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yikes-00 · 1 year

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JJ!! 💙💙💙

12. “I can’t believe you’re this innocent…” + Hangster for inexperienced smut prompts, please?

(And I can't believe you're doing this! 🔥💥😭)

Hope you're having a nice nice day 💕✨💖

Claude✨💕 thank you for being patient with me!!! I hope you enjoy!!

tags: firefighter au, public sex, rivals to lovers (im tired and tag better later)

rating: E

an: sorry for the mistakes im tired and will be finishing up editing this tomorrow along with the rest of the prompts. Peace and love✨💕

Jake grunts softly. His head falls back against the dugout wall as he tries to not thrust his hips into the tight grip around his cock. It’s dry and on the wrong side of too painful. He hisses quietly and shifts his weight trying to find something that soothes the heat burning through his veins.

Bradley laughs softly. There’s an edge to it, almost condescending but not there yet. His large hand loosens just enough for pleasure to spark down Jake’s spine and pull in his groin.

“Can’t believe you’re this innocent,” Bradley says in a rough voice. His breath ghosting over Jake’s skin as he swiped his thumb over Jake’s slit collecting the wetness pooling there. “Never been jerked off at a charity game?”

Jake opens his eyes long enough to send him a withering look.

“Fuck. Off.”

Bradley smiles wide. His stupid smile shines as he shrugs. His hand working just enough to make Jake’s toes curl in his cleats.

“Yeah?” Bradley asks. His voice light but there’s an edge to it. A hear that clings to his every breath. “Want me to drop your dick and leave you hanging?”

“Fuck. You,” Jake grunts. He reaches out and wraps his hand around Bradley’s neck and pulls him down.

Their lips move messily together. Tongues and teeth devouring each other. Bradley grunts low in his chest and shifts his weight to better press against Jake. His hand still moving over Jake’s cock with a maddening slow pace.

“Ever been fucked outside?” Bradley asks in a rough whisper. The low timber sends a shiver through Jake.

His lip is raw where Bradley’s mustache has rubbed against. Jake shakes his head. Bradley leans back down and slides his tongue into Jake’s mouth. Jake moans. His fingers dig into the large expanse of Bradley’s back.

“You gonna give it to me, big boy?” Jake asks as he pulls back.

Bradley's smile turns wolfish. The dumb SDFD softball shirt is pulled tightly over his torso. The swell of his chest is outlined by the navy material and Jake wished he could see it.

But it’s not like that between them.

They blow off steam when it’s convenient or when the fire department and police force cross paths. It wasn’t easy when they first met. Both investigating a fire. They fought more than they fucked but Jake can’t think about that now.

He should have known that it would end up like this when Bradley sauntered up to the mound with a shit eating grin on his face. Jake’s lip had curled up and Bradley smirked with a cocky batter up.

“Yeah,” Bradley says before he slots their mouths together. His hand almost possessively curls around Jake’s neck to pull him in closer. The rough hand on Jake’s cock falls away and Jake whines at the loss. Bradley pulls back and his hazel eyes burn. “Yeah, I fucking am baby. Turn around.”

Jake doesn’t think about the name. It’s something that’s been slowly slipping out between Bradley’s lips. Sometimes when they’re tied together with Bradley’s cock so deep inside Jake that Jake doesn’t know where he ends and Bradley begins. But sometimes, more recently, it’s happening when they run into each other. When they’re both on duty and Javy and Nat share a glance.

Jake turns. His hands plant on the rough brick as Bradley pulls down his shorts. The sound of a emergency lube packet tearing makes anticipation burn through Jake.

The first touch of Bradley’s finger pulls a gasp from Jake. His eye flutter as he subtly pushes back. Bradley chuckles low in his throat and presses through the tight muscle. Jake moans softly.

Bradley’s fingers always fill him up in a way that makes his toes curl.

“How many you want?” Bradley asks. His lips press against the back of Jake’s neck. Something runs through. A warm feeling that has nothing to do with the arousal making Jakw burn all over.

“Two,” Jake grunts out, “two and then give it to me.”

Bradley’s lips curl up. His mustache drags up the back of Jake’s neck making sure that it’s going to burn. Jake lets his head fall forward giving Bradley more access.

There’s no way to lie his way out of beard burn on his neck.

“Think you can take me after only two?” Bradley whispers against Jake’s ear. His other hand reaches down and squeezes Jake’s ass. “I mean you can take a lot, baby, but only two?”

“You worry about fucking,” Jake says through his pants. His voice breaks and he turns his head to look Bradley in the eyes. Jake slots their mouths together and slides his tongue into Bradley’s mouth. He sucks gently on Bradley’s tongue before pulling away. There’s a wrecked look on Bradley’s face and Jake preens. “And you let me worry about how much I can take.”

Bradley’s brows raise. There’s a look of shock and awe on his face and Jake reaches back to drag his fingers over Bradley’s face.

“Let's go, Bradshaw. Wrap up and get the party started.”

Bradley’s smile widens. The two fingers slide out of Jake’s body. Jake shivers at the glide moving out of him and bites back the broken noise at the loss. The condom tears and Jake shifts his feet wider. He plants his hands firmly on the wall. Bradley’s hands fall away. Jake bows his head, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to focus on everything but the need clawing at him.

He’s not going to last. He already knows this. From watching Bradley get sweaty playing softball to him messily pressing kisses against Jake’s face as he walks him back into the dugout, Jake’s been needing this.

Bradley grips Jake’s hip as he positions himself at Jake’s entrance. His hand is sturdy and Jake hisses at the initial burn.

Two fingers weren’t enough but Jake’s too wound up to care.

“Need me to stop?” Bradley grunts out. His thumb drags soothingly against Jake’s hip.

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, I got this.”

Bradley chuckles. “I know you do, baby, I know you do.”

