#i MUST be surrounded by whimsy!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vampireinprada · 18 days ago

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kildare kisses ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: the week of Kildare Kisses is a busy one, disallowing Rafe the chance to ask you a question. he still finds a way to get his message across.

inspired by the ‘Boo Grams’ we had in high school, which was just a couple of years ago for me 🙃

wc: 2.3k

Kildare County High School was dressed so beautifully in Valentine’s Day decorations.

Heart garlands strung on the walls, tissue paper flower bouquets, assorted in red and pink, lying in between sets of lockers, and the gigantic ‘SPREAD L︎♡︎VE’ banner dangled in the entrance of the school, serving as a purposeful reminder to love one another daily.

It was the season of Kildare Kisses, a time where students could purchase loving packages of personalized notes, chocolates, and teddy bears to their cherished friends and partners and see their smiles light up in full expressions on Valentine’s Day.

It was all so fun! Nothing filled the heart more than the deliverance of a Kildare Kiss, and you couldn’t be more excited to ignite the smiles of love on your fellow students’ faces.

Tuesday

The junior board meeting had been ongoing for the past thirty minutes, vibrant discussions of everything surrounding the Kildare Kisses from its assembly to the deliveries in homeroom classes.

At the front of the room, board president and vice president, Pope Heyward and Cleo Anderson, provided answers to some questions other members may have had.

“Are we taking any more volunteers for order sign-ups this week?”

“Um no, that will be all me,” Pope answered.

“And what about assembly time? What time should we come in?”

Cleo took this question, sharing that assembly would start during lunch period and continue during fifth period. “All that are allowed to come, please don’t hesitate to sign up.”

The meeting had proven to be successful in informing the members the order of operations for Friday’s affairs.

“What an excellent meeting, everyone!” Pope exclaimed. “Don’t forget to sign up for assembly and delivery volunteers on your way out. If you can make it to either, don’t be afraid to take a slot.”

You gathered your backpack and signed up for a delivery slot, noticing names like Sarah Cameron and Kiara Carerra above yours. Having your friends around for homeroom delivery is going to be a stellar experience. You could barely even wait for Friday!

You sauntered out of the biology room and into the hallway, ready to pursue your familiar route to fifth period English when you heard a voice calling out to you.

“Ayo, sunshine!” Rafe called out to you from the hallway.

You swiftly stopped in your tracks and spun around on your heels. “Hi, Rafe,” you responded, flashing him one of your biggest smiles.

“How ya doing?“

“I’m doing well.”

“It’s very rare that I get to see you around here,” he smirked, playfully bumping his shoulder into yours. You giggled and rolled your eyes. “It happens when you don't have many, or any, classes together,” you drawled.

”How unfortunate is that? Anyways…” Rafe began to turn around towards you, stopping you both in your tracks. His expression shifted from whimsy to something much more serious. “I got a question to ask you. I was wondering if…“

“Yo, Rafe!” Topper called out to Rafe from the doorway of the classroom. This wasn’t something Rafe needed right now, the disruption beginning to irritate him. “What up, Top?”

“Bradley’s tryna ask out this girl, and he’s failing miserably at it. You gotta come check this out, bro!” He guffawed, doubling over in laughter at the failure unraveling before his eyes.

Rafe wasn’t having this at all. “Can it wait a minute?“

”Nah, man. You gotta come now.”

Rafe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He must choose his friends wisely, if they’re gonna interfere with him and his Sunshine. ”I’ll be there in a second. I’m so sorry, Sunshine.”

“No worries. You can ask me later,” you swooshed your hand at him, showing him that it was truly nothing to worry about. You continued to beam up at him.

“Yeah,” He grumbled before stumbling over to Topper. You were sure that you would get to know his question eventually. He was known to always get his way one way or another.

Wednesday

You were filing away all unneeded textbooks in your locker to make space for your physics textbook and math notes in your bag. You didn’t like making too many trips to your locker, so you always got what you needed and came back for the rest after lunch.

You could see Rafe walking towards you in your mini mirror, and your smile widened as long as a football field. “Hey, sunshine,” he greeted you, his smile rivaling yours as his body leaned up against the locker to the right of you.

“Oh, to what do I owe the pleasure?” you playfully remarked, reapplying your shimmery lip gloss before closing your locker to give him your undivided attention.

”Nothin’ at all.” Rafe straightened up his posture a bit and moved forward, nearly closing the gap the locker created between you two. “My mornin’ isn’t right without talkin’ to you.”

Flabbergasted at his comment, you blushed. Rafe chuckled in response, head down briefly before lifting it up again to look at you, moving even further towards you. For some strange reason, Rafe always knows what to say to make you stammer in shambles.

“Wha-why are you here? You don't even have classes on this side,” you acknowledged, voice dripped in confusion at his choice of a lengthy trip.

“What? It’s illegal to walk a girl to class now?”

“It might be.”

“Yea, let’s just keep on walkin’ and see who arrests me,” Rafe teased, fully walking in tandem with you to your Physics class.

—— ₊˚ෆ ——

Your quick journey truly admassed time. Having an accompanying companion that isn’t one of your best friends was an unusual addition to your story, but you weren’t complaining.

He made it amazing with his jokes, making you bunch over in laughter a thousand times over, and his thorough teasing made you blush a color only an inferno could produce.

If only your schedules weren’t so misaligned, you could have moments like this every morning. A complete way to start your day. As you parked at the entryway of the Physics room, you felt a pang of sadness. It was already over, yet it felt like it just started.

“This is your stop, sunshine,”

“I know,” you mumbled in a downcast tone. Did he really have to leave?

Rafe moved closer to you, placing a careful hand on your shoulder as the other cupped your cheek. “Hey,“ he said, lifting your face back up to meet his gaze. “What’s going on? I can’t leave my sunshine unhappy.” His little pout was so precious and caring, you couldn’t help but to pout as well.

I’m in love with you, but I don’t know how to tell you. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing,” you opted for instead. Pouring out your current descent into loving Rafe Cameron was not something to be spread out before you even entered first period.

“Okay,” he responded, not completely convinced but enough to let you attend class for today. “So about that question I tried to ask you…” The bell rang through the building, interrupting his questioning once again.

“I’m sorry. I gotta go,” you uttered to the desperate boy in front of you as you finally went inside the classroom. You truly felt bad for Rafe. All he wanted was to ask you his question, and he could never seem to do that. Your gears began to turn as you asked yourself: will you ever find out his question?

Thursday

Rafe stalked over towards the red and pink table located near the exit door of the cafeteria. He knew he had to make his move before it was too late. He couldn’t seem to ever find the appropriate time to ask you his question, but he wasn’t going to give up now. It was now or never.

Pope thanked the customer in front of him for their purchase, noting their form and transaction on the pink sheet on his clipboard. Rafe was up next, his long strides determined and stable, as he moved up to the table.

“You always do things on the last day, Cameron?” Pope inquired, looking up at the boy in the hoodie.

Rafe grinned, slightly tilting his head to his left and shrugging his broad shoulders. “Only when I need to send a message,” he remarked.

“Right.” Pope grabbed a medium sheet of paper and a pen, sliding it in Rafe's direction. “Here’s your form. Select which type of Kiss, the recipient, their homeroom, and write your message to them.”

Rafe took the form and pen in his possession. The initial questions were easy, simple even. The most expensive Kiss with the teddy bear, candy bar, and note. He was gifting it to you, and he knows your homeroom since Kelce was also in that same homeroom.

His only issue was fitting his message to you into one rectangular box. It just wasn’t going to work well for him. This fucking box isn’t enough space, Rafe grumbled to himself, smacking the table in frustration.

“You know, if you can’t fit your message in one box, then maybe you should tell the girl yourself,” he advised, hoping to soothe the man’s troubles just a little bit.

“I’ve been trying,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. This has been a long week of trying to ask someone just one question. An important question.

Opting to just dive into it with you later, he wrote down a simple message in the rectangular space. It doesn’t make much sense at the moment, but it will in due time. Once he was done, he slid the paper back to Pope.

“Heyward?”

“Cameron?”

“Don’t tell her anything, alright?” Rafe promptly ordered. He had to keep this whole thing underwraps. He was so close to getting you that he couldn’t lose you this far in the game.

Pope stood up and extended his hand out to Rafe, affirming to him, “Your secret is safe with me.”

Friday

You couldn't be more excited, you thought to yourself as you speedwalked your way to the biology room. It was time for homeroom deliveries, and being grouped with Kiara and Sarah meant that fun was sure to ensue.

“Hey, you!” Kiara exclaimed as she saw you walk through the door. You squealed and dropped your backpack, heading towards her and Sarah for a hug.

“We got our first box of Kisses. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me check in.”

—— ₊˚ෆ ——

This afternoon’s delivery couldn’t have been more perfect. You, Sarah, and Kie traveled up and down the hallways into rooms, putting Kisses of various sizes into the hands of unexpecting students. The joy was prominent and the love showed itself to be ever vibrant throughout each homeroom. It was phenomenal!

Once you finished your batches of deliveries, you returned back to the biology room. Cleo was having a conversation at the teacher’s desk about a TV show moment that made them laugh terribly last night. She turned her head to acknowledge your entry and said, “Your Kisses are on the desks where your backpacks are.”

Sarah squealed at her package from John B, gushing at the beauty of the entire thing. Kie was thoroughly reading her note from JJ over and over, her smile growing with every reread.

What you weren’t expecting was a Kiss at the desk in front of you. And who could this be from? you wondered, carefully analyzing the unassuming red teddy bear, chocolate bar, and adjacent note.

The mystery was intriguing, and interesting, as you tried to run through all the people that could have sent this to you. It wasn’t many, which led you right back to your initial question: who?

The bell was close to ringing, only 3 minutes remaining until students flooded out of their classrooms with Kisses of their owns, possibly carrying bouts of excitement and anticipation for the evening and weekend activities.

Choosing not to waste anymore time wondering, you opened the notecard and began to read the message.

I’ve never known how bright life could be until you came into mine, Sunshine. Imagine how much brighter it would be if you were mine. Rafe.

You gasped in shock at such a message, happy tears brimming in your eyes. Who knew Rafe Cameron could be so sweet? Who knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him?

The bell rang through the room, alerting the masses of the end of the day and beginning of a loving weekend. You grabbed up the elements of your Kiss, shoving them into your backpack, and walked out of the biology class, holding onto the notecard tightly.

“Hey, sunshine,” Rafe greeted you with that atrociously beautiful smile of his. His greeting was abruptly cut off by your hug, squeezing the boy as if you would never let him go. Your warmth seeped into his vessel calmly, and he wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner. Rafe fully allowed himself to absorb the present moment, just enjoying being there with you.

You pulled away from the hug to look up at him, the tears that once brimmed your eyes were promptly falling. “You wanna be with me?” You asked. His message was written so sweetly, but you wanted to hear it directly from the source.

Rafe cradled your cheek, wiping his coarse thumb across your cheek to swipe away the sliding tears. “Of course I do, baby. How did you not notice?”

You shook your head at him. “I would’ve thought I was going crazy to believe something like that,” you chortled, wrapping your arms around his neck, note still in hand.

Rafe took notice of your possession of the note. “You know I had trouble finding what to put in that?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I had so much to say to you, but there wasn’t enough space in that damn thing.”

“Mind filling me in on all you wanted to say?”

this was so rushed…

happy val day 💕

#⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ vampireinprada’s body (of works) ☽｡⋆#rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction

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manchesternh · 23 days ago

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Mosaic Art Collective is a name I'd heard before I stumbled upon a call for the "Illusions" show, a show focused on blacklight-sensitive and psychedelic art which opened February 8th 2025 in the Hanover Street artspace. I've never been to one of their events but Mosaic shares the space with "See Saw Gallery," a spot where I participated in a group show last year, so I knew what to expect when stepping off the elevator. Still, my expectations were exceeded. Shows I've seen so far in Manchester haven't reached, in my opinion, the potential we hold for an active and imaginative art scene--usually the works featured are small, grouped together without much apparent concern for their interplay, and made of materials available to middle schoolers. As grateful as I am for shows that allow for that kind of work, my hopes were that "Illusions" would exceed those limits, that something would take my breath away. Overall I was not disappointed.

