#desire and decorum appreciation week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rjschoicesstuff · 3 months ago

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Choices fandom appreciation shoutouts

This event is so so so lovely and I really want to join in hehe. I'm not great at expressing my thoughts/feelings and stuff but I really wanna try because I'm really thankful for all of u guys!! :)

When I first posted on this account last summer I honestly expected I'd probably post a few things and dip again because I usually don't get much attention on social media platforms. And also wasn't sure if anyone would really vibe with my approach to characters and stories hahaha 🙈.

But instead people were so nice and I felt so welcomed and like 'oh wow people seem to actually enjoy what I do??' And I had so much fun reading the tags left on reblogs of my art and stuff. And alongside that it has been soooo fun to see everyone elses posts and characters and leaving my thoughts on those as well (and slowly getting less shy about it too 💪). And I even started reading fanfic for the first time in my life hahaha.

I feel like I'm rambling but I just really want to say all this haha, it's been so fun being on here! I love drawing everyone's characters and other requests and will keep doing that (like pleeaase dont be shy, I love drawing everyone's characters) because it's fun and it's also kinda how I say 'thank you' for all being so nice to me!! So yeah thank you all for making me feel so welcome the past months! :)

Especially as someone who usually has trouble making friends and putting myself out there due to shyness it means a lot!

Under the cut I'll also put some messages directed at separate people, I'm fighting the lil voice in my head that's shy about this but you guys all deserve to hear it hehe, even if I'm kinda ass at expressing myself like this

But even if not mentioned/tagged I appreciate everyone who supports me/my work so much and I love seeing you guys in my notes!!

@lovealexhunt In the short time I've been here I've noticed you do so much for people and this fandom! I've loved all the fics you wrote that I read so far and love how you write Mal and Daenarya together (and the vampire au OOOO). She's so fun and I loved drawing her interacting with Ripley and will definitely do it again sometime!! And I'm also still so obsessed with the geometric Ripley art and I thought it was so sweet of you to draw that for me aaaa

@lilyoffandoms I always love seeing your art on my tumblr feed and your designs for your mc's!! And I'm still sooo in love with the Ripley drawing you did and that really made my day back then because it was a total surprise too!! In general all the art you've done of my characters has just been awesome and made my day every time!!

@choicesmc I love what you do with all your mc's, when you make picrews for them, the artworks I've seen you do for them and all the info you share about them, you're so so creative!! I love all your writing a lotttt, especially the shorter ones you've been posting lately!! I rly enjoy talking to you in dm's a lot, if it ever seems like I don't it's just me being shy haha 😭. I also love the tags you leave when you reblog my art and when you point out stuff you notice :)

@sapphoschoices Thank you for so often sharing my posts!! And in general always supporting people and sharing their work! I love all the edits I've seen you do and hope you'll keep sharing more hehe. I also read a fic by you for the first time last week and really enjoyed it! Made me wanna replay Desire & Decorum..

@rosesnink Thank you for letting me borrow your mc's a few times when I wanted to draw interactions! I had so so much fun writing back and forth about Rex and Brienne after I posted the art of them together hehe, I always love to see other people with orc mc's in general. I also really like the gif edits you make and your fics I've read so far!

@aria-ashryver You were one of the first people in the fandom who started sharing and commenting on my art and thanks to that I ended up not just posting a few things and dipping forever like I expected hahah. I always really enjoy reading through the tags you leave on the art I post!! I finally caught up to SICSIG a while ago and it was sooo fun seeing what you did with Immortal Desires and all the extra lore and stuff and I can so clearly tell so much love went into it. And your sprite edits are also always so amazing aaaa.

@cadybear420 Thank you for often sharing my posts I really appreciate it hehe. And thank you for letting me draw your mc's a few times, I had sm fun with it haha. And it was really fun talking about Ripley and Evie interactions. I really enjoy your edits, you're so skilled aaa!! I also enjoy reading about your mc's a lot + how you write gnc characters and gnc m×f romance.

@gaiuskamilah I loveeee your art a lot and love seeing it on my feed!! I also really enjoy reading your thoughts on books, characters, themes in books etc. You make me wanna replay BloodBound so bad (and I definitely will do that soon)

@hsslilly-blog I'm sooo obsessed with your art you have no idea. You're rly funny and I rly enjoy seeing your posts on my feed. I really really love how you write characters, like they just feel so real, it's super inspiring!

@mydemonsdrivealimo I really really enjoy your art and everything you share about Jensen and Bryce. You're like The Bryce Mutual to me, anything you say about him is basically canon to me lol. Thank you for letting me draw Jensen a while ago it was SO fun aaaa

@peonyblossom

Thank you for the cover redraw ideas you sent when I asked for ideas, I had sooo much fun drawing the Alpha cover with Kalani and Channing!! I enjoy the bits you share about your mc's and oc's a lot too!

@choicesfandomappreciation

#Choices fandom appreciation 2024

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eryiss · 5 months ago

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Fraxus Week 2024 - Day 4: Shooting Stars

Description: Being half demon meant you faced certain unique struggles. Especially on a full moon. Especially during a meteorite shower. So when the two coincide, Freed can do nothing but succumb to his base urges. His urges to kiss Laxus. And maybe bite him. But mostly kiss him.

Notes: Day four. Guess who's hosting. It’s only @fuckyeahfraxus. Time for some demon Freed, and Laxus being into it. This has suggestions of NSFW stuff, so be aware. Enjoy.

Link: Ao3

Base Urges

It would be entirely good and proper, Freed thought, to storm over to Laxus and kiss him to death.

Nobody would mind, and Laxus would certainly be receptive. Most people would appreciate the show, he was fairly sure of that. Who wouldn't want to watch a demon as he finally staked his claim to what was his; especially when what was his was a six-foot-seven man made of pure muscle who exuded a raw sensuality with his very being. To see such a man made into a blushing, squirming, delectable mess would do the world good.

Freed really needed to go indoors before he did something stupid.

When you had brimstone running through your blood, you faced some issues that non-demonic entities might not expect. Greater levels of body heat. Occasional manic nightmares. Perhaps even the odd desire to set a building on fire just to see how pretty the flames were. These were all manageable, and controllable quirks. Easy to sort. Easy to quash.

Unfortunately, when you were a demon, meteorites made you randy.

That was an oversimplification. What actually happened was the overwhelming presence of magnetic stone resonated through the air at close proximity, setting the blood alight in a way that kickstarted whatever urges in the brain that started up adrenaline. The adrenaline would have no true outlet – not normally anyway – so the body searched for ways to recollect normality and convert the excess energy into something more understandable in the situation. It cycled through emotions and eventualities before, yes, settling in the groin.

All in all, perfectly scientific and therefore easy to understand. It was expected, and those with demonic blood coursing through their veins would keep take steps to mitigate the effects. Easy, doable, fine.

Except when it was also a full moon. Those complicated matters.