Jake sets his weight and lets Bradley sink in. It’s tight, almost too tight. His body is trying to stop the large intrusion but Jake lets out sharp breaths forcing himself to relax. Bradley slides in. His words are soft against Jake but Jake doesn’t hear them. His mind is numb with the searing feeling of being filled and his legs shake.

It’s perfect.

Bradley bottoms out and Jake whimpers at the feeling of their bodies being locked together. Bradley’s chest against his back and hips pressing against Jake’s skin. Jake makes a low noise and Bradley shushes him gently.

“Just a second, Jake,” Bradley says against his ear, “need a second, feel too good.”

“Not gonna last,” Jake grunts and Bradley makes a low noise.

“Yeah, I know I’m not,” Bradley says tightly, “but if you’d give me a second-“

“Not you, dumb ass,” Jake cuts him off, “me.”

Bradley moans. His hips try to jerk deeper but he’s already balls deep in Jake.

“Fuck,” Bradley grunts out, “fuck, fuck, ok. Lets get it started. I’ll do better tonight.”

Jake’s moans low in his throat and his eyes roll back.

“Let me get you off now,” Bradley continues. His hips now pulling out and thrusting shallowly into Jake’s body. “Take you home after the bar later. Lay you out, make it last then. Take my time with you. Feel every inch of you.”

Jake moans.

“Yeah?” Jake asks. Bradley’s body is moving rhythmically now, nice and hard with the single intent to get them off quickly. “Rush my first time outdoors just to bring me home?”

Bradley grunts. His hand tightens on Jake’s hip as he thrusts deep into Jake.

“Can’t say shit like that,” Bradley pants, “can’t say shit like that when I’m balls deep in ya.”

Jake moans.

“Turns you on being a first?”

Bradley grunts roughly. His body moving roughly and Jake sinks forward arching his back. Bradley sinks deeper and they both moan. It’s too much, the slide of their bodies. Jake grunts as he reaches down and jerks himself roughly.

“Yeah, touch yourself,” Bradley grunts out, “touch yourself and get yourself off. Show me how good you feel.”

Jake spills over with a broken noise. His cum splashes against the wall and his hand. Bradley thrusts in a few more times before he thrusts in and empties himself into the condom, buried deep in Jake.

Jake lets his head bow forward and he sucks in a deep breath. Light kisses pepper his neck sending a shiver through him.

“Pretty good for a first time?” Bradley asks. His breaths are still sharp but Jake can still hear a lingering insecurity in his words.

“Best one I’ve had so far,” Jake grunts as he shifts his weight trying to get Bradley out of him.

Bradley’s lips turn into a smile and Jake sighs softly.

“We need to get cleaned up before I arrest you for public indecency.”

Bradley barks out a laugh and pulls out and Jake doesn’t think about the empty feeling as he misses the warmth no longer pressing against him.

#hangman x rooster #hangster #hangster smut #sereshaw #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #tgm

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negative-ease · 4 months

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every season is edelclaude season

He could approach or he could wait and be discovered. He could play dumb. She might even believe it.

Fleeing a social event to get some space -- it's not the most original idea.

Back casually into the antechamber in the middle of a laugh, duck out of sight with a nod to the guard at the door, make for the exit on the opposite side of the hall with no trace of hurry.

Claude performed the steps flawlessly and ticked them off as he went, a sort of countdown until he could feel the welcome chill of fresh air and watch the vapor of a long sigh stream out and fade away. From it emerged a slight figure further along the outer wall, the sight catching his next breath somewhere deep in his chest.

Edelgard was statue-still, one gloved hand resting lightly on the wall near her head. Candlelight spilled out between the heavy curtains a nearby window to highlight a sharp cheekbone, a few strands of fine hair. Her stance was tense as if she’d paused in the middle of a step, her gaze intent and serious, and away from him.

Claude hadn’t noticed her absence, but then he had been pretty focused on slipping out himself. He followed the direction of her gaze to see Byleth, strolling toward the Goddess Tower. And he remembered Dimitri’s face, pale and strained, his hand threatening to crumple his tin cup of punch. We can’t all be out here, Claude thought, but made no move to return.

He could approach or he could wait and be discovered. He could play dumb. She might even believe it.

Claude stepped forward, scuffing his feet on the stones. Edelgard whipped around in an instant, candlelight shifting to add a glint to her eye and illuminate the downturn of her mouth. Now, as each time before they faced one another, she looked him up and down, and was not impressed.

It was impossible for him not to react to a withering gaze. The impulse to smile back was ingrained deep inside; a flash of the teeth that held back a cutting response and a crinkle near his eye that promised I’ll remember this. I’ll never forget.

“There you are,” he said in a concerned voice. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes but couldn’t resist a peek over his shoulder. It wasn’t true, of course, but he couldn’t help but tease her. Everything about her rigid, self-serious presentation invited a little ribbing. He wouldn’t have called it antagonizing her, not then. Not until later.

“I’m sure,” she said coldly. “Because Goddess forbid I look for a little peace and quiet. Your natural enemy.”

His smiled widened poisonously.

“Hurts not to be picked, huh?” he said, nodding conspiratorially in the direction of the Goddess Tower. Something we have in common, he thought, knowing she didn’t see it that way. It was all only more evidence that she stood alone, probably. A chip on her shoulder that powered some sort of force field, pushing everyone else away.

“Picked… like it’s a game,” she said, but there was a wobble in the disdain.

“Red Rover, Red Rover…” Claude smiled, though what came to mind was her and Hubert in the empty dining hall, heads bent seriously over a game of chess.

She looked him up and down again, not in any new light but to emphasize her original impression.

“We can’t all be out here,” she said finally, scolding, and brushed by him in a huff.

