#self-abolishing lace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Smooth as the nine realms

loki laufeyson x reader / masterlist

summary; the midguardian lifestyle is strange, but there is an aspect of it that loki is definitely not accustomed to, and he’s conflicted about whether he likes it or not / warnings; smut, talk about pubic hair, or lack of, oral sex (female receiving)

kicking off your leggings, you abolished them to the other side of the room, straddling loki as he abandoned his book, caring not that the pair of you were in the middle of the common room, nor the fact that he had lost his page. it had been a few months since loki had been forced to join the avengers on their next quest, thor had practically dragged him towards the bifrost.

but now, he didn’t mind earth so much. sometimes it could be quiet, that was when all members of the team were away on missions, and thor allowed him to be by himself. this though, the way you, an average, world protecting midguardian straddled him, after stripping out of your top and bra, in the middle of a public sector of the domain, was something that he sure as valhalla had no mind about.

in fact, he rather enjoyed the way that your hands roughed down the points of his shoulders, and trailed down his biceps, that were underrated, especially in comparison to his brother’s. the two of you had been playing a game since he attacked the planet, it was a chase of cat and mouse.

at first, he had envisioned you to be the mouse, but you no longer seemed meek and small any longer. instead, you were the feline that was cosying herself upon the perch of his royal lap, descending her grounding hips over the throne of his pelvis.

“what is it trickster, cat got your tongue?” you seemed rather confident with the way that his eyes remained glue to your mound, he realised that must have been quite a complimentary action for a mortal man to show to his partner.

to be truthful, it felt as though all speech was parched from his mouth, he had knowingly waited for this instance where you would deliberately rut yourself against him; like heimdall, he had a vision of the future delved in the reverse side of his eyes, though, his reaction was the most unexpected thing that he could had intended to paraphrase.

he trailed his hand over your mound, through the fabric of underwear, watching mercilessly as you bucked into his hand. midguardians were something else, they weren’t as sensual as others he had been with concerning their sexuality, in fact, as it appeared, some were desperate.

you were rutting in his grip, though he applied a stern hold unto them, forcing you to stop your ravenous movements, and pose stilly for the god beneath you. he gently, which was a surprise to you with how tender and kind his eyes had become, laid you down on the couch that stark has paid a pretty penny for, exchanging your positions so that you were the one under his demeanour.

“do something.” you eagerly insisted, lacing your mortal fingers through his midnight locks, tugging gently at his dark roots. a glassy encasement covered his eyes as he stared up at you, it was a mess to place the expression that was carried within them, gods were difficult, that much was clear. though, you weren’t seeking anything particularly intimate with the company of one, this had been inevitable though.

it had been like a kettle brewing, screeching like an applause when the pair of you had finally gotten to the point of no return. this was it, there were no divine interventions or avenging interruptions to discard this moment, instead you and loki were thrown this coin toss, given your desires in the aura of a wish fountain.

“humans.” his voice prowled, making bumps appear on your skin, as he blew a swift succession of cold air across your stomach, it sending a blizzard of coolness up the paving of your chest, making your nipples undeniably hard, their stiff peaks that beaded under his breath were almost painful as they stood obediently to attention. “always so demanding, why can’t your kind beg for a change, i know that would appease my hunger?”

“oh loki, please.” your tone was severely monotone, and caused the mischievous lord to roll his gemstone eyes, rendering their spheric pupils to glare in amusedly at you, though, he tugged your panties down, the sight leaving him breathless. he was enraptured with the sight, perplexed by it as his emerald eyes stared up at you for an explanation. though, you were not sure what he was expecting from you.

his throat dry, as for once, he was not able to comprehend the situation. his silver tongue had gotten lost, obstructed as he grew distracted by the visual that he was receiving. it was a cunt, he knew that much, but there was someone uniquely different about it, he’d assume it was scalped if her were to make verbal predictions. “what is this?”

“my attempts at deflating your ego. i am not going to beg for you to do something to me, i can easily find someone else.” you rested your head back, digging the crown of it further into the end of the couch, as you parted your legs a little further to resend an invitation for him to proceed.

“not that...” loki revealed, paving his icy hands up the roads of your thighs, letting his forefinger brush over your pubic mound, it was like the bifrost, a smooth pathing to a transportation of depth, one that he wished to investigate, though he was still stricken by the eventing shock that pulsed within his golden veins. he had always been a curious child, and he remained to be as keen to know all now, at centuries upon centuries old.

“have you never seen a vagina before?” you huffed, wanting him to do nothing more than devour your cunt, stabbing you with his vigilant tongue so that he could curl crude and priceless sounds out of your mouth. if anyone knew that you were about to participate in intercourse with the destructive, slippery handed body, they would surely judge you.

but they didn’t, and even if that were not the case, you wouldn’t care. your mind was far too preoccupied with the growing inclination to jump the god’s elegantly crafted bones, bury for now you, remained still, allowing him to assert his comfort within the situation. “what’s wrong?” this time, he answered you, looking almost like a dear kitten that was plodding through the bustling streets, seeking out attention from a kind citizen, having hopes to be taken to a home, and fed well.

“why-,” he cleared his throat, he never came across as this nervous to anyone, it was as though he feared what you may think of him if he were to speak his mind. “why don’t you have hair- here?” he stroked the pad of his thumb over the flat and bare crest, finding it to be one of the most peculiar things regarding humans that he had ever witnessed.

“because i shave.” it was a simple answer, whilst all while being not as direct as the god was hoping for. “it’s kinda a thing down here, some people let it grow out, others don’t. it’s whatever picks their fancy, and a lot of people, like me, shave so intimate partners don’t get grossed out. some guys are dicks and hate everything that is natural.”

“well i’d still be reaped with great, reprised regret, if i were to reform the idea of giving you satisfaction if you were to have a natural slate sheathing around your sweet cunt.” he inhaled, making your muscles wither with succumbed arousal. the god could smell your distinct scent of attraction towards him, and he was visually compelled by the aroma that invaded his senses.

loki, without warning, placed his palm over your clean shaven mound, holding you down as his tongue worked against your tender flesh, stroking it as though he bore a hand of intricacy, sketching out every detail of your skin, plucking the outer labia into the hatch of his often deceiving mouth. he had to admit, in his mind of course, he liked the access that he was granted by this strange human lifestyle.

the idea of pubic hair was one of parts of a woman’s body that usually fuelled the immortal man, however if you didn’t want to bear its follicles on your skin, then that was to it choice. he wouldn’t judge you for it, although he happened to judge midguardians on everything. you were different from the others though, despite sometimes bickering, and making stabbing jokes towards one another, he rather enjoyed your presence.

with you nearby, he finally felt seen. he was not only the immortal that had prided himself with almost crushing an entire mortal city, no. you saw through that, understanding that he was definitely not in his own mindset, he had been controlled. it was never in his plans to venture to midguard, even if it was to cause a ruckus. but now with you, he never wanted to leave.

despite your optimal obligations regarding the team, and villains much like himself, he felt accepted. thor too appreciated him, but that was far different, there had always been a means of competition between the brother, with you, that regard was not present. he could be himself, and appreciate your side silhouette, and demand the agents that passed by with wandering eyes with threats if they did not continue walking.

now that he thought about that, as he engorged on the taste of your cunt, sliding a prying finger through the door of your entrance, fumbling your clit with his bewitched thumb, he realised something. a great surprise to himself. he indeed cared about you, but far more than he had ever anticipated to. his fingers slowed as he became mesmerised with every small noise that projected from your mouth, wanting to drag this instance out for as long as possible.

not only did his self realisation show him that he found some calm in your lasting presence, but he had feelings. usually he blocked off such things, but the heavenly expression that illustrated itself upon your face had him inwardly swooning. he felt you comb your fingers through his locks, and he hummed. he wanted this moment to last forever, in it, he was not a god, nor an infamous trickster.

he was just a man swarming with irregular emotions towards a woman, a being of optimistic resort; if things were as simple, or if he understood as well, he’d ask to take you for dinner. but he didn’t know where to start with that, not only did he have a lack of wisdom when it came to human restaurants, but he had no clue as to how you would respond. he didn’t even think that you saw him as a suitor, he was simply a deliverer of teasing and now pleasure.

“fuck loki.” the mortal swear sounded like a spell, making his body overbear itself with a proud sensation as he pushed you over the edge, removing his fingers only for you to bring them to your own mouth and clean them off. “holy shit, that was so good. maybe i should have started with gods years ago.”

inherently the mischief source growled, his mind instantly going over to the idea of you choosing his brother; everyone did, they had a strong preference. from his family to his old friends, they all liked thor more, and that was how his resentment towards his brother had originally stemmed. he felt like an outcast, and from that reminded alone, conjoined with your interest towards his brother, he felt his eyes grow glassy.

“go to him. i’m sure thor would appreciate your partnership.” yes, he was acting like a sulking toddler, and it had your brow bone raising as you took in his words. it was his clap back response, and you grasped him, stopping him from leaning the room. you felt slightly vulnerable, being in the nude after such a small lash, but you knew something was bothering loki, and it was clear to what that was.

