#i promise people have more traits than hair color

[zombiemollusk]

"let's invent a variation of the word 'brunette' for this hair color so we don't have to say the character's name" <- this is the devil speaking

[bluesidez]

AHH CMON REQUESTS!! I know the inbox is flooded girl omg.

okay so as a request, i would really love to see a story where black, plus size reader and Miguel take on wedding planning. Reader is happy enjoying cake tastings, dress shopping, venue hunting etc. and groomzilla!miguel is trying to make everything perfect for her. It can be nsfw, but I trust you with whatever the vibe is! Love you down!! ✨✨✨✨

["It’s My Wife’s Day!"]

lab tester: @leoeloo 🩻

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader, black!Reader, PlusSize!reader

summary: No one is going to stop Miguel's fiancé from having the best day of her life, not if Miguel has anything to do with it.

content warning: AAVE (YAY!), sorry to anyone named Elana or Finley, Miguel gets a little mean here (I tried to keep it reasonable but he’s giving Libra Diva DOWN), mentions of food, some cultural (traditional) things from both sides but nothing crazy, there is one scene that could be triggering for my fellow big girls (but it's handled with care I promise), 18+ at the end so MDNI, it's also pretty suggestive throughout

word count: 8,888k EXACTLY (there should be no mistakes for as long as I've been working on it....but hey)

a/n: AHHHH! I was so happy to receive this request! (You have also been very sweet to me since my very first fic and I really appreciate that!!!) I said on my blog that I really love all things weddings, so this was a super fun write. I just love imagining Miguel in this position of making sure that his girl has everything while the girl is in complete bliss. (The mom here was also heavily inspired by my own mom who is much more active than I am in terms of telling people off.) As per our DMs, I did sprinkle in a little GR!Mig mannerisms! And! I added him being super in love with reader…but that’s a given. I do hope you enjoy! Also, I LOVE YOU!

Miguel refers to reader as his wife constantly before they’re actually married.

Also a headcanon for Miguel here that isn’t said explicitly is that his Libra trait of indecisiveness is on at all times. 

Miguel could never forget the day you set his heart ablaze when you said those destined words:

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

He was over the moon. Weeks of him getting you to warm up to him, months of him chasing after you, years of him trying to show you that he’s the right one for you, and finally, your hand was adorned in the rock he’s been planning for you for eons. You were truly his lady, now and forever. 

The proposal was quiet and intimate, mostly because Miguel was a bit fearful you would say no, a seed of doubt growing the longer he waited. He steadily reminded you to get your nails done and paid for your hair appointments every now and then. Each time he thought he could do it, he chickened out. 

Then, one night under the stars after an unnecessary work event, his feelings just overloaded. 

You were so ethereal.

He remembers you laughing over something his drunk coworker had said, eyes sparkling as you retold the story. Your curls were parted to the side, earrings dangling past your jaw. Your legs were swinging over the edge of his trunk, not a care in the world as you talked with vigor. 

He thought that he couldn’t live without this. He couldn’t have a life without small moments like this with you. He couldn’t imagine a moment where you weren’t by his side. 

So, the words spilled out of him like water. He took your hands in his and poured his heart out. Finally, the ring box that had practically melted a shape into his thigh was being freed. 

You cried when you noticed what he was doing, emotions doing a complete 180. 

“No wonder you kept giving me extra money for my nails,” you let out a watery laugh as you leaned into him. 

Now, here you both were, almost a year later in the middle of wedding planning. 

The theme and colors were carefully handpicked, the venue was booked, and almost every week, the two of you had something to look forward to. 

Miguel was currently prepping ingredients for tonight’s dinner, listening as you chatted about your great wedding dress search of the day. 

“We stopped by one store, but the lady behind the desk immediately turned us down. I didn’t want to ruin such a good vibe, so I left it at that. Ma was ready to hurt her though.”

Miguel felt his nerves tighten at the news, “What?”

“Yeah, as soon as me and my entourage walked in, she ran up to us saying something about a short stock, but we knew she was lying-”

“What’s the name?”

You raise your eyebrows at his abruptness. 

“Miggy, it’s really ok. Don’t worry over this,” you got closer to him, taking his face into your hand. 

“I’m not. What’s the name?”

You pull his face down to yours, “Nuh uh. I’m not giving you the name. We said we weren’t going to be stressed out over this process, remember?” 

Miguel closed his eyes and brought his hands down your body, leaning his forehead against yours, “I remember.” He blew out a breath and squeezed your ass in hopes that it would help calm him down. 

“Good. Now, you stay right here and I’ll go get ready for dinner. I wanna tell you about this poor girl whose dad didn’t like a single thing she put on.”

You kiss him three times, the last kiss lingering a little longer with Miguel humming into your lips and lean back with a warm smile. Miguel’s hands clinged to you until you were too far to reach and you walked upstairs to change into your house clothes. 

Miguel stood next to the island, tapping his fingers against the granite with a tongue poking into his cheek. 

The dress shopping process was the one he was the least involved in, opting to be surprised on the day you walked down the aisle. You wouldn’t even let his family pitch in for the dress, saying something about running up your dad’s pockets. 

But how does a dress shop conveniently run out of dresses once his fiancé walks in?

Right as Miguel was considering googling every dress shop in the area, his phone buzzed to life. 

Just the person he wanted to hear from.

“Hello?” Miguel turned to toss some butter on a skillet, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

“Miguel…”

He stopped in his tracks, knowing the exact tone of voice your mother was using. 

“What happened?”

“Today was so beautiful!”

“But?”

“But that one shop on James Street? Terrible.”

Miguel would have usually chuckled at the dramatics, but this situation was no laughing matter to him.  

“You should have seen the way the people in there turned they nose up at us! One lady was about to jump out of her skin. All of this for some of the ugliest dresses I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Miguel shifted his position and stood up straight, tossing minced garlic in the sizzling butter, “Did they say anything to you?” His hands were gripping the phone enough to leave indents on his skin.

“Other than telling us how she wouldn’t have anything we would like, no. She didn’t even want us taking a seat in the lobby.”

He moved to grab a pen and a notepad from the drawer, “Do you have the name of the shop?”

“Lady Love. They should call it Lady A Lie.”

Miguel smiled, thankful that he could count on his future mother-in-law to be his partner in crime specifically when it came to making sure that no one brought harm to you. The number one thing that he and your mom had in common was their need to spring into action.

“Thank you. She didn’t want to tell me anything.”

“Trust me, if she hadn’t begged me not to act a fool, I would have cussed that heifer out. She was so nasty and so rude. That ol’ cow.”

“They’ll have a notice from my lawyer by the morning.”

Your mother hummed, “Let me get my iPad out and get to rating they store. It was a bleach blonde butched buffoon named Elana at the front desk. She was the one giving my baby a hard time. Nobody in there was trying to stop her either.”

“I’ll remember that,” Miguel could hear you coming down the stairs, fuzzy slides creating a steady tempo against the floor. “Let me call you back later.”

“She must be coming back. Tell her to bring me back my shoes!”

Miguel chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Was that Ma?”

“Yeah,” Miguel reached to place some chicken on the hot skillet, satisfied with the simmered ingredients he added. “She said to give her those shoes back.”

“She’ll get them back! I’m using them right now. What else were you two talking about?”

Miguel turns down the boil of the pasta noodles, shoulders tensing, “She was telling me about Lady Love.”

You clicked your teeth, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I’m not!” He turned the chicken over while you grumbled into his back. “But she called me with very upsetting news. What am I but a good son? I had to listen.”

“You two are gonna work my nerves.”

“Don’t say that. We’re just not going to sit back and let someone disrespect you like that. What kind of man would I be if I just let somebody not treat you right and I have the means to stop it? So, please. Let me do this.”

You huffed and buried your face into his back, fingers pressing into his skin. His words shut you up. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you, cariño. Now, can you get the salad and the wine out of the fridge? This is almost ready.”

“What are you making?”

“Marry Me Chicken and Pasta.”

“So funny.”

“Ah, I know. It must really work, huh?”

Miguel walked hand-in-hand with you down the fancy boutiques in the shopping district. 

You both had just gotten done wandering aimlessly as you waited for the cake-tasting appointment. Miguel had to be stopped multiple times from buying everything you complimented. 

He was extremely happy to see you giddy about the cake tasting. It was something you’ve been looking forward to since the day you both confirmed a wedding date. 

He’s studied your Pinterest boards heavily, the notifications dinging with every pin. He knows you want to go all out for the cake. Something large enough to feed both of your huge families and something grand enough to match the venue and the theme. 

He arranged for the best of the best to be trying out today and if that didn’t work, he’ll seek someone else. He’ll even bake the cake if he has to, although you’d push him out of the kitchen.

“I hope they have that Biscoff flavor. I heard it was really good,” you turn to him with a hopeful smile. 

Miguel smiled back at you, “I’m sure they will.”

He only lets go of your hand to hold the door open for you, eyes enjoying the view of your body in the flowy dress you were wearing. Earlier, he couldn’t stop kissing over the deep Queen Anne neckline of it, claiming that you smelled too good. You two almost didn’t make it out of the house on time.

“Hello! Welcome in!”

The bakery was bright and homey. The desserts on display were placed on light peach stands and risers and the smell of caramel and cinnamon was strong in the air. Square canvases covered the walls with cute paintings of some of the featured desserts.

“Miguel, look!”

You pull him over to some Miffy-shaped buns filled with different flavored custards. 

“That is too adorable to even eat.”

“But I do hope you’d still be willing to give it a taste!”

You both look up to the friendly face behind the counter. They were a lanky figure with a glitter tattoo of a unicorn cupcake planted on their arm and pink gauges in their ears 

“You two must be the future Mr. & Mrs. O’Hara. Lovely to meet you all.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Miguel reached his hand out to give a firm shake. 

“My name is Finley and I’ll be assisting you all today. We have several beautiful flavors for you to try.”

Finely directed you both to a square table booth in the corner of the bakery. Miguel slid next to your right side in order to wrap his arm around with one hand and eat with the other. 

“Other than the standard Chocolate, Vanilla, Strawberry & Cream, Red Velvet, Marble, and ‘Wedding Cake’ flavors that we offer, the samples for you here include Tiramisu, Passionfruit, White Chocolate Raspberry, Lemon Blueberry, Cookies & Cream, aaaand Dulce de Leche!”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up, feeling skeptical but open. 

“Woah,” your eyes grew at the neat display of confections before you. “I’m so excited.”

 “I’ll be right over here if you guys need me. Enjoy!”

You picked up a fork and dug straight into the Strawberries & Cream.

“That is so freaking good,” you groan out, eyebrows scrunching. 

“Let me see,” Miguel turned to you with his mouth open, eyes full of mirth.

“Miguel, please.”

“What? It’s practice for the real deal.”

“When we’re the only ones in here?”

“It’s going to feel like an intimate moment just between us, no?”

You sigh, defeated. He doesn’t even budge when you shove a giant piece of cake in his mouth. He grabs your hand before you can retreat, licking slowly away at the leftover cream. 

He focuses on the golden fork, working in between the prongs. Time slows down as you watch the white icing disappear into his mouth. His eyelashes are long and pretty and his lips are plump and a little wet from his tongue. 

One more pass of the fork through his mouth and he’s looking up at you with the same fire from this morning. 

You clear your throat, “Is that how you’re going to eat the cake?”

“Something like that.”

You two slowly but surely make it through the rest of the flavors with you trying to stay unflustered and Miguel trying to up the ante. 

He’s grinning and chuckling at your ruffled state until you get to the Dulce de Leche cake. He harrumphs as you cut into it. 

“No, no, you wanna eat cake so bad, so eat it!”

“This isn’t the cake I was talking about-”

“I’m going to shove this fork so far down your throat if you even think of finishing those thoughts out loud.”

 “You know I love it when you get that way,” Miguel sighs and reaches to eat from the fork before you can say anything back. 

You wait in silence as you watch his face contort from disgusted to neutral to pleased. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah?”

“A little too sweet. Abuela wouldn’t like it.”

“Do you like it, though?”

He paused as he watched you take a bite. 

“Maybe.”

“Would you like it as our wedding cake?”

“No….”

You smirked at him, “But you want it as your groom’s cake?”

“…Yes.”

He looks so conflicted about it that you almost feel bad for him.

“Miguel it’s ok if you like it, no one is going hurt you. You know you have a sweet tooth.”

“It is really delicious, like eerily so. It’s not my favorite cake, though.”

“Oh? Was it the Cookies & Cream one?”

“Close.”

You look around the plate, confused as to how fruit flavors have anything to do with sandwich cookies. 

Miguel got closer to your ear, lips grazing the top, “My favorite is you.”

You push his face back with your hand while he grins into your palm. 

“I see you two lovebirds are enjoying everything,” Finley walks back over to the two of you. “Any standouts?”

Miguel lists off the ones you were enjoying the most with ease. 

“We also enjoyed this Dulce de Leche one but we decided it would be best for my cake but before we move on, do you have any Biscoff cake samples that we can try?”

“Of course, let me go get that for you.”

He looks back at you cheesing at him.

“You remembered!”

“Always.” 

Finley comes back with a small Biscoff bundt cake. 

“Now, unfortunately, we don’t offer this flavor for any tiered cakes.”

You took a bite and almost soared. The flavors were just the right mix of salty and sweet, some caramel coating the top. 

Miguel looked from you to Finley, “Can you just do it for one tier?”

“Um, I can ask my boss when she comes back-”

“You can leave her number with me. I would really love to talk with her face-to-face.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good,” Miguel reaches over to wipe some salt off of your lips. “My wife wants a pretty grand cake and she has some particular ideas. We want to be really involved in the process for the best result. No surprises.”

“Absolutely. Would you still want to place that order for the groom cake? We have a sale on toppers for them right now.”

They place a pamphlet on the counter with countless toppers of grooms in pure agony. Some are being dragged by their wives and others are running away. Miguel turns his lip up and moves his eyes to Finely without lifting his head up. 

“These are very tacky and senseless, so no. We’ll place the order for it at the same time as the main cake.”

Finely moves to remove the pamphlet, face red and eyes wet, “I apologize. A lot of the future husbands enjoy them.”

“Do I look like the other husbands that come through here?”

“N-no sir! Not at all.”

