#Fish Powder Market | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mwahgo · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! I don't know if the request limit has reached its limit, but hear me out! Sanji transforms into a woman for any reason you want... with mirror sex and sex toys. I've never seen a fem reader with fem Sanji haha. Please?? 🙏🙏🙏

I FUCKED A GIRL (and I like it)

— Fem! Black leg Sanji x Fem! Reader (One Piece)

[+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+]

Summary: Some unknown powder hits Sanji and now you can’t keep your hands off her.

Word count: 2,206 words

Tags: Fem! Sanji, gender bending, bisexual reader, TW: nosebleed, mirror sex, sex toy, use of Y/N, breasts fondling, slight masturbation

Mwahgo's notes: Thank you for the req!😍 tbh i had fun making this WUAHAHA

Luffy jumps around in excitement as he spotted another island up ahead, eager to go on another pirate adventure. The crew is also eager to get on the island since there’s lesser resources now—Zoro needs some more polish for his swords, Chopper wants to buy some new materials for his rumble balls, Robin wants to go a library then shop with Nami and of course, Sanji as the ship’s cook, he needs to go grocery shopping. Everyone wants to do their own errands and you don’t really have something to buy in particular but you don’t wanna be stuck in the ship doing nothing. So you approached the chef—who is preparing some berries.

“Sanji, can I join you in your grocery shopping?” You asked.

Sanji gasped dramatically as his eyes turned into hearts, “Oh course, my dear! Anything to be with you!” He exclaimed with dedication.

You sighed at his exaggerated expression as you both get off the ship with Franky willing to guard the Thousand Sunny since we wanted to do an assessment check on it before we leave. You bid your goodbyes as you joined Sanji to the local market, looking around the variety of goods and fresh products. Merchants and store vendors shouting to get the attention of customers—which one has the better quality, which one is cheaper in price. Sanji, being a 5 star cook, he inspects intently with each product he grabs.

“Look at this one, Sanji. This is one ripe tomato,” You showed him the vegetable in your hand.

He sighed dramatically, “Ahh, you have such a good eye, Y/N-chan~” He swoons.

He lets you put a couple more tomatoes in the bag before you continue walking around. Sanji grabs more items—meat, fish, fruits, vegetables and spices as Sanji paid for the last product of the day, “Shall we go back to the Sunny, my dear Y/N?” He asked

You giggled, “Yes please,” You answered as he blushed.

You both started walking back to the Sunny—meeting Chopper along the way until a woman’s scream ringed inside the market, “SOMEONE HELP! He stole my purse!” The three of you turned to see an old woman in distress, yelling for help as a man runs away, holding her purse.

“Chopper! Hold the grocery, a lady needs saving,” Sanji ordered as he placed the bags in Chopper’s care.

“Sanji, let me come with you!” You declared.

He was about to retort but you cut him off, “Sanji, we don’t have time to argue. We need to get that lady’s bag,” You both started chasing after the burglar in high speed.

You chased him through the streets of the market place—accidentally bumping into different people and the burglar had the audacity to tip over a crate of food in front of us. We jumped over the fallen crate and continue running after him. The burglar turned right into an alleyway as you and Sanji followed after him until it led you all to a dead end.

The burglar obviously panicked—looking around for a small spot to escape until you both were able to corner him, “Looks like you don’t have basic manners when it comes to respecting beautiful ladies,” Sanji sneered as he lights up his cigarette.

The burglar yelped in panic, “Pl-Please..! Just spare me, I-I just need some money to get by!” They exclaimed.

You clicked your tongue at the poor excuse, “Like we’ll believe that shit. If you wanted something to get by, then get a job or steal something from the stalls instead,” You scolded.

Sanji looked at you, weirdly, “Y/N-chan, we’re not supposed to encourage him to steal..” He commented.

You gave him a side eye, “Sanji… we’re pirates, our life is supposed to be about stealing…” You sighed.

While you two were busying bickering, the burglar took the opportunity to pull something out his pocket and throwing it towards you, “DIVERSION ATTACK!” He yelled.

“What the—” You and Sanji started coughing as pink smoke engulfed the small alleyway. Your hands flailed around to clear out the thick smoke as you call out for Sanji, “Sanji?! Are you okay?”

As the smoke clears out, you have a open view of Sanji, who is on the floor, “Sanji? Are you—” Your eyes went wide as you gasped in surprise.

“What is taking them so long?” Nami complained, tapping her feet impatiently waiting for you, Sanji and Chopper.

“Maybe they fell into a pit,” Zoro answered nonchalantly, picking on his ear.

Usopp started shrieking, nervous for the three of you as Nami punched Zoro in the head, “We can’t leave them behind!” She yelled.

“Guys, help!” A small voice called as the crew turned to see Chopper in his deer form running towards the ship with you behind him, carrying someone. The crew gasped as they went down to check on them and the person they bought with them, “Chopper, what’s wrong?!” Luffy frantically asked, “Who is this?”

Chopper sweat dropped as he tried to explain the situation, “So uhm… I don’t know if you’re going to believe this but..” You showed the person that you were carrying as the crew gasped dramatically.

In your arms was a blonde woman, unconscious and wrapped in some formal black clothes and the crew seemed to recognized her, “S-SANJI???”

Luffy laughed loudly, rolling on the floor for laughing so much. Zoro snickered on the side while observing the situation, “How does it feel like to be in the woman’s situation now, shitty cook?” He smirked.

Sanji, who apparently took the most shot of a gender bending powder that was thrown towards both of you, turned into a woman is now sitting on the grassy floor of the Sunny as his (or her?) veins pulsed in anger, “SHUT UP YOU FUCKING MOSSHEAD!” His brash voice turned feminine as Luffy and Zoro continued to make fun of him.

“We were just trying to get a old woman’s purse back, I didn’t know it’ll end up like this..” You sighed.

Nami rubbed her temple in frustration, not only Sanji turned into a woman and we don’t know who the burglar that turned him into one, her crew members are being immature in the situation, “Okay, how should we solve this?” She questions.

“Should we still even solve this?” Zoro asked, casually.

Sanji threw a kick to his head, “OF COURSE YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” She yelled.

The two started fighting and the other crew members in the background just watched while discussing the plan to find the burglar who gender bend Sanji. They ended the discussion with all of them going out, even though it was quite unnecessary to go to that length, “We'll never know if there’s a lot of his guys,” Luffy argued, grinning.

You sighed and let the crew do their thing as they left the Sunny, leaving you and Sanji in the ship. You look down at the sulking chef, “You okay, Sanji?”

She sighed, “I know it’s not something to be worried about, but everything just feels weird,” Her delicate hands grabbed her breasts as the soft chest bounce on her palms. You tilted your head in confusion until her nose spurts out blood as her eyes turned into hearts, “B-Boobs..” She swoons.

Your eyes widened before sighing—typical Sanji behavior, even swooning at her own boobs, “Y/N-chan, I really wanna see my own boobs!” Sanji pleaded.

You thought about it for a moment, Sanji looks pleasing right now—bouncing her breasts in her hands and her thighs shakes excitedly for your approval. You never really openly attracted to girls, sometimes the girls in the Straw hats gets you riled up with their outfits, now with Sanji openly wants to see herself naked.

You smirked mischievously, “Sure, let’s go to my room,” You led Sanji to your room as she excitedly follow behind.

You both entered your room as you secretly locked the door from behind—if any of the crew members ever come back. As Sanji stripped off her clothes, you perched a full length mirror in front of her, “Are you ready to see yourself as a woman?”

Sanji buzzed in excitement as she slowly face the mirror. Blood bursts out from her nose when she saw her own boobs, “OWAAHHH! I…” She stammered, “… I finally get to see some woman’s breasts!” She exclaimed, eyes sparkling in joy.

You giggled as she admired herself on the mirror, closely looking at her breasts and playing with the plush muscles. As she was busy looking at herself, you went behind her and wrapped your arms around her small waist, “You wanna feel something amazing, Sanji?” You asked.

Sanji snapped out of her sexual daze, “H-huh?” She looked at you confusedly as your hands trailed up to her breasts to pinch her nipples. She let out a small moan and her eyes widened in surprise, “You feel that? My fingers playing with your nipples?”

She nodded as more whimpers came out her lips. You guided her to the bed as you sat her down your lap while continuing to pinch her nipples, “Do you wanna see more?” You whispered in her ear.

She nodded as your hands went to her thighs before spreading them open. Sanji gasped at the sight on the mirror, her own wet pussy glistening in front of the mirror.

She gulped at the view, “I.. Is that what it looks like?” She asked as you nodded.

“You wanna try and touching it?” You asked as she nodded. You guided her hand to her clit, her fingers grazing on the sensitive blud as she let out a small moan. You continue to guide her fingers to a rubbing motion as she finally got used to it, rubbing her pussy in a controlled pace, “Does it feel good, Sanji?”

She nodded, moaning in pleasure. She bit her lip as the pace of her fingers quickens, signaling that she is about to cum, but you suddenly stop her, “Wh-Why, Y/N-chan?” She desperately asked.

You only giggled as you opened your drawer and pull out a dildo. You heard Sanji gasping at the sight of the sex toy, “A-Are you going to use that on me, Y/N-chan?” She asked

“Well, if you want to,” You answered.

Sanji contemplated for a moment, yes, he wanted to see a woman naked on how he likes it but he wasn’t expect to be fuck like one. But he felt this arousal while looking at the dildo in your hands as he sighed, “I-If I’m going to be fucked by you, then it will be a pleasure,” She smiled sheepishly.

You smirked as you positioned Sanji back to your lap—spreading her legs open in front of the mirror. Her breathing shakes as you placed the dildo between her puffy pussy, rubbing it up and down from her slit to the sensitive nub.

“Pl-Please, Y/N-chan put it inside me..” Sanji pleaded, looking at you through the mirror.

You smirked as you slowly inserted the dildo inside of her pussy, her hands went to your arms to get a hold from the sudden pleasure. The tip of the dildo hits her cervix, making her hips thrust back to the dildo. This hints you to start fucking her as your hands moves the dildo inside and out Sanji’s pussy as she moans in pleasure.

“Ohhh! Y/N-chan.. I’ve n-never felt this..” She whimpered, “.. This pleasure before,” She cried.

Your hand quickens, fucking her pussy with your sex toy as he hips arched twitched from the sudden change of pace. Sanji’s lips lets out the delicious moans as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her legs spread wide on your lap as the dildo plunges inside of her own pussy. You bit your lip on how Sanji looked—taking the dildo like a good girl.

“O-Oh fuck! Y/N-chan! I feel like.. I’m gonna cum!” She cried as her hips grinds on the thrusting dildo.

You giggled as your hand continues to fuck the dildo into Sanji in a rough pace. Her moans became louder as tears prickled in her eyes, her hands now gripping the sheets as she felt the tight coil in her stomach. The dildo buried deep inside her made her cum hard as she squealed loudly, back arching from the intense orgasm. After that, Sanji plopped on your chest, panting heavily as you giggled. You carried her exhausted body to your bed before covering her with your blanket as you heard the crew outside.

You stepped out and saw them boarding in the Sunny while Nami handed you a small pouch, “We got the reversal powder, we might went a little overboard because the Marines were called,” She sighed before glancing at Zoro and Luffy.

You chuckled, “Thanks Nami, but I’ll give it to Sanji later. She seemed exhausted today,”

#sanji smut #one piece x reader smut #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji x reader

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applejusue · 26 days ago

Text

ellie williams ─── little misfortunes

𓆩♱𓆪 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 Ⅰ ─── impasse

A series of killings in a small town spread quickly, pitchforks sharpened, and curfews imposed. Ellie led a quiet life, well aware of the town's suspicions of her. After discovering a black shadow with glistening fangs sunk into a bloody gent outside a tavern, she finds herself grappling with accusations. What will happen when Ellie, bound to an altar and dressed in white, becomes the wife of the very woman who committed the massacre?

