#I had trouble finding a snippet though

[larissa-the-scribe]

O Desafio - História please!

Thanks for the ask! (from this ask game)

Info:

So this is actually a bit of a weird one lol. I grew up in Brazil and speak Portuguese as a second language, so at one point when my family was traveling in the States, I decided to write a story in Portuguese for practice. I was not good at the finer points of Portuguese, and hadn't read much in Portuguese, so the prose was, uh. lacking. Still, it became a fun vibey fairytale sort of story that I still really like, and hope to someday come back to. Probably in English since I do Not trust my grammar/prose in Portuguese, but who knows, maybe it (and all of my books maybe, fingers crossed) might get translated.

It's the story of a young orphan girl, a skilled information broker, who gets contracted by a councilman to help him confirm the existence of faery encroaching on their kingdom. He's worried that something is terribly wrong in the faery forest that will also affect them, and wants her (and a small team) to find out what they can about the situation. She agrees, because he promises, in return, to get her the proper papers and funding so that she can leave the country --but she is very skeptical that "faery" is a thing. Also the heir to the throne has been missing for a while, which is definitely totally unrelated to the fully-trained knight in their party.

This scene is when Kira, doing preliminary investigations, gets attacked and knocked about by a shape-shifting monster in the woods. She is not a fighter and not used to monsters--thankfully, someone nearby is.

Short snippet:

Uma lança apareceu, de repente, como se estava crescendo do pescoço da criatura. Com um gorgolejo horrendo, a criatura cambaleou por um longo momento, o processo de transformação parado. Tombou no chão. Kira exalou, percebendo que ela estava no chão ainda, estremecendo. Ela ficou instavelmente de pé, retornando a funda ao cinto dela. “Tu deves ser a Kira.” Ela virou, procurando a voz. Pertencia ao um cavaleiro; ele desceu do seu cavalo, levantando o viseiro do seu capacete e revelando uma cara muito mais jovem e gentil do que a armadura pesado prometeu. Ele era mais alto que parecia no cavalo--Kira se ofendeu nisso. Ela não gostava de se sentir mais baixa do que precisava. “Sim, sou eu.” A própria voz era estranho e tremulo. Acalma, Kira. Respirando fundo, ela adicionou com mais força, “e quem é você?” O cavaleiro sorriu e estendeu a mão. “Sou Alnor. Foi mandado para te procurar.”

Translated snippet:

A spear appeared, suddenly, as if it were growing out of the neck of the creature. With a horrible gurgle, the creature staggered for a long moment, its transformation process halted. It thudded to the ground. Kira exhaled, realizing that she was still on the ground, trembling. She got unsteadily to her feet, returning her sling to her belt. "You must be Kira." She turned, seeking the voice. It belonged to a knight; he got down from his horse, raising the visor of his helmet and revealing a face much younger and gentler than his heavy armor promised. He was taller than he looked on the horse--Kira took offense at that. She didn't like feeling any shorter than she needed to. "Yes, that's me." Her own voice was strange, quivering. Calm down, Kira. Taking a deep breath, she added with more force, "and who are you? The knight smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Alnor. I was ordered to come find you."

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #4

Danny knew he had screwed up and that he was going to be in so much trouble as he flew hurriedly through the streets of Gotham.

"Old man is going to be so pissed...." he muttered as he zigzagged through the buildings. He had just gotten back from a side mission with Clockwork when he learned that one of their villains had gotten their hands on portal technology. Not his parents mind you, no one could read their chicken scratch besides Danny or Jazz. No but Vlad's, who was supposed to be a redeemed man but apparently some of his inventions still managed to get onto the black market.

Danny hat been in the Ghost Zone when they had that found out and the old man pinged him to get back sooner. And oh boy was Danny in for a portal mess when he got back to Gotham. He instantly went out to help the old man. Batman was out on his own and Danny had been trying to give him support when he got tangled up and ended up thrown through a portal.

Yeah, he knew his the old man would give him a good lecture, like the day he had gotten taken under the other mans wing. So now after Danny finally made his way back to Gotham he flew through the streets in search of the old man, it looked like the portal problem had resolved while he was trying to find his way back but still Danny had a weird feeling about Gotham now.

"OLD MAN!" He yelled as he spied Batman on top of a building. Grinning brightly he came to an stop directly in front of the other waving happily. "Sorry it took so long but I am back and in one piece! No injuries! See!"

Danny grinned brightly despite not getting an instant answer or lecture back. Though he paused when he noticed the kid in colourful clothing and others like one with a red face covering helmet, one themed in blue and one in black and red. "Did you get help from others? And I thought you didn't like kid playing hero?"

He tilted his head confused as he studied Batman before his eyes widened. "Hey, since when is your insignia not red...?"

It was in that moment that Danny realized he messed up big time somehow and slipped up as he uttered his next words. "You're not old man Thomas...?"

[matriarchjojo]

" MOVIE NIGHT GONE WRONG. "

starring! : mikey + fem!reader, and kazutora, draken, baji, chifuyu

warnings! : exhibition, sex tape, fingering, finger sucking, choking, FWB, college!AU, basically cheating? (draken), squirting, implied gangbang at the end, readers skin color is not mentioned, mdni, not proofread

summary! : mikey invited the boys to a movie night, but as he was gone to pick you up, they accidentally stumbled opon a camera.

"Movie night gone right" pt.2

Right after mikeys bike engine roared from outside and slowly got more silent until it was completely gone, the guys just sat on mikeys couch and on the floor, bored.

Kazutora sat down on the floor with one of mikeys pillows and suddenly spotted a video camera, obviously from the late 2000s and a bright smile beamed on his face as he took it in his hands.

"Look what I found, guys" he announced opening the display of the cam "why would mikey have that?" Draken asked himself outloud with a raised eyebrow, to which kazutora shrugged "I dunno but I'm dying to see what he filmed on this."

Chifuyu looked a bit uncomfortable with that idea "I don't know man, maybe there's some personal shit on there" baji just scoffed, "then I just wanna see it more" he laughed. Kazutora looked at draken to see if he wanted to he it too.

Draken sighed and stretched his arms "sure, why not."

Kazutora and baji then cheered before baji encouraged him to connect the camera with the TV, which he had some trouble with since he didn't find the cable at first for it, but after he did find it he didn't waste a single second to plug it in

A video immediately started of mikeys feet as he walked, before the shot lifted to reveal you in pretty heels and a cute sundress skipping infront of him, mikey giggled behind the camera "cute" he said. You then turned around to which the guys perked up.

"She's still pretty even on a shitty camera" baji mentioned.

The tape continued with you laughing happily and smiling at the camera "you gotta say hi to the camera." Mikey told you, to which you just giggled and then waved your pretty long nailed fingers at the camera "hiiii!"

All of the guys had a tiny smile on their face at your cute gesture.

But then the video stopped, and another started up. It was you again. On mikeys couch, stretching your gorgeous legs while reading a magazine. You were wearing a mini skirt and a crop top, mikey kept filming your legs and the how graceful they looked.

It started to feel like...there was some tension in the air now. Kazutora couldn't take his eyes off the screen, admiring your pretty legs and your gorgeous heels. It was no secret that tora had the miggest crush on you, so seeing this put him in a trance. But it didn't just affect him, of course. you were beautiful and cute, and it was hard not to crush on you at least a little bit. Even draken, though he'd never say it out loud.

"Stop filming my legs!" You playfully complained, closing you magazine and coming over to mikey, who was just giggling behind the camera as you came closer and closer to the camera, but then it shut off. And another video started, it was you kneeling on the floor looking up into the camera with your bright eyes and glossy lips "what?" You giggled, tilting your head. "You're pretty." Mikey said, and then it stopped again.

Chifuyu completely forgot about his feelings from earlier, now just focused on seeing more videos of you being pretty and happy.

Those videos continued, just sweet little snippets of mikey admiring you. They were surprised that mikey was so enamored with you, seeing such an "emotional" side of him was very alien to them. Watching these videos made the guys wonder if you two were a thing and they just didn't know about it.

"Come on, let's stop watchin' em" draken announced, waving his hand. But kazutora protested "just one more!" And before anyone could object he let the next one play.

This time you were in mikeys room again with you sitting on his couch as Mikey supposedly laid down on his bed. You were watching some show until you noticed mikey filming you again.

You smiled "what?" You asked cutely, "waiting for a performance" he casually said.

Draken and baji raised a curious eyebrow, "performance?" Baji asked, to which tora hushed him.

You giggled and turned your upper body to him, you smiled a little shyly then rolled your eyes "really? Again?" Assumingly mikey just nodded at your question.

At this point, the guys didn't see anything too weird about these videos until..

You suddenly grabbed the hem of your tank top and lifted it over your tits to flash the camera.

Kazutora and chifuyu let out an audible gasp, draken choked on his drink and bajis jaw just dropped in absolute shock.

"OKAY, OKAY TURN IT OFF!" Chifuyu yelled, pulling his arm over his eyes to shield himself from this privacy invasion. "NO WAY!!" Tora and baji yelled. They both should feel more disgusted or discomfort at you and mikey being.."intimate," but they were too focused on finally seeing your perky tits that teased them for years now.

The video continued and they could hear mikey giggle before the next video started. It was you again with your head on mikeys thigh as you were seated between them on the floor, and he was sitting on the couch, your beautiful eyes looked up into the camera. Your nails pressed softly into mikeys thigh as you tilted your head, then without a single word, mikeys hand cane down to caress your flushed cheek.

It was a cute and innocent enough gesture, until his thumb started caressing your bottom lip and you slowly opened your mouth to suck on it sensually.

"Fuck, she's like a pornstar.." kazutora mentioned, absolutely enamored with how pretty and sexy you looked doing such slutty activities. "She fuckin' does.." baji agreed, leaning more closely to the screen from his seat on the couch.

The video cut, and another immediately started.

This one just immediately started with your pretty moans and your face twisted in pleasure. It didn't take kazutora a second to get rock hard, and it wasn't any different for draken, baji or chifuyu. Hard as fuck.

"What a good girl.." Mikey said behind the camera as it panned down to reveal mikey's fingers slowly sliding in and out of your wet cunt, making obscene and sinful noises. Your clit looked so swollen, kazutora almost wanted to lick the screen.

You moaned so prettily again and you spread your legs further for mikey to get better access. His Fingers sped up and so did the wet squelching noises, your moans got more high pitched and louder "that's it." Mikey encouraged "cum for me.." your hips bucked into his touch as your eyes slightly rolled back and your bottom lip got caught between your teeth.

Baji gripped the blanked next to him, imagining how soft your skin would feel against his own, how tight your pussy would feel around his fingers.

Draken had his fingers on his temple, pretending to not like what he was seeing, and he shouldn't. Especially since he had a girlfriend. But fuck he's just a guy, and you're getting fingers by his best friend. Letting out the prettiest noises he'd ever heard..

Your head tipped back and you covered your mouth as a sticky liquid squirted out of your weeping cunt. "Fuck yeah..good girl, good girl" mikey huffed, fingering you even faster.

Chifuyu gasped as he gripped the pillow impossibly tighter over his crotch, he'd seen a lot of porn but none of them were as good as what he was seeing right there, right now. You were so pretty and he felt like he would die if he didn't jerk off right now.