“Tell you what, give me your boss’s number and your business card. We’ll circle back. Thank you for today’s tasting.”

“L-let me at least give you some extra dessert before you leave. Free of charge!”

Miguel helps you stand as Finley hops around the store grabbing any and everything. 

“I really hope you consider choosing us for the wedding.”

“The wedding?”

“Your! Your wedding!”

“Hmph.”

Miguel grabs the box from Finley’s shaking hands and promptly leaves the store with you on his arm. You turn back to Finley with an apologetic look and a quiet sorry leaving your lips, though you’re sure they’re still shocked by Miguel’s behavior. 

“I’m going to set up more appointments. We need a backup cake,” he says as he guides you back to the car. 

“You loved those cakes and you scared that poor person to death.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just me eating these cakes. And those were some of the most horrible toppers I’ve seen yet. Who does that?” 

“You would be shocked to know that not every man is willing to celebrate and proudly love their partner.”

Miguel turned the car on and let the cool AC hit his face. 

“But, if you still want to look at more bakeries, we can. More cake for me.”

You turn his face to yours and kiss his lips gently. 

“Now what’s all this about eating me-flavored cake?”

He shifts the gear into reverse, “Let’s get home and you’ll find out.”

When you said you wanted creative and unique pre-wedding photoshoots, Miguel didn’t hesitate to make sure he could pull it together for you. Now he’s starting to regret it. 

You walked out into the studio apartment with an oversized button-down that looked like it could be his, some thigh-high stockings squeezing at your thick thighs, and some black lingerie peeking through the thin shirt material. Your makeup was simple but jaw-dropping with glossy lips and a lovely blush that brought out a glow to your skin. Your hair was in a blowout style, curls bouncing with every step closer to him.

This specific photographer that you had mentioned in awed passing was known for her eye for romantic detail. Her pictures truly captured the love between couples in raw form. When you showed Miguel the pictures on her website, he was quick to get in touch with her to set up a decent amount of photoshoots. What he didn’t expect was for her to have an influx of assistants and protégés to have wandering eyes. 

“Are you going to move the lights or are you going to keep gawking at my wife like an idiot?” 

The one assistant who clearly didn’t understand what Miguel’s death stares meant jumped at his voice and rushed to move things within the set, the entire back of his neck beet-red. 

“Baby, don’t be like that, he might just be nervous,” you slid your hands up his chest, straightening out his “work” shirt. “Don’t fuss at him.”

 “He should do his job then,” Miguel shifted his gaze from the scrambling boy to you, voice getting quieter as he peered down at your excited face. “You do look beautiful, though. Can’t blame him.”

“You like it?” There was a spark in your eye. It was something that Miguel knew all too well.

He glided his fingers down your back, feeling the heat of your skin through the shirt. Your eyes never left his lips as he drew closer. You could feel his breath covering your skin.

The flash of a strobe light caused you to jump.

“These are going to make such stunning outtakes,” Xina gasped as she moved her camera back up to her face again. “Sorry to scare you. Please continue this and we can do the original plan in a second.”

You laughed as Miguel pulled you even closer, pressing kisses against your neck to avoid ruining your makeup. 

The original idea of the shoot was to have Miguel look like he’s coming home from work and walking in on you dancing around in his clothes. The idea was cute, domestic, a little sexy, and true to life. While it wasn’t the set of photos going out with your wedding invitations, it was something fun for your socials. 

As the scene played out, Miguel didn’t expect you to open up your shirt even more as he came back through the entryway. It made for a nice expression when he looked up to see you passionately dancing around the couch. 

You urged him toward you with your finger, hips moving to the music blasting over the speakers Xina had behind the equipment. Miguel grinned and headed your way. 

With Xina’s direction, the both of you were able to get out lively photos as if it were just a normal day in the soon-to-be O’Hara home. 

By the time you all were finished, Miguel was only in a tucked-in tank top with his hair tossed and turned. You still looked perfect on his lap, grinning down at him as he mischievously bit his loose necktie that you placed on your shoulders.

“Perfect!” Xina smiled behind the camera. “Now, one little thing I like to do at the end of each shoot is have the couple face me with their faces together for one final picture.”

You kiss Miguel on the corner of his mouth and lay his tie on top of his head before turning to Xina. Miguel follows with a lazy grin on his face.

It would have all been so well if that same assistant wasn’t still staring at you like he’s never seen a beautiful woman before when Xina started to wrap up. 

He met Miguel’s eyes and almost turned blue in the face trying to look busy.

There were so many more photoshoots to go in the near future. He’s not sure how he’ll make it through the next ones without making a scene. 

“Miguel! The invitation samples are here,” you knocked on his office door, giddy with excitement.

Miguel rolls back from his desk, glasses perched on his nose, “C’mon, let me see.”

You stride eagerly to his seat and he’s waiting with the same energy, pulling you into his lap once you’re within arms reach. You make a noise of excitement as run your finger under the envelope flap. Miguel leans his head on your shoulder waiting to finally see the design you so meticulously planned. 

You slid the cardstock out, gasping as you saw the paperdoll drawings of you and Miguel on the page. The artists did a fantastic job of designing you both in such a stylistic, yet recognizable way. 

“Oh my god, look at the little outfits!”

You panned through the cut-out clothes, one with you all’s work outfits, another with casual outfits, and the last one with a wedding dress and a tux. You brought the papers up to cover your mouth as you laughed again. Miguel’s heart soared at the charming way you reacted. 

“Look! They even captured your cute nose right!”

“You love my nose, huh?”

“Stop,” you snicker as you pull out the last picture. It’s one from a more recent photoshoot with you both in formal, dressy attire with scissors and measuring tapes in your hands and paper hearts everywhere to match the paperdoll invitation. 

Miguel took the invitations from your hands, wanting to get a better look. It really was one of a kind, something you both would be able to look back fondly at. 

He ran his thumb across the words, really taking in the fact that you’ll be walking down the aisle right into his arms. He read the words once more. 

Save the date…

2025…

Miguel &…

“How the hell did they spell your name wrong?”

You looked up from the picture in your hand with a frown, “What?”

“We waited this long for samples and they spell your name fucking wrong.”

You read over the invitation again and let out a groan, “Of course. Let me call the company-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You looked busy when I knocked, I don’t want you to get sidetracked.”

“Making sure that my wife’s name is spelled correctly on our wedding invitations isn’t getting sidetracked. I’ll handle it.”

You felt your shoulders drop, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying releasing from your body. 

“Thank you so much, baby,” you sent him the number with a small smile on your face. 

Miguel gave your lips a peck, “Anything for you. Don’t worry your head about it.”

You stood up to leave, but not before he gave your thighs a squeeze. 

When he was sure you rounded the corner, he immediately pressed the number, blowing slowly through his mouth. 

He was about to work his way to free invitations and a year's worth of service once he was finished. 

Miguel laughed at the video you sent him. You were practically glowing with the turquoise waves in the background and braids in your hair. A giant plumeria was tucked behind your ear and you held a big fruity drink in your hand. 

You were out on your bachelorette’s trip, enjoying the waves in the sand as you caught up with your bridesmaids. He hadn’t seen any annoyed texts yet, so he assumed that the trip was not falling to pieces. 

He could hear your friends in the background bickering about how they had to take your phone away sometimes to stop you from texting him. 

“She got a few more months of being a hoe!”

“Will you shut up?! I’m making a video.”

“It’s true, though! We’re about to go get drunk as fuck. Don’t worry, Miguel, we got her!”

You just rolled your eyes and smiled at their antics before the video ends.

The mood of the video contrasted your texts entirely. They really did get you drunk.

“i miss you alreadyyyyyy”

“I miss you too but you need to have fun”

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll be waiting for you at the airport in just a few days.”

“good”

“you better be waiting for me”

“i wont you”

“shit”

“want you”

“you and your dick”

“gonna sing to him”

“Him?”

“yeah him”

“he’s mine”

“gonna love on him”

“and you”

“miss you so baaaaad”

“the bed is empty without you :((((“

“I hope you remember all of this when you see me baby”

“my name is mrssss oharaaaa”

“idk who baby is”

“Ok well Mrs. O’Hara you need to go to sleep”

“i will go to sleep mr ohara”

“gonna dream of you”

“and my big dick”

“You do that”

“Send me a pic when you wake up”

The night could have ended perfectly. He knew you had fun and crashed safely in your room. There were no problems with the resort or the reservations. You were constantly flooding his phone with pictures without talking because of the “No Miguel” rule he was sure your friends set. 

Miguel wanted to close his eyes in peace. 

So when his assistant sent him the picture of one of the most crucial parts of your wedding, he could feel his neck tightening. He called Ben instantly.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

“The broom! They had a lot of them at the store but this one was plain and white, so I feel like it’s perfect for the wedding.”

Miguel pinched his forehead in an attempt to keep his eyebrows from molding together, “Do you have a schedule for when you’re this stupid, or is it only reserved for me?”

Ben was silent for a second, “I don’t understand, I thought you said you needed a broom? Is that not what this is?”

“A broom to jump over Reily. For weddings. I told you to check with Jess about it because I knew you weren’t going to have the slightest idea what I was talking about. Imagine if I brought this home to my wife. She would be offended.”

“W-what’s the difference?”

He might find out the difference once Miguel hits him over the head with it. 

“I’m going to fire you.” 

Miguel wasn’t really. He was just so tired. 

“Return the broom. I’ll take care of this in the morning.”

Ben was stuttering and blubbering as Miguel smacked the red button. He needed to look at the pictures you sent again. He didn’t need to fall asleep in such a bad mood. 

Miguel was certain that if he were a celebrity, this would be the wedding of the century with the way the bill was racking up. 

Not that it really mattered, because it was his wife’s day. Anything you wanted, he was going to get it. 

You both agreed on a buffet-style dinner for the reception with different stations and servers to accommodate your huge families. 

Currently, you both were tasting the traditional foods that the caterer had to offer and it was looking less than desirable. 

The greens were a bit bland, the catfish was ok, and the mac & cheese was delicious. 

The pork was a bit dry, the wedding cookies could have been better, and the mole was missing something. 

“I think,” Miguel pushed his food around the plate. “It’s missing banana.”

“Really? I’ve never thought to add that before.”

“For future reference, it’ll really make the difference.”

You wiped your fingers above the plate, “I think this might be a sign to leave the traditional stuff to our dessert table. Some of these are great but I’m sure both of our families will be up in arms with complaints. And maybe this is for the better! Tradition is too on the nose.”

Miguel admires your positivity because this is probably the sixth caterer you both have tested out. 

“We know you’re popular from your page, so what is it that you’re most confident in?”

The woman before you all smiled, “Since you're both looking for a pretty ambitious spread, I think things like a pizza bar or build-your-own stations should be the way to go.”

Through another round of dishes, you and Miguel were amazed by the specialties that the chef had to offer from the customization to the endless amount of options.

After a long Q&A trial between the chef and Miguel:

“Do you have simpler options for the kiddos?”

“Is it possible to do this station and this station right next to each other?”

“Should I hire more help for you?”

“Do you sell this mac & cheese separately?”

“Can you try this mole one more time?”

You both settled on five different stations with food ranging from BBQ to fries to candy. No one will be able to say that they went home hungry.

“Are you satisfied?” you rub Miguel’s chest on the way out to the car.

“Completely. I think it’s going to be great.”

The big day was getting closer and closer with finalizations being made and arrangements galore. The cake flavors were chosen, your dress was being edited to perfection, makeup and hair appointments were already made, and Miguel’s suit was tailored like no other. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were all fitted, especially after Miguel’s constant trips to Lyla’s shop. He was there for nearly every snip, tuck, and seam.

The time was really winding down and you both could really feel that as you walked into the reception venue. 

Miguel woke up that day to a phone call claiming that the venue had been overbooked and was seeking him out to cancel his event. He’s never called people faster in his life. The threats that were made was not something he was proud of, but he’s glad he didn’t wake you up.

Now he has the pleasure of watching you glide around the tables in awe.

“Miguel! Look at the plates! The silverware! The centerpieces!”

It truly was magical watching your vision come to light. 

Miguel followed after you with a grin painting his lips, checking every table for faults. The wedding planner was also next to him, waiting with bated breath for direction from Miguel.

“This should be here,” Miguel pointed to a lone party favor in the middle of a plate.

The planner moves it with ease, used to Miguel’s demands at this point in the process. 

Miguel kept walking towards the tables closest to where you and he would be sitting. 

“I thought I said that these two weren’t supposed to be next to each other? We don’t have time for arguments that night,” Miguel picks up two placeholders. “I don’t want to have to carry our aunts out of here myself. Fix it.”

The wedding planner grabbed them and made a note on their clipboard.

“And where’s the centerpiece for our table?” Miguel checks his watch. “It was supposed to be here yesterday.”

“There was a delay in the flowers. They were the wrong shade, remember? They should be here first thing tomorrow morning, and we’ll have the final touches to it.”

“And you’ll have the pictures sent to me?”

“Of course.”

“Miguel!” you were on the other side of the hall by the dessert table. “The lights over here are shaped like hearts! How cute is that!”

Miguel’s arms unfolded, demeanor shifting as he watched you get excited by the different labels. His chest rose up and the scowl on his mouth disappeared. 

“You really love her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“This is a toast to everyone who has been with us on this long, long journey.”

Your closest friends and family laughed at Miguel’s words. 

Who’s to say that Miguel essentially blacked out making sure that everyone walked down the aisle correctly just a few hours earlier? No one brave enough to bring it to his face.

“You guys have been here from the start. From the moment I decided to pursue this angel of a woman, you guys were right there cheering me on. Now we’re here years later about to take on one of the biggest days of our lives.”

The table was a mix of happiness and nostalgia, excitement and fondness.

“I can’t thank you all enough for being a part of our bridal party. I can’t even thank you guys enough for encouraging us as a couple. The love in this room truly knows no bounds.’

Miguel lifts his glass up with one hand and squeezes your hand with another.

“So here’s to the present and the future. To family and friends. To us, your future O’Hara’s.”

The table clinks their glasses together with a cheer, watching as Miguel kisses you with so much adoration. 

Tomorrow was going to be whimsical.

Today was starting out obnoxious. 

Anything that could go wrong was going wrong for Miguel.

