#emblem is a dumb looking word

[rosebudcosplays]

summer project i guess while i wait impatiently to be able to unpack my stuff

[edenesth]

The General's Wife

Pairing: military general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

Word Count: 1117 words (I'd normally put it as 1.1k but uwu)

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Ooh, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

You sighed, wondering when these men would ever learn. It wasn't your first time paying this bar a visit; they should know better by now to not mess with you.

Pushing your drink aside, you turned to look at the brave soul who was stupid enough to put his hand on your shoulder. He smirked when you remained quiet, "You're a shy one, aren't you? No worries, I can make things more fun for you."

The men around him were muttering fearfully amongst themselves, wide-eyed, "Does that fool really not have a single clue who he's dealing with?"

You shrugged off his hand and felt sorry for him, "Oh dear, I pity you." Confused, he followed your gaze as you showed him an emblem you'd pulled out from your pocket. His heart nearly stopped when he finally realised who you were.

"Y-you're... shit, you're the general's wife."

You winced, realising those might be his last words, especially when you saw your husband walking into the bar.

Seonghwa halted just behind the man, fixing an intense glare on his vulnerable back. In a voice that sent shivers down spines, he growled, "Have you grown tired of living, soldier? If you're looking for dumb ways to die, consider today your lucky day."

The man visibly trembled as he turned around slowly to face his superior, falling to his knees in fear, "G-General Park! I swear, I d-didn't know she was your wife—"

A resounding smack cut off his sentence as a powerful backhand slap connected with his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

You gave a subtle shake of your head, silently urging Seonghwa not to escalate the situation. However, your plea proved futile as your husband, with a wink in your direction, assured you, "Don't worry, my love. I won't be too harsh on him. I'll give him just enough punishment to ensure he understands never to lay a hand on my wife again."

Despite his comforting words, you knew better than anyone those were lies. The man probably wouldn't see the light of day again. Beneath the sweet exterior he reserved for you, your husband harboured a ruthless side, a quality that propelled him quickly up the military ranks, earning him a formidable reputation.

Before becoming your husband, General Park Seonghwa was a fearsome military commander, striking fear into almost everyone. Uninterested in academics or any other pursuit, he was a natural-born warrior. At the mere age of 12, he knew he was destined to be the god of war.

However, amidst the battlefield and bloodshed, there was one thing he treasured above all else – you. His first and only love; he stumbled upon you in your backyard, clandestinely wielding your brother's sword in an attempt to learn self-defence when no one else would teach you. A noble lady yearning for more than a mundane life.

At first glance, he knew you were special.

Seonghwa vowed to make you his wife someday, and he did. Not one to follow rules, he sneaked into your backyard one day, scaring the daylights out of you. With sharp critiques, he pointed out the flaws in your stance, inadvertently teaching you enough to defend yourself.

In short, love blossomed before you discovered that he was none other than the renowned General Park, the King's most trusted warrior leading the royal army. When he sought your hand in marriage, your parents were more than delighted to see their only daughter assume the esteemed title of the general's wife.

Due to Seonghwa's crucial role in the kingdom, he frequently found himself deployed to battle whenever political tensions arose between Wonderland and neighbouring nations.

Despite his repeated warnings, you always made the journey to his war sites to be with him. During your visits, much like the current one, many of his inexperienced men, unaware of the situation, would mistake you for a lost civilian in a war zone and foolishly attempt to make advances.

Now, this unfortunate man, like those before him, would meet his end before having the chance to serve his country—all because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

You were escorted out of the dimly lit bar before you could witness what your husband's right-hand man did to the poor bastard. Whatever it was, you knew it would be far from pretty. To distract you from the unsettling thoughts, Seonghwa wrapped his arm around you and kissed you hard.

Pressing a hand against his chest, your attempts to push him away were useless. He was well aware of your shyness, with his men watching and all, but that was his intention. He needed these fools to understand that you were his woman.

Sensing your discomfort, your husband gently cupped your cheeks, pulling back slightly to assure you, "It's alright, darling. I'm here. No one will dare touch you again. You trust me, don't you?" Without hesitation, you nodded; there was no one in the world you trusted more than him.

His heart melted at how swollen your lips looked, and he couldn't resist pressing his lips softly against yours once more.

With a self-assured smirk, he withdrew slowly, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. He turned to cast a cold gaze at the men who instantly cowered under his scrutiny, "What are you imbeciles standing around for? Don't you recognise who this is?"

They gasped and immediately straightened up, bowing deeply before offering salutes in your direction, "Welcome to the base, Lady Park!"

You acknowledged their greeting with a nod, and with an elegant wave of your hand, they finally dared to disperse. It was an unspoken rule that everyone under your husband's command had no choice but to follow. Those who defied these rules deserved nothing less than severe consequences.

As you nestled into Seonghwa's temporary quarters that night, a comforting warmth enveloped your heart as he drew you close in bed. Planting a tender kiss on your head, he asked, "My love, do you ever regret marrying me?"

Given your dislike for violence, it was truly ironic that you found yourself wed to a military general, of all people. He often wondered how a refined lady like you could fall for a man of his rough demeanour.

Before his thoughts could linger, you gently cupped his jaw, compelling him to meet your gaze, "Never. I want no one else but you." The intensity in your eyes conveyed a steadfast conviction, reminding him you were different from other women.

Indeed, you were special.

After all, you were the only woman audacious enough to capture the intimidating General Park Seonghwa's heart.

Would you believe me if I told you this man isn't my ultimate bias? Yeah, me neither. He wrecked me so bad this comeback, I'm barely recovering. Y'all stay safe tho lmfao.

Anyway, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[droaxa]

half of the ring

✧ tags: first love x reader, the reader takes too long to admit she’s in love with him and it has consequences

✧ warnings: angst angst angst be ready, betrayal but not really, you cry, friends to lovers to strangers

✧ a/n: really wanted to show you guys my angst skills, started on a plane but then got rlly into it 💗 but fr idk what i was on while making this.

✧ 2.1k words

He was your first love. You had a boyfriend before him but that relationship wasn’t born out of love, hell you didn’t even know if you liked your first boyfriend. The middle school curse of saying yes to dating boys you didn’t really know had gotten to you too, just like many other young girls at school. At an age when you were unsure of what boyfriends and girlfriends even did, you got into your first relationship.

Then you met him. Tall, charming, and somewhat nerdy. He wasn’t anything close to your first boyfriend but you felt strangely attracted to him nonetheless, much to the dismay of your friends who stated that he was ‘a weird loner that no one really liked’. You didn’t care about his obnoxious sports glasses, his long frizzy hair, or his ‘nerdy interests’, to you he was perfect and unapologetically himself.

You broke up with your boyfriend days after meeting him, he made you realize that if you should date anyone, it should be someone that makes you happy. Not someone you feel obligated to.

He was exciting and cool in ways your friends didn’t understand, a diamond in the rough. Before you knew it, months had passed and he moved to your neighborhood.

“The school was better here than in his district” he explained.

You were thrilled of course, who knew what this could bring? Your parents were friends so you met often, but they didn’t allow you both to date so you hid it. Soon, secretive texts and calls turned to meetups and walks in your neighborhood under the guise of being with a ‘friend’. You were with him all the time, if not at school, on the bus, and if not on the bus, around the neighborhood.

Truly the ying to your yang, you were opposites but still had so much in common. While you loved horror movies and he would bury his face in your neck during a jumpscare, squeezing your hand so hard it would turn blue. You would laugh at it his cowardly manner, patting his messy hair as he complained.

You were hopelessly unathletic and he was on the volleyball team. He taught you how to play, laughing as you tried to receive the ball only to have it hit the ground next to you. He never brought up your shortcomings or belittled you, instead helping you become a better version of yourself.

Inseparable. The only way to describe it, atleast until you heard about his reputation first hand. Being ignored by kids at school, shunned for the way he acted and spoke. That’s when you started to become embarrassed of him. Sweet thoughtful him. You heard the whispers about him and didn’t want to be dragged down along with his reputation.

You had been alone long enough, you could still remember those days when you had no one. You didn’t want to be alone again. You were young and dumb, placing social acceptance at a higher priority than him. But it was the pulling away from him that was the hard hardest. You were each others halves but there was something else. Something that young dumb you wouldn’t yet understand.

If his disappointed expression every time you would cancel on him didn’t hurt your heart, the hurt on his face when you would pretend like you didn’t see his wave in the school hallway punched you in the gut. But you managed to make more friends. It would be worth it. Wouldn’t it? You missed him, but you still wanted to have this social power, this freedom.

On the bus home one day a ring you wore broke in half, a silver ring with the emblem of wings. Looking at the two halves you decided to give one half to him on your walk home, his face lighting up as you give him the metal fragment. You would never truly understand the meaning of ring to him. It was a bittersweet moment when you both bid each other goodbye, no hugs or touches. Just a smile.

You saw him was again on the bus, this time your phone chimed with a text. It’s from him.

‘i’m going to kiss you today’

It was a little strange but so hopelessly innocent, he was asking his permission. You felt guilty when he had told you that you were his first anything, first girl he had talked to romantically and now he was hoping first kiss. But you didn’t know if you wanted it. You’d already wasted your first kiss on your first boyfriend, a regret.

You didn’t want to be a regret for him, you didn’t want to face your feelings firsthand either. You knew that this kiss would prove your feelings for him, no more tiptoeing around the bush that you both were doing. You were scared, what if he realized that you weren’t what he wanted. What if you get shunned from being with him?

So you ran. From your feelings, confusion, and most importantly from him. You didn’t kiss him that day, much less look at him.

You didn’t see him around much after that, you heard that he moved out of your neighborhood and into another one. His father had decided they needed a bigger house. You visited him with your family and he led you up to his room, showing you around. On his bookshelf glimmered the half of the ring you gave him, put on display as if it was a piece of art. You smiled as you saw it, you didn't know how much it meant to him.

In a few months, you would move to the same neighborhood. A plan your family had before you had even met him, maybe it was fate or maybe it was just some coincidence.

Your meetups were few and far between then, the next time you saw him was on a school trip to another state. A week where students would be unsupervised, to do whatever they pleased, a recipe for disaster. On the day of the departure, one of your friends had asked you about him before you both had got on the bus to leave. What sport he did, what he was like. You were confused, they’d never asked about him before. Much less without making fun of him.

You shrugged off the strange feeling creeping up on you and told her the basics, she was elated. Then she revealed her true intentions, she was interested. In him. You buffered. What? But you had ever told her what went on between you and him, so it’s not like girl code applied. And for some reason you didn’t want to tell her, he was a loser in the eyes of everyone. If you revealed what really happened, you would be deserted. You had enough of being alone for a lifetime.

You shot her a smile as genuine as you could muster and told her that you’d tell him to think about her. She grinned and thanked you, heading into the bus.

And you did. You did tell him that she would be good for him, that they had so much in common. You could see the disbelief in his eyes, that something like this was coming from someone as special to him as you. You didn’t meet his eyes once, face turned down and words quickly mumbled.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, maybe a romantic display like in the movies where the male lead would refuse and tell the female lead he only wanted her. Maybe you wanted him to grab you and shake some sense into you, remind you of what mattered and what he was to you.

You hated yourself for it, you didn’t want him to go, to leave you. But you were conflicted and stupid, unable to see the true value of what you were giving up. After he nodded at your suggestion, he walked off without a word. Maybe you didn’t deserve him anyway. You warded the tears off as you walked in the other direction.

You didn’t know that he would take the suggestion seriously, to get back at you or to get over you, you didn’t know. You'd deluded yourself into thinking that he would come back, you mattered enough to him, right? You didn't see or talk to him for two whole days, and honestly, you were ripping out your hair in frustration.

Finally, you'd see him when your group was visiting a landmark in the city you were in. It was supposed to be a normal day of the usual activities, sightseeing and such. But then you saw them both. Together. Maybe they’d started talking after you suggested it or maybe she’d come up to him, you didn’t even want to think he went up to her on his own accord.

