#lost legacy 2 please

[itseghost]

very straightforward redraw because this quest and this whole scene have been ON my mind.

[abirddogmoment]

CKC finally confirmed today that Mav was the top rally brittany in 2022 😭

[queers-gambit]

Confection Invention

prompt: what is a legacy other than what we're remembered for after we die? names are lost, stories altered, family names obsolete, but recipes are forever because cuisine transcends time.

or how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: none? none. seems suspicious.

Sansa Stark, newly crowned Queen in the North, was once a child too small, too scared, too sheltered from the harsh brutality of life's reality. Before she left Winterfell that fateful day, it was well known in the castle that the young girl adored the tasty sweet treat, lemon cakes. A confection of dense cake with lemon shreds mixed in the batter, a lemon glaze poured over, and garnished with a bright and tart lemon slice.

King's Landing was equipped to make the dessert and the young redhead still found pleasure in them, sure, but then shit got real when the Lannisters, you know, murdered her father. Sansa "grew up" and didn't bother with sweet treats after that. They just never tasted the same, and she began to admonish herself whenever she had a hankering; figuring with so much bad in the Realm, her want for cake was inappropriate and misplaced.

After years of turmoil, of losing any and everyone she ever cared for, the night the North declared her Queen of their newly-independent realm, Sansa Stark indulged herself and asked the kitchen staff to send lemon cakes to her room with supper. When her private meal was served, so was her dessert, and Sansa had to ask the servant serving her before they could disappear, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" The serving maid bowed her head, facing Sansa with clasped hands locked stoically in front of her. Sansa almost cringed when she heard her new title, but refrained from reacting - it would simply just take getting used to.

"Might I ask, how are these made?"

"How what are made, Your Grace?"

"These lemon cakes."

"Oh, uh, I do not know the recipe, but I can ask the kitchens - "

"Well, it's odd, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Grace?"

"I've been all over the Realm," she spoke with an even tone, ever the emotionally-stunted diplomat, "and I've sampled many of these cakes in my lifetime, yet fail to find any real distinction. It's almost as if everyone is following the same recipe."

"Oh, well, I do know that they are, Your Grace."

"They are? All of the kingdoms?"

"Yes, Your Grace, i-it's a rare thing, but yes, the Seven Kingdoms use the same recipe."

"How can that be possible? How do they all get the same recipe?"

The maid glanced at the door nervously, "Uh, I-I do not know, Your Grace."

"You may speak freely, you are in no danger here," Sansa encouraged, gesturing to the only other empty chair at her table. "Please, come sit, indulge me in this tale. I am only curious."

"Well," she turned to shut the chamber door, speaking quietly as if what she was about to say was a secret, "it would depend if you know anything about the Targaryen dynasty, Your Grace."

"Only what was generically taught."

She nodded, taking the seat Sansa offered. "Some 2 centuries ago, there was a great scandal and a great war - one you may know as the Dance of Dragons." Sansa nodded and the maid explained anyway, "You see, it started because King Jaehaerys lost his heirs and was forced to choose between eligible familial candidates. Viserys Targaryen, the King's grandson, and his granddaughter, Viserys' cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Right, I remember the names somewhat."

"The King chose Viserys because, well, he was a man and Rhaenys was only a woman - though, married to a Velaryon, another ancient House hailing from Valyria." Sansa nodded along. "Anyways, uh, King Viserys' first wife was a Targaryen woman who gave him a daughter and then died birthing a son. He remarried a Hightower girl after that and had four other white-haired children; three sons and a daughter."

Sansa nodded slowly as she ate. Nothing like dinner and an entertaining story.

"The second son was Prince Aemond Targaryen, and he had this wife, you see, who was something akin to a saint on soil."

"Nobody's that nice," Sansa snarled in refusal, eyes almost rolling.

"You forget, Your Grace, some 200 years ago, the people never considered rebelling against the Targaryens. Only an arrogant fool would charge a horse at a dragon and think they'd win, so, at the time of this tale, there was no thought to protest the monarchy. Anyways, it wasn't just her kindness that made Aemond Targaryen's wife saint-like. It was all she was, and her most notable work was helping establish, build, organize, and operate orphanages in King's Landing, and then, around the Realm."

"Hmm."

"Well, she worked with those kids and apparently, had an affinity for baking. And because she worked with orphans, when she would take them around to other regions for adoption or placement, she'd leave each kid their own copy of the recipe."

Sansa considered the tale for a moment, then asked, "So, why lemon cakes? Where did they come from?"

The maid smiled.

Aemond Targaryen flinched when he heard something shatter, walking up the hallway alone and only a few strides from his bedchamber. When he opened his door, the One Eyed Prince actually laughed at the sight, "Oh, Gods, are you all right, my love?"

You pouted up at Aemond from the floor, "It was an accident."

"I can tell."

"I really didn't mean to."

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, "No, no, I can tell by the way only the vase my mother gifted us for our wedding is broken. Never mind you telling me over the weeks how you despise it."

"It was an accident! I really didn't mean to," you sighed, glancing at the shattered vase around you.

"How'd it happen?" Aemond asked softly, moving forward after pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door. "Hmm? C'mere, little love," he bent at the waist to pick you up from the floor, hoist you in his arms, then carry you to the bed. "You all right? You hurt?"

"No...?"

"Show me."

You frowned and showed the shallow cut on the underside of your forearm, informing, "It was an accident, I swear t'the Seven, Aemond. I just tripped on the chair," you pointed to where the sitting furniture was overturned, "and fell into the table. I was replacing the flowers in the vase."

He nodded, "Your cut isn't bad, here, just hold this to it." Your husband pressed a spare cloth to your wound before straightening his spine. "Sit here a moment, I'll clean."

"No, let me - "

"No, no, love, just wait," he chuckled. In the time it took a maid to bring in a broom and dustpan, Aemond had successfully distracted you enough with casual conversation. It was there you discovered a secret you deemed unacceptable. "No, I am not lying, sweet girl," Aemond chuckled, "I've truly never had a cake for my nameday. The idea just seems silly, doesn't it? To celebrate such a common event?"

You scoffed, "We'll come back to your cynicism later. Surely, in your youth, your mother made you cake?"

"Being the second son, you often got overlooked," Aemond shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "I am not missing much, it's just cake."

"'Just cake'!? You say that because you do not know," you pouted. "What kind of a wife am I that I did not know this?"

Aemond laughed, "We've been married all of 3 months."

"It should've come up," your eyes rolled, "or at least in the lifetime of friendship before our betrothal."

"Consider this a learning opportunity between spouses. It isn't a bad thing," Aemond defended, the shattered and scattered ceramic being swept away. "So what, I've not had cake? I am missing nothing."

"It makes me sad."

Aemond laughed as he eyed you for a moment, nodding like he understood something. "You mean to remedy this, don't you?" He asked, showing the maid out of your chambers.

"Of course I do!"

He chuckled, "You know I am not fond of sweets."

"Doesn't matter, I'll find something you like. We can start with the basics, uh... Um... Well, I guess, do you like dense cakes? Fluffier, lighter ones?"

He paused to think, offering, "I like the gooseberry pies served at banquets?"

"Those are dense."

"Hmm, then dense is fine. They're in smaller quantities because they're so heavy."

You nodded, "Any flavors?"

"I am unsure on that front."

"Fruits? C'mon, fruits are usually really good with pastries and cakes."

"You know what I like," Aemond sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of attention for his nameday. "Trust me, love, I cannot make this decision - I just don't know. I am terribly green when it comes to sweets. Even when offered at formal events, you know I'm not interested."

"Well, how about a sampling? I can make you different treats and you tell me which you like."

Aemond chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let this go and agreed, "All right, sure."

And boy, did you keep to your word. The kitchen staff was already used to seeing you on a decently regular basis, but suddenly, you were spending all day in the kitchen, trying out different recipes. You made cakes, cookies, brownies, pastries, all kinds of desserts! You even went a step further, trying out newly invented ideas until narrowing down several options. You were determined to give Aemond something, wanting him to feel your love and effort in the confections because his nameday was the one day you had to pamper and spoil him without complaint.

(Though, trust me, he still complained and deflected attention.)

You loved Aemond's nameday because he had no choice but to be at the forefront of your attention and affection; something his family found amusing after their years of neglect towards him. Every other day of the year, he was stubborn and impossible and made everything about you; but not his nameday!

Even though he truly wasn't a fan of desserts, Aemond still met you on a balcony at the end of the week because not only did he adore making you happy, but he hardly ever said no to you. You had an array of treats made and displayed, and slowly, he sampled what you presented; speaking simply for your mental notes. However, he came upon something new - something he's not seen before.

"What's this?"

"Um, well... See, my younger siblings sometimes like citrus in their desserts, so, I thought this might be good? Or it could be tart - one or the other."

"This is lemon?"

"Yes, and that is made with limes from Volantis," you pointed to another platter, "that one's orange, that one's cherry, and that one has coconut."

"Where did you get coconuts and cherries?"

"That's not important. Which one is your favorite? It's what you're getting for your nameday, so do not lie."

"Pardon my pun, but the lemon cake takes the cake, sweet girl."

Aemond's heart soared in his chest when your grin of pride was hardly contained; looking pleased that you had invented something to his liking - making it all the more special, being something Aemond never has to share with others.

Sansa thought it was a lovely tale, clarifying, "So, when you say she established King's Landing's orphanages, did she use the Crown's money or the tax payer's?"

The maid smiled, "No, Your Grace, she used royal funds. King Viserys commissioned her bakery, and after a bit, the people actually started donating to her cause because the King offered tax exemption for those who donated."

"And she would take the kids around the Seven Kingdoms for placement? By herself? Why? Why not bake full time? She was obviously good at it."

"She was passionate, and the kids couldn't all fit in King's Landing anymore, so, she had to help relocate them for a better quality of life. She also gave each child the recipe so they could have a little taste of 'home' when they wanted."