First, woke up almost an hour late due to playing stupid games all night with his groomsmen. He would have preferred one my night with you before the “I do’s,” but apparently that was bad luck. Instead, he got an extensive game night with a couple of beers. Nothing to have him over the edge, but definitely something to make him feel like he was in college again.

Second, he couldn’t find his cufflinks that he had made specifically for this day. They were custom with your initials and your birthstone on them. The room looked like a whirlwind after he searched top to bottom only for Gabriel to have them the whole time and tell him almost forty minutes later. 

He wanted to strangle him.

“Miguel, I have the rings too. There’s no way you think that Peter B. is a better ringkeeper than I am.”

“If you lose them, I swear to god I’m going to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Death, Grim Ripper, stabbing, big whoop. Go calm down.”

Third, for some reason, Peter B. had Mayday in the hotel suite when the only children that were supposed to hit the aisle were his niece and your nephew. 

“Why is that baby here?” Miguel tried to keep his voice level because it’s not Mayday who ran in here, it was Peter who’s constantly doing what he wanted. She was walking around and chatting with the groomsmen who were kind enough to keep up her conversations. Four-year-olds had a lot to say.

“Ah, she’s just here until her grandma comes by to pick her up!”

“Peter, if I pass out before I see my wife today, you’re going to be the first reason.”

Lastly, when everything was finally settled and he was ready to go to the ceremony venue, Gabriel came running in and almost gave Miguel a heart attack. Something about you and crying and Miguel almost broke the door down trying to get out.

“Miguel, don’t look at her!” Gabriel ran after him as he made his way to your suite.

“I’m not, damn it, I just need to make sure she’s ok.”

He was on your floor in a flash, your friends waiting outside the door. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s inside. We calmed her down for the most part, but her aunt got up here somehow and started to talk shit.”

“Miguel, if Jess and her mom weren't able to remove her, it would have been bad. She kept saying things about how you’re being tricked. She kept telling her that she wasn’t worthy enough to be a bride.”

“What?” Miguel walked towards the door. “Let me in.”

“Let us make sure you can’t see her, first.”

“I really don’t give a-”

“Miguel.”

He turned to Gabriel who pushed his hands down in a pressing motion, “Ya relájate, yeah? She’s not going to be centered if you aren’t centered.” 

With that in mind, Miguel waited at the door until he was allowed in. Your friends said you were in the bathroom with the door cracked. He walked over and turned his back to the door, tapping in a light rhythm so as not to startle you.

“You ok, baby?”

He could hear your sniffles and it took everything within him not to take the hinges off the door just to get to you. 

“No, not really. I, I’m terrified.”

“Honestly, me too.”

The door moved a bit, and your voice sounded closer, “What if I’m not the woman you need?

He scoffed, “And what if I’m not the man you need?”

You were quiet for just a moment, “You are more than what any man has ever been for me. I don’t think there’s been even a day where I could fix my lips to say that I haven’t felt your love and your heart. You’re…you’re everything to me.”

“So how do you think I feel when someone has convinced you that you aren’t enough for me?” Miguel turned his head to the crack. “No woman has opened my eyes like you have. No person has stolen my heart and cared for it the way that you have. I can’t even begin to describe the ways in which you’ve changed me for the better. You are my world.”

“Miguel,” your voice was watery as you took a deep breath. 

“If you want to call this entire thing off and go to the Justice of the Peace, that’s fine with me. We can send our family straight to the reception. I don’t care, as long as I have you.”

“No, I want to still have this ceremony. I still want to present our love. I’m just overwhelmed right now.”

Miguel moves to slide his wrist through the door, “Give me your hand.”

You laugh as you take his hand in yours, careful not to lean on the door and smoosh it.

“You are worthy to me and this is only a new chapter in the foundation that we’ve built. No jealous aunt nor any other family member is taking what we have away. I chose you, you chose me, ok?”

“Ok,” you squeeze his hand as rubs the top of yours with his thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Miguel’s heart was hammering in his chest like a hummingbird fluttering around nectar.

He stood at the end of the aisle with his one hand grasping one wrist and a knot in his throat. The seats were filled with waiting people, but he didn't think anyone was more ready than him. Gabriel had patted him on the back once he was down the aisle, now he stood with his daughter at his side making sure Miguel really didn’t pass out.

Miguel’s tunnel vision shifted as everyone got up to watch you come around the corner. Miguel’s breath stopped. 

You really were his world. 

Your smile was blinding as you stepped towards him, your father’s arm wrapped tightly around yours. The closer you got, the more Miguel could feel the air coming back into his lungs.

As he waited for your father to put your hands in his, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was so lucky, he couldn’t believe it. 

As he held his hands out, he had to will himself to relax. 

You stepped closer to him, your warm palms bringing life back to his. 

“You’re shaking.”

He looked to his hands and they did have a faint tremor to them, “I’m excited.”

With eyes for only each other, you both made it through your vows. Miguel damn near brought the audience to tears with his imagery of a lost younger version of himself and you finding him in his aimless pursuit of living. How you opened up to him like a waterfall behind thick vines. How you wrapped your arms around him. How you upgraded his life. 

You almost brought him to tears when you spoke about how he loved you. How he stood tall between all that was against you and guided you to better days. How he never went a day without showering you in some form of love, even when he was feeling like shit. How he made you want to grow old with him and walk through life together. 

To the shock of no one, you both said “I do” with ease, no objection to be heard. 

When he kissed you, the world stopped for only a second and came back down with the celebration from your guests. His hands on your jaw brought you closer to him and one swipe of the tongue before he pulled away had you excited for later. 

One more kiss and you both turned to the crowd ecstatically. The broom was placed in front of you both and with three taps on your hand you both took a huge jump over it. Your family and friends cheered even louder. 

Walking down the aisle to the doors, Miguel could actually pay attention to the crowd. So many people were smiling and wiping tears from their faces. It only solidified the love that he had for you. 

You both laugh as flower petals fill the air around you on the way to the car. 

It was really a joyous occasion. 

Miguel was so happy, he didn’t care what anyone else did.

Ok so, he did stop one of his baby cousins from sticking their entire head in the fondue machine, but other than that, he was so relieved.

The DJ announcing you two as Mr. & Mrs. Miguel O’Hara elevated his mood and the trip to the dance floor for the first dance had his spirits high. 

The two of you had a sexy number, with his hands barely leaving your hips and his fingers sliding up the slit of the sparkly dress you changed into. 

After that, it was hard for him to keep his hands off of you. He tried to distract himself with catching up with family, grabbing food from each station, having dance competitions, laying sleeping kids more comfortably in chairs, anything to stop himself from just dragging you to your reserved hotel room. 

When you two stood near the cake feeding each other bites with hearts in your eyes, he couldn’t help but to lean into your ear and whisper, “Still the second best flavor.”

You hit his chest with one hand and covered your cake-filled mouth with the other. 

By the time you drove off with ribbons and flowers trailing the back of the car, Miguel was practically buzzing getting you all to himself. 

He made that known by carrying you bridal style to the room without a care in the world and you laughing into his neck. 

You kissed his neck as he refused to let you, even for the elevator, “You’re so silly.”

“The better to make you laugh, Mrs. O’Hara.”

“I love it when you call me that. Say it again.”

“Mrs. O’Hara. My beautiful bride today, my beautiful wife for life.”

He passes through the door after you reach to scan the keycard. As soon as he closes it you’re on his face kissing all over. 

“My husband,” you say in between the passes of his lips against yours. “Mr. O’Hara. Will you put me down?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Then how will we finish off our night with a bang? C’mon, baby, I have a surprise for you.”

“Fine,” four more kisses and Miguel let you go. 

“Just go sit on the bed and I’ll be right back.”

Miguel laid his jacket on a chair and walked over to the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt carefully, not wanting to tear the expensive material. He slid his shoes off carefully too, sliding into the fluffy slippers the hotel provided. 

He would say he wishes he could have done more for tonight, but the two of you will be enjoying the fresh air of a foreign country in about two weeks time. 

He sat on the bed as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. There was no telling what you had in store, and he can’t wait to find out. 

“Close your eyes!”

Miguel obeyed, curious as to what you had in store. He could hear the padding of your heels on the carpet getting closer. 

You took his hands and guided them to your ass and with muscle memory, he took a handful.

“I’m already sold,” he said, feeling some light fabric hit his wrists. 

You chuckled at his face, seeing his tongue poked out to the corner and his hands feeling and kneading your body. 

“Ok, open ‘em.”

Miguel parted his eyes to see you in beautiful white lingerie. A white open lace see-through babydoll set hugged your tits tight. Panning down, he could see your thin panty with the string pulled over your hips and the curve of your body on display. Going further down, on your left leg, there was a garter digging into your skin that read “Miguel’s Wife” in bold, red cursive letters. 

“You like it?”

Miguel looked up to you with a tinier veil adorning your hair.

“This garter might be the only thing that makes it out unscathed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” he leans forward to plant kisses along the top of your chest, pulling your thick thighs around him. “We’re gonna get a complaint.”

“Good,” you raked your nails down his nape, earning a groan from Miguel as you continued to his back. “I want you to make love to me.”

You start to grind along him, feeling the bulge in his suit pants grow. Miguel hummed and started to remove your top. It looked gorgeous on you, but it was useless to him at the moment. Your skin was sparkling all the way down to your nipples and it only made Miguel want to devour you more. 

You gasp as he smacks your ass and hikes you up, his mouth latching onto your areola like it’s fruit from the chocolate fondue today. 

“I’ve been wanting this all night,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “You looked so amazing today.”

“So did you,” you tilt his chin up to look at his face. “I saw you looking at me all night. You’re not very discreet.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

He got up with you in his arms and flipped you over, “Everybody there should know how I feel about you by now.”

You were a vision. Smooth skin contrasting with the stark white of the panty and garter, veil sprawled out behind you like a halo. Miguel bent down to kiss you again, truly in awe that this was who he had as a spouse. 

“I want you to know how I feel about you too,” you whisper against his lips. 

You guide his hand from your face to your breast to your panties. You part your legs, thighs shaking in anticipation. Miguel's eyes get wider as he sees your lips through the peek-a-boo hole of your underwear. One swipe and your essence is on his fingertips. 

Miguel brings his eyes back to you as he takes his fingers and brings it to his lips, sucking it off with a pop. 

You bite your lip watching him lick his fingers and unbuckle his pants. 

The air is tight and heated, with you open and waiting and Miguel watching and wanting. 

He leans back and pulls his pants down. You look down hoping to see a peek of what’s about to rock your world. 

At the sight of your name and “MIC” in bold black letters across the band you bust out in giggles. 

You sit up as he comes around to the side of the bed, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I’ll never forget it.”

You laugh even more when you see it up close.

“Help me take this off,” he turns around to show your name and “Husband” printed on the back.  

You lean into his back in a fit of giggles, shocked but giddy. 

“We really are soulmates,” you say as you pull the briefs by the leg. “Meant to be.”

Miguel turns back around, bending to slide your mouth with his, “Forever and ever.”

True to his word, it really felt like you were his favorite flavor with the amount of marks he left on your skin before he got back in between your legs. You were so wound tight that with one lick from your hole to your clit, you were already trapping his head there. 

Miguel hummed and hiked your hips up, mouth moving to kiss your lips as if he were making out with the ones on your face. It was absurd how loud it sounded. His tongue kept swirling along your walls while the tip of his nose rubbed against your clit. 

You didn’t know where to keep your hands, but it did look good with your ring dazzling on your finger as you brought your hands to his head buried deep in your pussy. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried as he started to nod his face along your flower. 

Just when you could feel yourself ride to the edge, he took his middle and ring finger and spread you open. You shouted his name as you felt the cool touch of the ring slide in and out alongside the heat of his tongue. 

You don’t remember when you came down, but you remember Miguel’s drenched face kissing along your shaking thighs. 

“No Dulce de Leche is beating that, Mrs. O’Hara,” he reached to pull the soaking lace off, careful not to move the garter. 

“C’mere,” you hold your hands out, wanting to feel him on you. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

Miguel groans into your mouth, grinding his dick along your wet folds. He finds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I love you,” he sighs into your mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

One sweet session later, he had you on your stomach, back arched, and yelling into the pillows as he pounded into you. 

You could see stars as his hips smacked loudly against your ass. The headboard was knocking against the wall with every push. 

Miguel was really feeling the wedding attire as he had one hand gripping your veil by your back and the other pulling at garter. 

When you came around his cock, he was diving in right after, letting go into your sea. The shudders of you afterwards had him moving a little more and turning your face to the side to kiss your panting lips. 

By the time you two finished, you were sure the sun was soon to rise. 

Your hair was a mess, the veil was somewhere across the room, and you both were tangled up in the sheets. 

You laid your head on Miguel’s chest, content to listen to his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. He’s rubbing your arm and kissing the top of your head. 

“Thank you so much for stepping up and making this day so magical for me,” you look up at him. “Words can’t explain how appreciative I am.”

Miguel looked back at you, eyes warm, “I just want to see you smile. Thank you for giving me space to handle things.”

You pucker your lips and he reaches to comply. 

“Now, we need to get some sleep. Gotta regain some energy.”

“You’re absolutely right,” you say as you tilt your eyes down to the sheets. “Because I’ve got a show to put on when we wake up.”

Miguel just laughs as he pulls you onto his chest. 

The birds chirping were a nice background noise to you all’s slumber. 

I went through several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares in order to finish this. BUT! I am happy with the result. As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

[ajaxsprettyboy]

Dottore loves you .

I did not proofread this enough I was ovulating and dottore had my brain in a chokehold.... this is dottore x trans male reader and very gay and chaser dottore and cock piercings and gay sex and possibly gangbangs and pregnancy and mmmh also dottore fluff at the end... bc hes cute

Oopsie :3

boys who let their boyfriends grope their tits and rub their tiny boy cunts.

Dottore wouldn’t consider himself a chaser, no, he just loves what you have to offer. He loves the way your nipples perk up when he opens the door and comes home, the cold air causing your body to react accordingly. He loves how soft your boytits are, the way they feel in his hands is remarkable.

He loves the way your hips sway when you walk and the look of your ass when you bend over to do anything. He loves the way your ass jiggles when you jump, and the way your thighs look wrapped around his waist. It’s not all sexual, sure, but he’s a very busy man and when he comes home after a failed experiment he’d prefer if you were wearing minimal clothing.

