#interesting graffity in the rose garden

[idlespright]

Göttingen

[nextgensquad]

What are your headcanons for Molly Weasley II ? She's my favourite next gen character.

Molly Weasley II is Going Places.

That's what everyone says, anyway, all the time, about everything. Her father is the Minister for Magic; her mother is the best damn prosecutor the Ministry has ever seen. All her aunts and uncles are war heroes; her family is the best-connected in the entire United Kingdom. Of course she's going places.

As she gets older, the narrative shifts a little. She might be the only one who's Going Places. Lucy certainly isn't interested in those same places; most of her cousins aren't, either. Molly is the only Head Girl in the entire family -- Louis made Head Boy, and he's the only other prefect besides her. The rest of her cousins, well, they're going places, but probably not the same places. All the others shooting off like stars and she's the one left on planet Earth, trying to root herself to the ground so she won't blow away in the aftermath.

Molly struggles with them a lot. Lucy is a wildfire, never cares who she burns or how far she runs. James carries grudges like battle armor. Albus digs himself in so deep and covers himself with thorns so that it's impossible to cut through to him. It's so hard to help people who don't want to be helped.

When her parents divorce, her world shatters.

Molly spends most of that summer before her seventh year hiding out at the Burrow. Her grandfather eagerly accepts help in his endless quest to reverse engineer muggle artifacts out in the shed, and her grandmother always has a task in the kitchen or in the garden for her to do. It keeps her busy, keeps her sane, while Percy and Audrey battle it out in the courts for custody of the house, the pets, their daughters, their money.

Lucy is god knows where. Off chasing some high, racing against the world. Trying to outrun the monsters. Molly's not a Gryffindor like her. Never known how to be brave enough to run. Only knows how to hide.

When she gets the Head Girl badge in the mail, she almost hides it, too, but her grandmother finds out and makes her tell her parents - her father is so achingly proud it hurts, and even her mother's hard-won approval is like a knife to the gut. She doesn't tell Lucy. Lucy won't care.

The trouble is, Weasleys aren't raised to be authority figures, and they're not raised to follow the rules. Molly's mother comes from a Ravenclaw pureblood family that puts every expectation on their children to be the smartest wizards and witches alive. But Weasleys are Gryffindors, Weasleys are heroes. Weasleys save the world.

Molly doesn't know how she can save the world if she can't even save her own family crumbling down.

Being smart is its own kind of battle, in a family so notoriously anti-authority. Hugo makes fun of her for it every time she catches him and his friends trying to sneak out at night. Rose calls her a narc when she puts a stop to some rather unflattering graffiti in the fifth floor boy's bathroom. James, already graduated, smuggles in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes pranks through letters to his little siblings.

Louis tells her it is what it is. Of course, it's easier for him. He's older, he's a boy, and he carries all of Uncle Bill's effortless cool. Even when they're mad at him, the others respect him. But she's the Minister's daughter. One of the girls in her year steals her notebook and scribbles 'nepo baby' in large scrawling black ink over the top of it. Molly spends hours meticulously copying her notes over to a fresh one that night, too exhausted to turn it in to the teachers.

Lucy takes all the pressure their parents pile on them and explodes it outward, but Molly turns it inwards. She has to better than good, better than perfect. She has to prove she deserves it. That it wasn't just handed to her because she has red hair and freckles, because her dad signs bills into law and her mum made Death Eaters cry in court.

She gets amazing job offers in the Ministry, but she turns them all down. The Daily Prophet begs her for an application, since she had told her Head of House she wanted to be a journalist, but she never gets back to them.

She takes an internship at a different newspaper. Just fetching coffees, contributing a few ideas, some fluff pieces that nobody else wants to write. She has to prove herself here. She doesn't want the job just for walking in the door.

One day, she'll be the best investigative journalist in the country -- in the world, even. One day, her parents will be able to handle being in the same room as each other again. One day, her mother will remarry, and Lucy will be happy enough to attend the wedding without making too many snide remarks, and one day, her father will fall in love again, and one day, maybe, it'll be okay.

[tboy-summer-fun]

almost every omori ship name i think

omori x aubrey - omobrey

omori x stranger - nightshade / eclipse

sunny x basil - sunflower / bunny / photosynthesis / サニバジ / dandelion

sunny x aubrey - sunburn / sunbrey / throwing knives / sunbow / sunbun

transfem sunny ( luna ) x aubrey - burning moon

sunny x kel - suntan / sunkel / caprisun / sunny d / orange joe / cactitulip / cactulip / nutterbutter

transfem sunny ( luna ) x kel - lunartan

sunny x mikhael - sunbleached

sunny x mincy - sunsketched / sketchbook

sunny x kim - starburst / meteorite

sunny x cris - sunfish / sunbath / evaporation

transfem sunny ( luna ) x cris - tidal waves

sunny x rowan - chocolate sunflower

hero x mari - heromari / picnic basket / heroine / rosemari / cookie sandwich / mario / picnic sandwich / picnic blanket / macaron / cookiepan / roselily / picnic prep

hero x bowen - egg mcmuffin / breakfast / shortbread / frenchtoast / herobiscuit / ham sandwich / boro / herwin

hero x daphne - cookiedough

kel x aubrey - kelbrey / baseball bat / baseball / sunrise / tanburn / homerun / knuckle brass

kel x basil - cactiflower / flowerbasket / cauliflower / morning mud / stutters / citrus

kel x kim - gumball

kel x mincy - paintball / paperball / kelcy

kel x cris - beachball / surfing

kel x mikhael - goldrush / kelvick / mavel

basil x aubrey - photobomb / fireflower / swordflower / bushfire / watering can / batsil / spring break / autumn / forestfire / hotsoup / strawberry shortcake / weed pulling / lawn mowing / garden shears / basilbrey / aubrasil

basil x aubrey ( bunyn ) - bunnybomb

basil x charlene - camomille tea

basil x kim - kimsil / honeysuckle / peppermint / spikemoss / sugarshot

basil x mikhael - melonbread / brick

basil x cris - waterlily

basil x mincy - mintybloom / mint

aubrey x kim - kimbrey / cotton candy / jawbreaker

aubrey x cris - sea bunny / hurricane / boiling waters

aubrey x mincy - paintsplash / idol / minbrey / graffiti

letter-room!aubrey x stranger - shutterbomb / dustbunny

kim x cris - swedish fish

kim x mincy - edible paper

mari x daphne - breadbasket

mari x bowen - cupcake

space boyfriend x fish boy - bioluminescence / boy²

space boyfriend x rococo - spacecoco / starry night / rocketship

space boyfriend x sweetheart - spaceheart / divorice papers

space boyfriend x perfectheart - starkissed

space boyfriend x perfectheart x mutantheart x roboheart - stitchedheart

sweetheart (or perfectheart idk) x molly - jellyfish

sweetheart x medusa - jellydonut

mincy x cris - paperboat / watercolors / paint water

aubrey's dad x sunny's dad - runaway moon / belt & slipper / locked and loaded

prettyboy x jay - prettyjock

omoriboy x aubrey - light newspaper

-

sunny x kel x basil - sunkissed / sunnydew / sunkist / desert flower

sunny x kel x aubrey - beach day / sunscreen / arson

sunny x aubrey x basil - burnt sunflower / burnt sunflower seeds / flowerbed / aloe vera

sunny x aubrey x kim - melted candy / rockcandy

sunny x kel x basil x aubrey - solar system / sunny days / sunshine / war crimes

sunny x kel x basil x aubrey x kim - milkyway

basil x aubrey x kel x sunny (basically solar system but resolves around basil) - bouquet / allergy season

basil x aubrey x mincy x kim - gasoline flavored taffy

basil x aubrey x kim - cinnamon

basil x aubrey x cris - waterwheel

basil x aubrey x kel - summer breeze / honey-kissed liquor / molotov cocktail / tax evasion

aubrey x mincy x cris - sea bunny portrait

aubrey x kim x mincy x cris - rose scented watercolors

daphne x hero x bowen - hero sandwich

daphne x hero x bowen x mari - ice cream sandwich

shattered!omori x letter-room!aubrey x stranger - ink smudge

updated - 11/9/23 sorry for little updates! im not as interested in omori as i was when i started this list :<

[punemy-spotted]

Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.

[scotianostra]

Forbes Mausoleum, Callendar Park.

The Park/Estate is heavily frequented by joggers and dog-walkers, the expansive grounds are home to magnificent area to explore.

Unbeknown to most, however, is the mausoleum that lies deeper within the forest. Dating back to 1816, Forbes Mausoleum is a circular, Classical monument memorializing the death of William Forbes I. Designed by a London architect, Archibald Elliot, it boasts twelve Doric style columns that emerge from a podium.

Above the doorway, an inscription of a verse taken from a Greek poem nods to the impermanence of human life.

  – ӨNHTA TA TΩN ӨNHTΩN KAI ΠANTA IҐAPEPXETAI HMAΣHN ΔE MH AΛΛ HMEIΣ ATTA ΠAPEPXOMEӨA. Depending on the source you read.it translates as:

“Mortals; possessions are mortal, 

and all things pass us by;

 if not, at any rate we pass them by”.

or 

All things we mortals call our own

Are mortal too and quickly flown;

But could they all for ever stay,

We soon from them must pass away.

I learned that inside the building three tiers of rectangular alcoves are arranged in the thickness, but the mausoleum is now sealed shut to prevent vandalism, the "door" you see is actually rendered concrete the original metal mausoleum door being either replaced of simply covered up as recently as 1993.

 It is all tattooed with colourful graffiti, it’s slowly being overtaken by the forest, although I really don't think it would be super expensive to clean up, if you look at the columns higher up, and the top of the structure it  shows no signs of the wear and tear of pollution that many buildings and such in urban locations attract.