Something about moonlight shook up a demon, and nobody seemed to agree what exactly it was. The working theory was that refracted light contrasted against a demon's nature. The night was time for darkness; moonlight went against that law. It's said that the eyes are the windows to the soul; when a soul has darkness residing in it, shining a spotlight down on it will only bring trouble.

So, when Freed had decided to join the guild in their viewing of the meteorite shower, he really should have taken notice on how full the moon was. He hadn't, and as such, he wanted to shove Laxus into the dirt and dig his claws into him.

Laxus would look so good bleeding. Just a little. Just enough to lick off.

He looked good as he drank, too. Glancing over to him, Freed watched as Laxus brought a bottle of beer to his lips. It must have just been taken out of the cooler, because it was dripping wet, and sliding over Laxus' hands. His hands were big. Powerful. Tempting.

Then he started to drink, and the wallowing of his throat was hypnotic. A few droplets of condensation slid down from his lips, down his throat, trailing down every bump and rivulet they came across. Freed could be licking the same trail down, bringing Laxus to a fever pitch of ecstasy and sating his own needs that had been burning low and heated for months now.

He'd rip off Laxus' shirt. Then the rest of his clothes. Then he'd-

With a snap, he tore his gaze from Laxus and stared resolutely at the ground. He could handle this with decorum. He could be the figure of restraint and stoicism that so many of the people saw when they looked at him.

Rather than letting the situation overtake him, he got out of the moonlight and away from the shooting stars, walking back into the mostly vacated main room of the guildhall. The effect was fast, but not instant. The physical burning of his blood died down a little, but the lingering urge to storm over to Laxus, pin him to a tree and drop to his knees persisted. Frankly, a little voice in his head told him, that the wayward thoughts were getting ridiculous.

He still wanted to do them, though.

This would have been a lot more manageable had they not spent the last month flirting. It had started so suddenly, and so quietly, that Freed hadn't noticed. All it took was Freed to raise an eyebrow at Laxus in a slightly suggestive manner, and for Laxus to give him a little wink in return, and suddenly the dimensions of their relationship had changed. Just a wink. Admittedly, Laxus was naked at the time, holding nothing more than a flannel over his crotch as he asked if Freed had a towel he could spare.

The thing was, in that moment, Laxus hadn't been sheepish. He hadn't stumbled over his words. He hadn't been awkward. He had stood there with water dripping down him – god, what a sight – and spoke to Freed as if the situation were normal. Laxus wasn't the best at socialising on a good day, so his cool confidence in what could be an embarrassing situation spoke of a comfort he shared.

But the wink… that spoke of something more. Something exciting.

From then on, there was a shift. Neither passed up the chance to drop an innuendo on the other, their touches lingered a little longer and a littler stronger, and Laxus picked up this wonderful habit of lounging around in his boxers whenever they shared a hotel room.

And now Freed was being genetically insisted to let his logical brain take a back seat for the night, and to indulge on his base urges. To hell with decorum and propriety and good sense. He wanted this. Laxus wanted it to. What was stopping him from claiming what was his in front of everyone who mattered to him. He could stop the games they'd been playing and give them both the prize they were owed before anyone else could take it.

A little snarl tried to rip out from his throat, and he knew he needed to stop this. For heave's sake, he had no real claim on Laxus. They flirted, yes, and Laxus never flirted. Not well, anyway. But that didn't mean Laxus belonged to him. It just meant that, should Freed ask, Laxus might respond in the positive when requested to bend him over the nearest chair and-

There was a little bucket of ice chilling the drinks. He was half considering sopping up a handful of it and shoving it down the front of his boxers. That would certainly get his mind out of this spiral of stupidity.

"Hey," Laxus' voice, low and gravelly and swoon worthy cut through the silence of the room. Laxus – tall and broad and staring – walked over to Freed, placing a hand on his lower back as they leant side by side against the bar. "You snuck off."

"I needed some air," Freed said, wincing. One didn't typically go inside when they wanted air.

"Sure," Laxus nodded, not calling Freed out on the obvious lie. "You know, when you were on that mission and I had that broken ankle a month and a half ago, I spent a lot of time in the library. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, you didn't."

The guild library had high stacks of bookshelves, and one of those rolling ladders to get up to the higher parts. What would Laxus look like tied to it, Freed wondered. Or what would Laxus do to him after he was tied to it. Laxus had a dark side that could be very alluring.

"Gramps wouldn't stop talking about this," he gestured to the patio where everyone was watching the stars fall. "He wanted me to help out with the planning. Dumbass idea. Had to get out of it. Spent days tucked away in the library and ended up reading about meteorites. Lots of books about them. Lots of theories about how they can affect people. Fascinating stuff, y'know. Just could stop reading."

Laxus dipping his toe into scholarly pursuits did not help Freed's situation. Not did the mental image of him in a tie and with glasses.

"Found out something pretty interesting about guys with a bit of devil blood in 'em," Laxus leant a little closer. "Turns out, they get pretty pent up."

Freed froze. "There's a belief that that's true."

"And of course I know what happens when you have to deal with a full moon. It's like every part of you gets heightened. So, I had to wonder what it'd be like when both of those things happened on the same night," he clicked his tongue. "Had to assume you'd be like a wild animal trying to break out of a cage. You'd hide it, but it'd be happening."

"That's… not an unfair assumption."

"Then I thought, I've been crushing on you for about a year now, and maybe it's time I sac up and do something about it," Laxus made the confession in a blasé tone, and didn't show signs of shyness. "So, the next week, when we were at a bathhouse, I pretended to forget my towel. Stood there, barely covering myself, and let you look all you wanted. And fuck did you look. Don't worry, I looked too."

"Laxus-"

"Then I spent the next month flirting my ass off. I ain't good at it, I'll admit, but I know you picked up on it and sent it back at me," He smirked a little. "So, I'm pretty sure we're both into each other. Which makes me wonder," he turned to face Freed, "why the hell haven't we started kissing yet?"

Freed blinked at him. "You want that?"

"What d'you need, some romantic confession? Come on man, you know I ain't-"

With fast movements, Freed pushed off from the bar, pivoted, and pinned Laxus to it. He grabbed Laxus by the back of his head, tugging harshly and unkindly at his hair and pulling him down. He crashed their lips together, pushing his body flush with Laxus'. Laxus' hands were tight on his waist, holding him close within an instant.

Freed was controlling the kiss entirely, setting the pace and intensity. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was domineering and angry and years in the making. Laxus deferred entirely and Freed could feel just how much he was enjoying it.

When they pulled away, Freed didn't relinquish his grip on Laxus' hair, holding him where he wanted. Laxus grinned at him. "That help with the urges?"

"Not nearly enough," Freed promised.

"Good," Laxus grinned, going in for another kiss.

Freed didn't let him, though. He stepped back, rolled out his shoulders, and whispered out a spell. His bones cracked and his muscles burned, growing and warping and correcting. Horns both gnarled and warped broke through his skull. Scales ripped out from his skin, tearing open his shirt and letting it fall in tatters to the floor. The burning of his blood reached fever pitch as he looked down at Laxus, a purr ripped from his throat.