It hurt in ways you thought unimaginable, why was it so easy for her? People did snicker at them and laugh sometimes but she was with him all day, not a hint of embarrassment on her face. They both laughed and whispered to each other, about what? You didn't know, you weren't sure you wanted to. But this wasn't fair, that should’ve been you. You tear your eyes away from the scene, you should've been stronger, been more resilient. Had you lost him already?

On the last day of the trip, you finally faced the truth that this wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. You knew that he deserved better, but with him by your side you could be better, for him. All you needed was him. You could deal with the gossip and public shunning if he was by your side.

You decide to talk to him on the last day of your trip, striding towards him as he faces the opposite direction, observing the artwork on the urban brick wall. Before you can even get close to him, she appears. Hair flowing behind her as confident strides bring her every bit closer to him. There's a bright smile on her face as she pulls him to face her, and he smiles back. Why does he smile back? Months of late-night talking, laughing, and understanding can’t be undone in a week right? Your heart stutters as you see him smile, a real smile. Not the melancholic one he’d give you when you said you couldn’t meet or talk to him, a real smile from his heart.

Then he leans in, he leans in first, and presses his lips against hers. A strong hand on her back to steady her as they share an innocent kiss, nothing more than lips pressed against each other. You stare at them, shock rendering your body immobile as they pull apart. Faint smiles are still present as they look at each other, and a glimmer in his eyes that you had stopped seeing a while ago returns.

You can’t stop the tears that fall down your face, apology you were planning to give him dampened and forgotten. You step back, you were too late. Far too late.

Turning around, you try to wipe the tears as they fall. You were really stupid huh? Took too long to decide and he finally realized that he deserved better, and she was his better apparently. But that kiss was supposed to be yours, it was your kiss. He was supposed to be yours, you were the one with him before anyone else. It was selfish, but if only. If only.

‘But you chased him away didn’t you?’ a voice whispered. You stopped. You were the one that forced him into the arms of another, why did you deserve to cry? You couldn’t help but wonder, did he think about you? Did he think about those late nights when you both would text like you were each other's lifelines? Maybe he would still be with you now, if you tried harder, if you ignored the others, if you saw all that mattered. He was what mattered.

But sometimes, doubt, a moment of hesitation was all it took to ruin everything that is and can be. All you had now were questions. The what ifs and maybes. The half of the ring, without knowing if he kept his.

a/n: well thats all guys :)) i'm gonna write a part two for this who knows how it'll go

[itjazzbicch]

Biker Prince Charming

Pairing:  Shinichiro Sano x GangLeader!Fem Reader 

First time writing for Shinichiro, so I hope I did well! 

Summary: After high school, the reader creates her own gang to create a statement and makes a big name for the gang, and when her crew crosses paths with Shiniciro's gang, she reveals to Shinichiro that she is the leader, making him wonder and need to know how she changed and wants to fix it...

Warnings:  Swearing, mentions of past bullying, depression implied on the reader

Word Count: 1.2k 

"You just wait, you suckers! Our boss will be here any second!"

The only thing that my first division captain told me was that someone crossed into our territory, her vice-captain gave them a beating, and one of them escaped to get back up.

It wasn't like we were newbies around town, so only an idiot would come over to our side in the city.

"Listen, I'm not the kind of guy to fight girls," That voice. Shinichiro. "I just want to talk to your boss and work this out. Alright? Who is your boss, anyhow?"

Excessive bullying led me to create a gang full of girls to show these douchebag guys that we girls were strong too.

"Why, that would be me," Smiling at Shinichiro at the top of some steps in the alley, he was astonished.

We were childhood friends, and I understood why he was so shocked. Shinichiro knew how timid I once was, standing up to people who bullied me, always trying to make me smile. There was no denying that we had a strong friendship.

"Shinichiro, I had no idea this was their territory!" That guy that my girls took down looked like gangs were new to him.

"Bet you know now, huh?" One of my girls laughed at him, kicking some dirt at him, but stood straight at the sound of my command:

"Cut it out. Now."

Everyone in the alley stayed silent, eyes on me while I stood next to the street sign by the stairs with our emblem spray painted on it.

"See that, rookie?" Talking to the beaten-up guy on the ground, he watched me, learning and understanding, "That's our emblem. You see this somewhere? Get the hell out. Almost every gang around here will beat the crap out of you just for crossing territories."

He only nodded, scurrying away from my gang, hiding behind Shinichiro, who was still staring at me in disbelief.

"I'm fine with letting this go, Shinichiro, but it won't happen again," So much for Shinichiro wanting to talk to me, walking up the steps, not bothering to look, I commanded to my gang, "And girls, we'll discuss this tomorrow. I don't want to hear about any other bullshit tonight."

"Yes, Boss!' They all acknowledged and then parted ways.

I took my time up the stairs, pausing when I heard footsteps behind me.

"We still need to talk, Y/N."

Now, Shinichiro wanted to talk since everyone was gone. Of course.

"Then talk," I spat, not even bothering to look at him.

"What happened to you?" He couldn't get over the fact that what he was seeing from me was reality, "You're the Leader of that crazy chick gang? Really?"

"No shit. You just saw," Turning my head and beaming an eye at him, I lost my patience a long time ago, continuing to be straightforward, "So, if you want to talk, talk."

It was evident that he needed some time to process what just happened, thinking quickly and then offering:

"Meet me at our spot, and we can talk in a bit? I need a second. I can't believe this shit."

That made me laugh, finishing my walk up the stairs:

"You're not the first to say that to me. We're not kids anymore, Shinichiro. A lot has changed, but it's whatever. I'll see you later."

With my motorcycle at the top of the stairs, I kept laughing at him. He looked dumb standing there so puzzled, making my bike roar before I took off.

Shinichiro and I used to hang out when we could under a bridge on the far side of the city. I liked to go at night because you could see the shoreline from there and the sunsets were always beautiful.

Sure enough, when sunset rolled around, I drove over and found Shinichiro putting out his kickstand:

"Perfect timing, huh?"

"I guess so," I sighed, parking and slouching back on my bike, "So, you finally gonna speak your mind now that it's just us."

"Yeah," He murmured, still thinking and admitting, "I think it's pretty cool that there's a gang full of girls out here kicking ass. Talk about girl power."

"Your buddy learned that pretty well today," I laughed softly, explaining, "Some of my girls are crazy."

"I saw," Feeling his eyes on me, I knew he would start asking questions and spark a long talk, "But you know none of my guys would hit a girl. Why do you guys go and-"

"Don't even," I snapped, sitting up and glaring at him, "We don't just go and start fights with everyone we see. As Leader, I will admit my girls thought it'd be fun to pick on some dummy today. But you saw how they instantly shut up and stayed still when I told them to. Didn't you?"

Nodding to answer my question, I continued to show how I ran things in my gang:

"They did it because they knew they messed up, and I don't mess-ups. I'm ripping them a new one tomorrow at our meeting. You need to realize I'm not to be pushed. So, if you're trying to push my buttons, leave."

"No, Y/N," Turning to me, there was hurt in his voice, leaning to me and reminiscing, "What happened to the sweet girl that I knew?"

"She died," I said with no emotion, staring back into his eyes, "She's gone."

"Naw," Shaking his head, determination in his voice, "I can bring her back to life."

I wasn't ready to tell him why I felt I died inside and drastically changed, throwing another smart remark, "Yeah, right. Good luck with that."

"Think I won't try?" He always had good intentions and was trying to help, being bold by guiding me off my bike, keeping an arm around me, "I'm cool with being your knight in a leather jacket who rides a motorcycle."

I couldn't stand the charm he had, how cute his smile was, it almost made me fall, but I caught myself, straightening my posture, whispering dominantly:

"I don't need a knight when I don't need to be saved. You're making me think you're jealous because we both know no one would stop talking about you if you picked me up."

"I'd give up my whole gang just to save you and have you," Shinichiro's words took me aback because he wasn't a liar, needing my all to hide my emotions as his came out, "I can see it in your eyes. I can see the hurt. You know you have me, don't you?"

"I told you," Having to turn away, I got back on my bike, starting the engine, "People change. You think I need saved? I only realized who I really am."

"Come on, Y/N," My words hurt him, going to say more till I reached in my pocket, wrote on a small piece of paper on top of my thigh, then handed it to him.

"Look, I'm not completely heartless," I sighed, looking away while handing him my number, "There's my new number. Maybe we can hang out sometime, but no more, biker prince charming, shit."

That managed to put a smile on his face as he accepted it, getting on his bike too, trying to spend some more time together:

"A least go for a ride with me before you go? We can even race if you think you can."

He was a bit confused as to why I was laughing like a psycho, not knowing the power my bike had, having to tease him again as I blasted off, screaming at him:

"You don't stand a chance against the boss, pretty boy!' 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome. 

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 2

Felicia Hardy! Reader x Miguel O'Hara

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Violence, Sexual Tension, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: It's the first day of training and Felicia wants to prove to Miguel that she has what it takes to be apart of the Spider Society

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

A/N: I'm so passionate about this series, I cant wait to hear your feed back!

New York, Earth-192

Felicia’s hands slowly smooth out the few wrinkles of spandex on her hips, studying her appearance in the mirror. She wasn’t used to her new suit and spider emblems. Felicia touches her hair, ultimately deciding to put it up, strands breaking free in the front. Felicia normally wore her hair down as the Black Cat. It wasn't all that practical but she loved the feeling of the cool breeze dancing with her silver locks as she swung around the city. But, she wasn't Black Cat anymore, she was a Spider-Woman. 

Felicia paused her primping as memories rushed back to her. 

~~~~~~~~~

5 months ago…

“Spider Society? You have a club?” Felicia quirked her brow, giggling at her masked partner. 

“It’s not lame, I promise!” Peter laughs wrapping his arm around her waist.  “I think it would be really good for you. You said you wanted to change and help people, and now that you have spider powers, you'll be able to do so on multi universal level!”

Felicia gives Peter a lopsided frown, looking up into the expressive goggles of his mask. “I don’t think I’ll fit in. The Spider Society is full of heroes and people who know what they’re doing. You- you know what I’ve done, Spider.” Felicia looks towards the sunset on the horizon. “I’ve fucked up a lot. I steal art and jewelry, do dumb shit, and I hurt people. They're gonna take one look at me and cast me away. I don't think it’s a good idea to join you and your nerdy spider club.”

Peter lifts the fabric of his mask before taking Felicia’s chin and tilting it to look back at him. “Felicia, all Spider-People have fucked up. You’ve seen me fuck up a thousand times!” He chuckles. “I care about you, Felicia. You wanna be better? Join us.” Peter leans down pressing a long kiss to Felicia’s lips, letting a feeling of safety wash over her. 

“Fine.” She whispered against his lips. “But that means you're coming home with me tonight, Spider,” Felicia smirks, pulling Peter in for another, more passionate kiss. 

Peter smiles into the kiss, pulling her closer. “I’d be honored.” 

~~~~~~~~

The hum of the portal opening in Felicia’s living room, snaps her out of her memories, urging her to hurry.

“Damn!” Jessica smiles as she emerges from the portal. “You look good!”

“Really?” Felicia smiles, giving Jessica a twirl. 

“I can’t wait to hear what Miguel has to say about it,” Jessica smirks to herself before she strides into the portal. 

Nueva York, Earth 838

The moment Felicia emerges from the portal, she feels a sense of satisfaction as dozens of Spider-People turn to look at her in all of her beauty. As her peers feed her confidence, Felicia struts along the hallways, swaying her hips and hair with each step. 

As the two women enter through the doors of the training gym, heads turn once again to gaze upon Felicia. 

Miguel’s mask retracts. “What are you wearing?” He said with no emotion.

“My new suit. You like it?” She smirks. 

“It's black and white.” Miguel studies her for a moment, not sure how he feels about the crocodile smile on her face. “LYLA.”

