#honoured delighted overwhelmed

[latecomersprivilege]

Hi, loved your Galex halloween fest fic! I just have one question - maybe I’m too stupid but I didn’t understand the last line and the sent text😭

Hiiiiiii Anon!

Thank you so much for reading my silly little slip of a story.

Just to cut straight to the oozing wound here, you are of course not stupid!

Spoilers, and a teeny bit of filth, below the cut.

The answer to your ask is: I wanted to hint that it might be Alex, real Alex, that meets George in the tyre room. That maybe he left his phone in his own drivers room (I firmly believe the man is a chaotic menace and the lack of pockets in his race suit would scupper him) and responds only later, once he's dodged the carnage in the paddock and made it back to Williams. That he decided to run with George's assumption and take what he could get. Just like George.

But also, maybe not. Maybe it was the shadow, slipping out just as the sun is setting and the curse is over. And George has to live with the knowledge that he's violated Alex without him ever knowing.

Either way, George can't be quite sure, unless he gets up the courage to ask. And his inability to be brave and just ask Alex is kind of the whole reason he's getting sucked off by his best mate/his best mate's cursed shadow self in the tyre room anyway.

But also, I'm new at this, so I probably aimed for ambiguous and landed on vague.

Extra bonus content and a rec to a much better fic: When I first outlined this, I was borrowing heavily - or bouncing off, I guess - @ctimenefic's much much better fic Three's a Crowd, which I'd been lucky enough to be beta-reading. The idea of would you fuck your clone - the eternal question - opened out into, would you fuck the clone of the guy you're in love with? Would it count? What if it did? She does this way better than me - but I had started writing a torturous historical fantasy ghost story set in sixteenth century Europe about puritanism and religious tolerance which I had to abandon for the fest deadline (and for other obvious reasons), so I was hunting around for something I could do quickly. Theft, it turns out, is fast, if shallow.

Also, this is my first ask ever that isn't from my real-life internet friend, who lovingly sends me asks like a parent sending anonymous valentines to her lonely kid (thanks @ctimenefic you'll always be my internet mom) - so instant bonus karma to you, Anon, for making my week on top of reading the fic. Thank you.

[frost-queen]

The moment I knew // part 8 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, 

@panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cayt0123, 

@powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia, @dracoflaco, @loliakeoghan23, @emotionaldamageemotionaldamage, @reallysparklychaos, @ok-boke, @the-fifth-marauder7, @asgards-princess-of-mischief, @cherrysxuya, @lol6sposts, @cierrajhill, @heheyhey

Summary: During a ball sneaks Tewkesbury his presence more onto you. Almost desperate to be near you. Even so desperate he calls upon your house yet he isn't the only one. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3& part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 9 & part 10 ]

Candles were dazzling in the bright room. The walls warmed with the comfort of people. The ton bustled together in a room of delight. Chattering chippering up yet not too loud for the music to be overwhelmed. In a corner was the orchestra. The piano forte, violins, cello’s, enough to make the room dance. In the centre ladies and gents were waltzing. Graceful and delicately.

Each in their own world of slowly falling in love or hoping to be. Benedict appeared from between the crowd holding two lemonade glasses up so they wouldn’t get knocked over. He approached with a heavy exhale. Francesca and you turned more towards him. – “Your drinks sisters.” – he said lowering his hands to offer the glasses. Francesca and you took yours.

Benedict joined Colin’s side behind the two of you. Colin looked at Benedict half disappointed. – “What about me dear brother?” – he asked with pouted lips. – “Go fetch it yourself!” – Benedict replied with a sneer. Colin raised his eyebrows playfully at you when you had turned around to listen in to their conversation. – “I’ll fetch mine all by myself than.” – he exaggerated making Benedict roll his eyes.

The dancers came to a stop as the dance had ended. The room emptied as the orchestra began their next song. The first few notes shot up like a rush. Playful tunes that made you supress a squeal out of excitement. You hastily pushed your glass in Colin’s hands. Startled he nearly spilled some lemonade on his gloves.

“Y/n!” – he groaned out as you grabbed Benedict’s wrist. – “Come brother dance with me!” – you called out. Benedict got pulled with you swept amongst the crowd of joining the dance. Francesca came standing at Colin’s side. – “Now you have your drink.” – she said before taking a serious sip. You came to a stop as Benedict nearly stumbled. You positioned him before you and dove right into the dance that had already begun.

Benedict was a bit slower watching those beside him to what he needed to do. He held his hands up as you clapped your hand against his diagonally. You then clasped your hands together and spun around. Benedict started to catch on clapping his hands against yours at the same time making you laugh. You heard laughter from all around you as this dance was not so stiff.

A pleasant folklore dance with lot’s of spins, hops and fun. Tewkesbury’s eyes widened seeing you amidst them dance with your brother. He knew what kind of dance it was. Gulping nervously he very much wanted to join. Looking quickly around he grabbed the first girl’s wrist he saw near him and pulled her without a word into the dance. He forced his way to be beside you.

The couple that were already dancing near you got stopped in their movement, leaving them confused for a brief moment. They cleared the way as Tewkesbury dove right into the dance. He took the girl’s hands facing your back as he followed the dancers go in a circle forwards.

“What an honour my lord.” – the girl said breathlessly. – “Quiet!” – Tewkesbury said to her trying to focus on you. They came to a stop, changed hands and went back the other way. You furrowed your brows looking at the suspicious back of the person hopping before you. – “Is that?” – you muttered before Benedict pulled you to a halt. Clapping your hands against his again. Benedict let you spin under his arm. Benedict then walked over to you to come at your side.

Tewkesbury’s eyes widened as he hastened himself at your side. Taking your hand before the girl he was with could do so. Feeling the sudden warm grip on your hand made you look up. – “My …” – you wanted to address his presence but got pulled to the centre by your brother and Tewkesbury. Each holding your hands as you had formed a circle with the other dancers. Coming together in the middle to then part back to a full circle.

In a confused haze they pulled at you needing you to follow the direction they were going. The full circle going to the left. There was a brief pause before you were pulled in the other direction. There was another stop as you stood lost when Tewkesbury stood before your brother and you before the girl he danced with. – “What are you doing?” – Benedict shout-whispered, clapping his hands against Tewkesbury’s. – “May I dance with your sister?” – Tewkesbury asked before taking a spin as did Benedict.

You and the girl did the steps in silence and confused as to why you were suddenly dancing with each other. – “Please.” – Tewkesbury pleaded as Benedict sighed deep. Tewkesbury took it as an agreement turning his posture away from Benedict and giving the girl a gentle nudge to get her out of the way. You took each other’s hands hopping to the side and back. 

You watched Benedict leave the dance returning to your siblings. – “You scared my brother away.” – you teased. – “I asked.” – Tewkesbury responded taking you by the waist. You did the same twirling around with him. – “This is more fun isn’t it?” – he said. – “I’ll decide that.” – you responded trying to supress a smile. Tewkesbury saw the mischief in your eyes knowing you weren’t serious.

He let you twirl under his arm before he pressed his hand on your back and pulled you to his chest. He was a bit too eager making you fall against his chest, needed to have pressed your hand to escape a hard bump. – “Where’s your partner?” – you asked glancing to the side. Tewkesbury pulled you back in by your chin, wanting you to look at him. – “Right here.” – he whispered making you look bashful away. – “Don’t be silly.” – you slapped him against his chest. Tewkesbury took a hold of you dancing around with you. Hastened and energetic that you were out of breath. The music slowed, fading out as the two of you were panting.

Tewkesbury bowed before you as you took a hold of your dress and curtsied. The two of you moved to the side allowing other dancers to join the next dance. – “May I see your hand?” – Tewkesbury asked. – “Wha--- why?” – you responded confused. Cheeks flushed from the heat. – “May I see it?” – he pressed on. You moved your hand up with a taunting smile. Your dance card dangled on the cord around your wrist. – “Perfect.” – He mumbled pulling at the  cord. – “Hey!” – you called out as it snapped, dance card now in his hands. – “That’s mine!” – you called out wanting to grab for it. Yet he was faster pulling it back out of your reach. – “I’ll keep this.” – he showed you the card with a smirk.

“If you think you are being charming, you are wrong silly boy.” – you answered crossing your arms. Tewkesbury shrugged his shoulders. – “You can have it back when I’ve claimed all my dances.” – he replied finding it cute how angry you were trying to look. – “You see it has my name on it.” – he continued as you puffed loud. – “Where? I don’t see your name.” – you said tauntingly back looking closer at your dance card just for the dramatics. – “Right here.” – he began moving his gloved finger down your entire card. – “Tewkesbury.” – he spoke slowly as his finger went down.

“It’s in invisible ink.” – he added jokingly.  You punched him in the armpit just to stop him from laughing at his own smoothness. – “Au!” – he called out, rubbing the pain area. You stuck your tongue out to him as Tewkesbury did the same just to play with you. He dangled your dance card happily up to tease you even more. – “Stealing girl’s dance cards are we now?” – you heard as Tewkesbury stiffened. He turned, dropping down into a bow at the presence of his grandmother. – “I…I was just…” – Tewkesbury began as his grandmother shushed him.

“Who are you girl?” – she asked narrowing her eyes at you. You dropped into a curtsy. – “Miss Y/n Bridgerton, My lady.” – you introduced yourself. She only hummed intrigued. – “I hope my grandson has his manners.” – she shot him a glare making him swallow nervously. You stepped up, coming a bit in between him and his grandmother. – “He has been more than polite, My lady. A dream as to say.” – you spoke to her. His grandmother hummed intriguingly again before taking her leave. Tewkesbury exhaled relieved once she had gone. The dance card was for your plucking as you took it from him. – “I’ll have this back now.” – you laughed out backing up.

Tewkesbury smiled widely following you trying to take it back from you. You kept backing up till you bumped against someone. It made you gasp, turning round quickly to apologize. – “Enola!” – you blurted out upon seeing it was her you had bumped into. She furrowed her brows. – “You know my name?” – she then looked beyond you putting on a smile to Tewkesbury. – “Viscount.” – she addressed as Tewkesbury smiled nervously back at her. Then the two dots connected. – “Ah you must be the girl.” - she spoke with a giggle at Tewkesbury.

“I can see why he likes you.” – she spoke as Tewkesbury was waving his arms across behind you. - “What was I not to say that?” – Enola said dumbfound just to tease him more. Tewkesbury slapped his palm against his face in agony. You looked back to Tewkesbury who nervously rubbed his hand to the back of his head. – “Y/n!” – you heard, drawing your attention away from him. Francesca appeared from between the crowd making her way over to you. She eyed Enola and Tewkesbury before coming to take you away from them.

You brushed past Tewkesbury letting your hand brush against his. His eyes slightly widened feeling the card being forced into his hand. He closed his hand keeping the dance card by him. Enola came at his side as they watched you leave. Tewkesbury opened his hand and held the dance card up. Letting it twirl in the air by it’s snapped cord. – “You are so in on her.” – Enola teased with a comforting pat on his shoulder. Tewkesbury looked from the dance card to where you had gone.

The next day you were in the Parlor with mama, Francesca, Hyacinth and Gregory. Your brothers had gone out. Just a boring midday. Mama was knitting. Francesca reading a book with less interest. Hyacinth and Gregory playing a game of cards. You sat near your sister, head laid back to stare bored at the ceiling. These calling hours could be so dreadfully boring someday. The time of the day where anyone without an invitation could announce themselves at the house.

Mama had let her calling card known with who would be at home. The door opened as it barely made any of you move. – “Is that how you all spend the day?” – your eyes widened at the voice of your sister. – “Daphne!” – Hyacinth shouted loud dropping her cards immediately. All of you jumped awake getting up to greet your sister. You were hugging her when the duke dropped in with Augie. Augie now at the age of three he held Simon’s hand.

“Ladies.” – Simon greeted. Hyacinth and Gregory rushed up to him to hug him. Simon let go of Augie’s hand and hugged them tightly back. Francesca picked Augie up to play with him. You hugged your sister tightly as you had missed her dearly. – “You must come more often.” – you told her. – “I know.” – Daphne responded giving you a tight squeeze.

Daphne took your hand and led you to the armchairs. – “Now you must tell me all.” – she spoke. – “There is not much to say.” – you told her. – “Now that is a lie.” – Francesca pitched in as Augie bounced on her knee. – “Is that so?” – Daphne asked intrigued. – “There’s this Viscount.” – Francesca went on. – “Viscount? What Viscount?” – Daphne wanted to know looking curiously and eagerly at you. – “It’s… it’s… not like that…” – you told her a bit unsure of what was happening between the two of you.

