#Beauty Hacks For Brides

[shaadiwish]

These Bridal Tips That Are Sure To Come Handy As You Gear Up For Wedding Season 2023

[lostinmyhell]

Not me creating a spicy page

[evilminji]

Back at it again~! With my PIDM Wife-OC Thoughts!

A SI-OC obviously, because I am a sucker for that "stranger in a strange but familiar land" vibe! It's about the subtle sense of alienation, you know? This is not your heaven, not your earth. Not your sky, not your stars.

Not even... in fact, your body.

You Do Not Belong.

And yet... you remain. Persist. Struggle, as all life does, to find both happiness and purpose. A stranger here. A thief. Unwilling, yes. But cast into stolen goods regardless. Forced to live out the rest of their life, for them. Forever to wonder... DID you steal it? Or did they die? Did you merely pick up what was already cast aside? Would they forgive you? Can they?

Does it matter?

That's GOOD SHIT! Love me some exploration of Self! Of Identity!

And? It's made SO MUCH BETTER? I realized? If you become a Nameless Wife Charater!

'Cause here me out! In the beginning~☆ They were named characters. Had personalized stories. Personalities for the readers and Binghe to remember. But as the numbers grew and grew? They became Beauties. Flowers.

Fetishes.

That one is the cat girl wife. This one is the milf. Over there is the one with the nice feet. He fucks, he marries, he promptly forgets. Except when he wants something, of course. The consent of half those marriages? Shakey at best! Fuck or Die scenarios. False promises. Altered states of mind!

It's everything about being a Woman, historically, on steroids.

You are nothing but a vessel for your husband's power and pleasure. Again, remebered as a fetish. That intimate, private, thing that you shared with someone who you thought you love... who you thought loved YOU? Becoming all you are and all your known for.

The tits ones. The one who does that thing with her tounge. The freaky one, who likes to-

It's a pretty, gilded, hell on earth. And you've already shown up too late. Story's over. Except! No it's NOT. Because the author is a hack. And is dragging it all out! There is nothing but needless drama, torture porn, and ACTUAL porn for decades to come!

What do you DO?

The woman you were... ARE now, didn't survive her God awful Fuck or Die scenario. Not really. Maybe if the Protagonist still CARED she might have. If he had moved to help FASTER. But he's grown so jaded, so cold, he took too long. She died and he never noticed. You took her place and he never knew her well enough to tell the difference.

Can you even call that "courtship"? We fucked. Congrats, you're married?

Are... are you supposed to LOVE him now? Treat him like a spouse? You KNOW how you would treat a spouse. But that was always assuming either monogamy or failing that? A REASONABLE number of other spouses! Like "could fit at the same average sized table" number! THIS? This isn't a marriage. It's a legion. You've been literally fucking conscripted! Heavy emphasis on the fucking part!!

Do they expect you to, what? Sign up to the fuck roster? Wait eagerly for your turn, being used and tossed aside? To dream of the day a man you barely know, slips into your bed again? To mess you up with his INFAMOUSLY HUGE MONSTER COCK?!

Are all of you FUCKING INSANE!?

But that's the thing? Isn't it? SI-OC is trapped in a porn logic horror movie. And the monster is both her fellow victims... AND their Husband. Harem infighting takes no prisoners. None of these women will EVER believe you don't secretly want Husband's undivided love and attention. The POWER that comes with it.

And? Worst of all? The reasonable reaction of "THE FUCK?! Get away from me!" Even if cautiously implemented? RIGHT after he has "Won" a new bride? In that BRIEF moment before he near completely forgets she exists beyond a number and few base facts?

That's like waving a bag of treats in front of a bored dog. Ears come up, attention? Grabbed. The unfortunate combo of his traumas, neuroses, demonic instincts, and sadomasochism all blending together into history's most unfortunate paste. The more you DONT want him to pay attention to you and to go the fuck away? The more he NEEDS you to love him. Worship him. Pay ATTENTION to him.

It's the Shizun issues. Which are Daddy/Mommy issues(extended edition).

So OBVIOUSLY? SI-OC needs to LOVE him. And he's gonna haunt her like the horror movie monster he is until she does. He has literal Gu in her blood. He can track her anywhere. MAKE her feel any physical sensation he pleases. Pain? Easy. Pleasure? Even easier. Why NOT try an condition her to love him?

Morals? Boundaries? "Because that's deeply fucked up?"

Ha ha... So?

Reading about a character like PIDM Luo Binghe and MEETING a character are wildly different experiences. One? Is fantasy. Mere escapism. Trashy porn with a cool character or two. The OTHER? Is deeply, DEEPLY and viscerally horrifying.

It's the difference between the naughty and transgression fanasties we might have in private... and the Actual Serial Killar who traps us in a shed.

THEN?

Mr. UNHINGED? Meets Nice Shizun™. And it ALL goes to SHIT. Very, very fast.

Cause, see, before? BEFORE? Bingge didn't KNOW what he wanted. He was just gathering everything. All of it. For himself. In the vain hope it might finally fix why he's unhappy. That he might be able to hold on to those brief little highs, that he got from victory. From sex.

But NOW? Oh NOW he KNOWS what he wants. He wants Nice Shizun. Nice Wives. Not a BIG number but a CONCENTRATED amount of adoration. He realizes he's been going at this the wrong way. So?

Spring cleaning.

He has a specific vision of what he wants. And if YOU have to die for him to get it? That's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

All those women. Trapped. Reduced to "beauties", "flowers", and fetishs. People who had hopes and dreams. Ambitions of their own. Who were so much MORE then their appearances and ability to be fucked. Dying. Day after day after day. This one not "kind" enough. That one doesn't smile right. She was too cold, too awkward, too proud. Dead, dead, dead.

Why are you crying? We're going to be so happy~!

A story that starts at the End. In hell. All those Wive's family's rightfully seeking justice. Getting caught in the crossfire. Because... because she is so tired. Because there are younger wives behind her. Because she has already died before.

Maybe this time will be kinder.

(That poor man. The warrior who shot her. She knew his sister. He... he looked so horrified. He didn't mean to hurt her. She forgives him. She... for..give..s...hi..m)

Waking up in SVSSS.

Indeed, the next life IS kinder. The System apologizes for the poor integration! She was SUPPOSED to awaken during the EARLY days of PIDM. Become a Main Wife! Help the story reach its full potential! However, PIDM was mistakenly categorized as "simple fix"! And handed over to a Beginner System.

It... is NOT.

(And even if it WAS, you put the User in the WRONG PART OF THE PLOT! *mechanical whacking noise*)

So~! Please enjoy this Journey Of Healing Side Plot~~☆ (yaaaay! Woooo! *confetti* pls don't be upseeeeeet~☆! Ha ha...) in which you, the User, will go one wonderful journey of Healing~☆!

..........is this a bribe? (Yes! It absolutely is! Please have some extra points, valued customer!) She... will take that bribe. Pleasure doing business with you. Kindly keep Crazy Pants away from her.

So NOW? We have Two camps. Team "fuckers, I DID MY TIME" over here in her SECOND-second run. Having her lovely, supportive System and slice of Life exploration of the world. And the OTHER two reincarnators who are all "wtf? That's not fair! Why does wife 453 get that but I dont?"

Ha! MAYBE?? BECAUSE she had to live as the woman remembered, even by YOU Mr. SUPER FAN and THE ACTUAL AUTHOR, as "Wife 453"! Tell me? What. Was? MY? NAME!? Hmm? Not my tit size, not what he did to me in bed, not what he thought of me naked, MY NAME. What was my favorite color? What I hoped to achieve in life?

The part where I KNOWINGLY and CONSENSUALLY agreed to marry that man.

Make Mr. "Everyone's gay for Binghe, who WOULDN'T want to marry him?" Face that... yeah, some of them DIDN'T. Make Airplane look into the face of all the women he condemned, however unknowingly. Let them look upon a kind face that STILL shows no sympathy, that says onto to them "the only way through hell, is to keep walking. Stop complaining."

Still ends up with Tianlang-jun though. Because she emphasizes HARD with being trapped for no reason. And being on the "wrong" side of the narrative, going down with the ship? There is a peace to that. At least this time... SHE chose her fate.

And Tianlang-jun doesn't want to fuck her.

They both got Trauma™ around that. Intimacy directly lead to the worst events of their lives. So like... how bout a cuddle. Everybody keeps their clothes on. He's a god damned mushroom, ffs. They are GOING THROUGH IT. But! They are GETTING through it.

Old married couple vibes. Except they are both literally NEVER getting married again, so help them gods. Because, Again, Trauma. So like... Tired Sassy Immortals who read bad porn together and their beleaguered Snake son. Hang out in a crypt.

AND THEN BINGGE SHOWS UP.

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @leftnotright @lolottes

[bantersnatch]

dissecting the vip s2e11 bianca loredrop

welcome back, folks! this is a deceptive one, because on paper it's just two lines on a wikipedia page. here they are now:

the thing is, there's a lot of information compacted into those two lines. let's break 'em down together!

bianca and the host are alums of the same college. this is from the "notable alumni" section wikipedia page for the host's college (uc irvine as per s2e10), and this is definitively our bianca. these two went to school together. this is actually something i've been speculating about since the mid-season break (i talk about why in this post). this is a story, so there is no world in which this is a coincidence and they didn't know each other during their schooling -- this means the two of them go back at least a decade as of the in-world filming of season 2. "tethered" is starting to make more sense, huh? this is a long, long relationship, and it's likely that it started out as something very different than the current stepparent-stepdaughter dynamic. i'd hazard to say it's most likely that the host actually met their husband through bianca.

bianca graduated one year before the host did. i'm taking this to mean that bianca is in the class year before the host, and is roughly a year older than her stepparent. we know the host's birthday is in november, so assuming bianca didn't graduate early we're looking at an age gap of 3-15 months. absolutely beautiful stuff.

bianca's last name is jocasta. this is the big one, which is a wild thing to say after the massive reveal that these two have known each other for 10+ years. but, well -- that's just the point we're at. i've already been operating under the assumption that the 10+ years thing is true, so while it's fantastic to have confirmation i'm not overly shaken up about it. "jocasta", on the other hand? brand-new. unforeseen. unhinged. we can talk about whether this is her dad's previous surname or if she took her mom's after the divorce but i don't think any of that is too relevant to the story being told here. let's chat instead about the name itself, because holy hell is there baggage. in greek myth, jocasta was the mother-turned-incestuous bride of oedipus rex. a queen doomed by fate to marry her son, so on and so forth. absolutely classic, absolutely devastating. in freudian psychoanalysis, a 'jocasta complex' describes the erotic fixation of a mother on her child. oedipus complex but move it slightly to the left. in short: her last name is an incest reference any way you flip it.

bianca's wiki page has been viewed before. we've just "hacked into" the host's accounts, so i think it's safe to assume that the implication here is that the host has been hanging out on bianca's wikipedia page. i'm not going to offer any analysis here because you know exactly what i'm gonna say about That.

conclusion: yeah okay. i'm done playing coy about this. i've been trying to keep my biases regarding these two's backstory in the realm of fanfiction, where speculation on that level belongs, but this all essentially confirms that the show and i are on the same page. there is a romantic/sexual component to the relationship between bianca and the host, it is Weird, and it goes back at minimum ten years.

everyone strap in. i have a feeling we're in for a wild ride from now until the end of the season. we know they shot around an hour of bianca footage total (i think this was mentioned in a tamar interview with jordon brown?). they could pull just about anything.