Sansa nodded slowly. "How did word spread if she only made it for her husband on his nameday?"

"A moment, please," you interrupted your in-laws departure from the dinner table. When Alicent looked you in the eye, you smiled, "I've something for you all to try in honor of Prince Aemond's nameday."

"Oh, love, no," Aemond whispered in embarrassment, "not tonight."

"Would you mind, Mykal?" You asked the kind servant, who nodded once and exited the dining room.

"What's this about?" Otto questioned.

"Well, I thought we just might celebrate for just a moment together," you eased. "What with tensions so high lately, I just figured we deserved something... Sweet."

Alicent's lips twitched, always knowing in her heart that you were too good for Aemond - too good for this wreck of a family. When Mykal returned, he carried a decorated platter of lemon cakes and set it in the middle of the cleared-away table. You stood.

"What are they?" Aegon asked with an unsure curled lip.

"Lemon cakes," you smiled, "a confection of my own invention made especially for my husband, hmm?" You served a small, personal cake to each family member using saucer platters. "Please, just try it - tell me what you think."

You placed the final cake in front of your husband, grinning and taking your seat again. You knew he hated the spotlight, it gave him anxiety; so, you tried to do your best by acknowledging his nameday without needing to fuss over him. He always liked that you two celebrated privately, but being a "special event", the family had dinner together that night and you thought it a great time for the tart dessert to debut. You dwelled in anticipation as your in-laws all tried their cakes, Aemond feeding you every other bite from his fork as there came a chorus of satisfying hums and groans of approval.

"Holy Mother," Otto chuckled, instantly forking another bite in his mouth. "Mh, mh, mh, wow," he smacked his lips, nodding in impression. "You invented this?" He asked, watching you nod. "You invented a new cake..."

"For Aemond's nameday, yes," you confirmed, tone a little sharper than usual in an effort to make your point.

"I gotta admit, Y/N," Aegon spoke with a full mouth, a few crumbs flying, "this is bloody delicious."

"It really is," Alicent agreed, offering her husband a bite. "Viserys? Love? It's a lemon cake, here, try a bite."

"A what?" Viserys wheezed in confusion. "N-Never heard of l-lemon cake."

"They're new," she explained, "Y/N made them for Aemond's nameday. Isn't that special? Try a bite, love, there you go."

Viserys accepted the bit of cake on Alicent's fork, wincing gently at the tart taste before, too, humming. "'S good," he whispered, looking drained of energy.

"Gotta make these more often," Aegon pointed his fork at the cake crumbles left. He continued, "Like, bring these to every banquet we host and this will be the star." You chuckled and put another cake on his plate, it being instantly torn into.

You smiled at Aemond, "Guess they're a hit."

He leaned down to affectionately press his lips to your forehead for a long moment, mumbling, "Knew they would be."

"So, does this mean I can bake you cakes now? Every nameday? You won't complain?" You asked, tangling his hand with yours and relishing in the way he squeezed.

"Oh, he'll still complain," Helaena giggled, licking icing from her finger, "no matter what."

Aemond smirked at his sister, offering a subtly jab at his family, "I would never complain about being loved. Besides," he offered you a fond, softening look, "she does it so well, wouldn't you say?"

The family hummed in agreement, not truly paying attention to his words - all enraptured with scraping their saucer platters clean. You smiled up at him, letting his lips find yours in a brief show of emotion.

Otto mused, "You know, I've heard it said, 'the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes'. I think food is a surefire way to ensure that legacy of love, respect, consideration..."

For the next few weeks, you spent more and more time in the kitchens; whipping out batches of lemon cakes to offer the Keep's staff after rumors spread of your cakey goodness. You gifted guards, trainers, tutors, members of court, maids, the castle's servants the newly invented confection. It quickly became the most talked about topic in King's Landing; the citizens being obsessed with your cake and demanding a taste of their own.

In fact, Viserys was so pleased by the turn of events that on one of his rare good days, he consulted Otto. "A bakery for Y/N - would it be worth the purchase? Do you think the Crown should fund the purchase?"

Otto considered, "Well, since her cakes are the hottest commodity currently, I'd say, yes, Your Grace, it'd be worth exploring as a new revenue for the Crown."

"No, no, not for the Crown t'collect from - leave it for Aemond and Y/N to share. This is not to be a business we collect the profits from - but rather, something they might enjoy." Viserys tried to smile, deciding, "Make it happen, Otto, my friend."

"Your Grace?"

"I want - I want her to have a bakery. Where she might sell her baked goods as she sees fit, not as an extension of the Crown, she deserves it. All her hard work," the King wheezed, coughing violently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Yet when you were informed about your new business venture and shown the building that was to be your bakery, you told Otto that you didn't bake for money and having your own business would be terribly redundant. Yet Otto insisted that you made your own rules and if you wanted to charge, you could, but Viserys wanted you to have a designated safe space to create in.

Upon the grand opening, you were a SMASH hit. The line in your bakery was nonstop and extended out the door; the Gold Dragons overflowing enough for you to restock your ingredients tenfold AND have leftovers to funnel back into the orphanages. People talked, they spread word and rumor, and most patrons had heard through the "grape vine" that your bakery was well worth any wait. Being so popular, you required extra hours baking and only opened about three days a week because you still had your other job.

Speaking of, you obviously still worked with the orphans; in fact, some of them even came to hang out in the bakery! No, they didn't help bake unless they asked to specifically mix the icing or something, because you didn't believe in exploiting child labor. Anyways, on certain days, you closed the bakery and brought all the cakes to the orphanage to distribute, always having a warm heart when the kids giggled while eating the little sweet treat. It inspired you to write down the recipe you invented and every trip you took to help kids find their placement, you brought them recipe cards.

"Here," you handed the card over to the guardian agreeing to care for the kids, "this is just a recipe for a cake and I promise it's really simple to follow. It'll be a familiar taste to them when living here, somewhere unfamiliar for now." You sniffled, offering a watery smile, "Just wanted them to have a piece of home."

The volunteer guardians were usually grateful, knowing baking these cakes could be a form of bonding between them and the kids. It was difficult trying to get these types of kids to open up after all they endured on the streets before your orphanage took them in. Maybe a little cake would help mend those wounds and assure them, while here, they were safe.

You never expected to live out through history, but while names are lost, stories altered, and family names become obsolete, cuisine is a universally shared experience that transcends time.

Sansa sat for a moment, stewing in the story. Never had she imagined such a history lesson surrounding her favorite dessert; she would've thought some old granny would've been messing around in the kitchens to invent such a treat. Not a Princess of the Realm, especially one belonging to the most fearsome and longest reigning monarchy in Westerosi history.

For a brief moment, she was jealous by the description of your relationship to Prince Aemond; hearing how loving your husband was, how supportive and kind to you. She wondered if she'd ever experience something like that - and if she'd ever meet someone who would take her nameday as seriously as you took your husband's.

"What happened after?" She asked quietly, taking a long sip of her wine. "To the Prince and Princess, I mean?"

The maid shrugged meekly, "Not too long after, the Dance of Dragons started and there was no time or reason to bake anymore. They both perished in the flames of war, unfortunately, becoming victims of the Princess Rhaenyra - Aemond's older half-sister."

"Mh," Sansa nodded, "I've heard of her. Maegor with Tits, they called her."

The maid nodded, finishing, "But, you see, Your Grace, the recipe was already spread around the Realm and to this day, is still being used."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"All that," she stabbed her lemon cake with her fork and lifted the bite to her eye for examination, "just because she loved a man and wanted to give him what he's never had before."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, that is why nameday cakes are now tradition. They say the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes, Your Grace."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

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(For ambiance~)

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Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marilyn Monroe (How to Marry a Millionaire, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Some Like It Hot)— Ngl I thought you all were lying about sexual attraction until I saw Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Shelley Winters (A Patch of Blue, A Place in the Sun)— She was originally set up to be like a classic bombshell, but ‘got tired’ of those roles and instead went for more interesting, complex characters. And she’s sooooooo good, her performance really makes A Place in the Sun for me, she brings such a quiet dignity to a character that could so easily have otherwise been this unkind caricature. Other fun facts: she was Jewish! She claimed that her ‘chutzpah’ was the reason she had so many affairs (including w notable hot men burt lancaster, william holden, and marlon brando)!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Marilyn Monroe:

She's amazing!!! A classic bombshell, as well as a strong women who overcame so many obstacles. She also advocated for others, like Ella Fitzgerald.

That fucking saxophone that cuts in whenever she appears on screen in Some Like it Hot

I mean, it's Marilyn Monroe. She's adorable. She's gorgeous. She funny. She's the total package

She's the original American sex symbol, an iconic beautiful woman with eyes you could get lost in, legs for days, gorgeous hair, and a cute tummy. Her voice! Just listen to her voice!!!!!

She is considered one of THE sex symbols of the 1960s and one of the greatest actresses of all time! She HAS to be on this list!

no vintage movie woman is more iconically hot

People are most familiar with pictures of her in the white dress or the Happy Birthday Mr President one, but imo she is at her most beautiful and looks most comfortable when she is photographed by women like Eve Arnold

It’s Marilyn Monroe. If Aphrodite was an actual person, she’d be Marilyn. Do I really need to say more?

What can I say that hasn't been said? Marilyn's legacy is so much bigger than she was in life. She's a defining symbol of 50s and 60s Hollywood sex and it's obvious why. She was absolutely stunning and the camera loved her.

Shelley Winters:

started her career as more of a glamorous bombshell type and gradually transitioned to more of a (milfy as hell) character actress type but consistently slayed no matter what she was doing

[emjayewrites]

fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (2/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @trinitoldyouso

A/N: Please let me know if you like to be removed/added to the taglist. I don't know a lot about Cameroonian culture, but I tried...

