#The Pottery Cottage Murders

[semper-legens]

90. The Pottery Cottage Murders, by Carol Ann Lee and Peter Howse

Owned?: No, library Page count: 264 My summary: 12th January, 1977. An escaped prisoner runs into Pottery Cottage in Eastmoor, armed with a knife. Its inhabitants, grandparents Arthur and Amy Minton, couple Gill and Richard Moran, and child Sarah Moran, are taken hostage. What follows over the next two days is a table of horror and heartbreak, and a standoff that will end with all but one of the participants dead. My rating: 3/5 My commentary:

I don't like to dip into true crime, necessarily. At least, not true crime of the last hundred or so years - there's a different angle to it when we're talking about something that isn't in living memory, but the youngest person involved in this case would have been about my mother's age. More recent true crime narrowly skirts the pitfall of being exploitative at best, and is outright offensive to any victims or families of victims at worst. This…was not the worst true crime I have ever read. It was a relatively straightforward recounting of the facts of the case and the major players involved. And yet, there was just something about it that turned me off.

(warning for mentions of police abuse below the cut)

It might not have been exploitative, but it was still sensationalised. We have pages and pages about the perpetrator, Billy Hughes, and his extensive criminal record, before we even get to mention the victims and their lives. Gory details are emphasised, and much emphasis is put on things like Gill (the sole survivor) not being aware that her family is already dead and just how wicked Hughes was. To be clear, I'm not exactly on the side of this man who had murdered, raped, and committed domestic violence. But on the other hand, it seems from his record that he was a man facing potential mental health issues and cries for help in his younger years that were blanket ignored, with him just getting sent to prison every time. No help was offered to him, so of course he reoffended. And the more he got locked up, the more he wanted to stay out of prison by any means necessary. That doesn't make what he did right, but it's a lot more nuanced than the image the book wants to give. He was an Evil Man Who Did Evil Things - here, let's read about them in lurid detail!

And for the second point, this book smacked of copaganda. Of course it did - one of the police officers involved is a co-writer. The thing is that the police did very little in this case, from what I can gather. Other than making the mistakes that led to Hughes stealing a knife, stabbing his escorts, and going on the run, as well as negotiating with and ultimately shooting him at the end, they don't seem to have had much of an impact. They didn't find Hughes, Gill managed to get the word out to the neighbours, even though she was scared stiff. Only the co-writer, who was the one talking to Hughes, actually contributed. And yet. The afterword gives you a 'what they did next' on all the cops involved, even one who did nothing other than give his shoes to Hughes on request. The cops interviewed act like they're heroes for shooting a man dead. And I'm not necessarily gonna blame them for that - at the end, Hughes had Gill hostage with an axe, and could very well have killed her - but put it in a wider context and it does smack of police justifications for lethal force. Something I'm always wary of.

The state should not have the power to execute people, especially not summarily. This book is lowkey enforcing the idea that sometimes the police are right to kill people, a slippery slope that could lead to…well, just look at any instance of the police unlawfully killing someone. Even just narrowing it down to the UK, there are so many cases where people have been murdered by police. We do not have the death penalty here. It was abolished in 1969, so we didn't even have the death penalty at the time of this case. (Except for some crimes, mostly treason, spying, some military offenses, and piracy but nothing relevant here.) The government does not have legal power to kill, no matter what the person has done - unless the police kill someone, and a 'lawful killing' verdict is reached in court. As I say, in this specific instance, I can see why killing Hughes was necessary. He had proved himself capable of killing, and was actively threatening a hostage, and attempts were made to de-escalate the situation. But this isn't about just one case. It never is. One case is used to justify all cases - well, he seemed threatening, that's why we shot him! - when these things are highly situational. I worry about the impact books like this can have on people's minds, and how they could be used to justify the most unjust of acts.

Next, back to a world of books.

[bornetoblood]

001 moon divorce 😌 they’re just so ough….

my guys......

Link to the questions!

When I started Shipping it: Probaly a couple months after I got into Bloodborne! I think it started with me going "oh yeah that'd work I think" and then the more lore digging and thinking I did the worse the brainrot got.

My Thoughts: I love them.... so much. They are Yharnam's murder powercouple of my dreams. They set up the Church together... they burn the city down together... they summon god together and it rips them apart... Laurence is the only guy Gehrman cares about being 'useful' for and Gehrman progressivly comes to represent Laurence's humanity- all the things he wishes to discard but cannot. Their love, as rotted and gorey as it is, drives every part of the game to me.

What Makes Me Happy About them: Murder couple antics. Gehrman kills people for Laurence cus he's devoted and Laurence literally likes to bathe in the blood of his enemies. They hold hands and skip through a field of corpses :) Sitcom where your husband is a theocratic dictator and you kill the people he sees as a threat.