◟`# cw: blood, dracula, violence, murder, rituals, cult activity, animal feeding, sexual themes, feeding, arranged marriage, grief, slow-burn, love.

taglst '# @eleanorsghost, @imdrowningindispair, @mo0nnstarz, @azteriarizz

index | next chapter . . .

Dark charcoal smeared across Ellie's brow as she wiped her face with a sweaty arm, the sun beating down against her flushed cheeks. The sounds of sheering metal clashing was one so familiar, she could probably fall asleep to it by now. The daughter of a blacksmith, hardened, and filthy. That wasn't to say Ellie wasn't drawn to beauty, like the softness of the baker's daughter or the allure of the Parisian seamstress. She'd easily be found loitering about the town square, seeking out a glimpse of soft lace or parasol.

It grew mostly from curiosity, curiosity of the traits that she lacked. Growing up, she was sooner to mend a broach than wear one. Ellie had some pretty dresses, but quite sparingly were they worn for anything. It wasn't as though she got invited to many of the town gatherings, not with the locals so wary of her. Her father had a highly praised workshop and a damn steady hand, able to create the most beautiful daggers and blades for the servicemen. Try as she might to take it over after his passing, the folks drifted, stopped showing.

Ellie held up the little amber ring she had been crafting all morning with a gloved hand, a carefully formed copper with engravings and a warm stone. It glistened in the sun, reflecting some of the orange glow onto her dirty face. She lowered it to rest on her ring stand before heading inside the small one room cabin to drag a wet cloth over her face. Once she was relatively cleaned up, she pulled on a cotton over shirt and brown skirt that rested just above her ankles.

After rooting out an old woolen sack, Ellie gathered all of her little trinkets and jeweler pieces into the bag. She trudged down the pathways with it slung over her shoulder, heading to her small market stall along the merchant line. The breeze ruffled through her braided hair, the scents of fresh fish and coastal waters giving her a bit more liveliness than her morning in the workshop. She weaved through passing carts and stands, fresh fruits and remaining crops bartering to be sold before the summer heat dried them out.

As she approached her stall by the pier she noticed someone else setting up beside her, that was a surprise. Nevertheless she focused on her own place, laying out her little trinkets and hand made crafts, hoping to entice any traveling couples who make take interest while in a besotted haze. Across her board she had broaches, bracelets, rings and even more simplistic items like hair pins and candle holders. The sun continued to blaze down against the paths, splitting stones with the heat of it's gaze. Ellie was thankfully shielded by the small shade created by the canopy braced above her stall.

Beside her was an older man, with a long silver beard braided with beads. His hair was much the same, down to his lower back and split in all directions. His eyes were hidden under a bushy brow, cheeks sunburned and faintly smudged with black liner as he laid out his treasures. Ellie couldn't help her curiosity at the stranger who wore leather in the heat of summer, old stubbed hands covered in silver rings and scars. Moving from her stall, she approached his board with fishing hooks, rope net, and jars of herbal powders that no doubt came from across the waters.

"Fine day, ay.."

Ellie spoke up, her gaze roaming along some of the glittery pearls that would make fine earrings, or the shimmer powder that would decorate a hot blade. The man nodded, leaning back on his stool and pushing his sweat glistened hair out of his face. With a better view now, his red cheeks were stubborn from sunburn, the lines around his eyes carefully carved from years at work. He had the hands of a sailor, and that intrigued her.

However, Ellie also noticed among the powdered jars were little artifacts and omens, 'love potion,' one read. She bit back a scoff, knowing that he, like her, was also trying to entice a wistful audience. It was more likely a red stained jar full of sea water. The people of the town all but lived off legends, stories that grew around the walls like weeds. Joel used to recant them to her when she was a young girl, about the great vampire slain and the harvest of moonshine. Ellie thought it was silly, simple stories to keep her inside after dark. It seemed to have a grip on the entire village though, with a strict ten o'clock curfew for all except servicemen. Not that many obeyed such rules, especially once at the tavern.

Her gaze was torn sideways when a horse and cart trotted by, two body shaped flour sacks tied with rope being brought along by a solemn rider. She lowered her head in respect, a reminder that this town was no safe place. People were trying to pretend that everything was fine, with the parades and the upcoming summer festival, but she knew better.

"There's still one more.."

The merchant's voice caught her ear, low and strained like a life of fumes. He dragged a herbal scented cigar to his lips, watching the cart pass by with a look of recognition.

"Pardon?"

Ellie's head snapped back to him, jaw tilting in mild confusion.

"Every summer, near the solstice.. s'same pattern o' killings..

He spoke it as though it was obvious, smoke drifting from his cracked lips as he cocked a head at her. Ellie was sure he could see that she hadn't the faintest of what he was talking about, so he continued.

"S'always the Marshall's family, the boys anyway.."

That had certainly captured her interest. She'd noticed the killings sure, and faintly drawn the connection that the town leader's descendants never lasted long. Her speckled brow furrowed with interest, and she moved back behind her stall. Neither of them were busy on a hot summers mornin' like this, not like the townsfolk were still collecting crop and going about chores.

"Could be a coincidence, they always seem to be gettin' into some trouble or other.."

Ellie muses with a shrug, unconvinced and knowing that the raunched squires loved to raid the taverns well after curfew. As far as she was aware it was no surprise they often ended up wounded in peculiar places with beer and blood splattered every which way. The merchant doesn't seem to think so.

"It ain't no coincidence sweetheart, it's him.."

"Him?

Ellie recalled curiously, blindly falling down this rabbit hole despite her better notions. She had a vague idea where this could be going,the more famed legend that the village folk use as a scapegoat for their problems.

"You've lived here your whole life girl, you can't tell me you ain't been told the stories.."

The man spoke with years of conviction, it was almost difficult not to fall trap to the storytelling.

"Course I have, the fire festival that attracted the vampires from the north hill, that ambushed the town til' the grand Marshall managed to slay one, not that I'd buy into something like that…"

"Good, you shouldn't.. cus' that ain't what really happened I hear.."

The man shook his head, flicking his cigar before smudging it out on a metal plate. He glanced sidelong around the streets that had began to pick up with carts and ladies on a summer promenade.

"The man of that south castle long there, lost something dear to him that day.. now every year 'round solstice time he returns, picking off every descendant of those who stole it from him, a statement to be sure.."

He gave a gruff chuckle that died within a splutter, his tongue flicking out to wet his dry lips amidst the hot seasoned air.

"But that was centuries ago, surely some absurd animosity such as that would have long faded.."

Ellie hazard a scoff, the notion practically laughable that these killings may take place over a simple stolen item. The man shook his head, drawing her in closer with that same guided tone that likely entertained many a crewmen in his time.

"S' the solstice phase, sweetheart.. that's what gets him. Messes with all sense of reason, m'sure the parades don't help when this whole damn town celebrates what was stolen from 'em. Many say it was the heart of his first love, or some sort of ring.."

Ellie found it difficult to believe, let alone feel sympathy. After all, centuries of bloodshed after a stolen heart or a ring? It didn't make a lot of sense. Still, Ellie thought over the festivals, the torches and music while townsfolk danced through the night by the square. It could be taunting, she supposed. Then again, the notion that there was a vampire, this "him", it was silly. More likely, this was a string of ill timed coincidences that the town elders took a little too seriously. Still, even she couldn't deny the amusement of such stories, and accepts a fresh cigar from the older man while their silverware glitters beneath the sun.

Ellie hadn't meant to stay out so late, lost in conversation and the glitters of the star against warm lanterns by the coast. The old man had left not long ago, but her thoughts and the beautiful sounds of waves crashing had kept her occupied since. Still, as the gruff of servicemen beginning the night patrol she knew it was time to go home. Collecting her remaining trinkets back into her woolen sack, she folds in the board and closes up her stall for the night. With the bag slung over her shoulder, Ellie trudges through the scarcely lit town. The stars still attracted her, glistening against a deep expanse. The night was bustling despite the curfew, tavern's warm and glowing against the pavements and packed with people. She was never one to be scared of the darkness, instead finding a certain comfort in it.

As Ellie passed one of the pubs, she considered stopping for a beer, entranced my some of maidens that fluttered about the exit, smoking cigarettes and charming gents. It was a pleasant notion, one she'd likely oblige some other time. The truth was she had bad feeling in her stomach, a strange sense of unease that tied along to her earlier conversations.

'There's still one more'

It wasn't a pleasant thought to be sure, but more likely it was whatever strange blends that old man put in his cigars.

Trudging past the cooing street women, Ellie finds herself alone through the empty alleys, the path to the workshop so awkward it was a wonder anyone arrived these days. The hair at her neck tickled as a loud clatter echoed from behind her, stopping her old boots as she hesitated to turn. Peeking her face over her shoulder, her tensed frame eased with a sigh as she noticed one of the Marshall's sons, drunkenly babbling past the clearing with an empty bottle in hand. drunkenly babbling past the clearing with an empty bottle in hand. Ellie puffed out a breath of air that lifted some of the hair strands surrounding her speckled cheeks, continuing in her stride though now with a fluttering heart.

Before she could turn the corner though, a rather repulsive sound hit her ears. It was the man, no doubt that but it sounded as if he was choking on his own spit, an unnerving throaty noise, like he had swallowed his own tongue. With a tense fist Ellie turned, her pace quickening as she hurried down the alleyway, those foolish legends swirling around her typically sensible mind. As she reached the clearing that connected to the next walkway, she almost wished she hadn't.

Among the shadows was a figure shroud in black, face completely obscured beneath a heavy hood aside from the mouth. Long pointed fingers gripped the son's coat tight, and all Ellie could make out from the encounter was glistening white fangs that buried themselves deep into his pudgy neck. Thick hot blood had pooled along that hint of chin, dripping down onto the man's collar and oozing into his dirtied shirt. Barely able to struggle, his choked splutters filled the dead air.

Ellie's sweaty hand clasped across her mouth, her bag of copper clattering to the stone as the dark figure's head shot up, still obscured from any sort of identity. Ellie stood still, entranced in a way she couldn't quite describe. After a split moment, you turned on your heels. Darting through the street and toward the pub, you staggered in. Calling out over the loud music and bustling laughter, your voice came heaved with panic.

"Help! Somebody- the Marshall's son, there's a vampire!"

Ellie cried out, unable to believe the own words that flood from her lips in a heat of sweat and fear. Absolute mayhem broke out, screams and floods of women scattering like mice home along with cowards who followed. Some drunkards followed you back, puffed out chests and an illusion of bravery that ran cold the moment they crossed the corners. She managed to latch onto a pair of servicemen along the way, babbling with trembled hands as they entered the clearing. There was already a flurry people surrounding his body, that lay limp on the ground with wide-struck eyes and a pile of his own sweat and urine. The smells were abhorrent, like boiled pence and whiskey, Ellie quickly averted her gaze to avoid throwing up.

The servicemen pushed through the gathering, more following suit once they'd caught word of the incident. They began to usher people back to their homes while covering up the body with another sack, protocol that must come second nature now. Before the bag was dragged over his face, Ellie got a glimpse of his swollen neck, two dark puncture wounds buried deep that were still oozing droplets of cooling crimson. She felt ill as she like other babbling onlookers were ushered off, warned to return home at once and lock the doors. Ellie scooped up her fallen sack, and all but ran back to the workshop. The shadows of the homes seemed to swallow her now, looming over her head as she ducked indoors. Even after locking every door, nothing could console that tremor in her heart, her gaze darting between the door and the windows as she took a step back.