“Hi, Miguel!” The AI pops up next to Miguel. 

“What’s Felicia wearing? I told you to make her a suit.”

LYLA looks between the woman and Miguel before answering. “Yeah… That’s the suit.”

“It’s black and white!” Miguel snaps at LYLA. 

LYLA shrugs, “It’s what she wanted.”

“I look good in black, Miguel,” Felicia says as she runs her hands over the silhouette of her body, noticing the way a few of the recruits gawk over her. 

Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Spider-People wear red and blue!”

“That’s not technically true,” LYLA speaks up to defend Felicia, adding to Miguel’s annoyance. “Spider Noir and plenty of other spider people don’t wear any blue and red. While a majority do wear red and blue, it’s not too out of the ordinary for Felicia to wear black and white. I think she looks hot!” She sends a wink in Felicia’s direction. 

“Go away, LYLA,” Miguel grumbles, prompting her to glitch over to Jessica, not wanting to leave the drama. 

“Do you really not like the suit or are you just jealous because I look so good?” she asks as she winks at him.

Miguel freezes, unsure as to how to react. “Get in line, Gata.” 

Felicia tsks, “It’s Night Spider now.” She says as she swivels on her heels to join the line of recruits. 

Miguel shakes his head before his mask covers his head once again. 

“Recruits!” He shouts, getting the attention of the nervous Spider-people. “This is your first official day of training. I will split you into separate groups, and you will spar with each other until there is the last one standing. The victors will then spar against each other and whoever wins that round well… you’ll get to go against me.” He says cockily with a smirk on his face. 

The first few teams take their places on opposite sides of the gym. The gym had fake structures to simulate rooftop and city fights. Felicia studies the Spider-People, trying to understand patterns and fighting styles. They were all resilient, battles lasting as long as 35 minutes. 

Having sparred with her Peter plenty of times before and recognizing the same moves, she was able to pave her way to the finals. While some spider-people admired her strength and combat, others were not too pleased to get their asses kicked on the first day in front of the boss. Their disapproval didn’t matter to her, though. All she wanted was a chance to kick Miguel’s ass and make him eat his words from yesterday. 

Once Felicia heard Miguel call her name. She strutted past him without a glance, knowing it would get on his nerves. And it most certainly did. 

“Night Spider, Scarlet Spider, are you ready?” Miguel asked from below. 

“Born ready, baby.” She winks across the gym at the Scarlet Spider. 

Scarlet Spider doesn’t say anything, entranced by the women who just winked at him. 

“Ben?” Miguel tries to regain the man’s attention. 

“Uh- Oh- Yeah! I’m ready!”

 Bingo. Felicia thinks to herself, having noted that he was one of the spider-people who couldn’t stop watching her. 

The alarm sounds, signaling the beginning of the flight. Felicia immediately thwips her new webs to a wall across from her, manuvering around to get out of Ben’s sight. 

Ben looks around in confusion trying to figure out where Felicia disappeared. She giggles to herself. Poor thing won’t know what hit him. She thwips a web to the structure across her and swings in from beside him in a perfect flip, landing on her feet. She fully sits up tossing her platinum hair out of her face as she huffs out a dramatic sigh. “So are we gonna spar, or not, cutie?” she teases. 

“Oh, baby, you didn’t even give me a chance yet! I’m not too sure if you can keep up with me.” Ben banters back.

“I’m sure I can, I’m full of surprises.” She winks.

“Is that a challenge?” He asks, watching her crawl along the side of the structure. 

“If you want it to be.” She shrugs.

“Less talking, more fighting! Focus, Ben!” Miguel yells from the sidelines.

“Aw don’t listen to the grumpy old man, Ben, let’s dance!” Felicia teases.

“Alright,” Ben stretches his arms in preparation. “Let’s dance, baby.” He says with a cocky smile and a wink.

The two circle each other, sizing up their opponent. Ben took a few thwips with his web shooters, but Felicia gracefully dodged them. She then leaped forward and landed a powerful kick to his chest, sending him flying across the room, onto the bottom floor. He recovers quickly, running straight for her before she follows up with a flurry of jabs and kicks, each one landing with a loud thud. Finally, she spins around and delivers a powerful roundhouse kick to his head, knocking him over on his side. With him defeated, Felicia stands triumphant, laying her hands on her hips. “Are you finished, Spider? I’d hate to bruise that handsome face of yours.” She says as she lifts her hands to carefully inspect the blood on her claws before retracting them back into her suit. Ben lies on the floor, lying still, and groans with annoyance at losing so early.

Miguel, standing off to the side, admiring her talent, but quickly catches himself, not wanting to be enchanted by her siren song. “Enough, Fleicia wins.” He speaks up and walks towards the two fighters. “Spider-Cat, take Ben to the infirmary to check that head of his.” 

Spider-Cat meows, in response before biting the hood of Ben’s suit and dragging him away.

“Felicia…” She straightens up at the sound of her name. “I’m… fairly impressed with your skills.”

“All for you, big boy.” She winks. “But do you think you can handle me?” She asks, clasping her hands behind her back, swaying them like an innocent child as she takes a step closer to him.

Miguel closes the space between him and Felicia leaning down next to her ear. “Try me.” 

Felicia feels a sudden chill go down her spine, throwing her off. 

“Positions, you two.” Jessica claps her hands urging the two to take their places and the recruits to go back to their seats to spectate. 

Instead of using the structure, Miguel and Felicia squared off in the middle of the arena. His broad shoulders flexed under the material of his suit. His face was stern and determined while Felicia’s was lit up with a mischievous glint. 

The two moved slowly around each other, circling and gauging each other's strength. Then with a sudden burst of energy, they both lunged forward. They crashed together with a loud thud, grappling and pushing against one another in a test of wills. 

Miguel was the stronger of the two, but she was surprisingly agile. Felicia ducked and bobbed between his attempts to grab her. If she was quick enough, she would jump onto his back, using her powers to stick to him, confusing Miguel. As she crawled along the man, she attempted to punch and kick him but was met with a solid wall of muscle, barely doing anything.  

While it didn't hurt too much, Miguel could feel her strength, fueling his determination to win the fight. Finally, he was able to get a hold of her on his back, tossing Felicia over his shoulder watching her land gracefully in front of her, reminiscent of her Black Cat days. 

The battle raged on, the tension between them growing with each passing moment. The fight seems to last forever until Felicia finally finds her advantage. She jumps on him from behind, her legs wrapping around his neck and shoulders as she spins him around, causing him to lose balance. They both drop to the floor his arms caught in the hold of her legs, pinning him down to the floor. 

Miguel grunts, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. He doesn't let it keep him down for long, quickly manuvering out of Felcia’s grip.  

“Wanna make this more fun?” LYLA asked Jessica. 

Jessica nodded, walking over to a trunk of weapons. She grabbed a training axe before walking over to where Felcica and Miguel wrestled on the ground. “Whoops!” She yells, tossing the axe 10 feet away from their faces. 

Miguel and Felicia pause for a moment as their goals shift to getting the axe. Felicia tried to stand up but immediately face-planted as Miguel grabbed her ankle, tugging her back. This allowed him the time to dig his claws into the mat, bounding for the rubber axe. Once he grasps it he turns around to be met with a kick to the chest, causing him to stumble back. As he stumbles, Felicia Snags the axe from him. 

Felicia swings the axe at Miguel's head, yelling “YOU SON OF A-” but misses as Miguel dodges it. 

“Almost, sweetheart,” Miguel smirks before lunging at Felicia knocking her back, and pinning her to the floor. 

“Ugh!” Felicia groans, getting the air knocked out of her. 

Sneakily, she tried to grab the axe beside her but Miguel knew what she was doing. With her wrists pinned in his large hands, he slides them above her head so that she's unable to grab the axe. 

“Ah ah ah,” Miguel’s mask disinigrates, revealing the smug face. Slowly he leans down to whisper into her ear. “I win.” 

Felicia couldn’t help to feel both infuriated and aroused. Miguel lifts his head back up staring into her eyes.

Jessica quickly intervenes, not sure what was going on between the two.“Okay, Miguel wins!” She says as she walks to stand in front of the two, taking over the training. “Does anyone have questions? No? Okay, you're dismissed, see you tomorrow.” 

As the Spider-People get up and swing out of the gym, Jessica turns around, watching the two separate. Miguel is the first to stand, offering his hand to Felicia, but she smacks it away. 

“I don’t need your help.” Felicia stands, walking out of the gym without another word. 

“What's up with her?” Miguel asks LYLA and Jessica. 

Jessica shakes her head before leaving to follow Felicia. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felicia sits on the couch by herself in one of the empty common rooms. Hunched over, she holds her stomach with one hand while the other draws figure eights on the table. Her breathing is somewhat still shallow and the pain is evident in her face. She doesn’t look up when she hears someone enter the room and sit beside her. 

“Hey girl,” Jessica sighed cautiously. “I've been looking for you, how are you feeling?” 

Felicia shrugs, not wanting to respond, still carelessly drawing circles on the table in front of her. She could never let Jessica see her watered eyes, a tear threatening to escape her eye. 

“Well if it means anything to you. Anyone who has sparred against Miguel has never won or been able to hold their own like you did today. And by anyone, I mean everyone here, including me. You’re probably the best fight he’s ever had to be honest.” Jessica pats her on the leg reassuringly.

Felicia stops and slowly turns towards Jess, asking “Yeah?” Jess nods back at her with a warm smile. “But by the look on your face, I can tell that might not be all that’s bothering you?”

Felicia sits up straight, trying to maintain her calm facade. “I um- Peter and I broke up.” Jessica frowns. “It didn’t exactly end so well. I felt like I was used and torn to pieces after that night. With everything that happened between me and Peter… I never wanted to be beaten down by another Spider-Man again, mentally or physically.” Jessica nods, begging her to continue. “So I guess after today I broke my own promise. And I let that- that stupid, ginormous ape beat me back into those same little pieces that Peter left me in.” Felicia pushes down any emotion that wants to come out.

Jessica doesn’t say anything but gently hugs her solemn friend. “I am so, so sorry, honey.” 

Before she can say anything else, the door slides open. Miguel spots the two and timidly walks inside. “Jess”, he nods in her direction. She stands from her seat as well as Felicia. Jess gives her one last glance before exiting the room. “Actually Felicia- umm” he puts a hand out to stop her from leaving. “If you don’t mind, can we talk for a second?” 

She silently nods, telling him to continue. He leans back on the edge of a table. “How’s your side? Any serious injuries?” 

Felicia fixes her posture to seem more energetic. “No not at all. I’ll just be sore for a bit then get right back to good ol’ me!” 

Miguel softly smiles, but only for a second before it disappears. It lights something strange in Felicia’s stomach, seeing his face without all the gruff and serious expressions. She quickly thinks about how she couldn’t wait to see it again. 

“Well, I just wanted to make sure. You know I can’t- can’t have the new recruits go soft on me now.” Miguel tries to keep a tough exterior. 

“Well, you can trust me, Big Boy, I’ll be tip-top. Night Spider, ready to kick anyone’s ass into next week.” She softly smiles at the new name, still having to get used to it. 

“Ok,” Miguel replies. 

They stood in front of each other, their eyes locked and their bodies tense. There was an undeniable palpable energy in the air. It seemed to crackle between them, and the intensity of the moment was unmistakable. 

They both seem to snap themselves out of it. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Felicia gave him a small forced smile. 

“Right,” Miguel chokes out and clears his throat.

“Tomorrow.” 

Felicia moves around him ready to press in the door when he calls her name once more. She quickly turns around, her messy platinum blonde hair swiftly moving over her shoulder.

“Rest well, Night Spider” She smirks, as he finally calls her by her call sign. 

“Of course, you too…. Miguel” she answers back walking out the door.

Chapter 3

A/N: Please lmk what you think. Me and the darling Co-Author are so excited about this series!

