#both incredibly long slender lads

[constellationcrowned]

~"Don't you even do it young man, it's not safe! You'll get hurt if you jump from up here!" She's moving closer inch by inch with every word, eyes locked on the slender youth. (for Kariom, youth verse!)

For every step forward that the immortal takes the half-blood takes a step back; brown eyes narrowing from behind a large pair of glasses that he might lose in the next few moments.

"I just want to jump into the lake. It's not that far down." It actually was---especially for someone who was still on the short and thin side like he was---but that wasn't going to stop him. Nothing stopped Kariom once he set his mind to something. "Stop being stupid, Miche." What exactly was the problem? It was really hot out and he wanted to swim and there wasn't anyone around because he'd checked---twice, actually, thank you very much---so it was fine.

Another step then, and another, the two of them working in perfect tandem for opposite goals and then all of a sudden the young lad turns and makes a dash towards the edge of the cliff overlooking Lake Dalan and in a matter of seconds he's sailing through the air thanks to a rather enthusiastic jump. There's a moment of weightlessness; one full of sunlight and fresh air and then a flipping sensation in Kariom's stomach as gravity all but wraps around him and then yanks him down towards the water.

He has just enough of both air in his lungs and time before landing for a delighted half yelp, half shout before his entire being is swallowed up by the lake as he hits the water's surface hard---a bit too hard---and he begins sinking. Kariom spins under the water; his body unfolding from its curled position as he ejects a stream of bubbles out of his nose. He'd never actually considered how DEEP THE LAKE ACTUALLY WAS....

No. No, it was fine. If there was a thing he was good at it was swimming. He could do this. With dark locks and loose clothing billowing out around him the half-blood begins to cut through the water but rather than head for the surface he swims forward instead, his now glasses-less eyes squinting against the ever darkening water. Hadn't Flynn said something about there being horses in the lake...? Maybe....

Another splash then; both loud enough and close enough that it distracted him utterly and then a familiar shape---not Miche like he expected but Flynn---was cutting through the water and snapping him up by the nape of the neck before hauling them both upwards with a surprising amount of speed. The water shifts from black to blue and then to white as Kariom breaks the surface of the water with an incredibly hard gasp that made his chest hurt. Had he been under for that long? It didn't seem like it but.... And then Flynn shakes him somewhat roughly; their dripping faces close together.

"What in the bloody hell are you thinkin' shantow?! You could've been---"

"---I was just go--" Kariom coughs and twists lightly in the other's grip which only earns him an even harder collaring as they tread water together, "---going for a swim! It's hot out and I KNOW HOW TO SWIM."

"And if you'd missed? What then!? Think, boy!"

For a moment or two Kariom thought Flynn might dunk him---rattle him around a bit to prove his point or release some tension---but surprisingly the sahash lets him go only to then splash him rather roughly. "If I have to resuscitate you twice this week I swear to Mailir you'll...."

"That was because of the cones Flynn...this is different. See....?" Kariom does a small circle around his caretaker before delivering a splash of his own. "Cold water. Nice and cold." Another splash, harder this time, and one that earns the youth a tail driven nudge to the ribs as Flynn retaliates in kind with a familiar---not to mention a somewhat playful---gesture. He couldn't exactly blame him for being worried after all, and Flynn had come to his apparent rescue.....

".....Fada....fine! But go swim closer to the shore. Easier to keep an eye on you that way and if anyone else shows up we're GOING BACK INSIDE, ishul?"

"...Okay. But only if you stay and swim with me. You might as well because you're already in here." It was foolproof as far as he was concerned.

"And I suppose you'll want me to CARRY YOU HOME ON MY BACK like the other day when you fell asleep, mh?"

"You said it, not me. Plus I'm not even tired yet. Come on...it's supposed to be...." Kariom squints, his expression furrowing briefly, "....fun."

"I'm surprised you know what that word means."

"Oh shut up." Another splash.

#;;ask response: ic kariom #;;ask response: ic kariom (verse: the stars of your youth; one day they will grow louder) #;;ask response: ic flynn #;;ask response: with squiggles #anonymous #this initially sounds worrying but no....he's just being a brat....... #also you get bonus protective Flynn bc I can....also....mhhh #this is also includes a subtle nod to a hc that I need to post; just for nice feelings but I digress! wet boysssssssssss #this exact same thing absolutely happens again when he's an adult and their dynamic shifts to being more romantic and etc LMAO

[skarsgardedits]

Stellan Skarsgård as Horace with Allan Edwall as Arnolphe in HUSTRUSKOLAN, a Swedish production of THE SCHOOL FOR WIVES by Molière. Staged at the Royal Dramatic Theater (Dramaten) in Stockholm, directed by Alf Sjöberg, and produced for broadcast television by Ingmar Bergman in 1983. • Watch on SVT

#theater #theateredit #the school for wives #moliere #stellan skarsgard #stellan skarsgård #allan edwall #ingmar bergman #alf sjöberg #skarsgardedit #* #who: stellan skarsgård #other: allan edwall #theater: hustruskolan (1983) #i'm so used to stellan underplaying and being restrained in his roles that i had wondered how he would've been in theater #i understood nothing when i watched this because ofc everything's in swedish #but wow @ body language and delivery and modulation and the range of emotions he had in this #so That's what a theatrical stellan skarsgard looks like omg #also his physique reminds me so much of bill #both incredibly long slender lads #makes me sad we'll never see him as a proper percy bysshe shelley type of dandy like he would've been fantastic from what i saw

[mitsukui]

late night experiences | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary:  learning new things is always better when it is done with someone else.

Word Count: 2,7k.

Warnings: smut! Masturbation, mentions of innocence kink.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Your last year at Hogwarts rushed into your life without warning — and so did your sexual hormones. You swore to Merlin you could feel them tingling all over your body whenever you solely looked at George Weasley, your majestic boyfriend. And apparently, he felt the same way towards you. Wondering the reason behind it all, you were quick to blame the fact that the two of you had just turned 18.

You had been together for a little while now: around nine months or so. But nothing had ever happened, and you were not quite sure why. You two had, supposedly, everything needed: steamy make-out sessions, wandering hands, lustful thoughts, privacy, and all that jazz. Yet, there you were: ground zero.

However, things were about to change even though you still were unconscious about it.

“Psst!” Your favorite quill stopped scribbling your Herbology notes. “Oi!” Your eyes gazed at the direction from which came the voice only to realize it was one of your classmates, Angelina Johnson. “I’ve discovered something last night which I thought you might be interested in.” A mischievous smirk painted her lips as you leaned in closer, already feeling eager to listen to whatever she had to say. She was one of those people who made anyone pay attention to them whenever they said something.

Her hushed whispers filled the existing silence between you two in the Study Area once more. “The boys were talking in our common room last night, and rumor has it George can’t keep his hands off of his cock whenever he thinks of you.”

Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet giggled like little girls when she finally finished her speech. You could feel your cheeks getting embraced by a deep and violent warmness. Uh-oh.

Your mind suddenly produced images by itself: George’s chest going up and down quickly as he moaned under his breath. He had his long and slender fingers wrapped around his dick and, sweet Merlin, he was big. Big and thick and veiny. His eyelashes fluttered as his hand pumped up and down a few times, precum leaking from his tip.

Heaven probably looked like that. What a lovely sight. You would give anything to actually see the great George Weasley in such a position. But, again: ground zero.

Still, the possibility of him pleasuring himself at the thought of you seemed to awake something new inside your chest and offer you a novel tingling sensation. You felt a burning flame in your loins, and it was almost as if your entire body were on fire.

You wanted him to jerk off thinking of you. You wanted his hands to get dirty from his own seed because of you.

You gulped. Snapping fingers brought you back to reality. “Girl, it’s high time you gave that poor lad some love, you know.”

The next few days felt slow and eternal. George Weasley and George Weasley’s thick dick were the only things occupying your mind. Of course, you had fantasized about him before; but it had never been that vivid. Things are always better when they are real, after all.

And you wanted to do something about it. Your soul ached for him to share his hidden and erotic reality with you. Your flesh longed to be painfully close to his. Your body and your hands desired to tease him and give him something to be unbearably hard over. You obviously would not feel in peace until you got what you wanted.

That is why the suggestion of a late night meeting in the Prefect’s Bathroom came to life. It was discussed during another of your studying session with Angelina, Alicia and Katie, being first brought on by Angelina, of course. That girl had many wild cards up her sleeve.

“I happen to know the password. Got it from a Slytherin guy, after giving him a few galleons.”

“And a blowjob, too.” Alicia responded with her eyebrows raised and a mischievous grin hanging on her lips.

As the three other girls laughed carelessly, seeming to be extremely relaxed and confident to talk about such a topic, you chewed on your bottom lip. Jittery feelings bubbled up within your veins while concern clouded your mind. You had a severe lack of inexperience when it came down to anything sexual.

Your temporary anxiety was sharply noticed by Katie, who positioned her hand over yours in a comforting act. Her fingers soothed your skin, her next words slipping out of her lips as motherly advice.

“Don’t feel pressured to do anything, honestly. George is one of the most understanding people I have ever met. But I think a little bit of intimacy would work wonders on you, both of you.” Her grip on your hand became a bit tighter, and her warmth was incredibly pacifying. “You know, just suggest going to the Prefect’s Bathroom tomorrow night. He will surely accept, once he is heads over heels for you. Get in the warm, bubbly water. Kiss him, if you feel comfortable enough for that. And just see where it goes.”

Your other two friends nodded, assuring you everything was alright and that you could always count on them for support and advice. The conversation went on for a little longer, they sharing intimacy tips and encouraging you.

Luckily enough, the next morning was one that you had classes with George. You brought on the subject in the end of the lesson, while he gathered his material quietly.

His lips opened up in a bright smile in the moment you appeared in front of him, but his expression was soon destroyed by your visible tensed posture.

“Hey, gorgeous. Are you alright?”

You sighed shortly, trying to relieve some of your internalized insecurities. The suggestion came out of your lips in a mere murmur, but he was smart enough to grasp onto all of your words. His eyes noticed your dodging gaze and your fidgeting fingers, playing with the hem of your tie. You looked absolutely adorable to him.

“See you later tonight, then. Prefect’s Bathroom, 12AM sharp. I won’t be late.”

The rest of the day felt like an eternity. Perhaps, it was the uncertainty of it all, given that there was no way to predict how the scenario would take place later on. But the time for your meeting agonizingly came, and you were forced to leave your dormitory.

The weather was unpleasantly hot, and it was hard for you to tell whether it was due to the time of the year you were going through, or to the fact you were walking towards your own doom.

You had been curious and tempted to get to know his darker and more lustful façade but, at the same time, you were ashamed of how much you craved him despite being your first time feeling anything like that. Those same novel tingles from before returned to your loins as your made your way to the fifth floor.

Underneath your favorite carmine red pleated skirt and a muggle band T-shirt, you wore a set of lingerie that had not received much attention when previously picked out, which was a simple white bra paired with white panties, covered in tiny pink strawberries. When you were about to reach your destination, you came down to the realization of how childish your underwear looked. You inhaled sharply, concluding you had ruined everything.

Eventually, you and George met, and entered the bathroom hand in hand.

Although you had heard of its wonderful interiors, seeing everything with your own eyes for the first time made you gasp. Your gaze traveled through the place, and you wished to engrave every detail in your heart. The white marble grandness awoke a sense of greatness and admiration inside you, and you almost fell to your knees right then and there.

A tad of small talk was exchanged between you and your boyfriend, until he approached you at last. His big hands cupped your delicate face, and he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips were so terribly gentle that they sent butterflies to your stomach. He showed no shyness in the second his hands roamed down your body and found your back, giving your ass a light squeeze. Unable to control yourself, you moaned and pressed your body against his.

A steamy make out moment was held between the two of you until the moment for the truth hovered over your heads. He rested his forehead against yours, and looked at you with loving eyes as his thumb ran over your lips.

“Tell me why we are here, darling.”

“It’s just that…There had been this rumor, you know?” A shy chuckle escaped your lips, and you closed your eyes, trying to block out all the filthy images suddenly appearing in your mind. “People have been saying that you jerk off thinking about me. But I’m not sure if it’s true or not, because we have –“

“It is true.” The coolness in his voice caught you off guard, and you blinked at him in a mixture of shock and self-induced accomplishment: your boyfriend touched himself at the thought of you.

Your eyelashes fluttered until your eyes were shut, and a sigh escaped your lips. Your mind knew no restrains at that moment, and the images you had been blocking out came to life all at once, violently crashing against your insides, almost like agitated waves at a beach.

Silence embraced the two of you again, but neither of you felt bothered by it. You took your time to let the sinful images sink in, and he took his time to study your face. You had been clearly affected by the truth he had just spilled out, and he secretly enjoyed such thing. He could read you like the palm of his hand, and he knew you were thinking about him with his dick out.

As he breathed heavily, fearing air would forever leave his lungs after what he was about to do, he prepared himself for what was about to come. His thumb ran over your slightly swollen lips but, this time, he parted them with a gentle tug on your lower lip. George timidly shoved his thumb into your mouth, and you, with your eyes still closed, took all of it.

