#so many aerial views of the city

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 3 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: All hail severely traumatized Reader.

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The moment you stepped out of the Hanging Gardens, the city of Seoul came crashing into your senses. The bustling noise, the chatter of strangers, the blaring car horns—it was overwhelming. After so many years surrounded only by the whispering leaves and the sound of distant waterfalls in your domain, this city felt like a whole other world. Yet, you had no time to marvel at it.

Your first thought was him. The young hunter who, in the original story, would one day transform from the weakest E-rank hunter to the world’s most formidable force. You had seen his journey play out on the pages of a manhwa, and even though this was your reality now, you still thought of it as a story. Perhaps that was the only way you could cope.

Jinwoo. The name was a whisper in your mind, a mantra you repeated as you sent out your butterflies to search for him. They flitted into the sky, through alleyways, dodged bustling crowds, and skimmed across rooftops, invisible to everyone but you, its compound eyes transmitting a dizzying aerial view of the city straight to your mind. You kept your focus tight, pushing down the nerves that gnawed at your stomach.

But your search was interrupted by a sudden shift in the air around you. The city's mood had changed in an instant. People on the street stopped, their heads turning upwards, eyes glued to the enormous screens on the skyscrapers. As the images on the screen flickered into view, a chill you down your spine.

It was chaos. The screens showed devastation—images of buildings crumbling, fire and smoke engulfing the skyline, and a massive gate that loomed ominously above it all.

The first S-rank gate—the one from which Kamish, soon to be the most feared dragon in history, first emerged. You stood frozen, your eyes widening as the scenes played out in real-time.

“No…” You breathed out, barely a whisper, your hands shaking.

Even watching it on the screen was entirely different from reading about it on the pages of the manhwa. It was real now. Too real. The ground beneath you seemed to tilt as civilians screamed and hunters rushed into action. The casualties. Oh God, the casualties. The sight of corpses being pulled from rubble, the screams and cries of civilians and hunters alike echoed through your mind long after the broadcast ended. The dread spread through you like ice.

If I’d just managed to get out sooner, you thought, the guilt and horror churning in your stomach. If I’d escaped the Gardens just a year earlier, or even a few months…

Surely you couldn’t have stopped the gate from opening, but could you have evacuated more people? Shielded them with your powers? Reduced the casualties? Your mind raced with possibilities, spiraling in your inability to actively turn back time in a scale that large.

Could I have made a difference? Could I have saved even a single life?

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, heart pounding. The "what ifs" started to spiral, pulling you deeper into a pit of guilt and self-recrimination. Your fingers dug into your palms as you tried to regain control. Just as the world around you blurred from the tears stinging your eyes, there was a gentle nudge at the edge of your consciousness, yet the swirling visions just made you want to empty out your stomach.

Through your shared vision with the butterfly, there he was, younger than you expected— around sixteen or seventeen, a teenager, though he looked like he’d grown up too fast. His frame was slimmer, not yet the broad-shouldered man you knew he’d become. He was dressed in a faded school uniform, his eyes carrying the weariness of someone who had already seen too much. The lines of his face were taut with worry, a haunted look lurking in his gaze. An expression you’d often seen through the pages, etched into his older self.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling. If…If I had been here sooner, would things have been different for you?

Your mind wandered to another possibility—his father. Would you have been able to prevent the disappearance of Sung Il-Hwan if you’d arrived two years earlier? Could you have kept Jinwoo from bearing the weight of that loss, the look of pain he now wore like a permanent scar?

Though his mother was still with him now, you could see the faint shadow of the pain he carried even now. Could you have helped him avoid the countless sleepless nights, the burden he’d shouldered in silence for years?

But reality was harsh, and you couldn’t change the past. A hollow ache settled deep inside you, thoughts haunted you, sticking like thorns in your mind.

---

The following years were a blur of watching from the shadows, helping where you could without being noticed. You couldn’t save everyone, but you could lessen the burdens on the boy you had grown to care for. The butterflies you sent to heal his mother and alleviate her pain seemed to help, if only a little. But that look—that haunted, broken look in Jinwoo’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching—it gnawed at your heart.

It was during one of those quiet nights, as Jinwoo and the rest of the world slept soundly, that you decided to take a more desperate measure. Jinwoo’s mother was showing signs of the dreaded Eternal Sleep disease, the same way she had in the manhwa. You had placed a protective spell around her to shield her from excessive mana exposure, but it hadn’t been enough.

No, not again... please, not again. You couldn't bear it. You refused to let Jinwoo suffer the same pain twice.

There has to be a way to save her, you thought, teeth clenched. The pages of the manhwa didn’t reveal much about Eternal Sleep, but you took a gamble. If exposure to mana was the cause, then maybe you could draw the mana out of her system.

The hospital was quiet that night, the corridors bathed in a cold, sterile glow. You slipped in under the cover of darkness, cloaking yourself and the room in an illusion. Her face was pale and serene, and she seemed to hover somewhere between sleep and consciousness, untouched by the turmoil around her.

You took a steadying breath, summoning the butterflies close and feeling their power surge within you. Your children hovered around her bed; their wings softly glowing as they began to absorb the excess mana from her frail body.

“Please… let this work,” you whispered.

Focusing on your intent, you reached out with your healing magic, channeling the butterflies to draw mana out of her body. It was delicate work, like trying to remove poison from a deep wound without disturbing the tissue around it. Sweat trickled down your temple as you focused, your hands trembling with the effort. You could feel it working; her breathing grew steadier, the tension in her muscles slowly unwinding.

“Yes, yes… this is working…” you whispered to yourself. Little by little, traces of mana were being drawn away from her, and with every second, your heart beat faster with hope for the first time in years.

But then, as if someone had flipped a switch, everything came crashing down.

[Warning! Trial Player is not permitted to alter this part of the storyline.]

The system’s notification blarred before your eyes in blinding red text. You shook your head, gritting your teeth.

“No, no! I can’t stop now! Just a little more and she’ll—” You breathed, ignoring it, pushing yourself harder. You could feel the system’s cold disapproval as it listed penalties— deductions in your stats, loss of your domain privileges, even the risk of a forced expulsion back to the Gardens, warnings, threats, each one harsher than the last. But you didn’t care. If there was a chance, even the slightest one, that Jinwoo could have his mother healthy and safe, you’d risk any penalty.

[Initiating first protocol: Trial Player is restricted from interfering with main events.]

“No! Please!” You screamed in your mind, pushing harder, trying to siphon the last remnants of mana from her body. An invisible force tightened around you, harsh and unyielding. It was like trying to wade through thick mud, each step harder than the last, until finally, the force slammed into you, and you were thrown back, the butterflies flung away from you as the spell shattered.

Your body hit the wall with a sickening thud. You let out a gasp, clutching your ribs as you tried to regain your balance. An invisible barrier had been erected between you and Jinwoo’s mother, solid and unyielding. Your butterflies fluttered helplessly against it, unable to pass through.

“No… No, no, no!” you screamed, cried, banging and clawing against the barrier until your hands were raw and bleeding. But it wouldn’t budge. The tears blurring your vision and cascaded down your cheeks in rivulets.

The system’s cold, unfeeling voice echoed in your mind. You couldn’t register the subtle unfamiliar desperation other than your own. [Trial Player, cease all attempts to alter key story events, or face permanent penalties.]

A sob tore from your throat as you slid to the ground, your shoulders shaking. “Please,” you sobbed, your forehead pressed against the barrier. “Please, let me help her...”

The silence a sledgehammer that you had failed. All your efforts, your desperate attempts to change the course of events, had been for nothing. The realization hit you like a knife to the gut.

No matter how much you tried, no matter how desperately you wished to change things for the better, the system wouldn’t allow it. It had let you toy with minor events, heal minor wounds, but when it came to the story’s crucial turning points, you were powerless.

The what-ifs that had haunted you since you’d first stepped into this world were answered in the cruelest way. Even if you had left the Hanging Gardens sooner, even if you had arrived in time to save Jinwoo’s father or cure his mother, you would have been stopped.

For the second time since you had been isekai’d, you felt utterly, hopelessly trapped. You were no longer a player with some semblance of control. For all your power, for all your knowledge of the future, you were nothing more than a helpless spectator to a story that would unfold exactly as it had always meant to. You were a mere observer, bound to the whims of a story you could never truly change.

All you could do was watch, from the shadows, as the boy you loved continued to suffer. As something inside you continued to crack.

You drew your knees to your chest, burying your face in your arms, letting the sobs wrack your body. For once, you let yourself feel the weight of your powerlessness, the despair that had been building in your heart for years.

In the darkness of that hospital room, the weight settled over you like a suffocating blanket. And all you could do was cry. This was no longer the story you had loved. This was your reality. And you were utterly powerless to change it.

---

You stumbled out of the hospital, numb and hollow, the world blurring around you. The voices of passing strangers, the hum of distant traffic—it all faded, leaving only an aching silence in your heart. You wandered without aim, letting the sorrow settle, the bitter knowledge clawing at you. How many years had you spent dreaming of a way to help him, of a way to change his fate? And for what?

Back in the Hanging Gardens, you’d felt trapped and powerless, but there had always been hope. Now, that last ember was snuffed out, leaving only darkness in its place.

As you returned to your hidden space in the city, you couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness. It was like a familiar, cruel reminder of your first days in the Gardens, alone, struggling to survive in a world that hadn’t wanted you. And now, here you were again, unable to do anything but watch as the story unfolded as if you were still on the outside.

-----

The city had begun to grow familiar over the years, but the feeling of unease and disquiet never truly left. In this world of hunters, dungeons, and chaos, you weren’t exactly a normal citizen, though you’d tried your best to blend in. You made a life here, a life woven carefully to avoid standing out, hiding a fraction of your power and even more of your knowledge.

The first step to living a new life in this world was a matter of practicality: identity. You needed to establish yourself as a citizen of Seoul. But just as you were puzzling over how to manage something as complex as legal documents, the system—your ever-watchful, omnipotent shadow—seemed to have anticipated your needs.

You stared down at your supposedly birth certificate and identification card, your name printed clearly beneath a picture of a face that felt both like yours and... not. Relief was short-lived, turning to a sickening churn in your stomach. What happened to her? The question gnawed at you in quiet moments. This girl, this "you" of this world, had her life been erased to make room for your presence? Had she died before you arrived? Or, worse yet, had she been destined to die, and the system had simply taken advantage?

You tried to ask the system directly. “What happened to... the original?” you whispered, feeling a tremor in your voice. But, predictably, the system remained silent, its screen blinking away without an answer.