"Look at you," Freed praised, taking a sharp claw and sliding it down Laxus' face. "So pretty."

Laxus, where other men might have shown fear at the demon before him, looked simply alive. "You ain't bad yourself."

Freed dragged his claws down Laxus' chest, ripping the shirt in four straight lines. The second Laxus glimpsed down to look, Freed was on him, crowding him into the bar and grabbing it tight, leaning down to bring Laxus into another kiss. If he was put off by the forked tongue, he didn't show it, moaning and pushing himself against Freed's demonic muscle without any space for air.

Laxus ran out of air before Freed did, and the second they broke their kiss, Freed was on Laxus' neck, giving into the urge to bite. Laxus made a yell that turned to a moan as Freed split the skin, just enough to draw out a small bit of blood. He licked it clean, savouring the taste.

He pulled back just enough to look at Laxus. He was breathing hard, bleeding, dishevelled and wanting. "You are mine," Freed proclaimed, voice warped and authoritative. "I will not renounce my claim on you. You belong to me."

"Fucking finally," Laxus grinned, still no signs of fear. Freed could almost preen at him. "You got any idea how much I spent on those fancy ass boxers trying to impress you."

Freed smirked. "A pity, then, that they'll be torn to shreds the next time I see you wearing them," he purred straight into Laxus' ear. "I don't appreciate what is mine being hidden from me."

"Ain't a fucking problem," Laxus growled back.

With a dark chuckle, Freed covered them in runes and smoke, teleporting them both from the guildhall and to his bed where, if there was any justice in the world, Laxus would not be leaving for at least a week. No. A month.

That sounded fair. A month of flirting, and of frustration, required a month of recompense. And Freed intended to be very hands on – or claws on – in getting what he was owed.

#Fraxus Week 2024 #Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #canon compliant

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missameliep · 4 months ago

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Title: Once Upon a Summer - Part 1

Book: Desire & Decorum AU

Pairing: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth Foredale (OC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: ~2k

Summary: Once upon a summertime, eleven-year-old Elizabeth befriended a boy at a beach. Returning to England in a rush, she didn't even say goodbye to her friend Hamid, and had little hope to ever see him again. What would happen if fate brought them together four years later? This is how their story goes...

A/N: No warnings. Just fluff and teenage shenanigans. To make the story make sense, it's settled in the early 2000's, before social media, the era flip phones were it, the epitome of modernity and style! There will be alterning POV from Hamid to Elizabeth, and so on. Enjoy part 1 of this very silly and self-indulgent fic!

September, 2005.

Every new year was the same, for an entire week the school was vibrant and full of life. The whole days dedicated to recitals, art expositions and workshops, plays and drama reading, and so much more to welcome old and new students to the building that would basically be their second home from September to July.

This afternoon, the school’s sport court was brimming with new students and seniors of all ages, sporting their impeccable uniforms and polished black shoes. The last rays of summer shining on hair and skins and in the happy memories of vacations that are the main topics of conversations these past days. In the imminence of the beginning of the exhibition match, the basketball court was all noisy chatter and excitement, with lines of players in jerseys, echoes of the bouncing balls on the polished wooden floor, squeaking sneakers and swishing of balls down the rims.

Like in the savannah, it was easy to spot the new arrivals, with their awed and terrified looks, like lion cubs, and those who were comfortable in their natural environment. More than any other student, the players were naturals. The kings of this court, one could say, and the ones who attracted most of the attention, especially the ones starting their senior year.

Sporting his jersey with unmatching pride and the widest grin, Year 11-student Hamid, one of the most enthusiastic amongst his teammates for being chosen to play for the main team. Surrounded by a group of female students willing to hear about his latest travels and maybe even catch the attention of one of the team stars, he couldn’t be more thrilled. Or so he thought...

This was the best time of the year: no classes nor tests, no mandatory readings nor assignments, and a lot of time to do what he loves the most: socialize! Hamid loved this week with his whole heart and wished it could last longer. However, if everything must come to an end, the best way is to end on a high note, isn’t it? And in Hamid’s humble opinion, the last day is always the best. Not only it was entirely dedicated to sports, which was one of his passions and gave him the chance to demonstrate his aptitude in a variety of activities, but afterwards there will be a ball with music, dance, and girls eager for the attention of the athletes.

Amusing some of his teammates and a group of girls, Hamid was in the middle of telling a story, when someone knocked over a heavy object near the entrance. Hamid’s eyes flicked to where the noise came from and to the influx of another group of students coming inside to fill the stands, amongst them a very beautiful girl he’s never seen in school and instantly caught his eye.

Turquoise backpack hanging on one shoulder, she moved slowly, long curly hair bouncing around her face. A chocolate brown hair peppered with gold that seemed like the sun itself had kissed it, or maybe had just been following her for the dramatic purpose of stealing teenage boy’s breaths away. Whatever it was, her beauty was so enthralling he couldn’t look away, appreciating the long hair that reached the middle of her back, shapely lips shining with lip gloss and bright eyes. If this was one of the rom-coms his sisters love, the sound of chatter and basketballs dribbling would’ve been muted, and a bubbly pop song would play in the background while the girl glided in slow motion; when the camera focused on him to do a closeup, he’d be looking dazzled, mouth slightly parted while trying to catch his breath – which he was, having completely lost the train of thought mid-word. Nevertheless, no camera could ever capture the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.

“So, what happened then?” Theresa Sutton’s question ringed after what seemed like a dramatic pause in the narrative but turned into a play’s intermission. “Did his father notice you two were gone?”

Stunned, Hamid blinked a few times and telling the rest of the story seemed less relevant now that he had a new goal. Offering a wide grin, he clapped his hands, “Well, this will have to wait. Now I have someplace else to go. And a record to beat!”

“That’s cruel, Hamid,” Donna Bowman protested with a pout, but it didn’t deter him.

Bending, he picked up the ball at his feet, never tearing his gaze from the beautiful girl, and sprinted towards Yusuf Konevi, his dearest and oldest friend at England, who was doing warm-ups with some of their teammates. She was glancing everywhere from the benches at the side of the court to the stands, possibly searching for someone, and not once looked his way. Thank goodness, he was confident enough to not let this hurt his pride, and persistent enough to change that game.

Throwing an arm over Yusuf’s shoulder, he threw himself at him in a playful way.

“Hey!”

“Glad to see our star is finally joining us!”

“We’re all stars here,” Hamid said, flashing a grin, “we shine brighter together.”

The other laughed. “Smooth. I bet they’ll make you team captain soon.”

Looking over his shoulder Hamid located his target, standing alone by the stands, and asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Who’s that girl? I haven’t seen her before...”

“Which one?” the other asked before discreetly peeking at the direction he tilted his head.

“The one who looks like an angel recently fallen from heaven…”

Yusuf gasped with laughter. How very Hamid of him to be throwing around corny lines about girls right before a game, instead of warming up. Glancing at his friend before taking another look, he surveyed the faces and there was only one amongst them Hamid possibly didn’t know and fit his type, which he assumes is beautiful long-haired girl in any height, weight, body type, or ethnicity.