Your tongue swirl against his finger, the feeling of your saliva dancing against his skin sending electrical waves down his spine. You continued on sucking him until your cheeks finally hollowed, and he pulled his finger out with a low ‘pop’ noise.

You opened your eyes in a deep frustration, but he could no longer take it. His cock was hard inside his trousers and it battled for its freedom. He breathed unsteadily and with a bit of difficulty, his mind starting to wonder how your lips would feel wrapped around his tip.

The realization that you two had never done anything before hit him hard, and he felt himself twitching while precum started wetting the fabric of his underwear.

Would it be selfish of him to think he would probably be the first one ever to taste your cunt? The first one to penetrate you, the first one to end your innocence for eternity, the first one to feel your walls clenching around him, the first one to make you cum.

George was forced to step back and groan in bitterness. He really wanted to fuck you, but he would never disrespect you or your limits. Plus, on top of that, he really did not know how he could express his urges.

“S-Sorry, darling. I-I-I don’t know what’d gotten into me, I guess I just lo-“

“Can you show me how you touch yourself?”

The question hung on air for one or two moments. You could not believe what you had just said. You were drunk on a new dizzying and exciting sensation, one that left your panties secretly wet and your clit throbbing, and one which made you ask your boyfriend to masturbate right in front of you.

So he did it. Apparently, Katie was right: George Weasley would gladly accept anything you asked him.

After the enormous bathtub had been filled with water and bubbles, he undressed and you lost all of your senses for a bit.

His fair skin carried grand amounts of both freckles and small scars. His entire silhouette was outlined by groups of yet developing muscles, but each one of them caused more wetness to pool in your strawberries ridiculously covered panties. George was so tall, his shoulders were so broad, and his dick was indeed so big.

When all of his being finally became bare in front of you, you rubbed your thighs together, the need for friction creeping inside your body for the first time ever.

You stood still exactly where you were, but he made his way to the tub, sitting on the edge of the white porcelain. He lowered his dark eyes to his throbbing member and his touch caused a relieved sigh to leave his lips. His hand moved up and down a few times until he looked at you again.

There was something different on his face. His eyelids seemed to be a tad heavier, and the sounds slipping out of his slightly parted lips were the most delicious thing you had ever heard.

George Weasley was jerking off right in front of you. He was moaning only for you. And you hoped he would cum just for you, too.

As the minutes slowly went by the two of you, you watched him quietly. However, it was impossible for him to keep quiet. By now, his moans were loud and shameless. He whispered your name every now and then, the thought of you bouncing up and down his dick providing all the fuel he needed to orgasm only for you.

That was entirely new for you. You felt so dirty, so sinful, so misbehaved, but you were living for it. You wanted more of him, and you also wanted to give George more of you. And that was exactly the reason why you said your next sentence out loud.

“Can I touch myself?”

His ears convinced himself that he had heard it incorrectly, but the way your fingers tugged on your T-shirt, and your thighs rubbed together, he knew he was not mistaken. A new rush of pleasure ran through his veins and he pumped his hand faster. Unable to form coherent sentences, he mumbled something along the lines of ‘please’ and nodded vehemently.

In the blink of an eye, both of your bodies were unclothed and both of you played with your intimacies. George’s right hand applied all the pressure that could possibly resemble your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, and your fingers helped the squelching sounds coming from your wetness to echo in the bathroom. You had never thought that so many lustful sensations could occupy your body all at once and, yet, there you were: masturbating at the sight of your boyfriend doing the exact same.

By now, you also had problems breathing and the tight knot inside your body screamed for a break. You pulled your hand away from your dripping cunt, but you remained connect to your womanhood by a very thin and almost invisible string of your juices.

George obviously noticed that tiny detail and it was too much for him. He announced he was close and, soon enough, his skin was stained by the pleasure you had given him. His eyes were closed as he felt his heartbeat increasing and the images of you still haunting his mind.

The way he accepted and let his orgasm work on his body made you move your hand against your clit faster and you followed him in a matter of seconds. Your body trembled and you could not stop whining.

You had never experienced something so astonishingly sensational.

Your pants filled the bathroom for a little while before his body finally slipped into the still warm water. The comfort offered by the setting relaxed his existence and he weakly called and asked you to join him, which you happily agreed with.

He touched your hips and pulled you closer, placing your body against his chest. With his lips pressed against your temple, he whispered a series of ‘thank you’ and ‘you are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen’.

However, his final words changed the mood completely and you hated him for it.

“That’s a nice pair of panties, by the way.”

Tag list! ❤️  @efyra​ @writingsomewrongs​ @kellsslut​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @fiction-is-the-new-reality​ @hufflepuff5972​ @amourtentiaa​ @emmaev​ @asthmax​ @anchoeritic​ @eunoia-kth​

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #🌼 — personal: writings

[johns-prince]

Genderbend AU: John Lennon and Paula McCartney [McLennon]

“If Paul would have been a woman, John would have been in love with her”  – Yoko Ono (John was in love with Paul, thing is it only would’ve made their love much easier to act on and be public with if, Paul had been a woman)

“Oi, John!” 

John looked up from trying to re-tune his guitar after fixing the busted string, squinting up at Ivan from where he sat, giving him a rather bothered look. 

“Brought a friend of mine.” 

A smaller figure stepped out from behind Ivan; at the first glance all John caught was a dainty little thing, a bird obviously. 

Oh, 

a bird. 

Feet dropping from their relaxed position on the chair opposite of him, John sat straight up, doing a double take, and this time really saw Ivan’s little friend. Well, as best as he could without his specs. 

“John, this is Paula McCartney. Paula, John Lennon,” Ivan introduced the two.

She certainly was a dainty little thing, a lovely, delicate, slender little girl, with long, long legs. Couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering even if he tried. While John didn’t care much for what a girl wore [all that mattered was if he could get it off her quick and easy] he had to admit, the dress this girl had on looked very good on her; white summer dress that hugged her, what looked like a blue ribbon wrapped about her small waist. It contrasted the dark black hair of hers, and to John’s amusement, was tied back in an obviously loose, hurried way– but it worked, very Brigitte Bardot, John thought to himself. 

Then her face, God in heaven, her face– if only he could put his glasses on to see her better. A heart shaped face, with a cute little button nose and the biggest doe-eyes John had ever seen, with the thickest, darkest lashes. Only later when he’d get the courage to put on his glasses around her, would he realize her eyes were hazel.  What put it altogether were a pair of lips that were so pouty, so full– lips that were made for kissing raw. Finally, John met the girls’ gaze, and it was like a jolt of energy had been shot right into his veins, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand. This girl was beautiful.

John’s tongue suddenly felt thick, heavy and dry like he had a mouth full of cotton instead. Damn Ivan, not warning John what sort of ‘little friend’ he was bringing for John to meet. Trying his best to keep his cool, all John could manage was a simple, Hi Paula, before turning back to his guitar, though at this point he was just fiddling with it, couldn’t focus. Shy, a bit flustered, voice soft as she responded,  “Hullo, John.” When no other pleasantries were exchanged, Paula then turned to Ivan, and reaching out towards the guitar he’d been holding, was passed over to her, along with some small object he’d been holding in one of his pockets for her as well. As if approaching some wild animal, Paula carefully took a step closer to John, catching his attention once more, eyes darting down at the guitar she held tightly in front of her, then darting back up with a curious look now. Worrying at her bottom lip, “D’ya need some help, with that?” 

For a short moment John didn’t respond, just stared at Paula, look turning from curious to surprised, an eyebrow quirking; then, turning away from her back to his guitar, responded with a, “Sure, take a seat.” 

While she tried to hold it back, a small grin broke across her face as she watched John pull the now vacant seat besides him. John himself had to bite the inside of his cheek, hard, to keep his own smile of interest down. 

Seated, she offered her own guitar to him, and he took it as she went to work on his. John watched as her slender fingers fussed with the pegs, before curiously inspecting hers. The strings were the wrong way! “Hey,” John said, catching Paula’s attention. “What’s with your guitar?”  “Oh, I’m left handed,” with that she turned her attention back to tuning, and as she plucked at a string, brought that little object, a guitar tuner, to her lips. “There we go, I- how ‘bout I check the others, while I’m here,” Paul said, glancing over to John as if waiting for any objections, but when John simply gave a curt nod, she smiled and went on ahead. John quietly watched, most of his attention on Paula’s hands, the way she bit at her bottom lip while focused on something; and when John’s eyes would occasionally drift about, he noticed all the other lads were just as curious and watchful as he was. Something akin to jealousy made itself known, which John quickly found stupid. 

“Fancy that,” Though surprised, John found himself much more impressed by this girl. Eyeing all the boys as he went on, “She’s good, don’t know many women who can do this…” Turning to Ivan, John asked as if Paula wasn’t right there, “Can she play as good as she can tune?” Before Paula could say anything herself, Ivan, as if she was his girl to brag about, said, “Oh she can play, John.” Speaking directly to Paula, Ivan urged, “Gotta show ‘im Paulie.” A grin grew across John’s face, playful, all white teeth; “Yeah Paulie,” John drawled out the childish nickname, “Y’should play somethin’ for us.” A pause, “for me.”

With both Ivan and John staring at her now, Ivan predictably, but John… well, he certainly got her cheeks rosy with such a look. Biting the inside of her cheek, her large eyes darted from one boy to the other, before falling on John, a ghost of amusement quirking the edge of her lips. With a soft shrug of her shoulders, she gave only a soft hum as a response before going back to the guitar.

“There,” sitting up straight, a soft smile on her face as she turned to John, offering back his guitar. “Thanks Paula,” John said, gingerly taking his back. “Would’ve taken me ages to do that.” With that he handed her guitar back, which she took along with his smile of gratitude. Despite looking like a true Ted, rough and big with his quiff and sideburns and squint, Paula had to admit, he came off as genuine to her. She’d expected him to be a bit putt off by her, being a girl and all; but no, he was… cool. Since she was being honest, she’d also admit that this John fella wasn’t bad looking– quite good looking, really. Suave, was maybe another one of the many words she’d use to describe John. 

Noticing herself staring, Paula ducked her head, brushing a dark strand of hair behind her ear; turning to Ivan, she handed him the pipe-tuner back to him to hold for her. While she had looked away, Paula could feel that John hadn’t, his stare burning his skin and making her feel bothered [she reasoned why she felt hot was because of how warm it was inside this little church] 

Standing, holding her guitar besides her by the neck, the other hand nervously tugging down at her skirt before reaching up to twiddle with strands of hair; “Well,” she said, tangling her finger, wincing as she pulled it loose. John, simply gazing up at her with that damnable smile, arms resting along the side of his guitar’s body. “Yeah?” John returned, and then with a teasing tone of voice, almost goading, “What does this little bird got?” A challenge. 

John watched with fascinated bemusement as something changed in that pretty face, those eyes burning feisty, he could tell even without his clear vision; and instead of shying back, playing meek, Paula’s shoulders squared. Oh now, this girl certainly was a treat. Without explanation Paula toed out of her simple heeled shoes, and John took note this girl wasn’t wearing nylons… Some of the boys broke out in a whisper, and John looked over at Ivan, expecting him to say something, but all he got was a look like, “Just watch.” So, he did, he watched as she swung her guitar up, cradling it close, and for a moment settle herself down. 

‘What does this little bird got,’ Paula thought to herself with a huff. With one last calming breath, Paula threw herself into exactly what she got.

They watched, rather captivated by this young girl, shamelessly playing out her own renditions of ‘Twenty Flight Rock,’ and ‘Be-Bop-A-Lula’; then a trio of Little Richard tunes, including ‘Tutti-Frutti’, ‘Good Golly, Miss Molly’, and ‘Long Tall Sally’. John took note she’d switched some pronouns around in some of the songs, but it worked– she worked. For such a sweet voice she certainly had some pipes on her, beautiful even, even if it wasn’t exactly expected for women to be able to even do this sorts of music. She swayed and slid with the music, moving in such ways that, for Little Richard and Eddie Cochran could pull off, but would be highly unladylike for someone like Paula. But she went for it, and John was incredibly impressed, almost blown away even, especially with how she played Twenty Flight Rock. Though, John couldn’t help but also feel a bit shown-up by this lass, even threatened. 

When Paula finished, the sound of praise from the other boys, even some of the girls who’d trickled in to chat up those boys, Ivan beaming at her… Paula let out a breathless laugh, flustered and shaking just a bit. When Paula looked to John, a sweet old smile, ruddy cheeked, eyes wide and bright and for a moment John swore he saw kaleidoscopes staring back at him. Whatever envy or insecurity he had started feeling, withered as her eyes held his, and the way she looked at him, coquettish, seemed only for him; “Were you watching?”  At that moment John wasn’t sure if it was the cheap beer that got him buzzing, or if it had been this girl. 

She certainly wasn’t conventional, but neither was John– and coming from a long line of unconventionals, how could he judge her? No, she was talented, and strange, and fascinating, and beautiful– maybe even more than Ms. Bardot herself. Bloody hell, John dug this bird.