Coming down the hall and stepping into the dark, blue-violet rectangular rooms, you might get caught on the first few pieces in the entryway. These are geometric, sometimes abstract, and have low blacklight reactivity, though they are visible enough. Though I am drawn to abstract work, I am a postmodernist at heart, which is why I found "What if I Made a Self Portrait in Minecraft?" very funny. It is a piece that demonstrates the sort of rote mechanical grind of pixel art, painting squares, and playing Minecraft, all at once, and a portrait to boot. Is this how we chose to see ourselves? In our component colors, our most simplified pieces?

What draws the eye, after one crosses through the hall, is Marisa Egerstrom's "Flores: interstellar mycellium." This is a (roughly) six foot tall sculpture of a sort of luminescent alien flower. The petals are tessellated glass, giving them a sort of scaly look. The stem and stamen house a series of light-up bulbs which slowly blink at different rates, some changing color. It's the kind of piece I would absolutely put in my house, a collaboration of beauty and danger and whimsy which demands that we ask: what if a house plant was going clubbing?

At this point I must admit that my usual method of noting the names and titles of artworks--that is, taking a photo with my phone--was ineffective due to the lighting state of the space. I didn't notice until afterward. This is unfortunate, because I can't name the artist of the piece which is still bouncing hardest around my mind--a sort of stop sign with a styrofoam emerging from it. The face is split in two, with a duct tape mouth and a pensive expression. It makes me think of a person in two minds, and also someone being silenced. I suspect the zine hanging on the wall to the right of the piece explains it a little more, but I was too shy to pull a little paper booklet off the wall and examine it--and the light wasn't ideal for it. Still, I found myself in the position that the best art puts me in, where I am contemplating a message and meaning rather than simply admiring imagery.

Another piece that invites deeper introspection is "Mabel," a statue of a horse painted with checkered print. It's larger than a cat and surrounded by framed 4x6 photos of itself, and various other figures, in different settings, expressing the tendency of Mabel to travel. The statue marks the room's left far corner, and begins a segment of the room dedicated mostly to images of animals and creatures. For instance, "Don't Separate The Party or We're Getting the Band Back Together" is a tiny little pen drawing of creatures--an alien, a deer, a cat, and a skull--in the woods. Their eyes all luminance with a dab of neon paint, a striking effect. The frame is wood, echoing the forest setting of the image. I was impressed with the consideration given to presentation and the vaguely referential title--is this an adventuring party, like in a game? Am I an enemy combatant, to be on the receiving end of such a stare?

Amidst the creatures and woodland artifacts is a stand out piece, Marcia Wood Mertinooke's "Dream of Creme," a temptation for fans of miniatures that depicts the Cremeland drive in signage. Neon thread is used to create the neon sign effect, and it absolutely glows in the blacklight as intended. This might be an opportune time to mention that some pieces, like this one, really utilized the lighting well, while others failed to employ it or were failed by it. Fluorescent paintings or yarn pieces glowed impressively, but other works sunk into the shadows or paled in natural light from the window. I don't think this was a failure on the gallery's part as it's a small space and only so much direct black light can go around. One effect, however, was that I overlooked a few pieces until I set my phone camera on them, and then they came alive on the bright screen where before they'd been unimpressive.

Lofi music is playing at just the right volume in the space on the night of the opening. There's a crowd a half hour after doors, at least twenty people clustering around the small room or in the smaller adjacent nooks. It's a nice turnout but doesn't impede the art-gawking, unless you're impatient or can't follow the flow of traffic. Additionally I didn't feel overwhelmed by the number of works or their density. There was enough there to keep my interest and make it feel worth coming out but not too much.

Mosaic is in their third year of doing shows on Hanover street, according to Liz, the curator of "Illusions." Their next big show is centered on the concept of motion and kinetics. Illusions is on display until February 26th at 66 Hanover #201, Manchester NH, during calling hours.

Edit: a reader helpfully attributed the "stop sign" piece to Brenda Noiseux. See replies to this post for their contact information.

#art #artists on tumblr #news #review #new hampshire

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thepaperpanda · 2 years ago

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The hot springs || Douma x fem!reader x Akaza

Summary: You suggested a hot spring visit to ease the tension between Akaza and Douma 😈

Warnings: none, but the reader is one of the Upper Moons

Word count: 4,5k

Authors: Cass & Rouge

As one of the Upper Moons, you were esteemed among your fellow demons and counted Douma and Akaza as close acquaintances. Over the centuries, you had forged a relationship with both of them that was both complex and, at times, tiring.

Douma, with his impeccable taste and artistic flair, had always been a fascinating figure to you. He was cunning and manipulative, but also prone to bouts of whimsy and erratic behavior. Despite his charm and wit, you could not help but feel a sense of irritation at times, especially when he became overly self-indulgent or cruel to those around him.

Akaza, on the other hand, was a force of nature. His raw power and determination were awe-inspiring, and you had often marveled at his ferocity in battle. However, his uncompromising attitude and stubborn nature could also be grating, and you found yourself growing increasingly weary of his constant need for challenge and conflict.

You loathed witnessing the incessant conflicts that would ensue between Akaza and Douma, often without any clear objective or motive. The clashes were nothing more than an exercise in brutality and bloodshed, fueled by an insatiable appetite for violence that seemed to consume both demons. The ferocity of their battles was matched only by the callousness of their words, as they hurled insults and taunts at each other with the same merciless vigor as their physical assaults. Each encounter was a brutal display of power and dominance, leaving you with a sense of unease and discomfort that lingered long after the dust had settled. It seemed that their mutual animosity had no end, and no purpose beyond the perpetuation of their own pride and arrogance.

As you pondered over the problem at hand, you began to develop an idea on how to reconcile the two opposing sides. With your advanced critical thinking skills and innovative approach to problem-solving, you meticulously crafted a plan that would bridge the gap between Douma and Akaza.

The idea was a risky one, as it would involve keeping each demon unaware of the other's presence, but you felt that the potential benefits outweighed the potential drawbacks.

You spent weeks meticulously planning the excursion, choosing the perfect location and ensuring that everything was in order. You sent separate invitations to each demon, making sure to provide detailed instructions on how to reach the hot springs without crossing paths with the other.

Finally, the night of the event arrived.

Akaza was the first one to arrive at the hot springs. He held a great liking towards you, a young demon who had proven to be loyal and disciplined, traits which he deeply admired.

Although the hot springs were unconventional, Akaza was not about to decline the offer. In fact, he was surprised that you had found such a secluded location, away from humans and in the heart of nature.

As he approached you, Akaza offered a warm greeting and willingly followed your lead. However, he couldn't help but express his suspicions about the sudden invitation. "I must say, you inviting me here so abruptly... it does raise some suspicion," he remarked.

"Well, I guess I just thought it would be nice to catch up."

As you walked towards the hot springs, you couldn't help but feel a little proud of yourself. It wasn't every day that you managed to outsmart a demon like Akaza.

The warm, mineral-rich waters were known for their healing properties, and the opportunity to soak in their embrace was a rare treat. The sound of the rushing water and the lush greenery surrounding the place filled you with a sense of calm and tranquility.

"You could have just said so, and I would have come to see you earlier," he summed up. Akaza let out a contented sigh as he settled into the hot spring after taking his buggy pants off. It was the perfect place to unwind and relax. As he leaned back, he couldn't help but think that you had chosen an excellent spot. He felt grateful to have such a loyal and devoted companion like you.

You pulled off your shirt, feeling the fabric slide off your skin, revealing your naked chest. Then, you unbuttoned your pants, and let them drop to the ground.

Despite your initial hesitation, you couldn't resist the call of the water, and soon you found yourself joining Akaza. The sensation of the water surrounding you was almost overwhelming, the weightlessness and the gentle currents carrying you along on their own journey. "Akaza?" You swam to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His arm gently wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him. He hummed softly and opened his eyes to gaze at you intently. "What is it?”

"We won't be alone, handsome. I invited one more person."

Akaza's expression immediately soured. "Who else did you invite?"

"Akaza-dono! Y/N!" Douma's exuberant voice echoed across the hot springs, causing Akaza to stiffen. Of all the beings Akaza could have gone without seeing, Douma was at the top of his list. All he wanted was to spend some peaceful time with you, without any interruptions.

"Aww... did I arrive too late? I hope I didn't miss out on anything exciting," Douma grinned as he undressed and joined the two of you in the water. "Only Y/N could have come up with such a delightful plan!"

"Good evening, Douma-sama!" You greeted him, letting go of Akaza and swimming to the other demon to place a kiss to his jaw. "I was afraid you won't come."

"How could I refuse you, my dear?" Douma chuckled, nuzzling your cheek before planting a soft kiss on it. "Besides, it has been ages since I last soaked in a hot spring!"

"Guys, I brought the two of you here for a reason," you said, your eyes locking onto theirs. "I'm tired of your constant fighting and bickering. It's time to put an end to this feud. That's all I ask. I don't expect you to become best friends overnight, but I do expect you to try to get along."

Akaza let out an audible scoff, clearly not amused by the suggestion. He had no intention of following through with such a foolish idea.

"Feud?" Douma questioned, his head tilted to the side. "Don't be silly, Y/N. There's no feud between us. Where on earth did you get that idea from?"

You leaned forward, your voice gentle but firm. "I understand that, but you can't let those disagreements fester. You need to sit down and have an honest conversation about what's been bothering you. And most importantly, you need to listen to each other."

"I don't care about his reasons for being bothered. I came here to spend time with you and relax. Alone," Akaza grumbled.

Douma rested his chin on your shoulder and let out a sigh of his own. "I truly don't see what the issue is, my dear. I have no ill feelings towards Akaza-dono. We simply enjoy teasing each other, nothing more."

You slipped your sharp nails into Douma's hair, scratching his scalp lazily while giving a glance to Akaza. "Come here, handsome," you asked him, making the best doe-eyes.

Douma's smile widened as he leaned into your hand, closing his rainbow-coloured eyes, enjoying the affection. Akaza couldn't deny the comfort of having you close, even if it meant being near Douma. He let out a deep sigh and moved closer to you after cutting the distance, his arm wrapping around your waist from behind.

"Can you at least consider my words, Akaza?" You asked, leaning into his strong hand on your waist.

"Please don't expect me to perform miracles," Akaza shook his head, trying to focus on your scent instead looking at Douma who was way too close to you, as for Akaza’s liking.

Douma let out a contented sound, his smile still intact. "See? We don't fight all the time, as you put it, darling."

"Excuse me, Douma," you began, your voice carefully measured. "I can't help but be reminded of Akaza when I saw the way he carried you with the strong blow aimed at your jaw during the last meeting we all attended.”

Douma maintained his grin, directing it towards you. "Oh, dear Y/N, don't be so dramatic. It's merely a harmless horseplay. Do I appear to be bothered by it?"

"Excuse me, but I have to say something. I understand that you two may not consider your behavior harmful, but I do. And I think it's time you changed the way you speak and act towards each other. And I won't let you go until you both apologize to each other and shake your hands," you folded your arms over your chest, tilting your head to the side. "And I have plenty of time."

"You're being dramatic, Y/N," Akaza said with an eye roll. "I won't even touch him."

Douma let out a soft whine in response. "Ah, what a shame, Akaza-dono! I was looking forward to some fun," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I suppose we have more time to relax now."