Zuri slumped on the couch, flicking mindlessly through channels on Aurélien's massive TV. Three days in this fancy house, and she'd barely seen her "fiancé." He was always rushing off to practice or meetings, leaving her alone in this unfamiliar place.

"Some marriage this is gonna be," she muttered, tossing the remote aside.

Her mind drifted back to how this chaos began. Last year, her dad Ernest had spent months in Cameroon, supposedly checking on grandma and some cousins. Turns out, he was also playing matchmaker with his old school buddy – Aurélien's dad. Two single kids, two scheming fathers, and bam! Instant engagement.

At first, Zuri had laughed it off. "Yeah, right," she'd told her friends. "Like arranged marriages are still a thing." But then the elders got involved, declaring it a "strong match." And when the elders speak, you shut up and nod, even if you're an American-born girl whose closest connection to Cameroon was the dashiki hanging in her closet and her mother's cooking.

Zuri grimaced, remembering the elders' disapproving looks. They'd practically sneered at her Americanized ass whenever she visited, with her broken Bamum, vague knowledge of Bamileke traditions, and even worse French. In their eyes, Aurélien was the golden boy – all traditional and strong.

"Maybe he can teach you a thing or two," one elder had said, eyeing her skeptically.

Just last night, Zuri had gone full stalker mode, Googling the hell out of him. Articles about his soccer career, thirst trap photos from events, gossip about his hookups. She had to admit, he was fine as hell. That body was criminal.

"Get it together, Zu," she chided herself. "This isn't some rom-com."

Now, as she sat in his home, reality was hitting her like a ton of bricks. Next month, both families would descend on Madrid to kick off this engagement circus. Cultural ceremonies, bride price talks, all that traditional crap she'd only seen in movies.

"How the fuck am I supposed to do this?" Zuri groaned, burying her face in a throw pillow.

She was a budding influencer, for Christ's sake. Her world was hashtags and sponsored posts, not ancient tribal customs. Yet here she was, about to be married to a stranger, expected to play the perfect Cameroonian bride.

Zuri pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over the Instagram icon. She was itching to post something, anything, to feel like her old self. But she hesitated. Was she even allowed to share this shit? Would Aurélien flip? Would the elders have a collective aneurysm?

"Fuck it," she sighed, putting her phone away. She'd have to figure all of this out eventually. But for now, she was just a lost girl in a strange house, in a foreign country, waiting for a ghost of a husband to acknowledge her existence.

As if on cue, the sound of a key turning in the lock caught her attention. Zuri's head snapped up, her heart suddenly racing. The front door swung open, and in walked Aurélien, looking every bit the professional athlete he was. His training kit clung to his muscular frame, his hair slightly damp with sweat.

Zeus bounded over to his master, tail wagging furiously. Aurélien bent down to ruffle the dog's fur, a genuine smile lighting up his face. Zuri took a brief moment to glance heavenward. "Are you trying to spite me, Lord?" she muttered under her breath.

Part of her wanted Aurélien to acknowledge her presence, to remember that she was an actual living, breathing human being sharing his space. But another part of her wasn't quite ready to face him. She needed more time to wallow in her misfortune, dammit.

Their eyes met, and Zuri felt a jolt of electricity run through her. Aurélien nodded in her direction. "Hey," he said, his voice deep and slightly rough from exertion.

"Hey," Zuri echoed, scrambling for something to say. "How was, uh… practice?"

Aurélien shrugged as he made his way to the kitchen. "Same as usual," he replied, pulling a water bottle from the fridge.

Zuri found herself unable to look away as he took a long drink. His head tilted back, exposing the strong line of his neck. She watched, mesmerized, as his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow. A drop of water escaped, trailing down his chin and neck before disappearing into the collar of his shirt. The flex of his arm as he held the bottle made Zuri's mouth go dry.

Damn, why did he have to be so attractive? It was honestly unfair. Here she was, trying to come to terms with this arranged marriage bullshit, and her "fiancé" had to look like he'd just stepped out of a sports drink commercial.

Realizing she'd been staring, Zuri cleared her throat (and her mind), forcing herself to look away. "Cool, cool," she mumbled, internally cringing at how awkward she sounded. This arranged marriage thing was bad enough without her turning into a bumbling idiot every time her future husband walked into the room.

An awkward silence fell between them. Zuri fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, desperately trying to think of something to say. Should she ask about his day? Comment on the weather? Discuss the impending doom of their arranged marriage?

Before she could decide, Aurélien spoke up. "You eat yet?" he asked, his eyes scanning the spotless kitchen.

Zuri blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, no," she admitted. "I wasn't sure if… I mean, I didn't know if I should…"

Aurélien raised an eyebrow. "If you should what? Eat? It's your house too, you know."

The casualness of his statement hit Zuri like whiplash. Right. This was her house now. Her life. Her future. The reality of it all threatened to overwhelm her again.

Zuri shifted uncomfortably under Aurélien's gaze. "I, uh, had a cup of yogurt with some fruit this morning," she admitted sheepishly.

Aurélien gave her a look, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "And?"

"That's it," she mumbled, averting her eyes.

She didn't want to admit to him that her appetite was out of whack due to the whole "surprise, you're getting married to a stranger" situation. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was some delicate flower who couldn't handle a little life upheaval. Even if that's exactly how she felt at the moment.

Aurélien kissed his teeth. "That's not enough," he said, moving towards the fridge. "You need to eat properly."

Zuri watched as he pulled out a large glass dish covered in foil. "What are you doing?"

"Heating up dinner," he replied, turning on the oven. "My chef left some pasta dish as part of my meal prep. It's like a lasagna, but not really. Hope that's okay."

For a moment, Zuri just stared at him, baffled. This man, who she'd barely seen for three days, was suddenly sharing his food with her? The cognitive dissonance was real.

"You don't have to," she started, but Aurélien cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"I'm hungry, you're hungry. It's not a big deal," he said, sliding the dish into the oven.

Zuri found herself at a loss for words. She watched as Aurélien set the timer, his athletic grace apparent even in this simple task. The silence between them was punctuated only by the soft hum of the oven.

"So," Aurélien said after a while, leaning against the counter. "How are you settling in?"

The question caught Zuri off guard. How was she supposed to answer that? 'Oh, you know, just peachy. Love being uprooted from my life and thrown into an arranged marriage. Living the dream!'

Instead, she opted for a noncommittal shrug. "It's… different," she said carefully.

Aurélien nodded, as if he understood completely. "Yeah, I bet. Must be a big change from New York."

Zuri blinked, surprised he knew where she was from. Had he been researching her too?

"You could say that," she murmured, her mind racing. Was this small talk? Were they doing small talk now? God, this was weird. "How'd you know I'm from New York?" Zuri asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Aurélien smirked. "Your accent. Sounds like you're straight from Brooklyn. I've been to enough Knicks games to know how those Brooklynites talk." He then launched into an imitation, his French accent making it sound utterly ridiculous. "Yo, I'm walkin' here!"

Despite herself, Zuri burst out laughing. It was a genuine laugh, one that surprised even her. Aurélien's lip twitched in response, and he nodded approvingly. "That's dope. Your tooth gem."

Zuri's hand instinctively went to her mouth, touching the small diamond on her incisor. "Thanks," she said, a bit taken aback by the compliment.

"I bet your dad freaked out about that," Aurélien mused.

Zuri rolled her eyes in recognition. "Oh, you have no idea. Just wait until he finds out about my piercing. That'll put him in an early grave."

Aurélien's brow furrowed in confusion. His eyes shifted around her face, then briefly to her slightly visible belly button. "What piercing? Unless he freaks out about ear piercings?"

"Uh... no," Zuri mumbled, her cheeks warming as she realized she'd dug herself into a deeper hole. "My nipples... are pierced."

Realization dawned on Aurélien's face, followed quickly by surprise and something else... was that desire? "Oh!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Oh... that's hot."

The moment the words left his mouth, the air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Zuri felt her face grow even warmer, unsure how to respond to her soon-to-be husband calling her nipple piercings "hot."

Aurélien cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the oven timer. "So, uh, dinner should be ready soon," he said, his voice a touch higher than usual.

Zuri nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "Great," she managed to squeak out, wondering if it was possible to die of embarrassment.

The oven timer broke the awkward silence, its shrill beep making them both jump slightly.

"I'll get it," Aurélien said quickly, moving to retrieve their dinner. The rich aroma of cheese and herbs filled the kitchen as he pulled out the dish.

Zuri watched him dish out two plates, her mind still reeling from their unexpected exchange. She couldn't believe she'd just told him about her nipple piercings. And his reaction… well, that was something she'd have to unpack later.

"So," Aurélien said as he set a plate in front of her, "besides traumatizing your dad with body modifications, what else do you do?"

Zuri snorted, grateful for the attempt at normalcy. "I'm an influencer," she said, bracing herself for the usual skepticism that followed that statement.

Aurélien nodded, seemingly unfazed. "Yeah? What kind of content?"

"Mostly fashion and lifestyle stuff," Zuri explained, twirling pasta around her fork. "Some travel content when I can swing it."

"Sounds interesting," Aurélien said, and to her surprise, he seemed genuinely curious. "How'd you get into that?"

As they ate, Zuri found herself opening up about her career, her goals, her struggles with balancing authenticity and marketability. Aurélien listened attentively, asking questions that showed he was actually paying attention.

"What about you?" Zuri asked eventually, realizing she'd been dominating the conversation. "I mean, I know you play football, but… what else?"

Aurélien shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not much else, honestly. Football takes up most of my time. But I like music, reading when I can, doing a bit of a podcast too. And I've got Zeus, of course."

At the mention of his name, the dog's ears perked up, and he trotted over to Aurélien's side.

"He seems to really love you," Zuri observed, watching as Aurélien absently scratched behind Zeus's ears.