What Makes Me Sad About them: The fact that they're seperated at the fault of their own hubris. They literally do nothing but fuck around and find out and it catches up to them. Also the fact that they're slowly forgetting each other too that also hurts. Oh and how Gehrman apologises for dying in that one cut line that... oh wow.

Things Done In Fanfic That Annoy Me: THAT THERE IS NON. Jk... I'm not into how the characters can be flattened, I suppose. I'm personally not into 'Laurence did nothing wrong' takes or Gehrman as just 'creepy old man lmao' both of those hurt. Also when ppl make them straight (I'm only half joking).

Things I Look For In Fanfic: They need to be fucked up AND evil to the world and each other. They've both gotta be little freaks in some capacity. I NEED guys who are so in love but make their lives and the lives of those around them significantly worse.

Who Else I'd Be Alright With Them Ending Up With: Lozza isn't monogomous to me anyway he's dating like 5 seperate guys. I can only really see him having genuine feelings for Gehr (and he HATES it fr) but I feel like most ships with Laurence work just cus he's so involved in every aspect of the plot.

Gehrman I can't really ship with anyone else... maybe Ludwig? He sounds pretty upset when he mentions him. Maybe Flora but I think she sees him as a sick hamster fr.

Their Happily Ever After: Ohh... I think Gehrman dreams about him and Laurence living in a secluded cottage house- no cults or werewolves. He does woodworking and Laurence is a local physician with no political power. It's nice, simple.

Lozza's ideal is him ascending and getting Gehrman out of the dream. Achieving his goal and saving that one guy he cares about :)

Big Spoon/Little Spoon: I feel like they take turns fr. Laurence is 5'7 he fits perfectly in the arms of this 8 foot somthing man. But then again, I think Gehr likes to be held and Laurence likes holding things.

Favourite Activity: I think they kill people as a cute date idea. Unironically they greatly miss tomb diving with each other: the excitement of near death experiences, the blood, the thrill of discovery. They occasionally participated in Hunts together but they were both so busy they didn't get the chance. Aside from murder I think Gehrman would love to drag Laurence along to a practical activity like pottery classes and Laurence LOVES getting Gehrman to attend theoretical debates with him.

[chiwhorei]

who prays for the headsman?

paring: k. kyoutani x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 3.2k

warnings: size kink, crying, oral (f. receiving), major character death, pseudo-incest, stepcest, violence (not a gorey depiction), stabbing, a mention of blood, medieval beheading, angst okay this is sad you have been warned

a/n: Hello! HQHQ monthly collab time, sinners! I’m super excited to share this with you all, it was truly a work of love. All of the other amazing fantasy collab pieces can be found here!

hymns: murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - AURORA, the judge - twenty one pilots

“The girl’s mother and I are to be wed with haste,” Kyoutani Kentarou’s father pats his small head, smoothing down the blond locks, “Be sure to make y/n feel comfortable. She isn’t your blood, but she’s your family now, son.”

From the moment his father brought you and your mother home, still wrapped in thick mourning veils and tears, his cross to bare was you.

You needed barely an introduction before melting into the comfort of Kentarou. Wrapping your small hands around his middle and burying your face against his neck. Your stiff black dress crinkles against him. The contact was a magnetic, instantaneous spell. Like moth meeting flame, and Kyoutani would burn for it until the next lifetime. The bubbling, itching hellfire marring his tanned skin for two decades.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces. Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute. There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The virgin light of dawn rouses Kyoutani from a fitful night of sleep, he stretches his arm out to find your form and only catches the empty shell of blankets you’ve left behind. You’re always awake to greet the cresting rays of light as if they need your permission before ascending to greet the rest of the townspeople. You are the end and beginning of each day.

He finds you sat by the stone fireplace, nightdress hanging off of your shoulders and shawl wrapped tightly to keep the winter’s air at bay. You’ve always preferred the springtime. Even so, the smile that turns at the ends of your lips warms his body like the pouring of melted honey. He basks in you for a moment from afar, as close as he ever feels worthy of being.

“How did you sleep?” Your hand reaches out as he moves farther into the cottage’s main room, touching the warmth of his bare chest. Kyoutani pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple and folding your head against the crook of his neck. Your question goes unanswered, as you both already know: there’s never much rest gifted to the headsman.

A tall wisteria tree sits just outside of town. It’s branches are long and decaying. No flowers bloom on a tree the gods have forgotten. But that doesn't deter you from airy footsteps carrying you to it’s base.

“There’s nothing you can do, y/n,” Kyoutani presses, reaching his arms out to ensure you don’t fall, “there’s no fixing rotten roots.”

You scoff, bunching up your skirt at the ends and kneeling at the large trunk.

