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icarusignite · 5 months

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These Violent Delights Masterlist

Chapter 1: Marigolds and Mayhem Chapter 2: In the Absence of God

Ao3 | Wattpad

Synopsis:

Artemis Highbottom remembers a life before the opulent embrace of the Capitol's glittering splendour. She remembers a hunger so deep it hollowed out her soul, a memory etched in the marrow of her bones. Those nights never appear during her waking hours and sometimes she thinks she might have imagined it all. Being Casca Highbottom's daughter affords her a life of privilege and scorn, but only Artemis knows that there is more to her than meets the eye and she will do anything at all, morals be damned, to make sure she does not end up in that place that haunts her dreams, that place of aching emptiness and rot.

She embodies poise and unyielding discipline, standing as a paragon of excellence that stokes the fires of envy within her classmate and rival, Coriolanus Snow. As the unyielding zenith of the Academy, Artemis's ascent sparks a festering resentment in Snow, magnified when she's entrusted with mentoring the female tribute from District 2—a role that slices through Snow's pride as he faces the humiliating task of guiding the runt of the litter. Their destinies intertwine in a labyrinthine game of high stakes and calculated gambits. Each mentor, burdened with their own ambitions and stakes, grapples with the weight of necessity, teetering precariously on the razor's edge of moral compromise, balancing strategy and sacrifice to ensure their tribute emerges victorious.

Within the stony confines of District 2, Diana Lazarus is an anomaly—a soul tethered to gentleness in a world forged by strife. The reaping's cruel hand, indifferent to her aversion to violence, seizes her fate and thrusts her toward the harrowing jaws of the Hunger Games. Yet, fate twists further in cruel irony as her sister, the embodiment of valour and sacrifice, steps forth to volunteer in Diana's stead. Struggling against the bonds of loyalty and guilt, Diana refuses to betray, even as her sister is shipped off to the arena where she will forfeit her life. Determined not to be severed from her side, Diana forges her path to the gilded halls of the Capitol, anticipating the spectacle of the Games, only to collide with an unforeseen spectre from her past. Sejanus Plinth, a boy both loathed and longed for, now ensconced in luxury, stands as the mentor to her sister's adversary. As the games loom ahead, Diana grapples not only with survival amidst the Capitol's treacherous allure but also with the rekindling of emotions she thought buried in the depths of her soul.

Children are the inheritors of their father's sins, and as the 10th annual Hunger Games come to a close, the debt to be paid demands everything they hold dear.

Characters:

Artemis Highbottom

"You can justify anything if you do it poetically enough."

Coriolanus Snow

"Snow lands on top."

Sejanus Plinth

"I'm so guiltless, I'm choking on it."

Diana Lazarus

"I am someone who did not die when I should have, and those around me have been paying the price for it ever since."

Melpomene "Mel" Lazarus

"I have never been a saint, but I imagine I could be a martyr if they killed me quick enough."

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #sejanus x oc #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction

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saint-siren · 1 year

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A World For Her Alone | Things lost, things beloved

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

cw (chapter specific): murder, misogyny, infidelity, forced marriage, suicide

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: The aftermath of loss takes its toll and with the walls closing in, reader is left with one choice. Whether she knows it or not.

author's note: Felix is reader's knight! How fun! Boy, I sure hope nothing bad happens in this one!

The sunlight was blinding as soon as your eyes opened yet again and you were hit with a horrid feeling of loss. Seconds ago you were hearing your child’s cries, just moments ago. You had lost them. The realization of that sunk in slowly, as slow as the seconds had gone while you had given birth. You were stumbling before you knew it and the world turned on its side before you caught yourself on the table.

“What’s the matter?” Claude said, looking at you with those weary eyes and that wry smile you were all too familiar with.

“Where are they?” You muttered.

“Sister?” Diana looked at you with her wide eyes full of unease.

“Where is my child?” You could have screamed if only you were strong enough.

Upon seeing your sweet sister’s guileless face, you were seized with a grief bigger than any you had ever known. You grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezing her and looking deeply into those eyes which did not rebuke you nor show guilt.

“You took them from me, didn’t you? It wasn’t enough for you to have him, you wanted the only thing…” You didn’t even finish your ranting before Claude had pulled you off, gripping your arm harshly enough to bruise.

“You don’t have a child yet. No one has taken anything from you,” He uselessly explained, in a disgruntled voice suppressing anger.

You wilted under his grip immediately, tears springing to your eyes as you pulled away. “Please, help me…I–” Your mouth could not find the words to accurately relay the pain you were in. No matter how wanted, no matter how loved, that child would be lost to you forever. And you did not even see their face, all you had to hold onto was the golden hair of a man who looked down at you now with contempt.

You teetered away from the table, nearly falling before Felix, your knight, caught you.

“I’m afraid my lady isn’t feeling well, I’ll see her to her room,” He said simply. His speech was lacking the proper consideration for Claude’s status but he didn’t seem to be concerned. Before Claude or Diana could respond, he was walking off with you.

“You left me, Felix. I was alone.”

“Never, my lady. It is my duty to be at your side” He refuted quietly.

“I never held them...Who did they give my child to? Claude wasn’t there. You weren’t there.”

“I will always be there to protect you, my lady. I have sworn it so.” You had no idea why he was even entertaining your delusions, but he patiently responded as if he didn’t consider you insane although you knew it was just to placate you. In consideration of your feelings.

“Why would you give me your hand in those moments if you knew you wouldn’t be there when I needed it the most?”

“My lady, I promise that I will be there whenever you need.”

“But you cannot. You cannot save me.”

That quieted him. There was worry in his eyes, something rarely seen. Although you refuted his attempts to calm you, the kindness still brought tears to your eyes when you were alone. A bit of comfort could feel like heaven. A drop of clean water while you had waited in your cell could have tasted like the nectar of the gods then. You would have wept then, too, if only there had been such mercy as you were receiving now.

Your father barred your window. No matter your attempts to assure him that you hadn’t gone insane, he refused to believe them. You were not allowed to leave your room save for going to the library and even so, your knight was to stand inside at all times instead of at the door. All the while, Claude was still visiting the manor. Only this time, exclusively to see Diana.

“My lady, Lord Claude is with Lady Diana again.” Felix brought the information to you with a restless tone as if displeased.

“Ah yes, he’s keeping her company…” You murmured emotionlessly.

“He does so quite frequently without even seeing my lady, will you not say anything to Lady Diana?” He was almost pleading.

“It can’t be helped even if I say something. He is the one who goes to her, mother and father abide the visits as well,” You said, resigned. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself again and again. It seemed like the truth, no matter what feelings bloomed whether yours or Claude's, the path to marriage would remain imminent. What cause was there for your parents to care? Especially if it made Diana happy. “Do you know why it is that my father put bars on my bedroom windows and has you stand at my side constantly now?”

Felix did not answer. “It isn’t because he thinks I’ll hurt myself. It’s because he’s afraid that I will escape.”