Claude watched her leave, then turned back to the starkly silent, unmoving Goddess Tower. Then back to the hall, the promise of warmth and the high note of a peal of laughter a thick comforter over a persistent current of unease. The Goddess Tower, an island impassable. The party, already poised to shift from moment to memory.

The tips of his fingers were getting cold inside the thin cotton of his formal gloves. He strolled his return reluctantly, the Tower vigilant at his back. If there was a third option it wasn’t here, alone.

#edcl #edelclaude #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction #claude von riegan #edelgard von hresvelg #drabble

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mimzalot · 1 year

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im a pacifist, but... (Claude von Riegan FE3H)

copied over from twitter - written circa 3H, prior to starting 3Hopes

kinda love that Claude is like "I'm as close as you get to a pacifist route, I like to avoid bloodshed" and his right hand man can kill you six ways from Sunday and left hand lady has a giant axe and can KO u in one hit and his named retainer is a war hero and –

not to get into it but imho this is actually a pretty accurate way of how “pacifism” tends to operate. Claude is the ideological focus but the pragmatic approach demands violence. and there's something to look into re: how Hilda, Lorenz, Judith and Nader carry violence in his stead

I think people get into this when they assess Claude bouncing his ideology off Edelgard's violence because that's essentially it - it doesn't mean Claude facilitates this violence, but of course a pacifist angle doesn't exist without something to oppose. so they work in tandem.

Claude deals in violence too, though I think he manages to avoid too much of it - but the necessary violence doesn't go away, and I'm interested in how it then becomes the responsibility of those in his immediate vicinity. some would call that cowardice. and they do!

on the flipside they could call it a sort of moral integrity that's difficult and must be protected. Claude distancing himself from the violence keeps Claude afloat, and they need Claude to keep his clear leadership. so protecting his integrity by violence is... good, then?

in any case I just love the dynamic of compassionate scheming diplomatic leader sitting at the centre of like five murder machines all willing to throw their lives on the line to protect his vision of peace whew yeah that's the good shit

and the best bit is that Claude is under no illusions, so if you consider that Claude always offers an out, and never wants bloodshed, and sees the inherent value of all people, then you gotta wonder whether he's withering away every time someone dies for his cause. aha! eek!

tis a moral conundrum, no?! he needs to empower people to fight for him even if he's morally opposed to the subsequent fighting. Claude doesn't deal in cognitive dissonance so you can rest assured that the violence he inspires is just as internalised as the violence he commits.

how do you sleep at night when you believe whole-heartedly that violence isn't the answer but have to choose that answer anyway? all the lords say "it's necessary" but the other two seem more inclined to say "and it's right" (whether they believe it fully or not) - Claude doesn't

also interesting to me that Lorenz prefers to avoid bloodshed and Hilda just hasn't really thought about it, because I think both of them need that guidance from Claude to avoid falling into that "necessary righteous violence" angle that war-faring Fodlan has BUT IN DOING SO…

they become frightfully powerful allies for Claude that are capable of all the violence, and also, all the sacrifice. so proximity to Claude's pacifist outlook bolsters your willingness to die for Claude, if you wanna look at it that way. damn LMAO that's rough buddy

Claude inspires you to live! and in doing so inspires you to! uh! die. for him, this time. whew. lucky Claude spent most of his upbringing fortifying himself mentally otherwise this spiritual predicament might just kill a guy's spirit haha hee hoo

and I haven't even started on Byleth, where Claude dumps the task of violence AND leadership. he doesn't feel good about it though. and the cool thing there is that Byleth is arguably not into the idea of needless death either, and is OP enough to handle it... which Claude knows.

I guess this is all surmised by the "yet you participate in society! curious!" comic where just because Claude doesn't like a thing doesn't mean he won't utilise every aspect of that thing because that's the resourceful, productive thing to do when faced with unbelievable odds.

addition: this is coming up a lot in the early chapters of Golden Wildfire where Claude is forced to not only respond with violence but facilitate violence among the unwilling Alliance as retaliation to impending war, which is a little moral paradox that really shows how difficult it is to match up ideals and practice.

similarly, I’m keen to get into the idea that an anti-war outlook is also just tactically sound from where Claude stands in the world, regardless of how he might feel about it. of course an Empire will see war as their tactically sound option, whereas an Alliance cant afford that sort of behaviour. it’s an interesting and ongoing exploration of the strength of moral imperative vs. tactics, and where they intersect, falter, thrive, etc.

really chuffed about this and figure I’ll have more to say about it when we reach the end - but it’s early days! Shez is a fascinating addition to this as the ‘merc that needs violence to thrive’ and I’m primed and ready for more intrigue to come.

#fire emblem three houses #claude von riegan #yet again i am forcing myself not to edit my past threads #mimzameta #i realise i shoulda called this a mimzarchive #fe3h #mimzamine

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unholycringebirther · 1 year

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CLAUDE X GN!READER [FLUFF FANFICTION]

SUMMARY: Claude isn’t paying attention to you on your date, unhappy with this, you manage to pluck a expression out of him you haven’t before.

WARNINGS: ADULT GAME, MINORS DNI.

WORDS: 900

The streets were bustling, lively in the warm breeze caressing the street, bathed in the golden glow of the sun.

You exhaled softly, something warmer than the hot drink you were sipping at filling your chest, for once, life has settled like a tranquil lake, and you can finally stop to take in the moment.

You look over at your lover, Claude, expecting him to be lazily drinking in the streets of France beside you, the red cafe umbrella above curling over the sun to protect the both of you from any bite.

But instead, his phone is braced in his hand.

Claude was never the expressive type, that same neutral, perhaps slightly irritated look always plastered on his face, it makes some assume he doesn’t have any feelings at all, but you’ve known him long enough to brush that theory aside.