John wanted her, and dammit all, he’d have her.

#AU: genderbend #fem!paul #mclennon #mclennon au #mywriting/mycontent

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Thank you for your kind words! i've been trying to think of more Valdo requests, cuz you write him wonderfully, & i have a cute one (i hope) maybe Valdo & plus size reader have been friends for a long time & she's totally in love & he writes all these beautiful songs about these women & she's jealous(inside) & somehow it comes to light that the songs are about her & there's love confessions (shocking i know haha!) cuz he's like "wait no it's always been you!" Thanks so much! I hope you're well!!

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Valdo x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 1,605 Rating: G Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Yess Valdo would be equally enthusiastic about lovers of all body shapes and sizes and you know we love a good Confession. Enjoy! xo

“Y/N!”

Your entire body lifted with your heart at the sound of Valdo’s voice speaking your name. You turned from where you’d been standing in the square and there he was. Curls somehow never mussed despite his long travels, not a single hair in his mustache or goatee out of place. The blazing, emerald eyes alight with excitement as he wove his way through the people and made his way to you. He scooped you up into a hug, nearly lifting you off of your feet, a reminder of how deceptively strong he was.

“Oh you are a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed when you both reluctantly pulled away.

“How Long are you in town this time?” you asked, trying to temper your excitement before you could be crushed by hearing that he would only be there for the night.

“I’m not sure,” he replied enigmatically, “It depends on how this latest song is received.”

You tried to keep your face from crumpling into disappointment. If that were the case you’d be lucky if he stayed overnight. His music was always incredibly well-received and you took his words to mean that the better it was lauded, the more quickly he’d want to spread it around to build word. You’d been friends for years and you’d watched him get his first instruments and create a name for himself around Cidaris. You knew that his success would take him away from you but you tried not to begrudge it. His happiness mattered the most to you and if that happiness was found elsewhere, who were you to be upset?

“Come on,” he said after a few beats of silence, “Buy an old friend a drink.”

“You’re the traveling celebrity, you’re buying,” you teased. He fell in step beside you and slung an arm around your waist. You stiffened slightly, not expecting that, and he removed his arm and wrapped up around your shoulders instead before you could protest that it was alright. Something was odd, even for Valdo, and it made you feel uneasy. You tried to shake it off and focus on the time you got together.

“So tell me of your journeys,” you asked, “New sights? New sounds? New, notable companions?”

You nearly bite your tongue at the last question, trying to sound like you were casually curious as a friend and not desperately pining for him, praying that he’d say he’d seen no one though you knew that was very unlikely. Valdo was quite popular and though you’d never had the pleasure you had extrapolated a great deal from watching him playing, thinking of the things those nimble fingers could do as well as the soft, full lips. He had a wickedness about him that told you that he’d be up for anything and that he could inspire the same level of open-mindedness in all of his partners. Gods knew you couldn’t think of a single thing you wouldn’t open for the man in front of you. He looked at you oddly and you worried for a second that you’d said that out loud but he shook his head.

“Plenty of sights, though none as sweet as your face. Plenty of sounds, though none as compelling as my voice. No companions,” he answered. You schooled your face to stay impassive as he said this though your heart sang. It was a temporary balm, you knew. Soon there would be another. As though he’d read your mind again he pulled out his journal where you knew he wrote his lyrics. You knew where this was going. All through your friendship growing up he’d read to you lyrics of his latest “muse” and you’d been forced to listen and sigh and pretend you weren’t envious of whoever could stir him to create.

“Is that the song that’ll decide your fate?” you asked, gesturing to the journal.

“It is,” he replied. There was a strange energy about him. A nervousness that was rare to behold in the usually very confident, if somewhat smug, troubadour. “It’s a ballad but I need help writing the ending.”

“Oh?” you asked, more surprises every second. Though he happily showed you the results of his work he rarely let you in on the process, insisting that he needed to be alone with his thoughts to truly decipher what his muse had inspired. You thought it sounded like pretentious horseshit but you left him with his methods, his success speaking for itself.

“It’s the story of a couple who met as youths. He, a stalwart, handsome, ambitious lad and she a witty, kind, breathtakingly gorgeous woman,” he explained.

“Hmm yes, they always are aren’t they?” you muttered under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing, go on.”

“Well the pair grow very close, so close that all who see them think that they’re in love but the tragic truth is that the man pines alone, uncertain if his long-held affections are returned,” Valdo continued.

“I do love a good yearn,” you admitted.

“Yes, and now, after years of roaming and parting and returning and nearly confessing and losing the courage he decides that he must confess his love or go mad!”

“A logical solution,” you said with a little nod of your head, “It seems the conclusion is clear.”

“Ah yes but where I need your help is in discovering her answer,” he said, eyes staring at you with a strange intensity. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well I don’t know, Valdo, does she love him?”

“I don’t know, Y/N… does she?” he asked the words meaningfully giving you an equally pointed look and you felt like you were being read a riddle that everyone else knew but you were oblivious to.

“You’d probably need to ask her?” you offered.

“I… am…?” Valdo’s voice grew uncertain and the pair of you gave each other equally puzzled looks.

“Valdo I promise I’m not trying to be daft but… it almost sounds like you’re saying I’m the woman in the story and that’s ridiculous so what is it you’re asking here? If you should talk to the woman in your song? Sure, go for it, why wouldn’t you?” you exclaimed, growing frustrated. Valdo blinked a few times, visibly flustered and taken aback.

“Y/N you are the woman in the song!”

“What?” you cried, choking on your ale.

“Of course! This song and every other I’ve ever written. It’s always been how, could you truly not know?” he asked incredulously. You gaped at him and thought back to the songs he’d written, trying to find a scrap of lyric that proved it couldn’t be you. You were used to hearing songs where you were written out by the casual mention of a slender frame or lithe body. Whenever a bard sang about lifting his lady into his arms the dream was dashed and you could not longer project yourself into it. It had been a bit lonely and sad, never hearing a heroine whose petite shoes you could walk in, but as you thought back through Valdo’s you realized that was never the case. He never spoke of his lover in diminutive terms. He talked about her beauty and her softness and her genius. Valdo could see you thinking, considering his words with confusion but no longer arguing which he took as encouragement.

“Y/N if I’ve not spoken plainly, know it wasn’t out of any embarrassment or lack of feeling, rather the opposite. I felt so deeply and strongly that I feared the loss of you if I spoke up. But not trying and leaving you is much more painful than knowing and salvaging the friendship. So I come to you, Y/N, without pretense or lyrical camouflage, and I ask you – what does the heroine of this song, the song that joins the lifelong operetta of my heart, answer?”

“Well she… she would be a little taken aback, because she spent her whole life thinking that every song was about some new muse, getting more and more jealous with every one but also hoping that her friend who she loved was happy. And then she’d be afraid that it was a dream because everything he was saying is everything she’s been longing for him to say and she’s learned that women who look like her don’t get a love worthy of song. But she’d want it to be true so badly she’d nearly be willing to just say fuck it and let her heart break upon waking, just for the joy of feeling loved by him for just that once,” you answered, a lifetime of feeling poured out in a rambling series of sentences that you feared were only somewhat understandable and barely coherent but Valdo caught the meaning and crossed over the table to get to you, nearly knocking over your ale in the process but you couldn’t care less.

“Then the song shall end with the man assuring her that it is very much real and that he never wants to be parted from her again, whether that means she travels with him or he stays with her he cares not. Because at the end of the day where she goes, he must follow, for only with her does he experience true, unfettered, blissful happiness,” he replied, green eyes scanning your face as if seeing it for the first time and trying to capture the moment forever.

“I think the song should end another way,” you argued.

“Oh?” he asked, “How?”

You answered him with a kiss that he could never translate into words but would spend the rest of his life trying to describe anyway.

#disasterjaskier #Valdo x Reader #Valdo Marx x Reader #Valdo x Plus Size Reader #Valdo fluff #reader request

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Hold the door (BC x Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warning: Spoilers for GoT S4 & S6 E5

Summary: Fantasy can be brutal yet be addicting after a long day of work. Fortunately, a dearly loved kangaroo knows how to lessen the pain of the politics of Westeros.

Author’s Note: Top o’ the morning!

This is my first piece for Stray Kids since they are slowly taking over my life and especially Chris (Bangchan). Hopefully, despite this being not BTS-related for once, it is still an enjoyable read.

For any Stays reading this and who are not acquainted with my works as of yet: I hope I do not disappoint.

Masterlist

A good story evokes emotions with its imagery and plot line, even more so when actors play out the scenes which are craftily adapted to a visual new format despite being written first in ink. The series ‘’Game of Thrones’’ is a splendid example of what might happen in a scenario in which the story hits harder than expected, beloved characters dying left and right while the audience can merely look on in horror.

Or cheer in delight in Joffrey’s case.

The day at work at the café in the centre of town had been hazardous, the arrival of spring break ensuring lots of tourists to come in to taste and photograph the seasonal specials while enjoying the gradually becoming warmer sunny weather. The entire shift literally consisted of creating soft sweet sakura custard buns and sweet lush green mochis decorated with a rice dough cherry blossom and petals, slicing up the slightly floral cheesecake with a pink inside that had to be remade perhaps four to five times due to the high demand. Not to speak of the effort to deliver with making the time-consuming coffees and hot or cold cocoas befitting the abundant fall of sakura around the village. However, such are the duties of being part of the already small team: each person has to be able to work all-round when this time of the year comes despite there not being too much patronage otherwise since the city is not that big nor well-known.

But every exhausting shift makes a mini-marathon in the evening of the new season of ‘’Game of Thrones’’ all the more deserved, simply sitting back on the comfortable creme-coloured love seat with a cup of freshly prepared ice coffee and either a tub of cookies and cream ice cream or a protein bar in the same flavour. Fortunately, it is not minded by the boyfriend of one and a half years since the blonde athletic boy can mostly be found at the gym in the evenings when not hanging out with friends.

Nonetheless, Chris’s absence is more of a curse since the first episode of the night has a grander impact on the psyche than expected, making a firm hug that is mostly tried to be escaped from under normal circumstances now dearly desired. Too many impactful emotional events follow each other up at the end of the sixth season’s fifth episode, triggering the rare reaction of tears in eyes that can merely watch and a palm wrapped over a speechless mouth.

The response is even powerful enough to miss the click of the front door of the shared apartment and the dull thump of the ashen buffalo bag filled with sports gear in the tiny entryway leading to the studio, much less so the giggle following the habitual greeting of “I’m home, babygirl”, which is still awkward despite the many times it has been uttered.

‘Hey, Y/N, are you, wait, are you crying?’ As soon as the credits roll over the screen and the DVD is paused, fingers unclasp from paralyzed lips to wipe away the watery traces of the damage done by mere yet gripping fantasy which stirs the youth to rush over to the couch and rapidly take place on the empty spot formerly occupied by bare feet, making a sorrowful being bounce slightly with the impact of the sudden additional weight. Firm veiny arms are immediately clung onto when they initiate an unbreakable embrace, one slender hand placed protectively on the top of the head, cradling it against the shoulder. ‘What happened?’

No answer comes per direct, first throwing out every bit of frustration thanks to fantastical explicit cruelty while holding on to an oversized sweat-soaked onyx shirt but not minding the hint of sourness to the characteristic scent of minty soap. The golden-haired lad resembling a kangaroo when fired up with energy has taken on the tranquil appearance of a koala, its counterpart, and simply waits patiently until the incoherent blabbering attempts at voicing a reason for the silly behaviour gain a sense of logic. Simultaneously, the left upper arm is being rubbed in uncomprehending close solace, chin resting on the crown of the head when not giving soft caring forehead kisses and whispering soothing nothings.

At last, after a good while of crying, it is dared to look Chris in the eye to tell what forms the reason for the curious distress. Nevertheless, it is an obvious fact the thumb caressing the cheek while explaining forms one of the support pillars which keeps speech steadier than it would be without. ‘Geo- George R.R. Martin is a bastard. He- He let Bran’s wolf be killed by Whitewalkers and- and... Hodor...’ A heavy sob. ‘M- mea- means “ho- hold the door”...’

The very vivid thought about the death of the kind giant at the door arises, initiating a continuation of the lament created by a splendid bastard of an author’s writing. The hug tightens, a rumble in the trained chest beneath the slick flowy fabric resulting in an adorable chuckle as tears stream down a pale neck. ‘You take it way too seriously, Y/N. It’s just a story. Nobody’s actually dead, everything is fine.’

‘Shut up, Chris, you do- don’t know what power George has.’ It is incredible how ‘’Game of Thrones’’ has escaped the attention of the Australian platinum youth, but at the same time places him in a disposition of ignorance about how sensitive talk about the show can be. Certainly for long-time viewers who have likely seen their favourites be brutally murdered in favour of plot progression.

‘No, I don’t, but how about you show me and I’ll try to protect you from it?’ Hazel irises light up at the prospect at one of the most loved things aside from the steady relationship with a girl who gets carried away into fantasy too often and, judging by the broad smirk that begins to form, the continuation of the proposal is nothing surprising yet deliciously loving. ‘With food?’