“Do you mean Elizabeth Foredale? The one with the turquoise backpack? She was transferred.”

Hamid smiled and repeated her name slowly, savouring every letter like honey in his tongue.

“Foredale…” he repeated her last name once more and hummed. “Why does this name sound familiar?”

“She’s the daughter of the Earl of Edgewater. You certainly heard about them.”

He definitely did. The House of Edgewater is one of the oldest and most traditional amongst the British nobility, close in relationship with the Royal Family, and everything in this county is somehow related to them. And he is almost certain the Earl was one of the stuffy British men with whom his father had meetings to negotiate some sort of treaty when he was ambassador at England.

“Is she single?”

Yusuf clapped his shoulder and grinned, “I have a feeling you’ll soon find out.”

Thinking about the best way to catch her attention, Hamid bounced the ball once, then twice, and smiled. Dribbling, he darted to the middle of the court, standing right at Elizabeth’s line of sight. Making flourished moves with the ball before dribbling towards the three-point line, he stepped back, flexed his knees, and shot. Without touching the backboard or the rim, the ball swished smoothly, and his face split into an ear-to-ear grin at the cheers. When he looked at the stands, the girl had her eyes fixed on her mobile oblivious to his demonstration. But this wasn’t nearly enough to discourage him.

Someone clapped him on the back, congratulating him, and from his place by the benches, the coach waved him and the others to assemble.

When the game begins, I’ll get her attention for sure, he hypes himself on his way to join his fellow teammates.

And this is his best match so far, scoring and assisting in almost all the key plays. The coach is pleased to see him this motivated, and he is pleased that Elizabeth’s eyes followed him. Not the plays. Not the ball. Him.

During halftime, he takes off his jersey, exhibiting his lean muscles and warm tanned brown skin from days sunbathing at beaches at the Türk Rivierası, and swigs a bottle of water. One of his classmates throws him a towel, and he thanks him.

At the stands beside the team’s bench, giggles and whispers erupt, but when his gaze searches for Elizabeth, like it did so many times this afternoon, the girl is sitting by herself reading a book. A large one. He can’t read the name in the cover, but how much more interesting than the game and players can it be? He was very close to take that snub personally.

At the other team’s bench, Yusuf throws him an amused look and teases him. Hamid shrugs and doesn’t let it affect his good spirits.

When the match is over, her eyes are not on the book, but on him. Pleased by the attention, he rakes his sweaty hair back and flashes his best smile in her direction. Like others at the stands, she’s clapping. In an instant, he’s surrounded by teammates and classmates congratulating the team, cheering and chanting they’ll beat their rival this year for sure.

While he’s approached by Donna Bowman and her friends, he gets a glimpse of Elizabeth walking down the stairs and going straight to the exit. By the doors, she halts, sparing a lingering last glance at the court over her shoulder, one he desperately wishes to be directed to him.

The best he could do was play it cool, wait until later, and maybe meet her at the dance. Or even cooler, waiting until classes start next week. But that look has him sprinting out of the basketball court with a silly excuse to not immediately hit the showers.

His sneakers squeak while he runs down the hallways, deflecting students and congratulations.

Down a long corridor, he gets a glimpse of her outside. When he catches up, she’s sitting at a bench, book opened on her lap.

Breathless, he halts a few feet away from her, fixes his sweaty dishevelled hair with a hand, takes a deep breath and a glance at the book from over her shoulder.

The panting catches her attention, and she glances at him over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. There’s no hint of surprise in her eyes as if she expected him to come.

“Interesting reading?”

She bites her lower lip, and nods.

“Very much.”

Placing a cat-shaped bookmark between the pages, she smiles and closes the book.

Hamid takes both as good signs, and peeks at the cover. “Lord of the Rings. Is it any good?”

“You already asked me that,” she giggled.

“Cut me some slack, with all the running, my brain is lacking oxygen…” he laughs, and she tries to stifle a chuckle but her laughter escapes in huffs through her nose. Hamid’s heartbeats quicken at the sight of her smile and the visible blush on her cheeks, the bronzed skin has a lovely pinkish hue, and, in this light, he notices her green eyes have gold flecks.

Pointing at the empty space beside her, she suggests, “Why don’t you sit down before the team loses his star player, Hamid?”

His smile turned into an ear-to-ear grin when he flopped beside her.

“So, you were paying attention! I knew the book couldn’t be more interesting than the match!”

“Hardly. It was a mere exhibition. And I prefer football, anyway. But you played well…”

“Well?” He faked being wounded by her words. “I was on fire today!”

“Oh! That would explain all the shouting from your fans... are you well?”

Snorting with laughter, he gnaws at his lower lip, amused by the quip.

“Unwounded. Except for my ego,” he replied, and grinned. “I’m on the football team too, and we’ll have a match in two weeks. You should come and watch me play.”

Chuckling, she shook her head slowly, and looked away at students crossing the gardens towards nearby buildings. She was smiling to herself, and her fingers fidgeted with the bookmark. That shyness pleases him in an unexpected way.

Trying to meet her gaze, he extended his hand for a shake, “Where are my manners? Welcome to Moorfield School. I’m Hamid Osmanoğlu. Year 11. Basketball and football team. Last year’s class president. Delighted to meet you –” His hand lingered in the space between them, waiting for her to take it and say her name.

Instead of the expected handshake, her eyes darted to his face, and she gaped. There was too much confusion in her expression that he joked, “Haven’t you done this before? Because that’s when you say your name... Saying something about yourself is optional, but always appreciated.”

“You don’t remember me,” she stated a little bit offended, and it surprised him.

“Have we met before? Because I certainly wouldn’t forget a gorgeous face like yours...”

Shoving the book inside the backpack, she got up. “I’ll let you figure that out then.”

“Will I see you again?”

“We go to the same school...” she replied without turning around.

While she walked away, Hamid observed. He was even more intrigued by Elizabeth now.

#desire & decorum #desire & decorum AU #prince hamid #prince hamid x mc #hamid x elizabeth #choices fanfic

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numinous-void · 5 months ago

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disclaimer: this is the first comic project ive ever done. i welcome constructive criticism though!

it’s mostly a comic, but each one will have little written blurbs. like a half fic, half comic!

CANNIBAL STARS ARC 1: HELLO STARS!

CHAPTER 1: DEAL!

New York City 1921.

Hidden under Lady Bloom’s Book Store is perhaps one of the most ritzy speakeasies around, lush, extravagant, flashy and swimming in snobs, celebrities, and rising stars. In turn, this makes for the greatest hub for foraging a name and connection with others. Whether or not bridges are built or burns depends on the mind of the player. A striving theatre actress and bold clothing designer, Rosalia reclines on a dark brown leather couch with a glass of red wine and tells herself it’s to loosen up before she gets on stage. Truthfully, she earns some extra income by performing at night as a flapper as her fiery and boisterously proud attitude gets her glares from potential scouters- not to mention her unconventional appearance of strawberry blonde and red hair and tall stature can make her a hard sell, not meeting the typical vision for a woman. She scoffs at every glare and remark. She knows she should lower her head to achieve her goals but she’s much too proud to let herself get treated any less than how she feels she deserves.

