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utterlyazriel · 3 months

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whom the shadows sing for —(and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: chapter twoooo i hope you guys enjoy!! and i take this as pure reason to knuckle down and finish chapter three tehe <3 let me know what u think!! a million mwahs to @strangerstilinski for being my beta too, even tho i yelled at u sorry :/

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: Azriel trains you and is particularly unforgivable about it. Together, you tackle tonics. Azriel ponders the unmistakable pull he feels and you try your best to keep your secret under wraps. fem!reader, mulan-esque au

— CHAPTER TWO :: ALLIES

The storm had calmed come morning. The Mother's Kiss slowed, quietened to only a whisper between the trees.

With it, the ache in your forearm too. The torn skin knitted up in the night, the heat from the fire like a balm on the wound.

But right now, the ache was threatening to make a reappearance.

You glare across the clearing at Azriel from your place in the mud, where he's just knocked you down. Your lungs burn. Your chest heaves as you try to catch you breath. The last hour has been spent on the same infuriating exercise.

The sludgy dirt, still sloppy from the melted snow of last night, drips off your arms as you scramble to get to your feet. Your wings shudder, flicking off the cold dirt with a shake.

"Try again." Azriel says, his voice calm.

He has no weapons on him today with the exception of one knife, strapped high on his thigh. Its obsidian hilt glimmers under the winter sun, rays catching the decorative jewel on the end. The rest of his weapons won't be far you're willing to bet. No Illyrian warrior lets themself be so unprepared.

Or perhaps he truly only needs one blade to hold his own in a fight.

A flicker of envy. You suppose you should feel little more gratuitous of his offer to train, especially considering he's such a mighty warrior.

But between the built-in wariness that comes with having a secret such as yours and the way he keeps throwing you in the mud... it's hard to dredge up some gratitude. You must have been at this for hours now.

Besides, a little part of you can't help but be skeptical of his offer. What exactly did he stand to gain from helping you?

"Why are you helping me again?"

You're panting lightly, bent over with your hands on your knees. Your bound chest twinges in pain. You weren't out of shape by any means — you were an Illyrian warrior after all. But getting knocked down endlessly was beginning to wear you down.

"And," You huff, waving a hand behind at the mud pile he keeps dumping you in. "How does this help?"

Azriel crosses his arms across his broad chest. In the daylight, his shadows shimmer and wisp about. You had been unsurprised to find he's even more devastatingly handsome in the light of daytime.

After his final words the evening before, Azriel had disappeared out into the storm without further explanation, his shadows swirling around him like falling snow.

Come morning, you rose before the sun and stepped outside, prepared to head to training—and there he was. Posed up against a tree, the obsidian-hilt blade his hands, sharpening it in long, precise strokes.

"Lord Mylind has been spoken to regarding your training." Azriel had said, in place of a greeting. "He knows of your expected absence whilst you train under me."

You hadn't said anything; half convinced there had been something coated on Brudam's knife that made you hallucinate the whole thing.

"Though," The male before you continued, finally sheathing his dagger away into the holster on his thigh with casual precision. "He tells me that your absences during training have come to be somewhat expected."

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"Why do you think they hate me so much?" You asked, a bitter edge to your voice. It's a non-answer.

"Because you neglect your duties as a warrior?"

"Ha. Did Lord Mylind use that word?"

"It's true, one is not considered a warrior until one passes The Blood Rite." Azriel commented, his head tilting to the side just an inch. "You're a warrior-in-training. Provided you go to training, that is."

The combined mention of The Blood Rite and your missing time during training had you tensing up. Azriel had noticed, his eyes shifting to your stiff posture. He hadn’t commented — just stalked off into the snow, wings held high and proud, not checking to see if you bothered to follow.

Now, muscles aching and skin coated in mud-slick, you briefly wonder if you were regretting following him.

"You're smaller than usual Illyrians.” Azriel says. “They rely on brute strength but someone your size is better to rely on your agility— a skill they've been neglecting. No doubt to try to discourage you."

A flush of nervousness rushes through your system at his comment on your size. There's a good reason you don't size up against Illyrian males—being that you aren't one at all.

For good measure, you wipe your face haphazardly with a muddy hand. Any pesky scents that might give you away get smothered beneath it.

"And I believe in what you're doing," Azriel continues, his hazel eyes watching you closely. "It's honourable, no matter what Brudam and his brood say."

Something akin to pride blooms deep in your chest at his approval, at his belief in your mission. Having fought on your own for so many years had taken its toll— one you weren't aware of until it eased. Just a touch.

"Could've sworn you just enjoyed knocking me on my ass."

That glimmer of amusement is back in his hazel eyes. You swear his lips twitch as if holding back a smile.

"Try again." He says, in lieu of an answer. Not a denial.

He gestures to his neck again. Tan skin that hides beneath dark, scaly armor. This has been your task for the last hour — get your hand on his throat, through hand-to-hand combat.

Considering how you'd managed to stick him with a fork just yesterday, you had assumed it was easy territory.

You had been sorely, sorely wrong.

Straightening yourself up properly, you roll your shoulders back and flare your wings out a bit. Your boots sink into the mud an inch. You assess the distance between you and Azriel, eyes narrowed, and try to put together each piece of advice he's given you in the last hours.

Plant your feet when you're striking.

Stay on your toes if you're advancing.

Use your environment to your advantage.

Punch through, not just at.

Your height is as much an advantage as it is a disadvantage.

Some of it was nothing more than a reiteration of your training in camp. And yet, when delivered from Azriel, under his focused gaze, it seems easier to absorb. It holds a different meaning.

This time as you survey your approach a thousand other details whisper in your ear.

The rustle of the trees, the whirl of the wind, the stance he sinks into like second nature.

If you can't overpower him, how can you get a hand on his neck?

Your boots sink deeper into the mud and you tense, your wings held taut and high behind you as you ready yourself to pounce.

The wind picks up, a whistle in the air, and you can see, even from afar, how the swirling of his shadows perk up — as if listening for any whispers in it.

Time to strike.

You burst forward and stay low this time, letting your knees take the brunt of your weight. Instead of trying to get past him, you need to bring his neck down to your level. A half-baked plan scrambles together.

Feigning moves against a proficient warrior like him is nearly laughable and his thick forearm moves to parry your punch as quickly as you form it. Good. It's what you're relying on.

You pivot your energy and focus it on kicking out his bent knee— and you catch him enough by surprise that he stumbles back a step. He doesn’t fall though.

You grit your teeth and know you have about half a second before he’s going to have you dodging punches and landing back in the mud. You keep pressing forward.

Skin meets leather as you land a sharp snap against his shoulder, your knuckles stinging deliciously but he deftly blocks your next blow. And the next, and the next.

Then you’re hitting more of his hands than you are anywhere else.

Frustrated, you snarl, increasing your speed and letting him focus on your incoming punches so he doesn’t see it when you send a kick into his groin.

His defense drops razor fast— both his scarred hands wrapping around your calf and capturing it between his legs, stopping it 2 inches from making contact.

Your eyes dart up to his face, nearly grinning at the incredulous look he gives you.

It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for — and something gleeful in you sings when you shoot your hand up faster than both his can move. The palm of your hand connects with the skin of his neck.

“Aha!” You shout, unable to help yourself.

You’re panting, out of breath from the fast combat and yet, still savouring the victory. A foreign glimmer of admiration and approval flashes deep in your chest. It's gone as quick as it appears.

Azriel doesn’t waste a second to sweep your feet out from beneath you.

Unprepared, you crumple and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. A groan rumbles in your chest. Mud squishes up against your cheek, sullying it.

For a moment, you just lay there and groan in pain.

You're pretty sure every single muscle in your body aches as you gather your strength and push yourself up from the mud, elbows quivering. If you thought regular training was rigorous, this has been brutal.

True, there's less hitting you while you're down which you were more than accustomed to — only once have you thought Azriel might give you a kick while you were defenseless and too tired to cover your face.

But instead, he had surprised you and offered a hand. You had hesitated before taking it.

And as you're finding out, when you're spending less time worrying about Illyrians unfairly targeting you due to your size, you're a hell of a lot better fighter.

With a much better opponent though.

You win some, you lose some.

"Anyone ever call you a prick before?" You seethe quietly; because you had done the task he wanted you to do and he'd still sent you back on your ass. You spit into the mud and wipe your mouth.

"Definitely." Azriel answers. Again, there's that hint of amusement in his voice.

You huff and push up to rest back on your heels, planting your hands on your knees and glaring up at him. The muck on your wings makes you shiver, sludgy trails of mud sliding off them unpleasantly. You're well used to the cold.

"Good." You huff. "Prick."

Azriel smiles at that, not bothering to hide it. You find yourself smiling back at him, an out-of-breath laugh making your shoulders shake and your head bow. The muscles in your stomach hurt as they move.

When you look back up at him, he's offering his hand again.

You take it, this time without hesitation.

—

The day is for training. Azriel, the mentor. You, the student.

The night is for learning. You're both students here.

The second part of his offer that you clearly hadn't expected, given your wide-eyed look when he turned up at your door on that first evening, bringing all manners of plants needed to make healing tonics. Things you hadn't been able to find or afford on your own.

It had been then, he thinks, that you realised how serious he was about helping you. That his offer extended beyond training you physically.

"Is there really a difference between cutting and slicing?" Azriel asks as he peers down at the table beneath him.

In his marred hands is a root vegetable, something that flowered prettily— nice purple skin with a golden centre. He frowns down at it, his gaze shifting slowly from the vegetable to the knife in his hand.

It’s strange, he thinks. Strange to hold a knife and have it not be for violence.

"There is a difference," Your reply floats across from the other side of the room.

Nearly a week he's been here. Azriel had been pushing you more each day he was here, brutal one-on-one training to hone your skills.

It’s working; already he can see the certainty of your stance, your increased agility, the hunter's glint in your eyes. The clumsiness of the first day of training has already been worn away. Beneath it, the Illyrian warrior emerges.

He's exhausting you, he knows. Working you twice as hard to try to fill every gap in your training that seems to be missed. Finding every weak point left by the Lords of this camp, to disadvantage you no doubt, and training it up.

But if you’re tired from it, you don’t complain.

Azriel lifts his head to look at you properly, his eyes watching your hands as you strip leaves off one of the plants he had brought with him today.

Hands, weathered and much smaller than most males, that work diligently at your task. Your focus remains strong, even as you talk over your shoulder.

"Well, slicing is cutting but a more precise form." You shift your wing back, tucking it in, as you finally turn your head back to look at him.

You're a very peculiar male.

Azriel can't say he's ever met a warrior, or even an Illyrian, like yourself before. You're small. It's the first thing he had noticed when he had slipped into your tiny home those nights ago, a sturdy shelter against the harsh wind of the mountains.

You're small but your wings are still large and beautiful, tucked up neatly behind your back. Most warriors in camp must have at least a head of height on you.

The armor you wear looks old. It's been worn down, softened against your body but even still, it sits a little too low on your hips. The shoulders hang out an extra inch.

You're small and you're hardened at every edge.

It's the way anyone who grows up here has to be. And for you to have made the cut to become a warrior, even with the impairment of your height... Azriel knows you're made of tougher stuff than most.

Within that, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to you.

Azriel hates the Illyrian mountains. Loathes the culture he comes from that festers here, their swift brutality and preferred cruelty against even their own. Invisible standards that made one Fae better than another.

The lives they taught him to take so easily.

So the last thing he had expected to find coming back here, to a place haunted with wretched memories, was... an ally.

But staring across the space to you, he can't think of any other word to describe the stirring in his chest. The drag on his heart, as if it's lurching forward.

"Look, let me show you."

You drop what's in your hands and take a couple steps to cross the space. The shelter is like you, small, just shy of cramped. The ceiling could stand to gain a few inches and the inside is as bare as Azriel would expect of a home in a war-camp.

One rickety table. A bed tucked into a corner. A fireplace with slanted, mismatched soot-covered bricks. There's the general rustle about the place that indicates someone sleeps here. Things hang off nails, bedded into the wall.

Hovering beside the table, you gesture for the knife in Azriel's hand. There's tenseness in your shoulders. You're still wary of him— or perhaps so used to your own company. He wonders which it is as he hands over the knife wordlessly.

"You just gotta—" The vegetable gets re-positioned on the board and when you bring down the knife, it's with an elegance that Azriel had been severely lacking.

You slice a long strip off, lengths-wise, and then pause, looking up at him to make sure he understands. "Slice?"

Azriel smiles despite himself.

That's the other thing.

You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful Fae he's ever seen in his life— not to mention, by far the most beautiful male he’s ever laid his eyes on.

It had taken him by surprise initially, even his shadows rearing back in shock when you had turned and sprung at him, cutlery in hand. Azriel had fumbled one of his blocks and it led to you sinking the fork into his shoulder— all because his mind had been whispering beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

It's the reason you had managed to land a hit at all— or Azriel tells himself that. Because otherwise, he had a serious reason to brush up on his own training.

He also tells himself it had nothing to do with his offer.

It hadn't swayed his reasoning in the slightest; not the way he can't take his eyes off you for some peculiar, unbidden reason. Training you and learning how to make tonics alongside you was entirely due to his belief in your mission.

Liar, one of his shadows seems to whisper in response.

Azriel was over five hundred years old — tangling with a male was not entirely foreign to him. And yet, Azriel had found it was not as to his taste as females were.

Another glance at you has him, once again, second-guessing that.

As quickly as it enters his mind, he snuffs it, his wings giving a minuscule twitch, right as you offer him back the knife.

He opts for a question instead. "How did you come to live here?"

It's one of the other unusual parts of your intriguing survival out here. Not only did you make the cut to train to become a warrior against the odds, but you also live alone. Azriel lets himself survey the shelter once more.