"Boys!" You whined sadly. "Please? For me?"

Douma pouted and wrapped his arms tightly around you. "But I'm a good boy, I didn't do anything wrong," he protested.

Akaza shook his head and swam away, clearly annoyed by Douma's antics.

Meanwhile, the rainbow-eyed demon sighed and made himself comfortable, pulling you onto his lap. "Don't worry about him. He's just being moody," he said reassuringly.

"Akaza-dono!" You moaned after the other demon and rolled your eyes, rubbing your temples. "Honey, wait here a little, I need to speak with him," you kissed Douma's jaw and swam to Akaza.

Ignoring you until you sat on his lap, Akaza eventually relented and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer against his toned chest.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?"

Akaza didn't bother to look at you as he muttered, "Yes, you brought him here. I don't understand why you would want to be involved with him in any way, but I allow it nevertheless. Just you need to know that I have absolutely no plans to get near this bastard any more than necessary."

You studied Akaza's face carefully, taking in the tension in his features as he spoke of his concerns. His words were measured, but the worry in his voice was palpable. "Are you worried about leaving me by Douma's side?" You asked gently, your eyes never leaving his face. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you knew would be a difficult conversation. "I appreciate your concern, Akaza. But I need you to understand that all I want is for the two of you to get on good terms. I'm tired of the constant fighting and tension between you. And truly, it affects not only me but other Upper Moons as well."

Akaza expressed his disapproval with a sigh. "I have no intention of being on good terms with that annoying, woman-eating creature," he said. "Douma is a poor excuse for a demon, and don't try to manipulate my emotions. It only affects you, not anyone else. I'm perfectly fine with keeping my distance from him."

"For me? Pretty please?" You rested your forehead against the crook of his neck..

With a deep sigh, Akaza rolled his eyes and asked, "What do I get out of it, little one?"

You blinked; you didn't expect him to have any conditions or stuff like that. "What would you like to get?" You asked, playfully tugging on his hair.

"Well, I’m asking you about that. Since you try to force me into interacting with him," Akaza pointed at Douma who just smiled and waved at the two of you. "I am getting lonely here, Y/N-chan!” He sang, showing his perfect fangs in a wide grin.

Before you managed, you laughed involuntarily and waved back at Douma. "Well. Isn't my love enough?" You kissed Akaza’s cheek, slowly moving your hands down his nape, scratching where you knew he liked the most.

Akaza shrugged and kissed your cheek, "Sorry, but your love alone isn't enough to make me want to get closer to him."

You cupped his face in your palms and kissed him as deeply as you could, slipping your tongue past his lips. "Come on, Akaza, be a good boy. I know you are. And it would make me happy."

Akaza acquiesced with a low growl and nodded, releasing a deep sigh. "Very well. Let it be as you wish."

You let a happy squeak, tugging on his hair. "You're the best, you know?"

He pushed your hand away from his hair in annoyance. "If you stop pulling on my hair, I'll consider your pleas. So what exactly do you want me to do with him?"

"I like when you're growing angry," you told him, grasping his hand. "Since you agreed, you two will interact like the good boys you are. And you'll apologize to him, and he'll apologize to you. Come, handsome."

Akaza followed you while squeezing your hand.

Douma, who was sitting in the water looking visibly bored, immediately perked up and started beaming with happiness upon seeing the two of you approaching. "Oh Y/N, Akaza-dono! Finally! I was afraid you both forgot about me!"

"And tell me, how could I have forgotten about my charming lord?" You asked, tapping his shoulder, and giving a significant glance to Akaza.

Instead of giving in to his urge to punch Douma, Akaza took control of his emotions and forced a smile. He apologized for his previous behavior and said, "I'm sorry for being so mean to you, and for punching you, so many times."

"Please don't feel the need to apologize, Akaza-dono," Douma smirked, stretching his arms. "However, since you have, I accept your apology!"

Akaza found it difficult to control his anger and resist the urge to punch Douma's face, with that ugly smirk glued to the other demon's lips.

After their heated confrontation, it was a relief to see that Akaza was willing to swallow his pride and apologize. You knew that it wouldn't be an easy thing for him to do, but you also knew that it was the right thing.

Akaza's deliberate words caught your attention as you observed Douma's facial expressions closely. You noticed a sense of astonishment followed by a guarded sense of acceptance.

"Douma," you said softly, fixing him with a pointed look. "It's time for you, darling."

Douma blinked in surprise as he looked at you. Apologize? He, the nice one, had to say sorry? Nevertheless, he moved closer to the pink-haired demon and wrapped his arms around Akaza tightly, his voice filled with happiness as he said, glaring up at Upper Moon Three, "I'm sorry for ever annoying you! I never meant to do so. You’re my best friend in the end."

Akaza froze in place as Douma wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. His muscles tensed up as he fought the urge to lash out and attack the cult leader.

You smiled, seeing them interacting. You settled into the hot spring, the warm water enveloping your body and easing the tension in your muscles. You closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh. "I'm proud of both of you, and I want us to enjoy this moment together. Now come on, join me in the water. It's so relaxing, you won't regret it."

Finally, Akaza managed to extricate himself from Douma's embrace and made his way to your side, putting some distance between himself and the other demon.

Douma simply shrugged and casually took a seat on your other side.

You let out a contented sigh as you sank into the warm water of the hot springs, feeling the tension in your muscles start to melt away. But what made this moment truly special was the company of two of your closest friends, who had taken their places on either side of you. "It's like we're in our own little world up here."

You let your head fall back and close your eyes, letting the warm water wash over you. It was moments like these that made all the stresses and worries of daily life fade away.

Douma let out a deep sigh and silently concurred with you. He then linked his arm with yours and rested his head on your shoulder.

Meanwhile, Akaza reached for your hand underwater and grasped it tightly.

You started stroking Douma's head, and could feel the softness of his hair and the coolness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You also felt Akaza's fingers interlock with yours as you continued to stroke Douma's head.

The three of you sat there in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the soft rustle of Douma's hair as you continued to stroke it.

"Yeah, yeah, that was lovely, but how about some one-on-one cuddles now?" Akaza suggested, gently lifting you onto his lap and away from Douma's embrace.

Douma looked at him incredulously. "Hey, that's not fair!"

You were caught off guard as Akaza suddenly pulled you onto his lap. Your body stiffened as you felt the weight of his muscular arms around you. "Baby," you whimpered, your voice betraying your shock as you offered him a glance.

As he held you, you couldn't help but notice the feel of his powerful arms around you, and the warmth of his breath fanning your neck. You rested your forehead against his in the end.

Douma's arms were folded over his chest, his eyes narrowed as he glared at Akaza. "That's not fair. I want a turn too," he protested.

"Douma, darling..." You whispered, trying to smile at the silver-haired demon.

"What? We were supposed to share," Douma argued loudly, attempting to take you all to himself, pulling on your waist he grasped tightly on.

"Douma!" You whimpered after being pulled on the silver-haired demon's lap. "Akaza! Can you stop arguing, guys?!"

"Who are you to say that? You would probably just take her to your cult and imprison her," Akaza growled, forcefully pulling you back onto his lap.

"You're just jealous," Douma retorted, scowling at Akaza. "I wouldn't do that to her. She's free to make her own choices. And I know you're jealous of weaklings worshiping me."

Akaza tightened his grip around you protectively. "I don't trust you. You have a history of manipulating others for your own gain."

Douma rolled his eyes. "Oh please, don't act like you're any better. We're all demons here, remember?"

You shifted uncomfortably between them, feeling like a piece of property being fought over. "Guys, can't we just enjoy the moment and not argue?" You suggested weakly.

Douma let out a dark chuckle, his eyes glinting with malice as he gazed at Akaza. "I would love nothing more than to see you with your hands all over her though," he taunted, a twisted smirk spreading across his lips.

Akaza's grip on you tightened as he glared at Douma. "You're disgusting. Keep your twisted fantasies to yourself."

You blinked again and cleared your throat, trying to get their attention. "Boys! Stop it, like right now! I'm still here, if you didn't notice?!"

Douma's arms wrapped tightly around you, ensuring that Akaza wouldn't try to take you away again as he pulled you onto his lap. "We both know that, love, it's hard to ignore," he said with a sweet smile, causing Akaza to cringe in annoyance.

"So quit it! Right now!" You tried to wiggle yourself out of Douma's embrace.

He released you with reluctance, his hand giving your head a gentle pat before dropping back to his side.

You slowly rose from Douma's lap, not bothering to cover your nudity with your hands. You could feel both of their eyes on you, tracing every curve and contour of your body with an intensity that made your skin flush with heat.

Furthermore, you felt a surge of anger rise in your chest, and you clenched your fists at your sides. "How dare you," you seethed, your voice low and menacing. "I am not some plaything for you to ogle at! Show some respect!"

The memories of their objectifying behavior haunted you, and before long, the brush slowed to a stop as tears began to trickle down your cheeks. As the tears continued to flow, you decided to get out of the water.

When you were fully dressed, you simply left further in the woods.

They both observed you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. It was a rare occurrence for you to display such emotion.

As you stormed off, Akaza became concerned, but Douma simply let out a sigh and sank deeper into the water. "Women can be so dramatic, don't you think?"

Suddenly, Douma felt a sharp tug on his silver hair, pulling him underwater before being released a moment later. As he coughed out the water, Douma grinned and urged Akaza to do it harder next time.”Akaza-dono! I know you can go rougher next time!”

Akaza rolled his eyes and declared, "We're going to find her." He let go of Douma, got out of water, and began to dress himself.

Douma sighed but followed suit, carefully arranging his hair before getting dressed. "Alright, let's go find the drama queen before the sun rises," Douma said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You sat under the shade of a large tree. The air was cool and crisp, the kind that carries the scent of autumn leaves and earth. You had found your favorite spot in the forest, a place of refuge from the demands of the world.

Sitting on your lap was a small Japanese macaque, its soft fur warm and comforting against your skin. The monkey seemed to sense your sadness and curled up closer, as if offering a soothing embrace. You stroked its fur absentmindedly, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The two male demons walked back in silence, the tension still thick in the air.

As they approached you, you turned around and gave them a cold stare. "What do you want?" You asked, your voice laced with bitterness.

Akaza took a step forward, concern etched on his face. "We want to talk to you. Please, come back with us."

Douma stepped up beside Akaza. "We're sorry for what we said earlier. We didn't mean to upset you."

"Just go away," you snapped at them, not even bothering yourself with looking at them.

The demon with rainbow eyes rolled his fan and used it to shoo away the animal from your lap. "Don't be childish, Y/N. Your sudden departure made us worry," he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Your eyes fixated on the retreating figure of the monkey as it darted through the forest.

Normally, Akaza and Douma's presence would have caught your attention, but this time you chose to ignore them, pretending as if they weren't even there.

"Oh, don't push us away like that. It's hurtful," Douma remarked, taking a seat next to you. Akaza soon followed, sitting comfortably by your other side.

"You both had already given me a headache," you hissed, not looking at any of them. You shook your head, feeling the weight of their rivalry bearing down on you. "I don't like this, guys. It's not fair to me, and it's putting a strain on our relationships. I don't want to be the cause of this tension between you anymore. That's why I decided I won't talk to any of you ever again. I'm done with your bullshit."

"What if we promise to stop fighting?" Akaza asked, gently taking your hand. "For real this time."

"I appreciate your words, Akaza," you said, your tone neutral. "But forgive me if I don't fully believe in your promise to stay out of trouble with Douma."

"After giving it some more thought, he's right, my dear," Douma added, mimicking Akaza's action by taking your hand. "The last thing I want to do is distress the one I love."

"You both already did," your tone was nothing but a whisper carried by a cold, night wind.

"That's why we came after you, Y/N. We didn't follow you for no reason," Douma explained.