Her recent move from Boston, Massachusetts down to New York has proved beneficial- and many more men are less willing to fight with her as she’s sure there’s no shortage of women like herself there. Perhaps tiring men was a hobby of hers.

For the past 2 weeks in Lady Bloom’s Bookstore, she’s been making quite the name for herself as a flapper- but someone’s name she doesn’t know, someone’s name she absolutely wants to know, sits at the bar. He never seems to drink too heavily- sometimes he seems to drink water or nothing at all. He seems to have quite the tall stature but Rosalia is almost certain she will dwarf the man as that occurs as many times as the sun sets and rises.

She swirls the wine around in the glass cup, not quite as beautiful as the red color of blood but perhaps that could be fixed should someone lack decorum. Mimzy, who honestly serves as the manager for the speak easy as she’s always there to perform, approaches her. They always appreciate a good gossip session.

“My dear Missy Mimz, what your opinion,” Rosalia asks with a quirked brow without giving time for a proper hello,

She continues, “on Mr. loner there?”

Mimzy swivels her head around to follow Rosalia’s gaze.

“Hah! Thats Alastor… Ya gonna take a crack at ‘em?” Mimzy teases.

Rosie is almost taken aback. Not in any offensive manner, however it was odd to hear as she has been able to charm any man, should they be they object of her desire.

“Am I that obvious?” Rosie curiously asks, Mimzy gives a giggle.

“Nah! Ya’d just be damned if you thought YOU’RE the first one.”

“Ack- what? He some lounge lizard?” Rosie asks.

“Haha! You’re killing me, hon. He’s quite the opposite. Al only ever shows up alone and leave alone. 100$ ya can’t break em!” Mimzy challenges.

Rosalia feigns hurt, scoffs and playfully rolls her eyes.

The pair move from the couch, rising from their playful little deal. Rosie being the confident individual she is has zero doubt in her ability to win. She had been able to woo any man she wished to, that is until Rosies fiery flam of an attitude never settle. Rosie dusts her dress, ready to change and doll herself up for the night…

thank you for getting to this point if you have🥲🥹

#hazbin hotel #radiorose #alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel alastor #rosie #alastor and rosie #alastor x rosie #cannibal stars au

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anawkwardlady · 1 year ago

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Dadbastian Week Day 7 : Setting Sun

Thank you so much for this week, it's been really fun, you're all very talented! I actually made myself a bit emotional on this one lol? It wasn't my intention, but here it is!

“It’s been a living of Sebastian tucking you in every night. When Sebastian ceases to exist, he will blow the candles one last time and cover you with night itself.”

The butler wished he could say his master wasn’t leaving alone. But he was still bound to the rules of contract, forbidding lies. His master was in bed and will pass away with dignity. It was all the butler could do, show appreciation for the gift of learning. This could never be undone. You cannot take back table manners once they’ve been taught, even to a monster.

“I have no regrets, Sebastian.”

Such a privilege to have the right to lie. How human to desire decorum until the end. The boy chuckled at the butler’s expression.

“I mean it.” Then this was a sad confession to make.

“Do you have any?” the boy asked,

“Anyone reaching my age would get past such things as regrets. The transient pain we feel has lost meaning after a few centuries. But do not envy me, the torment of eternal beings is something you cannot fathom. Mortal or eternal, we cannot escape.” the demon explained,

“I do not envy you.”

“What a wise master were you,” Sebastian smiled at the small thing in a comforting way, “I hope I get the honor to meet another you in a few hundred years.” The master rolled his eyes and then, they both stayed silent. Turning back to a serious tone, the man broke it.

“Master, it’s time”

Time it was, for the butler to cover his master for the night.

—

Come come, boy, it’s time to bear the consequences of your choices. You chose a path where sins could not be atoned for, thus they became dead weight. Pain constant to this day. You chose a path of solitude and in this quest, made many allies. Many lives poisoned by your own curse. Many lives will dive learning your death. In the end, loneliness seeks, seeks, seeks for embrace, even if you do not. And it usually finds. How funny, I pity all of you. Exactly how much will sink back to me with you after your relief? I wonder. Whether it is worth the pain is no business of mine, no concern of yours anymore, the curse is passed down and will bear many children.

I must warn you now, dying is not easy but nothing ever was to you.

Saying this, into the woods The wolf carries the lamb, and then eats him Without any other why or wherefore. - The wolf and the lamb, Jean de la Fontaine

#dadbastianweek2023 #dadbastiansettingsun #nana is posting

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lilyoffandoms · 7 days ago

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#choicesmcaw25 #my polls #choices poll

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lorirwritesfanfic · 1 year ago

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Tag game

Thank you so much for tagging me @lizzybeth1986 😘

Currently Reading: The Age Of Empire by Eric Hobsbawm. History is my current obsession. Choiceswise, I think it was Crimes of Passion 1 or Queen B 2... It was a while ago... I don't know for sure which one was the last one.

Favourite Colour: Purple

Last Song:

Last Movie: A documentary about the events that led to a coup d'etat attempt in Venezuela during 2002 called Chavéz: The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Like I said before, History is my current obsession.

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: Sweet. I like savoury and spicy too (despite my little tolerance to spicy food 😅), but sugar is my addiction.

Currently Working On: Does daydreaming about it qualify as "working on"? Real life has been so time consuming lately that it took me four days to finish watching my last movie watched 😅 I do have many ideas for Hayden Young Appreciation Week, some half written WIPs for my Bloodbound series, Desire & Decorum AUs, TRR series and one shots, TWC one shots and a very messy sketch of a certain Choices character I miss dearly, but I don't know when I'll post them. (The sketch might never be posted though 🫣)

Tagging: @havenroyals @lilyoffandoms @princess-geek @andthatisnotfake and anyone who feels like doing this.

#tag game #Spotify

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kinda-iconic · 6 years ago

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How shall I bear so much Happiness

This fanfic was written as an entry for Day One of the Desire and Decorum appreciation week...

Day One (July 31st prompt): Love Interest Day

Pairing: Ernest Sinclaire x MC

Summary: After the birth of their first child, Ernest begins to worry about Amelia’s health and the future of their family.

Author’s note: This is my second fanfic for Sinclaire x MC, as the first got me rather emotional and I had to move on to fluffier things. I do apologise for any mistakes; this was written rather quickly, but I do hope that it is worth the read!

Tagging: @queerchoicesblog @melodyofgraves @octobereighth @choicesregencygeek @hellooliviaolivia @hellospunkiebrewster @mrsbriarmarlcaster

Ever since his engagement to Lady Amelia, Ernest had spent a great number of days picturing their future; he had high hopes as to what a marriage to his sweetheart would entail, but yet nothing worried him more than the concept of Amelia delivering a child. Although the idea of having a child with the woman he loved filled him with joy, he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about subjecting her to that ordeal. This apprehensiveness only seemed to worsen when it was revealed that Amelia was with child and, as the days turned into months, his nervousness grew more unbearable.