[fanfictionstuff]

Hello!! I love your Mephisto fics! I was wondering if you could please do a fluffy wedding and/or honeymoon fic?? I just love the way you portray Husband!Mephisto. Thanks!

I started writing this and realized I didn't know how to write a wedding fic. I was worried about writing too many details about the ceremony, and I didn't know whether to have traditional Japanese or Western elements. I went with Western, though I didn't add details about the appearance of the dress. I had a few ideas for the honeymoon, but I wasn't sure how 'fluffy' I could've kept it for the honeymoon 😳 I hope this is okay.

Your gaze shifts from your fiancé to the printed list in your hands. “I thought we agreed on something small?” You raise an eyebrow at Mephisto, who responds with an exaggerated nod. "My love, I did keep it small. I cut it down to only include those in Japan.” You start reading the names aloud, noting the foreign ones, all while giving Mephisto a skeptical look. “They’re important," he insists. “Who’s James Chamberlian?” Mephisto looks away suddenly, like a kid caught sneaking a cookie. “I can’t recall."

It takes some time, but you finally manage to persuade Mephisto to reduce the guest list to a number typical for a regular wedding. It won’t be small, but at least you’ll know everyone or have an idea of who they are. His focus then shifts to finding the best videographer and photographer so that everyone can see how amazing the wedding was. 

“They’re kind of expensive,” you point out regarding the videographer he has chosen, whose rates are double or triple those of others. 

“We need the best to document our wedding. It has to be perfect. Don’t you want our future children to see how beautiful their mother was in her wedding gown?” He gushes, “and then grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great- “ 

You chuckle softly as you set the pricing list they provided back on the coffee table. “Yeah, I understand. Oh, have you decided on what color suit you’ll wear?”

“I decided that the moment I first laid eyes on you,” he gushes. “I knew you would be my queen, and I’ve been preparing for the past year.” He informs you, and you raise an eyebrow. “Mephisto, you liar.” 

“Would you like to see proof?”

“Yes.”

He pulls out his phone, scrolling to find his tailor.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the text he sent nearly a year ago.

The text is dated the exact day you first met him; you know the date because it was when you first arrived at the Japan branch. "I need a suit for my wedding- something that complements lilac and white. I’ve met my future bride."

"This..." Your voice trails off as you stare at the timestamp. "How could you possibly know?"

Mephisto's lips curl into that familiar smirk. "When you know, you know." He takes your hand, gently tracing small circles on your palm with his thumb. "From the moment I first saw you, everything else faded away. It was always meant to be you."

Your heart flutters, yet you narrow your eyes suspiciously. "Did you hack your phone to change the date?"

"Such accusations!" He dramatically places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended. "Would I truly stoop to such underhanded tactics?" 

"Yes," you respond without hesitation. 

His laughter echoes throughout the room, deep and rich. "Fair enough. But not this time. I simply recognized my fate when I saw it." 

"Alright, King of Time," you say, shaking your head. “I want to see the suit." 

“No." 

“What do you mean, no?" 

“You can’t see my suit before the wedding day! It’s bad luck.”

“No, it’s not. Some brides even pick out the suit for the groom.”

“Let me see your dress.” He shoots back.

“No.”

"Then it's settled," Mephisto declares triumphantly, tucking his phone away. "Some traditions are worth keeping."

You roll your eyes but can't help but smile. "Alright, keep your mysterious suit. Just don’t show up in anything ridiculous—"

"Would I ever embarrass my queen?" His forest-green eyes gleam with mischief. "However, I must admit that your definition of 'ridiculous' may differ from mine slightly—oh, don’t give me that look! We both know you love my style.”

The memory of those jester-style pants he wore when you first met flashes in your mind. “Just promise you’ll wear proper pants.”  

With a hand over his heart, he bows theatrically. “Of course, my queen.”

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

As the makeup artist finishes the last touches, there’s a knock at the door. 

One of your friends rushes to open the door. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“I need to talk to my soon-to-be bride about something important.” Mephisto's voice is calm, but he clearly wants them to back off. 

The room is cleared within seconds, and you glance up, meeting his eyes through the mirror. “I think it’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” 

“I just want to remind you; this is your last chance to change your mind. Once we’re married, I’ll never let you go,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. There’s a fierce, almost possessive glimmer in his gaze that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

As Mephisto approaches, his reflection smiles in the mirror, cautious not to disturb your dress or veil. His fingers dance lightly over your shoulders, never fully making contact.

"Both," he whispers, leaning closer until his lips brush against your ear. "I've waited far too long to claim you as my own. Nothing in the universe could separate us once you’re my wife."

You turn to face him fully, absorbing his striking appearance. Despite your worries, he looks utterly breathtaking in his impeccably tailored suit, which beautifully complements his tall frame. The color accentuates his purple hair and makes his forest-green eyes even more enchanting.

"You look..." he trails off, seemingly at a loss for words—something rare for Mephisto. "There aren't adequate words in any language I know.” His eyes take you in, memorizing every detail. "You've managed to surpass even my wildest imagination."

You feel your cheeks flush beneath your makeup. "I could say the same about you. I’m glad to see you in normal pants."

Mephisto's laugh is soft and intimate. "I reserve those for special occasions only. Today, I must dress worthy enough to stand beside my bride."

"I love you," you whisper, touching his face.

He catches your hesitation and takes your hand, kissing your palm. "In just thirty minutes, you'll be mine in every way that matters." His voice drops lower, a possessive edge sharpening his words. "And everyone will know it."

"Is that why you came? To remind me of my impending doom?" you tease, your voice betraying a hint of anticipation.  

He chuckles, nodding. “Yes, it would be quite awkward if you decided to back out. So, it’s good that you still want to marry me."  

Your smile broadens as you lean toward him. "Very fortunate indeed. But I can't help but wonder what you would have done if I had tried to run."

Mephisto's eyes darken momentarily, a familiar dangerous glint appearing. "Let's just say the doors have been... secured. Every exit is being watched by those loyal only to me." His tone is light, almost playful, but you know him well enough to recognize the truth beneath his words.

"You're serious, aren't you?" you ask, though it's barely a question.

"Deadly." he says, tracing the outline of your jaw without making contact. "I told you from the beginning, my love. Once I set my sights on something, I never let it go." His smile twists into something predatory. "Especially not something as precious as you." 

“You just said this was my last chance to stop this, but now you’re saying you’ll never let me go? So much for my last opportunity.”  

“I was just trying to be romantic,” he jokes, leaning in closer and pressing his warm lips gently against yours, making your heart flutter. You pull back from the kiss much sooner than he would’ve liked, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “You just wanted an excuse to see me before the ceremony,” you tease. He nods, a playful grin on his face. “Guilty as charged.” He leans down again, and this time, his warm lips find yours with a mix of urgency and sweetness.

You close your eyes and lose yourself in the kiss, taking care not to smudge your makeup yet unwilling to forgo this moment. His fingers hover just above the back of your neck, teasing you without making contact.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are dark with desire. "I should leave before I'm tempted to whisk you away right now."

"Yeah, the guests might notice our absence," you murmur, breathless, before he leans down for one last quick kiss.

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

The ceremony is everything you imagined and more. The moment you step into the aisle, your eyes meet Mephisto's. The world narrows to just the two of you, with the guests fading into a blur of colors and shapes.

As you approach him, his expression is unforgettable—a captivating blend of awe, pride, and undeniable possessiveness that quickens your heartbeat. His eyes remain fixed on yours, unwavering, as though he fears you might disappear the moment he glances away.

When you finally reach him, he extends his hand. As your fingers touch, he whispers so that only you can hear, "Mine at last." 

The ceremony unfolds in a beautiful blur. You exchange vows—his are eloquent and poetic, while yours are heartfelt and sincere. When it comes time to exchange rings, Mephisto's hands remain steady while yours tremble slightly with emotion. 

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," declares the officiant. Before he can finish with, "You may kiss the bride," Mephisto has already swept you into his arms. 

The kiss is both passionate and restrained, mindful of your audience. When you part, his eyes blaze with promises for later. 

At the reception, Mephisto keeps you near; his arm always wrapped around your waist or his hand intertwined with yours. 

"Congratulations," says one of your colleagues, a handsome man known for his friendly demeanor. "You look absolutely stunning today."

"Thank you, Hiroki," you reply warmly.

Mephisto's arm wraps more securely around your waist, drawing you subtly closer to his side. "Doesn't she? I feel like the luckiest man alive," he remarks, his words pleasant, yet his tone is laced with an undertone that causes Hiroki to take a cautious step back.

"I wouldn't want to hold you back from your other guests," Hiroki says swiftly, raising his champagne glass in a toast before blending into the crowd.

You glance up at Mephisto with a knowing smile. "That wasn't exactly subtle."

"I’m not sure what you mean," he responds with an innocent air, but a glint of satisfaction dances in his eyes. "I was simply expressing my agreement with his view of my stunning wife."

“How long do we stay?” you whisper to Mephisto, feeling his warm hands gently massaging your shoulders from behind. The evening has been a whirlwind—dinner with laughter, traditions shared, and joyful dances with friends echoing in your mind. You glance over to see a good friend lost in a fit of giggles with a man she just met. “Are you tired, my queen?” Mephisto’s voice dances in the air, his warm breath tickling your throat. “Yes,” you admit, a hint of weariness in your voice. You can hear the king of time chuckle softly behind you. “Try not to be too tired; don’t you want to celebrate with your new husband tonight?”

He laughs softly while you shyly turn your gaze. “Are you pretending to be a bashful bride?” He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s tell everyone goodbye.” 

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 8

WE ARE FUCKING BACK! (I immediately started hacking my lungs after typing this, I'm sick :P)

To make a long story short, for the past few months I've either been really busy, really depressed, and usually both. Also for some reason chapter 8 was already hard to write and I don't know why.

ALSO before we get into the fic, @your-local-furby drew some absolutely lovely fanart of MC apologizing and seeing the library from the previous two chapters. I think it finally kicked my brain back into gear lmao.

