, he often had to wait, and he didn’t mind, he had more than enough to do himself of course. But laughing!? At him? Is this really a case? Has his father done something embarrassing and he has yet to hear about it?

He looks up, locking on those violet eyes and holding them in place when she looks at him again. She meets his gaze, laughter making her eyes sparkle more than they normally did. He watches the micro-expressions on her face as she tries to repress her laughter, but soon enough her nose crinkles as pearls of laughter escape her lips, head thrown back. 

“THATS IT!” He stands, snapping his laptop shut. “What is so funny?” He expects her laughter to stop, but it doesn’t, she only laughs harder, doubling over before falling off her chair. He waits, clenching his jaw as his anger grows. 

“Wait-” Violetta gasps, holding up a hand, visable over her desk. “I need help.” Not one to deny his lady in need, Kyoya steps around the desk, offering Violetta a hand, She takes it, leaving the folder on the ground as he helps her to her feet, an arm wrapping around her waist and holding her to him. 

“Pray tell,” He speaks through gritted teeth, hooking a finger under her chin and lifting her gaze to his. “What could possibly be so amusing about me?” There are tear tracks through the makeup on her cheeks, liquid simmering in her eyes as she squeezes them shut, trying to muffle the giggle that rattles through both of them. 

“Alright, so-” She doesn’t open her eyes as she starts to speak. “I’m working on a copyright case involving stories-” 

“Wait, what branch of law do you work in?” He thought she did business law, but she’s been looking at all sorts of cases recently. 

“Business mostly.” She opens her eyes to look at him, smiling a little, but not breaking down into laughter this time. “But I check over lots of cases, from all branches. My firm offers everything after all.” He nods, and she waits a moment before continuing. “Have you heard of something called Omegaverse?” The blank look on his face is answer enough, and he watches the corners of her lips twitch. “Sylvia’s complained about it a few times. Essentially there are werewolves, and within those werewolves, they’re split into groups. The one I’m working in just have Alpha’s and Beta’s, but some have Omega’s. Alpha’s are big boss wolves, generally lead the pack, generally only one in a pack. Beta’s are their right hand, Omega’s are just normal wolves, although sometimes they are abused and treated as servants.” 

“I do know how the Greek alphabet goes, my love.” He replies, so far none of this explains why she is laughing so hysterically at him. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Violetta raises an eyebrow, daring him to keep speaking, but he stays quiet, which only causes her to burst into laughter once more. 

“Violetta.” He growls warningly, “You’re testing my patience.” She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down once more. 

“Right. It’s ridiculously sexist by the way. Most of what I could find are on those reading apps you have to either pay for or wait a stupidly long time for. And of those, rarely ever is there a female alpha, they mainly serve as Luna, which is just basically the Alpha’s mate. But, why can’t a female be Alpha, or Beta in their own right, why do they need to rely on a man? I really need to find a bunch with a female Alpha just to see-

“Violetta.” He cuts her off before she can start rambling about it. This still hasn’t explained why she’s laughing at him. 

“And also this mate thing. I get the whole theory, you have a soul mate - or sometimes several, which just seems counterproductive. And if you did have a soul mate, someone who is perfect for you in every sense of the word why would you reject them? Not only that, but they frame your mate as being a gift from the moon goddess, so isn’t rejecting them therefore also rejecting and spitting in the face of your goddess like-” He presses his lips against hers, silencing her. Her body softens in his hold, leaning into him, a hand sliding into his hair as she kisses him back. 

“Why were you laughing at me?” He whispers, pulling away from her. 

“Not at you per say-” He cuts her off with another kiss. “I haven’t even mentioned the mate bonding thing yet-” 

“They bite each other on a special gland that cements their bond and makes it known to the whole world. Generally while having sex.” He interrupts, her eyes go wide as she looks up at him.

“You did know!” Violetta steps back out of his hold, stooping to pick up the folder from the floor. This time it’s him chuckling at her. “You would have your answer by now if you’d said so!” 

“This is more amusing.” There is no way he’s telling her exactly how or why he knows about this whole ordeal. ”So.” He takes a step towards her, ducking his head and staring intently. “Why?” She gulps, taking a step back. 