  The occupants of the Mausoleum  include the first William Forbes of Callendar, who was placed here in 1816, the year after his death. In 1859 it was the turn of Rose O’Hara, the Irish wife of William Forbes the second. Other occupants include Colonel Charles Forbes (in 1948 and William Dudley Forbes as recently as1977.

  The building is set within a circular enclosure some 96m in diameter surrounded by a substantial stone wall  the entrance flanked by tall square pillars and a cast iron gate no doubt made in one of the many foundries the town of Falkirk once boasted. One of the sources I have used to piece this together said an urn monument sat on each side of the gates. In 1964 the grave monuments to the estate servants were transferred from the walled garden into this enclosure, a little west of the mausoleum, you might remember the video I posted yesterday telling you the bodies were exhumed, but rather than bury them here, god forbid The Forbes would want commoners beside them in their hallowed resting place!  The servant’s stones have been, by and large smashed to pieces. The actual enclosure still belongs to the Forbes family, but is frequently visited by the public and I saw a number there on my visit and chatted to a couple who were interested in what I was saying in the videos I made. 

Callendar House and some of the land was sold to Falkirk Council in around 1964, since 2011 it has been administered through Falkirk Community Trust.

[earisu1]

“Once Upon a Time” in Jennifer’s Own Words

Original date of the post: 12 of October, 2007.

Disclaimer: this ideas and theories do not belong to me but to PokerNemesis, if the owner wants me to take them down I will.

“This is the complete collection what Jennifer herself says (excluding what is written in documents) in the “Once Upon a Time” (January) chapter of Rule of Rose.

This collection includes five of Jennifer’s memories/comments that were omitted in the GameFAQs game-script faq written by TheSinnerChrono.  I marked these with “####” to make them easier to find (for readers only interested in these).

This post does not contain commentaries by me (unless some of my descriptive comments count as being commentary).

If anyone finds anything I missed, or any mistakes I’ve made, please let me know in the comments.  Thanks!

Filth Room:

–At the shelf:

“This letter looks familiar…  Yes. it’s one of the secret letters that Wendy and I traded.” (reads letters)  “Wendy…  You were always so lonely.  Poor, lonely Wendy…  I wonder if my letters ever reached her.”

–At the central pillar:

“Tied to this pillar, unable to move, I was all alone.  It took a while, but I finally freed myself.  I was always the slow poke…  But, that won’t happen again.  I’ll never let myself be tied up again.”

–At the suitcase:

“When I came here, this suitcase was the only luggage I had…  I lost everything in the accident.  My mother, my father, all my possessions, and even my memories.”

–At the sunny window:

“I spent so much time in this room…  Who knows how many times I woke up here?  The nights were lonely and cold, but you’d always greet me in the morning… Only you greeted me warmly.  Thank you so.

–At the rubbish bin:

“It’s the detested rubbish bin.  No one ever suspected that something precious was hidden inside it.  Nor did they know that it was the only place where I could keep my things safe.”

–At the empty corner (where Bucket Knight had been):

“It feels as if something very dear to me was here.  Someone or something that always looked after me… helped me.”

Hallway:

–At the laundry shelves:

“Everyone would put their dirty laundry here, and it was my job to wash it.  How ironic… The one they called “filthy” washing their filthy clothes.  It all seems so silly now.”

2nd Floor Lavatory:

–At the toilet that has an eye drawn on the toilet lid:

“‘We’re watching you.’  That’s what the picture meant.  But it was still scary.”

–At Bucket Knight (by the sinks and mirrors):

“Bucket Knight…  A makeshift knight that Nicholas and Xavier used for sword practice.  Though they may have forgotten about it, I’ve always remembered.  For, I yearned for a loyal knight to come to my rescue.

Hallway (Front Stairway balcony):

–At the empty picture frame:

“There used to be a picture here, of everyone at the orphanage.  It was a picture filled with hope, taken the day I was brought here.  I was afraid someone would try to steal this precious memory from me…so I took the picture down and kept it safe.”

Sick Bay:

–At the drawers (these look like the same drawers as had the forbidden drawer in the “Unlucky Clover Field” chapter):

“Clara was a quiet person.  To me, she looked like just another student at the orphanage…except when she spoke to Mr. Hoffman or Martha.  Then, she looked scary.  I wonder if I’ll be like Clara when I’m older…  Will I enjoy those days?”

Sickroom:

–At the rabbit cage:

“Peter the rabbit… He was the pet that Wendy suddenly decided to take care of.  It was the same time I started looking after Brown…  I wonder if Wendy really loved Peter…  Was she sad when she had to give him up?”

–At the lamp:

“This letter looks familiar.  Yes it’s one of the secret letters that Wendy and I traded. ”  (reads letters)

Balcony:

–At the birdcage:

“The red bird in the cage… The doll Eleanor treasured.  ‘If only we could fly like birds and go wherever we wished,’ she whispered softly.  Yet, no matter how much Eleanor wished, she’ll never be able to just fly away from this orphanage.  Poor Eleanor…  She was burdened by her own frozen heart.”

Play Area:

–By the chair and train-track circle:

“Thomas was always playing with his trains…They were his only friends.  There were no final stops on his railroad, for that would be devastating to him.  It’s rumored that this obsession had something to do with his birth, but Thomas never spoke about it with anyone.”

####By the blocks:

“No one really played with the toys here because they were all old.  Only Thomas was the master of this room.  ‘A new girl, a new girl!’ he exclaimed when we first met.  He seemed to enjoy teasing me.

Library:

–By the white goat doll:

“It’s a stuffed goat… The white goat Mary.  The black goat Sally.  When Meg found her letter to Diana torn apart, she was deeply wounded and cried in Diana’s arms, even though she was the one that ripped it up…  And, when Meg’s notebook was found all scattered about, Diana made fun of her, saying, ‘Mary and Sally must’ve ate it.’  Poor Meg…  She was bound by the shackles of foolish devotion.”

–By the painting of the airship:

“The future that people dreamt of never came and was soon forgotten.  From the blue skies of hope, it sank into the depths of oblivion.  The new life born from it was an existence devoid of hope.  It slowly wriggles its large body and stares at the sky with a remorseful look… That’s its only purpose.”

Sewing Room:

–At the sewing machine:

“Amanda was fond of using the sewing machine.  When she got absorbed in something, she’d think of nothing else, especially sewing, which was always on her mind.  If we ran out of cloth or thread, she’d just sew rags with an empty needle over and over again…  And then she’d smile at the tattered rag with satisfaction.”

Hallway (2nd floor):

–At the graffiti on the floor near the Sewing Room door:

“There are doodles everywhere.  No matter how many we cleaned, more would show up the next day.”

Dormitory:

–At one of the two central tables:

“The night was quiet dark and scary.  Yet it was a mysterious time that aroused excitement.  Some nights, we’d stay awake in secret, hiding from the teacher, and draw pictures by lamplight.  It made us feel very much like adults–something not possible during the day.”

–At the other central table:

“A mermaid doll… What a proud and pure creature.  Diana yearned to become a beautiful lady, like a mermaid, but as she grew older, she realized that she was straying further and further from her ideal self.  Poor Diana…  She was trapped by her own ideals.”

Front Stairway:

####At the ladder:

“That day when Thomas couldn’t get down from the tree, the ladder, which had been collecting dust, sure came in handy.  Back then, Mr. Hoffman was a kind and admirable teacher.”

Main Hall (first floor):

–At the vase of flowers:

“There used to be beautiful roses here, picked by Wendy from the rose garden.  …But, as with all things, they wilted away with the passage of time.”

–At the potted fern:

“Miss Martha used to scold Nicholas for forgetting to water the plants, and then she’d turn her wrath on me, snapping, ‘What are you laughing at, young lady!?’”

Hallway near Classroom door:

–At a bucket-headed construct:

“A silent scarecrow… It stands there quietly, not meddling in the affairs of others.  It sways in the breeze, like me…a cowardly girl who was unable to assert her true feelings.”

Men’s Lavatory:

####At the blocked-off toilet stall:

“Once, Susan started a rumor about voices coming from this room at night…  It turned out it was only the door creaking in the wind, but one night, sounds came from the room even with the windows shut.  Susan jumped out of her bed and screamed.  It was really just a prank by Nicholas and Xavier.  From then on, the room was believed to be haunted and was considered off limits.”

Classroom:

–At the blackboard (which has written on it:  “Hitlerism is a form of government controlled by one man’s will / Democracy is a form of government controlled / Hitlerism is a form of government controlled by one man’s will”):

“I learned many things at this orphanage…The alphabet… words… how to clean and do laundry… But the most important thing I learned… was the lesson I received in exchange for my dear friend’s life… I finally came to understand myself.  My beliefs and the will to stand up for them… I don’t want to lose those ever again.”

–At the drawings on the wall (a map of Great Britain):

“The map of this country…  That day we flew from England… Those memories were buried deep inside of me…  The airship…and the accident…  Thereafter, the story of my life became a tale of misfortune.  Even when the others played ‘airship’ I couldn’t bear to join them, so I was left out.”

–At the schedule of classes on the wall:

“A brat, a know-it-all, an introvert, a crybaby, and an elitist… I know misfortune, because I tolerated them all.  I thought I was the only grown up, but we were all just kids, myself included.  But what does it really mean to be a grown-up?  Will I ever become one?”

–At the furnace:

“On cold winter days, we all used to gather here and talk… I, of course, couldn’t join in, so I sat off to the side.  Even so, it felt so warm.”

Bathroom:

–At the mirror (looking at her own reflection):

“Jennifer, are you happy now, considering how bad it was for you, back then?  …That tragedy you wanted to forget.  Now that you remember everything, how do you feel?  Is the answer inside you?  Think carefully Jennifer.”