"Yeah, he's a good boy," Aurélien said fondly. Then, glancing at Zuri, he added, "You know, he doesn't usually warm up to strangers so quickly. You must be special."

Zuri felt her cheeks warm again, unsure how to take the compliment. Was he flirting? Or just being nice? This arranged marriage situation was making it hard to read social cues.

"Listen," Aurélien said, his tone turning more serious. "I know this whole situation is… unconventional. But I want you to know, I'm committed to making it work. Whatever that looks like for us."

Zuri nodded slowly, processing his words. "Yeah," she said finally. "Me too. I guess we're in this together, huh?"

Aurélien's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Looks like it. So, truce?"

He extended his hand across the table. Zuri looked at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it, a small smile of her own forming.

"Truce," she agreed.

As their hands touched, Zuri felt a spark of… something. Connection? Possibility? Whatever it was, she realized that maybe, just maybe, this arranged marriage wasn't going to be the disaster she'd feared. It was still weird, still not what she'd planned for her life, but sitting here, sharing a meal and conversation with Aurélien, it didn't seem quite so daunting anymore.

Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

A few days had passed since Aurélien's impromptu dinner with Zuri. He'd been swamped with intense training sessions, preparing for the upcoming match against Atalanta in Warsaw. But despite the physical exhaustion, his mind kept drifting back to that night at the club with Jules, and the image of Zuri's tear-stained face when he'd returned home.

It had stirred something in him. A desire to try, to make an effort, even with all the chaos of his professional life. He owed her that much, at least.

So far, they'd been lucky. The media hadn't caught wind of Zuri yet, but Aurélien knew it was only a matter of time. Especially if she accompanied him to Poland next week. He wondered if it was even a good idea to bring her along, but then again, keeping her hidden away wouldn't solve anything in the long run.

Their recent conversations had revealed something that both amused and concerned him: Zuri didn't know the first thing about football. It was almost endearing, but as the wife of a professional player, it was a gap in knowledge he needed to address, and soon.

Aurélien's mind wandered to their dinner conversation, to Zuri's casual revelation about her nipple piercings. The memory sent an unexpected jolt of heat through him. He'd been trying not to think about it, about her in that way, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

His father's frequent calls didn't help matters. "How are you two getting along?" he'd ask, his tone a mix of concern and expectation. Aurélien would give vague, noncommittal answers, not quite ready to dissect his growing attraction to his arranged bride.

Because attracted he was, there was no denying it. Zuri was exactly his type: a brown-skinned beauty with full, kissable lips. While she wasn't particularly busty, her wide hips more than made up for it in Aurélien's eyes. He found himself stealing glances when she wasn't looking, admiring the way her clothes hugged her curves.

As Aurélien jogged onto the training pitch, he pushed his personal thoughts aside, focusing on the drills ahead. The next few hours were a blur of tactical exercises, sprints, and practice matches. By the time Ancelotti blew the final whistle, Aurélien was drenched in sweat, his muscles aching pleasantly from exertion.

In the locker room, as he was toweling off after his shower, Jude's voice cut through the post-practice chatter.

"Oi, Tchouaméni! We still on for tonight at yours?"

Aurélien froze for a moment, the realization hitting him. He'd completely forgotten about their regular hangouts, where they'd rotate hosting duties at each other's homes.

"Uh, yeah," he managed, his mind racing. "Yeah, we're still on."

Camavinga chimed in, patting his stomach for dramatic effect. "Good, because I'm starving. Your chef better have something good planned."

"Don't forget, Kylian's joining us this time," Jude added, referring to their newest addition to the team, Kylian Mbappé.

As his teammates continued chatting excitedly about the evening plans, Aurélien felt a knot forming in his stomach. How could he have forgotten to mention Zuri's early arrival?

"Uh, guys," he started, his voice cutting through the conversation. "There's something I should probably tell you…"

Jude looked at him curiously. "What's up, mate?"

Aurélien took a deep breath. "My, uh… my fiancée is in Madrid. She's staying at my place."

The locker room fell silent for a moment before erupting into a cacophony of surprised exclamations.

"The fuck?" Camavinga sputtered.

"Since when are you engaged?" another teammate chimed in.

Jude, however, just stared at Aurélien, his eyes wide with surprise. "Mate," he said slowly, "are you telling me she's here already? I thought that wasn't happening until next month."

Aurélien nodded, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety at finally sharing the news. "Yeah, she arrived a few days ago. It was… unexpected."

"Bloody hell," Jude exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "And you're just telling us now?"

Aurélien fielded questions from his teammates, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He'd only told Jude and Camavinga about the arranged marriage, and trying to explain it to everyone now felt strange and oddly invasive.

"But is she fit though?" one of his teammates asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Aurélien's lips trembled with amusement. "Yeah," he admitted, "she's gorgeous."

As the guys continued to rib him, Aurélien quickly sent a text to Zuri:

"Heads up, some teammates are sliding through tonight."

Her reply came moments later:

"Should I make something?"

He texted back:

"Not necessary."

"I owe you one 😉" came her final response, making him smile despite his nervousness.

Later that evening, the guys arrived at Aurélien's house. They greeted Zeus enthusiastically, ruffling his fur and letting him jump up on them. Suddenly, a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen.

"Mate, something smells amazing," Jude commented, sniffing the air appreciatively.

The guys made their way to the kitchen, where the aroma of spices and simmering meat filled the air. Zuri stood at the stove, stirring a large pot.

"Not wifey making dinner. I see you, Aurél," Camavinga said with a grin.

Aurélien introduced Zuri to his teammates, trying to ignore the way Cama's eyes lingered on her. She was wearing another one of her baby t-shirts and a pair of athletic shorts that were criminally short, accentuating her curves.

When he noticed Cama staring a bit too hard at Zuri's ass, Aurélien couldn't help but mush the guy's head playfully. "Eyes up here, bro," he muttered, feeling a strange mix of pride and possessiveness.

Zuri turned to greet them all, her smile bright and welcoming. "Hope you guys like ndolé," she said, gesturing to the pot. "It's a traditional Cameroonian dish."

As the guys settled around the kitchen island to eat, Zuri fell into easy conversation with Kylian, Jude, and Camavinga. Aurélien watched, pleasantly surprised at how naturally she interacted with his friends.

Suddenly, Zuri's phone rang. "Excuse me for a sec," she said, stepping out of the kitchen to take the call.

As soon as she was out of earshot, the teasing began.

"Yo, Aurél," Camavinga piped up, "think your dad can find me a wife too? She's a baddie!"

"For real though," Kylian chimed in, "you lucked out, man. She seems cool."

Jude nodded in agreement. "It's great that you're both trying to make it work. Can't wait to tell Lila about this – she's gonna flip!"

After dinner, the guys lounged in Aurélien's living room, plates balanced on their laps, loaded with Zuri's hastily baked cookies and generous scoops of ice cream. The air was thick with laughter and the sweet scent of sugary goodness.

"Yo," Kylian called out, a mischievous glint in his eye, "your girl's got skills. You sure this is an arranged marriage and not you bribing her?"

Aurélien rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the small surge of pride he felt at the compliment to Zuri. He watched as she laughed, the sound warming something inside him he didn't quite want to examine yet.

As the night wore on, Aurélien found himself growing increasingly antsy. His teammates seemed determined to know every detail of Zuri's life, and while he appreciated their interest, he couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to shield her from their prying questions.

"Alright, guys," he finally said, clapping his hands together. "It's getting late. Some of us have training in the morning."

A chorus of groans met his announcement, but the guys began to gather their things. Aurélien ushered them out, ignoring their good-natured ribbing about him wanting alone time with his "wifey".

When he returned to the living room, Zuri was already gathering plates and cups. "You don't have to do that," he said, moving to help her.

"It's no big deal," she shrugged. "Your friends are nice."

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the awkwardness from earlier in the week creeping back in now that they were alone.

"Hey," Aurélien said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "Want to watch a movie or something?"

Zuri looked up, surprise evident on her face. "Sure, why not?"

They settled on the couch, a respectable distance between them that was quickly filled by Zeus, who flopped down with a contented sigh.

As the credits rolled, Aurélien stretched, reaching for the remote. "Well, that was…"

"Terrible," Zuri finished for him, laughing. "Seriously, who picked that movie?"

He grinned, shrugging. "Guilty as charged. I'll do better next time."

The phrase 'next time' hung in the air between them, a promise of more evenings like this. Aurélien found himself not hating the idea.

"So," he said, his tone casual as he absently scratched Zeus behind the ears, "have you ever been to Poland?"

Zuri blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Can't say I have. Why?"

"You should come through," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "I've got a match there next week."

Aurélien watched her, trying to gauge her reaction. Was this too much, too soon?

"That could be… interesting," she said slowly, testing the waters.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Cool. It's a date then." As soon as the words left his mouth, Aurélien felt his eyes widen slightly. Shit. Did I really just say that? "I mean," he backtracked, feeling uncharacteristically flustered, "not a date-date, just… you know…"

"I know," Zuri said quickly, saving him from his fumbling. "Sounds good."

They lapsed into silence, the air between them charged with something Aurélien couldn't quite name. As Zuri stood to head to bed, he found himself watching her go, wondering what exactly he'd just set in motion.

A trip to Poland with his arranged fiancée to watch him play football. Life, he mused, had certainly taken an unexpected turn.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[fallstaticexit]

So much for a peaceful reunion …

Prev / Next / Extras

Sick to my stomaccchhh the first Briar to cheat in my legacy. I saw Zoey had a sentiment and fell to my knees in agony. Now Selene’s punishment is that it’s canon and everyone will point and boo 😡🫵🏽

[Later That Night]

Zoey: So. How was your flight?

Selene: Not bad. Quickest flight I’ve ever been on.

Zoey: Makes sense, you were only 2 islands away.

........

Selene: Anyway, they don’t know I’m here yet. Wanted to wait for you.