“I was hypothesising.” Violetta brings the folder between them, shielding herself. “You see, I’ve been trying to figure out where you would fit in the universe.” What? His feet stop moving, eyes going wide. “Theoretically you’d just say Alpha and be done right? But Kyo- you are just so amazing at being a Beta. I mean, if you look at the Host club, you’re absolutely the Beta. You defer to Tamaki, he has the ideas, you make them happen. Then in real life,.. Heck, you’d make a fantastic Luna.” He feels his jaw drop, but he can’t control it, can’t bring it back. She thinks he’d be a good Luna?! “I could be the alpha, I would have you as my Luna in a heartbeat.” He forces himself to close his jaw, back straightening. Violetta should take it as a warning, but she’s laughing at him, again! “But then you look at your Shadow empire, and Alpha doesn’t seem so far stretched.” She raises a hand to her eyes, dabbing at the tears that escape. 

“Stop it.” He takes a step closer, but she doesn’t notice, eyes closed as she tries to control her giggles.

“But like, I just can’t imagine you as an alpha, barking orders, refusing to take smack from anyone, being all growl-y and possessive and demanding. It just... it doesn’t fit.” He reaches out, snatching the folder from her hands. Her eyes fly open just in time to see him fling it over his shoulder, paper flittering everywhere. “Kyoya!” He grabs her as she goes to move past him to collect it all back up, lifting her off her feet and throwing her onto her bed. 

Her eyes are wide as she watches him stalk closer, mouth opening to say something before stopping. With one hand, Kyoya undoes his belt, pulling it through all the loops before throwing it aside. 

“Not alpha enough?” He growls, dropping down onto the bed and crawling over her. A squeal leaves her lips as he tucks his head into her neck, jokingly biting before sucking the skin into his mouth. “I’ll show you.”

[tvstarkuma]

H-he's so pretty and warm and kind, and most of all, I feel like the two of us are almost... the same. Not so similar that it'd be boring or creepy, yet similar enough that I can really relate. I mean really relate.

People used to often tell me I was too loud, so I became quiet. People often tell Teddie he's too loud, and he's still remained himself. Teddie and I both have sensory issues. If things are too loud or too bright for me, he understands. And I can understand for him if there are too many sounds and smells around, too, because why wouldn't I? Senses are so important to me. To people like us.

He's so strong and kind, bright and happy, that I really can't help but admire him... so, so much. He does what he loves with a smile, and he always plays his character so well.

And... and he actually looks at me. He talks to me, sings with me, dances and plays and laughs with me, as if I really mean something to him. Sometimes he's so close, I can't breathe. Or he's so bright, I'm blinded, and yet I can't look away.

I... I really like him. I really, really like him. But... I know I don't deserve him. Teddie's super smart. I'm sure he already knows how I feel. I'm not exactly subtle, after all. It's for the best I just pretend it's nothing. With looks and a personality like that, Teddie's bound to have hundreds of thousands of fangirls out there.

...besides. I'll... have to come back home someday. And that means saying goodbye.

I... I'm sorry, Teddie. For imposing on you like this. I hope you'll forgive me if... if I rely on you for just a little longer. Let me delude myself a little bit more.

Anonymously send me something your muse is secretly thinking about mine.

This voice…so gentle and quiet. Teddie knew exactly who this was. It was Sylvia. Sylvia praising the bear so easily to a degree that his closest friends didn’t always do for him. Not that he ever blamed or disliked them for it.

The same…that word alone was enough to bring a glimmer to Teddie’s eyes. He’s described the feeling to others before. When a spray or perfume is enough to take away a night of sleep, when has to avoid ladies with perfume before it scrambles his head, Sylvia was the only person that understood what he meant. She, however, had it worse than him. He still remembers the day they met at the summer festival fondly. Those big headphones she had and her feelings of distress at the crowd and fireworks. Helping to bring her inside the convenience store was one of his best decisions all year and he would gladly do it again.