‘Tha- That’s your solution to ev- everything, isn’t it?’ A careful curl of the corners of the mouth forms out of the sorrowful expression at seeing the genuine giddiness at a second dinner or, rather, late night snack together. Although, it also arises out of the vivid images quickly flashing by of the personified koala’s silly movements whenever something tastes incredible, the funny habit always a cause for affectionate laughter and a source of confidence in the at times doubtful personal cooking skill.

‘It always makes you smile,’ a stray strand is tucked behind the ear, plush roseate lips placing a sweet kiss on the forehead, ‘I’ll first take a shower and then prepare some tteokbokki. How about that?’

Unconsciously, a consenting eager nod is already given before the reaction can be even thought about, the stomach having overtaken demeanour out of anticipation of the small rice cakes. ‘Extra spicy?’

A slight nervousness slips into attitude, eyes holding a silent plead for toning down on the spice levels because the last time they were too high for most to handle, Cris’s friends who came over for the monthly movie night all frantically reaching for cucumber and milk to nullify the impact while trying to save the fellow Australian of the group at the same time. Withal, howbeit while clearly contemplating to adjust the amount of gochujang regardless of the request, the proposal is agreed to. ‘Sure, extra spicy it is. Now, don’t you dare continue in the meanwhile or I won’t cuddle you for the rest of the week.’

A sceptic roll of the eyes, finding no credibility in the statement considering the personality of the speaker. ‘Oh, come on, we both know that’s an empty threat.’

The slightly loosened embrace tightens to a literally breathtaking degree once more, but now it is tried to be escaped as is normally the case when the blonde youth tends to get cheesily clinging. ‘Or I hug you to death, your choice.’

‘Let me go!’ Any type of resistance results in the opposite, becoming more and more the prisoner of secure loving arms instead of a free woman. Notwithstanding, it cannot be said it is minded, though the rumbling in the stomach betrays the recently realized craving for food that can only be had when giving in.

‘Not before you answer.’ The heavy weight suddenly tipping the scales cannot be prevented from being the oppressor of the strength that is unable to lift it, head hitting the soft pillows of the sofa on the other end as the sporty lad with dewy skin maintains the firm hug. A delighted playful chuckle sounds at the realization of having the held figure exactly where she is apparently wanted, unable to be freed before having made a decision. ‘Well, what’s it gonna be?’

‘Either way, you’ll suffer. Option one leaves me alive but you’ll get cuddle withdrawal symptoms. Option two leaves you without your favourite squishy.’ An eyebrow rises in challenging mockery which will only worsen the circumstances though the sarcasm cannot be helped. Just as in the brutal series, if you play smart, you shall survive. And this preferred victim of affection, this most beloved fighter of clinging hugs, has plans to survive the night.

‘Aren’t you clever, turning my own words against me?’ A lopsided smirk forms on the koala boy’s face, eyes illuminated by playful lights.

‘In the Game of Thrones, you live or you die and I intend to do the former.’ Henceforth, a cute sweetness slips into speech as lips irresistibly pout, manipulating Chris even further into hurrying up in fulfilling the promise of tteokbokki and stop stalling the rest of the well-deserved marathon. ‘I’m hungry.’

Blonde locks bow in amused defeat, shaking briefly with acknowledged surrender before gazes lock again. ‘I have no idea what that reference means, but you win this time, Y/N. Can’t let my babygirl starve.’

The characteristic awkward laughter accompanying the nickname by default ends the topic of debate, the kangaroo boyfriend lifting himself off a half-crushed no longer entirely torn by fantasy figure to finally shower. In the absence filled with the lingering traces of songs sung with an angelic voice, more pillows and a thin ornately decorated blanket are gathered for properly snuggling up with delicious food and an amazing but heartbreaking brutal show.

Sweater paws clad in a soapy mint oversized sweater wrap around the platinum youth’s waist to give him a taste of his own medicine, trying to show how inconvenient it can be when a person is basically glued to you during household tasks, which lets them become increasingly more complicated due to the loving gesture. Withal, it does not have the intended effect as the young man manages to get along with making the rice cakes coated in a fierce red sauce just fine although it does pose a bit of a risk when a small hand reaches out for the gochujang tub to add more to the sauce and the chef obviously not consenting to this idea, the dispute resulting in play fighting that almost turns the fire pit open too far without further notice.

The tickling almost results in burns and burned clothing, the just as touchy retribution barely short of ending in a trail of sauce stains leading from the kitchen floor to the fake black leather loveseat thanks to fingertips poking sides. Regardless, it is managed to be reached without further ado, the cruelly incredible series resuming with one strong arm wrapped around the shoulders, a warm meal split in two put into two laps sitting side by side. Occasionally, a chewy tteok is fed with a content smile from the bigger portion of the athlete eating like a starved man, who is evidently as happy with the result of the obstructed cooking as the appreciating look in the eyes of the accepting mouth, going by the happy wiggles accompanied by tuneful hums.

And thus the imaginary intriguing political game synonymous to crimson onslaught continues, because the questioning, at times shocked, comments made out of ignorance brighten the mood due to their silent request for an explanation, delighting the nerdy fangirl within to no end.

Keeping the worst of silly emotions at bay.

Holding the door.

#Stray Kids #SKZ #Stray Kids x Reader #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chris Bang #SKZ x Reader

[irelise]

the yew tree 2.1/?

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw, mutant revolutionary, ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier and claiming his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

(the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

part one now on ao3!)

Warnings for this part: Child abuse, corporal punishment, sexual exploitation of children Rating: M Word count: 2159

The mansion in Westchester is huge. Father had told him that he had lived there when he was a baby, but Charles had been too young to remember any of it. Now, peering out of the automobile as they roll up the driveway, craning his head back and back and back to see the full height of the mansion, Charles doesn’t know how he could have forgotten it.

His rooms are huge too, nothing like the dormitory he had shared with five other boys back in the boarding school in Britain. Everyone is so nice to him when they help him get settled in. Charles knows they feel sorry for him. Poor thing, they repeat, over and over again. Losing his father so young, and now his mother too! He’s only six, isn’t he? A shame, a shame… Poor thing, he’s holding up so well, what a dear!

Charles feels awful. He knows he should be crying because Mother had just died and now both of his parents are gone, but no matter how hard he tries, the tears just won’t come. He doesn’t so much as sniffle. The staff think it’s because he’s a brave lad.

The truth is, he just hadn’t known Mother at all. He misses his friends and instructors at boarding school more than he misses her, and isn’t that just an absolutely wretched way to feel? He’s an awful son.

The wretched feeling stays for the next few days. Everyone is nice to him, but nobody knows what to do with him. He doesn’t have a nanny or a governess or a tutor and he’s bored.

“Do you know when I’ll be meeting my uncle?”

The servant bringing him breakfast looks uncomfortable. “No, sir. But Mr. Marko is a busy man, I expect he’ll call for you when he’s ready.”

The call doesn’t come until another few days later, and by then Charles had absolutely had enough and had snuck out to explore the grounds. He’s messy and mud-splattered when the servants find him and march him to Uncle’s study, and Charles gulps. He’s in big trouble.

It’s the first time he’s met Uncle even though Uncle is his “legal guardian” now (whatever that means), and despite the nervous butterflies tumbling around in his stomach Charles can’t resist a curious peek at his uncle. He’s a tall, broad man with dark hair and a coarse beard to match, dressed very respectably. He seems angry, but also…satisfied? Charles fidgets before he remembers his manners and gives a proper apology.

Surprisingly, Uncle doesn’t give him a thrashing, verbal or otherwise. He only looks stern. “We’ll have to find some way to keep you occupied so you don’t get into more trouble,”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Call me ‘sir’.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

It’s just not right for that Marko to take control of the estate – he’s not even a proper noble, is he?

And what is he thinking, dragging poor Young Master Charles all the way back from England? No, it’s not right at all.

Shh, back to work, don’t let him hear you. Haven’t you heard what he did to that kitchen boy?

***

Two days later, Charles decides Uncle is a big liar. He promised to give something for Charles to do, but there’s nothing, just Charles idly lying on top of the rug and counting – for the fifth time – how many threads are woven into the faded golden tassels. He gets all the way up to three hundred and a bit this time and he’s proud of his focus.

Grumpily, he pulls himself up to his feet. His nails are chipped from picking at the walls and floorboards, and his eyes feel dry and itchy. He couldn’t stop himself from crying earlier, hating how it feels like he’s been put into time-out forever for no reason. He misses school. He misses having things to do.

Charles scrubs at his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t, but there’s nobody here to stop him, so there.

And if there’s nobody to stop him…

There’s a huge tree right on the edge of the estate, with the widest, thickest trunk Charles had ever seen. He sneaks there now, entertaining himself by trying to scramble up the rough bark and the thick and gnarling branches. If he climbs up high enough, could he see all the way back to Britain?

It’s almost sunset by the time anyone comes. Charles gives his best smile to the harried maid that had come to collect him, and some of the annoyance radiating off her fades.

“Oh, look at you,” she fusses at the dirt and bark gathered under his nails and the soil smudged all over him. “Come along, Mr. Marko wants to see you right away.”

“Is he mad?”

The maid looks at him as if to say When is he not mad? “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Young Master. Come on, now! Oh, it’s a shame I don’t have time to get you cleaned up some…”

Uncle is waiting for him in his room. After the maid leaves, Uncle has him strip off his shoes and socks, his pants and underwear. Charles bites his lip as Uncle bends him over the bed, a slender switch in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He’s always been a good boy, not the sort to get the switch despite the occasional bit of schoolyard mischief.

The switch comes down with a loud crack.

For a moment, there’s nothing – then Charles wails as heat and pain flare to life against his bare buttocks. Uncle doesn’t say a word, just brings the switch down again and again, until Charles is cringing and sobbing and scrambling onto the bed, trying to escape.

It hurts. It burns.

Uncle follows him. This time the switch lands across his bare feet, and when Charles kicks, Uncle only pins him down.

It goes on and on until Charles can only lie there and cry. His face is hot with pain and humiliation. When Uncle finally lets him go, he curls up into a tight ball, head swimming. He wants to go home. He wants to be in class again, wants to be with the other boys even though they’re all older than he is since Mother had him shipped off to boarding school early. He wants to go home.

“Stop that,” Uncle says severely, and Charles flinches. Shaking, he rubs at his face, telling himself to be brave. He sits up, but it hurts so much that he just crumples down to lie on his side again, his eyes still hot and sticky.

“Better,” Uncle says. He sets the switch on the bedside table where Charles can see. “I’m making arrangements for you to have a private tutor. My late sister – your mother – had said you’re a bright boy, so I only want the best for you. In the meantime your aunt has kindly volunteered to help you keep up with your reading. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” Charles whispers, making sure his enunciation is perfect despite the way his voice wobbles.

Uncle nods. “We’ll begin tomorrow.”

***

He hurts all over the next morning. There are raised red marks on his foot, and he’s sure his buttocks look just as bad. The maid clucks as she helps him dress. “No more sneaking off from now on, Young Master, or you’ll get it even worse next time.”

“Okay.”

Every step hurts as the maid brings him to the other side of the mansion. They don’t go to Uncle’s study or Aunt’s rooms; instead, the maid takes him to a performance hall of some sort. There is a circular stage in the middle of the room that is slightly raised off the floor, and surrounding it is a ring of benches. The place is small and intimate.

Uncle is on one of the benches, and Aunt is waiting for him on the dais. It’s the first time Charles had ever seen her. She’s a small woman, pale and fashionable, seated gracefully on a cushion on the floor. In front of her is a reading lectern placed low, close to the ground.

“Go sit by your aunt, Charles.”

Charles obeys. It’s a relief to get off his feet. His aunt doesn’t give him so much as a glance as he settles down next to her, and he shrinks away slightly, thinking of Mother.

“Eyes on the book.”

There’s a book on the lectern. It’s a picture book, the sort they use to teach kids their basic words. It’s opened to show a picture of a man and a woman, with the corresponding words written next to the picture in beautiful calligraphy.

“Excuse me, sir,” Charles says politely, “but I know these words already.”

“Read them.”

“Man. Woman.” His aunt turns to the next page, and Charles frowns when he sees the words are incredibly simple again, the sort he learnt years ago. “Hair, eye, ear, nose, mouth.”

“No,” Uncle’s voice cracks down like the switch. “Slower, boy. Listen to how your aunt does it.”

Aunt flicks back to the first page, never once glancing at Charles. “Man. Woman.” It’s the first time Charles had ever heard her speak. Her accent is much more like Charles’ British accent than Uncle’s American one, and even though she’s only saying two simple words, she reads them like they’re art, her enunciation perfect, a precise and deliberate pause in between the words. Even the expression on her face changes, growing warmer and more alive.

Charles likes it. It feels like a performance. He sits straighter (wincing a little), watching her as she recites the next words, so different from his rushed and bored reading: “Hair. Eye. Ear. Nose. Mouth.” Her voice dips up and down, melodious.

“Try again,” Uncle tells him. Charles copies his aunt as well as he can, and even though he knows he sounds boyish and unpractised next to her, it’s enough for Uncle to nod. Charles beams.