Where you bound forward without care, your Kentarou is always there to catch you. As you stoop down by the lifeless tree, his stern eyes narrow. You lay your hands against the rough bark, rubbing upwards and back down. All you need is the notion of life. Your eyes shut in concentration, fingers dancing along the coarse texture. It’s there, deep inside, waiting for you to tug at and rouse back to life. You can see it just behind your eyelids, purples and long flora hanging down, surrounding you in it’s beauty.

“H-how did you do that, y/n?” Kyoutani is cemented in shock behind you, where naked, ghoulish limbs once sat are now filled with swaying, violet life.

“I dunno, I get a tingling feeling in my hands. Here,” You pull him down to sit on the ground, pressing your palms to his cheeks. Your touch is like balm on a wound, he closes his eyes and leans in further. His forehead presses against your own. Your hands cradle the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over the soft skin in soothing patterns.

This is wrong, even as a boy no taller than prairie grass; he knows how wrong this feeling is.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?”

Kyoutani’s job isn’t to decide a person's fate, but the blood still soaks his hands all the same. His walk home is always to the beat of heavy, warning footsteps. His figure is looming, shrouded in thick leather and chain medal. The faulted axe hangs by his side, gripped tightly and weighed down with the heavy smell of iron. He counts his sins every night, prays for absolution but still scrubs the blood of strangers off of his arms and wraps you up in them.

“You fucking bastard,” a strangers voice sounds behind Kyoutani like a siren. He hears the rustling of critics followed by the feeling of a stone thrown against his back.

“You murdered my brother. He was a good man and you killed him.” Kyoutani sighs deeply, he knows the blame will fall on him with every swing his blade makes, so any retort is swallowed. There’s never much reason to quabble, as word travels in a small town like water through a sieve.

“I know who you are, Kyoutani Kentarou. Your father was a good man, and your sweet little sister grew up to be quite the-” All reason shatters under Kyoutani’s boot in an instant, feet carrying him in his hecklers’ direction. His clenched fist meeting the man’s eye socket with deadly force, vision blurring and reason fleeting. He shouldn’t be handing out home brewed justice, but there’s no rationale exercised when your name passes through a strangers mouth.

Kyoutani is a strong man, but fighting three against one would be a losing battle no matter what. No matter how noble his intent is, a sharp knife to the stomach is impossible to ignore. The stranger twists the dagger, bringing his face to Kyouatani’s ear.

“Say hi to your dear ole’ dad for me, eh?”

He hears the man’s snide voice against the pounding in his head. He feels cold and far away, falling down a tunnel with no bottom.

“They’ll be coming for you, y/n,” Your lover's voice lilts against your back, but you don’t turn to meet his eyes just yet. Your hands busy themselves against the familiar grooves of bark. The wisteria’s flowers create a sanctuary from the cruelty of the outside world. It’s a sanctuary, but this spot is one of original sin. The first brush of lips sealed fate years ago that will be actualized by daybreak.

“I know, Kenta-” Your soft voice usually calms the blonde man in front of you, but under the plague of circumstance, your words are sharp spikes against his heart.

“Why did you do it then? How could you be so careless? The mark of a witch means only one thing.” Kyoutani’s stern voice cuts you off, holding you in place, “You never think about the consequences of your reckless heart. Look at me, woman.” His body towers over you, broad chest against your back. His hand finds your jaw, pulling it harshly to force eye contact. Darkened brown eyes fall upon your watery ones and his angry facade shatters like pottery in the small space between your two bodies. You sniffle in his hold, fat tears run down your cheeks as you stutter a response.

“I couldn’t let you die, you’re the only family I have left. I- I love you, Kenta.” A sob rips through you, the declaration isn’t a new one, but it’s context is uniquely heartbreaking. Kyoutani pulls you into him immediately, wrapping strong, scarred arms around your shoulders. You cling to him, a piece of history repeating itself as it likes to do, wrapped in each other and the royal purples of wisteria.

Your lips quiver an inch away from his, stained with salty tears. Kyoutani feels the warmth of plush skin dangled in front of him, there’s an urgency rushing through him where he’s usually hesitant. There isn’t much more time. Without consulting the angel on his right shoulder, two large hands cup your face and pull your lips against his own.

Your cries are muffled by the sloppy pull of your own tongue into Kyoutani’s mouth. As his traces over yours with a chorus of nips and licks, his hands fall to your waist to bunch up the fabric against your hips. The action causes your body to press flush to his crotch.

“We have one more night together, Kenta. Please.” Your words don’t need much appraisal, you could ask Kyoutani to pull the skies down with his bare hands and he would tear the blankets off of any gods above without a second thought. One more night.

Kyoutani unwraps himself from around your form to sit down on the spongy grass below. The terrain is soft and forgiving despite its location in the dense forest. He watches you above him, angelically outlined in the soft moonlight. The personification of virtue and goodness glimmering off of you like an aura. The purest beauty to ever exist, and he’s at the helm of it’s destruction.

