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choccy-zefirka · 1 month ago

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Living Bodies

Woe! 3K words of body worship with Emmrich and a plus-size Rook, who that had a horrible first time as a teen and internalized her partner's disgust, be upon ye!

Content warning for references to bullying, dubious consent during the aforementioned first time, fatphobia, and also everyone's privates being out among the Necropolis flowers :3 (They are doing it in a cute skeleton-adorned gazebo that came to me in a dream)

Dear Lottie,

I am so terribly sorry you fell sick and missed all the fun! But we did it! We actually did it, all according to plan! Sprung the trap for my "secret admirer"! And our suspicions were correct!

All those gunky little lumps of soap Papa found folded in my laundry — they were put there by the washer girl! That knife ear, the one that looks like a toad! I think her name is Len-something, but who cares? And yes, she made them herself, out of whatever goop she's gathered round the alienage — because she has a """"crush"""" on me! The cheek! As if just because I don't like boys exclusively, I'd ever give the time of day to a walking, talking potato! She isn’t even cute in that scared rabbit way, like elf girls are supposed to be!

She did come to the "date" me and the girls arranged, too, and blathered on and on about how beautiful I am (fact) and how much she likes me (yuck)... Until we had enough and pushed her into the river!!! Oh, I wish you were there with us, it was ab-so-lu-te-ly hilarious!

Say, since you are sat by the window in your chair all day, have you heard any news out on the street? From the paper criers, maybe? I want to know if Len-whatever ended up drowning.

Correspondence between two traders' daughters. 9:40 Dragon

***

Happy now, Sticks?

Did her like you told me to. All the way. What a shitshow. Lardy Lenny is even lardier naked, that's for sure. Felt like sticking my dick into a giant slug. Next time I lose this stupid game, just send me into a shem's mabari kennels with salami for a sword. That will be way less painful.

Don't know how I'll fuck normal girls no. The fat cunt ruined it for me. Think I'll be having nightmares for years after this. Told her that, and she started bawling. Didn't even look funny like she usually does in tears. Just gross.

So yeah. Enjoy, I guess.

Note from an alienage boy to his friend, attached to a crumpled set of girl's underclothes. 9:42 Dragon

***

At first, Lenore is too distracted by turning and flexing her left hand. Her wrist has been getting a little stiff lately: she probably holds her arm at an uncomfortable angle when mixing potions. No surprise, since she is self-taught. Aching joints and sleepy pin pricks are the least of her problems, really! When she was just starting out, on a work bench that was just a half-rotten plank of wood balanced on a rock in the alienage backyards, she'd splash hissing, blistering liquid all over herself, turning her forearms into pale clumps of scar tissue, like cold leftover noodles plastered sadly at the bottom of a bowl.

Maybe if she observes Emmrich more closely during their studies together, she will figure out how to position her arms properly... Ugh. She'll find any excuse to "observe" him, won't she? Well, she's allowed; they are a couple now, outlandish as it sounds!

A couple.

All at once, her mind catches up to what her ears heard after Emmrich, gentle and attentive as always — what has she done to deserve him? — pointed out her stiff wrist.

Finer points of anatomy.

Her eyes dart upwards from her hand, and she gapes across their elegantly arranged tea table. Emmrich smiles, soft yet playful, eyes half-lidded and shining in the wisp light.

There is that side of him, that confidence — decades' worth of it — that sometimes makes her, all flushed and boiling alive in unspoken greed, wish for more than just quick kisses and lingering glances and fingertips resting on knuckles, shoulders, waists, whenever they stand too close. As if all of that was not already a gift far more generous than normally granted from someone like him to someone like her.

It has been a harmless enough indulgence to entertain, she supposes. A guilty pleasure, something titillating to think about in the secret alone hours while she touches herself. Not that she does it too often; bodies like hers aren't really meant for this, she's well aware... But still, that's also something couples are allowed to do, right — imagine each other's faces in place of characters from the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection?

But here and now, with Emmrich looking at her like that, it hits her with the full force of a Venatori blood forge trampling her to the ground. A keen, panicked awareness that this is not the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection. This is real — they are real. Especially her. Too real, too heavy, suddenly suffocating under her own weight, suddenly feeling the scented air of the Memorial Gardens with every pore of her skin, so tangibly, disgustingly physical that it begins to itch.

Most of her is carefully concealed underneath her usual Veil Jumper leathers, but if Emmrich, the real, non-fantasy Emmrich, decides to explore these finer points of anatomy, if he lifts the covers and sees just how much she the opposite of that...

Oh. Oh no.

She still remembers, a decade later, how the sight of her naked body broke the first and only boy that agreed to touch her. And that was before she got most of her scars!

She can't do that to anyone else, ever again. Especially not to him, not to her most treasured friend, not to the man who has been so kind to her that she dared bother him with her clumsy attempts at romance. Because with him, she could be certain, at last, that it would not turn out to be a prank.

How can she repay him by giving him nightmares?!

"Dearest? Why are you crying? Was I... Was I too forward? Too much?"

She did not even notice when the tears came. But here they are, marring her vision, so that there are two Emmrichs circling the table, kneeling in the grass next to her. Unafraid of the stains that will be left on the pristine Nevarran satin. Clasping her hands.

"I know that not all experience attraction the same way; if you would rather not explore this side of romance, that is perfectly fine, and wonderful! Your affection has already been such a beautiful gift."

Past her, the one that clung to the shadows, beyond the welcoming golden glow of camp fires, outside the reach of a friendly embrace; the one that spoke in sparse, grunt-like words, and kept her head down, beaten more than once, and shy far, far more than twice — that her would have made a vague noise and slunk away, never to bring this up again. But Emmrich — and Manfred! — was the one who brought her out of her shell. He deserves the truth, spoken with her whole chest.

"I... I do feel that kind of attraction towards you. You are a beautiful man, inside and out, and when I am with you, I sometimes forget myself and... pretend I am beautiful too."

She draws in a long, labored breath. She needs all the air in her lungs before this next plunge — she should know, she almost drowned once.

"But I am not. Especially not... from the neck down. You may have gotten used to my face..."

She dips her head — a habitual motion by now — letting her long, side-shaved fringe fall into her eyes. There's always quite a bit to hide under her hair: the dark rivulet of a birthmark on one side, the scar and the squinty damaged eye on the other. At least now she can do alchemical experiments in a mask and protective goggles. Less of an eye sore for Emmrich, to be sure.

"But trust me... My body is much worse."

She shuts her eyes and shrinks back into her seat, momentarily losing her present, adult, more or less mature and competent self (at least when it comes to alchemy and to… saving the world?) in the sheer blood-curdling terror of being seventeen again.

"The boy who took my virginity was so appalled that he said I'd scarred him forever. This has haunted me for ten years. And the... deed itself was punishment from his friends for losing some sort of dare. Do you understand?"

She forces herself to look into his eyes, even as the unseen, tightly wound strings holding her together begin to snap, one by one.

"Being with me... in that way... it's torture. I care for you too much to ever — "

"Lenore, my darling..."

Still on his knees — and still so tall that their faces are level — Emmrich pulls her hand to his lips and covers it in kisses. First on the outer side, swift, soft, each touch a beat of velvety butterfly wings; then, long, nearly reverent, on the inner side, where her pulse hammers against her bluish-pale wrist.

"Thank you for being frank with me. And I am truly, deeply sorry that you were betrayed with... such utter cruelty, in one of your life's most vulnerable moments. That fool of a boy was not the one scarred. You were. And oh, my dearest, you are still bleeding."

She listens to him in petrified silence, still as a startled halla before a long, soundless leap away from danger. She does not mean to — she knows Emmrich better than this by now; if he is disgusted by her, he will be much more polite about it — but instinctively, she braces herself for him to recoil away, grimacing like he is about to vomit. Overwhelmed by the sheer mental image of her laid bare before him. A slug; a toad; the stuff of nightmares.

Any second now. Any second.

He never does recoil.

"I know I cannot close this wound with a few words, much as I wish I could... But, darling, please try to take them to heart nonetheless."

His eyes, fully open now, reflect so much of the Gardens' ephemeral glow that it feels like she's sinking into two pools of starlight.

"Every body is as unique, as precious, as beautiful as the soul within. We study them, we mend them, we venerate them, in life and beyond. Your body is already dear to me because it is yours... And if you were ever to open it to me, like you opened your beautiful mind, there would be no greater honor than to discover — to savor — every last inch of it."

"I..."

Lenore swallows, her head swimming. If this lofty speech were delivered by anyone else, she'd have scoffed in doubt. Does she look like someone to whom a man (or woman, or anyone) would wax poetic about the sanctity of mortal flesh? What's the catch? But it's Emmrich, her Emmrich, whose voice and touch make it so easy to... Well. Forget herself.

"I want you to. Please."

He beams at her, placing one final kiss in the middle of her palm. Like a seal for a secret pact.

"Of course, dearest. Follow me."

They both get up, leaving Manfred (who has been off chasing the see-through Fade butterflies among the headstones, bless his innocent makeshift heart) to clean up their little picnic... Or at least to amuse himself with exploring how tea cups can be neatly stacked together.

Emmrich leads her to a secluded gazebo, crowned by yet another rendition of the embracing skeletal lovers that she has seen throughout the Gardens. Its threshold is barely visible, overgrown by a rustling carpet of delicate white blossoms that heave like the softest seafoam around Lenore's ankles.

"Shroud's kiss," Emmrich muses, after plucking one fragile white cup and placing it in Lenore's hand, right over the spot he kissed. The petals feel weightless against her skin, effervescent as a melting snowflake, as if woven from the Veil itself.

"I always loved the legend around this flower. They say that it grows on lovers' graves, and that one moves closer to the Fade simply by inhaling its fragrance."

He gestures to a bench under the intricate dome of metal lace, which is also cushioned in countless white flowers. She sits down, and a pale blue barrier shimmers into place around the gazebo. Shielding them from prying eyes. Emmrich's doing — or the Gardens'? Was this a secret rendezvous nook for someone else, once? Someone who might be buried underneath? Or, knowing Nevarrans, cast into the statue at the top of the dome?

"Do you think that legend is true?" Lenore asks, momentarily unable to contain herself. The fingers of her free hand race along the tips of the blossoms, and her alchemist's mind races in tandem.

"If we could maybe extract the essential oil and run a few experiments; but oh, that would require sacrificing so many of these beautiful flowers..."

Emmrich chuckles. He has leaned over her, bringing his lips so close to hers that she can drink in his breath, a pulsating heat beginning to rise at the bottom of her stomach.