Kazutora bit his bottom lip desperately as he imagined what your hot and sticky fluids would taste like, he wanted to put his mouth on you so bad, he wanted to make you squirm and cry out as you grip his hair and grind your pussy on his face..

The video cut off again and then mikey was seen with you in a shot, it was assumingly propped up somewhere.

You were getting fucked sideways by mikey as his hands were on your thigh, holding it up, and on your tit as he was sucking on your nipple. "Mikey!" You moaned as your tits bounced with every thrust, the guys could see the bed completely soaked beneath you two "p-please- I can't anymore~" you whined. Mikeys hand gripped your thigh harder "fuck yeah, you can..just one more" the kissed your collarbone "fr' me.." he begged before going right back to suck on your tiddy.

Kazutora almost moaned when you turned your head to the camera eyes closed in bliss as his friend fucked you senseless.

Your moans got louder and baji could swear his mouth was filling up with drool, looking at your tits bounce and your cunt being fucked.

Mikey lifted himself up and put his hand on your throat, drakens eyes widened as you whimpered at this filthy action, his jeans felt so uncomfortably tight due to his painful erection straining against them. He couldn't contain his thoughts anymore, he would fuck you so hard with his big hand on your tiny throat.

Mikey thrusts become sloppy and harder as your moans suddenly stuttered. You were about to cum.

The men were so focused on the screen, awaiting your orgasm.

"We're hereee" mikey announced and the guys all jolted awake from their pussy trance and kazutora hastily and panicked and ripped the cable out of the TV, feeling his heart beat out of his throat when he saw your pretty self standing next to mikey after he just watched you getting fucked by him.

It didn't take long for mikey to see the guys all flushed hiding their crotches and, of course, the video cam.

Mikey just casually chuckled "they found our tapes" to which you gasped and looked at the man next to you "...the tapes?"

You looked back at the men, avoiding eye contact with you or mikey.

Mikey then looked at you and gave you a soft pat on your ass before you shyly bit your lip and walked over to the bed, you sat down...and spread your legs just enough for them to see you not wearing any panties...

Kazutora and chifuyu were about to have a heart attack with how fast their hearts were beating, baji felt like he was burning hot, he never felt this horny..

Draken really, really tried to not look at you or your half exposed pussy. But he did see it and then couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

"Did you like them..?" You suddenly asked, spreading your legs more as Mikey just grinned.

You looked at the camera and then back at the boys "maybe.." you lifted your skirt, exposing your naked cunt to them. "We could make a featured film.." kazutora kneeled and looked like a starved puppy, with his tongue almost hanging out of his mouth and his eyes wide open.

Someone would have to hold baji back if he got any hornier, cause he was about to just jump on you and ravage you.

"I can film everything" mikey said with a smug grin.

Was this planned?

[revelboo]

Hello there, how are you doing?

We haven't seen some L.G.Fuad for awhile now.

Would you be so kind in helping getting our dose of Tarn?

Sure! 🔞🌶️

L.G. Fuad Pt 16

Tarn x Reader

• Finally dry and dressed again, you still can’t meet the big guy’s optics as he talks to Blue. After the unwanted bath and finding out he’s got raunchy videos of humans fingering themselves on his alien tablet, you’re out of sorts and unsure how to feel. Why would he even watch stuff like that? What’s it doing for him? It’s not like the giant robots fuck. Do they? Turning to stare up at him, he notices to make you flinch, looking away. Makes you really wish you could talk to each other.

• You’re giving him that vaguely horrified, disapproving look again. Like he did something wrong. Apparently deeply offended by the video snippet though he can’t figure out why. It’s almost like you’re jealous as silly as it is. And he’s trying to pay attention to Nickel instead of imagining you sprawled on your back, your fingers dipping into yourself like that. Because that fantasy is wholly inappropriate. Shouldn’t even be curious about that. You’re an inferior, little organic. What would Megatron think of this weakness?

• Skin prickling as he stares at you until you pointedly look away, you suck in a breath when his servos close around you and you’re lifted. And he’s cradling you against his chassis as he carries you to the bridge, setting you on a console with a growl as he settled into his chair. “I guess alien dudes aren’t that different from human dudes,” you mutter and he glances at you. But it’s not like he understands anything you say anyway. “I’m sure human guys would watch alien porn given half a chance.” Hear him rumble softly, those red optics on you. Staring hard like he’s trying to figure out what you’re saying from sheer force of will.

• You’re chirping at him as he changes course for Swindle’s last known location. Not that he’ll have any trouble finding the little con artist. The mech broadcasts his whereabouts for his customers. “I didn’t know what was on the tablet,” he says, defending himself even though you can’t understand him. But your chirping sounds very judgmental to him. “Do you do that when you’re left alone? Touch yourself?” Why is that thought stuck in his processor? Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he’s aware of his spike stirring just imagining you touching yourself, chasing pleasure. Thighs spread and fingers pumping urgently inside yourself as your back arches. Wonders who you think of as you touch yourself. What’s wrong with him? What have you done to him?

• Turning toward the expanse of space as he growls at you, you wonder about the video. Had Blue caught him with it and confronted him? Then why play it in front of you? Just to see your reaction or maybe it wasn’t his? Or maybe it is his and he’s into aliens. Maybe he watches that video and-what? Turning, you give him a once over, eyes sliding down his frame to his crotch. He doesn’t have the necessary parts to jerk off with. Right? And when you look up, he’s looking at you. Saw you staring at his crotch and lack of a dick. Face heating, you quickly look away. If he did have a dick, it’d probably be alien looking. Probably look like some of that Bad Dragon shit your bestie had been so into.

Previous

Next

[cosmalumi]

A summary of the rest of the story:

This is late, but better late than never I suppose. I've been asked a couple of times over the years to post the rest of the story, but I never knew how to go about writing it up, so here we go Chapter 3

This was the last one I had a proper script for. I guess partially 4? There was a snippet with Twilight and Spike figuring out how to find element bearers but I dunno if it made much sense. The script here is a bit rough and probably needed some refinement, but it gets the point across. The following are the last pages I worked on, two of which were never posted.

[START SCRIPT] He gives a short laugh. “Sorry about that! Nice to meet’cha. Name’s Nox. I hope those restraints aren’t too tight. You might be a prisoner, but there’s no need for you to be uncomfortable here.”

“…” Fluttershy glares at him.

Wow that’s actually a really great impression of my boss… You’re not related to Brass are you?

I guess you’re not the talkative type huh? That's alright, I can do it for you. How’s about we start with a name?

"Says here you’re Fluttershy. Only child of Cloud Cover and Posey who were prominent figures of the Velvet Carnation Movement until their untimely deaths ten years ago during the Ponyville fire, leading to you dropping out of Cloudsdale flight school. Currently you live in a cottage on the outskirts of New Ponyville and run an animal caretaking service.” Fluttershy is shocked, and he’s grinning “Pretty spooky, huh? The crown’s got eyes and ears everywhere… But it looks like few places are escaping us… saaay… the hiding places of your Red Sun friends?”

Fluttershy raises an eyebrow.

“Look, I get it. You don’t trust me or anypony in the castle for that matter, but you’re here on charges of attempted regicide and that means you’re on a fast track to a short rope. But I know you’re just another pony that’s been twisted by the Red Sun. If you work with us-

“I’ll never work for Nightmare Moon!” She blurts out angrily.

“But you’ll follow the Red Sun? Do you even know what kind of things they do? Because they certainly aren’t the heroes some ponies make them out to be.

“All they want is an Equestria where ponies can live in peace-” “Peace?”He places several photos on the table. ”Blood rituals, bombings of public gathering places, foalnapping and ransoming ponies to fund their activities.” Fluttershy's face is concerned. “Remember the wild weather that destroyed the harvest in Tall Tale last fall? Well the Red Sun’s goons stole the relief supplies our Queen sent. They were alright with leaving thousands to starve.

“Even if that were the case, I didn’t want to do what I did, but someone had to stand up to her. She’s nothing more than a big bully and I couldn’t sit around anymore and watch her hurt more innocent ponies. I had to try, and If that means this is my last day on Gaia, then so be it. New Fluttershy isn’t a coward!” “That’s quite noble of you. Ponies that selfless are hard to come by… which is why I don’t want to see you go down for this. Tell me who helped plan the attack and the Crown won’t press charges. I’ll make it so you never stepped hoof in Canterlot. You could go on with your life… Go back to your cottage… back to your pet.” Slides forward picture of angel. [PAGE BREAK] Fluttershy is thinking of Angel and other animals from back home. "I can’t do that. They helped put my life back together. I won’t let you hurt them. “Would they do the same for you though? I mean… they didn’t come for you when you got captured. They don’t care about YOU, they cared about what you could do FOR them.” “What and you care?” “Fluttershy, I just want to give you your life back. The way I see it, a cult took advantage of a young troubled mare and made you do things you'd never think to do otherwise. If the Red Sun was willing to sacrifice someone as kind as you, who else would they be willing to throw away for their selfish goals?” “They’re not like that…” She looks a bit more unsure this time. [PAGE BREAK] All I ask in return for your freedom is a name. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the ones that care for you and would like to see you again. Take some time to think about it. He gets up and leaves. Fluttershy looks down pensively. [PAGE BREAK]

Nox exits. “That went well! Wanna grab a bite, Sabre? I’m thinking sandwiches-- Something with peanut butter. Crunchy, obviously. Crystal Sabre is there, looking at Nox, exasperated. She points at him accusingly. “I told you that wasn’t going to go anywhere. You should have let me interrogate her. “Look, until Brass gets back, I have to fill in for her, and that means I’m stuck with a mountain of paperwork. I even had to get up for that emergency meeting this morning! Let me have a little fun! Besides, I have a feeling it wasn’t all for nothing. “The Red Sun’s never been this bold before…What do you think changed?” Fluttershy says through the intercom window thingy “I want to talk to Rainbow Dash!” “…Who?”

[END SCRIPT]

In the end, I got too scared of the idea of backlash from one of my OCs being mean to Fluttershy ^^;; I recognize that it may not have been the case, but after how much hate I got for killing off a random guard, younger me got too scared to stick to this script and I flip flopped between redoing it or leaving it. I came to love the characters I had originally made for the sole purpose of filling cabinet roles. I struggled bring myself to make one of them the antagonist in an interaction with someone as beloved as Fluttershy. I ended up putting off the decision long enough that I lost interest in continuing the story though. This script was not the main reason I lost interest in the story, but it was a factor. My original points stand, and I don't regret deciding to let this comic go so I could branch out.

A chunk I wrote with Twilight: Sunset shimmer was a failed magician that was previously in Night's employ Twilight actually would have talked about here in this chunk: [START SCRIPT] “We know the elements are all part of a system. If they’re inactive, the bond is still there, it’s just faint, like how on a map you might not see a road between a town and Canterlot, but there has to be one because duh, all roads lead to Canterlot. We have pieces of the system and if we can isolate that link between the pieces, we could follow the link from one element back to the others. All we need to do is fine tune Rarity’s gem finding spell so instead of the beacon being any old gem, it’s whatever is on the other side of the link. Spike: “Wouldn’t the mages before you already have tried something like that? Twi: “Well the last one, Sunset or something, (Frowny scrunchy face), destroyed all of the notes from previous experiments so we’re pretty much starting from scratch, but even if they did, we have something they didn’t! A working element!” [END SCRIPT]

Night burned through so many young and eager mages trying to get what she wanted. Once they weren't useful, they got dumped.