Its the small things, and by the way his thick eyebrows furrow slightly, the subtle pinch of his lips, clearly something is causing him frustration.

Whatever it is, its pungent enough to hold his attention for multiple days now, he’s been cagey about the details with you, blowing you off whenever you’d ask, he does that quite often with things he deems are, ‘not for you to worry about, mon petit tourtereau.’

You pout slightly, you’re used to him being distant, but the least he could do is show you a little attention while you’re in an almost picturesque cafe date.

Usually a kiss can gently draw his attention back to you, a hand cupping his cheek to turn his head in your direction, despite the grumbling complaints he lets out about work and distractions, he’s never fought you on it.

The cigarette between his lips burns away that idea, but somewhere in the withered away ashes bares a new thought, one that makes your lips curl deviously.

He’s never been one for PDA, his hand rested in his pocket instead of around yours, his arm swaying lightly at his side instead of around your shoulders, pulling you into the warm thick fabric of his grey shirt.

Sometimes, you wondered of his eyes would ever get filled with love when they land on you, if his lips would ever quirk up when you speak.

You wondered because you didn’t see, the way his gaze softened in your direction, the way his shoulders drop whenever you entered the room, his constant, consuming fear for your safety settling until it flares, until he’s reminded of how delicate his tourtereau is.

You knew him well, but you didn’t know him well enough.

Leaning forward, you pecked a kiss on his cheek, pulling back slightly only to hover near, waiting his reaction, out of the corner of your eye you could see his thumb pause where it was furiously typing something

He turns his head, meeting your cheeky gaze with a slightly raised eyebrow, plucking the cigarette from his mouth to ask you in a plain voice, “What’re you doing?”

You didn’t answer, instead cupping his face with both your hands and rubbing your thumbs gently along his stubble before leaning in, pressing chaste kisses against his reddening lips, irritated by friction.

After multiple smooches, you started planting your lips all over his face, ending the attack with a handful against the bridge of his nose.

Pulling back with a grin wide enough that marks you unable to keep up with the assault, you ready yourself to soak in feeling of his eyes finally on you instead of his device, whether its to complain or not.

But instead, its your eyes that widen, the cheeks that are still braced in your palms start to warm up rapidly, rivalling the usual coolness to your lovers skin.

A dark blush stains the cool-grey face that makes your heart bump, his jaw clenched slightly as his irises shift to the side, avoiding making contact with your own, its a expression that you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing before, but now, it almost tattoos itself in the folds of your brain.

“Are you blushing?” Your voice goes slightly higher, not completely out of repressed giggles of glee at slightly melting his hard ice exterior, but out of genuine shock, you were half convinced he’s lost the function of being flustered completely.

“Did I, the incredibly attractive […] […],” you’re still going to tease though, because of course, “Make the cold stone that is Claude, blush?”

He pulls away, but the sting of the warmth still lingers on your palm, he grumbles underneath his breath, trying in vain to cover his face, but you already saw the tint.

“I have no idea what you are going on about,” his leather rough voice came out a bit forced, coughing a little awkwardly, he reaches in his pocket to replace the forgotten cigarette on the table.

He might’ve had no idea, but you certainly did, and the afternoon was spent with jabs about how soft he secretly he was, that slight furrow in his brow still remained, but at least it was balanced by the soft drip of honeyed fondness that plagued his eyes.

Despite the old-man grousing at your unrelenting teasing, and despite the insistence that he didn’t blush, because he doesn’t blush, never have and never will.

The smallest sliver of warmth still remained on those cheeks, a tint of the love he hid in his eyes.

#my dear hatchet man claude #my dear hatchet man #mdhm claude #mdhm #mdhm fanfiction #My dear hatchet man fanfiction #mdhm claude x reader #mdhm game #mdhm fanart

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stergeon · 2 months

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Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Relationship(s): Claude von Riegan & Byleth Eisner

Words: 9.5k (Chapter 1 of probably 3)

By Fódlan's calendar, it's Imperial Year 1253, though it's been nearly seventy years since Claude left the country. The Officers Academy, the years of war, the friends and hopes and dreams he buried... all those things are a thousand miles and a lifetime away. Claude has barely even thought of them in half a century.

Then an unexpected guest arrives at his humble Almyran estate, and it's like she's walked straight out of his memory and onto his doorstep. The United Kingdom of Fódlan was left stunned and grieving when their queen disappeared a few years ago, but she’s alive—and while time has weathered Claude’s body and withered his senses, she doesn't seem a day older than when he last saw her, back when he was still a brash young man whose world had yet to be changed forever.

He could tell her to leave. He could say the word and have her back in Fódlan or sitting in an Almyran dungeon before the week is out. But there’s serenity in no longer being the last of a dying breed. Claude could use some company in the quiet and lonely days of his retirement, and seeing a familiar face after all this time might do Teach some good, too.

#fe3h #fire emblem #fe16 #fe3h fanfic #fire emblem three houses #three houses #fire emblem fanfiction #byleth #byleth eisner #claude von riegan #silver snow #i finally watched a playthrough of silver snow and it made me so sadmad that i dropped everything else i was working on to write this #prooooobably will be three chapters in total if i don't get excited #no edelgard in this fic.... i miss her. i'm having withdrawals #don't worry i will still find ways to put edeleth content in this. it's my calling in life #i feel a bit weird about this fic as it's 1. in almyra which has little available info and 2. basically every game character is long dead #hopefully the choices i made re: almyra are okay and we can get by with just claude and byleth #lemme know what ya think i guess.#in the meantime enjoy the old man angst

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proxylynn · 10 months

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Any good delicious yummy lore on Alan’s brothers? they’re bunch of dicks but… I sorta love to hate them… god, I have problems sometimes

[*digging stuff up on @hatchetmanofficial* These were randomly grabbed answers from lovelies like you as answered by Gnome.]

