#the officers academy

[ladivamagnifica]

Cosy House (Manuela and Sakura)

@gentlenekomata

Three knocks in quick succession had Manuela rushing to check her makeup one last time. This might not have been a date, but it certainly warranted pulling out all the stops- she had even cleaned her quarters from top to bottom for this!

It had all started three days ago when, quite unexpectedly, Manuela had chanced upon hearing the divine voice of Lady Ichinomiya Sakura, one of the princesses of Hoshido. Rubbing shoulders with royalty and nobility was nothing new to the songstress of course, but even Manuela was in awe of her voice- so foreign yet elegant in its intonation, and wholly something she needed to hear more of, but of course it was simply bad manners to ask a princess to perform on a whim, so Manuela had mustered the courage to invite the lady to dinner at her apartment one evening. If nothing else, the pleasant company would be more than enough. Yet trouble had started when she realised that she had no bloody clue what sort of foods Lady Sakura did or did not eat; worse still was that in order to make a good first impression, Manuela also needed to be an excellent chef… which she certainly was not. She considered herself decent enough when she helped out in the kitchens of the monastery, but for years now the art of cooking had been a skill she had no need to practise- as a prima donna she employed her own personal chef for the townhouse, and here in the monastery the kitchen staff and others did most of the cooking, except when the schedule had put her down for the responsibility. 

So, in what she had thought as an excellent judgement, Manuela had asked Sakura’s retainers on what the lady preferred when eating in the company of others. The consensus had been fried chicken…  At least it was a simple dish to prepare, and that was all she would say about that, even if it did perplex her how such a woman of grace and beauty liked something so greasy and acne-inducing.

But alas, that was not the end of it, for further issues arose when Manuela realised that, try as she might, it was impossible for her to make anything fried without it being unpalatable and dry; the Hoshido sauce she had attempted to make from scratch was also a dud, and with each failed attempt, she grew more and more desperate for it to work- she would not serve anything else to the princess, and in order for this evening to bear fruit of musical collaboration, she had to serve fried hoshido chicken!

In the end, two hours before Sakura was due to arrive, Manuela had admitted defeat and paid an eye-watering amount to some of the students of the academy to make her the dish and deliver it in time for the princess’ arrival. Which left her just enough time to freshen up and add the finishing touches to welcoming her guest, including dusting off for the third time her newly purchased shamisen and koto which now sat near her dining table, next to her violin, lyre, harp and organetto. The red rug of her room had been freshly beaten; the surfaces spotless, and the folding screen, another new purchase, did well to separate her bed from the space, as she was well aware that nobles thought it unseemly for a meeting space to have direct line of sight to the sleeping area- her bed was made though, just in case!

“Lady Sakura, I’m honoured that you made it. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable while I put on some tea.” Manuela wore her most brilliant smile and bowed, holding the door open for the princess who crossed past the threshold.

As the kettle on the fireplace began to boil, Manuela retrieved the still steaming-hot baskets of fried chicken (that had the richest, shiniest red glaze Manuela had ever seen and smelt divine) from the mantle of the fireplace, placing them on the table and sitting up straight to mimic the perfect posture of Sakura, though as her back was used to being hunched over her instruments and patients, it soon protested with a persistent and dull ache.

"How was your day, Lady Sakura? I'd be delighted to hear about what keeps a lady of such stature as yourself busy during the daylight hours."

[aspiringnexu]

Love that Star Trek accurately portrays humans in the future as being DTF practically anything. Works wonders for diplomacy.

"Sure I don't find you attractive, but give me ten minutes, your Excellency, and I'll find someone on this ship who's into tentacles and slime."

We may not be super intelligent or super strong, but give humans a chance. We're annoyingly likeable, tenacious, stubborn, and attracted to the weirdest things.

[callme-l]

Sorry, but if you're my favorite character, you automatically become ace, I don't make the rules

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Steve Carell was my estranged father and that he’d just won an Oscar for playing Michael Scott in the Office. I was at there to congratulate him, so I followed him when he got backstage in my PJs and was like hey dad, congrats. He’s like thanks kiddo, let’s have dinner some day but he was super dismissive so I got angry and now I’m looking for revenge. In this realm, Steve is the founder of Tesla so to get my revenge, I go around town absolutely trashing all the Teslas I see. I never hear from him again.

[blackmensuited]

[ladivamagnifica]

She…was not opposed to his advances, though a more rational woman should have been. 

Perhaps not so unexpectedly, but there was familiarity in him begging for her favour: the game was one she played well and often, of toying with coy hearts and the affections of those who wished for superficial love; writing was but one medium to practise her craft and- while certainly embarrassing on some small degree to have accidentally fooled this poor, lonesome knight such as he- she had heard of the rumours which surrounded Sain like shadows, even if she had never had the opportunity to meet the fellow in person. They called him arrogant and a heart-breaker; a shameless skirt-chaser and hopeless romantic, whose endeavours would eternally end in him playing the lovelorn fool, yet there was a darkness in his eyes of which she also possessed. 