It's far better than some of the conditions he's been subjected to before and yet... it's not quite homey. As though you've never relaxed here, even when it's just you.

"I built it."

Azriel blinks. Then he turns his head down to look at you, perplexed.

"You...?"

You've walked back to the plant you were handling, starting to strip off the leaves again. You hum in response to his words, sparing a glance up at the ceiling.

That certainly explained why it was on the smaller side, made to your stature. Azriel can't fathom how you managed it in the blizzardly conditions of the mountains, entirely on your own.

"As I'm sure you're familiar, bastards don't get anything in these camps."

Your voice tightens with the pain of an unhealed wound.

Azriel doesn't say anything, just presses his lips together thinly. He nods.

"It was already a ruin, the fireplace and floorboards were about the only thing left." This time as you tug the leaves off the plant in your hand, it's a little meaner. "It took me years to properly finish it because the males in camp kept coming by to see if they could knock it back down."

Something roars in Azriel's ears, a familiar icy fury at the injustice that roamed so freely in these mountains. A plague amongst these people. So many Fae, so eager to kick those who are already down.

Looking up from your hands, your motions slow, and a distant look dawns on your face as though you've been whisked away into an old memory. A cold smile graces your mouth.

"So eventually when one of them came around, I showed them why they shouldn't fuck with my stuff. Or with me."

How you gained your solitary fortress out here.

It had piqued his interest on the very first evening, the sole shelter out from the cluster of cabins in the camp. That even though the drunken warriors were first to point it out when Azriel came asking who was causing trouble, none of them would go near it.

He can guess a multitude of things you did to protect it and yourself. Something akin to admiration blooms in his chest. Something heavier, deeper, lurks beneath it.

As your hands go back to work, Azriel can't help but watch you silently for a moment. His shadows pour over his shoulders, seeping down his arms the longer he looks; as though they, too, want to figure out the enigma in front of them.

You're a very peculiar male, Azriel thinks for the second time that evening.

The runt of the litter and a bastard just as him.

A natural born fighter and an Illyrian warrior against all the odds.

A Fae with long hair like Cassian's, chopped at the shoulder and scraped back — and a voice softer than most. A Fae with eyes that burn with a promise for retribution, with icy fury like his own.

Azriel picks up the knife and slices the vegetable as you had, slow and long. He steals one more glance at you — to find you're doing the same, chancing a split-second glimpse to look at him.

Azriel averts his eyes back to the table.

He feels the treacherous glow of his cheeks and is thankful you can't see his face clearly in the dim light. He slices again.

And as he mulls his thoughts, the pair of you working in tandem as the fire crackles loudly in the corner, Azriel makes a point to ignore the thundering feeling that seems to sing right out of his heart.

No matter if he's half-sure he knows just what word it's singing.

(Mate. Mate. Mate).

[next part]

—

tags below!

@janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka

(if i tagged u and u would like to opt out, no hard feelings! send me an ask and i’ll leave u off :D)

#ehehehehehehe #i need to finish chapter three STAT or everything will fall apart (no pressure tho)#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #please feel free to tell me what u think!

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mviswidow · 10 months

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strong and capable

Blackhill x daughter!Reader

Word count: 565

Summary: R is home from her first solo mission and her moms are so proud, though Natasha finds herself worried.

“Your mother is a little upset that you got hurt, but we’re very proud of you, kiddo. You did great work today,” Maria said, and you could see the truth of her words in her eyes.

“Thank you, Momma,” a smile crept onto your face. “I learned from the best.”

“That you did,” she replied as she dabbed a cloth with peroxide over the raw skin above your eyebrow.

You winced at the contact and offered you an apologetic smile, “You get used to it.”

You scoffed, remembering the countless amount of times you’d seen her complain to Natasha as her wife cleaned her cuts, “that’s bullshit.”

Maria rolled her eyes, but a smile still played on her lips, “Don’t be a little punk, I was trying to make you feel better about it.”

You laughed as Natasha walked into the room as she got off the phone with someone.

Your mom walked over and sighed quietly, looking over where your face had been scraped or was bloody in various places before kissing the top of your head, “We’re working on your defensive combat this week.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

Maria looked to Natasha expectantly.

“And I’m very proud of you, sweetheart. Good job,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

You chuckled, “Thank you, Mom. I did my best.”

“I know you did, I just don’t like seeing my baby hurt is all.”

Maria finished cleaning you up, put some neosporin on the places she thought needed it, and kissed your forehead, “Good as new.”

You smiled and hopped off the stool you’d been sitting on, “Thanks, Momma. You guys down to watch a movie after I shower? Maybe Mulan?”

“Of course. You need some food in you, though, I’ll make dinner to eat while we watch, okay?” Natasha replied.

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, before rushing into the bathroom.

When the door closed Maria leaned back against the countertop and pulled Natasha towards her, holding her upper arms. Natasha let her hands rest at her wife’s hips and took a deep breath.

“You need to be nicer to her,” Maria murmured, and Natasha nodded, eyes fixed on the floor.

Maria tilted her wife’s face towards her, “I mean it. Look how long we’ve been at it and how often do we complete a job without a scratch?”

“I know. I worry, obviously - I know you do too. I’m happy she wants to take after us, it just scares me because I know how badly this can go and god forbid-”

“Baby, stop,” Maria shook her head and ran her hands up and down Natasha’s arms to soothe her. “Our daughter is so strong, and so capable, okay? She graduated at the top of her class - I mean, we trained her ourselves. You have to trust that she can take care of herself out there. Let yourself celebrate her victories instead of worrying about what could have gone worse. You know we’re part of the reason she does this. How do you think she feels that you’re not over the moon about her success today just because she got out with a couple of cuts and bruises?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Natasha sighed and put her arms around Maria’s neck, feeling her wife’s hands snake around her waist. “Thank you, my love. I’ll talk to her later.”

Maria kissed her cheek, “Anytime, angel.”

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madwomansapologist · 11 months

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Shan Yu obsessed with you would include

synopsis: For Shan Yu, it was love at first sight. For you, he was the man that kidnapped you. Oh, young love.

warnings: female!reader. badass!reader. kidnapping. nudity. in this house we hate the misogynist version of Shan Yu in Mulan (2020).

• Villages on the border are not usually targeted by the Hun army, as they are mostly built and maintained by the effort of the population itself. They are part of China, but it would take weeks for the Emperor to be updated on the situation of these villages. There's no need to attack them, and it's not useful either. After all, everyone needs to rest. It is an agreement between the army and the city leaders: peace is maintained if they are well received and well fed.

• It was suppossed to be a quick stay. After a long battle, the army needed to eat and rest. And so needed the horses. Soon after, they would continue their journey. After enjoying the feast offered by an inn, Shan Yu decided to ride alone along one of the mountain trails. This battle showed that the Chinese army is well organized, despite being smaller. As tempting as counting victory is, deluding yourself can be a fatal mistake. Shan Yu needed to think, and he needed silence.

• Hours after leaving the inn, a noise caught his attention. A sneeze. And the sound of running water. Shan Yu searched for the source of the sound, comanded by his own curiosity. It was almost like his body was warning him: This is important. He jumped off the horse and followed his ears, finding a lagoon hidden by ash trees. It's water was dark because of the stone banks, filled with a few carps and low vegetation. Then you emerged.

• Shan Yu almost fall into the lagoon. He never thought he had weak legs, but they were shaking. He couldn't feel knees, but he did feel his heart. It was aching. Like something sharp hold onto it. It was such a hurting feeling, but he never want to not feel it. Because he knows exactly what this mean. Shan Yu just fell in love.

• He saw you whole. Reflecting the moon, water falling down your body, he saw every inch of your skin. Your curves, your beauty, your smile. Your scars, your freckles, your marks. Shan Yu saw your body, but also saw your soul. The way you moved into the water, having fun, even tho you were shivering. It was so, so cold. But you didn't mind. You wanted to swin, so you did it.

• You were brave. Certain about your desires. Resistent. And your laugh... That sound was deserving of a thousand praises. People should give their lifes for the chance of hearing you. Of seeing you. Of being near you. And it would be a pleasure. A small price for such a great gift.

• Then you sneezed. And again. And again.

• Shan Tu quickly notice your clothes stretched on a rock. It appeared to be made from a nice tissue, but he couldn't let you wear something like that. So he came out from among the trees.

• You got scared. Who wouldn't? Even if you didn't knew who he was, you probably heard about him, a man appearing out of nowhere is really frightful. You dived up to your chin, on a attempt of covering your body, and walked away from him. Even scared you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

• Shan Yu was glad the inn offered him a bath before the feast. His mustachioed was trimmed, his hair combed, his skin cleaned. You couldn't look away, did you notice his yellow eyes? Did you like it? Shan Yu hopes you does.

• Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he took his wolf fur coat and left it among your clothes.

"Do not approach!" You yelled at him, thinking he was undressing to join you. "I'm warning you: I can fight."

Shan Yu chuckled. If he wasn't sure before, now he knows that you were made to be his. You were deciding between running or fighting, but he turned away. "What the hell," you said to yourself.

Walking back to his horse, Shan Yu did his speciality: he planned.

• The stay was extended. Shan Yu ordered his best warriors to watch you. To discover who you were, where you live, what you do. To make sure you would always be safe. Within days, he already knew your routine, your family, your name. And as time went by, Shan Yu decided to act.

It was a quiet night. Snow started to fall, no more travelers for some good months. After spending the day helping your mother keep the house clean and teaching one of your younger friends how to cook a congee, all you wanted was to sleep. And so you did.

But you woke up with breaking glass noise. You jumped out of bed immediately. And when you noticed the silence, you thought you just had a realist nightmare. You lay backdown, snuggling under the sheets, and closed your eyes to sleep again... and someone pulled you by the feet.

You couldn't see who was hurting you, all candles were out, but you felt it's tight grip around your ankles. You felt on the floor, your neck started to burn, the person pulling while you screamed. You bet he didn't think you would react, 'cuz on the moment you had a chance you kicked the man so hard he fell back. Then you kicked his head, putting him to sleep.

You runned to your parents room to get them out of here, but it wasn't a solo job. Three big man guarded the corridor. Moonlit, you noticed that nothing was damaged. That wasn't just a robbery.

"Touch me," you smiled at then, sure they would see it. After tucking a lock behind your ear, you positioned yourself to fight. "And I will beat the shit out of you."

All you remember after was the sound of bones breaking, blood gushing from noses, screams of pain. They tried to get you, but you always knew how to protect yourself. "I've warned you."

You managed to open your parents' bedroom door, and found them gagged on the bed. As brave as you were, you knew you couldn't release them and defend you three. "I'll be back," you promised. Hearing the sound of people entering your house, you opened the bedroom window. "And with help."

And then you jumped.

Barefoot in the snow, you had only one goal: to reach the bell on the wall between the houses. It is only used in emergencies, its ring is almost an announcement of calamities. No one would ignore it.

You just didn't count that more than five men guarded the perimeter of your house. Now it was clear that the Hun army was attacking you, although you didn't understand why. There was only one thing left to do: run.

You managed to contain them, after all that was the land of your house. You knew where every hole, stone, obstacle was.

Climbing the ladder that connects the walls, there was so little left for you to reach the wire and show everyone what was happening. But your foot was pulled, and you landed hard on the floor.

Breathing was difficult. It burned. It was like someone muzzled your chest and asked you to take a deep breath. It hurt so much that you couldn't protect yourself as they lifted you off the ground, pushing you towards something.

When you started to get used to the pain, you tried to run. But someone grabbed your shoulder and kept you still. After a few seconds, you heard steps. The gate of your house was opened, and your blurry vision couldn't focus on the man marchingon your direction. Less than a minute felt like a decade.

"Who hurted her?" A deep, eery voice asked.

As he come closer, you reconized him. The man that handed you his coat on the most creepy way possible. Now, looking closer and without water on your eyelashes, you understood who he really was. And that scared the shit out of you.

A eagle landed on his broad arm. He was armed, but even if he wasn't it would still give you the creeps. He looked like a predator. A big cat ready to attack. He lived up to his fame. That makes you a prey? Shan Yu was looking at you, and you didn't know if he was the last thing you will ever see.

Whoever was holding you decided to let you go. Shan Yu got closer, but you didn't step back. You wanted to, but didn't. If he want something from you, than he better undestand that you will never submit.

"I'm not hurt." It was a lie, but it wasn't just thay. It was you challenging him. "What do you want from me?"

Shan Yu smiled. He wasn't that close to you, but he made you feel so small. It's impossible to look at Shan Yu without feeling weak. "Are you always that brave?"

"That's me being reasonable" you answered. "In order to be brave I would need to be scared. What do you want from me?"

"Your heart." He took a step back. "Care to join me?'

You did, but you also didn't have an option.

Shan Yu led you to his legion. Surrounded by silence, you saw when the four man stepped out of your house. You didn't know what to do or what to expect, but there was something more important then your future. "Did you kill my parents?"

"No." Shan Yu was succinct. "I ordered them to bring you to me, not to hurt you. They will be punished. I promise you."

"I'm not hurt", it was all you were able to say.

Shan Yu sighed. "You can fight, but you can't lie."

After walking for a few minutes, you saw the Hun army. And they were ready to travel again. Thousands of them ready to invade China.

Your parents are safe. If you run, you can go back to your village and warn them about what happened. You could've try, but you didn't.

What they would do? Fight a whole army because one family was attacked? You wouldn't start a war that you know you can't win. You can fight, but not like the Huns. They just didn't expect you to fight back, but they are bigger and stronger than you could ever be.

"You need to rest", Shan Yu woke you up from your thoughts. You noticed that those other men following you weren't there anymore. Your bravery faded away little by little. "Come here."

You could see now where he is walking you. Compared to the others, it was the biggest carriage. The prettiest. It was long, driven by ten horses, made for sleeping. Shan Yu was leading you to his carriage, and that made you want to vomit.