“My lady…” He frowned, his brow furrowing.

That much was the truth. Your father wouldn’t be concerned for something as insignificant as your life. It was about making sure that you completed your duties. You wondered, in your past life, had he cared that you died? Most likely not, since you had already given Claude his precious heir and no honor or expense had been lost to the family.

In stillness and quiet, you could still hear your child’s cries. It was so miserable a sound you wanted to claw at the walls and the ground as if it would open up and let you see them again. But your eyes caught Felix’s and remembered the feeling of comfort yet again. You could have drowned in those eyes, you wanted to lose yourself to them and feel nothing. You did. For a time.

It was raining the night you ran away from home. You had asked Felix to take you away. Hand in hand you went into that miserable night and disappeared, relieved to finally be entirely unseen. There was no way the two of you could return to your lives, the two of you would bear each other as long as you were on the run. No longer noble, no longer a knight, the two of you still remain liege and vassal. Felix, until the end, protected you.

But the matter of a missing noble bride to be was a massive affair, it was the loss of many hardwon assets. One that prompted the use of knights scouting their whereabouts. And a house as influential as Claude’s had no shortage of help. Knights spread throughout the country and truly it was only a matter of time before you were found. In the end, it hadn’t been more than a few weeks.

Felix, a knight who dishonored himself with the crime of stealing away the bride of a noble house, was killed on sight. Without comrades, a single sword against many, he was done in quickly. Not without blood which splattered lightly on your dress and leaked onto the ground in a pool that ran from the downpour. Over without a flinch from the hand holding the sword.

You yourself were brought back, despite the enormous scandal. When the knights who apprehended you brought you to Claude’s manor, you sat before his mother.

“Everyone has unavoidable duties, every occupation has its purpose. That knight fulfilled his, I suppose, dying for his master.” She laughed lightly as if it were only a foolish thing he’d done.

“It’s true that you were the one learning the skills necessary for your station,” She continued. “But our house was always the one who bore the burden of your education. Did you think these things meant nothing? The tutors, the books, the tools, they were worth money — money that our house invested on the condition of your marriage.”

“Not only did we invest our wealth, but our time. What has it been, 13 years to make you a marchioness? You must understand, my daughter-in-law, you cannot be replaced.”

Her words echoed in your mind. She was right, it was the only reason to accept a woman who’d run off with another man back into her position. A bride was too valuable an asset to lose, let alone one who had been readily imbued with the knowledge necessary. No. Of course they wouldn’t have let her be. And of course they couldn’t let Felix live, in fear that you’d already eloped with him and your very important marriage would be made invalid. From that standpoint, you understood. But you couldn’t stop seeing Felix’s body, trampled on and mangled, disregarded in the aftermath. As if he were nothing at all.

Soon after that, you had been permitted a visit from a girl about as young as you. She looked to be the daughter of a merchant from her clothing, too intricate to be simply commoner clothing and too modest to be noble. She was lovely, with blue eyes and brown hair, wearing what was not quite mourning garb. It looked to be a normal style of dress made black, without a veil or gloves.

“I was Felix’s fiance,” She began, looking at you through hateful eyes. “We were going to get married once things had settled down with you. I told him that I’d wait, no matter how long it was, I was prepared to be his wife in time. Did you ever think he had someone?” This woman could not even wear proper mourning attire because they were not yet wed when Felix was killed. Their relationship did not fall under those worth mourning, because according to etiquette, they did not yet have one. They were two young people waiting to become part of each other’s lives officially.

You couldn’t offer useless sorries, your mouth would not form words.

“What a tragedy Felix was dealt, having you as his lady,” She spat, paying no mind to the tears rolling down her face as she wrung her handkerchief in anger. Why had you not considered that Felix had obligations of his own? A marriage must have surely been struck between his family and hers as was not uncommon in wealthier common and lesser noble families. You had taken Felix’s pity for something more than the loyalty that it was. He took your hand and helped you to escape because you were the lady he chose to obey. You had made him flout his duties with no consideration.

You had wept as you walked down the aisle, the wedding had been moved up in light of the scandal. They did not want to give you even half a chance to run away again. Silent tears fell as you gazed with eyes as lifeless as a doll’s, at the altar.

“Why are you the one crying when I’m the one who was betrayed?” Claude had remarked sharply at your tears, certainly disgusted though he did not show it. The onlookers and witnesses of your wedding were there to gawk at the mess of a girl who tried to run away and cheat her fiance on her promise.

After the wedding, you had been left alone finally by Claude who reviled you and your in-laws who had been satisfied to see the wedding had gone through. You could not function as the marchioness, not with the guilt weighing on you on top of everything. Nothing had changed for the better, you had added new problems to the ones you already had. The image of blood being washed away by rain, mixing into mud, haunted you. It had rained the day of your wedding too. And had you simply imagined that it had every day since? The storm sounded like wailing, like that of a newborn.

You tore the sheets with your teeth and wove them into makeshift rope.

tags: @kage-tobiuo @kreishin @rosephantomhive @yeahdrarry @splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiess @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid @ariachaos @cerisearan @irisspade @yaesflorist @jcrml @xiaosprettygf @yevenly @amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man softbummiee

#claude x diana #claude de alger x reader #claude x reader #wmmap claude #claude de alger obelia #wmmap x reader #wmmap fanfic

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batrachised · 10 months

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Annes of the World

thanks to @gogandmagog's lmm savvy, I'm hunting through the lm montgomery website and I found something really cool - Annes of the World. It shows Anne of Green Gable's covers from across the world, which of course I had to rate below!

Arabic

I love this cover because it's like a dreamy summer day - it really reproduces the haziness of summer, and the haziness of a daydream - very fitting for Anne! I also love Anne's body language here, it seems very Anne Shirley to me. I'll give this a strong 9/10.

Chinese

How CUTE is this!! While the drawing is darling (Anne Shirley would definitely sit by an open window nook to daydream), I need covers to commit to being covers personally. I'll rate this a 6/10.

Danish

This has strong Anne with an E vibes to me - kind of that gray tone. Also many many chickens?? I really want to know what the artist was thinking to where they read aogg and was like "you know what this cover needs...more chickens". Unfortunately I don't really like this - I think Anne's expression is odd, her body language is off, and the coloring is not my favorite. Green Gables isn't even green!! It's not even GREEN!! 5/10, with an added point for the Chicken Presence because I am a chicken stan.

Dutch

I find this cute, especially because the cover covers the front and back which I LOVE! I especially love how open it makes the scene, and Anne's curly hair is somehow perfect with this. Diana is giving me Maurice Sendak (think Pierre) vibes haha. I'll give this a 6/10.

Estonian

this gave me all the childhood flashbacks. I remember reading so many great illustrated classics (a tale of two cities, anyone?) and poring over the illustrations I liked. I'm really curious to know what the illustrations inside of the book look like now! The cover is beautiful, and I really like they draw the background brush. The only note I have - Anne's hair is NOT red in this, maybe i'm blind but it looks barely auburn. I'll give it a 7/10, teetering dangerously close to 6 because of the hair issue.

