#seductive sword dances are their love language

[trekbait]

The 8 things Orion women can't resist; the answer will surprise you!

Orion women are known for being irresistible to men of most other species. As well as having a seductive allure, the pheromones carried by many of them are capable of making the minds of men highly susceptible to suggestion. But what do Orion women want? Let’s go through their priorities and snag you a date!

#1 Power

Orions are organised into families who control huge mercantile and criminal empires. So it should be no surprise that an Orion would want to accumulate more power and become the top dog in interstellar piracy and black marketeering. Their wealth is often put on display as a sign of their status and power. If you want a chance, bring your own power to her table (but not so much as to be a challenge to her).

#2 Theft

Theft is an Orion love language; the bigger the theft, the bigger your heart. Don’t make a custom mix tape that will remind her of your first date together; steal something made of latinum that will make interstellar headlines and a manhunt across 30 sectors. Then kidnap the cop in charge of said manhunt and hold them to ransom. Orions will even kidnap each other before a wedding as part of the ritual.

#3 Psychedelic drinks

Powerful women have to let their hair down occasionally and what’s more fun than enjoying some hallucinogenic Orion delaq while playing a game involving murder bugs? After all, when operating a black market cartel you have access to only the best illicit drugs.

#4 Controlling men

There’s nothing more fun than taking some egotistical captain and making him putty in your hand. Having him betray his crew and give up his ship to your pirates. They’re dancing and their strings are in your hands. Preferably in a dungeon. So if you’re a guy then know your place and do as you’re told. Otherwise, prove useful or you’ll be off to the traders market too.

#5 Animal Crossing XII: New Frontiers

This 300-year-old holoprogramme franchise became so popular on Orion that the Orion Syndicate bought out the rights to it from some humans in 2272. Since then the rural cosy programme has begun to take on a more liberal approach to pillaging from and of fellow villagers in the game. Even today it remains much beloved among the most powerful Orion matriarchs when they're taking time out from putting their victims to the sword.

#6 Competent underlings

Perhaps you work for her? Well for starters do a good job and don’t let the prisoner escape. She’s got enough on her mind without an underling who can’t follow orders or ends up letting her valuable cargo escape. She just went through the hard work of stealing it so you’re going to look after it. 

#7 Ritualised combat

Sometimes disputes need to be settled like civilized people; i.e. via duels. Orion women are often trained in martial arts including an assortment of brutal and bladed weapons. When your pheromones don’t always work (and not all of them have them), you have to unsheath another way to make your point. 

#8 Not you

Sorry, but if you’re the kind of person to be reading an article like this then you’ll be nothing more than a plaything to her. Step up your game.

Unfortunately expected contributions to this article from Lieutenant T’Lyn were not submitted so most of this article was generated from existing records and a woman named F’Rea at our local bar who promised to step on us if we did a good job.

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Autumn Nightbloom

My MC for Blades of Light and Shadow/Blades 2

Autumn's portrait by the incredibly talented @lilyoffandoms 💛💛💛

Autumn is an elf raised by humans in the small town of Riverbend, along with her adopted brother Kade.

Initially, she knows nothing about her culture and heritage. She feels like a bit of an outsider in the small Riverbend community and would love to understand better who she is and where she's from. Tyril is the first of her kind she’s ever met. With his help and guidance, she gradually learns more about her cultural roots, though she comes to find elven society too rigid and insular. She is very much a “human” in her worldview and belief system.

After meeting the goblins in Blades 2 and learning more about her family’s sacrifice to protect them during the Elven war against the Shadow Court, she chooses to honor them and adopts the Nightbloom name.

Physical appearance: She is an elf, fair-skinned, blond hair, and light purple eyes.

Personality: Autumn is very curious, with a thirst for knowledge and an adventurer at heart. Growing up, she always dreamed of traveling the realms, meeting interesting people and going on quests, just like the heroes Kade would tell her about in his stories. She is a very caring and loyal friend – not afraid to jump into danger to protect the ones she loves. She is charismatic and uses her seduction skills to get out of many sticky situations – to her friends’ amusement and Mal's occasional exasperation. She is witty and banters with friends and enemies alike. While she is quick to trust, she is slow to forgive – and forget – betrayals, particularly when they affect her friends and loved ones. (Autumn is still working through her anger at Aerin and Valax’s betrayals, though she allies with them for the greater good.) Always very independent, Autumn had never dreamed of getting married or starting a family. Meeting Mal and choosing to run the orphanage with him was an unexpected blessing. Now she couldn't imagine her life without him or the children.

Hobbies: Autumn grew up reading about famous adventurers of the realm and fantasy novels. She still enjoys a good book whenever she can indulge in free time. She enjoys a night out at the pub, drinking and dancing the night away with her friends. Autumn is musically inclined, she learned to play the transverse flute and piccolo growing up. She now plays mostly to entertain her friends and the children at Mal's orphanage. (It's also a much safer alternative to Mal's singing!!) She is a horrible cook but compensates with excellent foraging skills.

Fighting skills: Autumn is skilled with the bow and sword and will practise both for hours to hone her skills. She'll often run through her Kai'tar movements early in the morning as a form of meditation. As an elf Autumn is magically inclined. She practices her skills regularly in the hopes of becoming a powerful battlemage. She also spends much time with Nia learning the secrets of healing magic.

Languages: In addition to the common language of Morella, Autumn learnt the elven language with the help of Tyril in order to read the old manuscripts and understand her house's history and that of Undermount. She is now learning Spanish to better understand Mal and Wren's cultural roots.

Love interests: Autumn was attracted to Mal from the moment she met him not that she'll ever admit that to him. She felt drawn in by his charm and flirty banter, and a little star-struck initially that he was an established adventurer, living the life she had always dreamed of for herself. Her feelings for him deepened as Mal gradually opened up to her, showing vulnerability and more of his authentic self hidden beneath all his charm and cockiness. They also share many of the same opinions regarding the authoritarian nature of the political and religious systems within Morella, and disgust at the elite’s abuse of the common folk. Autumn chose to create a life with Mal at the end of Blades 1, and to help him run the orphanage after Blades 2. She accompanies him on his heists, partly to keep him out of trouble, but also because she needs a bit of danger and adventure to feel truly alive. Also, she'll never waste an opportunity to stick it to the rich & powerful, and redistribute wealth along with the love of her life!

She was also drawn to Tyril when they first met, though that connection quickly blossomed into one of friendship and respect. She was initially intrigued by his stoic and reserved nature, impressed by his remarkable fighting skills and deep sense of honor. And his devotion to his lost friend Kaya. Autumn was also curious to learn more about elven culture and felt a sort of kinship from the moment they allied. She panicked when he was injured in the undermount catacombs, and realized her concern for him ran deep.

[childofflamesandmoonlight]

I would really appreciate some help with interpretation on this deity identification reading! I didn't use a specific spread, but pulled one card from every deck I own - usually this works really well for me, but this time I can't quite put my finger on who this deity is. I have some vague ideas, but I would love to hear your interpretations.

Thank you in advance!

Here are the cards I drew (plus some notes from the imagery and the guidebooks):

Demon of the Day - Camio:

"Be mindful of arguments and disputes. It can feel good to win but not at the cost of a relationship."

Birds, blackbird, trush

Gaelic, Irish or Welsh origin

Dispute, eloquent verbal debate, persuasive argument

Understanding the language of animals and the noise of the water

Angels Among Us - Jesus:

Forgiveness, compassion, love, peace, kindness

Spiritual teacher, spiritual activist, healer

Christian origin

Higher wisdom

Without judgement

Goddesses Among Us - Atargatis:

Mermaids, mer-magic

Transformation, change

Deep diving

Assyrian or Mediterranean origin

Fertility

Protection

Heartbreak, challenge, powerful emotions

Ocean, water, depth

Grieving

Healing

Shadow work

Legendary Ladies - Estsanatlehi:

Transformation

Native American origin

Sky and earth

Linestrider Tarot - Five of Swords:

Conflict

Tension

Disagreements

Inflexibility black-and-white thinking

Compromise

Isolation

Defeat, failure

Interpersonal difficulties

Hollow victory

Selfishness, hurtful behavior

Resentment

Trust issues

Numbers: 5, 59, 14

Associated birthdays: January 20 to January 30

Associated plants: mistletoe, capsicum, calamus root

Pastel Mini Magic Tarot - Ace of Pentacles:

New beginnings

Opportunities

Potential

New financial or career opportunity

Manifestation

Abundance

Wealth

Business

Cat Tarot - Ten of Cups:

Happiness

Togetherness

Home

Family

Divine love

Blissful relationships

Harmony

Alignment

Star Spinner Tarot - The Hermit:

Seeking the truth

Introspection

Retreat

Assessment

Soul-searching

Being alone

Inner guidance

Mondays Tarot - Death:

Change

Ending

Rebirth

Renewal

Transformation

Under the Roses Lenormand - The Snake:

Snake

Deception, lies, tricks

Betrayal

Seduction, temptation

Jealousy

Manipulation

Disappointment

Difficulties

Distraction

Loss

Falseness

Hypocrisy

Indecision

“The other women”

Arcana Lenormand - Lily:

Bees and butterflies

Flowers

Sensuality

Sex

Virtue

Morality

Ethics

Wisdom

Thera-pets - “You don't have to be perfect to be lovable”:

Red panda

Mushroom Spirit - Rosy Bonnet:

Mycena rosea

Poisonous

Pink

Similarities

Details

Looking closely

Not making assumptions

Research

Don't be fooled by appearances

Looks can be deceiving

The Citadel - The Walker:

The Unknown

Journey

Birds

New experiences

Transition, transformation

Finding answers

Moving on

Voice of the Souls - Learning:

Palm reading hand

Evolution

Learning new things, new abilities and skills

Number 13

SOTW Imbolc - Consecrate tools:

"I will claim what is mine, what I see beyond the hidden. Gifted spirit, by tongue my words spill with purpose."

Establishment

Displaying spirit

Claiming ownership

Conscious decisions

Taking what is meant to be yours

Embracing what is before you

No doubts

Fully invested

Permanent fixture

SOTW Beltane - Maiden:

"Demand what is yours and take back what was taken. Reclaim until you've gathered all of you."

Bees and butterflies

Reclaim

Divine manifestation on earth

Powerful, sacred beings

Direct channels to the gods

Embracing your freedom

Power

Inner warrior

Divine feminine

Primal force of creativity

SOTW Litha - Sunbathing:

"The dance of stillness is calling for you to live in its embrace."

Flowers

Spiritual strength

Restoration

Rest

Self-care

Healing

Relaxation

Meditation

Prayer

Spiritual nourishment

SOTW Mabon - Crow:

"Pay close attention to the winds; there's a message making its way."

Crows

Something's coming

Messages

Pay attention

Important signs and clues

Warning

Trust your intuition

SOTW Samhain - Elders:

"Birthed from seed within the belly of the moon, they are the wise felt touches over our hearts and felt deep within the marrow of our spirit."

Wisdom

Experience

Storytellers

Keepers of knowledge

Compassion

Sage advice

Slowing down

SOTW Yule - Father Christmas:

"How did thy get here? Lost perhaps? No worries at all! Gather yourself and clear the frost for the good still lives in you dear."

Naughty or nice?

Kindness

Mindfulness

[nexgenforge]

Embrace the Renaissance Soul: Celebrating the Symphony of Beauty, Brains, and Unapologetic Wit

Introduction

Ever met someone so vividly vibrant they seem to defy the mundane? That's me. A blend of beauty and brains, wit and wisdom, art and heart. In a world that’s too quick to box us into neat little labels, I've danced to my own rhythm, crafting a life that’s as rich and varied as the colors on a painter's palette. This isn’t just my story; it’s a manifesto for anyone who’s ever been told they're too much of something or not enough of another. Buckle up, because we’re about to dive into a world where brilliance and beauty coexist, humor lights the way, and every day is a canvas waiting for bold strokes. In the grand tapestry of existence, most folks find a thread and follow it. Not me. I've always preferred weaving my own tapestry, a vibrant mosaic that defies singular definition. It’s not just about having a foot in multiple worlds; it’s about mastering the dance in each one. Beauty and Brains: A Harmonious Duet Let’s start with the age-old debate: beauty or brains? Why not both? I've never seen the sense in drawing a line in the sand, declaring allegiance to one camp. My life is a testament to the harmonious coexistence of aesthetic grace and intellectual prowess. Each day is an opportunity to challenge the stereotype that these qualities are mutually exclusive. In the mirror, I see the reflection of years well spent, a visage that belies the depth of knowledge and experience beneath the surface. Yet, this isn’t about vanity. It’s about celebrating the complex being I've nurtured over the years, embodying the essence of beauty and brains. The Wit of the Witch: Laughter and Levity Ah, my witchy ways and slapstick humor—a curious blend, some might say. But in the cauldron of life, humor is the magic ingredient that makes the potion palatable. Wit has been my shield and my sword, cutting through the noise of naysayers and lightening the load of lofty expectations. It’s a fine line to walk, using humor to elevate rather than belittle, but when done with finesse, it’s a powerful tool for disarming critics and endearing allies. Humor and wit create a powerful combination, enriching every interaction and brightening the darkest days. Seductive Grounding: The Art of Being Unapologetically You Seduction isn’t just about allure; it’s about being profoundly grounded in who you are. It’s the confidence that comes from knowing your worth and not needing external validation. This isn’t about drawing others in; it’s about being so authentically you that like-minded souls can’t help but gravitate towards your energy. And in this dance of life, I've chosen to be selectively celibate and single, not as a statement against companionship, but as a testament to the completeness I feel within myself. Authenticity is magnetic, drawing in those who appreciate genuine connection. A Renaissance Soul: Master of Arts, Crafts, and Life From writing to painting, acting to pottery, my journey has been a ceaseless exploration of expression. Each art form offers a new language, a new way to see and be seen. As a university student, I delved into the realms of academia with a voracious appetite for knowledge, graduating with honors not just in my studies but in the lessons of life. My career, a mosaic of achievements, reflects a refusal to be pigeonholed. Freelancing has afforded me the canvas to paint my professional path with broad, unconfined strokes. Creativity and intellectual curiosity have guided my path, leading to a diverse and fulfilling life. But perhaps my most cherished role is that of a mother. Raising well-balanced, adult children as a magnetic matriarch, I've woven the tapestry of our family with threads of love, resilience, and the freedom to be uniquely themselves. And through it all, I've maintained a vitality and youthfulness that belies the wisdom of my years. Parenthood is the ultimate expression of my values, nurturing the next generation with love and wisdom. In Conclusion: A Life Unconventionally Lived So to those who whisper in the shadows, who doubt and disparage, I say this: watch and learn. For in the symphony of my life, each note is played with intention, each melody a narrative of triumph, resilience, and unabashed individuality. I am the total package, not because I fit into your box, but because I dared to build my own. Individuality and self-confidence have been my guiding stars, illuminating a path uniquely my own. In the end, it’s not about proving others wrong; it’s about living so authentically, so vibrantly, that your very existence becomes a beacon for others seeking to find their own way in the dark. To those on a similar journey, I extend a hand and a smile, for in this grand adventure, there’s room for all of us to shine. Authenticity and resilience are the hallmarks of a life well-lived, inspiring others to embrace their unique journeys. Read the full article

[lillywillow]

For Heart or For Country

Summary: “You’re in line to be the next ruler of your kingdom. But first, you must marry the young ruler of your worst enemy. Would you risk all of your happiness for the sake of stopping a war? Or will you find true love in the town’s pub?”

