#Indelible Conventions

[pixelated-pancakes]

weird bringing fic stuff into tumblr asks but UGH Indelible Conventions is so good!!!!!! Thank you for making it. Ur writing style is so nice it brought tears to my eyes

Thank you sm! I'm so glad you like it :D This is the first ask I've ever gotten --- I appreciate you going out of your way to message me on Tumblr!

[tulipatheticee]

Hi! I had an idea of Eloise x fem reader, reader being Queen Charlotte’s daughter. They get caught together, and readers mother suggests marriage. With that Eloise and reader start the acceptance of the same sex love/marriage.

love story e.b

eloise bridgerton x queen charlottes daughter! reader

synopsis; In the heart of Regency London, Princess Y/N, daughter of Queen Charlotte, and Eloise Bridgerton find themselves entangled in a clandestine romance amidst the glittering balls and gossip of high society. Their love defies conventions and faces scrutiny, ultimately prompting Queen Charlotte to propose a marriage that could change society's perception of same-sex love forever.

word count; 5.3k

master list

a/n; i went a little ham on this one, i was not joking when i said wlw unlocks something inside of me

as always, kinda proof read, kinda not :p

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

So close your eyes

Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

In the bustling midst of London’s social season, Queen Charlotte's daughter, Princess y/n, found herself at the centre of attention. Raised amidst the pomp and protocol of high society, she was no stranger to the expectations placed upon her. Attending debutante events was simply another facet of her role as the queen's daughter—a duty performed with grace and an impeccably polished facade.

It was at one such event, a gathering of debutantes adorned in their finest, where y/n first noticed her. Eloise Bridgerton, amidst the sea of hopefuls vying for attention, stood out not just for her striking beauty but for an air of defiance that seemed to hover around her like an invisible shield. Eloise, with her quick wit and sharp tongue, had garnered a reputation as the most outspoken and unconventional of the Bridgerton siblings—a title she wore proudly, much to her mother Violet's simultaneous exasperation and admiration.

From across the room, y/n observed as Eloise engaged in animated conversation with other debutantes. There was a sparkle in her eye and a hint of mischief in her smile that drew y/n's attention irresistibly. Eloise's laughter, free and unbridled, cut through the polite chatter of the event like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room. For a moment, y/n found herself captivated, her gaze lingering longer than was strictly polite.

Meanwhile, Eloise, amidst the whirl of introductions and compliments, couldn't help but notice the queen's daughter. Elegant and composed, y/n exuded a quiet confidence that commanded attention without demanding it. Unlike the other debutantes who fluttered around Eloise, y/n stood apart, observing with an intensity that hinted at a keen intellect beneath her composed exterior.

Their eyes met briefly across the room—a fleeting moment charged with unspoken curiosity and intrigue. It was a simple exchange, unnoticed by the swirling crowd around them but leaving an indelible impression on both Eloise and y/n. In that brief encounter, something stirred, a silent recognition that hinted at possibilities yet unexplored.

The grand presentation at the Palace was a spectacle to behold. The ballroom was adorned with glittering chandeliers and opulent decorations, filled with the crème de la crème of London society. Eloise stood in line, fidgeting with her gloves as she prepared to be introduced. Her mother gave her a reassuring smile.

“Stand tall, Eloise,” Violet whispered. “This is your moment.”

As Eloise stepped forward, she caught a clearer sight of Princess Y/N, standing beside her mother. Their eyes met once again across the room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Y/N’s gaze was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the intimidating grandeur of the palace. Eloise felt an inexplicable pull towards her, something she couldn’t quite understand.

Just as Eloise was about to be presented, the attention of the room shifted abruptly. The queens guards charging through the doors, whispers of “Lady Whistledown '' spread like wildfire, next thing you know, the queen is declaring she's seen enough and everyone is dismissed and Eloise found herself relieved of the spotlight as gossip overtook the ceremony. The mysterious writer had once again stolen the show, and Eloise couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the diversion.

'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"

But you were everything to me

I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said

The opulent ballroom of Lady Danbury's estate shimmered with the flicker of candlelight and the murmur of polite conversation. Eloise Bridgerton, dressed in an exquisite gown of deep emerald silk that Lady Danbury had insisted upon, moved gracefully amidst the crowd, her gaze sweeping over the assembly of London's elite.

The event was a dazzling affair, attended by the highest echelons of society, each guest meticulously adorned in their finest attire. Yet amidst the glittering array of guests, Eloise's eyes sought out a familiar figure—Princess y/n, who stood with Queen Charlotte, radiating an air of quiet elegance that set her apart from the throng of debutantes.

Eloise couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation in her chest as she made her way towards y/n, navigating the maze of guests with practiced ease. Her heart raced with a mixture of nerves and excitement, unsure of how their conversation at Queen Charlotte's debutante event would influence their interaction tonight.

Meanwhile, y/n observed the revelry with a regal composure, her gaze occasionally drifting towards Eloise amidst the swirl of dancers and the lilting strains of the orchestra. The princess was acutely aware of the scrutiny she faced as Queen Charlotte’s daughter—the expectations of duty and decorum that shadowed her every move. Yet amidst the splendour of the ballroom, y/n found herself drawn to Eloise’s spirited presence and unguarded authenticity. 

Violet Bridgerton, determined to secure another diamond among her brood, guided Eloise through the throng of guests towards the queen and y/n. Eloise, begrudgingly adorned in an elegant gown befitting her station, maintained a facade of polite disinterest as Violet introduced her to the queen and her daughter.

"Your Majestys, may I present my daughter, Eloise Bridgerton," Violet announced with practised grace.

Y/n, acknowledging the introduction with a nod, offered a polite smile that barely concealed her curiosity. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bridgerton," she greeted eloquently, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her royal stature.

Eloise, though outwardly composed, felt a rush of nerves mingled with an unexpected flutter of excitement. She had anticipated the formality of the introduction, yet y/n's presence seemed to alter the air around her, making her acutely aware of every gesture and fleeting expression.

"Likewise, Your Highness," Eloise replied with a hint of her trademark wit, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Though I must admit, I am more accustomed to lively debates than royal audiences."

Y/n's smile widened subtly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I look forward to those debates, Miss Bridgerton," she replied in kind, a gentle challenge underlying her words.

The exchange, though brief, left an impression on both women. For Eloise, accustomed to the constraints of societal expectations, y/n represented a refreshing departure—an enigma wrapped in regal poise and quiet strength. And for y/n, intrigued by Eloise's spirited demeanor and quick intellect, the encounter ignited a curiosity that lingered long after the ball had ended.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

As the evening progressed, Eloise and y/n’s paths collided again near the elaborate dessert table adorned with crystal bowls of sugared fruits and delicate pastries. Eloise, emboldened by Lady Danbury’s encouraging nod from across the room, approached y/n with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, nerves tingling beneath her skin.

“Your Highness,” Eloise greeted warmly, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness despite her best efforts to appear composed.

y/n turned towards Eloise with a gracious smile, her eyes alight with genuine interest. “Miss Bridgerton,” y/n replied with a nod of acknowledgment, noting the subtle tension in Eloise’s stance.

Their conversation flowed with the ease of familiarity yet tinged with the underlying currents of unspoken desire and mutual intrigue. They exchanged pleasantries about the music, the decorations, and the latest society gossip, each word carrying a weight of unspoken meaning that hung between them like an invisible thread.

Eloise, ever the conversationalist, couldn’t resist steering the discussion towards a topic that had intrigued her since their first meeting. “Your Highness, I must admit, I found your observations on the latest literary sensation quite captivating,” she remarked, her tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

y/n chuckled softly, appreciating Eloise’s intellect and the genuine interest she showed in their previous conversation. “Ah, but Miss Bridgerton, I fear my views on literature may not always align with conventional wisdom,” y/n replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

Eloise leaned in slightly, her gaze locking with y/n’s in a moment of shared understanding. “Isn’t that the beauty of literature, Your Highness? It allows us to explore different perspectives and challenge our own beliefs,” she countered, her voice laced with a mixture of admiration and genuine curiosity.

Their banter continued late into the night, punctuated by shared laughter and stolen glances that hinted at a connection deeper than mere friendship. For Eloise, y/n represented a kindred spirit—a beacon of hope amidst the rigid expectations of London society. She found herself drawn to y/n’s quiet strength and unwavering authenticity, traits that resonated deeply with Eloise’s own aspirations and struggles.

In those stolen moments between dances, y/n found herself captivated by Eloise’s infectious enthusiasm and fierce determination. She admired Eloise’s courage to challenge societal norms and speak her mind, qualities that set her apart from the polished facades of London’s debutantes.

As the evening drew to a close, Eloise reluctantly bid y/n farewell with a promise to meet again soon. Their parting left y/n with a lingering warmth in her heart—a feeling that defied the constraints of duty and hinted at the possibility of something more.

Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel

This love is difficult, but it's real

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

Eloise and y/n found themselves entangled in a web of conflicting emotions and societal expectations. Despite the undeniable chemistry that sparked between them at Lady Danbury's grand ball, both struggled to come to terms with their growing attraction.

In the days that followed the ball, Eloise couldn't shake the memory of y/n's enchanting smile and the way her eyes lit up with intelligence and charm. She found herself stealing glances at y/n across crowded ballrooms, each stolen glance fueling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Meanwhile, y/n wrestled with her own tumultuous emotions. As Queen Charlotte's daughter, she was keenly aware of the scrutiny her actions faced. The prospect of scandal and disgrace haunted her thoughts, casting a shadow over her budding friendship with Eloise.

Their paths crossed again at another glittering social event, where Violet Bridgerton, ever the matchmaker, introduced Eloise to y/n in hopes of sparking a connection. Eloise's heart raced as she exchanged pleasantries with y/n, their conversation laced with a subtle undercurrent of tension and curiosity.

Later that evening, as they found themselves alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom, y/n couldn't help but voice her uncertainties. "Miss Bridgerton, do you ever feel... conflicted?" she asked tentatively, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Eloise hesitated, her mind racing with unspoken thoughts. "I... I suppose I do," she admitted softly, her gaze searching y/n's face for any sign of understanding. "This world we live in—it's so... unforgiving."

y/n nodded in silent agreement, her fingers nervously toying with the fabric of her gown. "Sometimes I wonder if... if we're meant to feel this way," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise reached out, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "I don't have all the answers, Princess," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I know that when I'm with you, everything feels... different."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Danbury, who swept y/n away to greet other guests. Eloise watched as Lady Danbury whisked y/n away, her heart sinking with each step that carried them farther apart. Alone in the bustling ballroom, she found herself drawn to a quiet alcove, seeking refuge from the swirl of conversations and glittering chandeliers.

Leaning against a draped curtain, Eloise closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Thoughts of y/n consumed her mind, their unfinished conversation lingering like an unspoken promise in the air.

