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leeminuwu · 1 year

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MY HAPPY MARRIAGE | Gojo Satoru

—In which the disgraced older daughter of a small clan gets an offer from the strongest sorcerer in the world, an offer she can't refuse, an unusual prospect of marriage.

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first ever fanfiction. I might make some errors but I will do my best to make this reading experience as amazing as possible. This story is very close to my heart and was inspired by a manga of the same name. Please give Chihaya and Gojo lots of love. I will be uploading on Wattpad and ao3 as well !

TW : domestic violence, physical abuse, suicidal ideation, suicide, self harm, 18+ themes | minors dni

pairs : gojo satoru x fem!oc, slight!geto suguru x fem!oc and slight!sukuna x fem!oc

CHAPTER ONE : THE TALENTLESS MAIDEN

WHEN THE NEWS of her mother's demise reached Chihaya Furukawa, she was returning from work, stumbling through the office hours crowds of Chiba station. It was just another Wednesday for her. Yet the news had turned her very mundane day upside down. Her knees wobbled as the weight of her handbag seemed to weigh her down. Strange. She wondered. She never thought, she would be affected by the demise of the woman who claimed to never have loved her.

Yet, she persisted. Returning to her quaint flat, she cleaned her room thrice over the course of four hours, claiming that it would bring her the very peace of mind she needed. However peace had always been unkind and fleeting for the eldest daughter of the Furukawa clan.

It was her brother's hoarse voice that plagued her. She is gone. Mother is dead. That is what Makoto Furukawa had only told. There were no explanations regarding the nature of her death, no illness. The lady of the house was known to be a fierce woman of sheer fortitude. Her bloodline was from the prestriged Machi clan of the Jujutsu World. She seldom suffered from illnesses. Then how?. Then how did mother pass? The rational part of her brain mulled. But for Furukawa, despite her unyielding curiosity, an air of uneasiness seemed to surround her very being. Hence, that evening she spent lying on her bed, looking at th the starless sky through the window beside her bed, hoping to see traces of her mother's pleasent memory. However, there seemed to be none.

Chihaya Furukawa wanted to grieve that day but she didn't know how.

_______

SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO

The Furukawa household lived in traditional Japanese houses, while a significant of their wealth, the walls were too thin to contained the cries of a child. Hence, Chihaya had learnt the ways of suppressing her cries in order to spare her tiny hands from becoming the canvas of her father's wrathful showerings. As if she hadn't gone through countless punishments from him already.

Haruto Furukawa hated wailing children more than he hated weaklings. A self made Jujutsu Sorcerer, he had single handedly uplifted his rather downtrodden clan's glory in his generation, especially among the council of elders. For a man like him who had slain countless screeching courses, cries of children seemed like a deterrent to his focus, and his hard earned peace.

Hence, when a ten year old Furukawa sat with cane marks littered all across her petite arms. Her mother wordlessly, applied ointments on them.

In her eyes, there was no love or hate.

Patching up her wounded child, was just another segment of her duty that she would fulfill as the lady of the house.

"If only you weren't so talentless, father would be much kinder to you" Young Makoto, who was two years her junior quipped from her another corner of the room. "He only disciplines you because you can't even perform a basic curse technique even at this age" He snickered, giggling in his joy of being the prodigy of the family. A true Furukawa. Who would carry the fire manipulation technique of the family foreword.

Tears had formed in the young girl's eyes, as the pain of her wounded hands seemed to seep through the barrage she had created in her mind for all the terrible memories.

A tear drop rolled down her cheek and fell on her arm.

"Crying won't make you useful, Chihaya. Only those who are dutiful or strong get their respects" Her said in a voice loud enough only for the young girl to hear, tighning the bandage on her wrist. "You are weak, hence, you must be dutiful. It is the only way you will ever be respected by others. Jujutsu is not the only way to carry on your family's legacy. Being a proper lady and a good wife in the future is a great duty to shoulder for us women as well"

Chihaya could merely stare at her mother with glassy eyes, her lips parted in disbelief. She cry, scream, throw her arms and legs around—just to let her mother know about the pain she'd been harbouring since the past couple of years.

When Lady Furukawa spoke, the dying sunlight of the waning dusk seemed to illuminate her face through the window. In that light she looked like a divine being of great knowledge of the world. In that light Chihaya could see the tirednes that had dawned on her eyes. In that light, the eldest Furukawa daughter realised—that even if she cried her lungs out, her mother wouldn't care.

____________

PRESENT DAY

Despite the baleful and uncharacteristic news of death she'd received the previous day, Chihaya had arrived to work the next morning. Wearing her usual smile for her co-workers and her students. As a kindergarten teacher, she felt a sense of duty to not let the children experience residues of the mishaps in her life. However that task seemed to become excruciatingly difficult for the young woman as her head throbbed due to lack of sleep.

"It is quite odd isn't it" Aoi commented, as the duo continued with the final touch ups of the playroom before the kids arrived. Aoi Higuchi had been a faithful ally to Chihaya during her short career at the kindergarten. Perhaps the only friend she had left now.

"What is it Higuchi San?" Chihaya asked, turning to see that her co-worker looking wistfully at the open windows.

"I don't know if it's the weather or not, but usually at this time, we have more birds around don't we?" It was an odd observation, but a poignant one. The kindergarten was located in the suburbs and around a plethora of trees. It was not uncommon to have birds chirp away through the morning. Yet that day, there was hardly a sound.

It was an uncharacteristically peaceful morning.

"Perhaps it is the terrible weather" Chihaya chuckled, "I read somewhere that climate change has had quite an impact on the local birds of Japan, let alone the migratory ones" she thought out loud, with a finger on her chin.

Aoi sighed, "Yeah, you're perhaps right" the brunette haired coworker shrieked as she looked at the large clock ticking to 10am, "Oh boy, I am late again—i gotta get the kids from the assembly hall. Can you finish up stacking these colouring books for me?"

"I got this" Chihaya reassured with a smile, "you can go get the kids"

"You're the best Chihaya Chan!"

The young woman giggled at her friend's compliment as she moved to pick up the colouring books left scattered around the room from the previous day's activities. She hummed a tune of the song she'd heard at the subway so often, a song she forgot to seek out the name of. Perhaps once I go home, I'll Google the lyrics I remember? She wondered, trying to push away the gloomy thoughts from her mind. I should probably ask Aoi San for her Spotify playlist, I think I'll surely find it there. She does hav—

BA DUM!

Her head throbbed, as her knees felt heavy. Chihaya could feel a certain nausea bubbling up her chest as dizziness took over.

What the —

Images passed by her vision of a time unknown. It was as if a book of memories had been reopened. She could see her dainty classroom full of children, bustling with joy and clamour of young child. She observed, through her mind's eye a scene, as one of the young children named Akito dropped his water bottle as her drank from it, soaking the floor. She watched as the water water spread throughout the back of the class, whilst she and Higuchi were looking away in the scene playing out. She watched as the water reached the feet of an overzealous child and as he fell after slipping on the growing puddle. Cries erupted as the child cried whilst rolling on the floor, catching both the teacher's attention.

And then the scene ended.

It was like a premonition. A waking dream. A phenomenon she had never encountered. Perhaps it's the caffeine. She thought to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. For a second, Chihaya felt like she was on some terrible LSD trip. The girl then concluded that tiredness seemed to have gotten the best of her, and that she would take a leave for the rest of the week in order to return home and pay her final respects to her dearly departed mother. I need that closure to be same again.

Chihaya looked at the colouring books that she had stacked up, lying scattered on the floor yet again. Her knees had given away and she'd ended up sitting down with folded legs, as her arm supported her tired form. Her breathing was heavy, and sweat dripped from her brow.

There goes my makeup.

Looking at the clock that stood at only 10:04am, Chihaya wondered if it was only her who felt like her daydreaming had taken forever to end. While in reality it had hardly been four minutes since Aoi had left to fetch the children. Four minutes. Shit. They'll be here any minute.

The woman picked up each book gingerly, placing them one on top of the other roll number wise, as she continued to final preparations for her classes to begin.