Then she was so kind to him. So so beary kind! More than he deserved for that matter…Even if he did something his friends might have been annoyed by she only ever smiled. Bad habits he’s been trying to break were met with joy and small laughter. Ah…her pretty smile…Teddie was smiling too while imagining it. Cycling through his memories of their happy times together. His hands close together before one was pulled towards his chest.

Then, why must someone so nice and selfless hold herself so low? She didn’t need to apologize! Ever! Sylvia never offended him, never annoyed him, never made him upset. Why can’t she see that he was happy? Happy to hear her talk with pure glee over what she loved. Happy whenever she reached into all the courage she had to keep him close to her. She never did anything wrong!

“Why…? Why do you have to be this way?” The sparkle previously in Teddie’s eyes were beginning to form tears, “Don’t you know how amazing you are?! How much anyone would be happy to be with you?!”

“I’m not smart! There’s so many things around me in this world I still don’t understand! I’ve tried so hard to learn but I still mess up. I came here to help my world again but I can’t do much on my own…”

“People like me. I have friends that I love more than anything! But every girl I meet rejects me…”

He couldn’t let Sylvia continue with these thoughts. Apologizing for nothing but making Teddie’s life better. Teddie runs away in full throttle to find her.

On purpose he ignored some of her final words. Another chain in the cycle of Teddie’s life. People come, become dear to him, then they leave…

[littlemissnoname13]

Blaise’s Cup of Tea (D.M)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: some mentions of alcohol, very mild sexual themes, nothing too explicit, Draco being a fûxkboy ,Draco being a huge simp

Summary: where Draco is secretly in love with his best friend’s fiancée

Word count: 2122

A/n: had this idea in the shower and I couldn’t help myself. The blog has been a mess recently and for that I apologise.

For Draco Malfoy, a typical night usually consisted of three things. 

First, a glass of his favourite spirit; preferably scotch in his hand.

Second, a cigar tucked in between his fingers

And third, a random girl in his bed chambers. It didn't matter if his company for the night shared the same interests as him, it didn't matter if she liked him for who he was or if she liked him solely for being the heir to the massive Malfoy fortune. 

Come morning, he would never have to see her again anyway. 

His Father, Lucius always chastised him for bringing a different girl as a plus one to social events. Even Narcissa wasn't all too pleased about her son engaging in all these hedonistic activities and bedding random girls. 

The friends he’d grown up with were all well on their way to settling down and having children while he was still not even close to having a serious relationship. 

“Why can’t you be more like Zabini?” Lucius would say, everytime the Malfoys sat down for a family dinner. Narcissa would agree to this while expressing her desire for grandchildren and Draco would have to refrain from choking on his dinner. 

Blaise Zabini, was happily engaged to longtime girlfriend Daphne Greengrass and they were busy planning their Summer wedding. 

Every time Draco would meet Blaise for a drink, all he’d talk about was Daphne, the wedding, floral arrangements, invites and party favours. Just last week, Blaise even confessed to having already thought out names for his future children. 

Taking a final sip of his scotch, Draco placed his glass on his desk and returned to his bed, where a random brunette girl was peacefully asleep. 

He took a few moments to recall her given name in his mind but this attempt remained futile. He couldn’t even remember how he felt while they were doing the deed a few hours prior. 

His father was right, he was slowly turning into, for a lack of a better term, “Pig person.”

As he quietly slipped into his bed next to the brunette, he started to think about all the one night stands he’d had in the last few months. 

One night stands are appropriately called one night stands for a reason. He knew that. 

But it wasn't his fault he couldn’t get that one particular night from four months ago with that one particular girl out of his system. 

It had all started out so innocently. 

A chance encounter at a bar, alcohol fueled conversation, his hands on her hips on the dance floor and his lips on her lips by the end of the night. 

He’d never before met anybody so charming yet painfully frustrating in his life. 

Y/n. Y/l/n. 

Distinctive features, expressive eyes and lips that quirked upward with a wicked smile.She had one of those faces that had the capability of engraving itself into one’s subconscious and the way her brows furrowed in annoyance indicated that she might have been aware and unnerved by it. 

In the few hours he’d spent with her, she’d stimulated his brain with her wits and intellect. She’d made him care about uninteresting things like the witch burnings in the 14th Century. She’d challenged his predetermined notions and world view.