French

I have literally nothing to say other than this is the most French Anne I have ever seen and I love it. the SCARF. the BERET. 7/10.

German

I really love this one. I love the hat, the hair, and the FLOWERS. It really gives the homespun quality that LMM infuses in her stories a lot of the time. Not a huge fan of the Anne here, but the background feels like Green Gables to me, so it feels like home. :') 8/10 for the hominess.

Hebrew

lowkey OBSESSED with this one. highkey need this framed on my wall. I LOVE Anne's body language here. She's clearly daydreaming, and the baggage indicates that she's waiting for Matthew - you can also see the pensiveness in her face. Freckled and redheaded, daydreaming, check and check, alone and uncertain of the future, check. 10/10.

Icelandic

I like this one, especially Anne's grin. Also, again, is that a chicken?? Fascinated by the Nordic need to insert a chicken. 9/10 for being cute. I also love the white flower effect. Stops short of being 10/10 because Anne is wearing pink, and we all know Anne longed to wear pink but thought it didn't go with her red hair!

Italian

There is SO much going on on this cover. I like the flower crowns and the action shot, but looking at too long makes me go cross-eyed. Sorry to Italy, but this is a 3/10.

Korean

this is short sweet and to the point haha. Anne is daydreaming as the sun sets and a breeze ruffles her hair. cute, but again, I like covers that commit to being covers. 6/10.

Norwegian

Anxiously looked for a chicken and was disappointed. Tsk tsk tsk, Norway. This has old timey vibes in a way I like. The cover art is too small for me (see repeated complaints above), but I love the continued theme of Anne daydreaming while staring out a window. I give it a 7/10

Polish

This is simplistic in a way I like. It's a little girl setting off on her own towards a forest, with a home only noticeable on a second glance (at least to me). the little figure is very cute too, I like her little shoes and hat. The leaves look too jungle-y to me though for PEI, so I'll say a 6/10.

Slovak

Sorry to Slovak, but this doesn't seem Anne of Green Gables to me at all besides the leaves. This doesn't read like Anne to me, it just seems like a random girl. Bonus points for the puffed sleaves. The leaves are also barely there. 3/10.

Slovenian

I don't how to feel about this. I don't really like the coloring, but I do like how Anne directly gazes at the reader. Read my story. The coloring gives it an eerie horror movie effect (she looks like a drenched ghost child rising from a lake), so I'm going to have to give it a 3/10.

Spanish

THIS IS CUTE AS A BUTTON. And the Anne is cute as a button. I feel like i am AT the train station. I feel like I AM Matthew walking past an eager Anne. This one feels cinematic, probably due to a higher level of realism. I'll give it an 8/10.

Swedish

This cover just confuses me. WHO is in the background?? Who is that woman?? Why is Anne so dismal about her?? Why is Anne sulking about this dancing woman in the background (this reminds me of the silly song about the dancing cucumber). Also, Anne's eyebrows are barely there. I'll give this a 5/10 because I can't rate it one way or the other.

Turkish

This one makes me laugh because this looks like an Instagram deck. the way the face is drawn doesn't help. It's an insta pose, it looks insta filtered, the proportions seems weird like it's edited...yeah, this one is a no thanks. 3/10.

I think the Hebrew version wins in the end for me, but I'd love to hear others thoughts 👀

#anne shirley #anne of green gables #lm montgomery #i wish there was something like this for all the other series

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sigritandtheelves · 1 year

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All Along, Like Fire (Part 2)

Read Part 1

R | 1.8k words | MSR, AU

Summary: What if Mulder had been married to Diana Fowley when Scully joined the X-Files?

A/N: I think one more part after this… again, assuming it doesn’t get out of hand, lol.

—

October, 1994

Fox Mulder did not react the way Diana anticipated. She watched him crumble from the inside, watched him throw himself into fire and rail screaming against the night. This wasn’t just guilt and devotion, she realized. It was love: hot and soul-deep in a way she didn’t think he’d ever felt for her.

The thought burned acidic in her gut.

It was never a lie when she told him she loved him. She did, with all of herself that was able to love. There was just so much she couldn’t tell him, that he wouldn’t understand. Dana Scully might have been “good,” but such a position was relative, and to think her goodness more pure was naïve. On the deeper scale of history, wasn’t saving the human race better? Wouldn’t advances in genetics, and these future children, be the key to survival some day?

Diana looked down over her medical mask at the red-haired woman, petrified but immobilized, on the metal gurney. She dare not speak, lest the other woman recognize her voice, but she placed a hand on Scully’s arm—whether to comfort or reassert her own power, she wasn’t sure. Both, perhaps.

Now you’re a part of this, she thought.

Diana could tell the other woman wanted to scream, but the intravenous paralytic kept her from moving, tied her voice down in her throat, even as her belly distended for the hyperovulation.

We’ll be the same, she thought. They’ll have your future, too.

And when Scully died, whether from this procedure or the cancer that would inevitably follow, Mulder would be broken. Diana would be there waiting for him with open arms and open ears.

—

November, 1994

Scully was soft and fragile and freckled, teetering just this side of life and no memory of where she’d been. Mulder returned her cross to her: a symbol of both her faith and his, though not in the same things. When darkness came and her mother and sister had gone, he wielded his badge to reach her floor and stole back in when the night nurse took a break—even if Scully were sleeping, he needed to see her.

But she wasn’t sleeping. She was deep in thought with a reading lamp on, fingers clasped around the necklace on her chest. She looked up at the sound of the door.

“Hi,” he said.

She smiled at him, and he felt dizzy for a moment at the sober cobalt of her eyes.

“Did you sneak in?”

He frowned. “I don’t sneak, Scully. I deftly maneuver.”

She gave a slow nod of humoring agreement.

“Are you feeling okay? I was just going to sit for a minute and then sne— maneuver my way out.”

Another half smile before she scooted over, patted a space on the bed by her hip. He crossed the room to sit facing her, like she’d done for him in a hospital bed not long ago. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, pushed her hair from her face with a gentle touch. His eyes carried a weight that looked like it could pull her down and drown her. It scared her a little.

“Mulder—“

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, voice low and full of gravel. “It ripped me apart. I wasn’t sure I…” He breathed in once, twice, pushing down some dangerous confession. “They reopened the X-Files and I almost didn’t care. I only cared about finding you.”

Scully’s eyebrows went up at this. “They reopened the files?”

Mulder brushed his lips across her fingers one more time and then let them go. “Yes.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “About two weeks ago.” A pause as he considered how to frame his next words. “I don’t want to pressure you to make any kind of decision. I know you need time, and you may not want to come back at all—“

“I do.” Her voice so firm, so sure.

“Scully, there’s a very good chance someone took you because of our work.”

Her chin jutted up to cut the air with determination. “Then we can’t let them get what they want.”