Wash house:

–At the sinks:

“I came to this room every day to do laundry…  The water was so cold, and the soap would sting my eyes, but I didn’t hate it, because clean laundry is so refreshing.”

Kitchen:

–At the table:

“If Miss Martha had disappeared, there would’ve been no one to cook…  If Clara had disappeared, there would’ve been no one to tend our wounds…  If Mr. Hoffman had disappeared, there would’ve been no one to teach us.  You can’t live life eating snacks all day, with no exercise or studying.  If you look at it that way, even the Aristocrat club needed adults around… Our world was so small.”

Martha’s room:

–On the bed:

“There are a couple of letters here.  It’s a letter from the police…  “(reads letter) “It’s a letter from Martha…”(reads letter) “The letter ends there…  Perhaps if the matter had been addressed publicly, things wouldn’t have turned out as they did.  Adults are so selfish.”

Cafeteria:

–At a fork on the table:

“Olivia, the one who cried all the time, stopped crying completely when all the adults were gone.  With no teacher to give her attention and no cleaning lady to scold her, there was no point in crying anymore.  …Poor Olivia.”

Inner Court:

–Site of Brown’s burial:

“It all started here, when I dug up the mound…  I sensed that something precious to me was buried here… and I couldn’t stop myself…  The old me… the one who didn’t understand herself… I lost my friend because of her.  If… If I could go back… I’d try to save him… but what has happened can never be undone.  I’ll never break a promise again.”

Cell of Remorse:

(nothing)

Cell of Pleasure:

(nothing) film projector

Cell of Repentance:

(nothing)

Cell of Solitude:

–At the central chair:

“One time, Diana was absorbed in deep thought here.  She was the prettiest, the most mature of the Aristocrats.  She wanted so much to be an adult… and yet she was also afraid of growing up too fast.”

Cell of Bliss:

–At the table:

“The spooky things… The scary creatures that everyone talked about…  They’ll come and clean if you don’t, sweeping bad children away like dust…  Well, they actually came and attacked me… I knew what they really were… but that wasn’t the problem.  The real problem was my weak heart.   My weakness was what drew them here.”

Closet Room:

–At the clothes hangers:

“On Halloween, we all dressed up in costumes…  Everyone else wore bags over their heads, and stared at me through tiny holes…  Their blank faces and muffled voices…  It scared me like you wouldn’t believe…  ‘Is it really you under there?’ I asked, fearing it was something else.  But, no one would answer me.”

–At the mirror:

“Amanda was always more sensitive about her looks than anyone else.  One day she was given a severe scolding by Miss Martha.  That’s because Miss Martha’s lipstick had gone missing.  The lipstick was never found, but I know Amanda took it.  I’ve seen her applying it late at night.”

Hallway (ground floor, connecting Headmaster’s Room and Closet Room):

####At drawing on the floor of a big donut-shaped one-eyed person (near cabinet):

“This sloppy drawing must be Thomas’s.  See what happens when you give him chalk?  The walls, the floors…   To him, it’s one big canvas.”

####At drawing on floor of spooky things (nearest the Headmaster’s Room):

“The spooky things…  They swept away everything that’s dirty, including disobedient children.  It was a scary story that started as a rumor and spread like wildfire.”

####At drawing of spooky things (nearest the Closet Room):

“The spooky things love to clean.  That’s why they always carry mops and brooms.  They’ll kidnap you if you don’t clean.  At least, that’s what everyone says.”

Headmaster’s Room:

–At the PA system:

“Mr. Hoffman loved to broadcast over the PA system… while we were cleaning, while we were eating, and even after we were in bed.  He always announced our names in the order of his favorites.  We’d try our best to win his approval and be the first one to be called.  But he never called my name, not once.  I thought it was all rather silly, anyway.”

–At the desk:

“The book is open… ” (reads Hoffman’s diary entries).  “At the time it seemed so frightening…  Were those scary things that attacked me just figments of my imagination…?” (another entry) “..The diary continues, but the last page is particularly interesting… It’s Mr. Hoffman’s last entry before he disappeared.” (another entry) “…That’s the end of the diary.  We never saw Mr. Hoffman again.”

–At the fish tank (a fish swims inside):

“I know you’re in a very stinky place, because that rag Diana put to my face smelled just awful.  But, no matter how clever or fast you are, there’s no escaping.  You’re like a mermaid in captivity… adapting to a new reality.  Leaving your home behind…did you find happiness?”

Headmaster’s Closet:

–At the shelf that has shoes:

“That day, Mr. Hoffman disappeared, like he was running away from something.  He had tried too hard to be someone he wasn’t.  The expectations were too much for him… and he wanted to escape those restrictions.  However, children and adults live in the same world, and we must both play by society’s rules.”

Reception Room:

–At the record player:

“The record player is brand new.  Playing a record would fill the room with sweet music.”

–At the fireplace:

“It was a cold, winter night… I had been scolded as usual, and called into the headmaster’s room.  I didn’t like being scolded, but I didn’t mind so much when it was in front of the fireplace, which was warm and cozy.”

–At the vase on the central table:

“All of us loved red roses.  Even the name of the orphanage was befitting of an Aristocrat… It wasn’t until I swore the oath of the rose that I learned roses have thorns.”

–At the dish cupboard:

“This is Mr. Hoffman’s prized collection of fine dishes.  We would sometimes sneak them out and play house with them in the attic, but that’s our little secret.”

–At the graffiti covered portrait:

“This is a picture of Mr. Hoffman when he was a young man.  He was so proud when he showed it to us…  He never caught the one who doodled on it though.  But, I know who did it.  I saw Thomas trying to move the ladder on the day it happened.”

Women’s Lavatory:

–Toilet stall with bird drawing:

“Red bird drawings.  A red crayon and… a red broach…  A red rose and… red blood…  Red is the most beautiful color, yet it comes at a price.  It is my most favorite color and my most hated color.”

Entrance-way:

–At the lockers:

“It’s a small locker, but it was just for me.  My name was even on it.  They made me feel welcome.  I was so happy… I’d move my shoes in and out, over and over again.”

–At the umbrella stand:

“We never used umbrellas.  On snowy days, we’d go out for snowball fights.  On rainy days, we’d go out and play in the rain, and get soaking wet.  Every time, Xavier would trip and get himself all muddy and we’d laugh.  It was so much fun.”

–At the portrait of Hoffman:

“One day,  Mr. Hoffman suddenly disappeared.  Clara and Miss Martha soon followed, leaving me and the other orphans alone.”

Front gate:

–At the orphanage sign to the left of the gate:

“The Rose Garden Orphanage…  That day, I was escorted from the scene by Officer Doolittle.  At first, it was reported that there were no survivors…  Then, word got out that, miraculously, I had escaped the tragedy…  When rumor spread that I was also the sole survivor of a horrific airship accident in which the passengers were all presumed to be dead, the media went into a frenzy.  and so, the tragic murder of the residents of a rural orphanage was instantly bumped from the front cover of the daily newspaper to an obscure corner…  I’m sorry everyone.  You don’t deserve to be forgotten…  But I’ll remember you.  Thank you all for the precious memories.”

Fork In The Path:

####At the sign:

“The sign has been broken ever since I came here.  I guess it doesn’t matter:   no one comes to visit anyway.”

Bus Stop:

–At the bus stop sign:

“That bus that brought me here…  Should I try to take it the other way?  …No, that’s not right.  There are still things I have to do here.   Wait for me, Brown.”

Outside the rickety shed:

–At the door:

“Please wait for me.  I’ll be there.”

Inside the rickety shed:

(Spoken to Brown)  “My dear friend… I never want to lose you again.  I’ll protect you…  forever and ever until I die.”  (Writes on chalkboard:  “everlasting/true love/ I am yours”)  “I’ll protect you… forever until I die.”

Notes: some of this reposts are not showing in the tags sadly. Classic Tumblr.

[basil-writes-legends-of-tomorrow]

It probably wouldn’t work in canon, but hear me out: magic being a daily part of life in 2044.

[Note: most are from various Tumblr posts ive seen about modern magic and street magic. The ones I thought of will have a (*) at the end]

Plant Mages tending to tiny rooftop gardens and window boxes

Elementary kids learning basic sigils on the playground

Witches taking a while to key into the magic in new cities when they move

Alchemists dealing on the side to support their experiments

Middle schoolers making friendship talisman and amulets for everyone

kids learning charms from each other on the bus, the same way most people learn their first swear words

Worrying your friend is getting into dark magic, but not knowing how to talk to them about it.

Intervention programs for people abusing hexes and runes, because magic has given them control over something for the first time in their lives and are starting to make dangerous choices and to help people who might have just gotten out of a cult or toxic coven that have PTSD or other mental illnesses caused by the situation (*)

Magic graffiti that vanishes when people like cops are around

Murals that if you listen closely can be heard, not seen

Kids hiding out in someone’s backyard or alley and casting minor illusions while they get high

Chalk artists making works so realistic they come to life on the sidewalk.

Punk concerts in empty lots with amped out music and lights, but noise cancelling spells and illusions hiding them in plain sight to anyone around

Necromancers in forensics speaking with the dead to solve homicides and cold cases

sensory objects that can shift into something pocket sized to take wherever it’s needed and can shift into any sensory object to help in specific situations

Hotels/apartments with vending machines stocked with cream/honey/shiny things for Fae (*)

Communities online discussing what find of cryptids live in their areas and which ones are friendly/violent or endangered

Witches/Warlocks/Mages keeping their potions in empty water bottles and Tupperware containers

Witches/Warlocks/Mages who buy little bottles from Michaels so their potion cabinets will look cute

Enchanting babies blankets and soothers to keep bad luck and illness away from them (*)

Gendershifting spells for NB, Genderfluid, Trans, DemiBoy/girl (etc) people. (*)

Glamour spells to hide parts of your body that make you insecure.  (*)

easier pregnancy’s that can be sped up if there’s any complication (with a cost), glamours to hide the belly so you can move easier, spells to relive morning sickness. (*)

Enchant a braclet to give the wearer faster reflexes (*)

Charm a headband or hairclip to give you clearer thoughts and to help with mental Disorders (*)

Ear piercings that translate everything around you into your native language

Lip Piercings that do the same, except when you speak you speak the language of whoever you’re speaking to.