 Word Count: 3089

 Pairings: Natasha x gender neutral Reader/ gender neutral Loki X Reader (arranged)

 Warnings: Seductive Nat, arranged marriage

Written for @caplanbuckybarnes ‘s writing challenge. Go check out her amazing works!

From the moment you were born, you were destined to take over from your father. You spent countless hours in lessons learning how to be ruler of the kingdom, been taught everything from politics to art, sword fighting to etiquette. Long story short, everything you needed to take the throne and face the challenges that came with wearing the crown.

 For years, the kingdom had been at war but recently there was at last a chance for peace but it came with a cost... an arranged marriage. You weren’t so sure about it but if it meant your people being safe, you would sacrifice your own happiness.

 Ever since your father had made the announcement of your impending wedding, it had consumed your every thought. You hadn’t even met your betrothed and, yet, you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with them. You had watched the older servants with their spouses and to be honest with yourself it melted your heart. Even your father was a kind and gentle person when it came to your mother. With any luck, the person you were going to marry would be kind to you.

 Deciding you needed a distraction; you put on a disguise and managed to sneak out of the palace. Sure you could have gotten drunk in your room but where was the fun in that? You had crept out on a few occasions so you knew that the townsfolk knew how to party compared to those stuffy nobles.

From the moment you stepped inside the tavern named The Nest, the atmosphere was abuzz with excitement. The walls were decorated with purple fabric hangings, crossbows, longbows, arrows and other archery items. A taxidermy hawk was perched above the door, its eyes ever watching. A one eyed dog ran about the patrons, getting pats from some of them and cleaning up pieces of dropped food. People were dancing, singing and drinking, some leaning on each other for support as they swayed. To any other noble, the scene may have looked chaotic but to you, it only looked like fun.

 With a grin, you made your way over to the bar and took a seat. Still taking in your surroundings, you barely noticed when the sandy haired bartender stood in front of you.

 “What can I get you?”

 “Oh! Um...” You tried to think of something that would not give away your identity as a noble. The man raised an eyebrow at you.

 “Hey, Clint! Two boilermakers over here,” another patron called.

 The man whom you now know as Clint poured them the drinks and turned back to you.

 “So?”

 “I’ll have... o-one of those,” you said, making a feeble attempt to pound your fist on the counter in an attempt to fit in.

 Clint tilted his head and gave you a curious look.

 “Alright...”

 Clint made the boilermaker and placed it in front of you. Thanking him, you took a swig of the drink and felt instant misgivings about it as the alcohol burned not only your throat but your ears and the very pit of your stomach. Clint laughed as you coughed and spluttered.

 “You’re not from around here, are you?”

 “You... might say that,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth.

 “You picked the right night to come. Nat’s doing a show.”

 “Nat?”

 “Wow, you really aren’t from around here if you don’t know Natasha. Just watch,” he advised, nodding his head over to the stage.

 The stage was well lit and crowed around the edges by men and women who were eagerly waiting for whoever was about to appear from behind the purple curtains.

 Music began and a foot decorated with a silver anklet emerged. The audience cheered loudly as the woman behind her curtain slowly began to reveal herself. She wore a black piece of fabric around her upper body, twisted just a little in the centre of her chest. The bottom of her costume was made up of a red fabric front and back which started out solid but faded to transparent as it went down and held together by delicate chains. Silver cuffs adorned her upper arms and wrists. Her lips were painted sinfully crimson. Sparkly onyx hairpins held her red curls in place. She was absolutely stunning.

 The woman slowly began to sway her hips to the music, arms and feet poised. It was almost hypnotic in the way she moved. As the beat picked up, so did her dancing. One of the men near the front of the stage started to get a little carried away and tried to climb up.

 Fearing for the safety of the dancer, you tensed and shifted to help her but Clint placed a hand on your shoulder.

 “Easy. Nat can handle herself around these drunk idiots.”

 You watched as Nat placed her foot on the man’s cheek before kicking him off the stage. The crowd jeered and laughed at the man, some pouring their drinks on him. Despite the interruption, Nat continued her performance.

 Her face was calm and collected, never faltering, as the audience got more and more rowdy.

 Nat ended her performance by kneeling and giving a graceful bow. The throng of people got even more riled up as she headed back behind the curtain and before you knew it, a fight broke out. You could only sit on your barstool and laugh as the place erupted into bedlam. As a noble, the most you had ever witnessed people scuffle as a heated argument that never went beyond words and even then they never used the language you heard flying around the room. Sure, there was the battlefield but once again that was an entirely different situation.

 However, your humour was soon cut short as the royal guards walked in to break up the fight. You felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

 “You hiding from those guys?” Clint asked, not even fazed by the mayhem around him.

 “S-sorta...”

 Clint jumped over the bar and prompted you to follow him. You weren’t entirely sure what made you decide to trust a total stranger nonetheless, you followed his lead. As he walked along, he dodged all fists, tankards and bottles that flew his way. You did your best but still caught the occasional projectile to your body, taking great care not to let any hit your face lest there be questions tomorrow.

 He stopped to look around before opening a panel in the back wall, just big enough for you to squeeze out.

 “Follow the tunnel until the end. That’ll take you to the backstreets. Be fast. The guards will start patrolling the minute they break things up here. Just make sure you close the exit on the other side.” With that, Clint pushed you through the gap and closed the panel behind you.

 Just as he said, you followed the tunnel until the end, closing the door behind you and made your way through the backstreets until you had made it all the way home, fortunately without incident.

 As you got ready for bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Nat. She was just so beautiful... Could this be just a crush? You had to know for certain.

...

 The following night, you once again crept out of the palace and back to The Nest and sat at the bar. The place was busy but nowhere near as packed as it was last night.

 “I see the guards failed to catch you,” Clint commented, making his way over to you.

 “Yeah... um... is Nat dancing again tonight by any chance?”

 Clint gave you a sly look.

 “She’s not dancing but she is working. Hey, Nat!”

 Your heart began to race as the red head walked over to you. Tonight she was wearing a black, off-the-shoulder dress with a red belt around her waist. Even outside of her dancing costume she was beautiful.

 “What?”

 “This is the one I was telling you about.”

 You felt panic seize in your chest. They were talking about you? What in the world could they have possibly been saying? Nat looked you up and down, carefully examining you before glancing over at Clint who gave an approving nod.

 “Let’s dance...”

 Before you could protest, Nat grabbed your hand and dragged you onto the dance floor. It was no surprise to you that she was just as graceful on her feet as she had been on stage. As you danced with her, you could feel her brushing her hands over your hips and waist. You found yourself surrendering to her touch. At the end of the song, Nat wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed her lips to your ear.

 “Tell me... what is a noble doing in a place like this?”

 You completely froze.

 “Wh-what makes you think...?”

 “Everything. From the way you dance, to your posture and your speech. So, answer my question.”

 “Is... is there somewhere private we can talk?”

 Nat lead you to the backroom after checking the coast was clear.

 “Now talk...”

 With a sigh, you removed your hood, showing her your face.

 “The heir to the throne,” she whispered reverently.

 You put your hood back on and looked down.

 “You should get out of here. Folks in these parts don’t take kindly to nobles, especially members of the royal family. What are you doing here anyway?”

 “I... I wanted to experience as much freedom as I could before I get married...”

 “So one last fling before finally settling down. How sweet.” Her voice positively dripped venom as she spoke.

 “It’s not like that!”

 “Then tell me what it is like...”

 With a sigh, you looked out the tiny window on the back wall that let in a sliver of moonlight.

 “Ever since I was young, I dreamed of having a perfect wedding with the perfect person I would spend the rest of my life with... but with this war, I’m to marry one of the children of the opposing kingdom as a token of peace... I don’t know what kind of person they are. If they’re good, maybe we could work together to fix some of the broken parts of the city and of course, I would help in their kingdom too but if they’re not a good person, well...”

 Nat was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking.

 “I really hate it when Clint is right,” she sighed.

 You turned to look at her.

 “Clint?”

 “You see, Clint has this innate sense of finding the good in people and helping them out. He helped me a few years back...”

 You held her hand, encouraging her to continue.

 “I was in a really bad place... did some really bad things... Clint helped me get out of it. Got me a job, a home... even made me partner. I owe a lot to him...”

 You couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy for the man even though you knew it was completely irrational.

 “So you and he are...?”

 Nat shook her head.

 “We tried it once but it didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends.”

 You couldn’t help but feel a tiny sense of relief.

 “I would like to get to know you better... for however I have until my impending marriage. That is if you’ll let me.”

 “What about after?”

 “I’ll try and see you if I can... and if not; you can be my one who got away.”

 “That was... really cheesy,” she laughed.

 “I guess it was... but what do you say?”

 “On one condition; don’t make any promises you can’t or don’t intend to keep. I’ve been through enough of that in my lifetime.”

 “It’s a deal.”

...

 Over the next few weeks, you got to know Nat quite well. You knew everything about her and she knew everything about you and not just as future sovereign but as a person. Eventually the time came when the feuding royal family came to your kingdom, bringing with them your spouse to be.

 They introduced you to the youngest member of the family named Loki. Loki was about your age and attractive enough but in the short time you spent with Natasha, your heart purely belonged to her. Your respective fathers left you alone to bond, catching daggers in their backs from the glares from both you and Loki as they left.

 “They certainly can be civil when they want to be,” Loki sneered.

 “You got that right...”

 “You don’t really want to be married to me do you?”

 You thought carefully about how to answer.

 “I don’t even know you... but how else can we stop this war?”

 “I have been doing research on my end. If we can pool our resources, perhaps we can find how it began and how we can stop it. Shall we?”

 Loki offered a slender hand which you took.

 “We shall.”

...

 In the time leading up to your wedding, you and Loki spent every minute of the day together. To anyone else, it looked like a couple bonding and getting to know each other before your upcoming nuptials. To you and Loki, it was a mission; one to find out the truth and put an end to the war.

 Your nights were spent with Nat, talking about Loki and what else you could do to stop the fighting. There was one night you had crept in after seeing Nat and Loki had caught you and you thought for sure you were done for but instead, Loki covered for you. Loki was fully supportive of your relationship with Natasha and encouraged you to pursue her once this whole thing had blown over.

 Eventually it came time when your wedding was fast approaching. The night before the big event, you were of course with Natasha, wanting to spend as long as you could with each other before whatever happened tomorrow.

 “I promise you Nat, we will be together...”

 Nat teared up and shook her head.

 “Remember the deal you made, Y/N. You said you wouldn’t make promises you couldn’t keep...”

 “But I intend to keep this one...”

 “Just go!”

 Nat turned away so you couldn’t see her cry. You gently turned her back to you and kissed her softly. She kissed back, holding you tight as if she didn’t want to let you go. Eventually you had to break for air.

 “If... if this really is our last night together... then let’s make a memory that will last a lifetime...”

 With that, you kissed her again, this time with all the love and passion you could muster. It may have seemed scandalous to spend the night before your wedding with another but you wouldn’t give Nat away for the world.

...

 The following morning, you and Loki had set your plan into motion. The wedding started out like any other with guests arriving and people all taking their places. Your heart was hammering against your ribs and blood roared in your ears as the ceremony began. Loki remained calm and collected, keeping cool until the right moment.

 “If anyone has any objections as to why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

 “We object,” both you and Loki said in unison. The whole room erupted into shock. Instantly, both Odin and your father rounded on the pair of you, absolutely seething.

 “Silence!” Loki snarled. The room fell quiet.

 “Now, the whole point of this wedding was to stop this ridiculous war. A war that was started over a futile reason...”

 Both you and Loki went to where you had hidden two ancient artefacts; one from your history and one from Asgard’s.

 “Many years ago, our kingdom was accused of taking this,” you said, holding the item up high.

 “But they were wrong. We had our own the whole time,” Loki stated, holding up the other.

 “Our two kingdoms went to war when they should have been joining forces as we were once centuries ago...”

 The pair of you combined the two items to show they fitted perfectly together.

 “We should be united once more. Let us put a stop to the fighting once and for all!”

 The gathering all cheered and rejoiced at the prospect of peace. Your fathers sat there sullenly while their wives attempted to gently comfort them. Loki gently turned to you.

 “Isn’t there someone you want to see?”

 With Loki’s blessing, you ran out of the church.

...

 Nat had been drowning her sorrows at The Nest. She had known this day was long coming but it didn’t stop the ache she felt in her heart from losing you to another. Clint did his best to try and comfort her but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t even look up when her name was called but eventually Clint did catch her attention.

 “What?!” she hissed. Clint pointed behind her to where you were standing still in your wedding clothes.

 “Y/N? What are you-” You cut her off with a kiss.

 “Loki and I did it. We were able to restore peace and we didn’t even have to get married. We can be together now...”

 “But I’m just a common barmaid. You’re going to take over the throne...”

 “And when I do, I can make whatever rule I want and marry whoever I want. I want to marry you one day Natasha... that is if you’ll have me...”

 “I...” Nat looked over to Clint who smiled and nodded. “Yes...”

...

 Over the next few weeks, you worked in tandem with Nat to fix the rough parts of the city, just as you had told her. There was a lot of gossip surrounding your relationship but neither of you cared. You had also made a point to stay in touch with Loki to find out how things were going in Asgard.

 After so many years of war, it was nice to finally see some happiness. Maybe in time, there would be a royal wedding after all. A real one out of love that was formed between two hearts that truly cared for one another.

[cathyparrlyn]

TIME FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON POST YEEEEEEEEEE

Six: Fantasy AU

Premise: The queens are all rebels against the Tudor kingdom. They are wanted criminals as escaped wives of King Henry. Anne and Lina were the first two to group together and then decided to get the others to join their force so they could work together to finally put an end to Henry’s kingdom of terror. They then have many gay adventures together.