Selene: You sure about this?

Zoey: I really don’t think we have a choice...

Aiden: Hey look, it’s the Sulani Surf champions of the world!

Nina: *gasps* Our baby!

Nina: My sweet baby, I’ve missed you to pieces. I love you so much. My baby-

Selene: Mom, okokok-

Mel: Maeve, Loren, get in here! Look who came to visit their old parents! It’s the lovebirds!

Mel: How long are you in Sulani for? Your mom and I were going to fly out to Henford to see Ri and Adie before we head back to DSV.

Selene: Yeah, maybe... dad, um, Zoey and I wanted to tell you guys something actually...

Selene: So...um... damn...basically...

Zoey: This is something we’ve wanted to tell you guys for a while now.

Loren: Zoe, you two didn’t elope did you?

Maeve: Yeah, I thought you wanted to do the whole destination wedding, in Mt. Komorebi after the tour was over?

Zoey: Mami, no, we didn’t elope. We-

Mel: Someone’s pregnant!!! Calling it now!

Nina: *gasps* Oh my god, are you!? Is my baby having a baby?

Mel: I knew something was up! All the sneaking around and missed calls. You two are giving us another grandbaby. I knew it!

Maeve: Looks like we’re about to hash up that age old rivalry of who’s the best couple, except it’s who’s the best grandparents.

Mel: You forget we got 7 years of experience ahead of you?

Selene: Guys! Please, nobody is pregnant!

Zoey: Just tell them. This is your thing anyway-

Selene: Ok, alright...um. We—I mean I—called off the engagement. We broke up.

Mel: W-what? What do you mean you called off the engagement?

Aiden: You two been together since you were kids...

Nina: Selene, did something happen? We don’t understand.

Zoey: Yeah, you know what, I’ll let Selene tell you all about that.

Selene: Well, um...so I...y’know...I...

Zoey: She fucked someone else on tour. That’s what she did.

[silence]

Nina: My god, Selene, have you lost your damn mind?

Selene: Mom....

Maeve: Sweetheart, wait, talk to me.

Zoey: [sobbing] Please, just leave me alone-

[vechter]

Top 5 Dick headcanons?

1. dick having long term impacts from blüdhaven being bombed (n52 i'm furiously pretending you don't exist)- i just don't think dick should ever be able to talk about the city he chose to protect that got nuked bc he got under a cringe old man's skin. even years later, he wakes up from nightmares about chemo being dropped. he can't talk about it. it's his biggest failure, his biggest what-if. he can't talk about it still. the guilt occasionally threatens to eat him alive. if he had never vowed to protect it, would it still be standing? also i know continuity about where exactly he was at the time is confusing- infinite crisis puts him in new york but his own solo has him in the thick of the action in blüd, which is my personal preference. i would also like to see long term impacts from the level of radiation he was exposed to. a few chemical burns, possibly sterility (an interesting thing to explore that his parents' legacy biologically dies with him- he is the last grayson. but persists in the way he has taught those around him to fly and catch.) plus i want bruce to feel insane about this because no one else will understand how dick feels about a city like bruce does. also, bruce regretting not having stepped in earlier when dick was in the mob or the circus was burning down. it's one of his biggest regrets, too.

2. dick moves back to new york after bruce comes back bc new york has always shepherded and saved him. he went there when he lost robin, when he lost blüdhaven. preferably, he moves in with donna or roy because the year he spent being batman changed something intrinsically in his code and he needs to be around people who love him for him. he doesn't know how much of it was an act, how much of it was the mission, how much of it was grief. he never wanted to be like bruce and yet. yet. also a big fan of dick convincing tim to move to san francisco with young justice after bruce comes back because he is seeing what gotham, what batman is doing to his brother. tim stays there for a year, attends college before upping and moving to new york, instead. far enough from gotham but still tethered to batman. it is a little brother's prerogative to copy everything your big brother does <3

3. he and cass have a complicated dynamic. they both see and understand bruce in a way no one else does. it can sometimes be a good thing because they feel seen. but it also leads to conflict and subsequent resentment and hurt. and they both feel guilty about it because they know the other person has nothing but good intentions and their heart in the right place. also, dick is an intensely private person so for cass to be able to clock his lies, his performative nature- it often feels like too much. people are always watching him but cass sees him. and i don't imagine dick being too pleased about that. meanwhile, cass, to whom bruce and babs are probably the most important people, also feels a degree of resentment that they both are so intensely abnormal about dick, even when dick lashes out/hurts them. i miss cass throwing dick out of windows, it was so fun. but also, their entire approach to vigilantism and the concept of perfection. there is so much untapped potential for them to have excellent conflicts and resolutions. also idk where i saw this but cass being unable to do a quadruple and dick privately gloating about that. hilarious <3

4. recurrent knee pain. listen, the boy is an acrobat and he tends to stick his landings on unforgiving terrain like concrete and roof-tops. plus, firefly shot him in his right leg and he spent a big chunk of canon on crutches and wearing a brace. sometimes, your body recovers from an injury but it is never the same again. a notable part of the pain is also psychosomatic. it reminds him of one of the worst times in his life- the circus burning, his apartment being blown up, blockbuster, tarantula, etc. and how much of a failure he thinks he was during that time. like i said, the guilt often threatens to eat him alive so ofc the long-term, intermittent pain of an injury like that is mixed with immense mental stress as well.

5. his most intense and most private thoughts about jason and tim. things he hates himself for thinking, things even truth serum or magic or whacky comic shenanigans wouldn't pull out of him. bruce took on jason as robin to get over the pain of losing dick and somewhere deep, deep inside, dick resents both of them for it. because jason died in his colours, under his name. and now they all live in a post-jason world, jason included. and maybe if bruce had never had jason, he wouldn't have ever lost him and bruce could still be the man/god that dick unquestionably put his faith in.

building up on this, their first real interaction after bruce punches dick for confronting him about jason's death is primarily because of tim. tim is the catalyst for the events in a lonely place of dying.

and while i don't subscribe to the bruce-is-abusive-camp, i think exploring scenarios where dick leaves bruce for good is so compelling. like i don't fuck with batman beyond and don't claim to be super knowledgeable about those runs, but what is enough for dick? what would make him abandon bruce? what would make him come back? it's so neat to explore. and i think in a world where dick decides bruce is unforgivable, he would come back for the kids. in fact, he does come back for terry and bruce is perhaps the most expressive we see in terms of his regrets about dick, about missing dick, about hurting him but dick doesn't really want to listen.

and i think, that interaction post jason's death altered their dynamic fundamentally. it makes dick go to therapy lol. and we never see on-screen resolution of that, just a continued glimpse into bruce's worsening spiral. so, i think, it's interesting to consider how dick would view tim's role in this. like yes, he loves and adores tim (a thousand ninjas wouldn't be enough, the closest thing i have to a little brother).

but does he privately wonder what would have happened if tim hadn't come in and dragged them both in a situation where they have no option but to co-exist semi-harmoniously? it took tim for them to talk again but is that really for the better? or for the worse? because dick's devotion to bruce is not only detrimental to his mental health, it is often straight-up dangerous for him. and while dick may be unable to recognize the mental strain it puts him under, he would probably have a sort of inkling of the physical harm. taking back blackgate all alone for bruce, the time bruce hits him when he thinks gordon is dead, the time he jumps in front of a blast aimed for bruce, the time bruce has superman's powers and beats dick down when dick calls him out.

6. a fun, small one. he had a threesome with kory and roy in the outsiders era exactly once. it made sense because he loves them and he knows they loved donna just as much as he did. it was soft and fun and a very transparent attempt to get dick to let down his walls. dick left when they were both asleep, cried when he went home and they never spoke of it again.

[captain-hawks]

Dee, I have Thoughts and no one irl to brainrot @ so pls excuse the umpteenth time I am in your notifications this weekend.

Last week I word vomited in your spicy requests about how much TraditionalGarb!Hoshina plagues my thoughts. Well, I went out for dinner and had a few cocktails, and my slightly drunk, pliant mind was churning the entire ride home. [Sober Note: I started this ask right when I got home, and now, having sobered up a bit, holy hell I am sorry for getting lost in the sauce and turning what was supposed to be drunk imagines into something ludicrous. I can't quite bring myself to delete it bc I was clearly so into it, but seriously if this is too long/annoying please just ignore me!]

I'm thinking of a historical period-era AU Hoshina clan. Not too familiar with Japanese history but maybe Edo period, idk about historical accuracy. In my imagines, reader is from a less influential, albeit wealthier clan, has 2 older brothers, and grew up around the Hoshina family from birth. Both their families are preoccupied with the eldest children and their role in continuing the family legacy/business, so their families don't hound them too closely in their childhoods. They're in a rural, countryside part of Japan with plenty of wild grass and flower fields. Soichiro holds all the weight of family expectation so he is more aloof. But Soshiro is allowed more freedom, so when he isn't obsessively training, he is spending time with reader as her closest childhood friend. Meanwhile, reader is trained in all the traditional arts and duties expected of her, but she also has a love for calligraphy (or painting but idk how accurate that is) that she is allowed to cultivate because, again, her parents aren't hounding her too closely. She's fascinated by Soshiro's swordsmanship and makes him show her all the moves he is learning, and in turn, he is enthralled by her knowledge and love of calligraphy and likes to hear her talk about it for hours even if he doesn't quite get it. Because they're in a rural area, they also play outdoors together whenever they can, climbing trees and splashing in the streams, and Soshiro is rough-and-tumble and free around her in ways he can't be at home when he's ceaselessly trying to measure up to and surpass his brother. As they grow older they are naturally forced apart due to expectations of their genders and stations. They still hold onto what they believe is a fondness for their childhood friend, until one day, as the wild wisteria blooms and they see a glimpse of each other after an absence of several months, they both realize that the innocent fondness held in their hearts had taken root long ago and finally bloomed into love.