It left you with grim speculations. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like a noose tightening around your conscience. On sleepless nights, the thought haunted you: somewhere, in some unmarked corner of this world, the original (Name) might be lying forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to the wind one night, your voice barely audible. You were sitting in the Hanging Gardens, surrounded by the flowers you’d nurtured into bloom with your magic. The air was filled with the scent of roses and jasmine, a comforting balm against your troubled mind. “I promise... I’ll make a place for you here.” A way to remember her in the only way you could.

When you had a rare moment of free time, you returned to the depths of the Gardens. Deep within its heart, you found a secluded spot, a quiet clearing where the sunlight filtered through leaves, casting gentle dappled shadows. It was here that you began to build a small tomb, using stones and flowers enchanted with your magic.

It took days to finish. You poured your heart into it, weaving protective wards and spells into every petal, every blade of grass. You carved her name—your name, really—and when it was done, you placed a simple plaque: For the one who came before me. May you find peace.

Your hands clasped together; you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. This was your way of making amends, a fragile attempt to honor a life you had never known.

You stood there for a long while, the only sound the gentle rustling of your butterfly summons as they hovered, curious yet respectful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, not sure who you were even speaking to. Was it gratitude for the life you now had, or a farewell to the life you’d unknowingly taken?

---

After sorting out your papers and putting that grim thought to rest, you turned to the next task: becoming a hunter. You needed a way to sell the monster drops from your domain without drawing too much attention. Those materials were too valuable to ignore, and your stash from the Hanging Gardens had been growing, with enchanted trinkets and rare plants you’d carefully cultivated over the years.

With your identity settled, the next task was securing your place in this new world. You needed to establish yourself as a hunter, and quickly. The aftermath of the catastrophic gate and Kamish’s rampage had left the world desperate for capable hunters. S-rank hunters had fallen, and fear gripped the public. What if another gate like that one appeared? What then?

The Hunter Association was overrun with applications, both from hopefuls and seasoned hunters alike, eager to prove their worth. You knew your capabilities exceeded those of even high-rank hunters, but revealing your full power would draw unwanted attention. The last thing you needed was to be a target for the Hunter Bureau or one of the powerful guilds that dominated South Korea’s hunter landscape.

Suppressing your powers took everything you had. It was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with nothing but your bare hands. But you managed. After a few practice sessions cloaked in the safety of the Hanging Gardens, you learned how to cloak your true strength, masking it just enough to appear as a C-rank healer.

The evaluation day was chaotic, with hunters and administrators bustling around, trying to keep things moving. You stood in line, trying to ignore the stares from the other applicants. You kept your head down, focusing on the role you had to play.

“Next, please!” the examiner called, gesturing you forward.

You stepped up to the designated area. The sensation of being probed by the assessment device was unpleasant, like icy fingers brushing against your soul. But you kept your facade intact, holding your breath as the machine beeped.

“C-rank healer,” the examiner announced with a bored tone, scribbling notes on his clipboard.

You let out a silent sigh of relief, bowing politely before making a swift exit. You could feel the weight of curious eyes on your back, but no one suspected a thing.

Joining the South Korea Hunter Association was easy after that. You chose not to align yourself with any guild, instead opting to work freelance. It allowed you the freedom to pick your own missions and, more importantly, to avoid too much scrutiny. The Association didn’t question it, relieved to have another willing hunter, especially one with healing skills.

After a few raids, you gradually established a rhythm, selling a select number of drops at the hunters' markets. You kept the powerful materials for yourself, knowing the enchanted items might raise suspicions. The influx of funds was just what you needed.

----

The money you earned was enough to set up a modest business, a modest storefront on the quieter side of town, far from the bustling commercial districts. It was a charming space with large windows that let in ample sunlight. Perfect for what you had in mind.

A flower shop.

It was a simple concept—a quaint little greenhouse-inspired shop, cozy and serene, with butterflies fluttering gently around the blooms. Your years of cultivating exotic flowers to look like their normal counterparts in the Hanging Gardens paid off. Your magical influence made the flowers not only bloom faster but also granted them subtle enhancements, flowers that brought calm or clarity, leaves that eased headaches, petals that had slight rejuvenating properties, and much more.

The enchantments were soft, just enough to go unnoticed by hunters who occasionally stopped by, curious about the whispers of a shop with “enchanted” flowers. To manage the flow of clients, you eventually made the shop private, requiring customers to book appointments. Word of mouth spread quickly, though, and you found yourself busier than you’d anticipated.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a particularly finicky flower that required a touch of magic to bloom, a young girl entered the shop, holding her mother’s hand. Their wide eyes taking in the quiet, verdant space with wonder. The mother glanced at the butterflies resting on flower petals and the leaves that shimmered in soft hues.

“Mom, look! The flowers are glowing!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with childish excitement.

Her mother smiled and turned to you. “Hello,” she said with a nervous smile. “This place is… magical.”

You returned her smile, pleased with her reaction. “I’m glad you think so. What can I help you with today?”

She hesitated, fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “I… I heard about your flowers and, well… I’ve been feeling exhausted lately. I thought maybe something here might help?”

You nodded and led her over to a section of delicate white blooms. “These are calming flowers,” you explained. “You can put them by your bed, and they’ll help ease your mind while you sleep. Their scent is soothing and works wonders for stress.”

Her face lit up as she reached out, fingertips brushing the soft petals. “They’re perfect. I never thought flowers could… do that.”

“They’re a little special,” you said with a soft chuckle. “But sometimes, a touch of nature is all we need.”

“And this is for you little one.” You make a grand gesture, like a magician, and a pink carnation bloom in your hands. The girl eyes sparkled, and you took the chance to slip the flower behind her ear.

She and her mother left with a small bundle, the flowers carefully wrapped, and you watched them go, a sense of satisfaction warming you. You were making a life here, slowly but surely, even if there was still a shadow of loneliness lingering at the edges.

Over time, your shop became something of an oasis. People came not just for the flowers, but for the atmosphere, the butterflies drifting lazily through the air, the subtle scent of earth and blossoms mingling together. You overheard customers remark on how they felt better after just a few minutes in the space, how even just watching the butterflies was calming.

“Ah, it’s so peaceful in here,” A couple walked in one day, the man sighed as his partner looked around. His eyes widened as a butterfly landed on her hand, its tiny wings shimmering like fragments of stained glass. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“This place... it’s like stepping into another world.”

If only they knew.

You smiled warmly, handing him a bouquet wrapped in elegant paper. “They’re drawn to the scent of the flowers,” you explained. “It’s said that they bring good luck.”

One regular visitor was an elderly woman who came once a week to buy flowers for her husband’s grave. She’d chat with you while you wrapped her order, sharing stories of her late husband and their time together. She once remarked, “There’s something… kind about you, dear. It’s like you have a healing presence.”

You only nodded, humbled and slightly unnerved by her words. You didn’t feel like you deserved the praise—after all, you were only borrowing this life, this identity. But every time she left with her bouquet, she’d smile back, and you’d return it with a quiet, grateful nod.

And so, you continued on, living a borrowed life.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [010/10/2024] - Welcome

[margowritesthings]

The French Are Glad To Die For Love

A Bridgerton x Moulin Rouge crossover

pairing: Colin Bridgerton x ? word count: 2.1k words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, un-beta'd, mentions of sex, spitting, lots of debauchery authors note: surpriiise! i have been sitting on this since part 1, so to celebrate part 2 tomorrow here's my new mini-series! i have never written for Colin before, so i'm nervous, but i loved writing this.

i also need your help! i cannot decide if this mini series should be Colin x reader or a Polin fic, where Penelope is Satine. I have created a poll here for you to vote, so please let me know!

and as always, enjoy! it's been a hot minute since I last published, so thank you if you're still here.

Bridgerton Masterlist

The stars sparkle especially brightly tonight, the crimson lanterns guiding Parisians and tourists alike through the winding streets, and Colin Bridgerton stands in awe of it all. 

He’d read stories, heard tales of this place during long nights at Whites, but nothing could have quite prepared him for what lay ahead of him, a long string of lights hanging in the sky leading the way to his destination. 

The Moulin Rouge. 

A house of debauchery and sin, of freedom and truth, filled to the brim with bohemians and artists and beautiful women unlike anything or anyone he’s ever seen before. Even now, 30 feet away from the illuminated windmill, he can hear the music and the joy spilling out from the building. His senses are filled with the perfume of hundreds of women passing him by the minute, all with real, toothy grins he rarely has the pleasure of seeing back home. It is far too impolite to be so happy in London society. 

Colin steps forwards, his boots crunching against the gravel and his coattails flying in the breeze. His shoulders brush more wonderfully merry, positively inebriated partygoers on his way in, catching odd fragments of conversations that would have scandalised him and his whole family were he elsewhere. 

But he wasn’t elsewhere. He was here, in the city of love, away from anybody who had ever known the name Bridgerton. His clean slate clutched close to his chest, waiting to find out what will be written on it next, Colin feels the fresh air on his face for the last time before his life is changed forever.

The heat hits him first, a symptom he knew all too well of too many people packed into a small space. But unlike every ball he’s been to, this doesn’t feel claustrophobic or fusty. It feels alive. 

There is a feast for the eye wherever one looks. Burlesque dancers showing off stockings and garters by kicking their legs up, toes pointing towards the aerial hoops holding acrobats hanging from the ceiling. Gentlemen, if you can call them that in this state, wearing top hats, arm in arm with their glasses raised high, spilling their contents all over the wooden floor. 

The music blasts loud from each instrument the band masterfully pluck or blow or bang, but laughter and conversation buzzes amongst the melodies. It is a near overwhelming amount of joy, one Colin certainly could use a drink to wash it down with. 

If he could just find the bar…

Bodies fill his view, so entangled in each other it is difficult to tell where one starts and another ends. Frilly skirts flow over the knees of suits as ladies dangle from the necks of patrons, sharing cigars and passing around bottles of an unknown green liquid. Rosy cheeks as far as the eye can see, wether from too much of that green stuff or the exertion of all that dancing, Colin can’t be sure. Between them all, in tiny empty spaces, he can just about make out rows of bottles and glasses. 

Weaving through the crowd is like treading through water, but their energy and joy seems to rub off on him. There isn’t a dance card in sight, women choosing their partners themselves whenever they like with a freedom Colin isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Is this truly what people are designed to be when they are free?

Eventually, his hands find the sticky wood of the bar, quickly lifting themselves back off it on instinct at the sensation. When Colin looks to his left, he sees a woman pouring a shot of liquor between her breasts, a man knelt below her waiting to lick it back up, and he quickly realises why the bar feels so tacky- every surface here seems to be host to someone’s revelry. 