They move on. Charles ends up learning a few new words, nape, shoulderblades, pelvis…

And then –

“P-penis,” he stutters, face bright red. He knows it’s not the sort of word you’re supposed to say out loud even though it had always seemed a bit silly to him. “Va…ah, um.”

“Vagina,” Aunt says.

“Vagina,” Charles squeaks, still red. Aunt turns to the next page, but the illustrations remain the same, beautifully detailed brushstrokes in coloured ink showing Charles more than he had ever seen before. His cheeks feel like they’re burning, the heat spreading all the way up his ears and through the rest of his body.

“They’re, um, the same pictures? As before?”

Uncle interrupts. “We can have different words for the same things, don’t we? Have you heard of the word ‘synonym’ before?” He nods to Aunt. “Continue.”

“Member. Cock.” Aunt’s red lips purse around the word, a perfect round shape. “Prick.” One elegantly manicured fingernail traces along the illustration. “Glans. Shaft. Scrotum.”

Uncle looks at him expectantly. Charles tries to swallow down the squirmy feeling that makes him want to fidget and look away from the book. He’s always been a good boy – sweet boy, people had said, eager to please, so he begins: “Member…”

***

How can I do this? He’s only a boy.

How can I do anything else? If I leave him, if he casts me out, I have nowhere to go…

It’s only words. It’s not so bad.

Better than being on the street.

He’s only six.

***

Things improve. He reads a lot, always with his aunt and uncle, and he’s learning plenty of new words even though the squirmy feeling never goes away completely. He knows vaguely that there is something not-right, but how does he even talk about what’s happening? Who would he even tell?

Only words, he thinks to himself, staring at the golden tassels of the rug. It’s not so bad. Stop being a baby.

Uncle gets him the tutor he had promised and Charles throws himself into his studies happily. For the first time since coming to the mansion, he wakes up each day with something to look forward to.

“How have you been settling in, Charles?” Uncle asks him one day.

Charles looks at his hands. There’s a bit of ink smudged there, from where he’s been practicing his letters earlier. There are books scattered all around the room, with more arriving by the week since he’s going through them so fast and Uncle had generously agreed to buy whatever books he needed. Outside, it’s bright and sunny, and his tutor had promised they could study outside later.

Everything’s good. It’s nice and wonderful and all those other synonyms for good.

“Are you happy here, Charles?” Uncle prompts him. The switch is still on his bedside table. In another wing of the mansion, his aunt waits.

“Yes, sir, thank you for asking.”

***

help me help me help us help me

(next part)

#cherik #xmfc #my writing

[special-bastard]

GEMSONAS FROM FINCTIONAL VIDEOGAME MINERALS: WARFRAME MASTERPOST

I havent seen anyone else do this so Im gonna

HERE WE GO LADS

Gemsonas built from Warframe gemstones, using their appearance and the most interesting items those gemstones are components of, to determine their baseline homeworld role and appearance, not accounting for you wanting something different.

This list excludes Azurite because Warframe Azurite is just Azurite.

A thing to note: The way I am envisioning these gems is that the linked version, the refined/cut version of each gem is the Homeworld version, while rebels/renegades/forgotten outpost versions could be born from the uncut, raw versions that the articles link to.

Another thing to note: These are just my suggestions based on my own decisions on how the unexplored elements of Homeworld function. If anything Ive decided here conflicts with your idea of Homeworld, just override what Ive declared with your ideas of Homeworld and make these gems fit how you please.

First is Esher Devar, the refined cut (aka Homeworld version) of Devar

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Esher_Devar

Esher Devar’s most interesting use is building the Gara frame, who is Glass-Samurai themed.

The baseline for a Homeworld/Esher Devar, unless instructed/imagined otherwise, is that of a sort of Samurai Pearl Shogun. A sort of highly aesthetic police, combining the administrative duties of a pearl with a larger build and samurai themes, but also very stylized and making use of clear/reflective materials to reflect the refinement and elegance of The Diamond Authority.

The Esher Devar do not then serve as personal assistants, but are pretty strictly a self-administering police force, mainly used on outposts and stations not personally overseen by a Diamond, or Diamond-appointed overseer. As a result they tend to enforce their aesthetic onto the local populace, be they Gem or a subordinate life-form.

In the spirit of the shogunate and samurai of earth, the Esher Devar are typically arrogant, brash, crude in behaviour, but not especially unpleasant or unfriendly. It depends entirely on your allegiance and your status in the hierarchy, but if the conditions are met, an Esher Devar is a very boisterous and friendly companion.

They are however, incredibly military. Authoritarian, disciplined, lawful and unyielding, the Esher Devar, when left to self-operate, run a Might Makes Right system of government. They are, as the samurai of earth, honor-bound and straight-forward, but also ruthless and brutal. They will cut you down without a second thought if you pose so much as a credible threat to them or their system of governance, and they will enforce their laws without mercy.

But if you submit to their rule, and by extension the rule of the Diamonds, they will protect you as a valued citizen of their outpost, provided you do your assigned job loyally and to the best of your ability. They demand your best efforts, and in return will give you theirs.

Their appearance and Aesthetic is in large contrast to their behaviour, for they keep themselves very well presented. Elegant and clean, shining and pristine, they embody the grace and beauty of a pearl outfitted for strength and endurance in war.

Typically, they are larger and thicker than a Pearl, but still featuring that general bodytype. Typical weapon is a large, two-handed katana (aka Odachi/Nodachi).

Second is the red/blue duo, Marquise Thyst and Radiant Zodian, the refined cuts of Thyst and Zodian

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Marquise_Thyst

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Radiant_Zodian

Both of these gems are used to build the Garuda and Baruuk frames, and also each have a large list of uses in cosmetic items.

Garuda is a claw-wielding vampire frame, while Baruuk is a temperate monk frame, and due to the respective colors and shapes of Thyst and Zodian, I will be ascribing the red and sharp Marquise Thyst to Garuda and the round and blue Radiant Zodian to Baruuk.

Because both gems are used in a large variety of cosmetic items in the game, it can be said that the baseline roles for Marquise Thyst and Radiant Zodian are largely decorative. They serve as living sculptures and artworks, typically found in contemplative gardens and cathedrals, where these gems and their surrounding architectures embody particular aesthetics and mindsets.

With Garuda being a vampire frame, Marquise Thysts are the occupants of Red Cathedrals. These places are the spiritual centers of the physical components of the Gem race. The fluids used in Kindergartens, combining with the minerals in the soil to grow and produce Gem warriors and civil servants. The “blood” of Gems, as it were.

Through complete coincidence, these cathedrals and their occupants feature a very gothic aesthetic and architecture, with little lighting bathed in a deep red glow. The cathedrals are tall and slim, and because of their red color are popular with particularly “religious” rubies, as places of diamond worship.

The Marquise Thysts themselves are also very tall and slim, typically covering themselves under floor-length shawls and heavy hoods, with their faces hidden behind haunting masks that are featureless save for two pin-prick eyeholes. 

When the cathedrals are empty the Thysts wander them slowly, and aimlessly, basking in their aesthetic and gothic mood. When the cathedrals have visitors, the Thysts will either stand still where they were, like statues, or else retreat and stand between the ribbing/pillars of the walls, like vampire gargoyles, staring at the visitors and ensuring the proper atmosphere is observed.

Though they are decorative set-pieces, the thysts are very capable of fighting, with the baseline for their weaponry being large jointed razor-sharp claws, which function much like long slender fingers. They have normal hands, and the claw are wrist-mounted, but tend to flex and gesture in unison with their actual fingers when in use.

In contrast, the Radiant Zodians occupy zen gardens, which are wide and open. These gardens are supposed to resemble a Gem’s clarity of vision and purpose, as given to them by their diamonds, and a gem who is lost and unable (or afraid to) seek guidance from their diamonds can come to one of these gardens and meditate on their given purpose and determine what they should be doing.

The Radiant Zodians cultivate these gardens, combing the stones and “tending to” the “plants”, which are really just crystalline growths which can be ground into a paste-like substance. It’s most common use is what passes for medicine for the gem race, being a substance that can repair cracks and “heal” gem warriors and constructions, as it is the same substance used by peridots and their flask robonoids to repair crystal structures such as warp pads.

As such, the zen gardens and their zodian custodians can be said to be “hospitals” and “doctors” of a sort, though with a distinctly buddhist monk aesthetic. The calm of the gardens can put to rest a weary soul, while the zodians apply the crystalline substance to any physical damage and tend to any wounded warriors.

Marquise Thysts and Radiant Zodians rarely interact, but when they do it is very polarizing. They either develop a strong revulsion to oneanother due to conflicting aesthetics and attitudes, or their stark differences make them the best of friends. It varies on the individual personalities of the gems themselves, if indeed they have the freedom to develop any.

Like their thyst cousins, the zodians are also very capable of fighting despite being more set-dressing than warriors, but where the thysts use large razor claws, the zodians use their 

fists. The do encase their fists in a rock-hard material, but not to the degree of say, a gauntlet of some sort. Rather, they give their fists a thin coating which can protect, but can also be shattered and the pieces expelled as knife-like shards for a ranged attack.

The zodians typically avoid using actual weaponry because their most common cause for fighting is to enforce calm in their gardens, and they would never dare do any real damage to a fellow gem, so they have learned to use blunt force and pacifying attacks to subdue unruly visitors and set them on the path of meditation and calm.

Third is Star Amarast, the Homeworld cut of Amarast

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Star_Amarast

By color and name alone, Amarast is obviously going to be just a deviation of an Amethyst. As such, they’re going to be rank-and-file soldiery, above that of ruby grunts but by much. Though star amarast is a component of Garuda, I figured since thats already taken then that the next most interesting uses of Star Amarast is in building K-Drives (high speed hover-boards) and kitguns (kitbashed laserguns just incase you needed that explained), as well as a one-handed short scythe.

As such, I decided that Amarasts would be the cavalry to an Amethyst infantry. What they mount depends on their post and what they have at their disposal. If they have a retinue of peridots they will most likely be mounted on vehicles. If Lapis, they will most likely be using wildlife, typically aquatic life. In some rare and extreme cases, an Amarast might be known to tame and mount an animalistic corrupted Gem as a steed of sorts.

Typically however, a company of Amarasts will be equipped with vehicles to work with in the first place.

Treat them as you would a regular Amethyst, but maybe with a slimmer build and preference for ranged weaponry, and hit&run fighting. Also a keen interest in animal taming or vehicles wouldnt hurt.

Fourth are Heart Nyth and Radian Sentrium, the Homeworld cuts of Nyth and Sentrium

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Heart_Nyth

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Radian_Sentirum

As implied by the name, and the lack of functional uses, BUT because of the aesthetic of the cosmetics Heart Nyth and Radian Sentrium are used to make, I have decided that they are essentially a kind of Cheerleader/Standard Bearer for ground forces. They occupy battlefield administration of a sort, while also catering to the morale of occupying/invading forces by using themselves as a resplendent symbol of Homeworld beauty and the beautiful might of the Diamond Empire. They inspire troops and if a civil conflict arises, can serve limited diplomatic roles, negotiating ceasefires, POW needs/transfers, terms of surrender and so on. They are the symbolic face of the Gem warrior armies, representing the will of the empire in war and conquest, until such a time as a Diamond appears to present their will directly, or the Esher Devars appear to take over a new outpost.

I imagine their appearance to be essentially like a pearl, trying to emulate a Diamond aesthetic. Not so uncanny as to appear to be a usurper, but presenting themselves as a living symbol of the diamonds, a sign of what’s to come when you surrender or fall to their armies.

Fifth is Goblite Tears, the Homeworld cut of Goblite

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Goblite_Tears

In this instance, I must immediately address the difference between Homeworld Goblite and non-homeworld Goblite, because in the refinement process, Goblite is cut into pieces, into “tears”, whereas the unrefined Goblite is a single piece. As such, this is the first time I would strongly recommend a distinct difference, in that Homeworld Goblites are a small horde of tinkering assistants, much in the vein of pebbles, assisting various gems, in particular crafting/manufacture/maintenance gems such as peridots or bismuths, in their duties.

Compare this to raw, unrefined Goblite

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Goblite

Unbroken Goblite is a single, ordinary sized Gem, who serves as more of a general, all-purpose handy-man, able to do most things reasonably well but clearly lacking specialization in anything.

Because of the name Goblite, I would say they’re relatively short, maybe close to a ruby or sapphire in size, and relatively grubby, not in the least bit interested in presenting a clean and graceful appearance, they are the type to get “stuck in” and get elbow-deep in all kinds of muck to get the job done. Not especially effective fighters maybe, but their wide range of inherent skills and complete lack of regard for elegance and appearance could make them tricky and unpredictable combatants to deal with, making use of tools and if you’re in their territory, whatever ramshackle home they’ve built can likely be torn apart in interesting and threatening ways.