A small bird tattoo behind your ear that chirps and whistles to you when your anxious.

A tattoo of your child that ages with them.

A tattoo for those that are hard of hearing or deaf and are unable to read lips at that moment that displays the words being said on their hand.

A nose ring that is charmed that as long as you are wearing it you will never lose your keys.

A flower scene that only bloom at certain times.

Little nocturnal animals tattoos like raccoons that only show up on your skin after dark.

A tattoo of digital numbers on your wrist that tells the time.

Notepad tattoo that takes notes for you as you go about your day it forms bumps on the skin if that person is blind so it can be read in braille.

Name tattoos that when tapped can talk to the person telepathically as long as the other person taps back.

ear piercings that beep softly if a trigger word is said telling you to leave the room.

Bracelet that will tighten around your wrist if you aren’t feeling well telling you to take a nap.

A rose tattoo that’s health changes depending on the state of your current relationship.

A heart tattoo for genderfluid people that changes colour depending on what gender they feel at that moment. Feminine? Pink purplish reds. Masculine? Greens Aquas and blues! Don’t really feel like any gender? Some nice soft grey scales. All and everything? Rainbow. (*)

Flower tattoo that will change depending on where you are based on what season it is and country so if your in Australia their natural flower is the Sturt Desert Pea, if you’re in Japan different cherry blossoms depending on where you are. Water lilies if your near a lake or pond.

bracelets to increase speed/agility.

Charm a middle finger ring with the power to temporarily give bad luck to anyone you flip off.

knot magic in your shoelaces to attract luck and hold in positive energy’s. Also: pennies in your shoe to attract luck.

charm your jackets, sweaters, and flannels with an ‘I’m rubber you’re glue’ effect to deflect negative energy like a bouncy shield.

a luck spell on your shoes to keep you from stepping in gum, dog crap, or anything undesirable. Also, to keep you from tripping and falling.

a charm on your socks and underwear to keep them from riding up or slipping or moving out of place

a spell over your perfumes/cologne/deodorant to make potential lovers more attracted to you because you smell pretty.

enchanting a choker or necklace to help with communication, clear speaking, singing, or to relieve anxiety over public speaking, or to make your voice deeper or higher depending on what you gender is that day.

a spell over your sports jersey or athletic wear to make you preform better in sports, and work harder or burn more calories when working out.

charm glasses and sun glasses with the power to find lost things and ‘see’ the truth to people’s lies.

charm earrings with the ability to hear gossip, secrets, and people talking behind your back, and the power to gain important information.

Queer-themed tarot card decks

Spells to empower queer people (and other oppressed groups) and hex their oppressors

Psychologists that can read emotions and feelings to provide easier diagnosis’s, help communicate better with nonverbal patients, and tell wether somethings wrong if the patient cants talk because their with any abuser (*)

Autistic Warlocks/Mages/Witches incorporating their special interests into their craft (*)

Spells to cope with panic attacks, anxiety attacks, or sensory overloads

Stimming while in trances or complicated rituals (*)

Scholars that run bookshops with books on magic and different magic-orientated illnesses (*)

Fair folk who sell potions at markets

Influencers who market towards Neurodivergent Witches/Warlocks with different stim toys that can calm in case of magic or sensory overloads.

Tutorials on how to take care of Cryptids/Gryphons/Dragons (*)

Tutorials on incantations and rituals to ease chronic pain (*)

Feel free to add if you have anymore ideas

[imfandomtastic]

aesthetics tag <3

by @weasleysflowr 

rules: bold what applies to you and tag others!! (original) 

side a, the city

glittering lights, yawning skyscrapers, broken glass shards, street gangs, hip hop music, late night strolls, blinking stars, sleek cars, flickering neon signs, glittery earrings, small tattoos, empty subways, dark eyeshadow, snapping cameras, cozy apartments, fried churros, silver necklaces, dyed hair, ripped jeans, bright lipstick, dazzling smiles

side b, the book nerd

large glasses, steaming hot chocolate, thick books, lofi music, hot pastries, soft smiles, large sweaters, quiet libraries, small flowers, melting candles, sweetened coffee, messy hair buns, soft pillows, fairy lights, vanilla scents

side c, the stereotypical girl

soft pinks, mini skirts, crop tops, romantic fantasies, love songs, strawberry milkshakes, lipgloss, high ponytails, candy hearts, nail polish, starbucks coffee, clear skies, hoop earrings, excited ramblings, stuttering heartbeats, rose bouquets, soft blushes

side d, the stereotypical boy

arcade games, graphic t-shirts, baseball caps, chocolate milkshakes, messy rooms, acoustic guitars, chocolate chip cookies, multi-colored bruises, rap music, nightly escapades, stolen glances, pencil-drumming, chocolate milk boxes, low hums

side e, the nature hippie

mini plants, cloud-watching, star gazing, damp forests, sandy beaches, ocean waves, wildflowers, hiking, iced lemon tea, gardening, hippie music, buttered toast, birds chirping, multi-coloured leaves, evening sunlight, fruit cups, sundresses

side f, the rebel

cherry lollipops, devil hand signs, grape flavoured bubble gum, rock music, killer boots, dark make-up, horror movies, denim jackets, switchblades, handguns, stargazing on rooftops, glowing cigarettes, large headphones, skull rings, converse shoes, graffiti murals, glowing moonlight, rose thorns, fishnet stockings

side g, the winter

busy cafes, oversized hoodies, drizzling rain, small snowflakes, marshmallows in hot chocolate, loose hair, sad music, reading a book, blanket forts, frozen lakes, crackling fireplaces, old movies

side h, the summer

tank tops, lemonade, sunny days, dripping popsicles, short haircuts, tinted sunglasses, cotton candy, amusement parks, traveling, blasting music on the car radio, wagging dog tails, large sunflowers, snow cones

side i, the autumn

pumpkin lattes, warm bakeries, warm colours, hair braids, soft sweaters, colourful leaves, purring cats, dark chocolate bars, romance movies, soft music, zentangling, vintage cameras

side j, the spring

floral scents, peach tea, mint shampoo, tinkling laughter, video cassettes, colourful paintings, excited smiles, lollipop sticks, blooming flowers, melting snow, action movies, singing in the shower

tagging: @sheaspalace @theresnomusiconbutwedancealong @panicontheleft-sinnerontheright and anyone who’s interested!!

[spam-bunny-dweet]

AfterEntity!AU Fright One-shot/Giftfic for @farfromormond

(I know that you're probably feeling down after such a long shift at work, so I wrote you this fanfic about some soft, loving Fright and Dwight pondering his friends.)

Dwight had been working all day. He was exhausted, but he had to remain diligent. After his third 8-hour shift this week, he was craving some cuddles from his lover. He walks out of the train station, and down the street. He walks down the trail to their house, and eventually comes apon their home-a lodge that they'd bought and dubbed "Ormond 2.0" after fixing it up. It had once been rundown, with broken windows. Now, Julie's artwork and Joey's graffiti covered its walls, and Susie's flowers were flourishing in the front flower pots. The lodge had a bit of something from every member of the legion in it, their lovely chaos arranged along with Dwight's own nearly anal organization. They each had an area of the home-even if Susie and Joey no longer lived there. Julie had the attic, a lovely studio with place to store finished artworks as well as supplies. She had her own bed up there, in a quiet area for late night doodles near a window that looks out over the flowers Susie had planted and that Dwight kept alive for her visits. He missed Susie. He resonated the best with her, maybe even better than with Frank. He appreciated her careful, orderly manner, along with her strength and determination. She was a great listener, and good with emotions. She'd helped him multiple times in just the past week, he was still rather broken up from leaving his survivor friends behind.

Dwight places his backpack down on the doorstop and grabs the hose, filling a watering can and then tiredly going around and watering his best friend's garden. He loved it too. They'd found many different kinds of flowers to plant in it-from poisonous yet beautiful types like Foxgloves and Buttercups, to roses, morning glories, and tulips. Seeing it as he headed out to work every morning made him smile. He thinks about how Joey had been interested in the garden too, specifically when Susie said she wanted to plant nightshade. There was something so chaotic and scary, yet so fun about Joey. He wondered if he would visit them soon. After he finishes watering the flowers, he looks up. Frank had been watching him from one of the windows. He waves, and smiles as Frank waves back.

~

Dwight walks up to Frank, having ditched his coat, tie, and shoes on the way upstairs to their room. He pulls Frank into a tight hug and instantly, all his frustrations melt away. He slips down slightly out of exhaustion, and Frank chuckles, looping an arm around Dwight's waist and underneath his rump to hold him up.

"Hey, Puppy. Long day?" Dwight whines, exhausted yet appreciative as Frank places a kiss to his forehead. He nods, placing his face against Frank's chest, his knees slackening and allowing Frank to hold him up. "Are you hungry?" Dwight nods again. Outside of the entity, Dwight was taller than Frank by several inches. He had felt like an alien in his own body for awhile because of it. Growing from 5'9" to 6'2" in the span of what felt like a few hours was jarring, and even now he wasn't used to being so large. Luckily, Frank was still almost as strong as he'd been in the Entity's realm. That much was nice.

~

After eating dinner, Dwight drags himself to bed with Frank. They cuddle for a long time, Frank whispering sweet nothings and Dwight showing his tired appreciation through quiet whimpers and roaming hands on his love's back. He falls asleep in the arms of the love of his life, grateful that tomorrow was a weekend. They could cuddle for as long as they wanted.