Rest of it:

The big bad evil was going to be the guard Fenix who is actually a body hopping spirit of an alicorn from the ancient alicorn empire before it got decimated in the Alicorn-Draconequus wars. The alicorns had purged themselves of their "darkness" and went on a crusade to bring greatness and order to the rest of Gaia. The last of the Draconequus sacrificed themselves to break the alicorns into the three/four pony tribes--essentially exterminating both races. One of the newly minted unicorns had been in the Empress's inner council and refused to die quietly like the others. Since then, he's been taking over other unicorns' bodies as a way of living forever because he's scared of death (Unicorns because he wasn't sure if non-unicorns could do the necessary magic to prolong his life). That's why Fenix's personality changed when his buddy died in the flashback told by his cousin (The hopping usually kills original person. The original Fenix is gone, there's just the rogue soul now. The previous body was going to die, so he jumped ship before it did). The changeling comment by his cousin was meant to be a diversion.

The entity in Fenix's body had been around for thousands of years, just living a regular life. Ever since the rise of the two sisters, he attached himself to their leadership, usually hanging around as a soldier/guard of some kind, because he still believes in the Alicorns' right to rule and wants to help with bringing glory to Equestria and serve the greater good--the Alicorns and the ideals they choose to rule by.

Fenix had been fine living as just a guard, even under Nightmare Moon. Witnessing her uncertainty and paranoia--how the country was being divided by Night's poor leadership in recent years (especially after the whole assassin and Quake dying)--he became disillusioned by Night's rule and would go on to lead a rebellion against her by plotting to take the Elements of Harmony for himself, hopping into the body of the Red Sun Rebellion's Leader- Sunset Shimmer, then eventually hopping into Celestia to become Solar Flare/Daybreaker or Evil Celestia or whatever. The Elements of Harmony were actually ancient alicorn weapons of mass destruction. The enchantment that made them had mutated over the millennia, becoming something completely new, but contact with the soul of an alicorn of old would have ignited something. Not exactly a reset, but they would have recognized one of their original users and their original purpose.

Night is actually the darkness (a shade) that had been purged from the Alicorn Empress in the old days. It gained a will of it's own over years and forged a pact with Luna to help her take over the kingdom. She didn't remember who she was, only fragments because she was all the parts of the Empress that were deemed impure/bad. They were fine being partner rulers for a while, but then an offhanded comment led to Ponyville being burned to the ground by zealots in the Queen's name 15 or so years ago --this had been to destroy the Velvet Carnation Movement which had been a peaceful group advocating for democracy instead of monarchies--and they'd been feuding ever since and only recently made up in the comic.

Night would have freed Celestia from the Sun of her own volition to try to appease the population and show that she is a good ruler and stop all the talk of rebellion. She wanted to use her as a political puppet. Celestia would have been on a short leash.

Night would have died at the end of the comic, sacrificing herself to put an end to the old empire once and for all by holding down evil Celestia as they both get blasted by the Friendship Elements beam. The old ways were wrong, it was time to stop clinging onto the past--Celestia and Luna are left to make up and rebuild Equestria.

There was definitely a lot of middle stuff that I never figured out, but I did like the story. It just grew increasingly clear that it wasn't something I could ever finish.

Here are some of the alicorn designs I never got around to showing:

I feels quite nice to finally have it all out there.

[cityofmeliora]

notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

a few weeks ago i saw this post from slavghoul which has snippets of TF describing the Papas. it includes this quote:

“He represents this frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself. But despite his wounds and his darkness, he has a sense of humour and is endearing, like most of my heroes. The late actor Christopher Lee was an inspiration to me. In many ways, he is Papa.” (Metallian 7/2015)

i thought this quote was really interesting because i'd never seen anyone talking about that side of Terzo before. Terzo hating "everyone, especially himself" felt at odds with the charming personality he typically displayed. i wanted to know how that developed and where his "wounds and darkness" came from. so i did some digging for quotes on Terzo's history and characterization. here are my notes + thoughts:

something that came up again and again in my research is that he is actually quite antisocial when he's not performing. it seems like he didn't want people to know anything about him past his stage persona.

TOUR MANAGER: No one in the crew really gets to see or speak to Papa, ever. Only Anna and myself have access. He is not in the building and then he'll just be there, just for show time. The only thing you really need to know about Papa is what you see of him on stage. Ghost - The Devil's Hands (Documentary) (2017)

he almost never interacted with any of the nameless ghouls or the tour crew. in fact, he really went out of his way to avoid them. he traveled separately, would appear right before the start of a show, and then he would disappear as soon as it ended. in "The Devil's Hands", it showed they sometimes had trouble locating him when he was needed.

With this new era, can you introduce Papa Emeritus III? NAMELESS GHOUL: I don't know him very well yet. We haven't really done our mileage with him, so I am sure that we will find out. But he seems nice. He seems okay. Obviously, he's very close relatives with Papa number two, who was a little bit of a hmm. I'm sure that he isn't like, completely different, but we'll find out. He's a bit of a recluse, and he sort of travels on his own. And he sort of appears when we're due onstage and then he disappears when we're offstage. So yeah, I guess we have a little bit of a social disconnect there, but I don't see a big problem with that. I mean he seems to be doing well on his own, and I don't know if he has a little harem somewhere that occupies his time offstage, I guess. I'm assuming that. Loud TV (July 2015)

INTERVIEWER: How has it been working with the third Papa? How is he fitting into the group? NAMELESS GHOUL: We like him, actually. He seems to be quite nice. Obviously, we haven't really done our "miles" with him yet, so we don't know him that well. And he doesn't travel with us- he sort of goes separately everywhere, and he appears just before the show and then he just disappears. So we haven't really had the time to sort of fully get to know him. But overall, he seems quite a joyful chap. Metal Injection (September 2015)

predictably, his bandmates did not know him very well. but they always remarked that they liked him and that he seemed like a nice, chill guy. (they also assumed he had a harem that he spent time with when he wasn't performing, which is probably not true, considering how much effort he put into avoiding people whenever possible.)

NAMELESS GHOUL: We don't really socialize with Papa, so… But he seems nice! But he's very occupied in his harem. [...] He's a little bit cooler. He seems to be the nicer of the two brothers --I don't know if there are two-- but he seems to have, I don't know, a kinder mother, probably, or something that makes him slightly.. INTERVIEWER: A little different. NAMELESS GHOUL: Yeah, he's a little bit different. AMBY (October 2015)

i don't think his charming, pleasant demeanor was just an act, though. i think it did come from a genuine part of himself... he wasn't always an antisocial recluse.

before he became Papa, he was a cardinal in Krakow, Poland. Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis (the character representing Zbigniew Bielak, the artist who does the album art for Ghost) characterized younger Terzo as having enthusiasm in all his endeavors. he was always a very devoted member of the clergy who had big dreams of progress and modernization for the Ministry and the world. he had a strong interest in Futurist art and philosophy.

Bp. Necropolitus Cracoviensis remembers: "...our relationship goes a long way back to the times before his papacy, that is when he was still a cardinal in my hometown, in Cracovia...(...) Although we had our share of juvenile recklessness - be it indulging his beloved cream pies - allegedly verging on six hundred sixty six portions a year but that must be a rumor I believe, or wild parties at the attic of seminary school (laughs) - even in his formative years, he remained a focused man of vision, looking far into the future, always addressing his people's needs and longings to keep our church together in those turbulent, rapidly changing times (...) there were so many temptations to syndicate among our good people (...) (...) We would sit down to studying exciting Futurist manifestos, sketched the blueprints of utopian metropoles, spiked with shiny skyscrapers stabbing at the heavens belly... Wantonly swollen zeppelins would to carry our gospel of indulgence to the farthest corners of the globe to summon and enslave. (...) Forged in nostalgia of steam and fire, this brave new world of ambition, vice, lust and greed - all so inherent to the enlightened modernity, was always with him through all these years. And it is now - when our church continues to grow stronger and wealthier under wise reign of Papa Emeritus III - that these visions may finally be witnessed and embraced in the preachings of 'Meliora' - his most contemporary and humane Encyclical." (https://www.facebook.com/thebandghost/posts/994031900615606)

those core values of ambition, vice, lust, and greed stayed with him when he became Papa. though he had a revolutionary spirit, he's actually described as "less rebellious" in Metal Myths. Terzo took his job as Papa very seriously, and he cared about being successful and achieving his goals. while he and Secondo certainly had vice, lust, and greed in common, it was Terzo's ambition that truly set him apart.

"It felt like the goal was to take Papa II's sense of modernity and remove the recklessness." Metal Myths: Ghost Pt. 2 (April 2022)

How would you describe the personality of Papa Emeritus III compared to his predecessors? NAMELESS GHOUL: "First of all, Papa Emeritus III is an entertainer! He loves projectors, he loves the public, and he loves success. The first Papa Emeritus was someone very rigid, very strict, and very solemn. A real son of a bitch! (laughs) To be honest, we don’t miss him at all! Papa Emeritus II was a pervert a little bit sadistic, and, in hindsight, I think he wasn’t very at ease on stage. He wasn’t a showman, unlike Papa Emeritus III! Him, he’s the guide we missed to rise up the quality of our shows, to reach the step above and communicate with our fans." (MyRock #44 (2017) translated from French by @ a-wandering-ghoulette)

unfortunately, his ambition eventually led him to become disillusioned and depressed.

Terzo looked forward to becoming Papa. he worked so hard for it his whole life, only to be confronted with the realization that his time as Papa --and therefore his achievements-- would be limited.

he was a nice guy, but he was also was egotistical. he was a showman and an intellectual, and he thought very highly of himself.

NAMELESS GHOUL: He's a little bit more chill. But obviously, all the Papas are definitely pompous assholes. INTERVIEWER: That's part of the job. SPECIAL GHOUL: That's one of the criterias, the prerequisites, that you have to be this sort of flamboyant diva, know-all, show-off. Metal Injection (September 2015)

his self-hatred came from his inability to be the person he wanted to be. it's not that he felt like he couldn't measure up, it's that he felt like he wasn't allowed to express his full potential. Terzo's mindset was "i know i'm good enough. and i could prove it if they would just let me." but he wasn't really in charge, and his vision was at odds with the goals of Sister Imperator.

Terzo felt so stifled, it makes sense that he became a "frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself."

and i think this is the reason for the paradox of him having a kind, charming personality onstage and being unsociable offstage. he still gave it his all. he did the best he could with the time and resources he was allowed. that zealous man of the people was still in there somewhere. but he felt betrayed by the clergy, the organization he dedicated his life to. his career ended up being unfulfilling and he was ultimately really bitter about the way things turned out.

he was good. he never got to be great.

[djarins-cyare]

WIP Weekend

I haven’t done a WIP post since December because I’ve been suffering through the dreaded writer’s block 😓, but thank you to everyone who has tagged me in WIP games since then. I do keep track, so big hugs to these gracious people for not forgetting I exist while I’ve been stagnating in writer’s hell 💚:

@the-mandawhor1an @myownwholewildworld @burntheedges @ace-turned-confused @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@evolnoomym @djarinmuse @almostfoxglove @bergamote-catsandbooks @sawymredfox

I’ve been really struggling with the concluding chapter of my (now over six months late!) secret relationship fic for last summer’s Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge, and I couldn’t figure out why. It’s a massive smutfest, and yeah, smut usually takes me longer to write, but I’ve never had this much trouble before.