You see, he just loves the way your tdick reacts to his touch and the way your hole gets so slick when you suck him off. Not to mention how pretty you look with his cum on your face.

“That’s my good boy”

He’d murmur, his lips curling into a lustful smile as he pulls you up to bend you over the kitchen counter. He promises he’ll eat after this, he knows you worked so hard on making his favorite food for him but he just can’t help wanting your cute little boypussy more.

Your moans are just so cute and the way you react to his tongue on your tdick, god it’s intoxicating. Not to mention the way you clench around his fingers as he tries so hard to prep your cunt to take him. No matter how hard he tries, he’s never stretching you enough.. maybe it’s the piercings in his cock but still! He tries, he does… at least he wants you to think.. he tries.

He made you come up with a safe word because he loves you too much to actually hurt you badly. But that doesn’t stop him from getting off to the cries of pain and pleasure you mewl out every time he fucks you. You haven’t used the safe word yet so he tries to test his limits. The more you take the more he tries, it’s not coming from a place of malice! Just sadism.

Unfortunately for you because the original is in love with you in his own sadistic way, all of the segments are in love with you. Which then means that all of them want to fuck you. Thankfully, you only live with the original so unless you run into one of the segments, there’s no need to carry condoms on your person.

Dating dottore isn’t all sexual, though! He’ll give you top surgery if you truly want it, and he’ll give you your weekly t-shot! Plus he’s slightly nicer to you than to everyone else! He’s not that affectionate, though… but he will do complex experiments to find ways to make things that don’t appear in nature grow in his lab for you!

Say if you wanted a plant, a pretty one, one with large pretty flowers and the petals in your exact favorite color in the exact shade you like best, he’d genetically engineer a plant to be your perfect plant. Not to mention that he’d name it after you. He’s also a really good cook! All those years as an academia student really paid off!

He’s also surprisingly good with animals… kids not so much… well, if they’re healthy and you really want to I guess but if they’re sick with a rare or untreatable condition.. maybe don’t let him near..

His blue hair is a dominant trait by the way, if you have babies with him those babies are coming out blue! Sharp teeth? Also completely genetic, not a dominant trait but one that will most likely get one of 3 babies. He’s also very fertile, get the iud. Let him put that iud in unless you want more blue people roaming tyvat. (Would also fuck you while pregnant and/or sharing the room with the baby. Do not let him become a father.)

use condoms, please. He’s clean, yeah, but as I said, he’s very fertile. Also very horny so expect sex daily.

[aeithalian]

Rick. Buddy. Amigo. Explain something to me. Real quick, I promise.

[The Trials of Apollo: The Tower of Nero, Chapter 4]

Good genetic package, Rick/Apollo? Are you sure about that?

Listen.

Estelle's physical description *clap* makes *clap* no *clap* sense. Why on earth does one of the only fully human characters in this series have to have unique and weird physical traits? Also, it makes no sense in the larger scope of Rick's writing style to have chosen this unless he had some sort of larger intention behind it. Not to mention the theories by fans haven't really done much to fully flesh out any perceivable reason as to why this might be:

Poseidon blessed Sally when she was pregnant - By far, this is the most believable to me, but it's still eh, because this feels very weird and I don't get the vibes from Poseidon that he would have done so to the extent that it shows up in Estelle's physical traits. Also if that were true, it doesn't make sense for Rick to just fully drop it in the story without the intention to flesh it out further, because to my knowledge he doesn't have plans for another novel that takes place after ToA.

Paul isn't Estelle's father - Firstly, this is out of character for Sally, and this doesn't fully justify why Estelle has Percy's eyes. PLUS, salt-and-pepper hair still wouldn't be natural for a newborn

Paul is Poseidon in disguise - This explains her traits the best, but Paul's character is so much more satisfying if this isn't true. It's also total bullshit.

Enter me. I have a theory. Yay. But first, we must discuss.

Firstly, I want to talk about her eyes. Going back to the theories, and based on my fair amount of knowledge of genetics (clarification: I write this as I procrastinate studying for my final genetics exam), the eyes are mostly interesting because Apollo specifies that they are immediately similar Percy's. The thing about eye genetics, though, is that they are what we consider to be 'complex traits', meaning that they are influenced by the interactions of multiple genes from both parents. What I mean to point out here is that Sally could definitely have the genes to produce two children with 'sea-green' eyes, considering her canonical eye color is blue. We don't know what Paul's eye color is, which makes my job a whole lot easier because I can assume that it doesn't directly contradict the possibility that Sally just has really strong eye genes (?). ALSO, who's to say that Poseidon didn't just change his eye color to match Percy's when he was born? Ah, yes, the perks of having a shapeshifting dad who seemingly loves you and your eye color a lot (but is still absentee, WHOOPS).

But what I actually found the most interesting about Estelle was her hair color. More specifically, the fact that Apollo says he's never seen an infant with that color hair. And we know Apollo is somewhat of an unreliable narrator (although this rarely affects his descriptions of people other than himself, and has also mostly evolved into a more honest narration since the end of book 3), but I believe we're supposed to trust this dude who just so happens to have been alive for over four millennia. Based on Apollo's previous descriptions of his own powers (see his conversations with Percy in TTC, when he pulls a Mufasa and basically admits to seeing everything the light touches), we know that Apollo knows and has seen a lot of stuff. So, how is this the first time he's seemingly witnessed this type of hair mutation?

I did some research, as one does. To me, it seems as if Estelle has what's called Griscelli syndrome, which is a type of rare autosomal genetic mutation that typically results in phenotypic hypopigmentation of the skin and hair. (It can also result in neurological disorders and immunodeficiency, based on the type, but I digress.) It's also pretty rare, considering both parents have to be carriers, and even then the child still has a one in four chance of being affected. Current statistics from the NIH say that Griscelli syndrome currently presents in less than 1000 Americans, and is rapidly fatal in 1-4 years without aggressive treatment.

That sad note aside, it's weird to me that the way Rick wrote Estelle's physical description makes it seem as if Apollo had never seen anything similar. I feel like a god of both medicine and knowledge would probably be a bit more up to speed with rare genetic disorders, especially because he's so old. The only explanations are that Apollo, in his mortal state, can't make a diagnosis, OR what he's seeing isn't actually something he can diagnose.

FURTHERMORE, from the same chapter, Apollo says something that muddies the waters even further:

It doesn't make sense that Apollo thinks that Zeus would take such an interest in Estelle. Her nature alone doesn't make me think that the king of the gods would take a sudden interest in a literal newborn, regardless of how much Apollo loves her (and honestly, I don't blame him).

What I think? Rick pulled the strings just tight enough that he has a very interesting plot point to go off of if he ever decides to pick up the pen again and write a new book.

What I think? Estelle doesn't have Griscelli syndrome, she is in much more danger than anyone realizes, and Apollo's subconscious put this together from the second he saw her.

Actually, let's rewind. I'm in the process of writing a fic (stay tuned!) and I had a random thought: do the Greeks have an apocalypse story? You know, like Ragnarök in the Norse mythos, and the Revelation stories in the Bible.

The answer? They don't. I guess that's what you get when the Greco-Roman gods are fully immortal and literally can't be killed.

That didn't stop the rabbit hole, though, and what I found was actually very interesting and I couldn't believe what I was reading.

I give you: Hesiod. More specifically, his poem Works and Days. More more specifically, his 'ages of man'. More more more specifically, the iron age.

For context, Hesiod was an ancient Greek poet who lived in the 8th century BC, and was walking right along with Homer in terms of fame at the time. The poem Works and Days is actually more of a really long Facebook post where he complains about anything and everything, especially in his section on the ages of man.

In summary, Hesiod wrote about what he perceived to be the five stages of human life since the creation of mankind by Zeus' hand:

gold: perfect in every way, pious, and blessed by the gods

silver: real bitches, the ugly middle child, so Zeus killed them

bronze: were so violent they wiped each other out

heroic: golden child, contained the heroes of the Greek mythos

iron: middle-aged men still living in their mom's basement

Hesiod wrote his poem during what he perceived to be the Iron age (it's really just him complaining about being born in the wrong generation), but he ends up listing a lot of qualities: 'everyone works too hard, the gods hate us, nobody respects family values anymore', blah blah blah.

I know what you're thinking: Tia, what does this have to do with an apocalypse?

Well, dear reader, bear with me. You see, every time Zeus didn't like an age of mankind, or it became too violent, or it generally wasn't pious enough, Zeus wouldn't hesitate to destroy that race and start over. Basically, an apocalypse.

So, you may ask a new question: what is the criteria for Zeus to destroy the Iron age? And, assuming that this is the age we're currently in, what would it take for Zeus to destroy everything our beloved Riordanverse characters know and love?

My friend, that is where Estelle comes in. Yes, a baby.

Take this excerpt regarding the Iron age:

"And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

My theory? Estelle, in her unique position as a bridge between not just the mortals and the demigods (eg. her relationship with Percy), but also the mortals and the gods (eg. her great impression on Apollo), is a living, breathing prophecy. A prophecy that the end is nigh for this current age of mankind.

Furthermore, I also think that Apollo made this connection, somewhere in the back of his mind, the very second he realized that her hair was entirely unique. According to Hesiod (who Apollo also mentions later in the book, so we know he knows who Hesiod is), the day that babies are born with gray hair (or, salt-and-pepper for the sake of the theory) is the second Zeus basically get the go-ahead to commit genocide.

This also brilliantly explains why Apollo suddenly, and seemingly without reason, makes to keep Estelle's existence a secret from Zeus, because he knows that it might be the easiest way to get everyone he knows and loves killed by his own father for "the greater good" as I'm sure Zeus will put it. Plus, in his mortal state, Rick didn't have to explain why Apollo did what he did, since Apollo's been having memory issues since the beginning of the series: why would he remember one line from a poem written almost three thousand years ago?

Frankly, Zeus doesn't care about mortals: the only reason he really cares about anyone is if they have enough power to threaten his own, or if they have some sort of power he can benefit from. This, certainly, falls under the category of the latter. Wouldn't you want a chance to remake humanity into the perfect image that it used to be? You would, if you hadn't gone through a five book long grow-a-conscience speedrun like our lovely Apollo over here.

Fortunately for Rick, this is such an outrageous theory that if it never comes to fruition, I won't be surprised. If he ever writes something similar, though, know I called it first.

EDIT: here's the fic i mentioned i was (am) writing

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

[when-wax-wings-melt]

Keeper of the Lost Cities: A Love-Hate-Love Relationship, And What It Can Do To Your Psyche 

This is the essay you guys wanted to see after this presentation dropped; to be clear, this is the final draft. The presentation was made from the rough draft, so it's rather different.

Also, the essay prompt was to make it personal. So the italicized bits are where I was trying to do that, and they are both separate and a part of the essay. They break up the flow, but are also a response to the normal bits of the essay. You get it. Here we go.

In total, the Keeper of The Lost Cities (KOTLC) series by Shannon Messenger has over 7000 pages, split between nine and a half books (Book 8.5 was, uselessly, a novella) with a planned tenth coming in late 2024. It’s the kind of series that hooks you the same way a fisherman hooks a fish: with a promise of a treat that goes very, very unfulfilled. This is to say: KOTLC is a good series, at least at first. It’s certainly been my core obsession for a good (or bad) five years. It’s a hook because you can’t escape once you’ve begun. It’s my own personal brand of heroine, as Edward Cullen might say if Bella were a too-long book series that doesn’t resolve any plotlines or character arcs and instead piles more information on top of worldbuilding until contradictions are more plentiful than the packed main cast.

KOTLC is a good series, but the idea of recommending it feels like I’d be violating several articles of the Geneva Convention. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and yet the thought of it ending is an impossibility on the scale of the apocalypse and I hope (I’d rather) the world ends before this series does. KOTLC is a minefield of sloppy worldbuilding, deeply compelling characters, and---where am i without it?---bits of myself woven into the many, many words, sinking under my skin and revealing what I think I have to offer. 

Sophie Foster is the protagonist of the series, trudging the long, never-ending path to what hopefully will be a happy ending. Like the author, Sophie has blonde hair and brown eyes, making her unique among her fellow elves, who all have blue eyes, including the rare-among-the-main-cast people of color.

There are so many things that make Sophie weird, strange, unique, attractive to every boy who sees her, and otherwise out of the ordinary: for example, she has five special abilities that allow her to teleport, read minds, inflict pain, speak any language, and enhance the abilities of others---i cannot do what she can, but she breathes and i do too---There are certain things she has very much in common with her fellow elves, such as her slender build and flawless skin, but much more makes her, as her childhood bullies would say, “A Special Sophie-Flake.”

Sophie was raised by humans, which not only means that the steadily growing pile of unique traits is now tottering dangerously above my head, but also that she’s clumsy and wildly insecure. This insecurity has a purpose and a source, making it one of the most annoyingly (and terrifyingly) accurate depictions of teenage anxiety in middle-grade media (if I were a vampire pulled from normal vampire lore rather than Twilight and I looked at her, I’d be invisible)---so do you get it? do i? 

which one of us is me---Sophie has intense imposter syndrome, never believing she’s worthy of the overwhelming support, approval, and desire heaped upon her throughout her years in the Lost Cities. In Book One, four teenage boys were no less than obsessed with her, possibly because she, presumably, talked to them sometimes. Valin, a “drooly boy” (named due to his constant drooling, as one might expect), is forced to ballroom dance with Sophie in detention, and later gives her a card and a bracelet professing his admiration. Dex Dizznee manages to sustain his crush until he finally makes his move in Book Six, and is rejected in humiliation after she kisses him to make him realize his feelings aren’t actually real---when I know that he was lying to himself, is lying to himself. truth is a phase and it ends once you hit age eight---After Book Six, only two remain: Fitz and Keefe, each of whom has made their crushes very, desperately, embarrassingly clear to someone who very clearly returns both sets of feelings.