The sound of your dress pooling at your feet pulls him from mulling over his past transgressions. His eyes follow a line up from said garment to where your bare cunt is nestled between hip bones. His gaze climbs farther, lacerating the memory of every dip and curve so they scar against his heart. He needs to remember everything.

You join him on the soft grass, knees swung on either side of his large thighs. His hands find your hips again, pressing into the flesh as you begin to rock lightly against him. Your movement is disastrous to his resolve, the tension in his body delivers harsh oval bruises against the skin of your ass.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Your confessions are accented by kisses against Kyoutani’s cheeks and lips. Your soul, your heart, your everything are each other’s; and tonight is the final assemblage.

Kyoutani’s touch is like scarlet fever against your body, burning in its journey to grope any flesh he could reach. His fingers have to cement this feeling into his fingerprints, after tonight only the phantom pains of you will remain.

“You feel so good Kenta. S-So right.” Your mewls rattle around against his skull, as one palm comes down to meet your heated pussy. The most morally abject sin he’s committed- even counting the heads that roll by his feat every day- is you. But still; he can’t argue the morality of your body writhing naked above him when his cock is already straining angrily against the leather of his pants. His fingers trace down from the hip bone to where your puffy lips sit. It’s amazing how sweet, how soft you are. Where Kyoutani is calloused and harsh, you are smooth and silken. Perfection. Depravity.

As one thick finger proads against your hole, your hips buck with new resolve. You crave more than just fleeting touches and stolen glances. You want him to let go completely, something he’s only done a handful of times. You need him to.

“I’m not made of ceramic Kyoutani. You treat me like a child, but I’m stronger than you seem to believe.” You use your family name for punctuation, but the sentence comes out melted on the edges when he sticks another digit in to join the first.

“Don’t you think I know that, y/n. Fuck. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” a resounding slap meets your ass, jolting you farther against his fingers, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t protect you. That’s my job, damnit.” His thumb finds your swollen clit with ease even within his flustered state and presses down, “I failed you.”

You don’t trust your own voice to answer, you know nothing you could say would ease his heart. All you can do is push forward in hopes that one night can make up for the life he’ll have to live without you. Your hands move down to loosen his suffocating pants, wobbly knees digging against the ground as he eases the leather down his legs.

Your hand grabs a hold of his hard cock, stroking from his thick base to reddened tip. The touch is familiar. Something that wracks him with guilt but fills his soul with warmth. It’s always been your touch. Similar to the sparks rendered from striking flint, your touch lights up his every nerve

Kentarou’s fingers move back to work you open for him, your head falls back, causing the fat of your tits to bounce against his chest. His other rough hand comes up to palm your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple and pulling down. You cry out in pleasure at the attention, senses overwhelmed by your lover’s ministrations.

“Please, please do something.” Your voice is desperate against the shell of his ear, pleading for more. More of Kentarou, and naively, for more time.

With a swift, practiced movement, the blonde moves you to lay against the grass. He removes the blood-stained shirt from his chest and kicks off his pants. His body eclipses yours, shielding you from view. You’re surrounded by him, the heady scent of sweat, the sound of the racing heart against his ribcage like a trapped songbird. It’s all Kyoutani, it always has been; your home, your confessional, the safest reprieve and your most vile secret.

Kyoutani’s cock is freed from its confines to slap deftly against his stomach. Your mouth tries to swallow as if filled with dried tea leaves, his size isn’t always the most accommodating. Even so, you lift up on one elbow to curl your fingers around his shaft and groan once again when your pointer finger and thumb don’t meet. Kyoutani opens his mouth to speak but you answer before the words fall.

“Don’t be gentle, Kentarou, ” your dwarfed hand tugs him towards you, creating a dizzying pressure, “I can take it.”

There’s no room for argument in your words, so he dips down to kiss your lips once again. “Let me taste you, y/n. Just one more time.” His eyes hold flames but regard you as softly as possible. You nod in agreement. His lips running down from your neck to your hips, you feel the chapped skin against your own. With each peck, a path of tears follow in tandem. His shaky cries are hidden behind the moans being pulled from your lungs. You don’t acknowledge it, for doing so would just make the wracking pain even worse.

There’s no use speaking of your combined suffering, it’s already dug it’s blade into Kyoutani’s vertebrae.

Once his mouth reaches your wet pussy, there’s nothing left of his conscious. Where guilt usually lies, madness replaces. The first swipe of his tongue is painfully slow, he has to savor this taste, your taste. Your soft, swollen lips are the gods’ manna and he’s been given one last chance to indulge. Kyoutani’s tongue finds your clit and flicks upward, just the way that’s always made you squeal. You’re coating his chin in slick, and nothing else will ever quench his thirst like this again. He could stay in between your legs for the next century, but rips himself away from your dripping cunt.