After stepping away for a while, when I came back to it, I realised I was trying to make my characters do things that were out of character. It wasn’t working because it didn’t make sense in the context of the 70k words that had come before!

So I decided to write that into the smut, and today I’m giving you a peek at the moment the characters realise they aren’t entirely on the same page…

Please check out my previous WIP posts for additional snippets from earlier in the fic, here, here, here and here.

He groans his approval, shifting his hips until his blunt tip notches at your entrance. And just like during your last encounter in this room, he throttles time to a near standstill, pushing into you at a sublimely slow pace. Each second drips by like molten metal, searing and stretching in burning bliss as he fills you deeper and deeper until he can go no further and you can take no more. Yet still he pushes – as if he wants to root himself inside you – and his tongue finds its way back into your mouth, locking you together at both ends. You whine against him, crushed by a weight in your chest that has nothing to do with the heavy man atop you. It’s a hunger, a need, a desperation. You’re teetering on the cusp of fulfilment – it’s close enough to taste but not enough to sate. Yet you can’t move with his heavy pelvis immobilising your hips and a mouthful of his tongue preventing you from encouraging the friction you crave. A growl of urgency rumbles in your throat, and you drag your nails down his naked back, landing a goading slap on his ass. It has the desired result, and he eases off the kiss, nipping your lip in retribution but continuing to pin your hips in place. “Fuck me.” It tumbles out like a challenge, so you appeal to his dominance by making it a request. “Gedet’ye!” You feel him bury his face in your neck, where he releases a heavy breath before picking back up and quietly confessing the reason for delaying your pleasure. “Do you have any idea how fucking magnificent it feels to be inside you again? I will fuck you, senaar’ika, I’ll give you everything you want… but let me savour this first. Gedet’ye.”

gedet'ye = please

Sorry it’s a little shorter than usual. This being a final chapter snippet already makes it a smidge spoilery, so it’s all I can offer.

I can assure you, though, that the final smutfest will be... let’s say, ‘multifaceted’, so Din slowing things down here is not indicative of the ongoing mood. 😈

As usual, if you’d like me to tag you when I (finally) release the chapters, please raise your hand or communicate your wish however you see fit. You can also join my tag list if you like.

(Including this GIF simply because I’m obsessed with the “attentively receiving instructions before ravishing you” vibe + extremely biteable neck combo 🧛🏼‍♀️, which I find very Din-esque)

Sending no pressure WIP whatevs/whenevs tags to the following wonderful writers 💚:

@604to647 @ak-vintage @almostempty @beefrobeefcal @bluestar22x

@captainredspade @cas-readsandwrites @drewharrisonwriter @guiltyasdave @handspunyarns

@hauntedhowlett-writes @hellishjoel @iamsherlocked-1998 @itsjuststardust @jennaispunk

@joelalorian @kedsandtubesocks @lotusbxtch @mandaloriankait @mermaidgirl30

@mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @mushgloomz @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @novemberrain-writes @peepawispunk

@penvisions @probablyreadinsmut @prolix-yuy @schnarfer @secretelephanttattoo

@sin-djarin @stellamarielu @the-blind-assassin-12 @thischarmingmandalorian @tightjeansjavi

@two-birds-alone-together @whocaresstillthelouvre @whxtedreams @xdaddysprincessxx @yopossum

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Can I ask for more Penguin Danny?

Your wish is my command.

Honestly, I've had this one snippet stuck in my head for a while, so thank you for the excuse to write it ✨

--

Danny sat huddled with a few of the smaller penguins, relaxing into their warm feathers as much as he could as he took in the situation developing before him.

About two months ago, a group of scientists geared up for the harsh cold had arrived in the Arctic. They had taken up residence in the frigid metal building Danny had spent some time in when he first got here, bringing life and warmth to their base that hadn't been there when the teen needed it.

At first, they kept to themselves. Taking water samples from the snow and ice pools that covered the territory. But it was only a week later that they moved on to examining the colony that had taken Danny in. They would pull a penguin or two away from the group, giving them fish and krill while they measured the small creatures and attached a monitor to the animal's sleek feathers, releasing them back to the group to loudly squawk their tales to the rest of the birds.

Eventually, they made their way inwards, away from the penguin hunting hunting grounds and towards their nests. It was then that they saw Danny for the first time.

It had been funny, at first. The coat clad researchers had frozen, before chatting frantically. With how long Danny had spent hiding out in the cold, he wasn't surprised that it took a while to understand what they were saying. It did filter in, though, the longer they hung around. Words that he knew, but didn't make a lot of sense in the limited context he had. Stuff like "baby" and "different" were obvious, especially when they gestured at him as they spoke. But other words, like, "unusually large", and "dangerous" confused him.

Was he a bit bigger than the birds around him? Yes, yes he was. But he didn't think he was unusually large for the species he was supposed to be. Then again, it's not like he had ever actually seen a baby emperor penguin before, so he had no real life reference. But they were big birds! Surely that meant they had big babies? And even if he was bigger than he was supposed to be, how was anything about this situation was 'dangerous'?

It didn't help his opinion of the researchers when they tried to move him away from the flock. Trails of treats were fine and dandy at first, and easily ignored by the teen seeing as he didn't need the same amount of food as an actual baby penguin of his size (perks of being able to feed on ambient ectoplasm). When he didn't seem inclined to follow the trail like some of the others, who had all come back squawking about the researchers manhandling them again, they tried a more straightforward approach.

The teen would never forget the day those puffy coats pushed gently through the throng of black and white bodies until they boxed him in on all sides. His panicked squeaky screeches had immediately attracted the attention of the birds, and those pesky puffy coats had some nice tears in them for the troubles they caused. After that, the researchers found themselves being chased by the entire colony if they came to close, angry screeches drowning out their own panicked yells and occasional yells of pain when a beak managed to find purchase.

As much as he appreciated the colonies fierce protection, the teen should have known that it would draw attention. Those researchers were out here for a reason, probably some sort of documentary on the wildlife that thrived in colder environments. Maybe something about endangered species or global warming. Whatever it was, it had them hanging around, taking pictures and writing in journals.

It should have been more obvious to him that something was bound to happen. Pictures, even when he looked normal to the mortal eye, could easily reveal a different truth. It didn't take long for pristine white coats to appear, scouting the area with ecto-trackers in hand a blasters holstered at their sides.

The confrontation a full month after the researchers arrived was a bit surprising, and it took everything in Danny's new fuzzy body to stop from launching himself at the men in black rip offs when they leveled their blasters at the colorful puff coats.

The puff coats were sturdier people than he thought, though. Instead of backing off, like anyone else would do, they argued. Blocking the easier paths to the nesting grounds, tampering with their equipment while they were distracted with whatever ecto readings they were getting, even resorting to throwing things when the came too close to trampling one penguin Danny had affectionately dubbed 'Steve'.

And now here Danny was. Cozied up with a decent group of mother penguins and their babies while the fathers took their turn to hunt. Watching as the guys in white ran around screaming. The cause of their screams? The child with a sword that was chasing them.

At this point in his (after)life, Danny shouldn't be surprised by anything. And yet, surprising things continued to occur. Maybe he should ask someone if he was cursed or something.

The penguins around him shifted, letting out warbles and startled peeps as they resettled. Danny shook himself, pulling his attention away from the potential murder occuring in front of him to look at the source of his new friend's unrest. And was once again reminded to not be surprised by the surprising things that occured around him.

The half Kryptonian child that sat next to him gave the teen a smile and a gentle pat before turning his attention to where his friend continued to swing his katana, catching one of the scanners and a bit of an agents hand with the wickedly sharp blade. The kid next to Danny winced and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Robin! Remember what Nightwing told you before we left!"

The sword wielding child tisked loudly, the sound muffled slightly by the snow that was beginning to fall, but resumed his fighting with a little more effort in not hitting the agents with his blade. The handle of his sword, however, was used just as effectively. The Kryptonian kid sighed, but didn't call out again, instead reaching out to pet some of Danny's fuzzy brown down feathers.

This was fine, Danny decided. It wouldn't be fine forever, but for now it was. And whatever came after this, he could always try throwing vicious penguins at it. It worked well enough the first time.

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

It's Wednesday my dudes :) Thank you @chiqita @silly-little-diary @labskeever for tagging me! Great to see your cool stuff :)

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @pocket-vvardvark @changelingsandothernonsense @scholarlyhermit @sulphuricgrin

@hircines-hunter @ladytanithia @firefly-factory @heavy-metal-dick @sanzas-reverie @dirty-bosmer (I know your super busy bestie so no pressure)

@saltymaplesyrup @captain-of-silvenar @lucien-lachance @friend-of-giants @thequeenofthewinter @umbracirrus @pyre-of-pages

I've gotten a bit more hair done, progress has been slow on him, decided he'll get done when he gets done. But I have gotten a lot of writing done! This is a snippet from Chapter 4 of Changing Tides (which I'm hoping to post this weekend). Both 4 and 5 are done and Chapter 6 is underway!

Under the cut is Visdros being a dickhead to Odile's neighbour and this neighbours drops an important piece of information for her:

The other mer gazes lingers longer on Visdros than her so she introduces them. 

“Ah Baelyn,” she uses his first name. “This is Visdros, I found him wounded and now am trying to help him find his way.” She chuckles nervously, distinctly leaving the revenge-seeking out. When the Bosmer says nothing, the two just exchanging looks that puzzle Odile, she decides to get on with why she’s here. “I was wondering if we could trouble you for a ride to Leyawiin, if you are still going today.” 

“A ride in what?” The injured mer mutters. “A walking tree?”

“My boat,  twelve feet, single sail. Modest but perfect for going up river.” Baelyn almost sounds defensive, even more so when he adds, “Not for attacking others like some brute.” Visdros’s eyes narrow as the sneer which looks all too familiar by this point, dawns his face once more. 

“I will never set foot on a vessel controlled by one like you.” 

“Do you got a problem with mer like me? I thought you’d like it, maybe you could even steal from me, I’m sure you’ve done a lot of that.” What in Oblivion?

“You’re not worth my time nor the effort,” he does a stabbing motion with his hand. Visdros spits on the ground, offers one more glare and then turns to walk away. “We will walk.” An even more familiar feeling occurs in her chest, where it always did. Anxiety grips her lungs as she cycles through fear and confusion. 

“It’s a two day trek! It would be so much…” She stops mid-sentence. I can’t ask Baelyn to help us now, not when he has been so rude. The Bosmer had choice words of his own but Visdros did insult him first and most importantly, unprompted. Yet, he was already eyeing him, too frequent to be just curious… She turns to address her neighbor, muster up some apology for his behaviour as though she is responsible for him. I am. “Oh Mr.- Baelyn, I am so sorry for him. I mean absolutely no offense, I don't know what…” Her eyes drop to the ground as she grows even more confused. In a way she shouldn’t be surprised given how brash he’d already been but, that did not cease to make it jarring. Thankfully the other does not blame her.

“I’m not offended, Odile. Don’t worry about me.” That does ease her fears, but the confusion only grows when he speaks next. “I suggest you be careful traveling with one of those fish.” Fish? Is he alright? Has he been injured too?