He opened his mouth to speak, to argue, to say something protective and reassuring like that he’d be okay without her—a lie—but he swallowed it back. He wanted her with him, needed, couldn’t imagine his life without her now. “Scully…” a croak, an admonition, a declaration. He leaned forward and turned to lay his head on her pillow, pulling her back with him. He swung his legs up to lay alongside hers and curled his body around her.

Scully stiffened. This was a dangerous game—dangerously close to the mistake they’d already made. “Mulder, I—“

“Please,” he said. “I just need to hold you for a few minutes. I just need to know you’re really here.” She relaxed, softened against him, and after a moment let her head fall onto his chest.

“You’re married,” she said. “It’s not fair to—“ she swallowed around a click in her throat, “to her.” Or me, she thought. But her arm had come around his waist and her palm was on his back, under his jacket and t-shirt, warm on his skin. She wanted all of him around her like a cocoon. It was the safest she’d felt since waking.

“I know,” he said. He kissed the top of her head.

He didn’t let go.

—

It would be almost Christmas by the time they left quarantine, another whole month gone and so soon after losing time already. Alone in all this quiet sent Scully reeling into the blank void of her lost memory, grasping at scraps and finding only terror, meaningless sensations, dead silence but for the whir of horrible machines.

Scully doubled over in the dark, clinging to her own knees in oversized hospital scrubs. She heard a low keening whine. The drill—

the drill the drill the drill the drill the drill

But it wasn’t the drill. It was only herself, her own throat squeezing out that high, desperate note. She choked on it and sobbed.

She needed to work. She needed to be anywhere but alone with her thoughts and the cold, medical smell of antiseptics, waiting to see if she’d sicken and die like the others.

Welcome back, she thought.

—

Less than two weeks left and neither of them showed signs of infection so they were given permission for contact. Mulder was practically banging at the door, ready to tunnel between their rooms to see her. Unlocking the passage between them was like the crack of gunfire at a race: he was off in a heartbeat.

What he found on the other side of her door was a pale, limp creature, wrapped in blankets and staring at the ceiling.

“Scully!” he rushed to her bed and checked her pulse, felt her throat and her cheeks. She felt warm, but not flushed. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes focused on him and her lips trembled. “I tried not to think about it,” she said, “but I was alone again.” He sank down beside her, watched her wrestle with herself, biting her lips and forcing herself to sit up. She was collecting composure from every last reserve. “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

He touched her face again—he couldn’t help it. “You’re not okay.”

For a moment, she leaned her cheek into his palm, eyes closed. She breathed deeply while silence hovered. When she finally spoke, nothing could have prepared him for her words.

“Do you love your wife?” she asked.

It was like a record scratch, a slap, a T-bone at an intersection. “What?”

His hand dropped back onto the bed, and she opened her eyes to look at him. “This is dangerous, Mulder. Whatever this is—“ she waved her hand between them, “—it’s very confusing.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Do you love her?”

Mulder looked away, grappling with his own demons. “Yes. I do. I did? God, I don’t know.” He’d thought what he had with Diana was love, but now he wasn’t sure. Diana was a low thrum of lust and comfort. Whatever this was, it felt monumental, volcanic, planetary, cosmic.

Her voice was low and dry, like wind through leaves. “I won’t do this, Mulder. I won’t be the greener pasture or give her reason to hate me more. That’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not.”

“You’re my friend,” she said.

“Yes.” He thought of her naked under him, soft and unbearably sweet, pink-cheeked and mewling with pleasure. He felt like he’d swallowed fire.

“When you touch me…” She couldn’t finish. “I need to respect your marriage. Or I can’t respect myself.”

There was something in the way she said it that made him realize there was more—something she wasn’t telling him.

“Okay.” Still, he didn’t stand. When she looked up at him, her eyes were hooded, dark, hungry. Being this close to her was dangerous. He didn’t trust himself.

And he was stupidly in love with her, he realized.

He bent to kiss her, and she didn’t resist. She opened and softened and tasted like honey. He’d kill for her. He’d rip the world to shreds for her. He wanted to let her go, but he couldn’t—not after he’d felt this. It was danger love, cataclysmic love.

When he pulled back, her lips were swollen and the freckles stood out on her nose in the dim light. There was no regret her eyes, nor in him: only need.

“I’m not sorry about this,” he said, and he gave in.

—

January, 1995

In the real world of D.C., they put their professional composure back together. They were polite, protective, and professional—if somewhat flirtatious. Scully wouldn’t allow things to move beyond that, not in the city where they lived and worked, but the memory of how he felt over her, under her, inside her was never far away. It seeped in when he was giving slideshows and pinkened her face. She ached to touch him.

But he was married, and that thought would always follow the desire and fill her with a too-familiar shame. By some miracle, Scully had managed to avoid seeing Diana Fowley in the intervening months—was, in fact, terrified of running into her again. When it finally happened, she was shattered, knocked flat by the encounter.

She and Mulder had been working over lunch when Diana walked in, shoving her into panic mode and skyrocketing her blood pressure. Then the woman spoke, and everything came undone.

“Agent Scully,” Diana said, as if surprised to see her. “I was sorry to hear about what happened…”

Diana kept speaking, but Scully had stopped listening. The look in Diana's eyes, their shape and the pitch of her eyebrows rolled a tumbler in her mind.

no no no no no no no

Cold sweat broke out on her upper lip and she felt her face go white as blood left her and she was blanketed with terror. The machines, the drill, the hard metal slab...

Diana had been there in that cold, medical place.

Scully remembered.

—

End Part 2

Go to Part 3

#a thing i wrote #all along like fire #part 2 #msr #txf #au

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 8 days

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I love love love the Reg and Diana dynamic, my prediction is that I feel like Reg will realise he's in love first. I actually love how like soft he is with her compared to with everyone else. And yeah basically thank you for being such a compelling writer, I've read all of your fics and they all get me hooked

thank you soooo much anon!!

reg is very much teetering on the verge of that "oh shit" moment where he suddenly realises why he's so much nicer to diana than anyone else. diana's emotional development is very much. stunted. by her childhood, so it's gonna take her a bit longer - she only learnt how to make friends like a year ago she's TRYING ok????

this was such a lovely ask, thank you again ❤️❤️

#ask

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mariacallous · 1 year

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Must we, really? I’m afraid there is no avoiding the great crown soap opera as this finely crafted Prince Harry publicity spectacular engulfs the news. However nugatory the revelations about scenes of brotherly rivalry, beards, bridesmaids and broken dog bowls, it’s no use pretending it’s not happening or that the country and its households aren’t dividing into Harryites and Williamists.

Pollsters see a leave v remain rift – with leavers on the side of the monarchy and remainers inclined towards Meghan and Harry. While older people back the palace and the young lean more to Montecito, I doubt that last night’s angry and contrary ITV interview will restore Harry’s sliding ratings.

The interview landed as the next neatly choreographed step in the ace publicity machine of Prince Harry’s publishers. After the Oprah interview in 2021, six episodes of the Netflix series, teasers for his four TV interviews this week and the early leaking of his book, was there really anything new for him to say or for us to think? Nothing, beyond the painfully raw spectacle of his inchoate rage.