"Alan (when growing up) really looked up to Claude. Jules and their mother really smothered the youngest two."

"Alan fucks the hardest. He is the most aggressive out of them probably due to his feral tendencies. Who fucks the longest is Claude surprisingly. While he is vanilla, he actually likes to slow his pace and mostly gets off to his partner's reactions. A soft dom he is."

"When they were all relatively younger, they got along okay, as much as a house full of rowdy boys could get. Alan and James were the closest and often got in trouble together. The one thing they all latched onto was their love for nature, thanks to their mother. However, as soon as their mother passed, that's when it all turned out for the worst. They rarely spoke or hung out in the same room together. Talking about their problems was the last thing they wanted to do."

"Over the years, Jules does try to stop his toxic positivity, knowing full well how it affected others. However, what's really stopping him from being redeemed is his denial and how much he is at fault. He will admit some things, but not all. Jules just wants to gain everybody's trust again and resolve their issues. While he used crocodile tears in the past, he's gotten so used to it that he actually became that sensitive all the time. It's all he knows."

"I feel like Alan and Jules would tie for sweetest w their s/o."

"out of all of the brothers, who could have a redemption arc? James."

"Alan’s brothers' voice claims...I have a general idea. Jules would sound like Garret Watts. I can't really think of a good voice for Claude. While I used to say he would sound like Spy from TF2, i imagine Claude with a much lower and more lethargic speech pattern than Spy. James I would say perhaps JD from Heathers."

"Do Alan's brothers think he's dead? Nope they 100% believe he is still alive somewhere."

"Were there any good memories or photos of the fam before Ophelia's death...

OOOH LET'S GO DOWN ON MEMORY LANE SHALL WE

Claude has that photo of him smiling. BUT he also has old home videos of everyone. Videos of himself, Jules, Alan, and James. He often watches these to try and figure out how it all went wrong.

Jules still holds his mother's vintage collections and her love for old cheesy sitcoms. His favorite memory of her is of him staying up late at night when he couldn't sleep and watching the TV

Alan doesn't have anything physical to remember his mother, considering he ran away. But one memory he has is her humming/singing to him. He asked if he has a dad, to which Ophelia replied that he didn't need one because he had a mother and his brothers.

James got the short end of the stick out of everyone because he only knew their mother for the shortest time and during her years when her health was withering. He has the most photos out of everyone but holds on to her necklace."

"What attracted Opheilla to each of the boy's dads?

Claude's dad just had a one-night stand with Ophelia.

Jules's dad is still a mystery.

Alan's dad was the warmest and kind, he was completely carefree and had a bright outlook on life.

James's dad was incredibly supportive.

Ok so then why did she break it off with each of the fathers?

Claude's dad was already a married man and an important figure who didn't want any scandals.

Unfortunately, Jules had to get that two-faced personality somewhere...

Alan's dad was a yandere and Ophelia didn't feel safe.

James's dad was an alcoholic."

#ask op #mdhm #my dear hatchet man #lore

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pearlsoflongago · 2 months

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March Botanicals

A Glory of New Blooms

Jonquilles by Claude Monet

To Daffodils

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay, As you, or anything. We die As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.

—Robert Herrick

Basket of Primulas by Koloman Moser

Primroses in the Wood Appear

Primroses in the woods appear Their sulphur coloured flowers Are the wan heralds of the year In March's varying hours

And by the mossy hedge they spring In sulphur shining bloom What time the thrush begins to sing And sallow catkins come

Beneath the white thorn vivid green How beautiful they look Maple and hazle bush beturns Beside the gulphing brook

How sweetly shine the fairey flowers Near gravel paved streams Foretelling Aprils dewy showers As rich as Julias dreams

Green linnets peck the pated flowers In March's kindling vest I'll crop some blooms in these wild hours For Julia's happy breast

—John Clare

Girl by a Flowering Hawthorn Bush by Carl Larsson

Down Here the Hawthorn

Down here the hawthorn.... And a stir of wings, Spring-lit wings that wake Sudden tumult in the brake, Tumult of blossom tide, tumult of foaming mist Where the bright bird's tumultuous feathers kissed. White mists are blinding me, White mist of hedgerow, white mist of wings. Down here the hawthorn And a stir of wings.... Softly swishing, swift with spray All along the green laneway Dewdimmed, sunwashed, windsweet and winter-free They flash upon the light, They swing across the sight, I cannot see, I cannot see!... Down here the flowering hawthorn flings Sleet of petals, petalled shells Spread the coloured air that sings Magic and a myriad spells Spun by my count of Springs. Down here the hawthorn.... And the flower-foam stirred By a Spring-lit bird. White hawthorn mist is blinding me. I lower my gaze, and on this old Brown bridle road Crusted with golden moss and mould The hedgerow flings Lush carpetings, Blossom woven carpetings light lain Under the farmer's lumbering load; And, floating past the spent March wrack, The footstep trail, the traveller's track. Down here the hawthorn.... White mists are blinding me, White mists that rime the fresh green bank Where fernleaf-fall And sorrel tall Upwaving, rank on rank, Shall flush the bed whereon the windflowers sank. I turn these Spring-bewildered eyes of mine, I seek above the surf of hedgerow line Where peeping branches reach, and reaching twine Faint cherry or plum or eglantine. But with pretence of whisperings The year's young mischief-wind shall take By storm these shy striplings, And soon or later shake Their slender limbs, and make Free with their clinging may-- Strip from them in a single boisterous day Their first and last vesture of pale bloom spray. So, as to meet such lack In bush or brack, The kindly hedgerows make Sure of a Springtime for these frailer things, Shedding on each the lavish creamthorn flake. Down here the hawthorn.... On all the green leaf-clusters round me clings Thickly a spray of gentle blossomings Everywhere as with many bells The young year with white magic swells. The morning rings. White mist is blinding me, I cannot see, I cannot see! Blind grows the coloured air that sings The marvel of a myriad spells Spun by my count of Springs. Sleet of petals, petalled shells Falling with sudden poignancy (As the sleet stings) Upon the lightheart-hope which only clear sight knows. And slowly drifts, Lingering among the snows Nor, though the snow lifts, Ever goes The wistful heartache as the fresh Spring flows With slipping sureness to the time of the rose, and the withered rose. Down here the hawthorn.... And heaping blossom stirred By a joy-swift bird. White mists are blinding me, White mist of hedgerow, white mist of wings. The bird's flight flings Deep carpetings Over the wrack Of my life's track. Down here the hawthorn.... The air of coloured years is blurred By the Spring, by a bird. White mists are blinding me, White mists on the years to be. I cannot see, I cannot see....