Your mouth is captured in his again, tongue and cheeks coated in your own arousal. The feeling distracting you from the reddened tip prodding at your tight hole. You suck in a sharp breath as you’re worked open. Every vein and ridge tugs against your snug walls. It hurts, it always does, but there’s nothing that’s ever felt better either. You bite his collarbone in a feeble attempt to keep quiet, nails cresting small shapes against his back as he slides farther and farther in.

“My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” Kyoutani’s hips meet your ass, giving you a moment to acclimate. You’re pulled taut around him, cock dragging against you as he pulls back. He remembers your previous words. I can take it.

His hips slam against you with ferocity. Every expanse of fat on you bounces. Thighs, tits, ass- all moving with the pace he sets. His cock is begging for release with every union of his tip to your cervix. A litany of cries and pleas fill the surrounding air, lilting around to bounce against the drooping flowers.

“Please Kenta, I’m- I’m going to.” Your sentence breaks off at the end but he puts them back together. He coos you, “I know, little one. Let go for me.” He presses two fingers against your clit once more to rub tight circles.

Your toes curl against the grass below you, body locking up as the blood running through your veins is replaced with gooey syrup. Years of tension and shame pull tightly against your body and snap in an instant.

Kyoutani can’t hold off his own orgasm any longer, not with the vice grip you have on him.

Not with the sound of the constable's horses drawing closer to the old wisteria tree.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces.

Kyoutani’s blade is sharpened meticulously. “A dull axe is worlds more painful.” Even as his heart is being torn from under his breast bone, webs of muscle and tendon snapping like sewing floss the closer he walks to your kneeling form, he remembers his father’s words.

The ringing in his ear drowns out the sound of your sentence being passed, it’s better he doesn't hear the official crimes you are posed with, lest he swings his weapon against the priest instead. He wants to reach out, to untie you and run away, to find a new world. A world where he hears the pattering of little footsteps and sees chubby hands clinging against your apron. A world where he wakes up to your wrinkled cheeks and graying hair.

Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute.

There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The wisteria tree is the beginning and end. Long, purple flowers sealing fate. Kyoutani pulls reluctant feet to the tree's base, his forehead pressing against the bark. He turns around and slides down to sit against the trunk. His hands roam against the texture of the grass beneath him. He remembers the spindly branches and decaying wood from years ago when he closes his eyes, he remembers your hands clawing back it’s life from the lowest level of hell.

When his eyes open again, they are met with yours. Soft, beautiful, and achingly familiar. You smile, lips turning upwards and teeth peaking out slightly. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, a dull crackle of warmth reaches his skin where forest fires use to smolder. It’s not the same, but it’s you. He knows it’s you somehow. Whether it be a cruel trick from the gods or his brain succumbing to madness. It’s still you. Your warmth is surrounding him again, and it feels almost right.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?” Your voice is warped and echoes like a hollow drum, he can’t help the tears falling in thick streams. It’s you. He reaches out to touch you, but his hands remain empty and cold. You disappear in a second, your face vanishing from where he swore he could almost feel your lips against his own.

You leave him once again and take the bright flowers of wisteria with you.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[il-mio-tesoro]

Corin Volturi HCs!

HC’s of Corin’s life! I love her so much ahh

requests and masterlist

CW//poison, murder, revenge

In her human life, Corin was of Italian nobility, around the 18th century.

Taught to sew and embroider, and generally to be a perfect wife

And she hated every part of it.

Why must she be perfect for some man, and what is the point of marriage if she was not to be seen as a wife, and instead property?

Outside of her duties as a noble-woman, she'd enjoy pottery, though her father forbid it.

She'd 'borrow' some money from her parents, and buy it from a small shop in town centre.

Then, she'd sneak out to the groundskeeper's cottage, an old family friend, to make her clay art.

After that, she'd have him take her pottery to the local Potter, who's daughter was a friend of Corin's, and she'd bake it for her in a kiln.

It was one of her father's balls, and invited was the noble house of Volterra.

He didn't know they were vampires, but they were inhabiting such a regal home, it was hard not to believe they were of nobility.

And Aro wanted to go.

To keep up appearances. or to have fun.

Cauis despised the thought of going, but Athenodora caught word of it and forced him.

Marcus would go, and Renata would keep him company, and to protect the kings.

And it was at the time Eleazar would've been a member of the Volturi, so he accompanied them, to survey people for gifts.

When they arrived, they were immediately greeted by a warm smile.

"Benvenuto! Io sono Corin, e tu?" welcome, I am Corin, and you?

Eleazar's eyebrows darted up, as his gift flared and he released  what her vampiric ability would be- addictive contentment.

