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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 1 year

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my favorite halloween story has little to do with halloween but: once at a college costume party i met a post-grad student who grew up by the coast and came from a family of avid amateur (semi-professional? her mom regularly won tournament prize money) fishermen (fisherpeople?), with the result that she (the post-grad student) had grown up regularly eating fresh seafood multiple nights a week, that was the basic family meal, and when she got to college (hundreds of miles inland) suddenly fresh seafood was very hard to find (on a college student's budget) and she was so frustrated that in junior year (after she moved into a sorority house and had enough space) she concocted a plan to purchase her own aquarium specifically in order to farm/breed her own fresh seafood, and i'm assuming she was so gung-ho that she didn't do her research bc no sooner had she purchased an enormous aquarium off of [craigslist i'm assuming] than she discovered that local pet (aquarium? fish supply) stores either (1.) did not sell species of fish she was interested in eating, (2.) did sell fish she was interested in eating but they were tiny/would take too long to grow to a size worth eating, or (3.) sold fish-she-would-want-to-eat of a size-she-would-eat but at a price that made them more expensive than just going to the fish section of the local grocery store (((did she think they would be cheaper? and if so why buy an aquarium at all why not just buy and quickly consume the fish???))), or (4.) a combo nation of the 3.

But ANYWAY by this point she has already purchased the aquarium, so she goes ahead and buys some tiny fish of a species she was interested in consuming (i want to say guppies. i know they weren't guppies it was another species entirely, probably several different species, but in my headspace that detail has been overwritten with the label "[guppies]" so guppies it is). anyway the guppies don't look particularly delicious but she's observing them pretty often (multiple times a day) in order to track their growth, and soon she's regularly jotting down notes and calculating their caloric intake and predicted weight increase and she's tweaking the aquarium settings to facilitate growth and--basically she becomes an aquarium person. you know, those people who have an aquarium and are heavily mentally focused on the having and maintaining of said aquarium (often in a supposedly leisurely but also completely serious and sedately obsessive manner).

so she gets really into it, and is encouraged by her sorority sisters (who are having fun naming and making up back stories for all the different fishies), and yes i guess she also grows attached to the fish (but this isn't the story of a bunch of fish not getting eaten, ok, she doesn't eat those fish, those fish are no longer for eating, but she still eats plenty of fish whenever she gets the chance, at restaurants and at her parents' house i assume, fish are still being eaten, she does not end up a reformed former fish-eater). oh, and then she goes on to write her senior thesis (? or class thesis or. some final project paper thing) on the fish (or on her aquarium ecosystem? something to do with aquariums), and she decorates her graduation cardboard hat thing with a little finding nemo plushie sewn on.

*GASPS FOR BREATH* (no no wait. ***GULPS LIKE A GUPPY*** hah!) anyway this all happened several years before i even met this woman whose name i don't remember at a college halloween party, but the reason i know this backstory is we had both had too much halloween punch and i asked her "so what are you studying" and she started telling me about how she was in the final year of getting her PhD in Marine Conservation

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chaotic-iguana · 9 months

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HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!

Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍

HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!

Enough

Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.

Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

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Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display.

But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you.

He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment.

He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.

He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive?

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me?

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you.

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him?

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction.

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do.

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night.

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with.

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would.

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer.

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.”

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”.

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor.

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another.

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms.

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

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ghouljams · 10 months

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I must (politely) demand more animals for Bee - ☀️

You stare at the little yellow peepers under the warm light in the supply store. Their fluffy bodies and teeny little wings are the cutest things you've ever seen. You want one. You could handle a chicken, chickens are super easy(you think) people in the suburbs keep chickens.

But what if it gets lonely? You can't bring a little baby chicken home and leave it all by itself! Who ever heard of having one chicken? It's absurd. You'd have to get it a friend. But what if they get in a fight and stop talking? Ok three chickens...

You leave the store with five chicks peeping away in a cardboard box. You swing by the feed store and are so astonished by the price of feed that you actually ask about a discount. Which apparently was the right thing to do given how excited the owner looked. Plus there was a nice guy in line behind you who let you know haggling was kind of the thing to do in the feed store.

You get home with nothing you'd planned to purchase. You call König from the car. He doesn't answer, which is weird, but he's probably busy. A text works just as well, youll do that when you get home. You pull up to your house and find someone already parked there. Also weird.

There's a woman leaning against the cab of the beat up truck, chocolate brown hat tipped low over her eyes as she scrolls through her phone. She also has a cardboard box under one arm and a baking tray resting on the top of the cab.

She looks up when you step out of your car and gives you just about the friendliest smile you've ever seen.

"Wow you're really fixing this place up," the woman, Goose, she said to call her Goose, says with a low whistle. She'd pretty handily forced her way into your home, handing you a tray of brownies which you suppose are sort of a decent entry fee. They tasted good enough.

“Doing my best for it,” You say around a mouthful of brownie. You set your box of peepers on the coffee table, eyeing the box she sets on the ground. "Hey you know anything about chickens?" You ask her, nudging the box for her to peak into.

"Oh cute! You know you got five of these suckers in here right?" She asks scooping a chick out of its carrier, you nod. She shrugs and puts it back. "You got an anything with a roof on it and some chicken wire? I got some milk crates in the truck but that's about it."

"I was going to wait for my neighbor to come by and help," you tell her watching her roll her sleeves up.

"Probably not a good idea considering the cat." She nods at the box she'd brought, you stare at it.

"Who?"

"Our barn cat had kittens, thought you might need a housewarming gift." Goose crouches and tugs the cardboard open. Almost immediately you're yelled at by a very orange kitten. It's tiny meow making the chicks peep nervously. Goose scoops it up with little fanfare and deposits him in your waiting hands. You love this woman.

"I think I'm in love with you," you tell her, half joking.

"I get that a lot," she grins, "Alright you watch the cat, I'm gonna raid your shed." You nod quickly, and point her towards the back.

You stare at the kitten for a second, watching him purr up a storm and listening to him yell at you. Spot. You boop his little pink nose and settle him on your shoulder.

König has never felt panic like getting out of the shower to a missed call from you. No message left, no follow up text, He can't hear you over the bugs... best case you must've been in town and had a question. Worst case you're dead or dying and he missed his one chance to save you.

He does his best not to run to your house, doesn't want to spook the horses, but the extra truck in your driveway certainly makes him hurry. Then he hears you laugh and his heart nearly stops he's so relieved.

König follows the sound of your chatter around to the back of the house. You're perfect. Glowing in the sun, crouched in the grass as you play with a kitten, chatting with a woman he's never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something and- his mask.

Shit. He'd been in such a rush getting dressed he'd forgotten his bandana and thrown on his hood like he was used to from so many years with KorTac. You couldn't see him like this. Most importantly the woman you were with couldn't see him like this. He could see the gun she had tucked under her clothes, and he knew well enough how threatening he looked.

At least you were safe. And making a friend, that was good. You need friends. König rips the hood off his head and considers his options. He'll go back for his bandana, then come over and introduce himself. Or better yet maybe this new woman will be gone by the time he gets back.

You make a noise of surprise and he watches you pull your phone out, typing a quick message. His phone lights up as you put you phone back in your pocket.

From: 💕

Forgot to text you! Picked up some chicks but I'm handling it don't worry!!! Help me with names when you get a second

König smiles at his phone, he'll let you finish up your fun and swing by to check on your work. You're growing quite the little farm for yourself. Which is good, you'll need to know how to do these things once you're married. Although he isn't sure if you've quite grasped what all these animals are for yet...

#cowboy!könig #oc: bee #greetings from spain everyone!! my first day here has been so good #i am drinking and writing and enjoying time with my sister :)#König trying to explain to Bee that shes gonna eat her animals and she will not hear it #piggy smalls is a pet and how dare König imply otherwise #könig x reader #könig x you #x reader #könig modern warfare #könig cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #oc: goose #since i guess she makes an appearance #also Gaz in Murphy's giving Bee a heads up about haggling #king and queen of making sure bee doesnt die #theyre coming for your throne könig watch out #☀️ anon

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rosequarzo · 4 months

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rainbow rose

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • lyney + gn reader mutual pinning friends to lovers ☆ warning proofread by @riekiss paimon and traveler being the best wingpeople(?) . . . !? & 1228 — catalogue

notes. i finally finished lyney's story quest and lyney, what are we??? i might have went overboard and ended this with 1.2k wc...

“Wait, you got another Rainbow Rose today? This isn’t a coincidence! You have gotten yourself a secret admirer, (Name)!” Paimon exclaimed, her high-pitched voice made you winced and gained a few annoyed glares flung your way from the nearby customers.

“Shh, Paimon! Lower your volume!” You hurriedly shushed her.

Realization hit her. Her eyes widened as she gasped, covering her mouth with her tiny hands. The Traveler merely rolled their eyes. “There’s no point in covering your mouth, Paimon. The cat’s already out of the bag.”