Unrefined Goblite would essentially take the place of a rebel peridot, but less nerdy and more goblincore

Sixth is Star Crimzian, the Homeworld cut of Crimzian

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Star_Crimzian

Star Crimzian is very limited in its uses, and they aren’t particularly interesting, so I don’t have a lot to say on them. Based on what little uses they do have, however, I feel comfortable saying that Star Crimzians are just a specialized sort of Ruby soldier. Instead of general purpose foot-grunts, Star Crimzians are artillery crew. They work in teams to operate homeworld artillery guns in war and particularly in sieging an occupied stronghold, and that’s about it.

Seventh is Marquise Veridos

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Marquise_Veridos

Despite the name, Marquise Veridos have little in common with Marquise Thyst. Given that the uses for Marquise Veridos have nothing by way of cosmetics and are primarily used to make the Strike or “Blade” of kitbashed melee weapons called “Zaws” in the game, I thought a fitting role for this Gem would be a weapon designer. While Bismuths are clearly the smiths occupied with making functional weapons and tools, Marquise Veridos could be their artisan counterpart, making finely crafted and delicate weapons that serve more as status symbols than actual tools of war. Maybe they even work WITH Bismuths to “pretty up” their tools and weapons, or maybe they work exclusively for overseers crafting artisanal weapons of authority and status.

As such I would imagine their appearance to be a blend of ‘artist’ and ‘blacksmith’ with a keen eye for aesthetic and, depending on how closely they work with a Bismuth, an eye for deadliness.

Seventh are Heart Noctrul and Smooth Phasmin, who I combine into one entry because they have a common theme in their uses.

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Heart_Noctrul

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Smooth_Phasmin

That shared theme is robotics, where in the game both of these stones are used in making parts of MOAs, which are like robotic bird-things. Essentially a laser gun on a pair of chicken legs is the jist of MOAs (and also an extinct flightless bird from New Zealand)

As such, I would believe Heart Noctrul and Smooth Phasmins to work together often. Smooth Phasmin’s uses are almost entirely on robotics, so they would easily be the robotics engineers overseeing the construction and maintenance of robotic servants, like robonoids or drones or limb enhancers, and so on, while Heart Noctrul shares its list of uses with a fair amount of weapons and even a k-drive piece, which indicates to me that a Heart Noctrul gemsona would be working with a Smooth Phasmin, and trying to figure out ways to weaponize and otherwise modify their robotic creations, being adept at creating and installing all kinds of ranged weapons and mobility enhancements on a phasmin’s constructs.

I would imagine them to both be relatively peridot-like in appearance, though maybe noctruls could be outfitted with a little extra rigging to signify their role as weaponizing a phasmin’s robots.

Now we come to the game’s “vanilla” resources, which are pre-mining update and therefore do not have refined/raw versions, they just are.

So, Eighth is Rubedo

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Rubedo

Rubedo is an alchemical reference, typically referring to the penultimate stage of a great work nearing completion.

Based on my own ‘sonas of this stone, I would determine that Rubedos are Ruby commanders. Slightly taller, slightly smarter, and just slightly better in all respects than a typical Ruby, Rubedos serve as commanders, trainers and leaders of Ruby grunts. Because of the alchemical concept referring to a near-complete but unfinished work, I would imagine Rubedos are typically missing a part of the full humanoid form, and that missing piece is where their gemstone is found. My personal Rubedos are both missing their right arm, and their gemstones form the stumps. Consequently, they both possess the power to generate Green Lantern style light-constructs to serve as fill-ins for their missing arms, and I would imagine all Rubedos generally do this.

Ninth is Argon

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Argon_Crystal

Although Argon is a real-world element, I don’t know anything about it. In the game however, Argon is found in crystal form, so I count it as a Gem. Argon is also unique in that it is the only resource in the game which deteriorates and disappears over time.

Because of this, and because of the most interesting use for Argon Crystals is to create the Mirage frame, which is a sort of jester/clown, I would imagine Homeworld Argons to be similar. Entertainers and acrobats, loving the attention and spotlight and loving to make people laugh and smile. Physically I think of them as like a pearl, with more curves and a bigger, rounder head, and wearing asymmetrical uniforms and patterns.

Somewhat clownish in nature, I would imagine Argons to also be very private, and secretive. They would be reluctant to talk about themselves or open up to anyone, preferring to have people interact with their public entertainer face.

Because Argon Crystals in the game disappear over time, perhaps Homeworld Argons are very short-lived, or have some flaw which causes them to be effectively mortal, needing to fuel themselves to keep existing and maybe they even age like mortal creatures.

Finally, Tenth is Cryotic

https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/Cryotic

Its ice. It’s a crystal super-ice that freezes anything it touches. It’s an extremely potent contact-coolant. I’m sure I don’t have to come up with much detail on what kind of ‘sona this could be made into.

I imagine them to be like high ranking Sapphire overseers, much like Rubedo for Rubies.

That concludes every known material in Warframe that I would describe as being a Gemstone

#warframe #steven universe #gemsona #gemsonas #fangems #fictional gems #fic-gems? #I need a better term for this #someone else come up with a better tag for fictional or fantasy gemstone gemsonas #fangems was one idea recommended to me but I think its too easily confused for fanmade gemsona or fandom gem and such #gemsona resource #please use #masterpost #gemsona masterpost #fangem masterpost #warframe gemsona #gemframe? #whatever #cringe culture is dead #my writes

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Speed Dating

@outlanderedandoverhere come up with this wonderful prompt and I just loved it. I’d have posted this yesterday but I was working with my manager and had no access to the computer. Hope you guys like it!

The five Scotsmen walked into the large room like action movie stars. In the lead was James Fraser, looking big and ferocious as he surveyed the layout. Beautiful women mingled and sipped their glasses of wine.

“Dinna look so sour,” Murtagh Fitzgibbons said, clapping James on the shoulder. “Ye’ll scare the ladies off before we even sit down.”

James glared over at the scruffy man.

“I dinna want to be here. I can find my own dates.”

“Aye,” said Rupert. “But ye dinna.”

“And would ye no’ rather have a nice, warm woman to fill yer hands wi’?” Angus asked, waggling his eyebrows. “All soft and curvy and-”

James tuned him out, taking a deep breath and preparing for a night of meaningless chatter with desperate women. He laughed to himself. His mother would have smacked him on the head for thinking something like that. Come to think of it, his sister would have too.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said a very sweet woman with dark skin and short hair. Her cobalt gown hugged her fit body as if it had been tailored to do just that. “Are you registered for this evening’s dates?”

“Aye,” James said. “We are.”

“Excellent! If you’ll follow me over here, we’ll get you signed in and set up with your score cards.”

Ten minutes later, each of the men had nametag stickers on their chests, though Angus was forced to write a second one. “Angus Mhor, Master of Seduction” was not an accepted title.

“But it’s true!” he argued, earning a glare from his four companions.

While the last few men and women were registered, Jamie leaned against the bar. Willie took a spot beside him, his face gone pale.

“Are ye alright, lad?”

Young Willie offered a tight smile and nodded.

“I’m no’ verra good at talking wi’ women, ken?”

Jamie smiled and patted his shoulder.

“That’s why these wee dates dinna take verra long. Five minutes or so. Surely ye canna make a fool of yourself in five minutes.”

Willie’s eyes rolled.

“Ye didna see when I tried to ask out Holly,” he bemoaned.

“Attention,” came a strong, smooth voice over a mic system. “If the ladies could all take their seats. The ladies will sit in the booths and the men will take the seats on the outside of the circle. Hopefully you all mingled a little beforehand because your first date is your choice. Each date is five minutes,” the man said, holding up a brass bell. “When the bell rings, the man moves to the next chair on his right. Each of you has a score card, which you’ll have time to fill out in the minute between each date. Any questions?”

“Aye,” said a woman James couldn’t see. “What if we find someone we want to see again?”

The man in charge of the event smiled.

“Then you indicate on the side of your card. You have a spot to list out three names of who you’d like to see again and, if your name is on their card too, you’ll get a notification from us.”

He answered a few more questions while James scanned the room. His eyes landed on a plump blonde woman, who looked a little downcast and he immediately took the seat. When she looked up, her eyes went wide with shock.

“Alright gentlemen, find your seats please. Excellent. Your five minutes begins… Now!”

James smiled at the woman across from him.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m James.”

“P-Penelope,” she said, her rounded cheeks turning deep red.

“That’s a lovely name. Tell me about yourself.”

She was a sweet girl, but almost afraid of her own shadow. Penelope needed a sweet, quiet man who would love nothing more than to spend the day cuddling with her and reading books. That wasn’t his life.

The bell dinged and the announcer reminded the men to move to their right. James sat down across from a woman with shocking red hair and eyes so green he wondered if they were contacts.

“I’m Geillis,” she said, offering a slender hand.

“James.”

“What do ye do for a living, James? Ye’ve got awfully calloused hands.”

He shrugged, pulling his hand back.

“Farming mostly,” he said. “What about you?”

This one didn’t suit him either. She was too interested in him and what he did, revealing almost nothing about herself. He didn’t even bother writing down her name or giving her a score.

Rupert and Angus loved women. They dated constantly and almost always had women sneaking out of their rooms early in the morning. Murtagh dated here and there, but found it difficult to allow a woman in after Ellen, James’ mother. Murtagh had been in love with her for years, but she’d turned him down and married Brian. Willie was still young and needed more experience being around women, so he’d been brought along.

But James had never been one to date - or sleep - around. Dating, for him, had a purpose and he would not waste his time on frivolity. If he was to be with a woman, it would be a woman he could see himself marrying.

The bell rang again and he moved to the next seat. A lovely young woman beamed at him, her mouse brown hair done up in a fancy knot.

“Hello,” she said in French. “I am Annalise.”

“James,” he said, also in French. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The woman was thrilled to speak her native tongue with him, though he had to ask her to slow down. He was fluent in French, but not when she spoke it so quickly. She was a kind girl, and highly intelligent. James wrote down her name and gave her a decent score, deciding he could see himself with her in an unknown future. Perhaps.

The bell rang again and James got up to move over to the next one. He glanced over and watched Willie sit down, the boy’s mouth hanging wide open. The boy was entranced by the lovely Frenchwoman. With a smile, he crossed out Annalise’s name on his own card and focused on the woman in front of him.

It took every bit of self control he had to keep from groaning. Of course she’d be here. Glancing around, he caught Murtagh’s eye and glared. Murtagh looked at the girl and winced. At least he hadn’t known.

“Hello,” came her quiet voice. “It’s good to see ye, Jamie.”

“Dinna call me that. We went on one date and I asked ye to call me James.”

“But Murtagh and the others all call ye Jamie.”

He glared hard at Laogahire, ignoring the sad look in her eyes.

“Aye, but they are my friends and my family. You,” he pointed hard at her. “Are neither.”

“I told ye I was sorry!”

“Sorry doesna fix a damned thing and ye ken it well. So save yer breath for someone who might believe ye.”

Her mouth snapped shut and Jamie looked pointedly away from her, ignoring her for the duration of their time together. It was true they’d only gone out once, but she’d been infatuated for a long time. Had he known that beforehand, he’d never have taken her out. She’d had far too much to drink at dinner and he’d offered to drive her home. But when she’d started throwing up in her flat, he stayed to be sure she was alright.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he’d heard what she’d said about that night. She’d told her father, an old fashioned Catholic man, that she’d gotten pregnant and she knew exactly who it belonged to. That had been the longest month of Jamie’s life, waiting to prove to everyone that he hadn’t taken advantage of the drunken girl. When it came out that she’d lied, her father apologized and moved away. Jamie hadn’t seen her in several years, for which he’d been thankful.

Finally the bell dinged again and he moved to the next seat, feeling Laogahire’s eyes on him the whole way. Sitting, he smiled pleasantly at the woman across from him, growing tired with the games he had to play. This wasn’t the way he liked to do things. Suzette, also a Frenchwoman, was very sweet and proud of her house cleaning business. But Jamie caught the way Murtagh kept watching her, so he simply enjoyed their conversation.

Moving almost mechanically, Jamie sat down in the next seat and sighed. He’d stopped paying attention to whatever woman was coming up, wishing he had more whisky to give him strength. But when he looked up to meet the gaze of the woman waiting, the whole world stopped.

------------

I’d been watching him almost since he’d walked in the room. He carried such a presence with him that most of the other women had looked to him too. When his first ‘date’ choice had been the woman every other man had ignored, I decided to respect him a little.

I watched him between dates, observing how he interacted with everyone. His reaction to one of the women surprised me as he completely ignored her after a brief exchange. He must have known her before.

When it finally came my turn, I took a sip of my brandy and waited. Beautiful blue eyes met mine and he froze.

“Good evening,” I said softly. “I’m Claire Beauchamp.”

He muttered something in Gaelic before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot how to speak English for a moment.”

“Is that right?”

“Aye. I dinna mean to waste what little time we have together. What is it ye do?”

Asking about me before showing himself off was a good sign.

“I’m a nursing instructor.”

“That’s quite impressive. How long have ye done that?”

“A few years now. It’s a demanding job, but I love it. What about you? What is it you do?”

He smirked and his fingers fluttered on the tabletop. Nervous tick?

“I run a stable where we teach riding and a little jumping. We have a few in competitions around the country.”