—Thomas Moult

Daffodils by Berthe Morisot

#March poetry #literature #poetry #classic academia #classic #light academia #dark academia #inspiration #john clare #robert herrick #claude monet #berthe morisot #Kolomon Moser #daffodil #primroses #hawthorn

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transhuman-priestess · 10 months

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I got tagged by both @quasi-normalcy and @claud-city. (No pressure if you got tagged below.)

rules: tag 10 people you want to know better!

Relationship status: Partnered, but nominally available as well.

Favourite colour: Turquoise/Teal/Cyan, somewhere in there.

Song stuck in my head: "Tubthumping" by Chumbawumba. And now it's stuck in your head, too.

Last song listened to: "Ain't No Sunshine" by Bill Withers

Favourite foods: I detest having to chew, feel, and taste food and wish to bypass my mouth completely.

Last thing I googled: "Insert saved ship ksp" i was trying to figure out if i could build a lander in the VAB and then insert that lander into another rocket so i could work out the TWR, delta-v, etc, more easily.

Dream trip: Well, I'd like to drive home, and then never leave there, ever, for any reason.

Tagging: @griffonatrix, @abalidoth, @skinslip, @catherineconspiracy, @adoenamedbeeb, @femmefaetali, @chronic-experiments-lain, @cutiesncantrips, @carrotainment, and @0x4468c7a6a728

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alicehattera03 · 2 years

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Here I am standing at the buffet overwhelmed by options: yandere Ijekiel...yandere Athy...yandere Claude...so many flavours to pick from what shall I choose?...this one is a bit of a challenge, do think you can make Felix a yandere? for Claude? He is too nice. But he has the name knight of crimson blood for a reason, that means he must have a ruthless side. He fought valiantly by Claude's side during the dynastic revolution and killed many people. What if he was the one to manipulate Claude into becoming the cruel tyrant he is now who only cares about himself and keeps no one but his loyal knight by his side? Felix thinks he is in the right too when he is making Claude paranoid of others. He grew up watching Claude's family mistreat him and got convinced that everyone was their enemy. Claude needed him and no one else. When Ana proves himself to be rotten to the core he' decides to be the one who would become Claude's knight in shining armor. He'll be his hero.

OMG I actually have dark! Felix saved somewhere in my drafts fjhslfkd linking brain cells is so fun ehe anyways, let's get into it~!

Felix grows up by Claude's side because of his mother, but after getting rid of his unhappiness of his mother taking care of another child besides himself, he devotes his entirety to Claude.

His selfishness that is.

He catches glimpses of Claude being tormented by the maids because his mother was lesser than the Empress, and when their backs are turned, he kicks the back of their knees and makes them kneel. His eyes, colder than the North's winter snow.

The maids don't dare to try anything in front of him anymore, to which was an improvement. But Felix keeps making adjustments away from Claude's bright eyes, and makes sure none of the people working in the palace disrespect the prince.

Claude was more open when he was younger, more innocent of the world to accept the medicine the crown prince gave him when he was sick.

But Felix narrows his eyes at the herbs floating in the bowl of murky liquid, taking it from Claude's hands and replacing the cloth on his head with a warm smile before turning away and sending for the Robane's doctor.

Someone with heavy lips and talent that was worth the exorbitant price they charged.

Felix brings in a plant the next day, its leaves all dark and withered, its roots black and shriveled to dust and proclaims, "I poured the medicine from yesterday into the dirt and found it like this in the morning, your highness."

Claude wriggles under the covers and pipes out in a wretched voice, "Felix...I can't trust anyone anymore..what do I do?"

Claude's frightened eyes burn into Felix's mind and he tosses the plant away before sitting on the bed. "Not to worry, your highness. I will always be by your side."

And he was.

The famous Knight of crimson blood hacked away at the foe's soldiers as red sprayed from either direction, the sword feeling light in his hands as the moon's light reflects off his armor.

He finds himself staring a little further up the hall and sees Claude swinging a sword almost the size of himself, gold mana sparking at the edges just like his hair.

Felix smiles, undeterred by the blood splattering onto his cape as he makes his way to Claude who stands over the body of his elder brother, and levels a hidden sneer down at the person who turned for the worse as he grew older.

He had to watch Claude return back to his chambers the night after witnessing Penelope in bed with the crown prince, been invited to tumble with them. Making Claude feel inferior and unworthy- how dare they all.

Stealing away Claude's fianceé, stealing away the limelight, stealing away his mother, his chance at love.

Everything.

So Felix would give that everything back to Claude. The one he had chosen to rule over all else, and be the Emperor he would serve.

Felix pulls off the crown and Claude trails over the bloodied carpet to balance himself on the throne, but with a hesitant glance at Felix, he sits more comfortably before Felix places the crown over Claude's head, crowning him emperor.

"...Thank you, Felix." Claude looks up at him, the crown glinting, the perfect accessory to his perfection. "For being always being there for me. Through all this."