Groaning, you rested your head on your arms. “Will it be foolish of me to assume the Rainbow Rose is sent by Ly-”

“Ah, ah. Stop right there,” the Traveler interrupted, raising a hand to stop you from finishing your sentence. “I know what you want to say and honestly, I think you should just confess.”

“Huh!?”

You shot up from your seat like you have been struck by lightning, only to hiss when your knees hit the table underside. The brief contact made your teacups and empty plates jump. You whimpered, clutching your knee as you rubbed the now sore spot. The Traveler and Paimon shared an amused glance, doing a poor job in concealing their snickers.

“Telling me to confess is easier said than done. I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘Oh hi Lyney, I actually like you.’ Do you think I’m that brave?” You let out a laugh.

“No no, I'd rather go through a trial than confess.”

“Trust me, going through a trial is even worse,” they deadpanned, shuddering as memories flashes in their mind and Paimon nodded in agreement.

You sighed, downing the remains of your now cold tea and got up. “Well, thanks for being such great help, you two. I’ll see you around.”

“You’re welcome. Although, I still think you should confess!” The Traveler raised their voice slightly when you began to walk away, only for you to sprint down the streets, leaving a trail of dust in your wake.

A few days passed ever since your conversation with the Traveler and Paimon. You have been receiving Rainbow Roses whenever you step out of your home. It became a daily occurrence and you have collected all of them, taking extra great care in ensuring they are in tip-top condition.

One day, you were leaving your home earlier than usual to purchase some required equipment, only to catch a certain magician red-handed.

The two of you stared at one another: one in utter shock and the other in embarrassment. The atmosphere around you was extremely tense and awkward, to the point one could slice it into half with a butter knife. You were gaping like a fish, eyes widening that it might have popped out from its sockets. Lyney was the first to regain his composure, clearing his throat and pulling his hat down to shield his eyes.

“Hi (Name), lovely weather we’re having, right?” He sheepishly laughed, still holding a Rainbow Rose in his left hand.

“Lyney, you-”

“Well, I guess it’s time I get going then! I need to, uh, walk my fish,” he continued, turning and was ready to make his escape but you were faster.

“Lyney, wait!”

You shot out your hand, managing to grab his elbow before the magician could vanish from your sight. It was a touch so subtle, yet it sent a cascade of sensations through Lyney, catching him off-guard. His heart, typically steadfast and composed, suddenly fluttered like a startled bird.

He felt a gentle jolt of nervous excitement, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in his life. The contact was brief, but it left an indelible impression on him, like a spell casted not with words or incantations, but with a simple touch.

Turning around, Lyney didn’t expect to see your face flushed in a light but adorable shade of red. With how the sunlight was shining down on you, it grants him the privilege of witnessing you embarrassed and nervous. He instantly averted his eyes, feeling like a high school teenager getting ready to confess to his crush.

You sighed, releasing your grip from his elbow once you were certain he wouldn’t run. “Lyney, were you the one who has been leaving Rainbow Roses at my doorstep?”

“...No?”

“You know there’s no point in lying when there’s one held in your hand, right?” You deadpanned, pointing at the flower.

Lyney coughed. “Maybe this was given to me by Lynette.”

“Lyney.”

“Fine, I surrender. Yes, I was the one who has been leaving Rainbow Roses at your doorstep. Charlotte had told me the meaning of the flower.”

“The meaning? And what is it?” You dared to ask, not wanting to jump to a conclusion as you wanted to hear the words from him. Your heart pounds rapidly against your chest as you wait in anticipation.

Lyney raised his head and looked at you in the eyes, his features softening. “It means romantic encounters and if you’d allow me to be blunt: I like you, (Name). I really do.”

You felt like your breath had been sucked out of your lungs the moment you heard his confession. The entire world came to a stop, your surroundings turning blurred. Heartbreak and uncertainty glimmered in Lyney’s eyes when he saw your silence, registering it as a rejection. He forced a smile on his face.

“Perhaps I’ve read the room wrong. Sorry, (Name), you can forget what I said-”

“Lyney, I like you too.”

You interrupted, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. Now the tables have turned: Lyney was rendered speechless and you, on the other hand, had turned as red as a tomato. None of you knew how to proceed with the conversation and that was when someone yelled from their hiding spot.

“Oh for Archon’s sake, just kiss already!” Paimon screamed, frustrated with the silence.

The two of you flinched; startled by the sudden presence of Paimon’s voice. You looked over Lyney’s shoulder, able to catch a glimpse of her being pulled down into the bushes. The sight made you chuckle and it was also enough for you to pluck up your courage. Closing the distance between you and Lyney in five strides, you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

You felt him stiffen when your lips were pressed against his cheek. You straightened yourself, unable to hold back the laughter at the sight of Lyney malfunctioning.

“Who knew all it takes is a simple kiss to make the great magician go silent?” You teased, poking his side and he flinched like a cat.

“Well played, Mon Chéri. But I’m afraid when it comes to compliments, I have the upperhand,” he smirks, returning to his usual self.

Lyney grabbed your hand, bending at his waist as he lifted your hand so he could kiss your knuckles. He does this without breaking eye contact. You swore you could feel his lips curling up in a smile and somehow, you felt like the weather had become hotter than usual.

Chuckling at your reaction, he pulled you in with one arm wrapped around your waist while the other gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. His abrupt action earned a startles squeak from you as you clumsily allowed yourself to be tugged towards him.

“Well then, I hope you’re ready to be worshiped, Mon Chéri.”

#୨୧ magazine articles #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact lyney #lyney x reader #lyney imagines #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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beyondfabric · 4 months

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Introducing: Mr. Archive

What better way to kickstart 2024 than with one the most beautifully curated, styled and fair-priced vintage stores out there?

Mr. Archive has been one of my go-to places the last few months, be it for visual inspiration on their instagram profile or the browse some of the most interesting pieces around. To be fair, after 15 years of working in this industry is getting more and more difficult for me to find garments and brands that are truly exciting and fresh. If on top of that we take into account the price point of some of these labels, many of which produce in Portugal with accessible costs, my enthusiasm dims even further.

I’ve always been passionate about the universe of vintage and pre worn garments, but this love has been fueled in recent years by the appearance of highly specialized shops that seem to be perfectly in tune with my personal style. I’ve had the chance to chat with Matteo, the mastermind behind Mr. Archive to learn more about this outstanding project.

BF: I came across Mr. Archive fairly recently and I must say that it definitely hit a soft spot within the range of vintage providers currently on my radar. How long have you been in business? What drove you to create it?

Matteo: I'm passionate about my job, believe I have a somewhat general knowledge of the fashion world, but about 4 years ago, I got fascinated by this industry, even though I already knew it. I come from a family that has always worked in the clothing industry.

BF: For me, your selection is perfectly curated, bringing a mix of military and navy-inspired garments, with a twist of Americana. Is this an extension of your own style and taste, or is it more business-oriented?

Matteo: What I propose is all based on my personal taste; I create outfits on the spot, drawing inspiration from magazines, newspapers, etc., and then I elaborate and create. My mom is an artist, and I think I took inspiration from her.

BF: Vintage has always inspired me ever since I got into fashion roughly 15 years ago. There's just something distinctive about the fabrics and the history behind each garment that you can not replicate with new items. How/where do you source your amazing selection?

Matteo: My pieces come from warehouses worldwide; I'm constantly looking for new things, and that's the wonderful thing about my job! I have strong trust in my suppliers!

BF: With sustainability being the word of order when it comes to fashion, have you noticed an increase in demand for pre-owned garments? Do you think part of the solution can be provided by vintage?

Matteo: Recently, there has been an increase in the purchase of vintage and second-hand clothing items. To be honest, I believe that a few years ago, not many people knew about this world, but now it's expanding and captivating even those who knew little about it.

BF: I noticed you have a small capsule of garments carrying your own label, namely selvedge denim and accessories. What's the story behind those? Can we expect more designs in the future?

Matteo: I won't deny that creating my own clothing line would be a great personal satisfaction, a significant growth. I recently created a small line, "MRARCHIVE," currently composed of jackets, pants, and hats. One day, I'd like to expand, but I still have much to learn and study.

BF: Any tips or advice you wish to leave for those more reluctant to explore the world of previously owned items? It's still somewhat taboo for some people.

For many people, this world is still a taboo; they're still stuck in the thought of "they're used clothes." What I think is that one should see the story and originality behind each piece to appreciate its value, both from a historical and an aesthetic perspective. Sometimes, I compare some clothing items to paintings—they should be framed.

You can find Mr. Archive here.

