#he literally sculpted her as a goddess

[osinthewhite]

brb I'm gonna go cry in a corner

[aroaceleovaldez]

i have suddenly become obsessed with a theme that HoO established but never proceeded to extrapolate on, which is:

You are Percy Jackson, and you have been swapped with a boy who was allegedly everyone's favorite person, but they have decided to replace him with you. They just met you. You stand next to his best friend and the people he's known his entire life. In his home. In his cloak. In his place. They stopped looking for him.

You are Jason Grace, and you have just found out you have a long lost sister who completely replaced you in her life with this girl you just met. Your lives and personalities are mirrors. She is you, living the life you were robbed of.

You are Annabeth Chase, and you have just become starkly aware that you have been inhabiting the void left behind by your best friend's long lost brother. You and Luke were just replacements for him. Now you have to look him in the eyes when he has nothing and know you took that life from him.

You are Piper McLean, and you have just found out your relationship is fake and built entirely on the memories of Annabeth Chase. You have been given a boyfriend when hers has been taken away. You have no idea how much of it is real or not but regardless you feel like if your relationship isn't exactly in their image that you have failed.

You are Leo Valdez, and you have just learned that you are the echo of your great-grandfather. You are not your own person. You just exist to be a mirror of him. A doppelganger. An actor and stunt double facing all the danger he never had to but wearing his face. To be there for his best friend decades later simply because he couldn't. You are playing a role. A seventh wheel and a pawn for a goddess who carefully sculpted your entire life for her own purposes.

You are Hazel Levesque, and the only reason you are alive is because your brother couldn't save your his sister. You are a consolation prize. An apology. Your existence here is misplaced in every way but you inhabit it anyways.

You are Frank Zhang, and you are a shapeshifter. Inhabiting your own body feels strange and clumsy when you could be literally anything at any time. You are anything and everything and live your life with the simple certainty of knowing exactly how you will die.

[otrtbs]

Hi I hope you're doing well 🌷

I had a question. I'm totally asking out of pure curiosity, it's not a criticism or anything of the sort.

In ahb (this masterpiece of yours) Sirius's favorite painting is Degas' Dancers.

I wanted to know if you knew the background of this painting and if making it Sirius' favorite was a deliberate choice or if you had no idea at all.

Because the Ballerinas in Opera Garnier in Paris were all really young and mostly, they were poor. The dancers were often their family's hope to crawl out of misery.

The audience was full of men.

In fact, the sad flip side was that there was a whole prostitution network behind the scene. With these young girls. Men could pay for backstage access to watch ballerinas change and sometimes rape them.

So Degas was a big customer.

That's how he painted the dancers and most of his works.

That's again how he sculpted the ballerina, her tutu was added meaning the 14 year old girl was posing nude.

Degas is also suspected of being Jack the Ripper, there are a certain number of credible leads and potential evidences.

That's why I was wondering if you knew.

Since there is this whole chapter where they insult Picasso (as they should) I found it strange that Degas being a known major p*do did not receive the same treatment.

Ps: I'm french, I don't know if I made any mistakes writing this, if I have please excuse me I tried my best 🙏

Okay hi, hello! I am doing well and I hope you are as well! You have unlocked Art Historian Thesis Nat, so I am going to put an extremely lengthy post under the cut, I'm so sorry (this is literally my area of study,,, i fear i am incapable of being brief about this)

I do want to clarify that right off the bat, I don't necessarily think many of these art historical figures are "good people". Like none of them are the best, most moral, upstanding citizens you should model your life after (but they're also dead sooooo). But I also understand that I did take some time in my fanfiction to make my hatred for Picasso very clear, and so I can also understand the confusion in not extending that same hatred towards Degas. But there are a few reasons for that, that I'll try to explain below!

The direct historical documentation of Pablo Picasso's violence towards the women in his life is vast and damning. If you want particularly good insight into his violence and abuse, then I recommend reading Marina Picasso's (Picasso's granddaughter) memoir titled: Picasso: My Grandfather. I also recommend Françoise Gilot's (romantic partner of Picasso) books, Life with Picasso and Picasso and Matisse. It is through the memories of the people who loved Picasso and who loved him in turn, that we hear of his sadistic nature that drove his lovers to suicide and we get personal letters that he wrote to Gilot in which he says things like "Dora, for me, was always a weeping woman… And it’s important, because women are suffering machines" and "For me there are only two kinds of women: goddesses and doormats." His granddaughter has this to say about him: “He submitted [women] to his animal sexuality, tamed them, bewitched them, ingested them, and crushed them onto his canvas. After he had spent many nights extracting their essence, once they were bled dry, he would dispose of them.” And Gilot says: "I am the only one to not have been sacrificed to the sacred monster(…) and is alive to tell the tale. He was a wonderful person to be with, it was like fireworks, amazingly creative, so intelligent and seductive(…) but he was also very cruel, sadistic and ruthless with others and with himself (…) It was the greatest love of my life, but you have to protect yourself (…) The others did not, they clung to the powerful minotaur and paid a very high price."

Why this matters: The evidence for Degas being so virulently misogynistic and cruel towards women is extremely less substantial and more speculative in nature.

Degas being Jack the Ripper. Degas being Jack the Ripper started off as a tiktok theory posed in early 2024, (though you can find an article as early as 2004 written by The Guardian's art critic here) and while fun to think about and speculate, it isn't true. August and September and November of 1888 is when the Jack the Ripper crimes were committed in London and Degas was in the South of France at that time receiving medical treatment because he was in extremely poor health. (Which you can find in The Letters of Edgar Degas edited by Theodore Reff (I'm sure there's. free PDF version out there somewhere)). Also, self-admittedly speculative, but Degas didn't visit the East-End of London when he did make his excursions to London because he was classist 😭. So, it would be odd for him to know the ins and outs of the streets where the murders took place. And also he had failing eyesight starting at 36, so the odds of him being Jack the Ripper are extremely slim.

The Ballerinas Yes, while it is true that the ballerina's were often subject to horrific conditions and were prostitutes for the "wealthy" patrons of the opera house, this does not mean that Degas partook in that. in fact, most historical documentation surmises he didn't. Degas considered himself a "realist" painter rather than an impressionist painter, wishing to document "real life" in all of its ugliness, beauty and unstylized truth. Therefore his primary concern was documenting the opera house and ballet in all of the moments, not just when the girls were dancing on stage. And in many of his paintings, Degas captures the opera patronsn in his ballerina paintings as lurkers behind the stage curtains as sinister black shadows, or as men predatorily watching in nice suits (e.g. Ballet, 1876 and The Rehearsal of the Ballet Onstage (1874)). But Degas himself, was NEVER a ballerina patron, he is even quoted as saying "People call me the painter of dancing girls. It has never occurred to them that my chief interest in dancers lies in rendering movement...". (now this is not because Degas was morally outraged at what was happening to the ballerina's, but because he viewed the men abusing the girls as committing a sin against God by sleeping with prostitutes). But while Degas had access to backstage, he was never a customer. And in fact, Degas is a notorious, well-documented celibate. This is because Degas believed sleeping with women would make him lose his special painting ability. No lie. Here's a direct quote from Vincent Van Gogh in his a letter to his brother Theo about the artist: "Degas lives like a little lawyer and does not like women, for he knows that if liked them and went to bed with them, he would become intellectually diseased and would no longer be able to paint." Degas was also known to reject ballerina's advances as well (again, fearing women would take away his magic painting power).

Feelings towards women By all accounts, Degas friends describe him as being reclusive towards women to being jovial with them, but always kind to them outside of a working environment. He even developed friendships with his fellow contemporary women painters. In a working environment, Degas was obsessed with perfection, demanding ballerinas contort their bodies in painful positions, and making them hold those positions for hours at a time. By all accounts, this was not because he hated them, but was obsessed with capturing their movements, the limitations of the human body, and he demanded perfection from himself. (x x x) (i.e. his obsession for his work and drive for perfection as a painter made him demanding and harsh towards his subjects, not his pure hatred of women).

Conclusions: So by many accounts, Degas was not particularly fond of women, and had little regard for his dancers. But the claims that he must have slept with the ballerina's and been a patron/customer "because that's what all men did back then" are not backed by any evidence. only evidence to the contrary. I went in on Picasso because those that were close to him have written first-hand accounts of his monstrocity. This is not the case with Degas. So, while I didn't tear him down like I did Picasso, I wasn't lauding him as a saint either. I highly recommend reading the article called Degas's Misogyny by Norma Broude which details the ways in which modern times have run away with this idea of Degas being a sadistic woman-hater and how we've gotten to this point. Anyway, TLDR; I was aware of the dark "underside" of the Paris Ballet at the time in which Degas was painting his works. Do I think he is Jack the Ripper and a man who participated in ballerina prostitution? No, not at all. At the end of the day, I am just an art history girl, telling anyone who will listen that there is not enough documentation on Degas to take these claims as 100% truth, or put that man up there with Picasso. Peace and Love! <3

[audreyscribes]

If Hera were to have a child, all of Camp Half-Blood would realistically be turned on their heads, but with that said, how would Camp react if Artemis or Hestia were revealed to have a child (daughter in Artemis' case, as there is NO WAY that Artemis would ever have a son, if she did ever have a child)?

A/n: I’m going to preface that Artemis and Hestia are still virgin goddesses so you’re all going to get an unusual birth version, so we’re going with something similar to how Athena’s children are born. The child of Artemis will be referred with She/Her pronouns, but the child of Hestia will be referred with they/them because I don't think Hestia would aim for a specific gender.

No one knows how this is happening but when everyone learns of their existence as they step into Camp Half Blood, everyone thinks the world is going to end. Sure, everyone eventually learned how the children of Arthena were born and took some time to wrap their minds around it, but in the end they accepted it as natural. 

But when the other two virgin goddesses have their own demigods, you can imagine the chaos. It’s only tampered with the fact that Hestia has been known to be good towards children and Artemis being the goddess of Childbirth, it’s not that unexpected. 

No one knows for sure how the daughter of Artemis came to be, who confirms you were born from the wilderness and that Artemis is still very much a virgin goddess; any further questions were met with the threat of a silver tipped arrow. 

The child of Hestia comes forward and enlights everyone how they came to be. They gather everyone around the fire as they tell them how Hestia took the ashes from the Hearth, and mixed with the clay of which how humans came to be. She moulded the clay and ash with the worn hands that leaked ichor from small cuts of hardworking hands, and with the hands of a gentle caregivers, she sculpted the clay and ash into small shape of a babe. With that, sat by the fire of the hearth that warmed their skin with the fires of life that helped humanity, Hestia pressed her lips to the forehead bestowing the babe life. Everyone looks at the child of Hestia with awe and wonder, seeing the warmth you radiate and how much they seem like Hestia. Quite literally warming up to you as you make around camp with the virtues of Hestia. People get often confused between the child of Hestia and Hestia herself, as she often portrays herself around camp as a girl. 

The daughter of Artemis takes some time getting used to but it gets easier when they learn that the daughter of Artemis is only at Camp during the summer to learn alongside other demigods, before taking part in the hunts every other seasons with the huntress and her mother. 

The children of Apollo become the first campers to welcome the daughter of Artemis, not because they made the first move and they were their other opposite; it's because Apollo welcomed them and acted every bit as the annoying and affectionate uncle as he is towards his twin sister. When She shows up for the rounds at the medical ward with the children of Apollo, everyone gets used to her very quickly, getting over the fact she’s a daughter of Artemis, she’s just like them. After the Apollo cabin, the Demeter cabin, the Hecate cabin, and the Athena cabin are the ones who you are close to. Overtime, she opens up about herself bit by bit like the waning and waxing moons before she opens up like a full bright full moon, allowing everyone to see how she is, and think although faraway and maybe cold, she is pretty and she is nice. 

Overall, I think the campers will take some time to get used to the children of Hestia and Artemis. Some will come around to the thought of it and some might be disturbed by it, but with everything going on in their lives as demigods, this isn’t the worst or weirdest thing to happen. Putting aside the looming possibility of a quest or prophecy that might relate to them, but at this point, a world threatening prophecy is just another Tuesday. 

Eventually, the two will become another part of Camp.

[adina123]

Empires smp god au

Pearl Goddess of the harvest and farming her title was literally the farmer pearl and in the past people kept track of harvest by looking at the phases of the moon and positioning of the constellations

Lizzie the trickster goddess of the ocean and government ocean because in season one she was a fish goddess and government because in season two she was a mayor and in both she is a scam artist trying to make a profit through morality ambiguous means

Joel god of thunder and art in canon he is the god of thunder and if anyone in empires was a art god it would be the guy that sculpted clones of himself and built stratos/mezalia

Katherine goddess order and balance and duality she fights evil by transforming from the pretty pink princess to the axe wielding warrior and as lady Katherine of the overgrown she is the one that is neutral the one that Try’s to keep order

Jimmy is The god of death for obvious reasons

Joey is the god of wealth and desire because he is a pirate and pirates like gold also he steals from false and really wants to get in xornoth s pants he also Katherine’s (understandable)

Shubble is the goddess of nature and the wild because her whole wolf thing she had going on in the first season of empires and the infected outlaw thing she had in season 2

Scott god of the passage of time and the four seasons (and rainbows) because he has connections to flowers (spring) in life series and stars in origin smp and winter in empires smp

Pix god of messengers and prophecies( he is in charge of the recaps that gives people information they might have missed also he is a prophet)

Fwhip god of fire and revenge because in both seasons of empires he has had a stubborn heated rivalry with jimmy and did not take the break up well also in art his hair is fire truck red

Gem goddess knowledge and magic because she as the wizard gem she is a powerful magician and because as the princess of dawn she teaches others about the sun god also the wizard gems empire is literally a school

Sausage love and family and lust because he is known for his platonic love (Hermes and Eddie and pearl) and let’s say his passionate spicy love( pole dancing and flirting)

Oli god of music and insanity he is a bard and who’s words make zero sense to everyone and watching him you get sensory overload ( he is the oldest but nobody believes him)

false goddess of mystery and adventure and new beginnings because she is lost her memory and is a very adventurous person also do to the lost memories she basically started from square one when she came to empires

[lapsusophobia]

I Want You More Than Anything In The World

Status: scrapped/unfinished

TW: mild sexual content , nudity , Tease, non-graphic smut (?), this literally stops beforehand I have to idea how to tag it

Pair(s): Erikstine except Christine is vampire and this is very out of context

Note: happy new year everyone!!! until I actually find both the motivation AND inspiration to write (for I believe I have left those in the year that has just passed) I decided to take out another half-baked cookie from my little basket of horrors and goodies. pray for me to actually get back to writing and enjoy this little threat xx

"I want you. I want you more than I want the finest blood in the world. I want to be one with you, to know that, tonight, you will be mine. That you’ll give yourself to me and I’ll do the same. No masks, no armor and no barriers. Corpse to corpse, dead flesh to dead flesh. Let us be no longer ashamed of our natures, if only for a night. Let us be monsters in love. Let me feel your touch on my cold, unalive, skin, let me take you to a dance like no other. Let me create a different sound that you have never heard of. Let me help you make a different kind of music.” Christine pleaded and with her right hand removed the hard black mask from his face that had left red marks on his sunken cheeks and ugly nose from the countless hours he had worn it that day. But nothing mattered then, except to strip themselves off the skins they lived in and face each other as they were: two creatures who wanted nothing but love. Who craved nothing but to be wanted.