Unfortunately, in the Edo period, warrior families started to lose their place in this era of newfound peace, and the Hoshinas are forced to worry about their place in this world for the first time. At the same time, reader's clan is struck by tragedy and her 2 older brothers are killed in an accident, leaving a vacuum for the future of the clan. The Hoshina and Reader patriarchs decide on what they believe is a mutually beneficial arrangement: Soichiro and Reader shall join their clans in marriage. Reader's clan benefits from the prestige of the Hoshina name, and the Hoshina clan benefits from the prosperous wealth of her family. As the sole remaining offspring of her clan, she should be honored to be chosen to helm the Hoshina household and bear its heirs.

Ofc Reader is devastated, but she knows that her voice is unimportant and she will forever be doomed to suffer in a life so close to her dreams, but with a cruel twist. She sees Soshiro just once after the engagement announcement, and it is with a too-cheerful mask that he congratulates her on her match, and, in a moment when no one is looking, he slips into her hands a small gift that he had picked up in the capitol on his last trip and had been meaning to give to her: some fine new ink he thought she would love for her calligraphy. He supposes it is an engagement gift now, even if the gift is only really for her.

On the eve of her wedding, she manages to sneak out and find Soshiro. Together, they go to the grassy field of wildflowers by the creek they played in as children. Even though fate is not on their side, it seems the moon has sympathy for them, because it hides behind clouds and conceals their illicit meeting. They're finally able to declare their love for one another in the place where it all began. She tells Soshiro that even though destiny was determined to keep them apart, she wants to know what it is to wholly love and be loved, just once in her life. So under the glow of a thousand fireflies, she undresses Hoshina, gently pulling his kosode apart to reveal his chest. She laughs lightly as she traces his scars-the old and familiar ones from childhood, and the newer ones he has acquired in manhood. She traces the marks she remembers: the dented scar on his shoulder from when he fell out of the cypress tree trying to grab a beetle to impress her when they were five. The patch of slightly uneven skin along his arm from three years later, when he had run after his father's horse in the road and tripped down the hill. The thin, raised slash from when Soichiro had cut him in training at age 11, to teach him a lesson on inferiority. From there, she draws lines to the unfamiliar marks: a puffy patch of new skin from a recent battle wound that has only started to heal, two pigmented gashes where he was gouged in battle last year, a mottled expanse of bruises on his ribs from where he had challenged Soichiro last month, just after the engagement announcement, and had finally shown his brother that his attempted lesson in inferiority had never sunk in.

She says that all these marks tell her a story in the same way a calligrapher's soul is left indelibly in their brushstrokes. She sees a world in his body, and it tells her favorite story. Overwhelmed, Soshiro finally crashes into her and through the flurry of kissing he has her on her back in the grass, slipping her out of her garments. He's mapping his way across her significantly less blemished skin with his lips and tongue, and laments between pants that he will never be able to partake in the story of her body, because she belongs to his brother and he cannot leave his own brushstrokes on the expanse of her skin. Breathless, reader pulls a bottle tucked into her undergarment next to her heart-a vial of the precious ink Soshiro had gifted her. Her wedding is tomorrow-she knows there is no way he can leave any lasting marks on her. But for tonight, she is his and she wants some proof of that, however temporary. So Soshiro dips his finger in the ink and swirls and dips it all over the memories he has buried in his mind: a spot on her neck where a particularly vicious bee had stung her as they chased tadpoles as six-year-olds, a whorl on her shoulder where his ten-year-old head rested as she unrolled endless scrolls to extol the virtues of some long-dead calligrapher, an almost-violent slash just under the swell of her bosom where he had caught her when she had fallen in her attempt to swing his katana at 13.

And as he finally lines up his achingly hard cock and breaches her cunt, as he makes love to her for the first and last time, he grieves for the death of the two stories written here-hers, which will be washed off her body as soon as she returns to her home, and his, which will wither and end without her to trace the patterns and give them the meaning he can never find by himself. [sober note/holy run on sentence batman]

you better believe i'm posting this ask because IT NEEDS TO BE SEEN!!!

MY FRIEND!!!!! i'm on my knees. i'm begging. i'm clawing at the air. i'm frantically waving anything of value that i have in your direction. i implore you to write this because i'm wholly obsessed. a period piece, childhood friends, the arranged marriage, THE YEARNING, THE LOVELY POETRY OF IT ALL EVEN JUST AS A SUMMARIZED VERSION!?!?!?

She says that all these marks tell her a story in the same way a calligrapher's soul is left indelibly in their brushstrokes. She sees a world in his body, and it tells her favorite story.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(don't even get me started on him painting on her????? oh my god i'm so unwell. i need one of those fainting couches. i want to CONSUME THISSSSS)

you're a genius. a brilliant wonderful genius.

[k-hippie]

HOGWARTS ARTWORKS BOLD UPDATE + NEW ARTS ...

Well, well, well ...I know ... I was not supposed to make some artworks but as I build and manage terrains for 2 months now, I think I needed to make something else, for changing, as a break ;)

So here comes our Artworks update, since some of those artworks are 8 years long ! And this post is going to be long too :D

Let's face it : our Sims, the ones who are ex-students of Hogwarts and other schools of witchcraft and wizardry such as Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, are a bit lost when arriving into a new Sims World and some of them are eager to bring in their new home as many wizard stuff and things as possible ... These Artworks are some of these things and stuff ;)

But let's begin with something new ... Some of the Arts included into the game HOGWARTS LEGACY and let's rock in Hogwarts ;)

HOGWARTS LEGACY ART – 11 ARTWORKS x2 – SETS 1 & 2

Modern technology bringing back to life the history of Hogwarts ?! Well, if we can’t read History of Hogwarts, we’ll take whatever Hogwarts Legacy can give us … 

Those 22 Artworks all somehow related to Hogwarts history. Some are explicit, where you can see the castle or its grounds, some are completely up to your imagination with skulls or fruits. Some are pieces of lost tapestries, part of a larger story ( and fully based on Gryffindor dormitory in Harry Potter movies which are themselves based on vintage French Tapestry Hanging Needlepoint of the Lady and the Unicorn ). They are all beautiful and will enhance any room.

This object is a new mesh, it doesn’t override anything, and works fine in-game :)

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HOGWARTS PAINTING – 11 PAINTINGS – SERIE 1

UPDATE ! PLEASE GRAB YOUR UPDATE BEFORE JOINING YOUR DORMITORY !

We added 4 more paintings, we slightly modified the colorimetry and we refined the textures :)

Yes, we agree : enchanted paintings are superb and you don’t need to be an artist or art-lover to appreciate any of the paintings from the Hogwarts Staircases. In fact, the paintings don’t ask to be seen or admired. Wouldn’t be awkward for anybody to stand before a moving painting all day long ? :D

But art is art and the Artist behind the impressive gallery of headmasters deserves attention. Thus, we made a series of headmasters portraits. They have been painted by Rembrandt, Vemeer and Van Eyck ... They don’t move but they are just as beautiful. Incidentally a good topic of discussion at evening with friends :)

“ Is that brooding man your ancestor?

– Headmaster Snape?! By Merlin’s beard I hope not! ”

Attention please : we do not guarantee that you won’t feel judged by any of these portraits. Hang at your own risks ...

This object is a new mesh, it doesn’t override anything, and works fine in-game :)

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HOGWARTS VERTICAL ARTWORKS – 21 ARTWORKS – SET 1

UPDATE ! UPDATE ! GET YOUR UPDATE !

The Hogwarts Vertical Artworks have been updated with more artworks and diverse visuals. Wand permit from MacUSA or extract from a famous Howler, an artistic rendition of Dolores Umbridge torture ( can't believe that happened ), special editions of the Daily Prophet, Ministry of Magic recommandations and book covers and details. Now you have up to 21 artworks to choose from. Colorful ( or not ) and unique.

Many of those Artworks are based on the fantastic work of minalima ... the ones we admired in every Harry Potter movie ;)

Many Hogwarts students, after their studies, moved out to many different places, including some Sims Worlds ( yes, it’s true ! )

So, you can imagine how good it is to remember Hogwarts and its famous houses wherever you can live, as Wizard/Witch, and as Sim. And all the memories related to Platform 9 3/4, the Hogwarts Express, etc ... By the way, in which House the Sorting had sent you when you were 11 ? :D

This object is a new mesh, it doesn’t override anything, and works fine in-game :)

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HOGWARTS MORE ARTWORKS – 33 ARTWORKS – SETS 1-2-3

UPDATE ! UPDATE ! UPDATE !

The Hogwarts More Artworks series have been updated and augmented with new stuff and 10 more artworks. Yup, you read that right. More Daily Prophet front pages, education decree, book covers and various artworks ... International Quidditch World Cup poster or exemple of famous Howler. There's something for all taste in these complete sets. Wondering what the small characters are ? Zoom in ! Mesmerized by the details of the famous Marauder's map ? Have a look in big ! Studies in propaganda ? Oh boy are you in for a treat …

Framed posters are a good alternative if you are a wizard ( or witch ) living incognito in the muggle world. Who would suspect the Daily Prophet to be a "special" newspaper with its weird headline of a defeated dark lord named You-Know-Who ? Muggles might even think The Quibbler cover to be a nice modern art. And they haven't seen the sad Ministry of Magic propaganda when Lord Voldemort ( he's dead, we can say his name now ) took over the government.