Everything about her was vivacious.

Her effervescence reminded him of a freshly opened bottle of sparkling Rosé on a hot summers day. Crisp yet sweet if you took in a moment for the flavours to sink in. 

And Merlin was this girl could kiss!

The way she gently nipped on his lower lip and teasingly traced her tongue left him with something more to be desired. 

Nothing happened with Y/n that night. Nothing except feverish kisses and whispers of “I want you.”

They’d spent the whole night talking. He’d never spent the night with a girl and not done anything before. 

And she’d left before he could even manage to open his eyes the next morning. 

She’d disappeared without a sign or trace.

Nothing but her fruity fresh scent on his pillows remained to remind him that she was in fact real and not some hallucination. 

Draco went the the very same bar again the next day with his hopes held high. He wanted to see her again. He needed to see her again. 

But to his utter dismay, y/n never showed up. 

Soon, it became a habit of his to go to the bar and wait for her.

He’d gotten so desperate at one point that he even interrogated the bar keep about the girl that had seemingly managed to capture his attention in the span of a night. 

But no matter how hard he tried, Draco never got any answers. 

She became nothing but a distant ghost of a rather blissfully perfect night. 

Just when he was about to toss away the memories of y/n and her pretty lips inside a locked and chained box in his head, he heard his house elf appear with a pop into his bed chambers. 

“Master Malfoy, this letter just came for you.” The elf said quietly as he stretched out his arm to hand Draco a sealed envelope. 

Draco would have told his elf off for appearing in his chambers in the middle of the night but decided against it when he saw the scrawl of Blaise’s messy handwriting on the envelope. 

It was two in the morning and a rather odd time for Blaise to be sending him a letter. 

Assuming that it must be something urgent, Draco quickly ripped open the seal and unfolded the letter. 

Draco, 

I write this with a heavy heart and I write this with nothing for company except a bottle of bourbon. 

Daphne left me this morning. 

The wedding is off and it is all my fault. 

To be honest, It did feel like things were going too fast and we were jumping to life altering decisions without taking the time to think and contemplate. 

After thinking all day, I have decided to get married after all. 

Your mother has been rather kind and offered to set me up with a girl that is supposedly “perfect for me.” Although I definitely trust her judgement, It would be great if you could “assist” Narcissa in her search. You are my best friend after all. 

B.Z.

By the time Draco was done reading Blaise’s letter, the girl sleeping next to him had started to toss and turn in her sleep. 

~~~

When his mum flooed into his residence the next morning, Draco’s company for the night, who was named Sylvia by the way, was just on her way out. 

Sylvia was rather laid back and was looking for nothing other than a rebound. Draco had offered her tea but she’d politely declined stating that she had brunch planned with her friends anyway. 

“And who is this charming young lady, Draco?” Narcissa asked. 

“She’s Sylvia and Sylvia was just on her way out.” Draco said in a clipped voice before literally shoving an annoyed looking Sylvia into the fireplace. 

“It was nice meeting you Mrs. Malfoy.” Sylvia said in a calm and polite voice, with floo powder in her hands. “See you around Draco.” 

“And I thought, you were finally serious for once.” Narcissa sighed before sinking down into one of the many chairs Draco had in his living room. 

Draco wanted to say something sarcastic in response but he bit his tongue and held it all back. There were more pressing matters at hand that required his attention. Like helping his mum find an appropriate match for Blaise who has so casually placed such a huge responsibility on his shoulders. 

The responsibility required him to go on multiple, rather tiresome “dates” set up by his mother. 

The first girl he met mistook him for Blaise. 

The second girl he met confessed that she was being coaxed into the meeting by her overbearing parents and had a secret Muggle boyfriend that she loved with her whole heart. 

The third girl he met was one of Blaise’s ex girlfriends.

The fourth girl turned out to be one of Draco’s own one night stands that had ended on a sour note.

It was safe to say that Draco returned to his mother that night with his shirt stained burgundy from the wine she’d poured over his head. He deserved it though.

Narcissa even agreed that he’d deserved it because she broke into a chuckle when her son walked into the Malfoy Manor with drops of wine falling from his blond hair. 

“Well this is a disaster.” Draco muttered to his mother who gave him an accomplished looking smile in return.

“This was a Disaster.” She quipped, before leaning towards the coffee table to pour herself some more tea. “Luckily, I’ve already found someone I deem to be a suitable partner for Blaise.”

“You have?” 

“I have. I too have been pulling some reins and meeting people personally for Blaise. He is like a son to me after all.” 

“Looks like I got splashed with a vintage red for no apparent reason then.” Draco muttered before using his wand to summon a clean cotton shirt. 

Narcissa simply shook her head at her son and stood up from her chair. “I’ve actually invited her for tea today so that you’d be able to meet her as well. Why don’t you fix your hair and put on a clean shirt before she gets here hm?”

Draco knew there was no point in arguing with his mother. 

When Narcissa Malfoy wanted things done, she’d sure as hell go ahead and get them done. A true Slytherin she was. 

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and used a cleaning charm on his hair. He would have preferred to shower but he didn’t really have the time to dilly-dally around.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He heard a voice say, just as he was about to put on his clean shirt. 

It was a familiar voice and it raised prickling goosebumps all over his exposed flesh.

The goosebumps were a natural reaction to hearing a voice he’d replayed over and over in his head every single night for the last four months. 

In front of him stood Y/n Y/l/n in the flesh. Very much real and not a ghost of his imagination, clad in a blush coloured midi dress with a sweetheart neckline. 

He opened his mouth to answer but his mother beat him to it. 

“Welcome to our home. Sit down, have some tea with us.” Narcissa said in her best hostess voice and all Draco could do was force his hanging jaw shut. 