“That’s incredible! Do you have horses in the competitions? Or just the riders who board their horses with you?”

The man, James according to his nametag, shrugged.

“A bit of both. We dinna have too many horses that belong to the stable, but I own a few. No’ all of them are for competing, ken? Some I keep back for breeding. Weel… No’ Donas.”

Curious, I leaned forward.

“Why not Donas?”

“Weel, ye see,” he leaned forward too, his eyes glittering with mischief. “He’s a demon-spawn.”

I burst out laughing suddenly at his unexpected answer. He laughed too and it lit up his whole face. There was an intelligence in his eyes, hiding a sharp mind and quick wit.

“Demon-spawn. I didn’t know horses could be demon possessed.”

James shook his head, the thick red curls bouncing jovially.

“No, no. He’s no’ possessed. He’s a spawn of the Devil himself, ken?”

“So you’re telling me Satan sometimes consorts with mares?”

He nearly choked on the whisky in his glass and I grinned. I had a sharp wit too.

“Perhaps someday I’ll ask him, Sassenach,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes as he finished his coughing fit.

The bell rang and he didn’t move. I smiled at him and tried to covertly write down a score and put his name on my list. I felt his eyes on me as I did and I kept my hand over my card. Scribbling hastily, I wrote my mobile number on a napkin and tore it off.

“Will ye no’ let me see?”

I gaped at him in false shock.

“Of course not! Now go to the next young lady before you get yelled at!”

“I’ll show ye mine!”

“GO!”

Finally, he stood and took my hand abruptly. After giving the back of my hand a soft kiss, he smiled. I turned my hand over in his, pressing the torn napkin into his palm.

“Until next time, Sassenach.”

“And who says there’s a next time?”

I gave him a coy wink before turning to the man in front of me.

“Sir, if you could please find your seat.”

I bit back my giggle as James bowed to the nice woman who escorted him away. He was the highest score on my card and the only name on my list of potentials. But I didn’t need him knowing that.

-----------

James was the first one to hand his score card in, restlessly tapping his fingers on his thigh. Claire Beauchamp… She’d been flirty and easy to be with, quick on her feet, and had a solid career. She wasn’t the type of woman who needed a man, but someone who wanted a companion, someone to live a life with.

“If ever there was a woman,” he mumbled to himself in Gaelic, waiting at the bar for his companions.

“One catch yer eye, lad?” Murtagh asked.

James nodded, staring down at his phone. She’d given him her phone number, meaning he didn’t even have to wait. He’d punched it in and was about to call it when his godfather had come over.

“You?” James asked.

Murtagh grinned.

“Aye, I think I have. Dinna ken if she put me down too, but I’m hopeful. Have ye got a phone call to make?”

“Aye,” James said, pressing the button to call her.

Murtagh clapped him on the back and left him to his business.

“Claire Beauchamp?” came her sweet voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, Sassenach. Was a brave thing, slipping me yer number.”

He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Well hello there, James. Isn’t there a rule about calling after a date?”

“I dinna ken. If ye didna want me to call…”

The rest of his group finally joined him and they started heading out.

“Actually I’m glad you did. Five minutes isn’t a very long time.”

“But that was some impressive flirting for such a short time,” he said, ignoring the looks he got from his companions.

She had a laugh that was as pure and soft as a harp.

“Thank you. You weren’t so bad yourself. So… Was there a reason you called me?”

“Weel, I was hoping to see ye again. I’d like to talk wi’ you more, get to know ye a bit.”

“You can definitely see me again.”

His heart skipped and thudded in anticipation.

“When are ye free? There’s a great little cafe no’ far from my flat I’d love to take ye to.”

“How about now?” she said.

Her voice came from the phone at his ear, but it also came from behind him. Spinning around, he spotted her as she pushed away from the wall she’d been leaning against.

“Weel I must say,” he smiled at her. “I didna expect this.”

The men he’d come with had stopped walking and he knew they were staring at him.

“Good to know I can keep you on your toes. So how about it, James? Are you free right now?”

“Aye!” Angus yelped. “Aye he is! Verra free!”

“Shut yer mouth,” Murtagh barked.

James felt his ears turn red.

“They’re right. I’ve no other plans tonight.”

“Would you like…” she trailed off, glancing at the eager men behind him.

Turning around, he glared at them.

“Go. Home,” he commanded in Gaelic.

“Are ye gonna…” Rupert made a suggestive motion with his hips. “Ken?”

“Go away!” James hissed. “It isna your business.”

Murtagh, after a stern look at Claire, gathered up the lads and shooed them away. Finally, he was really and truly alone with her.

“Are you related to all of them?” she asked, a laugh hiding in the corners of her mouth.

“Rupert. A distant cousin. And Murtagh is my godfather.”

“Quite an interesting family.”

James rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Aye. Ye should see them at clan gatherings.”

They both fell silent and neither was sure what to say.

“Would you like to come over to my flat?” she asked.

“I, ah… Weel I did say I wanted to see ye again, it’s only…”

His fingers tapped on his thigh nervously.

“Look,” she said gently. “I'm not the kind of woman who hops from one man's bed to another. I'm not here for a quick hook up. I'd like to talk with you more and my flat is close.”

James nodded.

“Aye. I'd like to get to know ye more as well. Lead the way then, my lady.”

Offering his arm, she smiled and accepted it.

---------------

I wasn’t really sure why I’d invited him back to my flat. True, I did want to spend more time with him, get to know him. I wasn’t sure if I’d wanted him to accept my invitation or not, but when he did, I was glad.

My flat wasn’t far from the pub that had hosted the speed dating event. We walked quietly, my arm through his. Usually silence bothered me and I had to fill it with something. Sometimes music, sometimes conversation, anything other than silence. But here, with James, I didn’t mind it.

“So, James,” I said, deciding my tolerance only went so far. “Do you go to dating events like that very often?”

“No,” he said, looking down at his boots as we walked. “Dating… It must have a purpose. I willna give my time to a woman who doesna have the potential to be more.”

“Have you dated many women, then?”

James let out a sigh that told me he’d been pestered about this for years.

“No’ many. Laogahire, one of the lassies who was attending tonight, was one I dated. I went out a time or two before her, but hadna found the right one. Yet.”

My eyes met his for a brief moment and his expression was impossible to read. I turned us down the street and used my key to open the door to my flat. He waited patiently and offered his arm again as we climbed the stairs and I let him into my home. It was small and his large presence seemed to make it look even smaller.

“You’ve a lovely home,” he said gently, taking in my plumb walls and tiny couches.

“Thank you. It isn’t much, but I’m saving up to get a nicer flat.”

“Ye made it yours, though,” he said, nodding to the art on my walls. “It doesna matter the size, it’s your home.”

I chuckled, hanging my keys on the hooks beside the door.

“Admit it. This is the smallest flat you’ve ever seen.”

His smile was bright and genuine as he left his shoes beside the door.

“Aye, at least the lounge is.”

I giggled.

“You think this is small, you should see my bedroom.”

My mouth snapped shut with an audible clack and his ruddy brows lifted in surprise.

“Perhaps sometime I shall,” he said carefully.

“I’m so sorry. I had a little brandy tonight and I’m afraid my mouth has run away with me. Please, sit. Can I get you anything?”

He eased himself onto my love seat and shook his head.

“Just some good conversation would do.”

I had two options when I moved to the lounge area. I could sit beside him or in the large chair that was my preferred spot. Absently I wondered if he’d chosen his seat on purpose, leaving me with the option to sit with him or not.

I sat beside him and, as I did so, one corner of his mouth quirked.

“So,” he said easily, leaning back and stretching like a cat. “What is it ye wanted to talk about, Sassenach? Ye’ve already asked about my love life, or lack of one.”

“Tell me about your family.”

He’d had a small entourage during the speed dating event and he’d said he wasn’t related to all of them. But I was curious about him and his life. A surprised and happy laugh erupted from deep in his chest and he threw his head back.

“How many generations back?” He finally asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Your parents will do,” I answered sourly.

“Weel… My father kent he loved my mother when first he saw her. The scandal of it is that she was dating someone else at the time.”

I settled in and listened to him tell his story. It was amazing, the way he talked. I felt as if he chose each word and used it to paint a vivid picture for me.

To be fair, I shared my family history with him as well, telling the few stories I had of my parents. More of my stories involved my uncle, who’d raised me.

“You go by James, then?” I asked over my shoulder as I made us coffee.

“Eh. Most times, aye. Unless I’m around people I like.”

I half turned and grinned at him.

“So… Am I to call you James? Or Jamie?”

“Oh lass,” he said in a soft purr. “Ye can call me anything ye like.”

A flutter of heat moved through me at his tone of voice and I suppressed a shudder. It had been a long, long time since a man had made me feel like that.

“Perhaps,” I said, bringing both mugs of coffee back with me. “I’ll call you Jamie on good days and James when I’m cross with you.”

“I think I can live wi’ that.”

--------------

Jamie took the coffee she offered and smiled. She pulled her legs up beneath her and settled into her seat beside him.

“How did you get started at a stable?” she asked.

“I visited it as a lad, ken? Always loved watchin’ the way the horses moved, how graceful their bodies were, the relationship between horse and rider. I got a job at a stable as soon as I was old enough. I worked my way up. When Alec, the man that started the stable, decided he wanted to retire, he gave it to me.”

“Gave it?” she asked, eyes growing wide in shock.

He took a long drink before answering.

“Aye. We’d become close in the time I was there and he kent I had an eye for the horses. He helped me for a bit before giving it to me completely. Made sure I kent how to run a business, keep my staff happy and paid.”

“So you run the stable now? That’s quite impressive.”

“No, actually. I’m full owner. Alec signed it all over to me when he retired. I… I dinna like to flaunt it. No’ many people ken that I own the whole thing. Most think Alec still owns over half.”

One girl he’d dated had found out he owned one of the best stables in Scotland and had ‘fallen’ for him. What she’d really fallen for was the money he had stored away and his stables prestige.

“I’ve never actually ridden a horse, you know.”

“Is that so?”

She hid a shy smile behind her coffee mug and nodded.

“They’ve always been a little intimidating to me.”

“I should have ye out to the stables then! Oh I’ve a lovely mare I think ye’d like. We put beginners on her. She’s verra sweet.”

“She’s not very… big, is she?”

“Och no. She’s nearly the size of a pony, but she’s a sturdy lass. I’ll make sure to take care of ye.”

Jamie stretched and put his empty mug down, casting a thoughtless glance at his watch.

“Christ, I didna ken how late it was. I’m sorry for keepin’ ye up, Sassenach. I should go.”

He got to his feet, stretching again and nearly touching the ceiling.

“You could stay here,” Claire said, standing with him.

Stay? Meeting her gaze, he watched her thoughts ghost over her face.

“I just mean that it’s late and I’m not sure how far from here you live.”

“It’s a bit of a drive, I admit.”

“Then stay. I haven’t got much room around here, but it’s safer than driving home at… Damn! Almost four in the morning.”

Stifling a yawn, he nodded.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “If ye have an extra pillow, I’ll stay out here on the floor.”

Her eyes rolled as she took their mugs to the sink.

“Don’t be absurd. This floor isn’t very comfortable.”

He hesitated, watching her carefully.

“I… I dinna want you to get the wrong idea, lass. I like ye verra much, but I…”

“It’s just a bed to sleep in. I’ve got a body pillow in my wardrobe if you’d like a barrier.”

Jamie snorted.

“I should think I’d have a wee bit more self control than to require a body pillow.”

“I promise I won’t make any advances on your virtue. Though… If we’re to sleep together, I think I’d like to know your name.”

Following her into the bedroom, he grinned.

“I suppose that depends if you’re cross wi’ me or not.”

“I know that name. But I don’t know your last name.”

Taking her hand, as he had at the speed dating event, he kissed it and bowed low over it.

“It’s Fraser. James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.”

“That’s quite a mouth full, Mister Fraser. I’m Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

“Pleasure to meet ye.”

Continue to Part 2

#jamie x claire #speed dating #murtagh #rupert #angus #geillis #laogahire #annalise #suzette #willie #takemeawaytocamelot

[metalempire]

so using the digimon picker i was able to find my top 20 favourite digimon it seems. the list itself reads right to left and goes in descending order, so i’m going to list them off in ascending order and give reasons as to why they got on the list it seems. a noticable trend on this list is dark themed, red coloured or metallic digimon. 

20. scorpmon 

it’s no surprise i like appmon and i do like that scorpmon harkens back to digimon designs by being edgy and having guns, plus he’s purple.i like the cameramon line so far and i liked the fight he had with dogatchmon. 

19. infernmon

one of my more favourite perfect level designs, i like that his mouth has a gun hidden in it and i loved how it was in our war games. honestly its got that kind of uncanny look on its face that makes it look both evil and cunning yet not hostile. its just a design i really appreciate, plus it looks cute when it tucks its limbs in,

18. dogatchmon

i like gatchmon and navimon, so combining their designs makes something i like. no brainer really. he gets alot of good fight scenes and whatnot in appmon and honestly he looks pretty sleek yet compact. not too much to say here he’s a more basic design in appmon i appreciate for not being too silly or edgy.