He subtly poked Aro's hand, the man reading his thought, and he smiled giddily, as he introduced himself and his coven mates.

He’d use her power to relieve Marcus of his grief- or to keep the wives happy in their tower.

Eleazar and Aro watched as people were naturally drawn to Corin, and how they all began smiling and laughing around her.

"Should we change her now?" Aro'd whisper to Cauis and Marcus.

"Yes,"

"No," Cauis and Marcus said simultaneously.

"We can have someone monitor her, to see the depth of her gift before we change her," Marcus expanded.

Cauis began to speak, but Aro was decided on the plan.

Corin was handed a glass of wine, by a potential suitor her father had arranged.

She smiled at him, as she was instructed by her father, accepting the drink.

He innocently smiled, as she drank the drink that he spiked with the juice of belladonna letale.

Her eyes went hazy, and things blurred in and out of focus, and the light made her eyes hurt.

"I will return soon, my love, I just," She inhaled deeply, in pain, before continuing, "I need a breath of fresh air."

He nodded in understanding, and watched her stumble to the grand doors on the side of the room.

She reached the gardens, and she leant on a trellis, not caring about the grape vines that grew there.

Marcus pointed this out to Aro, and he, along the the rest of the Volturi made their way out to the gardens.

"Dama Corin?" Marcus asked, watching the woman lean on the grape trellis.

She blinked when she saw them, her eyes still focusing and unfocusing, and she tried smiling at the group, "O-oh! Hello, how may I-" she clenched her eyes as her headache got worse, "how may I help?"

Marcus had been watching her, she hadn't been drunk, no, her first glass was the one the man handed to her, so her placed his hand on Aro's shoulder, and continued.

"Belladonna letale..." Aro whispered.

The wives gasped, and noticed her dilated pupils, Sulpicia promptly pressed her hand to her forehead and realised the human's fever.

"Do we change her, Aro?" Marcus asked.

Aro pondered for a moment, "yes, but first we'll take her to the castle."

And 3 days later, she woke up, in a windowless room, on a soft, four-poster bed.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to remember everything.

Drinking wine. Stumbling. "Should we ta-" "Belladonna letale."

She growled, her suitor had poisoned her, and then she realised that someone had changed her into a nightgown, so she darted up to the mirror she saw on the other side of the room, unnaturally fast.

Her mouth fell open; she had blood red eyes. She gasped, and an insatiable burning ignited in her throat.

Once vampirism was explained to her, she hunted the man who poisoned her.

She found him, and grabbed a handful of berries from a nearby bush, before breaking in.

"Ciao, Guglielmo." She said bitterly, and he gazed into her once hazel eyes- now black.

He began to run, but she grabbed him by the back of the neck, and shoved the berries down his throat.

"Fino al nostro prossimo incontro, Guglielmo." Until we meet again, Guglielmo.

She was asked to join their coven, obviously, and she accepted.

They saved her life, she owed some time to them.

That was her initial ideology at least; staying with them until she felt her debts had been repaid.

But she made friends within the coven, such as Santiago and Chelsea.

When you reach ages only vampires can, I personally think you surpass gender attraction, if you know what I mean? So personality easily outweighs gender.

Corin's mate loved watching her do pottery, it was mesmerising.

If her mate was in 2021, I honestly think they'd be cottagecore.

"My love, why would you want to do all that work?"

She'd say, when she realised cottagecore had a large amount of physical activities, such as gardening or baking.

She still had that higher-class mentality as she did when she was human- and of course being in the Volturi didn't help.

She wasn't a bitch about it though, she had a small aversion to human chores, that she previously would've had people do for her and preferred the finer things in life- like pretty rings, or quality trinkets.

She absolutely has a huge ring collection.

Her personal quarters was basically a pottery studio. There was tall, intricately carved shelves lining every wall, all with gorgeous pottery on, and the odd book.

The only books she owned was vampire fiction.

It amused her.

Her walls were sage-green, and the floor was smooth and birch, with a blue persian rug sat neatly atop it.

Renata gave her a small plant once.

And even with vampiric memory recall, she still forgot to water it, and Renata was not happy.

I think Corin would prioritise comfort over style, but she preferred to find a good medium of both.

So it'd be usually be a blouse with a button or two undone and dress-trousers.

She'd be happy living her life in this castle, accompanied by nothing but her clay and her mate.

[jojo-reader-hell]

Hello Bad and Naughty Children who wants to be a Gay Cottagecore couple with Trish Una? Me. That’s the fuck who.

This for my overweight cottagecore peeps who get told they can’t have this aesthetic.

Trish Una x Fem!Reader: Cottagecore Lesbians

So you want to be a gay in the woods with Trish Una.

I mean... you chose Trish so... good luck I guess.

Trish loves the Aesthetic of cottagecore. You explained to her the fundamentals as you understood them (doing more traditional crafts like pottery and embroidery, foraging, commissioning expensive handmade old fashioned dresses and aprons since you were deemed too “fat” for thrifting, home cooked meals, growing your own veggies, etc.) and she fell in love when she saw your cute little coord that you put together out of things you decided were your definition of cottagecore. Sweet little apron and a linen dress you spent quite a lot of money on along with some beautiful knit stockings and a pair of leather boots she bought you for your birthday last year. (She calls you her little Green Gables snacc)

Sometimes though she complains about the food you make because she gets squeamish around meat.

She only eats the vegetarian options you give her like salads, etc. Once you made a cottage pie and she nearly threw up in the kitchen.

Screamed bloody murder when you tried your hand at bone broth and added chicken feet for extra collagen.

God help her though she loves your desserts. Suddenly her vegetarian standards go right out the window when she sees you bust out the traditional Italian recipes (because let’s face it, any country has cottagecore recipes no matter where you look).

Sometimes she’ll try your soups if she’s not feeling well. But Trish has to put on headphones when you cook your homemade chicken broth otherwise she freaks out listening to the sounds of your cleaver.

Once you asked if she’d come with you on a little trip to the outdoors, just so you both could get a taste of that rustic country living.

Jesus Christ take the wheel.

Outdoors + a temperamental fashionista who wants to pretend like she’s been rich her entire life = disaster gay girl who screams when she sees a moth circling the lamps

You wanted to rent this really picturesque cottage you saw advertised online, and Trish threw a fit when she realized there was no internet connection.

She threw an even bigger fit when she found out that Givenchy outlet malls weren’t a thing there either.

Luckily there are a few farm to table restaurants nearby that she likes, but she nearly blows a gasket when she finds out they don’t even have that fucking mineral water.

“They don’t have my French mineral water, not even the ITALIAN... so you expect me to drink THAT??”

“Trish, baby... honey sweetheart... it’s a fucking normal glass of water.”

“AND YOU EXPECT ME TO DRINK WATER FROM THE TAP?!?!”

“Baby girl I used to fucking drink from the garden hose and you’re over here complaining about tap water. Cottagecore is drinking the damn tap water and being grateful you have it in the first place.”

Surprise surprise Miss Una, you were bitching for nothing. It’s actually well water and it tastes a hell of a lot better than that bottled shit you pay nearly an arm and a leg for.

Won’t admit she likes being out in the country unless you keep prodding and poking her to admit it.

And ok, twist her arm, she loves how you compliment your sweet little cottage with the way you dress.

She loves tugging on your apron strings when she gets a bit handsy if you know what I mean 😏

You probably will never get her in those old fashioned clothes though. It’s not really her thing.

But she makes it work with one of those medieval corset tops and a skirt so she can pretend.

Don’t make fun of her for going ren faire wench on you.

She’s trying.

[limelocked]

Naruto OCS???? Do tell us about them

oh now youve got me started!

i made a post about their history (very general) in this post so ill talk more about their personalities and things that stand out about them cuz i love them

so the tldr is that they’re an off shoot of the uchiha clan from the first great ninja war when yokumo fucked straight off from konoha due to 75% paranoia that turned to 99% paranoia when he left but cant go back now! hed be a rogue nin! so he settles down in the land of grass with Asaro the most best girl character ive ever made. She’s a tailor/seamstress/weaver in this tiny village and she just radiates chill, shes been your mom friend since grade 2 and will continue to be your mom friend until death

yokumo is Stressed and Strict because my dude has the sharingan so when they have three kids (not at the same time hot damn) he decides like any good parent to just refuse to let them use their eye powers at all (note: this is probably not a good parenting tecnique)

tenjo is the oldest daughter and she idolizes her dad so fucking much dude and shes fighty, boy pulls her hair and gets an ass whopping , shes the queen of the village kids but with different leading skills than her mom. she legit saw yokumo use jutsu ONCE and went “oh hell yeah time to be ninja”

yokumo said no

jiyuro is the middle kid and he just vibes dude, hes a normal easy going kid that reaps the reward of being the sibling of the queen of kids, hes also the kind of bastard that can and will use his sharingan to cheat in exams, something he can only pull of thanks to the babiest brother 30 under 30 ninja luminary chiban who cant use the sharingan but damn is that boy neck deep in genjutsu training

chiban put like all his dnd leveling towards genjutsu and some taijutsu so he wouldnt mcfucking die in the middle of a fight in the event that his genjutsu fails. his illusions are amazing tho and real specialised, he can make you believe that those eyes? those red eyes with weird dots in em? yeah totally normal, you didnt see shit. the same with cuts and bruises, dude specialices in detailed genjutsu instead of haha you got caught in a plant or some of the other ridiculus shit naruto characters do

now tenjo gets married not once, not thrice but two times, first time to your local imported bitch boy hatsunaio ha’ame whos playing the longest con in existance aka he “falls in love” with tenjo and gets married, has a kid, all so he can confirm that the clan has the sharingan to report back to konoha cuz that aint right, sharingan outside of konoha and even more sharingan outside a hidden village

fear not tought! imported asshoe gets killed by tenjo with the sweet loot of the mangekyou sharingan and Trauma!