She traced the intricate pattern of her gown absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to y/n's earnest question. Do you ever feel... conflicted? And back to her own comment before the conversation ended, when I'm with you, everything feels... different. How would y/n have responded to that? Did she feel the same way, or was Eloise's heart leading her down a path fraught with uncertainty?

The memory of y/n's smile flickered in her mind—the way it lit up the room, reaching out to Eloise like a beacon in the darkness of societal expectations. They had danced around the edges of something profound, something that could alter the course of their lives forever.

Lost in her reverie, Eloise was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to find Benedict Bridgerton, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Sister, are you all right?" he asked gently, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

Eloise managed a faint smile, though her heart still raced with unanswered questions. "I'm fine, Benedict," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Just... lost in thought."

Benedict studied her for a moment, his gaze searching. "Is it about the Princess?" he ventured cautiously, knowing his sister well enough to sense when something weighed heavily on her mind.

Eloise nodded slowly, unable to suppress a sigh. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "We were... talking. About feelings, I suppose."

Benedict arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Feelings?" he echoed, prompting Eloise to elaborate.

"I told her... how I feel when I'm with her," Eloise confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then Lady Danbury interrupted us, and I never got to find out how she feels."

Understanding dawned in Benedict's eyes as he took in Eloise's words. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Eloise, you know what they say about the young Princess," he said gently. "She's smart, perceptive. She'll understand."

Eloise managed a weak smile, grateful for her brother's reassurance. "I hope so," she murmured, her thoughts still lingering on y/n's last words to her.

As the ballroom bustled around them, Benedict offered his arm to Eloise. "Shall we join the others?" he suggested, his tone lightening with an attempt to lift her spirits.

Eloise nodded, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. "Yes, let's," she agreed, linking her arm with Benedict's. Together, they returned to the lively gathering, though Eloise's thoughts remained with y/n—wondering, hoping, and silently yearning for their next conversation.

I got tired of waiting

Wondering' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Days passed after the interrupted conversation at Lady Danbury's ball, each one stretching with anticipation and uncertainty for Eloise. She found herself eagerly attending every social event in hopes of catching another glimpse of y/n, her heart skipping a beat whenever their paths crossed across the crowded rooms.

It was at a smaller, more intimate gathering hosted by the Featheringtons that Eloise finally saw y/n again. The evening was alive with music and laughter, the air fragrant with the scent of gardenias and the promise of summer.

Eloise stood near the refreshment table, feigning interest in the punch bowl as she discreetly watched y/n across the room. y/n was engaged in conversation with Dowager Violet Bridgerton, their laughter mingling with the tinkling of crystal glasses.

Summoning her courage, Eloise took a deep breath and approached them. "Excuse me, Mama,  may I steal the Princess away for a moment?" she asked politely, her voice betraying none of the nervousness fluttering in her chest.

Violets eyes flickered mischievously as she glanced knowingly between Eloise and y/n. "Of course, Eloise," she replied with a knowing smile. "Take her—though I warn you, Her Royal Highness has been entertaining us all evening with her wit."

Eloise felt a rush of relief and gratitude towards her mother as y/n turned towards her, her expression lighting up with surprise and delight. "Miss Bridgerton," y/n greeted warmly, setting down her glass to face her fully. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

Eloise swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling the weight of her confession at Lady Danbury's ball. But still she continued to escort the Princess through the crowd until they were outside in the garden, under the nights sky, completely alone.

 "I wanted to apologise for our conversation being cut short," she began earnestly, meeting y/n's gaze with sincerity. "I... I meant what I said. About how I feel when I'm with you."

y/n's smile softened, her eyes holding a hint of something that made Eloise's heart skip a beat. "Miss Bridgerton,,," y/n replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper amidst the lively chatter around them. "I've been thinking about that conversation too."

Relief flooded through Eloise as she took a step closer to y/n, their proximity sparking a warmth that spread through her veins. "Really?" she asked, unable to contain the hope in her voice.

y/n nodded, her expression gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity that mirrored Eloise's own feelings. "Yes, really," she confirmed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Eloise's arm. "I didn't get to answer then, but... I feel something too."

Eloise's heart soared at y/n's words, her fears and uncertainties momentarily forgotten in the rush of emotions. "I'm glad," she murmured softly, her gaze locked with y/n's. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel, or... if we could even..."

Before she could finish, y/n leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Eloise's cheek in a tender gesture that sent a shiver down Eloise's spine. "I want to find out," y/n whispered, her breath warm against Eloise's ear. "If we could be something more."

Eloise's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into y/n's eyes, seeing her own hopes reflected back at her. Without hesitation, she reached up to cup y/n's cheek, her thumb caressing the soft skin beneath her touch. "I want that too, Your Highness" Eloise admitted softly, her voice filled with newfound courage and longing.

Y/N smilied, her eyes lighting up. “Please, call me Y/N. Titles are so tiresome, don’t you think?”

Eloise laughed softly. “Very much so. I find this entire season tiresome.”

In that stolen moment amidst the music and the soft glow of candlelight, Eloise and y/n leaned closer together, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken promises and the beginning of a love that dared to defy convention.

As they pulled away, breathless and smiling, Eloise felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Here, in the embrace of y/n's presence, she found not only acceptance but also the beginning of a journey she never dared to imagine—a journey of love, bravery, and the courage to be true to oneself.

They walked together in the garden, the conversation flowing easily. Eloise was captivated by Y/N’s intelligence and wit, and Y/N found Eloise’s rebellious spirit refreshing. As days turned into weeks, their friendship deepened, but so did the confusion. Can this go on forever?

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the gardens of Bridgerton House. Eloise and y/n sat side by side on the swings, their feet lightly touching the ground, pushing back and forth in a gentle rhythm. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the distant hum of London’s bustle, now just a distant murmur.

"I never imagined finding such peace in the heart of London," y/n remarked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she swayed back and forth. Her eyes wandered over the garden, where vibrant blooms danced in the gentle breeze, their colours vivid against the backdrop of the setting sun.

Eloise, her legs stretched out in front of her, kicked lightly against the earth to keep the swing moving. "It's my favourite place to escape," she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced at y/n. "Thank you for visiting me here."

Y/n turned to Eloise, her gaze filled with an unspoken tenderness. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity. She reached out, her hand finding Eloise’s, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through them, grounding them in their shared moment.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the only sounds the creak of the swings and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Eloise closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the serenity of the garden and the presence of y/n beside her.

"Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us?" y/n asked softly, her voice filled with curiosity as she turned to Eloise, who was still lost in the quiet of the moment.

Eloise opened her eyes, her gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sun was painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. "I used to worry about it," she admitted, her fingers absently tracing patterns on y/n’s palm. "But now... I like to think that as long as we're together, we can face anything."

Y/n's smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting the twilight’s colours as she leaned her head against Eloise’s shoulder. "I believe that too," she murmured, her voice steady with a quiet confidence. "We'll navigate this world together, Eloise."

In the tranquil embrace of Bridgerton House's garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the blossoming love between them, Eloise and y/n found solace in each other’s company. The swings moved back and forth, a gentle testament to their growing bond, anchoring them in a love that defied expectations and embraced the courage to live authentically.

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

And said, "Marry me, Juliet

You'll never have to be alone

One afternoon in the opulent drawing room of the palace, y/n sat with Eloise, their conversation light and filled with quiet laughter. The warmth of the fire crackled in the background, casting flickering shadows on the richly adorned walls. Y/n leaned close to Eloise, sharing a private moment, both girls peppering kisses over each other's faces, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's embraces. 

Unbeknownst to them, Queen Charlotte had returned earlier than expected, her steps muffled by the thick carpet. She paused in the doorway, her sharp eyes catching the intimate exchange between y/n and Eloise. For a moment, she simply observed, her mind racing with the implications.

"Miss Bridgerton!" Queen Charlotte's voice cut through the air, startling both young women. Eloise turned pale, her heart sinking as she realised they had been caught. Y/n sat frozen, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Mother," y/n stammered, attempting to gather her thoughts. "I can explain—"

Queen Charlotte held up a hand, her expression unreadable. "There is no need for explanations, my dear. It seems the situation has clarified itself." She stepped further into the room, her gaze shifting between y/n and Eloise.

Eloise stood, her nerves taut with uncertainty. "Your Majesty, please understand—"

"I understand more than you might realise," Queen Charlotte interrupted gently, her tone softening slightly. She approached Eloise, studying her with a discerning eye. "Miss Bridgerton, do you care for my daughter?"

Eloise swallowed hard, meeting Queen Charlotte's gaze squarely. "Yes, Your Majesty," she admitted, her voice steady despite her nerves.

"And you, y/n?" Queen Charlotte turned to her daughter, her expression softening. "How do you feel about Miss Bridgerton?"

Eloise hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Mother, I... I care for Eloise deeply. More than I ever thought possible."

Queen Charlotte nodded, her features reflecting a mix of concern and contemplation. "Love comes in many forms," she said finally, her voice carrying wisdom earned through years of navigating societal expectations. "It is clear to me that your feelings are genuine."

Eloise blinked back tears, overwhelmed by her mother's unexpected understanding. Y/n reached out, gently squeezing Eloise's hand in silent support.

“But regardless, you both are participating in acts only those who are married should be. I will not accept a scandal.”

"Mama, what should we do? We can’t imagine life apart!" y/n asked, her voice tinged with hope and apprehension.

Queen Charlotte smiled softly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps it is time we consider a different kind of arrangement," she mused, her mind already formulating a plan. "One that will allow you both to live authentically, without the confines of societal scandals, the only right choice in these conditions." She paused (dramatic effect no?)

“Marriage.”

And so, in that serene drawing room of the palace, a new chapter began for y/n and Eloise—a chapter marked by acceptance, love, and the courage to challenge tradition.

I love you and that's all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

In the warm, inviting drawing room of Bridgerton House, Eloise nervously clasped y/n's hand. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, adding an air of solemnity to the moment. Around them, the Bridgertons—Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and the younger siblings—gathered, curiosity etched on their faces.

Eloise took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "I... We have something to share," she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

Anthony, ever the observant eldest brother, arched an eyebrow. "Go on, Eloise. What is it?"

Eloise glanced at y/n, drawing strength from their presence. "y/n and I... We've decided to take a step forward together. We're engaged."

There was a collective gasp of surprise from her family. Daphne's eyes widened, her hand instinctively reaching for Benedict's. Benedict leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. Colin adjusted himself, trying to process the unexpected news.

With the initial shock beginning to subside, the Bridgertons exchanged bewildered glances, each processing the news in their own way.

"Wait, you two are... engaged?" Colin asked, his voice filled with surprise.