Aragon: a priestess from the church of Stanlicia (cause Alicia is the god of gay nirvana, no I don’t take criticism). Don’t let the holy woman vibe fool you though, she might focus on her bible, but she also is not afraid to drop kick any fucker who comes remotely close to her in any threatening manner. Aragon, although the only human of the group, is well known as the one you should not fuck with. She is the leader of the group, seeing as she is the only one who can read a map and not get distracted by colorful flowers or ancient ruins *insert Cathy and Kat feeling attacked in the background*. She has stupendous charisma and leadership skills, knowing when to be assertive and when to be cautious. She is also a distance fighter, rocking a nice bow and arrow set. Her talents are pep talks, singing, persuasion, distance offensive maneuvers, and leadership.

Anne: a fucking elf. What else did you expect? Okay, but seriously? Full on elf, raised from status and privilege, yet heavily burdened by expectations and gender stereotypes. Anne is a free spirit just like how her mother was, and after her mother’s passing she took on her mother’s dream of adventuring the world. She ran away from home with Kitty, never looking back. She is definitely the risk taker of the group, often causing chaos and laughing at their enemies failures. Truly a master of combat and swordsmanship, Anne wields dual swords that she had stolen from Henry. She struggles with magic even though she is an elf, and she is very insecure about the subject. She is also a bit of the flirt of the group, but only genuinely means it when she’s with Cathy. Often at times she can be found asking Cathy to do a spell for some impulsive idea she had. Her skills are sleight of hand, deception, persuasion, seduction, animal handling, combat, and dance.

Jane: a nymph who literally tries to adopt every plant and animal in sight. As long as it’s not among the “civilized” races, to her it has a heart and deserves love. Firm believe in fuck humanity and fuck kids, she’s a proud plant mama. A lover more than a fighter, she is more of the groups support. She has plenty of herbs for healing and knows where to go when in need of food or water, or even direction. She also befriends plenty of animals, so when push comes to shove they defend her. She can also control plants which is pretty badass, she literally used vines to yeet some of Henry’s men off a cliff into the lake once. Anne was so jealous and begged Cathy for a week to give her plant arms so she could be badass like Jane. That was a good day. Her skills are healing, navigation, empathy, nature knowlegde, basic survival skills, among a few others. Out of the group though, she is the worse fighter.

Anna: she is part demon. Demon have been banished and slaughtered for years, their existence is believed noneexistent at this point in time due to the years of war and persecution. Although minor, Anna is well aware of the demon blood that runs through her veins and constantly has to hide her dark magic or else she’ll be ostracized and murdered. It doesn’t matter how much demon blood is inside a person, they have the potential to turn into a full fledged demon, and that is Anna’s greatest fear along with the group leaving her and deeming her a monster. Although her race has dark origins, Anna is one of the most loyal and softest people you’ll ever meet, always caring for the others and doing whatever she can to protect them. She is attached to them. Sir, that is her emotional support found family. Just don’t breathe negatively in Kat’s direction, Anna will hear it and then give you a glare that makes hell seem like a playground. Her expertises are forgotten languages, sleight of hand, and tank battling styles. She is very well trained in hand to hand combat and can kick some major ass with her overwhelming strength (which is totally human and not demon what so ever.... hehehe.)

Kat: she is Anne’s baby cousin and somewhat like an apprentice, also a half elf. She is a dual axe wielder, but also quite the performer and grifter just like her cousin. Her elf nature gives off the image of status, even if she is a magicless elf whom are viewed to be worthless scum. However her human side gives her some trouble and nasty rumors, along with making her a bit more impulsive than most elves (then again, seeing Anne, that might just be the family). She is a very gentle gal when it comes to taking care of others, and she begs for a familiar everyday. Kat has a fascination with history and adventure and is the second best story teller, only falling short to her cousin Anne. More often than not you will catch her singing while she practices her axe swinging. Although small and gentle, don’t mistake her for incompetent and weak unless you want to lose a hand or your head to her axe. She might be baby, but babies don’t take shit from bigots. Her expertises are in history, disguise, music, and sneak attacks.

Cathy: She is a fucking witch, and a badass one at that. She was a gifted magic user since a very young age. While most people are able to unlock and control enough magic around the age of puberty, Cathy was able to manage hers at the age of six. This she was very proud of as her dutiful nature allowed her to learns a galore of spells, potions, and legends through her research and practice. However, it also caused her to have to pick her activation phrase and motion, something that can never be changed, at a young age. Let’s just say, she has regrets and Cathy’s parents knew she was bi since Cathy was six. Anyways, she totally kicks ass. After getting bored of mastering the basic extensive magics, Cathy decided to study mythology and psychology and dove into the dark magics. Although dark magic users are ostracized and in majority of the land illegal, Cathy couldn’t stop herself from falling in love with the subject and becoming a dark mage / witch. Her skills are potion making, knowledge of multiple languages, dark magic, sarcasm, explosions, enhancements, protection, writing, and more. She is one of the most powerful magic users in the land and have a vast knowledge of magic and beings. Now if only she could fucking figure out herself, or at the very least learn how to get a decent amount of sleep.

Thank you to everyone who read this xx

Here is the fantasy picrew I used:

[horrorslashergirl]

Slasher OC: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Full Name: Decebal Avram Chirilă

Nickname(s): Dacia, Dece, The Impaler, Vladislav, Tiger, Lynx, Dracula, Casanova

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Nationality: Romanian

Place of Birth: Bucharest, Romania

Current Location: Travels from country to country

Occupation: Former Romanian Soldier; Now Hitman

Languages: Romanian, English, German, French, Italian, Hungarian, Russian, Turkish

Appearance:

Height: 6'8

Weight: 240lbs

Body Type: Middle Bulky and Atheltic

Skin Color: Warm Beige

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hair Style: Short on the sides and longer on top, wavy

Eye Color: Pale Grey, almost white, giving the impression he is blind

Face Claim: Stephen James

Clothing: He opts for comfortable clothing mostly because of his job as a hitman and because he is always on the run. He mostly goes with black T-shirts or shirts, a khaki army coat with many pockets, along with camo army pants again with many pockets and black combat boots. He has a long black scarf with the colors of the Romanian flag trimmed along that belonged to his father.

Other features: He has many scars on his broad back and down his arms; his back's scars are covered by tattoos of an eagle and a grim reaper with two swords in an X shape. His has full sleeve tattoos down his arms, picturing all kind of nature scenarios from his country, mountains and wild animals and AK-47's on each forearm. His neck, chest and legs are also covered by tattoos along with his hands. This guy is all inked up. He also has a silver earing on his right ear. He also wears an eyepatch that is covering his scarred eye that he got from a fight with his brother Alexander, the scar mimiking the ones Alexander has, coming from his eyebrow down his eye and over his cheek.

Weapons: Twin Swords, Twin Guns, and throwing knives.

Power/Skills:

Murderous expertise

Brute strength

Skilled usage of weaponry

Skill in hand-to-hand combat

Knifesmanship

Swordsmanship

Multilingual

Cunning Nature

Charisma

Driving expertise

Ruthlessness

Fearlessness

Manipulation

Marksmanship

Master tactician and strategist

Stealth mastery

Symbols: Here is the link to Decebal's symbols

History/Bio:

Decebal was named after a Romanian king by his parents, father Apostol Chirilă, and his mother, Maria Stratulat of Moldovic heritage. They were a poor family that lived in Bucharest during the communist times, a hard period for them. Decebal's father, Apostol was one of the rebels that were against this form of a system of social organization in which all property is owned by the community and each person contributes and receives according to their ability and needs.

Because of this Apostol and Maria, along with their three years old son, Decebal, were dragged into the communistic jails where they were tortured in all kinds of ways from whipping to starvation to being chained into coldness.

Decebal tried to protect his parents even though he was a small child and the army warden that took care of the horrific jails was surprised by the child's braveness and he took him away from his parents, not before forcing him to watch how his parents were killed brutally.

During the rest of his childhood and teenage years, Decebal spent most of his life in the dark underground jail, training with the soldiers, doing hard work. Despite that, the warden thought Decebal about all kinds of languages, cultures, and history. 

'Just because you're a stray dog that doesn't mean you cannot learn to bark and bite.'

In his late teenage years as he grew into an adult man, he got more to the light outside, following the warden wherever he went and did was his so-called 'father' figure did; smoke, drink and got laid with all the ladies.

The warden's words during a drunken late-night:

'You know boy, you will do something big, much bigger than you can imagine. I saw how all these sluts looked at you... You make them fall into your arms like they are desperate whores.'

'Use everything you got; charms, brains, muscles. In this world, there are the ones that walk every inch of the ground as they own it and the ones that follow, all chained. Tell me, boy... Which one you are?'

One of the greatest abilities that Decebal earned during years in the darkness was that he got so used to it that now as an adult, he sees perfectly into the darkness, just like cats do. 

Some people called Decebal 'Lynx'; the moniker originates from the fact that Lynx has exceptional night vision, remarkable hearing, and incredible instincts. The spiritual lesson Lynx carries to you is a reminder to partake of quiet observance, remembering there’s more to the world than what’s accessible through the physical eyes and ears alone.

After communism fell down in Romania, Decebal still maintained the attitude he grew up around; being sadistic, cold, and cruel. People weren't too fond of his attitude; his habits including fighting and torturing people that opposed him, getting laid with other men's wives, strolling down the streets like he owned everything.

He disappeared from Romania when there was a reward on his head to be finally executed. The Romanian army was hot on his trail, turning against him, but he simply vanished.

He strolls from country to country, not having a definitive home and working as a rogue hitman to earn money and to survive.

After a brutal fight between him and his twin little brother, Alexander; the two brothers which resulted in both of them almost dead, they get on an agreement of peace between them, with the help of their third part, their little sister Nadia.

Family: His little brother Alexander Chirilă and his little sister Nadia Nikolina Chirilă

His favorite killing style:

He prefers a kill that will put on a good show, he will shot his victims in both their knees, then he will dismember them with his sharp twin swords.

Personality:

Decebal has two paths of personality; the civilian one and the hitman one, that sometimes cross path depending on the situation at hand. In hi day to day life, he is a charming, handsome man, confident and sure of himself, but also having a modesty edge, just to draw people in closer, because he loves the attention, having a God-like complex.

Despite his childhood, he is a very educated man that speaks many languages, sometimes taking people by surprise, he can even put on fake accents. He also has vast knowledge about other countries history, mostly because that's what his 'father-figure' talked a lot about.

He is a flirt, he simply adores to make women swon by his charming looks and mysterious persona wherever he goes, people always wondering from where he comes. He knows how to sweet-talk people, being extremly manipulative. His looks; big and strong, in his eyes a flaming white glow.

You will rarely see Decebal without his charming smile or dark smirk that makes the ladies sigh and faint. He always puts on a winning attitude, knowing for creating many divorces along his travelings. 

Here goes his saying: 'If the female raised her tail, who I am to deny.'

He has a romantic side, after all he does speaks the romance languages, but it's highly influenced his his Casanova attitude.

He is blunt; this man will tell if you're damn gorgeous or if you're down-right ugly or stupid. He has no problem putting his opinions straight on the table.

His favorite drink: Țuică- is a traditional Romanian spirit that contains ~ 24–65% alcohol by volume (usually 40–55%), prepared only from plums.

His favorite food: Sarma is a dish of vine, cabbage, monk's rhubarb, kale or chard leaves rolled around a filling of grains, like bulgur or rice, minced meat, or both. It is found in the cuisines of the former Ottoman Empire from the Middle East to Southeastern Europe.

His scent: Decebal's scent could be described as a 'game of seduction' with an "exciting rush" of citrus and cool spice top notes. Pungent bergamot "bites" with freshness, revived by cardamom and lavender. Caviar gives a provocative and erotic touch “like a trickle of sweat on a man’s chiseled body.” Masculine and rough notes of tobacco and orris root facilitate the heat of the composition. He has that scent that could be described as smoky confidence irresistible to women.

Other Characteristics:

He is a very good dancer, especially traditional ones and he also knows singing. Attending important parties with his 'father-figure' he learned from the women how to dance and sing. The women basically made him such a charismatic man.

He is a heavy drinker and holds his alcohol like it's water; his moldovic genes showing off. 

He is more of a night person that a day one, mostly because of his very good nocturnal sight.

He is pretty much an Outlaw.

His accent sounds like italian, latin, but with a little bit of russian or another slavic accent. (That's how a Austrian woman described his accent one night)

He is a master at Poker. Another way he earns a lot of money is through poker and plus, he is a master cheater. FUN FACT HERE: He won a man's wife through poker for one night.

He is a sword swallower, bonus he has no gag reflex.

He also loves to smoke from his pipe.

============================================

There lived a certain man in Romania long ago

He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow

Most people look at him with terror and with fear

But to Bucharest chicks he was such a lovely dear

He could preach the Bible like a preacher

Full of ecstasy and fire

But he also was the kind of teacher

Women would desire

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the ROMANIAN queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

He ruled the Romanian land and never mind the Tsar

But the kazachok he danced really wunderbar

In all affairs of state he was the man to please

But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze

For the queen he was no wheeler dealer

Though she'd heard the things he'd done

She believed he was a holy healer

Who would heal her son

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

There was a cat that really was gone

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

It was a shame how he carried on

(This is an interpretation of the song ‘Rasputin’ by Boney M, mostly because the song inspired me into creating him)

For power became known to more and more people

The demands to do something about this outrageous

Man became louder and louder

"This man's just got to go!" declared his enemies

But the ladies begged "Don't you try to do it, please"

No doubt this Decebal had lots of hidden charms

Though he was a brute they just fell into his arms

Then one night some men of higher standing

Set a trap, they're not to blame

"Come to visit us" they kept demanding

And he really came

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They put some poison into his țuică

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

He drank it all and said "I feel fine"

DE DE DECEBAL

Lover of the Romanian queen

They didn't quit, they wanted his head

DE DE DECEBAL

Romania's greatest love machine

[Spoken:] Oh, those Romanians...

=======================================================

But when his drinking and lusting and his hunger

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x OC [Chapter Six]

{WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, manipulation mentions, toxic main character but she learns, toxic parents, self-harm in the form of self-poisoning, self-hate, fucked up family}

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four 

Chapter Five 

        Arya took Lord Middleditch's hand, noting the lack of callouses and the way his cuticles looked almost as nice as her own. He was a man who not worked for anything. A man who had never held a sword in his hand. He'd be so easy to play with. It had been far too long since Arya had been able to play her favorite game. Playing with the heart of men had been a pastime since she had first realized that she was something more than beautiful.