17. omegamon alter-b

out of all his numerous forms, this is the omegamon im most attached to, specifically because of next-0rder. i like the idea of swapping the weapons and imbuing it with darkness and letting it run wild, as well as being an alter evolution, it just looks really cool and was a great fight in the game as well. plus its just got a cool name.

16. millenniumon 

i always thought its previous form as kimairamon was a clusterfuck of colours, yet had potential as a design. so dampening those colours to darker greys, blacks and a little blue accented with that yellow and blue aura with those sick mugen cannons on it help bring the design together really, plus it looks thinner and meaner than its perfect form. 

15. leviamon

my favourite demon lord. i like marine life that can kill you and has teeth. plus im a very envious person, so this thing stuck with me, especially since he’s the most different looking out of the demon lords. i just like the idea of a giant crocodile being the second most powerful among the demon lords with a mouth big enough to rip a building in half if he wanted to. plus having two tails is cute.

14. chaosdukemon

honestly the uses of dull purples, blues and a shade of grey thats not quite black and not steel coloured either makes a very subtly impressive design, one that would convey dread over terror. im particularly fond of how its shield looks to be honest.

13. herakleskabuterimon

the only one who doesnt quite fit the theme of this list too well. huh. either way i think the tentomon line is a decent one only upstaged by a few others in adventure as it goes, yet ends up being my favourite ultimate from tri when all the kids get ultimate evolutions. i do like how it has a few nods to kuwagamon and has enough going on yet stays simple by using a mostly one colour. it looks powerful without trying too hard and i feel like i can respect this thing.

12. megidramon

i consider this to be guilmon’s true ultimate really and it does look quite terrifying. it has acidic saliva, hellfire themed design, elements of megalogrowlmon such as the arm blades and looks like a scary dragon rather than a dinosaur. i also like its lack of legs for some reason. when i imagine the digital hazard this thing first comes to mind, because it looks like a menace to any digimon really. its a woefully underused design and one that sticks with me to this day as something that really stood out in tamers.

11. megaseadramon

seadramon’s design was simple but not memorable really. megaseadramon has a much more effective design, using colours that mesh better, i like that its hair looks like algae and i like the metal twisted horn that shoots lightning, hearkening back to betamon. i also find it kind of cute, its slender and looks like it’d probably kill you on sight and i kind of like its demented eyes.

10. diablomon

yaoi hands. i like how diabolical this thing looks, it has wild eyes, a villain’s hairstyle and a nice way of walking that reminds you its kind of a bug but not really. those long arms that just whip around to slap you just add to it really when paired with its comparatively little legs. again our war games plays into how much i like this thing, since it was fast, cunning and powerful. quite alot for whats essentially the personification of the y2k bug.

9. globemon

red google daddy. fuck me this is the first appmon design i’d probably fuck. just look at him, sleek, tall, strong shiny. he moves in a very exaggerated fashion and is so laughably overpowered in concept that he can basically attack the entire earth with one move. i like the use of lasers and lights in his design and that he replaces most of the white and green from dogatchmon with timemon’s bright gold to look kind of regal yet commanding.

8. alphamon

best waifu. something about them hips man.... anyway, alphamon is probably op as shit for being able to rewind time and blast apart dexdorughoramon with one attack, as well as having a sword made of light and whatever the fuck an ouryuken is. its got a wide arsenal and pulls off a great black knight look, i like that its the leader of the royal knights who’s never actually there, just existing to control them if need be. x-evolution and cyber sleuth really helped endear me to alphamon, its so cool and smooth looking. 

7. hagurumon

the only child level on this list, hagurumon is adorable. its essentially thee gears sellotaped together with a crooked smile. it also has one eye thats covered by a circle and one eye with a spiky circle for variety. its just so cute, it fits exactly into what i find adorable, the way it moves, the way it smiles, the industrial look it has. it’s got a place in my heart as my favourite child level for just being unconventially adorable.

6. chaosdramon

considering it’s the evolution to another digimon on this list, it wins a spot by virtue of sharing a similar design, yet adapting it. its got eyes now and even though its black skin is actually cyber in some ways, looking some cool matrix shit, it makes it look more like a dragon/dinosaur wearing red digizoit armour. i do like how it has the same weapons as its prior stage, yet they do look noticeably different, i like the return to the classic dreadnought cannons that slowly snap forward and fire one colossal blast. the whole thing looks ready to go and kill. 

5. megadramon

arguably my favourite perfect level, megadramon has a classical design to me. its got that cyborg reptile thing going on that i love, its got a little tattoos, tattered wings, a metal helmet and those two missile launchers for hands. it looks ferocious and there’s enough going there to look at plus its one of the rarer instances where colours that clash a bit look kind of fitting for me. i’d like t imagine it curled up asleep sometime. 

4. lordknightmon

pink’s a good colour, knights are good. lordknightmon is therefore good. i love this thing as a character, someone who will do anything if the ends justify the means, so much untapped potential for conflict with the royal knights and with itself. its good villain, but also a food hero, plus its flashy and vain, which i find entertaining. i like the elegant design alot and the fact its pink. sexy. 

3. dukemon

i think everyone fell in love with dukemon the first time they saw it. it’s a timeless design, perfect uses of red and white. the weapons it has just look so good together, its body looks just right, its pretty much captivating in a way thats unique to the viewer yet always universal in that sense. i like its concept too, it tamed the digital hazard and instead used its power to protect the digital world as a holy knight instead of destroy it, even its personal justice seems to be that ones deeds determine your fate and that life is always precious. i also like that its a bit of a rebel among the royal knights once it starts thinking. be real, we’d all marry dukemon. 

2. metalseadramon

i like metal digimon, i like megaseadramon. combine the two and i’m signed up lads. in a way, i find this thing really cute, hard to explain, not gonna bother. i also really like how its nose is now a giant laser cannon because it must have one hell of a sneeze. honestly though this thing is so majestic looking, its got the hair, the gold and silver metal design, the wires and pipes, all of it slenderly put together on a sleek serpent of the seas, its so beautiful in a way, a design that just comes together perfectly.

1. mugendramon

anyone who follows me is not surprised at all that this is my favourite. i adore this thing. i love that its a combo of several perfect level digimon’s cyborg parts meshed together into one incredible machine of death and destruction. honestly i consider it the best designed digimon of all time. there’s so much going on but its not a clusterfuck, everything links together so well, you can really tell its machine digimon made to be the best of the best, taking so much that worked before and amplifying it. i like cyborgs and i like robots, so this thing hits all the notes for me while still trying to look like a monster, like a mechanical chimera that looks like it fits, like all the parts were meant to be put together to assemble this glorious machine. i love its wide variety of weapons and attacks, and that its essentially a digimon who runs on malice, that it petty much exists just to fuck up everything in sight. i’ll never forget the one analogman used at the end of digimon world 1 and i love the idea that it as the first ultimate, that because of this thing so many digimon rapidly began to change and try to reach its level of power. this thing definites the level its at, that all digimon going from perfect to ultimate should use this thing as a goal of sorts, to reach its sheer level of power. and its withstood the test of time, with so many digimon at the ultimate level being so strong in their own ways, this thing can still go toe to toe with the best of them. its a raw classic that just cant be beaten in my eyes, its always going to be my favourite really. i love it. 

#Digimon #long post

[ocbungou]

Thank you, Laura, for submitting your application! Both mods have gone over it and accepted it for approval into the ring. Please have your blog ready by September 13th.

COUNTRY. Scotland

NAME. Arlo Kirkland. He has a middle name, but he refuses to share. Nickname: Scottie

PRONOUNS. He/Him

AGE. 26

ALIGNMENT. Rats

APPEARANCE. He is tall at 6'1" and of slender build, and covered in beautiful artwork. He has deep red hair that was unkempt and pieced out, and his eyes were a deep green. He possessed thicker eyebrows but kept them in nice condition, and had a crooked nose. His dress wear consists more of a harder edge, going for dark jeans, leather jackets, and tshirts of the liking, must be a phase. He can clean up nicely when he chooses too (Or Arthur asks nicely). He also possessed a single pierced ear with a small iron hoop on it. He refuses to wear green because someone said it made the Fair Folk mad.

PERSONALITY. Arlo likes to joke around about things, not take life too seriously. He does take his superstitions incredibly serious, and will not joke around with those. Many a times has he barreled into someone trying to make sure he threw salt over their shoulder in time. He likes to play it off, but comments about his antlers do start to get under his skin rather easily, to the point he tried to take them off. He does curse a lot, but that is because of his upbringing, nothing personal. Since he lacks formal education, there are a lot of things people will talk about and he gives them a deer in the headlights look. Strengths: -Very calm and relaxed -Blunt, but not rude (Unless earned rudeness) -Heart of gold typically. Weaknesses: -More self-conscious than he would like to be -Not the smartest person in the room book wise. -Gets physical far quicker than he should.

ABILITY. William Shakespeare, MacBeth, “Foretellings” Arlo is decorated with tattoos, A stag on his chest, an exasperated skeleton on his leg, the third one being the Highland Bull on his right leg, followed by the right arm having a sleeve of stone angels, his left arm having wolves on it, a fish on his neck, and a pair of wings on his back. Since Arlo is big into symbolism and such, the tattoos were often thought to mean something else and greater, this is only partially true, akin to the prophecies the witches told to Macbeth. So the stag gives him antlers, and speed when emotionally charged; The wings rarely activate, and is a response to flight mode, literally. The fish on his neck is to give him gills, but only on his neck so if he shoves his face in water he could still drown. The wolf sleeve gives him better night vision, and allows him to sniff things out better, but he needs a scent to use it properly, and on top of that he acts crazier than normal. The stone angel sleeve makes him turn into a statue, but if any parts break off then it becomes broken when he turns back, and it only lasts 15 seconds tops. The exasperated skeleton stops him from trying to die by his own hand because he felt the need to die, this is more of a self preservation tattoo than anything. The Highland Cow gives him a higher strength, but can only be activated when he is cold since they have long hair, and his hair also gets longer with waves and he has to put it up. He has a crown on the back of his neck, that activates only when people with evil intentions towards him are within his eyesight, and he has about a 20 second warning before turning into fairy royalty. So all the animal tattoos activate with minimal side effects, but he can be harmed greatly by iron, lemons and limes, and technology makes him uneasy. A bonus side effect is that he can see fae creatures going about their lives, and they see him as well, and his body has a glow to it. This ability has yet to activate on him as well.

BACKGROUND. Arlo was a strapping young lad with his brother younger Arthur, they were close despite some squabbling over petty things. They grew up in a poor household, and he was only partially aware that they were poor. The situation was only getting worse off for them, and when Arlo was thirteen, he dropped school to take on a job for the family. Not even a year later, Arlo saw painting develop on his chest, which terrified him but he kept quiet about it. Later it turned out to be a tattoo of a stag, with the antlers climbing up to his shoulders. Then for weeks after that, a pair of antlers started to grow out of his head. When he finally saw the nubs peeking out of his hair he was shouting and cursing, but he pulled on a hat to cover it for as long as he could. One day his mom made him take off his hat to give him a hair cut and she shrieked at the sight, which only amplified Arlo’s guilt of not sharing this information prior. The neighbors went to go check on his mother, saw him, and then word quickly spread of “a faerie boy.” This caused Arlo to have tremendous anxiety about his situation, feeling like they were under a microscope for something he had no control over. And as any other stupid 14 year old boy with antlers would do, he ran away to become a sheep herder. Unfortunately because of his bad choices, his family had suffered from it. The job had brought them to a state of staying above the poverty line which the Kirkland family was dependent on, and he had very littler understanding of the bearing his choices really had. Despite it, it was better that he had left because he needed to come to peace with himself. On many occasions he panicked and tried to become one with the Earth, prompting for another tattoo to form on left his leg to stop him from doing that. Not many people saw him since he was with sheep most the time, and when he did show up he always made sure it was on a foggy day so that they assumed he was either a hallucination or part of the Fair Folk. As he grew older, his antlers grew with him, which makes it a pain in the ass to get through doorways. His other tattoos just formed over time, and he has yet to see the Stone Angel tattoos activate yet, and he was wary of making sure it never did. The piercing was a choice of his, spending so much time in the hills he did not want to upset any Fair Folk and so the iron piece he has in helps keep them away. Finally after six years, he returned to his original home to find out what had happened to them. After finding out what his actions did, and having a legendary screaming fit with his family for their solution, he decided to go off to find Arthur in America. It was rather difficult to be undercover with antlers poking out, so he walked around in a really tall turban for the longest of time, just until he found Arthur that is. He joined the Rats on a whim and choosing to settle down after three years, and it has kept him out of trouble so he hasn’t left yet. When he found out that Arthur was head of the mafia, he literally barreled into the head quarters and ran all the flights of stairs, and then got knocked down at Arthur’s doorway because he had forgotten that doorways are shorter. Arlo was nearly shot several times by people on guard, but he was too fast and excited to give a damn. Even though he is not a mafia member, he hangs around there often enough that a lot of people think that he is.

#accepted #im going to slay u laura