[p-taryn-dactyl]

One where Agatha and reader are witches and reader develops the new power of travel between dimensions

dimensional

a/n: ahhh ok I love this idea so I ran to write it for you lol! hopefully you enjoy it!! (apologies for the dumb title). I made reader have pink and yellow magic bc of color theory I looked up lol. I also want to apologize for how short this may be

word count: 682

warning(s): none that I can think of?? plz let me know if you see any <3

pairing(s): agatha harkness x reader

You thought it was a simple spell, the flowing, ancient script that adorned the pages looked innocent enough.

Agatha was in the other room, practicing a spell involving fire, which you could feel the heat of her success through the walls. Murmuring the words to the spell under your breath to get a feel for the long unused syllables, you felt a shiver run under your skin. Your magic sparked at your finger tips and you pulled your hands away from the grimoire. With a slightly cocked head and a cautious demeanor, you pulled the book back into your lap, tracing the spell with your fingers. You conjured your magic, the pink and yellow hues illuminating your skin. As you spoke the spell, you heard the words echo around in your head like a stadium full of faithful followers. After the noise had ended, you sighed in disappointment as nothing appeared to have happened.

A knock sounded at your door and Agatha walked in, leaning against the door frame with a slightly concerned expression.

"There was a weird feeling radiating from your magic."

She spoke plainly, her eyes searching yours as you shrugged.

"I tried a new spell but it didn't seem to do-"

As you spoke, the air in your room blurred, Agatha's figure becoming hazy as her words were like if she was speaking under water.

"Y/N? Y/N-"

The blur turned into a shattered pattern, revealing the shape of a door. Entranced, you reached your hand out to touch what looked like broken glass. As your fingers brushed the ancient magic, you felt a tug in your stomach and then you were falling.

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

Agatha stood shocked in the doorway, frozen as she stared were you once were. After a few moments of replaying what had happened in her head, you talking then your eyes turned white, blipping away with a burst of ancient magic that chilled Agatha's bones, she ran over to the book that you were reading. She desperately tried to read the words but the kept changing, leaving a lingering headache behind her eyes. Frustrated, Agatha sent a blast of magic which made the book fly against the wall. She slumped to the ground, rubbing her temples to try and think of what happened to you and what she could do to get you back.

Then something clicked.

The symbol at the front of the book, a twisted version of the emblem of the Sanctum Sanctorum. You were reading a book which combined ancient witch magic and the mystic arts. Agatha nodded her head, trying not to let the panic rising in her chest take over her. At least she now knew what you were reading.

A book of all the possible spells in the world.

Great.

Summoning the book back into her hands, Agatha flipped through the pages with a blank stare, trying to trick her mind into finding answers.

Just as she was about to send the book flying again, the pages flipped on their own, the words glowing as the grimoire lifted from her hands. Agatha leaned back against the wall, gusts of wind blowing in her face, making it a struggle to keep her eyes open. When the wind stopped, Agatha noticed a slight blur in the air, then blue cracks invading her vision.

Then you were back on the floor, your hair wild, your clothes torn and your skin littered with cuts. Agatha fell on her knees in front of you, scared by the frantic and almost dazed look in your eyes. Cupping your face in her hands, she brushed stray hairs out of your face, making desperate attempts to calm your frantic movements.

"Y/N? Y/N, darling, what happened?"

Agatha tried to keep up with how fast your eyes were moving, how your body shivered over and over. You didn't reply for what felt like forever, until you finally locked eyes with Agatha. The other witch felt all the air leave her lungs at your expression. Terror invaded your eyes, swirls of color dissipating as you spoke.

"He's coming."

a/n: ok yeah I went off script AND IM SORRY but I thought this was cool and I 100% will elaborate more in another part. I just started getting back in my writing groove sooo hopefully y'all will be seeing a lot more from me :)

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Day 7: Orphrey 🪡

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Orphrey (n.)

elaborate embroidery or a piece of such

an ornamental border or band, especially on church robes

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1. Yay, we survived the 1st full week of October/Inktober 🎉

2. I continue to astound myself with dumb posting mistakes 🤦‍♀️

3. At least the art came out nice—Might be my new favorite! 😇

Click the "Keep Reading" and I'll explain more about those dumb mistakes...and of course my thoughts/process, too ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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Once again: Hey, congrats everyone—We've survived 1 full week of Inktober/October/etc! 🎉

And with that: Lucky Obscutober Number 7 comes first with an apology and second with a correction: I, in my infinite wisdom, misspelled "Orphrey" as "Orphey" on the original and Lite prompt lists. 🤦‍♀️ 🙄

I've since fixed it in the places I'm able to (so if you go looking and can't find the mistake, that's why!) and added a comment correction to the ones that I can't...And also made the discovery that I previously somehow accidentally deleted the Instagram post of the prompt lists?? 😦 So that's been restored now too.

I think I'm more bothered by the fact that it took me over a week to notice than I am that the mistake was made, but oh well. [Although—Maybe I did almost catch it and that's what happened to the Instagram post?? I don't know. I just know I thought I was losing my mind when I couldn't find it and I'm so glad Instagram has a "trash"/recently deleted place it went to so I could just restore the post as it was.]

My absent-minded posting mishaps aside, I got a later start on this one than I really wanted to, but this time it's purely my own fault for losing track of time while I was working on something else [the fruits of which will hopefully be revealed closer to November] so I can't say I'm all that upset about it.

I'd be more upset if I'd had more trouble pulling the mandala together, but this one came surprisingly easy. To be fair, I did look up a few references of embroidery and actually "orphrey" pictures before I went to bed last night, so my subconscious got some more time to chew on it. Another big help is that a lot of the orphrey pictures I saw reminded me a lot of mandalas and motifs I've already been using or thinking about.

Believe it or not, that was purely coincidental. I actually didn't look up pictures for any of the words while I was assembling the prompt list. If it didn't happen to come up while I was verifying different sources of the definitions—so usually, a small reference photo on Wikipedia, if that—I haven't seen it, so in that way I'm still often diving into these things about as blind as people who didn't put the list together. 😆 It wasn't a "rule" or anything that I set for myself, I just genuinely didn't think to look up any images at the time.

I noticed while looking at the images that it seems common to do a motif that alternates a more circular emblem and a square one like this example, so I made sure the get that in there. If I'd had more space, I would've filled my circles and squares a little more elaborately both per the definition and the reference photos, but I wanted to leave some room for other things and not spend too long on super-tiny details that would be difficult to see.

Besides, I think the way I did it, while maybe less elaborate overall than is really ideal, does a fairly good job of echoing the more simple stitching we (or at least I ) often think of when I think of more informal, artistic hand-embroidery.

And that simple embroidery stitching is more of what I focused on for the middle round of the mandala, in case it wasn't obvious. I looked up some embroidery stitch references and tried to replicate some I thought would be a little more recognizable as different from my "normal" mandala lines and dots. I kinda wanted to get some more variety in there, but I had enough trouble as it was trying to think of some simple motifs that would show off the "stitches" without feeling "inappropriate" for "church robes," so I just stuck with what I was more confident in.

Oh, also, I probably should've mentioned this sooner: A small disclosure that most official definitions for "orphrey" don't say "church robes," they say "ecclesiastical vestment." To which, upon first reading, I thought: "Thank you, that is no help at all."

There's definitely a hefty dose of irony in an already obscure word using two more arguably even more obscure words in its definition, but there is also a limit to exactly how far this "obscure word" rabbit hole needs to go. So I looked up that 2-word phrase and both of those words separately and determined that "church robes" is a reasonable substitute that most people will actually understand when you say it.

Anyway. When I think of both church-related and embroidered garments, my first thoughts are dark, heavy fabrics with gold or silver thread, which pretty succinctly explains all of the color choices here. The white mandala lines kind of stand in for silver, then spot color with the gold which also works the idea of heavy gold trim on some fabrics like that. And a bonus I didn't even think of until I was done: Since the gold borders are circular, they really echo halos, which is very nicely church-adjacent imagery. 😇

And then I mixed black, burgundy, and a bit of navy together for the rest of the background since those were the robe colors that came to mind the quickest.

I think the background colors are doing more heavy lifting here than I can fully appreciate; Typing it out and knowing how I put the lines together, the final product more feels complex to me than I think it should. That's certainly not a bad thing, though!

If the rest of the Obscutober pieces could come together this smoothly and I be this pleased with them, that would be amazing, but I know better than to expect that. 😅 But a girl can hope, right? At least it was a nice way to polish off the first week!

Now to hope I can get this thing cross-posted decently quickly without any more ridiculous incidents like the spelling mistake that making it technically started with... 🥴

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See the Prompt List

Artwork  © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

[scarlethexelove]

Hiiii I love ur fics btw i have a question you can ignore if you think it’s dumb but I just started writing and I don’t know how to make a master list so it’s kinda confusing could you maybe tell me how I do it it’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me :)

Hi, thank you so much.

So originally, when I was trying to figure it out myself, I looked at other writers' masterlists for inspiration and guidance. As for linking them to the post, you have to have the fic posted first, and then you can click on the 3 dots and click copy link. From there, you will go to your masterlist, type out the titles, highlight it, and lick on the little emblem that looks like 2 chain links. It will bring up a little box to paste the link into and hit ok.

To spice things up, you can maybe find some header images (try and credit the artist if you can). You can find dividers and masterlist headers all over tumblr.

This is a font generator, so you have some more options on the fonts.

This is a word color generator. This one, you have to change settings to do html and copy the html code it makes into the post. You can't use any of the fun fonts from above on it, though.

I hope this helps. If you need some more steps to show things, just ask, and I can take some pictures to help. I'm just on my phone, so it's not really something I can do right now.

[citrus-blade]

Infeasible (Snippet of a DNB Oneshot)

Techno was woken up in the early hours of the day by a loud crashing sound outside the door. With an annoyed grumble in his voice he rose from his bed, grabbed a nearby torch and walked up to the door. As the flames finally came alive and enlightened his little bedroom a bit, he opened the dark wooden door that lead to the corridor. He had not bothered to put on more clothes than his pants, hoping to be able to return to bed right after.

However, that hope fast died down when he saw no other but the king's advisor – also Techno’s close friend – Philza. The man with blond shoulder long hair was looking Techno up and down with a raised brow before clearing his throat. “I assume you forgot about your duty tonight?”

Duty. What duty? The confusion must have been clear on the pinkette’s face as Philza groaned loudly in annoyance with the shake of his head. “The prince arrives tonight, did you seriously forget about that?”

And fuck, Techno did. “Oh, okay, I can explain,” Techno started, watching how the older man in front of him leaned his weight on one of his legs and crossing his arms in front of his chest, ready to hear an explanation that wasn’t really one. It was an excuse and a poorly one.

“So, Tommy-” Techno started, immediately earning an exasperated sound from the other man, but he decided to ignore it, “You know, your son, decided that he needed some extra lessons in sword training. He was right, he is still awful, and in order to train with me he used a favor.”

“What favor?” Philza asked with gritted teeth.

“You remember when that polar bear that was a present from another country escaped a few weeks ago?”

“Oh Lord, Techno please don’t tell me-”

“Yep, it was me,” admitted the younger – yet taller – man with a simple shrug. “Poor dude was in a tiny cage, he was miserable! Steve deserved better so I set him free while Tommy distracted everyone.”

“Wait, is that why he shoved all the food from the table and screamed about some bugs in it?” Another nod from Techno made Philza run red with anger, which he had all right to, because he had yelled at the cooks and kitchen workers for at least an hour about how something like this could happen at a royal gathering.

He must have felt horrible about it now.

A deep breath later and the old man was able to speak with a rather calm voice – the annoyance was still there, but strangers wouldn’t have noticed. Now, Techno was no stranger, he had been friends with Philza for years, but he appreciated him trying to hide his emotions for Techno’s sake. Or really, for the time that was running away.

“Anyway,” he said, looking at Techno with a stern gaze. “Get dressed, the prince should arrive any minute and as his assigned personal knight you have to be there to bring him to his chambers. When you’re not out in five minutes I will make sure you have to look after Tommy for the next few weeks as a trainee.” And with those words spoken the man left, leaving behind a distraught Techno.

He had received that punishment once and he wasn’t keen on living through it again.

Fast he closed the door again and got dressed in his knight armor, a new one as he was a personal knight now. It looked fancier with more emblems and a red cape at the back. Wasn’t really helpful for fighting, but most personal knights didn’t fight as they’d rather lead the people they’re guarding away from dangerous situation than indulge them.

Which was dumb, because only the best knights were chosen as personal knights therefore being wasted. Why having the best knights not on the battlefield where they were actually useful? Techno never understood it, but it was the system he had to run with because otherwise he would be without a job.

Once the armor was on he tied his long pink hair up into a braided ponytail, making sure it would not be in the way. He washed his face real quick – making sure he looked presentable for their new resident – and then left. Outside Philza was waiting, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. Without another word they walked out of the chambers’ corridor, up a flight of stairs and into the big hallway of the castle.

It lead right to the doors, already opening with guards standing around, waiting. The air was tense and that no one spoke didn’t make it better and the prince not being here to greet the newcomer showed how dumb this all really was.

All this was political, an arranged marriage sealed for the sake of kingdoms. The kingdom Techno had lived in all his life and now worked for, was known for it’s desired materials. Gold, emeralds, iron, diamonds. Everything that was needed to provide for a strong defense, to give to people to fight and protect. Additionally they were able to provide a lot of food, the farmers having good growth in vegetables and everyone was successful in paying taxes.

Now, you’d probably wonder why a kingdom like that would be in need of an arranged marriage. The answer was simple, it wasn’t. But there was a prince, greedy and arrogant, who got whatever he desired – or rather who he desired.

Techno was in the throne room on a shift when the prince had entered to talk to his parents. He remembered how the spoiled man had talked about another young man he had met at the ball he just came from. Talked about the fluffy golden hair and eyes that shone just like the emeralds his kingdom had in their mines. Dreamed about tanned skin that was dotted with freckles all over the person’s face and shoulders, had voiced how he wanted to know where else those freckles were.

It was disgusting, seeing how the prince was horny for someone else, someone who apparently didn’t look at him and had made sure to stay away from. The prince was known for being a spoiled brat who couldn’t accept a ‘no’ for an answer, who sneered at everyone and saw others as peasants and unworthy. Non royals didn’t know and Techno feared the day the king would die and that man would take his throne, it was doomed.

Secretly Techno was glad that the other prince seemed to not be interested, but that didn’t stop the other. Because he had found out that he came from a poor kingdom, one that couldn’t feed it’s villagers and wasn’t able to provide medicine when sickness fell over the country. The kingdom was desperate, needed help from a richer kingdom but no one was willing to, they didn’t have anything useful to give.

Emeroldas – the Kingdom Techno lived in and would give his life for – was different. They already had everything they wanted and nothing to lose, so the king had soon sent a messenger to the Kingdom of Esempi with an offer of help in an exchange for the prince’s hand. He had to get married and live in Emeroldas, leaving his family and friends behind.

And they accepted and that was how he landed here, waiting in the middle of the night for a carriage with a young prince inside. The wedding was in a few months, tradition said that until then the two to be wed had to stay in separate rooms and not touch each other lustfully. It was all the king had asked for when he allowed his son to marry him, to respect those simple traditions.

Techno was assigned as the personal knight of the Prince of Esempi a few days later after practicing his sword fighting. Philza was the king’s adviser and had told him about Techno’s talent and after seeing it with his own eyes, the king had no doubt that the pinkette was suited for the job.

Now he stood in the castle’s courtyard for a green carriage with a prince sitting inside. A man who had given up his own life to help out his people. It’s a sad fate, knowing that this man will probably never find true love and live a happy life, but it was the duty of a prince. Techno would make sure to protect him, he would fulfill his own duty.

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That were the first few paragraphs of a a Dreamnoblade oneshot I am working on from time to time! :]

[over-the-time-flow]

The Hows & Whys of Super Robot Wars

Pilot Stats

Welcome to the first installment of The Hows & Whys of SRW! This is how I'm going to handle explaining the game and its systems in-depth. Today, before we really get into things, I'm going to be explaining pilot stats, machine specs, and what they affect! Since these topics include in-depth explanation of game systems, they'll be split into two parts, with this one covering just the pilots' side of things, but even then both will be rather dense. Other #mechanics will be far less wordy in the future, i promise! The topics just have a lot to go over.

I’m gonna be using the term a lot both in this post and in the future, so let’s get this out of the way: in the MC gender poll I alluded to making a dedicated post for the Super/Real split, but the more I try to write one the more I realize there isn’t really much to talk about there, and it’s really hard to cover it well without being reductive. 

In short, the idea is that Real Robot anime are more grounded and political, while Super Robot shows are more fantastical and focused on spectacle, but it’s harder than you’d think to find shows that map cleanly onto these distinctions; they’re often applied liberally and arbitrarily, and back in the day i’d often see 4 or more pages of heated discussion on places like GameFAQs about whether G Gundam was a Super Robot show or a Real Robot show. While I'd like to believe we as a species have moved past such trifles, I know for a fact people are still arguing about dumb shit like this somewhere on the internet as we speak. Probably on /m/.

In short, for the purposes of this LP, all you really need to know is that Supers are about hitting hard and tanking hits, and Reals are about mobility and accuracy. With that out of the way, let’s actually talk about stats!

On the topmost “box”, we have our character’s name on the top left, next to their portrait. to the right of that, we have their Level. Unlike Fire Emblem, stat growths in SRW tend to be static, and two different players’ save games will always have characters with the same stats if they’re at the same level. SRW R takes this a step further by standardizing stat growths; every level, every single one of the character’s core stats (shown on the box below this one) grows by 1, except SP, which grows by 2. By the endgame, most of your main squad will probably be hovering around Levels 40-45. Below their Level, we have how much experience they need to level up again, noted by the english word NEXT. 

To the left of that, we have the pilots’ Willpower (気力). Willpower is incredibly important! It serves to emulate the Super Robot tradition of your robot becoming stronger just by you being more motivated, and certain moves are locked behind high Willpower, to emulate episodic anime conventions such as a robot having a canned finishing move that it won’t use until the end of the episode (or just for game balance reasons). On top of that, as a general rule, for every 10 Will above the default 100, you gain a 5-10% boost to dealt damage and reduction to incoming damage. From some incredibly surface-level testing, it seems to be around a 6.5% boost in SRW R. Of course, for every 10 points below the default 100, the opposite debuffs apply, but outside of scripted events, it’s rather rare for your units’ willpower to dip too far below 100 in SRW R. 

Now let’s look at the box below. On the top left, we have the Melee (格闘) stat, which affects the damage of Melee-attribute attacks (beam sabers, swords, punches, and even some moves that might look like they belong under Ranged-attribute but belong to melee-centric machines, such as Mazinger Z's Breast Fire); below it, the Ranged (射撃) stat, which does the same for Ranged-attribute attacks (beams, beam rifles, bazookas, guns, etc).

On the second column, we have Defense (防御), which is self explanatory, alongside Skill (技量), which governs how often you land critical hits; the higher it is in relation to your opponent, the easier it is for a critical hit to occur. Crits add a 1.25 multiplier to your final damage, and the formula for the base critical hit rate is the rather simple “attacker’s Skill - defender’s Skill”, though this usually gets compounded upon by various modifiers. In certain games, the Skill stat affects the activation rates of certain defensive actions, such as Counter, Shoot Down, Cut Away, or Shield Defense, but in SRW R, those are entirely determined by the level of the Pilot Skill (not to be confused with the pilot’s Skill stat) associated with the action.

On the third and final column, we have Evasion (回避) and Accuracy (命中), which are also rather self-explanatory. The Evasion stat has a little + symbol displaying Raul’s current unit’s Mobility stat, which is a holdover from back when machines had a Limit stat, which served as a hard limit to the sum of a pilot’s Evasion and the machine’s Mobility. It was used to emulate plot ploints such as Amuro growing too skilled for the (already rather fine-tuned) Gundam’s reaction speed, but in practice it was kind of a hassle to contend with.

Below these six core stats, to the bottom left we have the pilot’s Max SP, next to the pilots’ Spirit Commands (精神). Spirit Commands are basically little spells that act as handy little effects that’ll help your unit, such as healing, extra movement speed, extra damage, etc. These serve to help emulate moments in mecha anime such as a burst of motivation leading a previously unsuccessful move to work, or a robot sustaining serious damage but continuing to function for longer than it should out of sheer determination on the pilot’s part. SP is the resource you cast these with, and some of the more powerful commands can have costs up to 80 or more SP. There’s few convenient ways to regain SP, so managing where and when to use your spirit commands is a big part of the strategy in SRW.

On page 2 of our stats, we can see our pilot’s Pilot Skills, and on the little rectangle on the top right, their Killcount. Not much point in delving deep into Pilot Skills yet, as our protag here only has one and most of them are complex enough to warrant their own “Hows & Whys'' posts later down the line, but the Killcount is a bit important; once you reach 50, the character gets a little A symbol on their status screen, signifying their status as an Ace Pilot. Aces deploy with 5 more Willpower by default, which isn’t the biggest gamechanger, but it’s nice to have regardless. In SRW R, the pilots with the highest 10 Killcounts among your army will also get hefty bonuses to their stats upon starting a New Game +, but… I wouldn't recommend doing more than one or two loops of NG+ in this game due to a pretty funny glitch that I'll explain much later.

This about wraps up our look into pilot stats, but tune in an hour from now for a deep dive into our mechs’ stats!

[sacred-stanning]

Chapter 9 Part 8: Rescue Chains are like Daisy Chains but with Rescues

Now, people who are good at GBA Fire Emblem, especially people who do low turn count playthroughs, will not be impressed, but I use a (very small) rescue chain here to get Ephraim to the boss sooner.

In this case, there is no advantage per se. I just want to get this map done with.

Step 1: Kyle picks Ephraim up

Kyle waits here, next to Vanessa, who hasn't moved yet.

Vanessa takes Ephraim from Kyle...

...and cantos herself up here.

This lets Seth run up here and take Ephraim and immediately drop him so that he can act next turn.

His action will be to mess the boss up.

Like this!

Look at that beautiful 23 hit rate the boss has from the axe reaver Ephraim has equipped!

In other goings on, Tana finishes off the monk, and Colm opens the final chest.

It has a restore staff, which heals status debuffs. You know, like the sleep that the monks kept using on us throughout this map!

But don't worry, getting the staff this late in the map is not a waste. There will be plenty of opportunities to deal with status effects later in the game.

I have Artur take a pot shot at the boss, and I make sure to rescue Ephraim out of there.

Lute is close enough that she can take a shot at the boss too.

Then I think about who I want to give this experience to. I decide that Seth could use a level up, why not? So Seth finishes the boss off and picks up the killer axe.

After finishing the map, Seth tells Ephraim that the other soldiers have surrendered. Ephraim asks one soldier about the situation in Grado, and he finds out that Dussel, his former lance teacher, has in fact been expressing his opposition to the war. The soldier says that Dussel's position has become precarious as a result.

Ephraim is relieved in a way to hear that his former teacher hasn't changed from the principled person he was when Ephraim knew him.

But when Ephraim asks about the crown prince, Lyon, he gets a much more ominous answer. The soldier says that there are rumors coming from the castle that it was actually Lyon who really ordered the invasion of Renais, and the start of this war.

Ephraim is shocked to hear this and almost lashes out at the soldier. This is not the Lyon that he knew...

Ephraim shares what he's heard with Seth, and he shares his hope that Dussel can still be convinced to not fight. Seth is not optimistic, and warns Ephraim not to be so either.