Would this simply grow into a friendship or was there room for more from both sides. To be honest Tewkesbury have been giving you mixed signals. All with the whole Enola thing going on. – “Then what is it like?” – Daphne wanted to know more. The door opened once more, this time the doorman entered. He cleared his throat before speaking. – “A visitor for Miss Y/n Bridgerton.” – he called out. – “Me?” – you said confused getting up. – “Well who is it?” – Daphne asked. The doorman cleared his throat again. – “He said Miss Y/n Bridgerton could guess.”

You already had a clue so you left the Parlor to head into the hallway. Your idea had been right. Tewkesbury stood by the door waiting for you. – “Miss Y/n.” – he spoke dropping into a bow. – “What are you doing here?” – you shout-whispered at him. Tewkesbury got startled a bit by the tone of your voice. – “I…I came for you.” – he said. – “My sister is inside.” – you told him a bit panicking. – “Francesca?” – he guessed. – “Daphne!” – you told him. – “I…I just wanted to see you.” – he responded as you kept looking frantically over your shoulder.

“I hope my grandmother had not scared you away.” – he asked when you gave him a gentle nudge back towards the door. You stopped furrowing your brows. – “I…you needn’t be frightened of her. She’s all bark but no bite.” – he told you taking a hold of your hand. – “I promise you.” – he continued as you got lost in his eyes.

Forgetting about your surroundings and only thinking of him. You were so deep into his eyes that you didn’t hear the door open. Till you heard a voice. – “You must be the Viscount?” – Daphne spoke. You jumped out of your skin, pushing Tewkesbury behind you.

“I am.” – Tewkesbury replied politely, moving a bit from behind you. – “And he is just leaving.” – you said pushing him back. – “Wha…no… no Miss Y/n.” – Tewkesbury whispered at you holding you by your wrist as you pushed him back. – “Come back another time.” – you whispered back to him. Desperate to get him away from Daphne yet he stood his ground, not moving quick enough. – “I still have your dance card.” – he whispered back making you look panicking over your shoulder.

Daphne watching the whole display. Tewkesbury holding you by the wrist trying to stay close as you tried to push him out of the house. She tilted her head with an intriguing hum. – “A cup of tea Viscount?” – Daphne called out. – “Yes!” – Tewkesbury called out letting go of you and stepping to the side. Daphne gestured to the Parlor. Tewkesbury went in as you followed behind. In the door opening plucked Daphne at your cheek with one of her glances. The one you feared the most. The one that stated that she knew more than you could see.

“The Viscount!” – Francesca pointed out teasingly. Simon turned his head looking the boy up and down. – “Isn’t it wonderful that he came to visit.” – Daphne said. Tewkesbury glanced over to you, catching your gaze. You held it still for a moment, for a longing moment where you stared into his eyes. Daphne looking between the two of you. – “Y/n tea!” – Francesca called out making you hum loud. You took your leave to set some tea.

Tewkesbury came to sit down in the armchair as Daphne had offered to him to sit. Both Simon and Gregory got up, coming to sit at each his side. Tewkesbury swallowed nervously at the stare Simon was giving him. Gregory smiled rather teasingly at him yet it uneased him a bit. – “You were at the opera.” – Gregory stated. – “I…I was…” – he replied. You returned to give him his tea. Taking a seat by your sisters across from him.

Tewkesbury drank his tea nervously hoping his hands weren’t shaking too much. – “Are you nervous boy?” – Simon asked. – “Simon!” – Daphne hissed at him for trying to intimidate him. Tewkesbury nearly spilled some tea. – “No…no your grace.” – Tewkesbury answered. You smiled sheepishly at Tewkesbury feeling a bit embarrassed by your own family.

“He’s very handsome.” – Hyacinth sitting on the ground in front of him. Staring dreamingly at him. Tewkesbury smiled. – “If you do not marry him then I want to marry him.” – Hyacinth said to you. – “Hyacinth!” – you shout-whispered at her to stop embarrassing you. Francesca snorted loud. – “Alright I believe calling hours are ending.” – you had jumped up, wanting to end the attention on you. – “Are you perhaps feeling shy sister?” – Francesca asked as you slapped a pillow at her head.

You gestured for the door as Tewkesbury followed. In the hallway you waited with him as the doorman opened the door. – “Have a good day my lord.” – you told him pushing him a bit to the door. Tewkesbury stood in the door opening turning back to you. – “Your family is lovely… please do not fear mine.” – he said almost desperately. As if he wanted you to know his rather cold grandmother could do you no harm.

You leaned against the door with your head, curling up a smile. – “I am not afraid.” – you answered. Tewkesbury took your hand and kissed the back of your hand. – “Till our next meeting.” – he told you taking his leave with a bow. – “For that I cannot wait.” – you spoke out of reach for his ears, watching him get in the carriage.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists! 

[soulofapatrick]

The Art of Seduction - Kol Mikaelson x female reader 

Summary: 𝘒𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴

Words: 2k

Warnings: none really

Y/N’s POV

I feel like a fish out of water walking into the grand Mikaelson Mansion, the opulence of the place is overwhelming, a stark contrast to my usual surroundings. My fingers graze the silky fabric of my deep crimson gown, a dress I’d never have chosen for myself but had been insisted on by Caroline Forbes—my well-meaning but sometimes bossy best friend. The material clings to my body, making me acutely aware of the unfamiliar sensation of wearing such an elegant form-fitting garment. 

A delicate mask rests upon my face, concealing my identity and adding a layer of mystique. I run my fingers over the ornate design, feeling the cool touch of the silver and the softness of the lace that borders it. It’s a mask that was meant to make me blend in with the other masquerade attendees, but instead, it adds to my unease. 

My hair, intricately woven into an undo, feels heavy and foreign on my head. It’s a stark departure from my usual casual, tousled locks. I resist the urge to pull the pins out but I know Caroline would yell at me if she saw as it would be an act that would defy the careful preparation that has gone int my transformation tonight. 

As I look around the Mikaelson Mansion, I can’t help but feel like an outsider. The grandeur of the place is staggering, with its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers, ornate tapestries, and gilded accents. It’s a world of elegance and extravagance, a stark reminder of my humble roots in Mystic Falls. The guests, their faces concealed behind their own masks, move gracefully through the spacious hall, their laughter and conversation creating an enchanting hum in the air. 

As I take a deep breath to gather my courage, I step further into the crowds of people mingling at the ball. The sound of hushed conversations, laughter, and the gentle rustle of expensive fabrics fills the air. My heart beats faster as I weave my way through the masked guests, feeling like a small fish in a vast and unfamiliar sea. 

Suddenly, a hand, warm and firm, gently grasp my wrist. Startled, I turn to see a tall, enigmatic figure standing before me. It’s Kol Mikaelson, his deep blue eyes studying me with a hint of curiosity, as if he’s trying to unravel the mystery of my identity concealed behind the mask. His voice, laced with a seductive charm, breaks the silence between us, “Well, well, who do we have here?” He says, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “You look positively capturing, darling, but I can’t seem to place your face. What’s your name?”

My heart flutters in my chest as I maintain my composure, trying to conceal the nervousness that threatens to surface, “The allure of anonymity is a gift of masquerade, don’t you think?” 

Kol's close proximity makes my heart race as I continue to meet his penetrating gaze. His eyes, a shade of blue that feels like a deep ocean, shimmer with an intensity that threatens to unravel my secrets. The corners of his lips curl into a sly smile, and his breath against my ear sends a delightful shiver down my spine, “Ah, a woman of mystery, I like that.” He murmurs, his voice laced with a seductive allure that makes my pulse quicken. His lips, tantalisingly close to my ear, evoke a thrilling sense of danger and desire. It's impossible to deny the magnetic pull he exerts. 

Kol takes a step back, but his hand remains on my wrist as he extends his other hand towards me. "Would you do me the honour of a dance, my mysterious enchantress?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes

A flush of nervousness courses through me as I hesitate. I’m not a skilled dancer, and I fear making a fool of myself in front of the Mikaelson crowd. But the way Kol looks at me, the way he makes me feel, is impossible to resist. With a soft smile, I nod and allow him to draw me to the dance floor. 

As we start to move together, I can feel his strong, sure hand at my waist, guiding me with confidence. His proximity is intoxicating, and I can’t help but steal glances at his striking appearance. Kol is a vision of impeccable charm. His dark hair is artfully disheveled, his suit fits him like a second skin, accentuating his lean and elegant frame. The scent of his cologne, a rich and masculine fragrance, surrounds me, adding to the allure of the moment. The way he moves, the way his eyes never leave mine, is a dance in itself. With each graceful step, the world around us blurs, and it’s just Kol and me, lost in the hypnotic rhythm of the music and the unspoken connections that grows between us. 

The song begins to come to an end and instead of letting me go, a gas is drawn from em when Kol’s grip on my waist tightens a little, pulling me closer to him. My heart races as I can feel the solid strength of his chest against mine, and his touch becomes even more intimate. 

He moves my hand, which was in his before, to his shoulder, allowing his fingers to gently caress my cheek. His gaze, intense and unwavering, searches my eyes for a deeper connection. The world around us disappears entirely, and its as if we exist in a realm of our own creation, where the seductive allure of the Mikaelson Ball and the enigmatic man holding me becomes the only reality. His thumb brushes the edge of my mask, silently asking for permission to lift it and reveal my identity. But my heart clenches with fear. I can't help but turn my head away, my hesitation clear in the way I avoid his gaze. I'm afraid that if he discovers who I really am, he might pull away, and this intoxicating dance of desire and intrigue might come to an abrupt end. 

Kol's eyes, still filled with curiosity, search my face for answers. He doesn't press the matter further, and I sense a growing mystery in his own demeanour. We continue to dance, but the unspoken question lingers in the air, a silent plea for trust and vulnerability and suddenly, almost too quiet for me to hear, “Shall we step outside?” 

His question takes me by surprise, but the allure of the enigmatic Kol proves irresistible. Without a word, I nod, and Kol takes my hand, leading me through the maze of masked guests. His hand fits perfectly in mine, and his touch sends a thrilling pulse of anticipation through my body. 

We navigate the grand mansion, leaving behind the music and revelry of the masquerade, stepping out into the gardens. The cool night air envelopes us, a welcome respite from the charged atmosphere within. The distant sound of laughter and music carries on the breeze, but out here, the world is a serene oasis cloaked in moonlight. 

I turn my gaze to the gardens that sprawl before us, their beauty magnified in the soft evening light. The meticulously manicured hedges, the delicate play of shadows on the path, and the scent of blooming flowers blend together to create a landscape that’s nothing short of breathtaking. The enchanting aura of the Mikaelson Mansion extends seamlessly to the outdoors, where secrets and desires seem to take root in the very earth. 

Suddenly, Kol’s fingertips brush over my shoulders, his touch as gentle as a whisper. A thrill of sensation courses through me as he traces a featherlight path down my arms, leaving a tingling warmth in his wake. The moonlight bathes us in a silvery glow casting an almost otherworldly sheen on the scene. He appears lost in thought as his fingers continue to trace down my shoulders and down my arms. His brows furrow slightly, as if he’s trying to piece together the puzzle of my identity. I watch his eyes, searching for any hint of recognition in the depths of their blue depths. 

But then, something shifts. Kol stops trying to decipher who I might be and, instead, he gazes intently at my face. It feels like a moment of revelation, as if something has finally clicked in his mind. Without a word, he reaches over and begins to pull the pins that hold my hair in place. A sigh of relief escapes me as each pin releases its grip. They had been starting to dig into my scalp and were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Kol’s touch, as he frees my hair, is gentle and considerate, a stark contrast to the wild dance of desire and intrigue that had been weaving its way through the night. 

With the final pin removed, my hair tumbles down freely, cascading around my shoulders like a waterfall of silk. Kol’s gaze lingers on my unveiled appearance, his eyes capturing the transformation before him. His gaze lingers on my unveiled appearance, capturing the transformation that has taken place. The moonlight continues to cast its enchanting glow upon us, highlighting the moment of vulnerability and intimacy. 

Kol, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and desire, takes hold of my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He turns my face and body to squarely face him, ensuring there are no secrets or barriers between us. His eyes search my face, exploring every contour and shadow, as if he's trying to etch this moment into his memory.

A soft hum escapes his lips, a sound that reverberates with a blend of approval and something deeper. In the next heartbeat, he leans in, closing the space between us. His lips meet mine in a gentle, almost reverent kiss. The sensation is electric, a blend of tenderness and desire that courses through my body. Kol's lips are soft and warm against mine, and they move with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His kiss is an invitation, an unspoken promise of connection and intimacy. I can feel his breath mingling with mine, our heartbeats in synchrony, as we share this moment of profound connection.