“Sooner or later you're going to have to solve the triangle. Or should we get real and call it a square?” (Messenger Neverseen), notes Keefe, with his usual subtle confession of his feelings---only leaving me with questions: did he want her to know at all? is he chasing the person or the change? the girl or the excitement? the wanting or the wanted?---The love polygon of however many vertices is both acknowledged and not by Sophie— she’s aware of her feelings for Fitz from chapter two of Book One, becomes aware of her feelings for Keefe in Book Nine, and mentally friend-zones Dex every other sentence, even when it’s not really relevant to the rest of her inner monologue. Her inability to believe with confidence that she might be worthy of a crush (or any sort of positive acknowledgment) is layered beneath every thought where she considers the possibility of being liked, and then promptly dismisses it.

---she knows that admitting it means being wrong. i will be wrong, unless i guess right and am big-headed, full of myself. who am i---

Sophie’s oblivious nature stems from her human upbringing, directly resulting from the trauma of developing the ability to read minds at age five. She hears her parents wishing she were normal or better at making friends and fitting in, her sister complaining about her presence, and her classmates at school judging everything she does.

She sticks out like a sore thumb in the human world, only to come to the elven world and be called a freak, malfunctioning, a genetic experiment, and a failure, just when she thought she might fit in---when i am a puzzle piece, a corner without the connection---Her alienation in the human world (referred to as the Forbidden Cities in the series) comes from her level of success, skipping five grades due to her elven intelligence and photographic memory, and getting into Harvard at age twelve.

While she hates the combination of jealousy and admiration she’s constantly showered with there---who hates it and loves it at the same time? isolation and contradiction---in the elven world, she’s hated for other reasons: accidentally breaking laws, making mistakes, or simply being a blip on the seemingly perfect streak the elven world has for peace and security. Is there any mystery as to why she would never believe that people actually, genuinely care for her? She’s formed her protective coating of denial that lasts her through every time Fitz gives her a gift and she convinces herself it means nothing, or every time Dex shows his jealousy, or every time Keefe goes to her before anyone else.

Even when she kisses Dex, after he tells her in anything but words that he likes her, she doubts herself—are two sides of the same coin, where heads is insecurity and tails is egotism. question: who is she?---She doesn’t think he actually likes her, appreciates her, admires her. This doubt works its way into everything she does, every relationship she has, platonic, romantic, or otherwise. Yet again, she shows her status as a reflection---answer: she’s a mirror. i know who i am because she exists---reading into everything and still not believing or trusting that it truly exists outside of her imagination.

Any time Sophie sees a girl she perceives as prettier, more elegant, or smarter than she is, she instantly develops a jealousy complex—relating either to how Fitz acts around them, or how they project the confidence and normalcy she wishes she can achieve---to tell me whether or not i am alone---She surrounds herself with people who are described as incredibly stunning even in a world where every elf naturally matches the ideal Western beauty standard.

Yet she refuses to believe that she, too, might be beautiful, and instead considers herself dull and boring next to Biana, Linh, Marella, and Maruca---(and ten books later, i still do not have an answer)---Even Stina, who has committed the number one crime (it’s a federal offense) of having “a mass of frizzy curls” (KOTLC 164), is considered beautiful when her hair is “tamed” and slicked back. This framing of beauty applies to the boys, too, but none of Sophie’s descriptions are quite as detailed, quite as admiring, or quite as wistful as when she’s describing Biana Vacker’s heart-shaped, perfectly glossed lips---so, yes, i look at her and see myself. is that what i’m trying to say? is that what i am?---

But the queer-coding doesn’t stop (or begin, really) with Sophie’s dedicated denial of both her worth as a human being and her desire to kiss her pretty girl friends. A connection called a “Cognate Bond” is often referred to in the text as the closest two elves can become, emotionally and mentally.

Cognates exist when two Telepaths (such as Sophie) have such a deep and unbreakable trust bond that they become more skilled together than they were apart. In creating and maintaining this bond, they have to complete trust exercises and not hold back secrets keeping them from total confidentiality---she thrives on secrets---Sophie’s cognate is her friend (and love interest, and, debatably, ex-boyfriend) Fitz, whose romantic relationship was in a large part focused on their cognate one. Their trust exercises involve staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands, having matching rings, and Fitz telling Sophie that she’s the only person he can truly trust.

Fitz also asks his father at one point if cognates are allowed to date each other— his father affirms the statement. Notably, Alden has the authority to do so since he himself was a cognate, only undergoing a nasty breakup— sorry, only losing the bond, after his cognate, Quinlin, kept too many secrets. It’s implied that two other characters were once almost Cognates, only to grow too far apart when one of them, Prentice, had his sanity forcibly shattered and was locked in prison, leaving his (gay lover) best friend, Tiergan, to raise his son---while cognatedom thrives on truth, and also regret, and also the denial of both---The choice to parallel Fitz/Sophie, Alden/Quinlin, and Tiergan/Prentice was possibly not a conscious one but it still resonates with hundreds of queer teen readers who look at the portrayal of utter devotion and trust between two men and think, Wow. This is what I see in myself---but without the denial, without the regret, what are we left with? what do we see?

we see the truth.

We see ourselves.

There are so, so many other issues that I could easily delve into in this series (such as the strangely Western portrayal of gender roles, the racism concerning the Song family, irresponsible adults and the ethics of genetic experimentation, the girlboss and cardboardification of quite literally every woman, etc) and just as many things that make Keeper of the Lost Cities worth it (Fitz’s anger, the development of villains, Sophie’s trans-coding, Keefe’s trauma, physical ramifications of guilt, Marella and Fintans’ pyrokinesis/queer-coding, whatever Dimitar has going on, etc).

The series tends to skew to the “not good” side, although on occasion it will topple abruptly into the “incredible work of art and exploration of wildly interesting character dynamics” before rising like an angel back to heaven into its original position as “questionable in terms of taste.” Mostly, what defines KOTLC is how it’s interpreted rather than the content itself. Someone far different (and with far worse taste) than I might see Fitz’s quest for vengeance and call him a red flag in elven form, while I call it a ridiculously interesting exploration of what grief, near idol worship, toxic standards, and guilt can do to a teenage boy past his limit.

But I am not the voice of the fandom (even though I definitely should be). I look at Sophie Foster and see myself, but that does not make her me. These characters always feel so painfully real, desperately relatable, as if Messenger cobbled together a main cast from bits of my life, but they are not. In the end, they are just characters. In the end, it’s just a series made for middle schoolers, in the same way the sun is just the sun, and the stars are just there to twinkle merrily and not to be explored.

(where am i without it? I cannot do what she can, but she breathes and I do too so do you get it? do i?  which one of us is me when I know that he was lying to himself, is lying to himself. truth is a phase and it ends once you hit age eight only leaving me with questions: did he want her to know at all? is he chasing the person or the change? the girl or the excitement? the wanting or the wanted? she knows that admitting it means being wrong. i will be wrong, unless i guess right and am big-headed, full of myself. who am i when i am a puzzle piece, a corner without the connection who hates it and loves it at the same time? isolation and contradiction aretwo sides of the same coin, where heads is insecurity and tails is egotism. question: who is she? answer: she’s a mirror. i know who i am because she exists to tell me whether or not i am alone (and ten books later, i still do not have an answer) so, yes, i look at her and see myself. is that what i’m trying to say? is that what i am? she thrives on secrets while cognatedom thrives on truth, and also regret, and also the denial of both but without the denial, without the regret, what are we left with? what do we see? we see the truth. We see ourselves.

[nonotnolan]

An Excellent Choice

Dedicated to my valentine, the lovely @mergeman​

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

“You still sure you want to do this?” Brad texted.  Finn had already spent most of the bus ride on his phone, so he’d already finished reading the message by the time his text notification had finished chiming.  “It’s okay if you get cold feet.  I won’t be offended. ;) I promise!”

Finn couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  “sounds like ur the one w cold feet” he shot back.  “i already told u were doin this”  Granted, he would have been lying if he’d said that he had no fear... but Finn had worked through all of that hesitation when he purchased the bus ticket.  He’d spent far too much time and money on this offer only to back out now.

Brad was offering $150,000 to a like-minded young soul who was willing to merge with him.  The man was pushing 60, and was hoping to absorb enough youth to try life over again.  For his part, Finn was sick of scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, and if that meant giving up 20 years of his life, well... at least he was being reimbursed for it.  Five years of his current job’s wages was no joke, and the funds would go a long way towards buying a reliable car, and maybe even a down payment on a house.

And anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to disappear.  Rather than opting for the type of merge that put two men into one body, this would be one of the more experimental versions where two people combine all of their traits, and each person becomes the average value.  Finn stepped off the bus and started looking around the agreed-upon meeting place to see if the other man was here.

“Guess I’ll tell my bank not to stop that money transfer.  I really didn’t think you were going to show up, but here you are.”  He watched as an older gentleman strolled up to him, looking very out of place in dark navy sweats.  More impressive was the raven black hair, which looked very out of place given his wrinkled skin and frail figure.  “What, you’ve never seen a man desperately cling to youth with hair dye before?” he asked, clearly used to the stares.  “We can’t all have vibrant hair color, Finley.”

“I’m used to your kind trying to over-compensate with fancy cars,” Finn admitted, unable to pull his eyes away from the older man’s thick beard.  “And my name is Finn.  Respect my name, and I’ll respect yours.  Bradford.”

Brad threw his head back in raucous laughter.  “Oh yes, you are an excellent choice.  Come here!”  Brad pulled him in close, and started to kiss him full on the lips.  It took Finn a few moments to realize that the odd sensation in his mouth was Brad’s tongue, and a few more moments to realize that the kiss was how Brad was planning to perform the merge.  His height was one of the first things to go-- he no longer needed to bend down to maintain contact-- and his skin felt a bit stiff as it tightened with age.  But it was the beard that really felt odd.

Brad’s facial hair crept onto Finn’s chin and worked its way up his sideburns like some sort of crawling ooze, while a smaller tendril grew up toward his nose to form a mustache.  The sudden itch of new hair under his nose was a bit much, and Finn briefly opened his eyes.  The man in front of him was clearly a few decades younger, which could only mean he was now a few decades older.

“Just a bit more,” Brad said, panting for breath.  “We need to even out our hair color, and I think our weight is still a bit uneven.  Once we’re done we can stop by the courthouse and file all the paperwork.”  Finn nodded in understanding, and leaned back in for another kiss.

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

“Is it normal for hair dye to completely vanish when a merge has finished?” Brad asked, as they sat in front of a mirror in the lobby of the County Recorder Clerk.  “Our hair should be a combination of the two inputs, but it’s like your red hair and my former brown hair mixed together, rather than the deep black I was dyeing it to be once it started to go gray.”

Finn just shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know why you’re asking me.  You were my first merge.  I didn’t even really register that this was a technology that existed until you reached out to me.  I’m just glad we just look like twins and not, like... cloned copies of each other.”

“I’m just glad I got to keep my piercings,” Brad said as he absent-mindedly traced the heavy stud with his finger.  “Sorry if you didn’t want to deal with jewelry.  Yours look small enough that it would probably heal shut in a few weeks.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Finn admitted, still getting used to the idea that the man with the thick beard was his new reflection and his new body.  “Do you think they would let us change our names when we register with the state?  I really don’t feel like a Finley anymore.”

“I hope so,” Brad replied, following up with another deep laugh.  “I was planning to change my name to Bradley.  It won’t change my nickname but, it just feels right somehow.  Like our names merged when our bodies did.”

Finn smiled.  “I think you’re right.  Finnegan sounds pretentious and borderline obnoxious, but... I also think that it’s my name, now.”

Brad responded by slinging an arm around his shoulder, giving Finn a supportive squeeze.  “I think it’s an excellent choice.”

[plaguelily-art]

I said I had an art idea for just Ikona, and somehow I managed to actually see that through...even if this took two months to complete (rip, my life has been busy lately).

So yeah! An official art of my design for Ikona. And, I have a handful of assorted headcanons for her as well:

I think she was a kinshi knight, because every one of the Hoshido siblings has access to kinshi knight as a class; also Hinoka's Legendary Hero alt. in FEH has Queen Hinoka as a kinshi knight, with an updated design that mixes the design of the kinshi knight (definitely not Sumeragi's) class and priestess (Mikoto's) class. For Ikona's kinshi knight design I merged the design for kinshi knight with archer/sniper, as I also headcanon that she originally wielded the Fujin Yumi (I know the lore states that the Fujin Yumi was passed down through the royal family, but given that it's a choosy weapon, it might have "chosen" Ikona after she married Sumeragi, or else she may have come from some far-flung branch family).

Ikona was the first person, probably, to show Ryouma, Hinoka, and Takumi the basics of archery, although Takumi took to it more readily. She would have continued to mentor Takumi as he grew older if she had survived long enough to do so.

Ikona shares her hair and eye color with Takumi, and Takumi was the only one to inherit these features (as Ryouma takes strongly after Sumeragi, and Hinoka and Sakura both inherited hair/eye color traits that both Sumeragi and Ikona had, but where recessive; I know hair/eye colors aren't Mendelian per se, but I promise this made some sort of sense when I was trying to map out how everyone's genetic traits might have been inherited). However, Hinoka and Sakura share Ikona's rounder face and eye shape; Ikona was also a bit shorter than Hinoka and a bit taller than Sakura. Takumi and Sakura also share Ikona's straight, silky hair, whereas Ryouma and Hinoka inherited Sumeragi's wild and unruly flyaway hair.

I think in terms of personality, that Takumi and Sakura's anxiety troubles probably came from Ikona (as did Hinoka's shyness as a child). As a notable noble, and later queen, Ikona would have found a way to mask her social anxiety, but it doesn't change the fact that she was much more comfortable around her close friends and family. Ikona probably came off as somewhat awkward or aloof at times as a result though, despite all her etiquette training and careful masking. If she had lived long enough, Ikona might have been able to pass down some techniques to Takumi and Sakura for handling their anxiety.

Ikona could have shared Hinoka's inclinations towards being a warrior, although Ikona would have had the etiquette training to balance this out and mask the fact that she was more comfortable in armor than silks. Ikona's desire to protect others probably led to her untimely death as well (I don't have a solid set of headcanons for this, although I think she probably died before Sumeragi did; stat-wise I think she would have had a glass canon build, with strong offensive capabilities, both physical and magical, and weak defenses--if she was a "dive in to save people" type, her weak defenses would have been Ikona's undoing).