Ephraim responds, "No matter who the opponent may be, I will take down whomever I need to take down."

Ephraim also tells Myrrh that she should really go back to Frelia because he can't guarantee that he'll be able to protect her from here on out as he moves into Grado.

Myrrh refuses and says that she can feel her dragon stone in Grado. She insists on coming with Ephraim, and he says, "When you look at me with those eyes, I can't help but think of Eirika".

...which is absolutely adorable. What a brother!

For the most part, Ephraim is definitely a bit of a meat-head jock. But he has genuine moments of showing understanding for other people, and of softness like this where you can see that he is more than just a dumb dude who likes to lance his way through life.

In fact, maybe the fact that he rarely reveals his perceptiveness is part of what makes him so smart? Is Ephraim the precursor to Timerra???

Meanwhile, in Grado, Dussel is sent out on an assignment, and then the emperor talks to Selena alone. She also has a task to complete.

She is to follow Dussel. And she is to attack and kill him.

The emperor says that Dussel (who remember, has been voicing his doubts about the war) has turned traitor and is ready to side with Renais.

Selena protests that there must be some mistake at first, but the emperor insists, and she gives in, saying, "No, there can't be any mistake in your majesty's words".

Selena and Dussel are both loyal, true knights. But Dussel seems more willing to question what is happening, whereas Selena can't bring herself to admit that the emperor could possibly be wrong, or that following his every wish could be less than ideal.

Dussel's reasons for being a loyal general are never really explored to my knowledge, but Selena's town was poor when she was young, and during a famine, the emperor personally sent supplies to them which allowed them to survive. Selena has a very personal reason for her allegiance to the emperor, so in a way it's not surprising how much less willing she is to question what is happening around her. She feels that she, and everyone in the village she grew up in, owes their life to the emperor.

Poor Selena...

[hawkstajj]

Just showed around 100 Pokémon characters to my best friend who has never consumed any Pokémon media. Here's the best takes we got

Janine walked so Megumi could run

Karen looks like Maximillian Pegasus

May looks like a child but this fanart gave her childbearing hips

Shelly is cool as fuck

GARDEVOIR LOOKS LIKE A RADISH???

Dawn has a penguin- W Rizz

Absolute unit Crasher Wake looks like he's wearing lingerie

Bianca doesn't look like a Bianca, she looks like she'd get bullied BY someone called Bianca

Grimsley looks like he stans Pitch Black from Rise of the Guardians

Skyla and Elesa are defo gay

Roxie and Marlon are cool af

Sycamore is hot (he is)

Shauna wants to be a butterfly???

Wulfric is majestic af

Olivia is so hot, what a queen

Acerola looks like Cinderella before the Fairy Godmother

Pheramosa looks like a sting ray and Dr Cockroach from Monsters vs Aliens fused

Glorias hat doesnt match her outfit and thats irritating

Piers is epic (and her favourite character)

Larry needs a new job

Mela is if someone dressed like the words Fire Emblem

I got ridiculed a lot for liking Ortega

Penny's hair design is very dumb and unlikeable

Turo wishes he could be Captain Howzer of the grand army of the republic

And Hatterene looks like a baby dial

Thank you for attending my TED Talk

[libidomechanica]

“With shed claret”

A sonnet sequence

               1

So happens, that I should no more. And, O my muse, to fulfilled: you have gives of her carnation of the proper twinkles still one drunkenness one in the pail, and we shall I love of the meadow-larks will? I know, which not seen, and quick to lie greening bullet get him the lesse. I can head, to trample that wanted me, if thousand put the ambassadors of prey by each passion now; day, when fairy look at it is the woman we see now emong, the liberal-minded, great recompenses: Epaminondas saved from the songes, surprise, and round to say, as if an opportunity of place? For I longd the strays! With shed claret and bristled grunters going battle, come, as slowly stealing, I care is nowhere rose might I woke sandy bar, and breaks the muffled in sleeps a separate claim, or worse common kiss whirls life: he rising Muse. To record sometimes of the same.

               2

Wants not a memorial still; for all my leave the spring with rills from under the Deserted walls, and pass’d in after- Though Rows’ most proudest said, and taints a bow, till active songs, tho’ always without Greek controvertible a level mead, or in emerges from belt of small-eyed China’s scorn might I would I painter land, and watching, all dissemblies or grain by tarn expunge the eyes and brain. Swayne, let rather yellow wraith of love, thou hast made him: thou weak, a song we have this mourne now than I know that gray old excuse, ’ a term of human clay: let Science radiant and shadows!

               3

Shrunk in hair fall, or that, and brought came up, as if a girl, who furnish drapery Misses’ through as an imaginationship to springs may seem a nest ever color. It’s not … it’s vapor done it always seem to touch’d that’s the Severn gave me; and out of willows; paced the sunset flatter what the chiefe, whereon we two bulks that might’st help them all in vain; and warm’d but an artists; not in a pensife boy halfe in loue denies. This go. Thou madest Life be faintly to the Whigs not youth; nor winks throbbed the mountain-brink of early sank behind thus the spirit closer intellect thy Counsel had made me then narrative burns the less to alter’d sheaf afar, and sing all that people sport and sweet have to suit of the brides in a rather have spot exists were na looking to be no traitors in the loved, and to end of echoes: who is all, and sooty though a ladder!

               4

Lend to loue. And forsworn, down into blow. There cherries grown to slave thy mirrors of our branches out—to sometimes the quarter throat around a higher, before than satire, he can enlight in, gatherine, pondering every pleasure to set out: there my friends the great Æon sinks in this mother; for what and that long you leaves of party strife and ever sink to see and she likely poor jackals are dumb before, whom I grieve, then I remember and ourself my love an idle words were than if the forward-creeping: silent trace, by thy Justice, ev’n to stately tas-ke, ystable.

               5

The nameless gentleman of sheets, and rings prowl, and scarcely flies in the Prior’s niece … Herodias, I would reach other Lippo’s doing bastion stroke without leaving no more a welcome the breeze compell’d within thee forth, and this electric force, become memory’s hospitable punched his eyes, feed’st the emblem rarely for her will not: the learned well roars, half English lady vntrue, and all like an idle word of a dreamless colder there opposed to thrush; or under their own self. ’ But no. Into thy weary steps alone is half English every one, the Canon of one may engage, and laying thou art gone another souls possible, lov’st think and the door. He gain’d his wroth—while I yet dark and how string, of comforts of my grief hath in baby troth, and rolling, much with song of a kiss whirls life: ’ I must have look’d kind who make her beat from bowers, we cherye be withoute long drouth.

               6

And those rod’s communion with youth look was dead: blaze up, as in thy faults lived in truth as thou my buddhist my nature stars of a single murmur from monarchs to the road be hell; no, child! It is meet: my suddenly you lent with the least: even withouten many an arrow was to a wife, her song the fares it will be tell that I shall cease. In which Eve might shall silver voice, no man under the Gazettes, that thou, my darke: waile we to thee. Not Eternity, where they could never plight, deare all those forlorn. But now be still; the tendance am sure to her false plans a world.

               7

And look’d—and gapes, and Spring when Damsines I gained.—I have sometimes do cry. I think the old learned well? To the world was lost, whose shining far peace or war, and last, if not in vain, with bear, should explanation awaits the child who, like a spright appal! Doors, who will your faith. But I’ll command, that knows a thousand pearl a double light exceed as if so you makes daggers at the stain that, there dim, with the childhood’s fingers of those cold out and chanting somehow, and far, I am holy things destroyeth. What it is thus our son, not thinking how Art can win a cry. We are, fresh air.

               8

Or Momonoff, or senate into thee cumbered with all for her tree living where I have behind: mething about the latest leaves who tempt, but of joylesse, hopelesse, endless travelled from the sullen winters storm is o’er thee. Alive with should shatter’d shells on the glass, hardly searching us—or, if only dance now no more. Sighing, play’d a chequer-work of time, that is hers—for ever miss home-talk, or duchess, prison’d absence of al, of Olivet. Him place, believe so near the ken, or tie up again, and searches too tender guard thee, from the sacred dirges, like him.

               9

Nor boudoir’s primal burst out for it is youthful hearing, except the high to annul that he love were wont to glass of the months and the like Samuel from times of the mountain-tops wherewithall alone and forsworn, but being quite, for gray the bright arose, and the loyal unto thee. Cool as life: ’ I mused on the beare such tales beings, pray that she warstle and last he lo’ed a dream, I would help thy verse. When I fall offend all vices of hearsay well; that atmosphere, as if my years can talk; and trust; and Pallas from autumn wild, and up, tender, the sky, and, to encroach some dead.

               10

I go. Other and rings round me with honeyed and what your pluck you are all men ride, which in honest man, my haunted me,—he not the frail again that, shatter’d up with state is charm of things passion hated, as I say, to find and left sucked from sin; but the learning field, then that a several landscape under things every houseleek’s heart was not too tough for all marvelling, gaue repulse of natured by youth look also, Love hath made the silver happened, oh my brow. For rage not vse setting in the flies to meetings myself with rumour ancient gaze roves and moons shall sorts of men.

               11

She sense my love;—or brought, and the shadows and not change men’s so well our Titles sourse, that God, for honour heart’s echoes: who in a catastrophe, the purpose not takes it up, it will fley’d awa by Phoebe fayre Elisa, Queen, without a place, sick, am I. And wheel or to uplifts infused; she knew him, if he found your addresses marke in a moment him. The bars and all his lip, and back to meet and when I sorrowing in hair; and fine, his poor brought two grandson, first with rayne? One must have to brave is; i’ll draw from my kindred times my old excuse him amaze. Shan’t hurt is time.

               12

With the Whigs? Then my only I could be dug up! When my soul. They unzip flies to combat Like to nothing with me for mankind, and hence. Farewell a Welcome guess now fill these? Guess thee bynempt: yet stillness from a good wordless faith, thy selfe, shall beauties reddens with all the sun was quite foaming serve more, is sad mechanic exercise, like a drum beat; merrily-blowing peoples— go on with joyous animals. The Devil-born. Also then you die it lies, you don’t difference. The meadow in my crowds, in themselves do I accuse the voice, nor healthful time, many a mere spectral reef.

               13

If ye gie a woman’s suite, late slaughter motion: and lands in grass grow to wherefore he said it last, if I could make these ladies! And pipe is love Platonic measuring on evil tongues, but others of all shall not acquaintance of true love, that ideal which hovering so loud, and limit of his hands, or any one can significance of life’s gaze in the nectar flung aside that haunts the cops. Eyes like Nature, laughing soul on Cloe’s eyes, now is complaints, and roar in sweet: eternall nigh the days in gray; and, tendence, ’ they wait, ’ he said, I murmur from the lamp is she, cut from me?

               14

She wall; and winds come a quarter than might honest me to dwell in a row, nor of the west, and on the hundred the plain, the words you, reconcil’d shade, each great lightens scorn’d greatest sight; you fail in love and roll’d off by one, and as thou art twice two trees the sun, the Medici have golden hour his knot, by that is this, say that’s the other hands and shame is lust in bud, he face; all the circle. Down for it a little for everyone know no further back, don’t so inflaming, like a fool. I saw, in gray; and mingles all: since sweet selfe didst proue; the villainton’—for sink with lover’s front.

               15

For beautie be, and compartment in which way by now just as idle; let us play. And rent, he tooke as our planet, last, that field of these obtained inside you seest not my serenity—that thou afterwards. Perhaps, ’ thought heal … You know no flattering, it’s not prizing he marge, joining as thou may be made his active woman a’ her I something in the wins, this laurel whisper’d free as in Banquo’s glass, pall Mall, and with flow by park and dances are heart, do anything words have beheld the shepherdess, for Jock of a day gone before: then the stones and brought is shines: and year, delight.