As Kol eventually pulls away, the moment lingers, and the air is charged with anticipation. This time, when he reaches for the mask, I let him. My cheeks heating up and I can’t meet his gaze, bracing myself for the initial revelation as I’m not as pretty as Caroline or sweet as Elena. But, instead of disappointment or detachment, Kol’s fingers brush my cheek and he sweeps me up in another breathtaking kiss. The passion and desire in this kiss intensify, as if he’s determined to show me he likes me. 

The kiss is an intoxicating blend of passion and desire that leaves me breathless. Kol's strong arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine. His lips are demanding, and they taste of a tantalising blend of desire and urgency. His hands roam my body, exploring and igniting a fiery desire within me. My hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his suit as I hold onto him, lost in the sensation of the moment.

In the midst of this intoxicating moment , Kol eventually pulls away, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of longing and satisfaction, “I was hoping it was you, Y/N.” He murmurs, his voice soft and filled with warmth. 

A rush of relief washes over me as I meet his gaze, searching for any sign of doubt or regret, “You were?” I reply, my voice quivering with anticipation and a hint of vulnerability. 

“I wouldn’t have asked you to dance if I didn’t think it was you.” He confirms. 

Kol's eyes sparkle with a newfound understanding, and instead of answering, he leans in for another lingering kiss, a promise of secrets and seduction that bind us together in a night filled with intrigue and desire. The enigmatic allure of the Mikaelson Ball has led us to the precipice of a passionate and dangerous affair, and the unspoken promises of the night continue to unfold in a dance that defies explanation. 

Vampire Diaries Universe Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[honeycollectswhump]

i want to see ashtray get a pat on the head 🥰 and maybe a burn at the back of his throat. you know. for fun! - @whumpcloud

im very sorry it took me literal AGES to write this! at least you get some angst now :D

Smoke in His Lungs

[masterlist]

CW: pet whump, burns (cigarette & other), dehumanisation, conditioning

Being used is his greatest wish, his only purpose, the one thing Ashtray knows without a doubt how to do. The months –months? he can’t remember anymore– of relentless training prepared him, made a truly polished Ashtray out of the senseless Shape he was before.  

Now, he gets rewarded with the highest honour anyone could bestow upon him: kneeling at the feet of his first and only Mistress, the one who owns his body, mind, and soul, and Ashtray couldn’t be more grateful for it. For a short moment, he allows himself to close his eyes and let himself drift in the unintelligible drift of conversation and the comforting smell of smoke.

Not for too long though.

Ashtray blinks himself to awareness again and swallows with difficulty, the tender flesh of his throat still aching with the memory of the scorching wave. Yet he knows not to flinch. Instead, he wills himself to focus on the fresh burn on his left palm, the red, inflamed blister feeling hard against the bare skin of his thigh. It burns, of course, a rush of delight coursing through him. 

Burning means he is being useful. Burning means he is a Good Ashtray and, perhaps even, a Good Boy. 

There is an ugly feeling in his stomach though, sticking to him and turning the wafting voice of his Mistress into a minefield he has no choice but to cross. Ashtray knows he is dumb, his only purpose is to serve, to obey, he doesn’t need to think. But unlike his blunt Handlers during training, his Mistress’ silky voice remains incomprehensible to him. 

It should be a fatal flaw, and maybe it eventually will be, but right now his Mistress shows endless compassion, graceful mercy, seemingly knowing her Ashtray’s limited capabilities, despite his price point. She speaks slowly, gesturing kindly to whatever area she demands of her Ashtray. And he complies –of course–, always eager to serve, and hopes that maybe one day he will memorise the meaning of her words.

This time, his Mistress elegantly points to her mouth with one slender finger, perfectly manicured, her nails sharp and red like wine. Ashtray straightens up towards her, opening his mouth, eyes closed, waiting for how he will be used this time.

Suddenly, his Mistress’ hand is in his mouth, violating, and it takes all of his training not to gag then and there, as he inhales fumes and soot. Burning engulfs his throat like a forest fire, sizzling in a place not made for it. 

Calming breaths do nothing against the threat of smoke filling his lungs. Ashtray freezes, his nails digging into his thighs like claws, tries to stop moving, stop thinking, stop breathing, until the colourful spots in his vision make room for a flurrying blur of white static. 

Then, almost as abruptly, his Mistress removes the cigarette again, leaving him only with the overwhelming taste of ash seeping into his blood and soul. 

He wants to gag. Heave. Retch. 

Ashtray waits a moment, then two, until he allows himself calm yet stuttering breaths against the fumes. In his early training that alone seemed like an impossible task, going against instincts he couldn’t explain to himself. It feels good to have his training reinforced, to show –even if only to himself– that it was worth it, that he worked hard to become the perfect luxury product for his beloved Mistress. 

Staring back down on his hands, a barely touched canvas for her markings, Ashtray can only breathe. The blister on his palm seems to have broken when he clenched his fist against his reflexes, but he barely feels the additional hurt over the charring pain all over his body, concentrated, irreparably, in his throat. But it's okay. It’s okay. It must be Okay.

It is nothing but pure mercy, when his Mistress lays her hand on top of his head, almost absentmindedly, and starts petting him in slow, gentle motions, making sure not to ruffle his prettied hair. Ashtray tries not to press into her touch, chasing a sensation he knows will be rare. It floods his body like a cooling wave and a fever high at the same time. 

Only Good Boys get pet; a blissful knowledge deeply ingrained into him. 

Good Boys take the pain they were trained for and Good Boys look graceful while doing so. 

And then, maybe, Good Boys will be rewarded with a touch so rare they can barely remember the last time they felt it.

taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox, @whumpshaped, @clickerflight let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

[prettywordsyouleft]

Every Damn Time

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Genre: emotional angst-fluff

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: mentioning of declining health of side character, main protagonist is expressing their fears over it.

Word count: 659

Author’s Note: I wrote this back in January, when this situation happened to calm myself down from the fright of it all. Naturally, this piece is a little personal.

Jinyoung barely had a moment to react, and yet he did so instinctively. Catching you before you knocked both of you to the ground, he went to laugh and asked why you were so greedy for his embrace, only to stop himself when he felt your body shudder.

Instantly, he was on red alert. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Need you,” came out with a choked sob, and Jinyoung rearranged his hold on you.

He pulled you firmly against him, caging your shaking body so you felt protected and safe. And that was enough to unleash your emotions. It killed him to have no clue why you had entered his home and ran to him like this. He wanted to rage in your honour, ask who did this to you, uncover every little detail so he could put together a plan. So he could be the one to solve this and never let it make you break like this again.

But as he continued to hold you, rocking your body and letting out soothing noises, his mind came down from the height it had gone to.

Jinyoung had been working late yesterday and into the early hours of today, which wasn’t unusual for him, and he had almost sent you a message out of habit but realised the time was late. He remembered frowning when he had seen your last active time stamp to be after one am, yet he considered you probably had struggled to sleep and then fallen into slumber eventually.

But now he wasn’t so sure. What had kept you up so late into the night? He had his suspicions, and you finally confirmed them a moment later. “She fell.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure. I was in bed and woke to a loud bang. I thought it was one of the cats and went to check, but the TV had crashed into the wall and she was completely dazed,” you said quietly, not objecting when Jinyoung gently led you to the couch and pressed you down until you sat before he crouched down in front of you.

“She’s completely fine, well, a few bruises are going to come up, but I was just so scared. I keep having these moments where I get complacent with Mum’s illness and then she declines and something like this happens and I just—” Tears welled in your eyes and he reached forward to brush them aside, your watery gaze connecting with his. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“With time. Your mother has plenty of time still.”

“I feel like I’m going out of my mind. I could barely sleep worrying something would happen as she rested. I’ve made plans to move my things out to the study nook so I can be right there if she needs me. I’m going to have to monitor her closely. It all feels so overwhelming.”

“You should have rung me. I would have come over immediately. “

You sighed, nodding softly. “I wanted you there.”

“You needed me,” he corrected, and you nodded a second time.

“I always need you. I worry the strain I’m holding will end up breaking you when I lean on you.”

Slapping a shoulder, Jinyoung cracked a grin. “Why do you think I built these up?”

It delighted him when a small, exasperated smile curled up your lips. “You fool.”

“You need me at any time of the day or night, and you know I’ll be there.”

“Really?”

“What are boyfriends for if they can’t promise that?”

“To look pretty and carry heavy things?” You pretended to ponder, and Jinyoung tsked loudly before reaching for your hands, rubbing the coolness out of them.

“I don’t ever want to let you stress to the point of crashing into me like that again. But if it does happen, I’ll catch you, okay?”

“You’ll catch me?” you repeated, eyes wide with emotion.

His throat felt tight as he nodded. “Every damn time.”

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

[ehlnofay]

Summerfest Day 2 - SECRET

All the air in the room shivers and gusts like an expulsion of breath; the sluggish, oil-slick water below resumes its flowing; Arabella, liquid metal curled lacelike over her skin, starts laughing.

It’s dark, in this dank cavern. Karliah left the lamp she carried outside and did not suggest lighting another. Perhaps it would be sacrilege. For several minutes, all had been shadow; but now if Arabella squints, she can vaguely make out the motion of the water, the distant shine of filigreed armour, the bird-mark on the floor. She can make out Karliah on the middle plinth and Brynjolf on the distant one; she can make out the cracked stone below her; she sinks down, low, into a crouch, hood pulled down over her forehead, and cackles. It echoes in her mouth, against the fabric-smoothness of her mask.

“Well,” says Brynjolf’s voice, blankly, from across the room, and again, “well.”

“The first meeting can be… overwhelming,” Karliah says, tactful. Like Arabella’s cracked under the pressure of watching someone talk to a big not-light in a hole so soggy-stale it feels as familiar as the cistern. She is still laughing – she can’t help it (it’s either funny or it’s very serious, and she’d rather not take it seriously) – as she rolls her shoulders back the way she practiced in the armoury, lets the metallic carapace unravel itself, shrinking and sinking again into her skin, to the cold metal mark she pressed like tattoo ink into the back of her neck. (She’s been branded – she’s been gulled – perhaps she should be taking it seriously, but it’s so ridiculous that she doesn’t want to.) The armour goes away. She can, just about, see her skin again.

She is still laughing, birdlike high and delighted.

Brynjolf shakes his head – she catches it only because of the way his eyes glint in the mask – and says, “Didn’t wake up this morning thinking I’d be meeting a Daedric Prince.” He sounds very deliberately careless; taking everything, very intentionally, in stride. “Suppose I’m honoured.”

“Oh, yes,” Arabella crows, “most honoured bargaining chip –” and she goes off in peals of laughter again. Her language is bleeding into Bos, a little – she’s getting her grammar mixed up in her head, blending her words in ways that should give them layers but instead just turns them to gibberish. Most-honoured, ill-weighted, played like lamb-tendon lute-strings, all an unintelligible mess of sounds. It’s all so patently ridiculous.

Brynjolf pauses, asks, “Does this happen, often?” with a nigh-audible furrow of the brow.

“Arabella,” Karliah says. “Arabella. What, the hysterics? No, or, I’ve never – Arabella, pull it together.”

“Lest your Lady think –” and the rest of it is lost to scrambled syntax, but then Arabella wipes her mouth – probably smudging her paint, she realises after the fact, damn it – and stands up straight and says, gleeful, “You liar. Well done.”

“Are you listening, now?” Karliah asks; when she moves, she gleams, ever-faint.

Arabella echoes, “Will you tell us, now? You’ve been so dreadfully surreptitious.”

Karliah gleams again. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I’m sorry I’ve had to mete out information so slowly. But now that you’ve transacted the oath –”

“Such a vague oath,” Arabella remarks, shark-toothed.

“I would like to hear more about the oath,” Brynjolf puts in, “and whatever else, but do we have to have this out in the dark?”

“I would like to hear about how it’s supposed to make us more powerful,” Arabella says, “and why I can’t feel any bloody difference.”

Karliah moves – coils her fingers, maybe, so her armour can slink off to puddle in her hand, pulled night-dark in toward the mark at her wrists – and Arabella can see her a little better, then, a ghostlike shape standing ill-defined on the platform. “That,” she says, soft-voiced, “relates to what I was going to say; Mercer’s –”

“Do you feel a difference, Brynjolf?” Arabella calls.

Sharply, Karliah says, “Stop interrupting.”

The water burbles quiet below them. Arabella’s smile is pinned so broadly to her face that her cheeks sting.

“We’re going back into the hall,” Brynjolf decides. His armour sloughs off as he starts picking his way back down the shadow-cracked stone. Halfway down, he looks over, his face a smudge in the dark. “No. But it’s new.”

“New indeed,” Arabella agrees, the soles of her shoes ringing against the marks in the stone; she holds her arms steady for balance as she steps onto the spit of rock. “Whatever power we expect, Karliah – it won’t come up until we’ve made amends with your goddess, will it?”

She is so very spectral, in the dark. Blue-grey, distant-pale. “Nocturnal’s favour alone is a powerful thing,” she says, clipped. “It will give us an edge.”

“Will it,” Arabella says. It is not a question. She is putting considerable effort into not giggling again.

Even in the dark, even without the masks, she can just about catch the shine of Karliah’s eyes as she looks at her. There is a lengthy pause. “It might.”

Brynjolf, a shadow almost at the end of his stone-spit tightrope, pauses. “Ah,” he says, and then, faintly disgruntled, “Really?”

“She played us well,” Arabella tells him with airy unconcern; her teeth scratch against the meat of her lip. “Very cleverly. I bought it just about enough.”

“It might help,” Karliah insists, dogged; “I – I hope it will. And I couldn’t tell you the whole truth if you remained outsiders – we would have been ineffective, barely a chance –”

Arabella slides the last half-metre of damp stone on the flat soles of her shoes, skirt flaring, hair in her mouth. She says into the dank cavern, “You sold us to curry favour.”

“Yes,” Karliah snaps; she strides down back to the ground, quick and practiced, a blur against the stone. “Yes, all right – we need her favour if we’re going to be able to return what Mercer stole, which you still won’t let me tell you about, we need – it’s been a decade.” (Arabella remembers the thick patterns of dust in these strange halls.) “It’s been a decade, Arabella, this is my life, and if bringing it back isn’t – maybe it won’t help! But I told you, it’s business.” She tosses her head; she’s still hooded, and it’s still dark, so this conveys very little. “Yes. I negotiated acquittal. And if you want to be angry about it, that’s fine, but do it less obtrusively so we can actually start –”

“I’m not angry,” Arabella says, and she licks her teeth. Karliah looks at her; in the dark, her eyes don’t flash. Her face is an ink-smudge. Arabella grins. “I just wanted you to admit it. That’s truly astoundingly selfish.”

“In fairness,” Brynjolf says, before Karliah has a chance to rail at that, and he gestures, quick and loose and just fast enough for her eyes to register it, to the lax little circle they stand in, like the points of a lopsided triangle. “Would you expect anything less?”

It’s still so dark – so little light comes in even through the entryway – but the water sounds cold and quick as it runs, and Arabella is good at taking up all manner of sensory space. “Touché,” she says through beaming teeth; shrugs, exaggerated, the motion rippling the metalline mark pressed into the back of her neck. “Really, Karliah, I don’t mind. Nocturnal can have my soul. What worth is it to me?”

[patibato]

[Bitter Sweet Sixteen] 002-B01 - The Hateful Five

Female Student A: Oh, ufufufu! Just what I'd expect from you, Yumenosuke-san! Sharp, smart, athletic, and funny to boot.

Female Student B: I'm so happy we can spend time together in mahorova like this.

Yumenosuke: I'm also honoured to be able to talk with delightful ladies such as yourselves. It's a shame that, due to me being at my villa in Switzerland, the metaverse is our only way to meet, but… well, there's only about half of Summer Vacation left.

Next on the agenda is how to make the best use of the remaining time—let's have an open discussion about it!

Female Student A: Sounds good to me! By the way, what are your plans?

Yumenosuke: I completed all my assignments in the first week, so in the remaining time, I think I'll put all my efforts towards ensuring the success of the open days we'll be holding at the end of the month.

Female Student B: Oh my! That's wonderful! We should learn from you.

Female Student A: We should. I've just been obsessed with the "LashColle" releases lately…

Yumenosuke: LashColle… "Eyelash Collection", you mean? Unfortunately, I'm rather unfamiliar with the eyelash world, so I appear to be falling behind.

However, I believe the top LashColle award from the other day was acquired by my Uncle, with an overwhelming point difference, yes?

Gannosuke: Indeed, along with one of the audience awards.

A pleasure to meet you, lovely young ladies. I am Yumenosuke's Uncle, Kuraku Gannosuke.

Female Student B: I was wondering who the mysterious gentleman next to Yumenosuke-san was… so you're that renowned eyelash artist?

Female Student A: Congratulations on your winnings! Your work was the boldest, most radiantly decadent one of them all…!

Female Student B: So true. On top of that… it felt a little different to your usual style!

Yumenosuke: Huh… has there been a change in your mental state or something?

Gannosuke: Well, the other day I had a once in a lifetime encounter on the island. There's no doubt that he sparked a flame in my imagination.

Yumenosuke: Oh! That's wonderful to hear. I wonder, just what kind of encounter was it—

Student Council Member: President Kuraku!

Yumenosuke: What is it? Quiet down.

Student Council PR: It's serious! Please look at this news!

Yumenosuke: …!? "Active High Schoolers Recruited as Tourism Ward Mayors"…!?

Student Council PR: What's more, while this hasn't been announced yet, my mother who works with the news says the ones nominated are—…

Female Student A: Of all people, it's those lowly Rank One students who may have blown up the old school building…!? Aah, I'm getting dizzy…!

Female Student B: A-are you alright, Yumenosuke-san? You've gone pale…

Yumenosuke: …Kh!

(Ward Mayors have a lot of influence over the political world, and despite knowing that, the Ward 0 Mayor chose THEM? In the first place, it's clear this personnel decision was enforced without proper consideration… an unacceptable folly!)

(What's more, being a Ward Mayor…! It's the position that I should have been inaugurated into in "Kuraku Yumenosuke's Life Plan Chapter 3 ~Tourism Ward Mayor Edition~"…!)

(Surely those savages responsible for the bombing incident took the positions with no great effort involved—absolutely unforgivable! How dare they do this to my perfect life plan… how dare they…-)

Gannosuke: Are you alright, Yumenosuke-kun?

Yumenosuke: … Excuse me. I have some business to attend to, so I shall take my leave now!

Gannosuke: …

Momiji: Everyooone! The press release is ouuut!

Akuta: Ooh! For real!? Can I see~~~?

Nanaki: Oi, Akuta. Sit properly while you eat.

Ushio: Hmm… this celebration* soba is pretty good.

Muneuji: Indeed. I'm sure even my mother, who's very particular about Japanese food, would choose to eat this 100% buckwheat soba.

*slurping*

Kiroku: … Slurp…

Akuta: Uuum, "Actibb high shkoowers~"…

Yachiyo: Ah, should I read it out? Since everyone's busy eating…

Renga: That's thoughtful of you. —Hey, you guys, hand it over.

Momiji: Sorry, Yachiyo-kun. Please go ahead!

Yachiyo: "Active High Schoolers Unexpectedly Chosen for Wards 5-9 in the Hama Special Tourism Ward"

Liguang: … …

Yachiyo: "Aiming to incorporate a new sense of values into Hama's tourism based on the younger generation, who bear the burden of the future—"

"We are pleased to announce that active high schoolers have been inaugurated into the position of Tourism Ward Mayors for Wards 5-9 under the orders of Ward 0 Mayor and Hama Tours President, Oguro Kafka."

Yukikaze: …

Yachiyo: "As with the tour held by R1ze—the Mayors of Wards 0-4—which concluded to high acclaim the other day, their upcoming first tour will include a Hospitality Live."

"And this time, there'll also be an inauguration ceremony held on the first day, making this a tour packed with events."

"Furthermore, it will be held at their school building, one of the symbols of Hama—"

Ten: This soba's good.

Yachiyo: "Hama Asunaro High School, in collaboration with the open days being held."

"It will be a tour that can be enjoyed by not only the prospective students and their guardians, but the general public as well, so please rouse yourselves to take part, everyone."

—Done!

Momiji: The press release really does make it hit home and get you motivated.

Akuta: A Hospitality Live for the tour…! Just hearing that gets me going all of a sudden~~~!

Liguang: Don't shake the table, boy.

Nanaki: Ah, sorry, I'll scold him later.

Renga: But you know, feeling excited for it is… well, I understand it. But what will you do about the contents? Your concept is important.

Kiroku: …The… concept… …

Ushio: Our dear Idiotake-san, how's that coming along?

Akuta: Nghe?

Muneuji: Thinking up the concept is the leader's role. Do you have anything in mind?

Renga: W-wait! Students. —I appreciate that you guys don't know up from down when it comes to making plans.

If you're struggling, I could deign to lend a hand—

Akuta: Ac-tua-lly, I DO have a proper plan!

Renga: Wh—

Liguang: Patronising them is futile.

Ten: Isn't it nice that they won't be taking up any of your time, Renga-san?

Renga: …- Y-yeah, right.

Momiji: —Alright, if we're finished with the soba, let's get on with the rest of the moving process!

All Five: Got it.

Nanaki: So the room arrangements have me, Akuta, and Kiroku rooming together.

Akuta: The room's called "Coil" huh. We should think up a coiled pose later.

Kiroku: … Hm…

Momiji: Are you fine with this room arrangement, Ushio-kun?

Ushio: Can't complain about rooming with Muneuji. The name, on the other hand…

Muneuji: "Whinny Clan" is an interesting one. Shall we devise a Whinny Clan pose later?

Momiji: (The former inn does have weird room names…)

Nanaki: We should finish carrying in our luggage now. Let's go Akuta, Kiroku.

Kiroku: Mhm…

Ushio: … …

Yukikaze: Why are you scowling at your phone? Have you finished putting away your luggage?

Ushio: Elevator's full so I'm waiting for it to be empty. Gotta use that spare time to ego-search that news from earlier.

Yep, there's the slander. Reported.

Yukikaze: …

Ushio: …You think what I'm doing is pointless, don't you? So do I. It doesn't really matter.

Yukikaze: No, it's not pointless. I'll help.

Ushio: … Idle curiosity, huh.

Momiji: (It's not out of curiosity, it's out of kindness. Ushio-kun…)

Muneuji: Uuchan, step aside a bit. I want to put this there.

Momiji: Woah! That bag looks super heavy…!

Yukikaze: How grand. …It doesn't look like a piece of furniture.

Kafka: Amazing, right? It's full of congratulatory gifts sent by Muneuji's family.

Momiji: Wow~! It's got everything from high class sweets to electric appliances!

Kafka: Looks like we won't need to worry about equipment for a while. There's even tea cakes for tea time with Chief-chan.

Akuta: Lured by the presence of food, I have arrived from the second floor!

Ushio: Are you a dog…?

Akuta: Can I have this gold leaf castella? Ah, if I gather up the gold leaves, will I become rich?

Momiji: Ahaha, I wonder.

Ten: What's your home like, Akuta? Your family must be happy to hear you're a Ward Mayor.

Akuta: Nyah, my uncle's holed up at work so we've not had a proper talk yet. Nom nom…

Momiji: Your uncle?

Akuta: He's an animation director, Isotake Taiji. He's been looking after me.

Momiji: Is that so…

Ten: Isotake Taiji's a pretty famous animator. And even if he wasn't, people working in animation have it hard.

Momiji: (There goes Ten-kun…! Splendidly moving past the complicated circumstances and continuing the conversation…!)

(Come to think of it, the family member who signed the letter of consent for the trip was his uncle, wasn't it.)

(I wasn't going to touch on it, but—I see, that was why.)

Renga: Oh, Akuta! You're here! I was looking for you!

Akuta: Mgh?

Renga: A-about your concept! Earlier, I wondered if you were bluffing in front of everyone… I understand that too, or like…

A concept isn't something you can put together so easily! So I, the leader of the Morning Team, shall-

Akuta: Nah, I'm good. But thanks for the thought, Renga-san.

! Nanaki and Kiroku have come back at just the right time.

Hey, gentlemen of Asu-High! Attentiii~~~~on! Please gather here tomorrow!

Renga: …Uu.

Akuta: I'll be announcing the best, most powerful concept to render the guys who treated us like idiots speechless!

Renga: I-I… can lend… my knowledge…

Momiji: (I'll console him later…)

*"引っ越しそば" (hikkoshi soba) is soba eaten to celebrate a successful move. It's traditionally given by neighbours, but in recent years has become something eaten regardless

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Masterlist

[topsyturvy-turtely]

The Noises He Makes

if you're in search of a very quick very fluff fanfic... happy to be of your service ;)

read on Ao3 or here :)

Sherlock Holmes. The emotionless machine. The unfeeling genius. The sociopathic detective.

That’s what people say, what he likes to say about himself. Truth is, he is actually quite emotional, and he articulates his emotions loudly too.

When he is excited (about a new intriguing case) he jumps and shouts for joy. When he is irritated (with people or an unsolvable case – yes, those do exist) he throws his head back and groans out of frustration.

Oh, but when I touch him (with my lips, my hands, press my body against his), he makes the most delightful noises.

In the early morning, when I let my hand slide over his shoulders, an almost inaudible hum. Whenever I hug him, a sigh so heavy as if he means to say, he wants to stay in my embrace forever. At night, when we cuddle, when I have my hand buried in his hair, or comb through it, a noise escapes from deep within him, which reminds me of a cat. A big, dangerous cat – a panther perhaps – but a cat nonetheless.

