#paletas man

[madfoolish]

[yellowocaballero]

where exactly are you up to wrt to reading orv? (eye emoji)

Like 60%? Normally this is a time when I'd be locked in my room reading orv but I've been mega-busy - and I'd rather be busy than read orv, if that makes sense (tony stark meme voice: She Is Learning The Transit System).

I decided not to write anything for it until I finished so uhhh wait a little lol. I have another project I may write while reading it, but it's a personal one and I may not show it publicly. Might be a while before fic. I have no idea why I feel so vaguely apologetic about this. I'm not feeling apologetic unless yall start paying me. Does make me think I should actually post covid puppy though.

[lechatonetlacoccinelle]

x

[tortademaracuya]

Encontrando The Joys en medio de los horrores: accidentalmente hice que el personaje haunting the narrative tenga los colores de BOKITA

[daato]

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (ii/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: physical assault, derogatory behavior, mentions of rape, blood, violence, Aemond sorta unhinged in protection mode lol.

wc: 3,271

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt i

notes: lol so I've decided to make multiple chapters of this series I hope that's okay :)

Chapter 2: Bring Me To Life

When she was a little over the age of six, she remembers when her mama happened to be two hours late to pick her up from elementary school. She stood outside the school gates with her Hello Kitty backpack and her Bratz Dolls lunchbox in hand, waiting until she was the only kid left. 

When she was close to giving up and deciding to walk the fifteen minute walk home, a tall dark haired woman with sunglasses stood in front of her offering her a ride home. She was a bit hesitant at first, the woman was a complete stranger, yet the way she was dressed, elegant with an expensive buttoned green trench coat and a Chanel bag, made her wonder what harm could be done in taking up the kind offer. The woman looked rich enough to adopt a kid of her own and besides she was a woman, just like her mama. 

The woman must have seen the uncertain look in her face, resulting in her pulling out a Paleta Payaso out of her bag and saying she had more in her car if she simply followed. She remembers smiling and nodding, taking the woman’s hand while she unwrapped her favorite candy. 

Mere seconds before getting into the car, she heard her mama call out to her and before she had time to explain, the woman in the green trench coat was gone into thin air. The only trace of her was the chocolate marshmallow candy in her hand…

Don’t take candy from strangers! Her mama warned. Except she did. 

That occurrence that had been stored in her memory was what awoke her. There was a burn in her eyes as the sun’s rays hit directly at them from the window, blinding her vision. She wondered if her abuela intentionally opened up the blinds to get her ready for their usual mile walk around the plaza. 

Except, she received no response after the three times she had called her out. 

Odd. 

She gradually sat upright, wincing at the pain radiating throughout her back. Gods, how long did I sleep for? She mused before releasing a long yawn, stretching out the ache within her muscles. 

Immediately, she feels her stomach drop down to her feet as she takes in her surroundings. All at once she starts to recollect everything that Alyssandra did and said. 

The tea. The blood. The marigolds. The sapphire…

She ponders if all had been some sick cruel joke or a scam to steal some pesos out of her mercado bag. Unfortunately, she had none. Maybe ten pesos which basically converted into sixty cents. Not much could be bought from that. 

“Alyssandra?” She calls out, though it’s proven to be useless. It appeared that the cottage had no other occupants but herself. A series of spewed curses leaves her lips as she but all feels a strain in her back and neck. The saying of laying in a bed of rock, couldn’t be any more truer. 

After a few stretches and rubs to her neck, she begins her search for her belongings: her dress, her mercado bags, and her Fire and Blood book. But to her bewilderment, none of her stuff laid previously on where she saw them last. 

Everything of hers was gone. Or better yet, stolen by that bruja. Including her wallet, her groceries, her shoes, and even her bra and underwear. 

Great. Shoeless and commando it is. 

Without turning back, she exits the rustic cottage and tries to figure out some kind of explanation that didn’t sound implausible in the ears of her abuela. 

Adivina qué abuela, en lugar de tomar un uber fui estúpidamente a la casa de un extraño porque estaba lloviendo. Y una bruja me robó mis cosas y me drogó. Por eso estoy vestida así, sin tus compras y sin zapatos. (Guess what grandma, instead of taking an uber I stupidly went to a stranger 's house since it was raining. And a witchy woman stole my stuff and drugged me. So that's why i'm dressed like this, without your groceries, and without shoes)

The word ‘tonta’ lingered in her head with the same scolding tone as her abuela’s. Yea she was tonta alright. 

She figured with Alyssandra gone and the fact that she thieved her belongings, she sure would not miss a bundle of cempasuchiles from her garden. They were fresh and bright enough for the ofrenda and it was at least something she could bring back after being robbed. 

She uses the small mental notes as a guide to lure her back to the pueblo and halts halfway into the forest depicting two vital things into her surroundings. One, it was daytime without the residual wet smell one would distinguish after it rained. Two, the grass beneath her feet was free from moisture as if it had not rained and stormed one bit. 