“Welcome to the Moulin Rouge, monsieur. Can I get you a drink?”

Colin’s attention is quickly pulled by the welcome, his gaze snapping to a tall French woman dripping with red jewels that compliment her rich brown skin perfectly. She is captivating to be sure, deep hazel eyes commanding Colin’s attention, competing with the most incredible curls of hair he has ever seen. Ladies of the ton are welcome no matter their race back home, but Colin has never seen a lady allowed to wear her hair so beautifully natural before. The Afro framing her face has more tiny rubies that sparkle under the cabaret lights, and Colin is speechless. 

“I…uh, pardon me, Miss, I-“ he sighs, giving up entirely at his failed attempt at decorum, “Is it so obvious I have never been here before?” 

She laughs, gems twinkling as her head shakes with mirth. 

“Not at all, but most gentlemen who have been here before know to wear a top hat. And there’s that look in your eye…” 

As she speaks, she pours out one finger of the green liquor Colin has spotted a few times already, sliding it along the wood towards him. 

“Wonder. Drink this. It will help with the nerves.” 

Colin looks down, finding himself fascinated with a drink that seems to glow of its own volition. He has smoked blends and meditated with world weary travellers from across the globe, drank tea containing unknown substances that left him staring at blades of grass as if they held the worlds secrets, and yet this… whatever it is, seems to terrify him.

The barmaid laughs again, that melodic sound with the real joy Colin very much enjoys. 

“It’s only absinthe, monsieur. Loosens the inhibitions, relaxes the body…” she explains, pouring a second out for herself and lifting it to him as if to prove her credibility. 

“Santé.” He toasts to health.

“Amour.” She toasts to something far greater.

It leaves no room for argument, and all Colin can do is lift his own glass and tap it against hers. 

It burns his tongue, leaving a fiery trail down his throat as he swallows and tries not to cough and splutter. A bitter yet herby anise flavour fights with his taste buds and seems to seep straight into his mind, teasing at those tense knots that held him back from fully immersing himself here. 

When his eyes eventually reopen, he finds the barmaid beaming at him, unphased by her own potion. Rather used to it, if she shares a glass with every newcomer, he should think.

“Be careful, though, monsieur. Many a man has spent a night with the stuff and swears he fell in love with a fairy dressed all in green. Ruined him for any other woman for the rest of his life…” She speaks words that belong in fairytale, with a tone containing such severity Colin is inclined to take every single one of them as gospel. 

“I dare say I should be careful, then. I do not think this green fairy would want to join the rest of my travels when she can instead entice all of Paris’ men to sin…” 

The residue of the liquor smells just as strong as the full measure, which Colin tries to blink out of his senses when he puts the glass back on the bar.

Almost as if society itself had cleared its throat at him, Colin remembers himself, remembers just where he is. Undoubtedly the most unique establishment he had ever set foot in, but an establishment all the same. 

“I beg your pardon, miss, I seem to forget myself. How much do I owe you for the drink?”

She considers him.

“Hm,  the absinthe I think… for you, a kiss.” 

Colin, already pulling coins from his breast pocket, pauses, a little grin tugging at the corner of his lip. The francs clink together when they fall back to the bottom of his pocket, a long forgotten currency of the past. It’s a perfect reminder of just how different things are here, how easily walls crumble between strangers and connection is offered so freely. He has never kissed a woman he has not paid for back home, so afraid of getting too close to another in case they ruin each other. Here, a beautiful woman leans over the bar, offering her flushed cheek for him to softly press his lips against. 

And he does. 

And it is lovely. 

“If any more handsome men capture the eye of Mademoiselle Belle, I will surely be out of business!” A loud, hearty voice pulls Colin from one blissful moment back into the party.

He regards a rather large man, clad in a red tailcoat and stunning golden waistcoat. His top hat, near the same to all the other gentlemen in the room but somehow grander, tops wild orange curls that match a fantastic handlebar moustache. A true ring leader to this wonderful circus of debauchery Colin has found himself in. 

“Harold Zidler, at your service. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge.” 

“Colin Bridgerton.” He replies, offering a hand that Harold seems bemused at. Unsurprising, considering what passes for currency around here. Nonetheless, Harold shakes the offered hand. 

”I must say, your establishment is rather…” he hesitates, unable to find a word in any language he has picked up along his travels that quite captures the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps he could blame the absinthe, or the intoxicating hedonism he feels rooting its way through his mind, hidden in the brass notes from the band and thrown with each cancan kick of one of the dancers that surrounds him. 

Luckily, Harold seems well used to this phenomenon. 

“Isn’t it? And you have seen nothing yet! I assume you are not from around here?”

”It is rather obvious, I have been told.” Colin adds a glance to Miss Belle, who’s skirt frills bounce in the lights while she shakes up a cocktail. He adds, “London.” 

”Well, Monsieur Bridgerton, I promise you that what we have here in the Moulin Rouge is unlike anything you have back home in London.” 

Colin’s eye is caught again across the room, as a beautiful woman with blonde tumbling waves spits a drink into a man’s mouth. 

“I am inclined to agree with you there.” 

It truly is unlike anything back home. Colin has travelled across Europe and back again, seen incredible sights and met wonderful people. He has felt that ease that distance from London society and its unwritten laws and social rules that bind him back home can bring. He’s seen beauty and felt freedom and thought he might have found truth somewhere along the way, but it pales to whatever is contained within these four walls. 

In truth, it couldn’t be farther from London society.

”Just wait until you see my Diamond, Monsieur.”

… Perhaps not. 

Intrigue hits Colin as Harold pulls out a pocket watch on a brilliant gold chain. 

“Your diamond?”

”My Sparkling Diamond. The main attraction of the Moulin Rouge, my most sought after little chickee.” He speaks proudly, with a mist in his eye Colin normally finds on ambitious Mamas at grand balls, secretly trying to auction their daughters off to the highest rank. 

“I do not believe she is booked yet for tonight…” Harold adds, that mist darkening, disappearing, leaving a shiver stuck between Colin’s shoulder blades.

Not because this Diamond is a courtesan. Colin is hardly a stranger to the profession, and he bears no judgement. In truth, he admires the women he has been known to spend the night with, finding the courage of living outside society so freely quite brave indeed. No, that shiver came from Harold entirely, Colin just cannot figure out why. 

Harold excuses himself, though makes sure Colin knows to stay for the show, and Colin orders a whiskey on the rocks, insisting on paying in cash this time. Though singular in person, he has never felt less alone in his life. Looking around, there isn’t an empty chair in the house. If there were, there wouldn’t be room to put it down for all the dancers and patrons enjoying every ounce of the world they can. Music played straight from the soul ringing in his ears, Colin could make out every instrument. The lights dazzled in his eyes and the spot caught him every so often, lighting his drink up in his hand like golden ambrosia. 

And then, darkness. Silence. 

A single spot, though the mirrors scattered around catch the light and illuminate the faces of the people around him. Everybody is looking upwards, as if they all know she is coming. 

Even if he did know, Colin could never have prepared himself for what he saw when he looked up.

Who he saw.

The Sparkling Diamond, shimmering high on a swing hanging from the ceiling. 

The most beautiful, breathtaking, person he has ever seen. In any city, on any continent in the world. 

Crimson lips part as each and every person hangs on the breath she takes.

”The French are glad to die for love…”

don't forget to vote in the poll for your fmc!

[reveluving]

moonlight melody ; takeshi kovacs x reader

summary: you don’t know how you got there, and you don’t even know if you can ever return home. and you can’t find it in you to hate it whatsoever.

warnings: isekai au; minor altered carbon explicit content, major fluff w/ lovesick & poetic takeshi!

a/n: the first of quirky reverie 2024! had this idea in the shower. yeah. haven’t shown this man any love in a while so please take it! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out this year's 'reve's quirky reverie' m.list! 🕷️'!

'But he couldn’t blame you. He needed you just as much as you needed him.' ; 

A few drones flew overhead. The holographic half-naked model flashed across one of the many luxurious buildings. Even the little burn barrel that kept the slums warm in the far distance. 

You’ve seen it all. You’ve seen it plenty. You’ve seen it almost every night.

And yet, you couldn’t help but marvel at the scene before you like you were seeing it for the first time. 

The occasional brightness had you squinting your eyes, especially the ones resembling spotlights that shined in your face, but besides that, you were taking it all in like there was no tomorrow. Noise after noise, none of which was deafening given the aerial view of the balcony, just enough to wonder what sort of life, bad or good, existed beyond your very own.

As beautiful as it was to see the city or really, Altered Carbon on television, the visual effects on your screen didn’t do justice, now that you’ve gotten used to the real thing. Of course, the bright lights were just a façade from how dangerous Bay City truly was as soon as one stepped out of the hotel. But the life you lived, where the concept of Sleeves and the majorly advanced technology in the show never existed, before miraculously ending up here, wasn’t any better either. 

Less deadly, no doubt, but much more… dull. 

You didn’t jump when a pair of arms came to wrap around you, pressing their chest against your back before perching their forehead on your shoulder. You weren’t sure if you shivered from his deep voice or his warm breath tickling you. 

His words were unintelligible, lips moving against your skin.

“Can’t hear you, handsome.” You chuckled. He raised his head, a few strands of hair draping over his eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” Takeshi asked once more. You still couldn’t believe this was the same man who survived for centuries, instilling fear in men blinded by temporal wealth, now almost grumbling at you for successfully sliding out of his arms. 

“Not really,” You chuckled. He forced his bleary eyes open, not wanting to miss the little crinkles forming in your eyes. Takeshi instinctively leaned his face closer when you angled your head, kissing his cheek as an apology, “Didn’t wanna wake you up though. I can come back inside if you want.”

He’d love that, he’d want nothing more than to drag you back into bed. But your wide-eyed wonder was so irresistible that he’d feel like a criminal if he took it away from you. No matter how many times he had seen it.

“Nah. I don’t mind staying out here for a bit.” Instead of standing with you, he pulled you to the chair he had kindly dragged out for you months back. Sitting you on his lap, he practically melted in the seat, nosing the sensitive area between your neck and shoulder. He held you like the most precious plushie, and in all honesty, he was willing to fall asleep right then and there.

Truly, with the images—memories of you that flashed as his eyes remained closed, his mind in constant relaxation. As if life, whatever powerful being beyond anyone’s control or understanding had finally blessed him with the greatest form of honour, but he wasn’t the only one to believe as such. 