The palace, with its hordes of PR specialists, spent weeks war-gaming its response – it was prepared for devastating revelations, ready to break its silence if absolutely necessary. So far, its worst fears have “not come to light”, which tantalisingly suggests it thought Harry had more lethal missiles to unleash.

Of course, Harry’s words evoke some sympathy for an angry, damaged man. In what family is it psychologically acceptable to consign the younger son to service the elder for life? Few parental divorces are as horrible as the one these boys suffered, their schoolfriends snickering over the tampon tape and the James Gilbey recordings, everyone ogling Diana and Charles’s self-justifying TV interviews and books, capped by their mother’s horrific death. The monarchy teetered as the Queen misjudged the Diana moment, but then she held it together. If it could survive all that, the blow of a minor twig breaking from “the Firm” to seek his Californian revenge is hardly fatal – as he voices full support for the monarchy itself, condemning only its toxic relationship with certain portions of the press.

His one act of heroism is this dangerous duel with the tabloids that he blames for his mother’s death, as he pursues cases against the publisher of the Daily Mail, Associated Newspapers and the owners of the Daily Mirror and the Sun, the Reach plc subsidiary MGN Ltd and Rupert Murdoch’s News Group Newspapers, accusing them of phone-hacking or other breaches of privacy. His father warned that it was a suicide mission, but Harry says the royals have, in feeding the beast, made a pact with the devil. He rages at their failure to stand up to them: there was not a word from the palace in rebuke for Jeremy Clarkson’s disgusting hate attack on Meghan.

Everyone knows Harry is entirely right about the filthy, hypocritical, moralising amoral press and its corrosive effect on national life. Yet in his mist of confusion and contradictions, he doesn’t see that publicity is the monarchy’s lifeblood. When Queen Victoria withdrew from the public eye for years, her popularity plummeted. That oxygen is how the royals make their pointless living as fantasy creatures: they need the press to justify their very existence, like any celebrities. Their only role is to entertain us, and Harry plays his part perfectly. Walter Bagehot was wrong: the royals were never the “dignified” part of the constitution, but undignified performers who reduce us to infantilism in following their small dramas. Bagehot wrote that the purpose of the monarchy is “to excite and preserve the reverence of the population”. Indeed, citizens are reduced to subjects in revering this family of nothingness. Nor was Bagehot right to claim the monarchy’s “mystery is its life” and “we must not let in daylight upon magic”. The public needs feeding constantly with each new royal episode.

Of course the press is retaliating with a sewage outflow of bile, the full firing squad of rightwing commentators hating the Sussexes’ “wokery”. It stays unspoken that “wokeness” means #MeToo and Black Lives Matter, race swirling around in their loathing of “victim culture”. Harry sounds ill-equipped intellectually to take them on, unfocused in his fury against them, unpolitical, tin-eared and clueless about how his Afghanistan kill-count angered other soldiers, giving fresh ammunition to the enemy press. Don’t expect him to examine the slavery sources of some royal riches: the future William IV made a pro-slavery speech in the Lords accusing William Wilberforce’s abolition campaign of misrepresenting the treatment of enslaved people in the British sugar colonies, whose good living conditions he could attest to himself.

With the battle to re-examine the legacy of empire and slavery barely begun, the royal family’s failure to prevent Meghan’s flight is a disaster for them. Whatever restraint it took, it needed to embrace her. The Queen is gone. Charles’s pitiful King Lear plea, “Please, boys, don’t make my final years a misery”, reminds us that he lacks her reinforced steel. The monarchy’s popularity has declined for years: more 18- to 24-year-olds would now prefer to have an elected head of state, while only 53% of 25- to 49-year-olds are in its favour. As Graham Smith of Republic says, three white men in a row as kings stretching ahead for maybe the next 100 years looks singularly out of step with modern Britain.

Look at the Clarksonesque roll-call of Harry and Meghan haters and you might instinctively take Harry’s side, but no, let’s not be dragged into the psychodrama of this spin-off from The Crown. This country is braced for the deepest recession in the G7, so badly misgoverned that people can’t call an ambulance to a heart attack or police to a burglary, catch a train or stretch their shrinking wages to pay for food and heat, while public services are drained dry by austerity. Yet how easily we succumb to the great distraction of another instalment of the royal charivari, briefly diverting public anxiety and conveniently relieving pressure on the government.

Monarchy is a cast of mind that blocks reform, an unholy religion made of these remarkably unremarkable people. Despite the best education for generations, their most useful genetic function is to demonstrate that talent and intelligence is randomly assigned. Monarchy breeds in Britain a feudalism of the imagination that gives a stamp of approval to inheritance and to the inequality, risen rampantly in recent decades, that is at the root of our social and political malaise. Harry exhibits the epic unreality the royals inhabit when he imagines this: “I genuinely believe, and I hope, that reconciliation between my family and us will have a ripple effect across the entire world.” The rest of the world, I fear, enjoys the show, but laughs at our absurdity.

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astheswarmitcalls · 4 months

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PART 2: THE SWARM TOUR

This is the second part of my 4-part analysis of MCR5, the Masterpost for which can be found here. Link to previous/next parts found at the bottom of the post. If there's something I missed, or you'd like to add your own spin/elaborate on something I brushed over, by all means I'd love to hear it!!

So in this section we’re going to talk about the recurring motifs on the merchandise and the set design. I’d love to talk about some of the things my sweet little girlfriend Gerard Way said on tour, but there were over 70 shows and there is no way I’d be able to get everything. The other variables are a lot easier to follow.

MERCH:

There’s merch that takes inspiration from previous albums, and merch that is inherently tied to The Foundations of Decay and this new age of My Chemical Romance. I’ll be talking exclusively about the latter.

We have recurring words of ‘swarm’ and ‘decay’, the fly motif, and that almost-military-earthy-olive green.

Decay is obvious reference to The Foundations of Decay. It’s likely this could refer to the health of MCR dissolving in the days leading up to their break up in a meta sense, but seeing as we’re under the assumption this track will also feature in MCR5, it would have narrative ties too. Decay can be synonymous with ‘deteriorate’ ‘collapse’ or ‘corrode’; the set of the tour itself is a collapsed, decimated cityscape. The use of decay is, however, in reference to organic matter that is decomposing, the chemical elements of it breaking down and being fed back into the earth. Decay also brings forth imagery of zombies, of vampires, of resurrection. Rebirth is already established to be a key theme of MCR5.