Shan Yu opened the door, and gestured for you to come in. You stepped back. "I won't be your whore."

He frozed. If you have paid attention, you would've noticed the pain in his eyes. But you didn't. "You won't. I would never do this."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I've told you the truth." Shan Yu licked his lips. He never felt so scared. He would... he would never do that. "I will only touch you if you want me to."

"You kidnapped me!" You shout at him. "You hurted me. You hurted my family. Why would I ever believe on what you said?"

Shan Yu moved foward to you. He bent over, looking at you from your height. "I will give you China as a dowry."

You stumbled back. "What did you said?"

"You will be my Empress." Shan Yu smiled at your response. "My heart is yours. I will wait, don't matter how long it takes, for your reciprocal. So please, rest."

You didn't knew how to react. His face, so close to yours, made you swallow hard. It makes no sense. Why would he do that? You ain't a noble or rich or anything like that. That must be a lie. But why would he bother lying?

You walked past him, completely unsure of what to do. You ignored his eyes, scared to see that he speaks the true. Now your surprise was greater than your fear. This can only be a very weird dream. You pinched yourself, but nothing happened.

Inside the carriage, you realized that everything was actually... beautiful. You'd think an army would have no room for beauty, but Shan Yu's gigantic room proved otherwise. Intricately finished wooden tables with maps and plans, sheets of warm, hard-to-sew fabrics, gold religious items. Everything was beautiful. And probably more expensive than your house and everything in it.

Shan Yu closed the door. It wasn't a quiet night anymore.

• You woke up to footsteps in the carriage. You don't remember falling asleep, but at some point you did. It was cold, you were tired, and it was such a comfortable bed. When you got up, you saw people arranging chests in the center of the room. A lady placed a tray on the table, the food on it looked delicious. They were all just smiles for you, a warm feeling almost didn't take over your body.

• Those trunks had your new clothes. Appropriate clothing for cold weather and long trips. It wasn't a dream. No, it really wasn't. Shan Yu is... in love with you? What a weird kind of love. He really chose to kidnap you rather to talk with you? If feels like a story from a fantasy book, not something actually happening on your life.

• But Shan Yu is honorable. Somehow. You saw him fighting: Shan Yu seens to be joking with others life. Sometimes he allows his enemies to have some kind of advantage, just so he can win in a more humiliating way. But he never touched you. Or disrespcted you. Or let anyone treat you badly. And he also care for his army, for his people. So, yeah, honorable. Somehow.

• Shan Yu slept in the same carriage, after all it was his carriage, but not in the same bed. It was strange, but he said he wouldn't leave you alone at such a vulnerable time. You laugh about it, saying that he wouldn't be able to protect you or anything like that if he was sleeping. That very same night, when you both slept together for the first time, you woke up because of the horses. Within a second, Shan Yu was awake, asking if something had happened. Light sleeper: you will be safe.

• You participated in discussions about strategy. And always sitting next to him. One of his trusted men explained the vocabulary you didn't know. Shan Yu insisted for you to be there. Whether it's battle strategy, discussions about money, meetings with the different troops, mapping the path: Shan Yu wanted you there, paying attention and learning.

Riding down the montain on the sorrel he let you choose, Shan Yu was particularly relaxed. "Who taught you how to fight?"

You were also feeling just fine. The weather was mild, the sun warmed you, and riding had finally become second nature. The night before they held a feast in celebration of the end, and victory, of a battle.

"I was an angressive child, and my grandpa always taught me everything he knew." You smiled, but it was a little bit sad. You miss him a lot. "But I don't really know how to fight. I just hit where it hurts, and then I run as fast as I can."

Shan Yu guffaw. "That strategy is... not enterily wrong." His words were positive, but Shan Yu didn't notice he shook his head. You did. "I can teach you."

"Do you have time for that?" Soon your honest question turned into a joke. "Because I can beat you ass anytime."

As time went on, you kind of forgot that you were angry with him. Shan Yu was surprisingly a good listener. And even his coldness could be funny. And he was honest. Never hurted you or forced you to do anything. You don't love him, but you understood your life beside him would be interesting.

You've learned about war, economics, you can tell what each officer in the army does, and you've learned a thing or two about Huns history. Much more interesting than cooking, cleaning and going out to do something that, deep down, was just a way to make yourself more attractive to a good husband. This was no longer a concern. You could be stubborn, annoying, angry, petty: but you don't have to behave to attract a man's gaze. You could just exist, and it was enough for him. It is... liberating. You miss your family and friends, you miss them so much it hurts, but it's not all bad.

"I will take that as a yes."

• The storm changed everything. It was impossible to set a camp down. Shan Yu was leading his army, as he always will, but not even a man strong as him can defeat nature. In a few days with the cold water giving him no time to rest or eat, everyone around Shan Yu could see that he was sick. But he didn't admit it. Saying that he was just fine, he continued to lead the troops.

• His determined nature didn't allow him to rest, but his body couldn't take anymore: he fell of the horse. Shan Yu was treated with the finest medicines, but he didn't woke up. Didn't even move a finger. You stood beside him the whole day, and when the moonlit touched your skin... You were shaking.

• How could he done that to you? Everytime you went out he made you go back to the carriage so you wouldn't get sick. How could he not care about himself the same way? How could he get so hurt without allowing anyone to help him? Shan Yu is a liar. He told you he would never hurt you, but look what he did to you! You can't breath, you can't think, you can't even look at him without feeling that your chest is about to explode. How dare him lie to you?

• Crying, you lay down next to him. You tucked your head onto the chest that moved slowly with shallow breathing, and hugged his broad waist. Your fingers drew disjointed shapes on the boiling skin, your lips murmured prayers to all the gods and ancestors who could hear you. You just wanted a sign that everything was going to be okay. And muttering prayers as you caressed his skin, you fell asleep.

• You woke up to a caress at the small of your back. Your mind took a while to understand what was happening, but as soon as you opened your eyes and saw him, everything ceased to matter. Shan Yu was awake. And he smiling.

"When did you woke up?" You tried to sit down, but his arm around your waist didn't let you. "You need to eat. I gonna call the maesters. How are you feeling? Why didn't you woke me up?!"

"Calm down", his weak voice almost broke your heart, but his tone showed you that Shan Yu was back. "Stay this way. Just a little longer."

"Do you know how scared I was?" You feel like you were about to cry, so you didn't look into his eyes. "Let me go. Let me help you."

"You've never touched me." Shan Yu caressed your cheek, tucking a strand behind your ear. It was so intimate, it made your stomach ache. But it wasn't a bad thing. "You're warm. And soft. And you smell like tears."

"I thought you..." You couldn't say the words. "You didn't react to anything. I thought you were about to die."

"I would have come back to you." His fingers slid to your chin. A delicate touch, too delicate for someone so rough, made you look into his eyes. "I would crawl out of my grave. Not even death can put us apart."

"I missed you." You admited. "I missed you so much. How terrible it is to love something death can touch."

"You love me?" Shan Yu didn't gave you time to answer. "Love me." It wasn't a demand. Shan Yu wasn't ordering. He was begging. "Please."

"I have your heart." You got closer to him. "And you have mine. Don't break it."

"I wouldn't dare."

Next part!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #prisoner/bride au #disney villain x reader #disney x reader #disney villain #disney x you #disney villain x you #disney villain x y/n #shan yu x reader #shan yu #shan yu x you #disney x y/n #shan yu x y/n #shan yu mulan #mulan 1998

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sunshine-theseus · 5 months

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Angel In Disguise | Esme Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: life’s hard when all your students prefer your footballer partner over you.

Warnings: fluff, children? idk how the English school timeline works and the Australian one doesn’t match up with the story so I’m just saying school starts in like September and ends in late May??

Request for: @wlwskyy i hope this is good! it's probably not as good as I hoped but i'm still pretty happy with it

Being a primary school teacher was hard. Trying to help students who struggle with the content while also helping others progress. Being strict while also wanting to be fun. My biggest struggle though, was a very me specific one.

Esme Morgan loves to visit me or help me out at school from time to time, and just like everyone else she meets, the kids fall in love with her. From the first time they meet her, they’re begging me to bring her back.

“Ms L/n it’s so cool you’re dating a footballer! Can you bring her back tomorrow? And the day after that and the day after that one until forever?” and once they realise that she actually has her own job to do, they beg I bring her in at least once a term.

It was my first year teaching after university, the first time she’d come to work, and it had been a complete surprise.

After she broke her leg in 2021, Esme struggled to fill her time. She’d made about 27 bracelets in the first 3 days, then tried to bake a little, although it went rather poorly. She then watched all the original Disney movies in release order. I think she got to Mulan II before she decided enough was enough.

I was in the middle of teaching the times tables when there was a light knock on the door. I could see her cheeky smile through the small pane of glass and rushed to open it for her. Esme stumbles through the door, her moon boot and crutches making it difficult for her to fit through the rather narrow frame.

She pecks me on the lips and the room erupts in childish giggles. Romantic affection was something so foreign to 8 and 9 year olds.

“Es… what are you doing here?” I whisper as I pull a chair for her sit on.

“I got bored, and I miss yoouu.” She smiles up at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“Oh! And I brought gifts for the kiddos!” she holds out a paper bag and I peak inside.

My heart melts at the pile of hand-crafted bracelets, ranging in colour and design, that fill a significant proportion of the bag.

She spent the rest of the day surrounded by my class. Eventually I had to stop teaching because they were so in love with this angelic limping figure who brough them friendship bracelets. I don’t think Esme prepared for them all to assume she was every single one of their best friends.

~~~~~

It was nearly Christmas break when she first met my class for this year, and everyone knew who she was. For the first time, I didn’t have to introduce her or tell them what she does for them to get hyped.

“I WATCHED YOU IN THAT FOOTBALL THING” and other similar phrases are shouted many times when she enters the room.

When I looked at her it was hard not to smile. She was playing and talking with kids and giving them all little bracelets, just like she does every year.

As she was crouched in front of a small group who were excitedly asking her questions, Marley, a rather shy and quiet girl, walked up to Esme and lightly tapped her shoulder. She fiddles with her fingers and avoids looking at anyone as she waits.

“Excuse me Mrs Esme?” Esme is already smiling when she turns to look at Marley.

“Hey kiddo!”

“Um you’re my favourite player of all time. I watch all your games and wanna grow up and play just like you.” And Esme’s smile grew bigger, something I wasn’t sure was possible.

“That’s so cool! Can I give you a hug?” Marley nods and giggles into the embrace, and then they begin to talk about Marley’s interest in football and Esme’s work.

I’d been struggling to get her to talk for 2 months, and Es came in and got her to talk within minutes, but I can’t stop staring lovingly at the angel of a woman in front of me. There was a part of myself I saw in Marley. I’d struggled to be very open for a long time until I met Esme. She just had this gentle, caring nature that was hard to ignore.

Marley misses her the most between visits. They’d made a secret handshake and love to chat and giggle on the oval at lunch, kicking the ball around.

In between visits Esme and Marley both interchangeably would give me something to give the other; a bracelet or a packet of lollies or a flower they found randomly. It was so hard for me to not burst from how cute their friendship was.

It had changed Es as well. Obviously, she has always been welcoming and warm-hearted but she’d become more confident about her play and sometimes I would catch her bragging to her teammates.

“I’m Marley’s favourite player!” it took them a while to realise who Marley was, but they found it adorable.

We’re in our last week for the school year, just in time for Esme to make one more surprise appearance before she has leave for camp for the France Olympics. I’d told the kids she wasn’t sure if she would have time to make it between finishing up the season and preparing for the Olympics, but that didn’t stop them from begging me to bring her in.

It’s the last day, everyone already buzzing for their long holiday, and admittedly from the lollies I gave them. I always try to make the last day super fun, activities and music and a surprise guest.

By midday I’d already had to apologise that Esme couldn’t make it. 17 times and counting.

And by 1, there was a knock on the door. A knock the kids were all too familiar with, and Esme rushes into the room, kids swarming her from all angles.

“Hey kiddos!”

“Hey pretty lady” she turns to me and kisses me quickly. Gags and loud ‘ewww!’s echo out.

Marley waits patiently with a small bag in her hand, still considerably shy. Esme wastes no time in getting to the young girl, with a similar bag in hand.

“Hey Mar! I got you a little something.” Esme hands the bag over, and everyone watches carefully as she pulls out whatever lays inside.

I see the familiar light blue peak out, and recognise the jersey design I sport most weekends. The present is clear when Marley starts jumping up and down in excitement.

“It’s one of my spares so don’t tell Gareth, ok? I got all the girls to sign it.” Marley is wrapped around Esme before she can finish the sentence.

“Thank you!” she scrambles to put her bag in Esme’s hands before tugging the shirt over her head.

I nearly scream when I see Esme pull out a black and purple jersey, colours I know from all the pictures Marley shows me of her games, usually with a trophy in her hands. Her last name and the number 14 adorn the back with a tiny ‘Marley’ in black sharpie on the ‘1’.

“Oh my god Marley this is so cool! I’m going to keep this forever. In a few years time I’m going to see you playing for England and know I got the first ever Marley jersey and signature. And of course you’ll play for Manchester City yeah?” the little girl eagerly nods her head.

The day goes on and the kids go home for the last time. Esme leaves after an hour of helping me pack up the classroom, to start dinner and I don’t finish until 5:30.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m exhausted, but satisfied with my work for the year.

I leave most of my gear in the car to unpack another day and walk to the door. I struggle to open it for a moment but when I do, I’m hit by the smell of my favourite meal cooking and the sound of Esme singing, albeit not well.

I drag my feet into the kitchen and wrap my arms around my wife, kissing her back as I just rest against her.

“Hello my love.”

“Hey sunshine.” I pause for a moment.

“You’re so good with kids.” She hums as she turns the stove off.

“And you helped Marley so much.”

“She’s a good kid, it’s hard not to like her.” I pull away and reach up to kiss her on the cheek before looking for the small gift bag.

“What are you doing?” Esme questions as she begins to plate to the food

“Well we have to measure Marley’s shirt for a frame so we can hang it up don’t we? I want to be able to boast to the world in like 8 years time about how I taught her and how we have her first ever signature.” I poke her in the side as I grab my plate.

“Well how about we do that tomorrow? I just want to cuddle with you tonight before we have to pack and get ready for camp.” I let out a loud groan.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to France, and we’ll barely be able to do any of that gross romantic shit together.” Esme smiles down at me, regret floating behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Noo I’m so excited I just think they’re cruel for making players do their job or whatever.” I jokingly roll my eyes before I lean back into her on the couch, both our plates sat in our laps.

“I promise to take you to that restaurant on the top of the Eiffel Tower before we leave.” She kisses my forehead.