Strange.

Instead, she smelled something faint amidst smoke and ash and something else she couldn’t quite identify. She shrugs, maybe someone left out the carne asada on the grill for far too long. (roasted meat)

The bundle of flowers in her hands nearly drops once she fully exits the forest, she expects to see the street that she had taken with Alyssandra but to her puzzlement she is met with an open field of uncut grass and hills that she had never seen before. 

As far as she knew the pueblo only had mountains. For a moment she thinks she took a wrong turn out, but she was certain this was the same very path that she followed Alyssandra to. However, curiosity turns into panic, when she spots a large gothic looking castle in the distance that resembles where a particular vampire, Dracula, lived in. 

Except this castle appeared to be in ruins or decaying and something told her that not only might have the Dracula resided in there but many ghosts as well. 

Where the fuck am I? 

It’s not long until she hears loud hoofs in the nearby distance, galloping closer and closer. She hides between a large tree and some bushes, covering up her mouth to restrain her heavy breathing and panting. 

She peeks through her shoulder, spotting three men high on their horses wearing some sort of armor medieval knights would wear. In the middle of their chests, a green surcoat was worn over their armor, a golden three headed dragon engraved in the center. 

A sigil. 

The marking was vaguely familiar from somewhere. Some place. Something. 

Through the corner of her eye, she sees all three men coming to a sudden halt. Not too far from where she hides, a middle aged man saunters with his head hung low examining thoroughly at the ground. He hums as his eyes find hers over the end of the trail of faint footsteps, giving her a cruel ‘I’ve got you’ tight lipped smile. 

Fuck. 

“Look at what we have here!” She gasps, the man grips her forearm impossibly tight, forcing her out of hiding into the views of the others. “We found ourselves a whore!” He whistles as the others laugh. “She’d be good use to us back at camp. Take her with,” Another man snickers. 

Rage seethes right through her, “No, let me go. I’m not a whore!” She sneers, pushing his hands away from her body as the man snarls and takes a hold of the roots of her hair but she is quick to act as she curls her hand into a fist socking him straight in the side of his nose. 

In that moment, she was thankful for learning such a bold move she mimicked from a Lucha Libre fight her cousins invited her to. (professional wrestling)

The man lets out a painful groan, holding a very bloody nose between his fingers, anger written all over his face. “You fucking bitch,” He hissed, using the back of his hand to slap her so brutally that it sends her directly to the dirt. 

A metallic taste swims around her mouth, no doubt her own blood and looking at the few drops on the grass all but confirms it. She hears the other men laughing and she feels too hazy and shocked by it all to continue to fight. 

“R’ ye done?” The man asks. She knows he is talking to her, and she looks up at him with furry eyes as she spits her blood against the top of his shoes as an answer. 

All four of them rode back in silence. They cut through most of the trees with ease, passing by other knights with the same sigil printed on their chest, circling around a large cliff that hoisted up the ruined castle. Those who were not guarding, hauled lines of other contrarily dressed knights over wagons. Most likely prisoners, she assumed. 

Gerald, whom she came to know as the knight who struck her, kept her securely bound with a knife to her throat as a warning to not try and fight him. She knew it was a foolish move to do so. But at some point, she deliberately pushed herself forward against the knife hoping this all had been some weird dream or hallucination that she could wake from.

But to her frustration, it surely was not.

Every single thing about this seemed odd… How did Alyssandra expect her to find a sapphire in this place? And where exactly had Alyssandra send her to? 

So far, she’d been led astray, drugged, displaced (to put it lightly), insulted and assaulted. And somehow, she knew her journey had only just begun. 

The smell of smoke and ash became more amplified as they barreled further up the cliff. She but all felt like a tiny ant amongst the rubble once the four of them arrived inside the castle’s gates. 

There were five towers in total, she counted, all of them tall but not equally the same height. Erosion was a plausible effect of why the castle was in ruins. However, as she looked closely it was quite clear that it was not caused by natural agents of wind or water but that of fire. 

But what kind of fire melts stone? 

They stopped near the stables, where more men similar to them sat on wooden benches either dining or sharpening their tools. Tents were set up near the most bizarre looking tree she had ever seen. It had eyes with what appeared to be blood pouring out them, leaves that looked like hands waving to her as the branches pendulated.  

“Move,” The guard said after he carried her off the mount. She glanced at her possible options of routes for escape. Not many were good enough for a safe return back to the cottage or better yet the woods. It would be a stupid move to run the way they came, guards guarded the main gates and most of the town.

Her best bet was going through the small hallway opening that led inside the castle itself. Perhaps through there, there might be some kind of exit that was unguarded. 

No.

“Did ye not hear me, whore? Move!” 

She gritted her teeth in fury as Gerald pushed her in the path of the tents. 

All color and emotion drained from her face when she heard it. Screams and cries and small pleadings of ‘no’. Groans, growls, and the slaps of skin echoed right back. 