        She was sensual.

        She would seduce the man, sleep with his wife or betrothed, and then she would watch as he struggled to pick up the pieces. She had a habit of creating insatiable lust. She had a habit of becoming someone that no one could ever have. She was an untouchable woman. 

        She just had to keep reminding herself that it was safer to play the game than to be played. Dorian Havilliard had been the only man who had ever come close to breaking her heart. A heart that she wasn't sure she even had.

        Thomas' hand was stronger than she expected, his hold on her waist was tight enough to entice her. She fought the urge to smirk up at him. She wanted to make this last longer than it probably should. Seducing him within moments would only make the game end before she had her fun.

        As the two danced, she could feel a gaze on her. It caused an unfamiliar heat to rise in her stomach and spread across her chest. She knew without looking that Galan was watching them. She wondered if he realized that he had no claim over her. Just because he had been nothing but a gentleman since they had met meant nothing. Princelings often thought the world belonged to them. Any beautiful woman was theirs. Any possible thing they could wish for was theirs for the taking.

        Arya would never let that happen to her. She didn't care if she had to stab him to make her point widely known. Although, stabbing him would bring attention that she did not want. It seemed as though the princess was bound to make a terrible decision when it came to Galan Ashryver. It didn't matter what she wished.

        "I must say," Lord Middleditch's voice drew her out of her thoughts. His voice was a seductive drawl, deep and dark like the ocean's abyss. "I didn't expect you to show tonight."

        "And why is that?" One of her brows rose just slightly as she watched the smirk grow on his face. He was handsome enough. The worst part was that he knew that he was. That was bound to cause trouble.

        "Our prince is many things," he started, thinking over his words for a moment before continuing. "An idiot just happens to be one of them."

        "Is that so?" Arya tried to mask the amusement in her tone. "I thought he was quite revered. He fights for his country and is quite dashing. Surely that garners some respect."

        "Only an idiot would fight on the frontlines. Galan thinks he can take on Adarlan by himself."

        "Careful," Arya said before Thomas dipped her gently. "He happens to be my closest friend here."

        "Is that why you've been avoiding him all night?" So he was perceptive. That would have to be taken care of. Arya didn't need anyone seeing through her nor her plans. If he managed to find out that she was just trying to find a husband and steal them away to Kalthanen, who knew what would happen.

        He might decide he was the best man for the position. He might assume he'd be the best king for Kalthanen. She would never let that happen.

        "I have no idea what you're talking about," Arya gave him a demure smile. This man was sure to be someone who she watched for. He wasn't playing the same games that she was. "All I've done was dance with a few men. I'm allowed to do as I please. Free will is man's one true strength, wouldn't you agree?"

        The smirk on his lips chilled her to the core. He looked like a member of Kalthanen's court. The snake-like eyes, the handsome features that masked a horrid heart. She wanted to be sick just looking at him. She took a breath through her nose, knowing that she was being oversensitive. He didn't know anything about her. He would never know anything about her.

        No one could see behind any of the masks she wore. No one ever would. Hell, Arya did not know who she was. How was anyone else supposed to figure it out?

        "I would," Thomas spoke, twirling her just before the song ended. "You seem to have a choice to make." He stared over her head, watching someone nearing the two of them. "You can either spend the rest of your night with me or you could continue to give our prince hope."

        Arya did not glance behind her. She did not listen to the pull in her gut telling her that this was a bad idea. Her instincts normally protected her. She had made a habit of listening to them rather than anything else. She would get into trouble otherwise. But this was a decision that needed to be rationalized. She couldn't just listen to a stupid little pull in her gut. She had to think about what was best for her. What was best for Kalthanen.

        "Lead the way," Arya didn't know if she was going to regret her decision. She didn't think she cared. 

        Thomas took her by the arm, leading her out of the ballroom. As they slipped through the door, she turned her head to see Galan. A look of hurt on his face.

        Her stomach seemed to knot itself but she said nothing, did nothing, as Thomas walked her to the gardens.

        "I find it easier to think out here," he explained as they exited the castle through large, glass doors. The gardens were beautiful in the daylight but in the moonlight they were exquisite. She wondered how hard Galan had worked to make it that way. Had he even noticed it? 

        She didn't know why she was thinking of him. 

        "Yes, it's quite lovely," she said as they passed whispering couples and one who seemed more inclined to fighting than intimacy.

        Arya took it upon herself to note who was nearest them. In case anything happened, she wished to know who she might be able to rely on for protection. 

        It seemed as though the Fae had preferred the gardens to the crowded ballroom. Two Fae couples stood in the gardens, one just along the eastern wall. The woman was small, petite against the man's large frame. Her hair was the deepest ebony and she looked up at the man with the light of a thousand stars in her eyes. The man did not appear to be swayed by her otherworldly beauty. His tanned skin seemed to glow golden in the moonlight, shadows playing around him. He looked as though he was ready to destroy everything and everyone. But his large hand held the woman's smaller one and he appeared almost content. The other couple stood beside the hydrangea bushes just to the south of Arya and Lord Middleditch. The man's face held a tattoo that she could not make out, his white hair flowing down his back and a dark glare on his face. The woman's golden hair was braided in a crown on her head, an impish smile on her face as she said something that Arya couldn't hear. The tattooed man's face grew darker.

        "Don't let them frighten you," Thomas told her with a slight sigh. "They think just because the Ashryver's have Fae blood that they're allowed here. It's quite disgusting if you ask me."

        "I didn't," Arya stated as they sat down on a bench just outside of a maze that was filled with roses and jasmine. Arya briefly wondered how they managed to keep the jasmine alive in Wendlyn. She allowed herself to think of the land back home, where the jasmine grew wild and where she had spent hours in her youth laying on the ground and watching as the flowers bloomed around her. Arya truly loved Kalthanen, even if she knew it could be a horrible place full of equally horrifying people.

        "No, I suppose you didn't," he said with an amused chuckle. No warmth was in his laugh nor in his eyes. "Now, Arya, tell me what you're doing here."

        "Kalthanen needs new trading partners," the lie slid off her tongue easily.

        "Don't lie to me, Princess," the lordling said. "I know better than that. You and your dearest cousin are here for a reason. Now, I can be of service to you, or we can keep lying to each other about our intentions."

        "And what exactly are your intentions?" Arya looked at him, her eyes filled with boredom. She would not let any man get under her skin. She wouldn't allow anyone to tell her who she was or what her plans were. No one had any right to try and control her. No one would ever be that important to her. She had known that from a very young age.

        "What else would they be?" Thomas questioned, looking down at her with a raised brow. "I intend to sweep you off your feet and leave Wendlyn as far behind me as I possibly can."

        "You have faith in yourself," she almost snorted before remembering herself. "I don't intend to give anyone my heart, my Lord," she said the title with more venom than anyone could have mustered.

        "I didn't say anything about stealing your heart," he shrugged his shoulders once as he looked down at her. "Make no mistake, you're beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you. But we both know that you don't want Galan. I assume that you didn't manage to snag Dorian Havilliard. There are few princes left in this world."

        "There are several island nations left." Arya pointed out.

        "Yes, but what would they do for you?" Thomas questioned, taking her hand in his. She didn't quite hate how soft they were. "They wouldn't strength Kalthanen. If anything, it would just weaken your country. No, you need something better than islands. You need someone from Wendlyn or Adarlan. Since a prince won't do, a Lord would be the next best thing."

        Arya didn't correct him. How could she? He had read her mind.

        "Besides, we can take over from your brother and your cousin in due time. For now, we would be playing the happy newlyweds."

        "What's in it for you?" He was offering too much. There had to be something he wanted. No one was this eager to marry someone they did not know. Briefly, thoughts of Galan went through her mind. What would she do if he found out? What if he learned that she was marrying someone she didn't know despite the way he looked at her? Despite how he made her stomach knot and her heart hammer.

        It was for that reason that she was considering this whole, stupid mess. She didn't want to think about Galan anymore. Didn't want to think about the task at hand. He was offering her a chance to get away from here before she lost some integral part of herself.

        "I'd get off this miserable rock," he stated as he turned his face to look at the stars. The moonlight bathed his skin in silvery light, causing his golden skin to glow. "I'd be able to lay about in a palace by the sea, have a beautiful woman in my bed, and never hear my father's voice again. The potential to become a king consort is also quite tempting."

        "Power and escape," Arya's voice was soft as she stared at the maze in front of them. The twists and turns of the hedges matched by her train of thought. This couldn't be this easy. It made no sense for anything to be as painless as this whole thing. "Do not expect me to love you."

        "As long as you expect the same from me," Thomas said, his gaze turning to her. His eyes were black in the moonlight. She could not tell what was iris and what was the pupil. Did it even matter? She wouldn't be falling for his eyes. Wouldn't be blinded by the fire that blazed within them.

        "Allow me to think on this." She didn't need to think on anything. It was the best she could ever do. He would be the one she would be able to take back to Kalthanen. They would marry and she would kill him after they were crowned.

        "Of course," Thomas stood then, taking her hand as he did. The fluidity of his movements made her wonder if perhaps he had some Fae in his bloodline. He brushed a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hand and disappearing into the night. She didn't know if she was grateful to be alone or not. 

        She could hear the couple fighting from earlier. The man telling the woman off for hiding a weapon in the lining of her gown. Arya was almost impressed that she had managed it. The woman seemed to think it was nothing. Their voices drowned out the sound of footsteps coming from behind her.

        "You disappeared," his voice caused an unwelcome chill to go through her spine. Her hands gripped the bench, her white knuckles hidden by her voluminous skirts.

        "I needed air," lying came so naturally to the manipulator. The would-be-queen knew that she didn't need to lie to him. But it was easier than admitting to what had just transpired. "The gardens are quite beautiful at night. I don't know why you hadn't thought to bring me before."

        "I saw Lord Middleditch with you," he ignored her words. Arya bristled at that, but he continued before she could say anything. "You can't trust a word that man says. He's the closest thing to evil I know."

        "Careful, Galan," she refused to look at him. "You almost sound jealous."

        A sharp intake of breath came from him. Arya wanted to look back and see his expression but she did not allow herself to. It was none of her concern what Galan Ashryver thought of who wanted to know her.

        "I doubt I have anything to be jealous over," he said as he moved to sit beside her. "You have better taste than him."

        "You don't know me well enough to know that," Arya spoke softly, still refusing to catch his eye. She didn't want to see the grin on his face. Didn't want to see what the moonlight did to him. If it made Thomas look beautiful, she was certain that Galan would look ethereal. Those Ashryver eyes would surely be brighter than stars, his smile would look as though the gods themselves had blessed it. It was too much for her to take. "I nearly married Dorian Havilliard. That should tell you everything about my taste."

        She felt him stiffen beside her, his arm tense where it brushed against hers. She knew that it was not due to the muscle that had been built up by years upon years of training.

        "Then I know that you deserve better," his voice was soft. Barely a whisper. Goosebumps rose along her skin at the very tone of his voice. She hated it. Hated how she reacted to him.

        "You don't know what I deserve, Galan. You barely know me," she stood then, clenching her fists to avoid him seeing how her hands were shaking. She didn't want him to ever see her as weak. She didn't need that from him. "Don't pretend to know me. It will only lead to you being dreadfully disappointed."

        "Nothing you could ever do would disappoint me, Arya," he stood with her, taking her hand in his. She hated how it felt. His calloused hands were bigger than her own, rough and ready to fight at a moment's notice. Without his crown and the way he carried himself, one would never realize that he was a prince. She wished he was more like a prince. Like some pompous ass who she would sooner put a blade through than bed.

        "He asked me to marry him," Arya nearly winced when Galan's hold tightened. It did not hurt. It had just been unexpected. The look on his face, however, was not.

        Galan's easy smile had been replaced by a wounded look. Though his square jaw was set, his lips thinned, and the tendons in his neck were showing he did not appear to be angry. His eyes burned with a fire that told her the truth. He hated to think that anyone else would ask her for the time of day. But what right did he have? What right did any of them have to expect anything from her? 

        "Did you say yes?" She hated how his voice didn't break, hated how he could sound so solid despite his eyes betraying him. It made everything far too easy and yet also made it the hardest thing she'd ever done.

        "Yes," another lie. All she had ever done was lie to him. Their entire relationship was built on the fact that he couldn't trust her. That no one could trust her. "We'll leave for Kalthanen soon enough."

        Galan dropped her hand, staring straight ahead at the maze of roses. "Stay, Arya. You ... You should stay. At least until the season changes and it's safer to sail."

        Arya stared at him for a moment, shaking her head slightly. "I should go. It's growing late," her voice was strong despite the fact that she wanted it to break. She wanted to be able to show that she felt something. But she couldn't. She didn't. She'd been trained for years to avoid anyone ever seeing her. From anyone being able to touch her in a way she didn't like.

        She slipped away from him, avoiding her chambers and Calanon. She walked down corridors that were filled with laughing couples and sconces blazed with warm, friendly light. She passed them as though she were a ghost amongst them. She didn't want to be one of them. She had always wanted to be the one who rose above everyone. She wanted the power, the responsibility. She wanted to change the world. To protect Kalthanen from every bad thing that would ever happen to the island nation.

        Even if it meant selling her soul.

        Arya caught sight of Lord Middleditch as she passed by the ballroom. Her feet ached, her chest felt as though it was breaking, and she could barely keep standing. He, on the other hand, looked as fresh as a daisy. His smile was radiant, his laughter hollow as he drank from a golden goblet.

        She walked back into the ballroom, her chin held high and her back as straight as she could make it. She didn't care anymore. This whole mess with Galan needed to end. The looks they sent each other, the way she felt when he was around her. She couldn't handle him. Couldn't handle what she felt around him. That was why she needed to do the one thing she was sent for.

        "Lord Middleditch," the name fell from her lips as easily as a lie. They would, after all, be spending the rest of their lives lying to everyone. "Might I have a word with you?"

        "Of course, Your Highness," he gave her a small bow before he excused himself from his friends. Arya led him towards a small alcove that overlooked the high windows at the back of the room. Moonlight poured through them, giving the appearance of a sanctuary.

        "I've thought over your proposal," she knew it had been too fast. She knew she should have waited until the next day to speak with him. But Galan had left her flustered. She never wanted a man to leave her flustered again. She was supposed to be the one in control. She didn't care if Calanon was angered by not knowing of the plan. She didn't care what he did to her. Luna would take care of him if he became too much of a problem.

        "And?" Thomas looked at her curiously. His dark eyes were not just a dark color. They were black. She wondered if it was a warning sign of sorts. But she was beyond thinking clearly.

        "I accept," she didn't bother to smile at him. Didn't bother to pretend to be happy about their betrothal. It was business not pleasure. They both knew it. They could pretend for the rest of the world, but she would not pretend with him. It would be stupid to let him think she would ever care for him.

        As soon as he was no longer useful, he would cease to breathe.

        He lifted his goblet then, a grin on his lips. His teeth were straight, blindingly white. A sinking feeling filled her gut as he stared down at her. Had this been a good idea? Would she grow to regret it? Arya didn't allow herself to think of this. She wouldn't question her own choices. Not when there had been nothing else for her to do.

        "Long live the queen."

[thenoblehouseofdayne]

Daughter Dearest 5 {Robb Stark x Bolton!Reader}

Series Masterlist Here!

{Warnings: mentions of mental illness, mentions of manipulative behavior, argument, some language.}

{Sorry for the long wait! I’ve been darting around on vacation for a few weeks, and haven’t had time to settle and write. To make up for it, here’s a lengthy Robb sequel! Kisses, TNHOD.}

Tensions were high inside the Stark encampment. It seemed that the men had forgotten that there was a war to be fought outside the village of tents, and were content to argue and dispute amongst themselves. Robb was the King of the North, but he was also your husband, and he was visibly worried for your safety at all hours. Ramsay, your half brother, was having a grand time being a pain in the ass, making comments about Robb’s feminine approach to ruling and his gentle touch. Roose was staying out of the argument all together, and had more than once suggested you do the same. 

You didn’t care, Ramsay could choke and you’d dance on his grave. He was a dirty rotten bastard, and he caused nothing but trouble. It was only a matter of time before he said the wrong thing, and your ruse would be through. 

That was another matter entirely. Was it a ruse? It had to be-- you were insistent on the fact. You didn’t love Robb, he was a means to an end, a position for your father, and a safe bed for the rest of your life. He could’ve been old or cruel or ugly, but the Gods had seen fit to give you the perfect husband. He wasn’t perfect for you, but he was perfect. 

Robb was pouring over maps, trying to find the perfect ground on which to engage the Lannister army. And more so, where he could hide you during the bloodshed. He was the King in the North, and he didn’t have to bend to the Boltons and their archaic customs. The bastard unsettled him, but he said nothing of it, other than a few snide comments to you in the privacy of your bedroom. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are more interested in those maps than the men who made them,” you quipped from the bed, resting your chin on your elbows, observing his admirable ass with a half-smile. 

“I’m sure,” he replied dismissively, though a smile came to his face at the sound of your voice. He was deep in thought, scratching the comings-in of a beard that he hadn’t had the time or luxury to remove. “It’s late. You’re usually asleep by now,” there was an edge of concern in his voice, but he didn’t chide you. 

“You’re usually asleep by now,” you returned, pulling the heavy furs closer around your shoulders to shield you from the cold. “And I can’t sleep when I can feel the tension radiating off of you like heat waves,” you complained, lifting the edge of the blanket and offering an enticing smile, hoping to coax him to your side. “You need to rest-- or you’ll fall asleep with your sword in hand.” 

It was an amusing image, and it conjured a matching smile at his lips. Sighing, he extinguished the pair of candles on his desk, and began to shrug off the heavy layers of clothing that adorned him during the day. There was no grace or seduction to the movements, but they were done hastily, to close the distance between himself and you. 

Finally, he slipped beneath the offered sheet, and wrangled you closer to him, effortlessly sliding his arms around your waist. He stilled soon after that, his nose buried in your hair, breathing evening out as he allowed the tension to slide out of his shoulders. “Can I ask you something?” He murmured, almost lost in the sound of the wind howling outside. 

You nodded, fingers carving soft grooves in the plains of his chest. 

“That first night, after we...” he paused to allow you to fill in the blank, “you swore that you would never love me. You wouldn’t touch me. Called yourself my prisoner. What changed? You went from feral to docile practically overnight, and I just--” he sighed, “I don’t understand.” 

You felt like he’d just dropped a massive weight on your chest, and squeezed all the breath out of your lungs. You’d thought you’d been so careful... “I--” your mind reeled for a way to rectify the situation. “I don’t know.” You answered honestly, fidgeting in his arms so you could turn to face him, and see those hauntingly beautiful eyes. “My father used to love my mother, more than anything in the world. He was stiff, but he was happy. When she got sick, and when she started to lose her mind...” you hesitated. “I watched him fall out of love with her. Secluded her away to a tower, a few servants to care for her, and told me never to visit. Said it would only hurt more when we left.” You couldn’t look away from his eyes, from the pity in them, and the adoration that still lingered. “I didn’t want to marry you. I never wanted to marry. I didn’t want to be her, loving a man who would end up confining me to a little room to rot.” 

“You don’t have to--” his voice was softer now as he tried to pull you back to his chest, “I am never going to be your father, Y/N,” he insisted, metal in his voice. 

“You’re so lovely,” you continued, ignoring the sympathy in his tone. “And soft and sweet, and you want so badly to believe in love... and I took advantage of that.” It felt like a cool rush of relief to admit to the guilt that had been weighing on your conscious. “My father was worried that you would lose fondness for me, so I embellished a little-- just to give me time to truly grow fond of you.” 

He was very still.

“Robb?” You asked, wiggling in his arms to catch a look at his face. “No, that’s not what I meant!” You insisted, once you saw the hurt and color draining from his face. “I do love you, there was just a moment when--”

“That first time,” he asked quietly, “when you told me you loved me, that was him?” He didn’t release you, his eyes searching your face for truth. “Your father?” 

You were speechless, heart aching as you realized what jeopardy speaking the truth had landed you in. “He didn’t--”

Robb unwound from you at once, scrambling away from you like you’d burned him. “And when we made love, was he pulling the strings? The puppeteer, feeding you venom to spit back in my face?” He was indignant, snarling, hurting. “I loved you!” He spat, not even bothering to don clothes as he retreated to the far side of the tent. “You knew how much I loved you-- and you lied to me!”

“I do love you, Robb, please!” You pleaded, curling up on the edge of the bed, and watching his expression twist in disgust. 

“How do I know this isn’t another trick?” He demanded, cheeks flushing red with anger. “That these aren’t your father’s words leaving your lips?”

You opened your lips to respond, but saw the far tent-flap peek open, and a grinning Ramsay peer inside, seemingly close enough to have overheard the obvious spat. 

“My King,” his voice was oozing with smug pride at having caught his rival in a compromising position, “is everything alright?”

Robb, a fire burning in his chest and his heart-shattered into more pieces than he could count, looked to you. His love, the sweet woman that he had grown to adore-- tears shining in her eyes as she begged for him to forgive her... and he couldn’t hate her. He wanted to, Gods did he want to hate her, cast her out and remove the thought of her from his mind. But he couldn’t. Your brother, however... “everything’s fine,” he insisted, his voice low and testing. “We were having a disagreement.” 

“I’m sure half the encampment knows at this point,” he entered the tent without invitation, his eyes sweeping over to you and taking a look of lechery at your disheveled state. “Is there anything I could do to ease this?”

Robb’s jaw twitched, watching your half-brother ogle over you with shameless lust. He hated Ramsay. Without a word, he stepped forward, a fist curling at his side, and a cruel look in his eyes. “Yeah, actually,” his movements were sharp and predatory, “eat shit.” And Robb’s fist collided with his jaw in a brutal cracking motion. 

[bbrandy2002]

Two Men and a Baby Pt. 5

Not your typical Royal Romance story...crazier

The TRR Gang

Warning: Some sexual content and language.

@carabeth @katedrakeohd @emceesynonymroll

....bum bum bah....You are watching Channel 5 news CBC at 9:00, bringing you all the lastest news updates from Cordonia and Western Europe. Tonight's top story begins in Ramsford where our very own Penelope Bakas is on the scene....Penelope, describe what you're seeing....

Bertrand and Savannah had enjoyed a lovely, candlelit dinner at the top of the exclusive Ruby Tower.  Bertrand had purchased the finest wine,  had the wait staff bring out flowers while the pianist played a lovely rendition of 'The Way You Look Tonight' dedicated to her. Savannah was beaming. They slow danced and laughed over funny memories. Bertrand recited poetry to her and looked at her all evening as if she were the brightest star in the sky. The evening was truly perfect and she couldn't imagine anything in the world ruining this high she was feeling. "This is the best birthday I've ever had my little Nerdy Bertie", she would say several times.

Bertrand took Savannah out onto the balcony to admire the view of his beautiful duchy. As he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, she, wearing his brown suit jacket for warmth, they both heard sirens whirling by below them. They peaked over the side and seen several cops and fire trucks speeding through town. "Hmm, I wonder what happened?" Savannah asked.

"Im not sure" Bertrand replied, "but, i have one last surprise for you, my pet".

"Oh, do tell." Savannah said with a breathy, seductive tone, while pulling him by his sweater vest closer.

"I know how you've always wanted a carriage ride and I just so happen to have one waiting for you in front of the tower, my little tartlet."

"Oh Bertie, all of my dreams are coming true" she said with a quick kiss to his cheek.

"This way, my dear". Bertrand grabs Savannah's hand, takes the elevator to the first floor and steps off into the lobby.

Out front was a beautiful carriage, fully enclosed and two white horses at the front. Bertrand held the door open and helped Savannah inside.  He told the driver they were ready and off they went.

"Bertie, this is so magical, but, I have one request I would like to make" she said while biting his ear lobe.

"Uh...uh...what is it, my dear?, he asked.

She reached down and palmed his groin, "I'd really like to play with little Bertie".

"Savannah Jane Walker! We are in public!" Bertrand shouted in a whisper.

"So, remember when the king and queen got caught in the corn maze during the Halloween Field Party. That could be us, lets live a little", she pouted.

"Yes and as I recall the King required 10 stitches to his derrier", Bertrand shudders, "corn stalks are no joke".

Savannah moves to the floor in front of Bertrand and slowly starts to unzip his pants. He grabs her hand but she gives him her pleading eyes and he can't resist.

Meanwhile....

Drake stands in front of his friends, who are still laughing uncontrollably. Drake walks over to Olivia and grabs the breastfeeder from her hands.

"You're not claiming this for Lythikos, thats the only way Bartie can drink.....You guys are the most immature people I've ever met", Drake huffs. Olivia continues to cackle at him.

"Uh Drake, whats the deal with Bartie? Why's he covered in yellow goo?" Riley asked while crinkling her nose.

"Thats not goo, it's shit!" he yells back.

Olivia quickly grabbed between her legs, laughing even harder, "ah....ah, I'm going to piss myself.....this just keeps getting better."

"Why is it in his hair?, Liam asks while holding his nose.

"Liam, I swear to God." Drake says while gritting his teeth and clinching his fist.

"Drake, why don't you and Liam get him cleaned up and Olivia and I will check on Maxwell." Riley states. Liam's head snaps in her direction pleading with her to take back his name from that statement. "Love, I think Drake can handle this himself."

Drake looks at Liam, "please Liam, I really need a friend right now". Liam seeing the desperation in his eyes, agrees to help. He turns around to kiss his wife, but, finds that she and Olivia were already running toward the hospital entrance.

Back in the carriage....

Savannah was in the middle of pleasuring Bertrand when her phone buzzed, then Bertands, then the carriage driver. Savannah didnt want to stop, but, she thought it might be a text from Drake about Bartie.

"Beaumonts Unleash Wild Boar on Ramsford"

Bertrand tries to push Savannah's head back down, but, she resists. "Bertrand, what is this about", she asks while holding the phone up to him.

Bertrand grabs the phone and looks puzzled. "I haven't the slightest idea. Look, theres a video".

Savannah sits back in the seat next to Bertrand as he plays the video.

......Penelope, describe what you're seeing....

..."uh, yeah, Penelope here...is this thing on"

......Yes, Penelope, you are live right now.

..."umm, hi Merlin, hi Morgana, look, Mommys on TV, (waves at camera). Anyway, Im here with the Countess of Fydelia, Madeleine, who is also the Royal Communications Director. Earlier tonight, while stopping by the Beaumont Estate, she was viciously attacked by a wild boar. Madeleine, do you have anything you would like to say?

Madeleine, who is sitting on a stretcher, by an ambulance, has a neck brace on and a shiny black eye. "Yes, I have a lot to say..... Maxwell Beaumont, where ever you are, whatever you are doing, just know that I am going to rip your nuts off and shove them up your mother fuc...." (Beeeeeeeeeeep).

Announcer 1: my apologies for that.

Announcer 2: we do have footage taken earlier by a driver near the Beaumont Estate, where he caught footage of an unidentified driver and Lord Beaumont riding in the back of a truck, with a sword, going very fast.

Announcer 1: Let's take a look.

Footage: (Maxwell singing and swinging the sword)

"I will conquer the seven seas.

Take your gold, as my bounty.

All you ladies, your ass I be smaken,

Right before I release the kraken! Arrr"

Announcer 1: (Stunned silence)

Announce 2: "that...was disturbing"

Announcing 1: Anyway, crews are at the scene where the Beaumont Estate is on lockdown after the boar made its way inside and began it's destruction. Swat and Animal rescue is waiting outside to plan their entry to retrieve the animal.

Announcer 2: Looks like the Beaumont Bash is taking place a little earlier this year, hahaha.

Savannah gasps in horror, "My baby!".

Bertrand looks like someone just described a wine as being, pretty good.

"We have to go, now", Savannah says frantically.

Bertrand is very angry. He huffs and sits up in his seat. He yanks his zipper up and, "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Will little Bertie ever work again? What will Drake and Liam use as a diaper? Find out in Part 6.

[autopsyreportofadrownedshrimp]

Hi I was curious if u could do a imagine or story about the twins fighting over the reader and maybe miah doing his knife play kink ? 😀

(Decided to focus on the twins (w/ “knifeplay”))

(One day, I’ll get it right, but not today ; not tonight)

A/N: Even if I do misidentify, I know it’s you @historynerd30 😉

NSFW (for the prudes 🙃)

“Watch carefully and emulate my motions.”

Searing brands of niceties leave third degree burns upon Jeremiah’s stoic tongue. If possible, it was a further condensed variant of ‘please’. An olla podrida of words summarising that bothersome plea.

“Yeah, yeah.”

The responding voice lowers a pitch.

Mocking.

“My eyes are open.”

‘Pleased’ is not present in Jerome’s anatomy. The dead skin cells, etching an outline of his face, peel with petulance, nevertheless amused by the polarity between he and his identical half.