"We're sorry for arguing and making you uncomfortable," Akaza added, his hand still holding yours.

"Do you forgive us?" Douma asked, looking at you with a hopeful expression.

You sat sandwiched between Douma and Akaza, your mind racing as you tried to process everything that had happened between the three of you. There had been a time when you trusted them implicitly, when you would have followed them anywhere. But that trust had been shattered when they had betrayed it by arguing all the time, leaving you to fend for yourself.

After a long moment of silence, you spoke, "I'm willing to trust you both again."

Both demons exchanged smiles before turning their attention back to you.

Douma leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek before trailing down to your neck. "My dear Y/N, we're so glad to hear that. We promise to make it up to you," he whispered.

Akaza hummed in agreement, nuzzling his face into your shoulder and placing a few more gentle kisses. "We'll do our best to be better, for you."

"And you really won't be fighting with each other?"

Douma chuckled. "Well, I'll behave, or at least I’ll try to."

Akaza smiled softly, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. "As will I. And we will work on our differences for your sake."

"I am the happiest demon when you both behave. I have certain feelings for both of you, and I can't imagine losing any of you,” you explained.

They both started to place sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Now that we're all on the same page…" Douma purred. "How about we go back to your cozy little lair and..."

"... continue our little celebration," Akaza finished for him, his hand caressing the curve of your waist.

As your partners leaned in to place soft, feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, you couldn't help but blink in surprise. It was a small, unexpected gesture, but it sent shivers down your spine nonetheless. You purred quietly, relishing in the sensations that their touch evoked. It was a rare moment of pure intimacy, and you were grateful for every second of it. But as they continued to kiss your neck, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Not for their touch, of course, but for the easy way they seemed to communicate with each other. "You two are so in sync," you murmured, your voice soft and wistful. "It's lovely how you can finish each other's sentences. I already love it. Maybe let's not waste time anymore. I'm in heat.”

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earthlybeam · 4 days ago

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The idea is off @sophiadatomato inspired by this post Here 🤣❤️‍🔥🫶✨

Yes, his glorious forehead—smooth, unblemished, a masterpiece of elven perfection—had haunted our thoughts for far too long. 😉🤌To gaze upon it is a privilege, but to taste it? A divine, forbidden indulgence. 🫶👅

Elrond version below.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

Rivendell was steeped in its usual tranquility, the air filled only with the soft rustle of parchment and the faint, rhythmic scratching of quills against scrolls. The halls, bathed in the gentle glow of candlelight, seemed untouched by time, a sanctuary of knowledge and quiet contemplation.

Elrond’s study, however, was another matter entirely. His desk, a broad expanse of polished wood, was barely visible beneath the precarious towers of books, their spines worn with age, their pages brimming with wisdom. Loose sheets of parchment lay scattered like fallen leaves, some curling at the edges as if whispering secrets to one another. Despite the apparent chaos, Elrond moved through it all with practiced ease.

He retrieved tomes from high shelves with fluid precision, his long fingers tracing over the spines as he selected each volume with a scholar’s instinct. The rustling of pages accompanied his measured steps, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. Though his expression remained composed, there was an unmistakable gravity to the set of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows betraying the weight of whatever matter occupied his mind.

And yet, none of it held your attention. Not the books, nor the intricate patterns of Elrond’s robes, nor even the ancient knowledge that surrounded you like an unseen current. No, your mind was ensnared by something else entirely—something far more ridiculous, far more unshakable.

Elrond’s forehead. It was unfair, really. So regal, so smooth, framed by the elegant braids of his dark hair, its high, noble curve catching the candlelight just so, casting the faintest glow over his sharp features. It was the kind of forehead that belonged in paintings, immortalized in delicate brushstrokes, revered in poetry—impossibly dignified, impossibly perfect. And you wanted to lick it.

The thought had been haunting you for some time now. At first, it had seemed absurd, a fleeting whimsy that you had dismissed with a shake of your head. But like a stubborn ember refusing to be extinguished, the impulse had persisted, lingering in the back of your mind, growing stronger with each passing day. It was maddening, an itch that refused to be ignored. Today, you had decided. Now or never. You took a steadying breath, forcing composure into your voice. “My lord Elrond.”

He did not look up immediately, merely hummed in acknowledgment as he slid a book back onto the shelf with careful deliberation. “I need to tell you something.” That, at least, made him pause. Slowly, he turned to face you, a single dark brow arching slightly in quiet curiosity. “Oh?” You took a step forward, closing the space between you. “But you must lean down,” you insisted, your voice hushed as though what you had to say was of dire importance. Elrond hesitated, his keen eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he considered you. Then, with his usual patience, he inclined his head, granting you audience.

Not enough. “Closer,” you murmured. His other brow joined the first, lifted in silent inquiry, but after a beat, he relented. Ever the gracious lord, he bent further, his face now mere inches from yours, the sharp planes of his features softened in the dim candlelight. His piercing grey eyes studied you, searching for whatever secret weighed so heavily upon you.

Perfect. You moved swiftly. Before reason could betray you, before hesitation could creep in, you reached up and cradled his face in both hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. His breath hitched—just slightly, a flicker of surprise in his otherwise unshakable composure. But before he could react, before you could talk yourself out of it—

You leaned in and dragged your tongue, slow and deliberate, across the smooth expanse of his forehead. Time stopped. The taste was unexpected—subtle, yet distinct. A hint of something herbal, perhaps from the elven oils he used, mingled with the scent of parchment and ink. It was the taste of wisdom, patience, and just the faintest trace of disbelief.

Elrond did not move. He remained utterly still, as though by sheer force of will he could undo what had just transpired. His posture remained impeccable, his expression schooled into neutrality—yet there was something almost imperceptible in the set of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, as though his body itself refused to believe what his mind already knew.

You pulled back slowly, studying him with a measured gaze. He blinked once. Then again. His lips parted slightly, though no words came forth, as if his formidable intellect—honed over millennia of wisdom, diplomacy, and battle—was struggling to assemble the events of the past few seconds into something that made even a modicum of sense. There was silence. A long, unbearable silence.

At last, Elrond straightened with slow, deliberate grace. Every movement was precise, controlled, the fluid elegance of someone who refused to let even a single flicker of uncomposed reaction betray him. And yet—his fingers twitched at his side, barely perceptible, as though resisting the inexplicable urge to touch his own forehead. To confirm that what he suspected had, in fact, actually occurred.

Surely not. Surely he had imagined it. A hallucination brought on by fatigue, perhaps. A trick of the mind. And yet—the unmistakable sensation lingered. Warm. Unnervingly deliberate. An act of sheer audacity against all reason, against all understanding of decorum. Why? Why had you done this? At last, he exhaled slowly through his nose, the breath carefully measured, his composure an unshaken pillar of elven dignity. But you saw it.

That flicker. That near-invisible moment of raw, unguarded bewilderment in his otherwise unreadable expression. A crack in the marble. “That,” he said finally, his voice smooth as ever, deliberate, steady, as though speaking too quickly might shatter whatever fragile logic remained in the wake of this absurdity, “was an unexpected course of action.”

You nodded, solemn as though your reasoning was entirely self-evident. “Your forehead looked very lickable.” Elrond’s eyes closed. Briefly. Perhaps in contemplation. Perhaps in the desperate attempt to summon patience. Perhaps in prayer to whatever forces in Arda could grant him the strength to process this moment and move past it with dignity intact.

“…I see.” He should reprimand you. He knew this. He should speak of decorum, of elven grace, of the reverence and dignity of his station. Perhaps a speech on boundaries, respect, the sanctity of personal space. A lecture so well-structured, so wise, that it would make even the most foolish reconsider their choices. And yet… he did not. Because this was not the strangest thing he had endured.

It was merely another absurdity to add to the long, weary list of trials he had faced over centuries. Battles, betrayals, the fall of kingdoms, the endless tide of mortal foolishness. And now—this. A new, deeply perplexing addition to his ever-growing catalog of experiences. A quiet, resigned sigh escaped him, one that spoke not of anger, nor true indignation, but the weary acceptance of one who had long ago ceased to be surprised by the whims of others.

Elrond exhaled once more, slow and measured, his gaze shifting slightly as if searching the far corners of his mind for some long-forgotten wisdom to make sense of this moment. None arrived. At last, he spoke again, his voice carrying the same composed cadence, though now laced with something unreadable—something that might have been reluctant amusement, or perhaps just profound resignation.

“I confess,” he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly, “that in all my years, through all my studies, and in all the vast and boundless histories of Elves and Men alike… I have never encountered the notion of one’s forehead being so—” He hesitated, as if the very words defied logic. “—lickable.”

His gaze returned to yours, piercing and unreadable, his expression once more schooled into careful neutrality. But there it was, that almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, the ghost of a reaction that never fully surfaced. “I must wonder,” he continued, his tone contemplative now, as though genuinely entertaining the absurdity, “was this impulse sudden? Or have you been harboring such… inclinations for some time?”

His fingers lifted, finally, in what seemed to be unconscious motion, hovering near his temple before he caught himself and let his hand drop back to his side. But it was too late—you saw the moment of hesitation, the unspoken awareness of the sensation you had left behind. You met his gaze without shame. “Some time.”

Elrond inhaled deeply, then let it out in a slow, deliberate sigh, his eyes closing briefly before reopening with the steady patience of a being who had lived too long to be surprised, yet somehow still was. “I see,” he said again, though this time there was the faintest shift in his tone. Something wry. Something… dangerous. And then, after a pause— “Should I be concerned for the rest of my face?”

You smiled—slow, teasing. “Oh no, my lord. I’m after you, Peredhel. Not just your face, but all of you.” The words hung in the air, playful and absurd, yet carrying a weight neither of you immediately acknowledged. Elrond’s brow lifted—marginally, but enough to be noticeable. He was rarely caught off guard, and yet here you were, managing it twice in mere minutes. His fingers twitched again, but this time, they clasped neatly behind his back, his ever-disciplined stance unshaken.

For a long, excruciating moment, he said nothing. The candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across the elegant planes of his face, the smooth, now thoroughly desecrated forehead, the high cheekbones that were no doubt next on your list of potential transgressions. Then, with maddening patience, he spoke. “I must wonder,” he said, his voice deceptively smooth, “if you say this merely to test my restraint, or if I should begin drafting a formal response to such an… ambitious declaration.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “Who’s to say?” Elrond exhaled through his nose, the slow, measured kind that one might mistake for patience, but you knew better. It was the sigh of a man who had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, faced the wrath of Sauron himself, and yet was now forced to contend with this.

At last, he nodded, as if settling something within himself. “Very well,” he said, his tone perfectly even. “In that case… I shall remain vigilant.” And with that, he turned gracefully, retrieving a book from the nearest pile as though this conversation had been nothing more than an unfortunate distraction. But you didn’t miss it. The way his lips pressed together just a little too tightly. The way his shoulders tensed for the briefest moment before schooling themselves back into perfect composure.

Nor did you miss the way, just as he flipped the page, his free hand lifted—seemingly without thinking—to brush across his forehead. As if confirming, one last time, that yes, you had truly done that. Without another word, he turned back to his desk, reclaiming his place among his books, his scrolls, his maps. The scratching of his quill resumed, steady, unbroken—an island of reason in a sea of nonsense.

#Elrond #Elrond x you #Elrond x reader #elrond of rivendell #elrond half elven #lord elrond x reader #lord elrond #elrond peredhel #elrond peredhel x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr elves

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weirdmarioenemies · 8 months ago

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Name: Dr. Freezegood

Debut: Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island

Dr. Freezegood is a snowman on skis, and is very cute! It would be a very generic snowman (which is still a lovely and cute thing to be) without the skis. And I think there's a reason you don't usually see snowmen on skis... their poor snow private parts grinding against the ground! This is why snowmen ride SNOWBOARDS!