As you can see, we added really a lot of Artworks ;)

This object is a new mesh, it doesn’t override anything, and works fine in-game :)

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Download Hogwarts Legacy Artworks here

Download Hogwarts Paintings here

Download Hogwarts Vertical Artworks here

Download Hogwarts More Artworks here

Have fun playing witch and wizard :D

Show your support ( we accept sickles and galleons ) : ko-fi // paypal

Made with Sims4Studio Dates of Release: August 28th 2015 Date of Update: February 5th 2024 Expansions: Base Game Category : Buy > Decorations > Paintings

[boyfridged]

hello! can i request some Jason centric fic recs?

this is actually such a difficult question. in spite of years spent reading jason-centric fanfics, it is very rare that i find something that i genuinely enjoy. still, i do have some favourites that i go back to.

beneficiary by @sirsparklepants (1/1, 2k)

my favourite post-death jay fanfic. it's such a beautiful, bitter-sweet conclusion to his legacy.

untitled by @pendulum-north (1/1)

this is a very short ficlet. absolutely riveting language, as expected of a poet. my favourite take on the canon divergence that is bruce dying instead of jason. would sell my soul for north to actually write more on it.

what the living do by Anonymous (1/1, 6,5k)

stunning. perhaps my all-time favourite. jason believes he's dead. dick takes him on a road trip.

complications by JHSC (1/1, 6k)

i want to tell you so badly why i adore this fanfic but that would spoil the conclusion. so instead i can just tell you that it contains my unpopular agenda for jason's character development.

the (family) doctor's appointment by smleeish (1/1, 4k)

i have some qualms with the minuatiae of this work but this sickfick surprised me with the depth of the character study. the conclusion is so beautiful in the way it gets to the core of jason's values.

jet black crow by starknjarvis (series, 2/2, 19k)

i normally avoid sex-worker aus so please do know that this had to really impress me to be found on this list. the main reason for which it winded up here is a conversation jason has with bruce in the second installment.

the clay steals the clay by zipadeea (1/1, 2,5k)

just give it a read. a haunting... fix-it. i think about the usage of catholic themes in this fanfic often.

PLUTO. by orpheusaki (@damianbugs) (1/1, 22k)

a huge reason for which i love this one so much is the thematic similarity to the earth-51 arc in countdown. there's such good understanding of what made jason who he is as the red hood & his relationship with batman as the symbol and with bruce as his father.

things that make it warm by one_step_closer_to_death (@hopeworth) (1/1, 4k)

my favourite jay & dick fanfic! if you've been following this blog for a while, you know i am very particular about their relationship. you also know that i believe in jason's need to reconnect with his childhood and that dick should be a part of it, and this piece delivers that in the sweetest way.

of broken, blazing wings by FrEShAVocaNoob (44/44, 190k)

before i get to the praise, i have to say that this fanfic does talia very dirty and that i am not a fan of how it deals with mentions of jason's childhood & his robin days. however, it is also 190k of jason having a perpetual mental breakdown and it follows canon event starting from the lost days and finishing with countdown. it has great pacing and an admirable balance of being plot-driven and the focus on character development. jay is so painfully young and lost. i also really enjoyed dick's attitude. it's a riot and an emotional rollercoaster. i will never recover from it.

compulsory (shameless) self-promotion:

leave no trace, a ficlet on ouroboros.

black out days, a lost days au which is not a story at all. about talia, jason, the need to mythologise and staying away.

and my wip robin (vol 2): future nostalgia, a jay lives au that is to contain follow major batman plotpoints such no man's land and murderer/fugitive.

[hkthatgffan]

February 15th marks 3 important anniversaries for Gravity Falls…alongside it's conclusion!

On this day 6 years ago, Alex Hirsch revealed the cover to Lost Legends via Puzzling Pines! 11 years ago, Boss Mabel aired, marking the end of the first major hiatus. And 8 years ago, Weirdmageddon 3 aired…ending Gravity Falls & leaving behind one weird but incredible legacy!

Who would've thought the day Gravity Falls came back in 2013 would be the day it ends on 3 years later…and then again 2 years later is the day we learn the name of the then newest content we were getting for it.

Also like every year, I highly recommend watching this incredible GF tribute video by Valkyrie247 In 2017!

We all have our starting point in the Gravity Falls fandom! A bedrock that built our place in it today! This video was my entry into the fandom! It inspired me so much back in 2017 and is the bedrock video that I built my GF fandom adventure on! Please give it some love! I wouldn't do what I do today without creators like Valkyrie247!!

Stay Weird, everyone :P

Long Live Gravity Falls

2012 - 2016

Also…XQWLWOHG WKDWJIIDQ SURMHFW! DQQRXQFHPHQW VRRQ! ;)

[quasi-normalcy]

Things that I would remove from Star Trek going forward:

Section 31 🗡 🗡 🗡 🗡 🗡

Mirror Universe plots

All references to the Kobayashi Maru, Khan, the Genesis Device, or anything else from Star Trek 2. We get it, you liked it in middle school; can we please move on?

Starfleet is secretly evil/ Starfleet has been infiltrated by enemies plots

Time travel to the modern day (it was done to perfection in Star Trek IV; we don't need more)

Stakes that are so incredibly high that the very nature of franchise-based storytelling means that it's effectively inconceivable for the heroes to fail

Secret/long-lost relatives or descendants of well-established legacy characters

Artificial conflict to create drama

Plots that serve no purpose except nostalgia

[acidicalkalia]

Stayed Gone (Reprise)

was thinking about if there'd be a staticradio song in season 2 which tells us about their history, so I made a reprised version of stayed gone!

Vox Where are you I was praying that maybe you’d be back Say goodbye, to our good old past No one knows the torture I’ve undergone …Leave the radio on Top of the hour, and we’re discussing a famous demon Whose broadcast is now no where to be found After seven months of searching Am I the only one who cares? Am I the only one that fears? Alastor may forever disappear Why has he gone off the grid? What does that mean for our history? Well seemingly I’ve got no answers He’s a daydream, a nightmare but to point the obvious That demon is mysterious! You can take that as gospel Had my heart broken? Already done so I was smitten, his efforts barely even He’s too ruthless for a prey Used to listen to every word he’d say I hope it’s just a small vacay God please don’t take him away! While he embodies the radio I wanna catch up with video But his legacies are too hard to compare! Hell seems empty since he split Where’s he been? I’m worried as shit! Congratulations! I’m already in despair I know I shouldn’t be scared Someone like him could magically reappear But when and where? Oh it is so unfair! To think of all the power and glory we once could've shared! Valentino & Velette: MOVE ON! Vox: I was even in prepare, for our grand premiere Proposed all the forms we could’ve conquered the entire pride ring, He gave me nothing! Every day I feel like a failure But why choose to be alone when together we are greater! Is this just his humour To make me dream of future? He leads me on then fools me around again! (To Val and Vel): I can’t! And here’s the worst part of it all I would still catch him if he falls I wish I didn’t rush in with confessions and everything That heartless prick He rejects my offering! Said he didn’t understand a thing! I’ll get him back, that little- I’m afraid I’ve lost my reason You know what You’re gonna rue the day when you are back The fact is Our perfect duo will be forever gone  Oh I will move on

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for indigenous systems who are affected by or involved with the MMEIP/MMIGW2S+ movements!

Indigenous systems have always been and will always be important, beloved, and integral members of the plural community! May 5 was an Action day for Murdered, Missing, and Exploited Indigenous Peoples (MMEIP) and Murdered and Missing Indigenous Girls, Women, and 2 Spirit (MMIGW2S+) folks. Those systems who are involved in these movements deserve our unwavering support and should be embraced, accepted, centered, and uplifted in our spaces! So here’s to all the indigenous systems who are affected by these movements!

🌕 Shoutout to traumagenic indigenous systems whose were traumatized by being exploited in some way!

🌿 Shoutout to indigenous systems who are active members of MMIGW2S+ or MMEIP movements, whether locally or online!

✨ Shoutout to indigenous systems who are trafficking survivors, RAMCOA/OEA survivors, or survivors of complex trauma!

🌷 Shoutout to indigenous systems who are mourning the loss of a missing or murdered friend, family member, or loved one!

🍃 Shoutout to indigenous systems who live in fear due to the prevalence of indigenous people being murdered, abducted, abused, or exploited!

☀️ Shoutout to indigenous systems who raise awareness about the MMIGW2S+ and MMEIP movements in their own spaces!

🌺 Shoutout to indigenous systems who struggle with not being believed or taken seriously by others when they voice concerns over their loved ones being murdered, exploited, or going missing!

☘️ Shoutout to indigenous systems who have lost faith in or have been traumatized by the criminal justice system!

☁️ Shoutout to indigenous systems who share resources, build support networks, and have strong solidarity with other indigenous folks to help each other cope with the harsh realities of being multiply marginalized!

🌼 Shoutout to indigenous systems who wish the plural community was more receptive and invested in raising awareness about the MMIGW2S+ and MMEIP movements!

🌱 Shoutout to indigenous systems who are mourning, grieving, broken-hearted, angry, anxious, frustrated, or numb about the propensity for indigenous women, children, and 2 spirit folks to be murdered, exploited, or go missing!

🌹 Shoutout to indigenous systems who need support, who need access to specialized services and healthcare, but who aren’t able to receive that care for any reason!

💐 Shoutout to indigenous systems, especially women, children, and 2 spirit folks, who are fighting to preserve their cultural heritage, traditions, and way of life in the face of colonization, genocide, and cultural appropriation!

🌟 Shoutout to indigenous systems who celebrate the lives and legacies of the women, children, queer, trans, fem, and 2 spirit folks in their own tribes, families, and communities!

Indigenous systems, we cannot claim to know or understand your experience or what it is like to live with the knowledge of how common it is for your people to be murdered, exploited, or go missing. Still, know that our heart goes out to you, we want to be your ally and advocate for you, we want to uplift your voices however we can. You belong in our spaces, and you are a crucial part of the plural community just the way you are.

We hope that every indigenous system who reads this can have a wonderful day today. We hope your future is filled with peace, rest, happiness, comfort, justice, and fulfillment! If there is anything at all we can do to be a better ally to you, please let us know. Do your best to take care of yourself and your system! We’re rooting for you, we care about you, and we’re wishing you the very best in all that you do!