You would always hold him like he was your lifeline, and if you were being honest, he was. Hoping day in and day out that you wouldn’t wake up somewhere you could no longer call home instead of the familiar room in The Raven. The day never came, and though Takeshi always knew how to ease your worries, the scare would linger from time to time.

But he couldn’t blame you. He needed you just as much as you needed him. 

Even now, too enamoured by the look you had and how the lights cast onto your face, how your eyes took in everything you could like you wouldn’t be able to see again, and despite how tainted his world was, he found it endearing, only because it was you.

He quickly became accustomed to you with him—to you and him. The little hand caresses, the comforting kisses, the smiles that silently told him ‘It’s okay. You’ll be okay.’

We will be okay.

» a/n: something short and sweet for our beloved hunk because he deserves it whenever possible!! ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[valkyrie138]

A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 1

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: This is an 18+ series, angst, canon-type violence, murder, torture, smut, fluff, etc.

Note: Please be kind. This is my first time writing in a really long time, but I'm always open to constructive criticism. Also, if anyone wants to be an editor, send me a message!

Word Count: 2.3k

Next

»»————-　✼　————-««

Astrid loved this view of Cretea. Lately, it had become her favorite place on the island. She’d often spend her nights atop the Brightwater Palace, the home of Prince Drakon and Lady Miryam. The palace sat atop the most prominent hill on the island, the stone pillars tall enough that they seemed to touch the stars. She loved this view and how she could observe her home below in almost its entirety. Astrid watched as a half-fae left a tavern with flushed cheeks, their human partner struggling to hold them up. The young seraphim wondered how the couple met. Was it stolen looks in a tavern, or did they find comfort in one another after the war? Astrid sighed as her eyes continued to scan the city below her. She missed the nights when she was red-cheeked and giggling with Lucy and Kendra while they stumbled home. But sitting up here and making up stories of those she observed seemed interesting enough. Her eyes drifted through the island streets to the glittering Erythrian sea surrounding them. A small smile crept onto her rosy lips. She really did love this view. The sound of a person landing was what tour her eyes away from it. 

“They really should put a plaque here.” 

“Whatever for, Kendra?” Astrid drawled, looking at her sister-in-arms. Kendra, with sharp green eyes and auburn hair, was the captain of the Seraphim aerial legion. 

“So they can cement this as your spot, obviously. Your ass has made an imprint in the stone. That, at least, deserves a plaque,” Kendra was also a smart ass.

“I’ll make sure to tell Drakon and Miryam that you think my ass deserves such an honor,” she quipped before turning her gaze back to the city. Kendra moved to sit beside her, her feet dangling over the edge. 

“I’m heading to the taverns tonight. Would you like to join me?”

There would be so many people, so many thoughts, so many memories, and so many emotions. Astrid's chest tightened at the thought. She sighed, “Not tonight.” She could feel Kendra’s disappointment wash over her. The captain stared at her for a while, her face contemplative. “Have you told Miryam and Drakon that you’re struggling? If anyone could help, it would be them.”

Astrid, hearing the question, sucked in a breath. There was no real point in trying to lie to Kendra. Astrid may have the daemati power, but Kendra always knew what she was thinking. A small part of Astrid wished she could go back in time and take back that drunk confession from a few moons ago. The moment she told Kendra that this new daemati ability controlled her more than she could control it, Astrid knew Kendra would be on top of her to fix it. 

“No,” Astrid confessed. “Miryam suspects something is going on, though. I’m staying at the palace tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll ask.”

Astrid’s eyes lingered on the Cretea for another moment; she loved this island. But her eyes drifted to the other side of the palace, which looked out across a dark sea. Her mind often wondered what was happening across those blue waves. She had only left Cretea once, and it was to fight in the war against Hybern. No one on the island knew what was happening in Pyrthian for the past 52 years. Astrid felt that growing pain in her chest again, the warm air suddenly feeling like a small fire in her throat. The war had a cost, and the carnage still plagued her nightmares. But she still wondered what was happening in those faraway courts.

“I wonder what she’s doing, too,” whispered Kendra. She meant Lucy, the missing piece of their trio. The pain in Astrid's chest deepened, her heart aching. Lucy had lost her wings during the battle. Astrid was there when it happened,  saw the Hybern soldier shoot her out of the sky, and heard Lucy’s screams as she fell. The memory played in her mind on a loop, and her guilt festered somewhere deep within her. After the battle, Lucy decided to stay in Prythian and start a new life. Neither Astrid nor Kendra had heard from her since. Remembering Kendra’s comment, Astrid only replied with a slight nod. 

“Maybe the High Lord will know,” Kendra added. 

“I do hear that he has eyes everywhere,” Astrid noted. The High Lord of the Night Court would be coming to the palace tomorrow for what she didn’t know. Kendra stood up slowly, wiping her pants lightly. 

“If you aren’t joining me at the taverns tonight, at least get some sleep. You look positively dead,” the captain quipped. 

“You really do know how to flatter me,” Astrid replied, a smirk spread across her face. 

Kendra flew off with a wave over her shoulder. She watched as her friend flew above the streets and disappeared from view. Astrid’s eyes swept across Cretea, the rolling seas, and then settled on the stars above her. On clear nights, she used to sit on the roof of her family's home with her father, counting the stars, finding constellations, and listening to her father tell the stories behind them. She wondered if he was up there, along with her mother and sisters, watching over her. She wondered if they were proud of the female she had become. She felt the fissure deepen in her chest, full of ice and unyielding. She sharply swallowed the feeling, pushing it down, down, down. She couldn’t afford that cracking, the breaking. With a sigh, Astrid reached her arms to the sky as she stretched her back, her white wings fluttering behind her with relief. The hours spent sitting on the stone edge of the palace did nothing for her sore back. Astrid took one last longing look at the sea and the stars as she stood before gazing at Cretea below and flying home. 

»»————-　✼　————-««

The nightmares had plagued Astrid again that night. She awoke struggling to breathe, and ice covered her room, the temperature far below normal. She almost flung herself off the balcony in her room while trying to gulp down fresh air. Her dreams were full of the deaths of her family, and of her fellow soldiers she lost in the war. Their cries still felt like they were still echoing in her ears. The young seraphim stood examining her reflection. Her moon-white hair was pulled back high on her head, with intricate braids starting at her temples. Her midnight-blue eyes were stark against her hair and milk-colored skin. Her eyes drifted to her leathers. She probably should have worn a dress for the meeting with the High Lord, but her nightmares had left her feeling uneasy, the grip on her power slippery. The supple grey leather provided her a comfort that no court dress would. A knock on her door made her tear her eyes from the mirror.

“Come in, Dalia,” she said, turning toward the door. Dalia was a half-fae, half-seraphim like herself, who was well over half a century old but would never confirm her age. She was also positively senile.

“Astrid, you couldn’t have deigned to wear a dress today!” The old female exclaimed as she set down a tray of pastries. Most would take Dalia’s tone toward Astrid as rude. But the seraphim knew how the old hag felt about her. Astrid loved her; she was like an overbearing grandmother, with her braided grey hair and small, frail body. 

“You know I just like being prepared for anything,” Astrid winked at her as she continued, “I’m guessing the bat is about to land on our shores.” 

Dalia rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly, “You should mind your tongue. He should be arriving soon, and I pray to the mother that you don’t converse this way with the High Lord.” 

 Astrid smiled at the old female, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, Dalia, I only reserve this way of conversation with you.” 

“You are going to send me to an early grave,” Dalia quipped as she sat before the fireplace.

“I keep you young, old hag.” Another knock sounded on her door. The smell of sea and hydrangea wafted in Astrid’s nose, “Come in, Miryam.” 

The dark-haired lady slipped through the door, her sage green eyes immediately falling on Astrid.

“I’ll have to tell Drakon he owes me thirty gold marks. I knew you would wear your leathers today.” She smirked as she crossed the room to sit across from Dalia, picking up a pastry as she sat. 

“I told her she should have worn a dress today,” replied the ancient female as she stood. “Now, I will see you later, and please remember to watch your tongue around the High Lord." With that, Dalia slipped from the room. Astrid could feel Miryam's emotions shift from ease to concern. With a small sigh, she sat beside the princess, her palms sweating. 

“I brought you something,” Miryam said as she pulled a rectangular jewelry box from behind her back. Astrid took it from her before resting it on her lap. The red velvet was smooth beneath her fingertips. Lifting the lid, a lump formed in her throat. In the box was a silver warrior’s diadem; it had carvings of feathers and wings sprouted near where it would meet her ears and a large sapphire shaped like a teardrop in the middle. The lump seemed to grow in her throat, an ache beginning to form in her chest, her eyes burning. 

“This was my mother's,” Astrid croaked. 

“It was always going to go to one of you,” Miryam paused while Astrid tried to shove this feeling of despair down till she couldn’t feel anymore. This diadem was going to go to one of her sisters, not her, if they hadn’t been murdered. If she hadn’t- “your mother would want you to have it.” Miryam finished as she delicately picked up the finery and placed it on Astrid’s head. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; the circlet was the most ornate thing she had ever worn. 

“You look so much like her,” Miryam smiled at her. “She and your father would be proud to see that on you.” She supposed they would. The circlet had been her mother's, but instead of a stone of sapphire, her mother's was emerald green. Her mother was a high fae from the Winter Court before the war, where she met her father. After coming to Cretea, her mother was Miryam's hand, which meant she was officially part of the royal court. Her parents would be proud if they were still alive. The burning in her chest only seemed to grow at the idea. She shouldn’t be the one wearing it; her parents should still be here, and her sisters should be too, and it was her fault they weren’t. Her skin began to tingle, her throat dry and hot. Astrid quickly took the circlet off her head, its weight feeling too much. 

“Astrid?” She looked at the princess. Miryam’s eyes were wide, and her feeling of worry was closing in on her. “We might not be blood, but you are part of this family. Whatever is going on in that mind of yours…let me help.” Her voice was soft and empathetic as if she were speaking to a skittish deer.

Astrid gulped. The knot in her throat slid down to her stomach, heavily nestling itself there. “I’ve been…struggling.” She couldn’t meet Miryam's eyes as she said it, the dread of admitting she didn’t have a handle on her power. She didn’t know how the princess would even be able to help, but she continued, “I can handle getting into other's minds and shutting them out, most of the time, but” she paused, trying to find the words, “I can feel everyone's emotions all the time, I can’t escape them. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shut them out. It’s honestly…suffocating. And it sometimes just becomes too much to control at once.” 