His mind continued to race with these thoughts as he sat outside their bedroom door, twiddling his thumbs pensively as he awaits the news that every expectant father dreams of.

The birth of their first child.

It isn’t long before his train of thought is disrupted as Pavarti enters the corridor, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

‘Ms Daly...’ he rises to his feet with urgency, adjusting his lapels as he approaches the young woman, his once calm demeanor replaced with concern and bewilderment. ‘What is it?’

She stays silent for a moment, fixing him with a curious gaze before taking in his appearance; his face is haggard, his golden hair tangled with knots from the sleepless night that he spent awaiting news of the birth. His clothes are creased, and Pavarti is able to make out the purplish marks under his eyes, further evidence of his refusal to rest. She meets him with a joyful smile, her eyes gleaming with happiness and contempt.

‘I believe that congratulations are in order, My Lord,’ her smile widens, and Ernest is soon able to sense the true extent of her excitement through the giddiness in her voice, ‘today is a glorious day.’

‘Has she...’ he hesitates for a moment, taking the time to correct his words, ‘has Lady Amelia delivered the child?’

‘She most certainly has,’ the young woman turns away from him for a moment, reaching down to grasp the door handle before addressing him over her shoulder.

‘Would you like to come and meet your daughter, Mr Sinclaire?’

He gazes back at her, his eyes widening in merriment as he processes the news of the birth; he runs a gentle hand across his face, the reality of fatherhood filling him with immense pride and aspiration for the future.

‘I...I have a daughter?’

‘Aye Sir, and an adorable one at that,’ she takes a step forward, bowing her head before meeting his gaze once more, her eyes now glistening with tears of gaiety; ‘and I can tell you now, My Lord... she is the spitting image of Amelia.’

She pries the door open, stepping to the side of the entryway before gesturing to the room before her.

‘Well?’ She pushes on the wood, allowing the young man to put his mind at ease as his eyes soon befall on his wife, sitting adjacent to him as she rests in their marriage bed, ‘are you going to remain out here all day, or are you going to introduce yourself to your little girl?’

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

He enters the room, his nose inhaling the familiar scent of honey and rosemary as he takes in his surroundings; the room is darker than usual, the heavy drapes drawn across the windows, preventing any light from entering the room. Amelia sits in the middle of the bed, her arms draped protectively over the small bundle that lay nestled in her arms.

‘Amelia...’ he wanders over to the bed with haste, kneeling down at her side as he takes in her appearance; her skin is clammy, her long dark hair cascading down her shoulders, a few brown curls sticking to her cheeks and forehead. He swiftly takes her hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze as he gazes adoringly at his wife; she nestles the infant in her arms, its tiny frame wrapped delicately in a bundle of cloth. He lowers his eyes to look upon his daughter, her precious features illuminated by the glow of candlelight before glancing back at his wife, reaching forward to caress her cheek. ‘Oh my darling...’

She smiles fondly back at him, her tired eyes alerting him of her exhaustion as she weakly leans into his touch before focusing her attention on the infant.

‘She’s so beautiful,’ she slowly removes her hand from her husband’s grasp, her fingers entangling themselves in the cloth. She gently cups the child’s face in her palm, running her hand delicately through the baby’s dark hair, ‘like an English rose in the Spring.’

‘As are you, my sweetheart,’ he inclines his head towards her, pressing a soft kiss to Amelia’s cheek, ‘you were truly wonderful...’

‘Indeed she was, My Lord,’ Pavarti crosses the room in an instant, placing a cold compress to Ameila’s forehead, ‘and I hope that I’m not speaking out of turn, but M’Lady was remarkable,’ she meets Amelia with a reminiscent smile, ‘I do believe that her mother would be so very proud.’

‘I...’ Amelia stutters, her breathing soft yet labored as she continues to recover from the delivery, ‘I cannot begin to describe how much it means to hear you say that, Ms Daly,’ she outstretches a hand towards Pavarti, placing it delicately on her forearm. ‘Thank you...truly.’

‘There’s no need to thank me, my dear,’ she smiles warmly at her, interlacing her fingers with hers. ‘I thought that it was only fitting to guide you through it like I guided your mother, all those moons ago,’ she removes herself from the young woman’s grasp, meeting her with a euphoric expression, ‘and it’s Pavarti to you, Amelia... ‘Ms Daly’ makes us sound like nothing more than acquaintances.’

‘Of course, I’m sorry.’

‘Hush now, don’t apologise,’ she reaches forward, easing Amelia’s hair off of her shoulder before dabbing at her skin with the sodden cloth, ‘this is a time for celebration, my sweet, not one for worrying over trivial things...’

Amelia regards her with a weak smile. ‘You are certainly correct,’ she adjusts her position, a subtle wince emanating from her lips, ‘that is a matter that can be resolved another day.’

A quiet giggle emerges from Pavarti’s lips, her eyes never leaving the pair before she makes her way over to the other side of the bed, pulling at the sheets as she tries to ensure Amelia’s comfort. They all stay silent for a while, but it isn’t long before Ernest breaks the tranquility, the topic of conversation soon turning to the infant as she remains nestled in her mother’s arms, her dainty fingers clasped tightly around Amelia’s thumb.

‘Is the child healthy?’

‘Yes,’ Pavarti nods, ‘both Mother and Child are doing exceptionally well; there were a few minor complications, but M’Lady was not having any nonsense.’

‘Minor complications?’ He turns to face his wife, a troubled expression resonating on his face. ‘My dearest... are you alright?’

‘Yes Ernest,’ she whispers softly to him, her gaze drifting to rest upon their daughter’s face, ‘you need not worry about me.’

‘I will always worry about you,’ he chuckles slightly, one hand resting beneath the child whilst the other finds its way to the nape of his wife’s neck, ‘you are my wife after all... and now the mother of my child.’

She meets him with a comforting smile.

‘That’s rather endearing of you, my love, but I promise you that I am alright.’

‘Amelia speaks the truth,’ Pavarti chimes, ‘I can assure you that M’Lady is strong, and not one that is easily defeated.’

‘Forgive me, Ms Daly, but you seem to be making childbirth sound like a war.’

‘In a way it is, Sir; there is beauty in it, yes, but for a woman, childbirth can be ever so complicated,’ she moves around to the foot of the bed, smoothing out the creases of her skirt, ‘a lady can have the most pleasant of pregnancies, but in the end, only God knows what is in store for the mother or even the child during the delivery.’ She sighs wistfully, ‘Amelia, though met with some rather unsavory issues, managed to deliver in good health.’ She reaches down to straighten the bed-sheets, her eyes glistening with sorrow. ‘Unfortunately, that is something that cannot be said for everyone.’

Ernest soon notices her discomfort, his next utterance blanketed by sincerity. ‘Forgive me for asking,’ he rises to his feet, taking a step towards the older woman, ‘I never meant to cause any pain...’