I also think it's possible that either Reina or Yukimura were, at one point, one of Ikona's retainers. I know from a developmental standpoint that Orochi and Reina were originally one character (at least I seem to remember reading that somewhere), and therefore Mikoto would have had Yukimura and Orochi-Reina as her two retainers, rather than having three retainers. And I know Yukimura serves more as Hoshido's tactician rather than a retainer...but I figure if we have the characters to go around, that one of them could have served as one of Ikona's retainers, but survived her death (and made sure the Fujin Yumi returned to the royal family), and that her other retainer died with her.

Ikona fell in love with Mikoto first. I'm not entirely sure how their entire thruple thing worked out eventually, but I feel like Ikona was the first to fall in love. She would have been so awkward about it too.

Not a headcanon, but as an aside I originally planned to have her outfit's color palette feature more oranges, the way her yukata was orange in the first artwork I made of her, but uh...she ended up looking like an orange creamsicle. Using the strong reds that appear in most of the Hoshidan character designs made her look a bit like Inuyasha though, so I eventually settled on more muted pinkish colors. I might change the palette later if I can make the oranges or reds work, but overall I think I like how off this palette feels when compared to most of the Hoshidan palettes. It feels like Ikona was sort of a last-minute thought to the writers, which makes her feel forgotten in the story itself. Ikona having an unusual color palette reflects the fact that she ended up not really getting to be a part of her own family in life or death, and in time became something of an aside even to her own people.

So...yeah! As I've said before, I have a lot of thoughts about fictional dead moms who get shafted by the writers of the stories they're supposed to be a part of. Ikona is no exception, and I really enjoyed coming up with a design for her and trying to weave headcanons to flesh her character out a bit. I've been thinking about her since Fates released, and I'm sure I'll be thinking about her for years to come.

—————————————————————————

2024, Winter (Beginning of Year) Digital (Adobe Photoshop) Design for Ikona is my own. Ikona is a character from the Fire Emblem series, and belong to Intelligent Systems. Artwork belongs to me.

This image (published by the artist to deviantart.com/plaguelily, plaguelily-art.tumblr.com) may not be reproduced, copied, edited, republished, reuploaded, distributed, or redistributed in any way, and I do not give permission for the creation of any sort of derivatives of my work including the use of the work in datasets used for generation of AI art or any other sort of procedurally generated image program or software. Thank you.

[sonxofxgondor]

@tcbefearless asked: 'not a pretty description, but it suffices '

Sentence Starters: Agatha Christie! \\ Lothiriel

Colored to cedar both in eye and hair, the rays of brunette warmed to traits more familial than distant. Born of a countenance that Boromir could recall without strain, the lineaments from the branch of Imrahil, the side of his mother and her complexion. Kindness felt from the mere presence of her - the touch from the hand of Lothiriel - silver wrapped around her finger. No more a child but rather a woman married, the bride of Eomer and the Queen of Rohan. Proud and generous, diplomatic was what the court had dared to call their reunion, her and Boromir beneath the White Tree. A council of relations between the peoples made whole again; the Steward and the Queen. Commanders to the worries of their own kind, as unakin to cousins as could be, the very least in family happiness. Conversation free from the concerns of political negotiation, however, Boromir relished in her company, the taste of sweetened tea and baked treats.

Cup hot to the grasp still, corners of the mouth coated lightly in shortbread cookie crumbs, stories and tales were shared between the pair as if no time had passed. Battle victories and the spoils of war; the promise of good harvest and bountiful flowers come to bloom. All the land reborn, made anew come the end of Sauron, life from it better than before. More ample, the dreams that Boromir had hoped would come to pass come the finish of his journey, the battle against his woes. A wish granted from the heavens above; the prayers that had become answered, the skies over Gondor never to be darkened in the name of misery again. Boromir could find pleasure in his peace. Harmony in the lack of tension, serenity in the chance to be able to breathe without having to look over his shoulder. Boromir could take his happiness completely. Selfishly, with both hands, fingernails sunk deep into, smile that could go for days and days.

Choosing his next victim upon the tray brought to them both by the cook, a glass so clear that not a sole speck of dust dared to corrode, Boromir chewed into a second cookie. Soft and able to melt from the first touch of the tongue, chocolate chips and brown sugar, a delight that was addictive, temptation that gave reason to almost taking a third so soon.

"Had I not known you, dear cousin, I would have sworn you were one of my Gondor soldiers upon the battle field!"

Boromir grinned, cleaning his fingertips with the cloth provided, ivory then stained tawny, the slight smear of chocolate. "Do remind me, you are speaking about the birth of one of your horses, yes? Gorgeous creatures, aren't they? Your husband has promised to show me some of Rohan's best the next time I come to visit. I plan to hold the both of you to that! Oh! Lothiriel! It has been so good to see you. I have missed you so. It seems only yesterday you were following Faramir and I around, trying to best us at sword-play. You were always very skilled - and I do mean that. But now... now you are a queen. As beautiful and as smart as always, if not more so. My cousin, I feel so terribly old! Where has all the time gone to?"

[cinderswife]

a companion piece to my previous outfit ref of rose, here's cinders!! i had so much fun designing her a variety of outfits <33 cinders my beloved cinders my wife :3 i will also do one of these for snow because i can't not!

design notes and lore info dump under the cut

nude

so cinders was design to be a complimentary opposite to rose as well as heavily fire themed. she's tall, she's lanky, and she's one of those people who is uncomfortable to hug because they're so bony. she's also a wolf girl. wolf girl rights <3

cinders is a trans woman !! this is very important to me.

the scar on her torso is actually where a sci-fi hrt implant was implanted so she doesn't have to worry about taking hrt cuz she's got so much other shit going on

cinders has had a hell of a time in cole's prisons over the past 10 years. her tattered ear and lip scar come from some of the several times she has stood up for herself and met violence with violence and she is notably malnourished

the gradient in cinders' hair is a very common trait among the people of her planet Perrault and is also very pretty

the dots on cinders' face are skin picking scars

fun fact: other than the eye color, having been amab, and a few environmental factors, cinders looks exactly like her mother. wonder what that's about

prison uniform

the prison uniform of cole's prisons is pretty standard across the empire: grey with a red triangle on the front. realistically, this should be the only outfit on the sheet because cinders has been in prison for an entire decade but that'd be boring.

cinders' uniform hangs off her body. uniforms her size are designed for peope with a lot more meat on their bones

princess party dress

full disclosure: this was an excuse to design cinders a disney princess dress. lore wise, this is cinders' favorite party dress imported from one of the four planets perrault was in a close trade relationship with. it's also the dress she was captured by cole in. it was her 20th birthday party which was meant to bring a little levity to the people of her planet in the midst of a terrible war. unfortunately, the combination of her stepmother marguerite's betrayal and a promising young soldier named rose grimm accidentally discovering a secret tunnel meant that the party went down in the most tragic way possible.

this dress is made up of lots and lots of orange gradients and was designed to match her hair

the tiger lillies on her dress and gloves are detailed fabric replicas

her tiara and necklace are made of rose gold, which on perrault is its own naturally occurring metal. it's very difficult to refine correctly, so this small amount of it is a fabulous flaunt of wealth and power

the tiara has no special history compared to other royal jewels, this one was commissioned specifically for her

the glitter was painstakingly hand beaded in by an artisan (and was drawn with a glitter brush lol)

queen of perrault

hey wait a minute, isn't cinders a princess? well. this is entirely delving into headcanon/lore territory, but my particular cinders was queen from the ages of 12 to 19 because her father, the heritage king, was old and ailing and her mother died unexpectedly (cough reneged on the deal with a witch that created cinders cough). in order to keep the people from freaking out, her advisors took advantage of her looking exactly like her mother and made her queen. transition by becoming your mother, you know how it goes. this was not approved by her father, who did not die, and it turned into a whole political mess that ended with her as princess instead of queen. she was the best queen her people had had in a very long time, even if she had to lead her people to war in the latter half of her reign. i'll get into the details some other time but. lore!

this is the only outfit on this sheet that reflects the cultural fashion of perrault, specifically in the floating capital

this is an extremely goth outfit by perraultan standards. red is the color associated with mourning and ties heavily into funerary traditions and bone white is the color of death and evil. cinders' reign was haunted by grief and mourning

the gold is just an accent color. all of the embroidery was hand embroidered, which in an era of perfect machine embroidery is a huge flex and considered very fashionable

she is wearing two veils. the first one is mostly to make the crown more comfortable on her head (that sucker is heavy and tugs at her hair) and features elaborate designs on the inside. the second, translucent lace one is to obscure her features so people don't notice she's a lot younger than her mother

the crown cinders is wearing is the rose gold crown of the perrault! it was designed for one of her distant ancestors, the first queen of the grimsnarl dynasty, after perrault formed a coalition with the other four trader planets. aside from being made of pure rose gold and thus the world's biggest flex of wealth and power, every aspect of it has meaning.

the seven peaks of the crown represent the seven great nations of perrault that cinders' rules over. the peaks aren't assigned to any specific nation because one might get mad about being tiny while another flaunts how big it is. the size variation of the peaks is designed to mimic the towers of the castle, which is on a floating island unattached to any nation.

the jewels on the crown are the national jewels of the coalition of five trader planets and represents the strong ties between them. the big topaz represents perrault, the morganite represents telemaine, the heliodore represents anea, the ruby represents charn, and the amethyst represents quaria. all of these planets fell to cole's rule after perrault did

cinders isn't wearing any other jewelry because the embroidery on her dress is worth more than any jewel in the kingdom

the fabric of this dress is very heavy because it gets chilly on a castle on a floating island

day dress

this dress is not of any of the trader planets' fashions. rather, it comes from the six month time period between cinders and rose's marriage (aka signing a piece of paper to get cinders out of jail) and their wedding (the ceremony that kicked off ouatis). this fashion style comes from the star system of delinore, the duchy snow rules over and that snow and rose are from. this is actually my favorite outfit on this entire sheet; cinders in pink gingham is something that can be so personal

look, you actually get to see cinders' feet! she doesn't usually wear dresses this short haha

turns out that this particular pastel pink is cinders' favorite color <3

this dress is a lot lighter weight than cinders has worn previously; the capital city of delinore, chel, is a lot warmer than perrault's capital

the rose necklace was something snow got for her as a wedding gift. cinders like it so much she found shoes to match

big floppy hat rights for cinders !!!! i want her in so many hats you don't understand

this is a gingham dress! its so pretty

the ring on her finger isn't The Glass Ring TM, it's just the one snow grabbed for the impromptu courtroom marriage/pardoning. don't worry, the glass ring will show up at the actual wedding. consider it like an engagement ring

ballgown

i wanted to give cinders an homage to disney's cinderella (who was my favorite disney princess growing up), hence this dress! much like the previous outfit, this one also originates from delinore. cinders wore it to balls and other formal events that snow hosted that rose was required to be at.

turns out that when cinders has complete control of what she wears (no royal duties or prison) she really likes monochrome pastels. she is my pastel queen.

this dress is made up of a very lightweight silk that shimmers in the moonlight

the glitter on the medium blue is actually baked into the fabric, but it makes her sparkle more

the cowl and the hair fascinator are part of a matched set, hence the matching flowers

cinders does Not like having her arms out, hence the big long gloves. also they're pretty !!

basically cinders is very pretty and i love her

[cybrsigil]

... LOADING FILE / C: CHALIDA ZHONG, HEART SRISEVOK.

“i will always be the virgin-prostitute, the perverse angel, the two-faced sinister and saintly woman.” —anais nin, henry & june.

template by calisources pinterest & playlist (1) (2)

THE BASICS

NAME: heart srisevok, born chalida zhong. AGE: thirty-three DOB: may 27th GENDER: cis female, she & her SEXUALITY: lesbian AFFILIATION: elysium, formerly the mata haris BIRTHPLACE: neo california RESIDENCE: neo california OCCUPATION: owner of elysium

PERSONALITY

INSPIRATIONS: faye valentine (cowboy bebop), samantha jones (sex and the city), love quinn (you), yasmin kara-hanani (industry), brooke davis (one tree hill) MBTI: esfp ZODIAC: gemini sun sagitarrius moon leo rising scorpio venus MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral ENNEGRAM: type 7 TRAITS: exuberant, extroverted, charismatic, cynical, vindictive, selfish, petty, protective, sensitive, volatile.

APPEARANCE

face claim: pat chayanit chansangavej height: 5'7" hair color: black eye color: brown tattoos: a small sun on her left hip modfications: none (if you don't count lip filler) style: heart's style can be succinctly described as "daring" she has no issues with showing any amount of skin. she prefers reds and blacks and skirts and dresses over pants. she will more often than not be the most overdressed person in the room and despite what she's wearing she'll almost always be in heels. it's rare to catch her on a bad hair day or without a fresh manicure. scent: some variation of expensive designer perfume but she prefers gourmands and dark scents - notes of: leather, oud, vanilla, tonka bean, coffee, plum, cacao, musk, sandalwood.

BIOGRAPHY

you are born unwanted. a thorn in the side of those who resent your existence. your mother, a woman marked by the clarity of her character is unwittingly pulled in. at first he is charismatic - well dressed and wealthy. he is everything a good man should be, and yet unbeknownst to her he is also married. by the time she discovered she was pregnant his offer was too good to refuse when she didn't know how she'd afford to feed this child. move into his home, raise the child there, his wife would just have to understand. and so she did - the wife and the mistress in a tenuous coexistence. despite the oddity of their situation she tried to encourage an independence in you. even as a child you know something is wrong with your family. you never dine with your sibling or "aunt" you exist in opposite wings of the household and sit quietly at dinner with your hands folded in your lap. children cannot understand hatred even without the explicit statement of such. when you are seven and she dies you know it won't end well for you. a little girl drowning in grief - they should have been kinder to you, offered a hand to hold or a soft word. instead you are completely shuddered. the wing you and your mother once inhabited together becomes silent as death. you see your nanny, your personal chef, your tutors, but rarely do you see your father or the rest of your family. you understand what you are, the history of a black spot in a perfect family. as you grow older your spirit becomes more rebellious. you worry less about disappointing people who hate you for being alive anyways. you sneak out of your window at night to party, you make friends unbecoming of a girl of your status, and you kiss girls under balmy moonlight with the taste of chapstick and borrowed vodka. when you turn eighteen and pack your bags nobody tries to stop you from going. after all why would they? you are not loved, you were not even desired. all you did was serve as a reminder of a time in which your father failed spectacularly and totally when you are twenty you are thrown into the world of high end escorting. promised the freedom of choice and the money you'd become accustomed to. after all despite a lack of love you never wanted for anything else in that house. but like all thing in your life the promises never live up to reality. ashamed by your own lack of strength you join the mata haris and accept their protection. but this only renews you with new vigor - you won't be defeated by anything least of all your own weakness. by twenty-five you've accumulated enough money to open up a club, a place that you always dreamed of where your wildest dreams can imagine. you change your name and shed all vestiges of the girl that you used to be. you are heart srisevok now and you are unkillable. but your success over the years comes with a cost. the family thought you left behind rears their head again. your father, domineering and cruel as always (after all you are only his daughter) will stop at nothing to capture the success that you've made for yourself.

[tragicknown]

!    *    ,    (kathryn hahn,  fourty - nine,  cis - female,  she/her)  !    *    ,      hey,  did  you  see  CELESTE ROSE  unloading  their  boxes  from  the  moving  truck?  i  heard  they  are  49  years  old  and  work  as  a  OWNER   at   FULL MOON BOOK SHOP.  they  totally  remind  me  of  RUNNING UP THAT HILL (A DEAL WITH GOD) by  KATE BUSH,  ORNATE OLD FASHION RINGS  and  A SHELF OF METHODICALLY CATEGORIZED BOOKS.  they’ll  probably  hang  out  at  FULL MOON BOOK SHOP  the  most  if  you  were  looking  for  them.

basics:

full name: Celeste Eleanor Rose

nicknames: Cel

gender: Cis-female

pronouns: She/Her

sexuality: Homosexual

aesthetics: Lips that don’t know how to lie, a loopy smile and an honest heart, autumn leaves beginning to fall, long hair pulled into a braid, the smell of blown out candles, old wine corks and empty champagne flute, you're your own independence

age: Fourty-nine

date of birth: April 22, 1975

zodiac sign: Taurus

residence: Currently resides in Dauntridge, Oregon inside of an old brick house with her two teenage children and an elder golden retriever named Maggie

occupation: Owner of Full Moon Book Shop

appearance:

faceclaim: Kathryn Hahn

voice claim: Kathryn Hahn

height: 5'5"

eyes: Blue

hair: Light brown, falls wildly around her face

piercings: Earlobes

tattoos: None

other distinguishing features: Other than Cel's long, light brown hair, she has no distinctive attributes upon recognizing her

style: Classic, high fashion

personality:

traits:  Affectionate, Assertive, Cordial, Debonair, Punctual, Vehement

mental health: Decent, endures often anxiety but is treated with medication and breathing exercises

physical health: Well, there are no faults in Celeste's physical health

likes: New movies, chocolate chips, rainy days, the smell of old books, calm rivers, feeling the warm sand between her toes, singing loudly in her car, homemade mac and cheese, midday naps

dislikes: The texture of Styrofoam, liars, funerals, lingering scene of cigarettes, stepping on gum, mayonnaise, piles of laundry, muddy footprints on the wooden floors, having her picture taken

fears: Abandonment, dolls, betrayal from a loved one

phobias: Arachnophobia

hobbies: Baking, crossword puzzles, flower arranging, reading, scrapbooking, crocheting, writing

pet peeves: Drivers who don't use a turn signal, chewing loudly/while talking, hypocrites people who stick their used gum just about anywhere, when people ask you questions during the movie while you're trying to watch

family:

mother: Amelia Rose (neé Williams)

father: David Rose

siblings: Asher Rose; brother, Bailey Rose; sister

birth order: First

spouse / lover: Miles Baker; Husband (Divorced)

children: Millicent Blake (daughter, 16), Amelia Blake (daughter, 12)

pets: Maggie, an elder golden retriever

faves:

ice cream flavor: Cookie dough

time of the day / night: Night, around 10pm

weather: Cloudy, rainy

breakfast food: Pancakes with tons of syrup

dinner food: Italian, a lover of pasta

colors: Warm colors, orange and brown

music: Typically enjoys 80s music but is really liking current indie music such as Florence + The Machine, The Neighbourhood, alt-J and more

other random stuff:

a cherished item: A generational pendant that she wears upon a chain necklace that has been passed down to the women in her family - She will be giving it to her daughter one day

first love: Tommy Hays, her junior prom date in high school

usual mood: Content

1 thing they want to do / experience before they die: Visit more of Europe

defining moments: The birth of her two children

· The first daughter to David and Amelia Rose, Celeste was a child with a promising future. Her family was average, but always expected the best of her. She was put on a pedestal. It was never a place that she wanted to be, however. When her brother and sister were born, she felt as if the hype of her existence, finally, dwindled down and, truthfully, she was able to live a bit more peacefully. That didn't mean she didn't excel in all that she did. · She graduated high school as the top of her class, got a scholarship to college and happily graduated with a business degree. She always had hopes to open up her own book shop, however, in her time at college Cel met Miles Blake and they married after graduating. Her dreams were pushed to the side as she focused on making sure that her husband, Miles, achieved his. They were together for 20 years, had two daughters and lived a relatively happy life.

· However, Celeste knew that she was a closeted lesbian ever since her late-twenties. Trying to stay the perfect daughter, wife and mother - she dealt with the sexuality issue for a long, long time. It was up until Cel was forty-five when she, finally, decided to file for divorce as she was no longer happy and unable to feel fulfilled in her marriage. It was a messy divorce because it was rather sudden, but it was something that she needed to do. The kids decided to live with Celeste, accepting their mother's decision. Though, she feels terrible for changing their lives drastically.

· Their move to Oregon wasn't sudden as it took her a couple of years to decide it for her and her daughters, but as an empty shop was for sale and the perfect house was on the market - it was the perfect idea. She opened Full Moon Book Shop on Wilma Lane and the place has been a thriving business ever since. The new space and location was a good idea for her family as they're content and able to start anew. She is truly hoping that she is able to live the life she deserves.

[call-me-double-trouble]

Double Trouble Headcanons

--LIZARD-RELATED HEADCANONS--

Double Trouble is a cross between a gecko and a chameleon, but mostly chameleon.

Double Trouble can climb on walls like a gecko, but they have to be barefoot. They don't wear socks, and they slip their shoes off and carry them with their tail, mouth, or shapeshift an extra arm to carry them while they flee from danger on a wall or ceiling.

Being cold-blooded, DT prefers to share a bed with someone warm or use a heated blanket, since regular blankets don't really help when they don't have their own body heat to insulate.

DT has a diet of insects, fruit, and leafy greens like an actual chameleon. They can also extend their tongue and catch insects with it. They and the others develop a game where someone holds a piece of food as far as their tongue can stretch, and Glimmer stands at the same distance and teleports to them to see if she can get there faster than they can catch the food. She hasn't bested them yet, but keeps trying.

That said, they had chicken once and LOVED IT. It's their guilty pleasure. If promised chicken, you can weasel a few favors out of them.

Also like a chameleon, DT used to change colors when they were angry, sad, frightened, and happy, but they taught themselves to stop so they wouldn't give away their emotions.

Being a reptile and not a mammal, DT is lactose-intolerant and avoids dairy entirely. The closest they can get to enjoying dairy is vegan substitutes.

DT sheds their skin like all reptiles. And just like a gecko, they immediately eat it. It's so natural to them that they don't even think about it and don't understand why non-reptiles find it gross.

DT used to be self-conscious about their more reptilian traits, but learned to love themselves and stop caring what others thought and started delighting in making others squeamish by licking their eyes and eating bugs, but deep-down, it still hurts a little. They feel so loved when someone is accepting of their traits and even accommodates them, such as offering heated blankets or a meal that fits their diet.

In a similar vein, some of DT's characteristics are from them overcompensating from past insecurities. They were born without eyelids, without external ears, and without hair or eyebrows.

--RELATIONSHIP/FRIENDSHIP HEADCANONS--

Double Trouble has favorite people and makes it REALLY obvious who their favorite is. They snuggle up to their favorite person/people, are nicer to them, always trying to cheer them up or make them laugh, and are constantly seeking affection and validation from their fav. They're also willing to do things for free or at a reduced price for their fav.

Despite the fact that DT is very affectionate, they seldom say "I love you" because it feels too revealing to them. If they do say it, though, they mean it.

DT is polyamorous.

DT was betrayed by someone dear to them at one point, and this gave them trust issues. They betray anyone who gets close to them first, always fearing that they themselves will be stabbed in the back at any moment if they're not the first to do it.

DT sabotages any meaningful relationship, platonic or otherwise, they have because they believe they're safer alone. This is partially what motivated their betrayal of Catra. After the war, they start to work on this side of themselves and allow themselves to trust a friend again.

DT saw a bit of themselves in Catra, hence why they bonded with her and then read her so well during the infamous vibe-check.

DT had a crush on Catra and got jealous that they'd always be second-best to Adora in Catra's eyes.

DT reconnects with Catra after the war, and they rebuild their friendship. DT has a harder time befriending the others, but they do eventually. Without a war going on, they don't have a reason to betray anyone in the Princess Alliance, so they're able to maintain a friendship with them.

DT rarely ever opens up since they operate under the assumption that others will view that information as a weakness to be exploited, since that's how they view others. Opening up to someone is the biggest show of trust DT can give.

DT never lets themselves cry in front of others. They try not to let themselves cry even on their own. They see it as a weakness others could take advantage of, and they also refuse to let other people make them feel upset because they don't want anyone to have that kind of power over them. If they find themselves starting to cry, they try to hold it in, often resulting in bursts of crying separated by chunks of silence or frustrated groaning.

On the rare, rare occasion that DT gets drunk, they infodump about things NO ONE wants to know. They'd sooner die than tell you their favorite color, but they WILL tell you about the weird shit people have paid them to do (and about how, instead of doing those things, they knocked the client out and stole their money).

DT loves giving makeovers and shapeshifting into their friends in different outfits and hairstyles to help them decide when they want to try something new.

--MISC. HEADCANONS--

"Double Trouble" is a name they picked for themselves.

They knew they were nonbinary at a young age and explored various ways of expressing themselves with their shapeshifting until they settled on what they liked.

DT doesn't have earrings, tattoos, or wear makeup because they can't shapeshift those things away. They can shift a hole in their ears to make an impromptu piercing to wear earrings when they want, such as at Princess Prom, but when they're out and about and need to shapeshift at a moment's notice, it's easier not to have any jewelry.

Despite not doing makeup on themselves very often, they're good at putting it on other people because they understand facial structure very well.

DT is a cat person.

DT is an extrovert, but can be just as quiet and unnoticeable as they can loud and attention-grabbing. They are a SPY, after all.

DT doesn't hate kids, just thinks it's funny how stupid and clumsy they are.

[hells-favorites]

The Red Light (Episode 16)

Dante and Nedrigo exit a casino and wander through Hell's busy, vibrant streets. They encounter various demons, distinguishable by their animal traits. Intrigued, Dante enters a smoke shop and buys a "Sloth extract" cigarette, learning about different extracts and their effects. After lighting the cigarette using his newfound Devil powers, Dante continues exploring until he and Nedrigo are suddenly captured and restrained by Angus Morales, a henchman of Dolos. Angus explains Dolos's grudge against Typhon, linked to a past betrayal involving Mercury. Typhon arrives, overpowers Angus, and rescues Dante and Nedrigo, revealing his ability to use doors as portals within his domain. The situation is dire as Dolos is now alone with Mercury.

Dante and Nedrigo had awkwardly left through the casino door, admiring everything around him. People around them were made to look their best. Beautiful clothing, makeup to cover each blemish, not a single thing out of place. Amazing spectacles of light and smells filled the streets with the promise of profits.

Dante was supposed to head straight to the limousine, look nowhere else, but he started making his way down the street. Nedrigo laughed as Dante made his way further and further.

"Typhon's gonna kill you," Nedrigo laughed, peering into a storefront. Sweet smells of perfume clashing with woody cologne as they pushed through crowds of demons.

"*Typhon* would walk around too."

Dante kept walking. Some demons, it was easy to tell where they came from. Scantily clad demons: clearly from Lust. Though, some were harder to tell. Some paraded peacock tails, Pride, Lust? Both worked. Eyes peaked from the shadows as they both watched, dismissed as nothing more than a Hell staple.

The first store Dante pushed his way into was a smoke shop. Beautiful displays of cigars were next to stacks of cigarettes, some blue, some purple, though most were yellow. Dante peaked at the table for the purple label. "Lust extract" then the yellow one; "Greed Extract". Then the last being "Sloth extract", the blue one. Every color packed nicely into a small cigarette of their own.

Dante peered over the counter at a shopkeep, a man with oak colored hair that dropped to the side, fuzzy but taken care of. "What are these?"

"Extract?" The man spoke as though Dante were an alien, clearly, extract wasn't something uncommon. "Um, Sloth chills you out and Lust gets you in the mood. Greed makes people feel lucky in the casinos and makes you better at pickpocketing, at least that's what people say. You just smoke it, then you get the effects."

Dante turned the Sloth cigarette over in his hands a few times, then slid a few gold pieces over. Surprisingly, Hell used the same currency. The man took the gold, dropping them below the counter, somewhere unseen.

"How do you trust that, Dante? Oh, yes. Let me walk down to a place made to trick people and just start smoking. Genius," Nedrigo laughed as Dante checked his pockets for a lighter, only to roll his eyes and come up empty handed, staring to move towards the door.

Dante focused on his fingertips. He'd melted metal all the way back in Apollo's cage, surely it could light a cigarette. But as Dante focused, a small thought pushed forward. Fire, heat. Hell. Dante melted metal and could heat up his hands because of Typhon. Typhon's blood. He had Devil blood. He was no longer an elf. He was a Devil.

With a big pop of a flame, the cigarette was lit. Blue smoke came out in small little whisps after Dante had pulled his hand away. He'd have another question when he returned to Typhon.

"I can't trust anything here, so I'll do anything because there's no base line of trust so everything can be trusted," Dante took a puff from the cigarette, blowing it towards Nedrigo.

Nedrigo was too far for the smoke to reach it, though they'd made it to the street by now. "That makes no sense."