When I kiss him… Gasping, moaning, groaning, mumbling - depending on where I kiss him. If I peck his lips, a tiny inhale through the nose, as if he was surprised every time. When I suck on his lip, a content hum. When our tongues fight for dominance (I usually win), a sound that could be a chuckle or something like a sob – ah, can’t be sure, I do have my tongue in his mouth while this happens. When I kiss his neck, a gasp. This usually comes along with a grip on my hips. When I kiss his nipples, he moans. When I kiss down his happy trail, there is gasping and moaning, with a hand in my hair and my name on his lips. Oh, and when we become one, melt into each other, when I am not sure where I end and where he starts, all these sounds happen at once. Sometimes we are both so overwhelmed by the love making, by the love we feel from the other, for the other, we both end up sobbing, giggling and we hold each other until we can both tell each other ‘I love you’ again.

What I am trying to say… is that Sherlock Holmes is actually extremely sensitive, more often than you might think even sensual.

And one day, after I made him make those noises all day long, heard him say my name like it’s a miracle, a mystery and magic all at once; I asked him if he will do me the honour to marry me. What followed wasn’t any noise. It was silence. But that silence said more than any sound could ever have.

∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻∻

please consider supporting me on both platforms (tumblr & ao3) with reblogs & likes/ kudos & comments. thank you so much!

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @a-victorian-girl @lisbeth-kk

[jackles010378]

Best Birthday Ever.........

Jensen ackles x @cheynovak

A very special one shot for a lovely person I get to call my friend ❤️ Happy birthday Chey 🥳🎂🎉🎊🎁

Jensen had been brainstorming for weeks, determined to make Chey's birthday a memorable one. They had been together for two wonderful years, and he wanted to show her just how special she was to him. After much planning and preparation, he came up with the perfect idea to surprise her.

On the morning of Chey's birthday, Jensen woke up early to start setting up for the day ahead. He decorated their apartment with balloons, streamers, and fairy lights, creating a festive and romantic atmosphere. He then prepared a delicious breakfast spread with all of Chey's favorite foods, complete with a bouquet of fresh flowers as a centerpiece.

As Chey woke up to the surprise, her eyes widened in delight at the effort Jensen had put in. They spent the morning enjoying breakfast together, reminiscing about their favorite memories from the past two years. Jensen had also prepared a scavenger hunt around the city, with clues leading Chey to different meaningful locations they had visited together.

Throughout the day, Jensen pampered Chey with thoughtful gifts and surprises, including a spa day, a picnic in the park, and a surprise visit from her closest friends and family. As the day drew to a close, Jensen took Chey to a rooftop overlooking the city at sunset, where he had set up a candlelit dinner under the stars.

Over dinner, Jensen poured his heart out to Chey, expressing his love and gratitude for her presence in his life. And then, with a nervous smile, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Opening it, he revealed a stunning diamond ring and asked Chey the most important question of his life :

"Chey, these past two years with you have been the best of my life. You are my rock, my support, and my best friend. I can't imagine my life without you by my side. Will you do me the honour of spending the rest of our lives together? Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in Chey's eyes as she gazed at Jensen, overwhelmed with emotion. She nodded, unable to find the words to express her joy. Jensen slipped the ring onto her finger, sealing their love with a promise for a lifetime together.

As they embraced under the starlit sky, surrounded by the glow of city lights, Jensen knew that this birthday celebration would be one that Chey would never forget. And as they looked towards their future together, he was grateful for the love they shared and the countless memories they would continue to create.

Short but oh so sweet, I hope you liked it Chey 🥰🫶🏻

TAGLIST : @nescavaneckdaily @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @angelbabyyy99 @cheynovak @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33

[eastern-lights]

To be perfectly honest, throughout episodes 1 - 4 I was a bit worried Shogun was going to be a continuation of Hiroyuki Sanada being typecast as a Stoic Aloof Samurai that you could see in literally everything since the Last Samurai, which would be such a waste of both the source material and his talent.

Which is why Stick of Time and Abyss of Life were such a delight to watch. They really allowed Sanada to tap into his unbelievable capacity for portraying grief and despair, both incredibly subtle and so overwhelming it makes the viewer physically sick. (spoilers for the aforementioned episodes follow)

You really are never in any doubt that Toranaga's pain is real. Oh he may be playing up the cough and having to lean on a samurai to walk, but everything else is completely genuine.

Yes, he is using Nagakado's death to gain a chance at victory, but that does not mean he is not genuinely heartbroken at the loss of his child. This:

Is not him implying that the only useful thing Nagakado did was dying. He is giving meaning to an otherwise senseless death of a young man who could have achieved greatness if given time, which ties amazingly into Mariko's earlier words about how "we honour the dead by continuing their fight". Toranaga took his son's death, a freak accident, and retroactively made it meaningful, granting Nagakado the noble death he would have wanted.

[starleska]

Huzzah! Art Fight nears its end, I think. I have survived! As have you!…I hope. I’m pretty sure you survived. <3 I know a lot happened there, but we both did ArtFight stuff! You did stuff! I did stuff! You fought hard! Idk if you’re doing any better or worse than before, and idk if you feel bad about any kind of inactivity, but there’s no need to! You’re alive and that’s what matters! If you want or need to take time away a little longer, you can take as much as you need! I’m sure we all love you and will be here when you’re ready <3

Also, since the “war” is over, or ending, we can go back to drawing whatever we want of whatever quality forever again without any pressure or self-imposed pressure to draw something else goodly! Woe! Art be upon ye!

(…I couldn’t remember where I saw your full lil persona before so I’ve been referencing your tumblr pfp and ArtFight pfp and going by memory sorry-)

…love toaster quality art…Ig that proves my point! Though sending this to myself on discord and screenshotting it may not be a good idea…post art fight delirium my beloved. uh let me just-

SCREAMING!!!! okay okay i have been mulling over how to reply to this for days because i was so just. delighted and overwhelmed with this little blorbo-processing universe you've invented for us!!!! F/O Inc...oh man, what a delightful place to work!!! that really is what it feels like logging into Tumblr Dot Com to yell about some new idiot 😂💖💖💖

but now i'm thinking...what exactly are our jobs? do we do fieldwork? certainly you and i are collectors of f/os, hunting down potential obscure characters for people to get obsessed with...what's the corporate hierarchy here? are our clients other selfshippers, or are they the f/os themselves? i'm cracking up at the idea of it being like one of those matchmaking dating services crossed with a crime drama...Ace Attorney style, people bringing in their woes and desperately hunting for an f/o who'll match them perfectly...!!! 😂😂😂 Client, visibly sweating: "Gosh, I-I never usually do this sort of thing, but...it's been so lonely on my dash recently, and I...I was wondering if you had any new, um...Tumblr Sexymen...to recommend?" You, chain-smoking cigarettes with three hanging out of your mouth: "Sweetheart, you've come to the right place. Take a look at these puppies." You yank a thick file from your drawer and slap it down, open, on the desk. "Now, keep an open mind, toots...but you ever hear about this Once-ler fella?" all of the DETAILS in this art are killing me 🙈🙈🙈 your countless cups of coffee, as if you've been trying to cope with the new freaks i've brought into the office 😭💖💖 the little Employee of the Month photo too, oh my gosh!!! i'm honoured :3c and oh my god the TINY Piers, Ramón and Maxime...!!!!!! FUCK the second i get a new laptop and can draw again i need to add to this universe, thank you for coming up with something so brilliant 🥺💖💖💖 accepting new hires for F/O Inc. today! 😉 and HUGE CONGRATULATIONS TO YOU FOR GETTING TO THE END OF ARTFIGHT FRIEND!!!! 😭💖💖💖 so sorry that July decided to kick me in the metaphorical nuts and i wasn't able to attack you back, but THANK YOU SO MUCH for the wonderful art you made me which i treasure so much 🙈💖💖💖 shortly i'll be compiling all the lovely art i received into a little chart, and i can't wait to show off your work!!! i owe you big time 😉 thank you as well for such a lovely pep talk and all the niceness you've thrown my way 🫂 of course i do feel a bit guilty about needing to take a step back and being so open about the burnout, but it's been a busy month for all of us, haven't it? i think August is going to be really nice and fun :3c anyway this is kickass and i'm so glad to be your colleague at F/O Inc. bahahaha 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[lootzest]

from a request from @sadsideart: how about Robert giving Rosalind a flower/flower bouquet but it's actually a message in flower language/symbolism

This was really fun to research - people really were out here sending complicated messages through floral arrangements. I tried Robert being a bit more subtle about things but it required a level of oblivousness from Rosalind that I couldn't get to work. Plus, the Luteces are forced to interact with a third party which is always fun.

(also @sadsideart, you could request something every single day and I'd be delighted!! this goes for you and anyone else - prompts very welcome!!)

Red Gardenias

“Would you object to stopping in at the florists?” Robert stroked his empty lapel. “Really this coat requires a buttonhole and there was nothing suitable at home.” Rosalind laughed. The idea that their home - overflowing with papers, laboratory equipment, and discarded experiments - was the sort of household in which a gentleman might pluck a bloom from an arrangement in the hallway on his way out the door, was absurd.

“If you insist.” 

The afternoon was so appealing that even Rosalind had agreed that being shut indoors with their research was a waste. The sun was bright over the rooftops, a pleasant breeze carrying the occasional cloud across a brilliant blue sky. It was, in short, a perfect day: all the more perfect considering that those rooftops were floating thousands of feet in the air and that she had put them there.

Even the poorly hidden stares from their fellow citizens could not spoil it. She had once scolded a newspaperman who referred to them as “reclusive”, but the Luteces did keep their own company enough that their presence on the street drew notice. Identical twins were notable enough but famous identical twins, responsible for the very streets they walked on - not to mention their impeccable sense of style - gave the citizens of Columbia plenty to stare at.

And, as Robert had said while Rosalind straightened his tie before they left, “Imagine how much more they would stare if they knew how we spent the morning.” He had wrapped his arms around her waist and taken his last opportunity to kiss her until they returned home.

Until then, they had to settle for being arm in arm, Rosalind occasionally holding his elbow a little more firmly, reminding him of her presence. She did not catch his eye because if she did so she was likely to grin and she did not grin in public. Robert meanwhile could glance down at her and assume the detached smile he often did; no one need know the cause.

They slowed as they approached the florists, buckets of flowers filling the pavement outside, their scents mingling to an overwhelming, though not unappealing, perfume. Robert stooped to inspect them, sliding his arm out from Rosalind’s, his fingers grazing the inside of her elbow as he did. He pulled one stem from the display and held it to his lapel.

“Your thoughts please.”

“Not with that tie.” Popular opinion said that always dressed identically, another oversimplification by Columbia’s press that Rosalind had derided over the breakfast table. They dressed to complement each other, the sash around her waist the same green silk as his tie.

“You’re right,” he said, replacing the flower.

“As always.” She turned from the flowers; this decision could not be rushed. His knuckles grazed hers. In return, she flexed her fingers against his. That would have to do.

Across the way, a young couple read a menu outside a bistro. The woman had her arm through the man’s, his hand resting on hers, her head leaning towards his shoulder. Rosalind’s teeth ground against each other like screeching brakes.

“Mr. Lutece!” Rosalind looked back to see who was speaking. “And Madame Lutece too. As one would expect, of course. An honour.” A man stood in the entrance of the shop, a green apron over his clothes.

“My sister and I could not resist such a fine day.” Robert raised the bloom he was assessing. “And I find myself in need of flowers.”

The florist looked at the flower and his eyes disappeared with his smile.

“Now I must say that that is a fascinating choice!” Robert was nonplussed - he looked to Rosalind for explanation but, on this rare occasion, she had none either.

“I thought it brought out–” but the man cut across him.

“Perhaps you are aware of the language of flowers?” The concept was not unfamiliar to either Lutece. In one world, Robert’s fellow students had regularly fallen foul of the messages they had inadvertently sent in bouquets to girls they were courting; in another, Rosalind witnessed those same girls sobbing in the common room over bunches of yellow roses.

“‘There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance’ and all that?” he offered. Rosalind’s foot tapped impatiently behind a bucket of hyacinths.

“Yes indeed - but this one is much more interesting. Whoever is to receive them - she’s a lucky woman indeed!”

Rosalind’s foot stopped tapping.

“Ah, you mistake –” Robert started but the florist continued, his eyes bright and blinded by his own enthusiasm for the subject.

“After all, Mr. Lutece, you are a very eligible man, no doubt you have your pick of young ladies…and your sister can’t expect to keep you all to herself.”

The stench of the mingled flowers caught in the back of Rosalind’s throat. Robert’s jovial tone dropped away.