Daphne, recovering from her initial shock, spoke gently. "But... how? I mean, are you even allowed to... marry?"

Eloise smiled, a touch of defiance in her eyes. "Yes, Daphne. Queen Charlotte herself has given us her blessing."

Colin, adjusting to the news, nodded thoughtfully. "I see. It's certainly unconventional, but if Her Majesty approves..."

Anthony, ever the pragmatist, chimed in. "Well, then. It seems we are in uncharted territory, but as long as you're both certain..."

Eloise and y/n exchanged a glance, their bond palpable. "We are," y/n affirmed softly.

"Eloise, are you certain about this?" Francesca asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Eloise nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, Francesca. I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

Benedict, always the voice of reason, spoke up next. "Well, this is quite unexpected, but if it's what makes you both happy..."

Hyacinth interjected, unable to contain her excitement. "Eloise, this is incredible news! I didn't think you'd ever settle down."

Anthony, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "Eloise, Princess Y/N, if this is your decision, then you have my support. Always."

Eloise squeezed y/n's hand tighter, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "Thank you, Anthony."

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere shifted from confusion to acceptance. The Bridgertons, while initially taken aback, found themselves embracing Eloise and y/n's decision. It was a moment that marked not only a new chapter in Eloise's life but also a testament to the changing times—a time when love was beginning to transcend boundaries and expectations.

Outside, the bustling city of London continued its rhythmic pulse, unaware of the quiet revolution unfolding within the walls of Bridgerton House—a revolution led by two hearts brave enough to defy convention and choose love, in all its unexpected forms.

'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

Eloise stood by the window of their home, gazing out at the bustling streets of London. It had been nearly a year since their marriage, and the city seemed to hum with a different energy. Change was in the air, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what she and y/n had accomplished together.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Beside her, y/n stirred in their sleep, their features softened in the gentle dawn. Eloise smiled fondly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from y/n's face. They had been through so much together—the secret glances, the stolen kisses, the fear of discovery—and yet, here they were, stronger than ever.

Their marriage had sparked conversations across London society. Some viewed it with curiosity, others with disdain, but Eloise and y/n had found unexpected allies among their peers. Lady Danbury, always a force to be reckoned with, had become a staunch supporter, using her influence to deflect any lingering whispers of scandal.

As Eloise reflected on their journey, she couldn't help but marvel at how far they had come. They had faced challenges and uncertainties, but through it all, their love had remained steadfast. They had created a sanctuary within their home, where they could be themselves without fear of judgement or reprisal.

Outside, the city continued to wake up to a new day. Carriages rumbled past, merchants called out their wares, and London life carried on its bustling rhythm. Eloise turned back to y/n, watching as they stirred awake, their eyes fluttering open to meet hers.

"Good morning," y/n murmured, their voice still laced with sleep.

"Good morning," Eloise replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to y/n's lips. They shared a quiet moment together, the warmth of their embrace speaking volumes where words fell short.

"I never imagined we'd be here," y/n whispered, their fingers tracing patterns on Eloise's cheek.

"Neither did I," Eloise admitted, her heart swelling with emotion. "But I wouldn't change a thing."

They lay entwined in each other's arms, basking in the simple joy of being together. Outside, the city continued its daily hustle, but in their sanctuary, time seemed to stand still.

In the weeks and months that followed, Eloise and y/n continued to navigate their newfound roles as partners in life and advocates for change. They attended social events hand in hand, their presence a quiet yet powerful statement of love and acceptance. Through their actions, they hoped to pave the way for others who dared to love outside of society's conventions.

Occasionally, they would steal moments alone, away from the prying eyes of society, to remind themselves of the bond they shared. Whether it was a quiet evening at home or a stolen kiss in a secluded corner of a ballroom, every moment together reaffirmed their commitment to each other.

Their love story became a beacon of hope for those who yearned for acceptance and understanding. Slowly but surely, attitudes began to shift. Families whispered their support in drawing rooms, friends offered quiet encouragement over tea, and London society found itself grappling with the idea that love knew no boundaries.

As the years passed, Eloise and y/n's love story continued to unfold, weaving itself into the fabric of London's history. They faced challenges and triumphs together, building a life filled with laughter, companionship, and unwavering devotion.

Eloise often found herself marvelling at the resilience of y/n, their strength and determination a constant source of inspiration. Together, they navigated the complexities of societal expectations and personal desires, forging a path that defied tradition and embraced love in its purest form.

And so, in the quiet moments before dawn, as the city stirred awake outside their window, Eloise held y/n close, knowing that their love had not only changed their lives but had also left an indelible mark on the world around them.

I did not plan the lyrics around an epilogue and ran out HAHA oopsie

a/npt2; AHHH how did you guys feel about this, i tried to mot make it rushed i really wanted to start from the beginging and build their realtionship in a way a oneshot can, ive been considering writing a story once im done with these requests so we can get some better romance building then!!

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Home. The word itself tasted like mothballs and childhood memories, both bitter and sweet on your tongue. 

What others would call home, did not feel like home to you at all, not after your mother had destroyed everything that you were familiar with just when you had turned fifteen.

It was then that she had begun an affair with an actor named Cillian Murphy, whom she had met on the set of a movie he was filming and, just as if she had planned it all, she became pregnant with your stepsister Sadie. 

Your mother was 37 at the time, with Cillian having been five years her senior. 

It was all over the papers at the time and, just as you thought that things could not get any worse, she left your father, who was heartbroken and bewildered, and moved in with this then stranger to you.

You and your twin sister, Cliona, were expected to just follow suit, like little lost puppies and whilst Cillian himself seemed like a nice man, it was not something that you were able to do that easily. You had always been strong willed and gave your mother quite the run for her money with your rebellious nature which, in part, was the reason why she had pushed you to go away to live your father in New York.

New York was where you had finished school and, as soon as you turned eighteen, you made your way on a journey around the world. 

You travelled to New Zealand, Africa and then South Amerika too.  There were times when your money ran out but you always managed to get by, taking on odd jobs here and there, just so that you could survive.

It was during your time in Tanzania, when you met a woman, in her forties, who worked in an orphanage with you, and it was her who introduced you to photography. She told you that the camera was woman's truth and that with it, you had the power to tell stories.

She handed you her canvas camera and you began to snap away, discovering facets of Tanzania, its people and its wildlife in ways that words alone could not articulate.

The experience had left an indelible impression on you and from that day onwards, you knew that photography would be the lens through which you viewed the world and translated your experiences.

Your wanderlust had taken you on a three year journey, one that had seen you capture the beauty of the world through photographs. You had even managed to sell some of them to a hip magazine, which showcased your work alongside a spread of your adventures.

The pay was decent, just enough to keep you going and still let you see the world.

College had been an option, but not one you wanted to seriously consider. You had never been one to follow the rules and conventions that came with higher education, and the thought of being stuck in a classroom for four more years seemed unbearably tedious.

But then, after an amazing three years, your travel journey came to an abrupt end when you got into trouble with the law while passing through the UK, on your way back to New York. 

At London Heathrow,  just after taking a flight from Rome, you were stopped by customs for questioning regarding a package that they found in your luggage. It was a small box that just fit snugly within the zippered pocket in your backpack.

Inside the box there were as an illicit substance and it was this substance that got you arrested. 

You were questioned for hours, leaving you dazed, frightened and confused about how the drugs had even gotten into your bag and, after a series of panicked phone calls to your family, your mother agreed to bail you out.

Days later, in court, you were given a short sentence, including a travel ban for three months and house arrest for one.

"I much rather go to jail than live with my mother for four weeks," you thought to yourself, but the sentence had been handed out and, before you knew it, you were taken to where you had once lived, in the outskirts of London. 

Time seemed to slow down the moment you crossed the threshold of that Victorian house, so familiar in every fine detail that it seemed to shrink around you.

The police officer who accompanied you rang the doorbell on your behalf and, after a few moments, your sister Cliona  , whom you hadn't even spoken to in a year, opened the heavy oak door.

Her dark eyes, much like yours, narrowed at the sight of you, before dissolving into a cold, expressionless mask.

"Hi, Cliona," you greeted her, but it was clear that she wasn't interested in talking.

Her thin lips barely moved as she spoke. "Mum isn't home, but come on in," she simply said to the officer rather than you. 

Cliona's dismissive attitude was nothing new to you, but it still hurt.

You had once been close, like two peas in a pod, but she had changed somewhere along the way. Growing up, you had always been the rebel, the one who pushed boundaries and questioned authority, while she was the obedient one, always trying to please your mother.

Over the years, that gap had only widened, until it seemed like you were living on opposite ends of a vast, unbridgeable chasm.

With a resigned sigh, you stepped into the hallway which is when you saw him, for the first time in 18 months.  It was Cillian, emerging from one of the rooms at the far end of the hallway, with your little half sister Sadie clinging to his side, her tiny fingers wrapped around one of his fingers.

As soon as Sadie saw you, she ran towards you , squealing with excitement, and you couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in her voice as she called out your name.

"Y/N! Y/N!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around your waist. Her laughter echoed through the expansive hallway as you stooped down to pick her up, your heart feeling warmer and softer than it had in months.

You had always kept in touch with her, and even visited her on numerous occasions, putting up with your mother for short periods of times for Sadie's sake, mostly while Cillian had been away filming.

He was a busy man and your interactions with him to date were limited.  Cillian took a step towards you, his warm smile radiating kindness.

"Welcome home, I suppose," he said with a slight chuckle, his rich voice resonating through the room. You couldn't help but blush as he looked directly into your eyes, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine delight at seeing you. It was a small but friendly gesture that made you feel a little better about this somewhat unfortunate situation. 

"Thanks," you mumbled, not quite sure what to say in response. You had imagined seeing him again, but there was something utterly different about him now, something that you had not noticed when you saw him last, about eighteen months ago, at your aunt's wedding. 

He had grown a little older, his hair was peppered with more silver strands, giving him an air of maturity, though his eyes seemed the same vibrant shade of blue that they had been before, sparkling with intelligence and a hint of mischief.

While you were spending some time with your little stepsister, the police officer pulled out some paperwork and what looked like an ankle monitor , informing you that this would now be a part of your daily life since it was ordered by the court for the next one month.

You couldn't help but wince at the sight of the device. It felt like an electronic handcuff latched on, but you didn't complain, knowing that it could have been much worse.

"So, I guess it's a house arrest for you now," Cliona said with a roll of her eyes, "good luck with that." 

"It's only for thirty days," the officer  interjected, clearly trying to soften the blow of the situation, "and if you follow the rules and stay out of trouble, you'll be free to go where you want after that, at least within the UK."

You couldn't help but feel a wry smile creeping up on your face, thinking about all the things you would be able to do once this house arrest was lifted.