"It is true if I will it, my dear," he murmurs, and the second he closes the distance, his tongue meeting hers in a kiss deeper than any they have shared before, the air all around them erupts in a cascade of pale-green sparks. Ghostly petals glide through the air, and if Lenore truly does tumble into the Fade, it is in a part of it that is as serene and sheltered as their Lighthouse.

The fragrant breeze is like silk against her burning cheeks, caressing her, each stroke leaving her more and more light-headed. Somehow, her body stops feeling like a heavy heap of scrap metal that she has to lug around while everyone stares at her; it is hugged gently by the cushion of petals, while Emmrich, as promised, explores it with both affection and... and gratitude.

He is still kissing her, diving deep with no fear of drowning, when his gloved hand unbuckles her belt and slips past the innermost layer of her traditional elven tunic. Her insides clench at the sensation of velvety fabric against her stomach rolls, and then her chest. As if she is balancing on a precarious clifftop somewhere back among the floating ruins of Arlathan.

But that startled pang soon dissolves into sweetest bliss. Emmrich has loosened the tunic's collar, allowing her shoulder and breast to escape, out into the warm, perfumed air. How scandalous! How very like the Randy Dowager's Gold Collection! Does she... Does she actually belong in one of those stories?

He continues to trace the outlines of her half-bared form, and his fingers are soon joined by his lips, which wander away from her gasping, half-parted mouth, and keep slowly moving down, paying a tribute of little kisses to each curve, each mole, each stretch mark. With a few motions of his deft, scholar's fingers, the layers of clothing peel off her torso completely, like she herself is a blossom unfolding.

His gaze measures her, from the flaming tips of her teardrop-shaped ears to the contours of her stomach. He smiles, a languid, hazy smile.

"Thank you for letting me see you, dearest."

"Can I..."

She clears her throat, part of her still dumbstruck in disbelief that this is actually happening. That she is actually saying this — to him.

"Can I see you as well?"

"I would be delighted."

She bites her lip, unsure where to start. But, ever so helpful, he weaves his fingers through hers, and patiently directs her through unclasping first his largest bracelet, then his collar pin.

Her heart hammers in her throat when she removes his jewelry and lays it on the bench beside her. With the bulkiest pieces out of the way, the buttons on his vest and shirt go next, and each of her little conquests over the delicate buttonholes is rewarded with a kiss from Emmrich. It does not slip past her that each of those grows a little sloppier than the next, a little more intermingled with bites and short, panting breaths. It's as if... As if he's enjoying her touch as much as she enjoying his.

At long last, his shoulders are bare as well. Exhaling softly, she marvels at the way the shadows of the gazebo’s lattice sculpt his bony clavicles, and runs her hands over the bristly cloud of short silver hair on his chest, and up his throat, where the skin is more worn with years of living, experiencing, being... him.

"You are perfect," she whispers, her thumb trailing over his cheekbones. At the sound of her words, his skin radiates rosy heat, and her body responds in kind.

"As are you, my darling."

His hands are back on her chest, as hers are on his. She chokes back a sound that might be a moan, or might be a sob. He pauses his chain of tender touches, uncertain if she is distressed. But she assuages his doubts by pressing into his mouth with another kiss, and if any tears do roll down her cheeks, those are tears of relief.

He hums in contentment at the back of his throat, and his fingertips, in their endless conductor's dance, brush along the texture of Lenore's many potion splash scars. She shudders when the cold metal of his few remaining rings glides over her, and the pulse between her legs, which has been growing stronger throughout their tender exchange of touches, of admiration, teeters close to its peak.

"Emm... Emmrich?"

She resurfaces from the kiss, dizzy and emboldened by the taste of him, and fumbles about for his hands, guiding them, like he guided hers, to push down her pants. His name comes out sounding as an awkward, stumbling mix between a needy plea and a tentative question. Emmrich, she means to say. Can you... Do this?

The thing is, she has no clue how to accommodate him between her thighs, underneath the soft pillow of her stomach. The worst parts of her, as the mirror says, as the memories in her head jeer.

But he smiles at her, and lavishes her with even more kisses, while she squirms under his searching lips, both nervous and aroused. Soon enough, he finds a comfortable angle... And again, he is on his knees before her. Fully giving himself to worship.

In romance serials, the good, beautiful partner with the perfect body orgasms when they are pleasured by their equally good, beautiful, perfect lover, and merely pretends to orgasm when the bad, comically inept or tragically forced lover, always fat, sweaty, and disgusting, slams against them like a dying tusket. What happens to the fat lover in the meanwhile, tends to be left out of the picture, because theirs is not the part of the story that the reader is here for. Perhaps, when the good lovers elope together into the sunset, the bad, fat lover is left to touch themselves all alone, in shameful secret, making a point not to overindulge, just like Lenore has in the past, because that would be disgusting...

And yet here she is. With a song of short, gasping notes coaxed from her lips, as his tongue circles within her and the ghostly blooms all around them merge into a flash of blinding white light.

When the peak is reached, when the wave hits her, and she, for once, is unafraid to drown, she impulsively grabs at the hair on the back of Emmrich's head... Which she only realizes once her mind stills a little — and instantly lets go, tumbling from the realm of pleasure back into awkward, clumsily physical reality. Apologizing for hurting him, again and again.

He looks up at her in half-drunken confusion, his hair in disarray, the pearly thread of her sex glinting in the corner of his mouth.

"Darling..." he manages to slur, his breath hitching. "You did not — "

Despite herself, she glances a little further down. And, for the first time — oh, by the Maker, Mythal, whoever, she is still so clueless! — she notices the bump in his pants. The little wet spot.

Oh. Oh.

He liked that.

"I wish I knew how to use my mouth the... the same way..." she stammers bluntly, still not looking away from the straining fabric.

"That is quite all right," he mouths, carelessly unspooling the band of red around his waist.

"There will be more nights like this one."

Until you become a lich and your duties take you away from someone so small and insignificant, a stray thought, like a charge of ice magic, runs through her brain, down her throat, impaling her very heart.

Grinding her teeth slightly, she wills her mind to return to the present moment. To the here and now. To Emmrich, brought to blissful ruin by the sight and feel and taste of her innermost self. To his sweet little moans and the rhythmic, almost elegant up-and-down pumps of his jeweled fingers, as they cup around the cock he finally brought out of his pants.

She never thought that Focus on his cock, focus on his cock, Lenore! would be a little chant of reassurance. The last time she saw erect, leaking flesh before her, she would rather have focused on anything else. But who knew that intimacy could be so different... even for the likes of her?

She bends forward and sneaks in a few kisses — on his wet mouth, over the desperately thrumming vein under his jaw — before his shuddering release leaves a messy splash of evidence over the both of them. She will help wash it off, of course; she knows the best potion mixes to do that... But it won't be something shameful, something that she had to get over with, retching and doubling over, her underthings stolen as evidence that the brave hero had survived the battle with the oozing, lumpy giant slug. It's simple, and natural — something that bodies do.

Bodies that are cherished and taken care of and worshipped. Hers revealed to him, his revealed to her.

Alive, here and now. Their skeletal forebears watching over them, in kindness and understanding.

#dragon age #da:tv #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #rook aldwir #lemon #age gap ship #original things

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first-edition · 1 year ago

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Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

Chapter 4

1 - 2 -3 -4

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more.

Cw for chapter, cussing, 18+ language and themes, insults, fighting, gossiping, alcohol consumption.

Standing next to the hound you watch as Marcella cries as she's rowed out to seat the larger journey ship. Tommen cries as his sister leaves his sight past the rocks. Joffrey rolls his eyes at all the attention she's getting.

Your ladies stand a distance away from the hound and yourself not wanting to be near him. He looks down to you briefly before Joffrey gets bored and walks up the stairs calling him along with him.

“Come, dog!” he spits out hound follows him with an eye roll.

“My lady you've been invited to a tea party in the garden with a few of the fellow court ladies' ' your lady in waiting says about to lead you out.

“Can it wait.” you ask, looking at a cersi whose tears fall silently. She doesn't answer when she sees Sansa follow after her ladies. Your eyes avert to the water again, the light splashes of the water against the rocks before you watch cersei exit the ceremony following shortly after her.

—-----

Your ladies continue to follow you as you walk through the garden. You huff and stop turning around to them.

“Will you please possibly go do something else besides follow me like abandoned dogs on the street! I don't need to be followed everywhere I go” you snap at them. They curtsy and scurry off. You sigh, shaking your head. You turn back again seeing the other ladies and Sansa sitting under the gazebo giggling and drinking tea.

“y/n how lovely for you to join us. We've saved you a seat as well as a cross stitch fold.” lady tyrell says as a guard pulls out the spare chair for you and you take a seat in between lady nighall, and lady cricket. You nod at her smile and a servant pours a cup of tea for you. You take the cross stitch in hand and work on it to occupy the time before the ladies barrel you with questions.

“You wed the hound, sandor clegane yesterday, how exciting.” lady ebsings speak. She's a skinny woman with dark black hair that she keeps in a high ponytail. Her dresses are always too elaborate to function yet she finds a way somehow. She married a man who's rich because he's the top ship seller.

“Yes I did.” you reply.

“And what I mean can't be much of a fun experience between a king's guard and a legitimate princess.” lady cricket, a larger woman with brown hair she keeps half up and half down always with a decorative hair pin holding it back. She wears green dresses even though it clashes with her skin tone.

“It's…new. Being married isn't something I would have thought about for a while but the king thought we’d be a good match so we were wed.” you answer. Lady Tyrell gives you a small smile and nod knowing it was fully forced although liking the way you answered the question.

“Oh come now spare us the sugar and get to the gritty, the consummation…he’s big?” Lady Nighall retorts, a woman of particular size but on the older side around her mid 40s who doesn't get much action as her husband is flaccid all the time so she indulges herself in self pleasure and pleasure houses as she is the country side's top broker for silver coin. You don't answer her question however.

“you , did, consummate correct.” She digs for answers.

Once again the uneasy feeling erupts from your stomach as all anyone ever wants to talk about is if you and sandor have bedded. Opening your mouth to tell the truth you're sick of people asking so you lie.

“Yes…he's very adequate.” you say into your teacup trying to fake a description of the act of sex. You sip on your tea before placing the cup back onto the tray. They all accept Sansa and Lady Tyrell, giggle and quickly speak about their husbands in bed for a short period of time.

Your eyes attached downwards at the table of various sweets and tea. Lady ebsing speaks once again.

“A-and how…was he.” she smiles at you.

“Adequate.” you answer once again.

“Oh come now you're a deflowered princess with a large husband. I was so sure he might split you in two or least break your neck while holding onto you.” she says as they continue to go back to gossip.