her second marrage is 4-5 years later with drinker of respecting woman juice Tsumashin Aishika who had been a family friend since a bit after ha’ame got what was coming to him. Aishika is super patient and just Kind Man, if only he was stupid and buff he would be a himbo but he’s average and kinda smart so Good Dad will have to do. He likes to read and is a wood worker.

Tenjos kids are a fucking story too, btw hope you wanted a long long post cuz youve really gotten me started now

Renge, the kid she had with Ha’ame, is the oldest and she doesnt remember her dad at all, shes been called a clone of her mom with the fightyness and the “wow cool! need to learn that!” reaction to jutsu. Shes impulsive if shes on her own and the worlds biggest glass canon in a fight because she has trash chakra stores and the impatience to skip on learning to distrobute it properly, she also has the vibration style kekkei genkai (lightning + wind) which just eats up her chakra 

first kid with Aishika is Hotoki whos like her mom but EXTREME, shes the naruto of the kadzuki fam, impatient, a brat and ready to throw down instantly, shes stubborn as fuck and she wants to be the Tsukikage, a position that doesnt exist for a village that doesnt exist in a land that already has a hidden village. her family is supportive tho

last kid is Makuto whos one of only three kids in this clan thats youngler than naruto. his life starts of great by killing his mom with complications during birth giving him absolutly no problems down the road, nope, haha. Hes pretty reserved and likes his grandmas craft better than his grand dads so he takes up tailoring and later pottery, hes a fast learner 100% because of the sharingan

then we have jiyuros wife Pantama Hoshi, shes friend shaped and radiates chill like asaro. they met while team one (aka tenjo, jiyuro and chiban) was out at another town for a mission. shes a gardener and grows medicinal herbs along with real good flowers. theyre by far the most calm parents in the family and basically became foster parents for Tenjos kids once she died so yes, they have two dads. Hoshi can and will support you in anything thats not plain out stupid

Jiyuros first kid is Nishi whos good and cautious, shes the single kid in the budding team 2 that thinks things through properly before doing something, but too much, shes a pesemist, and probably has anxiety, on the upside all of the plans shes involved with goes without a hitch because she provides endless “what if bad thing happens” scenarios, in the downside plans take so much longer because of said what ifs, she specialises in sealing and summoning but really really wants to be a medical ninja because you see what if someone gets hirt! what if renge becomes dumb bitch during a mission and gets hurt because shes a glass canon

the second kid is Takuhi whos the mediating voice of reason that pushes Renge to listen to what ifs and makes Nishi remember that sometimes improv is whats needed during a mission, hes on the cautious until proover otherwise side. He hangs out with Yokumo a lot and is slowly inhereting his paranoia and or world waryness

TIME FOR MY FAVE BRANCH

Chibans family is amazing because i love them, his wife Yamatora Seiho, usually called by her last name, is an ex shinobi from the land of grass (she freaked Tenjo out a bunch after the Ha’ame bullshit went down) thats just so fucking done with the kage and government so she went to do that good good farming cottage core life but shes really not suited for it. shes ready to throw the fuck down at any time but shes also kind to her kids and real serious

she also had a previous marrage that ended in good ol murder (not her killing her husband for once in this clans history) but basically she took her at the time 5 y/o son Usagi with her and Chiban said fuck it join the family instantly

Usagi feels so fucking left out tho cuz he wants to be included in the playing the other kids do but he cant manage to care about that whole ninja thing plus he doesnt have eye powers and just why bother, so instead he goes to Asaro and asks her to be his teacher, he also becomes a barber in the town because my god did Jiyuro really just almost cut his sons ear off???

THEN THE TWINS!!

Hikame and Yorukoi are twin girls and the other two that’re younger than naruto in the clan, theyre 9 when hes 12. They spend their time usually together or with Hotoki and Makoto since Usagi is 13 years older than them and Renge, Nishi and Takuhi are team 2 on missions a lot. Yorukoi really loves animals and looks up to Nishi because holy shit mom she can summon animals with only a lil blood holy fuck meanwhile Hikame likes art and drawing the aimals Yurokoi comes sprinting home to tell everyone she found

The twins and Hotoki will make up Team 3 just as soon as Yokumo lets them because oops a few years ago the whole konoha branch of the uchiha got fucking annihilated and we might be next.com