~~~~~~

The next few hours felt like the longest yet shortest few hours of his life. 

He was still processing the fact that he had in fact seen the girl, the ghost, the memory right in front of his eyes, wearing a dress that made her look like a scene in a vintage film. 

His palms were sweaty, his head was reeling, his throat was as dry as the Sahara and he could barely pay any attention to a word his mother was saying. 

“Draco?” Narcissa cleared her throat when he failed to respond. “Draco dear, are you listening?”

“Yes mother.” He replied curtly before taking a sip of his tea in a desperate attempt to soothe his throat. 

After what seemed like another torturous hour of tea and polite conversation, you thanked Narcissa for having you and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek before taking the floo network. 

“The Y/l/n family has been a friend to our family for years.” Narcissa commented. “I think Blaise would be rather fond of y/n. What do you think, Draco?”

He wanted to tell his mother about the time he spent with you four months ago.

He wanted to tell her that he was ready for a serious relationship if it was with you. 

He never really cared for the colour pink but it suddenly felt like a rather nice colour. 

You were witty, clever, sincere and extremely gorgeous. Of course Blaise would like you. He’d be a fool not to. 

After taking a few more seconds to carefully contemplate the situation at hand, Draco finally opened his mouth. 

“Yes, I think Blaise would like Y/n.”

Narcissa looked at him with a satisfied smile and the weight of a fully grown giant landed on Draco’s shoulder. 

Maybe you weren't Blaise’s cup of tea.

Maybe he’ll get back together with Daphne. Yeah, that would be perfect. 

But what if he didn’t?