But for now, you had to follow the rules and make the best of a less than ideal situation.

"Mr Murphy, are you happy to sign for this?"  the officer asked Cillian, handing him the paperwork related to your bail conditions. Cillian looked down at the documents, his brow furrowing slightly as he read over the terms. 

"Sure," he then said, signing his name with a flourish before looking at the monitor with disdain while the officer turned it on, causing it to light up around your ankle.

"What a strange contraption," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he handed it back to the officer who was quick to leave shortly after that.

"I should probably find my room and get unpacked before mum gets home. I know how much she hates mess," you said as soon as the officer drove off and Cillian nodded  in agreement.

"Of course, you can use your old room, it hasn't changed much," he said before picking up your large backpack and guiding you upstairs.

"You know I could have carried this, right?" you  remarked to Cillian as you watched him struggle with your backpack, his face turning slightly red with the strain.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "I know, but it's no trouble, really," he said as he adjusted the weight of the bag on his shoulder.

You nodded silently, following him as he took you to your old room, which was still located at the far end of the hallway, as it had been before.

He opened the door for you, stepping aside so you could enter first.

As you stepped over the threshold, your senses were immediately bombarded by a whirlwind of emotions – nostalgia, bitterness, and a strange undercurrent of longing.

You had spent countless nights in that room, sitting by the window, watching the stars through the cold glass, dreaming of the day when you could escape the confines of that house after finding out that your mother wanted a divorce. But then again. you were older now and none of this mattered anymore. Now, it was somewhere to sleep for the next thirty days, and, after that, you knew that you would be evaluating your options.  You left your camera bag by the door but the moment you turned around you caught Cillian's gaze, and you could have sworn that there was something tender hidden deep within the blue recesses of his eyes, like a secret too precious to be shared with the world.

"I'm glad to see that it's still the same," you muttered to yourself, as you placed your other smaller bag onto the bed. 

Cillian chuckled lightly, reminding you that he was still standing there, a few feet behind you.

"I'll let you get settled in now," he said with a warm smile. "Dinner is at seven, if you want to join us. Your mother should be home by six," Cillian added, before walking out of the room, leaving you to your own devices.

"Thank you Cillian," you called after him, letting the moment linger for a second, as a chance to catch your breathe and let your thoughts reel.

The air in the room felt heavy, the scent of old books and dust hung thick against it, like an unwelcome fog. The room was exactly how you remembered it, every piece of furniture, every painting on the walls. It was like going back in time.

"Fuck," you  muttered under your breath, as you pulled back the window curtains, revealing the oak tree that stood tall and strong outside. The view had not changed one bit and this realization was as oddly comforting as it was heartbreaking.

You ran your hand over the windowsill, recalling how you used to sit there for hours on end just watching the world go by in this quaint little town on the outskirts of London. It triggered memories of when you had first noticed your mother changing, and her new job on the set of Peaky Blinders getting the better of her. 

She was one of the production managers, young and enthusiastic, and of course, this is where she met Cillian.

It all went downhill from there, and as they got more and more involved, her behavior changed. 

But you never thought to blame him for the failure of your parents' marriage. Their marriage was doomed for years before and yet, the way she put an end to it, by starting an affair with another man, was what really irked you.

Pushing aside these thoughts of the past, you forced yourself to focus on the present and this presence included staying here, with your part of your broken family, for the next thirty days and you knew that this was going to be tough. 

And tough it was when, over dinner later that day, your mother criticized your life choices.

"You know that none of this would have happened if you had decided to live a normal life," she charged at you between bites of roast chicken and boiled potatoes. "Finishing college, finding a real job, staying out of trouble...," she continued on, and her voice was sharp and condescending.

How many times had you heard her repeat the same things, trying to mold you in her image, trying to give you the role that she had always wanted for herself? You swallowed hard, keeping your composure even as the anger boiled inside you.

"Photography is not a career. It's an art and art doesn't pay the bills," your mother added with disdain. 

"Well, art sure pays your bills, because you did not work for years and still have a roof over your head because your husband clearly earns enough money acting," you replied calmly, taking a sip of your water. You glanced at Cillian, who was sitting quietly, seemingly lost in thought. Sadie, however, was busy coloring with crayons, oblivious to the tension around her.

"That's different," your mother retorted, frowning at you. "Cillian is smart about his work while you, on the other hand, are reckless," she continued on, causing Cillian to sigh heavily. 

 "Marion, enough," he simply said, shaking his head probably taking pity in you and your current situation. "Can't we just enjoy our meal together as a family?" he then asked, and your mother huffed but said nothing more.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, with only Sadie occasionally breaking the awkward atmosphere with her chatter.

After dinner, you offered to help Cillian with the dishes, stacking the rinsed off plates 

by the sink while he loaded them into the dishwasher. As he worked, you couldn't help but notice the way his sleeves were rolled up his arms and his hands moved with ease, his fingers deftly maneuvering the utensils as he placed them in their designated spots in the dishwasher.  He had incredible hands, almost perfect, and whilst this was a small thing, it was also oddly intimate, and you felt the heat creeping up to your cheeks as you watched him.

You shook your head slightly, mentally chastising yourself for reacting in such a way.

Cillian was your stepfather, nothing more, and yet there was no denying the way your heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed against yours as you both reached for the same dish.

He smiled at you as he caught you looking, and your face flushed with heat.

"Thanks for helping me with these," Cillian then said as he closed the dishwasher with a soft click. He wiped his hands on a nearby towel and turned to face you, his eyes finding yours. "And, you know, I'm sorry about the whole house arrest thing. If there's anything I can do to make it easier for you, just let me know."

His words caught you off guard. It had been a long time since anyone had extended their help to you without expecting something in return. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Thank you," you finally managed to say. "But it's fine," you nodded. "Thank you for letting me stay here,"  you added astutely, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

Cillian gave a slight smile, "Of course," he then said before

turning to walk back towards the living room. "I better go keep your mother company," he said, pausing for a moment before adding, "And, I meant what I just said about the house arrest, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask me."

Left alone in the kitchen, you couldn't help but replay that moment over and over again in your mind. You tried to shake it off as just a kind gesture and not something more, but something about the way he looked at you left you questioning yourself, leaving a strange flutter in your chest.

Shaking of these thoughts, you went to your room in order to find something to read or maybe even draw. But of course, your mother had got rid of most of your art supplies when you moved out, claiming that it was all just a waste of money.

Thus, after you got changed into a singlet and some PJ shorts, you made your way back downstairs, recalling a few large shelves stacked with books in the study, which was locate right next to the living room.

Cillian was still sitting with your mother on a comfortable couch but, much to your surprise, there was a large gap between them. He was reading a book while she watched some reality TV show with her uncritical gaze.

When you entered the room, Cillian looked up from his book and his eyes were immediately drawn to you, taking in your form, even though there was nothing particularly sexy about what you were wearing.

He felt the heat grow in his chest, dimming his thoughts and distracting him from the lines of text that he had been attempting to read which, to him, was a strange sensation and not one he had expected. 

Thinking that you had gone unnoticed, you walked into the study and towards one of the large bookshelves before flicking through the spines of the countless novels stacked up haphazardly along the rows.

But then, suddenly, you heard a familiar voice from behind you.

"Can't find anything interesting?" Cillian asked, making you jump and drop the book you had been holding in your hands and, almost simultaneously, you dropped to your knees to pick it up, your heads bumping into each other. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, your hands flying up to your forehead instinctively as you tried to steady the pounding that had started there.

"No, it's my fault," Cillian apologized, his voice close behind you and he put his hand on your shoulder, causing tingles to run down your spine. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said as you turned and looked up at him, your eyes meeting briefly.

"I was trying to find a novel and, god, there are so many to choose from in here," you added, gesturing towards the towering bookshelf that seemed to stretch up towards the high ceiling.

Cillian chuckled, "Well, I do read a lot, but don't worry, I can give you a few recommendations if you want them," he said, a playful twinkle in his eye.

"I would love some recommendations, actually," you said, your face lighting up. "Something about, I don't know, human nature I suppose. I love reading stories about conflicted individuals or history," you said, with a light shrug of your shoulders.

Cillian smiled at your answer, "Did you read the Grass Arena?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity.

You nodded, "Yes, I did. The story was dark but tantalizing," you mentioned, leaving Cillian a little surprised.  "I think it's really good book," you smiled, causing Cillian to furrow his eyebrows.

 "A really good book huh?" he echoed, a gentle laugh escaping his lips. "It's one of the best, I think. John Healy's work should be regarded as an invaluable contribution to literature," he declared, and you couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, momentarily getting lost in his bright blue eyes.

"Okay, I agree. It's probably in my top ten," you whispered, before shaking yourself out of your trance-like state, adding, "So, any other recommendations then?"

Cillian nodded, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he guided you towards a different bookshelf.

"I think you might like this one," he said as he pulled out a tattered copy of 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac, the pages yellowed with age. "I know it's a classic, but it's always a good read and you love travelling, so if you haven't read it yet, you should," he added, his voice full of warmth.

You took the book from him gratefully while inadvertently brushing against his hand. Your palms grew warm and tingly, causing you to look up at him with wide eyes. Cillian's eyes locked with yours and there was a charge between you, a current thrumming beneath the surface that tickled your skin.

"Uhm, thank you ," you mumbled, sliding the book from his grip and stepping back. He nodded, seeming to understand the sudden need for space.

"Sure thing," he said, before turning to head back to the living room. "Goodnight, Y/N," he told you and you nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart before tucking the book under your arm and heading to your bedroom.

Tags:

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[spngirlpolls]

the thing with supernatural is. it was on a major television network for fifteen consecutive years. so yes technically it’s in the mainstream but somehow it had zero impact on pop culture. none of those actors are household names. it’s hardly ever referenced in other media. ask a stranger on the street to name any major character on that show. what are the odds they even know what you are talking about. i would argue nearly every other show on the wb/cw ranks higher in the zeitgeist. gilmore girls. riverdale. gossip girl. one tree hill. the vampire diaries. you understand.

and then in the same breath. indelible impact on internet culture. changed the very landscape of fanfiction. the crux of a large portion of the user base on this website. millions made at those fan conventions. supernatural cruise 2025. you understand.

so is it niche. absolutely not. is it mainstream. absolutely not.