[cupsofsuga]

KIM NAMJOON ━━━ CHARACTER ANALYSIS

NAMJOON IS... rainy streets, sicilian gardens, stale vodka, faux diamonds, snakes, black coffee, the moon, sharp eyeliner, pearl tiaras, miss dior, pomegranate seeds, sound of typing, white roses, dragon scales, antique perfume bottles, stench of alcohol, graffiti, vampires, silk sheets, area 51, the fear of failure, bloody noses, low battery, rotting fruit, sharp gaze, undefined nostalgia, silver rings, champagne, glass shards, money, cigarette smoke, tattoos, ouija-boards, blood stains, bruised knuckles, dark circles, thunderstorms in the city, fountain pens, blurred city lights and a tired soul.

NAMJOON SOUNDS LIKE...

NO. 1 PARTY ANTHEM / ARCTIC MONKEYS

❝ she’s a certified mind blower, knowin’ full well that i don’t. ❞

GREEN LIGHT / LORDE

❝ oh, i wish i could get my things and just let go. ❞

EXCHANGE / BRYSON TILLER

❝ lord please save her for me, do this one favor for me. ❞

CIGARETTES / AMIR OBÈ

❝ all i need is my baby and a cigarette. ❞

SOUR SUITE / THE GUESS WHO

❝ i don’t wanna listen to my telephone ring. ❞

SAMO IS NOW / WILLOW

❝ you make me wonder why i am feeling this way. ❞

MY JINJI / SUNSET ROLLERCOASTER

 ❝ oh, don’t leave me behind. ❞

911, MR. LONELY / TYLER THE CREATOR

❝ i can’t even lie, i’ve been lonely as fuck. ❞

I WANNA BE YOURS / ARCTIC MONKEYS

❝ secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought. ❞

SUMMER’S OVER INTERLUDE / DRAKE

❝ days in the sun and nights in the rain. ❞

NAMJOON LIKES... Y/N, thunderstorms, physical affection (strictly from Y/N), words of reassurance, reading, the sound of cars passing by, jazz and blues, fireplaces, soft blankets and the taste of coffee.

NAMJOON DISLIKES... any form of disrespect towards Y/N, skittles, his parents, beer, bugs, the dentist, winter, and spending more than a couple hours without Y/N. 

KIM NAMJOON. a philosophical, aloof, intelligent, intimidating man with a heart on the brink of shattering and a love for the stranger who lurks in the library every wednesday. living in a a lavish lifestyle with wealthy parents, good grades and a bright future, you may think that this golden boy has everything figured out, but, with every bright smile that girls fawn over and laugher spilled into the halls is all just an empty facade to hide what lies underneath. the loneliest among them all, the act of suffering in silence; there’s is no valid reason for namjoon to enjoy a single second of this hollow life. with a mother who cares more about the glimmer of diamonds than her own son and a father who would rather count bills then count sheep as his child falls into a deep slumber, the day-to-day epiphany that he is all alone always has a cunning way of feeling like a stake to the heart. that is, until he stumbles into the library on one crucial, gloomy wednesday and catches sight of a single human being browsing for books.

it was so elegant the way they simply existed. how they traced the spine’s with the delicacy of a star and how softly their brow would furrow when they flipped through the pages of a book they deemed interesting. how he looked like a creep peering through two empty book slots to admire the living work of art before him. the further your relationship blooms, the more namjoon’s tendencies bled through. how he hacks into your social media accounts and threaten creepy men who were deluded enough they possibly had a shot with you or how he visits his shrine (yes, his shrine) he keeps in the back of his walk-in closet that he visits nightly and relishes in the sweet, sweet epiphany that he is all yours. these heathens that bark and yap around him at the on-board school can buy his dominant facade all to well, but, it is only you that knows of the pretty pliant puddle of submissiveness that rests underneath.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

alright well i work best under pressure so given that i now have an hour and 20 minutes before i start a voice call with someone i think it’s the perfect time to do that one video analysis so i can actually start finishing up that maya post... man i really should’ve pumped that shit out earlier, but i kept procrastinating until we got new info. then more new info. and i mean we DO have lots of new updated info, bc i have a whole thing in there about Punk girl i gotta edit out now lmao

anyway

Zane Flynt? this trailer killed me, it’s the only thing i’ve watched all day. like. on repeat.

ive said it before and ill say it again, 3 months ago i call zane attractive on reddit and get ridiculed but then we find out he’s an irish bastard and everyone jumps on the fuck train

anyway

elpis is looking good and not explody/teleporty, so that’s always a good sign

so the locale plus the twang immediately had me thinking of lynchwood but that’s not right

the bar itself looks a lot like that mine area we see, so i’d be willing to guess it’s nearby, you know, if it’s an area in the game at all lmao

like the windows are similar plus the wood

the bar itself is giving me some mixed signals here, but im gonna bet it was taken over by the CoV from the crimson raiders (recruitment banner, but then the CoV logo is on the wall/screen over there)

That, plus the rose on the counter next to Zane seems sus

another mine looking building in the back

also lmao

it’s time to enter the BONEEEE ZONNEEE

no more DAHL dumpsters? F

okay this area looks super familiar

that plus the varkids, this is 100% the same place as this

which is interesting

looks like Zane’s been hanging out on Pandora for a while... kinda upset we didn’t hear about his brothers at all in this trailer, but it was still fuckin hilarious and well worth the wait

those canisters? vats? look like the ones near the burger launcher vid hang on

also some in the back here

so yeah more than likely the same area

also

`lines up the perfect shot`

`completely missed both shots`

lovey, bravo, champagne, sloooow clap

anyway i’d wager this is an old dahl mining camp? probably mining for iridium

you can see the 

conveyor belt thingie here

and also all the minecarts and rails are very reminiscent of the caustic caverns

which probably would have dropped iridium into the vat below it, if said vat wasn’t tipped over onto its side

more shots of the building he’s in

closeup of the rails. which, weird as it sounds, is really great to see because sometimes in bl2 and even tps when you got super close up to a texture, it wouldn’t look too hot, even on the best settings. the textures in 3 are so CRISP i love them

varkid 🤮 i hate bugs. model looks fantastic tho! i just... hate bugs

see the camera is flipped upside down, so miles this cultist is not falling, he’s rising- he’s being lifted up

how nice

im getting percy jackson flashbacks here. this is 100% how clarisse shoved percy into the toilet, right?

with the way the cultist isn’t even trying to get out im afraid zane just shoved a corpse into the dook hut. i mean all the power to ya, man

he’s stuck

also

this building in the back is new

i won’t say it

you know what im thinking

i won’t say it

i promise

~smile~

there’s also what i think is a smiley face sticker on the wall to his right

water physics lookin fine 👌

also the way zane jumps back. bonelesspotter i know you read these, are you picking up what i’m putting down?

MAGIC CUP MAGIC CUP ALL HAIL

see the lack of drink is supposed to parallel hi s lack of companio- im sorry hahahaaha i can’t do this

rose. it’s a SIGN

there’s so much going on in the background here lemme just

im sitting here like >:( because i know i’ve seen that type of wall before and for the life of me can’t remember where

my brain is screaming sanctuary

the actual middle piece looks super familiar

is that what they attach the out of bounds turrets to? possibly.

this bit

also it looks like there’s a dam or something in the back back?

tbh im a lot more interested in the skyway all the way at the top, it reminds me a lot of bloodshot ramparts

cuz it also used to be a skyway

also zane is doing his pose for the main menu screen of the game

and i would say it’s possible this could’ve been the main menu, but the cliff is different, and there’s supposed to be a boxcar/shipping crate on the right (as when u go to options it moves over to it)

more vats! what is the deal with this mine? why is it featured so heavily in this video gearbox tell me your s e c r e t s

you’d think, with zane being the one who’s been around the proverbial block over his years, he’d be on multiple planets throughout his entire trailer. but like 80% of it is pandora. maybe the other VHs are getting featured on other planets? at least he has a reason to be on pandora outside of the main story (maybe looking for his brothers, maybe trying to piss on their graves, who knows)

i don’t know what he’s reaching for but uh

perhapeth the blades are activated by swinging his arm out? could be a hold over from when they were like... actual metal blades and needed to be knocked out into position

i love that he returns the wave after shoving this guy off the cliff

it’s not like he can see you man

go off i guess though

some bar on eden-6 (finally! a new planet!) also i like that the theme here is zane getting into fights in bars. good shit boys

get wrecked kid

i really like the design of this building. i love the windows. maybe part of jakobs manor? looks like maybe it’s a greenhouse or smth given it’s in this garden/courtyard area

which should look somewhat familiar

looks very similar to this area, but it doesn’t look like there’s a building on the left in this shot. maybe they added it in for the trailer 🤷‍♂️

the trees behind the big one (and next to the iron wrought fence) match up perfectly tho

i just really like this shot ngl

i love these fuckign expressions i cant

Friend

okay im sorry here’s a smiley boy

the facial animations are so fucking good this time around

that is all i am doing.

just appreciating the new animations.

SOMEONE HELP THIS TINY MAN HE’S TRAPPED IN A SQUARE

fuck dude we didn’t deserve this man

MAGIC CUP MAGIC CUP ALL HAIL

seriously tho, the glass is gone. idk where it went. im just gonna pretend he was practicing that one iconic Kingsman scene while talking to himself and providing us with flashbacks

manners.

maketh.

man.

also this is my new favorite reaction image

it’s ‘perfect in every way’

you want more booze?

what are your thoughts on the new guns?

where’d you hide the body?