~~~~~

“This is light work for the defender, tapping the ball passed Courtney Nevin and chipping it passed the Australian goalkeeper! IT’S A GOAL FOR ENGLAND AND THEY FIND AN EQUALISER IN THE OLYMPIC FINALS!”

I cheer at the goal with the rest of the stadium, hugging the small girl next to me as she bounces in excitement.

“Did you see that mumma? She scored! Mar Mar scored!” Reese shouts over everyone else.

“I did! It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

When the game ends, I pick Reese up and we rush down to the pitch with the other family members, celebrating as we make our way. It takes us a few minutes to spot the players we’re looking for but when Reese points them out, I put her down and she runs toward them without a single thought.

“Congratulations!” I pull Esme into a kiss before turning to Marley. The 16-year-old smiled brightly at me before hugging me tightly.

“Your goal was fucking phenomenal Marley! They should make you a striker.”

“But then she wouldn’t be just like her favourite player” Esme buts in, our daughter falling asleep on her hip. We all laugh and continue to talk with the other girls and celebrate until we decide to head back to the hotel to put Reese to bed.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come you know?” I pull Marley into my side as we wait for the elevator.

“From ‘shy little 8 year old who refused to talk to her teacher’ to ‘number 14; defender and debut scorer for her country at the 2032 Olympics at 16 years old’.”

“And one of the youngest and best signings for Man City!” Esme chimes in

“Thank you for always believing in me.”

After we say goodnight to Marley and make sure Reese is definitely asleep, I climb into bed with Esme.

“You’re so amazing.” I stare at her. Sometimes I don’t understand how I was blessed with such a kind-hearted, gentle woman.

“I try.” We break out in giggles and I slap her lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” we don’t say anything else.

She kisses me hard before I rest my head on her chest, her arm wrapping around me as we fall asleep. She’s my angel in disguise.

#woso x reader #woso #wwc 2023 #olympics 2024 #esme morgan #esme morgan x reader #womens soccer

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incorrecthatchetfield · 2 months

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Steph: So what's your guy's favorite Disney movie? Mine is Tangled.

Pete: Mulan.

Ruth: The Little Mermaid.

Richie: Big Hero Six.

Grace: Does Jonah a Veggie Tales Movie count?

Steph: What about The Hunchback of Notre Dame?

Grace: Never seen it.

Steph: That explains a lot.

#submission #incorrect quotes #starkid #incorrect starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #nerdy prudes must die #incorrect hatchetfield #incorrect nerdy prudes must die #grace chasity #pete spankoffski #richie lipschitz #ruth fleming #steph lauter

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paracosmic-murdock · 4 months

Text

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 21: "Cordialement, Y/N et Benedict"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It has been two years since your secret was exposed and you had to leave London. Two years with deep buried misery and in which you missed everything you used to have. However, neglect, novelties, and letters made sure to give you more than one reason to return to claim someone who is as rightfully yours as your estate and your people: Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, mutual pining, (kinda???) enemies (fake, this is just pride) to lovers (surely), bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: You and Benedict return to London with a wedding invitation and more shocking news for the family.

Word count: 2.7K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

“Ma chérie, when did this happen?”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, during my first trip to London, my Lord.”

“This is unexpected, but… I shall speak to the council about this,” Lord Monet replied. “We believed you and the Prince of Monaco-”

“No,” you firmly denied. “He was a mere suitor, but Mr. Bridgerton is my love match.”

He raised his eyebrow, giving him a despective look. “Is he now?”

You two nodded.

“Is he also fit to be a duke?” he questioned. “Because if you do not marry the Prince, you must marry a man fit to rule the region, at least.”

“Even if he wasn't, and I am not saying he is not fit, I must be the one to perform the ducal duties,” you answered. “Not a soul knows this region better than I. Since my father passed, as you know quite well, I have been the one to take care of Burgundy, the winery, and the state. Therefore, I should be the one who continues doing it.”

“What is your cousin for, then?”

“Nothing, my Lord,” you sighed. “And once I marry and have children, the region shall stay in good hands. Always in our family.”

He sighed. “What is his background, then? His family, what?”

“His father was the late Viscount Edmund Bridgerton. My father's friend from Oxford, if you can recall,” you replied. “He is his second son, and his older brother is Anthony Bridgerton, the now Viscount.”

“You come from a good family, it seems.”

“I do, yes,” Benedict spoke for the first time. “I have seven brothers and sisters. One of my sisters, Daphne, is the Duchess of Hastings.”

“Well, you sound like a good man,” Monet smiled slightly. “Have you decided on a date for the ceremony?”

“The sooner, the better.” Benedict said.

“Why the rush?”

“As I am sure Lord Cartier might have mentioned, there have been issues with my grandfather,” you answered. “He found a bastard child of Father's to take my rightful place. The sooner I marry, the safer I will be, you know? Protected by marriage.”

“As long as the rush does not mean anything else, I believe two months from today will be perfect so you can have everything ready.”

“Will the priest be available?” you asked in concern.

“I'll make him available provided he isn't. The Duchess of Burgundy's wedding must be a priority for the Church,” he replied. “I might as well have the Pope himself marry you.”

You chuckled. “That will not be necessary.”

“The fourteenth of September, then?”

Benedict looked at you with an enamored smile. “Yes.”

Dearest Bridgertons,

We are most delighted to reach out to you with the news of our engagement and upcoming matrimony, which will take place on September 14th at the Palace of Versailles. However, before that, we are pleased to invite the whole family to the engagement ball on August 5th at the Château du Clos de Vougeot.

Additionally, we would be honored for Lady Violet Bridgerton to stay with us until the ceremony to assist us in its planification and keep us beloved company.

We are grateful to all of you for your support and, unbelievably, for meddling in our love. We would not be here today without your carefully schemed and loving interventions.

Finally, we announce our stay in Versailles until July 20th, when we shall start our journey back to London for some days. We are expected in Vougeot by August 1st at the latest (in hopes that you join us), in Dijon on August 28th, and in Versailles on September 2nd. The former information was provided to inform you of our whereabouts in case you wish to join us someday.

Sincerely,

Y/N & Benedict.

You and Benedict were having breakfast when Antoinette arrived at the dining room. Her expression gave you an insight for whatever the unfortunate announcement would be.

“My lady, your grandfather is here. And he brought unpleasant company.”

Your lips formed a fine line, and you looked at Benedict in utter worry.

“Please, inform him we are breaking the fast and take him to the sitting room to wait for us,” you replied. “Tell him we do not have much time to receive him as we are leaving for London within the hour.”

“What should I say if he asks who is ‘we’?”

“Tell him I mean my fiancé and myself.”

She nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

“If you wish, I could ask him to leave,” Benedict proposed when he saw your maid leave. “You will not have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“I will not show him any sign of intimidation, my heart. Plus, I must extend our invitation to the engagement ball in person and have my guards take that misfortune of a brother to the dungeon he belongs to.”

Benedict smirked. “You are a devious young woman, aren't you?”

“This particular trash will not take itself out, so I must make sure someone does,” you replied. “And if it has got to be me so I know it is done properly, you know I will.”

“My darling, you are an unstoppable force of nature.”

You rolled your eyes with affection. “You are a silly man, Your Grace,” you noted. “You better kiss that attitude goodbye by the day of the engagement ball if you want the King of France to approve of you.”

He smiled and finished the last of his breakfast. As soon as you finished, he helped you stand up and walked to the sitting room alongside you.

“Good morning, sir,” you greeted him. “Raphaël, I thought you would be in a dungeon right now.”

Benedict cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Your grandfather raised his eyebrow arrogantly. “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Were you not informed?”

“Of what?”

“Y/N and I are getting married mid-September.”

Raphaël frowned. “Married?”

You looked at the engagement ring in your finger and showed it to them. “September 14th, to be precise.”

“You can not marry this man. He is a mere artist! He is not fit to rule the region!”

“And this bastard is?” you questioned, looking the man up and down. “The only person fit to be Duke or Duchess of Burgundy is me, and not even over my dead body somebody else will take my place.”

“No one is asking for your permission, Y/N,” he said. “Either you leave soon, or I'll tell your cousin, the King, about your London shenanigans.”

You frowned. “Are you aware that I could be killed for that motive? Are you truly capable of causing your granddaughter's death?”

“You have brought it upon yourself.”

Benedict watched the scene in bewilderment. “I beg your pardon?”

“You might be engaged to her, but this is a family matter and none of your concern, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Anything in regards to the mother of my child is of my concern, and I will not allow you or anybody to disrespect her.”

You opened your eyes in the widest astonishment.

You were certainly not with child —at least not just yet—, but you couldn't deny that was a smart move from him.

“Are you with child?!”

You cleared your throat, looking at your grandfather in awe. “Yes.”

The anger in his features was unmatched, and for a second you thought he would have a heart attack at the news. A short second that resulted in the slow-motion scene of him attempting to hit you but his hand landing on your fiancé instead.

Both you and Raphaël gasped loudly as Benedict returned the punch with all the strength of his body.

“Oh, my Lord!”

“Stop!”

“I will kill you with my bare hands for doing that to my granddaughter!”

“Is she your granddaughter now?! You get away from her or I swear to God you will not make it to the engagement ball!”

“You dishonored her not once but twice, and you dared inform of her condition as if it was the most normal thing on Earth to have a lady with child before marriage! Mr. Bridgerton, you are the furthest thing from a gentleman that there is, and you, Y/N, must learn your place! You are acting like a-”

“Speak of her badly once again and I will make sure to break your face.”

“You know what? I am out of here right now.” Raphaël rolled his eyes and exited the sitting room, tired of you and the chaos that surrounded the Dukes of Burgundy.

Your grandfather looked you dead in the eyes. “See what you caused?!”

“Whatever do you mean?!” you questioned. “Leave our property right now for I do not wish to see you again, sir. Perhaps the King should know of my faults and my condition and see how He assesses the situation.”

“For as long as I breathe, I will make sure you never rule this region. I will not let you tarnish my daughter's sacred name.”

“You are welcome to stop, then.” Benedict finished, to then yell for the footmen to take your grandfather out of the Palace.

And then there was silence.

“I will get killed, Benedict.”

He shook his head. “For all the Ton knows, everything was one of Lady Whistledown's rumors. Nobody has actual proof apart from witnesses we can trust in and mere hearsays. We will find Lady Whistledown and have her say it was all a lie or a misunderstanding.”

“Penelope Featherington is Lady Whistledown.” you replied.

“What?!”

You nodded. “She told me herself in an attempt to get my forgiveness so I wouldn't expose her to the Queen. I can only assume Eloise told her the truth, that the Queen and I were looking for her, and she decided to come clean.”

“Did you tell the Queen? Because Lady Whistledown hasn't published anymore, and the Featheringtons are in an economic crisis. The only thing keeping them alive is my family's support.”

“I did tell Her,” you replied. “I confessed to Penelope and Eloise that I was Antoine, and Penelope used that against me to have some sensationalist novelty for her ridiculous scandal sheet. She exposed Eloise's friendship with Theo to save herself because the Queen was getting close to her. Penelope saved herself at the expense of all of us instead of facing the consequences of her actions. It was only fair for me to return the favor.”

“Why would she do that to you?”

“When I was going through Eloise's stuff to find something about Lady Whistledown's identity, I saw that she exposed Miss Marina Thompson's pregnancy right after she got engaged to Colin,” you replied. “She surely was not aware that you and I were the couple and must have known about Colin's intentions to court me and the constant flirtations.”

“My heart, are you completely sure about this?”

“I am, and if her actions keep threatening my life and peace, I will make sure she pays for it even if it's the last thing I ever do,” you swore. “She was responsible for two years of my suffering. If it weren't for her, I would have been able to tell you myself about Antoine and I wouldn't have lost you. Nobody would have found out about anything and my grandfather would not be trying to ruin me. My life would not be hanging by a thread. If I must live in fear for as many moons as I have left, so will she.”

He sighed, kissing your gloved knuckles. “We must tell the family everything as soon as we arrive in London, my heart.”

“We must,” you conceded. “Along with a few other things.”

“Oh, my children! Welcome!”

You and Benedict looked at each other with a smile, and then at his mother again.

“We have been eagerly awaiting your return.” Kate said with a graceful smile.

“We sure have.” Eloise smiled widely.

“Now that you're here, we are finally ready for dinner!” Colin exclaimed. “I am so very happy for the two of you.”

“You better be, Brother.” Benedict teased him.

You cleared your throat. “Uh, before we do, we would like to speak to you. Adults only.”

Anthony nodded in surprise. “Of course. Gregory, Hyacinth, wait for us in the dining room.”

They complained but reluctantly left the sitting room.

However, before getting started, a maid appeared and announced Penelope's arrival to Bridgerton House.