At that very moment, it hit her that she was overhearing the acts of rape. 

She felt her heart drop down to her stomach. Anger, horror, icy and deep sluiced through her for what these evil and vile men were doing. As she glanced up, tall flagstaffs waving tripartite pale, blue, red, and green on white sigil dresses up in the sky. 

Their clothing…

She wanted so much to hurt them as they did to the women. Perhaps even more. Not a single person attempted to put an end to this and she had a feeling that they wouldn’t either. What kind of place did Alyssandra send her? And why did she choose this one? 

Why Alyssandra?

She swallowed that useless and weak feeling that rested in her throat. If she couldn’t save them, she could have a chance in saving herself. 

She glanced between the small opening and the knights, deciding. If her calculations were correct, she had a sixty percent chance of outrunning them and potentially hiding inside the melted castle. Luckily she was small enough to fit into tiny surfaces. 

The guard shrieked as she stomped heavily on his foot and struck him right in the place she hit him from before. And with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she broke out in a run before anyone had a chance to seize her. 

By how fast she was running, one would’ve thought she was in the olympics. If her high school gym teacher could see her now. Perhaps she could’ve finally given her an A. 

She saw one corridor unguarded and open and without hesitation, she took it. She glanced behind her, noticing a few men catching up to her and while her feet started to ache she ignored it and continued to run faster. 

Carelessly and unknowingly, she felt the front part of her body collide against cold hard metal, causing whatever she clashed in to move. 

It was then when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

Stop. Go. Now. 

Rage sketched in his features at first. Then his eye locked into hers and that rage quickly went away into something she couldn’t quite describe.

Shock? Awe? As if he finally found what he was in search of.  

“It’s you,” He said, his lone violet eye wide and wild as he stumbled backwards, a hand clutching at his chest. 

Me?

She drunk in the rest of his appearance. He was exceptionally tall, the kind of tall where she could already feel a strain in her neck from looking up.

He appeared to be not that much older than her, perhaps around mid twenties the most. His hair, curated into a half up-half down hairstyle, was an angelic type of silver that reached just about the middle of his chest. It looked silky smooth and soft and she fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

A scar covers and paints the left side of his face underneath a leather eyepatch that suits him so well. Something about him feels eerily familiar. She had seen him before but to put a name on him was difficult.  

This definitely was going to bother her.

She watched as he brought a hand to the left side of his chest, about to speak again when the guard from before came, gripping harshly at her forearm. “My Prince, I offer my sincere apologies. She outran us and–” Gerald’s anxious explanation was interrupted by the man as he held up his hand to silence him. 

Prince? 

Of course he’d be a prince. With hair that lucious and shiny and silver— Her lips parted open and her eyes widened in pure realization.

The sigil on the surcoats and on the banners. The black castle where they had taken her.​​..

Holy fucking shit! 

The one and only, Aemond ‘One Eye’ Targaryen, stood directly in front of her.  How was this possible? How could it be? He was just a character. How could he be real? 

Que mierda’s esto? (What the fuck is this?)

His expression shifted and his lone eye darkened, noticing her very sheer attire that left nothing to the imagination to what was underneath. Unfortunately to Aemond, if he could notice the outline of her breasts and hips, so could the eyes of his men. And he could not have that. No. 

Her body was only for his eye to see. No one else. 

So Aemond tore away his crimson cape from his armor, wrapping it delicately around her body, making her skin tingle with shivers. 

“Thank you,” She manages to squeeze out. The top of Aemond’s lip lifted for a millisecond until it disappeared as he took heed of remnants of dried blood in the corner of her lip.

The one eyed prince became enraged, his lips turning into a sneer as his hand gripped tightly at the hilt of his sword. Who had dared to touch what was his? Especially in such a violent way.

“Which one?” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with an edge of unruliness. All she needed was to say the name of the assaulter and he would kill him. 

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Aemond stepped impossibly closer, “Which one did this to you?” He asked again, tone harder as he gently traced his thumb to the swollen flesh of her lip. At her wince, Aemond was readying to kill the entirety of the army. 

It didn’t go by unnoticed by Aemond, the way she shifted uncomfortably against the hands of the guard that was holding her in place.

Him. 

He wanted so much to peel every inch of the man’s skin off his body for all the people of Harrenhal to see or mayhaps sever his fingers and make him eat it. Death by his dragon, Vhagar, was too quick. Aemond knew his dragon had not eaten and his corpse could be something of a light snack. But it all was too easy. He yearned for this man to die a painful death. Even if it meant one less guard for his brother’s army. Aemond abhorred any kind of violence directed towards women. Especially to his one and only. 

“You,” Aemond pointed towards the guard with his finger. “Stand there” Aemond gestured towards the pile of decaying bodies of House Strong. She trembled in horror, her face going pale like the color of her chemise as she saw Aemond swiftly strike the guard right across his face in the same location he had slapped her. 