His theatrics were artistry. In the capital of Enbarr, she had sampled all sorts who thought themselves charming, but rarely did they meet her expectations, and often she succeeded theirs; even now love was monotonous, for while she still had her fair share of admirers and casual lovers, that craving for a deeper connection was getting too persistent to ignore. He was different. New- oh no, no there was nothing new about his antics, she knew all the tricks he could employ, but there was excitement all the same, because, for the first time, it was like she was staring at a mirror. For the first time she felt butterflies in her stomach, and almost giggled like a schoolgirl when he kissed her hand so sweetly. His words were utterly ridiculous- and perhaps rather endearing- as he seemed so convinced that the wayward letter which had escaped her quarters was intended for him… 

The mystery of the letter was secondary when such a wonderful accident had inspired this strange ardour in him. She let herself be pulled into his embrace, yet to even breathe a word to him, and fancied that, since the opportunity had presented itself, she would like very much to see this man wear all his many faces. It was a sweet kiss, one she wagered that surprised him as well, for The Lance hardly got this far when he performed for other women. His own folly then, for she always had a weakness for sweet things. 

Her right hand raised itself as his eyes opened, its sister snaking up the front of his shirt to find purchase on his shoulder, and she knew by the way he flinched that he had expected to be slapped instead of receiving a gentler touch. What beautiful naivety, youth and vivacity shining in those emerald eyes of his; he need only refine himself a little more and it would be easy for him to find a pretty young thing to wed- if that was what he so desired.

“Dear Knight, your ardour sets a flame within my breast.” The hand which once cupped his cheek moved to his jaw and tightened into a firm grip, “Yet such honeyed words and simple kisses that have preceded your worship upon my altar have profaned me: thou pledged your soul and mortal skin to worship me as divine, yet not so much as a promise to meet by moonlight was uttered by your lips before you claimed mine. Oh woe, however shall I proceed knowing so little of the man who has ensnared my heart so swiftly! How might I continue on in the light’s grace, if the soul of my soul does visit my altar a second time? I would surely be undone.”

At the proximity of their bodies, she tested the waters again to lean up against him, and was pleased at how well-carved he was from wax, moulded in the image of a god. The gentle caress of her left hand over the exposed skin of his neck was delightfully creating wanton gooseflesh, and she had no choice but to release his jaw and rise to her tip-toes, lazily kissing there twice before her teeth claimed the offering. For once, it seemed Sain was at a loss for words, and she was also pleased to see her lipstick mark the reddened area.

“Such boyish bravado… I would like very much to see how you look, lying upon my bedsheets and lost in the blossoms of your armour. If all that those expert lips said was true, call upon me at my chamber door after the midnight bell tolls, and I shall bless you with passion tenfold.”

Pushing off from him and incidentally pressing him against the corridor wall for a moment, Manuela continued down the hallway with a lighter step than before- she only looked back once, bestowing upon him a devilish smile.

“Sir Sain, perhaps it would be wise in the future to not pledge yourself so readily for a pretty face- creatures such as I rarely wish to relinquish beautiful men like you. Next time, I shall not let you go so easily.”

@enarmor

A crumpled piece of parchment, written with an extraordinary penship of red ink. Discarded, abandoned, yet written with a shameless intensity few rarely see these days. It is Manuela who walks away from it, oblivious to her secret having stowed away from the prison of her chambers to land in a lonesome hall of the monastery. Red stains her fingers as the culprit author; the kiss upon the paper her favourite shade of lipstick.

“Kiss me until I am breathless, my love, and take the air too that dwells within my lungs. For what use are these, if not to breathe in the honeyed scent of you each waking morning, and find my lips enthralled upon the scents of your skin?If I cannot trace those peppered constellations which mark you, from the crook of your slender neck in which I find a home, downwards to skin carved in wax, and find myself suckling sweetness, partaking in your euphoria, then cast away this tongue of mine- it has no use! Be gone my lips, if they cannot drink the sounds you make each time we entwine; 

Be gone these hands, if they are forbidden from tracing you- your lines, your curves, your lust, it matters not. Farewell to this errant gaze, unless I might lay my eyes upon you under the moonlight glow and shining morning sun. I shall never see the stars unless you give them to me, plucking them from skies above to place within my vision.I shall never want to love unless you take this heart and consume it. Devour me, until I might never be a moment away from you.

Be this madness, or love, Dear Heart? I can hardly tell which these days, when my days are plagued with longing and my nights are filled with the phantoms of you.  But if this is madness, let my mind have no other peace- do not wake me from this wonderful dream, where all I need is you and you alone. Your hands need be the only chalice I shall imbibe from; to suckle the juices from your fingers as you feed me nightly is the only sustenance I require. Your heat is all I need to keep me warm; your heart for company and your smile for happiness.  Kiss me until I am breathless, my love, and then never let us part.”

So she, too, has a knack for poetry.

Then surely she must be the one. Surely she--this blushing belle--with her staff of flowing words must fit the final piece to Sain's puzzle. They ought to become kindred spirits, once he tracks her down. A taste of her own medicine, both in the hymns he sings and lips he'd press against hers, would solidify once and for all the brewing love in this maiden's heart.