“i do not want your brother loki, nor any other god.” your voice bit back a strain to its tone, as you stared at the man, standing in your birthday suit before him. your hands splayed on his chest, feeling his heart through his attire viscosity beating. “there is no need to be jealous, it feels like we’ve playing this game for so long, and i intend for it to be over. i will be the first to admit it, i want you, all of you. from the dark corners to the hopeful light in your eyes.”

loki was astounded, nobody had ever been so straight forward with him. despite being the god of mischief, the half of the time it was him whom was the victim of lies. “you don’t mean that.” his hands lightly traced every dip in your hips as he searched your expression for certainty. “nobody wants me, i am the monster that had tales spread to fear the children of my people of a night. there is nowhere i belong, nor anybody whom i belong with.”

“that may be your mindset, or the one that you are speaking, but you are lying to yourself. i do want you loki odinson, please accept that.” he gulped, nobody had ever had he guts to tell him how it was, and here you were, simply speaking your mind before him. it was an admirable feature, something that he deemed to be a favourable quality. “now i think i’m gonna get dressed and head to my room, i am feeling a bit cold. come find me when you feel like admitting the truth to yourself, i’ll be waiting.”

as you went to turn, loki grasped your elbow, hushing your questions with his mouth, as he clutched your cheeks, passionately endorsing you in a meaningful kiss. he walked you backwards, until the pair of you once again fell onto the furniture. “you don’t have to wait y/n, because i do not want to.” he ushered pecks down your neck, as you grew warm from the disappearance of his usual cockiness, it being replaced with true confidence, that served as a show for no one, and instead was his own admittance to all.

330 notes · View notes

zorlok-if · 3 years ago

Note

hii my Z is a small snazzy feral man (they/them). they're the kind of stupid who knows they're stupid and embraces it fully. impulsive and reckless and abolished most sense of self-preservation. hellhound appears as a crow named Lace (she/her) who is done with their bullshit. they dress like a 50s greaser but 20s but gay but sultry. they usually have a trinket to fidget with. likes setting things on fire and exploding things (in mostly controlled environments).

I enjoy every word of this so much. Like a piece of fine art. Exquisite. Thank you ❤️

#gay but sultry is my new favorite aesthetic ❤️#thanks for sending this in!#asks #zorlok #zorlok mc

16 notes · View notes

morkleemelon · 4 years ago

Text

off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

163 notes · View notes

annemarieyeretzian · 4 years ago

Text

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, a French Rococo portraitist, apparently painted on every surface available to her (including her bedroom walls and schoolbooks) as a child, which prompted her father to say to her "If anybody was born to be a painter, my child, it's you."

By the age of 15, Élisabeth was painting portraits professionally and – having developed a modest clientele – was earning enough money to support her widowed mother and her brother.

By the age of 19, Élisabeth's portraits had garnered so much attention that her art materials were seized because she had been accepting paying clients without contributing to the guild (a guild that would not have initially considered her for membership because she was a woman).

Peace Bringing Back Prosperity was Le Brun's successful submission to the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture. She was one of only fifteen women to be granted full membership (a membership dissolved after the French Revolution, because female academicians were abolished).

By the age of 20, Élisabeth was established at court as the portrait painter to Marie Antoinette. One of her first paintings of the young queen (pictured above) caused quite the scandal, both because of the informality of the attire and the queen's decision to be portrayed that way.

Le Brun's Marie Antoinette and Her Children was an attempt to quell the scandal. She painted the young queen attired in royal red silks, adorned with feathers and lace, backgrounded by obvious opulence and surrounded by her children, reinforcing her role as both queen and mother.

In 1787 Élisabeth caused another public scandal when her Self-Portrait With Her Daughter Julie was exhibited at the Salon and showed Élisabeth smiling with an open mouth. Her decision deliberately ignored rules about facial representation, but Élisabeth liked breaking convention.

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun had a unique understanding of the style of modern individuals and her entering public art spaces at a time when women were considered important only as a nurturer made her radical. Over her lifetime, Le Brun completed some 660 portraits and 200 landscapes.

#Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun #Élisabeth #Vigée Le Brun #Le Brun #French Rococo #French #Rococo #Rococo painter #Rococo artist #portrait painter #painter #artist

151 notes · View notes

bioodorange · 4 years ago

Note

Doby Doggers hcs (sfw & nsfw) pls ♡

Doby hell yeah! I love this dude he is now solid character in my blog he’ll be on my (updated) master list and like be in the log of baseline characters I write for!

taglist: @frozensriracha @krayolacolor

||Doby Doggers Headcanons||

So one of Doby’s thing is like knee/thigh high socks right? I like to imagine he has lots of really pretty garters to go along with them

While abolishing the patriarchy through murder, he also does it by buying most/all of his things from small businesses

Custom orders are better quality anyway, it’s a win-win

Doby doesn’t view himself as higher then anyone because of his proxy status but he does use the “I’m the boss card”

You going to grab the last of a certain snack? Too bad that shits his, proxy card

I can see Doby collecting things, not neccessarily getting them himself but things others give him?

For example Sally brings him a pretty blue jay feather she found- He collects feathers now

If anyone ever brought him plants, like a cool leaf or a flower, he’d press it inside a book so it will last

He isn’t one to like reading on his own but he really likes being read too, falling asleep in someones lap, a book in their hand is just really comforting too him

Doby is a very charming person with a magnetic personality, it’s hard not to be drawn too him

This one’s kinda out there but I headcanon Toby is really into stars, and I can see him and Doby being good friends, so just from Toby rambling or spurting out facts Doby’s learned a lot about the solar system

Doby is a very good listener I feel, goes above and beyond to not only support his friends but help them achieve their goal aswell

While Doby is really confident and seems fairly stable he strikes he as an everyone before myself type?

Avoids his own problems a bit but leaps at the chance to help others

Doesn’t want to loose any sense of his old self living at the mansion, seeing everyone else slowly burnout and having a fear of that happening too himself

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

NSFW

Makes out with his friends casually

He’s a damn good kisser so, its enjoyable

Instead of guessing someones zodiac he guesses your kinks- and he’s always right

Really enjoys dressing up for his partner, wether its lingerie or one of their t-shirts and some underwear

Has a dildo/strap in almost every size and color

Has pretty lace sets to match most of them

This man is a god at oral, gets it done and does it well

High sex drive, multiple rounds are guaranteed

Loves showing off the marks his partner gave him, whether is bruises on his neck or hickies between his thighs he adores them

If every hole isn’t used you’re not doing it right

Big bottom vibes but a big tease, very playful and flirty throughout it

Just wants to be fucked dumb

Grab his throat and do him until he can’t think straight, he’ll ask nicely

Everyone has found him hot at one point or another, it’s just a given

#Doby doggers #doby doggers smut #doby doggers headcanons #creepypasta #ticci toby #third base #third base headcanons

25 notes · View notes

ryanccoleman · 4 years ago

Text

"Summerland”: Review

“There is a place for escapism with an ethical backbone. More than ever, we need to be able to relax under the spell of fantasists we can trust not to poison us with irony or distort history to suit their ideology.“

Summerland is British dramatist and theater director Jessica Swale’s film directorial debut. It tells the story of Alice Lamb (Gemma Arterton), a misanthropic young folklorist who is forced to care for a child evacuated from London in advance of the Nazi blitz. The film opens and closes on the great Dame Penelope Wilton as older Alice in the 1970s, and flashes of the character’s memories of being an Oxford girl in the ‘20s run through the middle, but Summerland is primarily a sort of wartime conversion narrative. Alice’s nature, scarred over by love lost and gone bitter, is gradually healed by the slow emergence of maternal love for the bright-eyed and innocent child, Frank, played with preternatural nuance by newcomer Lucas Bond.

When Frank is dropped at the doorstep of Alice’s romantically isolated cliffside cottage on the outskirts of a town in East Sussex, he finds her in a bitter and recalcitrant state. For their first dinner she hands him an uncooked potato, raw ham, and a whole egg. “You don’t expect me to cook it for you? There’s the stove,” she points, and walks back to her life’s great pursuit—her writing. She spends her days laced into a rigid routine of researching and composing “academic theses, not stories,” as she corrects a prying town elder (Tom Courtenay), that use science to debunk narrative folkloric explanations for strange natural phenomena.

Her life is solitary, studious, and mercilessly subjected to the strictest self-imposed routine. The war’s sudden imposition, via Frank, on that routine brings with it other, more upbraiding interruptions. His inadvertent puncturing of the hermetic seal on her life stirs up vivid flashbacks of a time when she was, like him, looking toward the future with innocent hope. In that time, her twenties in the ‘20s, she met Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s Vera at a spring concert at Oxford. The spark was immediate, the chemistry undeniable. So began the hushed and rapturous affair whose sudden break has cast a long, withering shadow over Alice’s life. It is out from under this burden that Frank’s childlike curiosity and unquestioning faith in the goodness of other people begins to pull Alice.

Alice’s emotional flowering begins to dovetail with the subject of her latest inquiry—the Summerland myth. In the film, what Alice calls Summerland is actually Fata Morgana, or centuries-old mariner’s yarns of floating islands materializing inexplicably on the horizon, thought of as conjurings of the wicked sorceress of Arthurian lore, Morgan Le Fay. In reality, Summerland is a term created by theosophists in the 19th century to refer to a concept similar to heaven in ancient pagan cosmologies. Swale has simply nested the one within the visual of the other. Called variously The Otherworld, The Shining Land, and the Land of the Young by Celts, Summerland is “a land of eternal summer, with grassy fields and sweet flowing rivers,” like “Earth before the advent of humans,” writes popular witchsplainer Scott Cunningham. He could well be describing the pastoral, soft and sunlit setting of Swale’s film—the southeast English coast, shot gloriously on location.