She heard the man cry his apologies but Aemond was not having any of it. “It’s not me who you should be apologizing to. It’s her,” He pointed his sword towards her. The guard redirected his empty  apologies to her but she stood frightened to say anything. 

“Now which hand was it? The left or the right?” The man didn’t answer for he did not have time to. Aemond’s patience had always been thin, especially now as his one and only was here. 

If she hadn’t thrown up before she did now as all hell broke loose. Two detached arms were added into the pile followed by high pitched screams of the now armless guard crying for mercy from the one eyed prince. 

She should have run from such violence. Gone back to the little cottage from where she came from now that she had the chance to escape. However she was worried what the repercussions might be especially if what she read was true about the one eyed prince being ruthless and merciless. 

What would he do to her? 

Aemond had turned to face his one and only, wanting nothing more to take her up the castle and undress her and make her his now that he found her. To his dismay, he would not do such a thing until they were bound in marriage to one another. And when that day came he would be at her disposal worshiping every inch of her skin like the very image of a Queen she is. 

“Never again,” He whispered before he turned. The guard’s head was separated from his body in the blink of an eye.  

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[flan-tasma]

wriothesley with nurse reader???

where he 'accidentally' hurt himself, so he can see you. and you treat him for his wound

💖~ That's so cute!

Omg this is so pinche large

Ksjjdj I made a new banner for this man, I love him so much <33333

Warning: Nope now ✨, Fem!Reader | Google Translate sponsors me (it's a lie) If I made any mistakes in the english translation, I would be happy to read your comments! | Content in spanish and english

Spanish:

Trabajabas en un pequeño consultorio médico haciendo tareas pequeñas y revisando pacientes, anteriormente tu vida no tenía ningún chiste y se basaba en rutinas aburridas como repetirle a ancianos sus recetas y a los niños que no pueden correr por todos lados o se caerían,darles una paleta dulce por su valentía y salían de tu consultorio. Eso había cambiado cuando una noche encontraste al duque en la calle.

Cerca de tu hora de cierre y habiendo cumplido con todos los quehaceres que el doctor te había encomendado, el hombre de cabello oscuro parecía herido y apenas podía caminar con una gran cortada en su abdomen. No lo conocías, pero ayudarlo fue un gran cambio de tu rutina.

Wriothesley había convencido a Sigewinne de tomarte bajo su ala y hacerte parte de su equipo en el Fuerte Merópide, por lo que tenías un nuevo lugar de trabajo y era bastante bueno, habías logrado una amistad con tus compañeros y era más divertido estar con ellos que en tu soledad con el viejo doctor malhumorado con el que trabajabas antes. La razón de tu cambio se reveló como Wriothesley diciendo que tenías talento en tu campo, y no ibas a negar que era verdad y que tu orgullo creció cuando te lo dijeron, pero eso era solo una mentira piadosa para lo que el duque realmente quería.

A ti, entendiste un día cuando notaste que el señor siempre llegaba en algún momento del día y tenía algunas heridas debajo de su ropa o sus vendas oscuras. Te pediría que lo ayudes y al inicio te aseguraste de hacer un buen trabajo para que no te despidan. Se creó una nueva rutina que no era precisamente aburrida pues Wriothesley mantenía un semblante curioso.

No sonreía mucho a menos que se dijera algún chiste para aliviar el ambiente, pero su rostro serio pintado con polvo rojo en su rostro era imposible de ignorar y reírte para ti misma. Hoy no fue una excepción.

"Lo estaba esperando, señor." Hablaste con burla y un sospechoso rostro serio, Wriothesley tembló y sus mejillas se sonrojaron más al verte pedirle que tome asiento. "¿Qué lo aqueja el día de hoy?"

Wriothesley no tenía una gran seguridad de hablarte a ti, prueba de eso era que no te había visto a los ojos desde la primera noche en que lo curaste, pero siempre hacía eso de aclarar su garganta para tomar valor.

"Peleé con algunos monstruos cuando venía aquí..." El noble tembló bajo tu mirada que escaneaba sus brazos y sus piernas, sus rostros y sus manos, y no parecía haber nada fuera de lugar. Sus músculos y las cicatrices que se asomaban entre su ropa seguían siendo las mismas que ya conocías.

"Y sus heridas están en..." Esperabas que Wriothesley te dijera que estaba detrás de él, tal vez cerca de su codo o en sus pantorrillas, no esperabas que empezara a quitarse la camisa. Sus músculos se marcaban más deliciosamente cuando no los cubrían la ropa, el vello en sus brazos y pecho era oscuro y se te hizo agua la boca hasta que se dio vuelta y su belleza era derrotada por una gran herida en su espalda. "Arcontes, ¿cómo llegó hasta aquí con eso? Por favor, quédese quieto."