And he thinks he knows exactly who wrote it.

"Lady Manuela~!" Sain wastes no time with his approach, hurried feet shuffling their way into a dancer's poise before her own. He carries with him her letter, convinced by his own longing that it was meant for him. Just as quickly as she had been approached, Manuela would find her hand taken by the Lance. A perfectly affectionate gesture for a perfectly affectionate woman. "Right away I noticed the contents of this note, how they sing with a praise befitting of an angel. Passion is your halo, endearment are your wings! A mortal man would be lucky to call you his goddess...

...Yet I would like to call you my love."

Noting how soft her fingers feel to the touch, the knight brings his lady's hand closer to his face. And with a smile--an unceasing smile--he gives to her the first kiss of many. Until she is breathless, he will continue, with the one delivered to her hand a mere taste of what's to come. "Sample me all you wish, grow mad with desire for your knight. Love can be blinding, but your grace has opened my eyes to the truth: it was fate's hand who brought this here to me, so that we might be forevermore. Come, darling. Lay your heart upon my chest. I shall stroke it and care for it, letting breathe to life the blossoms of your amour. With Sain, you shall be safe... With Sain, you shall be free..."

And to seal the deal, he pulls on her wrist like a string--inching them closer, closer, and closer still. So close that they could touch, if either of them makes the slightest of moves. He trusts Manuela knows what comes next. Letting go of her arm he brings his thumb to her chin, and tilts his own as it closes the remaining gap. Lips pucker into a heart, eyelids flutter shut... He is claiming for himself the breathless kiss the songstress so desires.

[satsuha]

just wanted to draw the outfits

[witchlingcirce]

Shout out too @heronsthornx on TikTok because this is the most accurate representation I’ve seen of there friendship.

Proof:

[ladivamagnifica]

Lost Letters I (Open Thread)

A crumpled piece of parchment, lying alongside others scattered about the gardens. An open window from the second floor betrays the thief who stole away these private longings as the howling wind; even now, in the indigo evening chill, it plays with the forgotten heartstrings Manuela has penned much like how a cat plays with its prey, carelessly and cruelly. Thank goodness the songstress is already asleep, the bedside candle unlit, but it would be irresponsible to allow her personal letters to remain scattered around where anyone could view them, no? 

TW: mildly sexually suggestive content, minor character death, violence

“To the Love which I have yet to know,

In these nights of melancholy you haunt me, Sweetest, with the absence of your lips upon mine and the void of your starlight eyes; in this vast world, far and wide, I wonder where I might find you- if I should ever be so lucky. Is our story one where we shall meet and see the puzzle-pieces of our souls interlock in an instant, or are we doomed to be forever distant and strangers to one another? What compels the Goddess to write us as we are, and what will She pen upon Life’s paper?

If I were to become the author, our story would start on a moonlit night, caught in the summer rain of Enbarr’s ivory streets: I am younger, more foolish and naive; you are ever-handsome and a scoundrel, and it all begins as I walk miserably on the arm of another- a nobleman whom you have been paid to kill. It is child’s play to one so dangerous, and though I am afraid, the ring on my finger at once becomes not a chain around my throat but weightless as his body falls to the cobbled street with a silent cry; you look at me only when the deed is done, and I am seized by a twisted and blackened longing to witness more of the raw strength those arms of yours possesses… and how your hands would feel around my throat, caught in a lovers’ embrace. Perhaps you see that carnal desire, for I am soon swept away and taken, much like a princess captured by a dragon, away from the monotony and liquor of the stage to live in the woods where you reign as king. Each night you come to me unbeckoned yet wanted; each morning I come to your loving arms and sinful lips… 

A fanciful dream, is it not, My Love? Alas, I fear I have kept you waiting too long, for I am no longer the ‘Jewel of the Andrestian Empire’- is that what keeps you away from me? I fear you would think of me as an old crone now; the crows have begun to leave their marks upon my skin when I laugh, and the colours of my past have begun to cause aches in my bones during the winter months. Have the years done the same to you? Goddess I hope so… I hope you are alive to age alongside me, even if I should know you at a distance, or as a fleeting moment. To believe otherwise would surely kill me.

All my love,

M.”

[femmehysteria]

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day, check my pinned post for active polls

EDIT: apparently ben wyatt is from parks and rec, my bad i havent seen either of those shows

[soveryanon]

"Triple Face Amuro" this, "My true self could put on 100 different faces" that, and still Only One Flirting Technique.

[adam-trademark]

Save to Photo Album

(May 14, 2019)

[itzkawaiiduh]

I think I reached a realization about my type of favorite characters in media.

Oh. And honorable mention.

[distracted-moodboards]

Temps Commission Five technical systems moodboard

[t3a-gh0st]

Officer Bailey you are so important to me. Fully convinced he just walked into the police station and put on a uniform and just decided he worked there now.

HFPD is probably? Maybe so short staffed that they just accepted him as one of their own.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993, Henry Selick)

13/07/2024