Felix kneels, the burn of pride in his chest as he feels the sword tap onto his shoulders, looking up with a wide smile.

"Of course, your majesty. For you? Everything."

Darkness smoldered in his heart, for he really did mean: everything.

#wmmap felix #felix robane #felix robain #wmmap claude #claude de alger obelia #wmmap #whomademeaprincess #suddenly became a princess one day #i suddenly became a princess one day #who made me a princess #sibapod #sbapod #suddenly i became a princess #who made me a princess one day #yandere felix #yandere felix robane

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butwhatifidothis · 2 years

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Flayn and Seteth calling Woobiegard and her loyal slobbering pets the fuck out: "You go sweeties, beat their asses!!!" Man I think Captain's take on Ingrid is possibly THE most insufferable character in this whole fic second only to Woobiegard herself. Like every time Woobiegard or Ingrid start speaking in this fic I can feel my braincells withering away.

Honestly? I think it's been a long time since I've seen a character this badly misinterpreted in a fanfiction before. I'd argue Ingrid is actually more poorly represented that all of Dimitri, Claude, or even Rhea. Because, like, with them there are at least some times where something is adjacent to correct. Ingrid? After a certain point, she's just an OC.

Her live-long dream to become a knight, that she had before Glenn died? Well, actually, her life-long dream was to fix Galatea territory, and she only ever wanted to become a knight to 1) die, because she's totally suicidal, 2) because Glenn died, and she just wants to be a knight in his place, and 3) because Faerghus stinky doodoo culture says knighthood is tubular when it's in fact cringe.

Her conflict with her father, where it's about him pressuring her to marry in order to solve the financial crisis in Galatea that is further causing the family and the people in the family's care to literally starve? Well, actually, Count Galatea wants her to marry because of honor and loyalty and bravery, and so when Ingrid finds a letter that barely relates to her situation at all she can Hulk Out about how hypocritical her family is for caring about honor and loyalty and bravery! Because, uh, sins of the father really do pass down the line and if the family starts off bad then that means anyone born later on that cares about these things are inherently wrong, I guess??

Speaking of her father: him doing everything in his power to give Ingrid as much control of who she marries as possible, likely because he knows how much pressure he's already putting on her to marry in the first place? Well, actually, that's just because he saw her as nothing but a bag of money! He just wants to sell her off to the highest bidder like chattel! And he verbally abused Ingrid when she was under his care, and never showed her any true love ever, and Ingrid always felt insecure about herself because of it, and she lived in fear of her father! And her brother too, throw him in the Abusive Male Unit train too!

Her love for Glenn? Well, actually, she doesn't really know how she felt about him then; it could have been the case that she never really loved him at all and only felt that she had to love him!

Her deep friendships with Sylvain, Dimitri, and Felix? Well, actually, Dimitri had Glenn and Sylvain and Felix had each other as best friends, so she was all by herself actually, and actually she never really had any friends, and actually she was actually very Lonely and Sad and actually no one knew it actually because actually she actually never actually had any actual friends UNTIL WOOBIEGARD COMES IN.

Her initially thinking that knighthood is about following orders, and how she - independent of anyone else in her supports having her learn otherwise - comes to realize that it isn't, and with her never believing in upholding such a stance in knighthood herself regardless? Well, actually, if left to be in Faerghus Ingrid will definitely totally become a mindless soulless emotionless husk of a person only able to follow the orders of her king and absolutely nothing else, and not because she truly believes in Dimitri as a person or anything but because she feels she has to completely discard her personality to become a tool for Faerghus' king because that is what smelly poopoo Faerghus culture teaches all knights to believe.

Oh, and if someone - oh, well, let's be real here, a man - makes her upset? She'd totally just beat the shit out of them! Especially if they're specifically Seteth, who she would totally hate because he could have possibly potentially maybe put a letter completely unrelated to anything Ingrid went through outside of "oh look another woman went through some sort of marriage issue 300 years ago rip to her I guess." She'd also threaten to kill a (what we can only assume is a) commoner man with her Relic if he makes a statue she doesn't like after she was the one to commission a statue from him. And another instance that will come up later where she straight up assaults a (male) subordinate for making her upset. Because Ingrid will slap and punch around Sylvain and literally only Sylvain who she's known since they were both children and literally only if Sylvain does something stupid and no other reason, so that means that she's totally assault any man that dares upset her in any way!

And, oh, yeah, can't forget the cheating. Ingrid - honorable, truthful Ingrid - would totally keep the fact that she and Woobiegard romantically confessed their romantic feelings for each other behind Byleth's back away from Byleth for months. I'm sure Ingrid - who deeply values her friendships - would just let Byleth live in ignorance of the fact that her lover is romantically interested in someone else while still in a relationship with Byleth. Totally! Definitely!!

Like. Bro. I don't like Ingrid. I think she's judgmental and a know-it-all, which I find incredibly annoying. But FUCK MAN. You'd think I was her number one fan in comparison to Cap'n, who changes LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT HER so that she can "fit" on CF and be Woobiegard's attack dog and side-piece. He unironically gets nothing right about her character, which is fuckin' astonishing because her character IS NOT that hard to get a grasp on. And this is him after he pretty much erased her biggest character flaw - her hatred of Duscurians, you know, the thing about her character that is most impressive she manages to grow out of (however poorly one thinks it was written)? That thing that gives a view into how heavily the Tragedy affected the Kingdom? Washed away, said to be there but never written, because Pure Little Girls can't be racist (unless it's towards Nabateans... or mixed-race people... or Dagdans... or the people of Brigid... or Dedue specifically hello Chapter 36 we meet again). I'm convinced that, like a lot of things in this fic, you could remove Ingrid entirely and not only not lose anything, you would actively gain from it