Swarm or allusions to swarms are littered throughout The Foundations of Decay, but more outright usage of the motif is within the tour marketing/merchandise. As I’ve just been horrified to learn, the cover/video for The Foundations of Decay features this awful, black, writhing swarm of flies. Fucking disgusting. Anyways, the tour itself has been referred to as the ‘Swarm’ Tour, and the word appears frequently alongside the fly iconography. What has MCR done? Decayed and rotted. What are we doing? Crowding and consuming that decay like a swarm of flies. WE are the Swarm!!! Gerard has talked about how rockstars ‘get eaten alive,’ but everything up until this point has been talking about the swarm allusion in a meta sense. I absolutely adore the whole aesthetic of this tour; the rot and decay surrounded by swarms of flies and vermin and post-nuclear landscapes.

Earlier I brought up themes of sensationalism of tragedy, femininity and the intersection of the two. Tragedies like 9/11 are replayed in the public eye repeatedly. And more than 20 years after, people will use 9/11 to justify religious and ethnic discrimination. I promise I’m not losing the plot here. This discussion is relevant to the aforementioned themes. Topics/events such as 9/11, Chernobyl and serial killers again and again are revived in the public eye. Not always to learn from these events but because humans are fascinated by tragedy and misfortune.

What’s even more fascinating than tragedy to the public sphere are tragic women. The dichotomy of femininity and darkness that exists with individuals such as Princess Diana, Jackie Kennedy or Gypsie Rose make their stories appealing to a wide audience. The way society treats these women teeters on the edge of learned acknowledgment to ravenous obsession. Their images and lives are resurrected again and again for our consumption. These attitudes towards tragedy and tragic women marry beautifully into the swarm imagery; hoarding, gross consumers that cling to tragedy like flies on a carcass.

This isn’t the only argument I have for this theme that may seem left-of-field, but as we’re going to get into with Part 3, there is A Lot to talk about.

The concept albums Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge and The Black Parade had largely monochromatic colour schemes. The explosion of colour that came with Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys marked a tonal shift and fit within the ethos of the concept album to be loud, to live unapologetically, not just the aesthetics of The Zones. Featured on the marketing, merchandise and wardrobe, green appears to be the defining colour for the Swarm tour.

The specific shade of green is a warmer, yet desaturated shade that invokes militaristic imagery. That dull, earthy green is commonly used for military uniform and vehicles. Once again, MCR is feeding us allusions to military and war.

Green as a colour is heavily associated with health and nature. The desaturated green present with the ‘Swarm’ iconography speaks to a decay of health and nature. Instead of affirming interpretations of life flourishing, we’re reminded of rotting and wilting vegetation. Zombies, who embody reanimation and decay, are often depicted with green skin. The Egyptian God Osiris, who lords over the dead, is depicted with green skin having been deceased and reanimated within the ancient Egyptian mythology. I’m not necessarily stating Egyptian mythology was an inspiration for MCR, simply pointing out green as a recurring colour in stories of reanimation.

Likewise, vampires were used as metaphor and point of reference for aesthetic in My Chem’s past. Red, black, white and greys appear frequently within depictions of vampires, with red and black featuring prominently in the wardrobes/art/merchandise of both TCFSR and TBP. MCR’s albums, mainly IBYMBYBMYL and TBP, allude to vampires. Even the draculoids within the Killjoys universe, share that same colour scheme of red, white, and black, despite not being actual vampires. Vampire iconography in the swarm tour was present, along with other ghoulish representations i.e. skeletons, bats, Gerard’s makeup, the setlists.

Is MCR moving away from vampires and onto zombies? Probably not. I don’t think Mr. Way wants to let go of his gothic bloodsuckers, but the ethos of zombies is much more aligned with the themes of The Foundations of Decay and MCR5. In ‘Vampires Will Never Hurt You’ the vampiric metaphor stood for addiction. The song was about the early stages of Gerard’s alcoholism, written in perspective of this character questioning if the listener would be able to do what is necessary, to stake their heart. ‘The Sharpest Lives’ likewise features many allusions to both drugs and vampires. If within MCR’s discography, vampires are used as a metaphor for addiction, would it be farfetched to say more zombie iconography would stand as a metaphor for rebirth? Being brought back not the same you once were, but as a new creature. One that rips itself from the ground and pilots its decrepit husk in grotesque, staggered movements, fuelled by instinct. Zombies as a recurring motif for MCR5 may present as a stretch but the symbols of ‘swarm’, ‘decay’ and flies marries well into the metaphor.

SET DESIGN:

MCR is no stranger to theatrics. At every show, they begin with The Foundations of Decay, the sheet drops, and the backdrop is revealed; a destitute city scape, buildings collapsed, and the streets trashed with debris. The billboard features a dead rat playing into these motifs of decay, swarm/vermin. The text in neon above it is an area code for New Jersey.

On a larger scale, this level of destruction to an urban area is reminiscent of a war zone. It’s not the same sort of warzone that’s present in Danger Days, barren and destitute. This looks post-nuclear. Anti-war sentiment appears as a backdrop to The Foundations of Decay, as well as the actual Swarm tour. As stated before, decay can appear synonymous with ‘collapse’ ‘rubble’ or ‘dissolution.’ What does this destruction, this decay breed? Vermin. Swarms of insects and rats that flourish in the presence of death. There’s also something to be said about MCR staging their return, their rebirth, on a set of rubble. It reads loudly and clearly ‘we are not the old MCR. We are reanimating from the debris. We are reborn from the foundations of decay.’ Also it just looks cool as fuck.

(Sidenote, how is it possible I write 3 full paragraphs about the colour green and barely two for the set design?)

<<< PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART >>>

#mcr #my chemical romance #mcr5 #mcr5 theory #mcr5 is real #I am not tech wizard but I think I totally killed it with the hyperlinks ngl

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abloomaday · 1 year

Photo

Red Tip Rose Portrait

#flower photography #rose #white #red tip #Diana Teeters #original photographer

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chasingrainbowsforever · 2 years

Photo

Bubble Gum Cone Flowers by Diana Teeters

#flowers #pink flowers #cone flowers #pink green #summer

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looking-up-akkos-miniskirt · 2 months

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Stuck with you

Diana Cavendish, the most promising young witch in Little Witch Academia, had always been known for her unwavering determination and unyielding focus. But on this fateful day, her single-mindedness would prove to be her undoing. She was in the middle of a particularly difficult spell, her hands wreathed in emerald flames as she chanted ancient incantations, when she felt a sudden jolt. The next thing she knew, she was no longer standing upright. Her torso had become lodged through a stone wall, trapping her midsection between the two halves of the structure. Her head and arms remained on one side, while her hips and legs spilled out onto the other. "Well, this is awkward," she muttered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The wall in question was part of the oldest section of the academy, crafted from rough-hewn stones hundreds of years ago. The mortar that held them together had long since crumbled, leaving the entire structure teetering on the brink of collapse. The groundskeepers had been trying to shore it up for months, but their efforts had been futile. Now, Diana's wanted to attempt to restore the wall to its former glory...

"Diana!" exclaimed akko from near by. "What happened? Are you okay?" She looked at her friend's predicament with a mix of shock and amusement. "Well, this is the first time I've seen you "stuck" with anything."