‘Bless you, My Lord,’ she meets him with a warm smile, wiping at her eyes as she begins to sniffle, ‘I can assure you that you did nothing of the sort.’

‘As long as you are certain.’

‘Indeed I am,’ she swiftly regains her composure, ‘now, I must take my leave; you both deserve some time alone with one another and the child...’ she ponders over to Amelia’s side, running a gentle hand through Amelia’s curls before turning her attention to Ernest, ‘I cannot imagine how grueling this whole ordeal has been for you, My Lord; not being able to be present at the birth.’

‘Not as grueling as it was for Amelia, I would imagine,’ he takes Amelia’s hand in his, planting a tender kiss to her knuckles, ‘but it was rather difficult to stay outside whilst everything was happening in here.’

‘I can believe that,’ she smiles fondly at the couple before lowering her head, collecting the bowl and cloth from the table, ‘now I really must go.’

Amelia straightens her posture, pushing herself forward so that she is sitting upright in the bed. She tries to move her hips, but it isn’t long before her body stiffens, a soft wince emanating from her lips. She opens her mouth to speak, forcing out her words through the pain.

‘Do you really have to go?’

‘Oh my dear,’ she rushes forward, placing a pillow behind the young woman to support her lower back, ‘you need to take considerable care of yourself; you’ve just delivered your first child... your body is still recovering and it will be a while before you can do anything strenuous.’ She smiles sadly at her, ‘if you push yourself too hard, then you might hurt yourself more.’

‘Ms Daly is right, Amelia,’ he places a comforting hand on her waist, ‘now it is time for you to rest and to focus on your recovery.’

‘But do you...do you really need to leave?’

‘I don’t want to intrude on a precious moment,’ she tucks the cloth underneath her arm, ‘you don’t want little old me getting in the way, do you? This is a moment reserved for family, my sweet...’

‘But you are my family...’

Her gaze softens as she looks back at her, ‘and you are so much like your mother; kind-hearted and full of nothing but happiness and light,’ she turns away from her, slowly approaching the bedroom door before turning back to face the pair, ‘I can tell you now that your dear mother would be thanking the heavens for gifting you with a doting husband,’ her gaze falls onto the child, still nestled in Amelia’s arms, ‘and a beautiful, beautiful little girl.’

Pavarti swiftly leaves the room, taking the excess cloth with her. The pair are left alone , but it isn’t long before Ernest follows suit.

‘Excuse me for a moment,’ he presses a sweet kiss to her forehead, ‘I need to go and speak with someone; I won’t be long.’

‘Oh...of course,’ she watches him with worrisome eyes as he runs a finger across their daughter’s arm, ‘is everything alright?’

He meets her gaze once more, taking note of her concerned expression. ‘Certainly, my darling,’ he places a hand on her cheek, his fingers entangling in her dark hair, ‘I just need to leave the room briefly.’

‘Try not to be too long,’ she smiles at him in adoration, ‘you don’t want to keep your wife and daughter waiting now do you?’

He bows his head in acknowledgement, slowly making his way to the door. He turns to face her slightly, chuckling at the mischievous grin that rests upon Amelia’s face.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

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

After leaving the room, Ernest makes his way down the corridor, looking for any sign of the woman that helped Amelia deliver their child. He is soon stopped in his tracks as Pavarti appears from around the corner, her body turned away from him as she converses with one of the chambermaids. He wanders over to her, leaving a little distance between them.

‘Ms Daly...’

‘What is it, My Lord?’ She turns abruptly to face him, her eyes widening at the sound of his concerned voice, ‘is Amelia alright?’

‘Yes, yes of course,’ he smiles reassuringly at her, ‘I just wanted to take this time to thank you for being there for my wife; I know that I was unable to, and though that is quite unfortunate, I am eternally grateful that you were there by her side in my place.’

‘Oh you really are a romantic, aren’t you?’ she returns his gaze, meeting him with a fond smile, ‘I can certainly see why Amelia has taken to you so.’

‘Is she going to be alright?’

‘Yes she is,’ she hesitates for a moment, unsure as to whether she should continue. She clears her throat, averting his gaze as she speaks once more, her voice soft and sympathetic. ‘Amelia told me about your wife... the one before her,’ there is another pause, ‘I’m sorry that you had to endure such a tragedy.’

‘Thank you,’ he nods his head curtly in acknowledgement, ‘but I have come to terms with it, and I can assure you that Amelia and the infant will not suffer the same fate or circumstance as they did.’

‘I admire your determination, My Lord, but I’m afraid that only God can decide their fate; all we can do is try to fight it.’

‘I know...’ he sighs defeatedly, running a hand along his jaw, ‘but there’s still no harm in trying.’

‘Amelia is in good health, Sir; as is your child,’ she reassures him, ‘the worst is over, and if Amelia manages to stay healthy for the next couple of weeks, then we will have nothing to worry about... at least not until she conceives again.’

The pair regard one another in comfortable silence, though it isn’t long before Ernest’s curiosity gets the better of him, his intrigue soon transitioning into concern, his words laden with guilt.

‘Is the risk greater?’ He asks worriedly, ‘I...if Amelia was to conceive another child, is she at a greater risk of infection or further complications during any future birth?’

‘Ernest...’ Pavarti addresses him informally, her bond with his wife enabling her to identify with his pain and worry, ‘Lady Amelia is a true force of nature; she is a strong and healthy young woman. There are always risks with pregnancy, no matter how old or young the mother is and no matter the circumstance...’ she places a comforting hand on his forearm, ‘you cannot make a decision about the future of your family based on a statistic of risk.’

‘But is it true?’ He responds with hesitancy, ‘will she be more prone to falling ill or catching an infection?’

‘Don’t worry about that for now,’ she holds up her hand with reverence, ‘you need to be in there with your family, not out here with me...’

‘But is it...’

‘My Lord... Amelia is in good hands; I will be visiting her at least three times a day, and she will have an abundance of visitors presenting her with gifts and treating any ailments that she may have. The Dowager Countess has also informed me that she will be arriving soon to meet the child, and they will be treated with the upmost respect and consideration.’ Her gaze softens as she takes in the young man’s demeanor, ‘don’t let the events of the past cloud your visions for the future.’

‘You’re right,’ he nods in response, clearing his head of any ill thoughts, ‘forgive me for my forwardness... I just think that,’ he shakes his head, ‘it doesn’t matter, please forget that I ever mentioned anything.’

‘I apologise if this is imprudent, My Lord, but maybe you should talk to Amelia about your concerns; it may surprise you to learn how she feels about it.’

‘Has she said anything?’

‘Not to my knowledge, no,’ she meets him with a reassuring smile, ‘but maybe she feels as though she cannot at the risk of upsetting or concerning you.’ She moves further away from the chamber, gesturing to the bedroom. ‘Now, there is incredibly beautiful young woman waiting for you beyond that door; she is everything that a man like yourself could ever dream of...go and be with her...’ she hesitates briefly, tilting her head in the direction of the door, ‘and introduce yourself to your daughter.’