(it’s in the dumpster)

also unlike the magic cup

the rose is still here

Cultist coming to see why the windows of their bar are glowing neon yellow and blue im sure

>shit

it’s cool to know the clone can actually emote

given in the So Happy Together it was basically an expressionless blue demon

still no cup. all hail

some more CoV graffiti!

boops

i am sad we didn’t get to see zoomer in this video at all

zoomer is cute

i like zoomer

anyway

that’s all for the trailer folks

i love the implication that he’s just sitting in this empty CoV bar, talking to himself, waiting for someone to notice and come confront him so he can kick their asses.

anyway this post 100% wasn’t an excuse to rewatch the entire trailer frame by frame or anything

maya post coming soon! wahoo

also i have 10 minutes left lmao nice

[saintedfury]

Bouquet, chocolate, gift

VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?((Yes, she does like chocolate. She’s particular about her chocolate though. She always prefers dark over milk, she only really likes it paired with caramel or toffee (it can have other things in there as along as there’s that soft or hard sugary confection involved), and she absolutely adores chocolate with a hint of chile in it. That dark smooth sweetness with that subtle hint of smolder on the back of your tongue. It’s a glorious treat for the senses.))

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?((Anything bright, bold, and colorful. Furia loves flowers. Sure, roses are okay, but she’d rather have something more interesting. Gerber daisies, a potted bird of paradise that she can transplant into the garden. If I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure Meryl gave her a purple chile pepper plant one year, that she absolutely loved and got a ton of use out of.))

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?((Furia is good at it. Because she really doesn’t take gift giving super seriously. And she does it more than just for holidays and birthdays. If she stumbles on something that reminds her of someone they are going to receive it in a day or two. Unicorns for Sam. Exotic sweets for Eli. Recipes and treat the baker things for Skylar. The stupidest sunglasses ever for Devin (I’m pretty sure it’s not the first pair of penis sunglasses he’s ever received). Art things and photos of her graffiti for Sean. Spicy trinkets for Meryl. She gets Shaundi cute accessories, different books on philosophy for Oleg (though she always reads it first because he’ll devour it and want to talk to her about it). It’s just her way. She can spoil the people around her, and having grown up poor she does just that whenever she can. 

Mind you, she knows that no individual thing can outweigh time spent with someone important, it is the way she shows people that she’s thinking about them even when they are not front and center.))

[vriskadyke]

just some info about the life on earth c series and my visions of the characters!

june egbert is a trans bisexual woman! she uses she/her. she dated dirk before coming out as trans and they are still friends. she will eventually date jasprose in a 'beyond quadrants' relationship. she likes bad movies, doing pranks and magic tricks and stand-up comedy, as well as playing bad video games and D&D. 

jade harley is an intersex + transgender bisexual woman (she/her). jade is in a 'beyond quadrants' relationship with davepeta; she will eventually enter a red/pale vacillating relationship with aradia as well. she likes astro+nuclear physics, drawing, D&D, space, gardening, and rocking out with her bass. 

dave strider is a transmasculine nonbinary bisexual guy (he/they). dave is in a 'beyond quadrants' relationship with karkat; they started dating karkat on the meteor. he is jewish and is non-practicing, though they might explore it in the future. dave's pronouns switch on a day-to-day basis; he might use 'he' on one day and 'they' on another. they do photography, make movies, play D&D, write SBAHJ and another webcomic, and like making music and studying paleontology as well (pretty busy lmao). 

rose is a transgender lesbian (she/her). rose is in a beyond-quadrants relationship with kanaya that she entered on the meteor. she, like dave, is jewish, and is interested in exploring her religion. she is an author, plays D&D and video games, studies psychology, and does cosplay + tarot readings, and also habitually fosters kids with kanaya.

jane crocker is a nonbinary butch lesbian. she starts out using she/her, then starts trying they/them and she/her (rolling), and eventually settles on using he/she, switching from set to set every so often. he is not a fascist and is in fact a communist who hates earth c's crockercorp and works as a private investigator. also he cooks, plays video games and D&D, does cosplay and likes puzzle games. she is in a beyond-quadrants relationship with roxy & callie. 

dirk strider is a transgender gay man (he/him). he, like rose and dave, is jewish, but non-practicing. he likes D&D, video games, robotics, horses, anime, swords, philosophy, and cosplay. he is in a beyond-quadrants relationship with jake, a black relationship with tavros, and a black-red vacillating relationship with sollux. 

roxy lalonde is black and a transgender bisexual woman (she/her). she is ethnically & culturally jewish & has started to become more involved in her religion! she likes playing video games, D&D, LARP, making mods, gardening, playing guitar and singing, and cooking. she is also in a beyond-quadrants relationship with calliope and jane. 

jake english is a nonbinary gay ace spectrum man (he/she). she likes bad movies, cosplay, parties, LARP, sewing, and being with his friends. he is in a beyond-quadrants relationship with dirk, a red-pale relationship with tavros, and a black relationship with sollux. 

vriska is a transgender lesbian who has not revealed she’s trans to many of her friends (only terezi & dave know). she uses she/her and is in love with terezi (who needs quadrants!). fun fact, vriska got her name from sugoi quest for kokoro (which is canon from friendsim as being media on alternia). she likes D&D, video games, history, cosplay, committing crimes, and swimming. 

terezi is an agender lesbian and uses she/xe/they pronouns. they’re in love with vriska. xe is a TA at a local law school and is going to become a defense attorney; she likes D&D, video games, cosplay, graffiti, watching people spar, and committing crimes. 

kanaya is a transgender lesbian and is engaged to rose. she uses she/her pronouns. she likes gardening, cosplay, fashion, video games, D&D, illustrating, and she is a foster mom with rose. 

karkat is a transgender bisexual man (he/him) in a beyond-quadrants relationship with dave. he got his name from sugoi quest for kokoro, like vriska. he likes romcoms, video games, D&D, cosplay, bureaucracy, and activism. 

aradia is a nonbinary transfem aro-spectrum bisexual (she/ey/it). ey likes archaeology, D&D, cosplay, anthropology, video games, and flying around in space. she is in a moirallegiance with sollux and will enter a red/pale vacillating relationship with jade. 

sollux is a bigender aromantic bisexual who uses he/sie pronouns. he likes beekeeping, video games, coding, and teasing karkat. he is in a moirallegiance with aradia and a black/pale vacillating relationship with tavros, a red relationship with ARquius, a black relationship with jake, and a red/black vacillating relationship with dirk. people asking about hir gender get told to fuck off.

calliope is an intersex transfemme nonbinary lesbian who uses she/fae/they and is in a beyond-quadrants relationship with jane and roxy. she likes gardening, making fanart, cosplay, LARP, playing story video games, and reading fanfic. 

tavros is a nb gay guy who uses he/him. he likes pokémon, cosplay, animal crossing, and animals in general, volunteering at an animal shelter. he's in a red-black vacillating relationship with ARquius, a black-pale relationship with sollux, a black relationship with dirk, and a red-pale relationship with jake. 

ARquius is a trans gay guy who uses he/him. he likes working out at the gym, horses, cosplay, and robotics. he's in a red-black vacillating relationship with tavros, a red relationship with sollux, and a moirallegiance with davepeta.

davepeta is a nonbinary bisexual who uses they/them exclusively. they like killing transphobes, flying, hanging out with their friends, jewelry, and cosplay. theyre in a beyond-quadrants relationship with jade and a moirallegiance with ARquius. 

jasprose is a nb transfem lesbian who uses she/her. she likes being petty, reading other people's smut about her, cosplay, gossip, psychoanalysis, and flirting with people online and irl. she will be in a beyond-quadrants relationship with june.

[strayneoculturekids]

Aesthetic Tag!

Thank you @ethereal-ashes for tagging me~!

Rules: bold all the aesthetics that you relate to, and add your own at the end!

side a: the city.

glittering lights, yawning skyscrapers, broken glass shards, street gangs, hip hop music, late night strolls, blinking stars, sleek cars, flickering neon signs, glittery earrings, small tattoos, empty subways, dark eyeshadow, snapping cameras, cozy apartments, fried churros, silver necklaces, dyed hair, rippedjeans, bright lipstick, dazzling smiles.

side b: the book nerd.

large glasses, steaming hot chocolate, thick books, lofi music, hot pastries, soft smiles, large sweaters, quiet libraries, small flowers, melting candles, sweetened coffee, messy hair buns, soft pillows, fairy lights, vanilla scents.

side c: the stereotypical girl.

soft pinks, mini skirts, crop tops, romantic fantasies, love songs, strawberry milkshakes, lipgloss, high ponytails, candy hearts, nail polish, starbucks coffee, clear skies, hoop earrings, excited ramblings, stuttering heartbeats, rose bouquets, soft blushes.

side d: the stereotypical boy.

arcade games, graphic t-shirts, baseball caps, chocolate milkshakes, messy rooms, acoustic guitars, chocolate chip cookies, multi-colored bruises, rap music, nightly escapades, stolen glances, pencil-drumming, chocolate milk boxes, low hums.

side e: the nature hippie.

mini plants, cloud-watching, star gazing, damp forests, sandy beaches, ocean waves, wildflowers, hiking, iced lemon tea, gardening, hippie music, buttered toast, birds chirping, multi-colored leaves, evening sunlight, fruit cups, sundresses.

side f: the rebel.

cherry lollipops, devil hand signs, grape flavoured bubble gum, rock music, killer boots, dark make-up, horror movies, denim jackets, switchblades, handguns, stargazing on rooftops, glowing cigarettes, large headphones, skull rings, converse shoes, graffiti murals, glowing moonlight, rose thorns, fishnet stockings.

side g: the winter.

busy cafes, oversized hoodies, drizzling rain, small snowflakes, marshmallows in hot chocolate, loose hair, sad music, reading a book, blanket forts, frozen lakes, crackling fireplaces, old movies.