“If you'll excuse me, I must receive her and we shall join you right away.” Colin commented happily.

“We would be grateful if the conversation could please stay within the family.” You looked at them with shyness in your tone.

“But Pen is like part of our family.” Eloise frowned.

“Well said, Sister: like.” Benedict conceded.

“Benedict…” Colin warned him.

Anthony cleared his throat. “There is no need to make a fuss out of this. If Y/N and Benedict's topic of conversation weren't confidential, there would be no issue in her being here. Since it seems to be as such and it is important that it stays between us Bridgertons, then you must respect their wishes, Colin.”

“If she cannot hear it, then perhaps it is none of my concern either.”

You rolled your eyes. “It's just that I personally would not want to see what I have to say on some scandal sheets tomorrow morning, Colin. Though I do not think she would expose herself, will she?”

The room fell silent, and you could see Eloise's offense at your comment. Despite Colin's tension caused by your gaze and words, you did not hesitate to continue.

“But if you do not want to hear what we have to say, it is fine. Less chances of Lady Whistledown finding out about my life if you do not tell her yourself, Colin.”

“Are you implying that Miss Featherington is-” Anthony began, but couldn't bring himself to finish the statement.

“... Lady Whistledown?” Kate continued for him.

“This cannot be true, and I kindly suggest you stop making such accusations, Y/N, for you have the reputation of a liar already and cannot deal another blow to your name.”

You stopped Benedict from interfering. “Eloise, am I lying?”

“I-” she blurted out, but couldn't form a sentence in her favor.

“El?” Colin asked, but she stayed silent.

“Eloise, did she or did she not expose Miss Thompson's condition in order to keep her away from Colin? Is that not the same thing that happened when she said that I was dressing as a man to go to the Academy when the only people who knew for sure were you, her, and my maid?” you questioned. “Did she not expose you and every single one of your family's matters to save herself and have something to say, respectively?”

“This is a serious accusation, dear…” Lady Bridgerton noted. “Are you… are you certain?”

“She told me herself,” you answered. “Trying to get my forgiveness after, I can only assume, Eloise suggested she tell me due to my plans with the Queen.”

“Did you, Eloise?” Anthony asked.

Eloise chuckled nervously but you spoke before she could. “At the end of the day, it was never her secret to tell,” you murmured. “But, for those of you who didn't know, I could get killed if word of it reaches France, so forgive me for not wanting her here.”

“Oh, this is too much to handle…” Lady Bridgerton sighed.

“Colin, have Penelope return home. She is not welcome here.” Anthony demanded.

“But, Brother-”

“Even before being Benedict's fiancée, she has always been the daughter of Father's dear friend, so we owe her our support,” Anthony stated. “And if not for her, do it for our sister Eloise regardless of how fine she is about it currently. Think of how she has affected our family, even Daphne… We are withdrawing our support to the Featheringtons effective immediately.”

Everyone looked at each other in silence.

“You cannot do this, Anthony.” Eloise retorted. “We have known them for-”

“Exactly. If she did not care about that when she used us and took advantage of our crises in her numerous issues, then we shouldn't either,” he spoke firmly. “It should be you or Colin whoever breaks the news. Decide or I'll do it myself tomorrow after breakfast.”

Colin left the sitting room, and Eloise shot you a look of disappointment before doing the very same.

“Let's not make Gregory and Hyacinth wait any more time. They must be starving.” Anthony said before leading the family to the dining room.

taglist: @yentroucnagol @crimsonincursive @czarinera @uwumd @omgnctchina

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine

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disney-is-mylife · 2 months

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Alas, with only 12 options, I had to leave out several possible candidates. I did not count most talking animals (Jiminy being the big exception because, well, he doesn't exactly LOOK like a cricket, does he?), nor did I count any robots, aliens, or superheroes/humans. This poll only features characters that are either magical themselves or could only exist in mythologies/fairytales.

(I also did not count any Alice in Wonderland characters, despite considering the Cheshire Cat, because none of them count as "companions" to Alice, more like weird residents she bumps into on her journey down the rabbit hole.)

And as for any other options.... honestly, I just ran out of space and wanted to include from as many eras of Disney animation as possible lol ^^"

Happy voting! ❤

Disney 20th Century Animal Sidekick Poll!!

Disney 20th Century (Other) Animal Sidekick Poll!!

Disney 21st Century Sidekick Poll!!

Disney (Other) "Magical" Companions Poll!!

#Starling polls #Disney Sidekick Polls #Disney #Disney animation #Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs #Pinocchio #Peter Pan #Sleeping Beauty #The Sword in the Stone #Aladdin #Pocahontas #Hercules #Mulan #Frozen #Moana #Raya and the Last Dragon #original post #200+ votes #20 notes

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hubristicassholefight · 6 months

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Swordswoman Showdown Quarterfinals

Fa Mulan (Disney's Mulan) vs Hornet (Hollow Knight)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Fa Mulan

stole her father's sword to take his place in the imperial army. defeated the invading leader and stole HIS sword too.

Soldier who saved all of china; She’s one of the ogs, man, her movie is a banger

i know she's a problematic fave but i still love her :(

Hornet

Technically its not a sword but she wields a needle in a setting where swords do not exist and she wields it in an exceedingly swordlike fashion so. She counts; Girlboss demigoddess spider lady. She's been protecting an entire kingdom for longer than many of the other characters have been alive. She systematically kills her siblings for being too weak. She's simply the best.

#im pretty sure hornet can beat like. anyone in a fight.#have you ever fought hornet#its so fucking hard getting past her every time i play hk i go literally insane.

#i remember getting stuck on the first hornet fight on mt first play through and bring likr#''omg the boss fights in this are so hard!!!''#like what. you're not even half way through what are you talking about#you can't even DASH honey. you don't know what's diffcult or not in this game.

So, SPOILERS

but I feel like the "she systematically kills her siblings" part needs a little clarification. See, one of her siblings was used as a living prison for an angry god and that uh. Didn't work out for the sibling in question or anyone else.

This account is itself heavily abbreviated but it's likely that any other sibling Hornet encounters will be trying to take over as the god's new prison. She appears to challenge any sibling she sees to battle, in order to test their resolve against herself and her needle - would they actually have a chance against that god?

We never actually see her kill any siblings, but she does quite pointedly tell one of them that (to paraphrase) "My needle is lethal and I would feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

Feels like a relevant quote. In any case, if they can't beat Hornet, it seems like her needle would be a far more merciful end than what the god would grant.

Anyway, a bit of additional material for @swordswomanshowdown :

As is the case for any cool swordswoman, it's not just her sword that's lethal, it's her with it. And Hornet's needle was custom made for her - the creators have said that, while other needles exist, hers was made specifically for her to wield, and its construction allows her to use her spider silk better in combat.

And another thing that I think makes her a good swordswoman: she's actually pretty thoughtful about how she uses it. There's a least one instance where she tries to warn someone off before fighting them! At the same time, when she does fight, she seems to enjoy it - during her boss battles, you can hear her laugh sometimes, as if exhiliarated. She's really got it all, as a swordswoman!!!

#HORNET SWEEP CMON PLEEEEEEASE#shes gay. shes the only sibling with a gender. shes a spider named HORNET. look like croissant. whats not to like

#fa mulan #disney mulan #hollow knight #hornet #poll #official #swordswoman showdown #round 4 #quarterfinals

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babybearcookie · 8 months

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Amicus Ad Aras

not requested

this is an age regression fic; if you don't like that, don't read it. age regression is a sfw coping mechanism, and i am in no way infantilising the idols that i write about; i know they're grown adults. i reserve the right to block anyone i think would sexualise this. word count: 3,7k

Wooyoung had always found himself feeling at home when tucked in the crook of San’s neck. It was warm, it was safe. Nothing could hurt him there. Which is kind of how this whole debacle came about.

It was movie night in the ATEEZ dorms, for those wanting to join. There were 6 people gathered around in the living room this particular movie night, missing only Hongjoong and Jongho, the two of whom were working in the studio on something bugging them in a song, but had promised to join the cosy evening later. Most of them had found their favourite spot; having had quite a few movie nights gets you used to things being a certain way, like everyone having a regular spot to watch the movie from. Wooyoung’s spot was in the middle of the couch, beside San, who was sitting all the way to the left on the comfortable sofa, snuggled up to the older.

Wooyoung loved their movie nights. He loved how warm and familiar it made everything seem, even when everything else in their lives was hectic, they always made time for the ATEEZ family. They took turns recommending movies to watch and then the group voted on the options. This time, the vote had landed on watching Mulan, something that had Wooyoung excited beyond belief, eyes wide and blinding with joy when the vote favoured the old childhood movie.

Sometimes, if Wooyoung weren’t as interested in the choice of movie, he would let his body do what it wanted to, mostly it ended with him falling asleep in San’s arms as the film ran in the background, something San found incredibly endearing and funny, but a few times he would stay awake watching the movie anyway. This time though, he was determined to stay awake throughout the movie. One of the reasons for the movie to have been selected was that they all had seen it a million times before. Hongjoong and Jongho could join in whenever and still know what had happened and if people dozed off, it wouldn’t be such a big deal.

As Yunho put the movie on, a job he took a little pride in as he did it for every movie night while everyone got comfortable, San plopped down on the couch, opening his arms to invite Wooyoung in as well, he joined as he usually does; quickly and with a happy sigh and a grin. San smiled down at him and began stroking his hair, feeling the younger relax into his embrace even further.

As soon as the movie started San paid attention to the screen, and so did Wooyoung, perking up at the music that he so easily recognised, ready to watch one of his favourite childhood movies with his second family. It didn’t take long though, only about 20 minutes or so, before San could feel Wooyoung slowly falling asleep and jerk himself awake again, desperately trying to stay awake for the duration of the movie, which San thought was going to be impossible, as the boy was already seeming so tired. So, the older of the two held him closer to himself, tucking Wooyoung further into the crook of his neck, and stroked his hair softly, slowly coaxing the younger into resting. If he woke up and whined about missing the movie, San was ready to promise to watch it with him another day.

When Wooyoung slowly woke up again he felt at ease. He noticed the slow but deep rise and fall of San’s chest. The heat radiating from his warm and soft skin, which he had seemed to have drooled on a bit. How the thumb of the hand on his back moved gently back and forth. How he could feel his hair moving on his head from San’s exhale. Then he looked around and saw the rest of the members around the living room, which caused him to hold his breath for a long second, realising that the combination of the childhood movie and being held so tightly by a person he loves and trusts had pushed him into his regressed headspace. He wasn’t fully in it, but he could feel it tugging at his groggy mind, luring it into the comfortable mindset. He couldn’t let the others see though, so plan A was first to push the tempting feeling of carefree childhood far enough away so that he at least could make it through the night, but that didn’t seem to happen, so plan B it was. Plan B was not the best and definitely not what Wooyoung had wanted to actually do, but it had to do, as the alternative was being regressed before all his close friends, which would, by Wooyoung’s standards, be the worst outcome. So, first, he tried to wiggle out of San’s grip without disturbing him, but he couldn’t do that, so he ran through the excuses he could use in his head.

“Young-ah, where are you off to? The movie isn’t even done.” San spoke in a soft and low voice, not wanting to disturb the peace among the others around the room, which now consisted of all of them, Hongjoong and Jongho having gotten home some time while Wooyoung had been asleep. “Um, I’m really tired so I was jus’ gonna go sleep in my bed.” Wooyoung hoped he could just escape without any more questions, but he wasn’t going to get away that easily. “Just lay down with me again and sleep. Weren't you comfortable?” San had grabbed a hold of his hand, holding him back from fleeing. Wooyoung wanted to pull his hand to himself and just run off, but he couldn’t do that when San looked at him like he did, all warm and welcoming. “I was bu-but...” Wooyoung’s head was void of anything to say. He wanted to lay down again and be doted upon by his friend, but he couldn’t because that would mean he would risk slipping up and revealing that he was feeling like the smallest kid ever at that moment, and he couldn’t tell him “hey, just fyi, I'm gonna be about 3 years old in a few minutes if nothing is stopping me” because he couldn’t bear to see San’s face when being told something so out-there and weird. “Baby, if you’re still asleep by the time the movie is over, I'll carry you to your bed myself, just please lay down again?” San pleaded with the younger, who almost crumbled by being called baby by his best friend in front of their group mates. “I-I... I can’t.” And with that, he ran to his room and closed the door behind him. San just watched as the other ran away from him, muttering ‘what just happened’ to himself.

Hongjoong, who had been watching all of it with mouth agape, got up from his little beanbag chair where he was watching the movie from and walked over to the younger, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, commanding San’s attention. “Is he alright? What did you say to him?” San sputtered a bit, not sure exactly what to tell their captain, as he had no clue what had happened himself. “I don’t know, hyung. One second he was sweet, cuddly Wooyoung, and the next he was running away from me. I tried asking him to stay, since he was so excited for the movie, and we’ve been so busy lately, but he seemed very anxious to get away.” San trailed off at the end of his explanation, thinking to himself, going over exactly what Wooyoung had said and how he had said it. He was worried about him. “Hyung, I would like to go and make sure he’s okay at least. Maybe he was just tired and wanted his own bed, but it didn’t seem like he was telling me the truth...” Hongjoong nodded. He knew the two of them had a bond like no one else and he didn’t want to assert himself in his leader role if that wasn’t what Wooyoung needed. San turned towards Yunho, who was looking at them quietly. Most of the members had forsaken watching the movie, listening along to the conversation, and were also concerned about their friend’s behaviour. “Yun, would you mind not sleeping in your bed tonight. I might bring Wooyoung to stay in our room.” Yunho nodded in agreement, softly saying that he could stay with Yeosang and Jongho, the two agreeing to that plan. As soon as Hongjoong turned back to lock eyes with San again, the younger stood up from the couch, briskly walking towards where Wooyoung had disappeared off to, leaving a lot of confused and anxious members behind him.