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

After ending his conversation with Pavarti, Ernest returned to the bedroom, being careful not to disturb the child as she slept peacefully in her mother’s arms. Amelia meets his gaze, a warm smile enveloping her lips as she invites him to come closer.

‘Well that was rather quick,’ she pats the empty space beside her, ‘did you manage to accomplish what you needed to?’

‘Are you asking me whether I managed to properly thank Ms Daly for looking after you when I could not?’ He replies humorously, removing his cravat, ‘because if that is the case, then I can safely say that I managed to do just that.’ He takes another step forward, perching on the edge of the bed before lifting his eyes to meet her gaze. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Exhausted,’ she greets him with a tired smile, ‘in fact, I feel like I could sleep for days...’

‘I will have the housekeeper send for the Nanny tomorrow,’ he places a gentle hand on her waist, ‘at least then you’ll be able to rest properly.’

‘I don’t know if I want to have any help,’ she holds the child closer to her chest, gently rocking the infant in her arms, ‘my Mama raised me all by herself and I... I feel like I should too.’

‘And I respect that, truly I do,’ his fingers travel along her forearm, his fingertips tracing intricate patterns on her bare skin, ‘but you are in no state to nurse this child just yet.’

‘But I’m her mother; I need to be there for her...’ her gaze softens as she looks down at the bundle, ‘if I can’t hold her in my arms and soothe her when she cries, then what good am I? My Mama she...’

‘Amelia...’ he calmly interjects her, inclining his head towards her as he rests his chin against her temple, wrapping her into a protective embrace, ‘forgive me for sounding impertinent, but I need you to listen to what I have to say.’ He pulls away from her, reaching forward to caress her cheek, ‘I understand that your Mother meant the absolute world to you, and I value how determined you are to give our child a happy and healthy childhood...’ he pauses for a moment, his words hesitant yet nurturing, ‘I can respect that you wish to raise this child in a similar way to how your Mother raised you but... we are in a different position to what she was all those years ago; we have financial stability and I am here to provide for you. We have a collection of servants who cater to our every whim out of respect for our family names and indeed our status in society.’ He smiles weakly at her, hoping that his words were not too harsh or condescending. ‘You had an incredible childhood, and your mother raised you impeccably well, but don’t you think that your mother would want you to take advantage of your status? You have everything that she never had and more... I believe that she would want you to embrace that.’

‘I...’ she lowers her head, averting his gaze, ‘I cannot argue with that.’

He runs a comforting hand along her back. ‘I’m sorry if I was too harsh or...’

‘No no don’t...don’t apologise,’ she leans into his touch, ‘you’re right. I guess I just... I wanted her to have everything that I had and...’

‘She will have all that and more; our daughter will want for nothing.’ He looks down at the baby, her sleeping form positioned delicately in the crook of Amelia’s elbow. He gestures a hand towards the infant, greeting his wife with a bashful smile. ‘May I hold her?’ He questions, ‘the child...’

‘Of course,’ her apologetic eyes meeting his once more, ‘I’m so sorry that I kept her all to myself; I can assure you that it was never my intention to - ‘

‘Amelia,’ he runs his thumb across her bottom lip, ‘I have been in this room for no more than ten minutes, it’s not like you have concealed her from me for hours.’

She giggles at his jest, ‘well then, if you wish to hold our daughter, then you’ll have to hold out your arms.’ She cautiously outstretches her arms, her small hands cradling the child’s body as she carefully hands her over to him.

‘You just need to support her head...’ she reaches forward, maneuvering his hand to rest at the base of the child’s skull, ‘and place the other hand here...’

He gazes fondly up at his wife, his lips curving into a warm smile.

‘You certainly seem to know what you are doing.’

‘I had a good teacher,’ she places his other arm below her spine, ensuring that he is holding the child correctly, ‘there...perfect.’ She carefully lifts the baby’s hand with her finger, running her thumb across her soft skin before glancing back up at her husband. ‘See? You’re an absolute natural!’

‘Well, I had a good teacher...’

Amelia meets him with a soft smile, her brown doe-like eyes glistening in the candlelight as her gaze wanders back to the infant.

‘I think it is safe to say that she is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen,’ he nudges Amelia slightly, ‘besides you, of course...’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr Sinclaire.’

‘It got us this far, didn’t it?’ A deep chuckle resonates from his throat, but it isn’t long before he shakes himself out of it, lowering his head to avert her gaze.

‘Forgive me, that was rather uncouth.’

‘But you cannot deny that there isn’t any truth to it.’ She retorts, running a nurturing hand across the cloth, ‘or would agreeing with the ‘inappropriateness’ of your remark be rather improper for a lady of my status...’

‘I would say yes, but it is one of your best qualities,’ he pauses for a moment, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s head, ‘have you thought of a name for her?’

‘I thought that we were deciding that together...’

‘We are,’ he nods, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s, ‘but considering the fact that you were the one that did all of the hard work, I thought that it would be a good idea to let you choose.’

‘Are...Are you certain?’

‘As certain as I was when I asked for your hand,’ he looks up at her, tilting his head with a bemused smirk, ‘now, have you got any ideas as to what you would like to call her?’

‘I was thinking that, if our child was a girl, I would like to name her after my mother; Mary,’ her hands clasp the bed-sheets, pulling them further up her body, ‘but if you don’t like it, then I’m sure that we can -’

‘Mary is perfect,’ he whispers, ‘a remarkable name for an extraordinary little girl.’

Amelia looks up at her husband, meeting his eyes with a loving smile.

‘She has your eyes, you know,’ she tips her head in the direction of the baby, ‘you can see the blue tint right...’ she points a delicate finger at the flecks of blue in their daughter’s eyes, ‘there!’

‘I think that most infants have blue or green eyes when they are born, my love,’ he sighs with merriment, ‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens...but there is one thing that is still troubling me.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’m just struggling to process how I shall bear so much happiness...’ he leans his head against hers, burying his cheek into her hair, ‘I thought that you had made me the happiest man alive when you had agreed to be wife.’

‘Didn’t I do that?’

‘No you did,’ he turns to face her, pressing an adoring kiss to her cheek, ‘but by bearing my child, you have made me feel...euphoric.’

‘Euphoric?’ She looks at him in confusion, ‘what does that mean?’

He places another kiss to her shoulder as he gazes down at the little girl, ‘it means that I love you, and that...there is no one on this earth that I’d rather spend my days with.’

‘That’s not what it actually means, is it?’

He shakes his head with a mischievous smile; she pokes him playfully in the shoulder, causing him to chuckle softly.

‘Alright, you caught me,’ he holds the child closer to his chest, ‘but there is some truth to it.’ He sighs wistfully, his gaze darting from the infant to his wife.

‘Amelia?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you...’ he pauses for a moment, resting his chin against her shoulder, ‘for everything.’

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #fanfic #choices d&d #desire and decorum #ddaw #desire and decorum appreciation week #ernest sinclaire #sinclaire x mc #pavarti daly

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