“The hound is a big ugly brute. I'm surprised. After all, if he were to get married he doesn't deserve a small thing like yourself. No wonder all the maidens fear him. His best quality I guess would be being able to kill a man.” lady nighall says. I look up seeing him standing behind her.

“Sandor.” you say.

“I know his name, my dear. I just chose not to use a name. Did you know his mother wouldn't even look at him? Mhm heard that from the grape vein.” she says, sipping her tea.

“My apologies for disturbing your chatter.” Sandor says through gritted teeth as he had to listen to everything that bitch said about him. His deep gruff voice hitting the ears like a clash of steel.

“OH!” Lady nighall squeals, dropping her tea cup, spilling the tea on her dress.

“Damn! Sneaking up on a woman is never a good quality” she exclaims

“Apologize” he says knowing he's not really sorry.

“Are you alright sandor?” you ask him. He nods before turning to Sansa who is still scared to look at him.

“The king requests your presence my lady” he says as she nods and stands.

“Thank you for having me, it was lovely.” she says and stands before walking off a guard that was standing post walks behind her.

“Lady nighall maybe instead of indulging yourself in the insulting of other maybe you can focus more on the coin you spend daily to indulge yourself in lord baelish's pleasure house, or more rather hoe he indulges himself in you.'' Sandor retorts. Lady nighalls mouth opens in a gasp.

“And close that yapper its using up more words than the kingdom” he says which makes her shut her mouth. And the other ladies snorted a giggle at his comment. Nighall looks at you square anger on her face as the hound begins to walk away.

“I apologize for him.” you say getting up, gathering your skirt and running after your husband.

“Sandor!” You yell gathering your dress chasing after him.

“Sandor, I'm talking to you!” You yell out to him.

He grumbles, continuing walking away. You stop, stamping your foot against the ground and shout at him.

“SANDOR CLEGANE! YOU STOP THIS INSTANT” You shout. He stops and turns to you before walking back to you.

“Go back to picking flowers and sewing with the other ladies. I bet there will be more gossip about fox and hound eh!” He barks at you.

“You made me look rude, you should go and apologize to her.” you say

He scoffs

“Apologize? APOLOGIZE? My whole damn life I've been apologizing to highborns like yourself not as if any of you are worth it so speaking my mind once in a while..yeah I'll do that especially to over entitled cunts who drown themselves at pleasure houses.” he barks out.

“Why are you always so hateful!” You snap back at him.

“You’ll be glad of the hateful things I say someday! When I’m the only thing in your way of a good life and a bad one.” he says.

“I’ve got 3 bad things in my life and if you think you're one of them you’re wrong! I didn’t choose to marry you, but Fuck I’ll make the most of it!” You yell at him. Looking him dead in the eyes. Never in his life has he had someone yell at him and look at him square. His look softens ever so slightly.

“Go finish your tea party. Eat your cakes and don't spill on your shiny gown and dont fucking call me that.” He spits out before turning away from you walking off.

“GAH! I hate you!” You huff and turn walking away. Back to the other women.

You ignore the hound for the rest of the day purposefully feeling your distance when Joffrey and Jaime knight the new king's guard, when you see him following the other guard to look the opposite direction pretending not to notice him. You don't know how much good he will care about it, you're damn sure getting a reaction out of it.

Night falls and for the second time sandor does not join the room, the mester came to watch the consummation but you had him sent away wanting no one in the room and nothing. Sitting in the bath the water filled in oils and scents making the room smell nice as well. You sigh dipping into the hot water dunking your head under the water. The quiet of nothing for a few seconds before you come back to the surface.

Moving your wet hair out of your face. You sit to the side and rest your head on your arm and you and your other out of the bathtub letting the water dripping off your finger tips onto the stone flooring.

The memories of a happier time flood your mouth, your brother and you walking and laughing in the gardens. Him teaching you to ride a horse. Your family in your home's castle. All things you'll never get back. Confined to hatred and stone walls of kings landing.

—------

The next day you continue to ignore the hound. Although has busy supervising the training of the new guards you pass by the courtyard you can feel his eyes on you.

“Marriage troubles already?” meryyn says to him as sandor huffs at you.

“Shut the fuck up trant.” he grumbles.

“What's wrong clegane aren't performing well.” merryn laughs sandor walks towards merryn and grabs his collar.

“You dont fucking shut up ill turn your insides to out side do you understand!” he tells me. Before dropping him into the mud. The other men stop to watch merryn trant get told by the larger man. Merryn gets up and draws his sword to sandor.

“Oh what? You're going to pull out your little sword on me?” Sandor is annoyed with his temper tantrum.

“Go on then swing it. Show everyone what a big strong man you are!” hound yells at trant. Who then swings his sword missing sandor everyone laughs as merryn only prompting him to swing again missing sandor for a second time.

“Fuck sake.” Sandor rolls his eyes at him, grabbing his sword out of Trant's hands, throwing it to the side and landing a punch on his face. Everyone oohs at the site of merryn getting his ass kicked. He gets up and charges at Sandor with a yell barreling into him pushing him back, tackling him.

“You fuckign fat ugly cunt!” Sandor yells at him and pushes him over, holding his face into the mud. Jamie walks over with his arms crossed as he chuckles at Merryns struggle.

“Don't pick a fight you can't win.” Jamie says as Sandor gets up, spitting out the mud that got into his mouth and wiping it off his face.

“Dumb cunt.” Sandor says before spitting out more mud.

—-----

You stand in the throne room staring at the iron throne alone, your handmaidens out of your sight finally. Nothing but peace and quiet as you stare at the throne.

“Beautiful isn't it.” you hear a voice turning to see lord baelish.

“My lord.” you say nodding your head.

“Princess.” he answers, taking his place right next to you.

“It was forged after all the battles against the Targaryens were done. People say that the throne room used to be covered in swords from all the battles, they would melt the swords right down onto the stairs” he says holding his hand out.

“Where are they now? The other swords?” you ask in wonder.

“Removed when the chair had a new sitter. Children running around. They say servers would trip and impale themselves so often they had to train staff to a speciality. Out of all the brutality the targaryens ensued…they cared for the weary.” he says you continue to look at the throne.

“You are lady clegane now, yes?” he says

“You were at the wedding banquet, surely you must know.” you say reluctantly.��

“You don't sound pleased.” he says

“I…it's just for the past few days that's all anyone speaks of my being lady clegane the princess away from home…i just…” you trail off.

“Just what my lady?” he asks.

You're about to open your mouth to speak again but the door opens and you both turn around seeing sandor half covered in mud.

“Speak of the demon himself, what brings you? Here to collect for my lady wife?” Baelish says.

“Fuck off you grey haired squirrel” sandor grunts as he walks twords your way.

“Why are you muddy? Are you alright?” You ask.

“Becuase merryn fuckign trant dosnt know when you keep his greasy fucking tits out of the way. Picked a fight while over seeing guarding fucking cock sucker. He says passing you both.

“Don't keep us waiting to tell if you win?” Baelish asks.

“Fuck…off.” he huffs walking down through the hall to the council room. Also reminding lord baelish why he was walking through the throne room.

“I beg pardon my lady, I wish you a good night.” he says bowing before following after sandor.

Chapter 5 here

#sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane x reader #Sandorclegane #sandor the hound clegane #got x reader #princess reader

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starlost-maniac · 2 months ago

Text

It's A Maybe…? Ch 9

Last chapter. This one is much shorter than the others, but I appreciate everyone who read this story. I definitely have another on the way.

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, pia, unprotected sex (don't do it), mxf, mxm, there may be more?

Pairing: skz x fem!reader (end game is ChanLix, but Minho, Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin are involved)

A/N: I was lazy when writing this, so I really only wrote it as a skz6 pairing (I paired Changbin and Hyunjin together for this). Please forgive my horrible writing

Felix had taken you out, all over Sydney. To the shop you first met at, to art galleries, the zoo. Everywhere you enjoyed. He took you out for breakfast and lunch, dinner not for a few more hours. After lunch, he took you to a jewelry shop, picking up a gift he got you. It was a beautiful necklace that had each of the members' birthstones on it—seeing as they were a part of your life, he wanted something to give you to wear—with your birthstone right in the middle.

"Felix, it's so beautiful." You look at it then up at him, your eyes watering a bit. Felix leans forward and cups your face softly. He gently kisses your eyes and places his forehead against yours, a soft, loving smile on his face.

"It's not as beautiful as you, my beautiful sunflower." He rubs his nose against yours. You giggle and smile at him. He pulls away and goes behind you, putting the necklace on you. You wipe your eyes as they watered again. He wraps his arms around your waist and puts his head on your shoulder.

"Thank you Felix. I love it so much." You touch it softly, leaning your head against his and he kisses your cheek softly.

"You don't have to thank me, baby." He squeezes you a bit before letting go. "Now, let's continue on our day. I still have plenty of spoiling to do, plus, my family wants to see you again for our special day." He smiles.

Felix took you out around the city some more before taking you to see his family, your parents there as well. They all wish you a happy anniversary and you spend time with them before Felix takes you out to dinner at a beautiful restaurant. It was getting dark when you two left, and Felix says he wants to take you to the beach where he asked you out. When you get there, he has you put on a blindfold before helping you out of the car.

He holds your hand and you walk along the beach for a few minutes before he moves behind you, hands on your hips.

"Just a little further, baby." You can hear the smile in his voice. He stops you after a few more steps. "Are you ready?" He kisses your shoulder.

"Should I be nervous?" You laugh.

"Of course not, sunflower." He gently rubs your sides. You nod to him and he takes the blind fold off. In front of you stands Chan, dressed in a nice black suit, his hands behind his back. There were two lines of string lights on either side of him, leading up to a gazebo further inland. The gazebo had fairy lights hanging from it, bouquets of flowers fill the inside as well. Chan brings one hand around his front, a bouquet of black roses in hand, offering them to you. You take them and look between him and Felix, a little confused.

"Y/n. Princess. I want to start off by saying, I'm so sorry that I'm such a pabo. I've had such strong feelings for you for a while. When Felix brought you around for the first time, I was head over heels for you." His ears start to turn red. "When you guys invited the members to join, I was so conflicted, and confused. I didn't want to ruin what you and Felix have, and I didn't want either of you to hate me."

You step closer to him and place a hand on his cheek, which he leans into, placing his free hand on yours. Felix stands back, smiling.

"I know now that neither of you would hate me." He smiles between you two. "So, I want to officially ask you both, if you would allow me to date both of you. You both mean the world to me and—" Chan gets cut off by you kissing him deeply. He moves his hand from yours to around your waist, kissing you back. Felix comes up and wraps his arms around you both, interlocking his fingers and Chan's on your back. You pull away and smile up at him.