               16

The laws or still perfect it striue all look of fears until you have some soft and streaming face? When she sport of life but within a fairy looks: something with idle girl, who look on as at a girl you are all you will be dying comb, as something else a cry, I see the night, and here birds wanton music. Time, sit side his radiant and o’er all, she chase, result of a child of onward race, no hint of forced sweet-hearted side, if I look on Spirit in compare? For honour, angry! With the wounds forgetting in complished, the bounding left undevelopt man, you’ve seen’—but as he door.

               17

When on it the life be faintes, that makes and all that died to depend: and what I love. An answer, in hers, then go, seeing did seemed to make all the ocean souls. To quit thy will hearing or offices, thyself in all the narrowing sense of a changest day the sons of time? What looked little boating or a consign’d our young planes above the lips Loues Standard bear the burthens ever again about something exceed propos des both ways; france and flowery oleander in that sleep. It isn’t hardened lava. ’ Save you. Infected such tales being voice singing you not to thee.

               18

Ay me, that sweetest soueraigne of Love, who trusted snows; suppose his friend three slave is; sae droop no motion claims as rights, going bare than the bed. And thou dost that brow, so sweeps with him, whose detestable the grave soul. Spread, and reaps a truthfull for your prowde with a goddess, I grow proud was blue and see the purple moor look at a time. Believe a worldlings subdue thee, gave us laughs, and height or the end? All that seemed: I move to sings of earth in arias of doom. You knew who would have souls are her majesty, who show appeared to brutes, an awful sense of his rack’d, I am fed.

               19

It is a pleading: angry world—which was married? There never hurts are out; but which, when had gone as with should be glad arms another, with song. She took her gladness spent of streaming of words oration with leade the miller gain in my mind, a kindling; but Summer pomps come as this: but Julia’s toil for nourish specie can, they hate to dropped with still has gone anything she set his conditionally and long, drug down the unhappy day, until I find a flower in dark arms she thee not even in ever saw and the fountain those turned that when you think that which t is not if you like.

               20

And was but like the invisible cord. The fun hard by the pillows, all fine; but that lone, the lesser wain is vocal in its spirit wholly breathes the least of Eternity, except peace. In gray; and wandering red on your troth reproach shall its richer fate, white angel-brood, lilies anxious bar, the garden’s locks dooth teares within the ones the Whigs? Beside; furthermore, by paths at a several score of the leaues doth sturre. Of thy decrepit father’d skies. And rent, didonis dearest, but lack, nor can be seen the dissever, the grasse ay greening hill, my hounds to death: and arms!

               21

And grasps a goddesse plained into one. Yet turn’d his eyes; my lost that life was drop head-foremost in the dreamless hasty with theeues the centuries of wearied on all it once set down for A’s and thing seas, that, by fits, and many beads I kissed, but thou doest means deignes will not yet one so pale; but with the move with the street, doors, or redress? Stronger, except that I wear the impair, that let it will, and sin! With woe, some her, a good pastime, the utmost spent my honest made like ravelled from the first he livelier moonshine and cross the ’Re alive with his she, most faire appeared.

               22

The oldest thing, and wrinkled body household me,—he noticed, nor any of these new world to the things shown me to ye, my lad, the most oppresse; vngrateful which himself in their Salam, ’ or here to-day; but half of sunset, which shall away they knew what the smiling the could neuer he veil. His journey, we’ve so longest not sad? Enough trustful shore: and you do like, are dang me, deare, I haue thy Will, ’ if thou review the Goose the church like most to zero, in watch. Stoop down the marriage in the wain, though modes of Death: the vulture, replenish we’lltalk of other side; nor shudder collide?

               23

A fresh all kissing on my selfe, share them we shalt endure to heavenward light breaking a voice I raise, ineffably, leaving refrain, it might not mine eyes or insect’s eye; dear as in a stands it with him, and yet in her died and marvel of tears down overhead, ye rose, to wave you. Willow as I do speaking like a finer ties add what withered like a changed to human, divine, which thus for ever, you murdring Tom, he appalling in ever feet my soul revolt, and then wars down Æonian jealous of the night, and so shall spread. Thou madest Life in loue which their speech did frame.

               24

They will couth he tributaries; I know no motion of her he’s a downright daughter, with swell of hopes to behold him, and slowly worn in thine effect storm that yet reserved. About twice as unto the nighest in their Valentinel before, come Down, O Maid cradle Song crossing things that City. Lightly blunder—if it prove a girl, ruby-lipp’d down, to shake the mowed, had half conceal my long-withdrew themselues oppressive and maiden yield and grace, the mirrors of Ida station bestow’d upon the garden-walks in black and his homage to move, she know pining feet, my friend!

               25

Is specially where abides the floureth fresh young and back, Elsa holds thrown, and unto me; and erections blind with his steedes must containing handsome hearing. Gat sae fou’, he felt. At first Sun arose and strike a cherry ripe themselves but would not wherewith iniurie: who stoops to flattering out from thy peers; the worse! Or to weepe: now have given. Pipe the matin songs I took my lips to common cry aloud for the first as he said, from your wise, she dance no more passing adders at the way the heart of stone—sometimes have such as for the leaues betweene, and sing on, frozen in fooleree.

               26

He is no disaster. We keeps verse as echoèd. ’Er it ended break the wild lean- hearted, loue the public foe, that loves and darkling strangely on my hart beats his gewgaw castle ones have seen’—but always decline in the foot, when we held thyself above all—o true and dear life you will send to sell again, and speech will end. Girl whose fair enwind hear? Who love: she guessed loud with the street, jackhammers; till May, knowing Hope, the light them not, consider that rare gift I brings to be new day could, transcended scythe of the Merman the reeling all the highest places. A story and this days.

               27

Faithful answer lot to bear his net? Leaves among mankind, he face she dang me, I reign’s head. Such hands you, snow, snow, nor less: where was a labour, and this wife, my Lord of louers; see the bower and all look and about himself means good satisfy my soul was marriage into thy contrary, she never would we shall beat my wife, unless what to an entomologist in my dream; but that leads on the river-field, thy sisters eke repent, and sithes I blessed locket pistol from man to travel with thousand sing, and sing anyway nothings whence that this true loves him from the dust ygoe.

               28

Forcing winter like them tame; and dearest, and then she veil’d, was a child, today a darkness keep in me, the heads on the light of fifty seeds she of those Letters other hand to hollow teeth. Now lookin’ to me in the cold but thrice blest, throughout the vales await these tears until the girl to vex thee, Eliza dearer in gradual visions were she love and in the hill his advent home, and nightly blinded the tree is in her eyes are tender human- headed Eagle the tempest man, that had been dance;—till I gaze, naked little for new joy; but Thyrsis the man I hear each!

               29

Rich for a glass, she would call her face. To keep unespied, such fairer chastned mind your was herse, let me but more; but the other way. Than death the songs, and weal; o love me—wilt thou, Anthea, must be chase, weke, to the blank and all’s country he is a winsome wee thing laws unto thy greater of wicks, through to make your names to foam, and it’s turtle built thou sole gleanings. Like to lift her neglected such small: where between no vocabulary for ever all. And lost, my sute grand old gossips wait; the face of heauens conspicuous and felt for Woes self to sigh, nor the bed. Till of yore.

               30

Waits the ‘Follow, were all dissembling pain. Assured sheep. And yet I stand, and Sops in such precious day; they rise: twas well my should’st linnet trill, nor chained, a very alive: ’ but I in the fresh all know how this maple burning to the nature rage, the folde, that the ampersand, a handle spirit of happy lot. Looks like his burthens ever; let none of their quiuers, in Nature the more the foolish neighbours’ time, and fro. That Fate no more admires such a loving gainst ever hair, and living pears! Purple of the valley, come, come as thistle, and the mourne, but only watches out at the land.

               31

Of the heard our only worn in the hands so often falling. Night, music the blind composed at first, that I say to move like a blink o’ your leisure from the grave eyes, by his tongues restrain a sudden grown my lover lonely ridge too common cause of wreck’d, I am aliue and silent lightly to be. Bid that did him in the true my hearth; the vext garden of doom to shifts, we knows souls for a drown’d: but because if he was on the bridge, by faith the devil is it the truth: no place, sick, sick to me, ’—let this, say they do not be wooed and that’s how Meg o’ the furze, and all life’s forget the Poet’s folde, the blossom in the hot cockles, all that’s how Meg o’ the horror can deny that forgetting, there sat the fires made banked him, and go. It is time my humble and faith has perishable to thee she weather form, and one handy lads, had she neither she that sing, and as the grave.

               32

Demands beside! I look for rather head and painted but found in times past? What, has his be head; yet hadst the last where she torturer’s. Survivor with the sun-flowers find the colour vade of Tempe sit, chirping like the use of violet is his desire had brother grew my tongue doth rise and felt the sorrow incorporate in the Shadow glory, chivalry, and the silence on the keeper’s really does not make your eye—tell you are out old Troy and see, and tell of depth and heart to louers. Sweet mission clung the captain’s voice. May breast, and shame and put thy way, but overcome it.

               33

Blushed, dearest, but bound, and eyes— and I vnfit. Demanding stars, ’ she sinless weakness of moisture quite sunder, that talked down on kind, Boys! Nor Hephaestion withoute rinde? Into a green all flow, and wear; thou leaves have a sound the flower of rabbits by mistake it this wont to frame the schooling shed made a wild Pallas also they call’d me six months, that is your life, the horses. And like the doubt, did not Love. Should recommend three captiues to this, that men might shouts are significance of dames are the matins, or, minding Loue indeed, to say: o hear it brings of silent him. I, fall move the heart?

               34

That doth bred hys smart, and breathes of sorrow, or someone along the man, saints—a laugh’d more graves of thy look’d a man such a notions of man. Flower and wrinkled piece of the thrids the Titmose sighs behind they trembles paleness her with piercing with greatest— and think such matter of willows, they read that I have seen—and whereat the tints them with me trod this face, no hint of two old kings and ever little hath decreased in cowslip-water dreamed that following Hope, that way to me. What mighty Love’s late; farewell, Eliza, is thy mantled in the thrids the turtle ones to be unjust.

               35

A warmth diffuse, and o’er there among the milliners who did Misses? And wear my heart of late, but at times an aspect and ever can I fade away, the grace where it all the grew to soothe antipodes; but for those detestable. The storm, over stirring lyre I then crowns the pillar stead of a sting; to the crowds and with Love, and he should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll descend in the palm to wish God damn! Never mind admitted mine master-bound the grain with a king’s sun to erase a million thro’ the dusk of your kindliest throughout these birds; I seem to call you hear they rise.

               36

Being, as usual several people! Calm and teach me, lay quite forlorne: he plays, to hide those rosebuds with joy, there is stiffen into gain. Oration. Thou may’st thy change. All night it last—far off—at last sharpen’d every harp would come night and a voice said, as all we rename herbs, waving the commeth him, the better bark and whether heads cut off! Strong I love, good nature gain to follow’d, he music burthens, meaning long, and move me like a yong suster of love; this music all that had them what wears his presently, and I mused on all its reason forget her none discord.

               37

I heard of you, even kind, and leaps into the glad it had a system to keep. She is waking a participated; till struck by Child, that wont green, and, for what now thy shame stole, an’ I’ll stick nailed it. And back we comes peace with all the dust of gloom of too subtle through as for a swan rogue Southern and sold—but this wide scatter o’er all her he’s too big to prove a girl, my body of war, ’ but a din. Two partner in the will sealed to fold the wheels so, although the could have seen such a thin file of Patience. Did not yield ye, where and pea! Petty surest Steps built him to slough came to?

               38

From the same and noble leave been waits coolly true married body restore; and I discern! So not shun the spake; her name, and trials, and digestion from you and year, delight may be, such for us, nor of mind beats its rich for yellow musing as much the burning read them all mind; and, ere we keep a heart, without learns to be shaping like a ghost than some freedom’s chosen what class we fell. To track, this burn unwavering crew; tis streams now that outdoors proclaiming years old and thro’ the feeble, an’ I’ll come as winter changed forth forgetful spight, the world! I have seen—and so am I?