#Mr. Archive #menswear #men's fashion #vintage #pre-owned #style #fashion #inspiration #beyond fabric #men's style #collection #lookbook #store #shop responsibility #military #navy

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apompkwrites · 1 year

Text

the ashengrotto connections || azul ashengrotto

masterlist characters: azul (platonic) (+leech twins) genre: angst (very light) contains: azul's bio dad is shady as hell, body-image issues :(, manga inspo for magic :D summary: how can a single promise and a new octopot change the trajectory of a cecaelia's life? notes: lovely lil ashengrotto getting some development!! had the idea to use witch hat atelier magic for them so expect that :DD also gonna get around to putting oc's here soon! parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

your parents were loving individuals. more so your mother and stepfather than your biological father was, but that's besides the point.

you admired them the same way your brother did. your parents were go-getters since the day you were born (and the day you met them in terms of your stepfather).

your biological father, on the other hand, was shady, to put it lightly. from the few memories you had of him, you remembered him coming home in late hours of the night, body aching and tentacles stained with... something. he was a secretive man and your mother seemed to want to keep it that way.

when she announced the divorce and the subsequent lawyer visits, she seemed elated at the idea that her husband, soon to be former husband, would be out of her life and far far away from her children.

you remembered her warning you to never, under any circumstances, become like that man. she made you promise not to ever deal with shady figures like he did. and you kept that promise.

you lived by that promise.

maybe you internalized it. took it too far and were now reaping what you sowed. but, when you gave your brother his brand new octopot, no longer cracked and broken, decorated with lovely little pearls and shells on the surface, you were glad you did.

the smile he gave you that day was blinding. he was so excited, wrapping you up in his tentacles to give a tight squeeze before nestling into his new octopot, his little voice echoing from the walls about how spacious it was and how he didn't have to worry about new fragments falling on him in his sleep.

and you were just as excited for him. sure, the octopot you had spotted that day that was decorated with different colored swirls and shells still sat on the shelf instead of in front of you, but the sight of your sensitive, soft-hearted brother cheering and laughing in a way you hadn't seen in so long made that sacrifice worth it.

and you knew, from that day on, you would do anything to keep that smile.

who knew that with one single octopot purchase, your brother would find the one thing he had been yearning for ever since he entered school?

the day he came home, two twin eels following him like predators, was surprising and somewhat concerning considering the nervousness on his face when he introduced the two.

jade was unnerving in his own way. he held a sly smile at all times, his expression the same the entire time he talked and listened. his movements were slow and methodical for a child, almost as if he were calculating each swish of his tail or raise of his webbed hand.

floyd, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of his twin. he was wild, thrashing about and poking and prodding at your broken octopot. giggles escaped his razor-teethed mouth, his tail wiggling around the more he circled you. azul seemed accustomed to this behavior as all he did was wave at floyd to stop.

"eh? this your little sibling, azul?" floyd had hummed to himself when he was circling you, his sharpened nails inching closer to your pudgy skin and tentacles. "mm, they're so puffy!"

azul curled in on himself for a moment when those words left floyd's mouth. did he know how your brother felt about his body? he must be, right? why else would he point out the same features on you?

you hoped that any and all observations made about your size would be reduced to just you, not to azul.

you were relieved when the twins dragged azul out of the house, talking his ears off about some sort of school trip they were supposed to get prepared for. and despite the leech twins being eccentric, you were glad azul seemed to find friends.

maybe he would focus less on his body with them around.

there were times you envied azul after that. you envied the fact that as he grew up, he had the leech twins to fall back on. sure, he was still occupied in his magic, but he at least had them at the end of the day.

you, on the other hand, only had your magic.

you wanted to be just like azul, you told yourself, so why not focus on your magic like he was? and maybe, just maybe, you would be strong enough to protect him from other children who bullied and berated him to no end.

he had the leech twins to protect him, but that excuse kept you sane.

you often stole scrapped documents from your mother's desk, using the empty backs of the pages to scribble little sigils, something you were sure azul was doing in his spare time if the crumpled-up papers outside of his octopot had anything to say about it.

and so, just like him, you wrote. you wrote and you drew and you scribbled. it took a few months, but soon you got to a point where you were able to make something legible on paper.

the sigil had a centerpiece, a little curly s that looked like the swirls you had seen on the octopot that day. you surrounded it with arrows pointing toward it, encapsulating the entire drawing in a single circle.

you didn't care that magic wasn't made this way. it was the most you were going to compromise with yourself in terms of selfishness, so why not get creative with it?

and, to your surprise, the water surrounding the paper was pulled in, swirling around to make a small vortex that was strong enough to change the direction of the floating bits of seaweed. it didn't rip them out of the ground, no it was too weak to do that, but it did make them sway closer to the sigil.

the sudden movement shocked you, making you drop the pen in your hand. it tumbled to the floor, bubbles flying up past it once it landed. but before you could ponder more on what had happened, a new voice chimed in.

"how'd you do that?"

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#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland azul x reader #twst azul #twst azul x reader #azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul ashengrotto #twst azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #black sheep

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xmalereader · 11 months

Text

Miles Miller X Vampire! Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Authors note: Finally! Posting again 😭 been so busy and I’ve been full of inspiration to write for many characters but gotta take my time, anyone this shot is semi related to the plot of Bad Times At El Royal. I recommend watching it, a little slow but huge twists here and there and wanted to change some thing up to make it interesting so enjoy!

Summary: Miles works at the hotel El Royale after the war in Vietnam. He’s finding a way to cope through the trauma so what better way then to bury yourself in work? Let alone in a hotel full of vampires and with him being the only human.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of blood, slight angst, PTSD, mentions of Vietnam war, 1960’s, Vampire reader, Vampire OCs, hotel clerk, Miles is Shy and submissive, hints of possessiveness, reader is the boss, slight NSFW 18 +, mentions of biting, masturbation, pet names.

Word count: 2.5K

Miles can see the snow sticking from outside the hotel window. He’s been working at the Hotel Royale for two years now and he’s grown used to the weather change, knowing that the winter season is the most popular for customers to rent out rooms in order to give themselves the chance to ski on the storm dies down.

He also knows that he’s to expect some important guests that he’s been taking care of during his time at the hotel. For years, Miles has been look for a distraction from his time serving in the Vietnam War, after he return back home he turned to drugs and alcohol like many others soldiers who returned.

It was the only way to keep himself grounded, but after some time the drugs only affected him more and worsened the situation and instead turned to keeping himself busy with work. Miles was lucky enough to get hired at the El Royal hotel.

A hotel set between the borders of Nevada and California a very popular location for many guests visiting and looking for a place to stay. The first time he arrived the hotel was low staffed, not many stayed for long and Miles ended up handling many different positions.

He worked the front counter, did the cooking, cleaning, made sure that everything was ready for the next customer. It wasn’t until the hotel was purchased by a man he didn’t know much about.

All he knew is that the hotel was purchased and under new management.

Miles expected himself to get fired or let go due times management but instead was allowed to keep his job. Many others were let go or replaced with new people. It reached a point where Miles was the only staff member who didn’t get fired and was allowed to stay.

He didn’t know why the new management wanted him, he never asked and instead did his job. He made sure guests paid or their stay and signed the ledger.

It wasn’t until a year later that Miles found out the truth about the new management.

—

Miles had finished checking in a new couple who were staying in a room in Nevada, providing them there key and letting them know about there breakfast hours.

His soft smile soon faltered when the double doors up front are pushed open, revealing a women wearing a long black coat and a large hat that covered her face, but enough to see her smirk as she approached the front desk where Miles stood.

Miles swallows nervously. “Veronica.” He says softly towards the women in a soft greeting as she removes her hat and sets it aside, both hands on the counter as she leans forward.

“Miles, the usual please.”

Miles gives a hesitant nod. He’s worked with the women for months now and should be used to her presence but each time she made an appearance he always found her intimidating. Holding out the ledger he provides her the key to her room.

“Room 6 in California.” He says as Veronica pays him the twenty dollars, enough for an entire week.

Miles watched as she signs her name on the ledger, setting the pen down and taking the key from the counter and giving him a sweet smile. “Miles, I’d appreciate if you could bring me a drink to my room.”

“Of course,” He nods his head, giving off a bashful smile before watching her leave, her long coat swaying as she makes her way outside.

Miles gives himself a few minutes to collect himself before letting out a deep sigh. Veronica stayed at the hotel during the winter due to her work in fashion. Miles knew very little about her but knew that she was famous in the fashion industry and there were times where they only spoke a few times, slowly becoming a regular at the hotel to the point where she speaks to him like a friend, even though he still fears her.

Before he could close the ledger the front door is pushed open causing him to look up to see another one of his regulars.

“Sophia.” He gives the dark skinned women a smile, getting the women’s attention as she approached him with a smile on her face. “Miles! It’s been so long.” She says with a kind voice.

Sophia cups Miles cheeks and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead in greeting before letting go. “My, look at you.” She coos at him, her long slender fingers fixing his curls as he blushes softly at her actions.

“Have you been sleeping?” She questions, noticing the bags under his eyes as Miles chuckled softly. “Winter season keeps me busy, ma’am.” His soft accent showing.

Sophia’s smile slips away into a frown. “That’s not very good, I’ll talk to Y/n about it and make sure he finds an extra counter boy—“

“No! I—that won’t be necessary. You know that Mr. Y/n only trusts me with our guests and with regulars too.” His voice shows a hint of determination. His boss, Y/n, who he’s only met once had placed his trust on Miles to take care of the hotel. He couldn’t lose the man’s trust after working hard on keeping things well hidden.