If it’s possible to resist Summerland’s principal hook, namely, Swale’s ability to tell an intricately plotted, politically engaged, at times bleak story in a way that feels as sublime, escapist, and low stakes as the folklore its heroine is investigating, then the locations which provide backdrop for it all prove irresistible. It’s simply impossible to look at Gemma Arterton with no makeup on, hair free and flowing down her back, clad in a warm wardrobe of rustic, earth-toned skirts and cardigans, scrawling something about wildflowers in her leatherbound notebook, emblazoned against the operatic white chalk cliffs being continually washed by the sparkling sapphire sea and not feel instantly soothed, regardless of what else is going on, in her life or yours.

Landscape is then not just backdrop, it is central to the film’s most potent attribute—its palliative effect on the weary and discontented viewer’s soul. Cunningham’s evocation of Summerland, as an oasis suspended in time, above and parallel to the conflicted world, where all pain is temporarily abolished, extends beyond how the film looks to how it feels, landing at this particular moment.

Like the floating islands that give it its name, Summerland hovers above real life without ever quite touching down. In the moments the film’s dramatic conflicts threaten to break through the amniotic stasis of its sun-drenched cinematography, romantic thematic pursuits, and effervescent dialogue, Swale vanishes the stakes. Only one line is spoken about what would have been the multiply illicit nature of Arterton and Mbatha-Raw’s relationship, for instance. “They think we should burn in hell,” Alice has to explain to Frank, who in all his totemic, childlike innocence, has managed somehow to avoid homophobic social inculcation. Never mind the fact that their relationship, in addition to being same sex, was cross racial. What would it have been like for Vera, as a woman-loving Black woman, to navigate a white ethno-nationalist empire during a time when homosexuality (though lesbianism was never targeted explicitly in the laws) was punishable by exile, hard labor, and even imprisonment? We can only imagine, because that’s not Summerland’s game.

Summerland isn’t a dirge-like, finger-wagging history lesson like The Imitation Game. Nor is it bright, confectionary, period-set escapism like Autumn de Wilde’s recent adaptation of Emma. It’s somewhere in between, more akin to Jonathan Levine’s Long Shot, which embraces contemporary cultural politics without really getting into them. The result is a kind of guilt-free indulgence in classical Hollywood narrative constructs, made possible not by inverting or deconstructing them, but by simply updating who gets to negotiate their terms. This sounds like criticism but I for one am fully on board. Long Shot was one of my favorite movies of last year, and Summerland is one of my favorite movies this year so far. There is a place for escapism with an ethical backbone. More than ever, we need to be able to relax under the spell of fantasists we can trust not to poison us with irony or distort history to suit their ideology. Spoiler alert, but Summerland has a happy ending. Would you expect that from a period film with an interracial lesbian couple at its center? You wouldn’t, but wouldn’t you like to?

#summerland #jessica swale #film #film critic #film criticism #lgbt film #lesbian films #period piece #lesbian period piece #queer period piece #gugu mbatha raw #gemma arterton #tom courtenay #penelope wilton

50 notes · View notes

akp-1327 · 5 years ago

Text

rest easy (ajay bhandari x mc)

Hi again, everyone! I hope you're doing okay! ♡

Pairing: (implied) Ajay Bhandari x f!MC (Charlotte Parker)

Word Count: ~800

Synopsis: While Charlotte lay asleep in the auditorium, Ajay's thoughts meander to toe a dangerous line; his feelings about her.

Enjoy!! 😊❤

The sound of Charlotte's snore was all Ajay could hear. It was ringing in his ears. Despite how hard he tried to rid himself of it's loud and obnoxiously annoying sound, he couldn't.

His eyes wandered over to her resting figure; sprawled out in a red velvet house seat that seemed like it was made of stone. How she was sleeping so soundly, figuratively and literally, was beyond Ajay's astonishment.

With a closer look, Ajay noticed her arm give a microscopic jolt. Then, her entire body followed suit.

She was shivering?

In a moment of raw worry, Ajay sprung up from his spot on the carpeted auditorium floor and started to shrug off his blazer. Upon closer inspection, Charlotte's arms were covered in tiny goosebumps. Without hesitation, Ajay laid his blazer on top of her and immediately watched as she cuddled into it, his expression softening with peace.

Thoughts flooded his mind; what would his life look like if this were the norm? Charlotte's hand in his each day, him being the reason for her effervescent smile, basking in an utter feeling of bliss each time he saw her, knowing she was his and his alone...

Before he could stop himself, he was down on his knees and admiring her sleeping state. The already overwhelming urge to sweep the loose blonde waves from her face was building, building, and building so much that his hand gained a mind of it's own to softly tuck the hair behind her ear.

He let his hand gently skate across her soft skin for a second before he suddenly pulled away, the saddening reality of their "relationship" filling his vision once more.

She hadn't been, and probably would never be, his. No matter how much he wanted it.

If only their roles had been different. If only he wasn't such a stubborn guy whose one puny experience with romance ended in heartbreak. If only he had the willpower to abolish his rule and let her live her life. If only he wasn’t so smitten with her.

If only, if only, if only...

Ajay remained on his knees as her breaths slowly continued. The obnoxious snoring that once filled his ears eventually turned into a harmonious melody that he'd willingly listen to forever. The shivers that once laced her body quelled as she pulled the beige blazer tighter around her arms, even when it was large enough to cover her torso (and then some) already.

A frown worked it's way into Ajay's expression when he thought about everything she'd been through. Adoption, losing her parents, not knowing any biological family...all of the uncertainty in her life, all the pain...she shared it all with him that night.

It made him want to hold her so tightly so that she'd forget all about it and instead focus on his arms around her--

Ajay shook the thought from his mind and stood up to wander back to his spot on the floor. He sat down, hugging his knees, while his light brown eyes intently watched her like they did every day for the past couple weeks.

A chill ran up his spine; without his blazer, his warmth was gone. But he could care less; if she was warm and resting easily, he didn't mind how he felt. Everything he did was with her in mind now. He'd show her how much he cared about her in the most cliche ways, but he paid the stereotype no mind.

One day he'd tell her about his feelings when he had the strength. One day, hopefully, he'd be able to let his walls crumble and reveal his true self to her.

That hypothetical day, however, wouldn't be while she was asleep. It wouldn't be while they were in the middle of rehearsing a show. It wouldn't be while he was a stuck-up director and she an amazing lead.

So, with a feeling of both hope and disappointment, Ajay took off his glasses and laid down. He closed his eyes without another glance up at her, worrying that his feeling of disappointment would consume him whole with another look.

Just as he fell into a light sleep, however, another snore came from Charlotte. Though, instead of feeling annoyed or enchanted, he was confused when he heard his name fall from her lips shortly after in a sleepy mumble.

His heart pounded. His eyes widened. His entire being stiffened up with surprise. He didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know how to breathe.

As a few minutes passed, his shock faded. She'd probably just been dreaming...about him?

He'd probably regret it later, but he let a smile cross his face. A warmth encased his heart and a familiar feeling of hope washed over him.

No matter what happened to their friendship, Ajay determined, nothing would make him change his feelings towards her.

And he'd share them with her, soon enough.

#ajay bhandari #ajay bhandari x mc #ajay x mc #high school story class act #hssca #choices stories you play #fluff #kinda angsty #but still fluffy :)

46 notes · View notes

brianshapanus772 · 4 years ago

Text

Vox Party Profile

Right-wing populist VOX has entered a Spanish regional parliament for the first time after gaining 11 per cent of the vote in Andalusia on Sunday, according to exit polls.

https://www.breitbart.com/europe/2018/12/02/right-wing-populist-party-enters-spanish-regional-party-first-time/

The vox party is the far-right populist party within the political landscape of Spain formed in late 2013 but did not come to the forefront until 2016. They are known for their far-right views including being against women’s rights and immigration along with xenophobic tendencies. They oppose things such as same-sex marriage and abortion. They take a radical right stance versus the PODEMOS party which is a left-wing populist group. The Vox Party has grown drastically in numbers over the past years. They are a very nationalist group that is seen at odds with anyone who is not a true Spaniard in their eyes. One of their main platforms is they are against the Catalonian independence movement going on in Spain and believe it will hurt the country if Catalonia gains independence. The Vox Party is in direct disagreement with Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez who has formed a coalition with PODEMOS. Sanchez said he is willing to talk with Catalonia about independence which the Vox Party vehemently opposes. This anti-separatist movement is being led by Vox Party leader Santiago Abascal who believes separatist parties should be abolished because they will ruin the unity of Spain and drive the country apart. They also have publicly criticized the European Union saying it does not give enough power to the people and believe it needs to be completely altered which is a much more radical view compared to the PODEMOS. This shows how the Vox Party takes Euro-skepticism one step further to being Euro-critical. The party prides itself on the slogan “Make Spain Great Again” and is now the first far-right party in Spain to hold seats in Parliament since 1982.

Santiago Abascal is the leader of the Vox Party who is the mind behind these radical views that define them. He is a 43-year-old from Bilbao in the Basque Country and has a degree in sociology. He got into politics at a young age. His father was the leader of the Basque People's Party and his grandfather was a pro-Franco mayor. He believes the Catalonian independence movement is a major threat to Spain and should be put to rest immediately. He also believes that all illegal immigrants who reside in Spain should be deported immediately as they do not belong there and are posing “very serious economic and coexistence problems”. Abascal has also been known to take anti-Islam stances as well. He believes the way to stop Catalonian independence is to stop their autonomy and to take control of their television, police, and education. These are some of the radical right-wing populist views the Abascal holds.

Many of the Vox Party’s arguments, self-presentation, and grievances related to larger frameworks of populism. Many of their ideas align with populist views, especially those that are right-wing. They believe they are restoring the power to the “true people” of Spain which is a very populist point of view. “Responding to frustrations over the effects of both older and newer transformations of European politics and society, such as European integration and immigration, populist radical right parties emerged across the continent, though with different levels of political and electoral success. These parties combine populism with two other ideologies: authoritarianism and nativism” (Mudde and Kaltwasser, pg. 34). This relates directly to how right-wing populism was defined by Mudde and Kaltwasser and how the Vox Parry would fit perfectly into this category. They present themselves in a way that takes a clear stance against immigration and their argument against it is the main part of their platform which helps them right into this overarching category of right-wing populism. “Populist campaigns and parties, by nature, point to problems through demands that are unlikely to be realized in the present political circumstances. In the case of some right-wing populists, these demands are laced with bigotry or challenge democratic norms” (Judis, pg. 3).

As many populist movements have the Vox Party has developed a very adverse stance towards the media. The Vox Party continually undermines mainstream journalists and media claiming that they are out to get them and are deliberately spreading media against them because their views do not align. Vox spreads this sentiment through misinformation just as many populists groups do. They dub trusted media sources as fake news and use abrasive language to turn their followers against the media. Abascal, the leader of Vox, has used his Twitter to promote the party and what he believes to be their success while simultaneously shutting down media that reports not so favorably on the party. “At the top of his Twitter feed, Abascal has pinned a long series of tweets, beginning in the spring of 2018 and continuing to the present. Each one links to a clip or a photograph of a conference hall or stadium packed to the rafters with people cheering and clapping. The later tweets also contain the hashtag #EspañaViva — #LivingSpain — and rapturous commentary: ‘Neither death threats from dozens of communists nor insults from television can stop #EspañaViva.’ These tweets, plus the party’s constant attacks on the ‘fake’ opinion polls in the ‘biased’ media, had a purpose: Those following Vox had the feeling they were part of a huge movement” (Washinton Post). Vox Party members have even gone as far as to physically assault journalists at their anti-government protests. One tv reporter states that he was stopped from filming the protest while simultaneously being shouted homophobic slurs at and being called a communist. Another journalist who worked as a photographer for a local newspaper was assaulted as members of the Vox Party took his camera and threw it on the ground as well as ripping his shirt. These are just a couple of the occurrences of the far-right Vox Party supporters assaulting media and journalists. These attacks show clearly how the Vox Party feels about the media in Spain.

1 note · View note

daenerys-targaryen-moved · 5 years ago

Text

I don’t know.

I used to believe that Daenerys’ endgame was to fight the Others, and while I do believe that it is her destiny to fight them, I no longer believe it will be her end. You can look through my old metas and find that I once believed that Daenerys would sacrifice herself in the battle against the Others because Daenerys is very self sacrificial, she is very very selfless and very very compasionate. She puts herself at risk to protect total strangers. She freed thousands of slaves because she wanted to, even though in doing so kept her away from her dream of returing to Westeros. She gave Doreah the very last bit of water on the Dothraki sea to sooth her as she died. She thirsted and starved along side those who chose to follow her instead of taking up the remaining resources for herself because she was Khaleesi. She sacrificed her own happiness by marrying someone who she despised in order to keep peace in Meereen. The point I’m getting at is that Daenerys is extremely self sacrificial and extremely selflesss.

However, I’ve come to the conclusion that Daenerys sacrificing herself and then dying so that the Others are defeated just......... doesn’t fit her story or plot at all. From book one, her entire journey has been about protecting people and abolishing slavery. Of course, the Others murder people and enslave them for evil, so that does make sense. There is of course Azor Ahai prophecy that without a doubt hints to Daenerys,

There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him.

When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.

(Now I know that Jon and Bran are also potentially Azor Ahai, I don’t really want to get into that debate because it’s been debated on who is Azor Ahai, if it’s one person or multiple, on if it’s even relevant to present asoiaf, ect. I’m just bringing it up because I personally do believe that it points to Daenerys, and with that being said points to her battling against the Others in some fashion one way or another)

If we look at Daenerys, her plot has been about ruling, abolishing slavery and protecting people. Her story is very political, while say Jons story is very magical. Now I know that sounds crazy. Daenerys, the girl who hatched and rides dragons is the political story whilst Jons, the boy who is a secret lost prince and Lord Commander is the magical story. To me though it is. Jons plot is also about protecting people, but it’s about protecting people from the Great Others, not slavers. He attempts to protect those beyond the wall because he knows that if he doesn’t succeed in allowing them past the wall, they will all die and become members of the Others army.

Anyways, as I’ve stated above, to me Danys story is about protecting people from those who would wish to harm them, abolishing slavery and ruling. Now, her sacrificing herself to defeat the Great Others doesn’t make much sense considering she’s not the main POV who the entire time has dealt with the Great Others. Her entire POV has been about abolishing and battling slavers.

Also, the ending is supposed to be bittersweet. Daenerys sacrificing herself in the Battle against the Others isn’t bittersweet for her. It’s a tragedy.

Daenerys was born an orphan and without a family. Her father was murdered, her mother died bringing her into the world, her eldest brother was slain in war, her good sister was butchered, her niece was stabbed a dozen times and her nephew has his skull bashed in. Daenerys has nothing but a brother who viewed and used her as nothing but a pawn. She has a short time of happiness growing up in an unknown location in Braavos, where she has Ser Willem Darry in the house with the red door and lemon tree, but he dies and assasins are sent after her and Viserys, forcing them to leave the house with the red door and flee on foot into the streets. She starves, she thirsts, she lives in mud and in filth and in fear, being too young to comprehend why this is happening, why she’s being hunted, why she was taken from what she viewed as her home, why her brother is being so cruel. Illyio takes them in, and strikes a deal with a war lord Dothraki Khal to marry Daenerys off to him in exchange for his army. She’s sold and is nothing more than a glorified bed slave for him. She grows to love him out of pure survival and out of stock holm syndrome. Viserys sentences himself to death by bringing weapons into the Vaes Dothrak, holding a sword to her pregnant belly and threatening to cut her unborn child from her womb, rather she’d plead for his life or not he had already been sentenced. She gets pregnant, but eventually loses her husband and also her baby in a horrific birth laced with dark blood magic. She has power as a Khaleesi, but still has less authority than her husband even as he takes his last breaths. She frees the slaves that made up the khalassar that stayed with her after her husband died, and some leave her, but those who stayed at now her people who chose her and who she must protect. She suffers with them in the Red Waste, has to watch as those same people starve and die. Flash forward and she’s gained the Unsullied and freed all 8,000 men. She’s conquered Meereen and freed all of those slaves as well. That happiness is also short lived as the slavers of course are not happy that they no longer have slaves, and form the Sons of the Harpy. She has to marry a man she loathes because it’s either marriage or war, and she wants to keep her people safe. All moments with Daario are a young girl in love but he is not kingly type and she knows it.

There is no doubt that every character / family in a song of ice and fire has suffered. This isn’t a ‘Daenerys has suffered the most’ post, because honestly the whole debate on who has suffered most is tiring and annoying. This is a post pointing out that Daenerys has had very few short lived moments of happiness, security and love before it was snatched away from her one way or another.

For her story to end in such a way that really doesn’t make sense for her plot, and for her to die in such a fashion that doesn’t even relate to her characters goals isn’t bittersweet. For this young girl who’s overcame being orphaned, starved, abused, raped, enslaved and is one of the only characters who cares about the people and the minorities of the world to die isn’t bittersweet. For this young girl to die by sacrificing herself so that those who grew up privileged in every sense of the word can live is not bittersweet. For her to die battling an enemy that her story does not resolve around is not bittersweet. For her to die so that she defeats the enemies of others, for them to use all her resources for their own gain and survival is not bittersweet. For her characters entire purpose of the story to be her suffering time and time again, for her accomplishments and hard work to be brushed off and for her to pave the way for others is not bittersweet.

That’s a tragedy.

I’m talking in circles because I’m really quite terrible at expressing my thoughts, and also Daenerys if you didn’t know, means a lot to me, so I’m also emotional about this topic. I hope some of this makes sense, because honestly if this is where her story is going then what is the point of her character? What was the point of creating her, if her endgame is to just defeat others enemies and then die so that those who don’t even care for her live? What was the point of her abolishing slavery and protecting those who cannot protect themselves if her endgame doesn’t remotely revolve around doing just that? Why create her if her endgame is to clean out others enemies? What was the point of her overcoming all that suffering and abuse if her endgame is just more suffering and abuse? I’m a bitter Dany stan if you couldn’t tell, and if this is where GRRM is taking her then he can keep the end to himself because I don’t want it.

Anyways, I’m tired and I just want her to live and be happy and accomplish her goal of protecting others who can’t protect themselves. Is that too much to ask for?

#daenerys targaryen #asioaf #asoiaf meta #kinda #not really #just my thots #about my girl #i am sad and in my dany feels on this fine thursday #long post #aruellia.txt

47 notes · View notes

hopegroundzero2 · 5 years ago

Text

All All Apologies

Picking this prompt was the only instance of brilliance I ever had because I’m all about musical references. That’s the case here. I love when a product drops a title in its soundtrack. I wish dr0 had a soundtrack. Or a drama CD.

Or like, anything, really.

No warnings here, I don’t think.

“There’s way too much to feel sorry about, least of all myself,” Matsuda muttered, covering his eyes. “Everything I ever did—regardless of the intent, I hurt a lot of people. I took lives despite calling myself a doctor. How the fuck can I begin to make up for any of it?”

Miaya does glance up at him, ever patient with her fingers laced. Matsuda, stealing a glance, lets out a harsh laugh.

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I don’t fucking deserve anything. I don’t even know why I’m here right now.”

Miaya’s fingers detach, and her hands move ever gracefully. Her expression is stern, given the narrowing of her gaze.

“Deserving is not the point. You are here because you wish to improve. You wish to do better, both by yourself and by others.”

“Naegi would not fucking get off my ass if I didn’t at least test this out,” Matsuda snapped. “Besides.” He crossed his arms. “I wanted to see if you were here with my own eyes. So. Nothing’s really changed on your end, huh?”

Miaya shook her head. She waved her hand. She signed some choice words at him before ducking her head apologetically. She didn’t look all that sorry, but that was the usual case when she had always been such a stoic woman.

“I am still here. But others are not so fortunate. I wish to save as many people as I can. Especially wayward associates of mine.”

Matsuda could remind her that it’s bad practice to act as a therapist to people she’s closely associated with. Something about biases. Something about the emotional weight. Shit that she would obviously know, however...

It’s not like there’s anyone else qualified like this willing to hear people like me out. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Still. What a fucking joke all this is. Even if he can’t help but wish Miaya hadn’t been in this situation. This awkward, awful, fucking atrocious situation. It would’ve been better if he had died.

It would’ve been so much better for everyone and himself if he had just—

Miaya claps a few times. When she has his attention, she signs.

“You are guilt-ridden. Self-loathing. Self-pitying. You are also a victim, Matsuda-kun.”

She even uses an old, familiar nickname, a mixture of the words brain and comic.

“That doesn’t abolish the blame I bear,” he said quietly. She shook her head.

“No. However that you feel remorse is the first step in a better direction. You wanted to see me, right? What exactly did you wish to say to me?”

She meets his gaze intently. He thinks of a worried mother, and it feels like ants are crawling up and down his back before burrowing into his skin. He squirms, flusters, but the words come out regardless of his straining.

“I-I’m glad...that you’re alright, sensei. And—I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

She nods. Accepting it. He knows she already forgives him. He’s grateful she doesn’t make it clear. If he had seen the words formed, either by lips or by graceful hands—he might’ve broken a little more.

As it stands, with the words out, all he can do is accept that they were said. That she responded. And that all they can do now is move on.

#yasuke matsuda #Matsuda Yasuke #miaya gekkogahara #fics #mod post

13 notes · View notes

flatshollow · 5 years ago

Text

the Flats Hollow Sector # 12 - happy National Susan B. Anthony day issue

Susan B. Anthony (February 15, 1820 – March 13, 1906) was an American social reformer and women's rights activist who played a pivotal role in the women's suffrage movement. Born into a Quaker family committed to social equality, she collected anti-slavery petitions at the age of 17.

t. Wikipedia.org

Image: portrait of Susan B. Anthony, Abolitionist

Famous for "the purse protest" -

(a) Feminists invented purses to shed the corsette. (b) Without those "breath-taking" undergarments, they could finally breathe. (c) These dresses contained numerous giant pockets, weighing down emergency movements.

This garment was used to constrict females, literally, physically, and socioeconomically.

These women, like the bra-burners who came after them, developed into the "Flappers" (like gulabi gang)

Whereas before women's self defence relied on sleight of hand, these days they could openly move against rape.

circa 1900s-1930s, the development of the first wave feminist fashion style(s).

pictured: 1920s random fashion model, long hair was not a defence concern, and bellbottoms radicalised the international markets.

This woman was ahead of her time, because pants didn't become "acceptable" until the 1980s.

Not only was Susan B. Anthony fighting to abolish slavery, yet risked her life in defensive clothing.

Susan B. Anthony was very passionate about her avant feminist clothing choices:

“Let me tell you what I think of bicycling,” Miss Anthony said, leaning forward and laying a slender hand on my arm. “I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel. It gives woman a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. It makes her feel as if she were independent. The moment she takes her seat she knows she can’t get into harm unless she gets off her bicycle, and away she goes, the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood.”

Any "dress-wearer" knows the plights and struggles of suffering "the bicycle conundrum"

Susan B. Anthony continued:

(Bloomers, the feminist avant fashion style) “Are the proper thing for wheeling,” added Miss Anthony promptly. “It is as I have said — dress to suit the occasion. A woman doesn’t want skirts and flimsy lace to catch in the wheel. Safety, as well as modesty, demands bloomers or extremely short skirts. You know women only wear foolish articles of dress to please men’s eyes anyway.”

Here, you see the vast divergence in her press release: her compromise with a traditionalist audience.

Famous 1920s news magazine comic, Flapper Fanny:

"Wives Make a Number of Husbands Good Listeners"

(a Flapper shopping by herself)

"Nobody knows why some people insist on reading creepy ghost stories. It's a fright!"

I, for one, applaud the early 1920s bellbottoms proponents.

#feminism #feminist issues #female liberation #susan b anthony #holidays #womens rights #flappers #gulabi gang #self defence #fashion #clothing #avant garde

4 notes · View notes

icedinsomnia · 6 years ago

Text

UnderMoon Part 6

Nick opened his eyes to see Frisk on his left and Flowey on his right.

“What… happened?” Nick sat upright and immediately realized three things. One: he looked like his old self again, still ghostly, but still himself. Second: everyone was here, everyone who was present in the throne room was here. Third: ‘here’ was a white void comprised of nothing.

“Where are we?” Nick rubbed his head, looking from face to face.

“Well genius, if you must know we all got sucked into the Philosophers Stone and are currently unconscious in the throne room. So thanks princy for getting us into this mess!” Flowey hissed, crossing his leaves like arms.

“It was like that. I didn’t do it recently.” Nick tried to reason, but only got disappointed and annoyed faces in return.

“Well since you are the one the stone was originally fused to you have the greatest amount of control. The rest of us are basically here to increase you stats. But hey not much we can do about it.” Sans had a look that sent shivers down Nick’s spine.

“What do we do now?” Nick asked, avoiding Sans’s gaze.

“We continue with the plan.” The human girl spoke up, eyes filled with bloodlust.

“But Chara… he doesn’t know what’s happening…” Flowey spoke up, clearly afraid of the human girl.

“Then let’s explain it to him shall we.” Chara crossed her arms, annoyed and angry.

“Oh! Can the Great Papyrus explain the situation to the young prince?” Papyrus jumped at the opportunity, the others not protesting against it.

“Alright! So basically we are all members of the royal court or children of those members as Frisk has told you. But what we also discovered was that it was the king himself who put us down here! He is using us as black mail or as leverage to get the court to do as he wishes, one being to ignite war with the humans! So we, the remaining members of the not corrupted court, are trying to overthrow the king and stop the war.” Papyrus was very proud of his explanation, Sans and Undyne giving him encouragement as well.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Nick asked. Chara was the one who spoke up.

“The advisor, Lord Gaster, was listening. Even though he was helping us he knew what would happen if the king found out so we had to be extra cautious. Not to mention you don’t remember a thing about why you came here and about anything involving your history with us.” Chara gave Nick a look that made him feel like a target to a missile. It was threatening.

“Well tell me then.” Nick pressed, hoping for more answers.

“I got this.” Undyne spoke up, MK starring at her with awe.

“You see Nick, you were the one who discovered you fathers plans. You recruited each of us to help you by visiting the underground by day and returning at night as to not be affected by the curse. It was working at first… until your father found out what you were doing. So by day you and two others made your way into the underground for good and continued to make preparations. That is until the curse stared affecting you… Gaster, you and Sans were working on a project when you started becoming violent… Sans had to kill you… it was more like the king had taken over Gaster and forced Sans to kill you… then you lost your memories for good…” Undyne gave Nick a pitying look, glancing at Sans occasionally.

“I…I see…” Nick mumbled. He looked to everyone, they had hope in him once. They believed in him. So now, they need to believe in him again.

“Let’s go.” Nick spoke proudly. Everyone’s attention at him.

“I know I may not remember my past, but I swear to you all that I will finish what I started. That’s a royal promise.” Nick smiled, he was scared of what lay ahead. But he knew he couldn’t back down now. The three eyes of the ultimate boss who lay unconscious in the throne room opened for the first time, awake and ready to battle.

The boss the ten of them created was like nothing they have seen, they had a grey ghostly tail with a black belt and the soul DETERMINATION on it. They have six skeleton like arms, the top two have yellow and gold laced along the arm, the wrist lined with a golden bracelet, the souls AUDACITY on the right and KINDNESS on the left. The middle arms the same as the top but with red instead of yellow, the souls DILIGENCE on the right and INTEGRITY on the left. The lowest arms the same as the other four accept instead of red or yellow it was a light green that wrapped the arms. The souls PERSERVERANCE on the right and GENEROSITY on the left. The arms have short sleeves on them and vines around the forearm. Two oranges spikes jutting out of the sleeves of each arm. The shirt and sleeves are a navy blue color a red belt along the bottom of the shirt, the soul EMPATHY as its focal point, a red scarf wrapped around their neck, headphones sitting atop the scarf, a cream color hood laying lazily on their back, the strings of the hood swaying freely, the souls DEDICATION and COURAGE hanging from the base of the strings. Their blue gills and fins standing out against the pure white of their skin. Their teal hair in pigtails wrapped in pink laces. White horns wrapped in vines and flowers jutting from atop their head, the orange spikes running along their back and goat tail. Their eyes where what seemed to hold the most power, the left eye was like Undyne’s accept that the color was replaced with her new cream colored soul instead of the normal blue color. The right eye was like Sans’s accept it was a vibrant orange to replace the blue. And the third eye in the center of their head was completely red accept for the black iris. The left and right eyes bled black like what Chara’s eyes would do occasionally. And their smile was like Papyrus’s, usually friendly, but in their case… menacing. For laughs they summoned a basic version of their main weapon. It was a combination of the skelebros bones, Undyne’s spears and Asgore’ trident. It was a basic bone shape from the base to the shaft but has a trident tip with spear ends along the sides of the shaft. The other thing they could do was use Muffet’s webs, which were now a navy blue color to match her new soul. Which would be very useful in their upcoming battle. They stood, regaining balance with their new body.

‘We should head right to the barrier and start kicking ass!’ Undyne yelled in their head, making Nick, the main one controlling the body, wince.

“Not so loud Undyne.” Nick, the body, said in a voice that was strong and powerful, but also showed compassion and kindness.

‘Sorry, sorry. But we really should head to the castle right away.’ Undyne quieted down.

‘We can guide you, it’s been a while since I’ve been there but Frisk should have the path memorized, right Frisk?’ Chara susurrated.

‘Yeah, I can take us there. But what do we do when we get there? Just go up and challenge the king? He’s a Litch with powerful magic, not to mention physical attacks won’t work on him…’ Frisk was hesitant, Nick could tell.

“We have my ability Frisk so he can’t use physical attacks against us either. Not to mention we heavily rely on magic, and with you and Chara we also have the ability to do powerful physical attacks.” Nick soothed, hoping to raise Frisk’s spirits.

‘That’s…true… but are you really willing to face off against your own father?’ Frisk asked, concerned.

“I have no memory of the guy, so as far as I’m concerned he’s just another bully I have to deal with…” Nick started them forward to the barrier.

‘Nick… if it becomes too much, let me take the lead…I know I haven’t been the nicest to you but I’ve got your back.’ Sans chimed in, Nick could tell that they were all pumped to finally finish this, and in this powerful form it seems like nothing can get in their way.

“Ok Sans, I will. But for now, all of you save your energy for the battle. We’ll need it.” Nick said, abolishing the barrier, breaking the seemingly endless curse. The sunlight poured its rays on them, cradling them in heat. Nick took a deep breath and readied himself.

“Where to Frisk?” he asked.

‘We need to head north, the castle lies dead north.’ Frisk seemed as nervous as Nick, which he understood completely.

“Alright. Then let’s go!” Nick launched them off the cliff face at a speed so unnatural it seemed physically impossible. And just as they broke contact with the earth a sensation came over them, and just like that they teleported past the tree line and only feet away from a massive lake.

“What?!” Nick alleged startled.

‘Sans was that you?!’ Flowey asked in a harsh tone.

‘It wasn’t me!’ Sans shouted back.

“Ok, so we can teleport, just another thing we can use against the king.” Nick took this turn of events in a positive way, and by using the same determined concentration he had before he teleported away from the lakes edge and to his father’s castle.

#undermoon undertale au

1 note · View note

thepriceofburning · 6 years ago

Photo

Year 335 of the Era of Unity

John Estep stood high on a balcony that ran the entire length of the entrance courtyard to the Towers. From here he could see his men in their positions upon the defensive walls, and the people who shuffled through the massive gates into the giant paved area called the First Yard, below. A small dark starkling cried the hour from its roost upon one of the guard towers and a dozen echoing calls replied.

As Delta Commander of the Wolf Knights, The Towers were his responsibility. One might assume that a place so packed with mages, witches, wizards, sorceresses, and shadow beings, might not need protection from an outside source. What most didn't realize was that such people frequently needed protection from themselves. This wasn't simply a military post, but a political one, with the factions often clashing. As an “unenlightened”, as those without magic were commonly and rudely called, his job was more often than not mediation.

He was quite sure many of the inhabitants of the Towers had illnesses of the mind, ranging from racing thoughts, to mood swings, to the egomaniacal tendencies most commonly shown in wizards lording over lowly witches. Grand Wizard of the Third Reach, Istarn - by far the most self-inflated wizard in residence - was a constant and particular thorn in his side. What with the Third Reach being particularly concerned with matters of warfare, he was a thorn best dealt with tactfully.

Each of the five towers that gave the enormous structure its name was a designated Reach, and each Reach dealt with a different area of study. The First Reach, which was the first tower a person entered when they visited The Towers, was dedicated to Personal Enlightenment, Philosophy, and Expression Through Art. To his simple understanding this meant a lot of praying, meditating, thinking, and decorating every available surface.

The Second Reach was dedicated to Healing and the Prevention of Diseases, though he would swear that sometimes the fumes in there were more dangerous to a person's health than not. They did have quite a nice distillery, though.

The Third Reach, being the School of Warfare and Mechanics was by far the most dangerous place in the towers to go wandering about in. Those “enlightened” that lived and worked there were the shadiest, sly, and most untrusting people one could find. The Wolf Knights were garrisoned on the first two floors of the Third and tried to stay out from under toe as much as possible. Even so, the occasional bang could be heard echoing down the halls followed by loud and inventive cursing.

The Fourth Reach held its specialty in Botany and Environmental Studies, and to his opinion drew the best kind of people. Generally calm, quiet, and intelligent, and yet always going somewhere, John sometimes thought of them as the human equivalent of squirrels. They were always borrowing bits of research from other Reaches and bringing it back to their own studies to apply it to their work.

The Fourth was also where most of the resident shadow beings made their beds. The starklings, being no more sentient than birds of prey, were kept in the large aviary in the Fourth Yard, but the imps, sprites, and other beings of inhuman nature could be found all through the tower. Sometimes in odd and unexpected places.

The Fifth Reach was by far his favorite of the towers. Its dedication being Astrology, Astronomy, and Weather, the Fifth was never boring, though he had expected it to be so when he had first taken his position here. Since then he had witnessed a flash flood, a whirlwind, and a perpetual lightning storm all within the confines of that tower. The rooftop observatory had seen quite a bit of his time too. Aside from the almost constant static feeling in there, he quite enjoyed wandering its halls and chatting with its occupants. Even those who tried to tell him what his year had in store based on his time and place of birth.

All in all The Towers were a place of great power, and unfortunately for him, it also made it a stop for many politicians. One could hardly be considered for any position of knowledge or power if they hadn't visited the largest center of enlightened learning in North Sappheo.

Today he was expecting another politician, though unlike most, this visitor was coming from below the divide. He would be the first visitor from the South the Towers had seen since before Sappheo had split. However, just like all the others, he would welcome them, assign them guards for their stay, and send them off with whichever member of the First had drawn the short straw to be liaison. Or whoever volunteered for the task.

They would wander The Towers, looking haughty and nodding their heads while they pretended to have a clue. Then as always, they would sit down to dinner with him, apprise him of a few problems only they could solve, or criticize his management of the place. Within the next day or two, they'd be on their way, never to be seen or heard from again.

He braced his arms on the stone wall and looked over the First Yard with shrewd brown eyes. Enlightened and townspeople milled around stalls, browsing each other's wares in the small market set against the wall west of the gates. It ended in a building called The Healer's Hut, where people came to buy medicines and cures and have their ailments examined. Some would be sent to the recovery section of the First for the setting of bones or the stitching of wounds, fewer would be sent to the Second for further examination.

On the east side were the stables and the large paddock, which served the Wolf Knights’ couriers and scouts, and visiting dignitaries. Just beyond the fenced in area and encompassing the entire east corner was the Prayer Garden. Here there were lovely stone benches and walled flower beds, which surrounded a large tree. The leaves of this unique flora turned from green to purple as they aged, and fell in the colors of sunsets. An altar was positioned beneath the tree and people came to leave small offerings to their Gods of choice. Many came to simply sit beneath the outstretched limbs of the tree and pray or contemplate as sunset leaves fell around them, or sit and chat to one of the members of the First who offered an unbiased ear and friendly countenance.

The sound of giggling children could be heard where he stood on the wall, and he knew that it was most likely due to one of the helpful little sprites being playful, or an imp starting an impromptu game of tag. Sometimes even one of the big, lumbering, stony faced, Batu could be found in the garden looking terribly somber while children climbed its long limbs and stout body.

Tucked in the crook created at the join of the First and Fifth Reach was the goods store, and the administration building. At the store a person could pick up anything from jewelry, to herbs, to books. John would have bet money that the most popular items in the store were the small sticks that produced candle like flame when held correctly. But, with each Reach needing to provide a certain amount of sellable goods per quarter, the wares often varied greatly, and many people came just to see what was available.

The administration building served to answer inquiries regarding gaining entrance as a student, and to match people who needed particular services with those enlightened that could provide them. The flow of messages into and out of the building and the constant frazzled state of its workers had earned it the title of “the cuckoos nest”.

The wind kicked up a little, bringing the cold of autumn along his skin, and for a small inexplicable moment, he felt a warning in the chill. Instinct had his muscles tensing before he forcibly relaxed, and ran his hand over long, dirty blonde hair, a few strands already trying to work loose from the ponytail. These meetings always made him tense. He had plenty of patience, but if anything pushed it, it was pompous politicians who wanted to tell him how to do his job.

A soft pair of footsteps approached him from the doors that opened onto the balcony where he now stood, and he was relieved that he recognized the sound of them. Sending a smile over his shoulder as she approached, he very sincerely hoped that the redheaded witch was going to be his liaison for this dignitary.

She returned his smile with a sunny one of her own, the freckles over her nose seeming to make it all the more cheerful. “Good morning, Commander.” The wind danced through long tendrils of dense red hair and carried the faint scent of lavender and lilies along with it. “Ready for our guests?”

The tumble and roll of her thick rural accent was like a balm to his soul. “Mery, if you pulled the liaison straw today I will be considerably more ready.” He said with barely disguised hope.

Her light laugh danced out as she resettled the lace shawl that lay around her shoulders. “Then I suppose it's a good thing I volunteered.” She grinned up at him from under her lashes. “I couldn't sit back and watch you suffer so. Besides, this might be the only time in my whole life I ever get to meet a Duke.”

He gave her a smile of gratitude and affection and they settled into a comfortable silence as they waited for the Duke and his escort to arrive. Frankly, he wasn’t surprised that Mery had volunteered for today's tour. Since the divide such titles and birthrights had been abolished in the North. Lordly titles no longer existed in their part of the world, and even though it had been possible to pass between the divide for near two centuries, great pains had been taken to keep their politics separate. Until recently.

He was amused at Mery’s enthusiasm though. Mery was shy, and quiet, and sweet, and more than a little unsure of herself. Having grown up on a small farm with her grandmother he thought that sometimes she was overwhelmed by life in The Towers. She spent most of her days intensely focused on earning her credentials in aura reading and spiritual healing, but he knew that deep down inside she wished for a life of excitement and adventure, and a visiting Duke was too good to pass up.

Her red hair, twisted and tied at the base of her head to fall loose and full, danced over the shoulder of her blue dress. It was one of her best, fit snugly to the waist and flared into ankle length skirts that were embroidered around the edges with little green flowers.

Her hazel eyes seemed to soak in the light of the morning sun, and the smattering of freckles across her face clustered together across her nose. John thought, not for the first time, that she was a woman made for sunlit days and warm laughter, and he absolutely adored her.

Not many people knew the things Mery had suffered in her early years, or that underneath her kind eyes and caring smile there were wounds. When he thought about them he wished there was a way to undo them, to ensure that only peace and happiness remained, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Instead he did his best to keep her safe and happy, and in return she offered him friendship and support that he truly valued.

The glint of sunlight caught his thoughts and his watchful brown eyes turned in that direction. Standing in the center of the Yard, watching the people milling around was a woman with long black hair, pinned up at the sides, that seemed to shine in the sun.

She wore a fitted brown bodice over a deep red blouse that he guessed to be made of silk. Her skirts were a deep chocolate brown, like the bodice, with little to no decoration. Around her neck she wore a pendant of some sort which had caused the reflection, though at this distance he couldn’t tell what it was.

There was nothing about the woman that should have kept his attention as she began to wander about, yet he found himself watching her. He found himself wondering who she was, where she had come from, and why she was there.

As if she sensed his eyes on her she lifted her head and her gaze found his immediately. He couldn’t have said what color those eyes were, but her hair had fallen loose from the pins and curled around her face, framing her features. She had a strong jaw and her cheekbones were high under large eyes, just slightly turned up at the end. Her nose was long and straight, and led his gaze to a long firm mouth. Her eyebrows reminded him of bird’s wings, thick towards the center and thinning to a fine line along the curve and swoop of her brow. It was the kind of face that spoke of strength, probably quite often drawn to seriousness. But there was a softness there too, some kind of secret gentleness begging to be found. He found her captivating.

They stayed, eyes locked for a moment, before her features relaxed into a smile, and then a grin. His own mouth turned upwards as the strong face took on features of mischief. She tilted her head slightly and lifted an eyebrow, almost as if in silent challenge.

Mery’s hand on his arm caught his attention. “I think they’re here.”

He looked toward the gate and saw the crowd beginning to step away from the area by the gate - a sure sign of a large party approaching. He flicked his eyes back down to the raven-haired woman again, but to his dismay she was gone. Perhaps he would see her again, but for now he had work to do.

He straightened as the guard positioned on the gate blew the signal that meant “official visitor” and with a hand on the small of Mery’s back, motioned her to go before him. With her in the lead they hurried down the steps and only slightly out of breath, arrived at the door to the Great Hall, just as the party came to a halt.

In the lead were four guards, armed to the teeth and mounted on imposing warhorses, which had been brushed to a shine. Behind came the noble collection. The Duke rode proud and relaxed, leading three women who also rode with the confidence of those who had spent many hours in the saddle.

John could tell by their clothes and bearing that these were not just maids. Judging by what he knew, these were the Duke's wives. It was a concept that most Northerners found outlandish if not atrocious, but it wasn’t his place to judge.

Behind the wives came the ladies in waiting. Four women in similar dresses, who smiled and whispered quietly amongst themselves. Behind that came two more mounted guards, and a small wagon carrying provisions driven by two more. Four more men made up the rear guard.

All in all that made a contingent of 20, though he was sure that the paperwork he had received from the Sovereign Minister had stated that 21 could be expected. He wondered briefly what had happened to the last man.

The guards dismounted first, followed by the Duke and his wives, and the ladies in waiting who were offered helping hands by the guards. When all had found their feet the Duke stepped forward and John took his cue. He didn’t need to check to know that his own Tower Guard has taken up ceremonial position on the walls or flanking the stairs. His most trusted man, Galen, would have seen to it.

Knowing the protocol, John bowed his head deeply with a hand over his heart, and delivered his welcoming speech. With a voice loud enough to reach the crowd of townsfolk watching the exchange and with an accent that spoke of the rough side of the Capital he began. “I am Delta Commander John Estep, of the Order of the Wolf Knights. It is with our Sovereign Minister’s blessing that I have the honor of welcoming His Lordship, Duke Darien Deyrndraig, of the Southern province of Gyrissa.”

Murmurs of excitement and a quiet applause ran through the crowd.

With a reciprocating bow, and an equally loud voice the Duke gave the expected response. “We are honored to receive the hospitality of North Sappheo and of The Towers, Delta Commander. It is our greatest wish that this visit will harbor greater understanding between our lands.”

This time the round of applause was much louder and for a moment John felt that he should give a stage bow for the crowd, but he kept his back straight and his face still until the murmurs died down. John descended the steps as the Duke approached for a quieter exchange.

John offered a hand in friendly greeting, and it was readily accepted. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Your Lordship.”

“Likewise, Commander,” came the easy reply. The Duke stepped back and motioned the three women forward. “May I introduce my wives?”

The first was a petite blonde, with sparkling blue eyes, sun tanned skin, and long curling hair that seemed too wild to be tamed in any severe manner. Her nose was what he would describe as cute, and her rosebud lips were turned into a shy smile. The soft blue of her velvet dress was clasped about the waist with a silver chain. It was cut simply and elegantly, but the voluminous sleeves and skirts brought to mind images of children turning circles in the sunlight. She carried the distinct impression of mischief about her, and he resisted the urge to smile as the Duke introduced her. “Lady Alexa Jordin.”

After a brief curtsey and bow delivered with a dazzling smile, she stepped back, and the second wife took her place.

This one was of average height, with creamy skin and straight brown hair cut at the shoulders. Her eyes were a soft grey, and her nose was thin and just little long, but seemed made to fit her angular face. Her thin lips were set in a polite smile but something about her seemed more inclined to a thoughtful frown. Her dress, in the current fashion of corsets and folds upon folds of skirts, was a stormy grey satin fringed in white lace and complimented her straight, thin frame. His first impression was of a woman he could have long intelligent discussions with.