Without further ado, please enjoy!

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

It feels like the ground beneath me is sucking me in.

I feel myself sinking,

I wish the ground would swallow me whole.

Embarrassment washes over me and swallows me whole. I feel the air leave my chest I want to break free but I feel like I’m drowning. 

You take the page you’re scribbling your notes on and crumple it into a ball. You’ve reread your rough draft and decided the arranged wedding scene you had planned wasn’t tragic enough. The blind musician is tasked with performing for the prince’s wedding, but his heartbreak causes him to mess up his performance, which causes everyone to notice he’s crying, including the prince. You’re trying to convey the feeling of knowing every single person in the room is watching you during the lowest point in your life, but it’s just not coming together in a way you like. You’ll run it by Alik later.

Technically, Alik is no longer your editor as a result of your deal with the Yae Publishing House. Still, they’re one of your few friends, and their workload has lightened since your previous publisher terminated all of those other book deals. Now they’re acting as your beta reader before you send off the next draft to the editor at the Yae Publishing House. It’s actually making progress go a lot faster, so much so you might only need one final draft of the whole story before it’s finally published, as opposed to multiple drafts. 

I do not need sight to know everyone in the room is looking at me. I feel it in my broken notes that trail into nothingness. I feel it in the resulting silence. I feel it in the quiet murmur spreading through the room.

I feel tears in my eyes as I drop my head down, praying no one sees me crying. If I could, I would sprint out of the room, out of the palace, so no one is witness to my heartbroken embarrassment. I’d run so fast, the prince would have no time to chase after me. It would be for the best anyways. He deserves his perfect and beautiful bride, and I am no bride, I cannot verify if I am beautiful, and in this moment, I could not feel anymore flawed as a person and human. 

A knock on your door breaks your concentration. You’re dreading whatever is on the other side, but know it’s better to get this over with. 

“Yes?”

The door opens, and your mother pokes her head in through the gap. She offers a smile. “We have company. Come say hi, please.”

“I’m… kind of in the middle of something,” you reply, “and I’ve told you that I’m going to see Alik when I’m done writing.”

“How is she, by the way?”

“They’re fine.”

“And Maria? How’s she?”

“She’s alright, I think. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Well, tell them both I say hello. Anyways, if you have a minute, I would like you to come downstairs. There’s someone I’d like you to talk to.”

It takes you a moment to recognize what this is, mostly because it’s been a while since she tried pulling this off. When you realize what’s happening, you just shake your head and look at your mother. “Which family friend is this?”

She gives you a very unconvincing look of confusion. “My dear, what do you mean?”

“Mother, please.”

“... Ana. Anastasia.”

Anastasia is your younger sister Adéla’s friend. Much like your sister, she’s only a year younger than you, but unlike your sister, she actually likes you. Adéla and you have butted heads throughout your lives, as siblings tend to do and especially with such a small age gap, but Adéla has taken it a step further saying that it’s your fault her childhood was so “miserable” as she puts it. She claims that your diagnosis made you the centre of your parents’ attention until your youngest sister was born, and then they focused more on her than Adéla. Conveniently, she’s never had any sisterly drama with her, only you. You feel for her, but there was only so much you could do at the time, seeing as you were eight years old.

“Absolutely not,” you tell your mother.

“But you two got along so well when she would visit,” your mother insists, “and she’s become a fine young lady since the two of you last spoke! Don’t you remember reading together when you two were little?”

“I’m sure she’s beautiful,” you say, “but Adéla will throw a fit if she finds out you set me up with one of her friends.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And I don’t want to find out,” you tell her, “and I told you I don’t like being set up on dates.”

Your mother lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I want to make sure my son is happy, healthy, and I want him to find someone he can settle down with. Your brother was already married at your age, and Adéla’s going to be having another baby soon.”

“Yes, but I’m not Pavel or Adéla,” you say, “the dating scene is different for me, and playing matchmaker isn’t going to make me feel any better or help me.”

Your mother just looks at you. That sad, pitiful look you know all too well. It stopped pulling on your heartstrings long ago, but sometimes it’s just easier to indulge her than it is to fight her on it. Besides, she means well, you think, it just can’t be helped that she doesn’t know her son has no interest in women.

You sigh, and stand up, much to your mother’s delight. “I’ll say hi, and that’s it.”

She grins, and she motions for you to follow her.

----

“... and she just happens to be single, too.”

Alik sets their glass down. “Interesting. So when’s the wedding?”

“It’s not happening,” you reply, “thank the Tsaritsa for that.”

“I’m honestly surprised your parents haven’t put you in an arranged marriage yet,” Alik comments.

“How many viable marriage candidates do you think there are that would be thrilled to marry someone who’s not only going blind, but could pass it on to their children as well?”

“Depends on how much the family is getting paid.”

“And it would not be much.”

The tavern is surprisingly quiet tonight. You chalk it up to it being the middle of the work week, not as many patrons willing to get drunk if they have work early in the morning. Currently, you and Alik are sitting at a table in the corner of the room while a few older patrons mill about, chattering on about their own lives at the bar. It’s actually rather nice, you think.

“What would they try to sell your bride to be on?” Alik asks.

“Um…” You look into your half drunk glass, trying to think of something funny. You clear your throat, straighten your posture, and put on your best business smile. “Here’s a fine young man who has no real work skills, and it’s not like they would do him any good since he’s considered legally blind and has between thirteen and fifteen years before he is fully blind. His only profitable skill is writing, though he doesn’t make enough to support a household. His blindness is also genetic!”

“By the Archons, at least say one nice thing about yourself,” Alik teases, though there’s a subtle sincerity to their words.

“I think I’m decent,” you say, “I think I might even make an okay husband, but I don’t think I’d be the kind of husband Pavel or my father are.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Alik replies, “there are plenty of families and couples where the husband isn’t always a provider. Besides, you’re not really a ladies man to begin with.”

You shake your head. “It’s not even that, it’s just… you know I try not to make a big deal of me going blind, but it’d be naïve of me to pretend that it’s not, and especially if I was in a relationship. Whether I like it or not, whoever I marry is going to inevitably become my caretaker. There will come a day where I’m going to need help, and I’ll rarely be able to return that favour.”

“That’s why it’s in sickness and in health,” Alik comments. They reach across the table and take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a good house husband, before and after you start seeing the world how Maria does.”

Maria is Alik’s cousin, and one of your few very close friends. She has been a big help to you in writing your book as her blindness is similar to the main character’s. While he was born blind, she actually had vision when she was born. Unfortunately, she suffered a very severe head injury when she was very young. She has little to no memory of her life before she lost her sight as a result, as well as having some developmental problems growing up. These days she’s doing much better, though her eyesight is still gone. At most, she can detect if there’s light, but that’s the extent of it. 

“Do you have permission to make jokes about her being blind?” you ask.

“I not only have permission, but that’s not even the worst joke I’ve gotten away with.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“For the best.”

Your table goes quiet as you and Alik take a moment to drink. You try not to cringe at the taste of whatever the hell Alik recommended you try. It’s a beer, and you can taste that, but it’s a lot more bitter than you like. Still, they bought it for you, it would be rude to spit it out.

“You don’t have to drink that, you know.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I’ll get used to it.”

You see a smile twitch onto Alik’s lips, and even if they try to hide it, you can see a shit eating grin from miles away. 

“Okay,” you say, “out with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You thought of something terrible, I want to hear it.”

Alik glances around the room, assessing how audible their comment would be. You take a sip of your drink, and they grin.

They lean in. “I’m sure Pantalone would be happy to hear that.”

You immediately sputter, spraying Alik in the face. They yell, swiping at their face as if they were sprayed with acid. You cough as what was left in your mouth goes down the wrong pipe. “Fuck, w-why’d I take a drink–”

“Did you have to spit that in my face?” Alik asks.

“Shut up,” you wheeze out. You give one more hearty cough, your throat and chest burning, and you can breathe again. You sit up, rubbing your chest through your shirt while Alik wipes their face and the table with napkins. You look around, and see the few patrons staring at your table. You painfully chuckle, and turn back to your friend. “S-Sorry, I should know better by now.”

Alik shrugs. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“I told you that in confidence,” you whisper.

“You actually told me before the tea party,” Alik tells you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s starting to show in your book.”

You feel your face flush, and you narrow your eyes. “I think I would know if I was writing about him, thank you.”

“The prince was a lot more arrogant in your first drafts,” Alik explains, “but in more recent iterations, it’s been toned down a lot. He’s also a lot more understanding of the musician’s blindness.”

You’re confused. “Well, yes. My first drafts are years old, so I’ve had to make some adjustments to better fit my writing style now. Besides, I’ve read too many stories about asshole love interests that don’t really learn anything, they just get tragic backstories that authors think justify their shitty behaviour. I’m not adding my characters to that pile.”

“No, I agree on that,” Alik says, “but even then, he was still a solid character, arrogance aside. He was just a spoiled prince who had to actually think about other people for the first time in his life. Like he’s never had to deal with someone with a disability, and doesn’t know how else to feel other than annoyed. In the more recent drafts, he still doesn’t know how to deal with it, but he’s a lot more willing to make up for the disrespect, where the old version did it, but complained the whole time. It just so happens that this change happened right when you met him for the first time.”

“That’s… hm.” You take a sip and don’t spit it in Alik’s face. “You’re on the right track, but I don’t think I was writing all of that because of a crush.” You feel your face flush warmer again. “He was a bit of an ass at the party, but since then he’s become one of…” You take a moment to count names on your finger. “... six or seven people that aren’t patronizing about me going blind. I’d just been putting up with most of my family either coddling me or being inconvenienced by me, but he’s a rare instance of someone making accommodations, but not making a big show of it. That’s why the book was like that until I met Pantalone.”

You stare into your glass. “And… a-and it’s why I enjoy his company so much…”

Alik doesn’t say anything. You look up, and you see their expression has softened a little bit. They lift their drink up to you, and you smile and lift yours up.

“Cheers.”

You both take a swig, and somehow the disgusting drink tastes sweeter going down. Your face feels warm, and you wonder why you’re still blushing when you see you’re already halfway through your drink. Alik has a similar glow in their cheeks. 

“That’s really sweet and cute,” Alik says, “but I do have to ask you something.”

You feel whatever warm feelings you’re feeling lessen when Alik’s softened expression gains a hint of concern. Their smile looks awkward by comparison, before they sigh and lose it altogether. You’re already dreading what they’re about to say.

They hesitate for a moment, and when they speak, it’s in a whisper. “Do you like him, or do you like what he’s done for you?”

“W-What?”