[truevedicastrology]

Celestial Vocal Personas 🌌🗣️

Individuals influenced by the Sun and Mercury collaboration possess a voice that echoes confidence, firmness, and stability. Their articulation is unwavering, avoiding stutters and conveying messages with unhesitating clarity. Renowned for the authoritative touch in their voice, these communicators excel in debates and discussions, seamlessly blending longer and shorter sentences to create a burst of linguistic prowess. 💪🌟

For those under the embrace of the Moon and Mercury alliance, a nurturing and motherly timbre characterizes their speech. Their voices exude a sense of home, becoming a comforting refuge for those seeking solace. Capable of weaving words into a poetic tapestry, these individuals possess a voice that resonates with love and warmth. 🏡💖

Venturing into the realm of Venus and Mercury synergy, an enticing and charismatic voice takes center stage. Whether deepening for males or soaring in pitch for females, this enchanting vocal quality holds the power to adapt and captivate. Masters of the art of persuasion, these individuals effortlessly tailor their voices to be charming and cute, leaving a lasting impression. 😍✨

Mars and Mercury coalescence results in a voice that commands attention with its bold and loud resonance. Despite its potential to induce apprehension, this voice carries a mysterious allure, perceived as sexy and dominant. Contrary to initial impressions, it conceals a depth that draws listeners in, creating an unforgettable sonic experience. 🔊🔥

Jupiter and Mercury collaborators wield a voice that resonates loudly and deeply, coupled with a charming laugh. Embracing the role of educators, they share knowledge effortlessly, often finding success in vocally-driven ventures like podcasts. Their commanding presence and informative tone mark them as natural leaders in the realm of spoken expression. 🎓🎙️

Saturn and Mercury affiliations bring forth a deliberate, sometimes leisurely voice. Characterized by calmness and nonchalance, these individuals carefully select each word, creating a voice that exudes respect and thoughtfulness. Frequently delving into discussions on rules and adherence, their measured speech leaves a lasting impression. 🤔🗣️

Navigating the ethereal waters of Neptune and Mercury connections reveals a voice shrouded in dreaminess and otherworldly allure. Comparable to a siren's song, this enchanting voice finds its zenith in slow-paced melodies. Bestowing a gift for musical talents, these individuals weave spells with their voices, leaving audiences craving more. 🌌🎶

Uranus and Neptune collaborations manifest in a distinctly unique voice, one that stands out amidst the cacophony of conventional tones. Unconventional in word choices and sentence structures, these individuals proudly showcase a voice that defies expectations, leaving an indelible mark on the listener's memory. 🚀🤯

The fusion of Pluto and Mercury births an intimidating, seductive, and deep voice, irrespective of gender. Authoritative and potentially intimidating, this voice possesses an undeniable allure, embracing both seduction and mystery. It's a voice that lingers, leaving an indescribable, addictive imprint on those who encounter it. 💋🔮

Follow our Facebook page Mage Magic Touch for personal consultations https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61565561190268

[akazzzaa]

Hii ^_^ I love you're writing and I was wondering if you could write an Enmu x fem reader smut where reader has thicc thighs if you're comfortable doing that

Hello! Thank you for enjoying my writing, it means a lot

Summary- Enmu x Fem! Thick! Reader

Genre- SMUT

Warnings- NSFW content//MDNI//Obsession// Stalking//Mentions of blood// Cunnilingus// Body worship// Scent kink

A Dream Come True

Enmu loves your thick thighs, it's what caught his attention the most. A feature that seemed to defy the conventional standards of beauty and left an indelible mark on his twisted desires.

Enmu, usually consumed by a relentless thirst for blood, found himself entranced by the uniqueness of this mortal's physical form. This led him to observe you from the shadows, ensuring he remained unseen.

As the days went by, Enmu's fascination transformed into an obsession. In his twisted mind, he began to see them as a symbol of power and grace.

Unbeknownst to you, Enmu watched every move, studying the way you carried yourself and admiring the strength in your stride. He was drawn to you confidence, resilience, and the way you embraced your own body, thick thighs and all.

One night, unable to contain his desires any longer, Enmu decided to reveal himself. Instead of attacking like he normally would, he approached with an eerie calmness.

You where obviously startled by his sudden appearance and was ready to put up a fight, but Enmu didn't seek violence. Instead, he knelt before you. In his twisted way, he professed his admiration for your unique beauty, particularly fixating on your thighs. He spoke of how they symbolized strength and resilience to him, something he found both fascinating and alluring.

Initially sceptical and on guard, you listened as Enmu expressed himself. Enmu's twisted admiration, though unsettling, carried a strange sincerity.

Enmus hand reached up to grab your hips and pulled you closer to him and you willingly walked closer him. You never had a man so into your body before, and the worship of your figure felt really good. Enmu put his face in-between your crotch and inhaled deeply, '' You smell amazing-let me taste you, worship you, let me show you how beautiful you are'' You look down at him and nod and straight away he begins to pull your skirt up and licks your clit. His one hand had a mouth on it, and began to roam around your thighs as the mouth licked, kissed, and nibbled on your soft flesh. Emnu wanted to take a bite so bad but this is so much better. His other hand began to work his way to your ass to squeeze it. You could feel yourself coming close from him sucking on your clit.

''Holy shit- keep going im gonna c-cum''

Enmu moans into your pussy and keeps his pace needing you to cum in his mouth, your thighs clench around his head, threatening to crush his skull and he was going to loose it, he is finally where he's been dreaming off.

Only now he realised he was close to, his dick pressed up against his trousers creating a tension. You relentlessly grind into his face and moan as you come. He opens his mouth and sticks his tounge in your pussy, making sure he doesn't waste a drop of his hard work. He was like a starved man, and you were feeding him.

You try to catch your breath and hold onto Enmu for support as you come back from your high, '' Do you want to come on them?'' Enmu looks like he's going to pass out, his face beet red and he nods, standing up to face you and pulls his pants down to revel his cock.

You lift your skirt up and hold it giving you both a view of his dick sliding between your thighs. The cum and saliva making your thighs slippery for him to thrust and grind onto you. He was a whimpering mess, his head between you neck sucking on the drum of your pulse was to much for him and came all on your thighs, marking you as his.

''Sh-shit I didn't mean to cum that much'' He collapsed onto you, making you hold him in place so you both don't fall, ''its okay, I got you''

A/N- I have no idea how to write the ending of this or the aftercare : / My smut writing still needs work its just so awkward to write omg I hope its okay

[jazzcathaven]

Midjourney cat inspired by Aubrey Beardsley (21.08.1872 - 16.03.1898). Aubrey Beardsley was a British illustrator and writer whose striking black-and-white art left an indelible mark on the Art Nouveau movement. Born in Brighton, England, Beardsley began his artistic career as a young man, quickly gaining recognition for his unique and provocative style that blended elements of the grotesque and the elegant.

Beardsley’s work is characterized by its intricate line work, bold contrasts, and often sensual themes. His illustrations for Oscar Wilde’s “Salomé” and “The Yellow Book,” a periodical he helped to define, are among his most celebrated contributions. These works showcase his ability to create visually arresting images that push the boundaries of conventional aesthetics.

Despite his brief career—he died at the age of 25—Beardsley’s influence was profound. His art often incorporated themes of decadence and eroticism, reflecting the broader cultural and social currents of the late 19th century. His illustrations were known for their ornamental style, which drew from Japanese woodblock prints and medieval art, creating a distinctive and highly original visual language.

[mdzsfan]

Unspoken Bonds Part 5 *NSFW

GIF by jay070490 on tenor

Lan Wangji's longing for y/n burned like a fervent flame, a molten intensity that seemed to transcend the very boundaries of their beings. The air around them was charged with a palpable electricity, an unspoken promise of the passions about to unfold.

As their lips met in a passionate collision, it was as if time itself held its breath, allowing their souls to entwine in a dance of heated fervor. Y/n's response was nothing short of exquisite; her heart's rhythm synchronized with his, an unspoken symphony of desire echoing in the chambers of their chests.

Their connection deepened as she found herself instinctively drawn to his lap, a throne of desire where she perched with a grace that mirrored her essence. The subtle friction of their bodies meeting sent shivers down their spines, a delicious reminder of the decadent journey they were embarking upon.

Yet, with every stolen kiss, the hunger within Lan Wangji's gaze grew, an insatiable appetite that mirrored his fervent heart. Each press of their lips was a confession, a silent proclamation of a love so intense that it defied conventional boundaries. The taste of her, the sensation of her breath mingling with his, fueled a wildfire within him that threatened to consume every fiber of his being.

It was as though he had tapped into a wellspring of desire, his once-controlled restraint giving way to an intoxicating greed. The layers of y/n's hanfu became the embodiment of his yearning, a metaphorical barrier that begged to be stripped away. With a mixture of urgency and reverence, his fingers sought the hidden clasps and ties, unveiling her form layer by layer.

The unveiling was a ritualistic unveiling of not just clothing, but of inhibitions, of doubts, of fears. Each piece that fell away was a testament to their shared vulnerability, a surrender to the emotions that had been building between them. The silk and satin cascaded to the floor, leaving her bared to his adoring gaze, a masterpiece of curves and contours that he had longed to explore.

As the last layer of fabric surrendered its hold, their connection became an unbreakable thread, woven from the strands of their souls. Their gaze locked, and in that shared moment, there was no room for shame or hesitation. Only the raw, unadulterated truth of their desires, a truth that beckoned them closer, binding them in a dance of fervent love and insatiable lust.

With a hunger that resonated deep within his core, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her delicate skin, igniting a trail of fire that coursed through her veins. His touch was a symphony of sensations, each note played upon the canvas of her being. Tenderly, he lowered his gaze, his eyes locking onto her bosom, a shrine of her femininity that beckoned to be worshiped.

He planted kisses like delicate blossoms upon her breasts, his lips bestowing a devotion that knew no bounds. His mouth explored every contour, every rise and fall, as if seeking to etch her essence into his very memory. Her breath quickened, a melody of desire escaping her lips, a sweet chorus of pleasure and longing.

"Wangji," her voice trembled, a melodic plea that hung in the air, woven with vulnerability and anticipation. "It's not fair," she whispered, her voice a soft caress, "I stand bare before you while you remain adorned in yours."

A commanding gentleness lingered in his gaze, his eyes ablaze with a possessive ardor that bespoke his longing. "No," he asserted, his voice a resonant echo of dominance, "You are mine."

As if guided by an irresistible force, his ardency deepened, his fervor leaving behind an indelible mark. His lips, now on a passionate quest, journeyed southward, bestowing fervent kisses that ignited flames of pleasure. With a deliberate hunger, he tasted her skin, teeth grazing against the peaks of her desires, leaving imprints of his ardor in their wake.

A symphony of sensations enveloped her as he ventured further, his lips descending like raindrops on parched earth. Her neck, that slender bridge between body and soul, became a canvas for his fervent artistry. His tongue danced upon her skin, tracing intricate patterns that spiraled into a crescendo of ecstasy, each movement a testament to his unquenchable yearning.

"Say it," his voice was a whisper, an enchanting spell woven into the fabric of their shared passion.

A quiver of pleasure escaped her lips, a harmonious response to the crescendo of sensations that his touch elicited. "I'm yours," she moaned, the words a surrender to the tidal wave of pleasure that engulfed her, an admission of her heart's deepest longing.

Embraced within the cocoon of their desire, he cradled her in his arms, their connection transcending the boundaries of the physical. The bed received their fervent devotion. With a deliberate tenderness, he bound her wrists together.

Blindfolded with the ribbon that adorned his forehead, she surrendered herself to him, her vulnerability a testament to the trust that flowed between them. Stripped of physical coverings, she stood bared not only in body but also in the profound vulnerability of her heart, a canvas upon which he painted his love. Wangji," she murmured, a soft pout gracing her lips as her doe-like eyes were veiled beneath the silk embrace of a forehead ribbon. A ribbon that concealed her vision yet unveiled the deepest recesses of her yearning heart.

A flicker of something in his gaze, a smoldering ember of want, stirred as he corrected her, voice low and commanding, "Address me as Hanguang-jun." The words dripped from his lips with a potency that resonated through the room, a command as much as a declaration of his dominance. His hand moved with purpose, tightening the ribbon gently but firmly, ensuring that her sight remained shrouded, her sense of sight relinquished to the whims of the unknown.

Yet, his gaze lingered upon her form, tracing the contours of her body with a fervor that bespoke of an unquenchable thirst. The layers of his hanfu, once a symbol of restraint, now transformed into tools of seduction, fell away like the petals of a forbidden flower. Each fold revealed a glimpse of his taut, sculpted physique, each bared inch a declaration of his intent to unravel not just her clothing but her very inhibitions.

Their hunger for each other was palpable, an electric current that surged through the air, leaving no space for inhibition. As he gazed into her eyes, a primal fire ignited, consuming every rational thought and kindling the flames of their most forbidden fantasies as she licked his cock.

The tug of her hair sent a shiver down her spine, a prelude to the intense sensation that was to follow. Her breath hitched as a mixture of anticipation and excitement swirled within her, a storm of emotions that mirrored the tempestuous passion building between them.

As the crescendo of their fervent embrace approached its zenith, he surrendered to the intoxicating tide that surged within him. A guttural moan escaped his lips, a testament to the building storm of ecstasy that could no longer be contained. With a primal urgency, he released the essence of his desire, a molten offering that spilled forth and cascaded into her waiting mouth.

Her lips enclosed him in a fervent embrace, a willing vessel for his ardor. The taste of him was a heady cocktail of passion and submission, a sensation that seared itself into her senses and left her craving more. The flicker of hesitation was swiftly consumed by the flames of her own burgeoning appetite, and she drank him in with an eagerness that mirrored his own unrestrained yearning.

His gaze, heavy-lidded with a hunger that could not be denied, locked onto her. It was a gaze that stripped away all pretense, baring the raw intensity of his desire for her. As her struggle to accommodate the intensity of his offering became evident, a surge of possessive pleasure coursed through him, igniting the smoldering embers of dominance that lay just beneath the surface.

She quivered, a mix of sensations coursing through her as she battled to fully embrace the potent intimacy of their connection. "Too much!" she managed to gasp, the words a mixture of surrender and defiance. The vulnerability in her voice only served to stoke the fires of his lust, reaffirming his grasp on the reins of their shared passion.

A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of wicked amusement dancing in his eyes. "You can keep going," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that held a command she couldn't resist. With a mix of anticipation and trepidation, she felt his firm hand against her head, a directive that propelled her to take him deeper once more.

With a controlled release, Lan Wangji relinquished his grip on her head, a silent signal of the transition from one layer of their connection to another. As his fingers tenderly guided her hands to encircle his neck, they embarked on a journey of shared intensity that would etch its memory into their very souls.

Her touch, tentative yet determined, conveyed a yearning that mirrored his own. With a surge of fervor, he surged forward, allowing the entirety of his arousal to claim her with a force that bordered on the primal. The initial sensation of his entry was an electric shock that rippled through her, setting her nerves ablaze and erasing the line between pleasure and aching need.

The rhythm they established of desire, a primal cadence that echoed the tempo of their racing hearts. His thrusts were a potent blend of dominance and intimacy, each movement a declaration of his ownership of the moment, of her very being. The sensation of him pushing in and out, a carnal ebb and flow, was intoxicating, a visceral reminder of the depths to which they were willing to descend in their pursuit of the ultimate ecstasy.

With every powerful thrust, her body responded in kind, a dance of submission and voracious craving that left her senses reeling. Her eyes fluttered and then rolled back, a visual testament to the waves of sensation that coursed through her, leaving her breathless and teetering on the precipice of something sublime. Beads of sweat traced erratic paths down her forehead, glistening like precious jewels in the ambient light, a testament to the fervor that consumed them both.

A moan, deep and fervent, spilled from her lips, the syllables a mixture of plea and surrender. "Please," she gasped, her voice laden with a desperate need that held an unspoken promise of release. The sheer vulnerability of her plea was met with a sly chuckle, his voice a dark velvet that cut through the air like a dagger of desire. "Use your words," he goaded.

The plea for release hung in the air like an unspoken promise, a crescendo of need that defied the constraints of language. And in response to her fervent appeal, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her tear-stained cheeks. The taste of her salty tears was mingled with the taste of their shared desire, a heady cocktail that threatened to unravel them both. "Together," he murmured, his words a whispered command that ignited a surge of anticipation within her.

As their bodies moved in a synchronized rhythm, the culmination of their fervor loomed on the horizon, a climax that held the promise of release and fulfillment.

"No more," y/n whimpered, her plea laced with desire and urgency, her body quivering from the lingering waves of climax that had just washed over her.

As his eyes met hers, smoldering with a mixture of tenderness and hunger, he leaned in with deliberate intent. His body pressed against hers, his hardness finding its way back to her warmth. The moment their flesh met, an electric jolt of anticipation coursed through her, igniting embers that had never truly extinguished. She was a willing captive in his embrace, yearning for more of the exquisite agony and pleasure he so expertly bestowed upon her.

With a commanding yet achingly tender hold, Lan Wangji guided her movements, their bodies were in a synchronized rhythm of desire. He claimed her lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was intoxicating. His lips moved against hers with a controlled urgency, and his tongue danced with hers, igniting a fire that seemed to burn from deep within her core.

Her gasp was swallowed by the voracious kiss, and in the midst of their passion, his lips traced a fiery path down her neck, leaving a trail of bites and nips that marked her as his. The mixture of pleasure and pain was an intoxicating elixir, heightening every sensation and melding their souls together in a way that was both primal and profound.

With each rhythmic thrust, the ache between her legs intensified, the boundaries between agony and ecstasy blurred into an exquisite fusion. Lan Wangji's skilled hands roamed her body, igniting every nerve ending with their possessive touch. He was her tormentor and her savior, the architect of her deepest desires and the sculptor of her most intense pleasure.

As their bodies moved in unison, a symphony of moans and gasps painted the air, a testament to the passion that bound them. In this timeless moment, y/n existed solely in the realm of sensation, her senses overwhelmed by the symphony of touch, taste, scent, and sound that enveloped her.

Their bodies glistening with the aftermath of their shared passions, y/n and Lan Wangji found solace in each other's arms, their bare forms pressed close in an intimate embrace. The air was thick with the heady scent of their desires, a tangible reminder of the boundaries they had crossed.

As the hushed moments passed, y/n's voice emerged, a delicate murmur that cut through the lingering traces of their shared ardor. "A-zhan," she breathed, her tone a mixture of wonder and uncertainty, "Do you realize the path you chose? Is it not forbidden for a master and servant to share such a connection, to be so intimately intertwined, especially between a maid like myself and a person of your status?"

Lan Wangji, his gaze soft yet resolute, responded with a gesture that transcended words. His hand reached out, gentle fingers entwining with hers, guiding her touch to the silken ribbon that adorned his forehead. It was a symbol of him choosing her as his wife. 

As her fingers brushed against the fabric, a silent message passed between them, a declaration that defied societal norms and echoed with the depth of his emotions. He was claiming her as more than just a servant, more than just a passing desire. He was acknowledging her as a cherished part of his world, a connection that went beyond the constraints of their roles.

Tears welled in y/n's eyes, shimmering with a mixture of emotions too profound to contain. His lips, tender and compassionate, brushed against her cheeks, tasting the salt of her unshed tears. Each kiss was a soothing balm, a promise that he would wipe away not only her tears but also any doubts that clouded her heart.

With delicate reverence, his lips trailed a path from her cheeks to her neck, a journey that resonated with both tenderness and fervor. The sensations rippled through her, awakening the embers of desire that lay dormant within her once again. The space they occupied became a sanctuary of shared longing, where every touch, every sigh, was a testament to their unspoken bond.

In the hours of their clandestine love, y/n and Lan Wangji surrendered to their yearning once more, a union that defied societal norms but resonated with a resonance that was undeniably real. The world beyond their cocoon of intimacy faded away, leaving only their shared desires, their whispered promises, and the intoxicating rhythm of their intertwined souls.

[fantastic0fairy]

From Cherry Blossoms to Giant Robots: How Anime and Japanese Culture Captivate the World

Imagine a world where cherry blossoms float through the air, where samurai honor codes meet futuristic technology, and where everyone, from a teenager in New York to a retiree in Paris, can find joy in animated tales of adventure, romance, and heroism. Welcome to the realm of anime and Japanese culture, a vibrant, dynamic force that has crossed borders and generations, leaving an indelible mark on global society.

The importance and growth of anime.

Anime, Japan's unique style of animation, isn't just cartoons it's a cultural phenomenon. From classics like "Astro Boy" and "Dragon Ball" to modern hits like "Attack on Titan" and "My Hero Academia," anime has a diverse range of genres that appeal to all ages. What makes anime so special? It's the blend of intricate storytelling, complex characters, and stunning visuals. These aren't just shows; they're experiences that pull you into their world.

Anime is a gateway to Japanese culture. Through anime, viewers learn about traditional customs, festivals, and even cuisine. Think of "Spirited Away," where the protagonist, Chihiro, navigates a magical bathhouse filled with spirits a nod to Japan's rich folklore and Shinto beliefs. Or "Your Name," which beautifully portrays the rural-urban divide and the traditional practice of "musubi" (tying threads as a symbol of connection).

Global influence by connecting generations

Anime's influence stretches far beyond entertainment. It's a style, a vibe, a community. Fashion brands like Uniqlo and Gucci have launched anime-themed collections, while sports stars like Naomi Osaka openly express their love for anime characters. Moreover, the principles and aesthetics of anime have seeped into global pop culture, inspiring everything from Hollywood films to video games.

One of the most magical aspects of anime is its ability to bridge generational gaps. Parents and children can bond over shared favorites like "Pokémon" or "Studio Ghibli" films. For the older generation, anime offers a nostalgic trip back to their childhood while providing fresh stories that resonate with today's themes and issues.

Anime has created a global community of fans who gather at conventions, participate in cosplay, and engage in online discussions. Events like Anime Expo in Los Angeles or Comiket in Tokyo draw fans from all over the world, celebrating their love for this unique art form.

Fun Fact: The Origins of Cosplay

Did you know that cosplay (dressing up as characters from anime, manga, and video games) originated in Japan? The term "cosplay" comes from "costume play," and it has become a worldwide phenomenon. From local conventions to international events, cosplay is a testament to the creativity and dedication of anime fans.

Anime and Japanese culture are more than just entertainment they are a window into a different way of life, filled with beauty, tradition, and endless creativity. They remind us that, no matter where we are in the world, we can find common ground in the stories we love and the values they teach us. So, whether you're a seasoned otaku or a curious newcomer, dive into the world of anime. You might just find a new favorite story or even a new perspective on life.

Ready to start your anime journey? Check out classics like "Naruto" or "Sailor Moon," or dive into newer hits like "Demon Slayer" or "Jujutsu Kaisen." And if you're already a fan, share your favorite anime moments with someone new you never know whose life you might brighten with a little bit of anime magic.

Happy watching, and may your adventures be as epic as your favorite anime!

References.

Cavallaro, D. (2010). Anime and the visual novel: Narrative structure, design and play at the crossroads of animation and computer games. McFarland.

Condry, I. (2013). The soul of anime: Collaborative creativity and Japan's media success story. Duke University Press.

Napier, S. J. (2005). Anime from Akira to Howl's Moving Castle: Experiencing contemporary Japanese animation. Palgrave Macmillan.

Noppe, N. (2013). Fanning the flames of fandom: The commercialization and transformation of fan activities in the age of media mix. In M. Ito, D. Okabe, & I. Tsuji (Eds.), Fandom unbound: Otaku culture in a connected world (pp. 104-127). Yale University Press.

Steinberg, M. (2012). Anime's media mix: Franchising toys and characters in Japan. University of Minnesota Press.

[multifandomfix]

It Had To Be You — Bedelia Du Maurier

Summary: You ask Bedelia to be your first kiss, intrigued, she intends to figure out why.

Word Count: 654

Warnings: None

You stand in Bedelia Du Maurier's tastefully decorated office, the air thick with perceived tension. The soft glow of ambient light accentuates the elegance surrounding you. It should make you feel comfortable, but the weight of the question on your mind overruled your senses.

"Bedelia," you began, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness, "there's something I've been thinking about, and I wanted to ask you..."

She arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue.

"Would you be my first kiss?"

Bedelia's composed demeanor falters for a moment as surprise washes over her features. You bring your gaze back up to meet Bedelia's, her piercing eyes assessing your request. The silence hangs in the air for a bit longer, and you begin to regret your impulsive question. Just as you're about to stammer out an apology, a subtle smirk tugs at the corners of Bedelia's lips.

"Well, that's a rather unconventional request," she remarks, her tone a mix of amusement and intrigue. "But then again, conventions have never been my forte."

You watch as she leans back in her chair, crossing her legs elegantly. Bedelia appraises you with a curious glint in her eyes. There's a moment of palpable tension, and you wonder if you've crossed a line. But then, a slow, deliberate smile creeps across her face.

"Why not?" she says, her voice a sultry whisper. "There’s a lot you can learn about a person even in a single kiss. I wonder what I might learn about you.”

As Bedelia rises from her chair, you become acutely aware of the gravity of the situation. She moves closer, closing the distance between you with a predatory grace. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation and uncertainty swirling in the air.

Bedelia's fingers lightly trail along your jawline, a teasing caress that sends shivers down your spine. The scent of her perfume envelops you, and you find it difficult to look away from her mesmerizing gaze.

"Close your eyes," she suggests, her voice a velvet purr.

You comply, shutting out the world as Bedelia's presence becomes more palpable. The seconds seem to stretch into eternity, heightening your senses as you await her kiss. Then, you feel her breath, warm and gentle against your lips. Your anticipation intensifies, and at last, her lips meet yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

Bedelia's lips are soft and commanding, leaving an indelible impression, one you know you won’t soon forget. As the kiss deepens, you become acutely aware of the intoxicating blend of vulnerability and power in this shared moment. What had been made as a simple yet utterly terrifying request, was now made real and it left your head spinning.

When the kiss finally ends, Bedelia pulls away, her eyes holding a glint of satisfaction. The air between you crackles with newfound awareness, and you flutter your eyes until you meet her gaze once more. There's a subtle smirk on Bedelia's lips, and you can't help but feel a sense of exhilaration.

"Mmm,” she hums, "very revealing.”

“What— what do you mean by that?” Your voice came out stilted as you asked for an explanation

“You know how I said you can tell a lot about someone from a kiss?” You nod. “Well, it’s true. And from yours, I understand that you’ve been waiting for this moment. How long? How long have you felt this desire for me specifically? You could have let anyone be your first kiss. So why wait?”

As you gather your thoughts, you can't deny the truth in her words. You had waited, and you’d waited for her. It might not have happened as organically as you would have liked, but you couldn’t imagine it being anyone else. “I wanted it to be you, to be someone who occupied my mind so fully that it would have felt wrong if it were anyone else. And for me, that’s you, Bedelia. I knew it right away.”

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @ayanthegreat28, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @bitchr-mkay, @sparrowspixie

Bedelia Du Maurier: @brwnicons, @floraltxt, @mattxxamryli, @caroldelblue, @onlinecemetery, @angelmenace

[lovestostories]

In the vibrant realm of music, there are a select few whose mere presence on stage ignites a frenzy of energy, captivating and enthralling listeners. One such luminary is the dynamic fusion of Rockstar and Afrobeats superstar SitaAlexandra. Her live performances are not just spectacles; they are seismic events that pulsate with an indescribable energy, drawing fans from all corners of the globe.

SitaAlexandra’s stage presence is an enigma—a potent blend of raw magnetism, confidence, and an unwavering connection with her audience. From the very first note, she commands attention, her electrifying aura enveloping the venue, transcending barriers and uniting hearts in a symphony of rhythm and beats.

Whether it's her spirited Afro-infused melodies or the compelling rock anthems, each lyric she delivers resonates with an authenticity that feels deeply personal yet universally relatable. Her ability to effortlessly fuse these genres creates a sonic experience that defies categorization, inviting everyone into a euphoric musical realm.

SitaAlexandra's performances are an explosion of passion and energy. She pours her heart and soul into every song, infusing it with an uncontainable fervor that spreads like wildfire among her audience. Her movements on stage are a testament to her sheer dedication to the craft, every step and gesture deliberate and imbued with a kinetic energy that is impossible to resist.

The fire in her eyes mirrors the intensity of her music, and as she moves to the rhythm, the atmosphere crackles with an electric fervency. Each chord struck, each beat dropped, reverberates through the crowd, setting hearts ablaze with an unbridled zeal for the music she creates.

Seeing SitaAlexandra live in concert is more than just attending a musical event—it's embarking on a transformative journey. Her performances transcend the conventional boundaries of a concert; they are immersive experiences that leave an indelible mark on those fortunate enough to witness them.

The visceral connection she forges with her audience creates a sense of unity, where every person becomes an integral part of the pulsating energy that courses through the venue. Her ability to seamlessly blend diverse musical influences ensures a show that caters to varied tastes, yet unifies all under the banner of infectious rhythm and soul-stirring melodies.

In conclusion, the experience of witnessing SitaAlexandra live is nothing short of a revelation. Her unmatched stage presence, the incendiary fire, and the relentless energy she brings forth make her concerts an absolute must-see for any music enthusiast.

[margaridamacedosblog]

THE ROCKSTAR AND AFROBEATS SUPERSTAR SITAALEXANDRA

In the vibrant realm of music, there are a select few whose mere presence on stage ignites a frenzy of energy, captivating and enthralling listeners. One such luminary is the dynamic fusion of Rockstar and Afrobeats superstar SitaAlexandra. Her live performances are not just spectacles; they are seismic events that pulsate with an indescribable energy, drawing fans from all corners of the globe.

SitaAlexandra’s stage presence is an enigma—a potent blend of raw magnetism, confidence, and an unwavering connection with her audience. From the very first note, she commands attention, her electrifying aura enveloping the venue, transcending barriers and uniting hearts in a symphony of rhythm and beats.

Whether it's her spirited Afro-infused melodies or the compelling rock anthems, each lyric she delivers resonates with an authenticity that feels deeply personal yet universally relatable. Her ability to effortlessly fuse these genres creates a sonic experience that defies categorization, inviting everyone into a euphoric musical realm.

SitaAlexandra's performances are an explosion of passion and energy. She pours her heart and soul into every song, infusing it with an uncontainable fervor that spreads like wildfire among her audience. Her movements on stage are a testament to her sheer dedication to the craft, every step and gesture deliberate and imbued with a kinetic energy that is impossible to resist.

The fire in her eyes mirrors the intensity of her music, and as she moves to the rhythm, the atmosphere crackles with an electric fervency. Each chord struck, each beat dropped, reverberates through the crowd, setting hearts ablaze with an unbridled zeal for the music she creates.

Seeing SitaAlexandra live in concert is more than just attending a musical event—it's embarking on a transformative journey. Her performances transcend the conventional boundaries of a concert; they are immersive experiences that leave an indelible mark on those fortunate enough to witness them.

The visceral connection she forges with her audience creates a sense of unity, where every person becomes an integral part of the pulsating energy that courses through the venue. Her ability to seamlessly blend diverse musical influences ensures a show that caters to varied tastes, yet unifies all under the banner of infectious rhythm and soul-stirring melodies.

In conclusion, the experience of witnessing SitaAlexandra live is nothing short of a revelation. Her unmatched stage presence, the incendiary fire, and the relentless energy she brings forth make her concerts an absolute must-see for any music enthusiast.

Contact PRESS

Tim Davies

Filmzo Crisis PR

EMAIL: filmzocrisis@outlook.com

[planet-gay-comic]

The Robber and the Prince

"A handsome young prince lost in the woods. Then robbers seized him, yet one of the robbers loved this prince. I love you my prince. I love you my robber. Dark and gold."

Original German text: "Ein schöner junger Prinz verirrte sich im Wald. Da packten ihn die Räuber, doch einer von den Räubern, liebte diesen Prinzen. Ich liebe dich mein Prinzen. Ich liebe dich mein Räuber. Dunkel und Gold"

These lines from the song "Der Räuber und der Prinz" by Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft (DAF) encapsulate more than just an unusual narrative. It is a poetic depiction of love and desire that challenges societal norms and expectations. Released in the early 80s, this song is emblematic of how DAF explored themes of sexuality, identity, and nonconformity in their music.

DAF, often regarded as pioneers of electronic music and the Neue Deutsche Welle, have left an indelible mark on music history. With their radical aesthetic, provocative lyrics, and minimalist synthesizer sounds, Gabi Delgado-López and Robert Görl represented an art form that consciously deviated from the commercial pop and rock music traditions of their time.

DAF's significance to the LGBT movement in the 80s cannot be overstated. At a time when LGBT rights were largely ignored or openly opposed, DAF offered a rare glimpse into queer love and desire. "Der Räuber und der Prinz" stands out for its story of unexpected and socially taboo love that defies conventional narratives.

The fact that one of the band members, Gabi Delgado-López, openly lived his bisexuality, lent DAF's music authenticity and a political dimension. Their songs were not just expressions of personal freedom and sexual liberation but also acts of resistance against the repressive social norms of the time.

DAF's influence extends beyond the boundaries of music. They helped increase the visibility of LGBT themes in the public sphere and initiated a dialogue on gender, sexuality, and identity that continues today. Their fearless commitment to individuality and nonconformity makes them icons of the LGBT movement and pioneers of a cultural revolution that began in the 80s and echoes in today's society.

"The Robber and the Prince" thus symbolizes not only DAF's artistic vision but also a moment of emancipation in the history of the LGBT movement. The song and the band itself remind us that love in all its forms should be celebrated and that music can be a powerful force for change and acceptance.

Text supported by Chat GPT-4

Base Image generated with DALL-E, overworked with SD-1.5 and SDXL inpainting and composing.

[miguelswifey04]

as a request for noir because its amazing for what you've done!! I wass wondering if you'd do a noir x reader of noir writing a love letter as a love confession,, ft. first kiss ;]

ima get a lil creative with this one hehe <3

Dear [Y/N],

i hope this letter finds you well and swirls your thoughts with the same passion and desire that has consumed my own mind since our encounter. in the time that has passed, i find myself unable to dismiss the memories we have shared. your presence has left an indelible mark on my heart, one that i cannot ignore.

from the moment i first laid eyes on you in that dimly lit bar, searching for my lost cigarette pack, i was captivated by your beauty, your confidence, and the alluring spark that radiated from within you. never before have i experienced such an immediate connection, a magnetic pull that drew me towards you, as if we were fated to meet.

our time together, brief as it may have been, ignited a fire within me, a yearning that I cannot suppress. the way your body responded to my touch, the passion that flowed between us, it was unlike anything i have ever known. your desires mirrored my own, and it was in that shared exploration that i realized the depths of my feelings for you.

so, with this letter, i confess my love for you. the mere thought of you consumes my thoughts, day and night. your enchanting presence, your intoxicating allure, it has bewitched me entirely. i find myself yearning for your touch, your lips, the warmth of your embrace. you have awakened a side of me that i thought long dormant, a side that craves your presence and longs to explore the depths of our connection.

i understand if this confession takes you by surprise, and i respect whatever decision you may make. but know that if you choose to share your heart with me, i promise to cherish you, to honor and protect you in every way that I can. our journey together will be filled with passion, adventure, and unwavering devotion.

with all my love,

spider-noir

———————————————————————

as you read the heartfelt words penned by spider-noir, a rush of emotions washed over you—excitement, curiosity, and a yearning that mirrored his own. the sincerity in his words spoke volumes, and you couldn't ignore the pull it had on your own heart. with resolve and a curiosity that burned within you, you found yourself seeking him out, the longing for his touch too strong to resist. in a quiet corner of the city, beneath the flickering glow of a streetlight, you finally came face to face with spider-noir.

there was an undeniable electricity in the air as you locked eyes with him, the weight of his confession hanging between you. without a word, he gently cupped your face, his touch as tender as he could muster, his lips hovering above yours.

in that moment, time seemed to stand still, the anticipation and desire building between you. with a flutter of his dark lashes, spider-noir closed the gap, pressing his lips against yours in a lingering kiss. it was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, connected by a love that defied logic and convention.

the first kiss shared between you was both tender and fervent, passion blending with tenderness as your lips melded together. it was a culmination of desire, of a confession answered, and the beginning of a new chapter in your shared journey.

as your lips parted, a smile danced upon spider-noir’s face, his eyes filled with adoration. the depth of his feelings was echoed in the way he held you, his fingers tangled in your hair as he whispered, "you have my heart, my darling. we shall navigate this path of love together, and let it lead us to places we could have only dreamt of."

and with a renewed sense of purpose, you ventured forward, hand-in-hand, ready to embrace the boundless pleasures that love and passion had in store for you both.

———

a/n: the letter part was lengthy ngl 😭

[leaderofthemafia]

After the war I went back to New York

A-After the war I went back to New York

I finished up my studies and I practiced law

I practiced law, Burr worked next door

Even though we started at the very same time Alexander Hamilton began to climb How to account for his rise to the top? Man, the man is Non-stop!

Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me Are you aware that we're making history? This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation The liberty behind deliberation Non-stop!

I am meant to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt With my assistant counsel—

Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness That's all you had to say

Okay, one more thing—

Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom

Aww!

Why do you write like you're running out of time? Write day and night like you're running out of time Every day you fight like you're running out of time

Keep on fighting, in the meantime Non-stop!

Corruption's such an old song that we can sing along in harmony And nowhere is it stronger than in Albany This colony's economy's increasingly stalling And honestly, that's why (He's just) Public service seems to be (non-stop!) calling me

I practiced the law, practic'ly perfected it I've seen injustice in the world and I've corrected it Now for a strong central democracy If not, then I'll be Socrates Throwing verbal rocks at these mediocrities (Awww!)

Hamilton at the Constitutional Convention

I was chosen for the Constitutional Convention!

There as a New York junior delegate

Now what I'm gonna say may sound indelicate... (Awww!)

Goes and proposes his own form of government What?

His own plan for a new form of government What?

Talks for six hours, the convention is listless

Bright young man! Yo, who the eff is this?

Why do you always say what you believe? Why do you always say what you believe?

Every proclamation guarantees Free ammunition for your enemies (Awww!)

Why do you write like it's going out of style (goin out of style, hey) Write day and night like it's going out of style (goin out of style, hey) Every day you fight like it's going out of style Do you what you do

Alexander?

Aaron Burr, sir

Well, it's the middle of the night

Can we confer, sir?

Is this a legal matter?

Yes, and it's important to me

What do you need?

Burr, you're a better lawyer than me

Okay?

I know I talk too much, I'm abrasive You're incredible in court, you're succinct, persuasive My client needs a strong defence, you're the solution

Who's your client?

The new U.S. Constitution?

No

Hear me out—

No way!

A series of essays anonymously published Defending the document to the public

No one'll read it

I disagree!

And if it fails?

Burr, that's why we need it

The constitution's a mess!

So it needs amendments

It's full of contradictions!

So is independence We have to start somewhere

No, no, no, no, no, no way

You're making a mistake

Good night!

Hey! What are you waiting for? What do you stall for?

What?

We won the war, what was it all for? Do you support this constitution?

Of course

Then defend it!

And what if you're backing the wrong horse?

Burr, we studied and we fought and we killed For the notion of a nation we now get to build For once in your life take a stand with pride I don't understand how you stand to the side

I don't keep all my plans close to my chest

Wait for it, wait for it, wait

I won't wait here and see which

Way the wind will blow I'm taking my time watching the afterbirth of a nation Watching the tension grow

I am sailing off to London I am accompanied by someone who always pays I have found a wealthy husband Who will keep me in comfort for all my days He is not a lot of fun but There's no one who can match you for turn of phrase My Alexander—

Angelica

Don't forget to write

Look at where you are Look at where you started The fact that you're alive is a miracle Just stay alive, that would be enough And if your wife could share a fraction of your time If I could grant you peace of mind Would that be enough?

Alexander joins forces with James Madison and John Jay to write a series of essays Defending the new United States Constitution, entitled The Federalist Papers The plan was to write a total of twenty-five essays The work divided evenly among the three men In the end, they wrote eighty-five essays in the span of six months John Jay got sick after writing five James Madison wrote twenty-nine Hamilton wrote the other FIFTY-ONE!

How do you write like you're

Running out time Write day and night like you're

Running out time

Every day you fight like you're

Running out time

Like you're

Running out time

Are you running out time?

How do you write like tomorrow won't arrive? How do you write like you need it to survive? How do you write every second you're alive Every second you're alive Every second you're alive

They're asking me to lead I'm doing the best I can To get the people that I need I'm asking you to be my right hand man

Treasury or State?

I know it's a lot to ask—

Treasury or State?

To leave behind the world you know—

Sir, do you want me to run the Treasury or State Department?

Treasury

Let's go

Alexander!

I have to leave

Alexander!

Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now

Helpless

They are asking me to lead

Look around, isn't this enough?

He will never be satisfied

Would it be enough?

He will never be satisfied

Satisfied, satisfied, satisfied

History has it's eyes on you

Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?

Look around, look around

Non-stop!

He will never be satisfied, satisfied, satisfied

Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom

Isn't this enough? Would it be enough?

History has it's eyes on you

Why do you write like you're running out of time?

Non-stop!

Why do you write like—

History has it's eyes on you!

I am not throwing away my shot!

Just you wait

I am not throwing away my shot!

Just you wait

I am Alexander Hamilton

Hamilton Just you wait

I am not throwing away my shot!

Uhm? Is everything ok?

[anotherplacemag]

Things Fall Apart | Matt Courtney

Sullen paths and unremarkable lanes.

Muted waypoints and empty enclosures.

The recursive back and forth. Unresolved and fractured out of time.

Me walking with my girls.

These photographs depict the shared walks with my two young daughters within the quiet village here in North East Wales during the early days of the first lockdown. Little of the places and scenes encountered during these walks could be described as picturesque or eye-catching in a conventional sense, but from these fractured sights and recurring waypoints came the chance for us to pause and find some sort of calm, away from the disorientating uncertainty of the unfolding situation. These walks would become the new routine by which we’d underpin our days spent together, simply trying to make some semblance of sense of the situation and the place we happened to find ourselves in.

With the gradual lifting of our boundaries and the return to the lockstep groove of our old routines and busy lives, the later photographs took on an increasingly broader scope, but in order to emphasise this fractured moment in time, I wanted to dispel any sense of chronological order through the sequencing.

Though the girls are absent from the photographs, their presence in the work indelibly informs and provides the gentle undertow that pushed and pulled us through the repeated sights and scenes encountered. The cover design features artwork that was made by my youngest daughter during this time.

instagram

book - a few copies of the second (and final) edition of Matt's self-published book are available either directly from himself via his IG account, or from photobookstore.co.uk - you can see a video flick-through of the book here, and some images below...

All images & text © Matt Courtney