The other students of Luna nova had gathered around, some offering words of encouragement, others laughing at the situation. Diana felt a blush creep up her neck as she heard their chuckles. "Very funny," she muttered. "Now can someone please get me out of here?"

Akko, stepped forward. With a determined grin on her face, she grabbed hold of Diana's skirt, intent on pulling her loose. "Don't worry, Diana! I've got you!" she exclaimed, only to realize too late that her grip was too strong. There was a loud ripping sound, and Akko stumbled back, clutching at her waist. Diana's skirt had come off in her hands, leaving her friend stuck there in her underwear. "Akko!" Diana cried, her face burning redder than ever.

Meanwhile, the other students had gone silent, their laughter replaced by a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Some looked away, trying not to watch, while others couldn't help but stare. The situation had escalated from awkward to downright mortifying.

Akko, now realizing the severity of her mistake, stammered an apology. "I-I'm sorry, Diana. I didn't mean to... I was just trying to help." She glanced down at her hands, still clutching the remains of Diana's skirt, and then back up at her behind.

The other students were still silent, unsure of how to react. Some shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Akko and Diana. Others couldn't help but snicker, adding to the awkwardness of the situation.

Diana bit her lip, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and anger. She knew she shouldn't be angry with Akko, but it was hard not to when she found herself in such an awkward position. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. "It's okay, Akko," she said softly. "Just get me out of here"

"Well atleast you're wearing cute panties today, Diana!" Akko exclaimed, unable to hide a grin as she stared at her friend's now exposed legs. Diana's cheeks flushed even deeper, feeling an odd combination of embarrassment and gratitude. The other students exchanged glances, some smirking, others looking away awkwardly.

"T-thats none of your business!" Diana stammered, blushing even deeper. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she could feel the heat creeping up her neck. She wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground right then and there. The other students laughed softly, a few of them nudging each other and exchanging knowing glances.

"No seriously, they're like super sexy! You should wear them more often," Akko insisted. "A black thong is so you, Diana!" Diana wished she could melt into the ground. The other students exchanged amused glances, some snickering softly.

"Well, thank you, I guess?" Diana responded, her voice barely audible over the laughter. She felt her face burning even brighter. "But can you please get me out of here?" I rather not show any more skin, she thought to herself, wincing as she felt a chill run down her spine.

Akko hesitated for a moment, then grinned mischievously. "Oh come on, Diana! You're only wearing your underwear. It's not like it's the first time we've seen each other in our skivvies," she teased, nudging her friend playfully. Diana could feel her cheeks heat up even more at the mention of them seeing each other in their underwear.

The other students exchanged amused glances, some snickering softly. "Oh, come on, Diana! It's not like we haven't seen each other in our underwear before," Akko teased, her grin growing wider. She nudged her friend playfully. "Besides, you look super cute in those panties!"

Diana felt her face burn even brighter. "A-Akko, please..." she stammered, her cheeks flushing red. "Just get me out of here!" She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover herself up as much as possible.

"Sorry, sorry" Akko apologized, scratching the back of her head. She then took a deep breath and reached around Diana's waist once more. "On three, okay? One... two... three!" With all her might, she pulled with everything she had. There was a soft ripping sound and Akko fell back on the ground again.

Akko looked up only to see Dianas behind completely exposed. Her face flushed red with embarrassment as she realized what she had done. "I-I'm sorry, Diana!" she stammered, her hands trembling. "I didn't mean to..."

The other students, who had been watching the whole scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement and discomfort, now found themselves staring at Diana's exposed body in shock. Some of them couldn't help but let out a few gasps, while others tried to avert their eyes. Diana, meanwhile, felt like she was on fire. Her cheeks burned bright red, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground.

Akko, realizing what she had done, felt a wave of panic wash over her. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Diana!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. "I didn't mean to..." She reached out tentatively, trying to cover her friend's exposed lower half.

Diana, still flushed with embarrassment, shrank away from Akko's touch. "No, don't touch there!" she cried, her voice shrill with panic. She couldn't believe what was happening. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breath came in ragged gasps. The other students watched in silence, unsure of how to react. Some looked mortified, while others struggled not to laugh.

"P-please don't look...!" Diana stammered, her voice cracking as she feels her face growing even hotter. Her heart is pounding out of her chest, and she's certain that every person in the area can see her body flush with embarrassment. She can't believe what just happened, and the humiliation is overwhelming.

Akko attempts to cover Diana's exposed lower half, but instead all she manage to do is grope her friend's private parts, making the situation even more awkward. The other students can't help but stare at this beautiful moment before them.

Diana's moans and her face turns even redder from embarrassment and anger. Good thing there was a wall between them. "Don't touch me there!" She moans. Akko keeps trying to cover her, but she keeps fondling her friend's private parts. "Oh my god, Akko!" She shrieks, her face now beet red. The other students couldn't help but chuckle, some trying to hold it in.

"Don't look everyone, can't you see she's embarrassed!" Akko yelled, trying to distract the other students. Her face was beet red too. Diana couldn't believe this was happening. She felt like her entire body was on fire, and her face was so red that she was sure it would burst into flames any second. She wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground.

"Okay, this time I'll definitely pull you loose!" Akko cried, taking a deep breath and steadying herself. She closed her eyes, reached around Diana, and pulled with all her might. "Wait!" Diana yelled, flailing her arms in protest. But it was too late. There was a loud ripping sound, and Akko and Diana tumbled to the ground.

Akko landed with a soft thud, her face smothered in something warm, soft, and decidedly fleshy. "Gah!" she sputtered, trying to get up. As she did so, she realized that her entire face was covered in Diana's naked behind. Her cheeks were pressed against Diana's buttocks, and her nose was buried in the soft hair between her legs. She could feel Diana's body heat radiating against her face, and she couldn't help but let out a surprised gasp.

She was finally free. Diana feels something warm and soft press against her backside, and for a moment she thinks it's just the ground. But as she tries to stand up, she realizes it's actually someone's face. Her friend Akko's face. She can feel Akko's breath against her skin, and she's sure that everyone in the school can see her bare bottom. Her heart races, and she wants nothing more than to melt into the ground.

Akko, still stunned from the fall, Diana's soft buttocks pressed against her face. Her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, and she can feel the heat radiating off Diana's body. She tries to talk, but it's all muffled against her friend's naked backside.

Diana moans softly as she feels something move near her crotch. She realizes it's Akko's mouth teasing her nether regions! " Oh my gosh! Akko are you okay?!" She gasps, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and surprise.

Akko mumbles something into Diana's backside, her voice muffled. "I'm...fine..." she says, her face still buried in Diana's soft flesh. Diana gets up on shaky legs, blushing furiously. Everyone around the starting at them in blissful disbelief.

Akko finally manages to pull herself together and stands up as well. Her face is still beet red, but she can't help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. "I-I guess that's one way to get free," she stammers, looking around nervously. Diana just stares at her friend, still unable to process what just happened.