Erik gently unlaced her corset and tossed it aside, then she raised her arms to help him get rid of her white chemise, leaving her chest exposed. Her skin was a beautiful shade of cinnamon yet faded and not as bright and luminous as it had been when she was still alive. Here and there her shoulders were sprinkled with small dark dots which matched the ones on her nose and cheeks. Her breasts were nowhere symmetrical and slightly unbalanced, her nipples a grayish shade of raspberry wine, and stretch marks were marking their flesh. He blushed, the palest shade of poppy red coloring his cadaveric face. Christine smiled sweetly in the corner of her mouth and slid off her drawers and stockings in a second, leaving her completely nude, exposed before his eyes. Her body was round, apple shaped with round hips, covered in stretch marks as well and a few chatten hairs here and there. With all the imperfections and flaws common to human bodies, she was a goddess. His goddess. He would never see her otherwise, and he would always remember this moment when his cursed eyes met the glance of the Lord’s most glorious statue. Erik noticed how she kept his gaze from meeting his own, causing him to raise one of his dark eyebrows and look her in the eyes.

“Nervous? Before your Erik?” he asked, slightly concerned, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her a little closer to him. Then lifted his face enough to bury his nose between her breasts and kiss her there.

“No one ever looked at me like I am. . .” Christine didn’t finish her sentence, couldn’t, for the words refused to come. Instead she buried her hands in his raven’s land, caressing his scalp.

“A wonder? A statue sculpted out of the finest alabaster? That’s what you are, my beautiful, beautiful Christine. Every inch of your body is a work of art.”

Christine kissed his forehead furrowed by Port Wine stains, caressing each mark with her plum coloured lips, then his lashless eyelids — first came the cold, ice blue eye, then the mesmerizing left cognac one which she would sip like a fine drink if she could. She even placed a kiss on the hideous, barely existent flesh of his nose and in the very end on his thin, paper-like lips. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit it softly with her vampire canines. A droplet of blood fell on her tongue and she swallowed it pleased, smiling to herself as he slid his tongue in her mouth and tangled it with hers. She made herself busy by unbuttoning his vest and shirt, and to her surprise he didn’t show any signs of protests and let the clothes fall without any remorse. She studied his pale, bony chest and ran a hand on his scar covered torso. Alas, she could feel his ribs! And there were so many wounds, so many stitches! She recognised a knife gash that went along his clavicle which didn’t heal right. Cigar burns which would never fade on his belly. When she ran her fingers across his spine she shivered at the touch of multiple whip marks across his back. Oh, her poor Maestro! Her poor Erik! How her heart burned right now with a lust for revenge! How she wished that every single criminal, every demon who had laid a hand on him to still breathe, only for her to cut their hearts out with her bare hands! She didn’t realize her inner fires had started showing and darkening her sight until Erik cupped her cheeks with his hands, bringing her back in the room with him.

“Mon cher, do not let the memory of my monsters consume you. Let those phantoms die tonight. We’ll face them tomorrow, when daylight will bring them back to life.” he whispered in her ear, pressing a soft kiss on her jawline as her violinist hands stroked his raven’s land. He continued leaving butterflies on her skin and was slowly going down her neckline and then under her left breast, where her heart had once beaten and was now resting lifeless yet full of love in her ribcage. Then he took the small flesh of her nipple in his mouth and gently began to suck on it, circling the areolae of her breast with his tongue. Christine responded with a sweet murmur, pushing his head delicately to encourage him in his action. He bit her playfully, leaving halfmoon marks all over the flesh of her breast, going up once again to mark her neck with the tattoos of his mouth. Between soft gasps, she slid in his lap, tangling her beautiful legs around his waist as if claiming something that was rightfully hers and no one else’s to share with. And he was. He was hers and only hers. He was and would be whatever his Angel of Music would want him to be. Lover, Servant, Maestro. He would do whatever it took to please his Goddess.

[cult-of-the-placeholder]

I have so many bishop thoughts and headcanons in my mind I can't focus on anything else so I'm just gonna regurgitate them here:

- Leshy has whatever the godly equivalent of ADHD. He is chaos incarnate, literally. He is always moving, always fidgeting with things under his cloak, is always pacing around and talks to himself a lot

- Also my man's invented flowers. Plants existed before his birth, of course, but modern day flowers were his creation, plants shaped and crafted to be bowls for the insects to dine from. He looks out for the smallest amongst them, even the most insignificant

- Among the siblings he was the most artistically inclined. He loved to paint, and sculpt, and in fact glass making was a great passion of his alongside gardening. On his 1,000th year anniversary of godhood, he surprised each of his siblings with a stained glass portrait in their temples, depicting each of them in the most significant memory he had of them: for Heket, it was her grandest harvest ritual. For Narinder, the very first sacrifice in his name. For Kallamar, the day he parted the seas to pluck the deepest ocean crystals for a ritual. And for Shamura, their weaving of a Time Tapestry that depicted the future

- Leshy hasn't made a single artistic piece since loding his vision. His crown can show him his surroundings, but it's not the same. Narinder's betrayal drained away his creative spark, and he has no desire to make anymore

- As a frog, Heket is very musically inclined. Before losing her voice, she'd often lead her congregations in the most vibrant hymns and choruses of praise, and in fact composed almost every musical piece that is used to sing glory to their names. She wrote hundreds, thousands, countless songs for her siblings, and her favorite way to funnel devotion was to have her followers sing to her. Wind and string instruments were her favorite, but she could play just about anything

- Even before Narinder's banishment, Heket was a very serious, rather surly individual. It wasn't easy to make her laugh, and in fact only her siblings could, and even then it was an uphill battle. But if they could, she had the deepest, biggest belly laughs, the kind that would leave a person bent over with their arms around their middle, tears of mirth streaming down her face. She hasn't had a good laugh since Narinder was imprisoned, and of course hasn't sung or danced either. Music now just makes her sad, and the sadness makes her angry: she forbids any sort of music in her temple

- Heket mothered/fathered most if not all of the mini-bosses of Anura. Frogs can swap their sex with ease, and she's a goddess: I think she should be able to lay her own eggs or fertilize another's on a whim 😌 each was the strongest child of each clutch, only one selected among hundreds as worthy to serve their mother's temple in lofty positions. Trained and cultivated from the moment of hatching, she is both incredibly proud of and incredibly hard on them, demanding perfection and depthless devotion at all times. Her children give it gladly, for they are so lucky to be in the presence of their mother who is holy

- Before banishment, Narinder was very close to Shamura. They all were, really, but him especially: he shared the eldest's passion for the written word. As a godling he'd so often sneak into Shamura's forbidden library to partake in ancient knowledge and prophecies, though he was of course too young to understand it. He'd often beg Shamura to read to him, and even after outgrowing that need, he'd often seek out his sibling so they could read in amicable silence together, shoulder to shoulder with each holding one side of the book

- As the god of death and the shepherd of souls, he was expected to pass judgements on the deceased, be they blessed or damned. It was a special joy of his, getting his chance to play with the heretics his siblings tortured and sacrificed. They would know no peace, even in death, for daring to go against the Old Faith

- The first time Narinder reversed death and let a mortal walk again was actually his niece: Heket's half-mortal daughter, Zepar. She had been slain tragically by a traitorous dissenter, and the way his sister wailed with grief rattled him to his very core. He didn't even realize death could be undone, he just... grabbed the little one's soul, fixed her body with his power, and breathed life back into her. It was a shock to everyone but especially to him

- Kallamar wasn't always so timid and faint of heart. After Shamura he's the oldest, and his sibling was already an adult when he was born. In comparison, the other 4 were born in relatively short periods of time, close together. Kallamar was kind of their ringleader when they were growing up, and Shamura once remarked it seemed he was, "Born without fear." He was cocky, knowing he was a god and therefore immortal and invulnerable. He wasn't afraid of anything: the entire world was his playground. He led his three youngers siblings on adventures all the time, always dragging them into some mischief or other. He was perhaps the most gullible of the siblings, believing them all to be truly indestructible. Was it any surprise, though? For several hundred thousand years, they were

- When Narinder attacked them all, it basly affected all of them but Kallamar the worst: it was the first time he'd ever truly felt pain, had ever bled, had ever been afraid for his life. Had ever been truly afraid in general. And it deeply scarred him; PTSD left him a husk of his former self. He developed crippling paranoia and anxiety as his mind introduced a slew of previously unconsidered possibilities: if the Red Crown could hurt them, then could anything else? How would he know it was coming? Would he know? Could he? Would... would his other siblings turn on him the same way? He felt horrible for thinking that way, because he trusted and loved them so much, but anxiety cannot be reasoned with. He started to doubt his safety with them, and withdrew into his shell. He stopped speaking to them as much, and whenever they were together he couldn't keep his eyes from starting around nervously. Looking for a trap, looking for a way out, hands subtly shaking and shoulders trembling beneath his robes. It makes him miserable, torments him, because how can he be suspicious of the family he so dearly adores? But Narinder has shattered his ability to trust--once the safest place, their family is no longer an undefeatable bastion and he's riddled with fear because of it

- Kallamar is very hard of hearing even with his crown: it amplifies any and every sound around him so he can always be aware of what's going on. He prefers to be underwater, deep in the Seas of Sorrow, where underwater volcanoes power his forges and he can make his many weapon for defense in peace

- He desperately needs therapy and regularly has night terrors and flashbacks

- Shamura is a prophet, clairvoyance a gift they've always possessed. There are many ways they record the future: in books as written riddles, sometimes as images woven into countless silk threads that make up their webs, and sometimes at their loom. Tapestry weaving takes a long, long time, and is only reserved for the holiest of visions: the birth of their siblings was each recorded in one wuch tapestry millenia before any came to be, and they waited anxiously for the stars to reach the appropriate alignment recorded in the threads

- On the day of Narinder's birth, they recieved a terrible vision, fortelling of the way their baby brother would one day betray them. They tried so hard to stop the prophecy, thinking perhaps it could be foiled with endless love and devotion, but despite their affections Narinder still raised his blades against them. It's a regret that weighs heavy on their mind for all eternity, even though they know there's nothing they could have done

- As the god of war and wisdom they know best to pick their battles, and are sought out for their brilliant mind as often as they are for blessings in battle. Silk Cradle was the origin of ritualistic pit fights, though usually reserved for heretics as a punishment, forced to bludgeon each other to death for the amusement of the faithful before their souls could be passed to Narinder for judgement

- Shamura raised all 4 of the bishops, naturally, and loves their siblings with all their heart. Watching them all grow into fine adults is something they will always take immense pride in. Their greatest wish is that the five of them can be together, for eternity, living in happiness while the mortals worship them and feed them their endless devotion

- Shamura is actually rather vain: they made and designed all of the bishops' robes by hand, spun of their finest silk and embroidered with golden threads. They preen frequently, and thoroughly enjoy bathing in the hot springs. A god must always look their best to inspire and strike awe into the mortals that worship them, no?

- Shamura doesn't need to eat, none of them do, but thoroughly enjoys nothing more than delicately sipping warm blood directly from a sacrifice's veins. In true spider fashion they'll occasionally leave particularly tasty mortals strung up in trapped webs, delightful little bloodbags for them to drink from again later. Sometimes they'll even feed the really yummy ones, just so they'll stay alive longer and keep naturally producing blood

I think that's it for now. Maybe now I can sleep lmao. I love the bishops

[krsnaradhika]

A snippet from Krishavyayam hehe-

Small points to be noted before you get started—

Kamalnayani/ Hridayaa/ Mohini are the same person. The same oc has multiple names.

Mohini is also Hari here, as we know. Hence, Mohini and Mohini it is hehe-

Please if this offends you, tell me and I'll pull it down. This is purely fiction and does not intend to offend any religious beliefs and sentiments.

You'll find the whole book on Wattpad, so cheers! ✨

She was bewitching. The woman before whom demons swooned and caelitis were rendered wordless. Dark as the zenith hour of dusk and as radiant as a nymph who rose from the cerulean waves, she had her wife in a daze for she had poof-ed out of the blue (god).

Kamalnayani looked half amused, half moonstruck as Mohini grinned at her, winking notoriously. She sported a red and black lehenga of chiffon, diamantes stuck to the flowy fringes as well as her kohl-lined eyes and she swung a vial of mead in her willowy fingers— all too coquettishly.

Why, you ask?

"Because I last saw her so long ago," Hridayaa accentuated, sheepishly batting her eyes at Kanha and linking an arm of his to hers. The latter had mirth dancing in his very handsome features and it wouldn't be wrong to say he missed those precious moments either.

Ogres raced hither and thither for one touch of Mohini who swaggered through the waves, effortlessly charming all. Flowy tresses wrapped in the whiff of lotus and pearl ornaments dangled on her voluptuous form. She was beautiful and lethal. Woman and vulpine.

"And I miss her."

He snorted out a laugh, tendrils jumping up to his forehead to kiss them and then he obstructed them with a rake of his sculpted fingers, "I am literally right here, Hridayae."

"No, Mohini." She whined, almost hopping in her place but he disciplined her with quasi glare. Krishu pouted, seeming more of a child than a mother— as if demanding not a woman but a candy. "I want Mohini! She can give me excellent company these days and you know we're nearing the due date. Also she had a kid so she can give me great parenting tips meant for mothers. Kanha pleaseeeeee?"

"As my queen pleases."

And so, Mohini and Mohini were now face to face after ages— giggling vivaciously and maniacally at each other's sight.

"So where should I escort you now, wife?"

"Jhumka shopping!" Krishu tugged her, then waddling around to the brass and copper caskets to arrange for casual robes for herself. Mohini hummed and slipped herself in the quilts of the soigne bed, then spat her beverage right through her mauve lips out of pure whammy when the whims of Kamalnayani surprised her again.

"And we're hitched. We are begetting a kid through the blessing of an austere sage. I don't want anyone ogling at you in the marketplace, hmm? They don't have any right to."

She shortly inclined her head in a yes, inarticulate. Of course, they were married.

"Right. Only you do." The goddess simpered through the chalice sitting on her mouth. Then she clipped her bracelet against her dainty wrists, kissing where the pulse chanted the name of an archeress.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

"This for Bhadra Jiji, this for Lakshu Jiji and oh— Jambavati Jiji adores teals and turquoise!"

Oxidized silver bracelets, bronze armbands, floral rings and arabesque silks brimmed the tawny stalls on wheels as the two goddesses stirred past them, riveted by the grandeur of the city that was their latibule. Krisha and Mohini walked hand in hand, occasionally picking a bloom or two to profess their love in dramatic whispers as their secretive chortles became the fantasies of little girls who watched them from afar.

The ivory and maroon turban with pearl motifs caught her attention and then she waved her hand at her husband- urhm, wife.

Kamalnayani smiled at the lady vendor who beamed at her with gentle eyes. "What do you expect?"

"A healthy baby. Nothing more." She shrugged cordially, looking over her shoulder to find Mohini partially veiling herself as she peered at the bustling streets through the rich translucence of her raiments.

"She seems new here. Do you know her?" The genial old woman squinted, "Why would she do that? Does she not know it's not normal to mantle her face in Aryan practices?"

"She's new here, Kaaki," Hridayaa answered in a jiffy as Mohini sprang to catch up with her, flashing the gleam of her cloaked dagger to the bandits who gawked at her. The bunch inhaled sharply, going about their own businesses when they recognised her as a beguiling mirage. An elusive dream.

Women with lethal beauty were to be feared. It was doltish to trust her who had other eyes trailing on every gait she took.

"Mohini. She's enchanting and gravitates a lot of attention to herself she doesn't wish for."

"Oh. Your friend?"

"This is my wife, aunt." Mohini giggled instead as the seller flushed, then ducked her head while murmuring a small apology. "No worries."

"Exquisite couple, best wishes to both of you." She fished out a leaf of tamarind from her purse, then slid the velvet turban from the honey-eyed woman to the one whose smile was as sweet as it. Kanha— now Mohini, brought a pair of suryakanthi jhumkas and slipped in Hridayaa's lotus palms.

"Pretty moms make pretty babies."

Kaaki Sulochanaa— with eyes as pulchritudinous as her name— chuckled once again at the flushed women who squirmed a little closer to each other, surreptitiously stealing gazes and then shuffling in opposite ways, the presents never seeming enough.

"Oh, so you both aren't yet out of the mushy-mushy phase?"

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The dusk and the moon and their realm in Dvaravati wasn't exotic to their ardor for each other. It was the atelier of the art they painted each other in.

The scarlet roses and ivory jasmines embraced each other in the curls of the enchantress who sat between the legs of her wife, inclining her swan neck to the side as her eyes shut themselves when ivory fingertips skimmed through her scalps and skin. The sleek obsidian waterfalls and warm breaths of the woman of flames fondled her nape and Mohini wanted to flee into the aisles to escape from her namesake, but she knew the sacred smokes and ambrosia would chase her still. For the woman who carried their child was said to have seized the sense of a thousand men too around her.

"You are seducing me, good lady Kamya?" She crooned, her voice as soothing as the psithurism of the forest they promised to be each other's.

"Keep dreaming. I have always wanted to do your shringara," Agneyaa murmured lying through her teeth and when she felt a frisson run down below her touch she smirked. "Hesitate for nothing though, darling. I am quite a charmer I am told."

Mohini let out a shuddered breath, rolling her eyes and then she caught the hand of Mohini who was yet sniggering at her. "Enough now. Your skills are laudable. I have never looked this beautiful." Her gaze traversed to the mirror which gaped at two women like long lost lovers. The stones of lapis lazuli and rubies and diamonds were bestrewed upon her lithe physique like stars on the ether. A spark birthed in her guts and she was an art. An art to be ravished by her lover.

Kamalnayani giggled and pressed a chaste kiss to the cheeks of that beauty who turned pink. Then she filled the dips of the curves of Mohini's spine with her fingers binding the kamarbandh, husking near her earlobes, "Lies."

She stifled the throes of her heart and an amaranthine smile stayed on her visage. As they multiplied and she was unwavered, she was the epitome of every mother. Mohini whisked around and pulled her in a slow dance, unhurried and buoyant as their limbs swayed in poised waves— grinning as they found forelsket again and again.

Afterall, nightmares were dreams too. The heart of Keshava was living a vision of a lover for now.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Kanha found blue roses, azure water lilies and peacock feathers all tied together by a string as a gauzy navy robe enveloped them. "They reminded me of you, love." The whimsical note read, stuck to the spruce wood table and he grinned plucking them from it.

"And oh, I loved being with Mohini."

He was a fuchsia yet again.

The setting was an atelier of a picturesque art in making— born of the love of an archeress and the chakradhaari.

[theessenceofbeautyy]

RomanGerri Prompt Party 2024

Guidelines:

For those of you who have never participated in a prompt party you choose a number or a number is requested (depending on if you take asks) and you do the prompt that goes with that number. You can use multiple prompts for one fic and just because you see someone else use a prompt DOES NOT mean you can’t use the same one (a common misconception). All prompts are left up to your very own interpretation and you can use them at any time but when posting on Tumblr be sure to use the tag “RomanGerriPromptParty” so it’ll be easy to find. If this gets any participants I’ll add art and video edit prompts.

Prompts

One of them gets injured and the other has to take care of them.

Gerri as a sex therapist

Getting caught

PDA

Game Of Thrones AU

Gerri praise kink

Mother’s Day

Sharing body heat to stay alive

An "accidental" kiss

Gerri as a female knight and Roman as her Squire

Roman catches Gerri dancing around in the kitchen while making dinner

Person A hates celebrating their birthday but Person B finds out and does something special for them

Going shopping

Roman the handyman

Roman & Gerri get into a fight and have near death experience and angsty make up sex after (canon)

Gerri loses her memories, Roman must make her fall in love with him again

Lonely Roman paints/sculpts a picture a woman from his dreams and she comes to life

Roman & Gerri are professors at the same university, enemy-to-lovers

Gerri is Romans College professor, he can’t focus

Bedsharing

What if Logan hadn’t called (a universe where he got to lay her badly but gladly)

Roman is custodian of a cemetery and meets Gerri when she buries Baird and keep meeting as she mourns.

Roman is disguised as a priest and seeks shelter at a monastery where he meets novice Gerri

Person A is a member of the royal family. An assassination destroys their family, but Person A manages to escape and is believed to be dead. Person A finds out that their power-hungry relative (Person C) was behind the attack and wanted the throne for themself. While on the run, Person A meets Person B, who invites A to their camp. After finding out A's true identity, B and their friends agree to help A to stop Person C's tyranny so A can be crowned as the rightful king/queen

Roman buys a motorcycle

“Come inside” (wink wink) (or not)

Gerri and Roman are actors on the same Broadway show

Gerri is a neglected housewife, in comes Roman

Roman catches Gerri watching "Bridezilla" & "Say Yes to the Dress" and starts planning a secret wedding based on her commentary

Vampire AU

Drunk Gerri accidentally admits something really embarrassing

Soldier/Nurse AU

“Would you like to share the blanket?”

“We have to be quick”

Roman accidentally ingests viagra

Roman comes to bring Gerri lunch but finds her sexually frustrated

"This can never happen again" *happens again*

RomanGerri at a strip club

"I'm really angry at you but also really horny so can we press pause on this fight and fuck first?"

Jealous Gerri (when they aren't even together) and she gets all possessive, angry then takes matters into her own hands so they have a get together sex.

Gerri is a goddess of love. She is responsible to bring people together and help everyone find their true love. However, her fate is to be alone forever. Then she meets Roman and while he’s destined to be with Grace he goes against powers older than life on earth itself in order to be with her.

Drinking Game with 20 Questions

RomanGerri have sex in a library

Gerri being selfish in bed

Gerri’s hair is getting long. Roman is going insane.

Roman getting carried away during sexy times and telling Gerri he’s gonna put a baby in her, Gerri being confused because she’s literally in her 60s but going with it, they have a talk afterwards (crack prompt)

Roman is an assassin hired to kill Gerri but when he discovers a sweet older blonde he decides to protect her instead

Roman discovering Gerris curls

"Please, sing for me!"

“I’ve spoiled you.” Roman being needy

The sibs witnessing them being sweet together (post season 4)

Roman wants Gerri to sit on his lap

“Gerri’s hot right?” Roman trying to figure out if others see what he sees, word gets around to Gerri and she confronts him

RomanGerri make a sex tape (bonus points if they watch it)

Funeral sex

"You can't just run around and threaten to kill everyone." "Oh but you never told me that so how would I know?"

RomanGerri cover up a murder

Roman & Gerri are secretly together when he gets made CEO. A very special congratulations is in order (canon divergence AU)

Through a glitch in the system (or was it?) two strangers find  themselves married to each other (inspired by the movie Accidental Husband)

Roman is a gladiator and Gerri is his Domina (pure smut) (totally not at all self indulgent)

Dressing room shenanigans

RomanGerri on their honeymoon

The Devil Wears Prada AU

Surprise orgasm

Gerri meets Caroline as Romans partner for the first time

Roman loves Gerris speaking voice and she finds out just how much

Roman being “weird about Gerri” from Shivs POV

Logan thinks she coddles him

Gerri tries to teach Roman to bake

RomanGerri smoke a blunt (in honor of 4/20 being last week)

RomanGerri and Tomshiv double date (or any ship i just thought TomShiv would have the most angst potential) (angst/comfort)

Accidental orgasm

Roman has the horrible habit of staring at her breasts during meetings, Gerri notices

Desk sex

RomanGerri get stuck in an elevator for hours

Gerri shares an irrational fear with Roman

Roman is convinced he’s gonna die before Gerri and she finds it endearing

RomanGerri make love for the first time in lieu of their usual shenanigans

Pet names

Gerri discovers poems Roman has written about her

Roman unintentionally distracting Gerri

Roman finds out Gerri is weak for his puppy dog eyes

Roman fucks her tits (i literally don’t know a pretty way to put this)

Bathroom scene but the version where Gerri lends him a hand

Gerri catching Roman during one of his many “sessions” in his office

Submissive Gerri

Gerri tells Roman he’s pretty

Gerri watching Roman and Shiv cat fight

Cockwarming

During one of their top secret sexy conference calls Gerri decides to try a new method to talk him off (praise vs degradation)

Gerri is dangerously horny

RomanGerri go to the movies

Roman walks in on Gerri in the bath

Roman wants to be her sugar daddy and is upset when Gerri won’t let him take care of her

Roman being possessive

Roman seeks comfort in Gerri after the hostage situation in Turkey

Roman calls Gerri cute, she’s amused “Roman…I’m 64.” “So? You’re still fucking-I don’t know!”

RomanGerri Apocalypse AU

Roman kidnaps Gerri, she’s not entirely mad

Roman can’t stay mad at Gerri and that makes him mad

[csphire]

7, 12, 30 for the Tav ask!

30 Questions for your Tav

Anna - Half-Elf, Artisan, Warlock (Arch Fey) & Light Cleric of Tymora

7. What circumstances led to your Tav becoming their Class/Subclass?

Anna entered into a pact shortly after fleeing an abusive lover. It was not the best of plans, to just leave him and Baldur’s Gate as fast as possible for another city where she could start over but she feared for her life. How she met her patron one could say was a whole lucky meet-cute story. She literally stumbled over them and profusely apologized. Charmed by her sweet nature, good manners and also finding out why she was in such a hurry, the fey extended to her a bargain for power and also taught her how to enchant her goods. However, all of Anna’s enchantments always turn out to have a tiny bit of chaos to them but nothing her customers will ever notice… usually. 

Unlike Wyll, Anna and her patron have a mostly respectful, sometimes chaotic, very protective, and loving relationship. But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Anna is well aware fey can be fickle, easily offended, and therefore dangerous. For starters, she suspects her patron is behind her abusive lover’s untimely and grisly demise. Something she found out years later after her patron coaxed her into returning to Baldur’s Gate with assurances that with her new powers, she would not need to leave and she could disappear easily enough in the large city. 

Currently, her patron on occasion only asks her to do some odd and seemingly harmless things to set off a little chaos in the world. What seems like a few setups for pranks or displacing a stone from a circle of them in some forest. Some of these things lead to disastrous results but nothing fatal for anyone… usually. Her patron loves chaos like most fey and was tickled pink when she stole the Blood of Lathander mace. Anna is also obligated to help other fey in need from the Seelie court like the pixie in the lamp. Killing fey from the Unseelie court such as hags and redcaps also delights her patron as well.

As for her becoming a Light Cleric of Tymora, that happened later. I guess all those prayers for luck and in offering gratitude along with her boldness when it came to adventure caught the goddess's attention. With it came some of her divine favor.

12. What opinion does your Tav have about the Gods?

It all depends upon the god or goddess. Although she leans towards good-aligned deities she doesn’t give a hoot who one worships so long as it doesn’t cause any harm to those she cares about, herself, and any nearby innocents. She's not deeply motivated to convert anyone. However, she did think Shadowheart was naive for worshiping Shar. A thought she kept to herself for the most part as she gently guided Shadowheart back to her original goddess Selûne.

To most deities, she’s not about to push her luck and be rude. Any stranger that crosses her path she strives to always be polite because one can never know when one will show up in disguise. If they offer her a boon for completing a task she would rarely pass the chance up.

Out of all of them Tymora, Anna prays to the most followed by extending respects to Jergal, Lathander, Ilmater, Loviatar, and Corellon Larethian too.

30. What are your Tav’s intentions/goals after the end of the game?

Besides, scold Dammon for treating her like a carrier pigeon and then promptly seduce him if she hasn't already? She wants to go back to making jewelry, drawing, sculpting, and painting. She wants to wallow in luxury at least for a few months after roughing it for so long and have a few kids. More adventure? Naw… well not unless it’s to help Dammon, and Wyll find a solution for Karlach's heart. Or help Astarion find a cure or some solution so he can walk in the sun again along with helping keep seven thousand spawn in the Underdark in check.

Thank you for the asks!!! <3

[thoughts-stuck-somewhere]

Deleted Scenes from The Aeneid

This statue is the best explanation for why I do not want any children. Like, first of all, they do nothing for you. I mean, they may put you on one shoulder and take you from Troy to Rome in their arms because you are too old and tired to do it on your own legs, but why are you that tired in the first place? Because they worn you off and had to take part in a war that destroyed your whole city and now you are homeless and old and wrinkled (and therefore no more hot, even though those abs seem to be still rock hard, and the hot goddess you had this menace with doesn’t want you anymore, damn it Aphrodite!). At least, though, this particular son, Aeneas, is trying, he is carrying the old man, this poor Anchises, on his shoulder at the end of the day. But just because he knows the pain that being a parent is, because what is Ascanius doing? Literally nothing. Actually, he is making it even worst, weighting his poor father down, like the nightmare he is. Not helping at all and being an utter annoyance. I bet he never let his poor daddy sleep.

And the daddy here is another reason you should not have children. Look at his thighs flexing under the weight of his filial duties. What a damn waste. Why distract this dilf (look at that little goatee, what a charm) with family messes? And, honestly that child is not even that cute, why waste your time on a draft? No way.

I do know this all may sound hypocritical, insulting the act of birthing babies, since it distracts Daddy Aeneas, as the Daddy himself was also kind of birthed, as seen above, BUT hot man here is the son of a Goddess, she definitely did not waste her time on contractions. Do I have to explain it better? Well, I won’t, because unless Bernini took is time sculpting your thighs (or you do Crossfit, which is the fitness version of it), you clearly do not deserve my attention and you can keep going not understanding the obvious.

Aeneas, though, totally deserve my attention and I must help him with this filial duty nonsense, those thighs and that abs are not forever, they have to be focused on something worth their time. I may leave the grandpa in the game because, at the end of the day, he contributed to the creation of this beauty, he must have some deeper value I will take my time to find out. But the ugly brat is out. We have better business to occupy our time with instead of hearing his cries. There are other filial duties to attend to now, I dare say that, yes, and I am sure they will be less annoying and will weight nobody down. To make it more explicit, there is me in the game now. And I am certainly more worthy of their time.

(Statue: Aeneas, Anchises, and Ascanius, Gian Lorenzo Bernini)

[russieraholic]

It’s come to the point where the Yiga Clan in my brain has diverted so extensively that it would literally make more sense to just name them something else. Like. Seriously. And I’ve had the name “East Desert Rogues” in mind for months now.

The lore is, in a nutshell:

The land of Terra-Exodeum was the first place to ever exist in the world and was the birthplace of the gods which correlated to and were the pure source and physical manifestation of all the elements, tangible or not. These deities were what created essentially everything- the serpent of ice formed mighty glaciers, the hyena of lightning called on powerful storms, the hound of water procured rivers and waterfalls, the bull of earth sculpted mountains and valleys.

After assuming more human forms as the eons passed, the deities who chose to not forfeit their godhood in order to pass down their elemental powers into their bloodlines, of course, had the desire to rule over their own territory. This was relatively easy and peaceful, for a while. One such deity, Saint Equinox, hound of water, was undemanding of a domain to rule over and generally spent his time lounging, training in martial arts and wizardry in his monastery.

A few thousand years later, however, the deity of Plague, along with the deity of Wind, held a massive siege against much of the land in hopes to gain territory. This lasted for centuries, in which the incredible power of the goddess of Ice eventually overcame and ended the siege.

Still, many descendants of deities, commoners, and even a few of the deities themselves chose to leave the tainted land in search of brighter prospects, Saint Equinox no exception.

After changing his name inspired by his element (“Kohga” meaning “old river”), Kohga eventually settled in a distant land, in a village that was just starting its roots (many of the settlers being direct descendants of the deities.) For centuries he would quietly watch over this tribe, elusively enough as to where he was not questioned about his longevity. He came to adore these people like his own. Their technological achievements were incredible, and intellectual prowess immediately evident.

However, one fateful day, a horrific attempt by the corrupt hierarchy to wipe out the tribe was made. The king both despised the race for no apparent reason, and also thought their advancements were a threat to his rule.

Many lost their lives that day. Kohga, of course, fought hard to protect them- but the only other survivors that were able to hold their ground without surrendering were the descendants of his fellow deities. He gathered up the survivors, and offered a chance to run away from and rebel against the wretched kingdom. Many chose to instead forfeit their prowess and go on to lead mundane, heavily governed lives. Those who didn’t, which were the descendants, chose to flee alongside Kohga.

From there they formed a rudimentary group, which Kohga vowed to the seven young men that he would teach them as their sensei and pass on all of his knowledge. Kohga realized that the way they could best protect themselves was by gathering as many descendants, or “elemental wielders/masters”, as possible and beginning a clan of their own, passing the deific powers through the bloodlines in said clan.

Not too far into their journey, however, they were accosted by kingdom soldiers and officials. Already exhausted from the days of walking and trekking through harsh conditions, all looked bleak, until a very powerful woman intervened and annihilated the squadron. After some questioning this woman turned out to be none other than the goddess of ice that had defeated the siege that drove Saint Equinox and many others away to begin with. She vowed to take the men under her wing and became their protector.

For a few years, the group searched for any other elemental descendants that could aid their cause- in the end they ended up with twelve founders (including Kohga himself). They would go on to found the culture, settle in the desert, and establish their yet-to-grow community in the heart of the desert.

Much of their culture focuses on deep understanding and celebration of both ethnic diversity and homosexuality. And though of course it’s evolved over time to be about queerness and diversity in general, it’s important to remember their roots.

Important things to note:

-The typical bodysuit that you see Yiga soldiers wear wasn’t established until about 1,000 years before the current time (the lore I mentioned ends at about 50,000 years before current time).

-Even though the clan’s main goal is to fight against the prejudice they face, it isn’t free from its own glaring prejudice. Over 98% of the clan are male/masculine. This problem lasted until their assimilation with the Marine Embassy, which had the same problem but with female/feminine.

Anyways. I think it’s abundantly clear that with the adjustment of just a few things, this whole story could be its complete own. I’m not saying it will be or won’t be, I just think it’s impressive to see how far it’s diverted from its source material.

[mahvaladara]

Can I have all the Character solidifying asks for your newest dragon Sael please? Or as many as you feel like giving me! Cause.. I needs to know this new handsome thing!

Sael'Myr

The rest of the questions it is. All bellow.

Part 1 - Family and Childhood

1. How does your character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence - literal or imagined - did the father have?

Sael has an extreme reverence and respect for Havura, as do all of his siblings. Havura has always been a pillar to his children, he's a good father, he's just, honorable and rational. He may not always appear fair, but he's always just and always knows what he is doing. Logic and justice are two things his children can always count with, even if they don't like his decisions, they both love and hate this about him. But he's also strict and will punish his children with the same fairness he'd punish anyone. They will not always get what they want or worked for, as Havura will sometimes favour what is logical over what is fair. Havura has influenced Sael to be pragmatic in his actions, but also be honorable and try to be just and responsible.

2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have?

Sael's mother is Myra. When a dragon dies, they become either a tree or a mountain. As Myra was a massive dragon, she became an archipelago, with her heartlights at the heart of Mount Myra, where fire burns within. Sael was born from this fire, alongside his sister. He presents male while she presents female. Sael often sees Myra in spirit form. She doesn't usually speak with him but she does not need to. They have a silent understanding. Myra was the former goddess of Beauty and Art, and her skills and interests brushed on Sael.

3. Brothers, sisters? Who do they like? Why? What do they despise about their siblings?

Sael has many siblings, but he isn't close to all. He's very close to Lacerta, his older sibling. Lacerta is universally feared as the Executioner. But Sael has great respect for Lacerta. They share a common understanding, both being harmed by their reputations. Besides, Lacerta is one of the few people who appreciates and recognises Sael's skill and intelligence. Sael has a sister from the same mother, Dem'Myr. She's the Goddess of Art, Music and Dance, patron of bards and artists. They are civil with one another but they're not friendly. They actually have envy towards one another. Dem is envious of how many hidden talents Sael has (he's a Jack of all trades) and Sael is envious of Dem's creativity and talent in music and art. Dem was taught to sculpt by Sael and he was the one who made her tools (the hammer, the knifes, brushes, and the instruments too). He applied to become God of Art as did Dem. But seeing that Sael was a better smith than artist, Havura gave the patronage of arts to Dem, a smithing to Sael. Because he taught her, Sael felt robbed. His sister got to do art, while Sael was stuck building weapons and armours for eternity. While Dem could dance and sing, Sael had to travel to wars to arm soldiers of kings and fight alongside them. He was enraged and trivialized her talent, said she was only good because he taught her, that her skill depended on his tools, and that Art could never have the power of a well crafted Blade. To prove him wrong, she sculpted his image, where she portrayed him as old, fat, pot bellied and ugly dragon, akin an ogre or orc. She then made music about him, where she compared him to pigs, portrayed him as an idiot, a brute and slow-witted, said he was a vulcano of a man, short tempered and destructive. As it came from the goddess of Art herself, everyone believed he was an idiot and didn't truly believe such a fair and elegant and well spoken dragon was the Mountain God described to be a pig-faced brute and idiot. For a long time they have been bitter at one another. But Sael is older and has experienced things Dem'Myr has not and that has made him relativize their relationship, so he treats her in a way that she absolutely detests, with civility. This is also why he usually keeps to his mountain. He has a bad reputation and does not like explaining why.

4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient?

Sael was fairly well behaved as a shill. He was a bit of a scaredy cat as a child, became more courageous and adventurous as a teen. Set a piece of furniture or two on fire and broke a couple of vases trying to fly as do all shills. But he was relatively... human for a dragon. The worse he once did was eat a cat when he was really young and still believed he could eat anything. His father made him spit the cat and spanked him well, but he was just one year old at the time. He had the IQ of the avarage human 4 year old toddler and dragon shills do try to eat anything new. One thing that helped Sael got off the hook more often than his siblings was his honesty. Seal is honest and blunt to a flaw. Much like his older brother, he does not sugarcoat what he says, and he thinks he'll hurt someone with his words he'll just keep them to himself. But Sael was always honest with Havura and never lied to his father. He learned from watching his older siblings be punished. But he did get a few spanks or a tail pull when he misbehaved.

5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered?

Sael was not overprotected nor sheltered. As gods or future gods, Havura needed his shills to be realistic and aware of the reality of the world, so, from a early age they knew how the world worked. They were raised among both nobility, and civilians, between the religious and the free vala, between human and vala, and even among the beastfolk, the mixed and the seafolk. So, they knew all aspects of life by the time they were adults. Havura also made sure to impose responsibility among his children.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?

Sael actually felt affection. They had a good upbringing, Havura is a good and just father, even if strict. Even today, as adult, when Sael feels lost he will look for his father for guidance or his nursemaid.

7. What was the economic status of their family?

Havura is one of the richest gods alive. He rules over the entire continent of Malivia, besides that, he is worshiped in nearly the entire planet, with the exception of Valora where people are not allowed to worship the dragon gods. Havura's economic status has passed to his shills who have never struggled with economic needs. Sael has enjoyed this boon of being a rich dragon, but, much like his siblings has always been quite humble. Even now, living in Mount Myra, despite his wealth, he is very charitable and humble. They would give more, but though dragons believe in charity they are against handouts and do not help who does not help themself.

@izayoichan I'll answer the rest in part two and three and maybe four XD.

[buckybarnestales]

Devotion

As Bucky engaged his approach through a sea of a rich socialites-the prissy upper class of the fashion industry, he eluded any contact with the elegantly clad raven, blond and copper-haired dames ogling his masculine dominance, he wore a sharp cut Armani tailored suit -midnight black, giving him a dangerous aura. His dark wolfish mane of chestnut was slicked back with bladed tresses fanned over the broad width of his flesh and metallic shoulders; everything about his devastatingly handsome chiseled visage carried the air of suave menace and roguish allure, the suit literally showcased the solid thickness of his sculpted torso, sleek curves of his slender hips and curved edges of his biceps. He was armed for the kill, slicing through the crowd in methodical and evading stride,

He was armed for the kill, slicing through the crowd in methodical and evading stride as his powerhouse body flowed gracefully with the dissonance of the music, just like when he trained in the Red Room, obeying the sharp tempo of the piano and twirling orphan ballerinas effortlessly on stage. He knew how to glide with each rhythm, and wield precision with his footing-tonight he felt the unquenchable urge to dance with his best girl-the love of his life; Selina Kyle, an untouchable and graceful beauty who mastered the elements of darkness, and left him breathless each time he stared into her ardent coffee irises.

Sometimes, he wondered if she was a spellbinding and ethereal goddess in mortal flesh-he still couldn’t fathom why she loved him, a damaged-butchered soul who had been unmade into a stone cold instrument of death. He deserved nothing for the sins that shadowed his reflection, but Selina gave him a chance to embrace the light freedom; to become a new man and he loved her for that. Stuffing his gloved hands into the pockets of his trousers, he bit on the swell of his bottom lip, feeling out of depth and lost in a haze of confusion.“Okay, Barnes, you gotta show her the ropes tonight, no backing down…”

Grumbling under his breath, Bucky halted in his wavering steps in the center, the intensity of his frosted steel-blue eyes scanned determinedly over the lavish dresses and cloth tables displaying polished trays of diced exotic fruit and various desserts that had the Paris flare, the scents of fudge and strawberry became intoxicating as he seized a rounded cocoa ball of sprinkled coconut and quickly stuffed it into his mouth, to ease the inrush of anxiety mounting through his heated veins. The flavor was sweet and infused with chocolate; fueling the ravenous influx of questing hunger. His left gloved hand grabbed another dessert off a tray, not realizing that the strawberry pastry resembled a shape of a pig. He took a sampling bite, tasting an explosion of rich jelly and sugar. His senses were blitzed with the infusion of flavor. “Hey, this stuff is pretty damn good…”

“You should try the chocolate toads, I hear they are simply to die for.” Bucky’s moment of intoxicating indulgence was disturbed by the slithering chill of a familiar German accent creeping up on him. The former Winter Soldier froze up, mid-bite on his second serving of strawberry cheesecake. A coldness enveloped him brought about by a gust of memories, which in turn were triggered by a conniving voice that was both sickly soft and sagacious. A cold metal table, a darkened room, merciless needles, blinding lights, and withering face of a middle-aged scientist with cold eyes behind thick glasses. “Of course, I would say the same of all the delicacies here that appeal to my sweet-tooth.”

It couldn’t be….

A dark look crosses Bucky’s once relaxed features. He sets his plate down and turns, metallic hand balled into a fist at his side, only to come to a puzzling halt as he takes in the man in front of him. Garbed in a plain black tuxedo, the short and stocky man before him was the striking visage of a demon of his tormented past. “Zola…” Bucky nearly hisses out, though his brow was pinched with disbelief. “You’re dead. You can’t be here.” The man in front of him appeared genuinely confused by Bucky’s somewhat hostile approach along with the name he addressed him by.

“Zola? I beg your pardon, but my name is Ziegler. Professor Albert Ziegler of Anthropology. Good to make your acquaintance, Herr…” The man in front of him wore no glasses, spoke with the same accent and professionalism as the man that made Bucky’s life a living hell for over a decade, but something about him was entirely off. His demeanor and approach was savvy but also benign as you’d expect from a complete stranger. And yet, Bucky couldn’t quash the feeling of unease he felt in this man’s presence.

“Is this some kinda of a sick game?” Bucky clenches his teeth from behind his lips. The lingering taste of strawberry and chocolate on his tongue was somewhat distracting, making him feel as if he were being carried away on a train while he struggled to remain focused on the man in front of him. “I don’t know how you’re here, or what the hell you want. But stay away from me, or I’ll use this to rip your throat out,” Bucky makes a show of flexing his metallic digits before the befuddled and now somewhat stricken guest who went by the name Dr. Ziegler.

Feeling the ominous presence of a dark storm waging through the ballroom; Selina wasted not a second to glide between the crowd, as her dark coffee irises settled intently at dessert tables where Bucky stood clenching in his metallic fist at his side. Behind webbed dark tresses hanging over his razor-edged cheeks, his steel-blue eyes gleamed fiercely in restrained contempt, evident to the hardened clench of his stubbled jaw; he looked like a caged wolf, snarling to deliver a lethal strike at his unknown tormentor. She didn’t need the Winter Soldier to become unleashed, not when the stink of HYDRA slithered in the shadows.

“Bucky, cool it down,” Selina beckoned him, her sultry tone edged with a hostile flare as her dark eyes glared intently at the elderly professor standing behind the dessert table, with a smug look tampering his wrinkled features. Right there, she felt the murderous command of instinct to pull out her Glock that was strapped along the curve of her low back, concealed by the rich black velvet of her dress molding over the lithesome and curvaceous lines of her svelte body - low cut to reveal the exquisite swell of her pale breasts and the graceful length of her bare neck.

Her evening attire for the gala was practical and lethally effective to engage the dance floor while radiating an elegant illusion of a modern aged Roman empress; Selina was a sleek feline unbound, dominating the flickers of shadow as her cool alabaster skin glowed against the softness of candlelight. Her silken long mahogany locks cascaded effortlessly off her back, as she engaged the stout framed stranger who had fallen into the crosshairs of the Winter Soldier.

She needed to obstruct the impulses of his savagery, distract Bucky from making a scene when his baleful temperament became a harmful force to contend against. With a brazen move, she seized his hand firmly, entwining her lithe fingers with his cool chrome digits under the motorcycle glow. “C'mon handsome, let’s show these rich stiffs how a kid from Brooklyn dances…” she implored in a whisper, hotly.

Though he was still severely distracted by the appearance of the man who bore a striking resemblance to the one who turned him into a killing machine, Bucky allowed himself to be swept away by Selina’s guiding hand. His steel-blue eyes glared threateningly at the supposed professor who matched his glower with a tight-smile that bore no signs of fear. Zola or not, Bucky knew something was off. Releasing a shaky sigh, Bucky registers Selina’s tempting offer and feels his anxiety begin to melt away into something more lax. Truly, he needed to let loose tonight and enjoy himself. Dancing with the most beautiful woman in the world seemed like the best way of doing that.

“Let’s give em a show, Miss Kyle.” He quips with a playful gleam in his eyes with a smile to match. His wolfish gaze moves over Selina, drinking in her elegant and sexy visage as she guides him towards the dance floor. The orchestra began to play a more upbeat, fast-paced waltz. Elegant and invigorating. Electricity sizzled between Bucky and Selina’s eyes, their fingers joining as each of them drifted into a familiar cadence that they practiced with each other for many years. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Careful handsome, I might enjoy this dance,” Selina purred with effortless snark, as he guided with fluid grace towards the center of the crowded floor, his cybertronic arm deftly braced over the fine curve of her lower back, metallic coolness penetrated through her skin, with painstaking voltaic pulses that recharged a fever in her veins. Lightning flashed against the interlude of a storm. The intensity was mounting, as gravity between them was defying limits of how long they could restrain the untamed influx of hunger.

Following the sharp tunefulness of harmony and a thump of percussion, Selina’s dainty hand strayed up to the width of his broad shoulder, curving just below his thick nape, and her fingers swept under his wolfish mane, until she adjoined with him in a perfect stance. The swell of her ample breasts pressed softly against the hard planes of muscle compacted over his sculpted torso; she inhaled the intoxicating, masculine scent of frosted mint, vanilla, and sandalwood wafted off him; blitzing her aroused senses to engage. “Just focus on me, James…” she implored gently, swaying her sleek–lithesome body against the subtle flows of equal balance, urging him to lead her.

Bucky said nothing, the need for words suddenly feeling trivial in the ambiance that was created by the inspiring music that surrounded them, and the flow of their graceful movements. Selina’s soothing words had somehow managed to smooth the coils of anxiety he felt. Thoughts of the stocky German professor had begun to evaporate as he was suddenly immersed in the flow of their waltz. The corner of his lips curved into something resembling a dangerous smirk, and he eagerly followed her instruction and took control of their dance.

Though his spirit was not as lively as the young man from Brooklyn in the 1930s, his body hadn’t forgotten the memories that were sewn into his muscles. Selina’s hands were held securely in his own, not too hard or too soft, but their joined contact was enough that she felt like an extension of himself, his other half. He guides her in close, left foot back, right foot forward, their sway and turns of their bodies were smooth as silk and enchanting as poetry in motion. Feeling bold, he twirls her suddenly, watching with wolfish delight as she expertly twirls on the tip of her toes like a ballerina, before guiding her back into his arms. “I love it when you do that,” he nearly murmurs hotly against her ear.

Feeling the cool minty caress of his enticing breath ghost along the curve of her jaw, as she effortlessly relaunched her grace against the solid expanse of his torso, Selina fell into a euphoric harmony. The rhythmic heat of their adjoined bodies thrilled her senses; numbing her bones when the metallic touch of his robotic-chrome hand traced an electrifying pulse deftly against the bare milky-white softness of her skin, purring silently for an infinite release of her caged soul, she tilted her head back with a slow arch of her back as tousled cascades of mahogany languidly flowed off his shoulder; purposely displaying the elegant lines of her pale neck to his tamed masculine hunger. 

Selina almost looked forbiddenly wicked in the intermixed contrasts of shadow and halos of light, betraying her cool poise to challenge his melting restraint.  She detected the war raging within him, the blaze of fueling determination to undo control and ravage soul- needing passion through her captured body. Smirking coyly, she curved her neck, cushioning her lips with liquefied heat dangerously over the stubble bristle of his throat. “You know we can take this floor, easy, really knock their rich asses off…Just like in Russia, soldier boy.”

Bucky was distinctly aware that around them, several of the dancing couples had cleared the floor and formed a circle with the rest of the guests as they watch he and Selina with awe. “You read my mind, darlin’,” Bucky’s smile grew wide, making him appear younger and more vivacious in the thrum of their waltz. There as a dangerous level of excitement in the air that came with the prospect of being the center of everyone attention with the most beautiful woman in attendance. So he pulled Selina closer until she twirls balletically into the opened embrace his arms with her back pressed against his chest. “Think you can keep up?” He dares with a touch of mischievousness, knowing how much Selina loved a challenge.

“Do I detect a dare, James Barnes,” Selina coyly purred, her tone held a smoky edge, as the fullness of her lavish crimson lips curved beautifully into a jovial smirk, her coffee irises flashed with a blaze of heat, beckoning the untamed beast inside him to devour her in second she temptingly arced the swell of her breasts over the thickness of his broad chest, muscles flexed at the ignited breach of their natural contact. Following accord to the sensual rhythm of their bodies, her lithe fingers traced possessively over his concealed metallic plates of his left arm as his hand deftly gripped the smooth black velvet of her dress; catching a glimpse of him boyishly gnawing on his bottom lip. She wrinkled her nose, just watching him master perfectly in parallel cadence with her poised steps of graceful sync. They fluidly balanced visceral power and elegance with every twirl, becoming sharp as cool blades, cutting through vestiges shadow, as their adjoined bodies mirrored each sway–heated and tangible pulse of precision and rhymic flow that made them appear invincible on the ballroom floor.

“Only an invitation,” he returned breathlessly, guiding Selina towards him after a vibrant twirl across the dance floor. Their movements were as fluid as flowing water with the force of stallions. The guests watched cooed and awed as the waltz neared its end. Bucky catches Selina into his arms, his hands cradling her exposed flesh firmly as he uses her momentum to dip her back. Her hair spills back like a cascading waterfall of mahogany, shimmering in the chandelier lights above. Their gazes snapped to each other’s with the intensity of an electricity not nearly as potent as the intoxicating allure. “You haven’t missed a step, Miss Kyle. Do I have your number?” he coaxed, the warmth of his breath hovering above her slightly parted lips, waiting for his invitation to be accepted.

Staring into the devious, heated shimmer of his leveled steel-blue eyes, Selina felt her dominance ousting as he captured her within that lightning storm of intensity, the feverish clamor of blood reached uncontainable levels, the minty coolness of his breath graced her skin with languid gusts, as she felt the intimate proximity of his soft lips edging with temperate desire; a hushed thrill possessed her veins, she tilted her neck back, exposing the lines and curves of her throat, coaxing him with a low, throated purr, as her crimson lips opened freely for him to steal a kiss. “Don’t be shy,” she beguiled smoothly, with a hint of darkness chasing her sultry tone. “I heard you really cut into’s girl’s heart, soldier boy…”

Not needing any further incentive, Bucky closed the gap between them and planted his lips against hers in a warm heady exchange. The taste of both mint and strawberries on his lips brought sent a jolt of electricity through Bucky's skin, while the intoxicating scent of lavender made him feel as if he were soaring high. Their lips remain closed against each other, the noise of the approving crowd was deafened by the thumping of their pulses in their ears. Their lips continued to move slow, gentle yet still possessing great fervor in their affection and desire for one another. Instinctively, Bucky's cool hand of metal reaches up and gets lost in the sea of mahogany curls while his other hand holds her up against him. The action felt so natural to him, he couldn't help but release a soft sigh of contentment as her soft cool digits touch his cheek and their lips slowly begin to part. "How was that for a closer?" He whispers breathlessly, opening his clouded blue eyes to gaze down into hers with sparkling intensity.

"A pretty good damn one, Barnes, but we’re not finished dancing yet..." Selina purred hotly against the heaviness of his set jaw, feeling his Roman nose arrowing into the softness of her flushed cheek as the impactful heat of their moist lips opened mindlessly to the blissful unity of their souls igniting. They were masterful and lethal combatants of shadow; knowing how to effectively adapt to the elements surrounding them, but the depth of romance was just like hand-to-hand melee, competing forces of carnal heat and coolness mixed into a combustive--unrestrained ecstasy. This was a just showcase of kitty play, a facade of a glimpse to what they held back within their free domain. The Winter Soldier and the Cat were two immortal entities of tragic pasts; that would never be reckoned with, and each moment they shared without the masks and guns, it was rapturous to delve further into--but tonight Selina knew that causal restraint had to become required, even though she wanted to really exhibit what true passion was to the rich suck-ups.

Releasing a vexatious sigh, Selina glided her palms gently over his broad neck, fingers possessively caressing his lengthy bladed dark tresses as she felt the bristled prick of his stubble rasping against her skin at the inducing moment his wide, smooth lips rolled fluidly against hers with an ardent pace, arching into a quirky smirk for once he captured her lips fully into sweet, fervent surrender. Their bodies solidified into paralyzed stance of rhythm and dominance; falling into perfect balance as their deepened to a euphoric surge of unhurried passion. Little did they know that malignant phantom in the crowd would obstruct their love, pull them into the cruel gravity of an unspeakable nightmare that would soon consume their hearts.

The sudden end to the music being played by the orchestra, followed by the thunderous applause of the audience watching them was a sharp reminder for Bucky and Selina of the world surrounding them. Leisurely, he brings Selina up and she gracefully finds her footing in front of him. Their gazes remained locked as they stood with flushed cheeks and an unspoken appreciation for what turned out to be one helluva dance that turned every head in their direction. Bucky was never one for attention, even in his youth when he rivaled almost every good-looking boy at school. He was about as timid as Steve was in that regard, but Selina, she seemed to be used to drawing a crowd, and just as used to shrug them off with a slight shake of her head, with a bemused smile to match. "Guess we drew quite the crowd." He whispers with a jaunty snort doing his utmost to focus on Selina, and not the cold- chilling reminder of a stocky German scientist that resembled his most despised enemy. Just as suddenly, he felt as if the jovial spirit that came from the dance had taken a sullen turn. "Gotta say, this party is starting to get a little too crowded for my taste. Feel like takin' a break, darlin'?" He asks, Selina hopefully.

"Don't tell me that old man is getting tired," Selina snarked back coolly, meeting the stark intensity glinting in his steel-blue irises, hooded underneath tresses;  without missing a beat, she wiped her thumb with a dainty glide over the red smudge dabbed at the curvy edge of his kiss-swollen lips. Her dark eyes glimmered with devious flare, holding him into tangible submission, while he questioningly luminous glacial blue, unwavering daggers back at the elderly stranger looming near the dessert tables.

"I wonder how we can change that, handsome?" she coaxed with a naked dare, rubbing her stiletto heeled foot purposely against the rigid curves of his muscled calf, watching his eyebrows furrow into a taut pinch, evident to agitated pulse she undoubtedly identified thrumming in his unshakeable core. Maybe leaving the ballroom affair was a good idea after all. "Okay, we'll continue our dance elsewhere...Let's say your apartment's roof?" 

"Sounds like my kind of fun," Bucky says, as enthusiastic as he could manage despite the anxiety he felt at being in proximity to a face he found so dreadfully familiar. Seeing Zola's face and hearing that sickening soft voice of his brought back a maelstrom of dark memories, some of which he hadn't even remembered till just now. He'd had enough of this party and right now he wanted to put himself as far away from this place as possible. Years of fieldwork had ingrained into him a sense of foreboding that came upon a familiar sight, and right now, he felt as if there was something horrific on the horizon. "C'mon. Let's get going," he says eagerly, threading his fingers into Selina's, then begins to guide her away from the dance floor and towards the southern doors of the ballroom. He was grateful Selina fell into step beside him and didn't object to his somewhat desperate retreat. The crowd surrounding them begins to disperse to allow them through. But the retreating couple's progress is halted suddenly by the intruding figure of Professor Ziegler, heading them off with surprising speed, applauding them with loud claps though his expression bore no hint of warm approval. "Fine show, you both put on," Ziegler says with a dark voice that sounded nothing like the German-accented snake he was impersonating. "Mr. Barnes. Ms. Kyle." He says, a dark sneer on his lips. "There was a time I would've sought instruction as to entertain my own wife. Alas, the time for that passed long ago."

“Well, it’s been fun, Mr. Ziegler, but we’re leaving...” Selina deflected with a collective semblance of restraint, her full lips curved into a practiced smile while tracing her deft fingers tenderly over Bucky’s chrome knuckles at the second she felt his robotic hand morph into a clenching fist. She could see right through the old man’s untrusting exterior, a devoid of humanity reflected back, flares of vengeance seared like red bolts of lightning piercing through a stormy abyss. She felt an ominous chill frosting over her heart; his whole proximity reeked of deception, almost like an illusionist displaying a fictitious reflection. She brushed her lips faintly over Bucky’s stubbled jaw, whispering out an imploring and cool tone, breathily. “Let’s go, handsome.”

"Leaving so soon?" Ziegler feigns disappoint as Bucky and Selina proceed to walk around him, unwilling to indulge a conversation with him any further. Dark eyes watch with the sharpness of steel, and the intensity of a storm seeking to wreak havoc. Tension riled through as the couple moved away with expediency as though they were a pair of fleeing misfits trying to make haste before being discovered for a mischievous act. There was an air of foreboding as the ballroom distant to the suffocating fog of anticipation. Ziegler discards his smile which turns to a sneer directly at Bucky's back. "I must insist that you stay for awhile longer." He whispers ominously. With a clench of his raised fingers, Ziegler acts as puppet-master manipulating invisible strings. Bucky freezes, mid-step just as he and Selina neared the exit to the ballroom. A startled gasp flutters past his lips, his blue eyes are wide with confusion. "W-W-What, I can't move…" Bucky stutters, panic engulfing him as if his throat were being ensnared by an invisible noose that was tightening with every second, while at the same time, his limbs were still like glue.

By the conscious of feline instinct gripping through her veins, aware of the intrusive presence of unveiled evil, Selina arched her back tensely, her jeweled coffee irises keenly engaged the old professor's viperous stare; upon watching glints of reawakened pleasure merging into feverish vehemence of morbid indulgence. He somehow had immobilized her Bucky. Her thoughts steered with rapid pace, as she collectively shifted her gaze back at the dessert table. Her lips curved into a controlled grimace, stepping in front of her subdued lover, shielding him with a protective stance. "What the hell did you to do him?" she hissed fiercely.

Undaunted by Selina's show of defiance, Ziegler ignores her completely as he maintains his invisible grip on Bucky. A cold smirk forms across his lips, cruel and sadistic in the underlying intent. With a flick of his fist, he turns Bucky around as if he were a statue on a turntable. The sight was harrowing as well as confusing to a few of the guests as they catch wind of the small commotion. "Why, Mr. Barnes, you look hungry after that exhausting dance. Do indulge yourself further at the dessert table," Ziegler pulls Bucky, who struggles, away from Selina's side. The former assassin couldn't say anything, feeling as if his voice had been strangled until it vanished in a knot of discomfort. His legs were like a moving tram he couldn't step off or gain control of. He wanted to scream out his anger, to flail his fists at the stocky man across from him who smiled at him with dark amusement. "Z-Z-Zol…a…" He sneered, his gaze loathing as he passes him by. He bumps shoulders with guests in front of him who scold him.

Even though his will was upheld into a debased enchantment, Selina ardently transfixed her dark eyes towards the commanded destination; watching Bucky's defiant efforts struggling to fight with every vestige of resistance he stowed; his steps weren't methodical and exacting with lethal precision, he was being weighted with a sluggish pace. His steel-blue depths clouded with gluttonous fog, as his metallic hand strained involuntarily as clenching fingers plowed through a layer of whip cream and fudge, he bent his head down, grunting out seethes of frothing breath, but when the professor whispered latin, he fell into automatic stupor, lifting a handful of gooey chocolate and parted his shapely masculine lips, as the magic infecting his will held his mouth agape. He began to fall into a piggish nature, creating a messy that was utterly repellent for Selina to watch. "No..." She ghosted out a tenuous breath, feeling her steeled resolve fracturing. "Bucky..."

Selina's voice had become as distant to Bucky as a passing train. His thoughts were obscured by the intoxicating aroma wafting off the numerous delicacies that were in front of him, tempting him as though he were a man starving in the desert. He paid no thought or worry as he stuffs his mouth with large handfuls of cake and pudding. A myriad of tastes explode across his senses from chocolate to strawberry. But the aftertaste they left was as acrid as rotten eggs. It was delicious as it was vile. He possesses no control as he unconsciously begins to spit up his food, staining his mouth and the clothes he wears as it spills. "Hungry…" he pants through a large mouthful, before stuffing more cake into his mouth, the frosting now coating locks of his hair. "Quite the charming specimen we have here, don't we? Is it a man, or a rabid animal?!" Ziegler boasts to the crowd in a mocking tone to rile their reactions. The crowd was in a divided state of both amusement and disquiet as they watch the scene unfold. Those who were too embarrassed to watch, hide their faces in a distraction while those with less shame guffawed and made cruel jokes at the display of gluttony. Bucky could barely hear them beneath his loud chewing, but as the need for breath becomes too much, he stops his chewing and feels a pinch of pressure in his stomach. A groan comes through his lips as the pressure moves upward until it escapes in a loud belch that ignites a chorus of disgusted groans from the crowd. "There I believe is our answer!" Ziegler laughs, picking up a pastry muffin from the table and proceeds to stick it into Bucky's opened mouth. "Eat up, Mr. Barnes. Show them what a real pig looks like." 

 

No sooner than a second a later, a cold press of carbine steel dug noxiously into the wrinkling flesh of his frail neck, Selina was standing behind him, the graceful exterior of the elegant dove morphed into a uncaged, cunning feline, readying to slash her claws into the heart of the soulless monster who toyed with her lover. Fuming in rage, her lithe finger poised on the trigger of her loaded Glock that she removed from her heeled leather boot. The sloppy noises emanating from Bucky's stuffed throat overrode her emotions, as she struggled to content with restraint. Her lethal flare of murderous intent had compulsively ignited, and she wanted to see the professor's blood spray over the untouched cake he balanced on his age--spotted. "Leave him alone or I'll make you choke on that damn muffin," she warningly seethed, thrusting the gun's nozzle harder into his nape. "Your damn trick is over..."

The crowd begins to disperse in alarm at the sudden reveal of a concealed firearm brandished in their midst. The alarming spectacle had begun to escalate into something much more deadly and dire. Distressing yells and shouts blare throughout the ballroom, yet Ziegler adopts a smug and unintimidated posture, despite the barrel of a gun held against his neck. It was the look of a man who was much more beneath the surface of what he allowed to be seen. Unpredictable and deadly, he was as a serpent amused by the approach of an ant threatening him. Staring into Selina's eyes, he coolly responds, "Ms. Kyle, my fun has only just begun!" With a speed and strength betraying his form, Ziegler catches Selina's wrist and twists it with merciless intent until she releases a strangled cry and drops her weapon. "And you will not spoil it," his tone becomes darker, deeper with an ominous intent that sent a chill through the bodies of those who lingered to watch. Bucky continues to stuff himself, ignorant of the scene surrounding him and unable to stop himself from indulging. The professor leans slant-ways against the table beside him, narrowed eyes contemptuous as they watch. "You are truly a disgusting pig, James Barnes. However, I would not expect otherwise from one descended from your line." His cryptic words were like polished steel, no longer bearing a German accent, but something akin much older and vengeful. "Men hide their darkest sins beneath a false exterior of charm and duty. But the sins of the past do not go unforgotten to those that suffered their cruelty." With a gesture of his hand, Ziegler casts an aura of green energy over the desserts, even the one Bucky holds in his hand—defiling them with a curse of dark magic.

Controlling hitches of sob that ripped out of her throat, Selina reeled back, her fingers clutched over the bruised skin of her disjointed wrist. The pressure of throbbing bone created a nauseous wake, as she stumbled, losing her feline grace and collided onto the floor, her body cemented a kneeling position. She glared up at the mage, her coffee irises heated with subdued rage, before her focus steered back to Bucky. “James...” she mewled out a kittenish whisper, compelling herself to stare at the noxious green energy pulsating off the dessert tray, that was the moment, she realized the professor’s sickened game....He was thirsting to quench out his vengeance on Bucky. He was unquestionably a ghost from the past. Her dark eyes widened, and her heartbeat amped to a crescendo of pained desperation. “Stop eating, handsome...”

"He won't stop. Not until the ugliness within is brought out into the open," Ziegler gestures to the chilling sight of Bucky's listless hunger. His eyes were captivated on something unseen while chewing with a vacant look, unaware of the messy staining his face and clothes, just as well as Selina's desperate attempt to reach out to him. With each bite he swallows, there was a groaning shift in the outfit he wore. The baggy wrinkles faded as the garment of his coat became increasingly tight as if they had grown too small for him to wear. Ziegler, in his cold amusement, smiles toothily at the display. "Besides, I don't believe he wants to stop. Do you, my boy?" As if he were a collared animal, Bucky answers the call of his master with a tired shrug. "So hungry…" his tone is stuffed as well as weak, as if there was a true part of him inside crying out for help. His chewing slows to that of an exhausted heave, his face begins to turn a sickly shade of blue as if he were deprived of precious air. Ziegler watches, eye gleaming with anticipation as Bucky stumbles backwards until he slips and falls onto his back with a harsh noise. Once he collides, gas escapes him loudly into the room. The noise was like an alarm blaring through a graveyard, sparking numerous reactions from laughter to disgust among the guests in attendance. "Quite the repugnant creature you are," Ziegler mocks with a sarcastic chuckle. "S-S-Selina…" Bucky burps, spitting up a disgusting bile of cake and saliva from his mouth as he lays helplessly in front of her.

Listening to a resonance of unrestrained belching that erupted out of him, Selina remained unshakeable, despite the potent stench of rotten egg disgustingly seeping out of him. 

She didn't care about the revolting tidal wave of the smell; instead of engaging the wicked mage with a high crescent kick, Selina lowered down to Bucky's level, wincing as her injured wrist flared, she rested naturally on her side, motionlessly impassive facing him with vivid tears welling in her coffee depths. Against the fringes of chaos invading their world, her hand tentatively reached for him, as she delicately wiped off the remnants of chocolate pudding and bile off the plump swell of his lip with a tender caress of her thumb. She could feel his heat, thermal and ever constant as he panted heavily, his glacial steel-blue eyes mirroring with unshed tears, he was on the verge of crying--they both were.

"I don't know what this bastard planning to do with you, Buck..." She halted in a terse breath, swallowing down another choked sob, she wouldn't submit to the approach of infinite heartache as a vengeful blade tried to pierce her. "...but you can be damn sure that I won't let him take you from me."

Her words were like a cool rag soothing a scolding fever. Bucky unconsciously leaned into her touch, but found himself capable of little else as his body was assaulted by stretching aches and gassy hiccups. His clouded stare focused up at her, taking in each flawless detail to her teary expression, from the smoothness of her alabaster skin, to the deep red of her strawberry lips, and finally the swirl of affection in her coffee brown orbs. He wanted to reach up and touch her, but his body felt as if he were being weighed down by a ton of bricks. He couldn't fathom what had happened as suddenly as it had begun, but it was as though his very being was being remolded as if he were made of clay. "R-R-Run…" he tells her with a strangled voice, which garbled into a strangled pull. "It would appear vestiges remain. Good, I had hoped to finally discard this pathetic visage and meet my foe, face-to-face," Ziegler says while stepping away from the table. With methodical steps, the stocky professor stands in front of the downed couple with an imperious stance that gleamed of power and authority. The crowd, as well as Selina and Bucky, watch with anticipation as the image of Arnim Zola fades in a glow of green magic until he's replaced by that of an older man with cleanly cut white hair and beard. He appeared elderly, but his eyes and stance presented a strength that was powerful beyond his years. "Ah…much better."

Selina inwardly winced at the encroaching haughtily cadence of senescent formality, the wage of her mounting emotions began to evinced a heated, turbulent duel of lethal reserve that suffused her resolve. Her pert nose crinkled against the rancid ---yecch odor enveloping over Bucky's conquered body; it was a dominant aggregate of acidic bile, cake batter, and unctuous pig; erasing the intoxicating sandalwood and minty scent of his cologne. He smelt utterly horrid, and the repeated belching never ceased. His tongue arced disgustingly over his upper lip, gathering another a taste of pudding. Turning her neck, Selina glared vehemently at the conceited professor standing in front of them, feasting on Bucky’s misery, his merciless intent unchanged. Expelling a seethe of urgency, she demanded the vile purpose why he had targeted Bucky, she wouldn't tolerate this aging chameleon's deviating jest of devolving her lover. "Who the hell are you, and what have you done to him?" she gritted, furiously, her dark eyes radiating fire.

"Who am I? Young woman, I am the resurgence of a once mighty society that was both legend and myth; power and fruition in this world," the old mage says bitterly, despite his prideful words. He bore the look and posture of a man forced to conceal himself for a vast amount of time while the world around him moved on, oblivious and indifferent to the atrocities of the past. He bore the dialect of an old scholar, yet spoke with the condemning tone of a radical corrupted by immense power. His hardened eyes focused in on the sight of Bucky and Selina on the floor in front of him, measuring them with sagacious intent. "Until deluded minds saw fit to hunt my kind and exterminate them from this world." He points a finger in Bucky's direction, bearing the authority of an accuser finally allowed to seek justice after so long concealed in shadows. "Your bloodline, James Buchanan Barnes, a descendant of King Sebastian William Barnes I. You are to blame for why my kind are all but extinct from this world. The hour of your reckoning has finally come, and it is I, Dagon of Mercia, who will carry out your punishment!" Drawing a knife from his pocket, the old mage marches towards Bucky and draws blood from his hand.

“Damn you,” Selina hissed ferally, quickly ripping off a piece the hem of her dress, wrapping it over the bloodied slice gouged into Bucky’s right palm, before she exchanged a heated glare at the snow-white haired mage who gazed menacingly down at Bucky, murmuring a disguised incantation of delivering virulent energy to infuse within his veins, warmth began to recede was coldness penetrated through her disjointed wrist, subduing her to remain grounded at Bucky's side, as vapors of rank odor of a gluttonous pig assulted her nostrils. 

She felt inept of protecting him, the intrusive phantom standing in front of them, wouldn't offer mercy as he quested for vengeance. All she heard against the crescendo of her raging pulse was 'burgeon his flesh...' Her dark eyes grew livid as a burst of green tendrils, blindingly piercing into Bucky's chest, producing a throated outcry of unshackled agony as his blood-smeared fingers viciously clawed at the floor. "Bucky..."

Bucky could barely feel the blade that sliced across his swelling hand, but the feeling of warm crimson dripping down his wrist was too intense and chilling for him to shake off. He also felt extremely hot for some reason. Dagon's words echoed through his thoughts, filling him with confusion that made him think that this had to be a colossal mistake. But somehow, deep within his being, he knew that there was something off about his attacker, something familiar, and now there was only an unshakable sensation of dread clawing through him. He hisses as he attempts to acknowledge Selina, to reach out to her. But the once his eyes catch a glimpse of the startling image of patches of fur sprouting across his flesh, he begins to enter panic-mode. A yell, that sounded anything but human, erupted from his mouth. The noise was as devastating as a wild animal being taken out to pasture, and the guests in attendance shuddered and backed away, some even trying to leave but the doors were sealed shut by an unseen force. "The next person that attempt to leave will suffer his fate!" Dagon yells to the crowd, immediately pacifying them into a fearful submission. "What you see now is a deliverance of justice, and you are the witnesses!" He raves while drawing a glass vial from his pocket. He holds the tip of the blood-stained blade over it, and samples Bucky's blood into it. "I have waited far too long for this, and you, James Barnes, will know the suffering and humiliation that your ancestors deserved."

Shut the hell up!” Selina growled out of an erupted of provoked hostility, her voice carrying the fierceness of an untamed panther teeming to strike; she wouldn’t grant Dagon any regard of surrender.

Feeling momentarily paralyzed by a trigger of hyperadrenalized blood, she gazed dismally at the bloodied slit created by the mage's blade, vanishing under the bubbling expanses of fat on his shrinking palm, rigid knuckles disjointed and his clenching fingers merged into a swelling mass against the convergence of the sickening enchantment. 

The redolence of pig was potently disturbing, as he stared up at her, his eyes glistening and pupils dilated as rims of black devoured the hawkish radiance of his steel-blue irises, and the shapely plumpness of his masculine lips deformed into a puckering and widened swell of moist flesh...The Siberian--Brooklyn warrior she loved was torturously evolving into a fattening creature by the seconds she had dared to fathom the unthinkable, disgusting sight of hard planes of enhanced muscle expanding into loose globs of flab. His smooth and ridged abdominal muscles ballooned up increasingly, as his shortening legs parted against the mounting heaviness, releasing a  foul stench of noxious sulfur. 

“Bucky,” she yelled out breathlessly, clamping her hand over her trembling lips, trying desperately not to inhale. His stoic, flushed demeanor sulked into an abashed grimace, avoiding her widened--horrified stare as a coating of pinkish bristles swathed relentlessly over his chubby features.

"What's matter Ms. Kyle, don't you want to kiss your beloved piggy..." Dagon's sinister voice raised wickedly as she blankly watched the sharpened edge of Bucky's dimpled chin sag into a layer of pudge. That was an extreme blow against her heart, quaking through her with ramming force. The sorcerous barrage of the mage’s wielded energy was morphing Bucky into a pig. 

Relying on the command of feline reflexes, Selina hastily reached  her discarded Glock, her coffee orbs settled deeply on Bucky, mirroring the unspoken devotion–eternal love that a unveiled bride would to her beloved groom, she stared into his glacial aquamarine depths, that always held striking intensity and coolness of a frosted blade, but now, all that stared back at her was a devoid of hell-bent defiance, just blurring tears of benumbed despair. Her hand lovingly cupped over his thick, furry jaw, as the heated, gracing touch became suddenly alarmed by prickles of coarse pinkish fur as he began to rapidly convulse against every torturous influx of white-hot agony arrowing through him. 

She curved her red lips into a watery smile, offering him a sense of blazing hope, despite riding through a hellish nightmare. In those fleeting seconds of that relished and aching contact, she defied the curse, bringing tangible proximity back, as her lips openly seized his swollen mouth with imploring, liquid heat, feeling heavy gusts of his laborious grunts envelope her skin, as closeness was met against the voltaic rhythm of their heartbeats. Everything began to blur, as they fell into eternity, silencing a dying wish, and praying their love would vanquish the darkness of the possessive spell.

Emitting a throaty oink, and a vehement measure of steeped effort, Bucky softly rolled the arch of his shaky lips, painstakingly angling the swollen flesh over her mouth, fluidly tasting the exquisite infusion of passionate, feverish ecstasy as his Roman nose molded into a bulged mass reshaping into a piggish snout, and his lower teeth grew in harrowing length, resembling small tusks. The wetness of released tears dampened their cheeks, tousled, entangled tresses draped and their eyes closed in beautiful sync as they shared a deep and sensuous kiss one last time.

 When she pulled away by the wrench of the mage's power, and she gazed into the distressed stillness of his soulful blue eyes, as green mist smoked over him, obstructing the visage of his chiseled and suave youthful beauty--he was fading in the thralls of Dagon's calamitous enchantment. "Just keep on looking at me, handsome..." she urged gently, lifting his cybertronic hand resting the coolness of metallic firmly on her cheek, holding onto him with every pulse of strength her soul could generate.

He tried to speak, but the only noise that came from his changing lips was a disgruntled squeal that sent a flare of dread throughout his body. He hoped that this was a nightmare he'd soon wake up from, that any minute now he'd wake to the smell of lavender and strawberries on his shoulder inside of his bedroom. But the pain and shifting in his body was too real to ignore, he felt as if he were being drawn and quartered but also imploding within. His very muscles were like ice being melted down to non-existence, while his bones were shrinking to inhuman size and shape. The crowd at this point felt remorse and dread claw through them as they were forced to watch the horror unfold. Too afraid to leave, and to look away lest the same fate fall onto them. Bucky ignored everything except the beautiful unshakeable visage of Selina hovering over him, cradling him close as if he were the most precious thing in the world. He would've wept were it possible, at the feeling of affection running through him. With the last ounce of strength, Bucky could only gaze up at Selina with his love reflecting at her. He knew whatever was happening to him, he wouldn't be the same. The man he once was would only exist within a devolved shell of a beast that no woman could love. He inwardly screamed in both rage and sadness, yet his body was helpless as the transformation began to consume his humanly visage; turning hands into cloven hooves, his mouth and nose into a snout, and body into pudgy -rotund fat. Dagon smirks with satisfaction, watching with everyone in the crowd as the transformation completes , and where there was once the charming visage of manly perfection was now the grunting and revolting sight of a fully grown pot-bellied pig, held in Selina's arms. "At last, my vengeance—my justice—has been granted." He chuckles evilly.

Feeling the unnatural heaviness of his pudgy weight pressed against her chest, the damning sense of induced defeat became a shockwave through her lithesome, curvaceous body; she was shackled down by incessant dread, her trembling arms were cradling over a tubby creature that was definitely a pig. His studded hooves dug into her, as he frantically strove for balance against the shreds of his black Armani dress shirt that was still wrapped over his enlarged girth.

Holding her steeled composure, irately, Selina's glistening coffee eyes dauntlessly glanced down at the disheartened and soul-wrenching sight of a blobbing tub of pinkish and chestnut fur sitting on a sagging mound of fat that was attached to his expanded belly. She felt utterly demolished. Bucky no longer existed in human reflection, the spell entombed him within a vessel of a dwarfed-sized, stout pig who still had patches of his dark wolfish fringe cloaked over his humped and furry shoulders. His chubby visage was different than a farm hog, Bucky looked almost parallel to a domestic pot-bellied pig. 

Bucky didn't open his eyes, his moist snout was buried into her chest; her world collapsed---her reserves of defiance betrayed her as she registered the dejected and piteous oinking volumes emanating out of him with panicked heaves. "It's okay, Buck," she soothed brokenly in a delicate purr, restraining the overwhelming urge to cry.

The world hadn't changed to his perception, but Bucky felt as if he were crumbled like a ball of plastic and shoved into a disposable container. Within the secure embrace of Selina's arms, the former Brooklyn soldier forced himself not to break down and shudder into a batch of broken sobs and yells. His body felt like stuffed ham, his bones were constrained as if they were attached to a hollow base. He could fathom the extent of his transformation judging by the sounds of his own deep breathing that came out as stuffed oinks. Dagon's words burned in his ears, mocking him and carving out every miniscule of hope within him. His soul cried even as his body would not allow him to. Not just at the realization that he'd been turned into a fat pathetic pig, but that Selina hadn't abandoned him.

Nuzzling his snout deeper against her shoulder, the pig puffed hot air and shuddered with remorse. "Run, Selina." He says to her. Fear tore at his heart while the deafening silence of the ballroom weighed on him. Any moment now, the old mage could decide to turn his wrath onto her. That's the one thing that terrified Bucky the most. She had to make a break for it somehow. "Run…"

Run...Selina barely heard the sluggish timbre of his once suave and dangerously husky resonance being forced down by a distressed, throated grunts. She was anticipating at direct attack, at the very least from the old bastard who dared to curse Bucky into a snorting chubby beach ball with hooves; she was locked in the crosshairs, armed with a Glock, that would offer her only a fleeting distraction to escape, but she needed to carry Bucky out with her. It wasn't going to easy since he weighed 300 lbs of pure fat.

Tucking back a loose strand behind her ear, she became poised with a measure of control against the spiraling helix of devilish sorcery that penetrated her world. "Cats never run from a fight, handsome," she whispered under her terse breath, cupping her palm tentatively under his pudgy snout, feeling his laborious snorts gust over her alabaster skin as she tilted his wedged shaped head up, staring to the subtle and restrained tension reflecting in the still glints of light of his beady steel-blue irises that became palpable against the heart-wrenching moment dividing them into a realm of infinite entropy.

Despite the immense layers of flab and pinkish fur, Selia could still see him--Bucky-- the intensity of his defiant spirit and the brokenness of his tortured and raging soul. All she wanted to do, was laying on the floor, and spoon a protective embrace of her arms over him rotund piggish body, holding Bucky as her greatest treasure--her true love against the semblance of evil that invaded their eternity. The coldness of her feline essence possessed her emotions, she pressed her lips sourly into a grimace, her fingers splayed warmth over the swollen expanse of his sagging belly. She wouldn't discard him for the mage to play with as a leashed pet. She loved him too damn much. "I'm not leaving you to become this bastard's pork dinner...So quit it with the grunting and let me figure out how the hell I''m going to move your fat ass, Barnes."

The trepidation Bucky felt was quickly replaced by vexation. He knew just how damn stubborn Selina could be, and while it was a trait that could be endearing, it could also prove to be her undoing tonight. He would have growled in annoyance if it were possible, but his new form was capable of only squeamish oinks and lazy grunts. “Damn it, Lina. You need to listen to me…” he grunts protectively once he dares to look over his shoulder and sees the old mage approaching them. The measure of his stride suggested bad news, and Bucky wasn’t going to let Selina get caught in the cross-fire.

“Good, your thoughts and soul remain intact. I would have hated to unleash further wrath on an empty vessel,” Dagon sneers with a malevolent smirk stretched across his lips. His old eyes glimmered with a perverse excitement that reminded Bucky too well of the Hydra scientists he endured so much suffering from over the past 70 years. It made sense to him now why this crazy old mage had taken Zola’s face to get him unraveled before making his move. Now that he had, Bucky was right to suspect that he wasn’t done with him yet.

“You did not think the sum of my retribution would be exacted by mere public humiliation and transformation, did you now?” Dagon mocks, an evil chuckle forming past his lips. “Oh no, Mr. Barnes. My vengeance had waited centuries, and rest assured I will savor every moment of making you suffer, until you beg for me to end you.” There was a fanatical gleam in his eyes that only highlighted the madness lurking behind his blue eyes, his tone was ever dour and lethal as steel. “And when the time come that I do take your life…I will cast a spell that your mortal spirit never finds the peace that mine was so denied.”

“Come with me quietly, and I will spare your foolish lover that still clings to you.” He threatens, setting a jolt of fear into Bucky’s heart. Still curled into Selina’s embrace, Bucky resisted the urge to shudder in her arms as he listened to the mage’s words that felt every bit as real as the tub of fat hanging from his belly. Though he had tussled with magical threats in the past, none of them ever had it out for him as badly as this old man that claimed to harbor an ancestral grudge with him. He wasn’t just evil, he was crazy. And Bucky knew just how unpredictable and dangerous that combination was. He couldn’t let Selina get become a target just because she loved and remained loyal to him.

“Please let me go, darlin’” He tells her, pulling himself away, almost forcefully. He could feel his heart breaking, at both the loss of warm contact with her, as well as registered her broken whimper. “Can’t let you get hurt because of me. Never again.” He sniffs.  

“Time for you to come with me, little piggy,” Dagon makes his way over to Bucky, his hand reaching out and preparing to magically tether him like an unleashed animal…

There was only one time in her hellish life when she felt incapable of fight back; that was twenty-eight years ago, hiding in her mother’s bedroom closet, forcing down tears as she listened to the death knells of a fury of bullets echoing in her rundown Narrows apartment. She was trapped in limbic shock, watching blood smear the carpet as Falcone's men unleashed their ruthlessness, murdering her  beloved mother --after that night, the blaze of innocence was snuffed out, darkened by somber and indifferent entity of feline spirit, she welcomingly accepted that; prevailing in the thrilling afterlife --engaged in the crosshairs of seduction and death, wielding shadows as her weapons.

Now, she was balancing on the knife-edge, as the blade was piercing deeper into her safeguarded heart; surrendering Bucky into the hands of the wrinkled face devil felt condemning to discard, he deserved freedom, not another existence of being enslaved to obey the mage's insane pleasures of fattening him up with cake being forced down his throat while shackled to the bastard's heel. She would trade away nine lives in a heartbeat just to spend one with him. Listening to grunting protests emitting from the pig, she allowed dark embers of reawakened malevolence to fuel her lethal intent, gripping the Glock tighter with steady poise in her clutch, glaring unwaveringly at Dagon."You're not taking him...Bucky is coming with me," She gritted viciously, the gravity of her voice held an impending reckoning as a deadly semblance cast over her pale, elfish features, holding no sentiment of mercy, only cold deadened wrath.  "...and if you touch him, I will make you scream in hell."

Dagon appeared only mildly amused, if not impressed by Selina's passionate threat. Having heard only whispers about her past as a reputable thief and spy, the old mage saw her only as a minor obstacle against his unassuming power. What skills she possessed in the art of combat bore little danger to him who had killed countless formidable warriors in the past. She was but a stray cat that needed to be house-broken and taught to respect those above her. A cruel smile forms across his lips at the wicked thought. "Your devotion to your beloved, while commendable, is also foolish. I can see you are a stubborn woman that makes play she is a feline that prowls the night," he taunts, circling the pair while assessing them. "You hunt trinkets for sport and find solace in the embrace of a one as dark and broken as yourself," he ticks his tongue with disapproval, finally coming to a stop mere inches from them. "If you wish to join him so much, I will oblige you, my dear. You will make excellent fodder for my insatiable appetite. We will see if you can be tamed as the black cat you so believe yourself to be!"

Selina became conscious of the rotating movement of his wrinkled fingers, as green tendrils of energy sickeningly pulsated out of his veins, creating a sinister aura, for the extent of the stilled moment, she felt the pace of her heartbeat amplifying as hot octane rushed through her veins, her dark eyes glinted back a bespoke dare while her hand graced soothing caresses over Bucky's humped back, easing down his heavy, guttural snorts. The old mage's face was unreadable, like a towering Spinx, monopolizing her challenge with lifeless serpent eyes.

Obviously, a gun was a predictable choice of weapon, she needed to cunningly grasp onto invention, her eyes glanced at the heap of Bucky's clothing, searching for a combat knife, that he usually kept in his jacket's pocket. There was nothing. 'Damn it, Barnes,' she inwardly berated, roving her gaze over one of her heeled boots, the spike were jagged like a blade, something she would effectively utilize as an instrumental weapon. A wicked smirk played on her full lips, as she moved her hand downwards the boot, with a seductive graze of her lithe fingers. "Oh, that would be so much fun for you, except, don't you know that cats can't be tamed..." Lightning-fast, she broke off the chrome heel and threw it directly towards his position with no disruptive hesitance in her display of murderous precision, she was aiming for his throat.

The mage had been unprepared for the unexpected attack, but his reaction was expedient enough for him to bring up his hand to shield himself. The pulse of magic had been a second slower than the speed of the sharp object hurled at him. An explosion of pain and heat ran through his body, originating from the palm of his hand that was now dripping furious crimson. Eyes wide, the mage stares at the sharp edge of a heel protruding from the back of his hand, penetrating his palm. Gasping, he stumbles back, blinking repeatedly as he quickly nurse his hand and carefully remove the object.

"Damned woman! You would dare?" He seethes, his facial features twisted into something demonic and irate as he glares at her with hate. Until now, he had presented himself as an unconquerable force before both his hated enemy, and the fools that openly watched him with fear. In the blink of an eye, his image was both diminished and challenged by the brazen act of a defiance. Rage coursed through him as he notes the smug smirk worn across his attacker's face. His pain forgotten, the mage rips the heel free, ignoring the flow of blood that poured down his fingertips. "You have branded yourself my enemy. Make no mistake, Miss Kyle, this is not over. Like your beloved, you will know my wrath."

"I look forward to that dance," Selina deflected stiffly, not falter betrayed the heated ferocity ghosting from her smooth undertone. A poignant ache flooded through her, as her coffee eyes guardingly narrowed back at the plump dwarf sized hog, who hardly balanced on his stubby hooves, and the width of his hanging belly. Though she wouldn't dare admit it, Bucky was kinda adorable for a short-round pig; his pink snout was puckered inward, making the chubbiness of his cheeks protrude and his ears were pointed, chestnut patches of fur gave him panda eyes.

She wouldn't allow Dagon to leash him up, the unadulterated dread still blitzkrieg into her heart, but feeling the thermic warmth of Bucky's pudgy, heavy body toasted against her skin, slowly down frenetic pulses hammering against her heart.The awareness of his everlasting love never evaded, despite he now existed as tubby pot-bellied hog.

Keeping Bucky from dislodging from her arm lock, her encompassing fingers gripped onto his pinkish and brunette fur, possessively while feeling a twitch of his cork-screw tail wiggle against her chest. As wetness gathered vividly in her dark eyes, Selina vowed in reverent silence to make Bucky's unsettling days comfortable while enduring the nefarious curse; mostly keep him anchored at her side until she would find a way to restore him back. Tapping his plump belly, with subtle urgency, Selina gently coaxed her enchanted soldier to follow her lead, while swiftly collecting his discarded attire and wallet.

Trying to ease the pig off her lap, Selina instantly registered sloppy munching noises coming from the disgustingly fat pudge ball as white sugar powder smeared over her velvet dress. Her jaw flexed and knuckles cracked into a balled fist, she coldly glared down at Bucky, watching his swollen mouth shift with each heavy sluggish chew, as nasal grunts arrested the depth of his voice.

Suppressing a hiss of revulsion with a mask of tolerance, Selina rubbed the rounded shape of his engorged belly, listening to an enraptured moan unabashedly escape from the pig's mouth when his head tilted upwards, conveying that he was sensually content by her beguiling touch, snapping him out of his unbridled-obscene gluttony. Tousled wavelets of her silken mahogany strands cascaded over his back as she leaned down to the level of his ear, whispering imploringly. "Come on, Barnes, off, I'm not carrying for fat ass out...”

Cautiously, Bucky steps away from Selina's empowering touch that was still capable of reducing him to a helpless captive to her charms. It was an odd pull, a familiar and pleasant one that brought fond memories to his turbulent thoughts. He savored the distraction from the harrowing reality he found himself in. Once he was brought back into focus, anxiety and fear quickly assaulted him as he shifts on wobbly hooves until he's leaning beside her instead of on top of her. "Sorry, Selina. I'll be good," he says with a deep grunt, finding himself vexed while setting his sights on the object of his unease across the room. 

Dagon observed the odd pair with contempt in his eyes where the storm within had yet to calm, but rather shift in its lethal course. His wounded hand he clutched still bled even as he poured his magic into a healing spell. His magic was still weak as each day he was in the middle of a resurgence that would bring him back to form in a matter of weeks. He wouldn't waste the effort in taking both pig and woman as captives in his diminished state. No. Patience awarded him this small victory against the descendent of his hated enemies. He was confident that with enough time, the remainder of his vengeance would be paid in full. "You only delay the inevitable. When next you see me, I will have my due," he promises, his hateful gaze squared on the pig whose humanity still gleamed through the depths of swirling blue orbs staring back at him. Triggered by the storm of his anger, Dagon brings his uninjured hand up and mutters a teleportation spell that consumes him in a green light of magical energies. The crowd watching unravels as if they had been deprived of precious oxygen and mobility once they see that he's gone. Many of them make a quick dash and exit the ballroom, leaving only Selina and Bucky inside. The eerie silence that lingered in the once lively and uplifting ballroom was something that resembled a graveyard. The guests had scattered in wake of a force that spelled death and ruin. In an odd sort of way, Bucky missed the stormy turn of events that kept him from focusing on the cold reality that he was now two feet shorter, and over a hundred pounds heavier in the form of a gluttonous tub of pork. Victory and relief felt as distant as the sun on the horizon, and Bucky was left feeling the bitter taste of a solemn defeat. He wanted to scream, to unburden the anger he felt within at this ridiculous turn of events that had nothing to do with him directly, yet still impacted him in the most humiliating way possible. Instead, he felt his anxiety melt away by the brush of a cool touch behind his ear. Selina's presence wasn't just a reminder that he wasn't alone in this dreadful situation, but that he was still loved as well. The gravity of the events of the past hour quickly caught up to him and the pig whines, heartache gripping him as well as a swell of ardent affection for the brunette beside him. Selina stood by him, despite the risk to herself, and the repugnant form that had been forced onto him. The panic and fear he felt for her remained as he recalled Dagon's threat to exact retribution. But now that they were allowed a moment to breathe, Bucky felt confident that whatever the old mage had in store for them, they would be ready this time. His gaze finds Selina's, feeling a tug of remorse in his heart as he sees the watery and weary state of her expression. He knew this evening took as much out of her as himself, and there was nothing he wanted more than to take her in his arms and let the memory of this night fade away into obscurity. "Let's go home, darlin'." He finds himself saying with a hopeful tremor in his voice. There was nothing he needed more right now than an escape from this hellacious environment, and to feel the comfort of his own home surrounding him—and Selina curled beside him. He watches as Selina nods her approval, giving him a soft scratch behind his ears for good measure at the same time. The height difference was noticed almost immediately, and Bucky vainly tries to square his posture on his hooves to maintain some measure of dignity. He relaxes into a normal posture as their steps guide them out of the ballroom. In the distance could be heard the blaring of police sirens and chattering guests. This evening would go unforgotten by all unfortunate to have been witness to it.

But for Bucky and Selina, this was just another Saturday in the long list of bad ones they'd faced and overcome in their unnatural lives. Whatever the outcome, they knew they would face this latest challenge, and come away from it victorious—together.

[lunarnights95]

YO THE READER IN THIS STORY IS SUCH A SAVAGE AND DEVOTED LOVER, I LOVE HER.

criticalhitavengers: Hold on. Y/N and Loki? Yeah. No. Hard pass. Babes you can do so much better than him.

thorshammerjonathan: Loki saving Y/N from a literal missile? Hot. I approve. Loki kissing Y/N and seeing her mouth "I love you"? He should have turned the missile toward me I think a part of my soul died. Why him? I'd rather she dated Bucky than him.

avengingmomma: Y/N, I'm so proud of you for becoming an Avenger but why did you have to go and date Loki? Thor was right there, sweetie. It's so disappointing to have to see you settle.

OOOOO THE WAY THESE COMMENTS MADE MY BLOOD BOOOOOOIL. I was punching a pillow, cursing names, and yelling profanities. These people (Especially Audrey 😒🖕) are bitches and need to go get a fucking L I F E.

^ *me when these bitches had the NERVE to say something about their relationship*

"To be fair, my love, if we will be considering our current situation, your standards seem to be a thousand years old, not of this planet, and…well, a god. I would say that your standards seem difficult to reach." 

Okay, sir, listen, have you seen yourself? You're gorgeous, you're a dream, your voice is intoxicating, your body has been sculpted from the finest marble, you're extremely intelligent, and you exist? this is only to name a few things. then how do you expect me to settle literally for anything LESS? yeah, aha, no.

You tucked your hair behind your ear, making sure that there was more than ample time for the viewers to see the emerald engagement ring on your finger. Then you kept your hand tucked under your chin at such an angle that the ring was still in plain view.

"So that you don't have to be front and center of an event that you believe will be so disappointing for you, you're not coming to the wedding. You don't get to walk me down the aisle and pass me on to the man I love. That honor? Will be Thor's. Have the day you deserve." 

SHE'S. A. SAVAGEEEEEEEEEE! THE WAY I ROOOOAAAAARED I WASN'T EXPECTING THAT, I WON'T LIE. on my knees for the reader, truly a goddess and deserves to be worshipped🙇‍♀️🙏

lavender haze

See my full list of works here!

Summary: When a video of you and Loki goes viral, the world weighs in on your relationship. One comment in particular grates at Loki because it came from your mother.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: some angst; mentions of firearms, explosions, and axes at the beginning; light cussing; shitty parenting [let me know if i missed anything]

Things to be aware of: slightly insecure Loki hours

"Romanoff, your 5 o'clock!!" you bellowed from behind your cover, aiming at the head of the mercenary three feet away and sneaking up with an axe aimed at her head. You pulled the trigger before he could pull back and throw. 

The Russian looked back at the fallen mercenary and then at you, nodding once as both acknowledgement and gratitude. You peeked from behind the still upright slab of broken wall you were using as cover, firing at the mercenaries once more, trying to get them to at least stop firing at Nat so she could get to the case of botched super soldier serum that the group had somehow acquired. 

You heard a muffled call of your name vaguely somewhere behind you, but with the mercenaries now firing at you, you couldn't really afford to look back. When you ducked behind the wall once again to reload your pistol, you heard the sound of a much larger weapon firing and headed for your direction. 

"Y/N!!" You turned your head in the direction of the loud cry of your name, finding Loki charging toward your direction, his arms outstretched pointed at something to your right. When you looked, you were floored to be three feet away from a rocket pointed directly at you floating midair, surrounded by the unmistakable green of your boyfriend's magic. 

He made quick work to turn the trajectory around back to the shooter before running toward you and shielding you both from the explosion with his cape. "Are you alright, darling?" His hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek, almost making the world and the chaos around you fade away. 

"I'm fine." You held the side of his face, pulling him until his forehead was leaning against yours. "Mischief, I'm okay. Go. Finish the mission, remember?"

"You are more important to me than this mission. I'm bringing you to the exfiltration point. Now, my love." 

"We can't go. Nat's still there. Getting the serums. I have to cover her. She's my partner—"

"And you're my priority," he insisted. You gave him a look, as if pleading that he see your reason, making him sigh. "You cover Agent Romanoff. I will cover you." 

"Thank you." You pulled him towards you and he wrapped his arm around you as he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "I love you." And then you turned back and began to shoot at the mercenaries again.

"I'm clear. I got the serums," Nat's voice rang through your earpiece. 

"I'm clear, too. Let's go." 

When you three got back to the Quinjet, you were greeted with one smirking Tony Stark. "You two chaotic lovebirds," he said, pointing a finger between you and Loki. "A bystander took a video of you two. Kissing. You're going viral." 

criticalhitavengers: Hold on. Y/N and Loki? Yeah. No. Hard pass. Babes you can do so much better than him. thorshammerjonathan: Loki saving Y/N from a literal missile? Hot. I approve. Loki kissing Y/N and seeing her mouth "I love you"? He should have turned the missile toward me I think a part of my soul died. Why him? I'd rather she dated Bucky than him. avengingmomma: Y/N, I'm so proud of you for becoming an Avenger but why did you have to go and date Loki? Thor was right there, sweetie. It's so disappointing to have to see you settle.

The words on the screen had barely bothered Loki until he saw the last comment. The motherly tone used to address you didn't sit right with the god, as if you were so familiar to her, and she believed that she had the right to speak to you like this. 

And to bring his brother into the conversation was below the belt. He knew that you held no affection towards his brother, and that Thor in turn held none for you beyond friendship, but the thought always haunted him that one day you would desire to be with somebody…less tainted. Someone who hadn't caused the death and destruction that he both directly and indirectly did.

Someone less hateful, less spiteful, less…Loki.

"Sweetie?" Your voice broke him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Are you alright?" 

The question poured out of him before he could stop himself. "What was your mother's name again?" 

"Audrey Y/L/N. Why? Did she do something?" Your line of questioning felt unusual, as if there was this level of distrust already between you and your mother. Even stranger, that tone gave him enough comfort to simply pass you his phone so that you could have the context behind his question. 

"It seems she has some opinions about our relationship." 

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Fucking Christ, this again? She really doesn't know when to let something go, huh." 

He took hold of your hand as you positioned yourself next to him on the bed, laying your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, stroking your side gently. "What do you mean 'again', darling?" 

You handed him back his phone and draped your arm across his waist, absentmindedly starting to trace indistinguishable patterns on his skin. "She's been on this since 2012." His hand stilled its movements, fingers splaying over your stomach. "Since the Battle of New York. I was in college, and your faces were all over the news. At that time she was pestering me for not having a boyfriend and giving me a hard time over having 'impossible standards'--"

"To be fair, my love, if we will be considering our current situation, your standards seem to be a thousand years old, not of this planet, and…well, a god." His quip made you cease your pattern tracing on his skin as you held on to him tightly and tucked your face into his chest trying to muffle your laugh; meanwhile he let out his own set of chuckles as he held you tighter against him. "I would say that your standards seem difficult to reach." 

As you let out even less restrained laughs against his chest, he could feel his heart swelling with love for you. He felt such a comfort being able to speak so freely without you judging him, especially without you telling him to stop talking. And to have you receiving his words the way he intended? Listening to him? He had no inkling on whether you knew how much he treasured this very moment with you. How he wanted to immortalize it in his memory as a moment of light if ever he found himself wandering towards the darkness ever again.

When your laughter subsided, the god felt his heart pick up as you placed a kiss on his chest before asking, "Where was I again?" 

"Impossible standards," he prompted you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips as you looked up into his eyes. 

"Right…well she saw your brother's face on the news and she said something along the lines of wanting me to end up with someone like Thor." His body went rigid at the very thought. "I told her that he wasn't my type. He was too…muscly, too clean cut, too simple. Too…Asgardian Barbie." Your analogy caused the god to break out in laughter once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "And then…she told me that if I were to ever meet any of you in person she was positivethat I would end up falling for blondie." You rolled your eyes to punctuate your opinion on your mother's botched prediction.

"And what did you tell her?" A smile grew on his face as he watched your cheeks grew pink at his question. "As much as I adore that color on your skin, my darling, now you've piqued my interest." He lightly poked your side, causing you to let out a stream of giggles. "What's going through your mind that has you so flushed, my precious little mortal?" 

"I told my mother, with my entire chest and with the adolescent indignance of my 18-year old self…Watch me meet them and end up falling for the brother." He felt like his heart had stopped at your words. He lightly grasped your chin, urging you to look at him, and he was floored at the sincerity and the love shining in your eyes. "I suppose even back then I knew." 

"Knew what?" At this point he was surprised there was even any air in his lungs.

"One look at you and I knew there were no standards. There's just you." You placed your hand on his shoulder and he pulled you closer towards him before proceeding to gently rolling you over to your back and reversing your positions. Once he was hovering over you he captured your lips with his in a tender kiss, his hand freely roaming your body, relishing in the soft muffled whimpers coming from you reacting to his touch.

"I love you," he murmured against your lips as you gasped for breath. "My darling girl." 

"And I love you, my absolutely perfect standard-defying god." You pulled him to you for another kiss. "So don't listen to anything anyone says about us. None of them matter. Not even my mother. I will love you until my final moment. The day I stop loving you is the day I stop breathing. Not a day sooner." 

Considering how inactive you were on social media, the world was floored to open Instagram one day to find a video from you, sitting in front of the simple backdrop of the black bedroom wall, with your hair down in soft waves instead of the tactical braid that most of the world saw when you were out in the field and wearing simple makeup as if you were about to make an announcement.

Which you were.

"I understand that…many of you who follow me and the rest of my fellow Avengers have been expressing your opinions about my relationship. We'd never felt the need to publicize the knowledge of said relationship, but considering the video that went viral a few days ago, we now feel the need to let it be known. Yes, I am in a relationship with Loki. And for anyone who has any strong opinions about that, I just want it out there that you can shout it to the high heavens all you want, but the fact of the matter is there's no one better, and there never will be anyone better. Not for me. 

"But in truth most of your opinions don't matter, and this video is not intended for the majority of you. This is just for one of you. Mother? Audrey? Back the fuck off. Your sentiments were annoying ten years ago and they're downright exasperating now. I am in love. And I am over the fucking moon with happiness. And nothing you say online or off is ever going to change that. But since I do have a modicum of respect left for you, I will do this." 

You tucked your hair behind your ear, making sure that there was more than ample time for the viewers to see the emerald engagement ring on your finger. Then you kept your hand tucked under your chin at such an angle that the ring was still in plain view.

"So that you don't have to be front and center of an event that you believe will be so disappointing for you, you're not coming to the wedding. You don't get to walk me down the aisle and pass me on to the man I love. That honor? Will be Thor's. Have the day you deserve." 

A/N: I've had this story planned out for a while now…like weeks ago, but the minute I decided that this untitled oneshot was going to be named 'lavender haze' because of the song from Midnights, the words started flowing and now it's finally here.

Fun fact (or not so fun fact depending how you look at it): the whole "watch me fall for the brother" is an actual thing I said to my mother back in 2012 when the first Avengers movie came out and she was hell bent on getting me to crush on Thor. So I told her "we can return to this conversation in ten years and my answer will stay the same. In fact no, we can come back to this in ten years and I'll tell you I ended up falling for Loki."

And now we're here. In 2022. Hi, Mom 🤣🤣🤣

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

Loki: @calumance

[alyswritings]

Compliments

Request: Hey! I was wondering if you could write a fic about Tom and sister!reader doing a live together and there are a lot of comments about how beautiful the reader is etc and Tom kinda goes into protective brother mode

Tom Holland x sister!reader

Summary: Y/N gets flattering comments while her and Tom are doing a live stream.

Warnings: sibling fluff

a/n: thank you for the request! not the longest but hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

"Hey, Y/N, wanna go live with me?" Tom asks, stepping into his sister's room as he opens the Instagram app on his phone.

"Sure." Y/N answers. Tom sits on her bed and Y/N grabs a few books so he can rest the phone against them if he gets tired of holding it.

"How do you do it?" Tom mutters to himself, his eyebrows pinched in confusion. Y/N laughs at his lack of technology skills before starting the live for him. "Thank you." Tom mumbles, watching as people start to flood in.

"I'll give it a few minutes for more people." Tom says, setting the phone up against the pile of books. Y/N sits next to him and watches as comments flood the bottom of the screen.

After a couple of minutes, Tom decides to start talking, figuring that enough people are in it.

"Okay, uh, hello everybody. I just... I wanted something to do and figured why not go live since I haven't done it in a little bit. And Y/N, my little sister for those who may not know, is also with me." He states and Y/N waves to the camera.

The siblings start talking about whatever they think of and also answer some of the questions that are sent in.

They're looking through the comments trying to find a question.

Y/N is a literal goddess!!

QUEEN!!!!

Y/N could slap me and I'd thank her

Y/N's definitely the prettiest Holland

Whoever gets to date and eventually marry Y/N is a lucky person

i would kill to be y/n. or with y/n

she is the most gorgeous person on this planet!!

Y/N was sculpted by God and he took his time with her

Y/N shyly giggles at all of the comments, her cheeks burning beet red. She ducks her head, attempting to hide her obvious blushing. Tom's eyes lightly roll almost as a reflex.

Y/N, can I get your number?

"Okay, watch it. She doesn't want anybody's number." Tom states after seeing that comment.

"Tom." Y/N lightly punches his arm.

"What? You're not giving out your number to anybody. You're not allowed to date." Tom states.

"I'm 18." Y/N retorts.

"Yeah, that's too young." Tom says making her roll her eyes. "And she isn't that amazing."

"Thomas!" Y/N shoves him.

"I love you, but I'm making sure you don't get a boyfriend or anything, Y/N." Tom says. "Too young."

"You were dating at my age." Y/N reminds.

"yeah, but I had no older siblings to stop me. You have three." Tom grins at her. She shoves him again making him laugh. Tom goes back to looking through comments, finding many more admiring Y/N's beauty.

"Okay, no, you need to leave. Everybody's obsessing over you." Tom says, putting his hand over Y/N's face and gently pushing her away.

"I'm not going anywhere. You asked me to be here." Y/N says, smacking his hand away from her face. "And as they should. I'm the best looking sibling."

"Wha-- you are not!" Tom argues.

"Did you just call me ugly?" Y/N asks.

"I didn't and you know it. You're just not the best looking. I am." Tom says.

"You are not!" Y/N objects.

"Yes, I am!"

The two siblings continue to bicker about who looks better, the fans enjoying the content of the oldest and youngest Holland siblings.

"Okay, Y/N is very beautiful, inside and out, but nobody is allowed to date her. You'd have to get through me, Sam, and Harry which is not easy. We'll sic both Paddy and Tessa on you." Tom stated before he ended the live.

Taglist:

@glxwingrxse @peyton-14