"You know what makes no sense, these people. This place looks like a zoo! Fuck it, I'll just start asking people what everyone is."

Much to Nedrigo's dismay, Dante reached out and grabbed a random man. The person he grabbed had brown scruffy hair with curled horns sprouting from the top of head. Sprouting from his back was a small fawn tail with white speckles in the fur of his tail.

As Dante grabbed his shoulder, the man turned and stopped walking. The person walking next to him stopped as well. A man with wings gilded in gold stopped as well, shifting his weight onto one leg.

"Question, new to Hell, um," Dante glanced between the two, taking note of their animal features. "Why does everyone have animal pieces?"

"Some people get these when they die," the man started talking, clearly not happy that he was talking to strangers. "They represent their ring. This whore is a bird," he gestured beside him to a man with wings perched on his back. "He's from Lust. I, myself, am from Pride. Which tends to have forest animals. Now, if you don't mind, we have places to be."

As the two left, Dante started walking again, Nedrigo close in tow. They gazed into storefronts, restaurants, even the occasional drug shop, but mostly, Dante looked into the casinos. They were spectacular. Beautiful lights and even better exteriors, each with their own allure.

Having enough sightseeing, Dante pushed inside one. A dark purple casino with flicks of lavender, called the Shattering Heart's Casino. There were a few silhouettes painted onto the walls, most a circle with a wavy swipe in the middle, spawning a laugh from Nedrigo.

"Lust," Nedrigo pointed at a circle on the wall. "That's the symbol for Lust. I only know that because a dude painted it on his door one time. He was a whore, but I think that was obvious."

Dante headed towards it, trying to get a better look, but as he did, he felt something yank him towards a door. A hand ran over his mouth ad he grabbed for Nedrigo.

What felt like seconds later, Dante came to. Nedrigo was across from him with fabric stopping him from speaking. Around their wrists were cuffs, metal and strong. Whoever had them chained meant business.

A few moments of groggy breaths later, the man himself walked out. He had dirty blond hair and sleazy eyes, nearly blocked out by cigarette smoke. Still a bit hazy, Dante looked at him. Tucked into his fedora was two small bull horns. Dolos. That was one of his men.

Dante yelled, surprisingly he didn't have the fabric in his mouth, "What the fuck is going on?"

With a grin, the man answered, "So you both are vocal? Your little buddy here would shut up, so I gagged him. Be happy it was fabric."

"Who the fuck are you?" Dante, fruitlessly tried to heat up his palms to melt the metal like he'd done to Apollo, but all he got was warm hands.

"Angus Morales, always nice to meet Dolos's family," Angus stepped closer, almost in a laugh. "I'm Dolos's favorite of his workers. I'm not supposed to collect, usually I get his girls ready to rent, but I'm sure he'd love to see you two thrown into cages. He excused himself from his meeting with your dad and sent his boys his little bull. He doesn't like you, or your dad."

"I could tell! Why do they even hate each other?" Dante yelled, trying to get him caught up in a story while he found a way to escape.

"Well, when your daddy was still a womanizer," Dante scoffed at how Angus referred to Typhon, "Mercury was working for Dolos. But Mercury went to work for Typhon in some big political movement. Plus, Typhon got to rule Hell and Dolos was left to the scraps. Sure, Dolos was dead when Typhon took over-"

"Dead?"

Suddenly, things started falling into place. Typhon had mentioned his brother dying and Dolos was his brother. Dolos was the one they'd killed and if Typhon and Mercury could come to life, so could he.

"Things in the Morningstar family-" Angus was cut off by the sound of a door opening. Typhon was there, in the doorway. He looked around for half a second before he lunged forward, slamming Angus into the ground with his hand.

Dante starred as Typhon picked up Angus by his throat and slammed him against the wall.

"Dolos-" Angus squeaked out, only for Typhon to pluck a dagger from his pocket and bring it towards his face.

Typhon drew a line from Angus's ear to his eye, slowly. "Tell me what he wants or I'll reteach Hell why I'm in charge."

"He- he-" Angus stuttered as Typhon threw Angus's head up, exposing his throat to Typhon where he rested his knife.

"Talk faster," Typhon turned the knife to the side, making Angus feel the cold metal.

"I don't know! He says he want you out, he says he's going to take *all of you*."

Typhon grit his teeth, clearly thinking. Suddenly, he slammed Angus into the ground, kicking him towards the wall. As soon as Angus fell, he uncuffed Nedrigo and Dante, pulling them out of the room.

"That bastard.." Nedrigo's voice trailed off as he removed the fabric.

"Typhon, what's wrong? How did you know we were here?" Dante scrambled to his feet, following Typhon out and trying to keep up with him.

Typhon was walking quicker than usual, clearly upset as he pushed through the door. "Hell is my domain. I can use doors as portals."

"Then what's wrong?" Dante looked back to Nedrigo, who was behind them.

"Dolos is alone with Mercury."

[stormbabylore]

Time for another one from this series of love-related asks.

ˋ°•*⁀➷⁠ Round 1 | Round 2

Round 3: eclair and inipit!

6. eclair - do they want to one day be married? ─☆─ No, although it's honestly something she just doesn't consider. If she ever did, she'd come to the conclusion that any sort of public or "official" commitment isn't important to her. As she grows more comfortable with the people she feels a sense of commitment toward, the unspoken bond between them would be evident in their actions and routines together; and that's more than enough for her. (Plus, she actively avoids any situation that puts her on display.) That said, I got to attend an in-game bonding ceremony for the first time some months back, and I really liked the bit about the rings they exchanged being forged of their aether. I wanted to put my own spin on that... so I do have a quasi-bonding headcanon for Aeryn and Urianger. I can't imagine it would happen until post-Endwalker, but at some point Urianger would forge a bead or trinket out of aether and request to twine it into her hair (which in my silly little made-up ancient elezen lore would have been the final stage of courtship, when the couple would promise themselves to each other). Since Aeryn can't manipulate aether that way, she gives him the wildflower she'd preserved alchemically and had been wearing around her neck, because the color of it reminded her of his eyes. And because I'm a complete sap. It would be a quiet moment, just a simple gesture between the two of them in the midst of their ordinary routine, and it would come with no pomp or additional expectations, such that I don't know if I would consider them married in any way. It's more like a quiet request of each other: wherever you are, I hope you might carry a little part of my soul there to keep with you. 7. inipit - what qualities do they seek in a partner? describe physical qualities and personality traits? ─☆─ She doesn't. I don't mean to be obtuse, but Aeryn very especially doesn't seek anything or anyone in terms of partnership. Her every action in those early days is laser-focused on surviving in unfamiliar circumstances and finding answers about who she is. She is initially drawn to anyone who doesn't offer her excess attention and allows her the safe space to just quietly exist alongside them. Later, she begins to understand what qualities speak most deeply to her heart as she discovers them in the person who had already, unwittingly, endeared himself to her by offering her that safety. From there it just evolved without her ever having sought it. The qualities that end up meaning most to her are: respect; patience; support; freedom; and a sense of stability - a constancy despite her flightier, less-constant nature in the early days. She needed someone balanced enough to help bring her moments of comfortable stillness and clarity in the otherwise wild chaos of her journey.

[matriarchsdevotee-archive]

Twinrova theory:

Okay so the promised twinrova conspiracy theory. This comes with the standard caveat of I don't expect this to be played out on here and it seldom comes up anyway, but the jist of it is that, when I was beginning the Gerudo historia project, I made peace with the fact that Ganondorf probably wasn't going to be consistent with tribal trends and it was in my better interest to push it away and leave it to the gan stans to worry about. The Gerudo are one of the very few self-consistent tribes in Zelda, it's part of what attracts me to them as a writer, so I was decidedly unbothered if I found discrepancy with Gan's philosophy/customs/religious foundations, and so on.

The thing is, though... He's really not terribly inconsistent with them. Physically, he is of course very different than his sisters, but he does functionally look like what a male Gerudo would be expected to look like - extremely well--muscled, broad shouldered, red hair and yellow eyes (which, while uncommon, are seen among other Gerudo across games - it's essentially the human equivalent of Blue or green eyes). If Nintendo canon heights are to be believed, he's shorter than his countrywomen, but given that there's in-game flavor text that suggests Gerudo men tend to be sickly or weaker than their counterparts, that also tracks. He wears the same makeup that a Gerudo chieftain does across all his appearances as a man and even some of his later appearances as his monstrous form, Ganon (Red eyeshadow, black garb, and golden lipstick, gold being the color of religious figures amongst the Gerudo (see also Maike in botw and Nabooru)). He's certainly an extremist amongst his people, but it's not like the Gerudo are pro-Hyrule. Even Nabooru seems to be in the camp of "get Ganondorf out but so help me god if Hyrule tries to colonize us." Realistically, the most out of character trait that Ganondorf has as a Gerudo is his massive magical capabilities. Some Gerudo are minor prophets and they're often seen with magical weapons, but trust me when I say I have scoured the source material and Ganondorf is the only one who can wield traditional magic...

Except for his mothers. His white-haired, magical, extremely long-lived, surrogate mothers who have names that are intensely un-Gerudo, both at the time (Koume and Kotake don't share any phonetic similarities with Nabooru, Ganondorf or Aveil, and are blatantly just. Japanese names) and with the help of the Gerudo phonetics in Four Swords Adventures and Breath of the Wild (And acompannying breath of the wild companion games). His mothers, who have an even greater animosity for Hyrule than the rest of the Gerudo put together. Who have a distinct hatred for the royal family.

Anyway, what I'm alluding to is that the Twinrova are Sheikah.

I say this because, as consistent as Ganondorf is with his people, Koume and Kotake simply aren't. As we discussed, magical ability is very uncommon amongst the Gerudo, and their names share much more in common with Sheikah phonetics than they do (as the Sheikah names in botw often borrow Japanese phonetics) than they do Gerudo or even Hylian names. There are no other Gerudos with white hair. Very old Gerudo in Botw go pink and Ashai, who we can reasonably assume has a melanin issue of some kind due to her very light eyes and skin, has pink hair instead of red or white. In Four Swords Adventures, the Gerudo chief is pictured in her character art with red hair, though she's clearly aged elsewhere.  Even when they transform during their bossfight, they don't have red hair, as their youthful form would suggest. (This is weaker evidence, as it's pretty clear their design was more meant to mirror the fire/ice archetype, but the fact that the only Gerudo trait their son retains consistently when he transforms is his red hair leads me to believe this isn't entirely invalid).

Speaking of the transformation, that's something of an odd power, isn't it? Ganon doesn't transform as a disguise, but you know who does? Explicitly into a Gerudo?

This motherfucker.

During the Age of Calamity mission in which you recruit Urbosa, Kogha distracts the chieftain and is able to slip into Gerudo town in magical disguise in order to try to kill Zelda (Frankly, even if Urbosa hadn't arrived when she did, this wasn't going to end well as the Gerudo were already becoming suspicious, but I digress).

In conclusion, we have a pair of sisters with little relation to the tribe they allegedly belong to who raised a child specifically to violently despise Hyrule's royal family and train his power so he can destroy them, who phonetically, canonically, and in terms of design share much more in common with the Sheikah tribe than they do the Gerudo. Was this the intent? I'm willing to bet money that it absolutely was not, but you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

[gerbits]

Tagged by @irrewilderer for this lil questionnaire, thank youuu!! tagging with zero pressure @plasma-janes, @tipsy-clouds, @biffybobs, @whyeverr, @saartje77, @justkeeponsimming, @simgerale, @wildmelon, @introvertedfox

1. what’s your favorite sim death? death by cowplant 🐮

2. alpha cc or maxis match? maxis match

3. do you cheat when your sims gain weight? no, but I do 'cheat' to try to make them look a bit more proportional in CAS

4. do you use bb.moveobjects? do....do people not use this cheat

5. favorite mod? there are a few I can't play without but I think my favorite has to be lilmisssam's pregnancy overhaul (pregnant sim bellies are atrocious & still, years later, idk who approved it or why they haven't adjusted it???)

6. first DLC you got? unleashed! 🐾

7. do you pronounce ‘live mode’ like ‘alive’ or ‘living’? living

8. who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? probably pigeon :3

9. have you made a simself? yes but I don't play her, I would feel a bit weird having a simself save. I mostly use her for profile photos on the gallery or twitter (or rather, when I actually used twitter). See most recent version below!

10. what sim traits did you give yourself? Geek, Squeamish, and Hates Children (though I promise I am not mean to children and I don't hate them, but it's a well known fact I am certainly not a kid person)

11. what is your favorite maxis hair color? I don't really have one, I just...pick whichever hair color I think suits a sim.

12. favorite maxis hair? idk off the top of my head, but when I play cc free I feel like I tend to gravitate towards the eco lifestyle hairs the most. or the claw clip hair from laundry day

13. favorite life stage? probably YA since it's the only life stage EA gives any thought to

14. are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? cas enthusiast (but I guess gameplay if it's between that and 🤢 building)

15. are you a custom content creator? once upon a time I was known to recolor a shirt or slap a decal on them but it's been a while and I don't see myself going back to it

16. do you have any simblr friends/sim squad? yes and I am forever apologetic that I am Bad™ at replying to messages or holding a conversation in discord (ily you all truly 💜)

17. what’s your favorite game? ts2, nothing will beat the charm & quirky gameplay

18. do you have any sims merch? nope

19. do you have a youtube for the sims? I don't have a youtube for anything

20. how has your ‘sim style’ changed throughout your years of playing? it's gotten a lot less cartoony. gone are the days of gigantic eyeballs squished super close together

21. what’s your origin ID? gerbits

22. who’s your favorite custom content creator? anyone who doesn't use paywalls or early access. you have my heart.

23. how long have you had simblr? this will qualify me for an elder's discount but it's been about 12 years 🫣 (and LET ME TELL YOU it used to be a lot more fun before everybody became so obsessed with making money and gaining followers...now I am sad thinking about it)

24. how do you edit your pictures? photoshop

25. what DLC is your favorite so far? tbh most of the dlcs are meh but the ones I cannot play without are seasons, parenthood, and get together. Honorable mentions are cottage living bc bunnies and cats & dogs bc it's better than having no pets at all

26. what DLC you want next? realistically a hobby dlc, unrealistically give me a legit post apocalyptic dlc and I can die happy