Miryam didn’t say anything at first, just grabbing the circlet from Astrid's hands and placing it back on her head. Light green eyes stared at her as a wave of reassurance and determination washed over her. 

“The High Lord, Rhysand, you know he is a close friend. One of the few who knew this island existed before Hybern. He’s a very powerful daemati, and so is his mate. If you're comfortable, we can ask him for some assistance during dinner.” 

Astrid sucked in a deep breath. It would be embarrassing to admit to a High Lord that she couldn’t master this dumb power, and not many were privy to the knowledge of Astrid’s powers. It was unusual for fae to gain new powers as they aged. The seraphim was young in fae terms, only seventy-six, but her power was growing and expanding to levels even the oldest fae on Cretea weren’t familiar with. She had spent hours in Cretea’s library with their oldest scholars, trying to find answers. Still, because her people found refuge here, their libraries were considerably less dense than those in Prythian. Since the war, her daemati abilities have grown to feel others' emotions. And after the war, none of the feelings were good. These past months, she had found herself drowning in it, the sorrows of those around her suffocating her. After a while, she stayed in her townhouse, never leaving unless going to the palace. She knew she couldn’t live like this forever; Astrid only nodded in response before she felt a slight panic snake around her chest, a foreign feeling, not her own or Miryam’s. 

           “I believe the High Lord is here,” Astrid replied, knowing the time for this conversation was over. Miryam only gave her a soft smile of reassurance before taking hold of her hand. Together, they walked down Brightwater Palace halls, the seafoam-marbled floors and tall white pillars surrounding them. Standing at the home entrance was one of the most handsome man Astrid had ever seen. 

[simcaistk]

Château Orange [CC FREE]

Château Orange has always been an important hub for the community, especially cherished by older generations. Offering comprehensive medical assistance for all ages, our clinic never stops ensuring the well-being of every resident. The city's culinary landscape is enriched by the Asian restaurant, inviting diners to embark on a gastronomic journey to the Far East. Meanwhile, the local jeweler's exquisite craftsmanship provides an opportunity to own or gift a piece of timeless elegance, perfect for commemorating personal milestones such as the recognition of talent and hard work at the esteemed ballet school. It's a place where tradition meets ambition, and care intertwines with culture.

A rowhouse with a clinic and a small lab, jewelry store, Asian restaurant, and a ballet school. This building was inspired by a tenement house in Poznań, Poland.

Preparing this clinic was more fun that I initially thought, even without any CC! It was so difficult to fit this staircase but after many manoeuvres I'm finally done. Happy Simming!

Recommended to be used with similar lots such as The Time Leader, Nabokova Bakery, Freedomland, Les Grâces Rouges, Idylla Apartments, Heart Angle Apartments, or Papillon Corner.

Download here. The download link is on Sim File Share. It is advisable to use CleanInstaller. Value: §290,799

More pics and aerial view under the cut.

[gigiprinceton]

After an amazing day yesterday, the following morning Fluffy and I boarded a train once again and this time we are headed to the Famous Bukovel Resort in the Carpathian Mountains Fluffy tells me.. This is going to a much welcomed trip, compared to all the walking around we’ve been doing in the hustling and bustling cities.. I tell you, I’m ready to be lazy for some needed rest and relaxation for a change…

Our train ride took around 12 hours and with all that time we enjoyed chatting, eating, and meeting many new and interesting people… Mostly though, I enjoyed spending my time reading, and just looking out of the window allowing life to pass me by while enjoying the beautiful scenery as it flew by..

In the early evening our train pulled into the Tatariv-Bukovel station in the small town of Polyanytsya.. When we disembarked Fluffy and I had to hurry up to catch our bus that would take us to the resort… Another beautiful trip as I was mesmerized by all the rivers and lakes surrounded by these majestic mountains..

As we stepped off the bus, I could smell the fresh, clean mountain air, mixed with the incredible smell of pine all around.. “This is truly God’s Country” I thought to myself..

Fluffy booked us into one of the beautiful wooden log chalets.. The views of the mountains were spectacular not to mention that the ski runs were literally a few steps from our front door..

After a quick bite to eat, we decided to go for a hike since it was still early in the day, so we set out to explore a nearby forest.. I mean I’ve hiked before, but not like this.. Even though I knew I was at a resort, I truly felt as if I was in the wild.. As we hiked trough the forest on paths that were barely visible, I couldn’t help but think this is a bird lovers paradise for we beautiful saw golden eagles gliding above us in the sky in search of prey, and heard the distinctive drumming of woodpeckers making their nest holes in the trunks of trees, and heard all around us the melodious songs of the song thrush…

We discovered beautiful mountain springs bubbling up from the ground which fed into mountain waterfalls.. We came across spectacular flowery meadows that were rich in berries and mushrooms…

Fluffy explained to me… “That the berries and mushrooms here are considered to be the greatest treasure of the Carpathian mountain region and are often referred to as the "Carpathian Gold"… Fluffy continued.. “That among these ancient trees and springs; they grow rich in minerals and nutrients”... I listened intently as I sat eating a handful of wild raspberries…

When we returned to the hotel, after our amazing day Fluffy and I decided to relax a little and he suggested that we sit in the hot tub.. I looked outside and told Fluffy that we don’t have a hot tub, He chuckled a little, pointing to a huge round vat outside on our porch full of water..  Fluffy gathered up some firewood and placed it under the vat and then lit it.. After about an hour the water was ready.. I wouldn't say the water was very hot, but sitting in it with good company, and a glass of wine in hand was quite relaxing…

After a good night’s sleep, the following morning Fluffy and I set out to do a little hiking and mountain climbing...

Our resort offers the use of their ski lifts for a wonderful aerial scenic tour up to the top of their ski runs as well as hiking and climbing combination tours to different summits in the area which we took full advantage of..

Fluffy and I chose to hike up to the top of Mt. Hoverla which is the highest mountain in Ukraine at 2061 meters..    But not before enjoying an amazing scenic view of our surrounding area by riding 30 feet off the ground on the ski lift to the top of their highest run..   

It was a beautiful sunny day as we began our trek up the mountain.. The air was cool and refreshing on this October day as we made our way up through the forests of pine and beech trees, rocks covered in green moss which shimmered under the sun…  Along the way we came across more spectacular flowering meadows, beautiful brooks, waterfalls, and pastureland... We ate berries along the way, chatted about our lives at home, and of the fun that we have shared so far..

When we finally reached the top, which felt like forever by the way, we were both amazed and simply floored by the breathtaking panoramic view.. So much stunning beauty of this whole region all around us..

After about an hour resting admiring the beauty, I finally asked Fluffy when the helicopter is coming to pick us up…. “No helicopter”.. he replied with a grin “We go back down the way we came up”.. “Don’t worry, we’ll make a strong Ukrainian woman of you yet”…

I grumbled.. “What?  No Lift Either”?   All Fluffy could do was laugh the whole time when he caught me grumbling to myself while we picked up our things and began our long journey back down the summit..

*Note to Self*: No More Mountain Climbing without Optional Transportation..  

By the time we got back to the chalet it was almost sundown and I had to pack yet for my train to Poland and my flight home tomorrow.. So after our showers, Fluffy and I relaxed and sat down to an exceptional final dinner of Borscht, which had fast become one of my favorite meals while here in Ukraine… We made a toast to each other at the end of the night while we sat by the fire, and vowed that we would get together and do something like this again real soon, and I told him that he is always welcome to visit me in the United States… And that it will be my turn next time to show him around..

And with that, we fell asleep in each others arms laying in front of the fireplace while reminiscing about all the fun times we spent together..

With Gratitude, Credit, and Many Many Thanks to @fluffyfaza

A Great Big Thank You to Everyone who participated in helping me to make this the Best Virtual Vacation Ever..

@softsmooth69 @dryndelicate @fluffyfaza @alyssa-ai @celestmilena @angelmiledg @danni-gurrl @amazonqueencindy @bob--and--friends

[doodle-pops]

Eönwë With An Architect Reader

Request: Greatings Mina The Magnificent! If I may... can I please request either a fic or headcannons with Manwe, Eonwe or Irmo (you can pick!) x reader were they are an architect. Have you ever seen the River of Light in London (the Thames) what if their s/o did that in their town or palace area? Do you think they’d like it? Oh! Oh! What if they surprise their Godly lover with it as a gift??? Thanks for taking the time to read and consider! 🙏🏻💙 have a nice day/night! - Anon

A/N: *takes a bow* Hi Hi! I decided to write about him having an architect s/o and you building something for him, a little gift. Enjoy!

·⊰ You were a famous architect under the tutelage of Aüle and known throughout Aman for designing some of the most lavish and outstanding projects. You were also known for participating in the early designs of the city of Tirion and Alqualonde in the earliest years.

·⊰ To say that Eӧnwё was not ecstatic to have you as a partner was a lie. He was always found hovering and touching all your gadgets in your study anytime he came by while you were working.

·⊰ Most of his favourite times are when you were constructing miniature models of your latest project, commissioned by one of the great Lords or High Kings, and he would come along to act as your little helper.

·⊰ Handing you your chisel and hammer, moulding clay, and even participating in painting the buildings and structures. The only thing he wouldn’t do would be carve or place the pieces together properly.

·⊰ Eӧnwё assumed it would be child’s play when he watched as you stuck the pieces of wood together and attempted to copy. Let’s just say that it was more difficult than he expected (he glued the wrong pieces together and left out important foundations).

·⊰ After realising that he wasn’t great with building, he stuck to painting the structures and handing you all your tools while sitting back and observing you work. Expect lots of questions, like ‘what got you into this?’ or ‘how did you know you wanted to be an architect?’.

·⊰ Eӧnwё does enjoy visiting you on the construction sites while you're working. He uses his ability to fly to take you on aerial tours so you can view your creation from above. In fact, he does this a lot for all of your creations, wanting to show you the view he has of your masterpieces.

·⊰ Know that he’s you’re number one hype man/maia. Even if there was another architect who was proving to be better than you, in his eyes, you were the best and no one could outshine your brilliance. He even boasts to his fellow Maiar about your skills. If you have an opening for a new project, he’ll invite his friends and others to support you.

·⊰ During his many years of courtship, he has picked up many new skills even if he wasn’t great in the beginning with them. Soon, he’ll be building models with you and not mismatching the pieces, even giving you innovative ideas for new projects.

·⊰ As his lover, Eӧnwё wasn’t aware of the benefits of dating an architect when he came to visit you one day for a date, and you instructed him to take you elsewhere. During your courtship, you had designed a fancy getaway cabin and garden for you both (mostly him).

·⊰ He’ll ask you to take him on a tour around the area and show him all the specialities you added to the design because you always have something extra up your sleeves. When you show him the lights and decorations you’ve added, Eӧnwё is beaming, and you can see it in his puffed-up feathers.

·⊰ He couldn’t believe that you would do something so wonderful and extraordinary for him. Know that he will make use of your gift and bring you along when he wasn’t alone time. You even built him a pool so he could wash his wings whenever he needed to preen, and you must help him.

·⊰ There would be lights running along a stream that leads into the pool where he'd clean off. He would choose to preen at night or take a wash off so he could witness the colourful lights and then get lost in them, forgetting his bath.

·⊰ Sometimes during the colour-changing show, you would see his feather ruffled and puffed up in a more relaxing manner while he's busy gazing at the lights. He looks like those cats staring at pretty lights.

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @wisheduponastar @stormchaser819 @cilil @edensrose @ilu-stripes

[homenecromancer]

Here's a random assortment of Maximum Ride stuff, mostly images.

Maximum Read poster. This image is very small, sorry. This was part of an American Library Association campaign, probably around 2008 - 2010ish -- these posters were put up in libraries to encourage young people to read. (Description: large text reading Maximum Read at the top. The image shows Max and Angel lying in a field of green grass, with a picnic basket and several books scattered around them. Angel, who is a blonde little girl with white wings, wearing a pink dress and brown jacket, has fallen asleep. Max, a blonde teenager wearing a white long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans, is holding an open book against her chest and looking directly at the viewer.)

There were also bookmarks! (They have a cropped version of the poster image -- the Maximum Read text and Max looking at the viewer / Angel's sleeping face.) This site is the official store of the Ontario Library Association. The listing is live, but I think the OLA mainly deals with libraries and the people who work in them -- if you want to reach out and order 100 bookmarks for 9 dollars CAD, be my guest. But I don't need 100 bookmarks...

The kids who could fly advertising decal. This was a large decal showing an aerial view of a city. Produced just before Max came out by a New Zealand ad company. I've only seen the version of the Max cover that they use here on copies from the UK, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was used other places as well.

BookExpo 2006:

I was too lazy to rip these images off of Flickr, so you'll have to click through. But on May 21, 2006, this Flickr user attended BookExpo 2006, where James Patterson was signing copies of The Angel Experiment. (He didn't have his own table -- he signed at the table belonging to the First Book organization. This is a non-profit that provides books to children; they still exist, and you can read more about them on their website.)

Banners -- and a closer shot. Text (all in all-caps on the actual banner):

The hottest name in kid's fiction. James Patterson. [at left] #1 for 12 weeks New York Times. 500,000 kids demanded it! Max is back! [There is a small image of the School's Out - Forever cover in the center. The background is an image of a pair of white wings.]

Other photos show the JP banner in context -- it was very visible to people as they entered the convention. Here you can see it above a line of people waiting to enter. This photo, I think, shows the reverse side of the banner -- if I am right, the same image was printed on both sides, and it would've been visible as one exited the exhibit hall (as well as when one entered).

There was a long line for the signing. These images are probably not in order, but I tried to sort them. First image. Second image. Third image. All these photos depict a long line of many people, which passes by many booths in a convention hall.

And here is the signing table itself. This image shows the First Book booth, James Patterson seated behind the table with stacks of paperback copies of The Angel Experiment, and a fan talking to him.

Finally, this photo was taken from behind the signing table. Patterson is in the middle of signing a book for a fan, who is using her digital camera to take a picture of him.

Not relevant to anyone but me, really, but my copy of The Angel Experiment is the same vintage as those that Patterson signed that day. Strange to see those books looking brand-new; mine has badly yellowed pages and has been very well-loved over the years.

[soundsaboutrighttumblr]

After finale ramble.

The Eighth Sense and its visual storytelling, the artfulness and the sheer effect with which they make the stories visible, highlighted, in colors, in light and dark, in acting, in movement. Like, of course they use sound, too, they appeal to all the senses that film medium can, visual, auditory, even associations of scent and smell and touch just by the heightening of the audio-visual experience, through filters, distortions, manipulations, framing, score, lyrics, leading the eye and the expierence. Artful and so well-made that it stands out in its emotional impact.

The editing, the extreme close ups, the alteration between movement and stillness, hand camera, aerial drone views, reverse, above water under water upside down mirror views too close too make up what you’re looking at for a moment...  it all makes you almost dizzy at times, as even your vestibular sense is appealed to by these very physical visual techniques and effects, too, right next to all the themes and metaphors about balance throughout the text.

I do love the theories about the series title I’ve seen around, about the seventh sense being proprioceptive (movement and how you place, orient yourself) and the eighth one being interoceptive (internal, your physical needs, maybe in extension emotional needs, as it is a story about listening to those and healing/growing/moving).

I dare say this series comments on and appeals to all of them, through the technical use of medium, its metaphors and its art and messages about the human experience, and life being the use of all those senses, exitsting through and inside them, life being all of those experiences and the changes inbetween, the stillness, the stagnation, the getting moving again, the waves, the being tossed by waves, the watching of a tamed ocean inside a fish tank, the just dipping your toes in water. The salt-water tears you cry.

I came here to say. Just having watched the last two eps, and there’s just so much there, so many things, layers, so many artful things, but boy did I feel a visceral reaction when Jaewon started moving again, walking with that skip in his step to school, down the stairs. 

Because what does depression do to you, it makes you stuck and stagnant, holding yourself still, frozen, preserving energy, paralyzing you. It reads all over your body, its immobility and rigidness. The acting on this is impeccable and had a visceral effect on me.

And then? When that animation comes back to you, to Jaewon, in that skip in his step, the animation of his face, elasticity and livelyness, the sheer movement of it all, that means feeling alive? How yes, there’s work and growth and healing that brought him there but sometimes it just happens, suddenly, just so? To make that point visible through these short scenes of walking, and the relief I felt, the energy?

Even the flow of meandering through the city feels like progress made visible, but when he walks again, with purpose, the acting out of that walk towards Jihyun, arms swinging, hands engaged, whole body motion walking with purpose?

That scene hit hard, will stay with me, because everything about those last two eps made that story visible, the getting back into movement, movement as what makes this life, the rush of it after stillness, that leaves you reeling. They took me along on that journey with those last eps, reminded me.

The evocativeness of this series and how it’s made, of taking you along on that ride, put you through it, all senses engaged, remind you of life... a very cathartic one, this one. No I’m not crying. I am actually so elated.

I do love those shows the best, that put you through the story’s experience as a viewer, by the means of the medium and publishing, too. Shows that guide and engage your emotional journey in a way that adds deeper layers of meaning to the messages, and is a very potent message in itself, I feel. Especially if you end on a positive hopeful note, much needed in these times.

Catharsis, yes. Connection through art, too.

Wow and thank you.

[tomorrowusa]

Trump's pal Vladimir Putin is back to bombing children's hospitals in Ukraine. Putin can't understand why Ukrainians won't let him take over their country. So he's killing as many of their children as possible as retribution.

Russian missile strike partially destroyed a children’s hospital in Kyiv on Monday, causing terrified patients and their families to flee for their lives, as officials fear more people could be trapped beneath the rubble. Moscow launched a brazen daytime aerial assault on targets in cities across Ukraine during morning rush hour, killing at least 36 people and injuring 137 others, according to Ukraine’s emergency service. The large scale bombardment struck areas in the capital, as well as in Dnipro, Kryvyi Rih, Slovyansk and Kramatorsk. In an update on Telegram, the emergency service said the latest figure included the number of dead and injured in the capital, which now stands at 22 people killed. Two people were killed and at least 16 were injured in the strike on Kyiv’s Okhmatdyt hospital. The facility is Ukraine’s largest children’s medical center and has been vital in the care of some of the sickest children from across the country. Every year, around 7,000 surgeries – including treatments for cancer and hematological diseases – are conducted at the hospital, according to Ukraine’s human rights ombudsman Dmytro Lubinets. Videos from the scene showed volunteers working with police and security services to sift through the rubble as smoke billowed from the hospital, as staff described how they tried to rush children to safety in the wake of the attack. Ukraine’s health minister Viktor Liashko said intensive care units, oncology departments and surgery units had been damaged.

US Republicans and others from the radical right around the world back Putin. They bizarrely see him as "strong" despite the incompetent way he's conducted his war and the enormous losses Russia has sustained.

To give you a ground level view of how Russia is actually doing in its shabby unprovoked war, the Washington Post published intercepts of communications by Russian troops during their failed Kharkiv offensive.

Russian ground troops are poorly trained, poorly armed, and poorly supplied. Putin just mindlessly throws troops at Ukraine the way Trump throws ketchup at walls.

The Russian population is kept ignorant of massive losses and is fed histrionic nationalistic propaganda on state TV. Internet access to Western news sites blocked. Putin mouthpieces dressed like James Bond villains openly promote additional war crimes.

Russia is not a normal country and it is not led by a normal person.

Despite what tankies and far right Putin apologists may tell you, Russia has no fucking business in Ukraine.

[philipcluff]

Genova: Italy’s overlooked, rebellious metropolis and maritime capital.

Genova isn’t a primary destination for most visitors to Italy. On the road from Nice, it might usually be a detour on the way to Milan or Rome. So why mention this small, apparently crumbling and cramped port in any debate of Italy’s great cities? Its frescos are flaking away under the Summer Sun, and those flakes are swept away onto the Mediterranean by the cold Winter sea breeze. Genova hasn’t witnessed much renewal of late, and in many ways that’s the point. Between the splendour of Florence, and the chic of Milan, Genova is Italy’s martyr. In point of population she is the fifth city of Italy, but by a considerable margin its largest port. Genova disputes only with Marseille the primacy of the Mediterranean.

Over eight centuries, the city did more to tether the fractured Italian peninsula to the enriching trade routes of the Mediterranean and modern creative vanguards of Western Europe than any other maritime republic, even Venice. Moreover, Genova’s trading spirit, per the Belgian historian Henri Pirenne, created the antecedents of modern entrepreneurship. The small thallasocracy, crammed between a rough sea and crumbling outcrops of rock, dared to lose sight of the horizon, building early fortunes in African Coral, Byzantine Silk, and Spanish Gold.

Known as La Superba, Genova first grew to prosperity as Venice did, by ferrying knights from all over Europe to the Crusades. The Lanterna, Genova’s iconic lighthouse, has guided ships into its harbor since 1128, and above it stand the Apennine mountains. These peaks formed a fortress, barring medieval invasions from Burgundy and Savoy, shepherding the city close to the Mediterranean. Descending in steep rows, they made for the city’s majestic appearance when viewed from the sea. Flanked by forests of Cedars, Pines, and Olive trees, the French Historian and Statesman, Jules Michelet, found the terrain to be perfectly in sync with the city’s character. “These aerial terraces who strive to climb higher and higher, to see above their neighbours, are observatories from where the capitalist admires his ships.”

At closer quarters the charm admittedly dries up. The centre is noisy and crowded, flanked by abjectly unkempt suburbs. Genova would surely have expanded if not for the constraints of its harsh landscape. Named after the two-faced Roman God Janus, the misleading facade of the city derives from a period of apparent decline. The grandest palazzos are late-Renaissance and Baroque and they give the impression of a much more fortuitous history than the one Genova really enjoyed in this period. By then, the Genovese navy had enjoyed their real golden age, scoring victories against Barbary Pirates, French Corsairs, and even seizing the huge iron chains of the gates of Pisa as spoils of war in 1284.

Genova maintained its independence as a city state until 1815 (only a generation before Italy came to exist), navigating a complex political landscape dominated by larger powers and building a unique social structure centered around its merchants. Even after its incorporation into the Kingdom of Savoy, Genova retained a strong sense of regional pride and ubiquity.

Pre-eminent among its merchant families were the Dorias, who by the 16th century had become a dynasty; and it was largely due to their efforts that Genova protected its great artistic traditions into the Renaissance. The Doria Palace built in 1529 for Andrea Doria was a homage to the wealth and good taste of the republic. The city’s palaces produce a more triumphal, if less romantic, effect than the more fanciful façades of nearby Turin and Milan.

The overseer of all this grandeur was the 15th century architect Galeazzo Alessi, a disciple of Michelangelo and favourite of Andrea Doria. Most of his palaces were sadly damaged by Allied bombardments in the bid to displace Mussolini, but the peculiar Genovese building style of striped marble and pointed conical towers, are preserved in the nearby villages and towns of Liguria.

Pressed round the eastern shore of the harbour is the ancient quarter of narrow streets and lopsided houses. The numerous medieval churches; including the family church of the Dorias, San Matteo, with its exquisite cloister and Andrea Doria's tomb is adjacent to the house of Christopher Columbus, Genova’s most famous inhabitant and the personification of it’s pioneering naval spirit. Ironically, Columbus sealed the city’s fate. His discovery of the New World effectively crippled Mediterranean commerce until the opening of the Suez Canal. As Columbus set sail in 1492, the Pope banned women from entering the beautiful ivory church of Saint John (San Giovanni) on the grounds that Saint John The Baptist had been murdered by a woman, Salomé. There is no clearer proof of Italy’s devotion to the decree of Roman Catholicism than San Giovanni’s restriction of female visitors remaining in place until 1950.

This isn’t the city’s only instance of religious zeal. Like the Turin shroud, Genova hosts the relic alleged to be the cloth Joseph of Arimethea used to wipe away Jesus’s blood from the crucifix, which supposedly crystallised into an Emerald. According to Petrarch, who resided and befriended Geoffrey Chaucer in Genova, twelve knights were appointed to protect it, each for a month every year with permission to kill anyone who tried to touch it. The city is no stranger to such religious violence, Pope Urban V made the clearest statement of the Papal Schism when he had five Cardinals executed in the city for allegedly supporting the breakaway ‘Anti-Papacy’ in 12th Century Avignon.

Subsequently Genova became, like Venice, a strategic accessory of the great Imperial European powers. Its gradual decline was sharply accentuated in the eighteenth century when the once-proud city was annexed by Revolutionary France; and its fortunes reached an all time low in 1800 when Napoleon’s most dependable General, Andre Masséna, dug in for a siege against the Austrians, which enabled Napoleon to win the Marengo campaign but starved most of Genova’s inhabitants to death.

Not all the French treated Genova so contemptuously, with Gustave Flaubert writing favourably that “Genova is a beautiful town, truly beautiful. One walks on marble here, everything seems to be made of marble. The most beautiful thing I saw in Italy was Genova.” He was joined in his admiration by no less than Richard Wagner, who wrote in the 1870’s “I have never seen anything resembling Genova. It is indescribably beautiful.”

After centuries of resistance, in I814 the Genovese Republic was extinguished and the whole of Liguria was incorporated in the growing Piedmontese dominions at the Congress of Vienna. This facilitated the rejoinder of Sardinia to the House of Savoy across the Ligurian sea, and became the backbone of the Risorgimento. Yet the Genovese, like the Catalans and the Irish, never fully accepted monarchic imposition. The royal palace is ornate but uninspired compared with those in Turin and Rome. Instead Giuseppe Mazzini, the great Republican leader, garners more local reverence than the royal House of Savoy.

The old neighbourhoods have gradually been surrounded by a more modern city, with some of Europe’s oldest skyscrapers built in the 1950’s and 60’s, the direct consequence of competition from shipbuilders and industrialists who were among the wealthiest in Italy. Unlike many cities, the modern Genova does not stifle the city’s classic heart. There is no surer symbol of this juxtaposition of past and present, bound by commerce, than the Palazzo San Giorgio. With its light Austrian-inspired frescoes and crumbling roof tiles, it serves as the port headquarters and has housed Marco Polo and Napoleon as a prisoner and conqueror respectively. Even Charles V was entertained here by the Dorias on his way to sack Milan and Rome.

In a sense, Venice will always get the better of Genova, and this is Genova’s salvation. The Italian peninsula receives more than 50 million visitors a year, most of whom crowd into Venice to the horror of the locals. I have passed through Genova enough times to safely say that it bears none of the same scars of tourism. However, there is nowhere else quite like it. Nowhere else in Italy has done more to foster the Northern genius, through the settlement of Flemish Old Masters Peter Paul Rubens and Anthony Van Dyck, as well as English authors Geoffrey Chaucer and Charles Dickens. Nowhere else has exported Italian cultural so effectively through the development of capital markets. Nowhere in Italy, in my opinion, has decayed with the same dignity, retaining the reverence of a proud and legitimately independent history.

[soup-mother]

See the thing about Dorley Hall is that this sort of smart, walkable mixed-use urbanism is illegal to build in many Australian cities, so the UK's much greater stock of pre-automobile cities is why they have such a leg up on feminization.

Hard agree, although some older cities designed for horses do still have an advantage over the suburban sprawl of Melbourne or Canberra. imagine trying to run a forcefem basement in canberra:

feminisation kidnapping van getting stuck in roundabout traffic.

Image ID: an aerial view of a suburb in Canberra australia, almost the entire image is taken up by single family houses.

[positron2399]

The Kehhar (Whispers in the Stars)

The Kehhar have a hard time grasping a day-night cycle as they came from a tidally-locked world that orbited a red dwarf. They evolved to be ground-dwelling filter-feeders/herbivores, eating aerial plankton and the near-black flora that’s better described as slime molds than plants. They also don’t call themselves “kehhar,” The Juggerknight and Brunniee call them that as they communicate with their bioluminescent displays. The reason they have such displays is due to them evolving from tropical orb-weaver-sized “bugs” as both a mating display and a warning to potential predators that they’d promptly die after consumption. Said macrofauna only evolved to their current sizes due to the Juggerknight slamming into their world over twice the speed of light, this also caused a massive ocean to form in the shape of a pupil. They average around .7 m in length and .2 meters in height. And they reproduce via budding like sponges or hydras.

They don’t mate either, while they do swap genes, this is believed to have evolved to increase genetic diversity as this gene swapping between members of the same and closely related species is present in all but two species, those being deep-sea microbes. It’s also of important note that their “genetic” system is closer to that of prions than DNA or RNA, as in, their information is stored on gigantic self-replicating “super proteins.” Albeit much tougher than most crap on earth thanks to the lovely dose of UV from their sun as well as their magnetosphere being fucking 12.3 gauss. Hence how it kept its hydrogen/nitrogen atmosphere, well that and their world is a super-earth with twice the gravity of our world and an atmosphere 7 times as dense, which allowed for aerial plankton, land-dwelling “sponges” and other filter feeders, and even sky “whales.” Though the largest sky whales only exceed Quetzalcoatlus in length and wingspan. ( Yes, I know the how protein-based life thing likely isn’t very plausible, but they have a 2ish meter-tall crystalline guardian that served in the Vietnam War, an event that took place millions of years before them)

It’s also of important note that the kehhar are a very stagnant people, having an information age comparable to that of the early 2000s in terms of technology, granted just as radiation-resistant as them. Granted, rather than using spoiled plankton juice in a hyper-capitalist world, they used solar, nuclear, and wind energies in a heavily caste based feudalist system, granted, there were capitalist and communist nations, but they just didn’t have too much power thanks to the meddlings of the monarchs. Also, they weren’t a planet of hats, kehhars had different loves, hates, and political views from each other. Some working as world-renowned actors, wage-to-wage restaurant cooks, doctors, miners, farmers and so much more.

As for their generation ships, they’re a gift from an allied species called “ven,” also named by The Juggerknight as they communicate via radio waves. Though they weren’t originally supposed to be gifts, they were warships meant to “cleanse” the world of the kehhar, but over time the vens “hearts” changed. Still, the space habitats of the kehhar had all of their advanced weapons like antimatter and sonic bombs (not that the sonic weapons would work) and replaced them with “primitive” weapons such as “slow” suicidal super nuke drones, cannons that shoot telephone pole sized tungsten rods, and particle beans. These space habitats are also humungous, being around 6 km long (including their thrusters), each housing many dense cities, farmland (though most livestock is simply pets as meat is now lab-grown), and wildlife reserves. While they can and do use solar energy, the habitats are primarily powered and propelled via fusion and a maximum speed of .098C

Feedback and Critique welcome (^_^)

[madjackbrock]

Jack and Garg x Mortao and Hitomi. No humiliation or dominance, just obsessive, destructive lust from both parties.

Japan had withstood many, many giant monster attacks in the past, and always come back stronger than ever. This one might be the last, however…

Garg scratched his massive, hairy gut lazily as he stomped over and through the skyscrapers around Kyoto, finishing off those his footfalls missed with the sensual swaying of his impossibly wide ass. It had been minutes since he’d devoured a fleeing crowd, so he was already feeling hungry again. But snacking could wait; he had another MASSIVE hunger he needed to feed.

Fortunately, while it was a bit hard to use Google Maps when one was the size of a municipality, once you actually got it running, the aerial view of your destination was surprisingly helpful for a terrifying giant. It didn’t take long to spot the correct apartment building…which he took to mean that none of these other buildings, or their inhabitants, were still necessary.