Diana's face burns with embarrassment as she hurriedly covers herself with her hands, knowing fully well that everyone has already seen her in her most vulnerable state. Her mind races, trying to comprehend what just happened. She glances around, taking in the stunned expressions of her classmates and the blissful smirks on their faces. She feels a mixture of humiliation and anger welling up inside her.

"You're free Diana!" Akko exclaimed, trying to break the awkward silence. But it was too late. The damage had already been done. The memory of Diana's exposed bottom would be etched in everyone's minds for a long time to come.

Diana's heart raced as she tried to compose herself. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, and her eyes darted around nervously. Akko, on the other hand, seemed to be taking it all in stride. She smiled at her friend and gave her a reassuring pat on her bum. "It's okay, Diana. Everyone's seen worse." She laughed.

Diana's anger flared at her friend's attempt to make light of the situation. "And who's fault do you think that is!?" "If you wouldn't have pulled so hard, the whole school wouldn't know what my privates looks like!" she snapped, her voice rising in pitch.

"Eeh! But I thought you butt was really cute" Akko said bluntly. Diana's face turned even redder. "You pervert! You just wanted to see my butt!" she accused. "What? No, I didn't! It just slipped out!" Akko tried to defend herself. "Because you you couldn't be gentle! You were too rough!" Diana shouted. "How else where I suppose to get you out of there?" Akko retorted. " You didn't need to hold onto my clothes!" Diana shouted, her voice rising in anger. "But you're skin was to soft to hold onto!" Akko protested, not understanding why Diana was so upset.

While Akko and Diana continue to argue back and forth. The other students have gone back to their business, but there's an undercurrent of excitement in the air. They've just witnessed something truly unforgettable, something that will undoubtedly be the talk of the school for weeks to come.

#akko kagari #diana cavendish #litte witch academia #lwa fanfic #little witch academia #dianakko #dianakko fanfic #atemt at a fanfic #slightly not safe for work

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ao3feed-kathony · 1 month

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Tell Me That You Hate Me (Most Ardently)

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54431317 by Murphys_Law1111 “Does the young lady know the Viscount Bridgerton?” “Only a little.” “Do you not think him handsome then, miss? “Yes. Yes, I dare say he is.” or With the untimely passing of her elder sister, Josephine, and the sudden appearance of a long-lost cousin poised to claim her late father's title, Diana's world teetered on uncertainty. Still grappling with the aftermath of her own debut season and the pressures of society's expectations, Diana makes a bold decision: to forsake the notion of love and marriage altogether and focus on her younger sister. With her sister Georgiana’s rising acclaim as the season's foremost diamond, the arrival of Lord Bridgerton derails Diana's carefully laid plans. Despite his undeniable allure and impeccable reputation, Diana harbors a deep-seated disdain for the suitor, convinced that no man, especially not Anthony Bridgerton, could ever be deemed suitable for her beloved sister. or Diana had learnt to never trust a Bridgerton. Anthony seemed intent on making her change her mind. If only she was more forgiving. If only he could remember. If only they could have a real conversation. Kissing does tend to make someone stop talking. Words: 8658, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn, Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen, Multi, Other Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Bridgerton Family (Bridgerton), Original Female Character(s) Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Original Female Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton/Original Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton & Violet Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton & Bridgerton Family, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Penelope Featherington & Original Female Character(s), Bridgerton Siblings (Bridgerton) & Original Female Character(s), Benedict Bridgerton/Original Female Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton & Benedict Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton & Eloise Bridgerton Additional Tags: Protective Anthony Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Needs A Hug, Anthony Bridgerton Being an Idiot, Jealous Anthony Bridgerton, POV Anthony Bridgerton, POV Original Female Character, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Alternate Universe - Bridgerton (TV) Fusion, Pride and Prejudice References, Bridgerton Family Feels, Anthony Bridgerton Being a Gentleman, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, the sharmas/sheffields do not exist, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, sorta - Freeform, hopefully, we'll see, Violet Bridgerton Knows Everything, Scene: Fitzwilliam Darcy Hand Flex (Pride and Prejudice 2005), but anthony, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, you'll have to guess which one, or multiple, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Diana Thrombey hates Anthony Bridgerton, Georgiana is a ray of sunshine, Josephine is dead, like dead dead, yet still affecting plot from the grave, what an icon, Love Confessions, lots of miscommunication, love is real, they just deny deny deny, GET THESE GUYS SOME THERAPY MY GOSH read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54431317

#kathony #kanthony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #ao3feed #fanfic

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icarusignite · 5 months

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Synopsis of a Coriolanus Snow x OC and Sejanus x OC fic (not a love triangle lol) I'm working on. Is this something yall would be interested in? If so I can post the moodboards and chapter 1 on here too

Update: It's here lol masterlist

Children are the inheritors of their father's sins, and as the 10th annual Hunger Games come to a close, the debt to be paid demands everything they hold dear.

#icarus ignite writes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus snow x reader #sejanus x reader #sejanus x oc #lucy gray baird #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth

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jadegretz · 2 months

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Iconic Wonder Woman: A Timeless Portrait by Jade Gretz

The crimson sun dipped below the horizon, painting the cotton-candy clouds in bruised purples and sickly oranges. Diana, Princess of Themyscira, Wonder Woman, stood at the edge of the Phantasmagoria Carnival, its lurid neon tentacles reaching into the twilight like the grasping limbs of some grotesque, electric beast.

Whispers, slithering through the alleyways of her mind, had led her here. Tales of a carnival that defied logic, where shadows danced tango with laughter, and where the laughter, sometimes, morphed into screams. Intrigued, fueled by a warrior's need to untangle the weave of the uncanny, Diana had come.

The air hummed with a discordant symphony – the cloying sweetness of spun sugar battling the acrid tang of fear sweat. Giggles, like shattered glass, tinkled from unseen corners, while distorted music, a warped calliope played by unseen horrors, scraped against Diana's Amazonian resolve.

Stepping between garish banners that boasted of "Impossible Feats!" and "Laughter Guaranteed (Or Your Soul Forfeited!)", Diana entered the maw of the carnival. The cobblestones beneath her boots shifted and pulsed, morphing into grinning faces under her gaze. Above, the sky had dissolved into a canvas of swirling eyes, watching her every move.

A carousel spun with skeletal horses, their bony ribs rattling a macabre tune. A tent, striped in an impossible kaleidoscope of hues, promised "Glimpses into the Unseen!", its entrance guarded by a pair of spindly harpies with razor-sharp smiles. In the distance, a colossal, one-eyed clown perched atop a teetering tower of funhouse mirrors, his booming laughter echoing like thunder across the twisted landscape.

Suddenly, the discordant music crescendoed into a cacophony of shrieks. Grotesque figures, stitched together from nightmares and discarded dreams, spilled from the maw of the one-eyed clown. A spindly spider-woman, her legs a tangle of razor-sharp blades, scuttled towards Diana. A hulking ogre, its flesh a patchwork of stolen faces, roared, its breath reeking of graveyard mold.

Diana, her eyes flashing with warrior f …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

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