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean...” He sighs, pointing to the mer who is now leaning against a tree, almost making a show of avoiding looking at them. “We don’t see them in these parts but they are notorious along Valenwood and Summerset.” Baelyn looks back at her for what he says next. “He’s a Sea Elf, a Maormer if you want to use the Elvish. They come from an archipelago far south. Their lot are either pirates or soldiers, both equally ruthless." A Maormer? So he’s not a Dunmer but, but something else? “I suggest before you go anywhere with him, you think on if he’s worth the hassle.” I am worth the hassle. Her principles of good will were worth the effort, wherever he is from does not change that.

[syndrossi]

I'm not selfish by prompting more than once. I'm just giving you options. Write 100 words-ish of Jon meeting Rhaella -- be that a female!Rhaegar or a summerhalled!Rhaella-his-grandma or some other verse's Rhaella, 'tis your choice.

Okay, first a little snippet of Rhaella's POV in the AU ficlet I was writing for that (separate from the NYE ask game):

Dragons. She still had trouble believing that she lived in a time of dragons. Her son had one, she knew from gossip, and Daemon Targaryen’s own dragon was well known. And then there was her son’s twin brother, the one named Jon. Which of my babies would you have been? My little Daeron? It was not entirely the same, she knew. Prince Jon was dark of hair, like the woman who had birthed him and his brother here. How different would Rhaegar be? Would she still recognize him? Will he recognize me?

And now the definitely 100 words-ish 😂 of the prompt fill...

x~x~x

Worry stirred in Jon upon spying the distant, pale-haired figure of his brother alone in the godswood through the window of the library. At this time, Rhaegar should still be in arms training, and there wasn’t a Princesguard in sight, not even at the entrance to the godswood.

He slipped out of his lesson with practiced ease, opting not to employ the secret passage where his young cousins could see, and trotted across the yard to the godswood. His brother had been in plain view, which likely meant that he had intended for Jon to see him. Is there something he wishes to discuss in private?

Jon’s own Princesguard settled at the gate to the godswood, and Jon followed the familiar path to the heart tree. His steps faltered, however, as he drew near. It was not Rhaegar waiting beside the tree, nor even one of his cousins. It was a woman dressed in flowing blue silks that were too cold for the autumn weather, her silver-blond hair worn in a partial braid that half-reminded him of one he had seen Rhaegar wear once.

She even looked something like his brother, especially in the eyes and lips, though she was a woman grown rather than a child—and there was something of his wonder in her expression as she stared upward through the red leaves, taking in the beauty as the wind stirred her hair.

He watched her in silence, wracking his mind for who she might be. She was not Princess Rhaenyra, of course, who had returned home weeks ago. And they had met Lady Laena when she had come courting their father. And although Jon had not been a scholar of the Targaryen dynasty before finding himself here, Rhaegar had since instructed him in every last member of their family, living and dead.

A Velaryon, he decided at last. One of Laena and Laenor’s cousins, perhaps, come to try her own luck.

She noticed him at last, once he had turned to leave. “You must be Prince Jon.”

Even her voice seemed familiar, and there was a longing in it that stopped him in place. He turned back and gave her a nod. “I am. Who are you, my lady?”

“I am Lady Rhaella,” she said, rising to her feet to curtsy.

Jon’s breath caught. It cannot be. He stared at her, scrutinizing her features in search of Rhaegar, and finding pieces of both his brother and himself in her. The same could be said of Daemon, or Rhaenyra, he told himself. House Targaryen’s intermarriages ensured that even cousins could look as alike as siblings.

She was the wrong age. Rhaegar’s mother would have been nearing thirty. And I was nineteen.

He took a cautious step closer, studying her expression for greed or threat, but the intensity of her longing only seemed to grow, her hands clasping in front of her, as though to hold it back.

“Are you kin?” he asked.

“I am,” she said, her voice thickening for a moment before she cleared her throat. “I am your father’s cousin, daughter of his aunt Saera.”

She was the one who had been disowned, Jon recalled. And eventually ended up in Volantis. He tensed briefly, but the pain that the motion seemed to cause her made him relent, and he forced himself to relax. What if she thinks I view her as lesser for being a bastard?

Jon approached for a kiss to the cheek, and she dipped slightly so that he could reach, her lips pressing into his own. He was not prepared for the hug that followed, and she pulled back with an apology, blinking back tears. “I beg your pardon, my prince. I—you remind me of someone.”

She is. Jon stared at her in wonder. She must be.

Rhaegar’s mother. His own grandmother. And now their cousin.

He hugged her this time, and where her arms had been light around him before, as though frightened he might disappear, they tightened.

“Would you like to meet my brother?” he offered.

He felt her kiss his hair, something that no freshly-introduced cousin would dare, bastard or not. “Yes,” she breathed, and he let her hold him a moment longer so that she could compose herself. When he drew back at last, her smile was radiant. “I would like that.”

[ihatealimore]

Art Gallery

(Word count: 1,442) (annual bday post)

Kurapika leads you through the lively crowd of the Yorknew City art gallery, his hand wrapped securely around yours. The individuals surrounding you are dressed lavishly; some holding champagne flutes and mingling, while others are admiring the artwork. The building itself is extravagant, complete with polished marble floors and a grand chandelier hanging in the center of the room. 

Saying you feel out of place would be a hideous understatement. 

The black dress clinging to your body feels wrong. Tight, uncomfortable, and suffocating even. Like a damn straitjacket, you had mused darkly to yourself earlier. A stylish one, at the very least. The earrings dangling from your ears are too long, too heavy, and the heels... Well, you're still trying to survive them.

Regardless, Kurapika rarely asks for favors, so you agreed without thinking twice about it. The useless chatter around you sounds muffled in your ears until the blonde man's voice breaks through, snapping you back to reality.

Leaning in close to your ear, he speaks quietly, "Remember, we're here for information first. Focus on gathering intel and watching for anything suspicious." 

The last thing he wants is for this situation to spiral out of control, though, at the moment, there's no one he trusts more than you.

"No need to worry, Kurapika. I know what we're here for," You reply with a calm smile, seemingly at ease as you scan the crowd. Truthfully, you're now on high alert, carefully observing each individual's behavior and snippets of conversation. 

You slip away from Kurapika to engage in small talk with some of the guests. He watches as you walk off before shifting his attention back to the main target. He has full faith in your abilities, however, that doesn't stop him from worrying. Especially considering your innate talent for finding trouble.

Walking elegantly toward a small group admiring an abstract painting, you join their conversation seamlessly. The canvas is large and imposing; hues of red and black swirling together in an almost chaotic harmony. 

"Quite the piece, isn't it?" You comment nonchalantly to a middle-aged man nearby, "The artist's use of color is... Intense."

The man gives a hearty laugh, "Ah, you have quite the eye for art, miss," He responds, turning to face you. He doesn't bother to hide the way he lecherously looks you over, a crooked smirk gracing his lips, "You're certainly not just a pretty face."

Smiling sweetly, you maintain your polite demeanor, "That's very kind of you. Do you come to these events often? I'm quite new and would love to learn more."

"Oh, I'm a regular here," He says with smug pride, clearly pleased with your interest in him, "I know everything about this place."

You study him carefully, analyzing every detail of his response and behavior. His body language is relaxed and he doesn't appear to be hiding anything. For once, it seems like luck is on your side; you've found an open book of information right off the bat.

"Oh really?" You reply with feigned awe in your voice, "I would love to hear more. These events seem so fascinating."

He leans in far too close, a sly grin on his face, "Well, there's always some under-the-table dealings going on during these affairs."

"How intriguing," You say with a playful tilt of your head while resisting the urge to step away, "And here I thought it was all about appreciating beautiful artwork."

Right as he opens his mouth to speak, a group of rowdy men make their way over. They greet him with loud laughter and friendly slaps on the back.

"Well now, who's this lovely lady you've got with you?" One of them jeers playfully at you.

"Pleasure to meet you," You greet with a nod and a forced smile, your annoyance only visible in the slight narrowing of your eyes. 

'Perfect timing for these idiots to interrupt us... I could just rip out their tongues right now if it wouldn't blow our cover,' You complain to yourself inwardly, cursing your rotten luck.

Trying to get back on track, you continue smoothly, "You were saying something about the deals...?"

The main man lets out a chuckle, patting you on the shoulder dismissively, "Awe, lighten up a bit, sweetheart."

One of his friends moves closer to you, wearing an unsettling grin, "You know what they say about beautiful women and dangerous secrets..."

You blink in surprise, your brows subtly knitting together in confusion, "Beautiful?"

His comment throws you off for an instant. You've never really seen yourself that way; certainly not unattractive, but nothing remarkable either. Just... Average.

Their obnoxious laughter fills the air as they raise their glasses in a toast, "Look at that! Our lady here is modest!" The main man exclaims.

"Or simply playing coy," Another adds with an impish smirk.

A bald man with tired eyes raises an eyebrow at you thoughtfully, "Can't blame us for appreciating beauty when we see it."

No matter how hard Kurapika tries to stay focused on the task at hand, he finds his eyes drifting back to you, drawn like metal to a magnet. It’s almost maddening how impossible it is to look away. And seeing you surrounded by that group of strange men does little to alleviate his concerns, his protective instincts flaring up involuntarily. A sense of unease claws at him; not only at the attention you're receiving, but also at how jealous he feels over it.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Kurapika tears his gaze away from you, "Get it together," He mutters under his breath, berating himself for letting unnecessary emotions cloud his judgment.

Taking deliberate steps in the opposite direction, he attempts to put some physical, and mental, distance between you and him. However, his momentary reprieve shatters abruptly by an obnoxiously loud laugh echoing throughout the gallery.

Then he hears it.

One of the men leering at you slurs out a line so vulgar it makes his blood run cold, "Your dress is lovely," The man drawls out, "But I bet you'd look even better out of it."

A lethal amount of rage overtakes Kurapika at the man's audacity, his eyes burning scarlet beneath his contact lenses. Without hesitation, he shoves through the crowd with an alarming speed, any rational thoughts replaced by raw emotion. His mind is consumed with all the brutal ways he could end this filth right here and now for daring to insult you.

In a swift, fluid motion, Kurapika swoops in and loops an arm around your waist. Through gritted teeth and a strained smile plastered on his face, he speaks, "Gentlemen, this is my partner for the evening. It would be wise not to disrespect her again," The threat hangs heavily in the air like a sharp blade ready to strike.

The sudden contact catches you off guard, but you recover quickly, adopting a sweet smile and leaning into his touch, "Oh, darling, you're such a gentleman," You purr affectionately as you play along with his ruse.

Your words manage to temper the raging storm within him, calming him slightly as he responds, "Only for you, my dear."

The lewd man's smirk falters, replaced by a sour scowl, "Well, aren't you two lovebirds cute," He spits out, making no effort to hide his irritation.

Kurapika's eyes flash with barely restrained fury as his fingers press just a little tighter into your side, "Careful with your words," He bites back sharply, "They might just be your last."

It’s no longer a warning. It’s a promise.

The man scoffs, clearly rattled but trying not to show it. With a muttered curse under his breath, he turns and stalks off, his ego bruised. His friends, on the other hand, look more entertained than offended. They chuckle and raise their glasses in a mock toast to you and Kurapika.