He knocked softly before opening the door to the bedroom, watching as Wooyoung hurriedly hid something underneath his duvet, obviously not wanting anyone to see it. “Young-ah, can we talk a bit?” San asked while moving forward towards where Wooyoung was sitting, back turned to the door, shrugging his shoulders to answer the question. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to San, but he just didn’t want the other to think he was weird for the way he was acting. San moved over to sit on the bed behind Wooyoung. He didn’t want to force the younger to face him if he felt uncomfortable doing so, but he wanted to be close to him so as to read his body language a little better.

“So... You’re not under the covers and asleep, so I’m guessing being tired was an excuse to come here.” Wooyoung’s head hung in shame. He didn’t like lying but he felt like he had to so as to not hurt San’s feelings. “Is it something I did?” San continued; Wooyoung shook his head. “Is it something I didn’t do?” another headshake. Wooyoung took some deep breaths, gathering courage from seemingly nowhere, and San waited with bated breath. “I wanna tell you, but... I just- um, I’m not sure how- how to, um h-how you’re gonna react...” Wooyoung stumbled over the words, thoughts just as jumbled. San put his hand on the other’s back, as to provide a sort of anchor, some feeling to hold onto, “you can tell me anything you want to, Wooyoung.” The younger leaned into the touch, focusing on the warmth seeping from his friend’s palm and through his shirt. He turned around halfway, still not facing San, but the older could now see Wooyoung’s face, which was turned down, facing his lap and with eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to focus on his fingers, wringing his hands together to keep his anxiety at bay.

“I, um, feel small... sometimes...” he didn’t speak loudly but his words came out above a whisper, San picking up the words perfectly well. “Small? Small how, Young-ah?” San prodded a bit, obviously curious but mostly wanting to be there for his best friend. “Like-like I’ve shrunk, become tiny and vulnerable again. Like a-…" Wooyoung couldn’t get himself to say the words. It's easier to explain the feeling in broad terms because everyone has felt small and vulnerable, and he knew San could relate to that, but as soon as he would go into more depth, that’s when he’d start to sound crazy. “Like a... Like a kid?” San went ahead with what he was guessing Wooyoung was going to say, even though it didn’t exactly make sense in his head. It was a puzzle he had every piece to but the middle pieces. He could see some of it, get a sense of what it looked like, what it was supposed to be, but he was missing a whole lot that would tie it all together. Wooyoung’s eyes got wider, and he bit his lip, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up at his friend, instead he just nodded. “I’m not gonna lie, Wooyoung, I’m not completely sure what that entails but I'm sure that it’s completely alright and fine.” Wooyoung sat and considered the words and after a beat he grabbed San’s free hand, holding it in his own two hands, now playing with the small-ish fingers, adorned in pretty and dainty rings, one of which being one that Wooyoung had gifted him on his birthday. He knew that San loved and cherished him and something like the fact that he acted like a toddler sometimes wouldn’t come between them, but he was scared of being viewed differently, like he was mental for doing it or worse; that he would be able to see a hint of disgust in his friend’s face. “I’m scared,” Wooyoung whispered, shutting his eyes at the confession just made. He could feel himself get tense and start shaking with nerves. San could feel his heart jump at what his friend said and without thinking he pulled Wooyoung to him and wrapped his arms around him so tightly he could feel the tremors in the younger’s body. Wooyoung let his arms wrap around San’s torso and burrow his head in his chest, letting him be enveloped in San’s scent and warmth. His head was spinning. He, without realising it, had started to hyperventilate before being brought into San’s hug. San helped by squeezing him tightly and shushing him softly, bringing him back to that comfortable fuzzy feeling he had woken up to before, making him tense up as he realised yet again, though this time, San having him so close he could feel the little changes in his body language, held him impossibly tight, relaxing him.

They sat like that for a little while, San so focused on Wooyoung’s body’s reaction that he managed to get him calmed down again, bringing him onto his lap so that he could keep holding the younger close but still sitting comfortably while talking. “Why are you scared, Young-ah?” San hesitantly asked. He didn’t want to send the other spiralling again, but Wooyoung held it together, arms squeezing San closer to him. “I’m scared you’d think I’m gross,” Wooyoung spoke, not sure where the confidence came from but happy that it was there. He knew that it was for the best that he’d explain the situation to San, but his nerves had always gotten the better of him any other time he had tried to bring it up to his friend. San was taken aback; “gross? Why would I ever think you were gross?” Wooyoung shrugged. “Not just you, the others too.” Wooyoung looked carefully up at San before bringing his eyes back down. “It’s ‘cos of how you guys react when I do aegyo sometimes...” he shrunk himself in San’s lap, feeling absolutely ridiculous as the words left his mouth. He didn’t want to ruin their banter and fun atmosphere in interviews by expressing that that one running joke bothered him because of something none of them were even aware was going on. San, on the other hand, felt guilt well up inside of him. He knew exactly what Wooyoung was talking about. It was how they’d scoff and even “complain” when Wooyoung would do this very specific type of aegyo. He'd thought they’d all been in on it and having fun with it, but looking back he felt ashamed with how far they’d take it sometimes.

San’s brows furrowed, shame filling his chest. There was nothing worse to him than hurting the people closest to him and knowing that he hadn’t picked up on Wooyoung being hurt was not something he was ready to be confronted with. This time it was Wooyoung’s turn to lean back and see his friend being overwhelmed with shame. The mixture of already being on the edge of slipping completely, his friend being sad, and the familiar Disney music playing behind the door, something they could hear as both of them became absolutely quiet, all pushing Wooyoung further, slipping more into the headspace. “Oh, oh no, please don’t cry, Sannie!” Wooyoung started to pat his friend’s hair and caress it backwards, something his mom would do when he was feeling overwhelmed as a kid. “Here!” Wooyoung leaned to the side in a slightly exaggerated manner, not thinking about the possibility that he could fall, not exactly being the safest in San’s lap, but before anything could happen, San’s hands flew up and grabbed on either side of the bottom of the younger’s torso, right where his last couple of ribs were, making sure that if the other started to fall, he’d catch him. As Wooyoung leaned a little more, he dug out the thing he had hidden away under his duvet when San first came into his room to talk, which was a stuffed, sandy brown teddy bear with a little plaid bowtie. Wooyoung sat straight in San’s lap again, the older of the two still holding onto him even without the danger of falling, and held the bear before San’s eyes. “Her name is Sandy. She helps when you feel sad,” and with that Wooyoung put Sandy into the crook of San’s neck, nuzzling it into the crevice. San was flabbergasted. This was nothing like he had thought Wooyoung would act like. When he had told him that he hadn’t disclosed this part of himself because of the way he’d feel when they were dismissing his exaggerated cuteness, San had honestly thought that he would be exactly the way he was acting when he was asked to do aegyo, but this wasn’t like that.

“Thank... Thank you, Wooyoung. That's very sweet of you.” San’s eyes were following Wooyoung’s movements and picking up the way his facial expressions were less refined than they’d usually be. There wasn’t a lot of intention behind the way Wooyoung did things, which made them seem almost sloppy and careless and clumsy. The younger nodded, head flying around more than usual with the movement. “Youngie, are you doing the thing you were telling me about? Do you, eh... feel small?” San tried to use the words Wooyoung himself had used to explain his situation, hoping it would make sense if he phrased it in a similar way. What he hadn’t expected to happen was tears welling up in Wooyoung’s eyes. Biting his bottom lip, he nodded slightly at the question. San softened his facial expression, knowing that he had to be really careful of the way Wooyoung could perceive it and other things like body language as he was really sensitive about San thinking worse of him with this new information. “Oh, baby... Come here.” San pulled Wooyoung into his arms again, where he held his friend as he got his feelings in check, pushing every single grain of guilt that had filled him to the side and any feelings of doubt about how to act were pushed deep down. ‘You love kids. If Wooyoung is feeling like a kid, you just have to treat him as such. How hard can it be?’ San reasoned with himself, the logic seeming sound. He just had to get over the fact that there wasn’t an actual, physical kid before him, and then he’d be good. He let Wooyoung back out from his embrace and smiled at him as the younger had fisted his shirt tightly in his hands. “C’mon now, prince, no need to cry.” San wiped away Wooyoung’s fresh tears with gentle touches and leaned in to kiss where he’d wiped them away. “There. No tears allowed on my Wooyoung’s pretty face about this!” Wooyoung giggled as San nuzzled his nose into his cheek and it filled San’s heart to hear that carefree laugh he knew so well. Warmth rose in his chest as he leaned back and saw a huge smile on the younger’s face, eyes squinting with the smile, and he couldn’t help but hug Wooyoung again, this time placing a kiss on the top of his head. Wooyoung finally felt the love he had been missing from his regression, starting to cry again from sheer joy making San laugh and complain in a lighthearted way when he saw. “Good tears, Sannie. Woo promise!” raising his pinky to show that he meant it while his other hand was wiping the tears away. San smiled, eyes glimmering with fondness as he connected his pinky to Wooyoung’s. San, bursting with love for this new side of Wooyoung he had just met, picked his friend up and held him on his hip, letting Wooyoung wrap his legs around his frame after letting out a yelp at the unexpected action. “What do you say to having a sleepover in Sannie’s room tonight?” San asked, adjusting his grip on Wooyoung’s form. He got to see Wooyoung’s face lit up; his eyes opening wide, as did his mouth, and San could swear he saw light shine in the younger’s eyes. Wooyoung squealed; “yes! Yes please!” and San chuckled as he ran a hand over Wooyoung’s hair, “good boy! Remembering your manners,” to which Wooyoung beamed at him, proud at himself. “Now, help me gather what you need, honey.”

San did quick work of picking up Wooyoung’s pyjamas, his stuffed animal, Sandy, and a blanket that Wooyoung insisted on bringing; it wasn’t big enough to cover his entire body, so San had thought that it was probably a security blanket of some sort. He carried Wooyoung out of his room and into San’s own, relieved when he saw that Yunho had been in to collect what he needed for sleep already, knowing that no one should disturb them tonight. He helped Wooyoung make space on San’s bed for himself and then helped him change into his night clothes, though not too much as Wooyoung kept repeating “I’m a big boy! I can do it!” and only allowed San to help when he was stuck and couldn’t physically get out of a tangle of clothes. San let Wooyoung get under the covers first and then shuffled himself under them too. Wooyoung was quick to cuddle up to him the second he had gotten comfortable, making San chuckle under his breath and bringing an arm around Wooyoung’s frame, pulling him even closer, mimicking how they cuddled on the couch only a bit earlier that evening. Wooyoung melted into the touch of his best friend, letting himself relax, knowing that everything was okay, and he had nothing to worry about.

Wooyoung had always found himself feeling at home when tucked in the crook of San’s neck. It was warm, it was safe. Nothing could hurt him there. Not even his own doubting thoughts, because, just as he’s always known; San would be the one to stick by him till the end. His amicus ad aras.

a/n: this started bc i was sick and tired of hearing ppl hate on wooyoung's 'googoo gaga' aegyo, which i know is silly but it also brought me this idea so... also,, started writing before i knew they'd moved into shared apartments, so you'll have to deal with the old roommate situation for this one.

tag list:

@mylittlesafehaven99 @bearseulgs @ihugjakey @kiki-woo

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if you have a sfw account, please consider reblogging. tumblr runs on reblogs, and as much as likes are appreciated, they do nothing to bring new readers to my works. right now my only exposure is the tags i'm using, and i would love to reach more people <3

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tikitsune · 7 months

Text

Platonic!SWF 2 x VA!Reader

Part 1

Next |

Word count: 1k

Warnings: I don't know how the real world works apparently

Notes: I finally gave into my temptations and made one despite the fact that I have zero experience writing for real people. Lemme know how it goes.

I'll be honest, it's mostly gonna be JR, Bebe and Tsubakill, with half Mannequeen/1Million and not so much of LadyBounce, Wolf'Lo and Deep n' Dap.

Ling looked up from her phone. "Hey, Kristen. You said we wanted another person right?"

Kristen looked at her in confusion. It was about a week before they had to send in their member count and while she satisfied the team requirements with five, it couldn't hurt to have an extra person for safety.

"Uhm.Yeah. Why? Do you have someone?"

Ling went back to staring at her phone and scrolling through something. "Yeah. Just a sec. Any minute now."

Whatever it was that Ling was waiting for drew the rest of the people in the studio in. Audrey and Emma briefly stopped their playful banter about a tik tok dance to look at their oldest member. Latrice took out an earbud from where she was working on a choreograph. Kristen walked over to where Ling was and peered at her screen. She was staring at the Jam Republic 'Meet Our Artists' page. Over and over again, each time, reloading the page.

She eventually scrolled to the name she was looking for. [Name]. Upon further clicking of the profile the name to pop up was '[Name] Zhang'. Below that was a description of her accomplishments in dance.

"Yes!" Ling nearly shouted, pumping her fist. "Guys, meet my sister, the potential 6th member of the Street Woman Fighter 2's Jam Republic team."

She turned her phone to face her other team members. They all came to crowd around her to look at her phone. "Wah! She looks so young!" Audrey, the youngest in the group, looked quite interested in a potential younger member.

"She is. She's 19 and just transferred to a Cal State from Community college in Cali." Ling looked at her sister's picture. "She's working towards a major in theatrics and the best part is... She's a voice actor."

Emma looked a bit perplexed. "If she's a voice actor, how is she in Jam Republic?"

Ling only smirked. "She is a choreographer and a voice actor."

Kristen smiled at the older girl. "Well, can we see a video of her dancing? I don't want to exactly say now but I want to see her skill level first."

Latrice butt in. "Wait—. Does she go by any pseudonym or something like that?"