“But, only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

But, only because he revels in the realm of absurdity. The realm that was not a parallel universe or alternate dimension, but that, instead, of pure, plain as a pikestaff, piercing reality.

In glaring contrast, Jeremiah is ever imbibed on the spirit of monotony. A bristling pedagogue at heart with an exceptionally sensitive cock’s head, beading the precum of Solomon’s inkwell. Pricks of arousal set Jerome’s pubic hairs alight at the thought of his flesh being painted by tepid streaks of that essence. Whether from a mortified, latent attraction to Megamind or lax acceptance of the absurd, sans resistance, he was yet to decide. Regardless of dormant desire, there was only one thing he knew for certain. Pluto was pegging him something fierce with the hilt of that Stygian blade.

“I‘m aware you’ve had your fair play at wielding the compact sword, but this is a sport that requires entropy to be absent.”

Jerome observes, absent cognition, as his brother fits himself with a helmet, all at once obscuring his face by mesh netting. Its ivory expanse of fabric is near uniform with his pallid complexion, blending with the shafts of artificial, moonlit radiance emitted from debilitating stage lights.

“English.” Jerome jeers, vexation evident in his flinty tone, knowing well what entropy meant but having been no less annoyed by his toddling Oxford of an estranged sibling.

“Erratic movements of any kind must be denied in favour of grace and strategem. Every attack and parry must be precise. Absolutely no room for error.”

A room that was momentarily, if not conveniently, illustrated by spacious opulence of abandoned fleapit. A theatre of which was occupied by vacancy, courtesy of Jeremiah’s vertiginous skills of persuasion. Hypnotic as the eyes that terrified its owner in fleeing. It is in this surrealist rendition that Jongleur was not made sacrifice. Indeed, he and his cronies were yet useful as competent rooks.

“Yawn. Are we gonna slit throats or caress them to a lullaby?”

Jerome’s reflexes are vampiric as the canines that flash upon receiving the blade cast at him in offering. Examining the gorgeous forgery, he grins with satisfaction. However, there was still one middling matter to consider.

“You can keep the helmet.” Jeremiah stalls his poise to toss the helmet when Jerome dismisses him with a wave of his slender sword.

“Can’t have the dirt and sweat seeping into my pores. Started a new skincare routine, you see.”

Jeremiah’s reflexes are suffused with a marginal discrepancy, scarcely given time to react as Jerome makes a quick thrust of the blade’s flexible tip, effectively penetrating the foreskin of protective headgear partially sheathing his brother’s hand.

Quick, meticulous swipes leave the épée cleaving in three perfect dimensions. A triptych of geometric patterns compressed of volume, falling limp and formless in the palm of Jeremiah’s gloved hand.

“En garde!”, the tregetour exclaims, decibels of jocosity tickling his voice with childlike urgency.

Unamused, Jeremiah allows the épée’s lifeless threads to slip from grasp with one dramatic circumduction of wrist.

“So much for grace, huh?” Jerome winks, stopping to adjust himself. The suit’s tailoring was far too tight to accommodate his Junior which made him convinced that all fencers were liable to be cursed with micropenis...

Fortunately, it seems his Broski was spared such a hapless fate. It was only natural they were the same size; hefty in both length and girth. He wasn’t given to lie in favour of exaggerating an extra inch on his part. Truth of equal measure was evident in their intimacy. How his body was a language of fluency to Jerome’s incestual caress. Given his fencer speculation, in addition to the sport being often associated with wealth and prestige, he was glad Jeremiah didn’t somehow become victim to Affluenza, resulting in shrunken manhood. (To compensate the engorged ego).

In any case, Jeremiah feels a familiar strain of blood vessels rolling to the back of his skull, scraping at the edges of said ego. He feels it intensely as Jerome prolongs his little show, intentionally, effectively stretching his twin’s wry look of veiled disgust.

“We’re here to spar, Jerome. Nothing more.” Drips of venomous finality leak from Jeremiah’s rigid timbre.

Jerome frowns, continuing to palm himself, progressing with increments of pressure. Initially, he was simply relieving his groin of autoerotic asphyxiation. Now, he was beginning to get excited from a different act of sparring. Ipso facto, something sensual.

“What gave you the idea-” Pausing to grunt, his cock semi-erect and swelling with every increasing stroke of heated second. “That I wanted something more?” Punctuating the inquiry with a salacious purr.

“You’re delusional.” Jeremiah scoffs, narrowing his eyes, voice muffling further by combination of mask and the theatre’s stuffy air.

“And you’re sending mixed signals.”

Unbeknownst to them both, they had begun to encircle one another. About the stage, they were ravenous performers, bereaved of audience, yet nevertheless passionate in deliverance.

“I’m instructing you on how to properly handle a blade in combat. Although, given your behaviour thus far, perhaps another day might be best. Frankly, I’ve tired simply from being in your presence.”

Jeremiah speaks as a toilworn babysitter, not at all sincere in his scathing rebuke, but nonetheless candid. He loved his brother, that much was true. Confessedly, he proffers this sin to the lecherous priest. Applauds himself silently for eschewing any sign of shaky feet.

“There’s other blades you can teach me how to use.”

Bonus points for being ambidextrous. This thought is reserved, yet concealed as the throbbing strain of tender game against vegan leather.

Still, they waltz at a safe, oscillating pace. Body heat intimates as static, accumulating, generating to a vortex of sexual tension. Negative and positive charges waging war within the hollow sphere of calenture. Jeremiah’s intent to catch him off guard is a challenge well met by a rhythmic prod of energy. The consequent concentration of metal clanging is music to his ears.

To Jerome, a symphony of soft whimpers, evoked by his brother, is all the opera he could ever aspire to witness, in all its sodomised glory. In the throes of overstimulation, Jeremiah was irresistible in a manner that was ineffable to semantics of physicality. Unable to be properly tasted in full-bodied flavour. To be devoured by the tongue, pressed against cheek, permitting passage to the phallus, divine.

Jerome watches carefully; emulating the motions, stage lights all but aching to participate. To their lambency delivers a lascivious flicker, dancing in time to the angelic glow of figures twirling about in the dregs of night.

Jeremiah commits every vein of Jerome’s hand to memory. The effortless, surprising angles of his agile execution, every ounce of opposite relative to his standard ilk of brash and reckless. Without form. Without function. Delicate. Prominent. To the parasitic thoughts of carnality infesting his mind, they were salient. Kindling the fire raging against the works of the flesh. Boiling and teeming in the sacrificial blood.

Jeremiah was no fool. But, in every man, there existed a weakness. A tool. His twitching cock, to be sure. But, there was yet more. Beneath the white purity of second skin, once belied a virgin. This second skin was yet tainted. Besmirched by begrimed hands.

Jerome prides himself as the incubus.

“And I’ll really give you something to be tired about.”

Fucked to submission, is what the nympho ginger wants to say. To repurpose the hilt of his lithe blade as a plug to fill his brother’s tight entrance. But, he tries. Dare say, he tries to be less crass in his seduction.

With roseate cheeks, Jeremiah is not ashamed to admit his appetite in this heat sick that consumes. Both are delirious. Fell to indomitable craving. Contagious is the laughter that spreads as a blanket, abounding. 

He has little choice but to surrender. 

Pure. 

Plain. 

Piercing.

“Take your best shot.”

[sexlessrpmemes]

Attack of the Killer Donuts sentence starters

“This isn’t going to hurt, because you’re dead. If you weren’t it would hurt like a motherfucker.”

“Rosie, no, no, you may not eat Minnie”

“I did it, I’ve created the greatest discovery of the 21st century”

“Please never enter my lair when the door is locked.”

*whining voice* “no, wait, you’re going to ruin my greatest hour.”

“Well it’s not like I wasn’t working.”

“Neither is lying and getting paid for it.”

“Is it invisible money?”

“What’s next, you’re gonna tell mom?”

“You sassing me is not helping this situation.”

“Hold your water Nancy, I got it.”

“I was a little busy, with being the only one here and all.”

“Whatevs, dude look, I need money.”

“Babe, we have to go, I don’t have time, I’m on house arrest.”

“I’m here for the device, where is it.”

“I don’t want to use salty language in front of the... lady.”

“I don’t want your kind in my classy eating establishment.”

“Yeah, this place really screams class.”

“It’s mine, unhand me you ruffian.”

“It’s mine, mwahahahaha”

“It’s donuts, it’s free donuts.”

“I can’t believe you like our coffee.”

“I don’t, just keeps me regular.”

“You’re not going to let the criminal have a donut?”

“That acid’s kicking in.”

“Whiskers Mc fur, we’ve been waiting for this all week.”

*seductively dancing at a box of donuts*

Do you smell patchouli?”

“Greetings kids, is _ available.”

“No, I wouldn’t be caught dead eating here, I mean I have a very strict gluten-free paleo-vegan diet.”

“I just wanted to show you my latest creation, open it you silly goose.”

“Behold, it’s fertile soil’s latest creation, circular bliss.”

“It looks like a tiny donut.”

“What gives, it’s a tiny round donut.”

“It is a tiny round donut you boob, where do you think I get the word circular from.”

“The big deal my uncouth compadre is that it’s made from the freshest, certified organic gluten-free fat-free proteins. Nothing less for my customers.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Best part, 3.50 retail.”

“Actually my halitosis inflicted competitor, three dozen sold this morning.”

“Just because it has all those healthy ingredients doesn’t mean it necessarily tastes good.”

“I can feel it tingling all over my body.”

“Are you ready for my famous macaroni and cheese.”

“I call it the [insult]nut it’s our new free-range whole wheat 100% sugar free.”

“It looks like a regular donut.”

“I would love to chit-chat with you all day, perhaps catch some salmonella too, but I’ve got a hot yoga class to go to.”

“__ wouldn’t bend over to pick up his mom if she was on the ground.”

“Unless his mom was a quarter.”

“Do you hear that? That heavy breathing?”

“He comes to my house even if I’m not there, he hangs out with my mom.”

“She doesn’t always ask for money, she comes to see me.”

“I’m crazy about you baby, you’re the clam to my chowder.”

“The donut shop.”

“Wise ass huh?”

“Everyone is giving you lip today _”

“Two hits, me hitting you you hitting the floor, any time you’re ready pal.”

“_ did you pepper spray these customers?”

“I hope you get explosive diarrhoea you filthy animals.”

“We’ve been friends since fourth grade?”

“We’ve been friends since I beat you up in miss ___’s class.”

“You’re never gonna let that go are you?”

“No one fires _ on my watch.”

“Do you just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind?”

“Is he a zombie?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“You’re not remotely disturbed by the fact that I hit this guy with my car at 60 miles per hour, he survived, looked like a zombie then shat his guts out, glowing green radioactive shit in case you guys missed that part, before plopping over and dropping dead?”

Dude, the donuts just moved.”

“I... hate... donuts”

“The donuts are alive, and mutated into... killer donuts.”

“I think my brain just melted”

“Thank god you have so few customers.”

“And tell the police what? An army of killer donuts is on the loose?”

“Dangerous criminal? He was polishing a sword behind a sorority house, how dangerous can he be?”

“Wait, it’s tempered glass it can not be broken.”

“She’s dead, the donuts ate her, it was horrible.”

“I am 100% sure it was the donuts.”

“Don’t worry, the ground broke my fall.”

“There’s like ten murderers in there.”

“There’s no time to call for backup, there are like ten murderers in there.”

“__ what’s gotten into you, it’s not star wars night.”

“What could possibly cause donuts to become bloodthirsty killers?”

“You think your crazy uncle came up with a reanimation serum?”

“No need to panic Debbie, this new antidote should bring you back to normal... or it’ll just kill you again.”

“Eureka, I’ve done it.”

“Oh you’ve done it alright you crazy loon.”

“You’ve turned harmless tasty donuts into killer donuts.”

“Your serum has contaminated the donuts and they’ve come to life.”

“That’s impossible... who are you?”

“What you see before you is a harmless grey mouse, a few seconds ago it was a crazed killer rat.”

“Aww it’s taking a nap, how cute.”

“You ignorant toad. The point is not to kill the rat again, but to stabilize it. You don’t realize what I’ve done here, you’re in the presence of genius.”

“Just give us enough pink stuff so we can kill the donuts.”

“You fool, it has to get into their bloodstream.“

“We’re talking about donuts, donuts don’t have a bloodstream.”

“_ grab some pink stuff, let’s go.”

“Do you have any grenades?”

“I’m angry, we’re about to be snacks FOR THE FREAKING SNACKS.”

“The worst part of this is that when I’m eaten by my little friend sprinkle and glazed out there my mother is going to be alone.”

“I should just open the door and let them eat me.”

“I like you very much alive, now shut your mouth and help me figure a way out of this mess.”

“That’s great, now how do we survive the explosion?”

“You definitely weren’t dreaming, we blew up the donut shop.”

“Don’t think so hard, you might strain something.”

“That’s why I want to figure out what we are, last time I didn’t I ended up with an imaginary girlfriend.”

“No, you know what, I love you, and that’s that, you’re my (significant other)”

[great-master-airplane]

Genji/Zenyatta. 42."I swear it was an accident" P.s. o boy, I read ur genyatta drabble like 5 times I LOVE IT! (If u saw any mistakes sorry English is not my first language )

Oh my gosh, I’m so happy you enjoyed my last Genyatta fic! That was my first time writing for the pairing, so I was a bit nervous. You are just too wonderful; I hope you like this one just as much!

42. “I swear it was an accident.”

send me a pairing and a number for a drabble!

Zenyattaloved to dance.

Hewould meditate for long, pensive moments, quiet save for the faint tinklingfrom his orbs. Then, after so long of sitting motionless and silent, he wouldbegin to move, his orbs following the motions of his hands with such grace,such poignant beauty that anyone passing by would pause and marvel at themesmerizing omnic. Zenyatta never noticed, never hesitated for even a moment toacknowledge his audience. He simply continued dancing to a tune only he couldhear.

Zenyattaloved to dance.

Genji loved to watch.

IfZenyatta was dancing, his student was nearby, observing quietly from behind apillar or building or whatever cover he could find to keep from being detected.It wasn’t that Genji worried that Zenyatta would be mad or upset at beingwatched so closely (Zenyatta, in fact, often encouraged observation for Genjito better find inner peace). It was Genji’s own shame that kept him hidden, hisown worries that perhaps he was not watching only to discover inner peace butfor other, more… selfish reasons.

Genjiloved to watch because he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

AndGenji had known beauty. Before he met Zenyatta, before Blackwatch, before hisbrother—beauty had been so simple. Beautymeant women, their lips coated in red and their eyes alight with seduction, ormen with smooth skin that made even smoothersounds. Beauty had been Hanzo,his chin raising in pride when his arrow hit the middle of its target. Beauty had been Genji, whose skin hadonce been unblemished with scars, when he had been whole.