Good. He could still snack on the way.

She didn’t know it yet, but Hitomi Tanaka was the object of his search; as she didn’t know this, she was morally correct in panicking along with the rest of the city. That fat giant was heading right towards her apartment, and she could swear he was looking into her window! She had enough pervs to deal with at normal scale; she didn’t need one that could rip apart the city to find her!

Granted, when the giant reaches below his oozing gut and started to pump his shaft, itself almost as wide as her building…she did have to give a nod of approval.

Impressed as she was, she still screamed when he easily ripped the top several floors off of her building, leering in at her as she cowered in her bedroom. His free hand reached in for her, some sort of bottle pinched between its fingertips. She screamed again, but the bottle forced its way between her lips and…

Oh. Oh, fuck. This…felt…

Good!

She moaned and writhed as her body grew and fattened, finally becoming a match for her world-famous tits before expanding far, far beyond. The remains of her building collapsed under her gigantic ass as she continued to grow, finally becoming a match for the masculine mountain in front of her.

“I’m…I’m fat! I’m…so…huge!”

Garg licked his lips in appreciation. “And we’re only gonna get bigger and fatter,” he purred. “You like it?”

She gave another long, lewd glance at his erect shaft, before nodding. “I like it a lot, my big sexy man…”

At her new scale, it was actually possible to ignore the second obese giant running (for a certain value of “running”) up to them until he was already upon them, panting and trying to remain calm. “Garg! Garg, we-“

Garg rolled his eyes at Jack. “Calm down! It worked, and she’s into it!”

Jack nodded quickly, temporarily distracted by ALL of Hitomi, before an ominous rumble broke his trance.

“Yeah, well, I found Mortao, and did the same thing! Except she’s REALLY into it…and it REALLY worked!”

Before Garg could ask what that meant, the three gargantuan gluttons were cast into shadow.

An unfathomably huge Mortao Maotor, having shed her lithe frame for an even fatter physique than the three smaller giants at her feet, loomed over them. Her famously photogenic feet, formerly large and slender, were still large…but now practically flattened with fat, merging into unstoppable cankles as she placed her hands on her obscenely wide hips and laughed at their cowering.

“Oh, good! More toys! Pucker up! You’re all gonna kiss and lick the biggest set of booty soles in the world!”

[karaloza]

Legend of Zelda Theme Park - Skyward Realm (UPDATED)

The Skyward Realm was a later addition to my theme park concept (much like how fully explorable airborne environments didn’t become a thing until relatively recently in the franchise). It obviously draws inspiration from Skyward Sword and the sky islands of Tears of the Kingdom, but you can also meet the Rito here, and elements from a few of the LoZ series’ sky-themed dungeons are used for flavor.

Strikingly, the area is built to a much higher elevation than the rest of the park–it sits atop a structure as much as 100 feet tall (which doubles as a show building for a few rides). The edges of the structure are covered in artificial clouds to emphasize the “skyborne” nature of the area, and the buildings are decorated with colorful pinwheels and flags to catch the breeze. (Some of the larger ones are marked on the map with asterisks.) Only a small strip of the area’s footprint is at ground level, to contain the entrances and/or exits of the escalators, elevators, and rides that make the Skyward Realm accessible. A peaceful music loop of tunes associated with aerial environments, the Rito, and flight scenarios plays throughout the area.

Attractions

Ancient Cannon: The queue and loading area for this ride are actually at ground level, because the point is to be a more exciting means of traveling to the Skyward Realm. A powerful magnetic launch sends guests shooting up a steep slope to the upper level, where they disembark; the car then reverses gently down the track for the next bunch.

Sailcloth Plunge: By the same token, those looking to return to ground level might take this ride, a simple parachute drop.

Flight Range: One of the most technologically sophisticated rides in the park, this one combines arm-mounted vehicles with 3D screen effects and “virtual” bows and arrows so guests can test their archery skills at Revali’s own target-shooting range!

Landing Platform: A meet-and-greet for Rito characters (Revali, Kass, Medli, Tulin), who actually “soar” in from a nearby tower (via zipline) when they’re ready for the guests!

Wing Ceremony: Echoing Universal’s Dueling Dragons, this relatively gentle suspended coaster features two interweaving tracks and red and blue cars with a Loftwing motif.The track actually extends over the edge of the Skyward Realm for a sensation of true flight!

Astral Observatory: Officially the highest point in Hyrule, this mysterious tower contains many beautiful star charts, astronomical instruments, and other details to peruse while enjoying a mystical music playlist and waiting your turn to peer through one of the telescopes for an unparalleled (and AR-enhanced) view of the kingdom.

Eagus’s Sword Academy: Kids 12 and under receive foam swords and instruction in a variety of sword moves from none other than Eagus, the swordmaster of the Skyloft Knights Academy! Up to four “lessons” (shows) a day.

Shops

8. Oocca Pod Shop: Named for the odd little shop in the City in the Sky in Twilight Princess, this shop offers a variety of kites, gliders, and other airborne toys (but please don’t throw them off the edge of the Realm).

9. Brazen Beak Plumage Boutique: Named after the Rito Village clothing store in Breath of the Wild and providing much the same function here—souvenir clothing and feathered accessories such as headbands, hair clips, cockades, and costume wings.

Eateries

10. The Lumpy Pumpkin: Based on the inn of the same name from Skyward Sword, this buffet restaurant serves home-style food with pumpkin specialties.

11. Light Lunches: Heavy meals won't do for flying creatures, so this counter service restaurant offers a variety of prepackaged salads, fruit bowls, flaky pastries, and fluffy mousse desserts, for adventurers who don't want to be weighed down.

12. Luv & Bertie's Enhanced Elixirs: Another beverage location in the vein of the Potion Hut, this one themed to the potion-making couple from Skyward Sword.

Miscellaneous

Like Epona Ranch, the Skyward Realm has no Spirit Train station of its own. It is readily accessed from the one attached to Zora’s Domain (pictured, but not labeled).

The three pearl-like icons indicate the locations of Zonai Device Dispensers as described in this post.

[antihibikase-archive]

Blight / Blur : Gym Guides' Characterizations

Sequel to this post!

Gentleman Clyde ( Castelia / Aspertia ) - a middle-aged man who once traveled Unova seeking unique pieces of art; eventually enjoys the art of Pokemon battling itself, even if he can't battle himself. Overenthusiastic and kind of like an embarrassing grandpa, but he helps Cheren and Hilda run the newly opened Aspertia Gym. Was previously a museum curator for Burgh's old gym. Considered the "boss" of all the gym guides.

Waitress Tia ( Striaton ) - a family friend of the Striaton Triplets, who shows interest in helping them run the family business. She's older than them and has more experience, so she handles everything but the battles, including ensuring the food they put out is top-notch. She continues working in Striaton Restaurant even after it stops being a gym, and manages the battles between the triplets and their patrons.

Scientist Satomi ( Nacrene ) - an old student of Lenora's, who has taken to working in her museum to continue her studies- and eventually gets hired to be its guide. Was academic rivals with Fennel and Audrea during their college days, but has mellowed out since. She's often the one helping Bianca around the museum whenever she visits. She still continues to work there even after it stops being a gym.

Harlequin Jack ( Castelia ) - initially just one of Burgh's gym trainers, he replaces Clyde two years later after Clyde is assigned to help out Cheren in Aspertia. Kind of a "quirky" clown, with him being easily exasperated and more down-to-earth than his colleagues, even being somewhat terrified of Castelia Gym's new interior. Nonetheless, he shows promise and dedication to his new role.

Lady Colette ( Nimbasa ) - initially just a fan of Elesa's, and later becomes the Elesa fan of all time, being the one who runs her fanclub and has the biggest fan account for her. She insists on giving all gym challengers a tour of the old gym in the sequel. Her family actually owns the business that constructed both the old gym's rollercoaster and the Rondez View Ferris Wheel, and ponders about letting her family tear it down when its such an important part to Nimbasa's image.

Clerk Katie ( Driftveil ) - the sole office lady in the Drifveil Gym, she eventually decides to stop being a gym trainer after having way too many near-death accidents in its gym- but she finds it fun, so Clay just had her moved upstairs. Knowledgeable about all of Driftveil, and handles most of its affairs when Clay isn't around, which also includes regulating and keeping watch over the house that the old members of Team Plasma are living in.

Pilot Chase ( Mistralton ) - one of the pilots who works at Mistralton Airport, and considered Skyla's best gym trainer. Just a simple everyman who lives in Mistralton City with his family, but he's entrusted to conduct aerial patrols aboard his Unfezant from time to time. He convinces Skyla to change her gym challenge upon receiving way too many complaints about how dangerous it is- and tries to justify why the new gym's fans are much safer than the old one's canons.

Black Belt Thomas ( Icirrus ) - a pupil of Brycen, who says he comes all the way from the Fighting Dojo at Kanto. He's quite disappointed when Brycen retires, but is also surprised to find out his co-star is Sabrina, the gym leader who overtook Black Belt Koichi's gym. He spends his days living quietly in Icirrus, but often helps clean the entrance to Dragonspiral Tower; as well as keep trespassers out.

Veteran Kim and Veteran Ron ( Opelucid ) - a battle couple who were a pair of ace trainers in their youth; Kim decided she wanted to become stronger following her lost to N in BW, so she traveled the world while Ron stayed behind in Unova to take her place. Ron, comically, dislikes N as a result, but has nothing but respect for his wife's wishes. Rumors surround them, saying that they used to be a pair of crimestoppers in their youth.. though this isn't confirmed. Kim is more serious and focused, while Ron is more upbeat and silly.

Guitarist Billy Jo ( Virbank ) - a childhood friend of Roxie's, who she shares the dream of playing in a band with. She held onto their dream even when Roxie focused temporarily on her Pokemon journey, and helped her file for a gym in Virbank when the spot was opened. As she grew up with Roxie, she also grew up helping her raise Rosa, and knows both Nate and Hugh as a result. Admires Hilda.

Ace Trainer Santino (Humilau) - an ace trainer from Hoenn, who travels all over the world with his partner Walrein. He hasn't been in Unova for too long, but, coming from Hoenn, he knows about the seas and water-type Pokemon fairly well, making him perfect to be the gym's guide. He's pleasantly surprised to find a lot of Unova's league members (Cheren, Grimsley, Shauntal, Skyla, and Nate) are Hoennian like him. Unfortunately, he was also there during the whole Emerald plot in Hoenn, so seeing Team Plasma play around with the elements reminds him of home.