That brought everyone's attention back to Ling. "Uh. Yeah. I think she goes by Sino in the show biz. Like she uses [Nsme] Zhang as her dance name and everything else uses Sino."

Latrice looked excited. "You mean the Sino who choreographed some of the Descendants 3 dances at 15? The one who helped with the live action Mulan fight scenes?"

Everyone was taken aback by Latrice's excitement as well as the supposed new information. "Let me ask."

Ling opened her phone contacts and clicked on a contact named 'the talented 🎤'.

"Yup. According to her, that's it." Ling looked up from her phone.

Audrey looked at Ling. "You must be so proud of her to do that at such a young age."

Ling smiled at their current youngest member. "I am."

Everyone could hear the pride in Ling's voice. Her eyes lit up again before she opened YouTube on her phone and showed them a short of what seemed to be [Name] dancing a choreography to 'Boyfriend' by Dove Cameron. It was quite the sexy song and somehow it fit [Name] very well. Her moves were very flowy but held a lot of energy. Her sultry expressions worked well, making her seem older than she actually was. [Name] finished in a floor pose before she got up, giggling a bit and the video cut.

Everyone collectively awed at the adorableness that was displayed at the end of the video. “Yeah. I’ll add her if she wants. Do we need to get her a plane ticket as well?”

“No need. She’s at the University of Seoul as a student exchange student for the semester. Going there for theatrics, dance and, surprisingly, foods." Ling looked at her phone again.

It rang and she picked up. The screen showed [Name], seemingly in bed. "Hey, Ling Ling. What's up?"

[Name]'s voice was soft, but rough. She was supported by a red covered pillow, her hair was thrown in a messy bun that rested on her head and her phone seemed to be propped against the head end of the bed frame. Her sleepy, half-lidded eyes were framed by round black glasses. "Hi [Name]. I'm with the girls here."

Ling panned the camera, each member waving at the screen.

"Hi."

"Hello."

"Hey."

"Hiii!"

"Hello to Kristen, Latrice, Emma and Audrey, I believe." [Name] looked up, trying to remember each member's name by face. When she got confirmation that she was right, she smiled a soft smile. It took a lot for everyone to not 'aww' at her cuteness.

"So, is there a reason you are calling me…" She seemed to look slightly to the upper left corner of her phone. "... at 06:15 in the morning? Like I can understand a text but a call?"

The girls exchanged glances and a chuckle. "Uh yeah. That would be my fault." Kristen said.

[Name] raised her eyebrow, "Mmm. And why is that?"

"Well I was wondering if you would like to be a part of our group for Street Woman Fighter 2. While 5 people is enough, it would make me feel better if we had another, you know?" Kristen looked a bit shy as she spoke.

[Name] pushed the bridge of her glasses up her nose as her face contorted into a contemplating look. "On what days? I have three classes on Saturday and that's it."

Due to [Name] being an exchange student, she didn’t need to take the necessary classes that most Korean students must take and it just so happened that her classes/lectures were all on the same day. Theatrics first thing in the morning at 08:00 and would span out for 2 hours. Food started at 13:00 and again ended two hours later. Dance would not begin until 18:00 and go till 20:00. (I must preface this by saying that I have never been in an exchange program before so not all of this is accurate. And yes, I use military time, if I have to do math for the ‘normie’ people, then you can do math for me.)

“Mhm… We don’t know yet actually. We can just catch you up on things when you’re not here.” Ling propped her phone on the studio mirror and sat back.

[Name] rubbed her eyes behind her glasses before pushing up the frame. “Yeah, sure.” She yawned.”My apartment building was rented out for people so i can only assume that would be for the competition. So tell them not to worry about the room placement for me.”

She scrubbed her hand over her face, brought her book in front of her before looking at the camera. “All right, If that’s all, I’mma get back to reading.”

“Nah. All good here, sis, thanks. Love you.” Ling picked up the phone as everyone waved behind her.

She ended the call, smiling at her two worlds meeting.

#swf 2 x reader #tikitsune's writings #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter 2 x reader #bebe x reader #jam republic (swf 2) x reader #tsubakill x reader #mannequeen x reader #1million x reader #¿ladybounce x reader?#¿wofl'lo x reader?#deep n' dap x reader

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lephamquynhnhu · 5 months

Text

Panacea

Chapter 2: Storm before the Blushing Morn

Dan Feng x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: The reader has a default name, OOC, mentioned of blood. (This is a work of fanfiction, events are not aligned or relevant to the original work)

Word count: ~2k

Summary: He met you on a drizzling day when hydrangea fully bloomed on its field. Amidst the sea of mild pastel petals, Dan Feng never thought the flowery domain that intertwined your fate was the precise thing withered with you. They said he was a dragon, a hero, a sinner, but never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, or joy like everyone else in this world. However, it was a demi-truth. He committed the cardinal sin because of you.

Note: Do you like...pain?

He revisited on a sprinkle day, his signature ambergris aroma mixed with the freshness of humid forest note. You did not know why, but the High Elder seemed to be into rainy days because every time he came, water definitely showered outside. It has been weeks since you met him for the first time, and thanks to the frequency of his visits, you learn that the nonchalant Imbibitor Lunae gradually displays the other side. Although Dan Feng never clearly shows his emotion, you can tell his mood through the draconic tail. When he feels happy, his tail swings side to side and stands still as its owner is interested in or concentrates on whatever your information. In addition to your surprise, he sometimes even punchlines on your venting stories.

Under the Mulan's foliage, you slowly gaze at the kaleidoscope sky after rain. A mid-summer breeze that carries the scent of white flowers softly blows through, driving the ripples to gleam on the water's surface.

Immersing in your haze, you forget what was going to do until the Long Scion gives out his curiousness about the bush of Datura Metel in a corner garden.

"I have studied an organic pesticide which extracts from their active agents." - The elegant smell of lotus still glistens in the morning dew perfumes in your lungs when nudging into them. Suddenly, you shove the flower cart into his arms and tell him to wait for you at a nearby wooden bench. Dan Feng thinks eternal Spring never leaves this sunlit Shangri-La as he wipes the Mulan's petals out of the seat because the flora seems to blossom in four seasons.

While idly watching Koi fish under silky leafages, the High Elder does not notice you snicker behind. A forgotten raindrop stagnates on the lotus leaf trail like a lost pearl, arousing the quiet pond like his emerald orbs rising in astonishment. Amid the multi-colored palette, Dan Feng finds your smile is the most gorgeous flower when you abruptly pop up with a posy of Emperical Peony. The beam you flashed him still lingering in his mind as Dan Feng reluctantly takes the gift. Your hands lightly brush together via the exchange, reminding him of the existence of those black gloves since he has not seen you take them off once. Nevertheless, he lets it pass and dances his slender finger around the ombre corolla instead.

"Thank you, Yi Ting." - Imbibitor Lunae softly mutters under his breath, and as the lost ray shines through frost winter, a faint smile stretches on his usually glacial face.

On that day in the summer season, Dan Feng realizes that he does not return to your place because of its spectacular. He wants to revisit the Shangri-La because he likes spending time with you.

On an Autumn afternoon painted in a burnt orange hue and wafting with a ripe persimmon scent, you are leisurely proceeding to the Dan Feng's residence while absentmindedly grazing a bunch of white chrysanthemums in hand. Looking at the High Elder Statue at the Dragonvista Rain Hall, your mind winds up reminiscing about the previous conversation.

"Yes?" - Transfering your focus toward his position, you represented the confusion as if hearing him wrong. The quiet Long Scion might befriend you and be your custom guest, but it was an extraordinary phenomenon since Dan Feng has not asked you to deliver flowers to his estate before. He patiently repeated the order while reading his scroll in one hand, and the other halfway was lifting the teacup with expressionless features. Looking at his relaxing manner, you unknowingly realize this house became Imbibitor Lunae's office.

When immersing thought in the past, you are suddenly pulled back to the present by a low thud of a light collision with a follow-up painful cry. Tears are bubbling in the Vidyadhara child's doe eyes as she feels the pain. You swiftly support her to stand up and inspect the body while trying to comfort the child, which results in two news in this situation. A good one is a scratch, and the bad is her cry getting louder even though you used up all your tricks.

"Pain, Pain goes away!" - You singsong to conjure an apple lollipop appearing in hand, and tears stop falling as she eyes your apologetic smile with compensation. When you clean the last drop of trail wet on her chubby cheekbones and apologize with head patting, other Vidyadhara children circle you to admire the little show. A defeated sigh escapes your breath as you look at their twinkle glims and secretly count the remaining candy's quantity. Unfortunately, in addition to your trouble, with an invitation from a brunette-haired boy, the group of children tugs your sleeves to play blind man's buff with their puppy eyes.

"Alright, but I won't be lenient." - You confidently state when settling the bouquet on a stone bench. And you keep your line.

Once darkness invades the vision, you start to track down the children. By listening to their footsteps and sensing the airflow, you catch all of them except Ma Tian, the boy with sheen eyes who cleverly outclasses your skill. Finally, thanks to your florist's exceptional technique, you discreetly declare the endgame while detecting his fabric detergent in the wind's stream.

"Catch ya, little brat!" - You happily exclaim your victory when circling your arms around Ma Tian's figure. However, you immediately realize something is wrong as a familiar ambergris cologne lingers on your nose, and you are hugging a lean body. Hurriedly removing the blindfold, you see Dan Feng mimic your shocked expression while Ma Tian lolls out his head behind the Long Scion.

"How long do you intend to embrace me?" - The High Elder clears his throat with a light reprimand nuance laces in but does not seem annoyed. If there is anything you would admire about Imbibitor Lunae besides his glorious feats, the quick recovery from an embarrassing situation is one of them. As soon as you two detach, Dan Feng grabs the bouquet and leads you out of the Scalegorge Waterscape, leaving the cheerful goodbyes of those children behind. You do not understand why Dan Feng is rushing in his strides until you see a pink tint on his tip ears.

When the sunset light turns golden on the greenery beneath, which gets everything basked in the look of burnished copper, you two arrive at the military memorial area where illustrious warriors rest in peace. Passing through hundreds of black marble graves glides their name, Dan Feng unravels your holding hands as he crunches down to place the chrysanthemum bouquet in front of a stone-carved Bai Heng.

You know that name. She was once a High-Cloud quintet member and a gifted pilot who sacrificed in the third Denizen of Abundance. People say Imbibitor Lunae is never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, or joy like everyone else in this world, but now you can shout out they are all wrong because of the unfathomable somber besieges in his orbs.

"Life is so short when it comes to mortal organisms'' - He mouths in a calm and unwavering tone after a long silence - "No matter what you do, they definitely die." With his back turned to you, it is challenging to figure out its meaning, yet you can degust a longing taste entangled in that clause. Forgotten fragments of sunlight slowly die on your heels while trekking to the way out, and the crescent vaguely takes place in the saturated navy sky. Although the High Elder rarely shared his thoughts with someone else, you hardly agree with this viewpoint.

"Even if it is short-lived, even if fate sometimes turns tragic, limited longevity creates the beauty of lives and valuableness because we learn to cherish life, and not all farewells are regretful. Sometimes, death is also an extrication, and I believe we will rendezvous on another horizon."

Dan Feng follows your graze to the glitter crepuscule, causing the mellow ray to cradle his features. - "Someday, you also turn into ashes?" - A sliver of bitterness in the question soon morphed into those cyan irises as you confirmed with your bright smile. When the two of you pass through the gate, Imbibitor Lunae abruptly informs you of his next arrival with special requests that combine with osmanthus cake and jasmine tea. It is the first time he proactively reserves in advance because Dan Feng neither notices his attendance nor does he appear on sunny days.

"Do I have to wait for the rain to meet you?" - Only one sentence, it has changed your relationship ever since. You guess that might be the way he expresses his feelings.

In a dream, I see myself in my childhood state with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas. Strolling by the seashore, the shells confound in golden sand rustles underneath my bare feet as I search for someone. End then, an abnormal bloodred butterfly hovers around to lead me toward that person; we have passed zillions of landscapes and territories, from glacial rivers where white snow permanently coats mounts to the vast rug crafted by countless vivid blossoms. From the nameless barren deserts with magnificent starry nights crown aloft to the rich prairie possesses coast breezes. I keep going, going.

"Hydrangeas is the soulmate of rains." A distant voice echoes from those feeble wings in the entire journey. It feels like Amber Periods have flown until we reach a field with full-bloom hydrangeas that unfold our presence. Suddenly, my companion disappears into thin air, and I notice a nostalgic glimpse waving his hand from afar as if he has been waiting for me for an astronomical long time.

"You got my wish fulfilled... Thank you, my comrade." - The boy says in a gentle demeanor. His blue eyes shine brighter than any stars I have ever known, and he also disappears like the bloodred butterfly. His silhouette dissipates into thousands of flower petals as he flashes a warm smile toward me.

"Wait, H...H..." - A tsunami of impuissant waves brews into my heart when I try to call his name, but none of the syllables come out, and tears continuously cascade from my eyes while I witness the lost world fading.

You wake up from a soothing noise of hot steam oozing out of your old kettle and forget the dream cleanly. "You had a fever." - A low tone voice diagnoses as soon as Dan Feng senses your consciousness. Slightly lifting the heavy eyelids, you see him situating beside your headboard with a botanical book in hand. The glorious sun is far high hanging in the sky to pour its honeyed light through your window, which informs you to oversleep impliedly. You do not notice tears rolling down until the Long Scion points out in skimming your complexion and uses his thumb to caress the trail wetness. Sensing no engagement in conversation, Dan Feng shifts his hand to cover your eyesight and tenderly leans forward.

You only feel a pillowy touch on your forehead afterward.