Her trembling hands unbuttoned her under frock, lowering the fabric with an unsteady breath as she lingered by the candlelight. The image of, or lack there of the killer's face haunted her thoughts, the way it had stared dead into her eyes yet made no move to inflict. Would it return for her? She was a witness after all, it was only a matter of time before the servicemen arrived to question her. Likely by dawn, she figured. Her head burned, better judgment waging war with the undeniability of what she had witnessed. The last one. Ellie wasn't sure if that was a comfort, that the hell spawn she had witnessed this evening was finished, until next summer at least. Whether or not they would make an exception for her, she couldn't say and it haunted her weary heart. Deeper into the night she sat on her small framed bed, candle still lit and body braced for any sudden movement, despite her reasoning that she'd rather be sleeping if someone were to feast on her blood tonight.

𓏲 ๋♱⁴⁴⁴

Ellie's head hung low as she sat on the back of the cart, brown skirt flustering with each bump. She could feel the eyes on her, the blacksmith's daughter who was being escorted to the town hall for questioning on the death of the son. It was nerve wracking, even though she'd had all night to think about what she was going to say before the council. She rubbed her clammy palms against her skirt, knowing that she would a long day ahead.

The town hall was not much, despite the bravado presented by the Marshall at each meeting. It was a small building, akin to the inside of a church with tiered seating and a front alter. The walls were stained an eggish yellow, the odd brown crucifix loitered carelessly along the side. Ellie exhales shallowly through her nose as she is guided down to the alter, where she sits in front of a small group of councilmen. Most notably is the grand Marshall himself, sitting aside with a scarred over left eye and an absent expression. She considered paying respects, but thought better of it and instead waited for instruction.

One of the older chiefs of the council stood, commencing the 'meeting' that felt more like you were on trial. He listed the events recorded by the two servicemen the previous night, catching in anyone who had been unaware of the death. The Marshall's jaw was tight at the mention of his remaining grandson, and Ellie wanted to crawl back down to the floor and into the earth.

"Miss Williams, we understand that you were the one to witness the events our night prior, you are now granted voice to recant to us what you have seen.."

The chief's voice came surprisingly polite despite the gruffness that shrouded his tone. It seemed as though he wasn't trying to intimidate her, something that she very well appreciated in this moment. Ellie dared to raise her jaw, attempting to look more assertive than a meager dog with it's tail between it's legs. She gave the chief a gentle nod, finger's trembling beneath the desk as she ran over what she had seen. In her mind, she'd sooner be sent to the asylum than the council jail. Even hearing the own words from her lips, vampire, fangs, she sounded like a mad woman. And she felt it, too.

"And I am aware the lunacy of my words, but I will swear upon my father's grave that what I witnessed was true, it was horrifying.. like witnessing a creature from hell.."

What Ellie expected were scoffs, faces of disbelief. Yet when she glanced around the court, it was almost worst than that. The younger councilmen sure, they were whispering amongst themselves with smug grins, but the elders? They exchanged a glance, knowing. However, their silent communication is quickly overpowered by the short-tempered juniors of the board, instead accusing Ellie of creating such a fanticious story to cover-up her true intentions. She almost felt a glimmer of irritation in her gut, but she knew her place.

After a moment of bickering amongst themselves, the old Marshall stood, slowly, as though his weathered body was made of crumbling bricks. He raised his hand, silencing each and every member of the council with the sheer intimidation of his presence. Ellie had never truly been near him before, he often kept to himself after enduring such a life of hardship. With a missing left eye and copious amounts of deceased relatives, it was no wonder he acted such so.

"This cannot go on any longer.."

His voice boomed as he slammed his staff down against the tiled floor, causing a twitch in Ellie's shoulder that she hastily disguised. His eyes spoke years, of fighting and cutting through. Each and every one of his sons, grandsons, had been picked off by this evil force. He, not by any mistake, had been left alive and forced to live without family. In a way, the Marshall had hoped after so many years that it would relent, move on. Yet now it seemed that peace would never be met, not without healing a wound of the ages.

"We have stolen something from him that he'll ne'er find amongst his own, it leaves us with no choice but to seek his mercy.."

Ellie felt her blood run cold, the stories had been true, in part it seems. She kept her head low, heart hammering in her chest. It was a relief to some degree, that her name was no longer being thrown around in the discussion but it still gave no clear answer to what was going to happen. The older councilmen exchanged a look, though nobody had quite an idea on how to negotiate with a centuries old vampire. The juniors still refused to believe it, one scoffing with folded arms.

"Sir, how on earth could it be this 'force of nature' that killed him, we have a woman right here that was out past curfew and simply happened to come across the event. Surely it would be wiser to consider she as the wrongdoer."

The others nodded along, and Ellie couldn't deny how weak her stance is within this scenario. She was out past curfew, and by some wonderful luck of hers she had coincidentally stumbled upon the killer. With not a single person to back up her name or claims, Ellie had a feeling that she would not leave this town hall unbound. After some debacle between the council members, the Marshall spoke up again, his voice hardened.

"Those of you who distrust this woman, I cannot fault. And so I offer this, she will be our leverage. At the festival tomorrow night, Miss Williams will be our offering to him, if he chooses to accept then our pact will be sealed. If no'ne shows face, we will know that it is her that is our miscreant."

Ellie's heart dropped faster than her jaw, her life and freedom simply auctioned up just so. She wasn't sure which fate was worse, being sanctioned off to a creature of the night that feasted on human flesh and agony, or being hung for murder if that force never showed. Her head was reeling as two servicemen began to grab her by the arms and lift her from the seat. Tears prickled at her eyes, her body automatically straining against their tight grip.

"Please- don't do this, there must be some other way-.."

Her choked cries were muffled by the clammy room, some of the men avoiding her gaze with some sort of pity. The Marshall's jaw was still set, an unloving decision that she knew no amount of pleading would resolve. His choice had even settled the younger men of the council, a satisfied glint in their eyes that came from an ignorant assumption that they would be proving right by tomorrow eve.

Their grip was tight on her arms as they began to drag her through the backrooms of the main hall, her strained screams slowly began blocked out by the heavy brick surrounds. Ellie managed to just about slip out of their hold, but her trembling calves had gotten her nowhere. Instead she'd been yanked back by the hair, and the last thing that occurred before her vision clouded was a blunt strike to her head.

───────────────────────────────────────

index | next chapter . . .

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hometoursandotherstuff · 9 months ago

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I almost passed by this normal looking 1928 brick colonial in Norman, OK, but I'm glad I didn't, b/c I love it so much. 4bds, 4ba, 3,599 sq ft, $795k. This lady has style.

I'm obsessed with that Love sofa table. Look at the color. Amazing.

So much inspiration.

Love the area rugs.

It takes courage to paint a large kitchen with lots of cabinets in a bright royal blue, but it works. They look like they were dated oak cabinets, so instead of replacing them again, this was a vibrant alternative for the cost of paint and new hardware, plus new counters.

Nice little powder room redo.

The family room. Note that the walls are actually gray. The color is in the furnishings, so it will appeal to more buyers. In this room there's a fireplace and shelving. If the new owner doesn't like the blue fireplace or pink shelving, it's easily changed.

A technique that I used to use to fill up walls- I'd buy huge posters and then giant cheap plastic frames. Really, they'd look just as good as these.

The home office looks like a lovely lounge.

Love the primary bedroom. Look at the architectural feature behind the bed.

Very large suite is 2 stories high.

The en-suite has a double sink made from a triple bureau.

2nd bd. is a good size. Note that the walls are still light gray. That was a good idea if you know you're going to eventually put it on the market.

Oh, how cute. A colorful bath with a matching fish tank.

The 3rd bd. is large. Love the stripes.

And, the 4th bd. has a fireplace and room for a home office.

Look at the putting green in the yard.

There's also a small patio and a 2 car garage on the .51 Acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/503-Shawnee-St-Norman-OK-73071/58739554_zpid/

#brick colonial homes #colorful homes #houses #house tours #interior design #home tour

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himluv · 6 months ago

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The Bet

The next chapter of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Read it below, or over on AO3.

A visit to Treviso never failed to make Lucanis feel better. The night sky overhead coupled with the warm glow of lanterns reflected in the canals were as comforting to him as a favored blanket to a child. He walked the market, slowly purchasing the items on his list while Spite flitted around, smelling everything.

Bellara wanted to make a Dalish fish soup that required some very specific spices and, of course, fish. He would buy the protein on his way back to the Lighthouse. For now he chatted with the merchants, stopped to trade good-natured barbs with Neri and Noa, and made his wending way to Café Pietra.

Spite raised his face to the sky and inhaled. Coffee, he said. But, no Rook?

Of course, the only other time the demon had been to the café had been with Rook. It made sense that he would associate this place with her.

“Not today,” he murmured as they found a table near the water. It was early in the evening and there were fewer patrons than there would be later in the night. He ordered an Andoral’s Breath and a small plate of cantucci, then settled in to enjoy the moment of quiet. Viago was punctual, but Teia was not. They would be late and Lucanis did not mind in the slightest.

Spite leaned over the table, inhaling the scent of the almond pastries with unabashed hunger. What. Is. That?!

Lucanis sighed and answered in a low voice. “Cantucci,” he said. “A biscuit with almonds.” There were many different interpretations of the form, but Café Pietra favored bold flavors – their cantucci were baked with amaretto for additional punch.

Goes. With coffee?

“Yes,” he said, although Lucanis would never dip biscotti in a brew as complex and delicately crafted as Andoral’s Breath. Instead, he took a bite of the cantucci – careful to keep the powdered sugar out of his beard – then took a sip of his coffee.

He savored the blend of the bold, rich roast with the gentle, bittersweetness of roasted almond. A combination that took the best of each to create something exquisite. He sighed. He’d needed this. Though, he had to admit, it would be even more pleasant if Rook were there.

Where. Is. Rook?

“Lucanis,” Teia said as she approached his table.

He stood to greet her with the customary kisses at each cheek, though no lips touched skin. House Dellamorte might view the Seventh Talon as family, but none of them were foolish enough forego the basic precautions.

Behind her, Viago scowled. Not for any particular reason that Lucanis could tell, that was simply the man’s default expression.

Lucanis gestured to the table. “Please, sit.”

The Talons sat, each oblivious to the demon flickering between them, sniffing with abandon.

Smells like leather and lavender, Spite said of Teia. Soft and supple. He inhaled, then grinned at Lucanis. Deadly!

Viago seemed harder for the demon to catalog. He sniffed and sniffed, circling the Fifth Talon like a dog scenting a bone. Smells like… death. Like sour, scorching death. Like numbing ice. Like – another deep inhale – bitter fruit.

The poisons, Lucanis realized. The demon scented all the various vials Viago no doubt had secreted across his person. Finally, Spite left Viago to sit at the only remaining chair, as if he too were joining this meeting.

Teia gave an exaggerated look around the café. “Where is Rook?”

Lucanis shrugged. “I think she’s in Arlathan.” He knew she was in Arlathan, with Davrin and Bellara. “Something about Venatori in the forest?”

Viago shook his head. “They’re growing bold.”

“They’ve been bold,” Teia said, her tone dark. No doubt she was thinking of their raid on the casino. Of Caterina.

Lucanis gave her a grim smile. “Rook will handle it.”

Spite grinned. Rook. Will. KILL. Them!

Teia shot him an appraising look. “You know,” she said. “I like Rook. She’s good for you.”