But Dr. Freezegood doesn't care! It says "As a doctor, I am smarter than most snowmen, and I know that snowmen do not have genitals in the first place. If I do lose any of my snow body mass while skiing, it can be easily replaced, and being made of snow, I cannot feel pain." Oh! Yeah, it was weird of me to mention snow private parts, wasn't it? "Yes, it kind of was." Thank you for your honesty. But if you know all this about how your body works, do you know how you are alive in the first place? How you have eyes? "Yes! Magic and whimsy." Oh! Of course! I was a fool.

Dr Freezegood does not ONLY ski. It's not like some meddlesome old woman who does nothing but ski. Indeed, it is not a Ski Biddy. Anyway, you cannot ski without taking the Ski Lift, of course. It waits politely and excitedly for its turn to have winter fun! Going down a slope at high speeds is fun no matter how you do it, usually, assuming you are not, for example, in the basket of a shopping cart careening toward a busy street. But that's not something humans do! That's something a loaf of bread or a carrot or a store-cooked rotisserie chicken does.

There is sadly no standard official art of Dr. Freezegood, but there are a few drawn on an official Yoshi's Island jigsaw puzzle! Those things are so weirdly common! Choose a random Yoshi's Island enemy, and there is a good chance its gallery will include an appearance on a jigsaw puzzle. It's nice, really! I like jigsaw puzzles. One day I will be immortalized on one surrounded by funny critters... oh yeah, these Freezegoods have interesting colors! Instead of a red bucket and a green scarf, one has both red, and one has both green! Like Those Two Guys... it also appears that rather than skis, these ones are on toboggans. I think those are better for a snowman!

Dr. Feelgood is such a Yoshi's Island localization name. You just KNOW that's some kind of musical reference. And it is! It's the alias of a blues musician, the name of a pub band, the name of an album, and more! What a potent reference that is. With a name like that, Dr. Freezegood must be really good at freezing Yoshi! Well when it touches Yoshi he just bounces off a bit. Bye

#dr. freezegood #dr freezegood #yoshis island #super mario world 2: yoshi's island #yoshi #yoshi enemies #mario #mario enemies #mod chikako

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ethereacals · 7 months ago

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hi i saw that you were taking requests and idk if this is a good one or too boring (never done this before) but you could always write smth kinda similar to where the reader is james sister and have her be remus or sirius's sister, with sirius you get all that black family drama.

have a nice day and love your writing!!

hi dear! sorry it took me so long to respond i was on vacation! i went with remus but with like a whimsy/luna lovegood esk reader!!

You and Me, Always Forever <3

synopsis; People have always seen and perceived you as a bit odd, a bit whimsy. and you were alright with that. but when your “friends” comment about you behind your back, you go to Remus and Sirius.

pairings: lupin!reader x bigbrother!remus, (platonic obviously ew 🤮), wolfstar

content: reader gets bullied lightly by her friends, remus is the best, sirius is like your older brother because he’s dating remus

“She’s just— so odd.” Lucy— your ravenclaw friend stated.

“Lucy, don’t say that. she’s just different.” Gracie scolded softly.

“She’s not wrong, Grace.” Taylor looked up from her nails.

“it’s just a bit weird how she goes around practically spewing nonsense out of her mouth, i’m surprised Remus doesn’t get tired of it.”

“I sure would if i were him, imagine having your sister being a complete loony!” Taylor ridiculed.

“Oh, Sirius! your Aura is oddly red today!” Lucy mocked, causing Gracie and Taylor to giggle along with her.

what they didn’t know was that you had heard all of that, and it wasn’t very funny to you.

but you had a feeling your aura was a bit blue.

you felt hot tears welling up into your eyes as you ran off from your hiding spot near the library.

why would they say those things? were they right? were you a loony? was remus tired of you?

you didn’t really know, but all you did know was that you needed to find Sirius.

before whispering the password into the portrait hole, you stepped carefully into the Gryffindor common room.

taking in your surroundings, you spotted Sirius. manspread across the couch as he perked up when he saw you.

“little star—!… are you alright?” his excitement faded once he saw your tear stained face, you never cried.

“n-no.” you answered truthfully, the nargles hated when people lied.

“what’s the matter, sunshine?”

he opened his arms just for you to fall into his chest, sobbing lightly as he stroked your scalp.

Sirius had always been like a big brother to you, always so sweet and kind ever since he started dating Remus.

it also helped that you were one of Regulus’ best friends, so you already felt a little connection with him.

“can you tell me what’s wrong, little star?” he lifted your head up gently by holding your cheek.

“m-my friends… s-said i was a loony.. and that Remus is tired of me a-and that i’m odd.” you struggled over your words, as he quietly shushed you.

“those aren’t your friends, sunshine. real friends wouldn’t say that to you.”

you knew deep down he was right, but it still hurt.

“and Remus could never be tired of you, nor could i, or Reggie, or.. Junior.” he wasn’t very fond of you being friends with Barty, but he knew that boy would move the heavens for you.

“he must be annoyed a little..” you added.

just as Sirius was about to protest, Remus walked in with a stack of books.

“star?” he asked quietly, setting his books down on the coffee table in front of the couches.

“Sirius, what’s happened?”

“some of her mean old friends called her some mean names, and she thinks your annoyed with her.” Sirius answered bluntly, yet still kind considering you were right there.

“oh.. star, how could i ever be annoyed with you?” he brushed a small strand of hair from your face.

“c-cause i’m a loony.” you looked up at him shamefully.

“but that’s a good thing, star. it means your different, but different is good.” Remus smiled sweetly.

“i’m a bit of a loony too, but so is Siri, and James, and Pete.”

“y-you are?” you asked nasally.

“of course, sunshine.” Sirius smiled, and you were happy to spend the rest of the day just like that. nuzzled happily into your actual brother and your bonus brother.

#fem!reader #marauders era #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #fanfiction

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hometoursandotherstuff · 9 months ago

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What a great house for less than $400K. The 1898 home in Salisbury, MD has 4bds, 1.5ba, and is listed for $369,999.

The shingle style Victorian has the typical center hall with sitting rooms on either side, but it's widely spread out. I also see pocket doors.

Check out that fancy marble fireplace. I wonder if that brick surround is original, it doesn't seem like it would be.

In the room on the right, they made a dining room, but it's not a dining room. Someone redid the 2 fireplaces with brick. I think that I would paint it, so it didn't look so out of place.

It's not meant to be the dining room b/c it's not near the kitchen, and I suspect that they had those cabinets built.

Further down the hall is this huge room. It has 2 pianos!

What a lovely guest powder room. The embossed wallpaper and sink are gorgeous.

And, finally, we come to the kitchen. Yes, that front room is way too far from the kitchen.

Look at all the stuff. I would say that you can never go wrong with white cabinets when remodeling an older kitchen.

Off the kitchen there's a sun room. What if a buyer wanted to close in a month on this home? They wouldn't be able to pack all this stuff up in time.

There could be a table and chairs out here, b/c there's a serving window.

This is beautiful- a deck on the back of the ground floor. Love the trees.

Now, here we are on the 2nd floor.

Ah, a bit of whimsy- a skeleton in a rocking chair. It's a lovely bedroom.

Very large bedroom.

This must be the primary bedroom. All of the things! There are going to be a lot of holes in the walls.

Beautiful combination of new and vintage.

How do they keep that cage and the surrounding area clean? I had one half that size and couldn't keep up.

In the corner of this room there are lots of bookshelves, but they're not built-ins, so they may not convey.

The yard is very nice. It's interesting. There're nice porches and a deck. Is that a garage back there?

This is very nice. I love all the trees and greenery.

#victorian homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour #homes under $400K

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yoomiwrites · 3 months ago

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My boring love²

Summary: (Y/N), a reserved shop worker, catches Hawks' attention as he seeks distraction from his hero duties.

Note: Ah, maybe I should warn you, this story CAN contain spoilers. I finished mha and it will—mostly—take place before most of the heavy content of the manga. However, I want to inform you that it MIGHT spoil you in certain aspects (be it his missions, past, etc.) Oh and sorry that it's (Y/N) or Y/N – I get it mixed up sometimes and forget to correct it. Now I am too lazy, but I'll promise I do so later.

𓆩⚝𓆪

(Y/N) pulled her coat tighter around her as she stepped out of her apartment. The icy morning air bit at her cheeks, and she muttered under her breath about how late she was running. No time for breakfast—not that she had much in the fridge anyway. She locked the door and turned to leave, only to stop short when she saw the cat from the night before. It was sitting on the stoop, its orange fur ruffled by the wind. The animal stared at her, unblinking, as if waiting for something.

“You again?” she said, her voice flat.

It didn’t move, only flicked its tail lazily. She gave it a brief glance before walking past, her shoes clicking against the pavement.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered, her mind already on the day ahead.

The closer she got to her shop, the louder the noise became. A low murmur of voices, punctuated by sharp instructions over a megaphone. Her steps slowed as she approached and found a crowd gathered just outside Whimsy Wonders.

Police tape cordoned off the area, and uniformed officers moved purposefully through the scene. Y/N craned her neck, trying to see what was going on, but the press of bodies made it impossible to get a clear view.

“What happened?” she asked a passerby, but the person just shrugged and kept walking.

Frustrated, she tried to push through the crowd, murmuring polite apologies as she nudged her way forward. The voices around her blurred into an indistinct hum—snippets of speculation about a robbery or an arrest—but nothing concrete.

Suddenly, someone jostled her hard from the side, and she stumbled. Her hand shot out to steady herself, but the motion sent her glasses sliding off her nose.

“Damn it,” she hissed, dropping to her knees as the crowd continued to shift and push around her.

The ground was cold and rough beneath her fingers as she patted around, squinting against the blur of her surroundings. She heard more voices above her, sharp and urgent, but the words were muffled without her glasses.

“Move, please,” she called out, but her voice was lost in the din.

Her fingers brushed against something smooth, and she grasped it quickly. She sighed in relief as she slipped her glasses back on, blinking a few times to refocus.

Straightening up, she realized she was still far from the front of the crowd, and the police tape stood between her and her shop. Officers moved purposefully, escorting two handcuffed figures into a waiting patrol car.

“What on earth…” she murmured, taking a step back to assess the scene.

She didn’t recognize the people being arrested, but the sight left her uneasy. Something serious must have happened, and she had no idea how long it would be before she could get back to work—or if the shop had been affected.

The orange tabby from earlier padded into view, weaving between people’s legs with surprising ease. It stopped a few feet away, turning its head toward her as if it had followed her all this way.

Y/N stared at it for a moment, but before she could dwell on the cat, someone bumped into her again, nearly knocking her off balance.

“Guess I’ll have to wait this out,” she muttered, retreating to the edge of the crowd.

(Y/N) sat on the bench, the orange tabby sprawled across her lap, purring like it owned her. She absentmindedly scratched behind its ears, her eyes on the distant crowd outside her shop. The police tape, the officers milling about, and the occasional flash of a camera from onlookers made it clear that getting to work was out of the question for now.

Her thoughts wandered, a quiet hum of annoyance and worry in the back of her mind. Then, a familiar voice interrupted her.

“Not a bad look, you know. The cat suits you.”

She glanced up sharply, her eyes landing on a man standing a few feet away. He wasn’t exactly subtle. The tousled blond hair, sharp amber eyes, and the air of casual confidence immediately gave him away: Hawks, the Number Two Hero.

Her eyes flicked downward, and sure enough, his wings were gone—replaced by nothing but the slight ripple of his coat in the wind. She knew about his ability to detach and control his feathers, but it was strange to see him without the red plumage that usually made him so unmistakable.

“Morning,” he said, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

(Y/N) blinked at him, then looked back down at the cat. “Morning,” she replied, her tone neutral.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, motioning to the empty spot beside her.