side h: the summer.

tank tops, lemonade, sunny days, dripping popsicles, short haircuts, tinted sunglasses, cotton candy, amusement parks, traveling, blasting music on the car radio, wagging dog tails, large sunflowers, snow cones

side i: the autumn.

pumpkin lattes, warm bakeries, warm colors, hair braids, soft sweaters, colourful leaves, purring cats, dark chocolate bars, romance movies, soft music, zentangling, vintage cameras.

side j: the spring.

floral scents, peach tea, mint shampoo, tinkling laughter, video cassettes, colourful paintings, excited smiles, lollipop sticks, blooming flowers, melting snow, action movies, singing in the shower.

side k: peachesandviolet’s aesthetic.

reading multiple books at once, oversized everything, dozen unfinished writings, listens to sad songs just to cry even more, lip balm, fluffy slippers, light drizzles, wet hair, booping noses, wide-teeth smiles, weird noises at random times, heavy filtered pictures, yellow, oreos and peanut butter, deep thoughts, bright clothes, counting stars, atmosphere filled with laughter, 3 am chats.

side l: poesymin’s aesthetic.

shy smiles, lavender, thick books, sad songs, oversized jumpers, writing at 2am, curly hair, vintage blue, silver jewellery, hugs, long movies, giggling, history documentaries, soft-spoken, earl grey tea, lace.

side m: queer-namjoon’s aesthetic

loneliness, staying up till 4am, nostalgia, the sound of rain against a window, colorful sunsets, pessimistic, missing old friends, overthinking, depressing songs, rainbow flags, black clothes, horror movies, being kind, cute plants, candles, being scared of the future, looking out for others, dyed hair, oversized hoodies, awkward smiles, singing along to random songs on the radio, chocolate muffins, regretting things, the feeling when you miss happiness.

side n: rannaranna’s aesthetic

baking things for loved ones, sleeping in odd places, jasmine tea, knitting, loud unrestrained laughter, black iced coffee, beaded jewelry, spice cabinets, paint-stained hands, winking, books on the paranormal and occult, comfortable silence, black cherry soda in glass bottles, slowly learning self-love, big dogs, sitting on the floor, hand-me-down clothes, bubble baths, learning new instruments, subtle expressions of love, mismatched socks, soft hugs, taking a camera everywhere, finding beauty in the unusual

side o: minhos-boo’s aesthetic

oversized shirts, puppies, pink, gold earrings, Pinterest, interest in art, looking at stars, rainy days, dark skies, stuffed toys, online shopping, lip tints and gloss, confused with everything, ripped jeans, ice cream, learning a new language, awkward, painted nails, sneakers, squishy pillows, cozy atmosphere, blankets, floral shampoo, lip balms, learning art, being nice to everyone, memes

side p: astridangel’s aesthetic

cluttered room, pile of paintings, too many comic books, toy galore, worn out sneakers, chipped nail polish, skin care cabinet, warm tinted lamp, coloring books, any and all earrings, breakfast for every meal, laying on the floor, woodsy smells, journals, humming when anxious, stuffies of all kinds, textbooks, record player, vintage decor, cool tones, short hair, piercings, large tattoos, sweet treats, ice cold water, sunlight streaks

side q: ethereal-ashes’ aesthetic

oversized clothes, cats, otaku, stuffed toys, listening to music all day, black clothes, snowy/foggy days, dark nights, piercings, travelling, earl grey tea, loneliness, painted nails, dyed hair, being fascinated by paranormal and occult things, history documentaries, drawing, being scared of getting attached to someone, daydreaming, reading fantasy stories

side r: strayneoculturekids’ aesthetic

emo bands and music, oversized hoodies, dirtied white sneakers and cons, pink and orange clouds that get their colour from the sunset, roofed forests, crickets chirping on a clear night, rainy days and fluffy blankets, steaming cups of tea, stargazing with a loved one, being alone at 4am, day-dreaming, giving flowers to boys, making boys blush uncontrollably, listening to others’ problems, cluttered but organized rooms, thick books with worn covers

Tagging: @wakeywxkey @jungstruly @jaenuaryyy @hyunjinssmile @sidetrackedkids @chogiwamypace @strayyeets @straywaffles @starryjisungs

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (Chapter 16)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: So we're closer to the end! I can't believe there's only five more chapters to go. But yeah, this chapter was nice - I'm not gonna say it's a happy chapter, but it's happier than the last few ones lol. It's a chapter that has a bit more of me in it - but it's still a Reader fic, so don't worry lol. Please tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages!

Words: 2800ish

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 16

1977, New York

The bench under your bum made you uncomfortable, but you were still too lazy to care - you always left the beach like this.

You were on the long, one hour way back to your loft in Greene Street, SoHo, through the good old F train, every inch of the train filled with graffiti. But you could still smell the salt in the air coming from the New York Aquarium Station - the best station to access the Coney Island sidewalk and beach.

There was better, cleaner beaches in the Hamptons, but they were full of annoyingly rich people that think they're better than the rest. Also, Coney Island held a special place in your heart - when you were a kid, your grandma would take you there, so you could enjoy the sun and the not-so-safe attractions, and your parents would always freak out when they found out that you took the unsafe subway through the unsafe neighbourhood of Brooklyn to get to a dirty beach.

But it was always fun. The sun would almost certainly burn your shoulders, and you could never wear any jewelry, but the feeling of being involved by the sea, floating in the water, holding your breath, after spending a couple hours on carousels and wooden roller coasters, would always make it worth it - your grandma always taught you to be brave, that things could be scary at first, but usually worked out. "If it doesn't make you happier, it makes you wiser", she'd tell you, and you'd nod, the taste of cheap ice cream on your mouth, the sun warming up your skin.

It was your grandma who figured out that something was wrong with you and made you seek help.

She came by to visit as soon as you called her, right after getting home from Cleopatra's Needle and breaking up with Roger. She came to your parent's apartment, complaining about the traffic - she lived in Paramus, New Jersey, now. She moved there in 1973, saying that it was ludicrous she couldn't grow old with a nice garden on the back of her house, just because Manhattan didn't have houses with gardens anymore.

Now, once you came back from London, in 1975, she looked at you and immediately knew something was wrong. "Sweetpea, what's wrong?" she asked, a frown on her face as she got closer to you.

You were lying on the couch in your pajamas, trying to see if you could find a Doctor Who re-run - probably not a good idea, all things considered, but you didn't just miss Roger, now that he's away. You missed England, you missed their accents, you missed the way you felt when you first got there. "What, grandma?", you asked, and she got you to get up, putting her hand against your forehead.

"You're different", she said, and you shrugged, "Yeah, I'm older", and she laughed. "So am I, Sweetpea. And it hasn't been so long since I last saw you - last year, right? You came here with your hairy boyfriend", she said, and you tensed up, which didn't go unnoticed. "Oh. I see. Something happened between the two of you, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"That's it. You look sadder. You didn't look like that before. But… Maybe that's not it. No, I don't think that's it at all", she said, and you looked at her, confused. "No, Grandma. That's what happened. I'm sad - I had to breakup with Roger, my boyf - ex-boyfriend", you interrupted yourself, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Roger, my ex-boyfriend, so I could get back here", you said, a cold pain spreading through your chest as the impact of these words hit you.

"But that's just a symptom. There's something else wrong there, Sweetpea. Something deeper within", she said, pointing to your heart. "And that's what made you sad, what made you break up with that boy. I liked him, you know. He made you happy - I could see it. You were always brave, and that always made me proud. But with him, you were happy - when you came into the room with him by your side, everything got brighter. Your love was like the sun", she said, fixing a painting on the wall, not noticing how your eyes were tearing up.

"That's how I last saw you. Brave and happy", she looked at the painting, satisfied with it now that it was not crooked anymore, and turned to you. "Now you're neither. What happened, Sweetpea?", and you choked up. "I don't know", you whispered, and she hugged you as you started to cry - she smelled like plums and apples, the things she grew on her garden in Paramus.

You couldn't stop thinking about the last time she saw you - it was in 1974, and the boys came to America, specifically to New York for a few dates, and you had to come with them - they wanted you to do so. Also, you were dating Roger for two years, and it was time for him to meet your parents.

You came from a small gig in Boston, Roger holding your hand the entire plane ride to New York - he was nervous. You were travelling right after their show, an extra night before the rest of the boys, so you could take Roger to have dinner with your parents.

None of you knew your parents actually organized a dinner party, and invited part of your family - your uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents. Your uncle opened the door to your apartments, surprising both you and Roger. "Hm, hey, uncle Marcus. Where are my parents?", you asked, and you felt Roger's grip on your hand tighten as he noticed there would be many more family members for him to meet.

As you walked inside, you whispered to Roger "Relax, Rog", and he started looking more confident - but you could still feel his tight grip on your hand. He was still nervous.

But everything worked out just fine, actually. Your parents didn't really approve his looks - Roger was wearing a suit that he bought in Japan, with colorful birds and trees in silk shining against the dining room lights - but your cousins loved it. They loved him, actually, since they knew exactly who he was.

He got more comfortable as dinner went by, joking with your family, and you carefully changed topics once you realized one of your parents was about to ask a question about delicate stuff - money, marriage, kids.

You two always thought about marriage and kids as something distant - you felt too young, too irresponsible to take care of a child. So you took your birth control pills religiously, and everything worked out fine - the promise of children and marriage always there, in the distant future.

After the dinner party, Roger followed you to your room - you'd be spending the night there, since the band's hotel was booked for the next day.

"Well, this is an interesting look into a younger Y/N", Roger said, going through your bookshelf. "Frankenstein, Romeo and Juliet, Don Quixote, that's all pretty smart… 1984, I remember you talked about this book before our first kiss...", he said, and kneeled down, where your bookshelf was messier. "What's this? Flash Gordon?" he asks, picking up one of the comic books and going through it, and you could see he was trying not to laugh.