Could Draco live his whole life knowing that he was absolutely smitten with his Best Friend’s soon to be Fiancée?

~~~

Draco/ General HP Taglist: @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @dlmmdl @desiredmalfoy @trainintersection @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @lolooo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dracomalfoyisindahouse @the-bisexual-bitch @sycathorn-slush @lalunemoonstone @supermisunderstoodoceans @belladaises @riddleswh0r3crux @justreadingficsdontmindme @axdxis @97santoki @laceycallisto @haroldpotterson @thetipsysaquatch @darlingmalfoy @letsmariya @malfoysbiitch @turn-to-page-394-please @malfoysgem @m4lf0ym1lk3rs @ameliasbitvh @slythermuf @wolfstar_lb @underappreciated-spoon-321 @yiamalfoy @louweasleymalfoy @fa-me @dracoswhore007 (sorry if I missed anyone. Please look into your privacy settings if I was unable to tag you. Love you all. x )

Join my tag list here . 

Alternatively, you can message me if you’d like to be added or removed from my list.

Read my other stories here.

Lots of love as always,

Vi

[tvstarkuma]

With the cup as the main object he poured his emotions into, he was quick to switch to his phone. There was still at least minute to go. From what the ladies at Junes told him, tea bags should not remain too long or too little.

“Turn around”? Teddie raised his head before returning his full attention to Sylvia. What he saw was not anything he expected. Those motions, while simple, caused a smile to slowly grow on his face. In silence his right pointer finger imitated the small hook towards a hand too busy holding a phone to return the sentiment.

“I’ve never heard of jsl before!” He excitedly noted while his right hand continued trying to master ‘hello’.

He lowered his phone and was met with even more intrigue than before. Teddie’s eyes showed a sparkle it hasn’t bestowed upon anyone all day. As Sylvia went through this second motion, Teddie was nodding at every step. The second sign was more intricate than the first. Hello, thank you, hello, thank you, hello, thank you, thank you, thank you. Teddie kept practicing the signs with a small smile showing his teeth and a little bounce in his heel.

“This is great! I love it!” Sylvia’s message came through loud and clear. A ‘thank you’ sign followed by pointing at the counter where the teapot rested. Alone this would’ve been a sufficient show of gratitude. Then he saw it: a heart lightly pushed in his direction. Teddie’s done this motion before to his friends, they always found it to be cute and smiled in response, but this was the first time someone did it to him. Giggles fell into the blonde’s hand before he couldn’t hold them back anymore and started laughing harder. A pure, joyful laugh that painted his cheeks red.

“Thank you!” He signed the phrase just as she previously did, “I’d like to make ‘you’re welcome’ but I don’t know any jsl. Could you teach me any more?”

Teddie would’ve liked to keep talking but he felt sure that his minute was definitely up. Time to serve some tea! He dropped the little bag in the closest trash can he found before twirling his way back to his friend without the cup losing a single drop. The scent of sweet herbs filled the dorm. Teddie himself took a quick sniff of the tea he had made to make one final quality check before officially sending it away to its final customer.

“Behold, m’lady, the sweetest tea in the world. Let it heal all your pain and sorrows away.” He winked before handing the cup off.

She didn't know if it was just her imagination or not, but with the way Teddie's shoulders slumped, just a little, she wondered if he was deflating sadly. Was it just her imagination? She wasn't very good at reading people, after all. Or so she was told, anyway. If she made the wrong assumption, then what if she ruined something?

Teddie fidgeted in his seat, nervous, and Sylvia opted to do the same. Out of little more than a sense of boredom, she pulled up a page on her phone and began practicing something with her hands. Once she felt like she got the hang of it, she smiled and texted Teddie.

Disney_Princess: turn around :D

When he did, she raised both her pointer fingers, facing each other, and bent them in a hook at one another. She picked up her phone again.

Disney_Princess: jsl :D

Disney_Princess: that's "hello"

She put her phone down and signed the next one, raising a hand to her chin and suspending another beneath her like a surface, then lightly bowed with her left hand touching the back of her right.

Disney_Princess: that's thank you

Disney_Princess: i got curious so i looked it up

Disney_Princess: so i can talk even if i dont have my phone with me :)

Once again, she signed "thank you" at him, then pointed at the teapot behind him. In case he didn't get the message, she formed a heart with her hands and pushed it towards him. That didn't really mean anything specific. It was just a show of how genuinely grateful she was. She hoped he got the message.

[dollwritesarchive]

Hi I love your work I was curious if you could write something where Reader is training with Sylvia and gets hurt and Sylvia takes care of them 💞

shatter : SL

fandom marvel

featuring sylvie laufeydottir x reader (f)

rating sfw

content warning angst, descriptions of injuries and blood

summary Sylvie is devastated when she hurts you

word count 900 / drabble

attention please reblog & give feedback!

“It is just a bit of blood,” you mutter, bottom lip pulsating and split. you can taste it in your mouth— the sickening, coppery flavor that coats every last tastebud on your tongue and leaves a thin film against the inside of your cheeks, over your teeth. it hurts, much more than you would admit, especially when you see Sylvie’s expression.

her countenance is stricken with guilt, twisted into a frown with her brows furrowed as she kneels beside you, using a section of her cloak flipped inside out and wrapped around her hand to dab at the trickling rubies from the corner of your mouth. the last thing you wanted was to let her know that it hurt.

“I’m all right. Let’s go again.”

but Sylvie shakes her head, turquoise gems nestled in her features examining the injury she’d manifested, the damage she’d done to your face. “No,” she mutters, “no, we should stop.”

“Over a busted lip?” you demand, incredulous. Sylvie says nothing, but nods as she sweeps the crimson from your chin. “I’m fine, honest. You didn’t mean to—“

her eyes flicker upwards, to meet yours, and an ocean of remorse floods them. you can see the tears pushing to free themselves from her ducts, but have been unsuccessful. you pause, take a breath, and approach it with a softer tone. “These things happen. I should use this as a learning experience, we shouldn’t stop. I want to keep going.”

“A learning experience? Look at your face!” Sylvie exclaims, her tone uneven and broken. “You’re bleeding and it’s— it’s my fault.” she pauses, looking away, ashamed of herself, before she stands up. “Come with me.” she urges, offering both of her hands. you take them, graciously, and allow her to pull you to your feet, guiding you like a toddler who’s fallen and scraped their knee to the gilded well nearby. tilting the bucket, sparkling and clear water flows from it as if poured from the sky. “Here, rinse the… blood out of your mouth.” she nearly gagged on the word, as if saying it aloud would make the injury worse.

you look at her, swollen lip giving you a more childlike and pouty appearance by default, and gauge her countenance. it’s contorted in disappointment; she looks at your wounded mouth as if she had broken a priceless heirloom. complying with her demand, you hold your palms out beneath the bucket and she tips it again. the first handful you bring to your lips is beyond shockingly refreshing. Asgardian water tasted purer than any other in the universe, you’d bet. cool and crisp. you have to convince yourself to swish it around in your mouth instead of simply swallowing it, your throat envious of the hydration in your cavern. when you spit it on to the ground, the blood that puddles at your feet is diluted and watery, pink and translucent. after, you take another handful to sip on, savor thoroughly in your cleaned mouth, and swallow down.

“Good,” Sylvie murmurs. she still doesn’t seem satisfied. “Now, let me see.” her hands almost seem demure as they both reach for you, cupping your face on either side, to angle it upwards towards her. her eyes narrow as she looks at the cut.

with a soft sigh, and placing your hands over hers against your face, you whisper, “stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m made of glass. Like you’ve chipped me.” you reply, and tilt your face to give her palm a tender peck. “Stop convincing yourself that you’re going to shatter me.”

the princess is silent for several seconds, eyes darting from your couplet to your gaze and back again. her own pair are wet with potential tears, her bottom lip quivers. “What if I shatter most things?” she whispers, uncertain, “what if— what if everything I touch is broken upon contact; I’ve chipped you now, but what if I shatter you next? What, then?”

“You won’t.” matter of factly, your hands flee to rest upon the sides of neck, thumbs rubbing against the fabric of her turtleneck. “Because your touch has never been my destruction, Sylvie. It has been my healing, always. You will never ever shatter me.”

her long, dark lashes flutter; you can only assume that she is batting away what might become tears, but with a dip of her head, her lips coast over yours. they are extraordinarily cautious when scraping against the split in your tier, as if caressing it in a silent apology. you kiss her back, more ardently with your hands holding the nape of her neck and pulling her close, to assure her that you need no coddling. that you are not so fragile as she thinks.

it was only a moment later that she withdraws from the kiss, but cradles your face in her palms. willowy digits rub at the warmth of your cheeks. “If I ever hurt you again, I- I don’t know what I’d—“

shaking your head, you’re quick to shush her with another brief, but passionate kiss to her soft lips. she tastes of Asgardian wine and fruits, an incredibly sugary flavor that you loved to leave on your lips. “None of that,” you whisper against her lips, “none. A spot of blood and a little scrape from sparring isn’t hurting me, my love. You could never hurt me.”