"I'm sure I speak for Felix as well, but we would love to have you officially be with us Chris." You wipe your eyes as they are starting to water again. Chan and Felix smile at each other before kissing, holding you close to them. When Chan pulls back, he brings his other hand in front of him.

"Remember that gift I said was for my mom? It really wasn't. It was for us, if you guys said yes." He opens his hand to reveal a small black box. He opened it and there were three rings inside, each having three stones imbedded. The middle being your respective birthstone, and the other two, on either side of your stone, was the birthstones of the other two. The other two rings in a similar fashion, but their stones in the middle.

"I asked my parents to order these special while we were still in Korea. They know a really good jeweler here, and I trusted them to make sure this was perfect." He pulls yours out and slips it on your middle finger, doing the same with Felix's before putting his own on.

"Did you know he was going to do this, Lixie?" You look up at Felix, who grins at you.

"I told him to ask today. Wanted this day to be much more special for you. I didn't know about the rings though." He smiles at you then Chan. "He's very sneaky like that." Chan laughs.

"I hope you both love them. I know I'm not much of a ring person, but I think I can manage one." He looks between you and Felix, love in his eyes.

"We love them, Chan. Thank you so much." Felix hugs his leader. Chan pulls you into the hug, and you all stay like that for a bit. When you pull away, Felix leans down to kiss you deeply before moving to kiss Chan just as deep. You all enjoy the last days of vacation as a throuple.

——

You all walk back into your home, seeing the rest of the group in the common area. When Jisung and Jeongin see you, they jump up and go to you, enveloping you in a tight hug, saying they missed you so much. They pull away and give Felix and Chan a hug too. Minho and Seungmin get up and come over, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek, saying they hoped you enjoyed your vacation with the other two Aussies. You laugh and say you did. When the area around you cleared, not wanting to crowd you, Hyunjin and Changbin gave you hugs as well.

You show all them the ring and necklace that the boys got you, and they tease Chan about how it took him four years to ask you out. He just rolls his eyes with a smile.

"Baby, go enjoy some time with the boys. Hyung and I are going to unpack our things and take a nap before dinner." Felix kisses your cheek and you nod. He takes your suitcases and bag and brings them to his room. Chan kisses your temple and gently pats your ass before going to his room. Minho brings you to the couch, sitting you on his lap as the younger three sit around you. You all talk about your vacations and what you all did before Minho has to get up to make dinner.

——

It's another year later, you're still living with the boys. Your relationship hasn't changed with any of them. Chan and Felix still loving you and spoiling you. Chan still sometimes gets in his head, thinking neither you or Felix don't really love him, and you and Felix make sure to be there with him.

Minho, Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin still have fun with you, always checking with Felix and Chan before doing anything. They leave new marks for Chan and Felix to see, knowing it riles them up.

The day of your 5 year anniversary with Felix, and 1 year anniversary with Chan came up quite quickly. They took you out to spend time with you, and at night they took you to the beach in Korea.

"I know it's nothing like our beach in Australia, sunflower, but I hope it makes do." Felix holds you from behind as you both watch Chan walking around in the water.

"Just being with you both is enough, my love." You reach behind you to run your fingers through his hair. He kisses your cheek and smiles at Chan when he walks back up.

"I have a question for you, Y/n." Felix rubs your sides softly.

"Y/n? You usually only use my name if it's something serious." You turn to look at Felix as he lets go of you. Chan comes up and holds you from behind now, a smile on his face.

"It is serious." Felix watches you, his face serious. He takes a step back and gets down on one knee, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. Your eyes start to water when you realize what he's doing.

"Y/n, my sunflower. My queen. The goddess in my life. You have made me the absolute happiest man. I have enjoyed these last 5 years with you, and I want to continue to enjoy the next however many with you." He pulls a black box from his pocket and opens it up, a ring with black and blue gemstones sits inside. "Would you do me the honor of marrying me?" He looks up at you, a wide smile on his face. You nod and wipe your face as tears start to fall from your eyes. Felix gets up and puts the ring on your ring finger before leaning down to kiss you softly, wrapping his arms around you, Chan moving his arms to circle around Felix as well. He kisses your head and rubs Felix's back.

"I love you so, so much Felix." You hug him, burying your face in his chest as you cry happy tears.

"I love you too, Y/n." He smiles and looks up at Chan who smiles back and pecks Felix's lips. "Just wait for Chan to ask in a few years." Felix laughs. The three of you go back home, happy and content to spend your lives together.

Taglist

@emmxxsworld @mbioooo0000

#writing #amateur writer #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #chanlix #bang chan lee felix

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bussyslayer333 · 2 years ago

Note

dancing together in the rain with bradley for your blurb celebration please ❤️

this is so cute eeee

pairing: bradley bradshaw x wife!reader

word count: 0.5k

warnings: some swearing,,, i think that’s it?? mostly cute af

send me a prompt, get a blurb!!

“You’re fucking crazy!” you squeal with no bite, rain pelting down onto you.

San Diego was usually dry and hot, something you loved about the place was it’s general consistency in weather. Today however, dry was replaced with wet, very wet.

“Dance with me baby!” Bradley shouts over the rain.

His white shirt is almost fully see through and his jacket he’d already deposited as it was weighing him down. You eyed the way his large arms strained and moved beneath the transparent fabric and ultimately folded, rushing into his waiting arms.

You should probably be mad. You’re wedding dress was going to be ruined. The cake had turned to an inedible mush and your guests were huddled under a small gazebo meant only for the bar and speakers for the music.

“There’s no music, Brad,” you wonder aloud.

As if on cue, the melodic sounds of Abba come spitting loudly out of the speakers being scarcely protected by the gazebo. You look around curiously to find none other than Jake Seresin stepping out of the gazebo, already shirtless and smacking Bradley on the shoulder.

“God, Bradshaw do I have to save your ass all the time?” He teases, hair still perfectly tousled even when soaked in rainwater, droplets dripping down his toned chest in a way that could almost be staged.

Bradley can only laugh in disbelief, “why is your shirt off?”

“I’m here to fuckin’ dance, Bradshaw that’s why!” Jake cheers.

You shrug and bend down to slip your heels off, flinging them to the side.

With your approval, streams of people come from under the gazebo, shrieking as the rain hits them. The squealing quickly turns to singing as people familiarise themselves with the weather and begin to dance.

Bradley is jumping up and down wildly, his hands never leaving your waist. You can feel his strong hands gripping onto you through the sodden fabric of your dress, spinning you round to face him. He continues to sway you as he pushes at the wet strands of hair framing your face.

“You’re so goddam beautiful.” He declares, running his thumb over your lip.

“Even with my makeup ruined?” you query.

“Especially.” Bradley decides, hurriedly smashing his lips into yours.

You can hear your friends and family whooping as Bradley deepens the kiss and lowers you down in a dip. He was always one for theatrics.

And when you’re scooped back up and allowed to take in the surrounding scene, Jake twirling around your grandma and your girlfriends dancing wildly with Bob and Fanboy, there’s no way on earth you could be mad at all. Even when the rain is still slashing down heavily.

“I hope this hasn’t ruined our day Mrs Bradshaw?” Bradley whispers into your ear.

You turn back to face him, nose nudging against his own, “No day is ruined with you.”

Bradley’s arms come to wrap back around you as he lifts you up.

“Put me down!” You squeal, slapping at his rain soaked shirt that was practically useless at this point.

“Never.”

a/n: I LOVE BRAD UGHHH and i hope u guys love this 😘😘

icl i love writing lil blurbs hehe

pls comment or reblog and tell me what u think :))

ty for requesting and reading !!!

- honey <333

#honeys 1.5k party!!!#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun rooster #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x wife!reader #rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader smut #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fluff

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hymnserendipity · 4 months ago

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Suguru & Satoru, poetry love

Fic based on a non sorcerer word. Both fluff that angst. No spoiler obv. Just my immagination.

It was the first days of April, and the special exam session for overage students was upon us. During that period, your only activity was to barricade yourself in your room and study, sip tea, study and look out the window at all hours of the day. On sunny days, under the gazebo in the park below your house, a boy with long black hair sat reading. And at sunset, when he was about to leave, a boy with white hair or bright blue eyes would come into the park and go and sit in the same spot. The boy always took out a can of beer, but at that point the day was getting darker and darker, and you couldn't see the park. The light came from the distant streetlights, so you could only make out shadows. The boy drank, and drank, sitting there under the gazebo. Listening to the chirping of the cicadas, and thinking about who knows what. You had only realized their bizarre routine in the second week of studying, so you couldn't have said how long it had been going on. But, every now and then, you would catch glimpses of details of their lives that made me think, perhaps their not meeting for a short time had something mystical and deliberate.

<<< Until 1990, writing was mixed in newspapers and professional books. The Society for the Standardization of Korean Writing was born>> you repeat absentmindedly the morning something happened. You were distracted by the sight of the neighbor who, with ribbons in her hair to keep her curls in place, was sweeping the outside stairs of the building with an old broom. During that late and sunny morning you noticed the black-haired boy writing on a sheet of paper, instead of reading. He wrote slowly and, when he finished, he left the sheet neatly folded on the bench. You were dying to go out and read what he had written. The supermarket was your only green light to the outside world until your bored eyes rested on that park. That day in fact you decided to go out, not for too long, promising yourself that you would give your all for the project assigned to us by the professor. You had to prepare a project to present the following week during a seminar, but for various reasons you had procrastinated and still had to do everything. However, you also had four exams to prepare for next month. You sighed and went out to the supermarket to do some shopping for that week and, since you already knew that you would have to bring yourself back up with three various bags, you decided to take the long way there and not the way back. So you went towards the park, you wanted to see that boy with my own eyes, breathe in the smell of wild flowers and warm wood, immerse yourself in something that wasn't your sweat-soaked room. You walked near the grass closest to the sidewalk and, for a few seconds, you even closed your eyes: You could hear the black-haired boy, nearby, flipping a page, settling down on the bench, and continuing with his gaze wrapped up in reading his books. On the way back from the supermarket you hurried home, you didn't glance at the park even once. Observing that boy gave you the perfect idea for the history project. Since you had to talk about any topic that had to do with the history of a country of your choice, and it concerned the time frame between 1900 and 1930. He resembled an actor whose photograph you had seen some time ago. So you spent the rest of the morning and afternoon doing research and crossing out lines after lines until you found the right sentences. You wanted to make the best impression possible, this perfectionist side was just like you.

<This is how the Singeuk theater movement came into being, whose leaders did their best to import more modern dramas from Europe and America.>> Rewrite this sentence a dozen times, but if you had continued like this you would never have finished. As the sun went down you looked out the window, exhausted, exhausted, but with most of that project now finished. You saw the silhouette of the blue-eyed boy approaching the park, as usual. But that evening it was different, because he was still there. He sat down next to him for the first time and you, as a spectator, felt an euphoria like no other. You even stopped breathing, to try to silence all the outside noises and try to catch whatever they were talking about. The dark-haired boy held up a sheet of paper that from that distance seemed blank to you, he took it and read it carefully, took a pen, opened a can of beer and started to write something. A few minutes passed, after which the white-haired boy showed him the paper and you stood on tiptoe to try to understand something from that unexpected situation. It had been a stalemate for so long that you thought it would stay that way forever, but instead he had come first, maybe because he really wanted to talk to him. They started to walk slowly towards the exit of the park, then he put a hand on his shoulder, encircling it and, the moment you saw them walk on the sidewalk you noticed that he was holding his arm. As soon as they were out of sight, you cursed dinner and grabbed a can of beer and ran, going down the stairs. You turned towards the park and the sign mounted on the arch of the same name welcomed you among the shrubs "Bronze Arch Garden" and you immersed yourself in the dark shrubs and bushes. You walked on the carefully placed pebbles that you had often observed from the window and smelled the wildflowers that covered the lawn. Right in the center of the park was a statue whose name he couldn’t remember. Built about ten years ago, that stone woman with the drawn sword was there to commemorate all those who dedicate their lives to protecting all others. And in front of it was the circular wooden gazebo. You sat there, careful not to take the seats of those two people. The paper they had used was still there, between the boards. Had they abandoned it, or left it as a pledge to the place that had brought them together? You noticed right away that the paper had been used all that time, and you were noticing it for the first time.

The handwritings were slightly different; his, curved and heavy, and hers, light and refined, so given the color of the ink, they had certainly used different pens, on different days.

Let's take

The swampy path

To reach the clouds

(Kobayashi Issa)

The cat wakes up and yawns;

Then, love

(Kobayashi Issa)

Which fingers will those red flowers touch in the future?

(Matsuo Basho)

And so it went on, the front and back. Those two had exchanged Haiku for days, until they finally met. You were happy, but bitter. Happy for them, but you? Would you ever have something so beautiful? You carefully put the page back in its place, finished the beer and headed home. You spent the following days at the university. You took exams, went to the library, exams, presentations of individual projects and so on. So you didn't look at that park anymore, not until one morning, you heard the neighbor talking to her neighbor while she was hanging out the laundry. And it felt like the whole world was falling apart.

<<You should be calmer, a bad grade won't ruin his average. He has plenty of time.>>

<<You're right... Speaking of time, I'm still shocked about that black-haired boy, he was so young, he wasn't even twenty-five!>>

<<I don't understand what happened.>>

<<While he was walking in front of the park, around lunchtime, a truck carrying supplies for the supermarket swerved. He died instantly.>>

Your heart stopped beating and you rushed out of the house, running like a madman. You reached the bronze arch. On the fence at the entrance to the park was a laminated sheet that read:

Don't cry, insects

-Lovers, even stars

Must separate

(Kobayashi Issa)

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

Thanks to my 51 readers!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #sugusato #satosugu #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jjk geto

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xsapphirescrollsx · 2 years ago

Text

Touch

Written: 2020-04-28

Bucky Barnes x Black female reader

Bucky Barnes thinks he doesn’t deserve you.

That he was unworthy of this very moment too.

Rain fell in sheets swelling the air around you in scents of dark soil and juniper. He sniffed the moist air again and breathed in deep, it smelled a touch like honey too. Bucky huddled in further next to you, hair wet, the droplets fell to your cheeks and he discovered the sweet smell was coming from you.

A pavillion of sorts, but it was a small and broken pile of wood to the point a stream of spring rain came pouring in from the roof, on to the base of the floor and down the side like a waterfall.

Bucky groaned inside, What are you doing here? Why did you follow him?

You slid down the column running through the center of the junky gazebo with a frazzled but excited gaze.

“Just a little rain,” you said in a chipper tone.

He was not sure whether to sit or to continue to stand. Bucky glanced from your bare legs, to your flip flop barely on one foot, to your hands gently wiping off the rain from your thighs. Not entirely comfortable with how smooth he found your skin to be, he quickly looked away to the rain that was still coming down hard.

“Aren’t you going to sit?” You loudly asked over the roar of the downpour.

The apple of his cheeks were still pink when he nodded stiffly, refused to look you in the eyes and sat down next to you.

“Afraid of me?” you asked playfully and bumped his shoulder with yours.

Bucky brought a knee up and rested his metal arm on it and didn’t speak.

He shook his head and kept his eyes panned on the rain. In the past, he had women, some of those moments he had become hopelessly devoted too, though to his detriment for only just one thing. But now, his eyes fell to your hands cupping and rubbing the bottom of your foot.

Bucky imagined your hands, the soft pads of your fingers tracing along his face, his lips. The little movement of your thumb messaging the pinch in your hell was enough to send his heart hammering into his chest.

“It was a pretty day,” you said offhandedly.

You rocked forward on your hands and knees, pushed closer to the cascade of rain and rinsed your hands.

Tilting your head back over your shoulder a small smile met his. Blood rushed to his head again and Bucky looked away.

It was still a pretty day, he thought.

Bucky concentrated on a blade of grass being pelted. “You got stuck out here with me. Why’d you follow me in the first place?” He asked.

“You looked upset after the reaming from Fury.”

You scooted closer, folded your legs underneath you letting your knee touch his shin.

“So?”

Bucky’s eyes fell to the place the two of you were connected up to your eyes.

You shrugged gently, he could see the confidence melt a bit and the shyness take over.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Tender, with merciful care you laid the tips of your fingers on his calf.

The rain let up a bit. “Why would you care if I was alone?” he asked quietly.

“Same reason you cared when I didn’t show up for the briefing a few weeks ago.”

He remembered. He found you in your room, unbathed, the assertiveness in your eyes had vanished and you just wanted to be alone.

And he remembered in that moment he wanted to touch you then, like he wanted to now.

“I just want you to be okay,” You said and your eyes moved to his stubbly cheek. Smoothly your fingers left his calve and with the tips of your fingers you caressed his jaw.

He felt his inside skip and stuttered, his skin flushed to a deeper pink. Bucky’s jaw tightened, his heart thumped quicker as your palm was joined by your fingers.

Your touch was like light, raw and pure it cut through the dark muddling his mind and he shut his eyes. Bucky unclenched his jaw as the back of your other hand swept up his neck. The warmth of your body fell over him, through him and he breathed in the sweet silkiness of your rain soaked skin.

A sob racked from his chest. It scared him, he hadn’t expected to feel this unfiltered joy. You hesitated, and Bucky opened his eyes and gazed at you.

“Don’t stop,” he said softly.

You brushed a few wet strands away from his forehand.

“Never,” you whispered.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #black female reader #x black reader #x black!reader

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in-your-reflection · 1 year ago

Text

Somewhere, beyond space and beyond time…

[TW: Domestic abuse, suicide]

A town of polished white stone sits stop an endless sea, buildings stacked upon buildings like a great pyramid, as if reaching up to touch the sky. Orange light covers the whole of it, glistening off the water and bathing the town in an eternal twilight.

Beneath a pure white gazebo, two youths sit across from each other, one bearing four arms and a flower in his hair, the other with horns and a patch over one eye. The table between them is covered in a lavish display of pastries - macarons, miniature tarts, financiers, mille-feuille - with an ornate tea set alongside them, with plenty of everything for the two to share.

To one side lies a chessboard, in the middle of a match, though some of its pieces are conspicuously missing. The white-clad boy adjusts its bishop, planting it near the center of the board.

"Checkmate." "Fuck you mean checkmate." "Look. It's threatening your king in both timeline A turn 7 and timeline C turn 9. You can't save them both."

The blond lifts his tea to his lips with his upper-right hand, lower-right taking another slice of tart while his upper-left lifts the knight.

"Yeah I can. It's turn 4."

The piece hits the board with a clack.

"…So you can. Impressive work, morning star." "What's this all about, anyway? This whole setup, the tea party. Clearly you're trying to win me over. Spill it." "But I just made this tea…" "The truth, not the tea." "Ah. Well, in truth…"

The teary-eyed boy bows his head, pony-tailed hair hanging over one shoulder.

"…I felt my apology was insufficient. I had hoped to find time for us to just…talk. Thus I asked you to make time for us. …I would have done so myself, had I the strength." "Your apology." Two arms fold over his chest with a skeptical twitch of an ear and a crisp bite into a macaron.

The boy in white pinches his single eye shut.

"…For everything. I have been…a horrible husband. For as much grief as I have caused you regarding your memory, I…was unable to control myself under the weight of my own."

The boy in black returns his teacup to the table with a click.

"Thousands of thousands of years, and you never once actually told me about your past. About what All was like before the universe we made."

He lets out a deep sigh.

"Why won't you just talk to me? What's with all this memory-erasing husband-beating doormat-act bullshit? Maybe if you would actually talk about what's been bothering you, we could work through it."

The gaze of that red eye would burn through steel, piercing directly into the fallen god's soul.

"You know what it looks like on my end? It looks like malice. You haven't bothered to give me any sort of justification for why you've been doing what you did, so the only logical conclusion is that despite how much you suck up to me, you actually want me to suffer." "I--" "Is that how you feel? Is that any way to treat the person who brought you back from the dead just so we could be together again? I could put you back. Your corpse is still there, you know. I can easily pay it another visit."

The sinner chokes back a breath.

"…But I won't. Cause despite everything, I do have some love for you still. And I know we could work something out. If you would just open your fucking mouth for once in your life."

Pale as a ghost, the ivory prince stares into his half-emptied teacup. The liquid quivers between his shaking hands.

"…Please. Put me back. I cannot continue--" "CUT THAT SHIT OUT ALREADY!"

Four hands slam against the table's edge, scattering treats across the sky, before they abruptly reverse in trajectory and gently resettle themselves back into formation on their platters.

"You can't just keep saying that you want to die every time you run into something uncomfortable! Sometimes you just have to open your fucking eye and face the reality in front of you. That's life, Ayin! That's what being alive is about!" "Prrh…mm…tlif…", a shaky voice mumbles in response. "WHAT? Speak up, dammit." "Perhaps I am not meant to live."

The eternal twilight comes to a gradual end, the moon rising to bathe the plaza in shadow. As if on cue, the one of shadow stands up, gazing down in silhouette as his glowing red gaze brands itself into his partner's mind.

The quiet lasts for what feels like an eternity. It may well have been, in the absence of time.

"If what you want is to suffer, then suffer." "What?"

A two-fingered gesture towards the fruit-covered tart in the center of the table, cuing the platter to rise up.

The knife takes flight. Gently, deliberately, moving to rest on the plate of the boy in white, blade towards his chest.

"…Lucifer, what does this mean?" "You know what to do. Do it. Right now. Like the coward you are."

He takes the knife in his hands. Holding it primed, ready to thrust.

Minutes pass. Hours. Days, perhaps. Who could possibly tell?

The newly-established night turns pitch black, not a thing in sight but that crimson gaze.

And in the black, metal clatters to the floor.

A boy's voice timidly speaks, sobbing into the cold midnight air.

"Okay…okay. I'll talk. I'll tell you everything. No half-truths, no tricks. I… I…!"

The night is cold, and lonely. One cannot face the darkness by oneself.

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mountainshade · 2 years ago

Text

Garden Marquee Party Tent for Your Next Big Event

A garden marquee party tent is a perfect way to host a party or event outside in style. Whether you're planning a wedding, a corporate event, or a birthday party, a event marquee tent can provide a beautiful and functional space for your guests to enjoy. However, with so many options available, it can be challenging to know what to look for when choosing the right marquee party tent. In this article, we'll explore some of the things to consider when buying a garden marquee party tent.

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In conclusion, a garden marquee party tent can provide a beautiful and functional space for your next big event. When buying a tent, you should consider the size, material, style, accessories, and price. With careful consideration and planning, you can find the perfect marquee party tent to suit your needs and create a memorable event for you and your guests.

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idiotwithanipad · 7 months ago

Text

The Past

After catching ear of a party being held at the house, Amy (My OC) opts out of going due to her fear of a certain substance and explains to Humphrey why that's the case.

(TW: Alcoholism, Alcoholic trauma, Childhood trauma related to alcohol, Implied Child Neglect and physical harm)

Amy wandered through the calmness of the reception area, Chris the desk man and Vicky the receptionist were chatting idly as she passed, blissfully unaware of her presence, or the decapitated head which she held in her hands about her middle.

"Don't work too hard guys, oh and feel free to put laxatives in old John's coffee today, he's a prick" Amy mused, nodding her head to them as she passed. The 'Old John' in question? An ex alcoholic and neglectful father who'd recently struck it rich in the art of gambling.

The head in her hands perked up.

"That's a bit grim, innit?"

Amy shrugged, taking a seat in the ivy green velvet armchair sheltered in shady a corner of the lobby.

"They could also put cement powder in his soup?... Umm, nail polish remover in his contact lenses pot?... Nair in his shampoo? -" Her suggestions for torture were interrupted by the head.

"Oi oi oi, none of that, young lady, you're better than that. I know blokes like 'im wind you up, but if you keep on about it that just means he's winning" Humphrey explained, his eyes looking up to hopefully meet her gaze.

"Yeah I know" Amy mumbled, dejected, resting Humphrey's head on it's side against her thighs and reclining back deeper into the chair, folding her arms.

"Not that I wouldn't like to see all that stuff happen to blokes like that every once in a while" The Tudor conceded.

The pair were cut off by the sudden ringing of the telephone at the desk. Vicky cleared her throat and picked it up, addressing whoever made the call politely and awaiting a response.

"Yes. For tonight? Uh, let me just check... Oh yes! Found it! The Bachelorette party in the gardens? Tonight at nine? Yes, all set. Okay. Okay, see you tonight, bye bye" Vicky said through the phone with a smile.

Amy sat forward in her seat again, interest peaking.

"A Bachelorette party, huh?" She spoke aloud to nobody.

"Ooh, we should swing by and 'ave a look, could be fun. Better than golf" The Tudor admitted with a half smile. Amy gathered Humphrey's head in her hands again and rose from the chair.

She wandered over to the desk, stepping up beside Vicky, careful not to let the living woman pass through her arm. Not her proudest moment; the first time Amy had been passed through involved a moment in which she placed Humphrey's head on a table while she left the room to find Kitty for food club. Upon returning to the room with her Georgian friend, a living had sat down at the table with a hefty flask of tea. As Amy reached over the table to retrieve Humphrey's head, the living had accidentally dropped the flask from under their arm and leant down to retrieve it, their shoulders passing through Amy's stomach on the way down. She had gagged and wretched so loud that Cap came running into the room, his stick at the ready to thrash whoever caused such a problem.

Feasting her eyes on the booking list displayed on the computer screen on the desk, Amy noticed that the party itself involved a rented gazebo, alcohol and a chocolate fountain.

"There's gonna be booze. Julian won't miss out on that then? Not to mention the ladies" Amy spoke, surprisingly monotone, before trudging back to the East Wing, silently.

"Aren't you gonna go tell the rest?" Humphrey asked, peeking over as they passed the Higham Suite.

Amy replied coldly.

"They can find out on their own"

Humphrey couldn't understand; Amy had been cheery earlier, she had laughed and smiled, joked and snided against the pesky livings. Why the sudden change?

Amy passed through her bedroom door and placed Humphrey on the armchair beneath the window; another cause for confusion. Humphrey tried not to seem clingy or desperate with the girl, but since her death she had been the only ghost to spend this much time with him. The only ghost to pick him up off the floor and carry him around with her almost all day long.

She cared for him and he was eternally greatfull for her help, but he didn't want to make it an obligation to her, that's the last thing he wanted; after many years of being tended to by the girl, it caused him to feel lonely and saddened when she didn't want to hold his decapitated head in her hands or sit with him in the sun.

Humphrey's first 'rescue' from Amy had been a staple in his existence among the dead. Amy had actually joined for story club one afternoon a few weeks into her ghosting, and had sat down nervously beside Kitty on one of the small sofas. Humphrey's head had once again been neglected in the far corner of the room. None of the other's even seemed to hear him, even though every now and then he would call out, wishing to join in.

Amy had looked between each ghost, none of them looking at her either. She kept looking over to the Tudor's head facing the wall, alone in the shady corner. A sharp pinch of discomfort disrupted her heart. Enough was enough. Amy knew what neglect felt like, she knew the feeling of being unseen and unheard, especially in times of need.

Much to everyone's surprise, the teen had pushed herself up and marched over to the abandoned head, plucking him from the stone floor and holding him at arms length, as though fearing that blood would dribble from the stump beneath his Adam's apple. Humphrey gave a sigh of relief, his eyes not yet able to see who had retrieved him.

The other's watched as Amy returned to her spot beside Kitty and sat back down, cautiously turning the head in her hands to face him.

"Ah, thank you, much bet-" The Tudor had been cut to the quick; the new girl was the last person he would've expected to help him.

Remembering that day sometimes made the Tudor tear up; that strange girl had stood up for him more than anyone else had in this house, even in his life. If she was willing to stand up to The Captain for him on multiple occasions, or correct anyone who called his head an 'it' rather than 'he', or even fire an icy glare at her good friend Robin to defend him, she must care.

But here he lie, his head leant aside resting against the armrest of the chair, watching as she sat down on the edge of her bed, folding her arms and sighing. He could've really used his body right about now.

"You alright?" He called over to her, anything to quell her uncharacteristic silence in his presence; she was usually a chatterbox around him and quiet around the others.

"Yeah" She replied simply, her eyes telling another story. Humphrey blinked.

"You sure? 'Cause you were quite chatty earlier. Sad that we can't join the party? We can always go 'ave a look if you-"

"You can but I'm not" Amy replied sharply, tightening her crossed arms.

Humphrey was taken aback.

"Why not? I thought you would've been interested in a party?"

"Not one like that. No, I'm not going" Amy replied, a slight tremble in her voice. Humphrey's brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Did you see a name you recognize on the screen? Someone who weren't too nice to you when you were alive?" Humphrey asked, trying to pinpoint the reason for Amy's reluctance and bitterness.

"Just drop it, alright?" Amy spoke bluntly, not looking over at him, her eyes fixed on the wall ahead of her.

"But it could be fun-"

"I'm not going because there's booze, okay?!" Amy spat, her fists dropping to her sides and thumping against the mattress. Humphrey paused, gobsmacked, and stared downward towards Amy's platforms.

A sharp sigh fell from Amy's lips as her hand came up towards her eyes to pinch at her brow. Humphrey could tell by her reaction that she didn't just prefer to be teetotal, or felt intimidated by the thought of damaging her liver, her reaction was deep rooted and visceral.

"What happened?" Humphrey asked.

Amy dropped her hand down from her brow and clenched her lips tightly shut.

"I've noticed that every time someone drinks the stuff you go quiet. You put your hood up sometimes. That cocktail group the others do? Was it something Julian said, or-?" Humphrey asked gently, though, behind his eyes his brain burned with the thought of the MP insulting or suggestively warbling some filth to Amy, and it made him want to find his body and go clock the Tory in the jaw.

Amy shook her head.

"No. It's nothing like that" Her voice cracked, a pathetic whimper in comparison to the tone she took just now. Humphrey's jaw clenched in sadness as he watched Amy swipe a tear from her eye.

"It's not the alcohol alone. Its- the person drinking the shit. They can never be trusted" Amy admitted. Humphrey watched as Amy picked at her fingernails and turned her eyes to the floor.

"My mum was- really really badly- like..." She cut herself off with a shaky sigh.

"My mum was an alcoholic. Every day and every night. She could polish off a twelve pack in under three hours and still want more. And she'd always get more, even if she had to borrow money from our downstairs neighbour. She got nasty with me. Mean. She hurt me a lot" Amy spoke quietly, pain in her eyes, her right eye barely wincing at the vivid memory of a shiner she'd received from her aforementioned mother.

"I'd get home from school, she'd be drunk. I'd wake up in the night, she wouldn't be home. She used to sneak the shit into work so by the time she got home she'd be drunk. Every time I followed her around in the flat as a kid to make sure she was okay, she'd just get mad at me and she'd get violent and -" Amy bit her tongue as more tears rolled from her eyes, this time she didn't bother wiping them away.

"Sometimes she'd come into my room and sit on my bed with me. She'd hold my hand and tell me I was the most important thing in the world to her, but she'd- she'd squeeze my hand so tight and wouldn't let go. It really hurt. It left bruises on my wrists. But then she'd be shouting and screaming at me because she caught me counting all the empty cans in the bin. I'd go to my granddad's on the weekends but when he'd drop me off back home on Sunday nights, I'd go in and find her face down in the hallway passed out. I'd try to go get my granddad to help but by the time I'd got done with trying to wake her up myself, he was already gone".

Humphrey watched as a far away look crept it's way into Amy's teary eyes.