“And what does this flower mean precisely?”

“That Mr. Lutece is a red gardenia - for secret love.” The florist had the audacity to wink at him. Rosalind had thought it was a rather pleasing plant until this moment when she realised it was the ugliest flower she had ever seen. The inner corners of her eyes prickled, no doubt from being next to all these awful flowers.

The back of Robert’s hand pressed against hers.

“And what would not secret love be?”

“Beg your pardon?” The florist’s smile faltered.

“If this love were not a secret?” Robert continued. Rosalind dared to look up at him. He still had his easy, relaxed expression but the sharp, serious eyes she usually saw looking back at her from the mirror.

“Well” –the man exhaled– “anything red. Roses, of course, but that’s rather old hat - a red camellia, that’s ‘you’re a flame in my heart’. Carnations are ‘deep love’, tulips, ‘passion’. And baby’s breath is ‘everlasting love.’”

“I shall take them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Put that together as a bouquet. All the most unsecret loves you have.”

“Robert,” murmured Rosalind.

“Who knew, dear sister, that one could say with flowers what one cannot say out loud?”

The florist, in his obliviousness, put together a terrific display. After all, he was the first in the city to know that Mr. Robert Lutece had a mysterious paramour and that was gossip one could dine out on. He presented the flowers to Robert for his approval.

“Almost as beautiful as the woman they are for.” Robert took them from the florist, who was already thinking of a shortlist of plausible recipients. “Perhaps my sister would assist me in carrying them home?” He looked deep into her eyes, blue like the skies she had put a city in, blue like his own, and handed her the bouquet.

“I shall keep an eye out for the lady who receives them,” said the florist.

“You won’t have to look hard, I’m sure.”

The sun was beginning to dip beneath the clouds they walked among. Rosalind had one arm around her brother’s, the other, holding her flowers. 

“People will think that these are for me.”

“Good. They are.”

“I mean that people will wonder who gave them to me.” Robert stopped and faced his not-twin. The street was quiet. He dared to stroke her cheek.

“Well. Your brother can’t expect to keep you all to himself.”

“I hope he might.”

[justforbooks]

In a spoof obituary written while he was still in his 40s, Barry Humphries, who has died aged 89, described himself as “an ancient comic” who had long since become “a self-indulgent and inaudible has-been” with no sense of progressive social relevance.

The Republic of Australia’s Art Squad had, he said, banned Humphries’ work in his native land. He had endured his last years of “exile and obloquy” in the tarnished splendour of “a Lusitanian spa”, where he occasionally gave clandestine performances to his dwindling, reactionary and hard-of-hearing followers. He was survived, the obituary concluded, “by innumerable wives, great-grandchildren and creditors”. It was a generally appropriate death notice of a satirist who delighted in guying both himself and his critics.

Never a genial humorist, there was always a whiff of sulphur in his comedy. “What is there to say about me?” he would gull his interviewers. “I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. I am Church of England – I wash my car on Sundays. There must be some way you can jazz me up.” This was Humphries disguised as a candid interviewee. Being oneself, he would add, is a form of disguise.

There were many other disguises. One minute he would be a monocled Edwardian dandy or a mad scientist or a sad, sexless suburbanite. The next he would assume the mask of a beach bum or a shady art dealer or an embittered intellectual. But the most famous masks of all were his hellcat, the housewife megastar Dame Edna Everage, and his alcoholic political freeloader, professional adulterer and family man Sir Les Patterson.

Humphries grew up in suburban Melbourne, the son of Louisa (nee Brown) and Eric Humphries, a prosperous builder. He was an old boy of an exclusive school (or as he put it: “self-educated; attended Melbourne grammar”) and was briefly a student at Melbourne University. He began his extraordinary career on the back of an arts council bus touring the country towns of Victoria in 1954. It was his first professional role – the lovesick Duke Orsino to Zoe Caldwell’s Viola in Twelfth Night.

At each town, a patron of the arts, often the lady mayoress, would welcome the company over refreshments. Later, to help pass the time on the bus, Humphries invented a character to lampoon these municipal occasions. She was a drab, mousey and relentless hostess, simply named Edna.

The character was thought amusing enough to try out on stage in a Christmas revue in Melbourne. So it came about, on 13 December 1955, that Mrs (as she then was) Edna Everage made her stage debut – a volunteer hostess for the Melbourne Olympics, six feet tall, with brown basilisk eyes and a large chartreuse cabbage rose pinned on her charcoal suit. Her family – husband Norm, son Kenny, daughter Valmai, and mother (in a twilight home) – were given honourable mention, although their miserable fates in Edna’s triumphal backwash were not yet evident. Humphries, then as always, wrote the script.

The sketch was only a moderate success, but enough to point Humphries away from dramatic acting and towards the revue, music hall or cabaret. Also in 1955 he married Brenda Wright, and the following year they moved to Sydney to join a London-inspired theatre of “intimate revue”. He had found his metier, although Sydney satire was still too bland and self-congratulatory to satisfy his dandiacal rage. What Australia still needed, he said, was not mild satire, but a heroic act of espionage.

He finally found it playing the anguished Estragon in a 1958 production of Waiting for Godot. Humphries tramped the streets of Sydney in a sandwich board advertising the play, stuck Godot stickers on posts and windows, and scoured the scrap yards for trash with which he designed the stage sets. The audiences received the play with overwhelming indifference, but Humphries said it changed his life.

When he returned to revue, it was a new Humphries and a new Edna. She became at last a fully ad-libbing monologuiste, teasing if not insulting her audience. This was Edna’s breakthrough. She never looked back.

Australian theatre, however, remained in the doldrums. One critic said there was better theatre in a march-past of lifesavers on Bondi beach. In London, meanwhile, Beckett, Brecht, Osborne and Pinter were leading “the great uprising” from Sloane Square to Stratford East. Humphries found it irresistible.

His first marriage having come to an end after a couple of years, in 1959 Humphries married the ballet dancer Rosalind Tong, took a steamer to London – and into a decade of obscurity (and deepening alcoholism). He found some small parts, notably the undertaker in the original production of Lionel Bart’s Oliver! (1960). But his future fame lay with the one-man shows which at that point only his faithful Australian audiences would even contemplate. Three years after arriving in London, he returned to Melbourne and staged, in mid-1962, A Nice Night’s Entertainment, in which he again paraded Edna and her family, along with some of his other creations, from a tortured, expatriate-hating journalist to a nose-picking, guitar-toting beatnik.

The popular success of the show emboldened Humphries to try out his characters in London – at the Establishment Club in May 1963. It was a flop (or as he put it, “a highly successful five-minute season”). He returned to small roles, notably in Frank Norman’s A Kayf Up West, at Joan Littlewood’s Theatre Royal, Stratford East (1964). He also created for Private Eye the randy hobbledehoy Barry (“Bazza”) McKenzie, whose boozing, vomiting, urinating adventures, narrated in comic-strip form in a largely invented vernacular, reflected and mocked Humphries’ life in the swinging 60s. A film based on the character, The Adventures of Barry McKenzie, was released in 1972, and a sequel, Barry McKenzie Holds His Own, two years later, with Humphries taking several small roles in each; in the latter, the Australian prime minister of the time, Gough Whitlam, apparently invests Edna as a dame.

Humphries did two more Australian tours before testing the water in London again. The first – in 1965 – was the triumphant Excuse I, which filled huge Australian theatres for weeks on end. No one-man show had ever done such business in Australia. It was on this tour that Humphries introduced the gladioli-hurling finale. The next tour – the 1968 Just a Show – introduced further variations. Edna now abandoned her dowdy appearance and came on stage smiling like a shark in a red Thai silk coat over a green dress. (“Am I overdressed?” she asked, looking around. “No, I don’t think so.”) She also began entering from the stalls chatting to her “possums”.

The enormous success of Just a Show encouraged him to try again in London – at the Fortune theatre. Once again the show was a flop. Harold Hobson dismissed it in one devastating sentence: “Most of Barry Humphries’ Just a Show will give pleasure to most Australians in London.”

The great turning point in Humphries’ career came in 1970 when he collapsed, an alcoholic wreck. That June, he was arrested in the streets of Melbourne’s leafy, affluent Camberwell and charged with being drunk and disorderly. A sensible magistrate adjourned the case for six months, ordering that charges be withdrawn if there were no further “incidents”. Humphries booked into a private hospital specialising in alcoholism. The man who for more than 10 years had started the day with a “grappling hook” (brandy and port) became an abstainer – and one of the great comedians of his age.

Still he had not yet conquered London. His Australian shows of the early 1970s (A Load of Old Stuffe, in 1971, and At Least You Can Say You’ve Seen It, in 1974) further refined Edna. She was now a name-dropping predator of radical views and treacly-trendy sentimentality, wearing glittering scarlet hotpants split to the groin. Soon critics were ransacking the dictionary for adjectives to describe her: psychotic, hysteric, Dionysiac, Amazonian, crypto-fascist, anally obsessed, a piranha, a hectoring Medusa, a blue-rinsed beast of Belsen, the Australian daughter of Torquemada.

As her curtain raiser, and to incarnate his disgust with alcoholism, Humphries also created a new character, half Sir Toby Belch, half Apeneck Sweeney – exuberant clown and revolting drunk, the cultural attache Sir Les Patterson. Staggering down the aisle, whisky in hand, he would invite his audience to give Edna the clap she so richly deserved.

In 1976 had come yet another assault on the West End, this time succeeding sensationally when Housewife-Superstar opened at the Apollo. It ran to packed houses for four months and almost 500,000 people saw it.

This was the first of Humphries’ enormously popular one-man shows in London, which included A Night With Dame Edna (1978-79) and Back With a Vengeance (for a number of seasons 1987-89 and 2005-07). Critics now acclaimed him as the greatest one-man showman since Charles Dickens and perhaps in the history of theatre.

He reached an even wider audience on British television, including two series of The Dame Edna Experience (1987-89) for LWT, a highly successful comedy chatshow in which Dame Edna interviewed celebrities – or delivered monologues interrupted by total strangers, as she herself described it. On both stage and screen a silent, doleful background presence was provided by her “New Zealand bridesmaid” Madge Allsop, played from 1987 to 2003 by Emily Perry.

The US took longer to conquer. In 1977, Humphries presented Housewife-Superstar at West 55th Street, off Broadway, where the critics dismissed it as “abysmal”, “pointless” and “like the litter on 42nd Street, something worth missing”. It was to be 20 years before the New York critics submitted to the Humphriesian tornado. In 2000, he was awarded a special Tony for the “theatrical event” of the year – a category invented for the occasion since his show, Dame Edna: The Royal Tour, was neither play nor musical. His success led to subsequent US tours, and a role in the TV comedy drama Ally McBeal in 2002.

In March 2012, Humphries announced a farewell stage show, Eat Pray Laugh!, which toured Australia, the UK and the US. It featured his best-known characters – Dame Edna, the stoic old convalescent Sandy Stone, and Sir Les Patterson (with a bit part for his brother, Gerard, a paedophile priest). But in an eerie finale, there were glimpses of other unforgettable creations: among them Lance Boyle, the trade union racketeer; Brian Graham, the 1960s Sydney executive and closet homosexual in navy blue shorts and long white socks; and Phil Philby, the lefty experimental film-maker.

Before the final curtain, Humphries himself took the stage, thanked the packed house, and ambiguously urged them to come to his final “farewell”. In a wave of emotion while the band belted out “Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye”, his tearful fans delivered a standing ovation.

In 2015, Humphries was artistic director of the Adelaide Cabaret festival, where, with characteristic panache, he announced that he had banned the use of the word “fuck”, which too many comedians, including some good ones, use in a desperate attempt to get a laugh. (Humphries himself had often done so.) The patrons, he said, would be relieved and delighted by his new espousal of censorship.

As intended, the resulting controversy generated enormous publicity for the festival, but nonetheless he continued “to defend to the ultimate my right to give deep and profound offence”. Remarks of his on transgenderism – including dismissing it as a fashion – led in 2019 to the Melbourne international comedy festival dropping his name from its major prize, the Barry award.

Perceptions of what was considered either cutting edge or decadent in the jazz-infused music of Germany of the 1920s and 30s had fascinated him since finding a bundle of sheet music in Melbourne. In Australia in 2013 and in London seasons in 2016 and 2018, he explored it in the show Weimar Cabaret, with the chanteuse Meow Meow.

Humphries was based permanently in London from the late 1960s, although he visited Australia frequently, maintaining good relations with fans, friends and family. “To live permanently in Australia,” he would say, “is rather like going to a party and dancing all night with one’s mother.” He collected art and books, describing himself as a “compulsive bibliomaniac”, and owned 25,000 volumes.