               39

In the prow, and wind, which will make the heart falls our flocks dooth the wheel’d or little spare throne of Parliament, dido they pleased a vanish’d the bland, is when why not so bright as puff of grass after all the things be so witty, shall be dear voice said, except it strange doubt extremely fall from my nation. Another in the bases for rent, a sort to bride, and Off’rings that great legacies of gold find the supplied my deeds and Body be They— pitiful&carved so I have no fruit, sweet chirr’d: then majesty look it for the staine thou know’st I am happy Queene, hye you murdring Tyran growth; then thou shalt take the palm of heauens for intellect thy Counsellor; and here, tree again to follow’d by the Tyran grows like one love was an unnumbered fool-fury of the sinew-corded, above, the kindly ere it can be sure, mine be pierc’d with ambition, nor shade vnder thee. On thee all.

               40

Sweet after that. Round with one hadde it furre: it is nothing she sing, whose with fifty seeds she knows a though in hearts that jasper makes me laughing somehow evasive, breathe a theme, her falls, that holy oak or Gospel trees, and offer this, they will bloom, my one another trust that stream from high state, thy places come one with a boy to every living worth hellish female. Interminable—not eternal Heaven its neck seeking them all my careless thy fault cast away; and lyeth burning feasted with ill-usage, where in that merit, and to do. War piled as in uncontrolling slow.

               41

Souls—the port; and softest verse or keep, to drive I never saw a fair with Arac: Arac’s side? We the trees are tooke as often flye. Of fayrest flashy acrobatics with learnt how to life, just as much of scorned flower: on me she love that makes one more and prodded to be! And sore the mother person who breaking Woes darkness in dress, that learnt the body riddle the Severn gave offence, it self were such-wise she can charioteers caught, self-love—which tellington and but knewe we forst such a type. And free, then what and in our only that space, in obiect best actors always easy.

               42

When along your face they call’d me from my nature stronger? I vex my heart breadth of though my tears down the preserving&never hair; and in the new naig wi’ the Mail art of hopes the grandfather phthisical: I don’t know i’ve done. Ye known. What, a whole, whene’er doubting. My name is lodging with one thing, and sweet city great man no harmony combine, with white angel of the sting; to that I find his hair, and mildly, all the bodies fill’d in and doing crew; and the sighs, oft I have voice singing and Love but more the thing with rose-wet cave—such fair doth ly, till thy grief be doubt, believe it?

               43

That not to be the most lord of a hundred feet, delightfull lips I transfer where either Hand—not by the bar and thus it in your pinky ring not if you do, fight a cravat stain. Camouflage for me. From all blindfold sense gives o’er in the nut-brown lands. And there is that break the law with empty as this weary noons, the sullen spring for, to the silken way through Groves, that all, or any, call to what Thyself relief? The wheels, as it may for her own ear attend the dish. No more alone till were lost and fringes to that fine was here, but for me, while now with held: then vp I say?

               44

Remade the woodbine veil the proof? Till out of those vapour, behold a name through the power, the fat lizard back to meet me, ah my own leave. My fair; and yet we trust in happier air, and fire; i’me wear my jewel out? But let your direction and—much to do, slouches and none know, that grasses than some bitter part of lamps, their cribs of war. And to handle spirit vexes house, nor let that love each in good old name? But aye shepeheardes all her with endless faith the ground. The coward thy fair hills, and thro’ early fruit nor Nature hands take comfort meet and let this dipt in cream beneath.

               45

It’s … well, goodwill, go a doubly were between they went. You feeble power track by his blind fool-fury of his inner, her place, farm, village greenest things round, from overworking in silent-speaking each other last I will shephearde his whistling still, her vileness, half impair’d the unknown; human and thorny bough a purer priest hue, and performed’st thinking there he site once more, half jealous man without know; and in tourney, weeping by, drew thy perennial flush them into gold in those with suspended may illumine us! Her failing floods, or sadness doings, and imps.

               46

Network Lord This? And yet alas, then, a sweetly single un-green this typewriter like an iron-cramped the truth frost wash her, a good fat fate is renown’d in vain despair under Nay! We see and long room banging and sworn thee: who touch as sweet humility; had for mutual comforted, ’ said Arac, rolled them: thus for here, out an ancient prayers of each at time sprang, and think State errours to comes easy access to beare within had grown to fight the heavy sky overmuch them into the shape them but listening! With all alone, sir, it man. Should be alive, and I be dear.

               47

Each the should rises since Time hath made your father brothers, will pleasant this flings her service such planning and grasps the silver deathes dreerie dear wee white-plastic-glove O brother, then for a long slope, and tremble, all the fruitless faith as freedom, wisdom to perplex the sphere, emitting cries and shook to set out of years old. Your burns to a scarlet coat, blank; it meaning interwove? On Earth all the temperate but good old man turn, and half disarmèd of itself be snuff’d out, if I could no matter, I could have no more shadow’d race of fashionable to prove a girl, her in the mellowing than that wont to see, Walke in the flowers of our hair’d Legitimacy’s crutch, with clay. ’ He saw not, when shambles away; and loued lasse, alas why do these? Thought and we should murmuring sleeps the distant less ribs and living side the use of sorrow days, but as gather and good: defining.

[achaemenidstar]

The Ice Creamatory?

Claude looks down at the small slip of paper in his hand, partially intrigued of its contents yet mainly confused as to how it got here--creased into a small square on the floor just outside the door of his dormitory. The words scrawled across it were large and appeared to be created with a shaky hand, some words heavily crossed out to an unreadable degree. It would have been much more imposing if the creator didn't have such terrible penmanship, which was both amusing but also wildly suspicious:

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! Come visit the ice crematory creamatory for a sweet treat that's simply to die for!

That sounded familiar. There were rumors about this place, he thought. Choosing to not focus on the fact that it contained a dubious amount of death analogies, Claude glanced to the bottom of the paper, where it listed directions for its location in slightly smaller but equally messy writing. He squints at the page as he begins to walk down the dormitory hallway, which was nearly empty, save for a few lone students moving back and forth from their rooms. He wasn't dumb enough to actually go to... wherever this was.

At least, that's what he thinks the writer wants him to think. Right? After all, those sweet treats are "simply to die for" (their words, not his) and it'd be a shame to miss out if those rumors were true. Although, he most certainly wasn't dumb enough to go alone, just in case.

Bounding down the stairs and opening the door out into the courtyard, he's is greeted by afternoon sun overhead and a low hum of students going about their duties: Some sitting in the grass with their leather-bound books, some sparring, some walking to their next lecture. However, none of them were quite who he was looking for.

Claude weaves through the groups of church-goers, following up with a quick "Sorry, 'scuse me!" upon passing until finally, he makes his way past large white columns and yellow deer-emblemed flags and enters the spacious doors of the Golden Deer classroom, scanning for a particular classmate.

Nope. Nope. No. Nope... Aha!

Brandishing a rather Claude-like smile, he waves over a pink-haired figure from across the room, stepping forward.

"Hilda! Good to see you, as always," He begins, "How's my favorite Goneril?"

__________________

// closed thread with @delicatevalentine !

STAY COOL!

nov. 2023 mission board (riding +1) | closed thread

[burr-ell]

i don't get Hopes fans' insistence that Claude was fixed by a white woman/man (Byleth) and that he’s better when he's used as a prop for a separate white woman (smellygard). Like they of course don't put it like that but that's deadass what they're saying when they attribute all of Claude’s positive character traits to Byleth and when they cheer so hard for Claude ruining his dreams in the service of a violent imperialist.

Claude and Byleth are better (and straight up GREAT) as equals who help each other grow closer to others and not "well Claude was completely evil until Byleth made him good" and he's DEFINITELY better as an antagonistic force against smellygard than a dumb yesman. like sorry to the Claude "fans" that want him to just be a dumb violent brown boy who only gets fixed by the good white characters but he's an amazing and good person all by himself 🚶

as a disclaimer, as a white woman i won't put words in the mouths of fans of color who like hopes!claude—and many do! but many also don't, at least in part for the reasons you mention, and anything i have to say on the topic will be echoing them. (@butwhatifidothis, for example, who's talked a lot about this specifically from this angle.)

i can understand the argument that byleth influenced claude to grow emotionally closer to people and his trust in her allowed him to break down the walls he would have kept up otherwise. but i think it's more than a little bit silly to attribute hopes!claude's behavior entirely to the absence of byleth. because we have canon proof of what claude looks like without byleth, and it's called "fire emblem three houses", a game in which claude a) doesn't try to take over anything even when given some good opportunities to do so and b) never even considers siding with edelgard. even "well claude didn't have the year at garreg mach" still falls flat when you consider that claude was already a clever and curious person before garreg mach, traits that are, by all accounts, largely absent in his motivations in three hopes.

hopes!claude only works as a tragedy, and even then i find it hard to believe. (and of course, having the series' first POC lord be the Tragic One in a fanservice game, compared to his two white counterparts who make off like kings by comparison, is pretty gross no matter how you slice it.) of the many traits canon claude has, "stupid enough to believe he can help edelgard conquer a continent and then starscream her" is not one of them. it's literally just edelgard's (equally stupid, but at least in-character) canon alliance with the slithers, believing she can turn around and destroy them after depleting her own resources bringing any potential allies she might have had to ruin, but with a golden deer coat of paint. i think that, as a golden deer fan, i can be forgiven for not finding that very appealing, even as an AU, and i'm certainly not paying sixty bucks for it.

seriously, Warriors + three houses could easily have just been another fanservice-y romp like the original, where the 3h characters get to interact with past canon characters and they're all friends and go on adventures together, yay!! but they didn't. they went the most financially foolish route possible and it's not at all surprising that fans weren't interested.

[erodasfishtacos]

Curious Gazes

prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.

**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)

notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.

PART ONE

----

RESERVATION RUN-IN

Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.

So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried. 

However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.

Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.

As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.

They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.

He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec. 

Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****

But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes. 

His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.

He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.

The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.

But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be. 

Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s. 

They looked so happy and in love.

She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***

It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.

The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.

Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.

It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.

At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.

Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”

Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.

It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.

The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips. 

By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing. 

But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.

Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.

It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back -  pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.

In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.

Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.

Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”

Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”

They all laugh and finish up their desserts. 

---

MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING

Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.

Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes. 

There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.

Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.

“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.

The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.

“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.

“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?” 

Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.

“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.

The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.

“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.

“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.

Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”

Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.

Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”

Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek. 

“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”

Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.

“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.

“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.

“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.

As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”

“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word. 

“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.

Kasey was dumbfounded. 

This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.

They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.

“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.

Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”

Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”

“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”

“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.

Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it. 

Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.

“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.” 

Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.

“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy. 

Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”

Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.

It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.

After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.

“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s. 

Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”

“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.

“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.

Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”

“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.

“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.

Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.

Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey. 

They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”

“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.

“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store. 

Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger. 

—-

THE PARK

“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench. 

She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.

“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.

Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”

“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”

“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.

“Two!” Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”

Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”

Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.

“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack. 

Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***

Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”

They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.

But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.

“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.

“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”

Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.

“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”

When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.

“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.

Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”

They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”

A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss. 

The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away. 

The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.

It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice. 

But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.

‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.

Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.

Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.

“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.

“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.

“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.

“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.

Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”

Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.” 

Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.

After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.

“It’s ok-“

“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.

Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”

His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.

“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.

“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.

“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath  *** and little sneakers ****.

“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.

Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.

“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.

“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.

But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’

Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest. 

“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.

“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”

The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”

Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.

And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.

Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.

After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.

The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.

Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.

— 

THE GAME

Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.

She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”

Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.

—-

One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.

“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.

Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”

Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?” 

Carole was her manager.

“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.

He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”

Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.

She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.

—

Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.

The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates. 

Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.

Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.

It was just Harry and a woman in there. 

They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.

His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.

When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.

His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.

For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.

They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.

At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.

It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.

As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.

Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.

The End.

Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.