Without sparing them another glance, Kurapika tightens his hold on you and guides you away from the crude group. He moves smoothly among the crowd, his mind still reeling from the situation.

"A bit harsh on the warning there," You remark lightly once you're out of earshot, "But thanks for stepping in."

The Kurta's shoulders relax slightly at your words, "It was necessary. I'm just glad you're alright."

"I can handle myself, you know," You tease, hoping to lighten the mood, "But it is nice to have backup."

"I know," He murmurs, his gaze meeting yours. He takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you continue to move forward, "It's nice having you around too."

"So much for staying under the radar," You mutter dryly, noting the curious stares now following your every move.

"Unfortunately," Kurapika agrees with a small sigh. His expression softens as he leans in closer to you. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, "Blending in was never an option. You stand out, whether you mean to or not."

[shmaptainwrote]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Violet has a secret, but it will only stay that way if she can be quiet enough to keep it

WORD COUNT — 2.2K

WARNINGS — 18+ MDNI, oral sex (Violet recieving), pw/op (I mean there is kind of a plot, but it's so minimal)

NOTE — Okay this is just like a fully indulgent little snippet because let's be real who wouldn't want to be in a secret relationship with Violet. Special thanks to @sleepyfireball and @lifesizehysteria for both giving me the confidence to post this and helping me with the ending <3

Violet had never considered herself a woman of many secrets. Yes, there were some things in her life that remained private, but even then, they wouldn’t cause much of a fuss if they were brought to light. 

Recently, though, Violet had been keeping a secret. A big one. 

A secret, her only one that would surely scandalize the whole ton, but Violet, unlike her children, was a little more well versed in dealing with subtleties, with…avoiding scandal. 

“Mother?” 

She blinked away from her thoughts, seeing Benedict holding out his arm for her so she could exit the carriage. 

She gave him a small smile by way of apology and took his arm in hers, climbing out of the carriage and letting her second eldest son lead her into the home that this evening’s ball was being hosted in. 

As soon as they entered the large space, she didn’t even register going to find the host or taking in the decorations. Instead, she scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on a familiar pair. She bit back a smile noticing your discreet wave to her which she returned with a nod of her head. 

She saw you motion your head towards the refreshments table and she quickly let Benedict know she was going to get herself a lemonade and gracefully made her way around the room to the table where she could pour herself a glass. 

“Lady Bridgerton, interesting evening for a ball isn’t it?” 

Violet chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Yes, there is quite a storm outside,” she nodded as you came and stood next to her, pretending to be perusing the desserts. You leaned in to grab a macaron, but your mouth coming awfully close to her ear, her senses overwhelmed by your warm breath against her as your voice dropped to a whisper. 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks. I miss you.” 

She could feel a certain familiar warmth grow in her chest at your admission, still pretending to focus on the lemonade and not how much she wanted to pull you into her arms. 

“Did your carriage have much trouble in the rain?” she pulled back, continuing the cover conversation. 

“Thankfully no, but who knows what the night will bring,” you responded. 

Violet took a moment to appreciate your appearance. The way the jewels that dangled from your ears complimented your dress and shone against your skin. How odd it was that you chose not to wear a necklace, leaving the upper part of your chest bare. Violet supposed for most, attention would not be drawn to it due to the lack of jewels, but for her, your skin was much more precious. 

“We shall speak more later, yes?” you asked and Violet nodded her head. 

“Of course,” there was no question about it, but Violet wanted to do much more than speak and she gathered that you did too. 

You offered Violet a smile, your hand moving to touch her arm in a friendly manner, your touch lingering as you walked away leaving her to yearn for it as soon as it was gone. 

She tried to make friendly conversation with those around her, but her mind kept drifting off to your whispered words, your breath on her face. 

It didn’t help that whenever you walked by you’d find some excuse to touch her. A hand on her back to move her aside, a touch to her arm as you laughed at something she said while in conversation with others, the brush of your hands together as you passed her by. 

Eventually she could not take it any longer, or more, she didn’t want to. 

She sought you out where you stood alone in a quiet corner enjoying a glass of wine. 

“Took you long enough,” you murmured into your glass. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do when you keep…touching me,” she whispered. “We are supposed to be discreet are we not?” 

“Forgive me, I was trying to get your attention,” you tried to bite back a chuckle, even though you knew Violet was not amused, but she wasn’t angry, no that wasn’t the right word. She had a fire in her eyes. Passion, desire…lust. 

“Well you have it,” she said. 

You pulled the wine glass away from your face, moving to walk past Violet as if you were leaving her, but going slow enough that you could whisper, 

“Hallway. Five minutes.” 

Violet felt a lump grow in her throat, but she continued to take her turn around the room, her eyes constantly drifting back to the clock until the long hand had moved enough to signal five minutes had passed. 

Discreetly she weaved her way through the crowd until she could slip out into the hallway. 

When she arrived, it was dark and she saw no sign of you. She thought perhaps you might have gone further so she walked down, scanning the doors on either side, going deeper and deeper into the home without much regard for politeness of where she should have been. 

Just as she was about to turn around and go back, she felt someone grab her wrist and pull her to the side and into a room. She almost let out a shriek of surprise, but before the sound could leave her mouth a hand covered it and she realized who it was that had pulled her away. 

“Discreet, Violet, remember?” you teased. 

“Oh hush, you scared me,” she removed your hand from her mouth, trying to get her beating heart to slow down. 

“Yes, well,” you leaned in closer, closing the door behind Violet. “Like I said…I missed you.” 

Your lips now ghosted the shell of her ear and Violet could feel her walls beginning to crumble. 

“Darling,” she warned. 

“Mmm I love it when you call me that,” your hands now rested against Violet’s hips, your lips lightly pressing against her jaw. 

“This doesn’t feel very discreet,” she managed to get out in a strangled breath. 

“We’re alone,” you kissed her jaw. “And there’s a ball, no one will notice we have slipped out. In fact, your children might even be thankful for a break from your hovering.” 

“Oh, now you’re just trying to get on my nerves,” Violet could feel herself roll her eyes, but was quickly diverted from her annoyance by the feeling of your teeth grazing along her pulse point. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her head and it became dizzying. “Goodness, would you stop teasing me?” 

“I thought you wanted to be discreet?” you pulled your head away, looking her into her eyes, a mischievous smile on your lips. “What you’re suggesting is hardly so.” 

Violet clenched her jaw, looking around the room and behind her at the door. 

“We’d have to be quick,” she said. “And quiet.” 

“How about I worry about the quick and you worry about the quiet?” you asked, leaning in so your mouths were centimeters apart. “You can repay the favour next time.” 

“Assuming there is a next time,” Violet mumbled. 

“We’re not going to get caught,” you assured her. “Now do you want this? Or should I just continue teasing you?” you asked as your hands trailed up her sides, coming to rest right underneath her breasts. 

“No,” Violet breathed. “I want this. I want you,” her head bobbed up and down in a nod. 

“Good,” you smiled, finally closing the minimal gap between you, pushing Violet into the door, her body hitting against it with a small thud. She could taste the faint remnants of lemonade and wine on your tongue and it only served to make you more addictive, encouraging her to hold both sides of your face, pulling you closer. 

The smell of your perfume was intoxicating, how it lingered in the air around her and with each breath how it felt like she was drinking you in, over and over again. 

The back of Violet’s head pressed against the door, her chin tilting upwards, an invitation perhaps for your lips to meet the skin of her neck, dragging along every freckle, connecting dots until you reached her collarbone, your grip becoming more firm around her hips. 

Her chest heaved with each touch, every kiss, the tightness of her corset creating the most deliciously dizzying experience as your kisses lined the top of her breasts, your nose trailing along in tandem. 

It made Violet whine when she felt the cold loss of contact of both your lips and your hands, but it quickly turned into a gasp as fingers lightly traced the length of her legs, the skirt of her dress and any other layers underneath being pushed up higher and higher. 

Once her skirt was bunched around her hips, she took the fabric from your hands, freeing them up for much more important things. 

Her eyes were shut, taking in the feeling of your hot fiery breath against her thigh, your kisses wet as they traced a path up to the cotton fabric that covered her. 

Your fingers were light in their touch while they tugged the fabric lower, down Violet’s legs and she could feel herself practically dripping with need. After you helped her step out of her underwear, you chuckled seeing her foot brush it off to the side, clearly anxious for your touch to return. 

Violet’s grip on the fabric of her dress tightened as she felt you hook one of her legs over your shoulder and she let herself look down for only a moment watching as you pressed kisses to her inner thigh. Despite warnings to be quick, you relished in those moments where you could build up her desire, making her tremble with even just the feeling of your breath against her skin. 

For a few moments, Violet felt nothing aside from your hand on her leg and hip supporting her, and she was about to ask if something was wrong, but just as she opened her mouth to speak she felt your tongue glide over her and words turned into needy moans. 

You squeezed her hip and her thigh, your voice low as you spoke against her making her knees go weak. 

“Remember, quiet, my dear.” 

Violet bit her tongue and nodded her head, pushing herself back so firmly into the door to steady herself as your touch continued, only growing more insistent with each passing moment. 

Just as she was about to lose herself in a haze, Violet thought she heard something. 

“Darling,” she whispered harshly. “Darling, wait.” 

You paused, the only sound in the room being that of your heavy breathing, but outside in the hallway, soft steps could be heard and you both became deathly still. 

The footsteps were accompanied by small quiet chatter, and just as quickly as they came, they left and the hall was silent once more. 

“Now where were we?” you murmured against her thigh and despite Violet’s heart threatening to burst out of her chest and the swirling nausea of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, she let you continue because what you did was so very addictive. 

Violet felt a groan escape past her lips and she quickly let go of her skirt with one hand, placing it over her mouth to mute herself, or more likely muffle whatever sounds she was making. 

You could feel the fabric of her skirt fall slightly against your face and as a result Violet could feel your chuckle vibrate against her making her knees wobble so that she fell more firmly on you.

A sharp gasp left her mouth, muffled by her hand. 

You knew by her reaction you’d hit a sensitive spot and your tongue worked tirelessly against her, feeling her body arch against you, her breathing becoming more rapid and frantic, gripping on the one side of her skirt with such intensity she could feel her nails dig into her skin where they met the palm of her hand. 

Violet felt herself rise, as if with the crest of a wave, building and building and building until finally it crashed down on the sandy shore and pulled away before lapping again and again. 

As you finally pulled away from Violet, her leg still draped over your shoulder, she took a few moments to gather herself before finally removing her hand from her mouth, noticing the marks she’d left on it from trying to silence herself.

You pressed gentle kisses to her thighs, your hands caressing the skin they were holding before moving to wipe your face and move her leg back to the floor. 

Violet let go of her skirt, letting it fall over herself and was about to reach down to grab her discarded underwear before you beat her to it. 

“Really?” her voice was still breathless, her nose merely an inch away from your own while you smiled and came closer to her. 

“No one would notice it was gone,” a devious playful sort of smile crossed your lips. 

“I would.” 

“That’s the point,” you whispered before pressing your lips to hers in a slow kiss. 

“You’re insatiable,” she mumbled against you, pulling you closer. 

“I’m not the one who couldn’t wait until we got home.”

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya

[hyperbolicreverie]

an au of losing time where law is swapped with the younger version of himself that's already joined doflamingo

Ooh, fun. Snippet below the cut.