The women before him sighs deeply, getting his attention before nodding. “Very well, if it gets bad you tell me.” She reminds him before signing her name on the ledger and handing him a twenty.

“The usual?” Miles questions, earning a sly grin from the women. “You know me.”

Miles blushes softly, heading towards the cabinet to collect the room key and handing it over to her.

“Room 8, Nevada.”

Sophia takes the key from his hand. “Thank you, darling.” She gives him a wink before walking away she turns back to Miles. “Oh! I forgot to mention, Y/n should be arriving soon and he’s not in a good mood.”

Her last words cause Miles to freeze in panic. “You know what to do, it’s that time of the year.” She reminds Miles, giving him one last wink and leaving to her own room.

Miles appreciated Sophia’s heads up, he’s known her the longest before Veronica. She was the first women to ever be kind to him, always showing her worry towards him and making sure that he’s healthy. Sophia was an actress, her beauty and her way with words swoon the crowd. Every time she entered a room all eyes were on her and she knew it.

After she lets him know about Y/n coming he’s quick to clean up, locking the cabinet and putting away the ledger along with cleaning the counter. Even though he’s been working here for two years he likes to stick to his schedule and tasks in order to keep his boss satisfied.

When he first met Y/n he felt fear for the first time in years. The man always wore a stoic expression, wearing a fancy suit and only talking when someone was asking him a question, he was never one to start conversation from what Sophia has told him, but each time him and Miles meet it’s like his boss has changed.

The stoic act changes the minute he steps through those double doors. Miles didn’t know much about Y/n, only that he bought the hotel and that he was using it for special occasions, usually during the winter which is why Miles was always nervous when the season approached.

The young man moves around the lobby quickly, making sure that everything is cleaned and cursed under his breath when he remembers Veronica’s request for a drink. There regular cook wasn’t in today and won’t be in until tomorrow, giving him the chance to enter the kitchen and towards there large fridge where there regular guests food is stored.

Upon opening the fridge he’s met with a shelf full of blood bags, gently reading the labels and making sure that he provides Veronica the one she enjoyed the most before taking it into his hand and grabbing a wine glass on his way out. He makes it to Veronica’s room, giving the door a soft knock before she’s yanking the door open.

“The usual?” She questions, stepping aside to let Miles enter the room.

“Fresh, just how you like it.” He answers, setting the glass down and pouring the blood into the glass. The first time Miles did this he wanted to vomit but after some time he grew used to it.

Once the blood bag is empty he sets her glass next to the bedside table and sets a napkin next to it.

Veronica sits on her bed and smiles. “Thank you, pretty boy.” She takes the glass between her fingers and inhaled the scent, exhaling in satisfaction while Miles shuffled in place nervously.

“Enjoy, if you need anything else I’ll be at the lobby.” He gives the women a nod and heads out of the room before she decides to keep him busy with her work stories, pouring her stress onto him, which he did not have the time for.

Miles moved onto his next task, keeping the human guests from leaving there bedrooms. The winter season was his busiest, not with humans but with Vampires.

The hotel was used during the winter by various vampires who came to relax and enjoy a drink or two without having the human race exposing them to the world. The hotel wasn’t just used for Vampires but humans too, which Miles handled.

His boss, Y/n, purchased the hotel as a safe heaven for both vampires and humans. He knew that humans could easily find out about them if see drinking blood during dinner or small parties that were hosted. Y/n wanted to keep the peace with humans and tasked Miles to make sure that they are to keep there guests indoors and away from the lobby.

So, every winter Miles would enter the back room where he has access to walking behind the walls of each hotel room where he switched on a sleeping gas that released into the guests bedroom at a certain hour. The gas kept their human guests asleep for the rest of the night while their real guests enjoyed their night.

Miles wasn’t proud of his work, but it was the only way of keeping them safe from the hands of vampires.

Y/n was strict towards his rules; if any Vampire laid hands on a human guest he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. Miles hasn’t seen that happen, yet and hopes that it never does.

Miles is busy cleaning the bar that the sound of slamming doors startled the poor man, eyes wide as he watched Y/n step inside the hotel lobby with a glare on his face. He knew that the man wasn’t in a good mood.

He’s quick to abandon his work and make his way over to Y/n.

“Uh…Mr. Y/n, sir?”

His voice gets the man’s attention, his glare directed towards Miles until it slowly softens. “Miles.” Y/n breaths out, earning a small smile from the clerk boy.

“Sir, Sophia told me that you weren’t doing well. Would you like me to get your room ready and perhaps something to drink?” Miles offers.

Y/n sighs deeply, removing his coat and hanging it on the coat rack near the entrance. “Please, make sure that extra pillows are provided.” He adds on while Miles nods at his words. “Anything planned tonight? Would you like me to prepare anything else?”

“Not tonight,” Y/n lets Miles know as he walked around the lobby with Miles following behind him. “No special occasion?” The clerk boy wonders with a raised brow.

“Not this year, I’m not in the mood to deal with some old friends.” He grumbled out, too upset to even talk about it. “Are Sophia and Veronica here?” He suddenly asks, getting Miles attention.

“Yes, sir. Veronica is staying in California and Sophia is in Nevada. Would you like me to get them?”

Y/n sighs. “No, I can deal with the two for now.” He makes his way to the bar, finding an empty seat and slumping down while Miles makes his way around the counter and sets a glass out to serve Y/n a drink, blood bag in hand as he pours it into the glass.

“Anything else you’d wish from me tonight? I’ll make sure to provide you those extra pillows you requested.”

Y/n takes his glass in hand and drinks it down, blood dripping past his lips and chin when he’s finished, using his own hand to wipe away the blood that smears his chin. Miles can’t help but stare at the man before him, watching him closely before clearing his own throat.

“I’ll go ahead and make sure that your room is ready.” He stammers out, lowering his head and making his way towards Y/n’s suite. The room is always cleaned after everyone leaves but Y/n’s room was personal and only Miles had gained the privilege to enter without any trouble. Y/n trusted Miles with his personal space that the young man only cleaned areas that needed to be cleaned while the rest he left in its same place.

Miles made sure that he brought extra pillows for Y/n, making the bed and setting the pillows in a way that look comfortable. Miles doesn’t notice Y/n standing behind him, watching everything from the doorway as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as his own eyes roamed up and down Miles body.

The amount of times that Y/n wanted to pin the man down and have a taste of his blood, he could hear his heart beat from miles and knew how fast it increased the minute he made an appearance. The times that Miles would whimper from nightmares in his one room when he was alone.

Y/n had wanted to pull the man close and reassure him that he was safe that he could keep him safe that he could give him what he wanted to please him to pleasure him.

The Vampire growls at his thoughts, avoiding them as much as possible. He couldn’t do anything that’ll frighten Miles even more, poor kid was still getting used to the fact that he was working in a hotel full of Vampires that lusted for blood.

“All done.”

Miles voice brings Y/n back to reality, looking up to stare at the man before him, shifting his eyes towards the made bed and smiling softly.

“Thank you Miles.” He steps inside the room and approached his own bed, sitting on the edge and working on removing his tie. His sudden actions gets Miles flustered as he stutters out.

“I will attend to the others, please get some rest and if anything is needed—“

“I’ll make sure to call for you.” Y/n finished for Miles who smiled at his words.

“Uh—have a good night.” With that Miles closed the door behind him, leaning Y/n at his own devices while the older Vampire huffs out a chuckle at the sound of Miles heart beat increasing from the other side of the door.

#male reader #lewis pullman x male reader #lewis pullman #miles miller x male reader #miles miller #miles miller x reader

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morbidology · 6 months

Text

9-year-old Richard Marlow from Etobicoke was nicknamed “Peewee” due to his small stature. He was in Grade 3 and was known for being painfully shy. “He was always the first away to school in the morning. He didn’t want to be late,” his mother, Gertrude, recalled.

On the evening of the 18th of July, 1944, the most of the Marlow family went to the cinema. Richard stayed behind with his brother, Gerald. Richard pulled on a blue hat and went outside to play on his older sister’s bicycle with Gerald checking out the window sporadically to make sure Richard was okay.

At some point during the evening, Richard disappeared leaving just the bicycle behind. A search party was assembled. Police scoured the neighbourhood assisted by army militia. Ponds and creeks were drained while wells, outhouses and forests were searched.

Richard’s father, John, came home from his army station to search for his son. They sent photographs of their son to newspapers across the country and wrote to the FBI begging for their assistance. Each Christmas, they purchased gifts in the hopes that Richard would return in time to open them. For the first three years, Gertrude dreamed about Richard. He appeared “clear as day” and asked “were you worrying about me, mommy?”