She shrugged. “Go ahead.”

He dropped onto the bench with a comfortable ease, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked out toward the crowd. “So,” he began, tilting his head slightly, “what’s a cat person like you doing out here instead of in the shop?”

She shot him a flat look. “First of all, I’m not a cat person. Second, there’s kind of a scene outside the shop. Hard to work when the police are arresting people right at your front door.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. You’re handling it pretty well, though. Most people would be freaking out.”

“What’s there to freak out about?” she replied, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I can’t change anything, so I might as well wait until it’s over.”

“Practical,” he said, nodding. “I like that.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze drifting back to the crowd. Hawks, however, seemed content to sit in silence, his eyes scanning the scene with a practiced ease.

“You’re not exactly blending in,” she said after a moment, glancing sideways at him.

He smirked, leaning back against the bench. “Hm, no wings? Too subtle for you?”

“It’s a little weird,” she admitted. “But you’re not hiding who you are, so I guess it’s not my problem.”

“Why would I?” he said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “You’re not the type to make a fuss, are you?”

She frowned, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an observation. “Guess not.”

The cat shifted in her lap, stretching before curling up again. Hawks eyed it with mild amusement.

“You sure that’s not your cat?”

“For the last time, it’s not,” she said, a trace of exasperation in her voice.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, leaning back with a grin. “But hey, I’m not judging. If it makes you happy, why not?”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to leave, and his easy demeanor made it hard to pin down his intentions.

“So, are you just here to people-watch, or do you have some actual hero business?” she asked.

“Bit of both,” he replied easily. “Saw the commotion, thought I’d check it out. Turns out I found something more interesting.”

Her brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He waved her off, his grin widening. “Relax, it’s a compliment. Not every day you find someone who stays calm when life throws them a curveball.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she stayed quiet, her hand idly stroking the cat’s fur. Hawks didn’t push further, content to sit there, his presence strangely unintrusive despite who he was.

The police scene outside the shop finally started to wind down, the crowd thinning as the officers wrapped things up.

“Well,” Hawks said, standing and stretching, “looks like your shop’s about to be back in business. Guess I’ll leave you to it.”

She nodded, watching as he turned to leave, his coat billowing slightly in the breeze. He glanced back once, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“By the way,” he called over his shoulder, “I think the cat likes you.”

Before she could respond, he was gone, slipping into the flow of the city like he’d never been there at all.

The warmth of the shop greeted (Y/N) as she stepped inside, a sharp contrast to the icy morning outside. Her glasses fogged immediately, obscuring her view, and she sighed in mild frustration, pulling them off to clean them with the hem of her sweater.

Her stomach growled loudly as the scent of candles and wood polish filled the air, reminding her she’d skipped breakfast. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a slightly battered chocolate bar she’d stashed there weeks ago.

It wasn’t exactly good anymore, but food was food. Breaking off a piece, she popped it into her mouth and winced at the stale taste. “Could be worse,” she muttered, unwrapping another square and chewing thoughtfully.

The shop was quiet—no sign of the earlier chaos except for a faint buzz of conversation from passersby lingering near the storefront. She glanced out the window as she set her things down behind the counter.

The orange tabby was nowhere to be seen, though she wouldn’t have been surprised if it had decided to make itself comfortable on the doorstep.

“Probably found someone else to bother,” she muttered, tugging her apron over her head and tying it at the back.

With a quick glance around to ensure everything was in order, she flipped the sign on the door to OPEN and unlocked the door. Customers trickled in soon after—a middle-aged woman looking for candles, a teenager picking out birthday decorations, a businessman who browsed aimlessly before leaving without buying anything.

Her workday fell into its usual rhythm, and yet, a small nagging thought lingered in the back of her mind: Hawks.

She hadn’t expected to see him again, let alone two days in a row. The first time, she’d chalked up to a fluke—him wandering in out of curiosity, or maybe boredom. But this morning? That felt…different.

She shrugged to herself as she scanned a customer’s purchases. It wasn’t her business what heroes did in their spare time, even ones as high-profile as Hawks.

Still, it was strange.

“Thank you,” she said, handing a neatly wrapped bag to the customer. They left with a polite nod, the door jingling softly as it swung closed.

For a moment, the shop was empty, the quiet hum of the heater the only sound. She leaned against the counter, absently rubbing her temples.

“He’s probably just nosy,” she murmured, as if saying it aloud would make it true. The Number Two Hero had a reputation for being friendly, maybe even overly so. He was probably like that with everyone, and she’d just happened to cross his path twice.

Brushing the thought aside, she reached for the box of candles that needed restocking, focusing on her work instead of the confusing hero who had dropped into her life like a stray feather...

His pov., earlier.

Hawks slipped through the crowded streets with practiced ease, his hood low and his coat hiding the absence of his wings. His meeting with the League of Villains had gone about as expected—a tense dance of manipulation and careful words. He had left with his usual casual front intact, but the weight of the double agent role sat heavy on his shoulders.

He caught sight of the commotion outside the little knick-knack shop as he turned a corner. Police tape, curious onlookers, and the low hum of chatter reached his ears. His steps slowed.

What’s going on here? he thought, his sharp eyes scanning the scene.

His gaze drifted toward the shop. It was closed, the inside dark, and for a moment, an unfamiliar unease pricked at him. He’d become oddly accustomed to glancing out his office window and catching glimpses of her—the quiet shopkeeper who moved through her routine with a kind of calm simplicity he found oddly fascinating.

It wasn’t that he was worried about her, exactly. No, he told himself, it was more about his new…hobby. She’d become something of a distraction, a way to anchor himself when the demands of being a hero—and a spy—threatened to overwhelm him.

As his eyes swept the crowd, he spotted her, sitting on a bench a little way down the street. A orange tabby sprawled across her lap was an unexpected addition, and he felt a flicker of amusement at the sight.

“Guess she’s fine,” he murmured to himself, the tension in his chest easing.

Still, he found his feet moving toward her before he’d fully decided to approach. He wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the pull of curiosity, or maybe he just wanted a break from everything else.

Either way, he wasn’t about to overthink it.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #hawks x reader #mha hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #mha x reader

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magnecalliope · 22 days ago

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one must imagine ros and branzy beef because if they teamed up theyd be literally unstoppable. branzy balancing out ros' lack of eloquence and manipulation talent. ros being able to get more physically violent than branzy when needed. both of them combining their murderous, manic whimsy. the castle and everything surrounding it being COVERED in traps. the server is dead, i fear

Yeah, but Anon... what if *I* want to see the Realm brought to an untimely end by the combined power of their whimsy?

#callioposte #also listen. branzy is not as bad of a pvper as his track record on lifesteal may have you think #on a server like the realm he may actually be able to hold his own if pressed to do so #it's just that it's frequently in his best interest that people BELIEVE he is a completely incapable pvper

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tallestsilver · 10 months ago

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50. “It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.”

Okay, I don't know what it's not posting with the *whoops* 5 pages, but I will post it.

EDIT: I am thwarted by tumblr. Have these links: AO3

FFN

To infer that I am a haunted man is an understatement. I have a personality apt for obsession. To throw myself entirely into my passions with reckless disregard to my surroundings. At times such as these, my attention is consumed by, more often than not, composing. I may go days without moving from my post, neither sleeping nor eating; nothing of this earthly realm can deter me when I focus on the divinity of music.

That is, of course, until one Mademoiselle Christine Daae haphazardly entered my domain.

Nothing so pure with child-like whimsy and naivety has shaken me to my core as resolutely as one Mlle. Daae.

Initially, I could sweep her from my thoughts. She is a young woman with many prospects. No doubt, could easily find a patron that lurks in the corners of the ballet corps. Many other young women and girls have succumbed through desperation to those demanding aristocrats with too much time and money to spare, and plenty of disregard for the fairer sex.

Convincing myself it was just my carnal base desires leaching out from the pits of my own desperation could only go so far. Although the thought of hand to hand, flesh to flesh was undeniably enticing, it was the thought of domesticity with Mlle. Daae that plagued my every thought: how comforting the warm embrace of her arms must be. A petite sigh of boredom, deciding on what book to read. Slight quibbles on what to eat for the evening supper. Her jubilant enthusiasm for the next aria I undoubtedly would encourage her to sing.

Above all, the care and ritual that she would engage in for her own beauty. How rapturous it was, to gaze upon her as she gazed upon herself at her vanity. Vanity - the very word loathsome to me, suggesting as though men did not participate in gazing at women in the very same regard as a mirror.

These quick glances I so abashedly stole while she sat preening, unbeknownst to my very presence, were not lecherous albeit voyeuristic. No, the careful application of rouge upon her cheeks and lips entranced me. Fur-soft puffs laced with powder enhance her brilliance. Waxed perfume enticing all the senses upon her wrist and decolletage. And sin against sins, the way her bristled brush caressed through her golden tresses. That, truly, was my undoing.

The carefully laid witchcraft of feminine makeup was inspiring to me, for it could potentially do wonders for even the most macabre of faces into looking somewhat respectable. I had dabbled in the venture myself, using theatre techniques to adhere attributes to myself that were so sorely lacking.

But the spell Christine cast upon me while brushing her hair was my undoing. Alas! To be the silken ribbon tied behind her graceful neck to keep the mass of riotous curls at bay so she could study her scripts, movements, chords... To run my spindly claws through her hair...

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. I wanted nothing more than that domesticity, accumulating to be able to assist her in her womanly needs. To fetch the shade she needed for her next scene or to comb out the tangles of the divine. I wanted, nay, needed to be a house husband to her. Fawning over her every whim, cooking, cleaning, making sure my Nordic Goddess could never want. And then, hope upon hope, to stroll in a park on a Sunday.

After exposing myself as the fraudulent Ange de la Musique, we did settle into a somewhat harmonious existence. Not exactly to my fantasies, but surely we held each other in some regard.

Maddening silence was often my punishment if I did anything she deemed untoward. Granted, my violent outbursts were getting more and more frequent as she gained more notoriety, attracting the attention of other men. She was not mine, not truly, but I could see fit she was not theirs, either.

I found myself in one of those sullen moods of hers. Dark circles plagued my Angel's under eyes. She no longer cared for her rouge, perfumes, or trinkets. She was no longer amused by my antics of sleight of hand, stories, or even songs.

Christine slumped into a morbidity that I knew only too well. True, her boy did indeed leave for the Northern Pole, and we're slowly acclimating ourselves to a potential future, whatever that may be, but the disdain in her gaze strikes me as sharply as a knife. No, perhaps not disdain that she feels for me; resignation may be the proper term for the hollow look in her eyes.

I never considered myself a timid creature, but the thought of her unhappiness sends me spiraling in isolation, to shun myself from her presence.

It was in this meekness, that I carefully approached the creature of all my desires, as she stared numbly at her vanity.

"Good evening, Erik," she stated automatically, not bothering to turn to face me. My eyes gleamed yellow in the reflection. If she wanted to speak to me thusly, I would acquiesce and respond in kind.

"Good evening, Christine." My voice was low, not demanding, but certainly not The Voice. I had refrained from using The Voice on her in many months after she berated me that she did not like losing her faculties as such.

"Around me," was the unspoken phrase that she had not explicitly stated, but the implication was thus.

No matter, I did not want her to be hypnotized to tolerate me. This 'case of the morbs', my dearest had, was better than utter disdain or calmness against her will. My desires were simple, to enjoy each others' company, for a smiling bride awaiting her gruesome husband and to welcome me with kindness.

Reason dictated that I repair the contemptuous relationship we found ourselves in. But women are fickle creatures and any means of being contrite seemed to annoy her. Could I not read the emotions of other creatures well enough? Are humans not but animals with longings to be loved as well as any?