Penguin's not going to say it's the first time he's ever heard screaming and cursing coming from Law's room, but it's definitely the first time he's heard it at that pitch, and while Law generally likes to be left alone for most of his moods, it's different enough that Penguin considers the matter to warrant further attention.

So when he opens the door and a tiny ball of rage in a fluffy hat rolls out before he can even get a word of greeting past his lips, he resigns himself to it being more than an average Tuesday.

"Bepo?" he says a few minutes later, as he enters navigation. "When you said our path was going to take us close to Kairos Island today, how close exactly did you mean?"

"Within sight distance," Bepo mumbles, turning away from his charts. "Why--oh."

Penguin knows he must look a sight, standing there with a miniature Law scruffed by his collar, and sporting a few cuts and a black eye where he hadn't been fast enough, but in his defense, their miniature captain had come out swinging with a scalpel he'd found in their Law's bedroom. Only the sturdiness of his coveralls and his own speed had kept him from being hamstrung.

"I will kill you. I will turn you inside out and when my crew finds me, they'll do even worse," his assailant is spitting, swinging like a pendulum from the end of Penguin's arm.

"Oh seas," Bepo whines, staring at the ceiling as if something there could save him. "Doflamingo?"

"Doflamingo," Penguin confirms. There was no mistaking it; he'd been threatened with retribution at the hands of the Heavenly Demon at least a dozen times on the walk here. "Aren't we the lucky ones?"

"I didn't know the island could do that," Bepo mutters, sighing. "We didn't even touch ground."

"Maybe it awakened," Penguin grumbles, dodging a tiny foot aimed at his ribs. "In which case, I vote we never come back to this area of the Grand Line ever again. Tiny Law was at least tolerable, but you remember what he was like in his early teens."

Tiny Law stops squirming for a moment. "The fuck you mean, the Grand Line?" he demands. "I was in Spider Miles!"

Penguin sighs. "Look, kid," he starts. "We're going to go to the galley and get you some food and water. You are going to behave yourself, because we--" He points Law's face in the direction of the nearest porthole "--are underwater, and I don't know about you, but I don't fancy getting crushed and drowned today, and I know for a fact that I'm a much better swimmer than you. And then," he stresses, when Law makes a motion to argue even further. "We will explain what is going on."

"He's not going to believe it," Bepo points out morosely.

"Of course he won't believe it," Penguin scoffs. "At this point, I am offended that I have no choice but to believe in it. It's stupid. It's a fucking island."

"You two are pretty shitty kidnappers, you know that, right?" the gremlin in Penguin's hand points out.

Penguin sighs again. He hopes their Law is having a better time of it. Or at least not panicking. But given where the kid had clearly come from, Penguin wouldn't bet on it being quiet.

Meanwhile...

The man who had appeared out of nowhere at the Family dinner table, taken one look at where he was and launched into the most terrifying display of devil fruit prowess that Rosinante had ever been privileged to witness looked strangely familiar, but he was having a bit of trouble concentrating on why exactly that was.

He had noticed that every time he tried to do something he found himself turned around, or his bullets redirected somewhere else. All the kids had been neatly stacked in a corner too, though the stranger seems to have managed to tie them to their chairs without using his hands.

The rest of the Family was...not so lucky.

Doflamingo in particular was getting the brunt of it, and Rosinante had lost count of the number of pieces he was in now. It was hard to keep track of them when the air was full of pieces of multiple people. Multiple, somehow still alive people.

Eventually, whatever adrenaline is powering this impressive display wears off, and the man slumps bonelessly into the nearest chair. He takes off his hat and runs one long-fingered hand through dark hair, muttering something about islands and devil fruits and his luck, which he seems to think is poor, despite what he'd just done.

Despite being dismembered in ways Doffy could only dream of replicating so cleanly, his brother is laying into the stranger, promising retribution with a familiar grandiosity that Rosinante can't help but think rings a bit hollow when your head is sitting on a literal silver platter on the dinner table like a side of beef.

The man seems to agree, because he points at Doffy's head, not even bothering to look at him.

"Re:Room. Silent."

The resulting effects are so like Rosinante's own power that he forgets himself, making a choking noise of surprise that's a bit too audible for a purported mute.

The stranger looks up at him, and Rosinante is caught by the look in his eyes. Familiar, and yet not. Angry, but for some reason not at him.

"Sorry, Cora," he says, and it feels almost sheepish. Totally unlike the fury he'd seen before. Now the man just looks tired, and exasperated. "If I promise to explain, do you think you could call Sengoku? Impel Down's feeling a bit empty."

Rosinante feels his mouth open and close. How does this man know him, know Sengoku? Is he another undercover operative? A CP agent? Did Sengoku just get sick of how long this mission was taking and send someone for backup? He'd at least have appreciated a heads up if that were the case.

But from the way Doffy is silently screaming in both their directions now, his cover seems blown anyway, so...maybe he doesn't antagonize the superpowered man with the dangerous hands? Being done with this mission does sound appealing, regardless.

And where did Law sneak off to, anyway?

"Yeah, okay."

[stiltonbasket]

emperor!lwj au - I feel so bad for the staff, seeing this random young woman come into the emperor's quarters, call him by a pet name a bunch of times, and be very familiar with him. Also she's happily cuddling the prince and giving him a bath? the staff are (•ิ_•ิ)?

This ask made me laugh for a very long time, and since the fic is entirely from Wei Wuxian's POV, here's a short snippet from the staff's point of view!

--

"Steward Ling," a nervous young manservant from the Emperor's palace says one afternoon. "This one requests entry to the storeroom where Zeming zhang-gongzhu keeps the late Empress's belongings."

Ling Jun—the second chief steward of the present dynasty, and the son of the head of staff who served Emperor Qingheng upon his accession to the throne—glances up from his account-book to find two boys in their middle teens wringing their hands at the door to his office.

He sighs. His Majesty's servants are difficult to bear with—not because of any of them are overbearing, but rather because any extended span of time spent in the young Emperor's company seems to rob the boys of their wits.

"What for?" Ling Jun asks. "Huangshang and her Highness are both busy with the selection today, and Her Majesty's things are not due to be aired out until next month."

The elder of the two serving-boys shakes his head.

"Huangshang did not go to the selection," he whispers. "He is still in his room, with the little highness—and a woman. He asked us to fetch the cloak the late Emperor gifted to Her Majesty, so that he could give it to the lady."

Ling Jun nearly faints away on the spot.

The cloak that Xiao Yun is speaking of—a splendid garment made of thick wool, weighted down with pearls and shining silver beads sewn along the borders—was made for Empress Haoxian shortly after the young emperor was born. It delighted the late Emperor to see her in it, especially when the little taizi dianxia was with her; and after she passed away, the staff assumed that the cloak would be given to Grand Princess Zeming. But Zeming zhang-gongzhu laid the cloak away with the rest of her mother's things, insisting that it should be held in storage for his Majesty.

Since she would not wear it, Ling Jun expected that Empress Haoxian's cloak would never be worn again—and then, when it was made known to him that her Highness had given it to the young emperor, that it might be worn by the future Empress.

And if he was asking for it today, that meant—

"Who—who is the lady?" Ling Jun asks, bewildered. "The last I heard, the bridal candidates were waiting to be presented in an antechamber in the outer palace. Huangshang ought to have seen them by now, and if he is still in his quarters—is he with one of the maids?"

That would mean trouble in court, to be sure, but the nobles who sent their daughters to the selection would simply have to bear it. After all, Lan Wangji is only the second emperor of his line; and before Emperor Qingheng took the throne, his forefathers were known for disregarding all matters concerning rank when they wed. The late Emperor's own mother had been brought into the Lan estate as a nursemaid to one of his older cousins, and his father had stumbled upon her playing with the child in the Cloud Recesses' famed magnolia garden and fallen in love at first sight.

Perhaps it is one of Zeming zhang-gongzhu's maidservants, Ling Jun thinks hopefully. The Grand Princess's maids are sensible girls, and most of them have known his Majesty since they were children themselves: and though it might cause some difficulty if her Highness were to be suddenly outranked by one of her servants, such a girl ought to do well as Lan Wangji's Empress if she were properly educated for the role before her wedding.

"N-No, Lord Steward," mumbles the younger of his Majesty's serving-boys. "From what Xiao Tong overheard, the maiden is one of the xiunu from the selection. But she ran away and met Huangshang in his quarters instead of waiting to see him in the reception hall."

Ling Jun's vision blurs. "What?"

Xiao Tong nods furiously. "He called her Wei-guniang, so she must be a lady of rank. And—and Huangshang has her calling him by his birth name, just like Huanghou-niangniang used to! No one else has called him so since she died—even her Highness calls him by his courtesy name! He told me to fetch luncheon for her, and he wants to give her the mantle that the late Emperor gave her Majesty: so that must mean that she is the bride he has chosen."

"Wei?" There are no families of note called Wei living in the capital. "Whose daughter is she?"

At this juncture, one of the maids materializes on the threshold with a wild grin on her face. "Have you heard already?" she whispers, delighted. "About the girl in Huangshang's private quarters?"

"Gossip is forbidden, Xia Ye," Ling Jun snaps. "Do you have any proper business here?"

Xia Ye rolls her eyes at him. "He ordered her a fish clay-pot and braised zhusun with bamboo shoots," she says conspiratorially, before turning to Xiao Tong. "Guess what she's doing now, Tong'er! She's giving his little highness a bath!"

At this, Ling Jun nearly swallows his own tongue. His little highness—that is, his Majesty's ward, and a cousin of his on the late Empress's side—is a good child, with only one fault: a terrible fear of water, whether warm or cold. He suffers no one but his imperial father to bathe him, much to his nurse's distress—and if he had permitted a stranger to give him a bath less than an hour after meeting her, Huangshang might as well put the palace staff out of their misery and marry the girl tomorrow.

"And what's more, I know who she is," Xia Ye declares, before making a smug face at Ling Jun. "She's Jiang Fengmian's yang daughter. The older daughter is already married to Lord Jin's di son, so she couldn't attend the selection—but I heard that the yang daughter fits every one of the requirements Huangshang insisted on when he gave up trying to delay his marriage. She's older than Huangshang, I think—twenty-four or twenty-five, at the least—but Xie Li's mother is a cook at the girls' academy in the city, and she says that Wei Wuxian is the most brilliant scholar that the Grandmaster has ever taught."

All this means little to Ling Jun. The only noblewoman he has more than passing knowledge of is the Grand Princess, Lan Xichen; and his late Majesty thought it meet to educate her in everything from the six classical arts to swordsmanship and military history. Certainly the court found it absurd that Huangshang wanted a wife who was at least as well-learned as the scholars beginning their last years of study for the imperial examinations, but Ling Jun merely found it rather sensible.

"Then do you think he truly means to marry Young Mistress Wei?" he asks warily. "I suppose he must, or the lady would object to spending time with him without a chaperone."

"I don't know about that," Xia Ye says, shrugging. "He hasn't asked for Wei-guniang's hand, so who can say how matters will go?"

Ling Jun frowns. "What do you mean? She was invited here as a bridal candidate, and Huangshang clearly likes her better than all the rest, so—"

"Huangshang is currently pretending to be one of his little highness's attendants," Xia Ye informs him. "Wei-guniang doesn't know that he's the Emperor, and we're not supposed to tell her so."