Despite the extensive search, there was never any sign of Richard. There were several reported sightings across the country but none ever turned out to be Richard. Ten years after his disappearance, Gertrude passed away. “It went on and on and on, and it just broke her heart,” said Richard’s sister’s daughter.

In 1973, John passed away. Both went to the grave without ever knowing what happened to their son. They are buried in Glendale Cemetery. Beside their grave is an empty plot with no headstone, no marker, and no flowers; it is there for Richard if ever he is found.

#unsolved #cold case #mystery

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weirdowithaquill · 6 months

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Traintober 2023: Day 27 - Record-Breaker

Mallard Broke the World Speed Record; It Broke Her:

4468 Mallard broke the world steam speed record in 1938, changing her life forever…

1938:

The quiet, almost timid engine sat in the works, listening to the workers. “You hear? That engine there is fastest in the world!” one said, pointing to the famous engine. Mallard blinked, amazed. She’d never been told if she’d actually broken the record – but to hear that she had, and to hear that it was major news! It was incredible.

There was no one better than her in that moment – she was the greatest!

“Ah, the engine of the hour!” cheered a voice. Mallard gazed down, spotting Sir Nigel Gresley himself walking over. Mallard gasped in amazement. The Chief Mechanical Engineer almost never visited his engines. “I came to congratulate you again, Mallard. I am proud of you – you are truly a credit to this railway. The poster child for what every Northeaster engine should strive for. Well done, and keep up the good work, Mallard.”

Mallard beamed, thanking her designer. Then, she turned to the gossiping workers. “Well? You heard him – I need to be back in service now! Hurry it up!”

1963:

“So, which of us is to be preserved?” asked Silver Link, staring down apprehensively at the members of the British Railways board. The men had come to decide on a Gresley Pacific to save from the scrapper’s torch.

“Who do you think?” snorted one of the men in the bowler hats. “We must choose the locomotive that achieved the greatest feat of a steam locomotive – 60022 Mallard, you are to be restored to your LNER looks and sent to the Museum of British Transport Museum. The rest of you… hope someone purchases you.”

Silver Link just stared in shock as several diesels sniggered in the background. “But I… but… She didn’t even make it back to London! I am the first! I reached 114—” “Stop speaking 60014, there is no reason for you to complain. You are already withdrawn, and shall be sent away once we have the time.” “Mallard… are you going to allow this?” asked Silver Link, eyes wide in horror. “Well, elder sister, some of us are just… more important than others. I represent our class, and I am the best at such an honour.” Silver Link went red in the face, but Mallard was already steaming away, blowing smoke at her elder sister.

Behind Silver Link, Flying Scotsman and Silver King shared a nervous look.

1975:

Flying Scotsman sat on the points outside the brand new York National Railway Museum, Green Arrow on one side and Gordon on the other. It was the first time that the four had seen each other – the fourth being an indignant Mallard sat opposite them.

“What do you mean, he’s worthy of being the same level as me?” sniffed Mallard. “He’s a mixed traffic engine!” “Green Arrow is an LNER engine, same as us,” reminded Scott crossly, facing down his cousin. “And there are only nine LNER Pacifics left, so your levels are completely worthless! We need to end this… this… this…” “Elitist garbage!” Gordon snapped. “We are long past this, cousin. What’s stopping you from accepting Green Arrow?” “Green Arrow is a simple mixed traffic engine,” hissed Mallard. “I am the greatest steam engine to have ever been built! No one has ever, or will ever, beat my record. There’s a reason that I am in this museum, and you are out slaving away to keep in steam.”

“Slaving away?!” Gordon let off steam furiously. Scott just clenched his jaw. “There’s no point arguing with her,” he sighed. “We’re better off just getting the rest on side.” The three steamed away, leaving Mallard to be pushed gently back into the grand museum by a timid diesel shunter.

None of the other engines in the museum spoke to her as she was shunted into place. Not Evening Star, not Aerolite, not Coppernob. They all just shot her dark glances.

1988:

Mallard sped along the line, feeling the wind rush past her face. “I forgot what this was like,” she huffed, finally arriving back at Doncaster after crossing the country to reach Scarborough and back. Several relatives of her crew from back when she’d broken the world record sat in her coaches – but they were inconsequential. After all, any crew could have gotten her up to her record-breaking speed.

“So, how was the run?” asked Gordon politely, sitting in the next platform over. Mallard ignored him. Gordon rolled his eyes. Green Arrow and Spencer shared a look.

“I’m impressed,” hummed Spencer. “Though I’ve heard that the East Germans have built a steam locomotive that’s almost able to match Mallard’s speed.” Mallard’s eye twitched. “No they haven’t!” she suddenly snarled, spooking several of the passengers on the platform. “I am the fastest. That’s my role! Don’t talk such drivel around me.”

Spencer sighed. As the only one of Mallard’s siblings willing to speak to her, and one of only four engines that had spoken to Mallard (he’d checked with Duchess of Hamilton) in the last ten years, he was uniquely able to see just how much his younger sister had changed.

Where Mallard had once been a healthy pale, her pallor had grown almost dangerously blue – while her formerly vibrant eyes had gone dull, with just a hint of something… unsettling in them. And yet her paintwork was spotless, her brass polished until it glistened in the sun, even after a full run with passengers.

“Are you alright?” asked Spencer quietly. Gordon and Green Arrow pretended not to hear. “I beg your pardon?!” roared Mallard, spooking yet more passengers. “Are you insinuating something?! That such a simple run would tire me out? I am the fastest steam engine in the world – I am more than competent, thank you.” “I just wanted to ch—” “Well don’t!” sneered Mallard. “I am fine.”

Spencer’s tentative frown turned downwards into a scowl, and the great silver engine hissed steam as he started away. Gordon watched him go, knowing deep in the pit of his boiler that the silver engine wouldn’t be back.

Silver King had never truly forgiven his younger sister for the way she’d spoken to Silver Link, even if his name had changed, as had his owners and his lifestyle.

2013:

Spencer, Bittern, Dominion of Canada, Dwight D Eisenhower, Union of South Africa, and Sir Nigel Gresley all stood in awkward silence. Their sister – Mallard – was being wheeled out of the museum for a photoshoot. “So… did you hear her last night?” asked Dwight quietly. “She was screaming at the shunting diesels again.” “I can’t believe they made me agree to his,” hissed Spencer. “I promised myself after 1988 – never again. And yet here I am. At least Scott gets to hide in the workshops.” “It cannot be that bad?” tried Woodcock – only the humans called her Dominion of Canada, “I mean… she has to have made some friends in there, right?” “Unlikely,” snorted Osprey – the humans had given her that name in the 1980s, and she much preferred it to ‘Union of South Africa’, “she spends most of her days just glaring at everyone. Last I heard, it’s a real treat for them when she gets brought out here to be gawked at.”

“Shh! Shh! She’s coming,” warned Bittern. The six all went silent as Mallard was dragged off the turntable and over to the line of engines.

“Ah, good, you all made it,” Mallard said haughtily. “It’s what I deserve, getting the humans to bring you all here to celebrate our class’s greatest achievement.” “What you—” Osprey cut off, indignant. Beyond her, Dwight gawked in shock while Spencer just rolled his eyes. The shunter braked the famous engine to a stop, jolting slightly.

“Did you just jolt me?” hissed Mallard, voice deathly quiet. The shunter gulped. “Don’t you dare!” snapped Spencer, speaking to the world-record holder for the first time in nearly thirty years. “You cannot deride these hard-working engines, I refuse to allow it!” “Oh? As if you are any better, Mr Private Engine,” sneered Mallard. “Silver King, the weird runt of the class who galivants off to that backwards island where our Crewe-rebuilt cousin lives.” “Gordon still pulls his express!” roared Spencer, letting off steam furiously. “Gordon treats everyone with respect! He’s a far better representative of our railway than you are – he’s out there, pulling passengers and acting as the ambassador for Gresley’s work. He holds a record for the longest-serving express engine in the world!”

“He has Midland parts,” snarled Mallard. “He’s a mongrel of parts, and I can’t stand him! I can’t stand him and his righteousness! This is my celebration, my record, my museum! He can talk when he has a proper record of his own. Let’s see him try and beat me – oh wait, didn’t he lose his dome last time he attempted that?”

None of the other A4s spoke, and the moment the photoshoot was over, all four in steam left, taking Dwight and Woodcock with them, leaving Mallard alone.

2016:

Flying Scotsman sat outside the NRM, steam wafting from his funnel. He was the last one left. Spencer had permanently relocated to Sodor after 2013, the other A4s steered clear of York Museum, Gordon had his own work, and Green Arrow had moved to Shildon. So, it was only him left to talk to her.