Atendiste la herida desinfectando los alrededores y usando tus ungüentos antes de vendar su espalda. Por el tamaño de los rasguños debió ser un Mitachurl determinado a no dejar en pie a su enemigo, fuera de eso, la profundidad de la herida no requería sutura. Wriothesley había permanecido callado y mirando tu rostro serio a través del espejo de la sala, sin hacer un solo ruido y perdido en tus expresiones. Sabía que no podría pasar mucho tiempo más contigo, no encontraba otra manera de hablarte más que pedirte exclusivamente a ti que lo cures, pero hoy haría un nuevo movimiento para su plan: invitarte a salir.

Cuando acabaste y le diste las instrucciones para que no se dañara más su herida, él hacía pequeños sonidos para demostrar que estaba atento. Cuando te vio tomar su ropa sucia de tierra y sangre le dijiste que lo mandarías a lavar si no era mucha molestia.

"Puedo hacerlo yo, no sé preocupe, mademoiselle" Wriothesley se levantó de su silla y le ayudaste a ponerse erguido a pesar de su dolor. Tus manos, aunque estaban enguantadas, producían cosquillas contra la piel del noble que soltó un suspiro, sus mejillas volvieron a tomar su profundo tono rojo y tembló al no poder decir lo que deseaba. "Yo... ¿Puede por favor...?"

No sabías qué iba a pedir, pero tu mirada fija en sus ojos lo alteró y bajó la mirada. No era momento de coquetear, pensaste, deberías ayudarlo a sentirse mejor. "¿Quiere algo más, señor Wriothesley?"

Cubriendo su boca con la palma de su mano y con la mirada fija en algo más que no eras tu, asintió. Seguiste su mirada y sonreíste, el te vio de reojo y su corazón palpitó con más fuerza cuando te alejaste, el ruido del metal y el vidrio no lo alertó de la realidad, en su cabeza habían mil escenarios fantasiosos, uno más dulce que el otro. Con esas situaciones en mente no necesitaría azúcar en su té en dos semanas.

"Está bien, puede tener uno." Tal vez le darías un beso para que se sienta mejor, podría besar la herida o incluso solo acariciar su rostro, tal vez un abrazo para que tenga fuerzas para trabajar el resto del día. Sus fantasías cayeron en lo profundo del mar de Fontaine cuando le diste una paleta ya sin envoltorio.

Abrió la boca con la cara compitiendo contra la paleta de cereza y se la diste para que la probara. Una lluvia de afirmaciones acerca de ser muy valiente y haberse quedado quieto, todo con tu mismo tono burlón que al inicio. El Alcaide del Fuerte Merópide se golpeó la frente mientras se levantaba para huir estratégicamente y salvar algo de su dignidad.

"Vuelva cuando quiera, señor Wriothesley." Tu voz terminó con una risa que atormentaría sus sueños por un tiempo.

English:

You worked in a small doctor's office doing small tasks and checking on patients. Previously your life didn't have much meaning and was based on boring routines like repeating recipes to the elderly and giving children who can't run everywhere or they would fall, giving them a sweet lollipop for their bravery and they left your office. That had changed when one night you found the duke on the street.

Near your closing time and having completed all the chores that the doctor had given you, the dark-haired man seemed injured and could barely walk with a large cut on his abdomen. You didn't know him, but helping him was a big change from your routine.

Wriothesley had convinced Sigewinne to take you under her wing and make you part of his team at Fortress of Meropide, so you had a new place of work and it was pretty good, you had made friends with your colleagues and it was more fun to be with them than in your solitude with the grumpy old doctor you worked with before. The reason for your change was revealed as Wriothesley saying that you were talented in your field, and you weren't going to deny that it was true and that your pride grew when you were told it, but that was just a white lie for what the duke really wanted.

You, understood one day when you noticed that the man always arrived at some time of the day and had some wounds under his clothes or his dark bandages. He would ask you to help him and at the beginning you made sure to do a good job so that you wouldn't get fired. A new routine was created that wasn't exactly boring because Wriothesley kept a curious face.

He didn't smile much unless a joke was told to lighten the mood, but his serious face painted with red powder on his face was impossible to ignore and laugh to yourself. Today he was no exception.

"I was waiting for you, sir." You spoke with mockery and a suspiciously serious face, Wriothesley trembled and his cheeks blushed redder as he saw you ask him to take a seat. "What ails you today?"

Wriothesley didn't have great confidence about talking to you, proof of that was that he hadn't seen your eyes since the first night you healed him, but he always did that thing of clearing his throat to gain courage.

"I fought some monsters when I came here..." The noble trembled under your gaze that scanned his arms and his legs, his faces and his hands, and there didn't seem to be anything out of place. His muscles and the scars that showed through his clothes were still the same ones you already knew.

"And his wounds are on..." You expected Wriothesley to tell you that it was behind him, maybe near his elbow or on his calves, you didn't expect him to start taking off his shirt. His muscles were more deliciously visible when they were not covered by clothing, the hair on his arms and chest was dark and made your mouth water until he turned around and his beauty was defeated by a large gash on his back "Archons, how did he get here with that? Please stay still."

You tended to the wound by disinfecting the surroundings and using your ointments before bandaging his back. Given the size of the scratches, a Mitachurl must have been determined not to leave his enemy standing; apart from that, the depth of the wound did not require sutures. Wriothesley had remained silent and looking at your serious face through the living room mirror, without making a single sound and lost in your expressions. He knew that he couldn't spend much more time with you, he couldn't find any other way to talk to you other than asking you exclusively to heal him, but today he would make a new move for his plan: ask you out.

When you finished and gave him instructions so that his wound would not be damaged further, he made small sounds to show that he was attentive. When he saw you take his clothes dirty with dirt and blood, you told him that you would send him to wash them if it wasn't too much trouble.

"I can do it, don't worry, mademoiselle" Wriothesley stood up from his chair and you helped him stand upright despite his pain. Your hands, although they were gloved, tickled against the skin of the nobleman who let out a sigh, his cheeks returned to their deep red tone and he trembled as he could not say what he wanted. "I... Can you please...?"

You didn't know what he was going to ask for, but your gaze on his eyes upset him and he lowered his gaze. This wasn't the time to flirt, you thought, you should help him feel better. "Would you like anything else, Monsieur Wriothesley?"

Covering his mouth with the palm of his hand and staring at something else that wasn't you, he nodded. You followed his gaze and smiled, he saw you out of the corner of his eye and his heart beat harder when you walked away, the noise of metal and glass did not alert him to reality, in his head there were a thousand fantasy scenarios, one sweeter than the other. With those situations in mind he wouldn't need sugar in his tea for two weeks.

"It's okay, you can have one." Maybe you would give him a kiss to make his feel better, you could kiss the wound or even just caress his face, maybe a hug so he has the strength to work the rest of the day. His fantasies fell into the depths of the Fontaine sea when you gave him an unwrapped lollipop.

He opened his mouth, his face competing against the cherry popsicle, and you handed it to him to try. A shower of statements about being very brave and staying still, all with the same mocking tone as at the beginning. The Warden of Fort Meropide slapped his forehead as he stood up to strategically flee and save some of his dignity.

"Come back anytime, Monsieur Wriothesley." Your voice ended with a laugh that would haunt his dreams for a while.

[green-nerd-showdown]

Please, do not reveal which one is fake or not.

[necromancer-4-hire]

This is adorable. Reiko looks like one of those popsicles from the paleta man.

Next up is Reiko from Mortal Kombat 4,who is not really a Ninja but looked close to one. Also he was kind of awesome in the Mortal Kombat X comic too. #Reiko #MortalKombat #MK #NetherrealmStudios #MortalKombatX #MyArt

[entourage-themes]

DemonCyborg

Finalmente pude terminar la actualización de esta skin de One Punch Man, quería hacer algo muy sencillo pero funcional y bonito, ¡espero que les guste! ♡

Incluye:

Tablón de anuncios

2 estilos de subforos

Avatar 250x250 (con adicional de 300x500)

8 campos de perfil + Inventario

Página de Mensajería

Edición de imágenes y paleta de colores según tu temática

3 tablillas (Administrativa y Registro, Moderación, Ficha)

sᴋɪɴ ᴘᴏʀ ᴄᴜᴘᴏs (3/5) Costo: $60 USD

Puedes ver el skin dando click en este enlace. Para más información pueden escribirme vía Discord .mrross

Nota: Este skin es exclusiva para Foroactivo, Forumotion o Forumactif. Para una mejor visualización recomendamos usar Google Chrome. Recuerda leer nuestros términos y condiciones.

ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ ᴠᴇʀs.

I was finally able to finish updating this One Punch Man skin, I wanted to make something very simple but functional and beautiful, I hope you like it! ♡

Includes:

Bulletin board

2 styles of subforums

Avatar 250x250 (with additional image 300x500)

8 profile fields + Inventory

Private Messages Page

Edits of images and color palette according to your theme

3 post sheets (Administrative and Registration, Moderation, Character File)

sᴋɪɴ ᴘᴇʀ sʟᴏᴛs (3/5) Cost: $60USD

You can see the skin by clicking on this link. For more information you can write to me via Discord .mrross

Notes: This skin is exclusive for Foroactivo, Forumotion or Forumactif. For a better visualization we recommend Google Chrome. Remember to read our terms and conditions.

[offbrandkyoya]

37 marriage arc

previous | masterlist | next

- they’re kinda dumb but it’s ok

- the paleta man finally came and I got chocolate!!!!!

- my favs limon though LOL

🏷️ @sakiimeo @coquettemaiden @rmiyuki @kur44pika @theblueblub @jxxji0309 @dreamsofminnie @ohmyfinggod @redactedhimbo @kunisbeloved @akagism2 @sketcheeee @thefandomcrow @beriiov @thenightsflower @yukiipc @scaraapologist @scarletttcroww @samyayaya @crucnhice @monaypo1 @feiherp @myaaones @warcelia @hangecanweholdhands @yuminako @valiryyz @screechingxiaolover @tiddieshakeshownu @ilovechuuyaa @d4y-dr3am3r @dazaisfavgf @swivy123 @ganyusbrideee @sagegreenthinks @the-left-glove @wonderland-fan @kylexzz @kaoyamamegami @whycantscarabereal @rvoulte @eunchaeluvr @lxkeeeee

[white-eden]

I’m pretty sure that once in a relationship Jinwoo tries to learn even more about Haneul and her family.

Jinwoo even learned Spanish for her. I want to imagine Jinwoo wearing his apron while doing the cleaning, he even uses Fabuloso to clean the floor 😭 this man puts music like Vicente Fernandez and other Mexican/Latinos artist.

(Note: thing is I still don’t know from which country Haneul’s mom is, I rather leave it like that cuz I can’t decide.)

But Jinwoo learnjfn the language and how to cook different LATAM dishes is chef kiss.

I’m pretty sure Jinah was impressed the first time she saw her oppa wearing his aptos and sweeping the floor while listening to Celia Cruz, 😂 man with a aloof expression and singing “la Vida es un carnaval) he was so embarrassed when he got caught and she didn’t stop teasing him.

Another thing is Haneul teaching him how to make corn tortillas AND pupusas! She likes cooking, a lot! And loves Mexican cuisine but also pupusas, she even likes to try food from other countries. She’s a foodie and both Jinwoo and Jinah get to enjoy different dishes. Even when their mother is back, she cooks delicious food for her mother in law. Specially chicken soup, but not the American type, the Latino one with veggies and tortilla!

Another thing that Haneul have is that she likes to buy Mexican goodies and he ended up eating them all, stuff like paletas payaso, Cheetos, you name it. Cuz believe it or not the Mexican Coca-Cola has a better taste. Even the chips taste better!!

And there are a bunch of different sweets! She even makes minutas (shaved ice) with the syrups and leche condensada on hot days. *sighs* she pampers them a lot so when Jinwoo get to do the same back for her.. 😔 my man goes above and beyond for her bunny gf/wifey

[caffeinated-and-annoying-bard]

I just got back from trick or treating and my legs hurt like a BITCH but i got plenty of candy so 🤷

^my costume that i got literally two days ago

SORRY FOR NOR REPLUING TO IT YESTERDAY I WAS TYPING IT UP BUT GOT DISTRACTED AND TUMBLR DELETED THE WHOLE THING OVERNIGHT

THAT COSTUME LOOKS SO COOL. TOP 3 COOLEST COSTUMES I'VE EVER SEEN OUTSIDE OF COSPLAYER INSTAGRAM PEOPLE, TRULY

Does uhe gas mask itch??? It looks so pretty and fitted, does it have the plastic-like texture of other halloween masks???

Did you get any full-sized chocolate bars? I'm ganuinely curious about this specific part of gringo halloween culture because here (in my experience, at least) the imported candies are always melted and taste funny, so all you get is stuff like dragonzitos, tamborines, pulparindos, picafresas, paletas payaso, chupa chups, bocadines, etc etc. (And trick-or-treating has been, for me and most of the people my age I know, a very limited thing because of insecurity, so if your enclosed neighbourhood doesn't really do halloween, you're done for)

I couldn't go trick or treating because of some calculus homework and play rehearsal, but i'm only a bit down about the phantom of the opera thing, but I still have the costume and día de muertos is tomorrow and I would bet you anything that I will enjoy the sweet bread more than walking my old man twig bones and hope the old people in my neighbourhood have candy ‼️‼️‼️‼️

Did anyone recognise your costume? Did your close acquantance go with you? Was it fun? I really do hope it was :)

[tanalogyosc]

"I'm not paid enough for this."

Name: Marco Ataulfo Neve Object: Paleta de Mangonada Gender: Male Age: 19

A teenage part-timer working on the Sombra de Verano beachside walkway of Vienteste Beach, albeit probably underpaid.

A recent high school graduate, Marco struggles financially as he lived alone ever since his parents divorced and disappeared, leaving him in the care of a neighborly grandma.

This rough childhood affected Marco's maturity as he was forced to mature quicker than his fellow friends. After becoming a teen, Marco left his caretaker, Chocolate Para Mesa, to live on his own so as to not burden her and her son anymore.

Although he wished he hadn't because he's DEALING WITH ANNOYING CUSTOMERS ALL DAY AND NIGHT AUGREHI; REJ;NIWR. Phew, breathe in and out, it's going to be okay.

Anyway, feels like he can't stop this one annoying rich kid from stopping by his stand every single day just to make fun of him. Man, if only I wasn't so self-conscious about my vitiligo or I would've mess that guy's face right there and now.

P.S me : WHAT??? HE'S THE KID OF THE BEACHSIDE WALKWAY'S OWNER??? URGGGHHHHH IM GOING TO LOSE MY JOB IF I DO SOMETHING TO HIM AND I CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE IT

[lapetitemortarts]

Norman Alfred William Lindsay (1879-1969) Australia.

Isabelle Y Orleans 1938. Óleo sobre lienzo, firmado y fechado "Norman Lindsay / 38" abajo en el centro, 100 x 74 cm.

La pintura "Isabelle and Orleans" de Norman Lindsay es una representación evocadora y sensual que destaca por su enfoque en la figura humana y el uso dramático de la luz y el color. La obra muestra a una mujer desnuda, Isabelle, acompañada de un hombre vestido con ropajes elaborados, probablemente Orleans.

Análisis Visual:

Composición y Posicionamiento:

Isabelle está en primer plano, posando con una actitud confiada y desafiante. Su mirada directa y su postura relajada capturan la atención del espectador. Orleans, detrás de ella, está vestido con una túnica rica en detalles y colores, lo que contrasta con la desnudez de Isabelle. Su expresión y postura sugieren una actitud de protección o posesión.

2. Color y Técnica:

Lindsay utiliza una paleta rica y vibrante, especialmente en la vestimenta de Orleans. Los tonos cálidos de la piel de Isabelle se destacan contra el fondo más oscuro y el ropaje de Orleans. La técnica pictórica es detallada y meticulosa, con un enfoque particular en las texturas, como se puede observar en los pliegues de la tela y los adornos del vestido.

3. Iluminación y Ambiente:

La iluminación está dirigida principalmente a Isabelle, resaltando su figura y creando un contraste entre la luz y la sombra que añade profundidad y dramatismo a la escena. El fondo oscuro y texturizado contribuye a enfocar la atención en los personajes principales, creando una atmósfera íntima y teatral.

Interpretación y Contexto:

Norman Lindsay, conocido por sus representaciones de la mitología y la sensualidad, probablemente busca explorar temas de poder, erotismo y la dinámica entre los sexos en esta obra. La desnudez de Isabelle puede interpretarse como una celebración de la forma femenina y su belleza natural, mientras que la vestimenta opulenta de Orleans puede simbolizar el poder y el estatus.

Conclusión:

"Isabelle and Orleans" es una obra que encapsula el estilo audaz y distintivo de Norman Lindsay. A través de la composición, el uso del color y la representación detallada de los personajes, Lindsay crea una pintura que es tanto provocativa como visualmente atractiva. La obra invita al espectador a reflexionar sobre las relaciones humanas, el poder y la sensualidad, características que definen gran parte del trabajo de Lindsay.

Norman Willian Lindsay. Rita 1945. Óleo sobre lienzo, firmado "Norman Lindsay" abajo a la izquierda, 54,2 x 44 cm

Isabelle And Orleans 1938. Oil on canvas, signed and dated "Norman Lindsay / 38" lower center, 100 x 74 cm.

Norman Lindsay's painting "Isabelle and Orleans" is an evocative and sensual depiction notable for its focus on the human figure and dramatic use of light and color. The work depicts a nude woman, Isabelle, accompanied by a man dressed in elaborate robes, probably Orleans.

Visual Analysis:

Composition and Positioning:

Isabelle is in the foreground, posing with a confident and defiant attitude. Her direct gaze and relaxed pose capture the viewer's attention. Orleans, behind her, is dressed in a richly detailed and colorful robe, which contrasts with Isabelle's nudity. His expression and posture suggest an attitude of protection or possession.

Color and Technique:

Lindsay uses a rich and vibrant palette, especially in Orleans' clothing. The warm tones of Isabelle's skin stand out against the darker background and Orleans' clothing. The painterly technique is detailed and meticulous, with a particular focus on textures, as can be seen in the folds of the fabric and the embellishments of the dress.

Lighting and Environment:

The lighting is primarily directed at Isabelle, highlighting her figure and creating a contrast between light and shadow that adds depth and drama to the scene. The dark, textured background helps to focus attention on the main characters, creating an intimate and theatrical atmosphere.

Interpretation and Context:

Norman Lindsay, known for his depictions of mythology and sensuality, likely seeks to explore themes of power, eroticism and the dynamics between the sexes in this play. Isabelle's nudity can be interpreted as a celebration of the female form and her natural beauty, while Orleans' opulent clothing may symbolize power and status.

Conclusion:

"Isabelle and Orleans" is a work that encapsulates Norman Lindsay's bold and distinctive style. Through composition, use of color, and detailed depiction of characters, Lindsay creates a painting that is both provocative and visually appealing. The work invites the viewer to reflect on human relationships, power and sensuality, characteristics that define much of Lindsay's work.

[itsvalpenguin1]

man me volvio a dar sindrome de la misma cara, ni modo toco dibujar a los nightmares con un estilo experimental porque sentia que les quedaba jajs ah si y un deuz con una paleta de colores extraña porque el tipo payaso ya era nomas le faltaba la pinta