Just when she slid the last box onto the playroom shelves, she heard the door slide open, and a cacophony of voices followed suit. Young children with blue hats and yellow bags huddled into the classroom with big smiles on the face, while some had glassy eyes due to crying before coming to school. Chihaya smiled, as she stood up to take her position by the front of the class, her hands clasped to her lap, a bright smile on her face.

"Good morning everyone!" She beamed, while the kids to their seats on the little desks.

"Good morning miss Furukawa!"

"Good morning!"

"Good morning sensei!"

Greetings poured in as the class filled up to it's full capacity. Chihaya's heart often swelled with pride as she would see the children under her care develope a comely nature with good manners. She felt like her duty to the next generation was fulfilled in a way. Despite it's hardships, she loved being a teacher. It was all she ever wanted to be, and even though she dream was realised later in her life, she was glad that she could live with certain contentment atleast.

"Please settle down" she chided the kids who were still jumping on their chairs around at the back of the class, as Higuchi caught then by their uniforms and tried to call them down.

"Woah there Akira, you will hurt yourself if you keep jumping around like that" Higuchi told the young boy, keeping a close eye on him as he took is seat with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "sorry sensei" he giggled. He was totally going to jump on his chair again.

"Let's finish the colouring we started yesterday okay?" Chihaya clapped to draw in their attention, "and today, we will learn how to draw and colour the rainbow!"

"I love rainbows sensei!"

"Mee too"

"So do I"

"No; they are my favourite"

The woman chuckled as she tuck the stray strands of her hair behind her ear. "Well I love rainbows too Mirai Chan" she went around the desk of the girl who had exclaimed first in delight, "Rainbows appear once the skies clear after rain"

"Mom says, rainbows signify hope and new beginnings" young Mirai added on enthusiastically, "Is that true sensei?"

The woman could only smile.

Hope.

Chihaya Furukawa could scoff mentally. She would give anything to be hopeful again. Hope to her were the dying embers of joy in her mothers eyes. Her hopes seemed to have died in her youth, and her mother's death seemed to make her new beginnings in Chiba seem like an uncertain path.

"Your mother is absolutely correct" Chihaya forced a smile, breaking away from her thoughts. The children shouldn't sense my grief. It would not be fair to them. Turning her back. Her pretended to write on the whiteboard. Her free arm balled into a fist by her side as she gritted her teeth and took a deep breath and faced the children, "Now, let us begin the class"

__________

Half of the day had gone by and at 12:00pm, during the lunch break the children played around in the classroom as Chihaya decided to spend her free time keeping her eye on the boys of the class, wary of her daydream. No child is getting injured on my watch.

"You aren't gonna eat?" Higuchi propped herself beside the younger woman, with her arm resting on her face.

"I'll eat later" Chihaya reassured with a small smile. Turning back to monitor the children.

"If you don't mind me saying Chihaya chan, something about you doesn't feel quite right" The Furukawa girl was startled by the sudden comment about her disposition from her friend. Higuchi had been perceptive certainly, however Chihaya was also a very suppressive person. It was difficult to read her poker face, let alone know what was going on in her mind. Or so she believed.

Her lips parted in surprise. Clearing her throat she looked away from the older woman, "You are a worry wart Higuchi San, I am completely fine"

"You always lie when you don't meet my eyes"

Chihaya turned to look the woman deep in her embony eyes, "I am fine. Trust me"

Silence. Aoi Higuchi was no fool Chihaya envisioned her to be.

"You know you could talk to me anytime right?" She mumbled, sensing the younger woman's discomfort as she hummed in response. "I hope your ex finance is not troubling you again"

Chihaya could choke at the unwarranted comment, as she coughed her water out of her wind pipe. "You still are the same, senpai. Your lack of tact is impeccable" she laughed nervously, wiping the water that had dropped on her trousers.

"If Naoya San was troubling me, I would have left Chiba long back" Chihaya chuckled half heartedly.

Higuchi stood up swiftly, and grabbed hold of chihaya's hands, earning a yelp from the younger girl, "If that bastard happens to pop in here, you have nothing to fear, my brother knows the local delinquents quite well! He will handle that man well"

Chihaya couldn't control her laugh. Oh senpai, delinquents would be target practice for that bastard.

"I am serious, Chihaya Chan! You don't worry"

"I could never, I know for a fact that I am in perfectly good hands" the woman smiled.

Chihaya saw the half empty water bottle on her table, as her head throbbed in realisation. Her daydream. She'd forgotten to keep an eye on the children, getting up from her seat, she scanned the entire room, to check if anyone was injured. To her cruel surprise Akito had dropped his water bottle by the door and was struggling to clean up his wet pants.

Chihaya rushed to help the younger boy. Her almost super human speed surprised Higuchi.

"Hey, hey, hey little guy. Are you okay?" She asked, soothing his back as he looked like he was about to cry. Before she could listen to his replies, she saw her daydream mimic itself in real life as Akira jumped around the water puddle on the verge of danger.

Hence, Chihaya ran again to the other child and swifty scooped him up in her arms before he could slip on the puddle.

"Akira, how many times I've told you not to jump around the class?" The woman scolded the young boy, as she placed him on the dry floor.

Tears formed in his eyes as he huffed with a pout.

"I was playin" he sniffled.

"I know but you have to be careful—"

BA DUM!

Her head throbbed yet again, as a stabbing pain pierced through her forehead to the back of head, compelling her to hold her head in pain.

"Sensei? Are you okay?" The child asked, fearful of her changed expression.

"Fine" Chihaya gritted her teeth, slowly removing herself from the the young boy, her instincts compelling her to run away from the room full of children. Yet the girl could barely move.

Soon the noise of the classroom was overpowered by the voices that rang in her ear.

Voices rang through her head, as memories flowed like an endless river infront of her eyes,"You'll never be a daughter to me" her father's eyes darkened as he raised his cane for another on of his punishments.

"Just marry her off to the highest bidding clan" she'd overhead her brother speaking with his father after her graduation.

"You're so talentless that you'd be better off dead" she remembered how the children of the high born Jujutsu families laughed at her inability to see curses at a young age.

"You're as pitiful as a dove with a broken wing. I don't know if I pity you or care for you" she remembered her first love, a man who had turned to darkness, his long dark hair wavering in the wind as his eyes dimmed of kindness.

What is happening to me? She could only think as memories flooded her being. A nauseating panic rising in her throat, as she felt that she was trapped inside a box being forced to relive every time she'd experienced pain.

The pain coupled with the haunting memories made the woman clasp her ears in a feeble attempt to salvage her sanity. The images of her dreary life flashed one after the other. Until at the end she saw her mother's comely face, and a scream erupted from her mouth coupled with uncontrollable tears. "Go to Chiba, and stay as far from this world as you can, hear me girl? I will arrange a job for you next semester in Hokkaido. To then, don't come back to Tokyo" Those were the last words she'd heard from her mother before she left home at the beginning of the semester.

Warmth engulfed her body, as Chihaya lost the track of time and space. The throbbing pain seemed to be getting worse along with the nausea and the dizziness and before she knew, the sights of her past darkened into her vision, as the unbearable pain sent her body into a shock.

And soon, Chihaya passed out.

________________

THREE DAYS LATER

Chihaya Furukawa hardly ever had a dreamless sleep. Her dreams would be ridden with imageries of the past and her greatest desires. However the girl often wised to have a dreamless sleep. Hence, when she woke up after her "episode" she was shocked and frankly terrified to find herself on a hospital bed with minimal clothes on.

Her vision was still not clear after the whole episode, as she rubbed them vigorously to focus on her surroundings. It couldn't be. Not after all these years. Is it a dream? It has to be a dream right? A myriad of thoughts ran through her mind as she realised her position. She was in a deep soup. Panic began to rise up her throat, as the uncanny familiarity of the pristine white hospital room reminded her of the last place she'd want to be—

Tokyo Metropolitan Cursed Technique college. Her old highschool.

In her feeble attempt, Chihaya endeavoured to run away. Carefully examining the room she found her clothes neatly folded on one of the empty couches, she slowly removed herself from the bedside, clutching onto the blanket to save the residues of her modesty as she tiptoed to her clothes and belongings.

I can't be here.

The young woman did not know what had transpired or how she'd managed to end up in Tokyo of all places. But in her gut she knew that it was her High school that she'd ended up at. There was no way she could forget the place. She remembered it at the back of her hand. However, a tinge of worry regarding her students and Higuchi remained. What happened? How did I end up here?

"Going somewhere?" A rather masculine voice broke her trance, as she froze on her path. Fuck. She should have known. They would have left some rando to look after her.

Chihaya let out a nervous chuckle, slowly turning to meet the man "I was just getting my clo—AH"

The girl shrieked as a tuft of white hair overwhelmed her sight. Her lips parted in sheer surprise, as horror dawned on her expression.

"Gojo Satoru"

"Hello, Chiyo chan" he said with the same old shit eating grin on his face, "Long time no see"

"What are you doing here?" She asked firmly, rather too firmly, almost as if she was reprimanding him for existing.

"Is that how you'd treat your knight in shining armour?" He faked a pout, and a hurt hand to his heart. "After all that I went through for you!"

Obnoxious as ever. Had Chihaya not been in such a sensitive situation, she would definitely roll her eyes.

However at the same time the girl hoped it was a bad dream, a terrible nightmare she would soon wake from. Yet alas, those prayers were futile as Gojo Satoru was standing in flesh infront of her eyes, and she could feel his gaze burrowing into her despite the bandages over his eyes. She knew that fate would bring her at crossroads with those she abandoned all those years ago. However she'd hoped it would be limited to her old close friends Shoko and Utahime. They would have been much easier to deal with albeit she did owe a lot of explanation to everyone. But not in a thousand years did she expect Gojo to be the first one to confront her after eleven years since she last saw him. Let alone when she was practically naked. She tightened the grip around her blanket, her cheeks growing flushed in embarassment.

When the young woman stood transfixed in sheer shock Gojo could only laugh at her state, running his hands through his hair. He walked towards the girl peering down at her, his face much closer to her's.

Chihaya wanted to combust as she felt his breath fanning her cheek, which had warmed into a deep scarlet hue.While her brain unable to process what in the hell was going on.

"Cat caught your tongue, Chiyo chan?" Gojo smiled, as she felt him studying her face intently, "Its a shame, I have to wait till our wedding to see you this flustered" He let out a hearty chuckle.

Wait a minute.

OUR wedding?

Gojo and Me?

Me and THE Gojo Satoru?

Chihaya swore her brain had short circuited with that information. However her lips moved almost instinctively to that information.

"No way in hell am I marrying you" Chihaya spat with the meager courage she had left in her, talking a step away from the much larger man.

Gojo let out a dry laugh. He was amused.

"We'll see about that"

In a matter of seconds, Gojo's finger was positioned on her forehead as she watched him murmur a technique and before she could even realise, Chihaya had dropped unconscious in his arms.

Part 2

Thank you for reading this story, do reblog to support me! I am still learning to use Tumblr so apologies in advance for any mistakes I make! I am open to being guided through comments and dms! Thanks ☺️

#gojo headcanons #gojo sensei #gojo fanfic #gojo fluff #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #nanami kento #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo smut #sukuna x oc #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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fdelopera · 2 years

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Welcome to the 16th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 114 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 6, “Le Violon enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”), and Part I of Chapter 7, "Une Visite à la loge n° 5" ("A Visit to Box 5").

This section was first printed on Saturday, 16 October, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward’s translation (the link is to the Kindle edition on Amazon US), the text starts in Chapter 6 at Raoul’s testimony, “No, sir. The headstones there are small, poor affairs and they were completely covered by the blanket of snow and just their crosses showed above ground,” and goes to the description of Box 5 in Chapter 7, “It was exactly the same as all the grand-tier boxes. There was nothing to distinguish it from any of the others.”

There are some differences between the standard 1st Edition text and the Gaulois text. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) Compare the Gaulois:

Et quelle musique, monsieur le juge? Nous la connaissions déjà!

To the 1st Edition:

Et quelle musique! Nous la connaissions déjà!

Translation from the Gaulois:

"And what music, Monsieur Magistrate? We knew it already!"

Translation from the 1st Edition:

"And what music! We knew it already!"

2) Compare the Gaulois:

ce petit dérobé cimetière de province

To the 1st Edition:

ce petit cimetière dérobé de province

Translation: Both mean, "this little hidden provincial cemetery."

3) Compare the Gaulois:

Demande

To the 1st Edition:

Translation from the Gaulois:

Question

Translation from the 1st Edition:

4) Compare the Gaulois:

monsieur le juge

To the 1st Edition:

monsieur le commissaire

Translation from the Gaulois:

Monsieur Magistrate

Translation from the 1st Edition:

Monsieur Commissioner

5) Chapter VII was misprinted as Chapter VIII. This numbering error was never corrected, and was propagated throughout the entire Gaulois publication. Because of this, the Gaulois text appears to contain 29 chapters (plus the Foreword and Epilogue), when it actually only contains 28 chapters. The 1st Edition contains 27 chapters (plus the Foreword and Epilogue), because Leroux removed Chapter 11, "The Magic Envelope."

6) Minor differences in punctuation.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 16 October, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

#phantom of the opera #gaston leroux #le fantôme de l’opéra #le gaulois #phantom translation #15 weeks of phantom

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8-bitdyke · 1 year

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reading Breakfast at Tiffany’s/Petit déjeuner chez Tiffany, a bilingual book, and thought to myself “wow! i’ve already read sixty pages in just an hour!” and then i realise that i’m in fact reading every other page And i skipped the foreword so really, about twenty pages … which is still good !! i’m proud of myself ^^

#langblr #french langblr #feels very nice to see i’ve only higlighted perhaps a dozen words #ix.txt/en #ix.jpeg

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kittywritessmut · 2 years

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Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader smut - Are you going to wear that baby bear?

| Entails: smut, jealous Katsuki, hardcore, lingerie, kawaii, size kink, polar opposites, petite reader, swearing |

Foreword: You and Katsuki were dating for only a couple weeks. You had both been affectionate, sometimes that was displayed in playful insults from your boyfriend. The rest of your class were out somewhere, most of them had gone to their agencies, some went to the gym and some went out for groceries. Your stubborn boyfriend refused to go and you plead that you had an abundance of homework.

(Y/N)’s pov:

You sat at your desk, finishing off your math homework, but abruptly stopped, when your hot headed boyfriend burst through the door.

“K-kat..what are you doing?” You exclaimed in a surprised tone.

“I...um I just wanted to make sure you were...uh okay, stupid nerd” Katsuki replied in a soft tone.

“I’m okay, thanks Katsuki” You smiled and returned to your homework.

He nodded, but paused looking at your outfit. You were wearing a pastel pink and white checked, pleated skirt. You were wearing an oversized grey hoodie, his ruby eyes wandered to your womanhood. From your seating position he saw pink lace panties. His face turned a dark shade of red.

“What are you doing in that outfit, baby bear? Are you planning to wear that in front of the class when they get back?” Katsuki growled in a jealous tone.

“U-um.....I like this outfit...and y-yes I was” You gulp, your cheeks turning a crimson red.

Katsuki huffed and locked the door behind him. He proceeded to pick you up and place you gently onto your bed.

“Don’t wanna break any bones sweetie~” He purred and took off his shirt.

You admired his toned chest, running your fingers down his muscles. He chuckled and peeled off your jumper. His eyes covered with lust as he saw you were wearing a pink lace bra.

“Ah fuck honey” He groaned, his pants starting to pitch a large tent.

He bent down to kiss your lip softly your red gloss marking his lips. He made his way down to your cleavage, he sucked and kissed at your skin. He unclipped your bra and moaned lowly at your breasts.

“Fuck you’re beautiful” Katsuki moaned and started to attack your breasts with his large hands.

You moaned as he began to suck on your nipples.

“M-mmh K-kat~” You moaned, as you lightly pulled his hair.

His pupils became large.

“You fucking asked for this baby” He moaned as he teared off your skirt and shoved down his sweatpants and boxers.

His dick sprang free from it’s restraints, precum was spilling out of his tip. He jerked himself off for a brief moment before tugging your panties down. He almost came, from the sight of your dripping sex.

“So wet for me baby bear~” He chuckled and rubbed his member up and down your folds.

“You ready for this baby, I’m gonna fucking destroy your tiny hole with my fat cock” He moaned.

You gulped nervously and nodded as he slid the tip in. You arched your back as he slowly entered you.

“Holy shit your tiny fucking hole takes me so well” Katsuki moaned as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“I-I feel so full Kat~” You moaned, as he began to rut his hips into you like a dog in heat.

After a few thrusts you felt a warm feeling in your lower abdomen.

“K-Kat I-I think I’m gonna cum” You moaned out, as he quickened his pace.

“M-me too baby bear, I’m gonna fucking fill you with cum as you cream on my fucking massive cock” Katsuki moaned and pulled you into a kiss.

Katsuki forced his tongue into your mouth, with a muffled moan you came over his cock. Your walls spasming around his cock.

“A-aw fuck baby” Katsuki groaned before cumming into your cunt. He did a few more thrusts as you both rode out your orgasms.

Katsuki pulled out and lied down next to you. He pulled you into a warm hug and pulled the blankets over you both.

“I’ll clean up later, rest baby bear, I love you” Katsuki smiled softly, kissed your forehead and drifted into a relaxing slumber.

“I love you too Kat” You purred, before joining him in sleep.

#bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo #mha #mha bakugo katsuki #smut #fanfic #midoriya #deku #denki #shoto #iida tenya #mha kirishima #sero hanta

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theeclipsedynasty · 2 years

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honkai impact fame au. kiana's a singer-songwriter and dancer who's extremely popular with teenagers, bronya is a well-known indie game dev, and mei is an a-list actor.

kiana's kind of a teen idol that every teenaged girl wants to date (lol), but she's also kind of disliked by music critics and some big name celebs either because they think her music is manufactured or bc she's just unruly. also had beef with otto apocalypse (who in this au is the head of schicksal modeling agency) on twitter. over time, she changes her sound and plays with darker concepts and garners more respect from the industry.

bronya's like a toby fox but 17 years old. she made a really simply indie roguelike rpg that got extremely big among the gaming community for its fun take on the roguelike genre and quirky humor. a lot of the gaming community also loves her for her personality and her straight foreword way of thinking, but she's also been cancelled on social media three times for making a joke about killing a famous politician in the game once.

mei's the daughter of a family conglomerate and got her start acting in her family's commericals as a child and some indie films from time to time. then she auditioned for the role of a character in a show directed by welt yang and suddenly she's big. but not in a good way. she got a lot of flack for her "bad acting" and some people even petitioned to get her replaced. even though her acting isn't bad at all, she's actually pretty good at acting, it's just that the character she was playing was extremely unpopular among fans and welt yang kind of didn't know what to do with her character and gave mei a bunch of bad directions. as the show goes on mei grows into the character and people begin to see her as a talented actor more and more, she got more roles in films and movies and is now a big name celebrity.

#honkai impact #honkai #honkai impact 3rd #hi3rd #kiana kaslana #bronya zaychik #raiden mei #honkai impact 3 #honkaiimpact3rd

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fashionbooksmilano · 2 years

Photo

Cartier and Islamic Art

In search of Modernity

Pascale Lepeu, Violette Petit, Judith Henon-Raynaud and Évelyne Possémé, Judith Henon-Raynaud, Évelyne Possémé, Heather Ecker, Sarah Schleuning

Forewords by Pierre-Alexis Dumas, Cyrille Vigneron, Agustín Arteaga, Olivier Gabet and Pierre Rainero

Thames and Hudson, London 2021, 320 pages, 500 illustrations, Hardback without Jacket, 29.5 x 23.5 cm, ISBN 9780500024799

euro 67,50

email if you want to buy [email protected]

Louis Cartier (1875-1942), the grandson of Cartier founder Louis-François, was an impassioned collector and patron of the arts. He was particularly entranced by Islamic arts, especially Persian book arts: their geometric shapes, color combinations, and motifs are apparent in Cartier jewelry to this day. Louis’s younger brother Jacques—an expert in precious stones—traveled to India and the Persian Gulf in 1911 and 1912 to experience the culture and bring home treasures of the Middle East: natural pearls. This was the pivotal moment when the dialogue between these two worlds opened up, eventually blossoming into a beautiful relationship that has lasted for decades.

Published to accompany a major exhibition at the Musée des Arts Decoratifs in Paris and the Dallas Museum of Art, Cartier and Islamic Arts delves into the Cartier archives to trace the story of Louis Cartier’s love of Islamic art and the ways in which he incorporated the Islamic world’s stylized motifs into Cartier’s jewelry. Dazzling photographs are accompanied by in-depth texts from a raft of distinguished scholars of both Islam and the decorative arts.

04/06/22

orders to: [email protected]

ordini a: [email protected]

twitter: @fashionbooksmi

instagram: fashionbooksmilano, designbooksmilano tumblr: fashionbooksmilano, designbooksmilano

#Cartier #Islamic art #Exhibition catalogue #Musée Arts Decoratifs Paris #Dallas Museum of Art #Persia #India #Middle East #Cartier's jewelry #fashionbooksmilano

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seraphdreams · 4 years

Text

warnings: thigh riding, manhandling, size kink, bokuto x fem!reader

wc - 495

a/n - this was a bit self indulgent cause i like big men🥺

there was dark lust filled in kotaro’s heavily lidded eyes. he looked at as you were whining and whimpering under him, hands rubbing your cheeks. you melt into his touch watching his expression change from a deep gaze to unrestrained concern.

“is it too big?” he questions, you trying to ease yourself comfortable on his cock. you were practically split open, feeling the painful stretch every time bokuto moved. cheeks stained with tears and mascara running down your face. he looks almost sad, like he had let you down in a sort of way. until that sad gaze turned to something more sinister.

“i know what to do” he drawls.

you see his figure motion in the dark bedroom, only a lamp as the source of light. he seemed to be pulling something. a chair from his desk.

he sits down, tan seared light casting an ominous shadow over his muscular body, glow bouncing from the sweat on his forehead. he pats his thigh, eyebrows furrowing to get you to come closer. “bo—can’t move” you whine, trying to wiggle yourself from where your sunken into the soft silk sheets of the bed.

he stands up. tall figure looming over your petite body. a strong grip on your wrist has you pulled foreword, moving so fast you could process it. he drags you to the seat he was previously sitting at. he lets go and you drop like a lifeless doll, only being played with. his large hands wrap around your waist, picking you up and adjusting your limp body on his toned thigh.

“ow” you hiss, his strong grip tugging at your sides. he looks deep in your eyes, trying to find any hint of discomfort. “i’m sorry, you okay?” he asks, voice soft and dusted with worry. you nod, your head settling into the open space of his neck.

“move for me, baby” bokuto grunts.

you sway your hips up and down, trying to find that sweet spot to hold on to. his hands by your waist lightly following your every movement. you gasp, finally starting to feel good. your eyebrows creased and mouth open, panting and whining at how much pleasure your feeling. you wrap your arms around his neck. “good girl” he coos, moving his hand up to stroke his cock.

—————————

you keep riding, almost near your peak until a force cause you to spring up in surprise. his thighs tense, him close to cumming. you sink your nails into the flesh of his shoulder, rocking lightly. deep groans bellow from your boyfriend, matched with your high pitched moans. “fuck baby, keep going” he grunts.

his muscles tense then relax, repeating until your tumbling over the edge, crying his name out. he spurts thick ropes of hot cum on your thighs. you both panting and heaving at the sensation.

he kisses down your neck and you feel his lips curl into a smile.

“again?”

#bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader smut #bokuto koutaro #bokuto oneshot #bokuto fic #koutarou bokuto #smut fic #haikyuu #haikyuu smut

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pilferingapples · 2 years

Text

Letter fromVictor Hugo to Theo Gautier, 1862

The article being discussed is a foreword for a book of Hugo’s drawings (a foreword had not been initially planned, but Hugo insisted on it for various reasons). This is basically editing a draft via correspondence.

Hauteville-House, 3 Xbre

[1862].

Cher Théophile, merci. Vous venez de me donner une joie de jeunesse. Il m’a semblé être au bon jeune temps. Je viens de lire ces pages de vous sur moi. Ma sombre chambre d’exil m’a tout à coup semblé pleine d’une clarté d’aurore.

Je n’ai qu’un mot pour caractériser votre commentaire de mes dessins ; c’est de la grâce magnifique. Vous refaites splendidement toutes ces ébauches et de votre plume elles sortent tableaux. Le peintre, c’est vous ; le poëte, c’est vous ; l’âme, c’est vous.

L’âme, ce mot que je viens d’écrire m’encourage à vous demander une toute petite correction. Je voudrais que dans ces pages splendides et charmantes, vous retranchassiez (tyrannie de l’imparfait du subjonctif) quatre mots. Vous les trouverez indiqués dans le morceau que je vous envoie. Voici ma raison :

L’éloge si mérité du graveur ne saurait être trop multiplié ; son nom est à sa place partout, excepté à la fin. À la fin, ne pensez-vous pas que je dois rester seul ? Ce n’est plus l’éloge, c’est la responsabilité qui commence et je ne dois pas m’abriter derrière Paul Chenay. Si vous pensez comme moi, vous effacerez ces quatre mots : reproduits par Paul Chenay[144]. Vous pouvez, bien entendu, communiquer ma lettre et ma raison.

Cher grand poëte, je vous serre la main.

Victor Hugo

#Victor Hugo #Theophile Gautier #the artbook thing #it's never gonna stop being weird watching Hugo vous all his close friends

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sugarylawliet · 4 years

Note

AAAA OMG CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE SOME MORE OF TOXIC LIGHT SMUT when i tell you im absolutely in love-

yes!! sorry this took forever omg

> warnings: smut, jealousy, some degreation

“I don’t know how I feel about working with a Second Kira. What if it’s a trap?”

You stand arms-crossed in Light’s bedroom, him sitting casually in his rolling chair near his desk, awaiting the arrival of the supposed Second Kira.

“I know what I’m doing. If this was a trap, how would L know about shinigami? Notebooks? Shinigami eyes? Just trust me, I’ve got this all under control.”

You did trust Light, of course. You placed your life in his hands the minute he revealed himself as Kira, and you wouldn’t change that for the world. Yet still, Light may be the brains, but it all felt too convenient. Someone, somehow suddenly has a death note, is a follower of Kira, and so eagerly wants to meet up with him? At no cost, no trick or catch? It just didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know, it feels too easy. I have a bad feeling.”

“I think,” Light stands up from his seated position, slowly walking towards you. “You’re a little jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just worried.”

“Worried?” He traces the curve of your jawline with his index finger, radiating warmth from his calloused yet delicate, almost soft hands, the same ones that murdered thousands with the flick of a pen felt so graceful in the gentle way they caressed your skin, so beautiful in the way they moved methodically, like a choir director stroking music notes. “About me? Y/N, you know me. I’m not stupid enough to fall into a trap.”

“I know, I know, it’s just-”

You’re cut off with the loud ring of the doorbell, the sound pulling the attention of both you and Light as your heads turned towards the closed bedroom door. Silently, the two of you exit his bedroom, walking down the stairs and into the living room to open the front door, revealing a petite blonde girl clad in a black dress, strips of patterned lace decorating her carefully put together outfit. She was gorgeous, yes; pretty and feminine in a way that sank your heart. Was she trying to impress Kira? Or did it just come naturally to her, she was always this done up? You dug your nails into your palms.

“Good morning, my name is Misa Amane,” The girl spoke, “You left your notebook at school, so I brought it...”

Light stepped foreword, placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you outside as he shut the door behind you.

“Nice to meet you...I’m Misa Amane. I figured you’d be worried after what was on the TV, and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You clenched your jaw a little tighter. Yes, the Kira broadcast on the TV, the one she made, the one that made Kira look stupid. Was she an idiot?

“This notebook...” She reached out her hands, offering out a small black notebook. Her death note? You glanced at Light, to which he responded with an assuring nod, before placing his two fingers on the death note. You did the same.

Your gaze rose up from the black book and back at Misa; behind the small-framed girl manifested a towering, looming figure, it’s bones a dusty white, spiking at its shoulders like spears. Her shinigami? It looked different than Ryuk.

Light rubbed the bridge of his nose before opening the front door back up, “Come on in.”

“Oh, you’re inviting me up to your room?” She stepped in, “Yay!”

___________________________

“You don’t look to happy Y/N. Was it Misa?”

You roll your eyes at Light’s remark. Of course it was Misa. How could it not be Misa? Light flirted back with her, and he did it on purpose. All just to get a rise out of you- and you hate to admit it was working.

“Aw, are you a little jealous maybe? I think you’re overreacting.” He continued.

“Overreacting? She asked to be your girlfriend. She called you darling. And you were playing into it. I have a right to be upset, it’s not unjustified.”

‘I’m sorry...” Light slowly paces foreword, walking you backwards until your back hits the wall. He places his hands outstretched against the wall on either side of your head, almost trapping you, “Are you talking back to me?” He lowers his head, softy tracing your neck with the tip of his nose, excruciatingly careful not to let his lips touch your skin.

Nervously, you swallow hard, earning a smirk from the brunette. “N...No, Light. Of course not.”

“No who?” His fingers slowly graze your body, caressing your arms, your stomach, your waist; lower and lower, inching towards the place you wanted them most.

“No, Kira.”

“Good girl.” He remarks, finally dipping his fingers into your underwear. He runs his fingers along your slit teasingly. God, he was so arrogant, so pretentious, but you could never get enough.

“You’re so wet for me already? Loyal little girl.” He lifts his hand slightly so his middle finger rubs your clit in circles. You whimper in pleasure, you needed more.

“Kira, please.”

“Please what? I want you to beg for it.” He presses his finger harder against your clit, causing your knees to buckle slightly beneath you.

“Please Kira, I need you. Please, just finger me, I need something, just no more teasing.” You managed.

“Well since you asked so nicely~” Light dips two slender fingers inside you, pumping in and out, using his free thumb to circle your clit. He drank in your small moans and whines with a small smirk, picking up the rhythmic pace of his fingers each time your legs trembled, adding a third finger until you were reduced to a moaning mess. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting your G-spot.

“Fuck, Kira.” You moaned as you road out your orgasm, your words muffled by the hand that now covered your mouth. Right, his parents were still home.

“K-Kira, please, I need more. Please, fuck me.”

“Oh?” Light pulls his hand from your panties, earning a whimper from you at the loss of heat. “You think you get to make demands like that after you misbehaved all night? After you got jealous of some girl? After you distrusted your god? Nuh-uh, on your knees, now.”

“But-” You attempted to protest before Light roughly shoved you onto the ground by your shoulders, leaving you on your knees in front of him.

“Now Y/N, show me just how much more you love me than Misa.”

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

A/N: alright I wanted to put a disclaimer at the end cuz this one kinda felt... misogynistic?? LMFAO. honestly i hate the trope where there’s a girl friends with a guy and then another girl comes along and she hates her, it just gives a lot of “pick me” girl vibes. buttt i knew i wanted Y/N to be jealous in this one, and who else would she be jealous of than misa? so yeah, disclaimer over lmfao

#anime #death note #death note x reader #light yagami #kira #light yagami x reader #light yagami x reader smut

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forewordreviewsmag · 2 years

Text

youtube

Foreword Reviews is pleased to share an interview with Joel Harrison, one of the authors of 60-Second Cocktails. Whether you have classic or adventurous taste, this guide to easy cocktail creation is the perfect addition to your home bar. The recipes include original drinks as well as tasty twists on the classics.

#Joel Harrison #Petit Foreword #interviews #indie books #indie publishing #book publishing #publishers #youtube #cocktails #bartending #Youtube

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woman-loving · 4 years

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Yugoslav Lesbian Feminists in the 80s

Selection from "Foreword: Searching for Our Lesbian Nests in Yugoslavia and After," by Lepa Mlađenović, in Intersectionality and LGBT Activist Politics: Multiple Others in Croatia and Serbia, ed. Bojan Bilić and Sanja Kajinić, 2016

In the early 1980s the feminist movement started to grow in Yugoslavia, and the first wave of young feminist lesbians began to recognise each other, organise, and work together in three capitals—Ljubljana, Zagreb, and Belgrade. At moments it felt like the new world was opening in our search to understand what our lesbian difference was. I’m not a girl/I’m a hatchet … I’m not a fool/I’m a survivor/ … Look at me as if you had never seen a woman before ([Judy] Grahn, 1971).

At the same time the socialist system in Yugoslavia was making a great leap forward in terms of women’s emancipation: the majority of women were literate in those years, many were workers in the self-management system, abortion was (almost) free and safely done in state hospitals, and state-funded kindergartens, schooling, and medical care also added to the general improvement of the status of women. Every bigger city had a people’s theatre and a people’s cultural centre. Trade unions took care that workers could go on vacation, cleaning women too (usually on the Adriatic sea). However, women of our mothers’ generation hardly had a permission for sexual pleasure, and the social concept of women erotically loving women or men loving men did not exist. Just as the feminist lesbian director Maria Takács (2009) shows in her documentary Secret Years, which brings testimonials of women loving women in state socialist Hungary, social silence was masking the permanent manufacturing of hatred against lesbians and gay men alike. [...]

Not being much aware that lesbian desire was demonised, in 1986 I fell in love with a woman and knew “this is it!”. Like many of us in those years, I thought I was the only lesbian in the town. At that time, we, women activists in Belgrade, used to meet in the feminist group Women and Society (Žena i društvo), a sister-group of the one in Zagreb with the same name. Very soon I found out that, in fact, in my group there were other comrades cherishing the same hidden love. But these were years of secrecy, in which we lesbians had to become deliberate liars. “A pen must write underground underwater so be it”, simply said Adrienne Rich (1973).

In the 1980s, while in my thirties, I was politically active in the International Network of Alternatives to Psychiatry. I hitchhiked from one meeting to another in different cities of (Western) Europe where the women’s movement was flourishing. There I found out about a new phenomenon in history: women’s bookstores! Women-made shops for books and coffee were a feminist must in Amsterdam, Athens, Rome, Berlin… The spaces were charming and exactly how I loved them to be: with lazy cats strolling around, tampons hanging in the bathroom, and lesbians on the front desks. These bookstores were shop windows of the big news for us from the East: they made us realise that the women’s movement had already invented lesbians proud to be who they are! With a fire in my body, it was there that I discovered the books by feminist lesbians—they gave me my first chosen baby-milk. So for example, I had to get Les Guérillères by Monique Wittig in its French original, even though I could understand maybe every fifth word, or the book Passionate Politics by Charlotte Bunch because I loved the title! These books had new political visions of lesbian desire—they were road signs, my very first lesbian nest. I choose to cite in this text some of the authors that changed me: you take me love/a sea skeleton/fill me with you/& i become/pregnant with love ([Pat] Parker, 1974).

In December 1987, the feminists from the feminist group Lilith in Slovenia decided to invite feminists from Croatia, Slovenia, and Serbia to the first Yugoslav feminist meeting. About forty activists gathered for this exciting conference. We had two issues named for the first time: violence against women and lesbian love. These two themes were completely new on the socialist “women’s question” agenda. This was also a first encounter among a few out lesbians: Suzana Tratnik, active in organising lesbians in Ljubljana, Sladana Marković and me from Belgrade, joined by a few more lesbians-to-be. It is there that I first saw a young woman in charge of technical equipment. In fact, it was the first time for all of us to see a charming butch managing microphones and electricity with professional competence. We felt totally new in the same old world. There, among a few passionate feminist lesbians of Yugoslavia, I found my new lesbian nest. [...]

The conference was successful and historic in many ways. The issues were identified. The last night we decided to work on conference conclusions. Sitting in a small room on desks and chairs, full of excitement, in sparkling devotion, we were naming themes we wanted to work on: violence against women, women in employment, in politics, in health care … and an extraordinary pronouncing of our wish “to make a lesbian group in every city of the country” (Dobnikar & Pamuković, 2009, p. 16). Yugoslavia had never before seen such a passionate work of feminists. That evening we promised to each other what political responsibilities we would take up. Later we realised that many of us have carried out the promises we made that night. For example, in that year, the first lesbian group was formed in Slovenia, Lilith Lesbians (Lezbični Lilit). After that, in 1989, feminist lesbians in Zagreb formed Lila Initiative (Lila inicijativa). Lesbians in Belgrade started ad hoc lesbian discussions inside the feminist group Women and Society (Žena i društvo). Lesbian issues were discussed in the next three annual Yugoslav feminist encounters. [...]

Year 1990 was crucial and different. When the Berlin Wall fell down, (November 1989) new enthusiasm emerged in all of Eastern Europe, with many political initiatives starting also in Yugoslavia. Alternative culture and local rock groups were everywhere. Some feminists were already working on telephone helplines for the battered women, others organised women’s summer camps (Slovenia), many were discussing women in politics, and groups known as Women’s Lobby (Ženski lobi) were formed in Zagreb and Belgrade. Activists were busy writing, translating, publishing in student papers and journals, and going out into the streets with petitions and feminist demands. In that year, the lesbians and gay men in Belgrade began to organise around a group called Arkadija. In Ljubljana, the 8th Gay and Lesbian Film Festival was already taking place. Feminism was spreading in Yugoslavia, we were travelling to meet each other, to discuss and insist on sisterhood.

But in 1991, the war broke out. Nationalism swept our streets, entered families and institutions like a typhoon, and conflicts over “What’s your nationality?” and “Which side of the war are you on?” divided people, including the activists of women’s groups. We had to stop Yugoslav feminist encounters. Soon there were no trains or buses between Zagreb and Belgrade or Sarajevo; the borders closed down, telephone lines too. The news announced the first men were killed on the front. And my life changed completely.

#lgbt history #lgbtq history #lesbian history #yugoslavia #serbia #croatia #slovenia #Lepa Mlađenović

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demonwriterx · 5 years

Text

“Fine Dining” Epithet Erased Drabble (1)

Ramsey Murdoch was on the run. Ramsey was known in the criminal underground by many names, like “The Golden Touch” or “Mr.Midas” sometimes even by Ramsey, mostly Ramsey. His epithet can turn anything he touched into solid gold, and his talent was exclusive to the highest bidder and for a while, he was living large and comfortable. Until, he made certain...mistakes, with the wrong type of people. Now, he was jumping and dodging bullets while wearing flip flops. He had gotten out of trouble numerous times by making deals or disguising himself. But, his opportunities of escape had finally ran out and he found himself with a bounty on his head and a target on his back. The only way for him to survive is laying low and sticking close with a certain individual he never, in his gold-making career, could have ever done and her name was Percy.

“Apologies, but I must rest before I collapse.” Said a dry, very monotone voice. Ramsey was sticking close and hiding himself against the brick wall of the alleyway. He turned to find Percy, leaning her shoulder against the wall, breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath.

“Aw, no, no, no, we can’t stop now, we’re nearly to the city!” Ramsey said as he went up to her. He needed to get to the city before Zora finds him. Zora was his bounty hunter, relentless and very good at her job. He can’t afford to stop for long.

“I know you are excited to reach my superiors and tell them the news of the Arsene Amulet.” Ramsey really wasn’t but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “but unfortunately...ugh, I am feeling a bit...dizzy.” Percy stumbles foreword, clutching her head as she tried to steady her legs.

“Aw geez.” Ramsey grabbed her shoulders, pushing her upward and holding her in place. “All that running around and tower building must have really drained your stamina, seriously, how did you ever passed Police Academy!”

“Hard work, a positive attitude, and occasional snack bags.” Percy replied.

“I was not asking you, literally! Okay, umm…” Ramsey padded down his shirt and cargo pants. “I don’t really have anything on me, not even a pinecone, just my crayons…”

Percy stared at him blankly for a moment and suddenly fell forward, her head colliding into his shoulder. Ramsey has to put his leg out to stop themselves from falling over.

“Whoa! Okay, I know women are constantly falling for me but this is ridiculous! Haha! Heh...ah, okay and you’re not laughing...no one's laughing…um, don’t worry, Ramsey is on the case!”

Percy gave him a small chuckle. “You are starting to sound like an officer of the law….”

“Whoa, hey now, let’s not switch tropes here, okay? Okay.”He began to turn his head, trying to find some kind of burger joint for Percy to settle down and regain her stamina back. They were at the city’s boundaries, he recognized some of the landmarks around them from his “past outings”. “Oh, hey! You like Korean food?”

—————————————————————-

Ramsey walked into a small restaurant, with Percy in tow. The restaurant was hidden away in between alleyways that most people wouldn’t even notice it was there. It was a perfect place to hide out and relax for thirty minutes. Plus, Ramsey knew the owner.

“Ramsey Murdoch…” said a high pitched voice behind the cashier counter. Ramsey chuckled nervously at the petite Korean woman standing menacingly on top of her chair stool, like a carnivorous bird perched on its branch. “Didn’t I banned you from ever entering my restaurant?” She said, pushing up her oversized glasses.

“Miss Choi! Hey! Still looking good! How’s your grandkids huh?” Ramsey exclaimed, trying to sweet talk his way through her rough exterior. Miss Choi grabbed a butcher knife hidden behind her and slammed the sharp tip down into the wooden counter. Ramsey bit his lower lip and gulped. “O-okay uh, let’s skip the small talk…”

Miss Choi gripped the handle against her small hand. “Get out Ramsey. You are not welcome here.”

“No, please come on, I know we had our...differences, but I really need your help here!” He motioned to Percy, who he had his arm looped around his shoulder. Percy lifted her head up at Miss Choi and nodded her head at her.

“Citizen. Forgive my demeanor, but I have lost a bit of stamina... and I could use a bit of assistance, if you can spare a glass of water that should keep me going for a while until I reach the police station.”

Miss Choi adjusted her glasses, staring at Percy before narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Ramsey. “What game are you playing at, Ramsey?”

“No games, I swear.” Ramsey said, lifting up his free hand. Miss Choi raised a brow at him. “And you know I’m good for a meal…” he said giving her a wink with his gold eye.

“And I do have my wallet.” Percy said, lifting a coin purse. “Unfortunately, I have one less Canadian coin.”

Miss Choi glances back at Ramsey, who rolled his shoulders and gave her a cat face, expecting her to give in and accept them. Miss Choi sighed and hopped off her stool, grabbing two menus as she walked passed Ramsey and Percy.

“Follow me. I have a table in the back.”

“Thank you for the hospitality.” Percy said.

“Yeah! Thanks Miss Choi!” Ramsey exclaimed and began to follow her but stopped when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned back at Percy.

“I’m alright to walk now, Ramsey, if you don’t mind…” her eyes moved to her arm still draped over his shoulder.

“Oh right. Here ya go.” He let go of her and watched as she straightened herself up. He put out his arm. “After you, officer.” He said with a tinge of playfulness.

“Thank you, how very polite.” Percy replied with a small smile, not noticing his active playfulness.

“Oh sure no problem, I’m so polite, hey we’ll split the check fifty-fifty. What do you say?”

“Of course. It is only fair.” Percy said taking a seat down in the booth. Ramsey took a seat across from Percy, picking up the menu.

“Order what you think looks good, everything Miss Choi makes is quality stuff.” Ramsey said.

“Well, I never had Korean food before...everything is relatively new to me.” Percy said, studying the menu.

“Really? Well, this is your lucky day, Sweetheart! I recommend the bulgogi.”

“Well, if you recommend it, I might as well try it.” She said with a small smile. Ramsey couldn’t help but smile back and laugh slightly. His laugh made her tilt her head at him.

“What is it?”

Ramsey shook his head. “Nah. It’s nothing. I just...think you are one interesting lady.”

“Thank you, I am glad you find me interesting.” She said giving him another smile. “Although, I am lost as to how that notion made you laugh.”

“It’s a genuine laugh.”

“From a genuine person?”

“Whoa! Hey now, was that a jab at my person?” He said, leaning back into his chair. “Your humor is getting better.” Percy wrinkled her nose and let out a ”ha.” “Maybe just a little, it could be from lack of stamina but once you eat, you should be able to come up with something better.”

“Thank you, Ramsey.”

Ramsey blinked at her. “What? What are you thanking me for?”

“I never had a partner who...cared as much as you do.”

“Whoa, c-cared? I uh-“ Ramsey twiddled with his thumbs underneath the table. “I’m not too sure about that. Some people might call me a little...selfish.” He bit the inside of his mouth and pulled at his collar. “But caring? I-I personally don’t see that.”

“I do.” Percy said. “You did carry me here, a selfish criminal wouldn’t have done what you have done for me.”

“Ain’t that a tongue twister.” He mumbled. “I think you trust a little too easily.”

“Of course, but...only to those that deserve it, like you.”

Ramsey felt his ear turn warm and looked down at his sweating palms. ”O-okay.” He muttered, he felt a slight pull at his chest, he knew that feeling too well. He pushed it deeper inside of him, ignoring it.

#ramsey murdoch #percival king #percy #epithet erased #molly #drabbles #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #giovanni

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tswiftartcollective · 5 years

Text

Taylor’s 7/23 Livestream Recap

“Hi. Um. It says I’m now live, so I imagine that - I think that’s probably the truth.”

SHE IS ON THE SET OF A MUSIC VIDEO IN HER TRAILER!

Benjamin is meowing in the background like a good supportive feline son 😻

“Thank you so much - I woke up to the most amazing news today....it was Todrick going, ‘is this real?’...I went online on MTV’s website and I saw that there actually are like seven nominations for the YNTCD video and three for the Me! video.”

“It’s a fan-voted thing...so if you wanted to vote for it....I wouldn’t object to it....”

The Equality Act petition is almost at half a million signatures!!

“As you may or may not know....I have an album called Lover that comes out in a MONTH....so that’s crazy!”

This livestream is picking up where she left off on her previous live.

She showed us her four deluxe editions. She was brainstorming about something really special to do since this is her 13th year of putting out albums. So the deluxes are RETROSPECTIVE!!

“I do a lot of thinking about time, the passage of time, lessons learned, memories...I think oftentimes...when you look back at your past experiences, you look back at them with that insight...we sort of add value or insight to our memories. So when we look back on our memories, it’s not the same as when we were actually going through them. ...I’ve been writing in diaries since I was 13 years old. I’ve written about pretty much everything’s that happened to me. I’ve written original lyrics in those diaries, just, feelings, you know....lessons, things you go through....I need to either write songs or write something to process life, both good times and bad.”

She showed four HUGE stacks of diaries. She went through all her diaries and read them, and sticky noted the pages she wanted to share with us. The four deluxe editions of the album have 120 pages of her diaries. Each edition has 30 pages. The deluxe edition diary copies are exact copies/scans of her original diaries. (Holy shit dude) “Pictures drawn, photos of that time in my life, I used to tape stuff in my diaries...that stuff’s all in there.” Includes foreword as well.

Then you have your own opportunity and blank pages to turn it into your own journal. Then in the back, you get the CD, art, booklet. They are available for pre-order on Target’s website if you’re in the US - international fans need to go to her website.

SHE FOUND THE ORIGINAL LYRICS TO ALL TOO WELL IN HER DIARIES!!!! This is like National Treasure y’all

Also she looks so cute. Have I recapped that yet?

“You’ve made my life what is, and so I wanted to take the opportunity to celebrate the 13th year of this thing we’ve got going on.”

NEXT TOPIC. THERE’S ANOTHER TOPIC!!!

“There’s a lot that’s covered emotionally. I really wanted to give you track 5 before the album came out.”

She acknowledges her HIGHLY TRAUMATIZING track 5 syndrome. On every record, “I was instinctively putting a very vulnerable, personal, honest song as Track 5.”

“There’s like a VAST PORTION of this album that I worked with Jack Antonoff on” (....hold me.....)

Confirms it’s called the Archer.

It will be out IMMINENTLY. It will be out right now, if not in the next 3 minutes. I’m having palpitations. “It’s about to come out.”

“I can’t wait to hear what you think of it.”

Easter eggs revealed: Cupids in the band in the Me! video, arrows through hearts everywhere, Hayley shooting an arrow at the target in the YNTCD video.

Referring to the reception so far: “I’m so happy, I’m so grateful, I’m so happy this is happening with this music.” (Scott Borchetta found dead in a Nashville alleyway)

The Archer is not the next single - a promotional release. No video for it, yet. “Just sort of another glimpse into another side of the album that I wanted to show you.”

Our mom lovingly asks us to pre-order, pre-add, pre-save Lover.

She’s returning to shooting whatever music video she’s shooting.

💖 “AUGH! It’s just all really exciting. I love you guys, this is amazing, I will undoubtedly see you all very soon. Bye.” 💖

Waves goodbye like a precious angel cupcake and manages to NOT delete the livestream!! 👋

✨✨ Thanks for reading! While you’re here, check out TS Fandom Fund - a fundraising group started by Swifties, for Swifties, aiming to make the Lover era more financially accessible and enjoyable for everyone! Now accepting donations and nominations for gift recipients! ✨✨

#taylor swift #lover #the archer #swifties #taylornation

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rockislandadultreads · 4 years

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Celebrating 100 Years of Women’s Suffrage: a reading list

Free thinker : Helen Hamilton Gardener's audacious pursuit of equality and the vote / Kimberly A. Hamlin

4.06/5 stars on Goodreads

How one “fallen woman” battled religious ideology, pseudoscience, and political resistance to women’s right to vote.

Exposed in Ohio newspapers for an affair with a married man, Alice Chenowyth refused to cower in shame. Instead she changed her name to Helen Hamilton Gardener, moved to New York, pretended to be married to her lover, and became a wildly popular lecturer and author, brazenly opposed to sexist piety and propriety.

The “Harriet Beecher Stowe of Fallen Women,” she supported raising the age of sexual consent for girls (from twelve or younger), decried double standards of sexual morality, and debunked scientists’ claims that women’s brains were inferior. With liberal doses of feminine charm, Gardner networked tirelessly to persuade Woodrow Wilson and other male politicians to support the Nineteenth Amendment. Her effort, according to suffrage leader Carrie Pitt, was “the most potent factor” in its passage.

As more women enter politics than ever before, Kimberly A. Hamlin recovers the wildly entertaining and illuminating life of a brilliant, effective woman—all but forgotten—who paved the way

Harriet Tubman : the road to freedom / by Catherine Clinton

4.02/5 stars on Goodreads

Celebrated for her exploits as a conductor on the Underground Railroad, Harriet Tubman has entered history as one of nineteenth-century America's most enduring and important figures. But just who was this remarkable woman? To John Brown, leader of the Harper's Ferry slave uprising, she was General Tubman. For the many slaves she led north to freedom, she was Moses. To the slaveholders who sought her capture, she was a thief and a trickster. To abolitionists, she was a prophet. Now, in a biography widely praised for its impeccable research and its compelling narrative, Harriet Tubman is revealed for the first time as a singular and complex character, a woman who defied simple categorization.

Ida : a sword among lions : Ida B. Wells and the campaign against lynching / Paula J. Giddings

4.27/5 stars on Goodreads

At the center of the national drama is Ida B. Wells (1862-1931), born to slaves in Mississippi, who began her activist career by refusing to leave a first-class ladies’ car on a Memphis railway and rose to lead the nation’s firstcampaign against lynching. For Wells the key to the rise in violence was embedded in attitudes not only about black men but about women and sexuality as well. Her independent perspective and percussive personality gained her encomiums as a hero -- as well as aspersions on her character and threats of death. Exiled from the South by 1892, Wells subsequently took her campaign across the country and throughout the British Isles before she married and settled in Chicago, where she continued her activism as a journalist, suffragist, and independent candidate in the rough-and-tumble world of the Windy City’s politics. In this eagerly awaited biography by Paula J. Giddings, author of the groundbreaking book When and Where I Enter, which traced the activisthistory of black women in America, the irrepressible personality of Ida B. Wells surges out of the pages. With meticulous research and vivid rendering of her subject, Giddings also provides compelling portraits of twentieth-century progressive luminaries, black and white, with whom Wells worked during some of the most tumultuous periods in American history. Embattled all of her activist life, Wells found herself fighting not only conservative adversaries but icons of the civil rights and women’s suffrage movements who sought to undermine her place in history. In this definitive biography, which places Ida B. Wells firmly in the context of her times as well as ours, Giddings at long last gives this visionary reformer her due and, in the process, sheds light on an aspect of our history that isoften left in the shadows.

Why they marched : untold stories of the women who fought for the right to vote / Susan Ware

4.02/5 stars on Goodreads

Looking beyond the national leadership of the suffrage movement, an acclaimed historian gives voice to the thousands of women from different backgrounds, races, and religions whose local passion and protest resounded throughout the land.

For too long the history of how American women won the right to vote has been told as the visionary adventures of a few iconic leaders, all white and native-born, who spearheaded a national movement. In this essential reconsideration, Susan Ware uncovers a much broader and more diverse history waiting to be told. Why They Marched is the inspiring story of the dedicated women--and occasionally men--who carried the banner in communities across the nation, out of the spotlight, protesting, petitioning, and demonstrating for the right to become full citizens.

Ware structures her account around nineteen individual women--Mary Church Terrell, a multilingual African American woman; Rose Schneiderman, a labor activist building cross-class coalitions on New York's Lower East Side; Claiborne Catlin, who toured the Massachusetts countryside on horseback to drum up support for the cause; Mary Johnston, an aristocratic novelist bucking the Southern ruling elite; Emmeline W. Wells, a Mormon woman in a polygamous marriage determined to make her voice heard; and others--who helped harness a groundswell of popular support. Each suffragist is paired with an object or artifact from the campaign. The dramatic and often joyous experiences of these women help us to understand the many different meanings of the right to vote, and to appreciate the involvement of these advocates in a movement that changed lives forever.

Victory for the vote : the fight for women's suffrage and the century that followed / Doris Weatherford ; foreword by Nancy Pelosi

Women's Rights and the Continuing Fight for EqualityAn inspirational gift for women. In her book Victory for the Vote, Women's history expert Doris Weatherford offers an engaging and detailed narrative history of women's seven-decade fight for the vote, and the continuing current-day struggle for human rights and equality.

Foreword by Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. Victory for the Vote puts the fight for suffrage into contemporary context by discussing key challenges for women in the decades that followed 1920, such as reproductive rights, the Equal Rights Amendment, and political power.

Celebrate the Centennial of women's right to vote in the U.S. Victory for the Vote is an expansion and update of Doris Weatherford's A History of the American Suffragist Movement, published in 1998 in honor of the 150th anniversary of the 1848 Seneca Falls Convention, considered to be the beginning of the women's rights movement in the United States.

Suffrage : women's long battle for the vote / Ellen Carol Dubois

3.95/5 stars Goodreads

Honoring the 100th anniversary of the 19th amendment to the Constitution, this exciting history explores the full scope of the movement to win the vote for women through portraits of its bold leaders and devoted activists. Distinguished historian Ellen Carol DuBois begins in the pre-Civil War years with foremothers Lucretia Mott, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Sojourner Truth as she explores the links of the woman suffrage movement to the abolition of slavery. After the Civil War, Congress granted freed African American men the right to vote but not white and African American women, a crushing disappointment. DuBois shows how suffrage leaders persevered through the Jim Crow years into the reform era of Progressivism. She introduces new champions Carrie Chapman Catt and Alice Paul, who brought the fight into the 20th century, and she shows how African American women, led by Ida B. Wells-Barnett, demanded voting rights even as white suffragists ignored them. DuBois explains how suffragists built a determined coalition of moderate lobbyists and radical demonstrators in forging a strategy of winning voting rights in crucial states to set the stage for securing suffrage for all American women in the Constitution. In vivid prose DuBois describes suffragists’ final victories in Congress and state legislatures, culminating in the last, most difficult ratification, in Tennessee. DuBois follows women’s efforts to use their voting rights to win political office, increase their voting strength, and pass laws banning child labor, ensuring maternal health, and securing greater equality for women.

Suffrage: Women’s Long Battle for the Vote is sure to become the authoritative account of one of the great episodes in the history of American democracy.

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