“Lady Danaeal Ynari.” The Duke announced, and they exchanged the expected curtsey and bow.

She stepped back and the next wife stepped forward. Slightly taller than the previous woman, she was nothing short of an exotic beauty. Her skin was the color of rich dark coffee and her long dark hair was twisted into hundreds of tiny ropes, accented by unique beads here and there. Her eyes were a brown so dark they were almost black, and were angled in an almost catlike manner. Her dress was of a thick woven material in a pattern of forest green and gold that flowed loosely and left one arm exposed. She approached him with a smile that was somehow reminiscent of a doting grandmother. She had the presence of a nurturer, a carer, someone who people told their troubles to on instinct.

“Lady Chanta Abarro.” The Duke introduced, but instead of the expected curtsey, the Lady kissed her fingers, then touched her forehead and her chest, and inclined her head. John gave the formal bow, but found himself curious about her homeland and customs.

John opened his mouth to announce his honor at meeting them all when the Duke raised a finger. “A moment, please,” he said long-suffering impatience. “We seem to be missing somebody.”

The twenty first guest, John surmised as the Duke leaned over to say a word in a guard's ear. He sincerely hoped there wasn’t going to be a problem this early in the visit, but he would handle whatever got thrown his way.

The guard nodded and turned to attend his task, but stopped before he hit three strides, and stood aside for the woman approaching them. To John’s combined pleasure and dismay it was the woman he had seen from the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” she said, laying a hand on the Duke's arm, “I got distracted.” Her eyes settled on John and a small grin appeared in her lips. “Hello.”

Up close he could see that her eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and her ears did not only have the regular piercing women seemed to favor, but there was also a bar that joined two piercings high up the fold of her right ear, and the tiniest stud in the little bump that preceded her left ear. He could also see, sneaking above her collar on her left, what looked like a burn scar marring her light olive complexion.

Before John could answer her greeting, the Duke spoke up. “Allow me to present my most troublesome wife, Lady Tayanara DeVandall.”

Again breaking protocol she offered her hand, and he was pleasantly surprised by her strong grip and slightly worried by its feverish temperature. “It’s a pleasure my Lady. I’m Delta Commander John Estep. I’m afraid you missed my welcome speech.”

A shock seemed to ripple through the surrounding people at his teasing tone, and he reigned himself in. Joking with one of the four wives of the Duke of Gyrissa was not a good way to start the visit.

Stepping back he motioned forward his saving grace, and she stepped forward with a graceful curtsy. “This is Meryarna Marek, witch of the First, and she will be acting as your liaison during your stay.” He then motioned to a presence close behind him, who stepped forward and bowed deeply. “And this is my second in command, Warrior-in-Lead Galen Glenn.”

Mery mercifully stepped forward and took control of the situation. “Please call me Mery. It is an honor to serve as your liaison.”

She exchanged polite greetings with all of them, and instructed the Duke to have his head guard make the appropriate arrangements with Galen concerning guard duty. After asking if the ladies in waiting would like to set up the chambers, she instructed them to stay with Galen also, who would see them to where they needed to be.

John stepped aside as she invited the noble quintuplet, and the guards that would remain with them, to begin their tour. When they were past, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, then ran a hand over his hair. He knew better than to step outside of the accepted pleasantries.

“Excuse me, Commander?” came a velvety voice. He swore silently as he realized one of the wives had stayed behind. “Or should I call you Delta Commander?” Lady Tayanara asked.

He gave her a polite smile. “Commander is fine, Lady Tayanara.”

Her smile was more than a little flirtatious. “Then you’ll call me Taya.” When he gave a nod her smile faded into something more serious. “I was hoping I might have a moment of your time before you are off to your other duties.”

He turned his gaze to the small group of people entering the Towers and lingered as Duke Deyrndraig stopped, noticing the troublesome wife had once again left the pack. He turned then, and saw her standing next to him. The Duke’s brown eyes pinned him, and he felt it like the point of a knife against his skin. His skin prickled, not in fear, but as it did in the moment before the first blow was struck - in anticipation of the fight.

His own eyes turned hard and cold, but knowing this was not the fight for him, he gave a nod of acquiescence that seemed to placate the Duke’s nerves. Deyrndraig looked at Taya with something like an admonishment and turned to join the group again.

Forcing himself back to level heading after the exchange, John turned back to Taya and caught her raised eyebrow before she collected herself. She gave him an impish smile and a shrug. “I’ll catch up.”

It was only with great effort that he didn’t sigh as he motioned her to a bench that sat along the rise of the stone steps. This woman was going to be trouble.

“What can I do for you?” he asked once she was seated.

She seemed to take a moment to choose her words, and she regarded him seriously. “Truth be told, I didn’t get distracted.” Her eyes lifted to the guards on the wall. “I wanted to check your security.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he raised his eyebrows curiously. “Why is that?”

She breathed a sigh and dropped her eyes to the hands in her lap. “Where we come from there is a political battle raging at the moment. Darien’s title is one others would happily claim upon his demise.” She looked at him again, and he read the concern there, and felt it palpably. “Living in the South has become dangerous for us, so he’s brought us here in an attempt to remove us from the situation.”

John considered for a moment then took a seat on the bench beside her. “I’m going to guess that getting to him was too hard, and they started to come after his wives?”

Taya nodded. “Exactly. Which is why I fought against Darien’s idea of bringing us here the whole way.” Seeing John’s confusion she raised a hand in the direction her husband had gone. “He is in far more danger here than he ever was back at home. Back there we knew every face, every name, every secret entrance and secluded corridor. Here, we know nothing.” She studied his face for a moment before continuing. “I wanted to be sure your guard detail would be enough to keep my family safe.”

He simply looked at her for a moment, feeling the roll of emotions that seemed to come off her in waves, trying to put all the pieces of her into one complete image. Regal in bearing, but not in demeanor. Mischievous and maybe even callous when it came to rules and protocol, but the way she talked about protecting her family made it obvious to him that she was more lioness than kitten.

His eyes caught on the pendant hanging around her neck, and he realized that it was what had reflected the sun to him up on the balcony. The golden sun hung on a braided cord of fine leather, and he found it a little odd to find leather on a Lady, but thinking back he could swear all the other wives had worn the same thing around their necks.

As an afterthought he realized that Taya was wearing quite a lot of leather. Her bodice, her boots, her decorative bracelets, and the thin belt and pouches she wore were all of high quality leather. More pieces of the puzzle that was the woman before him.

On a thought he asked, “Is your husband aware that you’re checking on his security?”

A silent laugh bubbled up from her. “Crows, no. And if he finds out he’ll probably be mad at me, though he shouldn’t really be surprised. This is the kind of thing that happens when you marry a street kid,” she said with a lopsided smile.

He smiled with surprise. “You were a street kid?”

This time she let out a chuckle. “Yes I was. An orphan even. I can pass for a Lady most of the time but,” she shrugged, “once in awhile the streets come out in me.”

She said it not with shame, but with pride. As a badge of merit. I survived, the statement seemed to say, and I will keep surviving. He realized that there were a lot of things he wanted to know about this woman.

“I guess that brings us back to our original question,” he said, unfolding his arms and bracing them on his knees. “What can I do for you?”

She dropped her eyes a little, as though embarrassed to ask. “I was hoping you could show me around and tell me what you have in place. I’m sure that between your men and ours it will be fine, but for my own peace of mind, I’d appreciate it.” She touched a hand to his arm. “I know you’re probably too busy right now, but if you could fit me in tomorrow?”

He could feel the warmth of her hand through his clothes and he suddenly realized that the emotions he was receiving were disingenuous. There was concern yes, but not for her family, and certainly not fear. There was something subtle underneath it. Something coercive. Manipulative.

He searched her eyes for a moment, but saw no falters there. She was going to be a hard nut to crack. With a nod he stood, helping her to her feet with a hand. “Tomorrow I’ll take you around and show you what we have in place. Until then I assure you that every precaution will be taken to ensure the safety of your family.”

His sudden stiffness seemed to drive her to compensate. With a sweet smile she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. Two thoughts immediately crossed his mind. The first was that the press of her lips was so warm it was almost scalding. The second was that she had perfected sweet and innocent to the point that it screamed of falsity.

When she pulled back his eyes bored into hers, so that for a moment they both seemed stuck there, trying to gauge each other's thoughts. Something in him seemed to be reaching inside her and neither seemed willing or able to stop it.

Realizing her hand was still in his, she pulled it gently from his grasp. “Thank you, Commander,” she said with an unsure smile.

Something about that one move made his stomach clench and heart pick up pace. He’d unseated her. But it wasn’t that he’d caught her in a falsehood that caused that feeling inside him, it was the sensation of almost seeing her. The real her.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be trouble for me?”

She reached up and rubbed at her left shoulder in what he sensed was an unconscious movement. With just a hint of a grin she stepped away. “They’ll be waiting for me,” she said, and with one last look, she turned and walked away.

He folded his arms again as he watched her go. Lady Tayanara was far more than she seemed, and he intended to find out exactly what she was up to.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added)- @stuffylana @atheona-darkclaw

#the price of burning #tayaverse #taya devandall #cj staunton #john estep #fiction #fantasy fiction

2 notes · View notes