"The flat just reeked of the shit, my mum reeked of it, even my room. I'd lose sleep worrying about my mum. All night I'd hear that sound... "

"What sound? "

"Cans. Tin cans cracking open. It was like someone drilling right into my head. Even I couldn't open up a can of Monster without putting my headphones on full blast to drown out that sound"

Humphrey wished he could go over to her and hold her hand, pat her back, hold her and never let go.

"I got so sick of her being drunk all the time one day that I tried to sneak all the packs into the kitchen to pour it all down the sink but she caught me and- dragged me into my room by my hair and shut me inside. My door handle was broken, so it could only be opened from the outside, so- I was trapped all night"

Humphrey's eyes closed tightly shut at the horrific thought.

"Didn't you try to tell your granddad about it? He might 'ave been able to help her?" Humphrey added, hoping for a positive answer in this dark moment.

"He already knew. Mum drank a lot even before I was born. It was complicated, they didn't exactly get along all the time. He tried to have me taken into his custody when I was little but it didn't work" Amy replied.

"Eventually I just gave up. I just kept getting hurt so I- shut down. I only spoke when spoken to. Sounds stupid but, I thought if I didn't interfere then it couldn't hurt me anymore. But I was still so scared"

Humphrey almost couldn't believe what he'd just heard, wondering if he had dreamed the whole interaction, that all of this was just a horrible nightmare. He had no words; for once, Humphrey was speechless, his eyes slowly blinking with a vacant stare.

During the silence, Amy's head dropped into her hands, and she welt pathetically. Humphrey opened his mouth to comfort her but he fell silent and just let her cry. Robin gave him that advice months ago; if someone needed to cry, let them cry.

It seemed like hours had passed before Humphrey's body walked steadily through the door and already began feeling around at the bedside for Amy. The bodily portion of the Tudor seemed to have a sixth sense when Amy was involved; if she screamed, when she got angry or when she cried, it seemed to reroute itself and fumble it's way to her location as if the girl were a tracking beacon.

It's hand wafted around until it's palm connected with the top of Amy's head, causing her to jolt out of her tearful moment of silence. It's hand retracted quickly as though it had just pressed it's palm to a hot sheet of metal before settling again, gently placing it's palm against the side of Amy's head, stroking it softly as if to comfort her.

Caught in her briefly baffled state, Amy flung her arms forward and got to her feet, clutching onto the Tudor's middle and hugging it tightly. One of it's arms looped around Amy's back while the other patted carefully at the back of her head, it's only way to make her feel better.

#bbc ghosts #original character #amy #amy bone #humphrey bone #larry rickard #angst #venting #tw: alcohol #tw: abuse

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kame-writes · 8 months ago

Text

Cannibals Curse Part 3

- Reflections

They walked side by side through the picturesque victorian style estate. Pretty pink townhouses giving way to wide parks, and a large town square with a gazebo in the center. It all looked very pleasant, especially considering this was apparently Hell, where people were lead to believe you'd suffer in endless eternal torment

“I must say, you're taking the whole ‘Being damned for all eternity’ thing mighty well. Most start freaking out by now.” Rosie pointed out, leading him towards her emporium, and the little apartment she had above it.

“I lost my faith a long time ago. But, I suppose I always knew that if there was any truth in the good book, then this is where I would end up.” He spoke so casually, that Rosie tilted her head curiously as she listened. “I made my peace with what I was, and where I was going, a long time ago.” His voice was casual, but there was a sad edge to it. His opinion on who he was formed so solid, that it was impossible to be anything other than the truth.

“I'm guessing you indulged in more than just the odd spot of cannibalism then?” Rosie guessed. Cannibalism was obviously not acceptable when they were alive, but for him to be so sure he earned a place in hell, there had to be more to it than that.

“Well, there is the question of how I acquired so many bodies to be able to acquire a taste for it.” He said with an almost sly air, one hand folded neatly behind his back, the picture of a gentleman who was comfortably where he believed he belonged.

“Yeah, I guess that sourcing your own ingredients would land you a spot down here.” She practically snorted out a laugh. “Sorry. Ya get so used to how things run down here, you tend to forget how taboo things are up there.”

“Sourcing my own ingredients… What a delightfully vague way to describe it! Wish I'd thought of that when I was alive.” Alastor laughed, a genuinely amused sound. “You just referred to mass murder as a taboo.” He tilted his head as he walked beside her, not able to leave his curiosity unanswered. “Does that mean murder is just a casual thing in Hell?”

“Oh no, it's still something you should try to avoid. But it's not the be all and end all most of the time. Very difficult to keep the dead down for long without specialist tools don't ya know. Wouldn't be much of a punishment if we could just take the easy way out.” She explained. “So that guy you killed will be back eventually, and might hold a grudge against you. That's a pretty good incentive not to go killing willy-nilly.”

“Hmmm, I can see how that would dissuade people. I think I'm starting to understand.” Why put sinners through being tortured or burnt in sulfur like religious text suggests, when you could give them no laws or rules and let them do as they pleased to eachother. Hell was not endless pain, Hell was other people.

Most of Humanity was rotten and self-serving at their core, if it put them on top, then they'd trample anyone underneath them. Pride was a very human affliction after all, and not one that Alastor was deluded enough to think didn't apply to him. He just had a very particular set of rules and exemptions for who was fair game to target.

As they walked, he caught his reflection in an empty shop window, and stood dead in his tracks to stare into the darkened glass. He took a step closer, hand hand lifting automatically, as if to touch the glass and check it wasn't a trick, but it never made contact.

Alastor didn't look like himself. Well, he did, but a very twisted version. His skin was a deathly desaturated colour, eyes two different shades of red, including dark eyelids that only emphasized his pallor.

His usually dark brown hair was a vivid shade of crimson, tipped with inky black, and two large tuffs stood upright from the top. He reached up, and was surprised to be able to feel them twitch, were they his ears not hair?

Then his hand moved to two sharp horns. Antlers? That protruded from his skull. Why would he have antlers? Antlers and sticking up ears, like a deer. Why did he look like…

It was as if suddenly the world closed around him. Nothing existed outside of his own mind, and sudden radio feedback was so loud in his head, like a bastardisation of tinnitus. He remembered where he'd last been before waking up in hell. Suddenly thrown back into a memory he'd blocked from his mind.

He'd been in the bayou, part way through disposing of his latest victim. There was a hunter. He could hear the dogs closing in on him. They tore at his skin. There was a gunshot…

He stumbled back from his reflection, breathing quickly and frantically. His hand raised to where he'd felt a sharp pain in the center of his forehead. He was shot! The hunter must have mistaken him for prey and… And, and, now he was here.

“Easy Darling. You're okay.” Roise tried to soothe, giving him plenty of room to breathe and not feel trapped. He might be fine with being in hell, but facing your own death, especially since she figured it was quite violent from his reaction, was a lot to take in.

He spun around to stare at her with wide eyes, that smile of his gone once more, looking around quickly as he reoriented himself from the daze of reliving his final moments. He was clearly shaken, and he hated how vulnerable he must have looked for her to try and comfort him. Bringing his hand up to run through his hair, he tried to physically make himself presentable again, even if it wasn't as easy to do so emotionally.

Rosie made no comment, pretending to be distracted with something happening on the other side of the street, giving a polite wave to a passerby, who returned her gesture enthusiastically. She only turned back to the shaken sinner once she was sure he had composed himself enough to not lash out in defense, he seemed to be very adamant on putting on a strong front.

“Come along darling, we're almost there. I think I have some old clothes from an ex husband of mine that will fit you for now.” She said in a cheery voice, turning and listening for his footsteps to follow behind her, giving him plenty of time to recover from his panic in his own time.

Prev - Next

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #helluverse #hellaverse #hazbin hotel au #hazbin rosie #rosie #cannipals #cannibals curse au #cannibals curse #cannibal overlords #radioroseweek2024 #radiorose #alastor and rosie #fic

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cheerstotheelites-if · 2 years ago

Note

Ophelia ships poll rigging prompt

❛ i love taking care of you. and i always will. you know that? ❜

the choice is yours for the other RO

Prompt list

Seeing how Eliseo isn't gonna win the poll, I'm gonna play with my delusions >:']

~•~•~

Oh no, I think I'm not quite ready To let you circle the drain All the things we've broken Can be puzzled together again All your sums and your pieces Are enough to clean up All the messes you've made I think that you're worth keeping around I think you're worth holding onto

– Soap - The Oh Hellos

~•~•~

It's not enough to say that neither of them are used to taking care of things. It's weird to take care of something alive. Well, they have pets, but pets are different from beings that think, can feel complex things and thoughts, and are not so different from you. Feelings become... weird when you realize this. More tense. A bit more crucial in a way, especially when it's someone you know.

The same feeling goes with being taken care of, after being independent for so long. Sure, there is family, but they're more on obligated to take care of you as long as you live under them. But when you're out of their reach, you have no one else to rely on. Well, not unless someone comes into your life at just the right time.

Eliseo never had gentle hands. They're always so rough and calloused. Veiny and spidery. Big hands that don't match with the rest of him, since they look so worn. These hands only know how to hurt; himself or others, neither matters. There are times where he wants to cut them off so he could stop hurting people.

So it's odd to see those same hands offer, not a punch to the ribs, but his sweater vest instead.

"Here," he said, voice low and gentle, "you can borrow mine for the day."

Ophelia never had a strong heart. Weak and frail. Broken and bleeding. A heart that's barely alive after years of cruelty. This heart only knows the feeling of hurt; from her or others, neither manners. There are times where she wants to rip it out so she can stop feeling anymore.

So it's odd to have this same heart, not be pierced with cruelty, but be instead slowly mended.

"What?" Ophelia utters, staring in shock. "No, I can't do that."

"You're not walking around with that huge ink stain on you around campus with vultures waiting to laugh at you." A small frown forms on Eliseo's face. "Unless that's what you want?"

"No, that's not what I—!" Ophelia lets out a sigh. "You'll get in trouble if I take your vest."

Eliseo simply shrugs. "I'll just get a written warning put on my record. Nothing too big like the other shit I did."

"Eliseo!"

"It's just for a day, Ophelia. So please, just borrow my vest."

With a sigh, Ophelia reluctantly takes the sweater vest from Eliseo. A smile of approval forms on his face when Ophelia replaces her vest witj his. It's a bit big on her, the collar wide enough to barely reach her shoulders and the hem of the vest covering half her skirt.

"Oh look at that, you look adorable!" Eliseo laughs, to which Ophelia frowns at him as her cheeks flush.

"Stop that." She huffs a bit, hands fiddling with the hem of the vest.

"Alright, alright. Sorry."

"It's... it's fine."