In my coveted ideal of domesticity, I found myself liking Christine to be a feral feline that one should be cautious to approach, lest she hiss and strike you with an open paw. But perhaps in providing for her needs, she might allow a gentle pet.

I stood behind her, my hands wringing, uncertain of how to broach the question that had plagued my mind.

She sighed heavily, her eyes closing in - annoyance? Trepidation? - before asking, "what is it, Erik?"

I nearly bristled at the directness of her question, but Christine had mentioned it is easier to get what you want with honey rather than brute force - whatever that is meant, I took a cautious step toward her.

The precious girl did not run away.

"Erik wanted to know-" I froze as her mouth deepened into a frown at my slip. She admonished me frequently for not speaking in the first person. "I wanted to know-" I quickly corrected, "if you require some assistance with brushing your hair?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me through the mirror of her vanity quizzically. I took another step forward, rubbing my wrists in uncertainty. She once mentioned she liked my cuffs a little shorter, exposing my wrists, and I adjusted my entire wardrobe accordingly, but instances like this made me feel exposed all over.

"What?" Her hands automatically ran over the ends of her hair, indeed, finding a mass of tangles and knots. She looked down in an all-too familiar expression for me: shame at her appearance.

My hands dropped to my side, my body rigid in fear, that I caused the anguish that shadowed her beloved features. "What I mean to say- not that you require it- I thought it would- no, no you mustn't-" My thoughts were a jumbled mess as did my words, usually so mastercrafted, fell so flat into nonsense.

As I rambled, Christine turned in her seat, witnessing my awkwardness. She toyed with a stray lock of hair, plucking at some split ends, her usual proper posture hunched and withdrawn. She was quiet as I hurriedly decided to dismiss myself and wallow in my awkward misery into my own room, when her voice called in a meek, considering way, "all right."

"I shall see myself out because you certainly do not wish for me to-" I snapped to attention and whirled back around, "-all right?"

She nodded and retrieved her hair brush, silently reaching it toward me.

My mouth gaped open and shut like a gasping fish before moving toward her once again.

"All right," I responded in kind.

Reaching for her brush, our fingers touched, ever so slightly, and I held the gasp that threatened to escape my throat. I was touch-starved, this is true, but the demure sensation was a relief to one more step toward normalcy. I looked to her to see if she was offended that my skeletal hand should touch her radiance, but no screams were heard. She simply nodded and turned back to face the mirror as I stumbled to stand behind her. Heat blossomed across my masked face, my ears betraying my blush that she would allow me to touch her.

My hands trembled, unsure where to begin, unwilling to hurt the angel in front of me. This was a foolish endeavor, I know nothing about caring for long hair, particularly the mass of curls before me. I pressed the brush to bundle of tangles at the nape of her neck and tried to pull down. The bristles stopped dead in their tracks, but Christine's head went down with the motion with a gasp, "ow!"

I froze in terror, all feeling draining from my person. I had wounded my Christine. I hurt her unintentionally once again. "Apologies, my-m," I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying out loud, "My Christine." I wanted to run, to flee, to have her never look upon me again and to give up this silly dream. But I also wanted to persevere, to be of use to her, to see that smile once again.

Christine sensed my hesitancy, and with the patience of a saint, she mimed how to start in the mirror. "From the bottom," she said quietly, just above a whisper. "Work your way up to the top. That will help with the tangles. I have not felt like myself, I can do it-" she reached for the brush and I snatched it away from her grasp.

"No!" I barked, too loud. She winced from the loud exclamation, but the poor dear did not run in terror. I cleared my throat and inhaled deeply to settle my nerves, "No," I stated more gently, but firmly. "Eri-I wish to do this for you." I looked at her earnestly. "Please."

She looked warily at me and I inwardly chided myself. My emotional outbursts were more and more infrequent, but they still bubbled to the surface now and again. She slowly nodded and repositioned herself in front of the mirror.

Cautiously, slowly, I started brushing her hair out. Her curls separated and poofed before me. I gripped a few locks and ran the brush through it, marveling how it shimmered in the candlelight. The tangles persisted, but as did this magnificent angel, nary a peep out of her lips. I moved through delicately, sections unraveling themselves and it became easier and easier to maneuver.

I restrained myself from burying my face in sunshine made tangible, to inhale her sweet perfume, but I shall admit it was a struggle. I did not want to cross the boundary of this tentative truce.

As I managed to make it all the way to the top of her scalp, the brush gliding through the rest of her tresses easily, Christine gave the sweetest feminine sigh and leaned back, against my frame. While I continued with my ministrations, my mind roiled in delight and fear. How do I navigate a situation like this? This was suddenly more intimate than I was prepared for and a quick excuse to leave became very appealing. I need to sleep? She would never believe that. Compose? Make some tea?

"I feel," her voice interrupted my frantic thoughts once again, "that if I were a cat," she paused, as if carefully examining her next words, "I might purr." She smiled - oh! How that angel blessed me with her smile- and looked at me once again.

Dumbfounded and skittish, I could only nod. The two of us fools, navigating dynamic we were naive to explore. I did not want to cease the brushing, but as her hair no longer needed attention, I was at a loss for what to do.

"Thank you, Erik." She reached back and separated the fluffy mane into three segments and deftly plaited her hair into a neat braid.

I took a step back from her, holding my hands, "You're welcome, Christine."

Silence enveloped us once again and I took that as a signal to leave.

"Will you tell me another story? It has been quite a long time since you read to me or told me of your travels."

She stood and offered her hand to me. Tentatively, I embraced it.

"Yes."

#wheel-of-fish #Phantom of the Opera #writing prompt #my writing #E/C #Erik/Christine #poto #phanfic #phanfiction

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cilil · 10 months ago

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AN: Another one for @angbangweek!

⚡︎ Prompt(s): Shapeshifting & mountains ⚡︎ Synopsis: Melkor and Mairon play an elaborate game of chase in the depths of Utumno ⚡︎ Warnings: Dragon daddy Melkor ⚡︎ Short oneshot (~600 words) | AO3

The halls and caverns under the mountain were vast, greater than even the halls of Aulë, a kingdom of stone and shadow in the bosom of Arda.

And there was a monster lurking in its depths.

Mairon's breath came in small puffs of frosty white, visible in the cold air that surrounded him like a foreign force reaching and grasping for his warmth. He could sense that he had been spotted; the creature from below was on its way.

Attempting to avoid capture, he ran. The patter of his feet echoed through the grand subterranean halls, almost unnaturally loud. His fiery locks bounced and billowed behind him like a flickering flame. From far away, yet drawing ever closer, Mairon heard claws on stone, rustling wings, the low growl of a mighty being pursuing its prey.

He ran faster. His hunter followed. He was swift, yet no matter where he went, the sounds came closer.

There was no escape either. Even his sharp senses found neither wind nor daylight within this icy labyrinth.

Alongside the creature, Mairon heard his own heartbeat. It was fast now, erratic; it alone would betray his presence. Louder still were his breath and his feet, aching from sharp rocks and difficult terrain.

At last he made it to a particularly great and spacious hall, reminiscent of a throne room. Before Mairon could even make sense of his surroundings, something large, winged and scaly rushed in, its mere presence so mighty that he was knocked to the ground and unable to continue fleeing.

A clawed paw settled on his chest. It alone was big enough to almost cover him entirely.

He was caught.

His hunter was what would in later ages be known as a dragon, a huge reptilian creature with horns and wings and shimmering black scales. Gleefully, it lowered its snout to sniff him, then opened its fanged mouth to reveal a long, pink forked tongue and began licking him.

"I caught you."

"You did," Mairon conceded and fell limp in its grasp. "I have been caught by the mighty Father of Dragons and King of Arda."

He was almost disappointed when his words prompted his hunter to shift forms, the dragon shrinking until the tall, humanoid form of a great and terrible lord stood before him. The horns and wings remained, as well as a few patches of scales adorning grey skin, and Melkor looked down at him with bright purple eyes.

He licked his lips. "Indeed. And now you are mine."

Crouching swiftly to seize Mairon once more, he picked him up and held him like a groom would carry his bride. His tongue, still unnaturally long and forked, darted out to lick wet stripes across his face and neck.

"Whatever shall be done to me now, lord?" Mairon asked, batting his eyelashes in faux deference.

"I shall take you to my lair," Melkor purred, "and then you shall be part of my hoard, my prettiest and most precious gem, made from the Flame Imperishable itself..."

"Ah! Such a terrible fate!" Mairon exclaimed theatrically. "Will perhaps a hero from the West come and save me, lest I be taken by the Dark One?"

"Nay," Melkor laughed, and his dragon tail swished back and forth gleefully. "There is none who could save you from me. You must yield to me, precious little flame, and be claimed as mine."

Mairon pretended to swoon as he was carried down into the depths under the mountains by his supposed captor, an entirely too excited monstrous Vala. But the truth was that he was thrilled as well, impatient to see how their little game would continue — and which sinful, illicit acts would be performed upon him.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @sauron-kraut @urwendii @wandererindreams

#angbangweek2024 #angbang week 2024 #angbang #melkor #morgoth #mairon #sauron #ainur #oneshot #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing

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lumiereandcogsworth · 17 days ago

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there’s a chance I’ve asked before BUT it’s valentine’s day so I simply Must Ask Again !!!!!! how do adam and belle celebrate the day??? is there a specific year that stood out to them or was their favorite? is there something specific they make sure to do on the holiday, even when they’re old and grey ? just . VALENTINE’S DAY 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

YAAAAYYY!!! 💝💘💝💘💝💘

i think they definitely always go to paris, it’s their home away from home truly. they will always gladly call the villeneuve castle their HOME, but they also grow quite attached to paris over the years. belle falling in love with the place of her birth, adam learning to see it in a new light with his love by his side.

they usually spend “the day” by being in paris for like a week, lol. maybe longer maybe shorter, maybe not at all depending on the age of their babies, but IN GENERAL, they like to spend a week there, ending around valentine’s day. which is what they do for their second one together in my most recent fic! 😇 and during this week they just attend shows and operas and dinners and there’s OBVIOUSLY a lot of dancing involved! i think they probably host a ball at their palace one night of the week. and i think possibly, starting with that valentine’s day i’ve linked above, it might become tradition to see “their” play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, on valentine’s day itself. i see no reason why the parisian actors wouldn’t always perform it for their king and queen on the holiday!!!

i actually think their anniversaries stand out to them a tad more only because they go to different places each year, so it’s like lots of new adventures and memories. valentine’s day is more a very comfortable tradition to them. they ALWAYS enjoy it but neither of them want to shake it up. it’s just a wonderful little escape for them in mid-february <3 although i do think they both very fondly recall their FIRST valentine’s day, which was not spent in paris but in their home! they were so newly married and very freshly crowned king and queen, everything was still so NEW and LOVELY! and i like to think belle still leaves little notes and clues for him around their palais de paris year after year, emulating that first valentine’s just a little bit 💘

i also think they always make sure to write little love letters to their children from paris. they ask questions and tell them all the sites they’ve seen and then they tell them how much they love and cherish and adore them and then each letter concludes with “so, won’t you be my valentine?” and then at the end of the week, adam and belle each receive a letter from each of their children with excited “yes i will be your valentine!!!” in big handwriting, surrounded by doodles of flowers and hearts and animals and all sorts of things. one year renée started sending pressed flowers along with the letters, and so her little siblings followed suit. sometimes they send flower petals instead. one time maurice put a ladybug in the letter, but was severely devastated to discover that the ladybug had escaped in transit and never reached mama :(

this tradition carries on, even when the children are adults. the notes are shorter (though often funnier, since it’s just goofy childhood whimsy exchanged between adults now) but there’s always the same question and the same answer, and it’s so SILLY but no one wants it to stop. it’s too cute 💌

and oh yeah i guess i’ve sort of answered the last question already haha. they do their little paris trip very much until they’re old and grey!!!!!!! they go see different shows and have dinners with different people as the decades pass, but they always see their play and they always always always dance longer than any other couple. i honestly get so weepy thinking about them being elderly and dancing together. too old to do any fancy moves anymore, adam can barely twirl belle without her laughing and saying “ooh, too fast, love!” but they really love to just stand and sway and hold each other so close as the music softly plays… it’s their favorite thing in the world, dancing in each other’s arms 🥹💙💛

#ouggghhh my sweeties #also fun timing. i paused right as belle was quoting THEIR PLAY 🤧💝#the moment it becomes theirs………aghhhh my loves #ANYWAY YIPPEEEE VALENTINES DAAAYYYYYYYYY #i had more thoughts than i realized! epic!!!#thanks friend!!!!!!#alex tag #answered #batb 2017 #batb headcanons #adelle

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sukimas · 1 year ago

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As someone who is- at best- a Touhou secondary, can you offer any insight as to why there appears to be/is so much drama surrounding whether or not Merry is Yukari? “Seemingly Unrelated Character B grows up into/otherwise becomes Character A” is not an especially world-shattering story beat, and after reading your document it seems unbelievably obvious by 2005.