‼️ Non-indigenous systems are welcome and encouraged to reblog, but DO NOT derail or try to center your voice over actual indigenous systems and those who are actually affected by MMEIP and MMIW2S+ movements! ‼️

[crimsonedquill]

Their reaction to your battle scars during Steamy Time (Pt. 1) (Hogwarts Legacy)

Soft smut makes my heart melt, so here's more of it. Part 2 coming soon 🖤

Content warning: NSFW (18+)

Poppy Sweeting 🦡

Ah, sweet Poppy. She’s as least as nervous about things to happen as you are, which makes your own anxiety at least a little easier to bear. You start off slow, like always, kissing and tenderly caressing each other through your clothes, though the desire of your touch soon has you wanting more. You have been taking your time with each other, pushing the boundaries of your comfort a little further each time, though you knew the moment had arrived to take the leap.

“I suppose we should –” She pauses, her words lost in a silent breath as the boldness of her own thoughts catches her by surprise. “Relieve ourselves… of our clothes now?”

“We don’t need to,” you haste to assure her. You realise you are merely making a desperate attempt to disguise your trepidation with chivalry, though the tremble in your voice betrays you.

Poppy looks up at you. “It’s… it’s all right. I wish for this to happen. I want… to be closer to you.”

You knew this moment would come, and yet you feel your mask inevitably falling away, revealing the visage of fear underneath. You try to avert your gaze, but Poppy’s hands have already found yours. Within moments, she’s forgotten her own hesitation, solely focusing on her concern for you. “What is the matter?” she asks, her kindness touching you in ways fingers never could.

“I… I fear you won’t look at me in the same way once you’ve seen me,” you finally confess.

She doesn’t say anything at first, only rubbing your palms with her thumbs as her thoughts flow in silence. Then, before the realisation strikes you, she’s moving. Buttons are loosened, naked skin is slowly revealed, and then there she is, your sweet Poppy, baring herself to you in all her innocent glory.

“Poppy –” you gasp, the shock lost to the sudden daze enveloping you as you drink in every inch, every dusting of freckles on her chest and shoulders.

“You taught me to be brave,” she says, her voice calm and confident as her fingers work themselves under your jumper. “Now, let me help you.”

You fail to resist as she works the piece of clothing up your torso. Feeling strengthened by her courage, you let out a shaky sigh and muster all of your will to rid yourself of the last protective layer, not able to resist the urge to shield your body from her wandering eyes as soon as the jumper is gone.

Her fingers reach out and explore you with delicate curiosity, touching you as if you were a sculpted piece of art. You can feel her studying the markings in your skin, wondering how you got each one, what unspeakable circumstances you must have survived to be permanently marked like this.

Eventually, her brown eyes meet yours and she takes your right palm, gently placing it on her bosom. You feel the steady beating of her heart through her bare skin.

“Do you feel that?” she asks. “My heart is beating just as fast for you as it was a few minutes ago.”

You fail to find the words to speak your thoughts as she shuffles and mounts your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck, her delicate frame so agonisingly close to yours.

“I love you,” she says, her words barely above a whisper. “Please, make me yours.”

There is nothing else she needs to say. Every shadow of hesitation and fear melts away as you seal your love, worshipping each other without doubt or shame until you fall asleep safely wrapped in each other’s embrace.

Ominis Gaunt 🐍

You’ve always been a little ashamed to admit that you view Ominis’ blindness more as a blessing than a curse. You cherish the bond you share, but you’ve never been able to spend a minute without worrying about his potential reaction if he ever were to place his hands on you, to feel what you truly look like. It is why every suggestion of intimacy is always met with hesitation; why you always request more time, assuring him that it is not his fault, but yours.

He is always understanding, gentlemanly as he is, though despite your assurances you cannot shake the feeling that he secretly blames himself. Wondering if he is good enough for you, whether his lack of sight will always remain an impediment to your relationship. It shatters your heart to even imagine that he feels that way, but you simply cannot bear the risk of baring yourself to him, knowing that it would fundamentally change his view of you.

This night, however, is different.

You don’t know why you didn’t call for a pause at your usual opportunities, or why you are so eager to indulge him. Your inhibitions have given way to an intoxicating sense of lust, one perhaps brought on by the glass of Firewhisky you’d shared earlier. All you feel are his hands running over your body and his lips on your face, placing soft kisses around your mouth that leave you gasping for his name. You would’ve lost yourself to the pleasure if his hand hadn’t been so cold that you instantly felt it when he attempted to work his way under your jumper, his nails razing across your naked skin.

“W-wait –” you gasp, instantly freezing as you grab his wrist. He immediately withdraws, his brow furrowing in tender concern. “I apologise, was I too… forward?”

“No – yes, I don’t know.” You sigh, finding yourself in no position to make up a coherent response. The truth is that you want him to continue, yet you fail to resist that small little gnawing monster in the back of your mind. You sit up, feeling his hand move to the small of your back to comfort you.

“May I pose you an honest question, and ask for a response in kind?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, making no effort to mask the guilt in your voice.

“Is it… me? Do you feel that I’m not able to adequately meet your standards? That I can’t give you the same sense of fulfilment an able person could?”

You look up to meet his milky gaze, horror clamping your heart like an iron glove. “N-no, Ominis, that’s not it at all. It’s not you. It’s never been you.”

“Then tell me the truth. It pains me to know that you’re hurting and that I’m not able to do anything about it.”

You figure there is no plausible excuse you can give him even if you wanted to. So instead, you draw a deep breath. “I… I have fought a lot of battles, Ominis. My body serves as a reminder of that every day. I suppose… I didn’t want you to find out…”

Your voice trails off as the shame of lying catches up to you at last. You wouldn’t blame Ominis if he were to scold you at that moment, but of course, passing judgement on you had never even been on his mind.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

“Y-yes…”

“Then let me feel you.”

The tone of his voice – kind and yet dominant – sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. It leaves you defenceless to his charm as you strip yourself of your jumper, feeling naked and vulnerable. You tense up as his fingers slide across your skin. He tenderly explores every bare inch, taking the time to familiarise himself with every crude line, every memory of a battle fought and won.

“Ominis –” you breathe, but he hushes you, bringing his face closer to yours so that his lips brush along your ear as his fingers work past your navel. “My love, I would never judge you for what you look like. Do you understand?”

His fingers move further down, coming ever so closer to where you need him the most. You barely manage to whisper a soft ‘yes’ as his teeth graze the flesh of your lobe.

“Do you promise to never hide yourself from me again?” he insists. “To share your beauty with me always?”

You are only capable of uttering a groan as you buck your hips, wanting, needing him to reward you with your much-needed release. You can feel the corners of his mouth curling.

“Good,” he chuckles, and any sensible thought is lost in the stars filling your vision as you surrender to his touch.

Natsai Onai 🦁

If there’s one thing that still takes some getting used to with Natty, it’s her straightforwardness. You’ve at least gotten accustomed to her flirtations in class, the way she never passes up an opportunity to brush up against you during duelling or play footsie with you under the desk, but to this day you still don’t understand how it takes her less than a minute to get you from the door into bed.

You are barely capable of getting any word in as the weight of her body presses down on yours, her hands keeping your arms tightly locked above your head. Your tongues are interlocking in a feverish dance as she starts to grind herself on your thigh, the friction driving you both insane despite the inconvenience of your clothing. Natty’s breath feels hot on your lips as she withdraws to offer you both a brief moment of respite, her fingers carefully brushing the hair away from your face.

“You are so beautiful, my beloved,” she whispers.

“Natty –” you sigh, and then her mouth is on yours again, stifling your moans with a primal lust that catches you entirely by surprise even now. You shudder at the thought of the things she’s capable of doing to you, all the numerous ways in which she’ll push you and your body to the absolute limits of pleasure.

You are completely lost to the sensation of her riding your thigh, the way she kisses down your neck and caresses your body with an intoxicating eagerness. You don’t feel her hands helping themselves to your camisole, pushing it up to your chest. You do feel her lips withdrawing from your skin and her weight shifting on your leg as she sits up, a palpable silence falling between you.

Your cheeks flush crimson as you realised how exposed you are. Too frozen by the shock to act, you lie there, fearing her judgement as you feel her eyes tracing the contours of your stomach, examining every time-carved mark.

Eventually, her brown eyes look up at you. “My beloved,” she says, her voice weighted with that strange delicate tone that leaves you wondering just precisely what she’s thinking, “you never told me,”

Your throat is dry as you croak, “I’m sorry, I feared –”

But the answer eludes you, simply leaving you to struggle as her fingers trace the embroidery of healed wounds etched into your flesh.

“You are a warrior,” she says almost to herself, before looking at you again. “For a good cause?”

You nod slowly, biting down on your lip as you gingerly await her next words. But instead, she shifts further back and then hunches forward, softly blowing on your stomach before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your wounded skin.

You fail to stifle the moan escaping your mouth. She revels in your reaction, letting out a chuckle as she places more soft kisses on your various scars. She only briefly stops to hook her fingers into your trousers, instructing you in a gentle but clear tone, “Help me out here, my dear,”

There is no choice but to oblige, though there is hardly any part of you that doesn’t want this to happen. You lift your hips and she pulls your trousers further down, exposing you to her in all your naked vulnerability.

She takes her time with you, continuing to kiss all the markings on your thighs as you hold your breath. You can feel her slowly nearing your moist core, however, and you feel your lower body completely tensing up in anticipation of the things about to happen, the reward she’s about to offer you as she reaches your inner thigh. She places her hands on the inside of both your thighs and pushes them further apart, her gaze shooting up to meet yours once more. You want to say something to her, but there are no words to describe the need you’re feeling right now.

“Try not to tear the sheets, my beloved,” she whispers, her gentle smile robbing you of the last of your sanity.