After,beauty had been in the easy way bodies fell to his blade. Bad people, he’d beentold. Omnics. Those who opposed Overwatch and harmed the innocent. Beauty had been the lives they had saved.Beauty had been the pain because ithad been worth it, so he’d thought.

Butthen he’d met Zenyatta. Then he saw his master dance, and he knew beauty again.True beauty, for the first time, andnow he knew fear. Not fear like what he felt the night his brother slew him,not the fear of death.

Thefear of loss. If Zenyatta knew andrealized that his reasons weren’t honorable, then he might dismiss Genji as afailure. The idea of losing his master terrified him more than he would haveever imagined.

Sohe stayed hidden, stealing glances at Zenyatta’s elegant movements when hecould.

Today,he was hiding behind a pillar at the monastery they were visiting. He couldeasily crouch between the column and the table beside it, the smoke from astick of burning incense providing him perfect cover. He could see Zenyatta,his healing orbs glowing with golden light as he moved elegantly. High, sweepingturns—sharp, abrupt stops—movements all flowing into each other with aprecision Genji had only seen with a blade. Genji, enthralled, leaned an elbowon the table, smiling as he watched those easy motions, wishing he could do that. Wishing he could dance with Zenyatta.

Genji’sarm slipped, his elbow knocking right into the incense burner. It clattered tothe floor, the burning stick rolling along the stone until the dirt put out thethin line of smoke. Genji hissed a quiet curse in his native tongue. Of all thestupid—

Yearsof working in Blackwatch alerted Genji to the eyes on him, and his gaze immediatelysnapped up. Zenyatta, having stopped dancing, had turned around to face him, acurious tilt to his head. Genji swallowed his nerves, his guilt at being caught, and tried his best to make light of thesituation.

“Iswear it was an accident. I am not trying to burn the monastery down, I promise.”

Itmust have worked because Zenyatta’s titillating laughter filled the hollow room.Genji watched him, smiling softly as his master raised a hand to his mouth totry and stay the noise.

“Thatwould have been a very poor attempt, if you were.” Zenyatta calmed himself andlooked serenely at Genji, who got the distinct feeling that Zenyatta wassmiling at him. “Were you spying on me, my student?”

“Whatreason would I have to spy?” Genji asked.

“Thatis what I am trying to discern,” Zenyatta replied pleasantly. “If you wish towatch me dance, you do not need to continue hiding.”

Genjibegan to fidget. He walked out from behind the pillar to face his mentor andaccept his fate. “You… you knew when I would watch you?”

“Always.”Zenyatta beckoned him closer, and Genji obeyed, choosing to sit on the floor beforehim. Zenyatta lowered himself to sit with him, still maintaining that calm thatGenji wished he could exhibit. “Why do you hide? Do you no longer wish tomeditate with me?”

Genjiheard the melancholy in his master’s voice, and he began to reach out, onlyjust catching himself before he could touch Zenyatta. “Of course I do!Meditating with you is one of my favorite things to do.”

Zenyattareached out to take Genji’s hand, holding it as carefully as he might hold achild’s doll. Genji took a deep breath, feeling some of the weight lift fromhis shoulders. “Then please, explain.”

Thiswas it. The moment Genji had been dreading. He took a deep breath and spilledhis secret, prepared to accept the consequences. He would rather do that thanlie to Zenyatta, betray the trust he had been given so willingly.

“Mymotives for watching you are selfish, so I tried to hide. Forgive me for spyingon you.”

“Howare your motives selfish, my student?” Zenyatta asked, genuinely confused.

“I…enjoy watching you dance,” Genji confessed shamefully. He lowered his voice,hoping Zenyatta wouldn’t hear when he added, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Zenyattawas quiet for a long moment. His orbs whirred, spinning with his thoughts, andGenji wondered where those thoughts were leading him, what conclusions he wouldarrive at. He didn’t have to wait long before Zenyatta straightened, full ofpurpose and a certain excitement that made Genji’s heart clench.

“Wouldyou dance with me?”

“I—I don’tknow how to dance,” said Genji, knowing very well how to dance. He used todance all the time, when he was young and immature. He couldn’t show Zenyatta thiskind of dancing, not when Zenyatta had such poise and skill.

“Neitherdo I,” Zenyatta confessed, sounding a bit mournful.

“Butthat’s not true! I’ve watched you! The way you dance is remarkable!” Genjiinsisted with such passion, that Zenyatta chuckled again.

“Simplyby accident, my student. All I do is move the way I feel I should move after meditating.I focus on within and find rhythm there.” Zenyatta motioned to the empty room,to the open space. Genji followed with his eyes but did not move. “Would youtry with me?”

“Verywell.”

“Weshall begin with meditating.” Zenyatta drifted to the middle of the room oncemore, beckoning Genji along with him. Genji sat with him, cross-legged, and closedhis eyes. He tried to clear his mind, to focus within as Zenyatta advised.

But Genji’sthoughts would not dispel. He could not stop thinking about Zenyatta anddancing and embarrassing himself—

Beforehe knew it, he could hear it: the tell-tale sound of Zenyatta dancing. Genjiopened his eyes to see Zenyatta entirely absorbed into his movement, his orbs glowing,his movements containing a serenity Genji hadn’t known for years. Since he was—

Sincehe was whole.

Genjiquit trying to meditate and stood up. He reached behind him and unsheathed hissword. If Zenyatta heard him, he didn’t give any indication; he just keptdancing, trusting, knowing that Genjiwas incapable of ever doing him any harm.

Hetook a few steps back, giving them both equal space, and shut his eyes. Insteadof finding rhythm within himself, Genji followed that which Zenyatta had set.He moved with him, giving in to the natural way his legs wished to carry him,using his sword the way that Zenyatta used his orbs. He let his movements flow likeZenyatta’s, let the peace surround him until he completely forgot he wasdancing.

Untilhe felt the dragon within him surging to life, eager to join in. He began toslow his movements, unwilling to endanger his master, and opened his eyes.

Throughthe green energy of Genji’s dissipating dragon, he could see Zenyatta. Theomnic had stopped dancing and simply stood there, watching Genji with somethingakin to wonder. The same expression, Genji realized, that Genji wore when he observed Zenyatta.

Then Zenyatta’sorbs began to turn in pure happiness, his voice warm as he whispered, “Beautiful.”

[nexgenforge]

Embrace the Renaissance Soul: Celebrating the Symphony of Beauty, Brains, and Unapologetic Wit

Introduction: Ever met someone so vividly vibrant they seem to defy the mundane? That's me. A blend of beauty and brains, wit and wisdom, art and heart. In a world that's too quick to box us into neat little labels, I've danced to my own rhythm, crafting a life that's as rich and varied as the colors on a painter's palette. This isn't just my story; it's a manifesto for anyone who's ever been told they're too much of something or not enough of another. Buckle up, because we're about to dive into a world where brilliance and beauty coexist, humor lights the way, and every day is a canvas waiting for bold strokes. In the grand tapestry of existence, most folks find a thread and follow it. Not me. I've always preferred weaving my own tapestry, a vibrant mosaic that defies singular definition. It's not just about having a foot in multiple worlds; it's about mastering the dance in each one. Beauty and Brains: A Harmonious Duet Let's start with the age-old debate: beauty or brains? Why not both? I've never seen the sense in drawing a line in the sand, declaring allegiance to one camp. My life is a testament to the harmonious coexistence of aesthetic grace and intellectual prowess. Each day is an opportunity to challenge the stereotype that these qualities are mutually exclusive. In the mirror, I see the reflection of years well spent, a visage that belies the depth of knowledge and experience beneath the surface. Yet, this isn't about vanity. It's about celebrating the complex being I've nurtured over the years. The Wit of the Witch: Laughter and Levity Ah, my witchy ways and slapstick humor—a curious blend, some might say. But in the cauldron of life, humor is the magic ingredient that makes the potion palatable. Wit has been my shield and my sword, cutting through the noise of naysayers and lightening the load of lofty expectations. It's a fine line to walk, using humor to elevate rather than belittle, but when done with finesse, it's a powerful tool for disarming critics and endearing allies. Seductive Grounding: The Art of Being Unapologetically You Seduction isn't just about allure; it's about being profoundly grounded in who you are. It's the confidence that comes from knowing your worth and not needing external validation. This isn't about drawing others in; it's about being so authentically you that like-minded souls can't help but gravitate towards your energy. And in this dance of life, I've chosen to be selectively celibate and single, not as a statement against companionship, but as a testament to the completeness I feel within myself. A Renaissance Soul: Master of Arts, Crafts, and Life From writing to painting, acting to pottery, my journey has been a ceaseless exploration of expression. Each art form offers a new language, a new way to see and be seen. As a university student, I delved into the realms of academia with a voracious appetite for knowledge, graduating with honors not just in my studies but in the lessons of life. My career, a mosaic of achievements, reflects a refusal to be pigeonholed. Freelancing has afforded me the canvas to paint my professional path with broad, unconfined strokes. But perhaps my most cherished role is that of a mother. Raising well-balanced, adult children as a magnetic matriarch, I've woven the tapestry of our family with threads of love, resilience, and the freedom to be uniquely themselves. And through it all, I've maintained a vitality and youthfulness that belies the wisdom of my years. In Conclusion: A Life Unconventionally Lived So to those who whisper in the shadows, who doubt and disparage, I say this: watch and learn. For in the symphony of my life, each note is played with intention, each melody a narrative of triumph, resilience, and unabashed individuality. I am the total package, not because I fit into your box, but because I dared to build my own. In the end, it's not about proving others wrong; it's about living so authentically, so vibrantly, that your very existence becomes a beacon for others seeking to find their own way in the dark. To those on a similar journey, I extend a hand and a smile, for in this grand adventure, there's room for all of us to shine. Read the full article

[pellicano-sanguino]

Random thoughts while watching...  OSK Revue?

I finally saw my first OSK Revue show (Dracula, 2017), so thought I'd write about it. This is not a proper review, just a bunch of random thoughts. I will be making a lot of comparisons to Takarazuka in this, and please understand that I do not mean to imply that OSK is just a zuka copycat, I simply wanted to compare the two and see what they have in common and what not (also, all opinions are about this production and these actresses only, I'd need to see more shows to form a proper, better educated opinion on OSK's style as a whole.).

First impression was a surprise at how small the production is. I knew OSK isn't as big as zuka, but still, the theater's stage was very small and there were only about ten actresses, many of them pulling several roles, I think. I felt like I was watching a Bow Hall show cut in half both by stage length and actress numbers. Having a small number of actresses causes there to be some slower, quieter scenes, where a character monologues for a while so that everyone else has time to do the costume change.

Even so, it still felt very similar to zuka. Despite the small stage, they do dance, including a post-show minirevue that includes the main otokoyakus dancing in pretty, sparkly tailcoats and a duet dance with the main leads. The makeup is similar but there's some small differences that I'm not expert enough to point out (don't know anything about makeup). There are some stylistic differences in zuka makeup too, so it felt like I was watching a sixth zuka troupe and this was their troupe's personal style.

Minirevue dancing (and look, some parade feathers. Small feathers but feathers none the less.)

Otokoyaku still sing like otokoyaku and musumeyakus sound just like zuka musumes. I liked the leading otokoyaku's voice, it was pleasant to listen. Though she has to do a lot of angry angsting throughtout the musical, which is occasionally bad for her voice, making it sound like she has a bit of a sore throat. The songs were ok, nothing particularly memorable or catchy. A lot of the music is rather simple, like piano music and such.

I admit, when I was putting the disk in the DVD player, I was chanting in my head ”Please follow the book at least barely, please don't be weird and rewrite the story wildly.” Well, no such luck, this isn't a book faithful adaptation. Which unfortunately leads to me not having a clue what the hell is going on most of Act 1. But I am happy that it's not a comedy or a super weird adaptation.

I have to say that seeing a completely serious take on a vampire musical is a breath of fresh air and something I wish zuka could do. Don't get me wrong, I love the lighthearted vampire shows like Seal of Roses (which maybe didn't aim for lighthearted but kinda accidentally became one). Zuka always makes the vampire stories, well...  kinda weird (I've already ranted about the randomness, plot holes and inconsistent vampire lore in my Random Thoughts While Watching Zuka #4). I appreciate them thinking outside the box and surprising me instead of recycling the most generic vampire story plots and tropes, but as a vampire lover I would die for vampire show that actually takes itself seriously. I suppose the Poe Family show is a serious take on the subject (no comedic parts or weird story elements), but that is probably thanks to the source material. Zuka can do cool&dark, they've done Elisabeth, so if they wanted they could make truly awesome vampire shows.

While I said that this is a serious take on a vampire story, there's still a short comedic song number in the beginning of Act 1, where a bunch of reporters try to interview Dracula after his arrival at London, only to have him scream NO COMMENTS at them.

This show uses sound and screen effects a lot. Most of the time they make sense (like hearing the sound of a train in the station) but there are moments where I hear a random noise or see strange images projected on the screens and go ”What the hell was that?”

There are only three big roles in this show: Dracula, Mina and Jonathan Harker. There's also this one lady in black who I suspect to be the spirit of Dracula's dead wife, who he grieves and longs for all the time. So yeah, the beginning of Act 2 reveals to us that this show has taken inspiration from Coppola's Dracula and lifts the vampire's origin from the movie. He was a warlord in medieval times (which means he's dressed in armor and has a sword YES me likey) and somehow a false letter was brought to his wife claiming that he had fallen in battle, which led to her committing suicide. When human Drac got home to discover his wife dead, he was devastated and broken, that is, until he hears that the church refuses to bury his wife because suiciders are sinners who go to hell. There's a literal DUN DUN DUUUUN sound effect as the count builds up rage, then curses God and allows the forces of evil to corrupt his body in order to revenge. He then proceeds to kill all of the priests/monks/whatever the church folks were supposed to be.

This slaughter of innocent unarmed humans would be brutal and super dramatic, but the fight choreography leaves...  much to improve. Yeah, zuka battle choreos can look like they're from the 60's Batman too, with punches that miss by a mile, but here...  the stabs are so lazy it looks like the poor victims are literally walking into his sword.

If Heaven won't accept

my suicided wife

I'll follow her to Hell!

(...and lick her knife.)

Not gonna lie, this is something I haven't seen zuka do. Sure, they've implied licking things, but it's always done quite swiftly and * elegantly * and not, well, like this. Tongue out and all, literally licking the knife prop.