There's nothing that I can say is the overall reason as sadly I'm not a mind-reader, but I have some theories (some of which may be true in parallel, some of which may not be true at all):

A.) Touhou is a series that many fans believe is highly up to interpretation (due to the fact that they are otaku unused to literary elements such as the unreliable narrator; you can see this in, for example, responses to Umineko) so there's a degree of resistance to anything being "obviously intended".

B.) Many Touhou fans enjoy having opinions on things without reading the works that apply to these things; the music CDs in particular are a case where "fans of fans" are very common. This isn't necessarily a problem when discussing what people like, but it runs into issues when discussing, say, authorial intent.

C.) Youkai are kind of nasty, and Yukari is a particularly nasty variation. Many people don't like the idea of humans in Touhou becoming youkai in general.

D.) Due to B, as well as the obscurity of the two works that are written directly from Yukari's perspective, many people have an incorrect idea of Merry's personality, Yukari's personality, or both; this leads them to have an incorrect idea of the differences between the two. This is the "well, even if Yukari was Merry once, is there anything really left of her since she's so different?" objection.

E.) Many people see the idea of Merry ending up as a youkai as something tragic- they enjoy the idea of her and Renko going on adventures in their modern day forever. This is despite the fact that their sense of ennui in and disgust with the modern world is more apparent with each CD published.

F.) Also coming from E and B, people often have an interpretation of the club members as "innocent" and "childlike"; there's a general degree of belief in sweet, innocent, childish whimsy being what drives their actions in the CDs. Yukari being self-admittedly too tired to have stupid fun like the members of the Scarlet Devil Mansion going to the moon on their idiot rocket can seem like a contradiction in terms, and makes it seem "tragic".

G.) Also coming from E, many people seem to have the mistaken opinion that in order for Merry to have become a youkai, something terrible must have happened to Renko, and she's really torn up about it. Either that, or that she'll never see her again- this latter is common even in more level-headed interpretations, but makes little sense with, for example, the idea of Yuyuko Saigyouji existing. Anyway, people don't like to imagine the club being torn apart so rudely.

H.) An extension from G- people don't believe that Merry could ever be or become a youkai without harming Renko as they simply don't seem to have a strong metaphysical understanding of youkai from other Touhou works (and this idea is often played up for drama in popular fan media).

Generally speaking, it's mostly "she's so unlike this, so either this can't be true or if it was true it would be a terrible tragedy. and i can't stand terrible tragedies, so it can't be true" as large segments of the Hifuu fandom are a little bit immature about the idea of anything ever changing. In a sense, it's kind of treated like Class S yuri. Add to this a good helping of people not reading and not believing that anything not stated in so many words can be true, and you get a perfect storm of idiocy.

#yukaribel

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mafufuu · 1 year ago

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i compare childrens literature to pd pcs

!! spoiler for like, so many episodes of prime defenders god knows how many, but def s2 finale, if youre not done scroll away at rapid speeds !!

Childhood

Peter Pan is a tale of growing up. Dakota Cole is someone who might have done that too fast. The story follows the Darling children, primarily Wendy and their adventures into Neverland. Wendy seemingly wants to stay a child forever, though when faced with Peter Pan, the embodiment of childishness, her mind is changed. Dakota can be considered childish, with his intellect, black and white sense of good and evil, and extremely kind heart. Yet, it might be that, as opposed to Wendy, he is clinging to whatever remains of his childhood.

As a kid, Dakota was quite reckless, skipping school, climbing roofs, and whatnot. He’s like Peter Pan, filled with childish whimsy and a lack of care. He befriends a girl, who joins him in the shenanigans. It’s like the early bond of Wendy and Peter. But soon, the consequences of this immaturity become evident. Like how Wendy comes to see Neverland’s flaws. One day, when climbing a roof, the girl falls. Dakota tries to pull her back up, but soon his grip gives out and he goes down too.

Couple this with the death of his parents, and likely other factors, Dakota has gone through the kind of stuff that would kill off a childhood. But this is “his” fault, he wasn’t able to save her. Dakota wakes up after the fall, and he runs from wherever he was. He holds this notion that a hero, like the ones he sees in the media, saves everyone. A lofty childish ideal, but one worth admiring. Dakota has grown from where he started, he no longer sees good and evil as two separate entities, holding the idea that the ‘villains’ deserve to be saved too, and that they can be met with forgiveness as opposed to punishment.

Peter & Wendy says in the end childishness must be let go of. I reckon that it’s okay to have maturity, yet still hold the whimsy and joy of a child.

Belonging

Pinocchio is a story that has been warped over time. In this case, I will base this off of the basic sanitized version most people know. It focuses on a wooden boy, the titular Pinocchio, who desires to become a boy of flesh and bone. Vyncent is someone who (as of the beginning) felt a lack of belonging in the world of Prime, and wanted to be accepted. What lies in both is a desire to change.

Pinocchio starts out as a wooden boy crafted in a woodcarver’s shop, a fit for what he is made of, surrounded by similar things. Vyncent starts out in the world of Fauna, where magic is something everyone has, where people can just have pointy ears and no one questions it, where adventuring parties slaying dragons are usual, where he is normal. Where they belong and are accepted.

Though, they both leave those places of comfort, intentionally or not. Pinocchio ventures out to become a ‘real’ boy, and Vyncent falls through a portal. Soon after, he somehow ends up in jail, then gets recruited to join the Prime Defenders. He does not know the customs of Prime, but he goes with how things are, while using some of his knowledge from Fauna, to attempt to fit in. The heroes are beloved by many, they belong.

Vyncent embarks on his journey with William and Dakota, forging friends and foes, and maybe, a home, along the way. He finds a place where he can belong. Vyncent goes to visit Fauna, and he is beckoned to stay, in the place where he is from. Yet, with how he would be separated from the Prime Defenders, and how The Greats’ power remains in his sword, he chooses to leave. The Blue Fairy fulfills her promise of acceptance to Pinocchio.

Interpretations say Pinocchio holds the message of ‘disobedience is bad and being good will be rewarded’ which in some scenarios isn’t untrue. But, to me (and Guillermo Del Toro), it is an anecdote saying if you stay true to yourself, you can be loved, you were always what you wanted to be, realizing it or not.

Curiosity

Alice in Wonderland is about a girl falling into a strange and foreign world. William Wisp is a boy that got thrown into a hectic journey nonconsensually. For Alice, it is Wonderland she journeys into, for William it is the side effects of dying and getting revived.

It begins with being out in nature, seeing something strange, and deciding to follow it, then falling, be it being out on the river bank, seeing a white rabbit running late diving into its rabbit hole, or going on a late night hike in the woods, and spotting a will-o-wisp, and chasing it off a cliff. Then, Alice is in Wonderland, and William is falling with strange sights surrounding him. He looks around, seeing bright colorful lights, floating islands, be they holding fountains, a field of greenery with a mother and child walking together, a man on a throne of paperwork, you name it, all things to write home about.

Both William and Alice leave their places of wonder, though they do return. (Admittedly I’m not sure how well the events of the sequel lines up with William’s character development.) William’s adventures outside of the spirit world do not halt, however I am not focusing on those. When the base burns down, Mallard Conway whisks William away to show him his domain, being an endless graveyard housing everyone he cares for, and himself. Wonderland is certainly described to be a weird place, meaning it is also likely not devoid of horrors.

Both of the two are out of knowledge, attempting to solve the mysteries of these strange places they wound up in. They both can be mean at times, though are generally decent people, and they want a way out.

William’s journey through the spirit world and as the Wisperer continues. Ranging from forcing Dakota to fight a smoke samurai, then being forced to eat the soul of aforementioned samurai, to dying again, to learning he is decaying and bloodless after punching a wall and seeing strange imagery, a lot of things, and not necessarily good ones. Like how Alice continues traversing Wonderland.

Eventually, he dies a third time. He is faced with his final challenge, his trial. He stays with his old ways and runs, and runs, though eventually faces the fight head on, with all the growth he's gone through. The battle is simply happening when Clarence retrieves William to give the latter a second chance at being alive, though more in between alive and dead, as would Alice’s sister wake her up from the dream, and she leaves Wonderland.

There isn’t really a clear moral to this one, though it may have various themes and interpretations. This is but a tale made up to amuse youth. Though Wonderland may be fun, it has its downsides and things can go south, but the only constant is change, so things will be okay.

Home

The Wizard of Oz explores the narrative of Dorothy, a girl who lives in Kansas who’s life is turned upside down in a cyclone, Ashe Winters is someone who was just living in suburban New Haven, who’s life was turned upside down by the metaphorical cyclone that is the Prime Defenders (and eventually becomes one himself).

Dorothy soon becomes part of a group, making a quartet, one with three others who doubt their possession of certain characteristics. A tinman who treats all life with the greatest of care. A scarecrow who doubts his wit and overanalyzes. A lion, one who houses bravery but chooses to run, until told otherwise. Though Dakota, Vyncent, and William might not be the best embodiment of their trait I assigned among the group, they all have it for certain. Then there’s Ashe, who desires the comfort of family, in these scenarios, not necessarily blood relation, more companionship, familiarity, and support.

After many trials and tribulations, the Prime Defenders make it where they need to be, fighting Overlord. They won, however their victory came with a sacrifice, Ashe gave himself up to the Trickster so they’d win. Despite how little time they spent together, Vycnent, Dakota, and William are determined to get their friend back. They fight, and they fight, and they fight, until they’ve won.

All Dorothy desired was to go home, and Ashe wanted connection. These two things are quite similar, Dorothy was not seeking a building, but her aunt and uncle, and home is people, the kind you can connect with. That is what the Prime Defenders are to Ashe. He is one of them. Dorothy and Ashe return to their places of comfort, Kansas, and the Prime Defenders. After all, at the end of the day, there’s no place like home.

#i bring a kind of milgrammie analysis brain to the jrwiblr im unsure is good or bad or #know i proofread this the day after i wrote it on five hours of sleep and eight espresso beans #hope its coherent #ive had them for one or two months im not okay #saw this post talking abt how vynce isnt necesarily stupid #he can be competent but isnt given the tools to do so man im not saying hes like a five year old but man i remember when i was younger i fe #--t the same #i use he/him for ashe in this but just know i hc ashe as genderfluid #just roll with it prime defenders #jrwi pd #jrwi show #prime defenders #jrwi prime defenders #jrwi #dakota cole #jrwi dakota #dakota jrwi #vyncent sol #jrwi vyncent #vyncent jrwi #william wisp #jrwi william #william jrwi #ashe winters #jrwi ashe #jrwi ashe winters #ashe jrwi #jrwi pd spoilers #prime defenders spoilers

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