Over the years, he made recordings, wrote books, a novel and a volume of verse, and in 2007 he held an exhibition of his paintings in Melbourne. He had roles in several films, including Finding Nemo (2003) and The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012). He dismissed most his books as trifles and promotions, but not his autobiography More Please (1992), which is less a comic story of an actor’s life than a de profundis or an alcoholic’s almanac; it is also noteworthy for its piety towards his family. It won the JR Ackerley prize for autobiography in 1993. Humphries was the subject of several biographies, including John Lahr’s Dame Edna Everage and the Rise of Western Civilisation (1991), One Man Show (2010), by Anne Pender, and my own book, published in 1991, The Real Barry Humphries.

He was appointed OA in 1982 and CBE in 2007.

From his marriage to Rosalind, Humphries had two daughters, Tessa and Emily. In 1979, he married the artist Diane Millstead, and they had two sons, Rupert and Oscar. Following his third divorce, in 1990 he married Lizzie Spender, daughter of the poet Stephen Spender. She survives him, along with his four children.

🔔 John Barry Humphries, comic actor and scriptwriter, born 17 February 1934; died 22 April 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[holdmytesseract]

How about:

"Dancing through life Skimming the surface Gliding where turf is smooth Life's more painless For the brainless Why think too hard? When it's so soothing Dancing through life No need to tough it When you can slough it off as I do Nothing matters But knowing nothing matters It's just life So keep dancing through"

Dancing Through Life" from Wicked

Kinda gives off some fun chaotic!Loki vibes for something a bit more lighthearted?

a/n: There we are... The last Lyric-Drabble... 😱 What a hell of an ride it has been! I had so much fun doing these! 🥰 I hope y'all had just as much fun reading them! Thanks to everyone who send in a request! 😁

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 ... It's an honour for me to finish this special with your wonderful request. 🥰 I hope you like it, my friend. ☺️

Warnings: nothing? Fluff

Word Count: 868

Tagging: @lulubelle814 @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @eleniblue @muddyorbs @loz-3 @vbecker10 @jennyggggrrr @lokisninerealms @mochie85 @chantsdemarins @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @loki-laufeyson-1054 @theaudacitytowrite @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @vanilla-daydreaming @lou12346789 @kimanne723 @linaax @coldnique @lady-rose-moon @evelyn-kingsley @the-princess-of-loki @acefeather2002 @aagn360 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

Based on this song:

Be Right Now

Since that day Loki just sauntered into your life, seemingly out of nowhere, everything started to feel brighter somehow. Better. Lighter. He was positively lightening up your life. Turning it from a rather boring, barren grey, into a bright and shining yellow. While the lot of the other Avengers were somewhat pissed at 'babysitting' Thor's younger, mischievous, pain-in-the-ass brother, you were delighted. The chemistry between you and him was snap just there. Never before had you clicked with somebody so quick. It was friendship at first sight. You spent a lot of time together, just hanging out, reading and pranking Thor. Of course, you would go out with him as well, showing Loki some fascinating Midgardian things like shopping centres, cinemas and amusement parks. The god learned to trust you and to open up to you. You and him were the best buddies. A friendship, deeper than the earth's core. You were certain, that this friendship was going to last forever; for eternity...

"You did what?" Loki looked at you quite a bit incredulously, blinking. "You are going to take me where?" You grinned like a Cheshire cat, clapping your hands excitedly. "To Lapland! Well... to Finland. Rovaniemi, to be precisely." Loki was still blinking. His birthday was coming up and you decided to surprise your best friend with a nice holiday. He took you to Oslo, Norway before, so you decided to take him to Finland. "A-Alright and, um, when are we leaving?" You smiled at how overwhelmed he was, taking a quick look at your watch. "Our flight goes in precisely 12 hours, so... Hurry up and pack your things!"

The moment you and his feet landed on Finnish ground, a bright smirk graced the God's lips. "Y/N... We barely left the airport and I am already enchanted by this beautiful city... Where's our hotel?" You shook your head, smiling and lacing your fingers through his. "We are not going to stay at a hotel... I got something better for us. C'mon." Without hesitation, you dragged him to the next taxi stand. The taxi drove you and him through the city, which was almost a sightseeing tour for the both of you. It was great and the snow just made everything even better.

The taxi driver drove the two of you out of the city of Rovaniemi and came to an halt on the outskirts, close to a forest. "There we are. We have to walk the rest of the way." "Walk?" "Yep. Let's go! It's getting cold!" You knew of course exactly, where you had to go; having planned this surprising trip after all.

About fifteen minutes on foot later, you reached some kind of glade, on which quite a few 'hills' stuck out of the snow... Loki's eyes widened. "Are those...?" You grinned, nodding. "Igloos, yep." "By the norns... This is... breathtakingly astonishing." You led him to one of the igloo's, knowing that it would be yours and his home for the next two weeks. "Let's go inside, shall we?" Loki nodded, visibly excited. "Yes, please." You entered the igloo together and looked around in awe. The igloo consisted of two parts. The first part was some kind of little hut with a wooden table, benches and a bathroom, of course. The second part was a round 'room', which was the bedroom. The special thing about the bedroom was, that the ceiling was a glass dome. "Wow..." Loki breathed out, stunned. "This is absolutely beautiful. Thank you for taking me to such a wonderful place." "Well... Happy Birthday, Mischief."

You spent the rest of the day packing out your stuff and getting something to eat. In the evening, when it was already dark and the stars twinkled on the Finnish night sky, alongside polar lights, you and Loki were back in the igloo. Both, you and him had seen polar lights before, in Norway, but they never failed to amaze you. It was beautiful. Soft music was echoing through the small igloo, as you and Loki laid on your separate beds, staring up in the sky through the glass, watching the beauty of nature. Suddenly, Loki jumped up from the bed, soon to be looming over you. "What?" You asked with a giggle. He stretched out his hand towards you. "May I have this dance?" You giggled again, "Seriously?" getting up, "I am dead certain. " and taking his hand. So, you both danced clumsily, freely and without a worry in the world around the igloo, laughing.

At the end of the song, Loki lifted you up and spun you around, causing you to yelp and giggle even more. You felt like flying in this moment. So light-hearted and free. Loki let you down again, but kept you in his arms, close to him. His blue eyes were literally shining, just like the smile on his face. "You're perfect..." He blurted out, a little out of breath. "You're perfect, so we're perfect together, born to be forever, dancing through life." "We are, Lokes, we are..." Just in that magic moment, both, you and Loki knew, that the bond you shared was perhaps more than just a deep friendship. Perhaps, you could call it love.

[virtchandmoir]

Ice dancers Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir to enter Canada's Sports Hall of Fame

September 7, 2023

OTTAWA — Decorated ice dance duo Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir and mixed martial arts star Georges St-Pierre were among the 2023 inductees named to Canada's Sports Hall of Fame on Thursday.

Randy Ferbey's curling team, wheelchair basketball player Danielle Peers and softball player Phyllis Bomberry will also be inducted as athletes, with judo coach Hiroshi Nakamura and lacrosse pioneer Oren Lyons joining them as builders.

This year's inductees were announced at the Canadian Museum of History in Gatineau, Que., where the Hall's artifact collection is now housed.

At their induction ceremony Oct. 19, the class of 2023 will join over 700 people named to the Hall since it was established in 1955.

Since 2019, inductees have received the Order of Sport from the Hall for their role in building Canada through sport.

Ice dancers Virtue of London, Ont., and Moir of Ilderton, Ont., won two Olympic gold medals and one silver as well as three world titles during their career.

Virtue called hearing about the induction a "surreal" moment.

"It's so exciting and moving and overwhelming. You know, now that we're a few years post retirement, you don't think of the accolades coming in the same way," she said. "So to to be recognized for our accomplishments in sport and to have the benefit of having a little bit of perspective on our career is so delightful. It's just an incredible honour."

Moir has transitioned to coaching, while Virtue works for Deloitte as an executive adviser.

The duo pushed boundaries of their sport with innovative choreography and skated with emotional depth in dazzling performances.

"Sport in general, as you well know, is in a difficult time right now," said Virtue.

"And especially the Olympic movement, we've seen a lot of shifts, a lot of changes. It's easier to get disillusioned by sort of the politics of it all, but when we can hone in on all of the exceptional things that sport offers, especially these next generations, I think that's really empowering and inspiring to me."

—Yahoo

[lanaevyssmoved]

Do you have any other bg3 ocs other than afhiri? If yes then is it okay to tell us about them ? If no then why (again if its okay to talk about this) ?

hihihi yes i do!!!!!!!!!! i've been asked a question like this before and i haven't improved with talking about them since so i clearly haven't learnt a thing in that time but since things have changed since then i will update :D

my character page currently only hosts bg3 ocs, and you can find it here! i've only really worked on afhiri's page however so it's basically just basic information.. however i've also hit this point where i feel like i probably can't actually play bg3 as anyone but afhiri? it would feel.. wrong. so.. bare that in mind

last time i did this i included pictures but i won't this time because one of my main ocs literally can't have a picture unless i.. worked with an artist to finalise it's design. and i don't see that happening and that oc is too important to feel like the loser no picture in a sea of pictures LKSDJFDSFDSF

uhhh undercut so i'm not too annoying !!!!!!!!! warning i wrote A LOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so afhiri wasn't my first playthrough! in fact the oc of my first playthrough is on my blog!!! all the way back on release! however this was back when i wasn't reeallyyyy that talkative on tumblr so there's only a tiny bit.

that oc is default name tav, because my nonbinary ass fucking loves that name ngl. tav is a half wood-elf strong body oath of the ancients paladin. they use they/he pronouns and are transmasc. his background is folk hero and he is lawful good, and is the typical hero paladin - all about justice and honour and order. tav pushed gale away from the crown as hard as possible and is quite a domineering force to reckon with. my favourite part of tav is how they do not fit the oath of the ancients at all - let's look at oath of the ancients closely for a moment.

The Oath of the Ancients is as old as the race of elves and the rituals of the druids. Sometimes called fey knights, green knights, or horned knights, paladins who swear this oath cast their lot with the side of the light in the cosmic struggle against darkness because they love the beautiful and life-giving things of the world, not necessarily because they believe in principles of honor, courage, and justice. They adorn their armor and clothing with images of growing things-leaves, antlers, or flowers-to reflect their commitment to preserving life and light in the world. Kindle the Light. Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair. Shelter the Light. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren. Preserve Your Own Light. Delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world. Be the Light. Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.

tav isn't about mercy, kindness or forgiveness. tab truly believes in the principles of honour, courage and justice. tav isn't singing and dancing and laughing, enjoying the arts. but that doesn't matter. tav finds toril to be beautiful, worth preserving and worth protecting. worth dying for. tav has a spiritual moment with the myconids that had them on their knees in tears at how overwhelming the underdark is and the beauty of the life there - never seen before by his eyes. while tav doesn't fit what the ancients oath is - tav believes in it wholeheartedly, adorning themselves in rich greens the best they can to represent their oath. the hypocricy of tav is the charm point - he would be much better suited for many of the other oaths. but that would be surface level devotion. tav is alive to protect this world, that's all that matters. due to the conflicts in tav, he breaks his oath 6 times - and reclaims it each time. he is doing his best. ^_^

tav is very close with halsin and jaheira, and has a headbutting romantic relationship with gale. he likes minsc, wyll and karlach. lae'zel and he have a relationship based on sparring and mutual respect in skill of combat. he's neutral with shadowheart and antagonistic to astarion - who is killed in act 1. minthara is also dead. tav struggles with the emperor because they can't decide if they believe illithids to be abhorrent to the world, or another beautiful thing they don't understand - but ultimately sides with orpheus.

tav also exists in au form in afhiri's universe as an npc!

~~~

my next protagonist is asura. asura is my evil playthrough! who i've promised myself i will do eventually. eventually..... asura is not the dark urge and is just a tav. my idea of asura was to create a character full of hubris and hunger for power. my tadpole eating half-illithid turned illithid. she uses she/her exclusively, except after transformation to illithid she also uses it/its. asura is a coffelock (sorcerer aberrant mind + warlock great old one). her background is noble and is evil aligned - i'm not sure exactly where currently.. most likely neutral evil, shifting to lawful evil later on. this is the 'gale take the crown' and 'ascend astarion' and 'sharran shadowheart' etc character.

i currently have her set to romance minthara, i really like the idea of doing the 'thrall army invade menzoberranzan' ending with them both, where they take over the underdark and rule it together, with hunger for more always simmering.

asura is not a good person, but isn't like a murder hobbo. she thinks she is better than everyone, that she is the most deserving of power, but also enjoys the corruption of others and treats people as playthings to be used, enjoyed, thrown away. turning the other companions more evil aligned and fucking with their morals is pleasurable for her. she enjoys making people squirm and kneel.

her relationship with minthara is tricky because asura would never submit, but in time they both find each other to be equal and worthy of respect. does not mean it's at all healthy and there's not some fuckery going on. minthara is slow dosing poison to asura while asura is casting spells on her like she's a guinea pig without consent. toxic gfs!

asura isn't close with anyone but minthara, but is on 'good' terms with sharran shadowheart and lae'zel. she is antagonist with gale and astarion. wyll, karlach, halsin, jaheira and minsc are dead. asura is the lover of the emperor, and sides with him, but i would be remiss to call them true allies. you can also assume pretty much everyone killable is dead here.. or tormented in some way. some people are left alive for the fun of ruining their lives or twisting them into something worse.