"What?", you said, getting the comics out of his hands. "I used to think Flash was hot. And Dale was pretty cool, too", you said, and he laughed, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"It's fine by me", he said, and looked out of your window. "It's just funny for me to imagine you, a teenager, sitting by your window in this preppy, quite soulless neighbourhood, reading Flash Gordon and thinking of a way out", he said, and you laughed.

"Hey, I didn't only do that. I also had sleepovers with girls I never spoke to since we graduated from high school, and went on a bunch of dates with guys I didn't really like", you answered, and it was his turn to laugh.

"Hm, doesn't seem like a very satisfying life to me", he whispered, moving his lips to your neck, and you nodded lightly. "Did you ever bring them here? To your room?", he asked, and you laughed. "No, my parents would die. They were quite liberal, but not like that. When I went on a date as a teenager, I had to go to their place later if I wanted some action, you know", you answered, and he started to move his kisses to your jaw. You knew what he was about to suggest.

"I know, Y/N... So, I'm just wondering, am I the first guy your parents are allowing inside your room?", he said, his breath on your jaw giving you goosebumps. "Yeah", you answered, and he kissed under your earlobe. "The first guy to sleep on your bed?", he asked, and you said "Yes".

"How are your parents allowing this, miss Y/L/N? Such a nice girl from such a nice family, locked inside her room with a british drummer", he said, his voice low and husky, moving you closer to your bed. But you wanted to take it slow - it was a special event, indeed.

"Not that I'm trying to break your roleplay, Roger, but we literally share a flat. It would be silly for them to get the guest bedroom ready for you", you said, and he scoffed, breaking away from your neck and looking at you.

"Yeah, but it would be hotter", he said, going back to kissing your jaw. "Imagine how hot it would be if I had to wait until your parents slept so I could leave the guest bedroom", he said, getting you to sit on the bed, "And then I would've to walk, very carefully, through the hallway, trying not to wake them up", he continued, laying you down on your back and moving on top of you, then going back to kissing your neck and cleavage as he completed, "Just to open your bedroom door and find you touching yourself, moaning my name".

"That would be pretty hot", you agreed. "Maybe I should get them to move you to the guest room", you shrugged, teasing him, and he stopped kissing your cleavage just to look at you and say "Don't you dare", before kissing your lips.

That night was a bad memory to have running over your head again and again as you laid on your bed every night to go to sleep, alone, a year later, after breaking up with Roger, in 1975.

Your grandma convinced you to seek help, and you tried everything: therapy - your parents looking at you weirdly because getting a therapist was still associated with severe mental illness, meditation, mediums, aromatherapy.

You didn't knew exactly what worked, but a year after you arrived, now in 1976, you were already in your new SoHo flat, having moved out of the Upper East Side, the neighbourhood you - and Roger - knew that didn't really have much to do with you, even though it was closer to the Met, where the work was interesting - and where you barely ever saw Will, uncomfortable looks exchanged between the two of you every time you had to see each other.

It was a cold winter day in December 1976 when you got up, your loft nicely illuminated, spacious, the soft light from the snowy day making everything seem more magical. The building was quiet, your artistic neighbours still asleep this early in the morning, and you made yourself some tea - with milk - and opened the window so you could sit on the emergency exit.

The street was also quiet, the only sound being a muffled free jazz, that was probably being played live in a grand piano inside one of the many lofts on Greene Street. It was then, the cold wind making your skin burn under the layers of sweaters, the tea getting rapidly cold, the jazz caressing your ears, when you realized you were not sad anymore.

You didn't feel that weight on your chest now, when you breathed in, filling your lungs with fresh, cold air, and you didn't feel like you had no control over your life. You were present, in the moment, and you felt happy. Happy with your life. Happy with yourself.

And you enjoyed this feeling, without thinking much, for as long as you stayed outside on the emergency exit; until you finished the tea, until the jazz player stopped, wherever he or she was.

Once you got inside, thinking about preparing a nice, warm bath, you walked by the phone, and you wanted to call Roger.

You wanted to call him many times before, but you were always desperate, regretting breaking up with him, or sad, just trying to know how he's doing, how the boys are doing.

But now, you didn't feel anything negative make you want to call him - you just wanted to let him know that you're happy again.

But that doesn't seem like a good enough reason to call him in the middle of the day for him - he probably wasn't even up yet.

So you went inside the bathtub and just felt grateful for meeting him, for having the opportunity to have him in your life. Now, it was peaceful.

Now, back at the F train to your house from Coney Island in 1977, you're taken out of your thoughts when you see a blonde head pass in front of you, but you don't feel nervous anymore - you knew it wasn't Roger.

You always thought you saw him, especially in 1975, your first year back in New York - always nervous, always imagining that he was just trying to see you, to talk to you, maybe to try to take you back to England with him.

You saw him everywhere, in those first weeks, still in your parents apartment, thinking he might be on you M86 bus to work, or maybe in this fancy cocktail party you attended.

But one time, in 1976, you could swear you saw him on the stairs at the Met as you bought a hot dog from the stands in front of the museum - the guy's hair was shorter and bleached, just like you saw in the pictures of Roger that appeared on magazines, and he looked confused. But you didn't really investigate it, though - it was probably just another guy, maybe even inspiring his own look in Roger's.

Your train reached your station and you finally got back to Greene Street, walking slowly to your building, taking in the view of your street. Now that you're far from Queen, you can see their importance, their impact on the world.

You watched as songs you saw get written and sung and produced right in front of you became huge hits - Deacy's song to Veronica reached #1 on the american charts. A song you saw get recorded in a weekend visiting your boyfriend as he worked - that's how you saw it.

You bought their new album in the end of last year, 1976, A Day at the Races. You loved it - it was probably your favourite, and you didn't knew if it was because their music was getting better or if it was because this was their first album you could enjoy as a fan, not being involved in how it was made. You liked to watch their TV specials and interviews, feeling grateful that you ever got to be around them, even though life - and your own, unconscious choices, you now realized - took you away from them. From Roger.

You loved You Take My Breath Away and Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, but Drowse truly held a special spot in your heart - maybe you only loved it so much because it was Roger's, and it sounded like talking to him about his childhood, something you've done many times before, but maybe you didn't love it just because you were biased by your story with Roger. The song sounded more american, and it even made you feel like you felt when you listened to Fleetwood Mac. You smiled at that thought.

Once you got home, you picked your mail and started going through it.

You weren't really paying attention to it - you were thinking about the Fleetwood Mac show you would attend next week for the Rumours tour, in the Madison Square Garden, when a heavier letter caught your eye.

The paper was soft, creamy beige, and sealed with wax. And then you read what was written over the envelope.

It was a letter sent by the Curator of Palaeolithic and Mesolithic collections from The British Museum.

---

Chapter 17

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos

[acidicpiinky-blog]

aesthetics tag

repost don’t reblog | bold all the aesthetics that you relate to

side a - the city

glittering lights, yawning skyscrapers, broken glass shards, street gangs, hip hop music, late night strolls, blinking stars, sleek cars, flickering neon signs, glittery earrings, small tattoos, empty subways, dark eyeshadow, snapping cameras, cozy apartments, fried churros, silver necklaces, dyed hair, ripped jeans, bright lipstick,dazzling smiles

side b - the book nerd

large glasses, steaming hot chocolate, thick books, lofi music, hot pastries, soft smiles, large sweaters, quiet libraries, small flowers, melting candles, sweetened coffee, messy hair buns, soft pillows, fairy lights, vanilla scents

side c - the stereotypical girl

soft pinks, mini skirts, crop tops, romantic fantasies, love songs, strawberry milkshakes, lipgloss, high ponytails, candy hearts, nail polish, starbucks coffee, clear skies, hoop earrings, excited ramblings, stuttering heartbeats, rose bouquets, soft blushes

side d - the stereotypical boy

arcade games, graphic t-shirts, baseball caps, chocolate milkshakes, messy rooms, acoustic guitars, chocolate chip cookies, multi-colored bruises, rap music, nightly escapades, stolen glances, pencil-drumming, chocolate milk boxes, low hums

side e - the nature hippie

mini plants, cloud-watching, star gazing, damp forests, sandy beaches, ocean waves, wildflowers, hiking, iced lemon tea, gardening, hippie music, buttered toast, birds chirping, multi-coloured leaves, evening sunlight, fruit cups, sundresses

side f - the rebel

cherry lollipops, devil hand signs, grape flavoured bubble gum, rock music, killer boots, dark make-up, horror movies, denim jackets, switchblades, handguns, stargazing on rooftops, glowing cigarettes, large headphones, skull rings, converse shoes, graffiti murals, glowing moonlight, rose thorns, fishnet stockings

side g - the winter

busy cafes, oversized hoodies, drizzling rain, small snowflakes, marshmallows in hot chocolate, loose hair, sad music, reading a book, blanket forts, frozen lakes, crackling fireplaces, old movies

side h - the summer

tank tops, lemonade, sunny days, dripping popsicles, short haircuts, tinted sunglasses, cotton candy, amusement parks, traveling, blasting music on the car radio, wagging dog tails, large sunflowers, snow cones

side i - the autumn

pumpkin lattes, warm bakeries, warm colours, hair braids, soft sweaters, colourful leaves, purring cats, dark chocolate bars, romance movies, soft music, zentangling,vintage cameras

side j - the spring

floral scents, peach tea, mint shampoo, tinkling laughter, video cassettes, colourful paintings, excited smiles, lollipop sticks, blooming flowers, melting snow, action movies, singing in the shower

Tagged By: @nctfrail Tagging: @floatsaver, @flowtion, @flyalibi, @inneall and anyone else interested!