"His—his attendant? Wei-guniang thinks that his Majesty is a servant?"

"Yes. And until he sees fit, nobody is to tell Wei-guniang otherwise."

With that, Xia Ye tosses her braids back over her shoulder and flounces out of Ling Jun's office, looking more gleeful than ever.

Ling Jun reaches into his desk with trembling hands and pulls out the key to the storehouse devoted to the late Empress's belongings.

"Here," he says hoarsely, handing the key to Xiao Tong. "Fetch the cloak and bring it to Huangshang. And mind how you speak to Young Mistress Wei; with any luck, she will be the new Empress before the year is out, and the first thing she will do after her wedding is choose which of the servants attending the inner palace are permitted to remain there."

"I wouldn't mind being dismissed, to be honest," Xiao Tong mumbles. "Huangshang looks just as much in love with her as the late emperor was with Empress Haoxian, and they've only just met. I don't fancy getting caught mistaking any of Wei-guniang's orders after she's married."

"Bite your tongue!" scolds Ling Jun. "Now deliver the cloak, and be quick about it. If there is so much as a speck of dust on it by the time it reaches Young Mistress Wei, I'll send you off to the laundry bureau before the madam has the chance to say a word about it."

Xiao Tong yelps and disappears, taking his hapless friend with him; and Ling Jun leans back in his chair with his eyes tightly shut, wondering if Wei Wuxian will change at all after she becomes the Empress.

"I am too old to serve such a spirited Empress," he mutters to himself. "Perhaps it is time for Ling Yan to take my place."

But it will be many months before Ling Jun's son can succeed him as the head steward. A change as great as that must wait until after Huangshang's wedding, and then for the new Empress to grow accustomed to her role as master of the inner palace; and all told, Ling Yan cannot hope to take Ling Jun's place before this time next year.

And if Ling Yun must remain until then, well...

"I suppose I might as well stay," he grumbles. "And by then, perhaps I will decide that there is no need to leave."

(Little did Ling Jun know that he would decide nothing of the kind. By the following summer, he would be driven half out of his wits by the newly-wed Wei Wuxian. But Ling Yan would have resigned his post and retired to the countryside under the duress of serving such a mistress; and as such, Ling Jun was forced—not too unhappily, for Wei Wuxian was as kind as she was flighty—to remain in his position as chief steward.

Xia Ye, on the other hand, would be swiftly elevated to the position of Wei Wuxian's chief maidservant: but the less said about that, the better.)

[lsunstreakerl]

the latest chapter of SH! 💛 charles going feral over the not-even-real-possibility of lewis adding max to his collection of blond WDC champions and also just thinking about charles pretty much pissing all over HIS red bull golden boy, that really hits the spot! thank you!

but also in another ask you said that max may consider the whole eye injury water under the bridge but charles not, and that made me think of the grudge you can hold onto someone over them hurting the people you love and how hard it’s to let go. In this case clearly lewis isn’t at fault but i’m wondering of how hard it has been for charles to deal with those negative thoughts in a high pressure environment. i know you mostly feel comfortable writing from max’s pov but any chance we can get a bit into charles’ mind?

Hi anon! I meant to respond to this much earlier but it got stuck in my brain and actually manifested as a little snippet, so here's a tiny peek behind the curtain! hopefully it's a little bit more insight? feel free to ask more questions if you have them :)

Charles is trying not to grit his teeth, though if the glare Silvia is sending his way is any indication, he's failing.

They're getting ready for the fan stage, and Charles keeps checking his phone, making sure he isn't missing any messages from Max.

They're in Monaco for the race, and normally it is one of Charles' favorite races, and Max was supposed to be here in the garage today, but he'd had a flare-up this morning, dry heaving and dizzy. Charles hadn't wanted to leave him, but Max had gotten decently close to biting his head off, shoving him to the doorway.

"If you want to be worried I cannot stop you, but at least be driving while you are doing it."

Now, though-

Charles isn't sure how he's meant to do this fanstage. He's been civil with Lewis, hasn't let his roiling resentment sneak into their interactions, professional or personal, but it's only a matter of time.

It's harder on days like today, where Charles has left his boyfriend sick at home, suffering from something that many very well never leave him, when Max could be- should be here, racing with them, racing with Charles.

Everyone has idolized Lewis at some point in their lives, and Charles is no different, had admittedly been excited to find out he was joining the team, but the end of last season, and this one-

It's left a sour taste on his tongue. He doesn't hold Lewis on a pedestal anymore, how can he, when he has slipped into Charles' home, driving the color that belongs to Charles, belongs to Ferrari, refuses to address his legacy with Max the same way he refuses to talk about any other rivals.

Charles can't stand it. He couldn't care less about Nico and Seb- well, maybe a little bit about Seb- but to do the same to Max. Charles' Max, the Max that fought his way onto the grid, fought his way through the hate, fought himself into a competitive car, and a team that loved him, the Max that deserves to be on the grid today-

To see Lewis instead, who has been driving since before Max and Charles were on the grid, and still is, it makes his fingers curl.

Maybe he's just having a bad day. He knows he needs to pull the nice boy face back on, but he's having trouble finding it, when the car is competitive this year, when he and Lewis are both bringing home points.

It doesn't matter, at the end of the day, what Lewis is capable of, because he is driving for Ferrari, but he is not Ferrari, doesn't have rosso corsa beating fast through his veins, doesn't have the prancing horse as a thundering heartbeat.

He's a Mercedes boy, a wolf at heart, and that will ruin him, here. Ferrari does not take wolves. Ferrari takes sacrifices, bleating lambs, brought to the alter young and innocent, and only the most devoted get to live, get to have the honor of bringing the team to glory, the privilege of representing the legacy. Only the most treasured become the shining eye of the tifosi, and to get it all at once, to be a model driver, a living breathing manifestation of the Scuderia- it only comes around once every few generations of drivers.

Seb couldn't do it, and neither could Fernando. Lewis will not be capable either.

Charles has it.

It may not have been intentional, but Max has left Charles a mantle, a legacy, one final way to etch their names together forever, intertwined in a way no media or sports magazine could ever brush past, like so much of their lives and careers, tangled together to the very end.

Charles Leclerc will not let Lewis Hamilton get his eighth title.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, gives him a friendly squeeze.

"Hey man, you ready?"

Charles checks his posture, unclenches his jaw, and smiles at Lewis, but there's nothing friendly about it. It's the most Charles will let himself have, tiny little slips in the mask, unsettling for Lewis and unnoticeable for anyone else around them.

"Of course."

[taradactyls]

Elizabeth Overestimates her Ability to Tie a Cravat

Prompt for @janeuary-month 2005 Day 8: Cravat

Over the period of their engagement, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy take many long walks. During an unseasonably warm late October day, Mr Darcy loosens his cravat and removes his jacket. Elizabeth finds this a very educational experience. But when it comes time to put them back on, she cannot for the life of her figure out how to knot the cravat properly after insisting she do the honours.

“My dearest, and loveliest, Elizabeth,” he gently began. “You have no idea how to knot a cravat, do you?”

3,421 Words, Rated G, Elizabeth Bennet / Fitzwilliam Darcy

Tags: Fluff, First Kiss, Love, Sickeningly in Love, Canon Compliant, I cannot express how absolutely besotted with each other these two are, The tension is palpable but it goes no further than g-rated touches banter and a few chaste kissies, Sweet, One shot

Read a snippet below the cut, and the entire work on Ao3

Elizabeth Overestimates her Ability to Tie a Cravat

For all her family’s joy at her engagement to Mr Darcy, escaping them at every opportunity was one of Elizabeth’s highest priorities. Thankfully, there were plenty of lanes about in which she may lose her way accompanied by her dear Mr Darcy. They had managed to flee Longbourn today by proposing another long walk, and though initially possessing the companionship of Jane and Mr Bingley the couples had collectively decided, without a word being spoken, to travel different paths.

The harvest was in, the landscape awash in colour, and the sun unseasonably hot. Elizabeth was delighted, and yet she looked at her intended with concern. After studying him a few moments, she asked “What is that furrowed brow for, Mr Darcy?”

“I feel I ought to be sitting with your father in the library,” said he, “but it has been two days since I have been alone with you for any length of time and so I must be selfish.”

“The correct choice, in my completely unbiased opinion,” Elizabeth smiled, nudging his arm lightly with her own to punctuate her point. He responded by capturing her hand, and raising it to give the back of it a kiss.

He did not release it once it was lowered.

Mr Darcy was too deep in thought to notice her blush. “I do not want to appear lax in my duty towards him, nor fail to prove that I deserve the honour of your hand.”

“Oh, you must not trouble your mind about that! The latter is already accomplished, and for the former – well, as sweet as your sentiment is, I assure you my father shall be very pleased to have a day free from respectful sons-in-law. After spending all yesterday with you and Mr Bingley hunting, followed by dinner with the Lucases, there is nothing he wants more than silence and solitude in his library.”

“So long as you are certain he shall not find my avoidance of his company for a whole day selfish.”

“He shall view it as a kindness to himself – and everyone else for that matter.”

“I fail to see how anyone else factors into it?”

Leaning into him with a smile, Elizabeth archly replied “It saves them all from having to endure my forlorn sighs as I stare longingly at you from across the room.”

Mr Darcy gave a short laugh as he looked at her in surprise, the rare sound and the amusement in his face ample reward for Elizabeth’s efforts. Her smile turned softer as she admired him and his own gaze did not stray from her.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if he might finally kiss her, for he had remained entirely proper so far over the fortnight of their engagement.

“Well then,” he said instead, “I shall take that as his tacit approval to wander about the countryside with you for at least another two hours. Even if it does grow hotter every moment.”

“Poor Mr Darcy! Pity there are no lakes here-abouts for you to jump into to cool down.”

Elizabeth was jesting, but within another half an hour it became clear that perhaps such an action would not be fully unwise. She had foregone a sleeved dress that morning but the gentleman was not so fortunate in his coat. “I know I claimed your presence outdoors for the next few hours, but I am afraid, dearest Elizabeth, that I near my limit for exercise in the present circumstances,” he said, tugging at his cravat to allow some air to slip within.

“You are looking a bit flushed – shall we turn back?”

“Not until after I have recovered somewhat. The lack of trees on our return path for the next mile shall only worsen my state.”

Elizabeth frowned at Mr Darcy in consternation. “You are not feeling dizzy, nor any worse symptoms, I hope?”

“No, just uncomfortably hot,” he reassured her. “A break to sit down in the shade shall quite restore me.” Yet despite professing himself mostly fine, he did not at all fight Elizabeth’s insistence on putting her arm around his waist, and draped his own about her shoulders. It was perhaps unnecessary, as he did not lean any of his weight on her, but the feeling of Elizabeth against him made him almost forget the heat for a moment.

Though there may not have been a lake to jump into (the small pond in a cow paddock featuring said animals wading through it to cool down was far too dirty to even contemplate) there was a copse atop a low hill not far from the road. Elizabeth led Mr Darcy to it, pleased to see it was free from grazing animals and other people, and open enough that sitting there with her betrothed could cause no scandal even if they were a little hidden from the road once they found the most sheltered spot. He took a few steps from her, and in some desperation, untied his cravat and ripped it from his neck, seeking the relief of cooler air.

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