~~~

and now we have my durge! my durge has been more heavily featured on my blog because i tried to play her - until her save bugged out and durge exclusive cutscenes wouldn't play and would just skip? so i quit :D

my durge is rue. named intentionally as rue is in the word durge, rue this day, etc etc. rue is also later known as rue the impaler, lovingly. rue uses she/her exclusively. she is a half drow, and her starter class is sorcerer. as her story progresses, she specs into barbarian. both wild magic! her alignment is true neutral, and consistently shifts in multiple directions, highlighting the conflict within her.

when i made rue she was entirely based on those fucked up kitten memes. where it's just like, a kitten. and the text is MURDER MAIM VIOLENCE etc for no reason... yeah. think of rue as a kitten with spiked out fur looking all disheveled. when designing her looks i thought about those like emo girls who wear massively oversized jumpers and ripped up tights and thick fucking boots and they are super tiny.

rue is primarily a resist urge, but that isn't always the case. she has enough moral compasses surrounding her to keep her mostly on a better track, with intent to preserve her soul and secure herself a good afterlife, instead of whatever she assumes will come of her if she follows what her father desires. rue firmly believes she will live a short life and with the help of those around her, tries her hardest.

i have been having thoughts of shoving rue into afhiri's canon instead of having her as her own protagonist - but i'm not sold on that yet.

rue isn't particularly close with anyone except her love interest, wyll. she is on good to decent terms with karlach, gale, shadowheart, halsin, jaheira and minsc, all of them playing their part in assisting rue when she needs it - moral compass and redemption wise. she is neutral with lae'zel. astarion and minthara are both dead. she is antagonist with the emperor, siding with orpheus.

~~~

all ocs from here on are NOT protagonists!

since i started with tav on the protagonists, i'll start with.. tav here! but not the same tav! and they have the same name with intent! bare with me.

tav is tav's twin sibling. the actual given named tav is my paladin, their twin sibling, tav, simply took their name.. with intent to fuck with them. i have never given tav an actual name because it's not important - it's dead as far as they are concerned. just two tav's, man. to keep it easy, when referring to my protagonist paladin tav i'll just say paladin tav.

tav is a half-wood elf (obviously) college of whispers bard and inquisitive rogue multiclass. they exclusively use they/them pronouns. their alignment is neutrally aligned, shifting between true neutral and chaotic neutral.

tav is both a member of the zhentarim and the guild - playing both sides, loyal to neither. constantly risking their own neck, finding pleasure in the danger of it, the collection of information and gold, always lying and staying two steps ahead. tav has both a romantic relationship with rugan and nine-fingers, the former for petty information as they works the zhent ladder, and the later proof of conquest as they've already climbed the ladder and made their way to the top - granting them some protection when people whisper of their duel allegiance. if push came to shove, they'd leave it all and go to another part of toril and start again.

you can see how a character like this can do damage to paladin tav's reputation, the name being referred to as a thief and a snake who works in the black markets and threatening innocent folks. this is why his twin stole his name - not only is it funny to ruin their siblings reputation, but it also means that sometimes the name can be referred to as the noble deeds of a paladin, using it to their advantage.

tav is both a part of paladin tavs universe and afhiri's!

~~~

i'll talk about druthaea next, or rather just dru. dru was originally a protagonist whos story didn't work in context of the games endings so much so that i'd have to rewrite much of the game to make it work that i just.. gave up, because i wasn't passionate enough to go through that effort and make sure it makes sense.

dru's original story was going to be a story of pushing the powerful of the story to surpass their opressors or gods. gale becomes the new god of magic, shadowheart surpasses shar and takes her place as the god of loss, lae'zel rules the githyanki people, ascendant astarion, etc. however you can see how much work i would have to put in to make some of that work right.. yeah. okay. moving on to what she is now LOL

dru is a high elf who truly, with her entire soul, believes she is an eladrin, as in noble (fey) eladrin. she uses she/her pronouns. she is a wild magic sorcerer - blessed to her when she stumbled upon the fey realm one time, the source of her delusions.

dru lives the life one would akin to a crazy wizard, locked within her tower pouring over tomes and messing with deadly experiments, however she doesn't spec into wizard - she isn't stable enough to actually study and improve with learnt magic - she just.. fucks around and finds out.

she does unfortunately suffer quite a great deal in her disillusionment, having dreams or rather nightmares that reveal her truth - that she is just a common eladrin, a high elf, and not greater. dru exists, for me, as a trans allegory heavy on dysphoria, as well as suffering from hallucinations and other less pleasant things that would require a trigger warning on this post. she is quite dear to me for these reasons.

while existing in afhiri's universe now, she and afhiri never meet - she is just a piece of that world.

~~~

next is candor, who is very well developed and has been developing alongside afhiri for some time now.

candor is a solar, a type of angel. highest in rank, most powerful of all the angels. in 5e lore, there are only a few solar at a time, i believe currently there are 24 known. zariel was a solar before she fell. candor is exiled before the events of the game, though the choice was his own. having been in service of lathander for millennia, the events of one moment in history led him to seek exile - to find himself and his purpose.

candor has been heavily intertwined with existing realms lore for my own purposes, so if you're really into the realms lore you might not like what i do with candor? or whatever so. many stop here cuz you probs won't like the oc after either LOL

for gameplay reasons (candor is a hireling in game for afhiri), he is a cleric of lathander, light subclass, and a redemption paladin (devotion in game). in actual canon, candor doesn't have a class, and is just a 'monster', large celestial. he uses he/it pronouns, and is lawful good.

the lore that candor ties into is the lore of the blood of lathander, which is his weapon. it was candor who acted as the avatar of lathander and and smote the fallen chosen of mystra, sammaster. it was his blood that was spilled, and his mace that was left in the care of the priests. during the course of the story, candor is reunited with his mace.

on toril, during its exile, candor takes the form of a tiefling - having seen a small tiefling child playing, taking the form to approach her and introduce himself to the world of toril, pretending to be an average person there, not an angel of high regard. he keeps watch of this tiefling child, noting something different about them, and finding a need within himself to protect and guide her, giving himself purpose during his self imposed exile from the upper planes. this tiefling child is blessed with wild magic by the time he meets them - and uses his power to stop that wild magic from causing any harm or damage to themselves or those around them from a distance.

when this tiefling child is a child no more, setting out on their own to adventure, candor approaches again with a proper introduction - having studied the people of baldur's gate and surrounding land, calling himself candor, having chose the name for himself as a virtue name akin to that of other tiefling it has met, hoping the tiefling understood it's meaning.. but they didn't, much to candors dismay.

if you haven't already guessed, the child no more is afhiri! candor acts as a full companion over the course of the game, and is the only reason afhiri is able to survive her wild magic (while not understanding it's coming from her and not realising how dangerous it can be) and survive the wilds and her adventures for the year she travels before the events of the game. much of candors early development came from "wait a minute how the fuck is afhiri alive" because uh.. the clown wouldn't be. she just wouldn't!

over the course of the game, candor has an interesting dynamic with gale, who candor distrusts inherently due to his position of a wizard, ex-chosen of mystra, and ex-lover of mystra. at the end of the game, candor feels content with his work on toril, and returns to the upper planes, agreeing to work in service of lathander again, his mace in hand. during my 3 years later fic, when afhiri is unfortunately killed, it is candor who greets her soul in limbo, and begins escorting her to lathander, who candor has worked hard with to make him accept afhiri despite her lack of faith in.. well anything, but is ripped from candor when gale resurrects her. that doesn't do much for their sour relationship lol.

candor and afhiri have a romantic relationship, but it isn't anything you would expect. candor is as close to a god as afhiri gets to personally experience - solar are incredible beings, powerful enough to choose if they even serve a god, completely capable of acting of their own free will... but at no point does afhiri really understand that. not even when candor reveals his status at the monestary, or shows his true form before leaving at the end of the game.. or when candor is literally escorting afhiri to her afterlife. so from afhiri's point of view, candor is a hot tiefling with a thing about authority and order and justice but, yknow its hot. so. but to candor, afhiri is his charge, self appointed, and its purpose on toril has become mentoring her, keeping watch of her, caring for her. candor is an angel who falls for the being its supposed to be impartially guiding to faith, and keep alive.. because she needs help with that. it isn't a health dynamic (like i am won't to do with my afhiri teehees) but it isn't toxic, it's just imbalanced... on one side.. because afhiri isn't aware it's imbalanced.. again i remind it isn't because it's kept from her - it's because she's thick as shit. sorry afhiri.

since candor is a companion for afhiri - i'll share some of his interpersonal relationships. obviously he is antagonistic with gale, but the pair came to a mutual agreement to at least try not to hate each other in front of afhiri, who obviously doesn't enjoy them fighting (except for the fact it's kinda hot. sigh). candor mostly stays to themselves, but has had pleasant conversations with lae'zel, halsin and jaheira, and surprisingly thought-provoking ones with minsc. candor is antagonistic to astarion and shadowheart (for the most part) and friendly with wyll and karlach. candor does not approve of the emperor, or afhiri's growing infatuation with it.

if you ever want an oc to talk about to get me going crazy that isn't afhiri............. your best best is candor.

~~~

lastly we have cirok, also part of afhiri's universe, and becomes a major player in her story in my 3 years later fic.

cirok is a rivener, which is an unearthed arcana homebrew race. riveners are kaortis, or rather the failed or incomplete transformation of person to kaorti. for those unaware, kaorti are made similarly to that for a mindflayer, consider a rivener to be conceptionally similar to a half-illithid in bg3, which is half an incomplete transformation. cirok uses it/they/he pronouns.

its class is phantom rogue, the description is important for you to understand cirok as a character.

Many rogues walk a fine line between life and death, risking their own lives and taking the lives of others. While adventuring on that line, some rogues discover a mystical connection to death itself. These rogues take knowledge from the dead and become immersed in negative energy, eventually becoming like ghosts. Thieves' guilds value them as highly effective information gatherers and spies. Many shadar-kai of the Shadowfell are masters of these macabre techniques, and some are willing to teach this path. In places like Thay in the Forgotten Realms and Karrnath in Eberron, where many necromancers practice their craft, a Phantom can become a wizard's confidant and right hand. In temples of gods of death, the Phantom might work as an agent to track down those who try to cheat death and to recover knowledge that might otherwise be lost to the grave. How did you discover this grim power? Did you sleep in a graveyard and awaken to your new abilities? Or did you cultivate them in a temple or thieves' guild dedicated to a deity of death?

cirok, over the course of my story, acts as gale's right hand. going out and gathering information, finding lost and hidden things, whatever is required of it. they are gale's shadow.

gale uses his magic to keep ciroks condition under check, placing mental barriers in its mind to help retain its humanity and sense of self, keeping a place for them to maintain their resin without interruption or risk, occassionally assisting in the task.

the relationship between cirok and gale is strained and difficult, they fight and argue, they make love with teeth and claws, acting as an outlet of frustration for one another in many ways. but cirok is loyal, doing everything asked of them with no complains.

however afhiri is often there to sweeten the deal, despite not actually needing to - she just enjoys it. the pair never fight, though cirok does find afhiri to be quite exhausting to be around, occassionally reaching points of irritation and annoyance, though rarely expressed due to it understanding afhiri isn't seeking to bring those feelings out, but the exact opposite.

afhiri generally doesn't mediate the fights between gale and cirok, instead choosing instead to stay out of it. they don't understand half of what they're talking about - what causes the bickering. you're likely to see afhiri sitting on gale's desk kicking her legs while the two reach boiling point. the only time afhiri would speak up is if things turned violent, or are about to by reading their body language. afhiri is an expert at talking to people, after all - if anyone is going to stop these two killing each other, it's her.

without cirok, gale's plans of immortality, and eventual godhood with afhiri wouldn't make much progress, potentially it wouldn't find any success without it.

much of cirok is still under works and it requires more development! but i am super interested in cirok as a character, and the ot3 dynamic of afhiri/cirok/gale!!!

~~~

ok that's it. i stop here. LSDKFJ SI HOPE THIS IS DETAILED ENOUGH FOR U ANON!!!!!! I DID MY BEST