“I wouldn’t ask that if we were talking about anyone else,” Alik clarifies, “but I have to ask when it’s him. I don’t want to rain on your parade, I’m happy you like someone, but… he’s a harbinger. One of the more likeable ones, but not without flaws.”

“I know…”

Alik sighs. “Look, if it were some other handsome rich man, I’d say go for it. The fact it’s a harbinger specifically makes me a little worried, I won’t lie.”

You sound like my mother. “It’s a crush, not an engagement,” you tell them. “We enjoy each other’s company while he works with my father and sister. I just enjoy it differently than he does.”

“Still, even as friends, I’d be cautious. If not for what he’d have planned, then for what others might have in store for him.”

You take a swig. “You want to know what’s funny? You’re the first person to bring up his enemies as a point for why I shouldn’t get near him.”

“I am not.”

“No, seriously. My mother doesn’t want me near him because he’ll probably, I don’t know, kill me or sell me or steal my ideas, depends on the day. My father thinks I’ll ruin everything those two have built together, which I still don’t know why Pantalone is working with him.”

“Maybe your dad’s indebted to him or something.”

“...”

Alik notices your silence. They say your name in a soft voice, seeming worried by your expression. Your father’s not in debt, is he? The business isn’t as prosperous as it was when you were little, but job markets change all the time, and the economy is ever fluctuating. It’s purely the result of what happens when a business runs for as long as it does. Sometimes an empire doesn’t crumble, but rather dies slowly.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You snap out of it. “I’m, uh, I’m fine.” You push your seat back and stand. “I’m just, um, I’m going to go to the washroom for a second.”

“... Okay? Just watch yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” you call out over your shoulder before immediately bumping into someone. Unlike with Pantalone, you actually manage to catch yourself before you fall. You know that Alik is holding their head in their hands, possibly stifling laughter too for a little extra salt in the wound.

“Archons, sorry,” you immediately blurt out, “I didn’t see you there.”

The ginger haired man laughs. “Oh, no worries comrade! Just be more careful next time!”

You stare at the man, eyes widening. His smile grows, almost reaching the dull blue of his eyes.

“Why the surprised face?” he asks jovially.

You sigh and shake your head. “I have got to stop meeting harbingers like this.”

[herefortheships]

Do you think Dolores still likes him? he might like her a little he wears her ring so it might mean something

Personally I don't think either ever even truly liked the other to begin with. There was passion, yes, but it was all wrapped in lies.

Delores took a man she found scavenging around, who was likely struggling in life and in a very vulnerable position, and decided to prey on him to perform her ritual. As for Betelgeuse, he was approached by this gorgeous, dark, beautiful lady one night, and she mesmerized him. Of course he might have believed himself in instant love with this woman who so easily offered herself to him. I headcanon that Betelgeuse had always craved falling in love and being in love with someone (he's definitely a romantic underneath it all), and that kind of love was something he never had the opportunity in his life to have, until he met Delores.

There is a possibility that, while she was using him, he did become infatuated with the idea of her. And notice I said the "idea of her", because Betel might have only "fallen" for whoever Delores pretended to be to lure him into her trap. I honestly don't think it took too much for Delores to convince him to marry her; as I said, this man craved love, and here she was, a gorgeous woman so easily offering it to him.

At the end of the day, though, Betelgeuse was just being used and deceived, and Delores had only a little fly caught on her web (poor Betelgeuse, tbh).

That said, he never truly loved her, and I think it's clear with what the story has shown us about him and how he acts around someone he truly is in love with. Betelgeuse would have been devastated and betrayed beyond words by Delores poisoning him, if he was in love. To the point he'd have collapsed there on the spot just staring at her, no doubt. He wouldn't have reacted by hacking her into bits. The reason I can conclude that is by comparing his behavior toward Delores with his behavior towards Lydia in a moment of betrayal.

Consider how he didn't become vengeful of Lydia when she didn't marry him the first time, and completely allowed her to banish him this second time around (please he tried nothing to stop her saying his name), and didn't force her into anything; he looked betrayed and sad, more than just angry, and he didn't do anything to harm her as she sent him away (even cracked a joke before going poof back to the Netherworld). I make this comparison because this movie made it very clear that Betelgeuse truly is in love with Lydia.

As for Delores, in the afterlife she does appear to be desiring Betelgeuse romantically (the way she behaves and calls him her beloved, was jealous of Lydia, etc), whilst still being after him for revenge. He did take her immortality away from her that night when he didn't allow her to finish the ritual. I always say she "fucked around and found out", with Betelgeuse. He hacked her into pieces and she never got to complete her ritual, so her soul is stuck in that mode; her drive as a spirit is to get Betelgeuse and finish what she started. Is there love underneath that? I don't think so. Maybe some dark, possessive desire of the "only I can have your soul" kind. But not love.

Whatever romantic inclination she has towards him might come from a ghostly attachment she might have around the events of her death; she died on her wedding night, so she's stuck as Betelgeuse's dead bride as a spirit. But does she have true romantic love toward him? I don't think so.

Betelgeuse clearly wants nothing to do with Delores. As for the ring on his finger, I have a theory about that which I wrote about in this post. To summarize it, he might just be bound to the ring as his ghostly attachment, due to having died a cruel death on his wedding night; it might be the symbol of his curse. Read the post if you want to know the long version.

I hope this answers the question and I'm sorry I took so long to answer! There are many questions still in my inbox so it's taking me a little time but I will get through all of them, promise. 💙

[helloanthy]

🗒️ 24.04.2024 ⋅⋅⋅ 🥀

some notes for 20.09.2023 post and a separate cut out for utena because i spent a very long time rendering her ... the original concept i had in my head for this art was very different. it was just supposed to be a style study of this an official anime prop design art, and i'd thought to draw anthy in a similar pose across from her like in the shown version, but with her wearing her prince outfit from the manga. something something another form of female competition under the patriarchyyy stop pitting 2 girlprinces against each other omg etc (side note, how sick would it have been in an AU where akio made anthy fight against utena in the ring? like i dont think it would hav added more to the story or made it better really ... probably would've diluted the message to be honest ... but everytime i see that manga art of prince anthy i imagine some convoluted black rose arc AU where utenas dodging anthy getting her hair hacked off left and right like himemiyaaa nooo snap out of it this isnt uuu while anthys silent and dead eyed hahaha) but then after i drew prince anthy, the picture looked rather empty ... so i thought to add a few decals or borders in the style of the show & official arts but aaahh ... there was still too much negative space. i had to scrap anthy's prince outfit and put her back in her rose bride dress 😭 man !!! he cant keep getting away this !!! [blames akio the figurehead of patriarchy instead of taking responsibility of my own actions] which made me sad because i was pretty satisfied with the way i drew her pose and legs ! but i had to cover it up 🥲 ... the composition overall looked better though. and then after that it kept spiraling. i just kept adding more and more things until i lost control of this drawing and it plagued my WIP folder for months ... i dont want to try and connect all of it in words so ill just lay out all the pieces for you so you can connect them yourself. and you can experience my art thought process in fraction of erraticity and frustration as i experience it myself. this is a lot neater than what happened in my head though because i bothered to put it in order. honestly if i can make you feel a little bit insane trying to scroll through and read all this than i can make you understand how annoying my brain is when all i wanted to draw was utenanthy girlprinces fighting starting references & inspiration: utena prop reference sheet & manga prince!anthy

the tower & the lovers tarot

above: the lovers as depicted in the tarot of marseilles deck, tarocco bolognese deck, & tarocco piemontese deck the lovers (tarot card) wikipedia: The Lovers is associated with the star sign Gemini, and indeed is also known as The Twins in some decks. Other associations are with Air, Mercury, and the Hebrew letter ז (Zayin). In the Rider Waite deck, the imagery for this card is changed significantly from the traditional depiction. Instead of a couple receiving a blessing from a noble or cleric, the Rider–Waite deck depicts Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.

a.e. waite, the pictorial key to the tarot, part III, section 3, no.6: UPRIGHT: Attraction, love, beauty, trials overcome REVERSED: Failure, foolish designs. Another account speaks of marriage frustrated and contrarieties of all kinds a.e. waite, the pictorial key to tarot, part II, VI. the lovers: In the foreground are two human figures, male and female, unveiled before each other, as if Adam and Eve when they first occupied the paradise of the earthly body. Behind the man is the Tree of Life, bearing twelve fruits, and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is behind the woman; the serpent is twining round it. The figures suggest youth, virginity, innocence and love before it is contaminated by gross material desire. This is in all simplicity the card of human love, here exhibited as part of the way, the truth and the life. It replaces, by recourse to first principles, the old card of marriage, which I have described previously, and the later follies which depicted man between vice and virtue. In a very high sense, the card is a mystery of the Covenant and Sabbath. The suggestion in respect of the woman is that she signifies that attraction towards the sensitive life which carries within it the idea of the Fall of Man, but she is rather the working of a Secret Law of Providence than a willing and conscious temptress. It is through her imputed lapse that man shall arise ultimately, and only by her can he complete himself. The card is therefore in its way another intimation concerning the great mystery of womanhood. going off of the rider-waite tarot deck: the pictorial key to the tarot—biddytarot's interpretation of the lovers: UPRIGHT: Love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices REVERSED: Self-love, disharmony, imbalance, misalignment of values In its purest form, The Lovers card represents conscious connections and meaningful relationships. The arrival of this card in a Tarot reading shows that you have a beautiful, soul-honoring connection with a loved one. [...] The Lovers is a card of open communication and raw honesty. Given that the man and woman are naked, they are both willing to be in their most vulnerable states and have learned to open their hearts to one another and share their truest feelings. [...] On a more personal level, The Lovers card represents getting clear about your values and beliefs. You are figuring out what you stand for and your philosophy. Having gone through the indoctrination of The Hierophant, you are now ready to establish your belief system and decide what is and what is not essential to you. It’s time to go into the big wide world and make choices for yourself, staying true to who you are and being authentic and genuine in all your endeavors. At its heart, The Lovers is about choice. The choice about who you want to be in this lifetime, how you connect with others and on what level, and about what you will and won’t stand for. To make good choices, you need to be clear about your personal beliefs and values – and stay true to them. Not all decisions will be easy either. The Lovers card is often a sign that you are facing a moral dilemma and must consider all consequences before acting. Your values system is being challenged, and you are being called to take the higher path, even if it is difficult. Do not carry out a decision based on fear or worry or guilt or shame. Now, more than ever, you must choose love – love for yourself, love for others and love for the Universe. Choose the best version of yourself. Finally, The Lovers card encourages you to unify dual forces. You can bring together two parts that are seemingly in opposition to one another and create something that is ‘whole’, unified and harmonious. In every choice, there is an equal amount of advantage and disadvantage, opportunity and challenge, positive and negative. When you accept these dualities, you build the unity from which love flows.

the tower (tarot card) wikipedia: The Tower is widely associated to danger, crisis, sudden change, destruction, higher learning, and liberation. In the Rider–Waite deck, the top of The Tower is a crown, which symbolizes materialistic thought being bought cheap, downcast. a.e. waite, the pictorial key to the tarot, part III, section 3, no.16: UPRIGHT: Misery, distress, indigence, adversity, calamity, disgrace, deception, ruin. It is a card in particular of unforeseen catastrophe REVERSED: According to one account, the same in a lesser degree also oppression, imprisonment, tyranny (the wikipedia included a.e. waite's upright meanings, but i have no idea where they got the reversed meanings) going off of the rider-waite tarot deck: the pictorial key to the tarot—biddytarot's interpretation of the tower: UPRIGHT: Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening REVERSED: Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster The Tower shows a tall tower perched on the top of a rocky mountain. Lightning strikes set the building alight, and two people leap from the windows, head first and arms outstretched. It is a scene of chaos and destruction. The Tower itself is a solid structure, but because it has been built on shaky foundations, it only takes one bolt of lightning to bring it down. It represents ambitions and goals made on false premises. The lightning represents a sudden surge of energy and insight that leads to a break-through or revelation. It enters via the top of the building and knocks off the crown, symbolizing energy flowing down from the Universe, through the crown chakra. The people are desperate to escape from the burning building, not knowing what awaits them as they fall. [...] The best way forward is to let this structure self-destruct so you can re-build and re-focus. [...] with a card like The Tower, you have no choice but to surrender to the destruction and chaos, no matter how unwanted or painful [...] After a Tower experience, you will grow stronger, wiser and more resilient as you develop a new perspective on life you did not even know existed. 

infant stars taken by NASA hubble used in the background overlay of akio's tower star birth | cool cosmos: Stars form from the simplest of building blocks - huge clouds of gas and dust that permeate the Galaxy. [...] While these big clouds of dust and gas lay dormant for many millions and perhaps billions of years, eventually some of them are disturbed. This can happen gradually, maybe caused by the approach of one of the Milky Way's spiral arms as it slowly sweeps around the center of the galaxy, or it can be a sudden event, like a nearby supernova explosion that blasts a shockwave through the cloud. Either way, a small increase in the pressure and density of the cloud forms knots in the gas and dust that eventually collapse under their own gravity, pulling more and more of the surrounding material in, and forming the stellar "seeds" known as protostars. From Protostar to Star: As the clouds collapse, they start to rotate, and, like a spinning skater pulling in her arms, each of these seed protostars begins to spin faster the more it collapses. The material falling towards the protostar flattens out into a rotating disk of dust and gas encircling the central core. The protostar warms up, as the potential energy of the material falling in is converted into kinetic energy, but it has not yet ignited to form a fully-fledged star. For the next few million years, the protostar's gravity pulls in more material from the surrounding cloud into its disk. That disk transports the gas and dust onto the protostar, causing the protostar to grow. The increase in mass causes the gravitational field of the protostar to increase and so even more material is pulled into the disk. The addition of more material, in turn, increases the gravitational field even further, pulling in more material, and so on, creating a feedback loop that keeps the whole process going. [...] The density and temperature of the protostar keep climbing higher and higher, until eventually the core grows to about one tenth the size of our Sun, and becomes hot and dense enough for hydrogen nuclei to spontaneously stick together to form helium, in a process called nuclear fusion. At that instant, the core ignites, and the new star is born. Meanwhile, in the disk, clumps of material have been forming, which are the seeds of new planets. These seeds sweep up material in the disk in a process called accretion, forming the planets of a new solar system. Once the star has started nuclear fusion, the heat and wind from the infant star begin to blast the gas and dust away, creating a cavity in the cloud. As more and more matter gets funneled onto the star from the disk, the star gets larger and larger, causing it to push harder and harder against the cloud and the disk, enlarging the cavity, vaporizing the disk, and halting the growth of planets.

deadheading (flowers) wikipedia: Deadheading is the horticultural practice of removing spent flowers from ornamental plants. Deadheading is a widespread form of pruning, since fading flowers are not as appealing and direct a lot of energy into seed development if pollinated. The goal of deadheading is thus to preserve the attractiveness of the plants in beds, borders, containers and hanging baskets, as well as to encourage further blooming. Deadheading flowers with many petals, such as roses, peonies, and camellias prevents them from littering.

[...] Ornamental plants that do not require deadheading are those that do not produce a lot of seed or tend to deadhead themselves [...] if the plant bears attractive seeds or fruits, deadheading is normally avoided

ladybird, ladybug, lady beetle: scientific name "coccinellidae" wikipedia: Etymology: [...] The common English name ladybird originated in Britain where the insects became known as "Our Lady's birds". Mary ("Our Lady") was often depicted wearing a red cloak in early art, and the seven spots of the species Coccinella septempunctata (the most common in Europe) were said to represent her seven joys and seven sorrows. Trophic Roles: Coccinellids act both as predators, prey and parasitic hosts in food webs. The majority of coccinellids are carnivorous and predatory. [...] Cannibalism has been recorded in several species; which includes larvae eating eggs or other larvae, and adults feeding on individuals of any life stage.

Defense: The bright warning colouration of many coccinellids discourage potential predators, warning of their toxicity [...] Species with more contrast with the background environment tended to be more toxic. Coccinellid haemolymph (blood) contains toxic alkaloids, azamacrolides and polyamines, as well as foul-smelling pyrazines. Coccinellids can produce at least 50 types of alkaloids. When disturbed, ladybirds further defend themselves with reflex bleeding, exuding drops from their tibio-femoral (knee) joints, effectively presenting predators with a sample of their toxic and bitter body fluid.

despite said being named after the lady virgin mary they are known to be promiscuous breeders, who's habits have been documented to result in epidemics of sexually transmitted infection in large populations, subject to various academic studies

lyric from lady oscar's theme song "the rose perishes beautifully"

ok there was more but its been like 8 hours it turns out trying to put my thoughts into words even if its just a bunch of copy pasting is even more annoying than just thinking them im ending this post 😭

[marta-bee]

Continuing on with Aldarion & Erendis, they're finally getting married and an elven-ship turned up for the big day.

The ship was laden with flowers for the adornment of the feast, so that all that sat there, when evening was come, were crowned with elanor and sweet lissuin whose fragrance brings heart's ease. Minstrels they brought also, singers who remembered songs of: Elves and Men in the days of Nargothrond and Gondolin long ago; and many of the Eldar high and fair were seated among Men at the tables. But the people of Andúnië, looking upon the blissful company, said that none were more fair than Erendis; and they said that her eyes were as bright as were the eyes of Morwen Eledhwen of old," or even as those of Avallónë.

The Morwen comparisons are not... wholly posiitve, let's say. Few things connected with Hurin and Turin are in the long term. I'm also not loving how much focus is on Erendis (or Morwen, for that matter!) being beautiful, when she's been wise, courageous, faithful, all that. She's really been a lady of substance and more than just a pretty face. But I get it: beautiful bride, beautiful day, all love and light. It's actually quite sweet.

To Aldarion they gave a sapling tree, whose bark was snow-white, and its stem straight, strong and pliant as it were of steel; but it was not yet in leaf. "I thank you," said Aldarion to the Elves. "The wood of such a tree must be precious indeed." "Maybe; we know not," said they. "None has ever been hewn. It bears cool leaves in summer, and flowers in winter. It is for this that we prize it."

Aldarion: What wonderful trees! I can't wait to hack it down and turn it into ships.

Honey. Baby. No....

As for Erendis:

To Erendis they gave a pair of birds, grey, with golden beaks and feet. They sang sweetly one to another with many cadences never repeated through a long thrill of song; but if one were separated from the other, at once they flew together, and they would not sing apart. "How shall I keep them?" said Erendis. "Let them fly and be free," answered the Eldar. "For we have spoken to them and named you; and they will stay wher¬ever you dwell. They mate for their life, and that is long. Maybe there will be many such birds to sing in the gardens of your children."

See what I'm saying? Not just a pretty face. That's my girl.

[universallydestinytaco]

*CRACKS KNUCKLES*

Charpim Prompts, Baby! Tag me if using any of these because I’m bored and I love raising hell in this fandom!! Thanks ✨

CW: All prompts on this post skirt the line between genuine prompts and just me shitposting again.

EDIT: Not to be a buzzkill but I almost forgot: Please don't make straight-up NSFW smut of my prompts, I know SF is an adult cartoon but that stuff makes me uncomfortable. Thank You.

Charlie and Pim go to a bar + Pim gets drunk and becomes the life of the party and Charlie pisses off a gang of bikers = all hell breaks loose The boys go rollerblading + it’s before they confessed to each other.

Charlie takes Pim to go camping in the woods and raccoons steal their stuff. Vampire!Charlie x Witch!Pim facing off against monster hunters and protecting each other. (inspired by @bluebellcup)

The boys lightheartedly bicker about which show they wanna watch on Meepflix during date night.

Pim baking Charlie something sweet and Charlie returns the favor by making something for him.

The beautiful bride (Pim) and the skrunkly-ass groom (Charlie)

Pim finds out about what happened to Charlie in the Gwimbly episode and pulls an elaborate prank on James that leads to the nasty bastard getting publicly humiliated much to Charlie’s delight.

Charlie is embarrassed to admit to liking girly stuff and Pim, a bonafide femboy, helps him embrace it as the boys doll each other up for a day.

The boys working for Anonymous to hack Twitter’s rotting remains aka X by having it so that the boring white backgrounds are replaced with crude doodles mocking Elon Musk.

Charlie and Pim as astronauts and they share a ship together for 3 months. They become the first Critters on the moon!!

They’re in a rock band, with Pim as the lead singer and Charlie on the guitar.

Maid!Charlie is Princess!Pim’s lady in waiting and he trains to become a knight to challenge that chauvinist pig Knight!James to a duel to show him who’s who!

They’re robots in a gritty cyberpunk setting reigned by Grim and Gnarly because they’re literal edgelords.

[captain-mj]

Vampire Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Graves kills someone confirmed??

Price’s wedding was set to take place at a beautiful place. A farm owned by an old friend, The Baron. It was full of different plants with most in full bloom. 

Especially wolfsbane. 

Alex and Farah started to hack and cough almost immediately. Laswell’s eyes welled up and she clearly struggled, but she managed to compose herself just a tiny bit better.

Gaz worried over Alex and tried to get him to stay sitting down in the farmhouse. There were a few bouquets of wolfsbane around that Gaz and Malika made quick work to get rid of the bundles near the two of them but it didn’t help much. 

Price came out, looking rather dashing in his blue suit. Soap was a little surprised by how plain it was with no intricate details or lace or pompous collars that he had come to expect from most vampires. But he looked happy, smiling radiantly. 

Laswell swallowed thickly and stood up. “John, there’s a lot of wolfsbane.” She sounded very polite, clearly not trying to argue or ruin his wedding. 

“Clara wanted it there.” He continued to smile. 

“We’re allergic. We may have to leave early.”

Price visibly deflated. “Please just stay for the ceremony, I need you here, Kate.” He grabbed her hands, looking earnest. 

Laswell sighed. “If they need to leave, they will. But I’ll tough it out for you, old friend.”

Price hugged her tight and pulled back. “Thank you, darling. And where is your wife this evening?”

“She had a few final touches to make to the cake. But she’ll be here.” Laswell started to cough and had to sit down. Soap pretended he didn’t see the blood splattered between her fingers. 

It was cruel, to put wolfsbane everywhere. He didn’t understand how neither the bride nor groom though that may be a bad idea considering the amount of werewolves in attendance. 

Ghost got Soap’s attention and gave him a bundle of masks. Soap smiled at him and Ghost glanced away. He gave the werewolves the masks, thinking they looked rather odd in the skull insignia. Farah had her head in her girlfriend’s lap, clearly trying to breathe again. 

Alejandro and Rodolfo also silently cleared out the rest of the wolfsbane. It ruined the look of the wedding, but Price barely seemed to notice and if Clara had an issue, she could take it up with Soap. 

And then Ghost when inevitably she tried to curse Soap. 

Speaking of curses, he glanced at Chuy who was in the back, still cradling Reyes. He gave him more food and continued to pet him. Chuy never set him down if it could be helped. Always worried he’d run off and disappear somewhere. He hadn’t been sleeping much until Soap had the great idea to get him a rat cage. Despite how much it hurt his wallet, he made sure it had all the bells and whistles for him. Chuy had finally gotten some sleep. 

Soap knew he wasn’t a vampire. Alex and Farah thinking he was a werewolf confirmed it for him. Chuy had never called himself anything. 

Well, anything other than Enzo’s.

He watched the way he lovingly stroked Reyes. Eyes full of tears and anguish so thick it hurt to look at. They had not been able to contact any local witches, though apparently Koenig may know one named Horangi. 

When Soap had pointed out Horangi just meant Tiger, Ghost countered that Koenig just meant King so how was it any different. Soap didn’t speak up again. 

Koenig could not make it to the wedding but would hopefully be at the house the next day with the witch in tow to fix Reyes. Hopefully. For Chuy’s sake at least. He was back in his cowboy outfit and hadn’t budged.

“Johnny.” Ghost beckoned and he quickly sat by him. He was a little surprised there was no best man or anything, but apparently vampires just didn’t really do that. Or, at least, the culture that Ghost and Price were from didn’t. All they needed was one person as witness. 

Ghost served as the witness, which meant he just needed to watch it. Soap sat next to him, ready to jump up and get anything Ghost needed. His hand ended up on the back of Soap’s neck, just holding gently. “Relax. Enjoy the wedding.”

“It’s a bit hard when the werewolves are in such pain.” He glanced over. The masks seemed to help some, but Gaz was clearly angry about the entire situation. Every time Price would smile or wander around the reception room, Gaz would glare, eyes cutting into him so hard that Soap started to feel sick from it. Gaz gave off a harsh aura, similar to how Soap felt when he was feeding off of him. It was awful, but Price seemed blissfully aware. He was starting to wonder if Alejandro was right about Price no longer being all there. If maybe at one point, he was the man Ghost and Rodolfo saw him as. 

But watching the werewolves he agreed, almost insisted, to invite suffering and that he married so quickly and that he let his fiance hurt Chuy so deeply and how even now, he seemed naive to how uncomfortable Ghost right now, it was hard for Soap to find the respect he should have for him. 

Interviewer: So. How is the wedding going so far?

Ghost: I hate it. 

Interviewer: Something specific wrong?

Ghost: My ears are showing. People are here. Something is off. There’s… garlic. 

Interviewer: Garlic?

Ghost: Yeah. Garlic… And I think rice? But I think that’s normal at weddings.

Laswell’s wife, a lovely lady named Willow, slipped in and sat next to Laswell. She had brought benadryl for all of them and she showered her wife in kisses. Soap was fairly certain he heard her whispering some praise to Kate for handling it so well. 

Clara was… a bride? Soap was a little surprised by her outfit. It was a rather plain black dress with her nails painted black. A little on the nose for a vampire’s bride. She walked down the aisle and they all sat up to watch her. 

Price smiled, tilting his head. He grabbed her hands and The Baron, the lovely man officiating since Clara insisted someone do it, started to speak. The G-word was of course not spoken. 

In the middle of the ceremony, The Baron asked if anyone had any objections. 

Clara sighed softly. “It has been so fun being with you, John. Truly.” She snapped and rice fell from the ceiling in a giant circle around all of them. Soap wrinkled his nose when garlic hit his nose. “But unfortunately, you’re not much use to me alive.” 

Price had the gall to be shocked. 

The Baron shrugged and stepped back. If he died, so did about half of the vampires in the world thanks to sire rules, so no one exactly blamed him. His life was rather important. 

Price gasped. “Clara. I hoped you’d love me enough to change your mind.”

“Wait, you knew she’d try to kill you?” Alejandro asked, none of them bothering to move from their seat. 

Soap was still a little confused about the garlic rice. Was no one going to address that?

Gaz stood up. “You purposely put the wolfsbane in here didn’t you?? To poison my fucking boyfriend.”

“He was actually collateral damage. I needed Kate off her game.”

“That’s Laswell to you.” Laswell barked out, trying to stand. She almost immediately doubled over with hacking coughs and Willow caught her, gently helping her back down. 

The glare that Willow shot at Clara was enough to send chills down everyone’s spines. “How fucking dare you.”

“Oh, fuck off. Just let me take Price’s heart here and I’ll be on my way.”

Soap looked at Ghost. “Are you going to do anything?”

Rodolfo answered. “Uh, so we’d have to count the rice. Which would take a while. But it’s also covered in garlic. So we can’t touch it to count it. Meaning we’d probably lose count.”

Soap nodded. “Ah. Smart.”

“Stupidly.” Ghost nodded. “But I have an idea.” He turned to Price. “You know if you die, I die right?”

Price suddenly snapped to it. He backed away. “You can’t kill me. You’d kill Simon!”

“I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

“I’m not!” Soap shouted at her. Clara looked at hm and quickly raised her hand. He shot his hands up in surrender and backed down. He was not about to be a fucking rat. No one here would be as nice as Chuy did. 

Plus, he had a funny feeling Price could handle this. 

The stained glass of the reception hall suddenly shattered. A bolt went straight through Price’s chest. Not his heart, the exact center. His head made a harsh crack against the ground though. 

And then down came… Graves?

Soap was starting to feel like he was losing the plot. He glanced back at Chuy, who was looking at him, just as confused.

Graves was dressed like Reyes had been that day. Trenchcoat, blades and a crossbow with tipped arrows. He didn’t aim it at Price though, he instead aimed it at Clara. 

She lashed out, a wave of slick looking magic that sent Graves back a few feet. Then, she snapped, the same horrible snap that turned Reyes into a rat. 

No effect. 

Clara’s mouth twisted and she tried again. 

Nothing. 

She started lashing out, different magic being thrown at him. Graves reached into his shirt and Soap stood up, prepared to cover them if it was cross. 

It was an emblem of some kind. 

“There are rules to being a hunter. Always go in to a place prepared. Never leave yourself open. Watch what happens. I was just fine letting these guys run around. Frankly, they cleaned up the human monsters just as well as I did the monster monsters. And you had to fuck that up.”

Clara scoffed and shot at him again. He sidestepped it easily, moving a lot faster than Soap would really expect. 

Graves lined up the bolt. It went straight through her heart. Clearly on purpose. She cracked like glass. Graves didn’t bother to do much else. 

Ghost was still alive, so Price was clearly living. That was made clear when Graves yanked the bolt out of his chest and Price groaned. 

“You killed her.”

“I did.”

“Thank you.” 

Graves shrugged. He put his foot at Price’s throat. “Don’t ever do something that stupid again. Now, go find me a broom so I can release everyone.”

Chuy got up. “I could’ve left the whole time. I’m going home.”

“Couldn’t have helped?”

“....Nah.” Chuy carried Reyes with him. 

Graves threw his hands up and Gaz, who also honestly could’ve left at any point, completely unaffected by the garlic and the counting, finally helped the werewolves out. 

Farah huffed. “Best wedding I’ve ever been to.”

Malika laughed. “Is it a wedding if no one actually got married?”

Soap was still staring at Graves, feeling weird about the whole thing. “So when you and I were talking?”

“I was monitoring the situation. Hope you don’t take it too personal. Just needed to make sure nothing happened to the only neighbors I can tolerate.” Graves smiled and when Price came back, he swept the rice to the side and the vampires turned to bats, quickly escaping. None of them really seemed interested in talking to Price. 

Soap noticed something though. There was a little blood on Price’s face, just black enough to be vampire’s. And there was something in his eyes. Something extremely lucid that hadn’t been there before. 

“I need to apologize to my boys.”

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 10

Weddings and Vendettas

He's a wolf in disguise

But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes

- ( The song of the chapter is 'Monster' by Lady Gaga)

Khushi sits silently at her desk, gently caressing the bandage on her wrist. With every blink, her eyelashes stir, each moment bringing a new flash of the same memory, vivid and unrelenting.

Rain.

Raindrops.

Raindrops clinging to long lashes.

Lashes framing beautiful brown eyes.

Fingers clutching a coat lapel,

Fingers circling a delicate wrist.

Teeth clenched around a glass piece.

Lips curled into a barely-there smirk.

Buaji's voice cuts through the trance. "Haire Nand Kishore, you're drenched! You'll catch a cold!" she fusses, rubbing a towel through Khushi's hair. Her eyes dart to Khushi's wrist, and a gasp escapes her lips. "What happened to your wrist?"

"It's just a tiny cut, Buaji. Don't worry."

"Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Why would I feel dizzy?"

"Because the sight of blood makes you dizzy, bitiya. Are you alright?"

"Oh," Khushi says, a trace of bitter amusement in her voice as she remembers the younger version of herself, the one who would faint and vomit at the mere sight of her own blood. Buaji doesn't know, that Khushi died a long time ago. The girl who once crumbled at the sight of red vanished the day she ended a man's life. Blood doesn't bother her much anymore. She's learned how to control it. Like she's learned to control the feelings coursing through her blood.... rage, fear, desire....

Except when 'he' is near.

One particular Armani-clad individual still makes her blood boil, agitating her to the point that she forgets all of her old phobias.

She can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad one.

It can't be anything but disastrous.

He is poisoning her blood.

.

.

.

When Khushi steps out of the shower, wearing her favourite pajamas with towel wrapped loosely around her hair, she sees Buaji rummaging through her cupboard, pulling out every designer outfit she owns.

"What are you doing, Buaji?"

"Didn't Mr.Jha tell you, bitiya? We are going to Gurgaon."

"For what?"

"The Oberoi's eldest son is getting married!...what you guys tell it these days..oh huh..'destination' or something. Obviously, all of Delhi's elites will be there. So, Mr.Jha is taking us with him."

"When?"

"As far as I know, we're supposed to prepare for a two-day stay there, this Saturday and Sunday."

Oh, Sucks.

This puts such a damper on her 'find-the-evidence-and-get-the-hell-out- of-here' project. Two days of mundane chatter, ridiculous cosplays and forced pleasantries. Fake smiles and empty wishes will be used left, right and centre. Weddings bore her to death. Why does she even need to attend? She doesn't know the bride or groom.

Uff..

But of course, Mr.Jha is busy trying to establish every connection he can before his election. Shakti Singh Oberoi isn't just one of the richest men in the city, Mr.Jha's real interest probably lies in the fact that the Oberoi family has a long list of people in Parliament right now. It's always about power and politics.

Buaji holds up two lehengas in front of her, waiting for Khushi to choose.

"Pick whichever you like, Buaji. I don't care."

"What will I do with her? Fine, I'm picking the red one," Buaji huffs.

Khushi rolls her eyes. Buaji can't be more predictable. "Not the red one."

"Why? Red looks good on you, bitiya."

"I'm kind of hating the red colour nowadays. What about pick the purple one."

Khushi connects her phone to the charger as buaji keeps sorting her clothes. She wraps herself in her blanket and drifts off to sleep.

But brown eyes invade her dreams.

Vivid, relentless, and inescapable.

.

.

.

It's insufferable. He is insufferable. That egoistic man is not letting her sleep at night. Khushi throws off her covers and sits up in her bed, dragging her laptop toward her. She will teach him a lesson. What leverage does he have against her again? A CCTV footage. She will hack his phone and erase that footage.

She fiddles with her phone. She has his number, right? He's sent her a text with that video. With a few taps, she searches for his contact.

What the fuck...

Of course, it's encrypted. But it's an encryption she can break.

"Game on, Mr.Raizada. Since the day we met, all you've done is threaten me and pin me against the wall. Now you've crossed your limits. You're pinning me in my dreams as well. I will show you what messing with me will cost you."

Her eyes gleam as her fingers fly across the keyboard, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. A smile stretches across her face as she cracks the code and is almost one tap away from erasing all the information from his phone when her laptop hangs. The screen scrambles with a warning about virus detection, and she curses under her breath as the laptop goes into self-preservation mode.

Frustrated, she rubs her eyes. Her phone beeps with an incoming message. An unknown number.

'Nice try, little bird.'

.

.

.

For the next few days, Khushi looks like a zombie. Not only is she plagued by the same dreams--or nightmares, as she prefers to call them--but nothing interesting is happening in her father's study either. Apparently, the wolves haven't yet discovered who killed their beloved daughter, so the serpents are safe, at least for now.

All of these make Khushi ponder a certain offer. It doesn't feel so bad sitting in her own bedroom, frustrated with empty search results and the impending mind-numbing conversations with a bunch of unknown wedding guests. An IT expert at a tech company-her classmates would salivate over a job like that straight out of college. She knows it's not her qualifications that are getting her this opportunity; it's because of something she can do for him.

Then there's what he said about providing evidence against her father. Ugh... why does she become such a fireball in his presence? He was right. She asked all the wrong questions. Instead of inquiring about the evidence he mentioned, how he got it, and how she could use it, she let his threats get to her and lost her shit entirely.

"I expected more from you, Khushi," she chides herself, banging her head against her laptop. It's a new task for her now, a new skill to learn: how to keep her cool in the presence of Mr.Arnav Singh Raizada.

But she doesn't have his number. How will she contact him? The encrypted number is a one-way street; she can't text him back.

There goes the offer. Now she has to wait for another chance meeting with him to tell him she'll work for him, but only if she can lay down some conditions of her own.

And the worst part? She has no idea when or if she'll meet him again in the near future.

The uncertainty gnaws at her, leaving her more frustrated than ever as she packs her bag for the wedding she is going to attend. The wedding is set in a luxury resort just on the outskirts of the city, no more than a two-hour drive away.

As she tosses clothes into her trolley, her mind races with scenarios, each more outrageous than the last, where she meets him again and tells him about her accepting his offer. She can already imagine the smug look on his face, that infuriating smirk that makes her want to scream, punch and wipe that smile from his face all at once.

But beneath the annoyance, there's a spark of determination. If she can just see him again, she'll find a way to turn the tables. She won't let him intimidate her or pin her down anymore.

Then her thoughts shatter as ice water of realization washes over her. What's the point of thinking about the offer or accepting it? Her father would never allow her to work, and neither would Mr.Jha. She can never do it anyway. She grits her teeth and snaps her trolley shut.

Khushi sits stiffly at the long banquet table, flanked by her father and Mr.Jha, her hands resting on her lap beneath the lavishly decorated tablecloth. The glittering wedding hall around her feels suffocating, the loud hum of chatter and laughter grating against her nerves. Her father, seated to her right, exchanges polite conversation with the other guests, his tone authoritative, as always. To her left, Mr.Jha, the epitome of perfection, flashes his charming smile to those who pass by, looking every bit the polished, well-bred man her father adores.

But Khushi feels disconnected. She is drowning in a world of pretension and formality, a world where every word is calculated, every action rehearsed. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and freshly cut flowers, but it only reminds her how out of place she feels here.

The fabric of her lehenga digs into her skin. She wishes she could tie her hair up, but the makeup artist had styled it in loose waves cascading around her shoulders. The heavy jewellery weighs her down, making her body ache.

She should feel honoured to be seated between these two powerful men, her father's pride and her fiancé's polished charm surrounding her. But all she feels is trapped. Her thoughts swirl with a mixture of resentment and exhaustion. The glittering lights, the perfect smiles, the endless small talk, it all feels hollow.

Her gaze flickers across the room, trying to avoid the eyes of those who expect her to smile, to play the role of the dutiful daughter and future wife. But beneath the calm exterior, her heart races. Her body is present, but her mind is far away.

She softly drums against the linen, as Her eyes drift up, almost instinctively, and there he is.

So the Eagles are here as well, huh?

He is indeed an Eagle through and through, his presence alone exudes power. He’s draped in a deep brown suit-type sherwani, she isn’t quite sure what they are called. The tailored fabric clings perfectly to his imposing frame, every seam accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the straight line of his posture. The deep, almost regal brown not only adds a richness to his look, but also brings out his eyes even more. She huffs closing her eyes.

He might be an asshole, but he's the kind you can't help but stare at. The traditional attire only adds to his appeal, making him infuriatingly hard to ignore, despite the attitude that comes with it. His presence demands attention, and no matter how arrogant he seems, there's no denying he's dangerously attractive.

His dark gaze fixed on her from across the room. His expression is unreadable, but the intensity behind his eyes is unmistakable. A shiver runs down her spine. A spark ignites in the air between them that no one else seems to notice. She quickly looks away, her pulse racing.

But the pull is undeniable. She glances back at him, catching his gaze once more. She was looking forward to this moment, the chance to meet him face-to-face once more. Her lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one she tries to suppress but can not. It doesn't escape him. One of his eyebrows lifts up.

And her breath catches. And in that split second, Khushi feels like they are the only two people in the room, locked in a battle of unspoken words and unreadable expressions. But that slight lift of his brow, that glint in his eyes-it tells her he knows. He always knows.

From the corner of her eye, she sees the wedding planner she was introduced to earlier, guiding the Eagles toward the table where she sits. Her heart skips a beat as she watches the group approach slowly. As soon as the first one arrives, the atmosphere shifts. One by one, the members of the Eagles come into view, their faces hardening the instant they spot who is already seated. It takes only a split second. A cold realization ripples through the group. This was a mistake. The wrong families had been seated together.

The wedding planner, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation, smiles brightly at all of them. She tenses, her eyes flicking toward Mr.Jha, who sits rigidly beside her. A conversation runs through her mind.

"He said he was sure about who killed his father. But how could that be? The person he's talking about was just a boy back then...what, 14 or 15?"

Her eyes snaps back to the brown one.

Oh no!

The tension becomes palpable, thick enough to choke on. Guests at the table shift uncomfortably in their seats, casting uneasy glances at one another.

Mr.Rathore exchanges a sharp glance with Mr.Raizada before his gaze slid to her father, then to Mr.Jha, his lips pressed into a thin line, the displeasure clear despite his outward calm. "Well, this is.....unexpected," Mr.Rathore muttered, his voice cold, eyes darting between the Serpents already seated at the table.

Tension spikes when one of the men beside Mr.Raizada, makes a move to grab the collar of the wedding planner, his temper threatening to erupt. But Mr.Raizada raises a hand, a silent command, and the man freezes. Without breaking his composure, Mr.Raizada pulls a chair out in a smooth motion and gestures Mr.Rathore to sit. Then, with deliberate calm, he pulls out the chair beside Mr.Rathore and sits down himself. He leans back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Forgive the wedding planner for the misunderstanding, Rakesh," he says, with his unsettlingly neutral voice with no malice, no hatred, no rage, no irritation, nothing. "After all, we are all friends here, aren't we?"

Her pulse quickens. She doesn't need to glance at her father to know his jaw is clenched, his fingers likely curled into tight fists beneath the table. And yet, mr.Raizada remains disturbingly calm, too calm. His eyes scan the faces of the serpents, not a single emotion flickering across his features. If anything, he seems amused, as if he's daring them to react, to make the first move.

Mr.Jha gives a curt nod,"Of course," he bites out, faking a smile. There aren't only the members of the Serpents and the Eagles, there are also Mr.Jha's political allies. He has to save face.

Across from her, the brown eyes briefly meet hers before he addresses everyone, "I trust we can make it through a few hours without incident," his voice low but carrying enough weight to silence the murmurs around the table.

The Eagles exchange wary glances as they hesitate for a beat before taking their seats. She watches across from her Junior Rathore quietly takes his place beside Mr.Raizada and then the two girls she saw at the restaurant earlier slide into the seats beside him. One of them, petite, with big dark eyes flashes her a small, secretive smile. The other, with glossy dark hair and a bit more confidence, sneaks a wave as though they're old friends sharing a private joke.

Strange. She frowns. Yet her lips twitch at the surrealness of the situation.

“Oh, darling, you’re here! Sorry, I’m late,” a singsong voice says as a freshly manicured finger trails across Mr.Rathore’s shoulder. A gorgeous woman in a black saree slides into the seat beside him. Ah yes, Mr.Rathore’s girlfriend, Sheetal Kapoor. The envy of all the men in the society.

Slowly, they begin to converse among themselves, and the atmosphere around the table settles back into a semblance of normalcy. Conversations ebb and flow as laughter punctuates the air. Khushi takes a sip of her cold drink, letting the chill pass through her, while her gaze drifts across the table.

There he is, blatantly staring at her, swirling his drink in the glass with a casual nonchalance that betrays his boredom. The corner of his lips quirks up.

She can't help but feel the heat rising in her cheeks under his unwavering gaze. It's as if he's dissecting her every move, and for a moment, she wonders if he can read her thoughts. With a quick glance, she meets his eyes, holding his gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary before looking away, trying to regain her composure.

She rolls her eyes internally, refusing to let him see how flustered he makes her. "So charming," she mutters under her breath, hoping the sarcasm will help ease the tension brewing between them. But inside, she feels that familiar spark igniting again, making her pulse race.

She steals another glance, catching him smirking now, that infuriatingly confident smirk that tells her he knows exactly what effect he has on her. The table buzzes around them as the two of them are locked in a silent battle of wills.

The conversation around them shifts into the importance of female education, equality and how Mr.Jha is doing excellent job in this regards, but she has tuned it out.

She places her glass almost defiantly and crosses her arms, looking at him fully, refusing to look away. His smirk stretches further. It's smooth and teasing. He's savouring every second of their little game.

But the game is cut short when a woman, one of the wives of a business associate seated with the Serpents, turns her attention to Khushi with a warm, curious smile

"What about you, bitiya? Are you attending college?"

She blinks, breaking her staring contest, and smooths the napkin over her lap. Her composure slips back into place. She clears her throat, quickly scrambling to switch gears from their wordless duel to the polite conversation at hand.

"Oh, um..." she starts, offering the woman a polite smile. "I've graduated recently from IIT Delhi. Computer Science"

"She’s graduated with honours. We are very proud of her." Mr.Jha adds to their conversation.

The lady smiles radianty at her , "Oh, that's excellent. A girl in Computer Science. I'm so intrigued. Are you doing anything right now? Are you applying for higher education? Masters or PhD or anything else?"

"Umm.... I guess I'm now on a creative hiatus...exploring few..... personal interests."

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches his raised eyebrow across the table, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Then a sinfully deep voice joins the conversation as well. "In other words, you're neither studying nor working," he comments flatly.

"There are other things I do, of course." she feels her ear pinking as she sips her drink to control the verbal lashing that begs to come tumbling toward Mr.Raizada.

"Do share," he taunts in mock fascination. "What do you do, Miss Gupta? Besides collecting degrees just to keep them gathering dust, I mean." The table falls silent, not a good kind of silence.

"I'm sure, Miss Gupta will have a bright future. She is a brilliant girl and will do wonders to the society alongside her fiancé, Mr.Jha. They will be such an extraordinary couple," Mrs.Rastogi intervenes.

"Yeah, I'm sure, they will. So, tell us, Miss Gupta, what are you planning to do with that degree you get...with the money of the honourable tax payers of this country....besides indulging in hobbies and attending galas..." her eyes narrow as her fingers tightens around her glass, ".....or is it keeping the fashion industry afloat by purchasing enough clothes to dress half the country? If so, thank you in advance by the way, for investing in our business."

"I'm going to kill you, Mr.Raizada," she mutters silently clenching her teeth.

The poor lady, Mrs.Rastogi comes to damage control as she nervously adds, "The IT field has flourished in the last few years. I'm sure she'll find something to contribute to that. Bitiya, what are you planning to do next? Work, perhaps?"

Khushi hesitates, not sure how to respond to that question in front of everyone. Before she can find the right words, the infuriating man cuts through the conversation."Well, that depends, doesn't it?" His gaze flickering to her father and then Mr.Jha, before finally landing back on her. "I suppose certain permissions are required before any plans can move forward."

The words are casual, but the barb is clear. Her polite smile wavers just a fraction.

A particular clinking sound of curtilary draws her attention to Mr.Jha. His expression is calm, but his knuckles whiten around his fork. "Actually, that's not true. I'll let her to do anything she wants." Mr.Jha replies smoothly, his tone polite but edged with barely concealed irritation.

"You'll let her...." He quotes him and smirks leaning slightly forward , "...like I said, she needs your permission to do a job if she wants. Where's the equality in this again?"

"Khushi's future is important to all of us. We only want what's best for her. She has full autonomy to do whatever she wants to do." Mr.Jha says through gritted teeth.

Her eyes meeting the brown ones. His gaze is sharp, as though he's daring her to respond. But she remains silent.

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear, Mr.Jha. How reassuring it is to know that our future leaders practice what they preach! Supporting your fiancée in her career sets such an extraordinary example for the young generation of this country," the lady gushes on and on and on.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs.Rastogi," Mr.Jha responds politely, meanwhile shooting daggers across the table. "Empowering women is a central theme of my campaign. After all, charity does begin at......"

"Actually, Dad," Khushi cuts in with a slightly higher tone, turning fully toward her father, "I have been thinking of sharing this with you for a couple of days. I have an offer from a tech company. Paragon Tech.....I think, I'll consider that offer. What do you think? It's a good company, right?" She asks faking a bright, enthusiastic smile. It's an opening. She had to take this chance.

"Yes, it's a good company. You can work there if you wants, sweetheart." His father says before pursing his lips. "We'll always support her." her father continues, nodding at Mrs.Rastogi while brown-eyes looks like he’s just won the argument.

Everyone returns to their starters as the conversation dies down, but an urge lingers in the air. An urge to strike back.

"You know, Mr.Raizada," Mr.Jha starts with a casual tone. "I heard a very amusing story a few days ago... one of my bodyguards just mysteriously found himself unconscious in your presence."

And that infuriating smirk is back on his face as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "My condolences. You need better security, Mr.Jha, with better skill to remain on their feet.....and better manners."

Mr.Jha’s jaw tightens, but before he can retort, Her father addresses the brown-eyed man across the table with a hard look. "Mr.Raizada, have you forgotten your manners at home?"

Something darker flickers in the caramel-brown orbs, "On the contrary, Mr.Gupta, I remember them quite well, much to your future disappointment."

She can feel both Mr.Jha and his father's rage toward the brown-eyes radiating off them in waves. And she’s sitting in the centre of these three men.

The servers gathering around the table help bring the tension down a few notches. Mr. and Mrs.Rastogi attempt to extinguish the brewing disaster by shifting the conversation to lighter topics, asking Mr.Jha about his political campaign and other matters.

And all this time, his eyes have been on her. Discreet this time, not very obvious.

She feels like burning from the inside out, and all he does is watch, his expression unreadable. It drives her mad, to the point she wants to scream, but instead, her voice comes out quieter as she responds to Mrs.Rastogi's other questions.

After a while, he leans in, his lips moving silently as he whispers something to Mr.Rathore. And then he leaves the table, leaving behind a empty chair in front of her.

The chair remains vacant when their main course is served, even through dessert.

Without his brown eyes all over her, she feels strangely empty too, just like the chair does.

And it’s a dangerous feeling.

A feeling that could ruin her.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading! I’d love your feedback. Leave a comment!

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @msbhagirathi @titaliya @shiyaravi

[nusaibahaven]

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[the-goya-jerker]

you have no idea how happy it makes me that you like bride of reanimator. everyone talks about reanimator the first but i am a bride defender until the day i die she is an icon to me ✊

Bride of Re-Animator is earnestly my favorite of the two Re-Animator movies I've seen. I wanna talk about the Bride herself for a minute.

There's something about the way those two piece together this bride, the longing for a lost love Dan puts into her, the longing for science that Herbert puts into her. Her creation is both grotesque and beautiful.

It's the love Dan felt for his patient that gets them the head they need, and yet she's violently dismembered. She's stripped of all of her identity despite this care because Dan wants so badly to have Meg back.

She's covered in a shimmering and beautiful cloth as she's made, which is turned into her dress, but she's also open in parts, covered in swathes of exposed muscle and skin.

Is it love or violation that we witness? Creation or destruction? Is she beautiful or horrifying? Yes! All of the above!

She is, ultimately, an object. She is given almost no chance for personhood. She is a composite of parts stolen from dead girls by two men who hacked them up in the name of science. She is a discovery, not a person.

And the part that really gets me when you look at her is that despite her nudity I don't think she's truly intended as an entirely sexual object for viewers either. She's a corpse with muscles exposed. And, now, we here at Goya Jerker Inc. think that's hot as hell, but do most people? Is your average Bride of Re-Animator watcher gonna get all horny about that? Probably not.

I think this photo really exemplifies it. She's covered in metal and made of exposed muscle and sinew. You can see so many veins. Sure, there's a nipple just out in the open, but she's also got a big ol' zipper on her crotch.

Overall, I think she's an object like an anatomical model or a ballerina in a music box is. She's useful, she's pretty, but for the average viewer she isn't really all that sexual.

To me though? HOO BOY! I think she's so hot.

Miss Bride of Re-Animator, I would have done coke with you and kept you alive forever.

9/10 cause I get a little melancholy thinking about her.

[motherof-chaos]

✨😌✨ I know it’s late in the season but since you inspired me to watch Coraline again, do you have any other movie suggestions for Halloween? 🎃

Babe, it's NEVER too late in the season 🖤👻 I'm not even joking, I contemplated watching Coraline again yesterday. IT'S JUST SO BEAUTIFUL.

I fucking loved this question, thank you. I've spent so long thinking about my answers and it was haaard for me to not just list my favourite horror films (they are totally on the list 🙈) but here we go-

Insidious, The Conjuring, House of 1000 Corpses (& The Devil's Rejects too), Donnie Darko, American Psycho, Candyman, Ginger Snaps & Urban Legend.

And then for some light hearted fun 👻 -

Hocus Pocus, Ghostbusters, E.T, Beetlejuice, Corpse Bride & Casper!

In terms of horror, I've found that I've gone soft in my old age. LOL. I now much prefer to watch a psychological thriller type of horror rather than a hack n slash blood bath/ torture film BUT if you enjoy that and don't mind a foreign language film, Switchblade Romance / High Tension is THE perfect mix of both 👌🏻OMG. I cannot recommend it enough. I'm pretty sure there's an English dub of it come to think of it.

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