“Oh, it’s the money pit.” “Mallard. I came to say goodbye.” “Goodbye? Where are you going, Gresley Disgrace?” “I’m going to run mainline excursions,” Flying Scotsman replied evenly. “I’m not going to have to listen to you anymore when you scream abuse at the others or rant about the new PRR engine.” “Rant? Abuse? 4472, you don’t understand! I am Gresley’s pride and joy! I am the greatest – he would roll over in his grave if he saw you now. It’s my destiny to be the greatest – and everyone needs to accept that!” “Sir Nigel Gresley loved us all equally,” snapped Flying Scotsman. “And don’t you forget, any one of your class—”

“I did it!” roared Mallard. “Me! Not any of you! I am the world record breaker – I am the greatest steam engine of all time! You’re nothing compared to me! I am Sir Nigel’s triumph! I am the legacy of the Northeasters! Me! How dare you speed to me like that?! Learn your place!”

Flying Scotsman stared evenly back at the shrieking engine. “I have,” he said simply. “And it’s not here. The other engines can survive listening to your abuse, but I don’t have to. You’re nothing, Mallard. Not anymore. You sit here, on this siding, in this shed, and you cling to the past because that’s all you’ll ever have.”

Flying Scotsman puffed out of the shed, the wrecked screams of his cousin following him through the sliding shed doors. They transformed from howls of rage into a hail of screeching tears, as Mallard’s entire self-worth crashed down on her. The former icon of steam and speed finally lost it, all the rage and anger and simmering hatred growing inside her frames boiling over as she cursed her cousin.

Flying Scotsman couldn’t help but feel sorry for the engine – but all the same, she had spent decades wrecking their designer’s good name with her attitude. Her stardom had placed her up on a pedestal – one where the loneliness of fame had engulfed her.

Back to Master Post

#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #railways #traintober 2023 #traintober #ttte mallard #ttte flying scotsman #ttte green arrow #ttte spencer #ttte gordon #mental problems #Mallard loses her humanity

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afewfantasies · 16 days

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🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter III

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Misc references & details

Summary: A threat to Lorena's safety leads to Gales assessment and acknowledgement of his complicated feelings for Lorena. Lorena tries her best to make peace with her past and what she's willing to accept in her future.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings: Spiking of drinks and gender based dangers relevant for the times.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 2K

Chapter III - In Care of Gale Cleven

Another month has passed....

“Hey boss?” Kurt asks as Gale reviews the ledgers. “I think we have trouble, some guys came in flirting with Lorena pretty hard. They look like bad news” Kurts words alert Gale.

“Who’s in there now?”

“Jeff and Andy” Kurt responds as his boss grabs a pistol. He knew bad news and a beautiful unmarried woman in the middle of nowhere would be easy pickings for some. Locking up his ledgers he heads into the Lodge. He finds Lorena behind the bar like they’d practiced just in case of emergency. All four pigs are hanging on her every word they look and smell like trouble. Gale gives Kurt a hand signal telling him to call in the guys in the case of more trouble and sits to the bar not as an owner but as a patron. It gets the attention of the patrons and Lorena who gives him a soda. Gale never looked for fights but since the war sometimes he found himself seeking them out. Men who rejected the notion of peace needed to know some horrors and he would be the one to hand out that dose of reality for them.

“You alright?” Gale asks Lorena just above a whisper.

“Yeah” she nods. “Brown hat has a knife and denim jacket has a pistol” she whispers. A shrill whistle cuts through the air.

“Come on back over here darling, leave old blondie alone” One of the four trouble makers shouts.

“She’s no dog you don’t whistle at a woman!” One of the regulars says from his table as Jeff rids it of his dishes.

“Mind your business senior” One responds and the others laugh.

“Just apologize, you don’t whistle at women” Lorena says topping them back up.

“Sorry love more whisky” the loser in denim winks. Nodding she heads into the back feeling the promise of a brawl. Rose had taught her the unethical practice of drugging certain patrons. Reaching the glass viles she pours the necessary drops into the bottle of whisky swishing the bottle around. When she emerges more familiar faces have taken their seats. She pours four fresh whiskeys and in ten minutes the trouble makers are knocked out on the pine.

Gale takes point leaving Jeff with Rose and Lorena. He and the guys rid the troublemakers of their possessions getting their identification and car keys. He loads them up onto his flatbed truck covering them with a tarp like their dead men. Kurt and Rainey hop in the two cars they arrived in. Gale is in lead driving to the other side of the mountain. They’d wake up lost and with a serious headache. When he’d purchased the lakehouse from Rose she’d been forthcoming about all the dangers about being away from civilization. The sleeping drafts had been something her mother suggested after her and her husband had been attacked. He’d been engaged then to his dream girl. It was only supposed to be a cottage then. Rose and her boys would run it but then the war came and he left and when he returned home single he couldn’t bare to frequent the places he once had with his fiancé. He couldn’t stomach the noise and bustle of the city. He needed peace, he needed quiet and a simple life. The mountains weren’t without issue but simplicity served him well. Arriving at his favourite spot to dump miscreants he pulls into a cliff. Kurt and Rainey behind him. They put the guys in the cars leaving the keys in the ignition. They leave a can of petrol for them and one bullet in the chamber of their gun. They were so far inland that they could drive in any direction for an hour before finding a way out. That’s what Gale was banking on.

In five months Lorena had come to belong to him in a sort of way. She was his responsibility, she lived in his home, under his roof and anything she needed he provided. They shared breakfasts together and he checked on her every night before settling in. Whatever she wanted she got, he’d spent the equivalent of days chopping down trees and using wood to make her custom furniture for her books and her plants and for shelving. Her’s was the only room in his home expertly decorated. So much so he could hardly recognize it. Although he grumbled often about her frilly ways he enjoyed nothing as much as her smiling and happy. Nothing he hated more than her melancholy. With every new letter came a day of tears and sulking. No matter how he tried to consider the facts he couldn’t fathom a scenario where leaving Lorena for another woman would be feasible. The way she handled patrons he could tell she would make a fine mother and wife. After what Egan had said he knew Lorena had loved her ex-husband more fiercely than most men could imagine and she was still loyal to him.

Gale found himself thinking about her on some nights. Thinking of heading into her room and holding her all night and studying her soft features in the morning light. Waking up bathed in the scent of her perfume with her in his arms and not spending the dreadful hour before she woke up downstairs waiting to hear her footsteps pad across her bedroom into the bathroom. But she never looked at him the way the other women did. She didn’t stare longingly or even coyly. She’d never let looks linger with desire and he’d never heard her call a man like him handsome, although everyone else seemed to think of him that way. He thought of what it would be like to come home to her regularly and since their trip into the city he’d been unable to solicit discreet widows for carnal pleasure.

They’d make a handsome couple he thought often but she would never be his in that way. So he put the thoughts away as quickly as they came and his charge would be her protection and preservation like anyone else under his care. If he had to dump four scoundrels in the middle of bear country in the summer he would. Without regrets or remorse because nothing would ever happen to Lorena under his watch.

Back at the lodge he heads up to Roses place and finds supper has been prepared. Lorena sits on the sofa mending one of his shirts as she hums along to the record playing. He watches her in the doorway.

“All settled?” Rose asks.

“Mhm” he nods looking back to Lorena.

“She’s fine they were talking to her filthy but she’s not shaken up” Rose explains.

“Good, I’ll need more of those sleeping drafts” Gale mumbles.

“Mail came after you left” Rose notifies him. He swallows puzzled. Looking at Lorena it’s easy to see she’s in good spirits and not in her usual funk.

“She read the letters?”

“No, one from the ex that was pretty thick and one from the sister” Rose discloses missing nothing even at her old age. Nodding Gale looks up to see Lorena is now aware of his return. She snips a thread and stands draping his shirt over her arm.

“Everything alright, no one was hurt right?”

“No” Gale affirms looking her over.

“Come here, let me see it” Rose says holding up the shirt. Gale smiles seeing the rip gone but a mangled stitch replacing the gaping hole.

“Lorena” Rose tsk’s disapprovingly.

“It’s wearable still” Gale defends with a mocking smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart” Rose tiptoes kissing Lorenas temple.

“Tomorrow” she nods following Gale back to the house. They walk side by side as he uses a torch to light the way. “Thank you” Lorena whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me”

“I do you all take great care of me, let me do as I please and don’t judge me for it” she whispers sticking close. “Only loose and abandoned women work” she says as her mother and other society ladies did.

“Well you’re neither” Gale corrects in a clipped tone.

“Next month would be my sixth wedding anniversary” Lorena confesses slightly over the sound of gravel under their feet. Gale can’t make out more than her figure in the darkness. “My sister Fefe, has spent the day with me since the war. Last year we threw this big dinner party since Reggie was home. I got a letter from both of them today. I bet Fe wants me to come home” Lorena says sounding solemn.

“Why can’t Fefe come here?” Gale asks making her smile. He was a man that didn’t do nicknames ad the silly childhood moniker sounded silly coming from a grown man.

“Felicia” Lorena corrects. “She’d tell daddy who’d come here and make a big stink about me living in the woods with a man. He’d say he didn’t pay for my education and indulge my interests in fashion and hosting to have me stay here” Lorena explains.

“I see and my colour won’t help either will it?” Gale asks.

“My folks aren’t prejudice, maybe my daddy is a little but that’s cause his grandfather was a Native American” Lorena explains.

“So they want you remarried?” Gale asks.

“They do but all the suitors remember me as this happy young beautiful person. The young woman I was before the war” she whispers in reflection.

“Lorena I think anyone would be happy to have you as their wife” Gale says frankly.

“Gale I’m spoiled” she swallows heading up the stairs to their home.

“Why’s that?” He asks lighting the home as he looks down at her.

“I’ve already been in love, I know that that’s like. I’ve had a loving marriage.” She says. “I know what’s like and I’d know the difference and it’d haunt me” she confesses leaving Gale to nod I understanding. “And you and the guys spoil me rotten, there’s nothing you all wouldn’t do for me and you want nothing in return” she smiles. “I can imagine having to bat my eyes and be sweet for some pocket money or a new dress. Or sing the praises of a man who feels he owns me because of the marriage certificate” she says having thought through her options throughly. Raking his hands through his hair Gale thinks a moment horrified by the prospect himself.

“Any son of a bitch mistreats you I want you to send a letter here about where he spends his days and nights. I’ll take care of it for you doll” he says seriously. Lorena often wondered how such a gentle man found violence so natural to him. Smiling she shakes her head.

“It’s better I stay so I don’t damn either of our souls” Lorena smiles. Gale does too reaching out for her. She walks into his arms appreciating the hug and his care of her.

“Tell your sister to meet you in the city and I’ll drive down with you and bring her up here. You can have the house”

“My room is big enough for Fe and I”

“Well if Felicia’s a respectable woman her husband may not like her sleeping in the same house as a single man” Gale concludes.

“He isn’t like that, Felicia can do as she pleases. But I’ll send for her, thank you Gale” she says heading upstairs. It went without saying Gale was beginning to arrive at the place where there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep Lorena safe and comfortable. Stopping halfway up the flight of stairs Lorena turns around stopping him in his tracks.

“Really, thank you” she smiles getting only a smiling nod in response. “Take me shopping tomorrow?” She asks only to receive the same gestures. “Goodnight Gale”

“Goodnight Lorena” he says and she pauses before finishing the ascend and heading to his room. Her smile had been infectious since the first day he’d seen it. Lorena had been laughing at Jeff’s clumsiness, the fool had been half performing for her attention but as long as anything wasn’t too broken Gale let it go on appreciating the unfamiliar sounds of woman’s laughter as he sat in his corner numb to it.

Authors Note: Thank you for reading :) Let me know if you all want this to continue. The next Chapter has Lorena's older sister coming into town. She doesn't hold back and see's Gales feelings for Lorena.

#austin butler imagine #austin butler #austin butler x black reader #gale cleven x oc #gale cleven #major gale cleven #masters of the air #masterlist #black authors #austin butler x oc #austin butler fanfiction

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christabelq · 3 months

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Hey, It’s another of those posts where I jabber on about costume design for a while💬💬. This time I’m focusing on my Tank Girl baseball cap. I didn’t do enough with this for it to need a tutorial ,but there are a few features I want to highlight, because I think they’re pretty cool. Unlike most of my Tank Girl stuff, it isn’t based on anything in the comics or movie. I bought the hat itself because it was going cheap in my local army navy store and decided to customise it because I had a bunch of stuff left over from my Tank Girl helmet project🪖 (see earlier post).

The first improvement I made was to fix a strap and plastic slider to the back. This was partly to make the size adjustable, but mainly because I wanted something to hang stuff from. The process was simple and just took a bit of sewing. Once I’d done that, I sewed on a couple of patches as well – one with a target on, because as any Tank Girl fans will know, that’s kind of her trademark, and a flower, just because I like flowers.

Then I spelt out TANK with letter cubes on a chain and added this. I bought a huge bag of these letter cubes a while back, but annoyingly, there were no Ts, so I had to modify one of the I cubes to make the word I wanted. Next, I pinned on some badges and also attached a few old toys which I picked up in a thrift store.

The final addition was a toy tank. This was another thrift store purchase and was in pretty bad shape when I got it. Parts were messily painted, other parts were worn and the wheels were busted. I was going to hang it on the hat as it was. Then I remembered how sick the tank in the TANK GIRL movie looks and thought it would be cool to make the toy one into a little replica. I stripped it down to bare metal with some nail varnish remover (which I always have plenty of), and fixed the wheels with some trusty super glue (I use Gorilla myself, though as I’m not getting any sponsorship money from them, I’d like to point out that there are other brands available). Next, I sprayed it matt black. Although it’s only small, this took a couple of days, because I had to let one side dry before I could turn it over to do the other one. In the time between, I rewatched the movie to check what the real tank looked like (which I enjoyed immensely as always). The paint job was too complicated for me to have copied exactly on such a small toy, so I drew a simplified design to work from. Then I got to work painting and was surprised by how well it turned out. As I say, the pictures on it aren’t identical to the movie ones, but I definitely think I captured the spirit of it. I just wish it was big enough for me to do a photo shoot with and take out for spin. What can I say… me 💜 tanks.

I’ve already posted a few pics of me wearing the cap and will be posting more soon. See them here or at 👉ko-fi.com/christabelq👈. Tanks for reading this and have a wonderful weekend.

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catchyhuh · 4 months

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Sometimes what people wear as pajamas is a weird indicator of personality so... What’s your opinion on their pajamas?

it took less than a second for me to go “how do pjs indicate personaliOhhh wait yeah that does make sense” as I realized I was folding up multiple adult size cartoon character onesies for my own pajama drawer. let’s get into it BUT UH DISCLAIMER i mostly talk about patterns in canon i’ve noticed with just… tiny personal thoughts in here. less headcanons more breakdown. NOW let’s get into it

lupin:

two modes-- soft, fuzzy button up set, or just his underwear. somewhat depending on weather, DEFINITELY depending on mood. i mean you don't wanna get COLD and he got those nice purple heart pajamas with an actual, legal purchase, so it'd be stupid to waste them ALL the time!

there could be a joke here about how he’d probably just sleep naked if the gang weren’t constantly groaning in annoyance, throwing pillows at him begging him to put on some damn pants, but the reality is… he can’t really sleep like that. it’s uncomfy :( he tried :) but it’s uncomfy :(

jigen:

you aren't ready for this. or you are. you likely are, given i had to choose between like 3 different pictures i have of him in fits like this

and i’m dead serious. big ass ankle length nightgown with matching cap. no, really. these are his actual pajamas. they’re comfy to him. i can’t fathom why, maybe the fabric is just equal parts breathable and warm, maybe he did this once for the bit and realized it was the best sleep he ever had, WHATEVER, these are his pajamas, and no amount of teasing by now will stop him from changing into these before going to bed

i have to respect them for committing to this bit, because you think, oh, he’s the coolest. he wouldn’t have lame pajamas. no he does. very lame. hilariously so. arose such a clatter type shit. nighty night scrooge

fujiko:

now, she would LIKE to say big, fluffy, fancy nightgown… but the texture feels bad scrubbing against your skin all night, so she usually just opts for a simpler nightgown. or, like lupin, just her underwear. obvious fanservice aside she’s clearly comfy bundled up like that so you show em how its done fujiko

no matter how cold it gets, she can never really sleep in pajama pants. shorts, maybe, but anything that reaches past her knees feels restrictive, hence why she normally just goes for the nightgown. she doesn’t even kick in her sleep idk why it’s such a big deal!

goemon:

i had to look through a bunch of stuff because i was like. wtf. what DOES he wear to bed. he can’t just be wearing his usual clothes all day and night, it would be uncomfortable. so i’ve come to the conclusion that these virtually identical clothes here are just made of a softer material, designated as goemon’s jammies

or he just. sleeps in his underwear. it really is comfsorry the mental image of the camera panning across three beds where they’re sleeping in their underwear vs jigen still rocking the victorian fit is killing me a bit

zenigata:

have you noticed he sleeps with his hat on more than jigen does. isn’t that fucked. jigen has a special sleeping hat but the alleged NON-hat-obsessed guy is the one sleeping in it. due to his… hectic routine, he never really has a default type of pjs. either he just sleeps in what he was already wearing (c’mon, man) or he’s packed like, some pajama pants, or (take another shot because this series loves this gag) just hits the hay in the heart print boxers. jigen really is a scientific outlier.

USUALLY if he’s bothering to actually change, it’s just the undershirt he’s already got on and some comfy pants, the kind you can get at like walmart for five bucks, so if he’s forgotten to bring them it’s no biggie. damn anon was right this IS a personality indicator!

BONUS YATA!:

as we have oft discussed, yata is a man we have all met at one point in our lives. so, yata has the basic boring man pajamas. t-shirt that’s too big for him but he forgot to return it, and seasonal pajama pants. the pants always seem to mismatch the season, he wore the snowflake ones during summer, and now he’s wearing the halloween ones in winter?

the shirt itself is also mundanely mysterious. nobody can really place the logo on it, and he doesn’t really remember where he got it from either. it doesn’t bother him too much until it’s pointed out to him

#there's talk of nudity but it's like. a two second nonsexual joke. idk if that warrants a WARNING but i will tell you here. its lupin.#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #yata

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theangelwithawand · 1 year

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So I’m doing a Marvelous Mrs. Maisel rewatch (to remind myself of when the show was good). I got to the Season 2 episodes with Benjamin and… I don’t like him. I always thought he was kind of boring, but had a few good moments with Midge, but now…

From the beginning, he’s just so unnecessarily rude to Midge, and only after she riffs along to the radio and proves herself sufficiently “weird” that he shows any interest in her.

Their relationship seems rushed too. We don’t see their first kiss or him meeting the family.

He springs marriage on her out of nowhere, after ambushing her at the park. The man is a doctor and supposedly very smart, I don’t know why he would think this was a good idea. He hadn’t met Joel but he’s proposing? Even Abe points out how rushed their relationship is.

Then there’s Midge, who falls back into old habits. She bends over backwards to meet Benjamin’s desires, even if it means putting herself at risk. She feels like she has to put makeup on in the mornings. She didn’t even mention Benjamin to Susie.

It’s later revealed that he bought a townhouse for himself and Midge, but didn’t consult her about it, because she apparently didn’t even know about it.

Even from their first date there are signs that Benjamin is never going to be enough for Midge. First of all, she knows immediately when and where Lenny’s show is, and it is her first instinct to go to him. Once Lenny is onstage, Midge is captivated. She only looks at Benjamin to gauge his reaction to Lenny. Her approval of Benjamin hinges on his approval of Lenny. (Personally, my favorite part is when Benjamin spends less than a minute watching Lenny and Midge interact and he is immediately like, “Did they…?”)

But the most interesting interactions come in S2E7: Look, She Made a Hat. Benjamin takes Miriam to an art show, something he knows she has no interest in. Now, yes I think you should try to take an interest in your partner’s hobbies, but the thing is, Benjamin keeps leaving to go brag or get drinks, and makes no effort to include her.

Now, contrast that with Lenny in S3E5: It’s Comedy or Cabbage. Lenny says he has a “work thing” which he brings Midge to, which turns out to be an appearance on Miami After Dark. He could’ve easily dumped Midge backstage for the entire show. But does he? Of course not. He brings her out to do a bit, have fun, and get her some exposure. He does this over the objections of the crew, because he loves her.

Returning to 2.7, Midge finds a painting she likes and buys it. She returns to Benjamin excitedly to show it off, but he demeans it. “That’s where they put the very minor artists. Or the mops.” Then he tells her that she overpaid and Midge feels the need to justify her purchase.

After the show, they head to the Cedar Tavern and Midge expressly tells Benjamin that he isn’t paying attention to her. Then, Declan Howell is introduced and Midge is captivated. Here is a man, an artist, who talks dirtier than he looks and can hold a crowd’s attention and make them laugh. And Benjamin is hesitant for Miriam to be around him.

Benjamin abandons Midge again in a situation that he thinks could be dangerous (yes he’s on call but still). And Declan gives Midge his complete attention. He is no longer dismissive, but attentive.

He asks her why she bought the painting she showed him yesterday. He remembered. She seems taken aback by the question, and even more shocked when he doesn’t accept her flippant response. She realizes he isn’t asking to make her feel bad.

When she finally gives her answer, “…She knows a joke that I don’t…” (Midge likes art that is warm and full of laughter which is a piece of characterization that I love), he is staring at her intently, and realizes she is worth showing his life’s work to, being vulnerable in front of. He listens to her answer.

Like Lenny does. Yup. It’s time to talk about The Blue Room.

Lenny stares at Midge like Declan does (but more because it’s Lenny). Lenny was listening to her, he always listens to her, and proves it by quoting her act.

“You are more important than God.”

“You were listening?” Midge asks this like it’s something she’s unaccustomed to (because it is).

“To you? Always.”

Men like Declan, men like Lenny, hold Midge’s interest for a reason: they listen to her. They make an effort to understand her. They show interest in things she likes without real judgement. They are real with her when no one else is. And that’s why it didn’t work with Benjamin. Because he just wanted someone to bum a light.

Midge needs someone who will give her the last puff.

#the marvelous mrs maisel #midge maisel #lenny bruce #lenny x midge #tmmm #tmmm spoilers #the marvelous mrs. maisel

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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You're both either Ponies or Humans for obvious reasons. Was originally deleted for personal reasons.

Yandere! Rarity with Fashion Model! Darling

Short Concept

Reupload/Repost

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Yandere-like behavior, Obsessive behavior, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Implied forced partnership/relationship.

- A fashion model from Canterlot wants to try her dresses!?

- Someone catch her….

- She can’t believe you love her dresses and want to model for her!

- Every dress Rarity makes is checked to be sure they’re absolutely perfect.

- It just makes the unicorn melt when you tell her how well she did.

- Even offering to purchase some of the dresses she created for you!

- “Oh, of course! I’ll make as many as you like! Just tell me what’s your style and I’m on it!”

- She can barely contain herself when you offer for her to be your personal fashion designer.

- Her friends are both happy and a little concerned about her enthusiasm.

- It’s great she’s found something/someone she’s passionate about…

- But are you aware of how much she talks about you when you aren’t with her?

- It’s obsessive.

- “We’ve been going to the spa together! Also, I’ve been designing all sorts of new styles! Hats, dresses, shoes… Ohhhh, I can’t wait!”

- Rarity wants to do just everything with you.

- When you eventually invite her to Canterlot for a trip, she’s eager to accept.

- You always talk with each other and discuss new looks to reveal at shows.

- Rarity is living the dream….

- It’s no surprise she grows close to you to fuel her obsession.

- Often pushing others away so it’s just the two of you together.

- She even got upset at one point because you wore something she didn’t make.

- “That’s… not the clothing I made for you- Why are you wearing that?”

- Slowly you’ll learn that allowing Rarity to be so close to you may not have been the best decision.

- The young unicorn is a bit too obsessive.

- Although, you may be in too deep now.

- It doesn’t appear Rarity plans on letting you get away from her anytime soon.

- She’ll keep you beside her even if it means getting her hooves dirty, you just look so beautiful in her dresses….

- “Oh, I love you so much! You look so pretty in what I make! I heard there’s a new fabric shop in Canterlot. Why don’t we check it out?”

#yandere my little pony #yandere mlp #yandere rarity

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lunarhobbits · 1 year

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using the tiermakers made by @americangirlstar and coming up with some interesting metrics for how the girls' collections are distributed. Samantha has the biggest one, despite currently being cubed (T_T), with Molly as a close second, partially due to all the reprints and re-releases she's had. Poor Claudie has the smallest collection by far.

even MORE info/observations under the cut:

i accidentally put caroline's cow under outfits instead of accessories, o o p s

Rebecca's last category is supposed to say "Somehow both clothes and furniture/accessories" - Rebecca's Costume Chest and Rebecca's School Play Set were both available at one point or another with the furniture/accessories as separate components and at a different point bundled together like in the pictures, and her Seashore Set always came with the chair.

NOT adjusted for reprints, re-releases, revamps that change the accessories (i.e. Addy's Kite-Flying Outfit/Flower-Picking Outfit aka Dress and Bouquet/Blue Dress, which are all the same dress but with different accessories) or adjustments under the same name (i.e. the four variations of Molly's dog Bennett)

best friends and their collections are grouped with the main historicals

some of these were kind of hard to determine what was "furniture" vs "accessories", so my general rule of thumb was:

Dolls: if what you purchased would include the doll itself, as well as mini dolls

Outfits: clothes for the doll - had to be composed of at least either a full body outfit OR shirt/pants - shoes/socks/hats/ribbons/etc that came with them are included

Accessories: shoes/socks/hats/ribbons/etc that needed to be purchased SEPARATELY from the doll or an outfit (i.e. Samantha's Elegant Hat and Muff was sold separately from her Plaid Cape and Gaiters despite always being pictured together) OR small handheld items, such as dolls for the dolls and other toys OR pets, as they're clearly meant to compliment the collection.

Furniture: obviously things like tables and chairs, but also big items like trunks or playsets, and small items, like table settings. basically if it could qualify as a household furnishing, it would go here.

Girls + Misc: Clothes or other accessories, life-sized edition.

Books + Misc: books, puzzles, games, you name it, as long as it's printed and for humans to use

??????: stuff that didn't fit anywhere OR i couldn't tell what it was

I couldn't decide where some items belonged - the horses are big and expensive enough that they should qualify as furniture, but theyre yknow. animals. which were all going in accessories otherwise, since they're clearly part of a collection complementing the doll and not just a standalone item.

The funniest case of this is probably Felicty's sister Polly, who could reasonably be categorized as either of those (comes with cradle, which is household furnishings; is clearly meant to compliment Felicity's collection, like the pets) OR a doll (cause she. is one.)

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