I was curious to see if the kisses are still fake or not, since OSK is free to have their own traditions and don't have to follow rules set by Hankyu. Also, I keep hearing rumors that OSK is supposedly more daring than zuka when it comes to love scenes. Not in this show, at least. The romantic scenes are very chaste and more cute than sexy (also, the blood drinking scene, while definitely romanticized and very nice&dramatic, not any hotter than the blood drinking scenes in zuka). And the kisses are very much fake. Oh well, the actresses are spared of messing up their lipstick.

Speaking of messing up lipstick, I know that stain is supposed to be blood but it looks like a group of amorous ladies gave the count several sloppy kisses.

So, my guess for the plot is that Dracula comes to London in search for the woman who is the reincarnation of his wife. To lure women for him to see, he puts up...   a fashion show or something? Dresses are on display, including dead wife's wedding dress. Which Mina gets to wear, and Dracula is immediately convinced she's the incarnation and for the rest of the musical never calls Mina by her real name, just by the wife's name. Which is...  Elisabeth. I don't remember what the wife's name was in Coppola's movie, but still, the dramatic way Dracula pronounces this name does make it sound like it was lifted from another musical.

In Act 2 Jonathan, on his way to rescue his girlfriend from the vampire's castle, meets an annoying little kid. And yeah, just like in zuka, there are no child actors in OSK, children are played by adult women using cutesy kiddie voice and being super genki. But then the kid finds the knife that Elisabeth used to suicide herself and turns to face the audience while holding it, and I was like ”Great. The annoying kid has turned into a creepy kid.” If the child had turned out to be a vampire and in team Drac all along, that would have been an awesome plot twist. But instead he's actually an angel or something like that, providing Jonathan with the weapon that can kill the vampire.

Dracula has a bunch of vampiric minions at his castle, not just the three brides. I have to ask, what is it with vampire shows having one main vampire who behaves normally and then having a bunch of background vampires/minions who speak/sing like they're high as a kite and lumber around dancing artsy inteeeerpretive dances? It's...   weird. Why are some vampires normal and some complete fruitbats?

This Dracula must be the angstiest version of the character I've ever seen. There's occasionally great moments where he's charismatic, seductive or in rage mode, but the majority of time he is either silently depressed or actively whining (even many of his angry scenes come out as more whiny than aggressive). It's a very dialogue heavy show and because of the language barrier and free adapting of the story, I have no idea what his angsty dialogues are about. But whatever he says, he actually manages to win Mina's sympathy and they dance together. Even if they kiss, I still think Mina's feelings are more pity and less sincere romantic interest. Also, I should point out that I have nothing against depressed, angsty, reluctant vampires in general, it's just that I don't usually associate that kind of behavior with Dracula (depression and angst is more sir Francis Varney's thing.). Dracula is cold, ruthless, cunning and irredeemably evil, not some emotional lovelorn wreck.

I have said this before and will say again: Dracula does not aishiteiru.

Jonathan makes an attempt to save Mina but doesn't get to kill the count. Which is good because while the Jonathan of the book would definitely want and be able to fight the count, this musical portrayed the character as a cute and awkward softie nerd (I approve, not all male heroes need to be tough guys) and avoiding getting his hands wet with blood was a good move. Poor guy would be traumatized for life, even if it would be to save his girlfriend, he's just not a killer. Instead, Dracula decides to let the lovers go free and suicides himself, like he usually does in adaptations where they make him have a romance with Mina.

You know how in zuka there's the tradition that in the end the dead characters make an appearance dressed in white, to sing and prance around in an afterlife epilogue. Well, not in this show, but there is something kinda similar. In the ending scene the spirit of Elisabeth appears behind the dying count and poses dramatically with him, spreading her cape like white bat wings, taking him with her to afterlife. I think it looks cool.

To end this, let's talk about the blood drinking scene. In all vampire stories, these are the most important scenes, in my opinion. Blood drinking is what vampires do, it's their trademark thing, and if you chicken out of showing it or handle it lazily, then why the hell are you making a vampire story in the first place. You don't make Phantom of the Opera adaptation and fail to have the unmasking scene be the most dramatic and memorable scene, and similarly, you don't make a vampire story and fail to deliver the blood drinking scenes properly. Yes, I have weirdly strong opinions about this, deal with it.

Very early in Act 1 we see Dracula suffer from malnutrition, his hair turning gray and his knees failing, making him slump to the ground, very visibly suffering. For emergency he empties a small vial of blood that doesn't seem to make him get any better. And it is this moment when Jonathan decides to visit him for the first time for work-related reasons (no idea what his profession is in this story. In the fashion industry?). So, we have a thirsty vampire and a nice, cute bloodbag in the same room all alone.

Me: Drink him!

Dracula: Nope. I'd rather suffer. :)

What the hell? In the book he totally noms Jonathan. Is this because he's a male? This Dracula afraid to drink from someone who has icky boy blood? Oh well, he gets better later anyway, so I assume he gets some blood off-stage. But still, it was very confusing to see a starving vampire not take advantage of an opportunity of some easy blood.

Well, later Dracula is introduced to Mina and immediately decides ”This is the One.” And I cheer him on.

Me: Drink her!

Dracula: No. Now is not a good time. :)

Me: Damnit! DRINK SOMEBODY!!!

We have to wait all the way to the end of Act 1, but finally, we get a genuine on-screen blood drinking scene. Just as important as the moment of blood drinking itself is what leads up to it. In this musical it's Jonathan piecing together all the clues and finally getting Dracula's real identity (in a rather nerdy monologue of stuff like ”...Dracul means Dragon, and the A at the end makes it Son of the Dragon...   wasn't there a warlord named like that in Romania hundreds of years ago...”).

Nerdsplaining time!

Terrified with his discovery he tries to save Mina, who Dracula has just kidnapped, spilling the beans for her as well. The revelation of Dracula's vampiric nature scares the two humans and there's plenty of dialogue that goes over my horizon, but I do get that the thing that makes Dracula snap is when Mina confesses to loving Jonathan.

The jealous vampire then starts to torture Jonathan by...   some kind of Darth Vader mind-choking magic. Well, I suppose it's choking, because Jonathan holds his hands around his throat as if struggling against invisible fingers, but the sound effect doesn't suggest choking at all. It actually sounds much more gruesome and painful, a nasty ripping sound, as if the count is telekineticly tearing the poor man limb from limb and simultaneously flaying him alive. Eww, it's a gross sound effect.

Mina obviously can't idly just watch as her boyfriend is painfully tortured to death while she has the power to put an end to it. To save Jonathan, she loudly exclaims that she doesn't love him. And the count, being a little bit of an idiot here, buys it. Strangely, Jonathan seems to buy it too, crying Mina's name in disbelief. The torture ends (thank goodness), and to make sure no harm comes to Jonathan, Mina tells Dracula that if you're really a vampire and if it's blood you want, you can have mine!

Just let me gather this bothersome veil...

...and Behold! Vampire bait.

She dramaticly pulls the veil of the wedding dress on one shoulder and reveals her neck. I love this. And so does Dracula. This is the one moment where his eyes actually light up with passion and while he attempts to stay cool, you can see his chest rise as his breathing gets faster with excitement. Darn right, count. Blood offered by free will is the best stuff there is. And it was about time you finally drank someone.

It's always interesting when humans offer their blood to the vampire out of free will, because there's usually good and complex reasons behind it, and this is no exception. Mina doesn't offer her blood out of sympathy or under the influence of vampiric hypnosis or even being seduced by the pretty blood drinker. It's offered by free will but it's very much not concensual. The offer of blood is the only way she can distract the vampire long enough to let Jonathan escape and get help. By playing along with the count's delusions about Mina being the reincarnation of his wife, she is cleverly buying time, manipulating him. Only, unfortunate for these two, there is no van Helsing or any other member of the book's league of merry vampirehunting men in this show for Jonathan to run to, so all he can do is to follow them to the castle and attempt a lone rescue mission (which fails).

Frankly, the one who eventually defeats Dracula (kinda) is Mina, who manages to win the count's sympathy (making him learn the good old ”if you really love someone, you'll want what's best for them and let them go instead of selfishly trying to force them to stay with you”). And this blood drinking scene is the first time we see that she is aware of the power she has over the vampire. Maybe in the end she didn't exactly intend to make him commit suicide, just trying to make him let them go, but old Drac was living a horribly depressed and angsty unlife anyway, so it doesn't surprise me that he decided to end it. That's why the (kinda). Mina has great influence over Dracula but I do think his decision to die a final death seems to be not a result of manipulation but a genuine decision. Though he still technically makes her do it, by forcibly placing the knife in her hands and then grabbing her wrists, stabbing himself, making her involuntarily deal the killing blow. Kinda dick move (Mina is quite horrified of this, understandably), but at least I'm happy Mina doesn't kill herself too in this one (yes, I'm still angry at that ending in 2011 Wao Youka's Dracula. The count kills himself so Mina can go back to being human and back to Jonathan. And then the dumb woman makes the count's sacrifice completely pointless by throwing away the life he attempted to save.) Dracula ends his unlife but Mina and Jonathan return to the world of the living, where they belong.

Final random thought: Knightly warlord Dracula looks a bit like Lancelot’s long lost, dangerously unhinged brother. (it’s the wig and the silver armor with blue details. The actresses are very different.)

[isleharriet]

TASK 01; MEETING THE RESIDENTS

full name

Harriet Jones

preferred name/nickname

Captain, Harriet, Ettie

appearance.

SEX: Female

HAIR: Mid back length, chestnut brown when uncoloured, ombre with blond when coloured SKIN: Pale, soft except her fingertip which are callous from fixing up the ship on the Isle EYES: Dark brown almost black, which see assumes are from her mother. SCARS: A couple of scars on her arms and shoulder from fights on the isle. A scar across her stomach from a fight she took part in when her fathers ship was attacked - healed with magic but left a scar. CLOTHES: Enchanted forest - pirate, Isle/Storybrooke - jeans,

speech.

ACCENT: Scottish VERBAL TICKS: None LANGUAGE: English LAUGHTER: She has a sweet laugh, almost musical, but it’s fake GRUMP: Grumping, sneering, growling, moaning, groaning BREATHING: Sighing

mannerisms.

FACE: She tends to wear a poker face, but she can also be extremely expressive with her irritation HANDS: Folded arms EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: Her default mode is angry/irritated HABITS: Eye rolling, biting her lip PERSONAL SPACE: She is standoffish, and will keep a distance.

health:

DIET: Poor - whatever they could get their hands on during her time on the isle, and she’d feed her crew before herself. SLEEP: Prone to nightmares, especially since the isle. CLEANLINESS: She maintains good hygiene ODOUR: She maintains good hygiene ILLNESS: None INJURIES: None OTHER: N/A

personal.

GENDER: Female SEXUALITY: Bisexual ROMANTIC: Never experienced it MEMORY: Good memory PENSIVE: Not her actions, but people she’s lost INTUITION: She is quick witted and has good gut instinct. GOALS: For the world to fear her name INSECURITIES: She hides all her insecurities, but most revolve around people leaving her ACHIEVEMENTS: Learning sword fighting, beating her papa at chess ANXIETY: Her family SELF-HELP: A good bottle of rum never hurt COMFORTS: Hugs from family, a bottle of vodka, being on the ocean

BAD HABITS: Sarcasm, eye rolling, imitating, slapping, punching, shoving, insulting

the past.

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: Killian Jones @cvptvinhook, her papa, she never knew her mother. She figured she was some bar wench who couldn’t look after a kid. SCHOOL: She excelled in homeschooling with her father, she did pretty well in Dragon Hall asides from Selfies 101 and Advanced Vanities (shout out for Evie for being her tutor @thefcirest) LEAVING HOME: She only left home because a curse took her aware (side eyeing you Regina @reginahqs) LIFE EVENTS: The curse that took her away form her father. Becoming a Captain. WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Her family being split up with the curse. BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: TBA LESSONS: [What are the most important things they have learned through experience?] LOOKING BACK: YOLO, no regret, jk, she’d stop Harry from leaving her crew.

relationships.

FAMILY: Killian Jones (father), Harry Jones (brother) @firstmateguyliner, Calista Jane Jones (sister), Ginny Gothel (crew) @gvthcl, Anthony Tremaine (crew) FRIENDSHIPS: She doesn’t make friends easily. ENEMIES: To many to list. Whoever started the damn curse. Anyone that annoys her STRANGERS: She’s quick to insult anyone not classed as in her inner circle. BEST FRIEND: Ginny Gothel @gvthcl LOVE: N/A WORST ENEMY: All enemies are the worst

interactions.

MINGLING: She doesn’t get on well with others COMFORT LEVELS: Talking to people is the worst PHYSICAL: She very much keeps to herself unless she’s fighting GROUPS: Her crew OPENNESS: Completely close, the only person truly able to get hr to open up is her papa GENEROSITY: Sharing is for losers. JEALOUSY: The only thing she is jealous of is Milah, how decades after her death, her father is still trying to avenge her despite having three children if other women TEMPER: Easily worked up EMPATHY: Very little empathy. AFFECTION: She doesn’t often show affection DISTASTE: Sneering, disgusted looks SELF ESTEEM: Very high self esteem CONFIDENCE: VERY Confident HONESTY: Depends who you are, honest with crew and family, will lie to others with ease. LEADER OR FOLLOWER: Leader PRAISE: Uncomfortable. FAILURES: Her temper, her violence, her need to insult people CRITICISM: How dare they? They end up on the end of her sword INSULTS: She laughs when people try to insult her EMBARRASSMENT: She isn’t easily embarrassed, but when she is, she will go into a blind rge. FLIRTING: She is very flirtatious, as she learned on the Isle, two things could get her what she wanted, fear and seduction. ATTENTION SPAN: She has a good attention span and can easily focus on multiple tasks at once SITUATIONS: She’s terrible in situations, she appears calm, but she stresses and subsequently angers easily.

life.

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CAREER: Pirate Captain - she loves it. TECH: She’s never used any type of technology bar a TV on the isle. Completely useless. COMBAT SKILLS: Expert sword fighter, good in bareknuckle fight, but useless with guns. HOME: A ship, being on the water COOKING: She is adequate, but anyone eating her cooking runs the risk of food poisoning. She’s good with soup though. BUILDING: Basic DIY CLEANING: She likes things immaculate. SHOPPING: Shopping is only fun when it’s a five finger discount. MARRIAGE: Not currently seeing anyone. KIDS: Undecided PETS: Does Anthony count? WORRIES: Losing everyone. HOBBIES: She loves to read, go sailing, dancing