A bit of silence washes over them in the gazebo they're in. It's not awkward in any way, just that neither know how to continue on the conversation. Not like it bothered either of them anyway.

Eliseo has his elbow propped up on the table from where he sits, cheek resting on his palm and head turned away to look out to the court yard, his other hand tapping idly away on the table. Ophelia stands at the other side of the table, folding her sweater vest and putting it away into her bag before eventually sitting down.

"Why," Eliseo turns his head to look at Ophelia upon hearing her voice, eyebrows raised as his chin is now propped up on his palm. "Why are you doing this?"

And for a moment, he doesn't answer.

His gaze is somewhere else when his mouth opens to speak.

"I want to take care of you," he replies with a small shrug.

Ophelia frowns. "That's... not really a valid reason."

A small chuckle leaves Eliseo's lips. "I know. Weird, right? Just..." He bites the inside of his cheek before willing himself to continue. "I want to try... taking care of someone again. I see you as someone special, and special people need to be taken care of."

"I... I'm not anyone special, Eliseo." Ophelia shakes her head, the distrust in her heart already taking hold of her head.

"Well, you are to me... and I want you to feel and be special. You deserve it after everything."

"Will... will that be all the time, that you'll be taking care of me...?"

"If it makes you uncomfortable, it doesn't have to be."

Ophelia gives a small nod, biting her lower lip in thought for a moment. "Can you promise me one thing, Eliseo?"

"Sure." He can't help but raise a curious brow. "What is it?"

"Promise me that you mean it when you said that." Her voice shakes a bit. "Promise me that you'll genuinely take care of me, and not get my hopes up about having someone real in my life just to be left in the dirt again."

At that Eliseo straightens up almost immediately, both hands on the table as his face becomes serious. "I promise you, Ophelia. I'll make everyday a heaven for you."

#prompt #Ophelia #Eliseo #edit: way before i saw the current poll results lmao

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k00289234 · 11 months ago

Text

Starting model-making and Finishing background

On Thursday morning we started assembling our models of ourselves. I found it a bit difficult to get started without clear instructions so I eventually just winged it. I got a little empty ox for the head which was handy and then stacked two little metal trays on top of each other to create the shoulders. I used lollipop sticks as a sort of neck to stick them together. I also taped some of the sides of the box to keep it from opening at all.

I then cut the box into more of a face shape and started adding features using folded up paper.

I then added some rolled up paper beside the trays to create more proportionate shoulders. It looks really lopsided in the picture so I might have to fix that.

I didn't really know what to do with it then so I just left it at that.

While I had been assembling the model I had also been finishing colouring my background. I decided to use markers and block colours to imitate the printing techniques used in the illustrated book. I would have liked to make an actual print but there wasn't really any time.

I decided to use a similiar colour scheme to the book, with reddish and brown tones.

I really liked how the gazebo turned out and used white pen to outline it so that it would stand out against the background. I don't know whether I should outline the inside of it too as it could pull too much focus but also the people blend into the colour of the buildings a lot without it.

Overall I'm happy with how it turned out and think it was a good first attempt.

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gwydionmisha · 2 years ago

Text

Personal: I Ain’n’t Dead

It took about an hour and a quarter total, but we will find out if i had a heart attack or not on Tuesday. They I had to chase down the asshole agency as they had not called to tell me the cleaner wasn't coming, so it's now rescheduled for Tuesday. Then I waited on hold to try to schedule the mobility assessment, only to discover the number they gave was for central processing. They were going to transfer me when call waiting beeped, so i made them give me the direct line number and extension. (It was meds. Pharmacy was delivering meds and they only wait five minutes so that was the correct call on my part.) The making appointment direct line was faster by far, but I had no clue which wheelchair vender I was interested in. O.o apparently they have the vender in on assessment days, so that effects scheduling. I let her pick. She was like: We like this one better, but we have to offer both.

Forage delivery still hadn't arrived. It was now really hot and polleny outside. This is relevant. I can't leave food out there very long or it will spoil. Inside, i have air conditioning and extra filtering. I can breath inside, but not outside. I was exhausted and frustrated and really pissed off about the medical stuff. My chest was still tight. There is a band of intense pain keeping me from lifting my arms properly. I manage to drag the laundry basket to me room anyway, but I'm not remotely up to the pain involved in folding it. Livia wants her love. I climb into bed for Livia loves. My experience is, getting ready to sleep summons Forage Delivery somehow. Livia is done with her love. I've been in bed over an hour waiting. Tavy insists I should sleep with claws to my nipple, because health stiff makes him anxious.

The phone rings. We have the conversation where we double check which porch to put it on. I lie there a bit, working up to the pain of levering myself out of bed. I lumber out there. No food boxes. so I'm thinking did he think left instead of right? So I'm out in the mid day sun with my crutch and bare feet, struggling to breath because I can't breath in the heat on a good day and this isn't close. I have no idea how I will get the food boxes to my apartment. My best guess is crawl on the pavement pushing them ahead of me because there is zero chance of my arms even lifting them. It's not on the patios of any building facing the gazebo. Me: did they drive past and hit the wrong side of my building? So I hobble around the other side in baking heat and it's not on the logical patios. I have to then hobble all the way back to my patio, exhausted. I simply can't be out any longer or I will collapse. This is why I have forage delivery, so I don't have to seriously endanger myself getting the food. Which i am now doing and failing at miserably.

I try last call return. No one answers. Fuck! I restart the computer and look up forage delivery dispatch. I get a live human without a long wait on hold for the first time in two days. This is possibly a miracle. I am still struggling to breath when I explain and ask if they could at least give me a hint as to where the food is because I can't be out in the sun searching anymore. She puts me on hold and reaches them. she says they will come back.

So I go lie down in my room where the air is best and wait. He’s like: I’m right here. The food is here. I go look. No man. No food. I used my stop a kid from across the playground below to see if we could get a Polo for my Marco. No dice. I had cleverly left the phone off the hook when I went to look on the grounds that the food was definitely not on my patio previously.

It turns out that they'd put it in the middle of the other side of the building, expecting me somehow to drag it all that way over carpeted halls. O.o I didn't think to look there because we'd discussed patio locations in such a super specific way moments before he'd put it at the main entrance instead of a patio. He was nice enough to bring it around and drop it right inside my door.

I have recently learned Millennials generally don't know the word "gazebo" and are afraid to ask or look it up because of the cleaners. I am now wondering if patio may also be too bougie to be familiar, but lots of apartments around here come with small patios if they are ground floor, even the shitty apartments I can generally afford, just like tiny balconies are super common on upper floors in this region. Surely jungle of plants and blue chair were hints though? IDK. We've lost a lot of delivery people in the decade we live here too. Something about the complex confuses people.

Forage delivery guy looked like a thiryish Mr. Clean and really was very kind, just confused.

Goth Millennial was sweet enough to come in on their day off to work and extra two hours looking after me, and then we finished the back third of a movie we'd been re-watching together. I'm not great, but improving. I also have a new unexplored theory about what is wrong with my arms from the article about statins I linked in this space. I guess I'll run it by the doctor when I see them.

#Personal

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museswithinx · 2 years ago

Text

I want you to stay... Forever ; a drabble

In his long history of over-the-top romantic gestures, Ulrik was quite sure that he had managed to truly outdo himself with this one. It had taken months of extensive planning and organization to get all the pieces in place but it had all come together. Just in time for Valentine’s Day too.

Ulrik started out the day much like he had done last year: By completely flooding Olive’s office with gift deliveries. He hit everything on the checklist from flowers to chocolates to concert tickets to a trip for two to Italy and more. The last delivery to make it to her though was just a simple white envelope with two things inside it. The first was a folded letter written by him. It read:

My love,

I would apologize for the influx of deliveries to your office this morning, but we both know that it would be insincere. So instead I’ll just say that I love you and I hope you enjoy everything I’ve sent thus far. Because no, that wasn’t the last of it. There’s one more thing but you’ll have to come find me to get it. I’ve put together a love scavenger hunt of sorts so I hope you’ve been paying attention. Enclosed with this letter is your first clue.

Good luck, my muse. Happy Valentine’s Day!

See you soon, Your rockstar

The second item inside the envelope was a ‘library card’. It wasn’t for any public library though, it was a card created specifically for this game. As friends, they had spent quite some time in his personal family library researching and trying to figure out more about Addington. He’d been her ‘chaperone’ for these particular visits and he was all too happy to be at that. It was also where they almost had their first kiss.

Knowing she would figure it out, he left instructions with Uncle Elijah to allow her entry so she could find her next clue, which happened to be hidden inside one of the books on astral projection. Sticking out the middle of the book was a folded sheet of paper. An old flyer for a karaoke night at one of his favorite bars. It was one of the places he had shown Olive when he took it upon himself to show her around Mystic Falls.

The next clue was left with one of his good friends that worked at the karaoke bar. Ulrik had given him directions to look out for Olive’s arrival and play a specific song when she got there and to put it on repeat incase it didn’t immediately click the song was the clue. The song was The Night We Met by Lord Huron, which happened to be one of the first performances she’d heard from him at Thursday in the Park and ironically a few of the lyrics pointed toward the final location.

While Olive was off finding his clues, Ulrik had set up a whole romantic stage at the park itself. He’d had a bunch of fairy lights hung up around the stage as well a small table-for-two in the gazebo with some champagne and a selection of fancy food off to the side. On stage, he had Spence, Shadow, and Emmett ready to go with the very first song he’d written for her and he’d also arranged for some fireworks for the big moment.

Then there was Dagny, his beloved dog. He decided she would make the final gift delivery.

It wasn’t too late. Just after 6pm when Olive did arrive and on cue, the band began to play her song with Shadow on vocals. Ulrik stayed just out of sight as he first sent Dagny out ahead of him to greet Olive. When she leaned down to pet the excited dog and rustle her fur, it wasn’t long before she noticed the small royal blue velvet box dangling from her collar.

When she unclipped it from Dagny’s collar and opened it, that was when Ulrik finally made himself known. “It’s what you think it is,” he said softly before lowering himself onto one knee in front of her and taking her hand in both of his. “Olive,” he starts, “You’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met. The night you walked into my life, it was like the whole universe shifted and I’ve only fallen deeper since. As my muse, my best friend, and my greatest love... Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

And just like that, their fate was sealed as a display of fireworks went off. Laughing a bit as she gave him a look, he just shrugged. “I like a good romantic back drop,” he said innocently before leaning in to kiss her.

#( i want you to stay... forever ; drabble )#( ulrik mikaelson whittaker ; )#ofstrengthisms #( i want you to stay ; ulrik & olive )#// this was written for valentine's day but i'm posting early bc i can #oops lol #anyway have this #also feel free to let me know if I should change anything

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