#ask #anon #exqueuese me princess #o captain my captain #blindingly loyal? check!#actively hypocritical? check!#reinforces the fated nature of Woobiegard and Byleth's love as a positive thing? check!#will be shown to be better off of CF than on it? check!#fucks with the theme of the fic? because in SS she's still a husk even though she's left Faerghus' influence which was what was supposedly #making her a shitty asshole? check!#is needlessly violent to any that dare cross her or Woobiegard? check!#belittles the love between the main protagonist and her love interest? check!#yup! Ingrid is just an active hindrance to the fic and adds nothing positive #I wish fic!Ingrid would just drop dead because holy hell is she one of the WORST characters I have ever seen

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the-himawari-otome · 2 years

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[Shuuen no Virche] La Saint-Valentin - Mathis Claude

･ﾟ･:,｡★ translation under the cut ★,｡･:･ﾟ

D-Delicious... this tastes amazing!

This might be the first time I’ve eaten something this tasty...!

I-Is it really alright if I eat them all?

I won’t be punished if I don’t share them with others...?

Ah, right.

S-Sorry. It was just so delicious that I couldn’t help but get excited...

Thank you very much...

I’m so happy... that you poured your heart into such a sweet and thoughtful gift for me.

And so, I...

In response to your un-withering kind heart and gratitude for all that you do—.

May I receive permission to kiss the back of your hand?

...Ehehe. All I’ve done is receive so much from you...

But now that we’re a couple, I intend to give back even more than I’ve gotten up until now. So please look forward to it...!

---

[DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WORK W/O PERMISSION, THANK YOU]

#shuuen no virche #shuuen no virche translation #mathis claude

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fredborges98 · 8 months

Text

Tattoo.

I want to stay on your body like a tattoo

What is it to give you courage?

to go on a trip

when the night comes

And also to perpetuate myself in your slave

That you take, rub, deny

But it doesn't wash

I want to play on your body like a ballerina

Which then hallucinates

Jump and light you up

when the night comes

And in the weary muscles of your arm

Rest loose, withered, fed up

dead tired

I want to weigh like a cross on your things

Who cuts you into pieces

But deep down you like

when the night comes

Want to be the laughing and corroding scar

Branded by cold, iron and fire

in raw flesh

mother hearts

Harpoons, mermaids and snakes

That crack your whole body

But you don't feel-From: Chico Buarque

Prophecy,Utopy, Dystopy, Minimalism & Maximalism.

The age of extremes- A brother capitalist, philosophical view of Eric John Ernest Hobsbawm.

Living the paradox of minimalism or maximalism phormula nowadays.

From: Fred Borges

Living in Paris without minimalism is a challenge!

Eli, my friend sent me her expenses for a 14 square meters studio at the 10ème arrondissement- Paris- France.

Lets get note of her monthly expenses in €( EURO):

€2,259.56 per month for a couple.

1 bedroom apartment in the center €1,234.04

Electricity, water and heating bills €200.94

General health insurance from €35 per month

As of May 2023, the minimum wage in France is €11.52 per hour, totaling €1,747.20 per month, excluding deductions.

I replied to Eli:

Eli! First of all!You and your life style are both beautiful and inacessible to most people.

How you deal with this utopia and dystopia at the same time?

Do you really believe that we can transform your elite style in a more democratic or accessible style?

We are not more in the bigining of XX century - 40's, 50's or 60's or before that, in Victorian Age!

Since then we had something called Prêt-à-Porter birth concept from J.C. Weil and Monsieur Yves Saint Laurent, and now we have over than twenty brands corporations that oligopolies the fashion' s world.

We are not living anymore in slow fashion, but dispites this, in super fast fashion.

We are not living anymore in a slow food, but in a fast food behaviour.

Am I wrong?

I really love to dream in a world plenty of beauties like you, like your dresses,your style!

I really would like to contribute to turn your dream into reality and come toguether with you making it true!

Because I love you!

In the botton of these two preliminary entries; Tatoo and Eli Reply,there is a complementary philosophical discussion, eventhough conceptually different,one must define what is going on behind this plot and scnenario or "mise en scène" or "mise en place".

Style is a set of characteristics that only you have: all the things that make you up, the way you combine your tastes and aspects of your personality.

Style coordinates the set of information that is manifested through your appearance, but not only, and is intrinsically linked to your way of being.

According to Antoine Louis Claude Destutt de Tracy (1754-1836) there is a difference between the ideology of prophecy and utopia.

Here it is: “Prophecy is visualization of the unknown.

The utopian imagination is the projection of the known, the conscious.

Utopia fights for the materialization of a present desire.

It "projects", that is, it "throws before itself" the things that must happen and can happen if humanbeing wants to.

The utopian imagination gives birth to what is already present in the heart of things."

Minimalism is based on the idea of reducing consumption levels and acquiring only what is necessary for a more practical and happy life, going against the grain of movements that encourage unbridled consumerism.

In addition, supporters of this lifestyle constantly seek self-knowledge in order to understand what really matters in life.

Dystopia: an imagined world or society in which people lead wretched, dehumanized, fearful lives.

Maximalist: "Every inch of their homes was covered with some decorative element from wallpaper to rugs to drapery to decorative accessories.

As a culture, they invested in the idea that each person had their own personality and [the] maximalist element of their homes reflected an attempt to showcase their private selves to visitors."Alessandra Wood, vice president of style at interior design service Modsy.

A perception, a view, an approach to the way we live our lifes.

Connected or desconnected.

Minimalist or Maximalist.

Fast or slow.

There is no phormula for happyness.

As walking,biking, vibing, we only scratch the paper, scratching it!

Life is about living,staying inside , but not isolating yourself.

Make yourself( body& soul) the best place to be.

"To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles