#a love letter to the city and the countryside

[xxacademy]

Throne of His Own

This fic is inspired & adapted from chapter 42 of A Court Of Mist And Fury, by Sarah J. Maas. Plot is original, but I took heavy influence from the events of that scene. <3

Leon Kennedy x Agent!Reader (she/her)

18+ MDNI !!

Summary: Being sent to a rural French village to go undercover with a band of vampires was strangely typical for your line of work— But, pretending to be lovers with another agent was anything but typical. Adapting yourself from a trained agent to a submissive lover unfolds in an unexpected series of events.

Word count: 10.2k

Content warnings: smut, AFAB anatomy, exhibitionism, penetrative sex, pet names, slightly mean possessive Leon (only when he has to be), alcohol consumption, typical violence and themes associated with resident evil (like mentions/ use of weapons).

a/n: somewhere, deep in the void, this was intended to be about 2k words, just a little one shot... but now here we are, lol. anyways thank you guys for being so patient, and thank u to my besties on here for being so kind and understanding. life is crazy, and truly i cannot keep up as consistently as i’d like to. i will always be here, even if i take some long breaks here & there. i love all u resident evil obsessed freaks, my life wouldn’t be the same without u xx also i finally decided to not be lazy & do the cute colored letters i hope u enjoy hehe

— PART I —

You peered out the window as you were driven through the endless sprawl of the snow-covered French countryside. A blur of powdery white pines occasionally broken up by small villages nestled into the hills.

Behind all those tall trees were the ragged peaks of the hulking French Alps, so expansive they nearly cut the sky in half. The beauty and stillness of winter was in full effect. Every little village had plumes of warming smoke gathering above the chimneys.

The agent driving the car interrupted your silent musing over the scenery. "You'll have to hike in. It's about 5 miles to the village, but we can't risk getting too close."

With one hand still on the wheel, he reached for the center console, pulled out a large envelope, and tossed it in your lap.

"There you'll find the information you need. Your partner, Leon Kennedy, has been undercover, posing as one of them."

Your voice is monotone, almost disinterested. "And who's them?"

"Some parasite-infected blood suckers. Leon has described them as a vampiric blood cult or something."

"And I'm just expected to waltz into all this? A blood cult? Really?"

"He talked about having a lover, a woman he returned home to, and at the time, it was just banter to fit in with them. But the cultists want to meet her. Either they're getting suspicious, or they want to play ball. Regardless, this served as a rather interesting opportunity to give Leon backup. So here you are."

Your knuckle rests below your bottom lip; you watch as the sun begins its descent below the icy mountain peaks. 

So here I am. 

You and one of the few other survivors of Raccoon City. You've met him, sure, but you have yet to work alongside him. But, you'd always known the day would come. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You were driven as far as the meandering forest service road would allow. Ahead of you, where the road was no more, towering evergreens had taken over. Their limbs were heavy with packed snow, creating a dense cover over the forest. Only a sliver of the remaining purple-tinted dusk made it through the trees.

"This is where you're on your own. Here are the coordinates for where you'll meet up. Just stay north until you find an abandoned barn. That's where he'll be."

You nod in understanding, equipping your array of weapons—a rifle on your back, a pistol on your hip, and a machete on the other.

"We'll have you out before the end of the week," the agent said, helping you put your pack on.

"I'll count my blessings," your face was solemn as you faced the trees, attempting to size up what lay ahead.

"Well then, you're set. The best of luck to you." a sympathetic smile formed on the agent's lips as he stepped back into the car.

Without hesitation, you departed into the cold, dark wilderness.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Seven miles may not have been a lot for you, but Seven miles of trekking through uncharted backcountry in the dark of winter was. You were chilled to the bone, and the numbness of your limbs limited your mobility ten-fold. 

The thick undergrowth of the forest only got denser as you progressed, and your machete-wielding arm throbbed with every strike.

You stumbled up an embankment. With every step, loose, powdery snow slipped underneath your winter boots. Each sharp breath you took appeared as mist, illuminated by your headlamp.

As you finally reached the crest of the hill, you spotted a dilapidated barn at the base. It was nestled underneath a skeletal weeping willow tree. As you moved closer, you noticed half of its roof had caved in. Just one billow of wind could send the thing toppling.

You made your way down the slope, encroaching on the barn. You pulled out your pistol and dimmed your headlamp just to be safe.

Focusing on sound, you surveyed the area for footsteps, rustling, or speaking.

There was not a peep to be heard. Aside from the occasional whisper of wind, the surrounding forest was eerily quiet.

The crunch of the snow under your boots was frustratingly loud as you circled the barn's perimeter, searching for traps.

To your surprise, you peeked through a frosty window and saw the dull glow of a lantern, and a man sat beside it.

He was bundled head to toe in fur-lined clothing similar to your own. His eyes flicked up, and they met with yours. Without speaking, he signaled you in.

You couldn't recall what he looked like, but you remember a distinctly boyish look despite him being around your age when the incident happened. But the person who stood before you was a lot different.

This man is rugged and muscular. His cheekbones are much more pronounced, and his pale blue eyes are set deep in their sockets. Gentle yet battle-hardened. All that boyishness has dissipated.

"Leon," he said, stretching a gloved hand toward yours. 

You stuttered your name through shivering lips, your hand meeting Leon's in a firm shake.

His tactful eyes scanned you, assumedly noting how cold you were.

"We really should get going. I've been holed up in a cabin only a few miles from here."

"Gladly, I'm freezing my ass off." 

Without any further small talk, Leon leads the way, setting out once again for the dark, unforgiving woods.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Make yourself comfortable; I'll get a fire going," Leon said, opening the door for you before heading back outside for firewood. 

You threw your pack onto the ground beside the fireplace. The room was completely dark, except for the small path illuminated by your headlamp.

You fumbled a matchbook out of your pocket and started to light the myriad of taper candles around the cabin. 

Warm candlelight flooded the room, illuminating the interior of the gothic-style cabin. It was constructed of dark, ashy wood—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and everything else.

Eclectic, mismatched carpets overlapped each other. And dark red curtains pooled along the ornate windows.

He called it a cabin, but the interior was rather grand.

Your heavy .22 caliber rifle had been digging into your back for hours, so you peeled it off with a relieving sigh. As you set it down on the wooden dining table, it made a hollow metallic clunk. You stripped off your other heavy layers onto the table, like your machete and belt, but kept on your fur-lined outerwear. Inside wasn't that much warmer.

With a heavy boot, Leon kicked open the front door, cradling wood in his forearms. With him, a gust of snow flurries blew into the cabin. He again kicked the door closed behind him and dumped the wood beside the fireplace.

"The snow is picking up again. You got here at the right time," Leon said, striking a match and tossing it into a pile of kindling inside the stone hearth.

You sit on a deep red Victorian-style couch in front of the fireplace. You sighed and kicked your boots up onto the coffee table.

"You call this place a cabin?" You say as your hand brushes the fine velvet upholstery of the couch.

"Well, when you see the rest of this village, you'll see why this place is considered just a cabin."

"These cultists must be the extravagant type then, huh?"

Leon piled wood onto the roaring fire, the crackling glow illumining his features. He stepped back from the heat and faced you, pulling off his heavy jacket. "Yeah, to say the least. They're greedy fuckers with bloodlines full of wealth. These gaudy homes just scratch the surface."

"So, now my real question is—how did you weasel your way in? How are you seriously posing as a cult member?" You stretched your shaky hands towards the fire, desperate for warmth. "You can't be serious that you, an American, just waltzed into a French village and are pretending to play cultist," you said with heavy speculation, your stern eyes meeting his.

Leon's lip ticked, calm eyes unbreaking from yours.

"They have plenty of outlets funneling within the United States, which gave us the perfect opening. We intercepted communications from a faction of theirs based in the States and used them as a bleed for information. Eventually, it was requested that they, we, send over a high-ranking nobility to come to France to one, act as a messenger, and two, be part of their transformation ritual."

"And that's where you came in?"

Leon's face went grave.

"Yeah, I trained to be and act like one of them. I learned every piece of information we know about this narcissistic vampire cult and its deviant religion. I've had to change everything about my life and thinking to be here. It's been months kissing ass in the hope of more information."

The room was becoming increasingly warm, and you started to feel claustrophobic in your winter clothing. You began to shed your layers of outerwear. 

"That sounds awful. I can't believe you've made it out here, alone, for so long..." you paused for a moment but resumed, "but please, tell me that it has been worth it."

The question loomed thick in the air as you struggled with your boots, eventually kicking them off and walking to the fire to warm your cold, damp feet. 

You could really get a good look at Leon here. He wore a tight black shirt that emphasized his muscular build and black cargo pants. His complexation looked soft against the warm firelight, juxtaposing the intensity of his prominent features.

He, too, seemed to be taking in your appearance as you sauntered toward the light. What he was thinking about was absolutely unknown, as he remained stone-faced.

"It has," he said, breaking the silence. "It has been worth it."

Leon's eyes drifted to his hands as if in a trance.

"What we now know about the cultists can completely change the course of this fight. But as I push forward, it's not going to be easy. I don't think this is going to end smoothly. That's why I needed backup." Leon cleared his throat. But there is a catch, too."

His eyes darted up to meet yours. You tensed, straightening your back, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. 

"The king, that fucking king, wants me to bring my lover."

Although you were briefed on this situation prior, nothing could have prepared you for hearing it from him directly. 

You laughed-- partly to ease the tension, but mainly because the mission-altering crux for the honored agent is his girlfriend.

"It's crazy, I know, but it couldn't be a more perfect invitation to bring another agent in." His cheeks flushed with the slightest hue of red.

"Please, tell me how you got into this situation in the first place". You tried to contain your laughter but failed.

Leon breathed an exasperated sigh.

"Well, the Lords, false prophets more like, banter about their romantic conquests. And well, after they all had drowned on about all the unsavory details, they looked at me, awaiting what story I had to tell."

"And what did you tell 'em?"

"I did what I had to do. I made up stories about having a girlfriend at home... And whatever else would keep them from asking too many questions." 

You nodded.

"They also bring their women to the castle and flaunt them like furs. Sometimes, it's literally for their blood. Most of the time, it's just to stroke their own ego by having pretty women hanging off them." Leon added.

Of course, the power-hungry vampire kings saw women as conquests. Ultimately, it shouldn't surprising that it would come to this.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

It's been a long, long day.

You have all the information you need at this point, and the exhaustion is quickly overtaking you. 

You yawn with outstretched arms, relaxing them to rub your heavy eyelids. Your body is finally warm, and you realize how well the bone-chilling cold kept you awake. 

"I'll show you to your room," Leon said, helping you collect the things you dumped around the room. He led you down a darkened hallway to your bedroom.

"There are some clothes and a few other things you may need. If you need anything else, my room is just across the hall," he stated, setting your things down. 

"Is there anything I need to know about tomorrow?" You added before Leon could step out of the room. 

"You'll have the day to adjust. We'll go over the mission then. Just focus on resting up for now."

His lips came to a subtle smile, "Goodnight."

You smiled back, "Goodnight to you too."

You surveyed the room, starting with the armoire. It was full of clothes that looked like they were from another time: grand dresses with sheer, lacy fabrics of black and red with low sweeping necklines. There was also a long black hooded cape, corsets, and tall-heeled boots. The drawers below housed underwear and pajamas. 

You slipped off your dingy clothes for a long black strappy nightgown from the armoire.

You hid your weapons around the room, your rifle, machete, and extra ammo in the closet, your knives in the vanity, and your pistol tucked under the mattress. 

Like the rest of the decor, the bed was ornate. It was intricately carved out of the same ashwood as the cabin. The white sheets were plush and soft to the touch.

After securing your room, you crawled into bed. Falling almost immediately into sleep. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

Blinding white winter's light singed your vision as you woke up in a panic, a persistent cracking noise echoed from outside. It was a splintering sound as if someone was trying to get in.

You stealthily crawled out of bed and cracked open the bedroom curtain to peer outside. Nothing of interest could be seen, only the quiet woods blanketed by fresh snow.

The woods were now illuminated by sunshine, making them appear significantly less intimidating than last night. That didn't make them any less haunting, though.

Pistol in hand, You tiptoed through the house in search of Leon. First, you knocked on his bedroom door, and when he didn't answer, you investigated the rest of the house. 

There were no signs of Leon, only the smell of something cooking and the sound of that grating thudding noise echoing through the house. 

You silently opened the front door and exited barefoot, the coldness of the snow against your skin sending shivers up your spine. The satin fabric of your nightgown offered no protection from the elements.

One step at a time, you sneaked around the side of the house. The thudding got louder with each pace, and your heartbeat raced with adrenaline.

Carefully, You rounded the corner to the source of the noise. Arms straight, gun drawn.

Leon's eyes, bewildered, raked your figure, and he huffed a laugh, "Good morning, super cop. You must be freezing."

He looked down the barrel of the gun before you put it down.

He was just chopping wood.

Clearly, your senses were on high alert. You felt embarrassed that something so trivial and ordinary ticked those mental alarms.

Defensively, you retorted, "Well, I'm not the one chopping wood in a creepy vampire town first thing in the morning! For God's sake, I thought someone was breaking in or attacking!" You huffed, crossing your arms, a once panicked stare turning to one of annoyance.

Leon dropped the axe in the snow, reaching for a large piece of wood. 

"And coming outside, in the dead of winter, wearing only a nightgown would have made a difference?" Leon said with a smirk, but it dropped quickly as he again reached for the axe to chop another piece of wood.

"And a gun! You seemed to have missed that part, and what else was I supposed to do? Spend 10 minutes putting my gear on?" You argued with a pout. Muscles tensed as adrenaline melted away.

You were still waking up and not in the mood to argue. But yes, you definitely could have kicked ass in your pajamas.

"Okay, okay, I promise I'm done pestering you. Breakfast is on the stove. You should go eat." 

Begrudgingly, you walked back inside, mumbling your frustrations to yourself. It's safe to say you're not a fan of rude awakenings.

While lounging on the couch, you ate the breakfast of eggs and bacon Leon had prepared. You flipped through your logbook, filling in everything that happened in the last 24 hours.

Leon opened the front door, shaking off his snow-covered clothing before entering. He'd been out there for hours, and it was evident in the sweat that lingered down the side of his forehead. 

Standing in the foyer, Leon peeled off his brown fur-lined bomber jacket and casually pulled the sweat-drenched black t-shirt over his head.

You watched him from where you sat on the couch, a bit confused as he acted as if no one was around.

You got a glimpse of the toned plane that was his back. He stretched his arms out, unintentionally giving you a better view. He rolled out his sore shoulder blades for a moment, and you discreetly watched from the corner of your eye.

You stifled whatever the fuck that feeling was and resumed your logbook. 

In an attempt to find some grievance, you cleared your throat. It was subtle enough not to seem suspicious but clear enough that Leon definitely heard you. 

But you're sure he was aware of you the entire time.

Leon walked toward the hallway and said, "I have a business to take care of at the castle; when I get back, we'll go over what's expected for the mission tomorrow. You'll find the notebook I've kept about these people on the bookshelf. You should skim it to familiarize yourself."

He walked into the bathroom without waiting for your reply. The only sound was the door shutting behind him.

Leon had left to take care of his end of the mission, and you remained alone in the cabin for the rest of the day. 

You bathed and changed into real clothes, skipping over the elaborate dresses in favor of the spare black jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt you packed. 

You left your bedroom to head to the living room but stopped at Leon's door adjacent to yours. 

You were curious about what his room looked like, and rightfully so. He was rather serious, not letting off much about his personal side. Even while working, other agents, like Jill Valentine, had more outward displays of self-identity. 

You wondered what the man behind the agent's identity was like, But you respectfully kept walking.

Typically, you're not overly curious about your cohorts, But people like Leon and Jill lived through the same tragedy you did. You often felt alone in your pain, But you found a sliver of comfort in knowing that you, in fact, were not.

You flipped through the very detailed notes Leon had taken. He explained the parasite they intended to use for "world domination," the pecking order amongst the rulers, detailed maps of the castle, and whatever else he found out. 

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

"Hey, wake up," Leon said gently, nudging your shoulder. 

You woke up sitting on the floor, arms crossed and body hunched over the coffee table. 

Through blurry vision, you saw Leon beside you, wearing a fancy white dress shirt and a tie loose around his neck. 

"What time is it?" You mumbled, sitting up to stretch out your very numb legs. 

"Late—I got back about an hour ago, I made dinner if you're hungry."

Leon reached out a hand, and you took it. Grunting as he helped you up.

"Yeah, I am," You replied, your stomach grumbling.

You sat at the dining table with Leon. He prepared grilled veggies and chicken for dinner, which was surprisingly good. 

"How'd it go," you asked between bites. 

"Fine, everything is going according to plan. We're all set for tomorrow," Leon replied,

"What exactly are we doing tomorrow?" you raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you saw those dresses in your room. You'll have to wear one, but it's easy from there. You'll stay quiet and follow my lead. You'll have to act like my girlfriend. But it will also be a good time to familiarize yourself with the castle and, you know, memorize the layout." 

Leon took a sip of wine and offered you a gentle look, "Are you okay with that?"

You replied, "Of course I am. It's a pretty small price to pay to take these fuckers down." You flashed a cheeky grin before taking a sip of your wine. "We got this."

You continued to talk over dinner, going back and forth and sharing each other's backgrounds. You told Leon about your experience in Raccoon City— what had happened and how you'd escaped it. 

But for you, It was surreal hearing about Leon's involvement in the incident. Hearing about the people he saved, the enemies he took down, and the sacrifices he made were… Comforting. 

Comforting to know someone else could actually relate to you. 

Comforting to know there is hope.

You know there are scars deep below the surface—you know that from experience. But meeting someone who still cares so much about helping others proves that those wounds do, in fact, heal.

You and Leon cleaned up the kitchen before saying goodnight and heading to your rooms for the night.

You lay in your plush bed, unable to sleep. Your mind is whirring with a frenzy of emotions. Your conversation with Leon is still sinking in. The nerves concerning tomorrow's mission stake their claim. 

It's okay. It's okay.

You try to soothe yourself. Suppress whatever unreconciled emotions were brought up.

Just finish the mission.

— PART II —

A beautifully lavish Victorian-style ball gown adorned your body. It has a flowing tiered skirt constructed from deep, blood-red satin. The bodice was corseted tightly to your abdomen, pushing your breasts up so that they are nearly spilling out of the gown's low square neckline. The quarter sleeves fit tightly but poof out at your elbows with frilly lace. The whole ensemble is accented with black bows and delicate lacework.

You watched yourself in the vanity mirror as you carefully pinned your hair up. Enchanted by the unfamiliar person the mirror reflected back.

This wasn't you. But a princess.

A princess who has never killed or witnessed the mass extinction of innocent people. A princess who didn't have to give up her normal life against her will.

Although seeing yourself dressed up like the beautiful person you'll never be was strange. But maybe, battle-scarred government agents could wear pretty dresses, sometimes.

With your hair set in place, you head to the living room, where you are met by Leon in an equally uncharacteristic outfit.

He took in your appearance, a smile decorating his face. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

You filled the silence instead. "You look nice." You spoke softly.

He did look nice.

Leon wore a billowy white shirt with ruffles along the neckline. The plunging neckline had a small corset-style detail, and it was tucked into a pair of perfectly fitted black trousers.

Simple, but effectively good-looking. The fit of his clothes came off as rich and a little romantic. Well suited for a band of vampires.

"As do you," Leon said, voice deep and restricted.

You hid your face by looking down at your shoes, concealing the growing flush along your cheeks. "Thank you." You said in almost a whisper.

"Are you ready?" he asked, offering his arm to you.

You nod in affirmation and thread your arm through his.

Leon led you through a little stone path through the woods. At this time, it was only about an hour before dusk.

The combination of winter woods and the near-setting sun created an image of beautiful calm. If you were to let your mind wander, It would feel like you were on a date, taking a stroll through the forest.

"I told you these cultists were sick bastards, right?" Leon said too casually.

You nod, "Yes, you definitely mentioned that."

The dense woods begin to clear, and the path leads to a small village. At the horizon, the pointed spikes of a grand castle make a lethal appearance. You take it all in, honing yourself into a covert weapon. Descending into this "character" of unexpected harm.

"And you understand that how I'll behave tonight is all a part of the act?" Leon asks for your assurance one last time before entering the village.

Your heels land on the cobblestone that had been cleared of snow. The warm glow of the town's candlelight radiates as the sun begins to set.

Making brief eye contact with a villager, you squeeze Leon's arm a little tighter and murmur, "I could say the same to you, my lord." A wicked smile now painted your face.

Leon whispered lowly, "Glad to see you're committed to the bit."

As a pair, you two walked through the town's main pathway, a straight shot to the looming castle ahead. You noted that the townspeople were off. 

Very, very off.

They behaved more like mindless zombies than people; their eyes glowed crimson red. Most of them just walked by idly, with no sense of purpose. Others stood hauntingly still, staring at you so intensely you felt it in your soul.

Even the farm animals that lingered on the streets were off. They walked erratically, and their eyes glowed, too.

This place gave you the creeps. Typical Umbrella.

Reaching the castle at last— It demanded your attention with its many oversized spires and massive arched windows. Light flowed red through the stained glass, adding to its intensity.

The snow-covered graveyard and cross-tipped spires informed you this wasn't just a castle but an unholy cathedral.

You had to walk through the graveyard to reach the entrance. You noted the tombstones engraved with outdated French names and dates as far back as the 1800s. It all added to the ancient terror surrounding the looming cathedral.

Upon arriving, the massive arched door began to creak open, and a man clad in a dark red suit greeted the two of you with a thick French accent. "Good evening, Sir Kennedy. We are so very pleased that you and your-" he paused, a sly smile forming, "madame, could make it."

Leon did not reply to the doorman.

He walked past with his head held high and eyes peering downwards. His look emanated superiority as if he had no interest in conversation with a man so far below him.

Leon grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, guiding you up the curved stairs that dominated the foyer.

You passed servants who wore simple, white, floor-length dresses with aprons and bonnets. Each servant stopped in their tracks to bow their head as you, he, walked past.

The action sent chills down your spine.

What was the true extent of power he reached in this so-called monarchy?

You arrived at a grand arched doorway swirled with ornamental gold detailing. Two men opened the doors in unison, letting you through.

Elegant music flooded the huge open ballroom. Orchestral pianos and violins serenaded your ears.

People waltzed, people drank wine, people talked, and the vampires watched.

On the dais, the looming darkness of men sitting on ornate thrones watched the every move of the people below.

Every seat was occupied except for one.

Everything suddenly stopped. The music went silent, and the people parted, bowing their heads down.

Slowly, you two approached the dais, Standing hand in hand at the steps. The man who sat in the centermost seat smiled devilishly. "Glad you could make it, Lord Kennedy." His French accent was thick.

Leon bowed his head. "Of course, your majesty."

"Why would you want to miss a ball as extravagant, as special, as this one, anyways? Lord Kennedy, we wouldn't want to disappoint our guest, wouldn't we?"

The Lord ticked an eyebrow, reaching a pale, lanky hand to you.

Leon's breath seized but quickly relaxed as he let go of your hand, hinting for you to accept.

You gracefully walked the steps, rhythmically breathing in and out to offset the heavy heartbeat that accompanied each step. The air loomed cold and silent as the echoes of your footsteps filled the hall.

The King was pale as fresh snow, with icy blue veins protruding from his skin. His eyes were glowing red, and long black hair cascaded down his shoulders to his chest. He wore an ornate gold, black, and red suit and a crown topped his head. He looked as if he was once very handsome, but now, he is not so good-looking.

You rested your hand on him, avoiding eye contact. His freezing touch sent a shiver through you.

The King lowered his head and placed a prolonged kiss on the back of your hand. His left hand grabbed your upper arm, turning it so your wrist faced upward. He ran his fingers down your arm, resting on your wrist. A devilish grin formed on his thin lips, presumably from the pleasure in whatever he found in you.

His head raised, but his hand remained fixed on your wrist. You made eye contact this time. His gleaming eyes burrowing into yours.

You could feel your hot blood running against his cold touch. Your pulse filled the silence of the too-quiet ballroom. You wanted to run, but not without a fight, and get out of this Umbrella Corporation daymare.

"Ma chérie," he whispered into your skin.

There is no running. No fighting. Today, you must pretend.

Leon stood beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, his eyes dark, looking down at the still-seated King.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Leon asked rhetorically, a bite in his tone.

The Lord laughed, releasing your hand.

"No need to be so overbearing, Leon. N'aie pas peur. Please sit and join your fellow nobility."

The last empty chair was his. You scanned the other taken thrones. Some of the men were already turned, marked distinctively by glowing, crimson eyes and a lifeless complexion.

Although some, like Leon, had not yet been turned.

From your reading the previous day, you learned that in the eyes of the cult immortality was a privilege, not a right. They believed one must earn that privilege by dedicated service to the organization before even being considered.

Leon took a seat, relaxing on his throne. You stood beside him awkwardly, not entirely knowing what to do. But, with a tap at your side, you figured it out.

You perched on Leon's lap, your billowy dress flowing over his legs and spilling like blood onto the marble floor. He wrapped a hand around your corseted abdomen, and the other rested in your lap.

Your heart raced a little harder.

"You must be in need of a drink." The King asked.

"Some music would be nice, too," Leon said with a scoff loud enough for musicians on the floor to hear.

The music resumed, and again, the bowing people began dancing. Still, it was finally replaced by the movement and energy of song and dance.

One of the white dress servants arrived with two glasses full of red wine upon a silver platter. Leon made no effort to grab them, so you took them both, passing one off to him.

Leon pressed his lips��up to your ear, "drink up, baby," he whispered.

You almost forgot— even your whispers could be herd by the immortal's keen hearing. Every thing that was said, even in a murmur, had to be in line.

It was strange to hear him talk like that, but admittedly you weren't bothered. Although the closeness was unexpected, It's been a long time since you were this close to someone. It had been a year? Maybe two? Since you were at all intimate with another person.

It felt good. He radiated warmth, his touch was gentle, and his handsomeness unmatched.

You downed your glass while Leon sipped on his. His scanning eyes watched the crowd, occasionally flickering back to the King but always ending on you.

He admired as your painted lips caressed the edge of the fine crystal wine glass and how your throat bobbed with each drink.

He called for a refill and demanded more, which the servants promptly fulfilled, And they kept it coming. After every glass you two emptied, they refilled.

Amongst themselves, Leon and the vampire Lords talked about courtly business. and as they talked, Leon's large hands ran down your leg, pulling up your skirt, and exposing up to your knee.

They were talking about war, and all rather intense subject matters. But Leon's hand kept working higher up your legs. Petting and caressing every bit of exposed skin. The King couldn't look away, neither could the other lords, or even the people below.

He used you as a spectacle, to assert his dominance, and power over the rest of the court, and it worked. The commoners were afraid of him, and the lords respected him. He mastered the facade of villainous superiority that belittled all in its path. One that possessed his lover entirely and wanted the world to know it.

His lavish touch across your legs, mixed with the headiness of the wine, brought you to a euphoric state. Coaxed by his affection, you can't help but submit.

Your back arched into his abdomen, yearning for more touch. You could not recall any of the words spoken around you, only the ecstasy of his lips meeting your neck. A soft whisper of a kiss was all he gave you, but your breathing hitched, and your body heated.

You were damned. Damned for liking it as much as you did.

He paused for a moment. Only a minute's break in time, and he still left you internally begging like a dog.

"My, my, what a statement you're making, Lord Kennedy. You plan on sharing?" The King taunted, practically drooling at your bare, pawing legs.

You spoke for the first time the entire night, causing every member of the court's head (that wasn't already) to turn.

"No."

You shot an arrow through the King's fragile pride.

The King's lip twitched. "What a defiant whore you managed to fish up."

Leon laughed, grinning wildly, "Oh, well, you should see how well she obeys me." He patted your thigh in approval, placing an absolutely panty-drenching kiss along your neck.

The King rolled his eyes, but lords couldn't hide their amusement as they stifled back laughter.

Leon rested his knuckle under your chin, "Go on, my love, apologize."

The King retorted snappily, "There's no need for that."

Thank God.

You took an extra large drink of wine to ease the tension, falling back into Leon's warm chest.

They continued on as if nothing ever happened, talking about things you knew nothing about.

Leon listened, cool and aloof, but his hands satiated your need. He resumed the game of inching higher up your leg. His warm fingers trace dizzying circles along your inner thigh.

His calloused fingers felt rough and masculine against your velvet soft skin. He squeezed your thigh, accidentally eliciting a lusty whimper from you.

"You like that, don't you, pretty girl?" Leon's breath grazed along your neck, his lips taunting you mere centimeters away from your bare skin.

You pressed your back into the hardness of his body, a needy and desperate attempt for more—more of his lavish touch. You didn't even care who saw.

You turned a cheek, sharing Leon's darkened, sultry gaze. The usual warmth in his pale blue eyes was totally vacant. He observed you like prey, nothing more than a deer in the crosshairs.

The hand that rested on your waist dragged up to your face and cupped your jaw, his thumb petting your lip, transferring your red lipstick to his skin.

His grip on your thigh intensified, digging hard into your skin. Your lips parted with a soft gasp, and your legs opened wider in response to his touch.

Hunter and hunted.

Leon bit his lip as he slid his finger into your mouth. Your lips puckered pretty around his finger, and Leon watched in feral attraction as you teased him with the tip of your tongue. You oozed confidence and sultry submission, letting your doe eyes do the talking.

The lines between the act and reality truly blurred.

The way he touched you felt too real, too right. You craved more than just the teasing.

As if in an answer, Leon's hands migrated lower and lower down your abdomen. Finally, working to where you craved most. But, he couldn't find the proof of how good he made you feel. Your soaking wet underwear would be damning to your case.

In a desperate attempt, you arched your back, attempting to pull yourself away from his wandering touch. In turn, you could feel the unmistakable hardness in his pants pressing against your back.

Oh, he wanted you too. At this stage, you both should just be condemned.

The on-lookers watched from below as you pressed into Leon's length. You ground yourself against him. Your skin glowed with sweat, and strands of hair were falling from your updo and swept around your face.

There were no secrets in the way you felt; you practically radiated sex, intimacy, and everything in between.

One of Leon's hands dragged up your body and grasped your ribcage directly under your breast. The other rested on your collarbones. He pulled your ear to his lips and whispered, "Don't let it go to your head."

You swallowed, heart racing. "What?"

Leon's arrogant grin now pressed against your ear. "That every man in this room is imagining themselves in my place. Don't forget that you belong to me, darling."

"I would never-" You were cut short by Leon's grip tightening around your abdomen.

"Don't patronize me," he demanded, but his white-knuckle grip loosened and transformed into apologetic strokes down your side.

"Yes, my lord." Sweet and submissive.

The King seemed to approve, as marked by an appraising nod he shared with Leon.

A servant walked by, head hung low, and Leon's voice cracked like thunder. "Wine, now." Pure demand in his voice.

You drank the seemingly bottomless glasses of wine Leon ordered. You should have stopped, but you drank on to avoid any unfavorable conversations.

Tonight, you learned that French vampires love to drink.

The night grew late-- You, Leon, and the other Lords were drunker than sailors. Conversations of importance were divulged into off-topic chit-chat and banter. The people below slow-danced to the soft ballads that hummed through the castle.

It was a struggle to stay awake. All the wine, the music, the expectations, the teasing. It tired you out. Your head lay in Leon's chest, soaking up his sent-- Open sky and rugged woods. Your dainty hands gracefully stroked his exposed chest, painting little circles, occasionally your hands reached up to play with his pretty blonde hair. Leon languidly stroked your arm, head resting lazily to the side.

Leon sat up, shifting you with him, and cleared his throat, "My king, It's been a pleasure, but we should head back now."

"Why don't you just say the night? I would hate to see your poor madame walk all the way back to your... Maison, this late."

You and Leon exchanged a look; you weren't exactly sure if he had accounted for this in his plan. Your eyebrows threaded together, a look of annoyance and confusion, but Leon quickly turned away.

"What a hospitable offer, your highness." He responded eloquently. He knew that someone who was actually in his place would never reject an offer like that.

"It's the least I can do for you, Lord Kennedy; after all, you've been so dedicated to our cause." A sly villain-like smirk formed on the King's lips.

Leon politely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

The King snapped his fingers, and without an exchange of words, a servant was at the throne you and Leon shared.

You both stood up and followed her, hand in hand.

You passed by the other Lords still seated along the dais. Their prowling eyes raked your body as you walked by. Leon was right; you were in everyone's minds. Stripped bare and doing unspeakable things to them.

It repulsed you to be thirsted over by depraved vampire lords, but in some sacrilegious facet of your mind, you were flattered by it. You even walked in a way that accentuated your hips, teasing them just a little more.

You were just passing the King's throne when suddenly someone grabbed your arm. It was the King who had implored his icy hand around your arm, pulling you into him. You gasped as he bent you over the armrest of his throne and placed a kiss on your cheek. "Bonne nuit, ma chérie" He whispered in your ear.

He activated your desire to fight back; you wanted to place your hands around the scrawny King's neck and kill him right there. You could without any resistance, too.

But, you suppressed your urge. Sweet and submissive, you told yourself. You already got yourself in enough trouble with your previous stunt, best not to ruin it now.

"Goodnight, your Highness," you muttered back as dainty and feminine as you could manage.

The King released you, and as you took a step back, you were in Leon's chest; his arms were quick to wrap around you, like a knight in shining armor waiting for his princess.

As you left the dais, the people of the ballroom once again stopped dancing, and bowed as you and Leon walked through, escorted by the servant.

She showed you to your room, opened the door, bowed, and left promptly.

The room was entirely white and gold, similar in design to the rest of the castle, but featuring a giant bed in the middle of the room with a canopy of pooling gauzy fabric.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you whispered once the door was closed behind you.

Leon rubbed the temples of his forehead as if he had a headache, "I'm not sure. I didn't expect him to want us to stay the night."

You looked around the room, unsure of what to do now. "Should we escape?"

Leon peaked his head out the window, surveying the area, "That's an option, but risky," he muttered. "It would blow our cover when they inevitably found us gone. The plan was to kill the nobility a few days from now, on the full moon. That's when they're planning on turning one of the human lords immortal."

"Why does it have to be then? Can't it just be now? They're all drunk and lounging around, for God's sake!" You accidentally raised your voice, and Leon shushed you by pressing his finger to your lips.

"When they turn someone immortal, they have to use the parasite... The plan is to steal the parasite during the ceremony and then kill them. We need to bring it back to America so it can be studied.

But, I haven't been able to find where they store them; as far as I'm aware, only the King knows. That's why I've been waiting for the ceremony."

"So... We stay?" you said defeatedly.

"Unfortunately."

You looked around the room, rummaging through the wardrobe and the various drawers throughout. Everything was empty except for the Holy Bible in a desk drawer.

"You can have the bed, I'll take the couch." Leon offered kicking off his boots before sitting on the small white and gold couch.

"That couch is so small, you can have the bed." You tried to negotiate.

"No, no, it's all yours. I've slept on much worse than this." He said, stretching his legs out along the couch. It was too short for him, so his feet dangled off the armrest.

You sighed; there's no point in arguing.

"Well, I can't sleep in this dress. It weighs about 20lbs, and it's too damn hot."

"There was no spare clothes?" Leon asked.

"Nope."

Leon looked around the room, eyebrows stitched together in thought, before he resolved, "You can have my shirt."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, It's no trouble at all, really."

Leon remained where he was on the couch, eyes closed.

You stood on the other side of the room, fumbling with the corseting on your dress, unable to unlace it. "How the hell did I even get this on earlier?" you mumbled to yourself.

Leon's eyes perked open, watching you struggle. He cleared his throat, "Do you need help with that?"

You didn't answer but still struggled.

Leon took it upon himself to help you. He walked over and began unlacing the many rows of tight lacing along the back of your dress.

"Thank you," you said so very quietly.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier, I—"

You cut him off, "Don't—You don't have to apologize. I understand, truly."

Silence loomed over the room, and only the sound of fabric rustling filled the void. You tried to find the right words to say, but you came up empty-handed.

Leon reached the last eyelet, and you held the gown at the bust so it wouldn't fall off. Although you admittedly wouldn't mind if it did.

Your back was entirely exposed to him, only inches away from pressing against his chest. Your mind slipped— what if you took a step back? Let him do what you want him to do. Let him explore your body even more than he did earlier.

His strong hands could surely do a lot, and his pretty blonde hair would look great between your legs—

God damn.

Leon broke your silent daydream by taking off his white-ruffled shirt. He handed it off to you at your side, gentlemen-like.

He meandered back to the couch, resuming his position of outstretched legs along the cushions, closing his eyes.

You checked over your shoulder to ensure his eyes were closed, and then you let your dress fall to the ground.

You dawned Leon's shirt. The cottony fabric felt soft against your skin and smelled overwhelming like him, rugged and masculine.

In the mirror, you watched yourself let down your updo, letting your hair fall and combing it out with your fingers. Here is where you noticed that Leon's shirt is just a little too sheer.

The outline of your silhouette was vaguely noticeable through his airy shirt, but your nipples were definitely visible.

Oh well.

You folded up the gown and placed it at the foot of the bed atop the quilted velvet ottoman. You were about to get into bed before peaking one more glance at Leon.

He was statuesque in the way his body stretched along the couch. He had a hand atop his very defined abs, and his other arm dangled off the couch.

The faint blueish hue of the moon illuminated him in gentle light, it was the only light in the room, save for the single lit candle next to the bed.

Leon was so pretty in the way he slept. He looked so at peace, so beautiful, and so kissable.

It pained you to not invite him to your bed; maybe in another lifetime, you would have.

But you certainly could not let him sleep without a blanket or a pillow.

You peeled off the first blanket layer of your bed, grabbed one of the many over-filled pillows, and tiptoed to where Leon rested.

Gently, you set a folded blanket on the foot of Leon's bed, causing him to open his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Leon's mumble trailed off into a yawn.

You whispered, "I don't want you to get cold, so I'm giving you some of my blankets."

Leon smiled faintly. "Oh, I see…" he trailed off and then added, "Thanks for that."

You looked pretty; your hair and makeup were a mess but in all the right ways.

Leon noticed how pretty you were. How pretty you were in his shirt, with nothing else underneath.

"I hope this is enough for you."

"Yes, it's more than enough," he reassured.

"I'm going to head to my bed then, goodnight Leon."

He didn't show it, and you would never know it, but he loved how you said his name.

"Goodnight to you, too."

In that moment, time stood still. You couldn't walk away. You wanted to bask in the shared space of each other's gazes, bound by lust. Leon, too, made no attempt to break away.

You'll probably regret it later, but there is no harm in trying, right?

Instead of leaving, you bent down as if to pick something up, but you stopped when you reached his ear.

"Leon..." You whispered quietly.

"Yes?"

Your heartbeat raced so fast it felt like it was gonna jump out of your chest. "Do you really want me to go?"

Leon paused, raking his mind for the correct answer. "No."

He turned his head, pressing his forehead to yours, and resting his hand on the back of your neck, running his fingers through your hair.

"I didn't want to either," you said breathily.

He smiled and kissed you. The first real kiss you shared. It felt like a wave of warmth crashing down your body, every one of your instincts telling you yes. His lips were soft and gentle against your own.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Leon whispered into the kiss.

You replied, "Me neither."

Leon pulled you by your waist, sitting you on top of him, and deepened the kiss by grazing his tongue against yours. He tasted purely of wine.

Your hands ran desperately through Leon's hair as his hands caressed your ribcage down to your hips. His grasp settled onto your waist, stroking his thumbs along your ribs. You playfully bit his lip, praising the way he touched you.

Leon's lips broke away from yours, and they began to press small kisses down your cheek, and then your neck, and then your chest. Every single one felt like pure ecstasy against your skin.

Your arms wrapped around Leon's neck as you arched your back, pressing your chest deeper into his kiss. His grasp along your waist tightened with your movement.

He was aching and so hard in the confined trousers he still wore; Leon rocked you against himself while he made out with your chest.

You moaned with gasping breaths at the feeling of him rutting into you, your head falling back carelessly.

Leon's hand met the spots he kissed, dancing along the wet skin of your chest. His wandering fingers teased the outer edge of the shirt you wore, wanting to pull it down. His lips followed down the V of the shirt, But before he could do anything more, you raised your arms, slipping the shirt over your head.

You were entirely exposed to him, save for your underwear. Leon thanked you by pressing kisses along your pretty breasts, thumbs twirling around your hardened nipples. His lips met where his thumbs danced, puckering his lips around your nipples, stroking and sucking them with his tongue.

You gasped, nearly at the edge of becoming undone. Leon worshipped your breasts like his own personal deity, letting out low, strained moans.

You lost all sense of control, grinding yourself into Leon's bulging lap, getting off at the sensation of his cock twitching for you.

"More," You moaned as Leon released the suck on your nipple with a wet-sounding smack.

You pressed down on Leon's chest, pushing him into the couch.

God, you looked so lovely and desperate from Leon's perspective.

Your hands slipped between your legs, resting on the bulge that strained between them. You caressed him through the fabric, teasing him with a pouty smirk.

Leon's mouth gaped slightly, sucking in a breath as he watched you adore him. You nimbly unbuttoned his pants, pulling down the zipper.

Leon sat up and pushed you back so your legs wrapped around his waist. He stood up, picking you up with ease, and walked you to the bed, gently resting you onto the fortress of overstuffed pillows.

He took off his trousers before joining you, his protruding cock making a tent in his underwear.

"You're beautiful," Leon fawned at your figure before bending down to kiss your thighs. "I loved touching your legs earlier, darling," he added.

You're fully melting at his sugar-covered affections.

You sat up, taking Leon's head in your delicate hands with a devouring kiss. You pulled him back, so he laid on top of you. One of his arms embraced you, and the other brushed between your legs.

His fingers toyed with you, sweetly caressing you through your soaked underwear. You moaned into the kiss as Leon began tracing small circles over the fabric. His hands then nuzzled beneath your underwear, meeting your aching sex fully.

His calloused fingers lapped your cunt, but ended on your clit, circling it gently. You broke from his kiss, head arching back from the intensity of pleasure you felt. Leon licked his lips as he watched you fold under him. Leon tugged off your underwear, deepening your pleasure as he rubbed his fingers around your opening.

Your hands, in desperate need of touch, caressed the expanse of Leon's amazingly defined torso. It alone killed you, the sheer strength he possessed. He was trained into a lethal weapon, but man, did he feel so good.

From Leon's torso, you ventured lower, tugging at the waistband of his underwear. Leon's gaze met your begging doe eyes, pleading him for more.

With your help, he pulled off his underwear, releasing his pretty, throbbing cock. Your hand softly wrapped around his length, petting him slowly. Leon's breath hitched as you did so.

You wrapped a leg around Leon's waist, pulling yourself up to straddle him. Perched on his lap, you rested your soaking cunt onto the length of his cock. Leon's hands dug into your hips, grinding his himself against your folds.

"Leon," you gasped, soaking in the feeling of him beneath you.

He moaned, hungrily watching the way your bodies met.

He sat up, pressing his chest against your stomach, and pressed kisses along your breasts. As he did so, he lifted you up by the waist, giving himself just enough space to push his length into you.

Loudly, you whimpered as his length filled your entire cunt. You bounced yourself on Leon as he sucked your nipples.

Leon released you from his mouth, lying back down, fingers digging into your upper thighs as he fucked himself into you hard. Letting his entire length fill you up before pulling back.

You couldn't help your hopeless cries and moans as his pace picked up, fucking you like the world depended on it. Maybe it did.

You were a few forceful pumps away from reaching your peak, and as you forced yourself into him even deeper, Leon lifted you up by the waist, off of him.

Dazed, you whined, "Why."

He only responded by nudging you over onto your hands and knees, spreading your legs wide for himself.

Leon's cock pressed at your entrance while his hand toyed with your clit, teasing you. He so very slowly pushed himself in, making you feel every inch of his length as he entered you.

"Just like that," he hushed under a moan and then rammed his cock into you, building up speed, fucking you faster and faster.

Your nails dug into the bed sheets, reaching for something that does not exist. Leon smacked your ass with a deep moan as his tip reached even deeper inside of you.

The only noise filling the room was the sound of your skin clapping against his and your shared feverish moans.

"You feel so good," you cooed, pawing at the sheets. "I don't think I can last much longer."

He slowed down his pace, pulling his cock almost entirely out of you before inching himself back in. "You can last just a little longer for me, pretty girl."

"Okay, yes, please just fuck me harder," you pleaded. Grinding yourself on his length, desperate for more than he was giving.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Leon groaned and fucked you so hard that the bed was shaking back and forth. His arm reached up from behind, grasping your neck in his hand. He was hunched over you, fingers squeezing your jaw as he plunged deeper and faster.

His teeth were clenched, and his breath was fast as he burrowed his throbbing cock so far into your cunt that you came completely undone, crying his name as you rode your climax out.

"Leon, Leon, Leon," you cried as your wetness dripped down his leg.

Leon's breath seized as he pulled himself out of you, resting his cock on the small of your back, spilling hot all over your skin.

His grasp loosened, trailing down your neck. His head rested on your back, reeling himself back from his climax.

You rested your body, splaying yourself along the bed. Leon got off of you and frantically looked around the room for something to wipe your back with. He settled on the blanket you had left for him on the couch, thinking to himself, their problem, not mine.

"Thanks," you giggled as he cleaned you off.

He crawled into bed, tucking into the massive billowy covers, and you did the same. You blew out the single candle next to the bedside, leaving only moonlight to douse the room.

Leon opened up his arm, beckoning you into his embrace.

You cuddled him, soaking up his scent and his warmth. All while relishing in the tingling euphoria your body felt.

"Goodnight, for real?" Leon said quietly, sleep heavy in his voice.

"Goodnight, for real, Leon." Your heavy lids shut, falling into sleep.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You wake up on Leon's chest to a knock at the door. The morning sun singed the pounding headache induced by last night's wine-filled activities.

Leon woke up, too, wincing and rubbing his temples. He got out of bed, pulling on his underwear and pants.

Leon's hair was a disheveled mess, and the remnants of your lipstick still stained his neck and his cheek. He answered the door to one of the servants standing there.

She bowed, her thick French accent trembling. "Lord Kennedy, I apologize if I interrupted, but the king wants a word with you."

"Can you show me to the bath first? You can't seriously expect me to talk to him looking like this?" he sounded harsh, and you almost forgot about the character he had to play.

Her voice trembled. "Yes, of course, sir. Not that you look bad, but yes, I'll show you to the bath."

"And her too," the servant peaked her head through the doorway, under the arm that Leon propped himself up with, and saw you, sitting up in bed, covering your naked body with the duvet.

She immediately ducked back in line, "Yes, of course." she bowed her head once more.

Leon tossed you his shirt, which was lying on the ground beside the couch. Quickly put it on, and with a motion of his hand, Leon summoned you to him.

You acted shy, meekly hiding behind Leon.

"Follow me, My lord," The servant hushed, trailing you two down the hallway.

As you tiptoed down the hall, you were barefoot and more exposed than you cared to be. It felt slightly embarrassing, but there was no point in caring now, was there? At least you found amusement in a shirtless Leon.

The servant guided Leon to a bathroom for himself. She signaled him in with her hand while her head was low.

Before he entered, he added, looking down at the servant. "And get her a new dress, she can't go out looking like that... And she wouldn't be caught dead wearing her evening dress during the day, would she?" Leon sounded like an absolute asshole, but that was somehow amusing.

"Yes, my lord," She bowed for the 100th time.

He entered the bathing room, closing the door behind him, and the servant showed you to another bathroom.

── ･ ｡☆*☽*☆ﾟ.──

You bathed in a massive clawfoot tub, sweet floral soap washing off all the makeup and memories of last night.

You were not sure how to even feel about last night. You'd never slept with a coworker before; you barely sleep with anyone anymore. Is this going to make things awkward when you leave? Or are you to pretend nothing happened at all?

A servant knocked on the door, interrupting your silent pondering before letting herself in. She quietly hung a pretty cream-colored Victorian gown hanging behind the door.

"Madame, Lord Kennedy is speaking with the King. He has asked you to wait while they finish up. We prepared breakfast for you in the dining room in case they go long. When you're ready, the dining room is down the stairs and to the left."

Who are you kidding, there are more pressing issues ahead; you're bathing and being fed in a vampire cult's castle for God's sake.

"Thank you," you said sweetly.

The servant promptly left the bathroom with a bow.

Soon, you will eliminate these vile creatures and leave. You just have to tough it out a little longer. One more day of acting like a mild-tempered little plaything, and this will all be over.

part two coming soon xx

#thank you for reading <3 #i've been so nervous to post this eek #i hope you like it #academy fics✨ #throne of his own #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy fanfic

[mintsuwu]

The final part of the Smiling Critters Family Headcanons!!

Picky Piggy

Picky Piggy and her family reside in the serene countryside of Jolly Valley, where the vibrant greenery and bustling farm life create a picturesque setting for their adventures. The Piggy family, comprising Benjamin Cowbell, Polly Porkella, and their lively triplets: Picky, Itty, and Bitty, embodies the essence of rural harmony, where hard work blends seamlessly with moments of joy and connection.

Polly's backstory paints a vibrant picture of her past life as a city girl, adorned with numerous accolades and triumphs from contests and competitions across the region. But even though she enjoyed participating in the competitons as a hobby and for fun, the busy life and training it endured, along with the pressure from her parents (even though they only wanted the best for her), was something that began to weight upon Polly as she grew up.

It was amidst the rustic charm of a rural fair that she serendipitously encountered Benjamin after running off from a contest she didn´t want to participate in, their chance meeting sowing the seeds of a deep and enduring connection in the future. They talked a bit on that first encounter, but they didn´t get to know each other´s names due to him having to leave early as his parents were waiting for him so they could return home together. Things didn´t change much in a few years from that first time, as Polly kept on participating in contests and growing famous as Benjamin kept on with his busy yet simple life as a young farmer, helping his family. One day his friends encouraged him to join a local competition and even though he didn´t know the prize, he won. It turned out that the winner got to have a date with a well known critter around the competition world... Who happened to be Polly Porkella herself (she was forced into this situation). And despite the initial confusion they were both very happy to see each other again, and they used the time of the date to know each other (and they names) properly, as well as catching up. The two of them kept in touch after that second meeting, communicating through letters most of the time.

When Polly was old enough, she seeked a more peaceful life, aside from the contesting world, and moved out with Benjamin when she had the chance, as they decided to start working in their own farm nearby CritterVille. With the passage of time, their bond flourished and their family grew, enveloping them in a tapestry of love and shared values. Despite the mischievous antics of their energetic daughters, Benjamin and Polly remained steadfast in imparting the importance of hard work and empathy.

Even though the Piggy family is numerous on its own, they also have other family members nearby them. One of them being Sturdy Donkey, who happens to be Picky´s cousin. The teenager spends most of his time working as the town´s carpenter along with his father or with his friends, but he tries to go over and help at the farm as much as he can. And in return his group can hang out and rehearse their music in one of their barns (hence the name "Barn Gang"). Picky sometimes goes over to listen to them or simply talk, and even asks if she can invite some friends over in one ocassion, to which they all agree. However when the rest of the Smiling Critters went over, there was a little surprise factor (and family drama) in regards to Pecky, Kickin´, and secrets kept between siblings... But that´s a story for another time~

BONUS

- Polly is a very skilled swimmer!! And Picky got that from her mother, but no one will know about that talent unless there is a beach episode or something /hj

- Clucketta, Kickin´s mother, goes over to the farm to visit and help Polly as they are very close friends. And by that Picky and Kickin´ knew each other even though they didn´t talk much at first. Though one day Kickin´ opened up to her, showing how he was concerned about his friend Bubba as his mother had passed away recently and he wanted to help him. Picky then suggested to bake an apple pie in order to cheer him up. The young elephant was incredibly touched by the gesture, and from that moment the three of them grew really close (even though he and Kickin´ knew each other long time before that). That was the only time any of the Smiling Critters had seen Bubba cry.

- Just like Picky, Kickin´ and Bubba are very close, Polly, Cuckletta and Mr. Bubbaphant (I will give him a name someday I promise) are very good friends as well! Polly is the most determined of the group, Cuckletta kinda follows along (even though many of the times she is confused and scared of what is even going on) and Mr. Bubbaphant watches closely in case they need help or just don´t get into trouble (like their kids lmao)

#fanart #oc #headcanon #poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters oc #the smiling critters #picky piggy #sturdy donkey #polly porkella #benjamin bellcow #itty piggy #bitty piggy

[bloodymarsupials1]

sooooo, i wanted to make this because i apparently cant reblog and i have no idea why. (i'm referencing the little...challenge? however you want to call it by @drinkyourvillainjuice.

anyway here it is, i also added a few fanfics just cause.

The Second Sight @spoiledblog (demo) You’re an urban legend in a county full of them. When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons. You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

After The End @albywritesfiction (demo)

Your former fiancé and heir apparent of the Aurelian Kingdom, Prince Ædan, has married the love of his life, the fair Saintess Helene. As the nation celebrates their union, you are left alone to pick up the pieces of your broken heart... until you receive two letters. One is an invitation to the office of Prince Ædric, the crown prince's younger brother and rival for the throne. The other is a letter filled with concern from your childhood friend and secretary-in-training, Cyfrin, who is currently assisting your father at your family’s ducal estate in the countryside. Each letter contains a proposition that will change the course of your fate forever.

Which one will you choose?

God-Cursed @wings-of-ink (Demo)

you were found as a newborn, clutched in the arms of your dead mother at the base of a tree. No family came to claim you, but the men who came to your rescue adopted you as their own and became the only parents you’ve ever known. Growing up in the village of Stonebrook, you never want for much, until the day you first fall ill. Life plagues you with a mysterious condition that no one can diagnose or cure. You never know when it will strike or if it will eventually kill you. Living between fear and hope as you age, you try to come into your own as an adult with the ever-looming threat above you. As years pass, your condition seems to improve, until a mysterious mark appears on your body and opens up new questions.

It appears that you’re marked for death with no answers as to why, and your only chance to survive is to go out and seek them.

Journey through the land of Iroda, a fantasy world where the gods have abandoned their people and magic no longer prevails as it once did. Something is brewing that may change this world forever, and you’re in the middle of it, though your role is a mystery you must solve. Wanted dead by some and alive for mysterious purposes by others, you just want to survive. With the help of a few friends, find the answers that you need, and make your choices.

Before We are Ghosts @anjiefiction (DEMO) When a powerful villain threatens the safety of Metamora, you and the city’s heroes go to great lengths to stop him, and ultimately you are forced to pay the biggest price of all.(Against all odds, the heroes win. The victory is hollow.)The doctors are professional, if not sympathetic. They tell you that your body is in the process of slowly shutting down. No, they aren’t sure why. No, there isn’t a cure. When you ask how much time you have left, the faces grow dark. Perhaps a year, they say. Two if you’re lucky.(You thought you could rest. You thought wrong again.)For as threats resurge and the past rears its ugly head, you can only wonder: Do you have the strength to see things through? Will there be enough time?And when the end comes, can you find the courage to say goodbye?

more than me @ryanstillwrites-if (Demo) On a Wednesday morning, you leave your doctor's office with the diagnosis of an inoperable brain tumour and the knowledge of an estimated four months left to live.Suddenly left without any direction in your life, you find yourself in a support group for the terminally ill. Where you expected to find sadness, melancholy and a looming sense of dread at thought of a fast approaching death - all the same feelings you harbour - you find smiles and laughter instead.You're drawn in by the people you meet there, curious and confused by their carefree attitudes. They're kind to you, they take you in, they turn your frown upside down - literally and figuratively. And just when you think you might be beginning to accept your fate; they decide to throw all caution to the wind and whisk you away on the adventure of a lifetime.You don't know what will come of the next four months but with your new friends at your side, you're excited to find out. After all, this is the only life you've been given, and though it may be ending soon; you might as well live it to the fullest.

Omen of Ice @omen-of-ice (no demo) The North has been all that you’ve known your whole life— residing within its icy landscape as part of House Eirlys; Wardens of the North. You’ve never thought you’d one day leave to head south to Vela’thian— the kingdom of the elvhen— much less that you’d head there due to your betrothal with the king himself.What will await you once you arrive? Is everything as it seems? Or is there something more brewing beneath the surface of the seemingly pristine nation?Will you find your way back home? Or will you find something, or someone, worth staying for?Let’s see how your story unfolds…

Mons Immortalium @mons-immortalium-if (DEMO) Mons Immortalium is a fantasy romance interactive story. Human MC falls into the magical land of the faeries, a mountain island that has been secluded from the rest of the world for over a millennium. Break curses, fall in love and beware of  wicked faeries. Whatever you do, never give them your true name!

In the Cards @inthecards (demo)

You've always had psychic powers. Reading auras, speaking with the dead, and channeling spiritual energy through runes - these number just a few of the things you're capable of. It's not an unusual gift in the kingdom of Khepris, though it's uncommon enough that you've only met a few other people with such abilities in your small hometown.

After a plague sweeps through the kingdom, unrest bubbles up in the realm known as the Beyond, home to fae and spirits alike. A group of fae who call themselves the Butterfly Court are testing the boundaries between your worlds, and they don't seem to care what harm they may be causing along the way.

With a deck of tarot cards imbued with mystical powers in your possession, you're pulled into the struggle against the Butterfly Court. You must join one of two organizations - the King's Guardians or the Hounds - in order to fight back against this mysterious court… or risk losing everything.

Parasitical @parasitical-if (DEMO)

His flesh, our sustenance. His blood, our drink. His bones, our foundation, His body, our haven.

Five hundred years ago, the Earth was dying. Water polluted, dirt infertile, forests and meadows crumbling to the wars of steel and fire. And so the Order called His Grace, the Lord of Communion, down from where he rested before and He allowed humanity to rest inside his body.

Or at least, that's the story the Order tells.

You grew up under the masked faces of their Exalted, under the stories of Earth past. Rusted metal and cracked plastic; His bone and His flesh. Conflicting worlds, conflicting times, and soon, it might all come to a head.

crown of ashes and flames @coeluvr (demo) The war had taken everything from you.King Luceris had taken everything from you.You were just nine years old when all of this happened. One moment you were in your room sleeping and the next you were walking through smoke and ash trying to find your parents.Love, he said, was the reason he started the war. Ironically, you lost everything you loved but you also lost yourself when he let you survive and dragged you away to his home.In a new Kingdom with no one on your side what choices will you make to survive? Who will you become?Inside of you, there’s something burning for revenge and there’s only one thing I want to tell you. Let it out.

Bleeding Heart @bleedingheart-if (Demo) Congratulations, you got engaged. Whether that is good or bad is ultimately up to you.Shortly after your engagement, your fiancé sets out on a journey to the distant lands of Transylvania, a real estate opportunity that proved too irresistible to decline.With your wedding temporarily on hold, you don't hesitate to respond when your childhood friend Lucy implores you to pay her a visit, seeking your company and counsel with an urgent matter concerning her very own future.The strangeness begins as you arrive in Whitby, a charming coastal town where the Westenra's estate resides.

checkmatein 3 moves @checkmatein3moves (DEMO) YOU are the heir; the child of one of the most powerful women on Oracle Island. When she’s accused of murdering her sister almost forty years prior after the revelation of a suspicious anonymous tip, her power falls to you — but so will her reputation.Many questions present themselves: is your mother a killer? Who wants to see her fall for it? Who will make the next move in the inevitable game? Can you play as well as the rest of them?The Elite Class are full of blood and schemes. Your generation carries the scars of those before them, and thus you all must join the game or face the consequences. But dark intentions are cloaked in silk and diamonds, and the heady taste of power corrupts like an infection.

The Abyssal Song @ri-writes-if (DEMO) In the underworld kingdom, where demons fight for survival against the abyssal monsters, you are just an Oracle. In the distant past the Oracles were at the top of the demonic hierarchy, but those golden days are long gone. You did what you were most afraid to do and now sit under arrest in the royal palace.When the Abyss sends you a vision of a terrible disaster that will happen in the future, you make an inevitable “deal” with the Sovereign to try to change the future and improve your abilities, not only to become stronger and learn more about the coming disaster, but also in an attempt to achieve mind stability.However, what has been happening to you since you received the vision makes you think that you are already slowly but surely losing your mind.Will you be able to maintain your sanity and help others protect the kingdom, or will you become just another name in the long list of Oracles gone mad?

the lonely shore @thelonelyshore-if (DEMO) Meet me at the cabin. Please.You weren’t sure what to make of it. A cryptic late night text sent from your younger sibling, begging you to meet up at your family’s old lake home. The plea for help was as concerning as it was confusing. As far as you knew, neither of you had set foot in the cabin in a decade. You had your hesitations, but Willow seemed desperate. You couldn’t help but oblige.Everything goes downhill fast when Willow's research into childhood ghost stories lands you in a town that doesn't exist. A town where people go missing at an alarming rate, where things that aren't quite human run businesses with hungry eyes, where time runs differently.A town you can't leave.Something about Easthaven is wrong. A supernatural fog permeates the town, so thick you could choke…but you’re one of the only people who seems to notice it. You’re quick to realize the fog keeps the residents ignorant, keeps them passive, keeps them trapped. When people who have long since gone missing start coming back home, you realize Easthaven’s mysteries go deeper than you could have ever imagined.

Kenneski @devilishmango (here)You were ripped away from your home, your life- all because you were accused of using magic. Sent away on carriages, bursting full of others like you, being brought to Kenneski Prison. It’s a prison made specifically to hold those that can wield magic, making it so you are powerless. It’s a death sentence for most that go there. But not for you.

stagnation @stagnation-if (DEMO) It's the year 2524, and you're a defeated God/Goddess/Deity in a place and time where your kind is rarely needed anymore. After being locked away and thought to be dead for nearly a millennia, you wake up.

The Fall of House Black @endemise (DEMO) The fall of House Black, your house, was an imminent thing. A name had never been so cursed that all it could do was bring about death.First, your younger sister in a swimming accident, then your older brother in a case of mistaken identity. As the rest of your family sought to grieve and bring justice to your brother, your older sister was killed in a hunting accident at the end of your father’s bow.The three of you, mother, father, and child, became inconsolable. Broken beyond repair. Your mother unable to bear the weight of life any longer took her own while your father disappeared, gone into the night. When you remain the sole survivor of House Black, you know you must leave, and on the night of your decision, your home goes up in flames with you inside.Then, you awake, dazed with no recollection of anything, and when you look down at your body, you scream. It is wrong. So wrong.

Drink Your Villain Juice @drinkyourvillainjuice (demo) Everyone knows that superpowers come about through three distinct methods.One can be born to their abilities, see them emerge in a moment of great strife, or acquire them through extensive cybernetic augmentation.Everyone is wrong.You’d know. If only that knowledge—and your snazzy slash horrible powers—didn’t come with a host of strings attached. Too bad that was an offer you couldn’t refuse.Did I mention one of the strings was supervillainy?Thrown headlong into a life of crime, balance conflicted loyalties, personal scars, and navigating a web of secrecy and deception, all while maintaining your cover.Above all, remember to drink your Juice. Your life depends on it.

The Gilded @the-gilded (Demo v1.2) Your younger brother, Leo, went missing three days ago. Your parents called the police, and they started investigating quickly. They were too late. Leo had already disappeared into the deepest part of the forest, where the mortals have vowed never to return. The police have offered to contact your family if Leo crosses the barrier back to the mortal side, but their investigation can’t go any further without inviting the wrath of the Fae.The winter solstice is approaching fast, which means that the High Fae are likely gathering mortal children for their great feast. The only way to get your brother back is to follow him into the forest and steal him back from the palace of the High Fae… If you can get there in one piece. The Fae forest is full of tricksters and killers, and you'll likely need some allies to help get you both back home.

VANGUARD @vanguard-if (PLAY) As a faering, you should want to keep to yourself. Your home is a safe haven where your dragon kin people reside; a place of true neutrality. There are no allies to the Midlands, nor are there enemies. Your people simply are, and this will not change.But you were never one much for rules, were you? With whispers of a certain prince in the Northlands allegedly receiving death threats from your docile leader, Cirrus, you could only slip away into the depths of the North to go see for yourself. It's so hilariously outrageous that your peace-loving ruler has such rumours teeming about them.You did not expect to find a bounty hunter bleeding out from her abdomen. And most of all, you did not expect her to know you by name, even through her raggedy breaths. And most of all, you did not expect her to have leads on the one you seek: the Northern Prince.

TWISTED GOLD @icaroif (DEMO) In the wake of an attack on your village that left your father dead and everybody you had ever known missing or the same, you are given one option; find your uncle in the Capital or else run for the hills and never look back. It was never really a choice anyway.

NINE BLOOD DANCES @nineblooddances-if [DEMO] You were a gift. Now to whom? No one knows.All that matters is that you are a gift and not like any of the others of your species. Uniqueness and importance oozes from every fiber of your being. You're important. Everyone says you're important. But why you're so important?Who knows?You must figure out what makes you so special and different. You must figure out what drives you through all circles. And you have to figure out why the nine commanders of Hell all have their eyes upon you and wish to have you by their side.All before the fall of the ninth moon.

Trouble Brewing @troublebrewing-if (Demo) it's all fun and games until someone loses a head!Quinn, your best friend, has brought you some awful news: your illustrious parents, having run out of potential mates for their brood, have set you up with the worst person you know -- Devon Bainbridge. Your intended is uncouth, self-indulgent, and ten years your senior.Of course, if no one can find you, the wedding's off, right?Make daring escape from your family's castle, get pressed into joining a rebellion, and find yourself fighting alongside a plucky bard, a brooding bandit, a naive idealist, and a fool-in-training. Escape marriage, join a rebellion, and find love… or sabotage it all.

ANECDOCHE @anecdoche-if (Demo) You wake up chained to a chair by one of the most notorious gangs in the country, only to be saved by one of the most famous hero organizations only a few moments later. Who wants you so badly that they would hire an entire gang to abduct you, and can you really trust the Supers that have been put in charge of your protection?

Blood of Morana @blood-of-morana (demo) You are one of the people, cursed with Morana’s magic, which gives you power over both winter and death. You can imagine that being one of the White Deaths hasn’t exactly made you the beacon of hope or the icon of popularity among your people. Worse yet, some of your magic has been sealed, making it impossible to witch away the inquisition.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart @doriana-gray-games (demo)

Play as your version of Sherlock Holmes in this romance detective game!

Make an enemy of a friend and a lover out of an enemy. Solve the case of boredom. Have a pet bird—and best of all, play as a romantically and emotionally stunted genius detective!

nemisi @elegy-if (demo) The struggle between cosmic deities — now worshiped (or abhorred) as gods — tore its way into your planet not long before you were born. Unlucky for you, you were one of the first generations to be born exposed to Excinate, the name given to the radioactive-like sickness that comes from being exposed to magic not of your world. As you've built up a bit of an immunity to the more dire consequences, you were promptly ripped from your family after a doctor's visit when the Excinate got a bit too close to your childhood home. Since then, you’ve been shipped around and transported from facility to facility to be poked and prodded at.Until now. No, now you’re free.Aside from that lingering hunger for flesh you’ve had since becoming infected, of course. Just a little side effect from the radiation, along with a mouthful of jagged teeth and a jaw that can unhinge like a snake.

Burning Academia @burning-academia-if (Demo) You never thought you'd go to college, due to your circumstances. But you especially didn't dream you'd be forced to attend the prestigious Vales Grove University after being attacked by wraiths in their library. What started as a visit to a long time friend, ended with your hands burned, your innocence questioned, and the startling realization magic is real.To apologize for what's happened to you, or more accurately, to keep an eye on you, the Headmaster himself offers you enrollment with all fees waived. With no real choice in the matter, you become a student, and try to ignore the suspicion everyone throws your way. Besides, you have worse things to deal with.Like how you've started to attract ghosts and other dead things, or the fact that there is a very living thing inside your head, waiting for you to lower your guard and take control. And most pressing of all, managing your obligation to a family that hasn't been such a thing in years.Tread carefully, if the ghosts don't devour you, the university certainly might.

lightweaver: Chosen @lightweaver-chosen-if (DEMO) A world where elemental deities share a fraction of their powers to their chosen, bringing upon the age of weavers; humans with the ability to manipulate the elements of their patron.You have been chosen by a mysterious lightning deity—blessing you with the power to weave lightning. But with a troubled childhood haunting your every step, your new abilities present a double-edged sword.The choices you make, the support you receive, and the inner strength you harness define your journey—a journey fraught with anguish, but one that promises a life outside Mother’s grasp.Two divergent paths lay ahead.Will you let yourself heal and grow, or will you fall deeper into the void?

Talon's End @asheepinthenight (DEMO) You were never destined to marry for love.As the third child of the Earl of Eastthorn, your purpose is to marry to your family's advantage, but after one failed engagement already, your prospects are less than promising. So when the Crown calls upon you to infiltrate the lair of an Elven sorcerer in search of a powerful magical weapon, the offer is too good for your family to refuse.But leaving your respectable home to marry an immortal being of immense power quickly puts you in uncharted territory. Between your secretive, disagreeable spouse and their labyrinthine spire infested with strange creatures, your mission to uncover their secrets is risky from the start. But as you come to know both your partner and your new home at Talon's End, you discover terrors and wonders unlike anything you've known–and the true price of your mission.

Leas: City of the Sun @sailingshellsgames (demo) Enter the city of Leas, where humans dwell in safety behind city walls while strange and powerful Fey roam the wilds. Play as one of a rare few skilled enough to explore the outside world, an agent of Den Zarel.After making a dangerous discovery you are sent on a mission that unfolds into an adventure that will unearth more than expected, and more than you alone can handle.Fortunately, you’ll have help along the way: a lifelong friend hiding a dangerous secret, a mysterious and taciturn rogue, and an eccentric and charming mage unite under your banner to help save your city, and possibly, the world

#OMG #IT FINALLY WORKS!!!!!!! #btw this is like page 6 of a 45 page list #all of these are GOOOD and would recommend #my brian goes 'nom #NOM NOm

[genjv4rse]

𖥻 THINGS — enhypen ◌ ִ ۫ ּ

syn ; things enha reminds me of !

heeseung !

dangly earrings, pendent chains, skinny ripped jeans, rock guitar, clubbing, late studio night, concerts, rainy empty street, love songs, specs, ice cream, deers, rainforest, going over the speed limit, long drive, polaroids, balcony, tattoos, collage campus, basketball, getting into fist fights, breaking rules, warm breeze, kisses, sharing earphones, untied shoelaces, sleeveless tops, cross jewelries, chase atlantic songs

jay !

red wine, ball dance, guitar, empty kitchen, champagne bubbles, tuxedo suits, runaway, black cat, fashion magazines, gold jewelries, camping, eucalyptus, biking, biker jackets, street racing, late night walks, city lights, porsche, cologne, the weeknd songs, loose tie, fancy restaurant, chanel bags, iced americano, home, long hugs, words of affirmation, eye contact, autumn, posh music, v necks, opera, musical recital, marriage, ancient churches

jake !

pancakes, golden retrievers, empty parks, cardigans, picnic, wolf pups, landscapes, abstract art, lip piercings, makeout sessions, mornings, cream, sheets, swimming, sand castles, tree houses, venus, varsity player, rings, clashing waves, sun shinning through curtains, backyard, champagne, sparkly eyes, netflix and chill, forehead kisses, caramel fudge, winter, jb songs, garden, lilies, lipstick stains

sunghoon !

sculptures, greek mythology, snow, ice skating, pointe shoes, swan lake, ice rinks, rhinestones, vampires, sharp canines, royalty, huskies, novels, cruise, 90s songs, ear muffs, moon phase, poetry, dandelions, maple leaves, vanilla shake, pearls, penguins, blush, lucid dreams, confessions, lullaby, archangels, romance movies, boyfriend coats, monsoon, hair blowing because of the wind, moles, tears, old love, unrequited love, ribbons, weddings

sunoo !

sun, tulip field, solar system, marshmallows, tteobokki, street food, shopping, karaoke, smiles, cute stationeries, stickers, secret diary, cheek kisses, mufflers, red foxes, bratz doll, playdate, selfies, carnations, easter, boba tea, bestfriends to lovers, cherry blossoms, lip gloss, skincare, disney shows, late night face timing, gossiping, watching kdramas, sanrio stuffs, blowing bubbles, photo booths, texts, horizon

jungwon !

kittens, valleys, teenage dream, gold fish, aquariums, subways, cds, headphones, empty bus rides, babybreaths, holding hands, first love, taylor swift songs, messy hair, vacation, countryside, group study, constellations, piggyback ride, dimples, converse, empty classroom, sheep cubs, indoor plants, mini cactus, namsan tower, han river, late fall, vintage hand written letters , young love, romcom, kitties

ni-ki !

graffiti, sunsets, baggy pants, late night dance jam, empty beach, bicycling, sea shore, ear piercings, watermelon, summer, slow dancing, grass field, bungeoppangs, duck chicks, disneyland, ps5, arcade, puma cubs, eskimo kisses, bracelets, youth, climbing fences, skipping school, skateboarding, mangas, school festivals, footsies, cute band aids, oversized attires, j-rock, night sky, laughters, slice of life, teenage, playfulness, photo booths, anime, shoujo manga

© aenfilmz / 02072023

taglist ; @solarwoniii @shiningstar-byulxx @wtfhyuck @ichiibunztwt @enhawhoreist

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen moodboard #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x reader #enhypen jungwon #engene #enhypen niki #enhypen headcanons #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #sunghoon #heeseung #sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen fic #enha #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen blog #enhypen icons #yang jungwon #park sunghoon #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #kim sunoo #lee heeseung

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Frev Friendships — Saint-Just and Robespierre

You who supports the tottering fatherland against the torrent of despotism and intrigue, you whom I only know, like God, through his miracles; I speak to you, monsieur, to ask you to unite with me in order to save my sad fatherland. The city of Gouci has relocated (this rumour goes around here) the free markets from the town of Blérancourt. Why do the cities devour the privileges of the countryside? Will there remain no more of them to the latter than size and taxes? Support, please, with all your talent, an address that I make for the same letter, in which I request the reunion of my heritage with the national areas of the canton, so that one lets to my country a privilege without which it has to die of hunger. I do not know you, but you are a great man. You are not only the deputy of a province, you are one of humanity and of the Republic. Please, make it that my request be not despised. I have the honour to be, monsieur, your most humble, most obedient servant. Saint-Just, constituent of the department of Aisne. To Monsieur de Robespierre in the National Assembly in Paris. Blérancourt, near Noyon, August 19, 1790. Saint-Just’s first letter ever written to Robespierre, dated August 19 1790

Citizens, you are aware that, to dispel the errors with which Roland has covered the entire Republic, the Society has decided that it will have Robespierre's speech printed and distributed. We viewed it as an eternal lesson for the French people, as a sure way of unmasking the Brissotin faction and of opening the eyes of the French to the virtues too long unknown of the minority that sits with the Mountain. I remind you that a subscription office is open at the secretariat. It is enough for me to point it out to you to excite your patriotic zeal, and, by imitating the patriots who each deposited fifty écus to have Robespierre's excellent speech printed, you will have done well for the fatherland. Saint-Just at the Jacobins, January 1 1793

Patriots with more or less talent […] Jacquier, Saint-Just’s brother-in-law. Robespierre in a private list, written sometime during his time on the Committee of Public Safety

Saint-Just doesn’t have time to write to you. He gives you his compliments. Lebas in a letter to Robespierre October 25 1793

Trust no longer has a price when we share it with corrupt men, then we do our duty out of love for our fatherland alone, and this feeling is purer. I embrace you, my friend. Saint-Just.  To Robespierre the older.  Saint-Just in a post-scriptum note added to a letter written by Lebas to Robespierre, November 5 1793. Saint-Just uses tutoiement with Robespierre here, while Lebas used vouvoiement.

We have made too many laws and too few examples: you punish but the salient crimes, the hypocritical crimes go unpunished. Punish a slight abuse in each part, it is the way to frighten the wicked, and to make them see that the government has its eye on everything. No sooner do we turn our backs than the aristocracy rises in the tone of the day, and commits evils under the colors of liberty. Engage the committee to give much pomp to the punishment of all faults in government. Before a month has passed you will have illuminated this maze in which counter-revolution and revolution march haphazardly. Call, my friend, the attention of the Jacobin Club to the strong maxims of the public good; let it concern itself with the great means of governing a free state. I invite you to take measures to find out if all the manufactures and factories of France are in activity, and to favor them, because our troops would within a year find themselves without clothes; manufacturers are not patriots, they do not want to work, they must be forced to do so, and not let down any useful establishment. We will do our best here. I embrace you and our mutual friends. Saint-Just To Robespierre the older. Saint-Just in a letter to Robespierre, December 14 1793

Paris, 9 nivôse, year 2 of the Republic. Friends. I feared, in the midst of our successes, and on the eve of a decisive victory, the disastrous consequences of a misunderstanding or of a ridiculous intrigue. Your principles and your virtues reassured me. I have supported them as much as I could. The letter that the Committee of Public Safety sent you at the same time as mine will tell you the rest. I embrace you with all my soul. Robespierre. Robespierre in a letter to Saint-Just and Lebas, December 29 1793

Why should I not say that this (the dantonist purge) was a meditated assassination, prepared for a long time, when two days after this session where the crime was taking place, the representative Vadier told me that Saint-Just, through his stubbornness, had almost caused the downfall of the members of the two committees, because he had wanted that the accused to be present when he read the report at the National Convention; and such was his obstinacy that, seeing our formal opposition, he threw his hat into the fire in rage, and left us there. Robespierre was also of this opinion; he believed that by having these deputies arrested beforehand, this approach would sooner or later be reprehensible; but, as fear was an irresistible argument with him, I used this weapon to fight him: You can take the chance of being guillotined, if that is what you want; For my part, I want to avoid this danger by having them arrested immediately, because we must not have any illusions about the course we must take; everything is reduced to these bits: If we do not have them guillotined, we will be that ourselves. À Maximilien Robespierre aux enfers (1794) by Taschereau de Fargues and Paul-Auguste-Jacques. Robespierre and Saint-Just had also worked out the dantonists’ indictment together.

…As far from the insensibility of your Saint-Just as from his base jealousies, [Camille] recoiled in front if the idea of accusing a college comrade, a companion in arms. […] Robespierre, can you really complete the fatal projects which the vile souls that surround you no doubt have inspired you to? […] Had I been Saint-Just’s wife I would tell him this: the sake of Camille is yours, it’s the sake of all the friends of Robespierre!  Lucile Desmoulins in an unsent letter to Robespierre, written somewhere between March 31 and April 4 1794. Lucile seems to have believed it was Saint-Just’s ”bad influence” in particular that got Robespierre to abandon Camille.

In the beginning of floréal (somewhere between April 20 and 30) during an evening session (at the Committee of Public Safety), a brusque fight erupted between Saint-Just and Carnot, on the subject of the administration of portable weapons, of which it wasn’t Carnot, but Prieur de la Côte-d’Or, who was in charge. Saint-Just put big interest in the brother-in-law of Sijas, Luxembourg workshop accounting officer, that one thought had been oppressed and threatened with arbitrary arrest, because he had experienced some difficulties for the purpose of his service with the weapon administration. In this quarrel caused unexpectedly by Saint-Just, one saw clearly his goal, which was to attack the members of the committee who occupied themselves with arms, and to lose their cooperateurs. He also tried to include our collegue Prieur in the inculpation, by accusing him of wanting to lose and imprison this agent. But Prieur denied these malicious claims so well, that Saint-Just didn’t dare to insist on it more. Instead, he turned again towards Carnot, whom he attacked with cruelty; several members of the Committee of General Security assisted. Niou was present for this scandalous scene: dismayed, he retired and feared to accept a pouder mission, a mission that could become, he said, a subject of accusation, since the patriots were busy destroying themselves in this way. We undoubtedly complained about this indecent attack, but was it necessary, at a time when there was not a grain of powder manufactured in Paris, to proclaim a division within the Committee of Public Safety, rather than to make known this fatal secret? In the midst of the most vague indictments and the most atrocious expressions uttered by Saint-Just, Carnot was obliged to repel them by treating him and his friends as aspiring to dictatorship and successively attacking all patriots to remain alone and gain supreme power with his supporters. It was then that Saint-Just showed an excessive fury; he cried out that the Republic was lost if the men in charge of defending it were treated like dictators; that yesterday he saw the project to attack him but that he defended himself. ”It’s you,” he added, ”who is allied with the enemies of the patriots. And understand that I only need a few lines to write for an act of accusation and have you guillotined in two days.”  ”I invite you, said Carnot with the firmness that only appartient to virtue: I provoke all your severity against me, I do not fear you, you are ridiculous dictators.” The other members of the Committee insisted in vain several times to extinguish this ferment of disorder in the committee, to remind Saint-Just of the fairer ideas of his colleague and of more decency in the committee; they wanted to call people back to public affairs, but everything was useless: Saint-Just went out as if enraged, flying into a rage and threatening his colleagues. Saint-Just probably had nothing more urgent than to go and warn Robespierre the next day of the scene that had just happened, because we saw them return together the next day to the committee, around one o'clock: barely had they entered when Saint-Just, taking Robespierre by the hand, addressed Carnot saying: ”Well, here you have my friends, here are the ones you attacked yesterday!” Robespierre tried to speak of the respective wrongs with a very hypocritical tone: Saint-Just wanted to speak again and excite his colleagues to take his side. The coldness which reigned in this session, disheartened them, and they left the committee very early and in a good mood. Réponse des membres des deux anciens Comités de salut public et de sûreté générale (Barère, Collot, Billaud, Vadier), aux imputations renouvellées contre eux, par Laurent Lecointre et declarées calomnieuses par décret du 13 fructidor dernier; à la Convention Nationale (1795), page 103-105

My friends, the committee has taken all the measures within its control at this time to support your zeal. It has asked me to write to you to explain the reasons for some of its provisions. It believed that the main cause of the last failure was the shortage of skilled generals, it will send you all the patriotic and educated soldiers that can be found. It thought it necessary at this time to re-use Stetenhofen, whom it is sending to you, because he has military merit, and because the objections made against him seem at least to be balanced by proofs of loyalty. He also relies on your wisdom and your energy. Salut et amitié. Paris, 15 floréal, year 2 of the Republic.  Robespierre. Robespierre to Saint-Just and Lebas, May 4 1793

Dear collegue, Liberty is exposed to new dangers; the factions arise with a character more alarming than ever. The lines to get butter are more numerous and more turbulent than ever when they have the least pretexts, an insurrection in the prisons which was to break out yesterday and the intrigues which manifested themselves in the time of Hébert are combined with assassination attemps on several occasions against members of the Committee of Public Safety; the remnants of the factions, or rather the factions still alive, are redoubled in audacity and perfidy. There is fear of an aristocratic uprising, fatal to liberty. The greatest peril that threatens it is in Paris. The Committee needs to bring together the lights and energy of all its members. Calculate whether the army of the North, which you have powerfully contributed to putting on the path to victory, can do without your presence for a few days. We will replace you, until you return, with a patriotic representative. The members composing the Committee of Public Safety. Robespierre, Prieur, Carnot, Billaud-Varennes, Barère. Letter to Saint-Just from the CPS, May 25 1794, written by Robespierre. It was penned down just two days after the alleged attempt on Robespierre’s life by Cécile Renault.

Robespierre returned to the Committee a few days later to denounce new conspiracies in the Convention, saying that, within a short time, these conspirators who had lined up and frequently dined together would succeed in destroying public liberty, if their maneuvers were allowed to continue unpunished. The committee refused to take any further measures, citing the necessity of not weakening and attacking the Convention, which was the target of all the enemies of the Republic. Robespierre did not lose sight of his project: he only saw conspiracies and plots: he asked that Saint-Just returned from the Army of the North and that one write to him so that he may come and strengthen the committee. Having arrived, Saint-Just asked Robespierre one day the purpose of his return in the presence of the other members of the Committee; Robespierre told him that he was to make a report on the new factions which threatened to destroy the National Convention; Robespierre was the only speaker during this session. He was met by the deepest silence from the Committee, and he leaves with horrible anger. Soon after, Saint-Just returned to the Army of the North, since called Sambre-et-Mouse. Some time passes; Robespierre calls for Saint-Just to return in vain: finally, he returns, no doubt after his instigations; he returned at the moment when he was most needed by the army and when he was least expected: he returned the day after the battle of Fleurus. From that moment, it was no longer possible to get him to leave, although Gillet, representative of the people to the army, continued to ask for him. Réponse de Barère, Billaud-Varennes, Collot d’Herbois et Vadier aux imputations de Laurent Lecointre (1795)

On 10 messidor (June 28) I was at the Committee of Public Safety. There, I witnessed those who one accuses today (Billaud-Varenne, Barère, Collot-d'Herbois, Vadier, Vouland, Amar and David) treat Robespierre like a dictator. Robespierre flew into an incredible fury. The other members of the Committee looked on with contempt. Saint-Just went out with him. Levasseur at the Convention, August 30 1794. If this scene actually took place, it must have done so one day later, 11 messidor (June 29), considering Saint-Just was still away on a mission on the tenth.

Isn’t it around the same time (a few days before thermidor) that Saint-Just and Lebas would dine at your father’s house with Robespierre? Lebas often dined there, having married one of my sisters. Saint-Just rarely there, but he frequently went to Robespierre’s and climbed the stairs to his office without speaking to anyone. During the dinner which I’m talking about, did you hear Saint-Just propose to Robespierre to reconcile with some members of the Convention and Committees who appeared to be opposed to him? No. I only know that they appeared to be very devided. Do you have any ideas what these divisions were about? I only learned about it through the discussions which took place on this subject at the Jacobins and through the altercation which was said to have taken place at the Committee of Public Safety between Robespierre older and Carnot.  Robespierre’s host’s son Jacques-Maurice Duplay in an interrogation held January 1 1795

Saint-Just then fell back on his report, and said that he would join the committee the next day (9 thermidor) and that if it did not approve it, he would not read it. Collot continued to unmask Saint-Just; but as he focused more on depicting the dangers praying on the fatherland than on attacking the perfesy of Saint-Just and his accomplices, he gradually reassured himself of his confusion; he listened with composure, returning to his honeyed and hypocritical tone. Some time later, he told Collot d'Herbois that he could be reproached for having made some remarks against Robespierre in a café, and establishing this assertion as a positive fact, he admitted that he had made it the basis of an indictment against Collot, in the speech he had prepared. Réponse des membres des deux anciens Comités de salut public et de sûrété générale… (1795) page 107.

I attest that Robespierre declared himself a firm supporter of the Convention and never spoke but gently in the Committee so as not to undermine any of its members. […] Billaud-Varenne said to Robespierre, “We are your friends, we have always walked together.” This dishonesty made my heart shudder. The next day, he called him Peisistratos and had written his act of accusation. […] If you reflect carefully on what happened during your last session, you will find the application of everything I said: a man alienated from the Committee due to the bitterest treatments, when this Committee was, in fact, no longer made up of more than the two or three members present, justified himself before you; he did not explain himself clearly enough, to tell the truth, but his alienation and the bitterness in his soul can excuse him somewhat: he does not know why he is being persecuted, he knows nothing except his misfortune. He has been called a tyrant of opinion: here I must explain myself and shine light on a sophism that tends to proscribe merit. And what exclusive right do you have to opinion, you who find that it is a crime to touch souls? Do you find it wrong that a man should be tenderhearted? Are you thus from the court of Philip, you who make war on eloquence? A tyrant of opinion? Who is stopping you from competing for the esteem of the fatherland, you who find it so wrong that someone should captivate it? There is no despot in the world, save Richelieu, who would be insulted by the fame of a writer. Is it a more disinterested triumph? Cato is said to have chased from Rome the bad citizen who had called eloquence at the tribune of harangues, the tyrant of opinion. No one has the right to claim that; it gives itself to reason and its empire is not the in the power of governments. […] The member who spoke for a long time yesterday at this tribune did not seem to have  distinguished clearly enough who he was accusing. He had no complaints and has not complained either about the Committees; because the Committees still seem to me to be dignified of your estime, and the misfortunes that I have spoken to you of were born of isolation and the extreme authority of several members left alone. Saint-Just defending Robespierre in his last, undelivered speech, July 27 1794

One brings St. Just, Dumas and Payan, all of them shackled, they are escorted by policemen. They stay a good quarter of an hour standing in front of the door of the Committee’s room; one makes them sit down onto a windowsill; they have still not uttered a single word, pleasant people make the persons who surround these three men step aside, and say move back, let these gentlemen see their King sleep on a table, just like a man. Saint-Just moves his head in order to see Robespierre. Saint-Just’s figure appeared dejected and humiliated, his swollen eyes expressed chagrin. Faits recueillis aux derniers instants de Robespierre et de sa saction, du 9 au 10 thermidor (1794) by anonymous.

The Committee of General Security was being spied on by Héron, D…, Lebas: Robespierre knew, through them, word for word, everything that was happening at said committee. This espionage gave rise to more intimate connections between Couthon, Saint-Just and Robespierre. The fierce and ambitious character of the latter gave him the idea of ​​establishing the general police bureau, which, barely conceived, was immediately decreed. Révélations puisées dans les cartons des comités de Salut public et de Sûreté générale ou mémoires (inédits) (1824) by Gabriel Jérôme Sénart.

Intimately linked with Robespierre, [Saint-Just] had become necessary to him, and he had made himself feared perhaps even more than he had desired to be loved. One never saw them divided in opinion, and if the personal ideas of one had to bow to those of the other, it is certain that Saint-Just never gave in. Robespierre had a bit of that vanity which comes from selfishness; Saint-Just was full of the pride that springs from well-established beliefs; without physical courage, and weak in body, to the point of fearing the whistling of bullets, he had the courage of reflection which makes one wait for certain death, so as not to sacrifice an idea. Memoirs of René Levasseur (1829) volume 2, page 324-325.

Often [Robespierre] said to me that Camille was perhaps the one among all the key revolutionaries whom he liked best, after our younger brother and Saint-Just.  Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834) page 139.

After the month of March, 1794, Robespierre's conduct appeared to me to change. Saint-Just was to a great degree the cause of this, and this leader was too youthful ; he urged him into the vain and dangerous path of dictatorship which he haughtily proclaimed. From that time all confidences in the two committees were at an end, and the misfortunes that followed the division in the government became inevitable. […] We did not hide from [Robespierre] that Saint-Just, who was formed of more dictatorial stuff, would have ended by overturning him and occupying his place ; we knew too that he would have us guillotined because of our opposition to his plans; so we overthrew him. Memoirs of Bertrand Barère (1896), volume 1, page 103-104.

About this time Robespierre felt his ambition growing, and he thought that the moment had come to employ his influence and take part in the government. He took steps with certain members of the committee and the Convention, asking them to show a desire that he, Robespierre, should become a member of the Committee of Public Safety. He told the Jacobins it would be useful to observe the work and conduct of the members of the committee, and he told the members of the Convention that there would be more harmony between the Convention and the committee if he entered it. Several deputies spoke to me about it, and the proposal was made to the committee by Couthon and Saint-Just. To ask was to obtain, for a refusal would have been a sort of accusation, and it was necessary to avoid any split during that winter which was inaugurated in such a sinister manner. The committee agreed to his admission, and Robespierre was proposed.  Ibid, volume 2, page 96-97

The continued victories of our fourteen armies were as a cloud of glory over our frontiers, hiding from allied Europe our internecine struggles, and that unhappy side of our national character which acts and reacts so deplorably as much on the whole population as on our nghts and our manners. The enthusiasm with which I announced these victories from the tnbune was so easily seen that Saint- Just and Robespierre, being in the committee at three in the morning, and learning of the taking of Namur and some other Belgian towns, insisted for the future that the letters alone of the generals should be read, without any comments which might exaggerate their contents. I saw at once at whom this reproach was directed, and I took up the gauntlet with the deasion of a man willing to once more merit the hatred of the enemies of our national glory, and the bravery of our armies. Then Samt-Just cried, “ I beg to move that Barère be no longer allowed to add froth to our victories.” […] While Saint-Just was reproving me, Robespierre supported the longsightedness of his friend… […] The next day my report on the taking of Namur was somewhat more carefully drawn up, and I alluded to the observation of my critics, who were envious of the power of public opinion in favour of our troops, then busied in saving the country. This phrase in my report was much commented on, although its meaning was only clear to those who had heard the debate in the committee on the previous evening “Sad are the tunes, sad is the period, when the recital of the triumphs and glories of the armies of the Repubhc is coldly hastened to in this place! Henceforth liberty will be no longer defended by the country, it will be handed over to its enemies!”This pronouncement was not of a nature to be forgiven by Saint-Just and Robespierre, so they determined to supplant me with regard to these reports. They forced that idiot Couthon to attend the Committee of Public Safety at eleven in the morning, before I got there Couthon asked for the letters of the generals that had come in during the night, and took his usual seat at the back of the hall, waiting until the assembly was sufficiently full for him to announce the victones. About one, Couthon, being paralysed and unable to stand up in the tribune, coldly read the news from the armies from his place. This time, no effect was produced in the Assembly, or upon the public. This attempt, authorised by Robespierre and Saint-Just, having missed fire completely, the committee signified its dissatisfaction at the innovation. Ibid, volume 2, page 123-125

After his return from Fleurus, Saint-Just remained some time in Paris, although his mission as representative to the armies of the Sambre and Meuse and the Rhine and Moselle was unfinished. The campaign was only beginning, but he had several projects in hand, and he stayed in committee, or rather his office, where he was always absorbed and thoughtful. Robespierre, in speaking of him at the committee, said familiarly, as if speaking of an intimate friend: ”Saint-Just is silent and observant, but I have noticed, in his personality, he has a great likeness to Charles IX.” This did not flatter Saint-Just, who was a deeper and cleverer revolutionist than Robespierre. One day, when the former was angry about several legislative propositions or decrees that did not please him, Saint-Just said to him, “Be calm, it is the phlegmatic who govern.” Ibid, volume 2, page 139

This tyrannical law was the work of Saint-Just Consult the Momteuv of the 22nd of Germinal, where it is reported with the explanation of his motives, and you will see that, if there had been no committee, SamtJust would have used his power with as much dictatorial fanaticism as did Manus, that great enemy of the Roman anstocracy. Robespierre’s fnend never forgave me for having dimmished the force of this blow. Whilst I was at the tnbune of the Convention, he came, with someone unknown, and perused my register of requisitions. He took down certain names, and some days after, towards midnight, Robespierre and Saint-Just entered the committee, where they did not usually come (for they worked in a private office, under pretext that their duties were completely private) A few moments after their entry Saint-Just complained of the abuse I had made of the requisitions, which had been granted, said he, in such profusion that the law of the 21st of Germinal had become null and void. Ibid, volume 2, page 146

Robespierre, Saint-Just and Couthon were inseparable. The first two had a dark and duplicitous character; they pushed away with a kind of disdainful pride any familiarity or affectionate relationship with their colleagues. The third, a legless man with a pale appearance, affected good-nature, but was no less perfidious than the other two. All three of them had a cold heart, without pity, they interacted only with each other, holding mysterious meetings outside, having a large number of protégés and agents, impenetrable in their designs. Révélations sur le Comité de salut public by Prieur-Duvernois

Robespierre, who had great confidence in Le Bas because he knew his wise and prudent character well, had chosen him to accompany Saint-Just, whose burning love of the fatherland sometimes led to too much severity, and who had a tendency to get carried away. […] [Saint-Just] also had friendship for me and came often enough to our house. […] Finally our providence, our good friend Robespierre, spoke to Saint-Just to engage him to let me depart with them, along with my sister-in-law Henriette. He consented, but with some conditions. Memoirs of Élisabeth Lebas (1901)

Volume 8 — page 153. ”Saint-Just, his (Robespierre’s) only confident.” His only confident? Élisabeth Lebas corrects a passage in Alphonse de Lamartine’s Histoire des Girondins (1847)

The Lamenths and Péthion in the early days, quite rarely Legendre, Merlin de Thionville and Fouché, often Taschereau, Desmoulins and Teault, always Lebas, Saint-Just, David, Couthon and Buonarotti. Élisabeth Lebas regarding visitors to the Duplay’s during the revolution

—

When arriving in Paris in September 1792, Saint-Just first lived on No. 7 rue de Gaillon up until March 1794, and then on No. 3 rue de Caumartin (today’s No. 5) up until his death. Both those places were within a ten minute walking distance from Robespierre’s home on 398 Rue Saint-Honoré.

Saint-Just was away from Paris (and therefore Robespierre) on missions between March 9 to March 31, October 17 to December 4, December 10 to December 30, January 22 to February 13, April 30 to May 31 and June 10 to June 29.

#sj and max holding hands 🤗💓 #robespierre #saint-just #maximilien robespierre #louis antoine de saint just #barère #élisabeth lebas #philippe lebas #frev #frev friendships #long post #saintspierre

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FIC] Love, Rain Down on Me

Rated: M Word Count: 2272 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, human AU, writer!Dream, professor!Hob, stargazing, care packages, acts of service, kisses in the rain, realizations, confessions, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, 5+1 fic

Notes: Final entry for Fluffbruary 2024; turns out I wasn't done with this Umbrella Boys AU just yet. Shoutout to @academicblorbo for asking about Dream's pov and suggesting the first 'I love you' as an idea; my brain said 'Oh yes' 1489-Hob-style and while this is not exactly what I first envisioned, I'm still happy with where we ended up.

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 25: fox twilight sweat Day 26: fluff woolly care package Day 27: table blush laundry Day 28: reward shelter piano Day 29: breakfast valley sign alt prompts: wish hot solid

Summary: 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not

On AO3

1. The first time Dream realizes it, Hob has taken him to the astronomy department at the college, after hours, to look at the stars. "Gale lent me the key," Hob had laughed when Dream expressed trepidation about breaking into Hob's place of work. "I'm allowed to come moon over the stars sometimes, and I'm allowed to bring you with me if I want."

So they are taking turns looking through the telescope, peering into the perpetual twilight of the heavens and marveling at the beauty that cannot be properly seen with the naked eye nor from within the light-polluted aura of the city. Hob laughs when Dream observes as much. "Maybe come end of summer we'll take a drive out of the city, camp out for a night in the countryside and do some real stargazing. Sound good?"

And Dream looks at him, this beautiful man squinting up at the skies through his colleague's telescope, the way his hair falls around his face, the scruff of his three-week-old beard and the elegant line of his nose, this beautiful man who offers anything he thinks Dream might like as if it's nothing. Hob has shared with him the woes of past breakups, the consensus that he is too intense, moves too fast, is too much to put up with, and he has admonished Dream to please please tell him if he ever oversteps or pushes too hard, too far because he is trying to do better, but all Dream can think in this moment is how warm he feels in Hob's affections, how priveleged to receive his time and attention.

I love this man, he realizes, like camellias blossoming beneath his ribs, like the sun breaking over the horizon.

"Dream?" Hob is looking at him now instead of the stars, eyebrows raised, mouth curved in a patiently-amused smile.

"That. Would be lovely," Dream answers at last, smiling warmly back at Hob, and cradles his newfound revelation close in the hollow of his chest.

2. The second time, Hob is away at a conference and Dream has emerged from a morning of fitful writing to discover a neatly-wrapped package delivered for him, tied with a ruby red bow. His sister has brought it up and left it by his door rather than interrupting his writing time, as they've agreed. Upon opening it, he finds a letter from Hob atop an airtight plastic container.

Hey Dream, reads the letter, just wanted to say that I'll miss you while I'm gone and can't wait to lavish you with sweet kisses when I get back. Meantime, I made you some of those lavender-rosemary-lemon biscuits you love and here's my shirt you can sleep with if you want. Enjoy ~♥

Delighted by the package and the letter and the biscuits, and the intent behind them, Dream lifts the container out of the box; beneath it, there is a compact umbrella nestled in what turns out to be one of Hob's favorite t-shirts, worn just enough to smell like him. Dream presses it to his face and inhales, absurdly touched, and smiles as he picks up the umbrella.

Of course Hob has sent him an umbrella; that is their 'thing', that is how they met, and he is also terrible at remembering to bring one with him. Tied to the handle he finds a piece of card stock about the size of his palm, with a drawing penciled on one side. It's a rough cartoon figure that is recognizably Hob, smiling brightly and holding a sunny yellow cocktail umbrella that has been carefully attached through the card so that Hob's penciled hand appears to grasp the toothpick handle. Don't forget! says his speech bubble, and Dream feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as his smile grows too wide for his face to contain.

I love you, Hob Gadling, he thinks, both hands wrapped around the umbrella, and presses his lips gently to cartoon-Hob's precious happy little face.

3. "You did not have to do my washing, Hob," Dream protests, somewhat futilely as the deed is already done, dried, and being folded. "I am a grown man, capable of doing my own laundry." Never mind that his clothes had been accumulating in Hob's flat all week while he worked through additional revisions to The Seeds of Fate; Hob's space was conducive to this particular story, he found, and Hob was generous in allowing him to hole up here during the day while Hob was at work and on into the evenings when he returned, overnight when Dream wished it.

Hob shrugs. "They were here, I had a load of darks, they fit. Don't worry, my washing powder's the allergy-free stuff and I checked your tags for temps and such. Which reminds me." He sets the black jeans he just folded aside, takes up a pair of his own. "Your fancy lace shirt's hanging in the shower; hand washed it in cold just like it said and put it up to drip-dry."

Dream is keenly struck by the soft warmth of Hob choosing to do mundane everyday chores for him, taking care with his things, simply because he wants to and he can. It is not new, by any means; Hob has engaged in little acts of service the whole of the time Dream has been acquainted with him, from the very moment he first offered shared use of his umbrella to Dream. The domesticity of this moment settles something deep within him, something that sings of home and happiness and contentment.

"Hob Gadling, you are a chivalrous and wonderful man," he says, when what he means is I love you. "Truly, you make my life so much easier." He comes close, presses a kiss to Hob's cheek.

Hob just smiles, soft and warm and pleased, and continues folding his laundry. "You're welcome, duck. My pleasure."

4. "Here, take ours," Hob says, handing his umbrella to the woman with the toddler at the bus stop as the skies open up.

"Oh I couldn't!" Her eyes dart from the umbrella (which Hob is of course holding over her and her child) to Dream and back to Hob. "That's very kind, but then you'll get soaked!"

"We're not far," Hob assures, pressing the umbrella into her hand. "I insist. We'll be fine."

"Well…if you're quite certain?" She clutches it gratefully.

"Of course. Take care." Hob offers a friendly smile, the kind that makes his nose scrunch up adorably, and they turn to leave.

"Thank you!" the woman calls after them.

Dream finds that he doesn't mind the rain, is not inclined to run for shelter, not with Hob beside him, not when their getting soaked is because Hob does not hesitate to offer kindness to strangers. It gives him a warm glow inside, to know that he loves a man who works to put kindness out into the world, to brighten the days of those around him when he can. Damp clothes and wet hair are a small price to pay, and the summer rain is not so cold.

Halfway to Hob's flat, Dream steps around in front of him and drapes his arms behind Hob's neck. "That was a very kind thing you did," he murmurs, stepping backwards, drawing Hob with him so they do not stop moving onward. It is very much like a slow sort of dance down the street, and Hob's arms wrapping about his waist only heighten that impression.

"Yeah?" Hob shrugs, smiling. "She needed it." Like it is truly that simple.

To Hob, it is.

Dream kisses him, pressing close while the rain falls upon them. "Not many would give up their own comfort for a stranger." His lips brush Hob's with the words and then Hob is drawing him back in, warm, hungry. Dream fancies he can taste the rain, between them.

"Not a hardship, not when I've got you to keep me company," Hob finally says, nipping softly at his lips, water dripping steadily from a loose lock of hair.

"Such things you say." Dream is intoxicated with the moment, the atmosphere, the swelling of feeling he holds for this man and the tender warmth in Hob's eyes gazing back at him while the skies wash the world around them in soft hazy grey.

I love you, he thinks, kissing Hob again, pulling him close in the falling rain, I love you, I love you, I LOVE you—

5. He thinks it next when he is tangled with Hob in his bed, breathless and sweating and coming apart in Hob's practiced hands, when every time Hob moves within him he is crying out, starlight bursting behind his eyes.

He thinks it as Hob shivers to a halt, pulsing hot inside him, trembling in his arms.

He thinks it laying in Hob's embrace after, Hob's chest solid and warm beneath his ear, rising gently with each of Hob's sleeping breaths. I love you, I love you, I love you, he whispers in his head, in time with the steady beat of Hob's heart, and lets himself drift to sleep, content.

One day, one day when the moment is right, he will say it aloud; until then, he hoards it like a precious secret safe in his heart.

+1 Dream wakes on Sunday with a groan, protesting the sunbeams that have found his face; they had not closed Hob's bedroom curtains last night and he is paying the price for this oversight now.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Hob says, leaning on one elbow beside Dream with his head propped in his hand. He is supremely unbothered by the brightness, leading Dream to surmise he awoke some time ago.

"You are watching me sleep, now? You will not convince me that it is entertaining." He blinks once, twice, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Entertaining is not the word, no, but I do enjoy it. You're so pretty when you're asleep, soft and relaxed and at peace. I love that I get to see it." Hob smiles, reaches to trace a fingertip down his cheekbone. "Was trying to decide what to make you for breakfast, actually."

Dream squirms onto his back, throws an arm over his eyes, stretches his toes. "You need not make such effort—" He cuts himself off with a jaw-cracking yawn.

"You're worth it, though," Hob says easily, and Dream rolls his head to the side, meets Hob's eyes again. The sun is striking them exactly right, illuminating the depths of the brown to amber, honey.

He is so beautiful.

"Very well." Dream smiles, indulgent, lazy. "What will you be offering to please my discerning palette?"

"Fry you up an egg and a couple slices of bread? Tomato too, if you want. Blueberry jam for your toast and your sweet tooth. And if you're hungry enough, a nice hot juicy sausage?" He waggles his eyebrows.

Dream arches one of his own in return, and Hob grins. "Yeah alright, that's for later. But I will cook you actual sausage too if you like."

"I will take actual sausage with breakfast, yes, and 'sausage' when I am awake enough to enjoy it." He swings himself out of Hob's bed and makes his way to the toilet, the warm sound of Hob's laughter following him.

By the time he wanders into the kitchen, having donned his pants and a t-shirt of Hob's, bare feet and bare legs and bare arms because he's comfortable and because he knows Hob likes it, Hob has sausages and tomatoes frying in one pan with eggs and bread in another. He's tied an apron over his bare chest and joggers, captured most of his hair in an elastic band, is whistling cheerfully over the stovetop with a spatula in hand. The kettle is going, and Dream retrieves two mugs from the cupboard.

He preps Hob's tea once it's steeped, a quarter the milk and sugar that he puts in his own, and offers it to Hob to taste once he's finished plating their breakfast.

"Perfect," Hob pronounces, handing it back and picking up the plates to carry to the table. "Why's it always taste best when you make it?"

"I infuse it with my charming personality," Dream quips, deadpan, and Hob huffs a laugh.

"God, I love you," he says, his smile still broad, bright enough to rival the morning sun outside the kitchen window; and then he stills.

Dream, too, has gone still; Hob has never said those words to him before, and it sets something joyful and effervescent singing through his veins.

Hob loves him.

Hob loves him.

But Hob is shrinking in on himself, just a little, as if he could hide behind the plates in his hands and the apron he wears—every inch the man who fears (too much too fast I always come on too strong) the consequence of words he had not intended to speak aloud. Dream will be sad about this later, that he has failed somehow to make clear to Hob beyond the shadow of any doubt how welcome his affections are, how endearing his intensity, and he will vow to do better; but now, in the moment, with his heart soaring, the solution is simple, so simple, as easy as breathing.

He has never said the words aloud either, but they are as familiar to him as the beating of his own heart and they are spoken with as little effort.

"And I love you, Hob Gadling." He leans over the corner of the table, kisses Hob soft and sweet on his blossoming smile. "Now, where is my blueberry jam?"

= Started: 2/26/24 Drafted: 2/29/24 Posted: 2/29/24

The lavender-rosemary-lemon cookies were first written by @softest-punk and then brought to life by @carnelianmeluha; you can find the original fic and the recipe via this link One day I will brave my utter dearth of kitchen skill and make these myself. One day.

#TJs Fics #Fluffbruary 2024 #TJs Fluffbruary #Dreamling #Sandman #wip: umbrella boys 2

[sapphicvalentines]

☆Baby, the stars shine bright☆

pt1, pt2

inspired by the 'kamikaze girls',♡ always had unconditional love for lolita fashion and nothing else but when she met ellie,an auburn haired girl whos part of a gang with a dad's fashion sense ,her love for clothes begins to compete with her growing feelings for ellie

strangers to friends to lovers,love-hate friendship,ellie is into reader♡ but reader♡ shows no interest (in the beginning),opposite aesthetics,early 2000s

fluff,wlw

Frilly pink dresses,strawberry cakes,sunny days,classical music and tea times made you the happiest being alive but again,your happiness only relied on external things because deep inside you felt rotten. But at least it was better than feeling totally empty right?

Everytime you felt horrible about yourself you'd think of your parents. 

Your dad was rejected by his gang because he could never hold a gun properly (he would cry in vain after shooting someone) and your mother heartlessly cheated on your dad with her gynecologist right after you were born.

Your mom had crossed boundaries and you assumed it was hereditary when you started to gaslight your dad for money so you could build your dream closet.

"My best friend is in the terminal stage of this very rare, deadly disease."

You looked away, pretending to drop tears, not just because of the act but also because guilt was slowly enveloping you. You continued with your fake emotional tone, "She's so young, but she looks so tired and sick. Fortunately, the doctors found a cure."

This statement made your father stop crying and cover his mouth in surprise. He believed every single word coming out of your mouth.

"And they have to perform a surgery that will cost-" It was like a reflex; your dad burst into tears again before handing you 2000 bucks. It wasn't to save your imaginary friend from the disease but to fuel your will to live. You covered your smile with your hand before taking the money and thanking your dad, already imagining the kind of dress you would buy.

The next day, you woke up before your alarm went off, not wasting a second to go to your favorite place.

You walked all the way from home, which was in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, to the train station.

You wished you lived in Tokyo because then you wouldn't have to add the cost of the train ticket to your expenses, allowing you to spend all your money on dresses. But going there once every month prevented you from emptying your wallet every day, so it wasn't all bad.

Relief hit you when you arrived at the train station early. You took a seat, but then you heard people screaming and arguing from afar.

It was your dad doing his 'new' job after leaving his gang. You thought you were good at gaslighting him, but he was certainly better. He was selling fake luxury brand clothes to a group of oblivious people, arguing with him to get a 90% discount. No matter how stubborn you are, you don't think you could ever fool an entire group of people. It made you wonder how your dad believed all of your made-up stories in the first place.

Little did you know, the dress you bought that day would be the last one you bought with your father's money. Karma got both you and your father, almost bankrupting him. The old gang your father was in denounced his actions, leaving him with no job and no money to fund your wardrobe.

When you looked at the fake luxury clothes in your hands, you wondered how people even fell for this. It was just basic white t-shirts with a brand name; not even your alter ego could like this.

But to your biggest surprise, the scam your father had pulled off hadn't reached everyone's ears. Luckily, you soon received a letter that looked like it was written by an 8-year-old:

"Hi, I saw your big tracksuits when I was walking by the city, but there were too many people buying everything. I was wondering if you still have some left for me. Wait for me at your house at 8 am."

And so you did. You stood at your front door, waiting for the child to arrive. You convinced your father to keep his fake clothes for whatever reason, so you could continue what he was doing in secret.

All you had to do was sell fake luxury clothes to afford your dream ones. With no gang to ever snitch on you, you could set your own prices and stop depending on your dad's money.

You spotted a motocycle and squinted your eyes when the person riding drove towards your home

Was it one of the childs parents ?

The person drove closer blowing some dust before parking their motocycle next to your home, they didnt even wear a helmet for security

You realised she was a girl when the dust disappeared but she didnt look like a mother at all

You didnt realise you were staring that long until the auburn girl came up to you and told you to stop

"hey, I told you im looking for the seller where is he ?" her deep commanding voice made you remind the letter, it wasnt an actual child's writing,she was just writing like a child !

"he's not here, but I'm taking his role," the auburn girl said, looking you up and down inspecting your elegant lolita dress.She was blocking the sun, so you couldn't clearly see her facial features.

"are you messing with me?" You could see her features better when her face got closer to yours, attempting to intimidate you. She didn't believe in you, even though she had no idea those clothes were fake. She turned her face away to spit on the ground, and you noticed golden writing on her large jacket's sleeve.

This girl was definitely part of a gang, you thought.

"stop spitting," you retorted in disagreement with her behavior. It was obvious she was doing all this to let people know she's not playing around, but still...

She raised an eyebrow at you, a bit surprised. But before she could do or say anything, you carelessly opened the front door of your home, which was about to turn into a place of business.

#ellie williams #ellie fluff #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #mini series #Spotify

[norinenglish]

Stardew Rancher AU - Intro cutscene

Here's my first piece for the Stardew AU challenge.

If you want to take part too, use the #traffic stardew au tag (You can also use the banner I made). On my blog, I will be using #stardew ranchers au as well.

The writing is under the cut.

>> Next Part

I hate this life.

Jimmy doesn’t remember a day in the last year he has not thought this. He’s staring at a computer screen, as he has been for the last seven hours, when it hits him. He hates this life. In fact, it could barely be qualified as a life. 

He misses nature. Running around in the grass, playing, talking to people… He turns his head around to look at the window, but there isn’t even any on the office walls. He looks around him and only sees rows and rows of cubicles with other lifeless people slaving all day. The clicking of keyboards and mouths, the buzzing of the neon lights, it’s all too much.

I can’t stand it anymore, he thinks to himself. I need a way out.

Suddenly, he remembers a conversation he had with his grandpa, when he was young, about the burden of modern life. He hadn’t really realised what it had meant before today. Jimmy, like his parents, had dismissed it as the stubbornness of an old man who was made to live in the countryside. But it must have stayed on the back of his mind, because he kept the letter. 

In fact… 

He opens the drawer of his desk and there it is. A fancy old letter with a fancy purple seal. 

(He’s definitely not going to think about the fact that he kept it in his drawer at work and the possible implication of that. Nope.)

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and opens it. The swoosh of the paper unfolding is the loudest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

The letter says: 

Dear Jimmy, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. 

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. 

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my boy. Good luck. 

Love, Grandpa. 

PS: If the Sherrif is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya? 

He puts the letter down and looks up at the ceiling for a second. 

In all the emptiness he feels, it’s like he’s just grown wing. 

🌿 loading🌿

The bus startles to a stop and Jimmy wakes up. 

“Pelican Town!” The driver screams. 

Jimmy looks around. There’s no else on anymore. He quickly grabs his travel bag and gets out. He says his thanks to the bus driver who just hums unhappily. Guess he really didn’t want to go that far out for just one person. 

On the side of the road is just a small clearing, with broken fences and dirt path. Someone is waiting for him, though. A man with cyan blue hair and an easygoing smile. 

“Hello, you must be Jimmy,” he sayswith a cheerful voice. “I’m Scott, the local florist. Mayor Grian sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.”

It takes a second for Jimmy to find his words. The reality of what he’s done hitting him finally. He quit his job. He moved out of his appartment. He sold his things and bought a ticket for this small town in the middle of nowhere to become a farmer. 

“Nice to meet you, Scott,” he says after swallowing. “I…”

Gosh, he cannot screw this up. This isn’t like in the city. The people he meets are going to be the community he’s going to live with. He wants to make a good impression. 

Scott smiles, tilting his head to the side. He looks Jimmy up and down with mischief in his eyes in a way that makes Jimmy blush a little. He must be tired. 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Jimmy nods and follows him on the dirt path until they reach an area with a… house. Supposedly. 

“This is the Ranch,” Scott announces, waving his arm around to show the land that stretches before them.. 

The Ranch is an old building made out of wood. It looks like it’s been built in the last century. The farmland around, which was included in Scott’s gesture, is littered with some kind of forest. There are different types of trees, dead wood on the ground, bushes, and even some rocks! Is this really the farm his grandfather loved ? 

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks in a light voice. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him and an air of challenge about him. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

He turns back towards the house itself. Jimmy notes that there’s plenty of firewood on the side of the house. Someone must have stacked it for him. That thought settles in his chest, fluttering like a bird. He won’t sleep in the cold tonight, and that’s thanks to strangers. 

“... And here we are, your new home,” Scott says. 

Just like his words summoned him, a man opens the door and gets down the few steps of his porch to stop in front of them. He pulls the sleeves of his red sweater back to his writs and offers his hand to Jimmy. 

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, I’m Grian, the Mayor of Pelican Town.”

Jimmy shakes his hand and introduces himself. Grian nods, seemingly satisfied. 

“You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal.” He turns to look back at the house. “So… you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”

“Rustic?” Scott chimes in. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

“Rude,” Grian says under his breath, his eyebrows frowning. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. He’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of Gem’s house upgrades.”

“Gem?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s the local carpenter. She lives north of the valley, near the mountain.”

Gem, the local carpenter. Jimmy tries to mentally catalogue. She makes house upgrades.  He turns his eyes towards Scott. He doesn’t remember if he said what he was doing. 

“Anyway… You must be tired from the long journey,” Grian says, looking back at the house. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

He turns to leave and sees the box placed next to the mailbox. 

 “Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in the box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. Well… Good luck!”

They are gone before Jimmy can really say anything else. But it might be for the better, because he’s exhausted. 

“I’m here,” he says to no one. Maybe to himself. Or maybe to his grandfather. 

Going into the house is a blurr. He barely have time to register the small table with one chair, the fireplace that was lit up for him and the bed. He just melts into the mattress and passes out.

#norwrites #traffic stardew au #stardew ranchers au #trafficblr #team rancher #jimmy solidarity

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hi! I'm on a regency binge at the moment and while Good Society is on my list, do you have any more regency games/systems to recommend?

THEME: Regency Games

Hello friend, I think I have a nice little selection for you to take a look at!

One thing to note is that some of these games are very gendered, providing roles such as “Matron”, “Nobleman” or “Countess” that is rather unavoidable. Sometimes this is simply part and parcel of playing in a specific era of history, and sometimes it is done purposefully, as games can often be commentary about certain issues that were prevalent at the time.

While I think you could likely make a non-binary character in these games if you really want to, I think that one of the appeals of playing in the Regency era is the strict social structures that created such rigid gender boundaries, and so I’m not surprised to see those boundaries enforced in these games.

Vicious, by Budget Versailles.

Vicious is a game set during the Regency period about scandalous gossip told via letters between three or more players.

Players roll dice to generate scenarios and gossipy twists to pass on to the next player until everyone has been deceived with shocking slander and hearsay.

If you’re a fan of the epistolary phase of Good Society, Vicious is probably worth looking at. Watch a piece of news twist out of your control as your letters get flavoured with gossip. You can roll for inspiration for various scenarios, as well as for juicy gossip to make those scenarios even better - but the game ends with one player sends out an invitation to determine how many of the accusations that have been sent around are true.

I think Vicious is also an excellent add-on to pair with another game of your choice, especially since it could be played in between sessions, cooking up drama for the players to hash out in an in-person confrontation.

Hazelwood Abbey, by stevehatherly.

Downton Abbey meets Hillfolk. Players play an aristocratic family in a player-led dramatic game of emotional needs and wants for 4-5 players.

Hazelwood Abbey uses Pelgrane Press' DramaSystem rules engine to create a story of high-stakes interpersonal conflict. During the session, you will create family members with conflicting needs and goals. And then you will find out what happens.

To play this game you’ll need a good understanding of how the DramaSystem works. The author recommends referencing a copy of Hillfolk, although you can also check out the SRD for free to see how you feel about the system.

The DramaSystem is all about relationships, and give and take. Your characters all need something from each-other, something tied to an emotional reward. When interacting with each-other in a dramatic scene, tokens will be gained or spent by following prompts specific to your playbook. In Hazelwood Abbey, your characters are split between the upstairs and downstairs, just like in Downton Abbey. The upstairs playbooks will wrestle with ties to family, tradition, and duty, while the downstairs playbooks commonly struggle with ambition, social inequality, and precious secrets. If you deny another person what they seek, too many times, they may force an emotional concession from you by spending tokens.

I think this is a great example of dramatic tension, and while I suppose Hazelwood Abbey might be slightly later than regency era, it might give you some of what you’re looking for.

Sense and Sensibility, by Armanda.

YOU ARE A DEAD GUY’S SECOND FAMILY IN 18th CENTURY ENGLAND. Your mission is to get one of your sisters to marry well, since you’re all women and can’t live without the favor of a man. You have no rights other than the right to marry and be a mother. In this game, you’ll explore the terrible vicissitudes of British bucolic countryside life and deal with neighbours and city people coming to visit the various families in the area, where gossip and marriage (and love, in the best of cases) are the order of the day. 

Since this game is built off of Lasers and Feelings, I’d expect it to also be fairly easy to pick up if you’re familiar with other works in the same system. You have two stats and a number somewhere between 2 to 5 that tells you how good you are at one of those things, and how bad you are at the other.

I think this game is more focused on family relationships than some of the other games on this list, because your entire family’s well-being depends on the success of finding a wealthy match. Battle gossip, defend your honour, and possibly even sabotage your rivals in an attempt to find some security for yourself and your loved ones.

The Season, by Rue.

It's London season and you're in for a ball! 

The Season is a GM-less RPG about elevating your status and keeping up your reputation during the fabled Regency Era social season. 

This is a competitive RPG that takes place over the course of 10 rounds. Each characters’ goal is the same: to end the game with the highest Reputation. To chip away at your rivals’ reputation, you’ll have to demonstrate your own social graces, spread rumours, or meet gossip with the perfect amount of composure. You just need 2d6 to play, although you’ll probably want a few roll-tables for inspiration if you don’t consider yourself that good at improv.

This is another game that might benefit from being played alongside something bigger, or perhaps using some established lore from another setting.

Teacup Masquerade, by Sam Scribbler.

A one-page cozy social game about getting revenge on your enemies. Inspired by Regency-era romantic dramas such as Bridgerton with a vengeful twist. Create a character, discover your rival's secret, and become the darling of high society.

This is a simple game meant to fit on one page. You have three basic stats, and a gradient scale of success. You gain a random social advantage and a random personal shame, which you’ll want to try to hide as you go about discovering the secrets of your rivals.

There’s not a lot of guidance for this one, which is pretty common for one-page games. It might be a good fit if you have an idea of the kind of story you want to tell, or if you have your own set of home-brew rules that you want to add onto an existing premise.

The Social Season, by Scott Sexton.

In this single page role playing game inspired by the works of Jane Austen, you and your friends play as high society characters navigating the treacherous London social season.

To save your family from ruin, you must land an advantageous marriage proposal by the end of the season. Will you outwit scheming rivals and jealous suitors to make a fortuitous match, or will you become embroiled in scandal and depart London in disgrace?

This is a Honey Heist hack, pulling you between the two extremes of Composure and Scandal. Since it’s built off of a familiar system (to me), I can expect this game to be rather light-hearted, pushing your characters to vacillate between following social graces or deliberately doing something considered… untoward. This is certainly a chance to put on your stuffiest airs, flutter your fans dramatically, and describe your attempt to kiss your beau on the back of their hand.

The London Season, by Stéphanie Dusablon.

The London season of 1874, a perfect time for the aristocracy to advance the marriage prospects of their offsprings, entertain themselves through various social engagements and, naturally, gossip to their heart's content.

We were also taught that once we attained marital bliss, our husband would take ownership of our wealth, property and body. They probably would have passed a law to ensure our mind became theirs as well, had it occured to them that we might actually have one.

Create your young lady, decide if you hope to secure or avoid an engagement this season and carefully navigate 8 fortnights of glamorous events, social engagements and secret messages. 

As a solo roleplaying game, The London Season is an examination of the social inequities present in the Regency era, as well as a love letter for a time of secret messages and glamorous events. You’ll mostly be drawing cards to answer questions, receive secret messages, and navigate both welcome and unwelcome engagements, journaling each step of the way. At the end of eight fortnights, your young lady will have either achieved or lost her goal. Whether that goal is marriage or something else is up to you.

Games I’ve Recommended In The Past

Le Bon Ton, by RobotFrancis.

Pride and Extreme Prejudice, by Grant Howitt.

Eyes on the Prize, by ira prince.

#tabletop games #game recommendations #indie ttrpgs #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg #regency

[indierpgnewsletter]

Fantasy Cities Volume 1

Around a year ago, I published a series looking at city settings from various fantasy games. I looked at 7 cities including Doskvol, Spire, Eversink, The City from a|state, Into the Cess and Citadel, Infinigrad, and Endon from Magical Industrial Revolution. I’ve now taken those 7 essays and expanded and improved them, added 2 more essays on Lankhmar from DCC’s boxed set and Freeport, a Pathfinder 1e city from Green Ronin. This PDF, Fantasy Cities Vol 1, is available now on my patreon.

Here’s an excerpt from the introduction

In the history of the fantasy genre, cities have an interesting place. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, which created so much of what we consider generic about fantasy, doesn't really care for cities. Which makes sense because the books themselves feel like an elegy for a time before industrialization, a love letter to the countryside - to woods and streams and the sands below your feet. The cities of Middle Earth are, at their best, noble and static, and at their worst, corrupt and fallen to the hubris of man.

The earliest thriving fantasy cities are probably in the sword and sorcery of writers like Fritz Lieber or Michael Moorcock. These stories were influenced by, among other things, the machismo of pulp magazine stories. The cities reflect this. At their best, they're a canvas for male bravado and havens for debauchery and dissolution. At their worst, they're predatory and authoritarian.

In modern fantasy, the city is ascendant. The old tropes withered under post-modernism's sarcastic glare. Now, you get Ankh-Morpork and Bas Lag and many more that capture the contradictions, potential, and romance of cities as places to spend your lives. But what about games? A city in a novel has to be interesting on the page. A city in a game has to be interesting at the table, it has to bear the weight of the imagination of 3-5 people over a shitty internet connection. That's where I started the series affectionately known (by me) as WWTAWWTAC (pronounced whatawhatac), i.e. What We Talk About When We Talk About Cities.

And here’s an excerpt from the new entry on Lankhmar:

Creating a roleplaying game supplement for an existing fantasy city is tricky. It's trickier when it's a place as famous as Lankhmar, the City of the Black Toga, the City of Sevenscore Thousand Smokes. Not only are the stories well-loved, the city is an inspiration for other well-loved cities, notably Discworld's Ankh-Morpork which started out as a loving pastiche before evolving into something deeper. (Even the word "ankh" comes from Lankhmar). This means that you have to walk the line between giving fans what they want and making it a useful, usable supplement. Basically, DCC's approach is to not invent any new lore whatsoever - as far as I can see. They lay out what Leiber's originally stories say about Lankhmar and then give themselves permission to colour within the lines with small, inoffensive details. The end result isn't radical or surprising but it does seem genuinely quite good.

I’ve titled it Volume 1 because if we hit the patreon drive’s goal, I’ll do a Volume 2. Maybe I can finally tackle Waterdeep or Ptolus. Maybe I can expand to cities in novels and actually compare them to cities in games directly. Maybe I can look at cities in video games. Where does Dunwall from Dishonored end and Duskwall begin? There’s lots of things to explore!

Thanks to the 30+ folks who signed up last week, we’re currently at 94 out of 150. So if you’re doing okay and able to support, please head over to patreon and subscribe!

Link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/fantasy-cities-1-94754443

#indie rpg #ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpgsolidarity #ttrpg design #rpg

[yakuzacanons]

valentine’s day coming up!!

what do they boys do to celebrate w their s/o?

Anon how did u read my brain to find out I have been cookin this post for the last few days lol. Happy Valentine's to all of you, my lovelies.

Mild NSFW below. Also this is a long one, sorry in advance.

Kazuma Kiryu

Simple but classy. As it stands, he can't really do anything big or fancy and the Daidoji sure as hell won't let him do many dinner dates if any at all but he makes the most of it. Probably gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a heartfelt letter.

Majima Goro

A chocolate thief is on the loose in Sotenbori and his name is Majima Goro. If a giant heart-shaped red velvet size box appears on your doorstep, it's from him. He might even be in it. Open it and find out.

Saejima Taiga

A mix of getting you some gifts and making you something handmade. He's typically torn between two strategies: making you a handmade gift and taking you out to dinner or buying you a gift and making you dinner. Heads up, he will at some point make a handcarved wooden figurine or statue for you one of these years.

Akiyama Shun

You'd think it would be beyond human capabilities for this man to get any sappier than he is but somehow he does it every time. A class act with just the right amount of cheese. Dinner, flowers, the works. You can't tell if you're just that starry eyed over this man or if he actually just fucking sparkles.

Tanimura Masayoshi

Can't afford too much on his salary, but he'll make you an adorable custom basket of all your favorite snacks. Will totally pull some strings at Homeland to get the restaurant open to just you two.

Ryuji Goda

Can afford whatever the hell you want and has no reservations about doing so. However, he DOES have reservations at your favorite restaurant with a bottle of your favorite wine, alongside one of every single favorite item of yours on the planet. Always gets you a piece of customized jewelry.

Nishikiyama Akira

Always gets you a customized bouquet of flowers. Actually pretty into the arrangement and colors and is particular about getting yours just right. Might just even make one himself one of these days. Also gets one of those customizable chocolate boxes or a luxury bag.

Daigo Dojima

Are roses and candles cheesy? Yes. Cheesy is also Daigo's middle name when it comes to Valentine's Day. Man's straight out of a 90's romcom. Probably got the idea from a 90's romcom, actually. Will also be down to watch a 90's romcom with you. Seriously, he prefers a cozy night in anyways.

Mine Yoshitaka

Same vibe as Daigo but sluttier. Seriously. He's a champagne and bubble bath type of hoe, followed by what can only be described as mind blowing sex. Out of all the boys, he's the one who's most likely to have sex on Valentine's Day.

Tatsuo Shinada

He will try his hand at baking you some homemade goodies. Be warned, the first few attempts will be a little wonky. He's doing his best though! He can't afford much so he likes to do homemade things. Would also be down to bake or cook something with you if you're into that.

Ichiban Kasuga

He'd take you on a date that includes all of your favorite activites and your favorite places. As long as he's spending time with you, that's what counts. Will totally end the day by just blurting out something sappy and romantic but would he be Ichiban if he didn't?

Yu Nanba

Likes to do something relaxing, particularly if it takes you two away from the city. Nothing like the peace and quiet of the countryside so you two can be as close as possible. Probably would take a weekend to go to a hot spring with you.

Adachi Koichi

Will actually ask you to be his Valentine. Total cheesefest with this guy. Type of fella to hold a rose between his teeth and say something dumb like "Hey babe, come here often?". In terms of activites, he doesn't have much beyond a nice dinner planned but his personality just oozes goofy, silly love.

Tianyou Zhao

If you thought he'd be doing anything other than cooking you an overly extravagant dinner all by himself, then you'd be dead wrong. Man's out here cooking all your favorite foods, baking your favorite desserts, and making them unbelievably pretty and fancy. He's out here making roses out of the freakin' dumpling pastry, for cryin' out loud!

Joon-Gi Han (Y7)

Sweetie boy is doing his best. Gets a nice cake with a custom message on it, or takes you to an adorable cafe and eats a bunch of sweets with you. Also, yes he's dressing in matching outfits, duh!

Joon-Gi Han (Y6)

This boytoy is taking you to the biggest, fanciest club in town and ordering the biggest, fanciest bottle of champagne they have. Also one of the boys who is likely to get down and dirty on Valentine's Day.

Osamu Kashiwagi

Total class. Years have given him enough knowledge and expertise to pull off a classic Valentine's Day without a hitch. Thinks of everything, from the flowers and dinner all the way down to what color tie goes best with what color suit that would match best with your outfits. Lots of kisses on the back of your hand.

#majima megaphone moment #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza headcanons #yakuza imagines #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #ryu ga gotoku imagines #goro majima #majima goro #akiyama shun #osamu kashiwagi #kiryu kazuma #kazuma kiryu #saejima taiga #nishikiyama akira #shun akiyama #akira nishikiyama #ryuji goda #joon gi han #han joon gi #zhao tianyou #tianyou zhao #ichiban kasuga #yu nanba #koichi adachi #dojima daigo #daigo dojima #mine yoshitaka #yoshitaka mine #masayoshi tanimura

[kiara-ish]

Seoul (Teaser)[MDI!]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: roommates au, romance, angst, slice of life

Warnings: angst, reader is undermined for being from a small town/countryside, party animal jungkook, typical uni rivalry, reader is a miser, jungkook is a spender, fluff, domestic fluff, fluff everywhere, some fights and oh yes, smut :) more warnings to be updated with each part.

Summary: You never thought that you'd get that job in Seoul let alone make the decision to move there; even shockingly have a roommate! Knowing your luck and accepting your fate, you awaited a loud, obnoxious roommate with no understanding of your unfamiliarity to the city life. While some of it did come true, your life in Seoul with Jeon Jungkook turned out to be so much more than the cliche girl-meets-world dramas. It did not help that he was awfully attractive and has tattoos!

a/n: Although I am still very much working on a number of WIPs, I'll be going on indefinite writing hiatus after the completion of this series (unless I change my mind halfway). Haegeum should be out by July end or mid-August and well, as for the rest, we'll see. There will be no taglist for this fic. My time here at Tumblr as a fic writer has been filled with mixed feelings but with the plans that I have now, I'll be returning to being a nameless viewer after this series ends. Thank you everyone who supported, loved and interacted with this blog! Although this message sounds like a goodbye, it isn't one. Yet.

m.list | series nav.

Teaser under the cut.

Above you, the sky was a canvas of colours and the clouds, specs of dust on it. You watched the kids slip and fall into the puddles that the storm last night left as remnants. The streets were filled with faces that you have been seeing since the day your eyes started to see the world for what it truly was. You wondered if the mad man that loitered around the raw fish restaurant always looked as sad; then again, you barely knew how to read people, let alone a mad man.

In the pocket of your ironed, pristine suit pants was a heavy piece of paper. In quivering, intended-to-be-fancy lettering was the address of the place and the name of the person who would be staying with you. You've always heard how common and efficient 'roommates' were in Seoul from the auntie who sold seasoned corns by the beach.

Your roommate – what kind of a person were they? Your feet abruptly halted in the middle of the road and you bit your tongue in frustration. Father had told you a hundred times at least, to never, ever stop in the middle of a busy road no matter how loud your thoughts were.

He had exclaimed in fascination and pride of having seen it firsthand, "The streets in Seoul have more buses running in a minute than in a week here!"

But you couldn't contain your nerves as you took out the piece of paper from your pocket, delicately unfolding it to read the name underlined thrice — Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook choked on the chocolate marshmallow, glaring at his friends in half hearted anger, "Why are we eating marshmallows? I thought we were here to-"

"Chill, chill. I know," Taehyung smiled while biting into another spongy treat, "Let's hear about your roommate first."

Jungkook couldn't help the small smile that lingered on his lips when he recalled the conversation he had with you when the stay was finalised. You spoke with such a nonchalant confidence that Jungkook felt undeniably intimidated on the call and only hoped that you couldn't tell.

"Well, 'dunno much," he shrugged, "only spoke on the call. She sounded very chill."

"You sure hope so. Who's gonna keep up with our wannabe playboy if not a chill person?"

Jungkook chuckled at Taehyung's words before noticing the rest of his group approaching, arms full of clinking bottles. As the night witnessed yet another of his raging parties, somewhere in his mind Jungkook couldn't help but drift again and again to the same question – what kind of person were you?

From 28th July, 2023

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic #bts ff #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts jungkook #bts jk #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #roommates au #bts jungguk #jeongguk #bts

[three-penguins-in-a-trench-coat]

What if the Stardew Valley Farmer got a Trainee?

Okay, imagine: Depressed teen, third year of uni/college in Zuzu city doing biology and looking for an internship somewhere remote so they can get out of the city and see the world. Lo and behold, one day, someone responds to their ad. With a letter. It just appeared on their desk one day, right out of the blue.

Hi there! I heard you were looking for work somewhere remote so you could continue working on your biology degree. Well, I run a farm in a little place called Stardew Valley and I could certainly use some help. There will be plenty of opportunities to survey the natural wildlife that live around me, and the people of Pelican Town would love to see a new face!

If you would like to accept this offer, please sign your name down the bottom of this letter and send it to the address written on the back.

Kind regards,

ᛏᚻᛖ ᚠᚪᚱᛘᛖᚱ

Two days later, they find themselves on a bus headed into the countryside, carrying nothing but a bag of clothes and a toothbrush. Following the instructions that came in the follow-up letter, they arrive at a little cottage sitting in the middle of a giant paddock. There is no one around. Upon knocking on the door, there is no answer. The wind howls in the distance, but it sounds almost... alive. They sit there for a while, outside the cottage, too nervous to explore.

It was getting late, and they were about to get up and leave, but then suddenly, there's a massive BANG, jolting them from their stupor. And standing there coughing and spluttering, covered in slime and guts, holding a glowing sword and toting a bulging backpack is the farmer. They look down to see the kid sitting on their ass looking up at them with a bewildered gaze.

"Oh shit... you're arriving today. I'm sorry, this is really not a good first impression." Stretching out a slimy hand, he pulled the kid off the ground. "Hi, I'm the Farmer. Let's get you settled in." The Farmer's house was quite eclectic, with little trinkets scattered everywhere and a mismatched collection of artwork lining the walls, with windows squished between them in the most random of places. Throwing his bag on the table, they could just see the faint glow of a deep purple ore sticking out of it. "I-uh, haven't got much set up yet." the Farmer said "We'll get you a bed later, but for now, you can roll out a sleeping bag on the living room floor. I need a new house upgrade anyway, so you'll be fixed up with your own room soon anyways."

They didn't know what to think of everything so far, but hey, at least it would be interesting.

The next day, they were woken up at 6am to see the Farmer staring directly at them. "Rise and shine kid! The suns up and it's time to grind!" Ten very messy minutes and one pot of coffee later, they were outside in the cold, shivering in the one pair of pants they brought. The only sound they could hear was the quiet hiss of the sprinklers watering the multitudes of strawberry plants. They just seemed to go on forever, an army of green and red.

The Farmer - who seemed positively cheery - clapped their hands and strode towards a rows of coops and barns on the right. Upon opening the first door, a torrent of chickens fled out, including one that was bright blue. Moving on to the next coop, they opened it to find a duck, 2 rabbits and a giant lizard waiting for them. It was so large, it could barely fit through the doors to get out. Upon being released, it immediately raced past the poor kid to go chase a butterfly. When it caught it, it pinned it to the ground with it's foot and proceeded to fucking torch it with a burst of fire from it's mouth.

The farmer gave it a little pat on the head, and it trotted away proudly with it's crispy prize. "That's Bill. I'm sure you'll love her." They said. The barn didn't have any unholy creations, just some cows. They never thought they would be so happy to just see some cows.

For a few days, they worked on the farm, feeding the animals, planting and harvesting crops, avoiding the lizard from hell, and in their spare time, trying to actually study and complete assignments. On a rainy Friday, they walked into town to pick up some seeds and meet the people. Pierre was nice enough, but was distracted trying to sell the Farmer as many seeds as possible. They went to the Saloon for the evening, and they watched in confusion as the Farmer walked around the room handing out gifts to everyone in there. A bowl of spaghetti for a lady, who promptly stopped dancing with her husband to chow down on it. There were three people their age playing pool, and they could only classify them as the adventurous one, the emo and the puppy dog they adopted. Sam honestly just seemed to bounce around and have a good time. They were all given shiny gemstones and pizza, which they loved. It was very interesting to see everyone individually greet the farmer and get given a trinket or piece of food.

For a few weeks everything was calm, with mild weather and good spirits, they explored the world of Stardew Valley. There was wildlife (slightly toasted wildlife in some instances) surrounding them on all sides, but the people of Stardew interested them more. On the other side of town, a small museum sat only half-full with items, and upon asking around, they found out the Farmer had been providing all of the exhibits.

The beach was nice, if not cold. But Elliot was always up for a chat when they visited, and they found they both loved watching the ocean. Leah had some interesting sculptures, and knew where all the best spots were in the forest to view the wildlife.

And the Farmer. Well, they didn't know what to make of the Farmer. Some days, they were the life of the party, floating around handing out gifts as if they were Santa Claus. And other days, they just weren't there. They left at the crack of dawn, holding that strange glowing sword. They wanted to find out what happened on those days, but the Farmer never talked about it, so they never asked.

One day, they woke up to see the Farmer staring over their bed. Again. "Time to get up. We're going to the mines." "I'm sorry, what?" they asked. The only answer they got was a sword thrown on their blanket.

An hour later, they stood inside the entrance of the old mines in the pouring rain. They had taken the rickety minecart system, and they felt like they were going to throw up. "Here, eat this." The Farmer said, throwing them a piece of glowing rock candy. Why was everything always glowing? They ate it anyway, and felt a surging rush of energy. They felt like they could take on the world. And then, they were in a rickety old elevator, shooting down, fast, into the earth. The Farmer stood next to them, sword raised. "Get ready." The Farmer said. They raised their sword as well, very afraid.

The doors clicked open, and the Farmer bolted out. From out of their pack, they threw a bomb at a nearby cluster of rocks, which instantly exploded in a cloud of dust, leaving a small pile of gemstones. The Farmer didn't even stop to inspect what was left. They just kept running towards the next cluster. They stood there dumbstruck, watching the farmer sprint their heart out through this cave. They then heard a small noise, and as if they had materialized out of the walls, a small man shrouded in shadow was upon them!

They lashed out in fear with their sword, but the shadow man was faster, dodging neatly out of the way. They stepped backwards, into the elevator, sword raised. The shadowy creature lunged at him and- it exploded in an instant. From the other side of the cave, the Farmer held a sling in their hand, and it was aimed where the shadow person had been. "Keep moving if you want to stay alive!" the Farmer shouted.

Eventually, they completed ran out of stone to blow up, and they gathered up all the gemstones and other items. They sighed in relief, thinking it was over, until the Farmer pointed to a nearby ladder, going deeper into the Earth.

They emerged several hours later, covered head to toe in dust and monster guts. But their backpacks were full of materials. After a long shower, they flopped on the couch.

"Is that what you've been doing all this time?" they asked the Farmer. "No, actually." they responded "that was actually a warm up. There's a much more dangerous place in the desert I usually go. That was a warmup, so I wouldn't throw you in the deep end." The poor thought they might kill themselves at this point.

They did a few more trips to the mines over the coming weeks, and they did get better at fighting monsters. When they walked into town, they were treated with a new respect by the townspeople. They felt more confident, but the Farmer still came up with new ways to terrify them. The mines were nothing compared to the sheer chaos of the Skull Caverns.

During the Winter, the Farmer decided to dedicate an entire week to investigating the deep caves there. They called it "The Skull Caverns Dive." This was when the Farmer introduced them to magic. In preparation for the week, the Farmer showed them how to use a warp totem in case of emergencies. It was a very disorienting experience, but it was fast.

When the week begun, they thought they were prepared for anything. By day two, they bore bruises and scars across their body, compliments of the monsters of the Caverns. They watched in awe and fear as the Farmer turned into an absolute demon, storming through the caverns like a wrath of nature, destroying everything in their path. By the final day, even the Farmer was tiring, but the monsters never stopped coming. At one point, a flying serpent raced into the Farmer, who went sprawling into the ground. The serpent turned around and went for another pass, racing towards the Farmer. The serpent was fast, but they were faster. Slicing through the serpent with the borrowed sword, they dragged the Farmer to their feet and activated the emergency warp totem, sending them back home. They both crawled into their beds and slept well into the next day.

Eventually, the year was up, and they had to return to Zuzu city. They were still doing a degree, and it was time to head back to complete it. Most of the town came out to say goodbye, and more than one of them had tears in their eyes. Right as they were about to leave, the Farmer came up to them. They pushed a small package into their arms. "This is a reminder of your time here. You can return whenever you want, you know. There will always be a place for you in Stardew Valley."

On the bus ride home, they opened it to see a dagger, pulsing with energy, along with a small scabbard. They tied it to their belt, and swore never to part with it.

When they returned to live at college, everyone gave them a newfound respect. Perhaps it was the way they walked, or the knife strapped to their belt. People could just feel the danger radiating off them. Their old friends hadn't changed too much, and while it was nice to see them all again, it wasn't the same. No monsters to fight, no fire breathing lizards to feed, no monumental harvests and re-plantings.

When they graduated, the swore to return. Because there was something special about Stardew Valley, and now because it was home.

#stardew valley #stardew #sdv #stardew au #sdv au #stardew valley au #sdv farmer #stardew farmer #writeblr #writers of tumblr #story idea #storytelling #short story #short stories

[optimizche]

Missing (Part 6) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Being a dragonrider for as long as he could remember, Aemond Targaryen disliked travel on horseback. Horses were slow, incredibly slow, clumsy and awkward to ride for a seasoned dragonrider like the one-eyed exiled Prince. 

He much preferred the swiftness, elegance and ease of dragons, flying high above the earth, well above the din of the city and the villages. Well away from common folk and horse shit. And dragons looked infinitely more intimidating than horses that even bannerless sellswords rode. 

Before being forced out of the gates of King's Landing, Aemond had received a black horse and two bags of gold, his longsword and a few daggers (something he knew that his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, made sure he received) from the men of the City Watch. At least the gold and the horse were better than travelling destitute and on foot, the young Prince mused. 

Currently seated in a tavern close to his inn near Harrenhal, Aemond quietly nursed a mug of thick brown ale, thinking of what he was to do next. Moving through Westeros was going to be difficult for the famous one-eyed Prince, his long, silvery mane and eye patch instantly revealing his identity, even among the common folk, even without his dragon, Vhagar. With his snowy curtain of hair tied away from his face and carefully hidden under the hood of his dark cloak, the Prince hoped that he was as inconspicuous as he could possibly be.

Aemond dearly missed his mother, his sister and his twin children. For all the petty grievances he had with his own kin, he recognised their value after being separated from them. He missed the love of his mother, the comfort of his sister and the way his children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, would light up upon seeing him. He could only hope and pray to the Gods that Aegon would not make his sister and his children suffer. In his heart, he knew that Queen Mother Alicent would make sure that Helaena and the twins remained unharmed. Confined, but unharmed.

He missed his dragon. Surrendering Vhagar to those dragonkeepers was one of the most heartbreaking and difficult things he had ever done. For a flash, Aemond was filled with such anger, at the moment of giving up Vhagar, that he wanted to command the dragon to burn all of King's Landing to the ground. But he restrained himself, restricting the almost overwhelming ache he felt in his heart when he thought of all the ones he had been forced to give up.

Right now, his only concern was to find out the truth about the author of the letters that had caused him to be exiled, which is why he awaited the arrival of a guest in this filthy tavern.

A whore, under the employ of the White Worm. One of her spies, she was, he had heard. One of the many spiders that ran along the intricate web the White Worm had woven across Westeros. Waif-like, with full lips, raven hair that ran down her back and olive skin, Aemond could tell that the girl was not a native of Westeros. Perhaps from one of the Free Cities?

"I'm deeply sorry for all the losses you've suffered, my Prince," she said and Aemond's mouth turned into a scowl at the way she openly used his title. A threat hanging in the air, essentially begging for him to be found out, kidnapped, robbed and even murdered, should anyone overhear this conversation. They'd find out his identity in a moment.

"I am nothing more than a traveller, making my way through the countryside," Aemond said, his sentence making the girl chuckle. "You might want to lower your voice, when we speak."

At this, the girl smiled, amusement dancing in her eyes. "What is it that you wish to know?" she asked.

"Who wrote those letters?"

"I do not know," she replied with a sigh, eyeing him like he was a piece of meat. "But I was disheartened to hear of the end of your betrothal, traveller. Perhaps I could warm your bed, if only for the night? I have many tricks you would enjoy. Your brother surely does."

Aemond's expression was one of disgust as he pulled out one of the bags of gold his mother had given to him and passed it to the girl. "I wish for none of your games, girl. Answer my questions and begone."

"Very well," the girl gleefully pocketed the gold before speaking. "You scorn a woman in the middle of the Narrow Sea and expect her not to strike back, traveller?"

Upon hearing this, Aemond inhaled sharply. Bile rose in his throat and he wanted to vomit. There were only three people in the world, who knew of his relationship with Helaena. Apart from his sister and himself, he had only confessed of his deepest secret to you, no one else. Over the years of being so intimately involved with Helaena, Aemond had ensured with utmost care that the illicit nature of his relationship with her remained a very closely guarded secret. He knew that it had to be you. He had a doubt, ever since he had read the letter, given how desperately you wanted to hear the confession in his own voice. But he had never imagined that you, his childhood friend, would weaponize his deepest secret to wound him so deeply. His heart was filled with immense pain, never having thought in his wildest dreams that you would be the one to betray him so.

"And where am I to find this woman?" he asked, trying to keep his composure, his hands clenching around his mug. "Dragonstone?"

At this, the girl laughed. "Your woman in question and your oldest nephew seek to treat with the Wolf of the North. Perhaps that's where you'll find them."

Aemond felt a sense of anger trickle into the mountain of agony crushing down on his heart. You were the cause of his exile. Your letter had led to his banishment. His separation from his mother, Helaena and his children. Your betrayal had cost him his reputation, his betrothal to the Baratheon girl. Your letters had turned the tide of this war in favour of Rhaenyra. Why had you done this? To prove your loyalty to the Blacks? To exact revenge for what he had done to you in your childhood?

"Thank you for your time," he said, rising to his feet and swiftly making his way to his horse. 

He had no time to lose. 

On dragonback, you would've flown to the North in a matter of hours. If he rode all through this day and the next, perhaps he'd be able to make it to Winterfell in time. If he made haste, he would be able to find you.

He wanted to see you confess your betrayal with your own words, he wanted to hear it in your own voice. But most of all, he wanted to know why you had decided to hurt him more severely and grievously than when his eye had been taken from him on that night in Driftmark. 

You sat beside Lord Cregan Stark and Prince Jacaerys, at a seat of high honour, during the welcoming feast in the Great Hall of Winterfell.

The arrival of not one, but two dragons and their riders in Winterfell was cause of much excitement amongst adults and children alike. While the children made a beeline to see your dragons, the adults pondered upon the reason for such an unexpected visit to the North.

The Wolf of the North was a kind and gentle man, seeing in Jacaerys his late younger brother, someone whom he had loved most dearly and lost. It brought a smile to your lips when you saw how well the oldest son of Queen Rhaenyra and the Lord of Winterfell had bonded, becoming thick as thieves over a matter of days. Jacaerys had a way about him that charmed almost everyone around him with his warmth and kindness. Lord Cregan was no exception, declaring himself to Queen Rhaenyra's cause and celebrating the newfound friendship between Houses Stark, Targaryen and Velaryon with days of hunts, tourneys and feasts.

You sat in your seat, nursing a cup of wine and trying so hard to get some food into yourself but finding yourself devoid of any appetite. Over the sounds of the music and the revelry, you could hear Lord Stark laugh at a jape Jacaerys had made, the words not even registering with your ears as you smiled politely nevertheless. Winterfell had pulled all the stops when it came to your welcome and you were surrounded, at the moment, with an expansive table laden with food. Roasted meats, honeyed chicken, ribs encrusted in herbs and garlic, mounds of baked potatoes and roasted onions dripping in gravy, trays upon trays of sweet and savoury pies, clay baked trout, a mountain of a variety of fruits and heaps of pastries were part of the feast, yet you were only picking at your slice of Lamprey pie, preferring the comfort of your wine to ease your mind.

It took everything in you to keep yourself from showing the utter emotional exhaustion that you felt, the muscles in your face screaming in protest at being forced to smile and laugh and utter pleasantries despite the torment you felt within.

I should be feeling happy, you thought. Relieved, that I have found the vengeance I so desperately sought. Why do I feel so horrible instead?

You felt sick to your stomach, weighed down by the guilt of your actions and their consequences affecting innocent souls like Helaena's children. Their bastardy had been no fault of theirs. You wondered if in your quest for soothing the rage and bitterness you felt against Aemond, you had gone too far in getting him exiled. You were all too aware of how much the third child of Alicent Hightower loathed being denied what he wanted most. He had wanted Helaena, he had wanted Vhagar and your letters had robbed him of them...

"Is everything to your liking, My Lady?" Cregan Stark's voice pulled you from the absolute mess of your thoughts, and you nodded at him, plastering on your sweetest smile.

"I thank you for your hospitality, My Lord," you replied, your tone impeccably correct.

You did not want to be ungrateful, you truly were struck by the kindness of the Lord of Winterfell. Sensing that you had been rather unprepared for the brutal cold of the North, Lord Cregan had an entire wardrobe of clothing commissioned for you. In your designated chambers you found cloaks, dresses, riding leathers and gloves, all made of the finest skins, the softest furs and the warmest wool you could ever lay eyes upon. A welcoming gift of sorts for you upon your arrival at Winterfell, Lord Cregan had informed you genially. It was a truly heartwarming gesture and you found yourself in awe of his thoughtfulness.

Equally thoughtful was Jacaerys, who's hand found yours underneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you well, sweet one?" he asked. "You look rather pale tonight."

"I'm fine, Jace," you said, smiling at him, knowing full well that he could see in your eyes exactly what concerned you.

"Well, since you are well," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin after a hearty swig of wine. "Would you owe me the pleasure of a dance?" he asked, extending you his hand.

As you placed your hand in his, you knew precisely what he meant by asking you for a dance. He wanted to speak to you in the midst of the chaos on the dance floor, away from the ears of Lord Cregan Stark.

Jacaerys held you firmly against him, an arm around your waist securing you to him as the two of you moved across the floor in a graceful arc.

You clung to him, feeling almost like you would slip away, dissolve into nothingness if he let go of you.

"It is him, isn't it? Still plaguing your mind?" Jacaerys asked, his words a whisper against your ear.

Gods, he truly knows me...

"I felt so sure about what I was doing when I wrote..." you sighed, trailing off mid sentence before finding your voice again. "Now I am wrought with anxiety and worry about his retribution."

"Sweet one," Jacaerys began, concern now apparent in his voice. "You weaken yourself by denying yourself food or sleep, worrying endlessly about a man who is now exiled by his own brother." 

"Jacaerys," you pleaded, trying to make him understand your fears. "He has a madness within him and my actions have robbed him of the things he holds dearest. He has nothing left to lose now. His impulsiveness will cost me." 

He could feel how you had stiffened against him, the distress and apprehension freezing your blood. 

Glancing at the table at the head of the hall and seeing Lord Stark occupied with speaking to his bannermen, Jacaerys tugged at your hand, leading you outside. 

To the Godswood. 

The two of you walked in silence, Jace walking a step ahead of you into the impenetrable night, away from the lights of the castle's fires. 

It had started snowing, adding more to the already existing mountains of frost that surrounded you. 

Underneath the weirwood tree, Jacaerys pulled you to him, his hands now finding home on your face. 

"I cannot see you torture yourself so," he said, thumbs stroking your cheekbones in calming circles. "I want you to take a deep breath and just listen to me." 

"Okay..." you did as he asked, inhaling a soothing breath before exhaling.

"My uncle and his family will pose no harm to you, sweet one. I swear this to you, this godswood, the old gods and the new being my witnesses." 

"Jacaerys..." You breathed. 

"No, let me finish, while I have the nerve to," he insisted and you remained silent. "I know you've closed your heart to love ever since he decided to break your heart. But it would be my greatest honour if you were to allow me to show you how incredible you truly are." 

You felt your breath hitch at his words. 

"Your kindness, curiosity and thirst for knowledge is what drew me to you, when we were children. But it was your warmth and the happiness your presence brought to my heart that bound me to you," he said, and you felt your heartbeat quicken at the urgency behind his words. "You heal people with just a touch, you've bound yourself to a dragon, learned the art of war and combat by my side and helped me win Winterfell. You single-handedly won droves of Houses to our side. When will you start to see yourself the way I do?" he asked. 

Closing your eyes, you felt his words wash over you. While it was true that you had always imagined someone else saying these things to you, it was Jacaerys who had finally given a voice to these words. You had ached for all these years for someone else to love you the way you loved him, but it was Jacaerys who was pouring his heart out to you in this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. 

Perhaps it was time for you to begin moving forward...

"So you don't think I'm beautiful?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you opened your eyes to see a smile break across the dark haired Prince's face.

You met him halfway, your mouths finding each other with a hunger that only became frenzied with each passing moment. Closing your eyes again, you kissed him with everything you had, remembering each time he had supported, reassured and protected you.

"You are the most beguiling woman I've ever seen," he breathed between kisses, backing you against the closest tree, his warm lips ghosting their way down your jaw to the column of your throat. "I'd consider myself the luckiest man alive if you gave me even a single night to worship you the way your beauty deserves to be worshipped..."

"Jace..." the moan slipped from your throat when he latched on to a sensitive spot on your neck, your arms finding their way around his broad shoulders.

Just hearing you utter his name with such a sinful intonation brought Jacaerys back to your lips, the ardour behind his kiss almost startling you with its desperation. For how long had he waited for this? Ached for this?

You hesitated to ask him this question, but seeing right through you, as always, Jacaerys breathed against your tingling lips. "For as long as you burned for him, I longed for you..."

"Jacaerys," you sighed. "You have me. You have me..."

"Gods be good, I don't think I can stand waiting until we reach back at the castle-"

"Come with me..." It was you who grasped his hand this time, leading him to a small, abandoned cabin a few yards deeper into the godswood, utterly and blissfully unaware of the cloaked figure watching the two of you, shrouded in darkness, a sliver of his silvery hair glowing in the moonlight.

Author's note: Sooooooo. What did you thinkkkk?

Part 7

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd #house of the dragon #angst #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x helaena #aemond x y/n #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond imagine #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you

[daze4all]

A Fox’s illusory Trick: Kitsune! Reader x Inazuma

When the Last Thunder Sakura Petal Falls Series

Synopsis: The editor of Yae Publishing Company is tricked into leaving the safety of her nest by her sister and boss Yae Miko to partake in the irodori festival to cosplay as Miss Hina and catches the eye of fans and the original Miss Hina.  

Tags: Miss Hina Cosplay, Romance, Fluff & Angst, Hikkomori Reader

Reader: Kitsune sister of Yae Miko. Hikkomori Reader. Fear of Storms (Astraphobia), Editor of Yae publishing company. Miss Hina Cosplayer. PTSD. Makoto’s familiar fox

Kitsune! Sister to Yae Miko Reader : named Yin (for y/n you or reader)

Next Up:

The Real Miss Hina – Yin meets fellow Miss Hina fan, Itto and Miss Hina herself as  Gorou

Lessons at the Camellia Kamisato House: Yin Meets the host of festival and is invited to flower arranging, dance lessons, and tea with Ayaka and Ayato

Chapter 1: A Fox’s illusory Trick

Yae Miko & Sister Reader (Platonic though slight Sister complex Yae Miko)

Comforted during the storm & dressed up by Yae Miko as Miss Hina 

Dear Miss Hina, 

I love stories. Stories were safe. They could build a world with just a few words and carry off to faraway places. However, recently my sister wished me to get my mind out of stories and step outside. 

However, the outside world is so scary with all the fighting and thunder. I have been inside for so long since the war started that I find it hard to go out. 

Sometimes I freeze up when I so much as I try to even take a step outside and retreat to the comfort of my bedroom to cover myself with blankets and sleep the day away. 

Sincerely 

Bed Bug

---

Dear Bed Bug,

I too enjoy stories and change can be scary. Taking the first step outside would be a good place to start. 

Then staying outside longer enjoying the breeze smelling the fresh air and enjoying the scenery might help. Slow but surely start exploring places you feel safe in or places not crowded like the countryside. 

Perhaps with a friend before taking on the city. When facing the future be brave and believe you can do it. Now with the war over there is so much to look forward to as we rebuild and move forward!

Have you ever wanted to visit the places you yearn for in a storybook? That may be obtainable now that the Sakoku decree ended. Change may be scary but see it as writing your own story. 

Sincerely, 

Miss Hina

---

Her hands shook reading her reply. Trying to well up the courage to do as the note suggested she had done all the steps, but the city was her last challenge. 

Shutting her eyes tightly she whispered fiercely to herself as if praying for the courage to 

“Just step outside. Just step outside. Then you can see the city and maybe even meet Miss Hina! That’s all you want right after-“

BOOOM FLASH 

Lightning split the sky and she trembled dropping the letter. It was just weather but she was still afraid after all this time. Silly, she should know that Miko’s shrine was the center of storms due to the proximity of the sakura thundertree. 

Still, her voice broke off at the thunderclap. Memories of battles and fallen forms flitting behind her lids leaving her to cower. 

Her thoughts began to skitter cowardly in the other direction. 

“Stay in the temple and Yae can keep you safe.” A warm hand caressed her the last reassuring caress she would feel from her…

Wait just a bit longer for the one who will lift the storm to return and tell you what to do next.

But you know what she would say right?

“Worthless weak pathetic” A figure embracing a fallen form spat at her.

 A familiar voice in her nightmare ever since she fell. 

She had let her go without her- She let her master fall. She could have stopped- 

These thoughts had her in a vice grip as the storm raged leaving her to dash for the safety of next built up with soft blankets and pillow to muffle the storm. Her trembling fluffy ears poked out from under the coverlet of the kotatsu. 

She heard soft padding across the bamboo floor of the temple and stinks of jewelry. She looked up to see the miko skirt and sandals of Yae Miko. The rustle of heavy expensive silk hit her ears as the priestess knelt to face her and peeled back the blanket enough to meet her gaze.

“Oh dear not again I thought we were over this stage” Yae tsked at the huddled bundle as she approached. Her face was concerned and compassionate as this was her sister. Yae Miko made a soft soothing sound to coax her sister from the cover and stop her shivering. “shhhh” she stroked her sister’s ears comfortingly. 

“Ei has already forgiven you and she left Euthymia long ago. You too should leave the safety of your nest now the storm has passed“ reasoned Yae once the worst of the trembling has subsided from her sister form. Outside the storm had lulled to a calming drizzle. 

Yae’s glance wandered to the open door where the wind was blowing and she plucked the abandoned letter before it fluttered out of the sliding doors. 

“I saw your letter. Sister you wish to meet Miss Hina, and go out and socialize yes? Why I have the perfect solution!” Miko tapped the edge of the letter to her lips as a wicked smile slowly spread over the fox lady’s features.

“You do know, I own Yae publishing house? Yae’s sickly sweet vice enticed. The perking up of her sister's ears pleased her. 

“Of course, I work for it after all as an editor” cautiously ventured her sister unsure if she wanted to be involved with her sister’s schemes. 

“So, you’ll be happy to help out at one of the promotional events yes?” said Yea with the sly smile of a cat that had caught its prey. Her shadow fell over her sister. 

Lightning flashed across the sky sending the sister scuttering back into her nest of her covers “What no!” She cried face paling at the thought of socializing making friends and losing them again….

“I cannot keep coddling you,” said Yae in a decided tone at the shivering huddled bundle with fox ears twitched to the oncoming thunderous booms. Her sisters face a fright at the oncoming idea of socializing in a city. 

“You will go to the irodori festival. Dressed as Miss Hina~!” Declared Miko with a sly smile who had decided to impose upon her sister this task for the sake of socializing and better business prospects. 

Several days later at the irodori festival, the kitsune found herself made up, trussed up, and fit into a green kimono lined with white, gold, and black accents. a tied tight with yellow. 

Her eyes were lined in red, and her ears transformed a warm brown complete with a bushy brown tail courtesy of her sister’s kitsune magic. A stronger spell than she could break on her own. 

“Miss Hina won't be happy having someone l-like me dressing up at her what if she presses charges” She said as she teetered in Geta sandals having not worn such high ones in a while.

Don’t worry about that, I’ll tell you a secret miss Hina does not look exactly like this said Yae Miko with a twinkle in her eye as patted down the blush and did her eyebrows 

What? Then what does she look 

“Let’s make a deal you can stop say… when you find the real miss Hina ~, “ Miko said as she applied the rouge to her lips with precise strokes. 

Tilting her chin this way and that to do her sister’s makeup.

"b-but to that" stuttered Yin in protest.

“Precisely it will be good practice for you” chirped Miko as she patted her cheek in mocked concern after finishing up the cosmetics. 

“Please Yae, let’s stop this,” said her sister suddenly feeling fear at the thought of socializing sluice through her suddenly. 

“Oh, dear you look so upset, how about I give you a hint: she leaned down to brush the shell and whispered “You see Miss Hina is not her but him ~” 

Yin sat frozen in shock digesting the news. 

“ Yin, the world is yours explore you just need to take the first step~!” sang Yae Miko mischievously before she got up from the bench, parted the curtains of the tent, and revealed the thronging crowds.

“Wait! Sister!” Yin reached out but in vain as Miko slipped out of the curtained book booth. 

---

Kitsune! Sister to Yae Miko Reader : Yin (for y/n you or reader)

A kitsune kin with a talent in transformation & illusions but no vision to speak of.

Dreams of peaceful world under protection of the Raiden shogun and Yae Miko

 

She was more outgoing and playful among friends lost to the past. But became fearful and reserved her trigger being storms for it the last thing she heard when Makoto left her. She has ptsd and trauma from all her friends being dead being trapped in euthymia for so long (probably same as Ei).

Timid, polite and shy she not a fighter but a helper she used her abilities to hide during the archon wars and to hide villages from the fighting.

Her master was the previous Raiden shogun Makoto who she failed to stop from going to khaenriah when she knew her master’s plans thus inviting Ei's ire and grief after Makoto fell in kheanriah.

At one point Yin was stuck in the plane of euthymia for too long to dream of bygone picnics with her lost kitsune, tengu, ogre, and her master as punishment or her own accord but is released by time the war ends.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oc #Genshin Thunder Sakura Series #genshin yae #yae miko #yae miko x reader #yae miko sister #kitsune oc #miss hina #genshin impact ms hina #genshin gorou #genshin itto #genshin ayato

[reflectionsofthesea]

Some cool expressions in Bergamasco (the dialect from the town I was born and raised in, Bergamo) and a comparison with italian.

Bergamasco is a very interesting dialect, because it borrows terms, sounds and letters from both german and french! This makes it sound very different from italian and other italian dialects.

A lot of grammatical components like the way verbs are structured, the sounds and pronunciation, and articles, are very similar to german and french.

And it also gives bergamasco-speakers like myself an advantage in speaking german, finnish or other languages that have the vowels ä, ö, ü (or the finnish y), since we already know how to pronounce them!

(green: Bergamasco, white: italian) Some expressions:

se fet? cosa fai? = what are you doing?

so mia. non lo so. = i don't know.

n'doe? dove? = where?

n'do set? dove sei? = where are you?

mochela. smettila. = stop it.

lassa sta'. lascia stare. = don't bother/leave it alone.

fa frecc. fa freddo. = it's cold.

fa colt. fa caldo. = it's hot.

mola mia. non mollare. = don't let go/don't give up.

fa' mia isè. non fare così. = don't be like that.

n'dondaret? dove vai? = where are you going?

n'che manera? perché? = in what way/ means 'why?'

borlà zò cadere = fall down

desdes fo'./rampa fo'. svegliati/muoviti = wake up, hurry up

gregnà ridere = to laugh

usa drè urlare dietro = to scream at someone

porta drè negot. non portarti dietro niente. = don't bring anything (with you)

lèa de terra levare da terra = scream/argue at someone so much you're lifting them from the ground

an va? andiamo? = shall we go? (from french on y va?)

so dré a maià. sto mangiando. = i'm eating. (from french  je suis en train de manger)

usa mia. non urlare. = don't shout

Some words:

rüt sporco = dirt (from german)

hümmia scimmia = monkey

cì maiale = pig

ca'al cavallo = horse

formagèr formaggiaio/lattaio = cheese maker (from french fromager)

articiòk carciofo = artichoke (from french artichaut)

oeuf, öf uovo = egg (from french oeuf)

frèr ferro = iron (from french fer)

rasga sega = handsaw

scèta bambina = little girl

Bergamasco is mostly spoken in the countryside and especially in the mountain villages and hills around Bergamo by older generations. It is not as commonly spoken in the main city, or used by younger generations. I learned it from my mom, and we speak it in the house daily. You can often hear it spoken by handymen, construction builders, artisans, and older men in the town.

A political party popular in Lombardia (Bergamo's Region) proposed years ago that Bergamasco should be thought in schools in Bergamo and around the province, but the idea was rejected. The sad reality is that Bergamasco, like a lot of italian dialects, is in danger of disappearing due to how less and less it's spoken and taught to younger generations. I personally really love Bergamasco and I love how unique and cool it sounds, and how it clearly shows the history of Bergamo as well: we went through the Austrian invasion, the German influence and also trades/exchanges with France, that contributed in the years to make the dialect sound the way it does now. It's a collection of my town's history and cultural exchanges and interaction (even if unfortunate ones, with Germany and Austria)

Most people from Bergamo and that speak Bergamasco have a very prominent specific accent (I do!) even when speaking normal italian. People from Bergamo are considered very matter-of-fact and straightforward, and the dialect reflects this nature very well: a lot of words and verbs are shorter than their italian counterpart, and the borrowed sounds from German make it sound harsher/more direct than italian does.

Bergamaschi wanted to avoid speaking so badly they even made their dialect as short and direct as possible, so they could use less words than regular italian and get to the point quicker.

#just some cool facts and words about my town <3 i love bergamo a lot #bergamasco #italian #italian dialect #language learning #langblr #dialects #italian language #learning italian #mine