Lucanis spluttered into his coffee. “What? That’s not–”

Teia laughed and Viago’s eyes went wide. “Shit,” he said, side-eyeing Teia. “You were right!”

She grinned at him. “You owe me a night at the opera!”

Lucanis frowned. “You bet that Rook and I–”

Teia’s smile vanished into shock, while Viago’s smile suddenly bared teeth.

“Our bet was that you’d caught feelings for Rook,” he said.

“Not that she returned them!” Teia’s eyes shone in the lantern light, wide and hopeful.

“Mierda,” Lucanis said.

She likes. That we like. Rook?

Viago chuckled. “She’ll be planning your wedding in no time.”

The blood drained from Lucanis’s face, even as his stomach flipped at the thought.

Our Rook. Forever?!

He needed to get this conversation back under control. “There’s nothing to plan,” he said. “Rook and I are not together.”

Teia scowled and sat back in her chair with her arms crossed. “Yet.”

Viago snorted. “She is tenacious, this one.” He said it with such uncharacteristic fondness that Lucanis’s chest ached. Not because he had once desired that fondness, but because it reminded him of Rook. The softness in Viago’s eyes for Teia was a faint echo of the way Rook looked at him.

Rook. Loves. Us?!

Mierda! Lucanis scowled to tamp down that train of thought.

Teia shrugged. “You’ve never complained about my tenacity before.”

“Yes, he has,” Lucanis said.

“Yes, I have,” Viago said at the same time.

Teia rolled her eyes. “You two are no fun.”

Lucanis sighed. “I asked to meet for a reason, if you’re finished harassing me?” He glanced between the Talons, but they kept their silence. He lowered his voice, aware that his cousin might have spies in the café.

“Illario is working with the Venatori.”

Hate him, Spite said. Kill. Him.

Viago went utterly still, his blue eyes locked on Lucanis. “You’re certain?”

He growled. “Heard it from the lips of Zara Renata herself.” She had been dead at the time, but he would spare them the details.

Teia looked uncertain. “She could have lied.”

Lucanis tilted his head in assent. “Perhaps.”

The Talons exchanged uneasy glances. “But,” Teia said. “Illario has been…”

“Acting suspiciously,” Viago said.

“At first, I blamed it on your…” Teia winced. “Disappearance. Then Caterina’s death.”

“But, if he’s the one who betrayed you…” Viago’s voice was low and ice cold. It was the voice of one the most lethal men in all Antiva.

Teia looked down at the table. “It would explain his behavior. Not just grief, but–”

“Guilt,” Viago said.

Teia gasped, her head jerking up to look at Lucanis. “Does that mean–? Caterina?”

“Yes.”

She let out a string of decadent curses. “I’ll kill him myself!”

Viago put a hand on her shoulder. “Patience,” he said. He looked to Lucanis. “If we are to move against him, we need information. Proof.”

Lucanis sat back, bringing his nearly empty cup with him. “Precisely why I am here.”

Viago nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on him. See what we can discover.”

Teia winced. “You should know,” she said. “He’s been spreading rumors about you.”

Now Lucanis stilled in his seat. “What kind of rumors?”

She looked to Viago, who gave Lucanis a guarded look.

“He’s telling anyone who will listen that you’re an abomination,” she said.

Viago added, “that you tried to kill him.”

Lucanis focused on keeping his breathing even, but said nothing. He just stared into his coffee cup.

“Shit.” Viago pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s true?” Teia sounded heartbroken. “But how? You’re not–”

Lucanis raised a hand to forestall their questions. “It’s complicated,” he said. “But, the short version is that Zara used the Ossuary as a sort of lab to create abominations.” He scowled, blocking out the memories of that place as he spoke. “And she wanted to make the Demon of Vyrantium more than just a clever title.”

“But,” Teia said. “You seem fine!”

Both Lucanis and Viago gave her dubious looks.

She scoffed. “I mean, fine for being imprisoned and tortured for a year!”

Viago raised an eyebrow at her. “Maker, Teia.”

Show. Her? Spite grinned at Lucanis hopefully.

Lucanis shook his head. “Like I said, it’s complicated.

“Which part?” Viago asked. “The demon, or trying to kill Illario?”

He snorted. “When haven’t I wanted to kill my idiot cousin?”

“Big difference in wanting to and trying,” the Fifth Talon said.

Teia gave him a hard look. “Does Rook know? About the demon?”

“Of course,” he said, almost offended. “I never kept it from her.” Never mind that he couldn’t. She was a mage and had noticed Spite right away.

The Talons shared a weighted look, as if his honesty with Rook held some deeper meaning.

“What do you want us to do about the rumors?” Teia asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Illario cannot suspect you of taking my side.”

Viago nodded. “Not if we’re to remain close enough to learn his plans.”

“Very well,” she said, though she clearly didn’t like it. “We’ll be on our best behavior.”

Vaigo snorted. “That won’t be conspicuous at all.”

She glared at him and Viago smirked back.

Lucanis sighed. “You two are disgusting.”

Viago scowled at him, but Teia just laughed. “Us? You should see how you look at Rook! Like she hung the moon.”

He made a disgusted noise. “Don’t you have an opera to attend?”

Teia grinned at him. “We do. Although…” she glanced at Viago, then back to Lucanis. “We could always postpone. You could invite Rook! Make a double date of it?”

Both men groaned.

“Enough, Teia,” Viago said. “Leave him be.”

She sighed and shook her head. “See? Like I said, no fun at all.”

Viago smirked and opened his mouth, eyes glittering at whatever he was about to say, but Lucanis stood abruptly.

“I’m fairly certain I don’t want to hear the rest of this conversation,” he said. He gestured to the plate of cantucci. “Help yourselves.”

Viago scowled. “And where are you going?”

Lucanis smiled. “I have to see a Qunari about some fish.” He gave a shallow bow and hurried back out into the market before the Talons’ flirtations made him nauseous.

Leather and lavender, Spite said. Death. Flirting?

“Yes,” he said as he wound back through the market toward the fishmonger’s stall. “They’re together. At least, right now.” They tended to be on-and-off-again, though they’d been steadier since House De Riva had moved to Treviso after Salle fell to the Antaam.

Together. Like us. And Rook?

“No,” he said. “Rook isn’t… ours.” It was strange to talk about her this way, but he needed to use words Spite would understand.

Noooo, Spite said. Rook is ours! Our Rook!

“No,” Lucanis said, more firmly this time. Like reprimanding a dog.

We. Like. Rook.

He sighed. “Yes.”

Rook. Likes. Us!

Well, she liked Lucanis, at least. How she felt about the demon was less clear. “Maybe,” he said.

No! No maybe. Rook. Likes. US!

Lucanis shook his head. “Even if she does,” he said. “That doesn’t mean we’re together. That doesn’t make her ours.”

Why not?

“Because there’s more to being together than just liking someone.” He browsed the fishmonger’s stall, selecting two of the fresher whitefish he knew had a mild, sweet flavor and flaky texture. They should meet Bellara’s needs perfectly.

Like. What?

Mierda, did he really have to explain commitment to a demon? What had become of his life? He ignored Spite’s question and paid the fishmonger, who grunted their thanks.

Spite remained quiet until they were in the Crossroads. They walked through the spirit market side-by-side when Spite looked at him. Explain. Now?

Lucanis sighed. The demon had been patient, and this was the most polite request Spite had made of him, maybe ever. Either he felt guilty for his outburst with Davrin the night before, or he genuinely wanted to know. Perhaps a little of both.

“Being together is…” Mierda. He didn’t have any experience with this. “Choosing to be with one another. Spending all your time with each other.”

Like. Us?

Lucanis winced. It was easy to forget sometimes, but Spite had even less experience than he did. “We didn’t choose this, Spite.”

The demon didn’t respond to that.

“And,” Lucanis continued. “When people are together there’s usually romantic feelings. Attraction. Love.” He shrugged. “They care for one another.”

Attracted to Rook?

“Yes.” As strange as the fact still was to him, he couldn’t deny it. He was very attracted to Rook.

They walked in silence to the dock, and Spite pointedly ignored the Caretaker as it ferried them back to the Lighthouse eluvian. But before they reached the mirror, Spite stopped.

Lucanis. Loves Rook?

He blinked at the demon, then considered what to say. The fact that his response wasn’t an immediate ‘no’ was more than a little terrifying. After a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. He didn’t think so, not yet. But it was all too easy to imagine a future where he did.

He should be careful. Guard his heart and hers, because the odds of this contract getting a happy ending were not high. But even as he considered walling himself away from Rook, he knew it was too late.

Regardless of what was to come, Lucanis’s course was set.

I. Like. Rook! Spite said.

Lucanis snorted at that. “I think everyone knows that by now.”

The demon beamed at him, and they stepped through the eluvian and back to the Lighthouse. Back to Rook.

#lucanis dellamtore #spite dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #teia x viago #viago de riva #andarateia cantori #embria aldwir #himluv's writing tag

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f3mme-f4tale · 1 year ago

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which witch

part one

word count: 4k potential warnings: potential depictions of violence, sexual content, fingering (r! receiving) adult themes (explicit language), tension, angst, world building, more to come... pairing: rebel!ellie x princess!reader (categorized within the knight!ellie aesthetic)

authors note: there are some influences from game of thrones! :))

A cloud of gray smoke lingered above the vine-infested concrete walls of the booming city, machinery roaring to life and wildering conversations floating in the thick air. A war was looming over the Sovereign City, an invading force from the south eagerly plowing through the skin-biting tundra. The hundreds of guilds within the city's walls fed the economy, although some whisper that underground trading of magic folk is what really fuels the financial state. A spy for the rebellion circled the local market, running her hands over the bruised fruit and eyeing the common folk cautiously, trying her best to go undetected. The city center was preparing for the Sun Festival, ironic given the smog that shielded nearly all sunlight.

A local fruit stand was at the center of the market, an older gentleman staffing the exotic fruit from outside the city walls. Bright, intricate starfruit and jelly-filled strawberry papayas littered the concrete mosaic ground. A small goat with a blue bell was tied haphazardly to a post, the yarn fraying with every slight tug from the animal. A group of children dressed in muted shades of brown and green played a game of dice on the other side of the courtyard, daring each other to steal blackberries. The butcher’s son was pushing a small wagon of discarded meat and small fish bones towards an alley, likely to discard the leftovers.

The spy was adorned in local fabrics, muted mismatched stitching holding together a quilt-like material that resembled a shawl. Her deep maple hair cascaded down her neck with a simple silver pin holding some pieces out of her face. Her fingertips were stained with nightshade, her left-hand concealing a small dagger. The weapon was known for immediately striking down any foe, its metal laced with poison. Magic folk and creatures were no exception, despite their enchantments. An abstract fox decorated the handle, a symbol of the rebellion against the empire. On her hip was a small satchel containing various assortments of herbs, sliced plum mushrooms, and powdered oleander seeds. Being a spy, a magic one at that, had its benefits.

The spy detected a woman pocketing something from a guard across the courtyard. She watched her scurry away down an alley, not before stealing a fig from one of the stands. With the day being as slow as it had been, she reasoned that any mischief became her mischief. As she made her way towards where the other woman went, her grip tightened on the weapon. Upon turning down the alley, she seemingly vanished. It was not often that the spy’s prey escaped her sight, not since she was a child at least. At the last possible moment, a speck of red disappeared through a doorway fifty feet in front of her. Swallowing a sigh, she followed.

Inside was a desolate old factory, broken machinery sprawled across the floor and spray paint covering the walls. Sigils were marked on the concrete ground – emblems and allegories from The Blackmoor Book. She questioned how someone within the walls could have such knowledge, risking the high court finding such symbolism.

What was this place?

She did not dwindle on this apprehension long, sinking into the shadows and scanning the place for that woman. A crackly, high-pitched laugh erupted from the other side of the room. Before thinking twice, the spy was across the room in mere seconds, her knife pressed firmly against the mystery woman’s throat, as if in reflex.

“Ya know for as skilled as you are, I figured you’d recognize me,” the woman pestered, her dialect thick. The spy could place the voice, but the face was distant from her mind. The blade stayed against her throat, the pressure never wavering.

“Ellie,” she cooed, “it’s me.”

There was nothing I could do. My feet were lodged between the large stones that decorated the bottom of the fast river, the murky sand blinding my vision and setting my lungs on fire. I was becoming weak, fighting a losing battle with the force of the water. I wanted to give up, to let the depths swallow me whole and my mind run blank. My fingers just barely reached the surface, scratching at the sliver of life that was never fully mine. The anxiety was bubbling up from my stomach and began to make me tremble with complete fear; I wasn’t getting out of this.

Once, when I was young, I would swim in streams and small rivers just like this one. Uncle would be back at the village, father out with the council. My older foster brother would often join me, teaching me how to catch the fish and which plants could be used for medicine. When it was a quiet day, we would read books to the frogs and small insects. Now, at the precipice of death, I can only focus on the day he showed me how to fashion an arrowhead. On how his fingers made sharp movements and the glimmer in his eyes was its purest. He was the mouth of God; I took his words as religion. But he wasn’t there.

My arms grew numb, my body losing sensation. This was it. This was how I was finally going. I screamed against the current and inhaled the river. As my vision darkened and I began to accept defeat, I remembered the reason I was trying to traverse across in the first place; the heaviness of the guilt weighing me down. I made a promise, I swore to him. They were going to die, and it was all my fault. It was a mistake to think I could perform this journey alone, inexperienced.

And then I could breathe again. My fingers dug at my chest, eagerly gasping for air. My eyes burned from the sunlight, my right ankle adorning a jagged cut from the rock that once imprisoned me. My savior hovered above me, breathing just as heavily as I was. Where did they come from?

“T-thank you,” I managed to get out once the anxiety subsided, my throat still burning.

Hesitantly, I glanced up in their direction. They were drenched in luminance, a godliness highlighting their physique, black paint dancing across their nose. Meeting their enticing eyes, I realized I recognized them. A local girl a year older than me from the village, her hair tied tight against her head and half of her body soaking wet. She offered me a curt nod, adjusting the straps on her satchel and securing a few stray pieces of hair. The outfit she wore was jarring, nothing like the large tunics the women wore at home. The breeches and sleek overcoat were skin-tight, a throwing knife strapped securely to her thigh. She did not say anything back, leaving me as fast as she appeared.

“Dina,” Ellie mumbled, her voice rough against the soothing nature of Dina’s. Her eyes scanned the other's face, the memories of her childhood friend rushing back to her like a tidal wave. The same black paint was decorated across her nose, symbolizing her coven. Ellie let her guard down, the blade dropping to her side. The sigils made sense then – she grew up in the same village beyond this city within the Withering Woods, learned from the same potions master, and drank the same Mistmoor river water. Their village Jackson’s Crossing, surrounded by the White Mountains and often disregarded on official cartographer maps, was a cloister of small families from varied ethnicities.

Dina’s fingers were also stained a dark purple – evidence of witchcraft. The last time they had seen each other was years prior, back when Ellie was recruited to fight against the tyranny of the High Ruler, who came into power with varying degrees of support from the public. The last she heard of Dina was that she had joined a coven, practicing magic in secret.

She had grown a lot since their last encounter, her scarlet hair now many inches longer and herself several inches taller. They spared each other the formalities in catching up, Ellie reaching for the item Dina snatched from the unsuspecting general just beyond the door. She let her, Ellie’s mind working through possibilities as she brought the ring of keys closer. She should have known; such an item was predictable. Although, what did Dina need them for?

“Trying to sneak someone out of the dungeons, hmm?” she finally spoke, placing her dagger back into the depths of her clothing. Dina smiled at Ellie again, raising her eyebrows and letting her face do the talking. “Ah, well, sneaking into prison seems more your speed anyways.”

“The council has been very unyielding in my request for an audience,” she began, walking a few steps away from Ellie. “So, I’ve had to find my own ways.”

“Why do you wish to speak to them?” Ellie questioned, puzzled as to what her companion could want with them. Dina’s gaze meant nothing but trickery, her smile growing wider and wider. Whatever her intentions, Ellie considered leeching on, her own assignment from the Rebellion creating a need to be inside those palace walls – although for a quite different reason.

“Remember Jesse?” she smirks, running a hand through her locks. Ellie snorts at this – because of course she remembers Jesse, how could she not? They were practically joined at the hip before Ellie left Jackson.

“He’s gotta learn to keep his mouth shut in front of the guards. He’s so pretty, but he can be pretty thick headed sometimes,” Dina scolds, shaking her head. “So, naturally, they’ve finally decided to sentence him after years of causing mayhem.”

“Well, I want in,” Ellie says coldly, adjusting with the fabric that covers her shoulder. Dina squints at her friend, questioning her motivations. “I’ve got orders to relocate a member of the royal family, per the Rebellion's bequest.”

Deep viridian ivy covers the cobblestones and beige pillars of the courtyard, dark shadows stretching up the walls. Rain litters the ground, the damp air an inviting aroma. Billowing clouds darken the sky, the thunder a welcoming presence.

You’re sitting at a desk, candlelight framing your face as you attempt to read the book in your hands. It’s no use however, as your mind is swirling with a million different thoughts. The betrayal of your father cuts deep; all that remains is the stark reality of your pain. You trace the outline of the candle's flame with trembling fingers, its flickering dance mirroring your thundering heartbeat.

A knock at the door interrupts your spiral, haphazardly setting down your book and the weight of the chair creaking as you stand. A woman is on the other side, her curly black hair cascading down her back. The servant's uniform does her no justice, her figure cloaked in a tunic two sizes too big. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the intruder at such a late hour.

“Yes?” you ask, voice wavering slightly. You know she can see the dismay in your face, your eyes all too forgiving. You instinctively hunch your shoulders, nails pushing into the meat of your palm, knuckles turning white.

“Lord David sent me to draw you a bath, my lady. He wants you to be clean and fresh for your engagement tomorrow,” she responds, bowing her head. She holds clean linens and a sponge in her hand, a slight look of sorrow crossing her face that you almost miss. You step aside begrudgingly, letting her through.

Large buckets of water make their rounds over the fire as the servant works to untie the laces of your bodice, making quick work of the material. The cool air filtering through the partially opened window makes your skin grow cold, the woman helping you out your chemise, body bare to her wandering gaze. Her hands were warm, a stir emerging within your gut. You always disliked having other people bath you, yet you found yourself straightening your back, showing off. She made eye contact with you, half slitted pupils devouring your form. You welcomed this, using your left hand to remove a pin that was keeping your braids in place. She steps behind you to begin dumping the contents of the bucket into a metal tub.

And then suddenly the servant is several inches away, hands agonizingly tracing your shoulders, her breath hot on your neck. She places a small kiss just underneath your ear, a shudder escaping your lips as you tentatively close your eyes. You’d never had someone approach you this way, not unless you count the several forty-something year old male suitors that you had declined since you turned sixteen years ago.

The servant uses one hand to pull your hair over to one shoulder as the other palms your bare stomach. You suck in a breath, not pushing her away. You knew this was wrong, save for the fact that she was another woman. What would your father say? What would the maids whisper to each other when they thought no one was looking?

Despite protests shouting against your very core, you remained still, leaning into her frame. You could feel her breasts pressing into your back, her right hand dancing dangerously close to the space between your legs. Her left hand dragged across your chest, fingers grazing and pulling. When her right hand plunged into your slick, you leaned your head back against her shoulder.

“Lay down, my lady,” she murmured, gently moving your already wrecked body towards the bed in the corner. You obliged, sitting on the edge. She pushed you down, immediately dropping down to her knees. You were new to this, not even daring to touch yourself. Her mouth felt foreign on your pelvis, but you bucked up into her face regardless.

Her tongue slid across you, pink bud becoming raw from the friction. When she pushed two fingers inside of you, a borderline scream escaped your delicate lips. The swell of your breasts bounced as she began to pick up her pace, rocking your body against the frame of the bed and adding another slender digit. Her tongue continues its assault on your clit, forcing you to take it, to take all of it.

It’s over before you realize, her face covered in you. You pull her up by the collar of her uniform, forcing her lips against yours. She’s taken aback at first, but then melts into the embrace. She’s sticking her tongue into your mouth, the taste of you invading and arousing.

“As much as I’d love to continue Princess,” the woman says suddenly, breaking the kiss. “I did come here to bathe you.” You nod, suddenly extremely aware of your surroundings and how easily you folded under her touch – a woman’s touch.

As she dumped another bucket of hot water into the metal tub, you gazed off absentmindedly. Her coarse fingers work through your locks, detangling the pieces that frame your face.

“You’re so beautiful, but you have to keep him happy. He gets bored easily.”

You glance over at her, noticing the way the fireplace behind her makes her skin glow.

“I don’t want you to end up, well, like the others,” she sighs, moving to grab a rag to clean your skin with. You were so used to the mindless handling of your body that sometimes you forgot how vulnerable you could be.

“W-what others?” you croaked, tension once again creeping up your spine and through your fingers. You felt her movements stiffen, realizing she spoke out of turn.

“Oh, I shouldn’t, it’s all hearsay. I apologize, my lady,” she replies, her actions becoming more disorderly. You watch her closely, her sudden discomfort adding another layer of unease to the already heavy atmosphere. Despite her attempt to backtrack, your curiosity is piqued, and you press further.

"No, please, tell me," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper. She hesitates, torn between loyalty to her lord and a desire to warn you. Finally, she speaks, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

"There have been others before you," she begins, her words careful and measured. "Women who were... chosen, like you." Your heart pounds in your chest, the implications of her words sinking in. You swallow hard, pushing down the rising sense of dread threatening to overwhelm you.

"What happened to them?" you ask, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain composed. She hesitates again, her gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet your eyes.

"They... disappeared," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "Some say that he grows tired of his playthings, discarding them when they no longer amuse him, banished to distant lands never to return. Others whisper darker tales of rituals and… well," she clarifies, her hands shaking as she runs her nimble fingers through your hair once more.

You struggle to process the implications of her revelation, the realization dawning on you with sickening clarity. "You mean... they're dead?" you whisper, the words feeling foreign and surreal on your tongue. You turn to her fully, putting on a show of false confidence. “This is my home. He can’t frighten me.”

“Of course, my lady. Forgive me.”

You nod, still reeling from her earlier words. As she finishes bathing you, you're left alone with your thoughts once more. The warmth of the water does little to soothe the chill in your bones, the weight of impending responsibilities pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“Will I see you again?” You mumble, eyes pleading with the woman as she’s half way out of your chamber, a robe now draped around your figure. A frown catches her lips, a sigh is all the answer you need.

“I’m afraid not,” she finally answers, yet doesn’t move from her place at the door. You feel your stomach drop, reaching out to catch her lips in a kiss once more. This one is less aggressive, a plea for more. She cups your cheek softly, kissing you back. “It’s not safe. We live in a world where desires are often sacrificed for duty.”

As she finally steps away, you watch her silhouette fade into the dimly lit corridor beyond your chamber. A sense of loss washes over you, as you're left in the silence of your chambers. The flames of the candles flicker ominously, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You try to shake off the unease settling in your chest, but the seed of doubt planted by the woman’s words grows with each passing moment.

You know you should rest, to prepare yourself for the challenges that lie ahead, but sleep eludes you. Instead, you find yourself pacing the room, the echoes of your footsteps mingling with the whispers of your own fears.

This union is a death sentence, a promise made to satisfy your fathers requests. Your older sister was the next in line to rule, your brother already married off to a Duchess in the East. You would never sit on the throne; the pressure of said title always out of reach but forever a taunt. You could taste the longing for power – a snake wrapping around your heart, squeezing.

By marrying Lord David, you help ease the emerging tensions between the East and South kingdoms within the empire. It had long been kept secret that you were a bastard, a lie living a life of luxury. Guilt ate away at you from every inch of your skin, your real mother a ghost of your past. Of course, maids and servants talked. That said, the effort to uphold the ruler's dignity and honor reigned supreme; Those who were caught gossiping would meet a punishment worse than castration.

You understand the importance of maintaining stability within the empire, of ensuring peace between rival factions. But on the other hand, there's the gnawing fear that grips you, the fear of being trapped in a loveless marriage, of becoming just another casualty in the game of power and ambition.

You remember the stories you heard as a child, tales of kings and queens whose lives were dictated by duty rather than desire. You used to dream of a different fate for yourself, of finding love and happiness on your own terms. But now, as the reality of your situation sinks in, those dreams seem like distant echoes of a naive past.

Tomorrow, you will be betrothed to a man you hardly know; a union forged by politics and alliances. When morning comes, you will rise with a sense of resignation, steeling yourself for the path laid out before you.

Dawn breaks upon a canvas of melancholy, the sky adorned in swathes of slate-hued clouds. You dress in a gown of regal elegance, each layer of silk and lace feeling like a shroud closing in around you. Your reflection in the mirror is a stranger's face, masked behind a facade of composure that belies the turmoil within. As you fasten the intricate clasps of your necklace – a delicate chain of platinum interwoven with strands of glistening rhodonite and sunstone – you can't help but wonder if you're adorning yourself for a wedding or a funeral.

Downstairs, guests mingle in clusters of polished nobility. Their smiles are as artificial as the flowers adorning the tables, masking the alliances and rivalries that simmer beneath the surface. You navigate the crowd with practiced grace, exchanging pleasantries and feigned enthusiasm.

In the grand hall, where sunlight filters through stained glass, illuminating the opulence of the surroundings, you stand amidst a sea of faces, each one a mask concealing clandestine desires. At the center of it all stands Lord David, a towering figure of authority and ambition. His gaze finds yours across the room, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you before he turns to greet another guest.

His eyes, like shards of obsidian, pierce through the veneer of social niceties. As he acknowledges your presence with a nod of his head, you offer a polite smile, concealing the turmoil churning within your breast. His lips curve in response, but there is a hardness in his gaze. With unspoken haste, the sea of guests transitioned into the next room, organizing into rows.

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns of color upon the assembled guests. The delicate lace of your veil cascaded like a waterfall around you, framing your face in a halo of soft radiance. Lord David, regal and imposing, awaited you at the altar.

As you drew near, the murmurs of the crowd fell silent, and all that remained was the steady rhythm of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. With each step, you felt the weight of expectation pressing down upon you, the gravity of the moment settling like a cloak upon your shoulders.

At last, you stood face to face with Lord David, your hands trembling slightly as you clasped his in yours. The officiant's voice filled the air, the solemn words of the vows binding you together. His grip tightened at your wrists, thumb pressing into your pressure point. You fought against the sinking feeling in your chest, the fear washing over your features.

Concealed behind a pillar, at the room's farthest edge, stood a guest with a blade, its hilt adorned with an abstract fox; A silent sentinel amidst the opulent chaos. Their gaze, like a river's current, flows over your form, lingering on each curve and contour with a cautious reverence. The bodice of the gown hugs your frame, accentuating the gentle curve of your waist before giving way to a voluminous skirt that pools around your feet in a sea of soft fabric. Layers upon layers of tulle and organza lend an air of weightless beauty to the ensemble, each fold and pleat catching the light in a mesmerizing dance.

The spy stole a final glance at the princess, and for a brief moment, she could've sworn she saw a glimmer of fear entrenched in your gaze. Rancorously, Ellie envisioned taking a blade to Lord David's throat and smiling as the congealed mess of his arteries betrayed him. She shoved the wrinkled piece of parchment into the confines of her satchel. Her mission began.

Secure the youngest daughter of the sovereign.

taglist: @seraphicsentences @onlinelesbo @yumimak @elliewilliamsblunt @bready101

#tlou2 #ellie williams #fanfic #lesbian #tlou #ellie x reader #wlw #ellie x fem reader #free palestine #ellie williams fic

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astoldbyaja · 8 days ago

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Unbowed - 3 (Sinners 2025)

Each night I lied awake staring at the empty space on my bed. Each morning there were fruits and vegetables left for me by the Choctaw residents. There would be a few dollars left at the bottom of the baskets. They were so grateful. Some of my neighbors from the church came to check on me as well give me some food they made.

At night I’d hear the clamping of horse hooves. Chayton. He would watch over my home during certain hours of the night. I’ve told him he didn’t need to but he was insistent in doing so. I was at a very vulnerable moment in my life and he felt it was his duty as chief to protect me like he’d protect any one of his tribe.

Sometimes it wouldn’t be him but Kene or the other men of his tribe. I was grateful for them.

Normal POV

Chayton was sitting quietly in his tent outside his home his face marked and his eyes closed as he began to hum lowly in this throat.

There were many ways for he and his warriors to hunt the demonic blood drinkers who plague their lands. They would first track them using spiritual sensing. Only a rare few have this ability to use dreams or even visions to sense disturbances.

He also used physical signs like vultures in the area to determine if a demonic force was in the area. If a vampire was wounded and hiding he tracked them like his people tracked deer but looking for blood trails using a bone powder his people created to show unnatural movement.

Although it was night out, and he always enforced the rule that his people be heavily wary at night, he refused to fear it. It’s what made him the leader he was. His visions were clearer during the night. During the day his body and mind were tired from the labor he did with the others including farming, fishing and hunting. He and his other warriors sold their goods at local markets in town. But at night he had more energy.

He continued chanting seeing a blue sky surrounded by clouds. An open field with buffalo roaming the lands. He sees a familiar house… her house. He had to make sure evil did not touch her home- did not touch her. Nysa, the new beginning.

His eyes twitch as he sees darkness looming over her house, the skies going dark and fires erupting around her house. She is screaming in her bed as she is infected by the hatred and horrors of the white man. Her beautiful skin is bubbling and peeling as if she was being set on fire, rope marks tighten around her neck as if she were being lynched even though no rope is physically around her neck.

Blood pours down her thighs as she is subjected to the rape of those monsters around her. His eyes suddenly open, they are dark as his brown eyes appear from the dark abyss. He knows what he must do…

Nysa’s POV

With some of the money saved, I decided to go to the market to get a few items for the house. One of my neighbors was kind enough to watch over my house in the mean time. It really wouldn’t take but a few rough men to come and demand my home is theirs if they see it alone.

White people have been stopping by hounding me and trying to scare me into selling the land to them. But with my shot gun always in hand they don’t try to force their way into my home yet… I’m walking through the grocery store of Bo Chow’s store.

“Nysa?” I hear the soft southern tone of a familiar voice. I turn and see little Lisa standing there with a smile on her face and a basket in her hand.

“Oh Lisa hello.” I replied with a gentle smile. She holds up the basket to me.

“Daddy and ma and I are sorry about the passing of your husband. Daddy says if I were to see you I was allowed to give you a few things on the house.” She said. Her words made me smile more and I told the basket from her.

“Thank you Lisa.” I said gently. She nodded with a smile and turned to move back to the register. I left the store and began my walk back to my home. But it was a short walk as I hear a truck pulling up beside me and sitting inside is Chayton.

“Hello Nysa.” he said politely. I smiled softly at him.

“Hello Chayton.” I replied.

“Can I give you a ride ma’am?” he asked. It would definitely be appreciated with this heat. I nodded.

“That would be great.” I said and he stepped out of his truck and walked around the front with me. He opened the door and helped me inside. He was always wearing black gloves but I assumed it was just something he was used to what with fighting in the war. I placed my basket over my lap and he got back into the truck and began to drive.

“How are you?” He asked. I sighed softly.

“I’m alive.” I replied flatly.

“But you’re not living.” He said. I was quiet for a moment.

“I’m thinking of selling my home and moving to the colored neighborhood across town.” I said. He winced and looked at me.

“Do you have kin to stay with there?” He asked. I shook my head.

“No. My only family was my husband… and women can’t own land and the government will soon come and seize my home if I don’t sell soon. But only whites have come to my home trying to make me sell. None of the colored folk want to rent the land because it’s too far from their neighbors and whites are only coming because they want to make money off the field.” I replied. His eyes darkened.

“Have any of them tried anything? Tried to harm you or your home?” He asked his voice stern. I shook my head.

“Not yet.” I replied with a fearful tone. Chayton looked ahead and nodded before slowly his truck down on the side of the road. I looked around mildly confused at what he was doing, and he finally turned to me.

“Nysa… your land still borders more on Choctaw lands meaning Choctaw men can own it… I would like to buy the land and home from you and you will stay in your home and heal from your loss.” He said.

My eyes widened at his words. He would buy my home. The words were caught in my throat of what to even say so he continued.

“If you will allow my people to hunt, fish, and farm the land, whatever profit I get will go to you. I only ask that I be allowed to stay in your home so that I may protect you. Anyone seeing a woman alone can form dark heinous thoughts, and I will not let you succumb to such horrors.” He said. His words made me tear up.

He just had the answers it seemed and it made sense. I did need a man around the home it couldn’t be helped. My survival depended on it. I nodded wiping tears from my eyes.

“I would be overjoyed if you bought my home Chayton.” I replied gently. He smiled and gave my leg a gentle pat.

“Good. I am glad you agree.” He said before driving his truck back on the road.

#chayton sinners #sinners #blackfemoc #smut #black female oc #blackfemaleoc #sinners 2025 #spicy #sinners choctaw #choctaw #had to show love to this man #native american man #native american #jim crow #Native American man X African American woman #heavy smut

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liketwoswansinbalance · 5 months ago

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Fic Excerpt:

@heya-there-friends I figured you might be interested since I've mentioned this potential fic to you.

⸻

General Note on Content: My intent is not to be preachy/moralistic/politically-charged but to depict an interesting scene and characterization in the context of a broader, would-be chapter, in which I've tried to match a setting from One True King. So, for the sake of storytelling and the existence of conflict, do not expect everything to be perfectly politically-correct. I'm going to leave a blanket tw: bigotry.

Context: Set during Rafal's desertion of the School in Pifflepaff Hills.

⸻

Rafal waited in line irritably. He had places to be. And he couldn’t stand putting up with this bureaucratic nonsense of Pifflepaff Hill’s. Wasn’t even his ruling. He glared at his boots and the heads behind him.

A whine speared out of the line from in front of him.

“Aw, but Mum! The squer-rills are out today!” A child no doubt.

“Keep in line and be a Good little girl,” a gentlewoman's voice chastised.

“Naah,” the child’s voice rang out, with a stamp of its foot. “I don’ wanna. And I’m not going through that damn pink door!”

The woman tittered and clucked. “You’re not a gnome, dear.”

Rafal felt a sharp tug on his coattails and turned, summoned by the little being.

“Silver-for-your-thoughts, sir?”

Unimpressed, Rafal gazed down at the child. Who in their right mind struck up conversation with the Evil School Master? Then again, he’d hadn’t a chance to visit Putsi yet and could do for a coin, even just one, to tide himself over with. No, that would be foolish. He had sorcery. Why bother with it? “Go away.”

“Please?”

Rafal took the coin up and fished out the novelty matchbox he’d bought as a present for Rhian at the night market. It was a set of Clive-Sons-&-Goblins speciality matchsticks, each coated with a powdered element that when lit produced a different color of the visible spectrum. His brother didn’t deserve it anyway—Rafal dropped it into the child’s now empty hands. “Avaunt.”

The child ran off, matchbook clutched with a death grip for fear of confiscation, and ducked into a small grove of trees nearby.

Rafal looked on, amused. That one would know how to use it. He could see it in the eyes.

“How dare you speak to my child that way!”

“Madam?” Rafal regarded the gentlewoman with derision.

“Prudence! Get back here this instant!” the woman called. She spun to Rafal. “You’re going to make my daughter and I tardy for our counseling appointment.”

“You’re holding up this blasted line.”

The woman gasped, clearly offended. “Sir! That is—”

Her eyes lit up with recognition and widened in fear as she realized she’d been conversing with the Evil School Master. “Oh, dear me, I don’t want you to consort with my daughter ever again!” she harrumphed. “You might fill her head with more raging, Evil thoughts! Like the last one she’s latched onto.”

“And what might that be?”

“Oh, it’s just a phase. Quite an enduring one though. For some reason, she’s got it in her head that she’s a boy—keeps insisting on it.”

“Uh-huh.” Rafal glanced over at the child jumping at a branch, dressed in culottes instead of skirts and a newsboy’s cap over its crudely shorn head.

“I dealt with adolescents daily and you’re wasting my valuable time with not just another child’s insubordination but your own. I don’t care what runs through their undeveloped heads. Just let your offspring pick whichever door without dilly-dallying, and let me through, if you so insist that it’s your turn now. And frankly, I don’t care what children believe about themselves or what they do so long as they’re productive. So, once again, you’re at a crossroads, one that probably seems complex to your simple mind: let me through the damn door if you’re delaying your turn, or move along now.”

“Why I never! It’s all I’d expect from a Never like you—corrupting innocent, young minds.”

“I don’t care if my basic job description as an educator upsets you. I’m not in the business of distributing good cheer and rainbows—” he began, with marked pith.

“You should be more like your brother. The Good one,” the woman suggested as if she’d stumbled upon the discovery of the century.

“Madam.” Rafal smirked to himself, “If I were anything more like my brother, it wouldn’t be such a far leap to assume you’d find reason to hate me more than you already do.”

“Goodness, what’s there to hate about him? Why, Rhian’s a pillar of Goodness and Godliness.”

“That is certainly… one way to define him… ” Rafal sighed. “Listen, your choice in naming wasn’t very prudent. Now, I could give you another problem to worry about, but I won’t because I have things to do. So, let me by," he seethed, towering over her.

She quailed and burbled, “I just need to collect my daughter and—”

“In all fairness, I think your son’s gender is the least you’ve got to worry about. It seems that in all that frenzy of yours, you haven't been paying attention to his morality.”

“Wha—what’s morality got to do with it? You’re the immoral one! You, you Never! I’m a woman of my word!”

“And I’m a man of action.”

Not the insult she seems to think it is, Rafal mused to himself. He himself was an exemplary specimen of a Never.

A squeak pierced the air.

She and Rafal glanced over at the copse of trees.

The boy had completed his squirrel chase and was holding a lit match burning a brilliant blue which smoked pink and white, to the creature’s throat.

“There. You see? Least of your problems. I’ll swing by and collect him in eight years. Should make a fine student if he keeps it up. And with that initiative, he’s certainly on track to become a Leader.”

The henpecked mother looked like she’d swallowed a toad and shouted, disoriented, “WHAT IN THE BLUE BLAZES IS HE DOING! Good God, please tell me I haven't birthed an Evil imp!” She wailed at the cotton-candy sky.

The Neverboy, whatever-his-name-would-be, waved ta-ta as Rafal watched and winked.

Rafal continued on his way through the blue doorway, whistling, having sown an impending uproar.

New problems really did extinguish the old. Worked like a charm. At least Rhian would be pleased when Rafal told him about his Good deed of the decade.

“SIR!”

Rafal turned back.

The boy waved his matchstick, sparks flying, as if he’d had an epiphany. “THE NAME’S CLIVE!”

Clive. Clive of Pifflepaff Hills, the Evil School Master noted. One more name for the ledger.

#school for good and evil #rise of the school for good and evil #rafal #rafal mistral #sge #sfgae #the school for good and evil #tsfgae #rotsge #rotsfgae #my post #my fics #my writing #snippets

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pagan-stitches · 1 month ago

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Kimchi with Foraged Wild Lettuce and Dandelion Greens Experiment: Part 1

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with baking because of inattentiveness/impatience due to ADHD—much, much preferring to be artistic with cooking meals. This year with my diagnosis, I’ve really slowed down with baking and had a lot of success with yeast breads and pastries. The new habits I’ve built with baking stood me in good stead as I experimented with this kimchi—taking time to research and making adjustments in ingredients and equipment.

Luckily with kimchi you can practice a lot of versatility; families tend to have their own recipes. I’ll talk about the changes I made and why, while linking to the recipe I used. If this doesn’t end up turning out it won’t be due to the original recipe!

The first adjustment was to cut the recipe down to 1/3rd the original as I managed to forage roughly 6 oz of greens instead of the pound required. Plus, I figured it didn’t hurt to use up less ingredients in case it didn’t turn out or I didn’t like it.

I parboiled the greens for 30 seconds and then laid them on a tray to cool. Then put them in a bowl with the salt for 30 minutes, and then rinsed them well, and chopped them into bite sized pieces.

I DID NOT use a vinegar and water bath as I usually do when cleaning greens. The research I did indicated that the vinegar could kill the bacteria on the plants that was necessary for fermentation.

Meanwhile, I brought water, fish sauce, maple syrup, and flour to a simmer—this is where I made another change. I did not have rice flour. Apparently, traditionally a glutinous rice flour is used. I researched and found many people who didn’t use flour at all, or substituted other flours, such as all-purpose, which is what I had on hand. The main purpose of the flour is to thicken the liquids—without it the kimchi can be watery. My liquid turned out nice and thick.

After this mixture returned to room temperature, I added the chili, ginger, and garlic. Here is where I made another change. While I used to regularly keep Korean chili powder on hand when we lived in a more urban area with access to a Korean (and Vietnamese) market, now that we are in a rural area I didn’t have any. I found people recounting using all sorts of peppers. I DO have access to peppers used in Hispanic cooking, and ended up using the tiny dried, red chiltepin which packs A LOT of heat. I only used a TB of them whole (I crushed them before adding to the liquid). When I taste tested, it seemed plenty spicy!

Since I used a very small amount of the whole chili peppers, the color was all wrong. A lot of people said they used a mixture of spicy peppers and paprika to get a redder color. So since I always have paprika (Czech-American cooking here, Baby!), I went ahead and added enough to turn the liquid red.

I then poured the liquid over the greens, smooshing the greens down to make sure that they were well covered and leaving a little room at the top for gas to escape. I would say it was about 3/4 full.

Last change: I was supposed to use a jar with a non-reactive lid because of the possibility of pressure building up and bursting the jar to shards. I really didn’t want to spend money on an experiment (pretty much the reason for most of my changes), so I just recycled a jar and will “burp” it twice a day during the 2 weeks when fermentation should be at its most active. This means loosening the lid twice a day to allow gases to escape. AND I put it in a loose plastic bag in a box in a closet in case it explodes!

I’ll be posting updates about whether it starts to bubble in a day or two like it should.

#dandelion greens #wild lettuce #foraging #kimchi #Korean food #preserving #fermentation #food #cooking #recipe

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writerpey · 2 years ago

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Omg wait, you have so many fandoms I love, ok, ok could you make like a list of characters from theses shows and what they’d be? Like regressed, caregiver, ect? (So I can send asks based on that) I’m so excited right now

Arcane, Detroit Become Human, Last airbender, Our flag means death, and Six of crows/shadow and bone

happy 2024! this has been in my inbox forever but looks super fun to do! here’s my take on what characters would be regressors/caregivers for arcane, dbh and atla. I totally wrote way more than I expected to but here u are! <3 I’ll do a separate post for ofmd and soc bc they have so many characters I have opinions on.

Agere Character Headcanons

(Arcane, D:BH, ATLA)

(jinx is me cooking up this thread)

Arcane

Vi: As much as she’d be a wonderful caregiver, she’s absolutely a regressor. Being small reminds her of days spent with her parents and Powder, family trips to the fish markets of the coast and sunny days building sand castles at the beach. She tends to be on the older side, a natural tendency from a life spent as the older sibling, taking care of Powder. Vi’s a very active and vivacious little, playing outdoors and hanging off Caitlyn’s shoulders. Loves physical touch, hugs and high fives are the way to go.

Caitlyn: Caregiver all the way! I think she loves kids in general, and despite her awkward nature and sheltered upbringing, she finds it easy to take charge and step into the role of a protector. Definitely looks after Vi and is oftentimes too concerned about her safety. She loves taking the little out to the playground and to eat at Jericho’s food stall (even if she still refuses to eat a bowl of slop herself).

Jinx: Tiniest, cutest, moodiest little troublemaker there is. Jinx regresses to about four or five years old, and absolutely bounces off the walls at all hours of the day. She’s not the quiet, sweet child she once was as Powder, but rather gets herself into trouble and feigns innocence. She loves to annoy both Silco and Sevika, clambering on the latter’s lap and hiding under Silco’s desk for games of hide and seek. Her mood changes rather drastically as well, as she can go from completely happy to hyperventilating sobbing from anything as simple as scraping a knee to refusing bedtime.

Jayce: He’s a very attentive and high strung caregiver. Looking after Viktor is much easier than Caitlyn, Silco, or Sevika’s jobs, but Jayce always fusses over the little. He’s quick to scoop him up whenever it’s deemed necessary, and goes to Mel for help when he needs another pair of hands. Jayce loves caregiving because it gives him something to focus on other than his responsibility to Piltover, and enjoys simple play with his little like story time and building blocks.

Viktor: Super small and quiet regressor! Viktor can get very young, and has no qualms with depending on Jayce for help when he’s little. He likes to be snuggled up on a couch in a mound of blankets and is also content to sit and watch Mel paint the ships that go by the balcony of her apartment. Viktor is sweet and shy and doesn’t tend to verbalize his needs, but because Jayce is so attentive they mesh well together.

Detroit: Become Human

Kara: Caregiver. Need I expand? It’s in her coding in the first place to protect and nurture. Upon her deviance, Kara realizes that even if she was made for it, she can still reclaim that part of herself for herself. She is quick to console whomever her little may be, and projects the kindest and warmest energy to the person she’s taking care of. Kara enjoys making up her own stories, and loves playing make believe with her regressor.

Connor: One hundred percent a regressor. This little guy was shy and uncertain when he first started regressing, as he didn’t know what ‘normal’ behaviour from a deviant was, let alone how to process all the new emotions he was feeling. Connor loves to spend time at Hank’s house with Sumo, revelling in the feeling of the dog’s fluffy fur and laughing happily when he teaches Sumo all sorts of tricks. Connor is usually happy when regressed, but struggles with anxiety and asking for help. Hank is always there to walk Connor through his big feelings and encourages him to use his words.

Markus: He’s one of the most chaotic caregivers there is. You picked the pacifist route in the game? Doesn’t matter. This guy is unhinged when it comes to caregiving. Spoiling his little at any time possible, letting them stay up hours past their bedtime, giving them candy for breakfast and encouraging colouring on the walls. He spent so many years being exactly who Carl wanted him to be while also tasting freedom through Carl’s art that it brings him so much joy to see a regressor’s eyes sparkle when he says yes to whatever their heart desires. He’s also amazing at comforting a regressor. Big hugs and gentle eyes!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Katara: Is a caregiver! Incredibly kind yet less patient than one (Sokka) might hope. Katara is quick to caution her little, always on the lookout for anything that they might hurt themselves with or on. But this doesn’t mean she hates fun! She adores the beach and using her bending to splash around, and is always ready to get her little an extra blanket or any snacks they ask for. She’s super sweet and falls into the role of a caregiver like she was made for it. Katara has even sewed a plushie or two as gifts, and has a knack for settling a regressor in front of a crackling fire and braiding their hair before bedtime.

Sokka: Regressor for sure. Even though he’s a big brother he never let go of his goofy side, and it plays into so much of his behaviour when he’s regressed. He’s on the older side, around 6-8, and has so much energy he doesn’t know where to put it all. Queue him running around for hours, laughing at absolutely anything that Aang says and bothering Toph just so she’ll play with him. Sokka doesn’t cry, even when he takes a tumble (which is quite often) but is fussy when he doesn’t get his way. He’s a troublemaker, but his beaming smile lets him get away with plenty.

Aang: Honestly I think he’s a caregiver, but is more like a fun uncle than any other label. His sage airbender wisdom doesn’t come through often, which means he’s all about fun all the time. His childish side matches a little like Sokka’s constant energy, and he seems to vanish into a cloud of smoke when any tears come his way. And how did Sokka and Zuko get chocolate all around their mouths, you ask? Well, there’s no one to ask because Aang’s just taken off on his glider on some very important business.

Zuko: LITTLE! REGRESSOR! TINY! Oh my goodness, he’s the first fictional character that I ever headcanoned as a regressor. There’s no need to delve into his trauma here, but the boy is in such a desperate need of healing his childhood that he regressed long before he even knew what it was. Regresses very young, between 2-5. Before meeting the Gaang he’d hang off of Uncle’s shoulder during Pai Sho tournaments on his ship and would shyly ask the crew members to play songs during music nights. His tough demeanour disappears completely when he’s regressed and he turns into a shy boy that is insistent on doing things himself and is quick to cry when he’s unable to, for example, wrap his robes the way he wants. Zuko has a turtleduck plushie that Katara sewed for him after Aang asked him what his favourite animal was and Sokka caught him cuddling up to Appa at night. Sweetest boy in the whole world.

Toph : Caregiver! Matches more with Aang’s style of caregiving than Katara’s, but still lands somewhere in the middle. Her earthbending gives her the ability to pick up on every tiny emotion that a regressor feels, and it means she’s prepared and in tune with every need, happy or unhappy, that someone needs. She tends to playfully tease Zuko and Sokka, but knows exactly where to draw the line with either boy based on the rhythm of their heart. Toph helps Aang when it comes to letting the boys do something Katara has specifically told them they’re not allowed to, and will always feign innocence when confronted by the eldest caregiver.

#sfw agere #sfw agere fic #detroit become human agere #dbh agere #dbh #detroit become human #arcane agere #arcane #atla agere #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender agere

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j-1-nx · 4 months ago

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jinx 👍👍👍‼️‼️‼️ (sorry im sleep deprived i cant think straight. bascially we're a system n have powds, vi (tho she. is very much not like arcane-vi) and jinx. idk if youre comfy w "doubles" per se. seeing caitlyn slander makes me so happy lmfao. also the post about not being a zaun fan while being racist ableist etc bullshit irl is soo based.

love the hair btw, did you make it from scratch? :0 (we are still trying 2 make a wig for both me(? powder) and jinx, have great hair-like yarn but its so time consumimg we just. procrastinate it forever lmao

god my brain is soup rn. anyway bye bye -???blurry? ( @fish-n-friends )

Sorry this took so long to answer, and yeah I'm fine with doubles lol. I'll slander Caitlyn till the day I die lmfao. And I'm glad you agree with the post!

The wig is almost from scratch. We found it for like $12 at a convention flea market and the bangs were already half done, I just touched em up. The rest of it is from scratch, though. Rebraided the whole thing, brushed it out, styled the bangs and hairline and such.

The braids are detachable, also. The claw clips they came with were both already broken and brittle as fuck. Had to replace them. I'm pretty sure I have a photo from Katsu in an applebees where I couldn't be bothered with the braids and just took em off.

It only just occured to me that "from scratch" could've also meant, like, actually from scratch gluing wefts onto a base, so just in case that's what you meant then no. Pretty sure it was a pre-made base wig that the people we got it from at Isshocon had bought and decided they didn't want. But the styling and such is aaallll me bay bee!

It's technically not done and I've still got some gluing to do but eh, it was good enough to go to Katsucon lmao.

Anyway, moving on. Don't even worry about Vi not being, like, canon compliant lmao. I'm not all that like canon Jinx myself. Hope you're not as blurry now, at least!

#arcane #fictive #arcane fictive #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #jinx fictive #arcane league of legends #did system #dissociative identity disorder #J1nx Answers

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depressedoldersis · 2 months ago

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okay also but what's your go to purchase at the Asian market? cause I've never left one without spending a ridiculous amount on teas and soup 😂

Omg I'm just gonna word vomit everything I look for 😝

LKK soy sauce, dark mushroom soy sauce, clam sauce, Xiao xing wine, toasted sesame oil, powdered mushroom (it's like mushroom bullion), white miso paste, bean sprouts, milkis melon soda, thai tea powder, taro boba powder, chili oil, fried chili snack, pork floss, paprika chips, dehydrated jackfruit chips, red bean buns, kimchi, mogu mogu melon or lychee, guava juice, stir fry noodles, glass noodles, baby bok choy, red bean icecream fish (it's a cone in the shape of a fish), taro mochi, parrot brand coconut cookies, taro coconut rolls, coconut pirouettes, kimchi ramen,

And RICE!

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howlingday · 2 years ago

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Soo chowder x panini is Ruby x oscar?

Ask and ye shall receive.

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Ozpin: Oscar, take note of the girl in front of you.

Ruby: (Scratches herself)

Oscar: Note taken~.

Oscar: Hi, Ruby~.

Ruby: Um, hi?

Oscar: ...

Ruby: ...

Oscar: ...

Ruby: ...Why are you staring at me?

Oscar: Because~.

Ruby: Because why? Is- Is there something on my face?

Oscar: I was in the market today, and I bought some powdered hearts. Would you like to try some~?

Ruby: What's it taste like?

Oscar: Taste it and find out~.

Ruby: Is it sweet?

Oscar: Well, taste it and find out~!

Ruby: Is it salty?

Oscar: TASTE IT.

Ruby: (Bites into it)

Oscar: Can you taste the romance~?

Ruby: (Coughs) The romance tastes a little dry.

Oscar: Have a sip from my... canteen.

Ruby: (Takes canteen, Chugs)

Goodwitch: Ohoho~! Dohoho~!

Ruby: Are you okay, Professor?

Goodwitch: Not as okay as you~! (Winks) So tell me, how long have you little lovebirds been... going steady?

Oscar: I'm Ruby's boyfriend! And Ruby is my girlfriend, and we're totally going to be together forever and ever (Grabs hand) and now we're holding hands~!

Ruby: (Spits out canteen, Continues spitting home)

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Ozpin: Ms. Xiao Long, you will groom yourself like a cat!

Yang: No way, dude! I have too much self-respect for that!

Ozpin: (Taps scroll) Oops! You're now a C student.

Yang: ACK! (Starts licking her arm)

Ozpin: And make kitty-cat sounds while you do it.

Ruby: No, Yang! You're not a kitty-cat!

Ozpin: Oscar! Silence the caped one!

Goodwitch: I didn't say anything.

Ozpin: No, the caped one with the dark hair!

Summer: I didn't say anything.

Ozpin: (Grabs Ruby) THIS ONE! SILENCE THIS ONE! (Tosses at Oscar)

Oscar: (Catches Ruby) With pleasure~. Kiss me, you fool~! (Tries to kiss her)

Yang: JUST DO IT, RUBY! WE NEED THOSE GOOD GRADES!

Ruby: I'D RATHER BE A DIRTY KITTY-CAT! (Licks herself with Yang, Meowing with her)

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Ruby: Come on! We have to get to General Ironwood! He's the only one who can help!

Oscar: Oh my gosh! She's holding my hand! Non-descript Winter Holiday dreams do come true~!

Summer: Be the dream. Live the dream. Touch the dream. TOUCH IT!

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Oscar: I'll do it!

Oscar: As your student council president, I officially declare student marriage legal! (Grabs Ruby) You may now kiss the groom!

Ruby: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

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Yang: Ruby needs a tutor, but it has to be someone willing to give him the close, personal, intimate tutoring she needs!

Jaune: (Steps in) Hell-

Oscar: (Tosses Jaune out the window) I heard you need a tutor!

Yang: Yeah, but I can only pay you in hugs.

Oscar: DEAL! (Zooms past Yang)

Ruby: (Tied to a chair) Yang's worried for no reason. I've already told her I don't need a tutor when I already have the skills.

Ruby: THE SKILLS!

Oscar: Let's get started. Hm, but first, let's get a little closer.

Oscar: Maybe a little closer.

Oscar: Just a smidge closer.

Oscar: (Next to Ruby) Oh, yes, this should be close enough. Now, what subject should we start with? How about... CHEMISTRY~?

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Ruby: (Running away) Why, oh why was I born so handsome?!

Oscar: (Holding her cape) Ready for your daily public display, Ruby~? (Tries kissing her)

Ruby: Watashi was anata no garufurendode wa arimasen! Ichido mo nai! Ichido mo nai!

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Oscar: Oh, Whitley, I am so sorry for treating you so horribly! Can you ever forgive me?

Whitley: Well, I, uh-

Oscar: Great! Phew! I'm so glad to have my Ruby back~! (Tries to kiss her)

Ruby: I'M NOT YOUR RUBY! (Tries to run)

Oscar: (Holding her cape) Ha ha... DOWN, RUBY! (Yanks) She can be so excitable. (Carries Ruby) Good-bye, Whittleson. And next time, lay off the cologne. You smell like a fish's armpit.

Ruby: ACK! NO! DAD! UNCLE QROW! HELP! I know you guys aren't in the tags, but please help me!

Taiyang: What is she talking about? Our tags are right down there!

Qrow: Should we go help her?

Taiyang: No, these are the only lines we have.

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Oscar: Sooooo... It only makes sense for you to let your future husband and the father of your twenty children win, right?

Ruby: TWENTY KIDS?! You must be straight trippin', my dude! I'm planning to play the field until I'm at least thirty-eight! Then maybe, MAYBE if I decide to settle down and get married, I'll think about possibly considering about maybe toying around with the notion of having one- JUST ONE- child, and I'll have it by myself when I'm ready! Thank you very much!

Oscar: Oh, so that's how it is, then? Alright. GAME ON!

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20 Years later...

Oscar: Oh, Ruby~!

And of course, Ruby and Oscar ended up together in the end, just as the creators intended.

Oscar: I'm taking our fifty babies out for a walkie-walk~!

Ruby: I thought we only had thirty babies.

Oscar: I had twenty more last night~!

Ruby: Oh. Hi, new babies!

Babies: Hi, Mommy~!

Oscar and Ruby lean in to kiss...

Ruby: NO! STOP! HOLD IT! I reject this reality! It's evil! Evil, I says!