"Please do not leave the bed today, and take the medicine on time because this is a prescription from the High Elder." - He faux-orders when rendering your vision. Astoundedly grazing the lingering sensation, you did not know that Imbibitor Lunae has a bizarre way of assessing the temperature.

Winter at Shangri-La never experiences snow, yet it takes some seasonal features such as the gloomy weather all day with northeast wind seething through every direction. Inspecting the murky clouded skyward, you tug the scarf closer when your breaths dimly turn into silver smoke. As soon as you attempt to lift the white lily cart, a hot stream of fluid smelling like rusty iron runs down your chin, which the soil absorbs its falling drops. When you bring your hand to clean the water, it takes a moment to process it is blood. Your irises squeeze as you dumbfoundedly stare at the ivory gloves tainted with the crimson hue. Just as you intend to step forward, the surrounding spins around as though Earth and Heaven are twitching position, and you kneel only to cough out blood that permeates the fabric. The pollen sparkles in the ether after the collapse, and the shivering lily's petals in chilly winds are the last things in your blurring vision.

#honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan feng x you #hsr dan feng #hsr dan feng x reader #dan feng x reader #dan feng fanfic

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the-gay-disney-games · 3 months

Text

Round 1B: The Lion King 1 1/2 (2004) vs. Mulan (1998)

Propaganda:

The Lion King 1 1/2:

“This movie is about Timon and Pumbaa raising a child together”

“Just 2 dudes raising their son and dealing with commitment issues. The movie heavily leans into the bit that Timon and Pumba are like a couple. Timon is voiced by gay icon Nathan Lane. This movie was my childhood.”

Other propaganda for the original movie with the same idea:

“Simba was literally raised by a gay couple (Timon and Pumba…Timon even literally wears drag in the movie)”

“Timon and Puumba are a queer couple that raised simba into adulthood. Scar is a mean gay. Nuff said”

“Timone and Pumbaa are Simba's gay adoptive dads.”

Mulan:

“Trans awakening for so many of us”

“Well Mulan gives off very non-binary vibes”

“Literally listen to the music also Li Shang”

“just what your intro post said - Milan being trans (or gnc) coded and Li Shang being bi coded. like come on do i even need to explain? I’ll just add that I was listening to “Reflection” on repeat cuz the lines “Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me?…When will my reflection show who I am inside?” we’re stuck in my head. So with that song on loop I decided to finally chop my hair short in true Milan fashion (ok that’s a lie, I didn’t do it myself, but the PRINCIPLE) so not only is Milan trans/gnc coded but I can’t be the only one the movie inspired to finally go for The Haircut or something else related. sry that’s very rambly”

“gnc. bisexual. what more could u want.”

“Both trans and gay coded. Shang was so into Ping that he couldn’t stand to execute him for his “crime”. Also includes drag saving the day!”

“This is less a competition for the queerest movie and more a competition for the second queerest movie. Just *look* at every aspect of Mulan and tell me it’s even a contest.”

“Not only is mulan super trans coded but Shang is definitly bi”

“I know it's the obvious pick, but Mulan is so gender and Shang is so bi. 💯💯💯”

“Mulan is very trans coded. Li Shang is totally bi. Dude absolutely had a thing for “Ping” before learning he was actually a woman (Mulan). Also watching that movie as a young egg made me feel less alone about the fact that I didn’t fit into the “girl” role everyone around me pushed me into. Mulan was kind of my hero and sometimes listening to Reflection makes me tear up a little bit because it’s such a mood but also such a TRANS mood. It’s probably my favorite Disney movie song. “Why is my reflection someone I don’t know” made me THINK as a kid. Disney may be evil but they did the world a great service with Mulan.”

“It is obvious why”

“If movies could turn you trans this one did it to me”

“I mean I assume this one is going to be there, but what if we all think “oh everyone is going to put mulan so I won’t” and then nobody does?”

“it’s mulan”

“Gender”

“Mulan is so trans, however you want to read her (as a trans man, genderqueer, genderfluid, etc.) and Shang is hella bi. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk”

“This movie is SOOOOO trans coded. Captain Li is a bisexual icon. As an Asian queer person I have sat and cried to Reflection by Lea Salonga while staring in a mirror too many times to count. Can I be my authentic self without making my parents who I love hate me? It's too good.”

“My little asian tboy awakening”

“Can be read as transmasc- he finds his true purpose/calling in life by presenting as male- or as transfem- she goes against everyone’s expectations for her by revealing her true self as a woman. A very trans movie. Also just a very good movie in general.”

#polls #queerest disney movie tournament #round 1b #disney #the lion king 1 1/2 #mulan

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checkoutmybookshelf · 3 months

Text

Mixing Magic and Science to Shape Dragon Breath

I'd be lying if I said dragons weren't my favorite magical creatures. There are literally two of them on my desk right now, and I have handed more people the Temeraire books than I care to count. That said, the vast majority of my dragon experience is with what I'm gonna call white westerner dragons. If they're not literally fantasy British, they're inspired by fantasy British dragons, and the dragon world is just a lot bigger than that. So I was absolutely delighted to find a book with a Nampeshiwe and broaden my dragon horizons. Let's talk To Shape A Dragon's Breath.

When Kasaqua chooses Anequs to be Nampeshiweisit, it is largely a matter of safety that first convinces Aneques to leave Masquapaug to learn the skiltakraft to effectively Shape Kasaqua's breath. However, this is an Indigenous woman walking into the heart of Fantasy North America with flavors of Fantasy Nordic Countries, so... colonialism, white supremacy, racism, and imperialism are massive themes and major roadblocks that Anequs experiences. And experiences again. And again. And again. From literally everyone, from her friends, to uneasy allies, to indifferent classmates to bitter enemies. The nuance and variation in the racism that Anequs goes head to head with was stunning--as in it left me absolutely stunned.

On top of that, the world is developed to the point that Frau Kuiper keeps laying out multifaceted, multi-party political issues and Anequs just keeps having to go "literally all of these perspectives share the assumption that my people are uncivilized and need either exterminating or civilizing. What if we tried assuming we are people just as civilized as you with a culture culture traditions just as deeply held?" It's amazing how many characters tell Anequs that she is rude for suggesting that she is a person. Like the number of people I wanted to punch while reading was astounding.

That said, no character in this book is a simple allegory or one-dimensional caricature. Theod Knecht was separated from his family and his people at birth and raised to believe that the other way to be a person was to be Anglish--and even then, he could never be Anglish enough to be fully human. His arc is the complicated emotions of unlearning a system that says you have no worth and reconnecting with your people.

Sander is Anglish and coded as Autistic, but he and Anequs have one of my favorite friendships in this book. They take each other day by day on their own terms and at their own paces, and honestly Sander is just a sweetheart.

Liberty is in an interesting position because she is indentured and living in an Anglish society, which prohibits same-sex relationships. Which does not stop Anequs from expressing her feelings for Liberty in ways that are safe and supportive of Liberty. These two are darling and I genuinely cannot wait to see where they go in the sequel.

Then we come to Kasaqua. Kasaqua is just literally playfulness and joy in dragon form, and she is a delight. She isnt as talkative as say Naomi Novik or Rebecca Yarros's dragons are, but she is expressive and personality-filled nonetheless. There is also her deep-seated joy at [redacted because that's kind of a major spoiler and I don't want to spoil this book].

All these relationships really form and solidify at Kuiper's Academy of Natural Philosophy and Skiltakraft, to which Anequs receives a full sholarship. The school is like a mix of senior high school and undergrad at university, since students between 16 and 20 attend. Most of the students are male, with Anequs and Marta the only female students in attendance for this book. The school is run by Frau Kuiper, who, in her day, basically pulled a Mulan/Alanna of Trebond to get chosen by a dragon, trained, and then sent to the front of a war where she distinguished herself. Her "pet project" to to use Anequs and Theod to "prove that nackies can be civilized" which is honestly pretty gross and causes a metric ton of friction between her and Anequs. In the process though, Anequs learns lessons that it is debatable whether Frau Kuiper meant to teach her that I think will let her be heard in Anglish society enough to support and preserve her people.

Overall, this book was amazing. It was HEAVY, but it needed to be, and that weight just adds to the reading experience. This is one of those books that just literally everyone should have to read at some point.

#to shape a dragon's breath #moniquill blackgoose #anequs #kasaqua #indigenous literature #indigenous main character #indigenous dragons #dragons #books and reading #books and novels #books #books & libraries #book recommendations

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misrepresentedmorallygrey · 1 month

Text

PROPAGANDA

Jason Todd

Jason is as someone else put it succinctly "a mass-murdering terrorist and tax-evader". He does evil, the story constantly condemns him as evil and sinful and thuggish and stupid and uneducated and overemotional. He does have a lower and more selective kill count than Luke Skywalker, John Wick, Disney Mulan, etc. So you got part of the fandom writing an annoying flood of fan fiction about him being a warm soft nice guy skipping through the daisies with his fam (hey have fun, guys). Then you got another side picking out the worst ex-canon comics for him (while they ignore the worst ex-canon comics for their own fave characters i.e. "my fave only did evil because of a mind-control potion, but Jason always chooses to be evil even though the story and the writer himself said he was crazy and broken and suffering from magic insanity")... and accuse him of being a cop (he is a cop-hating cop-killing terrorist murderer criminal thuggy thug thug constantly being hunted by law enforcement in a world bursting to the brim with actual copaganda while the heroes regularly cooperate with police—so many anti-fans are misusing the term copaganda because they hate this fictional character to the point they want to train people to be blind to actual copaganda). Jason is absolutely a villain—and he returned to his hometown when it was a battlefield with hundreds killed in the latest conflict, ruled over by a child-killing torture-enthusiast. War is always wrong and evil, and Jason was raised to be a soldier in that war—and when the promises of justice and safety never came true, he decided to seize power through murder. Jason is evil. He is inarguably a lesser evil than what usually plagues the town. Innocent people are alive because he got his hands dirty. He is such an asshole. People like him should not exist. He shot a 10-year-old in the chest, and nobody not even the 10-year-old cared the next day because it really wasn't a big deal. He was kidnapped by a billionaire with a taste for young boys, and it's literally not a big deal. His crimesagainst fashion are unforgivable tho.

Batman's adopted son and second Robin that got killed by the Joker and came bag to enact a revenge plan by becoming a Gotham drug lord. He had a duffel bag of 8 decapitated heads at some point and planted a bomb on the Batmobile and then got his throat slit by Batman to save the Joker. He stole his older adoptive brother's (first Robin) identity and blew up a high school but he forbade Gotham's drug rings from selling to children and actually became an anti-hero in Gotham and killed the people Batman wouldn't (rapists, drug lords, etc.). He attacked his little adoptive brother (third Robin) and beat him to a bloody pulp. He also slept with Batman's baby mama. He raised a fucked up Superman clone with kindness. He has lead teams of Outlaws on multiple occasions that love him. He's on good terms with many (not all) of Gotham's vigilantes.

Listen. I love the guy, I love him dearly, but I feel like people these days are trying to make him like completely justified in everything he did?? And like you can see where he’s coming from, sure, but my man did absolutely beat Tim Drake, a teen, half to death for the crime of being Robin. He’s morally gray! He had decapitated heads in duffle bags! Let my guy be morally gray please stop woobifying him

Jason Todd is regularly stripped of his autonomy in fandom to make him more palatable and “redeemable”. They attribute his legitimate trauma, annger, and pain driven actions to “pit madness” a side effect of the way he was resurrected. Not only that but so many people don’t even know what he actually does when he comes back, it’s like a shitty game of telephone where each person tells the next a slightly altered version of his return and at the end everyone thinks that Jason hates the kid who took up the Robin mantle after him and wants to kill him and that he is mad at Bruce for no reason and all Bruce needs to do is tell Jason that he is loved (despite Jason having a lot of evidence to the contrary) and everything will be all better. His values and beliefs and convictions are treated as invalid and his trauma is something he needs to just get over because it’s inconvenient and harmful to everyone else and doesn’t he know that everyone else was also traumatized by his death?

vigilante who kills people • traumatized as hell • has trouble differentiating between good deeds and selfishness • shot his little brother on the spine • tried to kill his other two brothers • operates under the belief that controlling evil is the only way to help innocents • has an immesurable love for the people of Gotham and really wants them to be happy and safe!! • please for the love of god fandom stop talking about him as if the bad things hes done are forgiveable AND as if the good things he's done don't matter

Gonna be honest even canon misinterprets him. There's no winning. All you need to know about DC universe is that multiple different writers have had a go at writing him and every time he is wildly different which is maybe why people interpret him very differently?? Canon interprets him in a he did everything wrong way a lot of times and fanon interprets him in a he did nothing wrong way because he is blorbo to many, when he is very much someone who did a lot of shit wrong but also had a lot going on, while thats still not an excuse for like, a lot of maiming and murder, and (usually) later in the timeline he is less trigger happy and has evened out from villain to morally grey, his whole "redemption" to being morally grey is usually up to fan interpretation whether or not they're chill with letting him keep murdering bad people or they say no murder in general, and whether or not bats is chill with the whole he keeps murdering people thing since he has a staunch no murder stance. Also!! a lot of people in fanon write in the whole pit insanity thing as a way to excuse a lot of the things he did while in his full on villain era, and like,,, i don't think that was canon??? like i straight up think the whole pit madness thing was made up but a lot of DC canon is wibbly wobbly already so its hard to say. hope this wasn't too word salady but i hope you understand that whenever you are consuming any piece of media, canon or fanon, with this man in it you have literally no idea what you are stumbling into you, you are playing fucking spin the wheel, which flavour of Jason Todd are we reading about today. I will say though, canon does objectively treat him like dogshit and only really brings him back every now and then as a punching bag for Batsy whenever they want to have edgy emo abusive dad bruce wayne because comic writers think found family is for chumps and so is being a good parent and actively resist it with every ounce of their soul :/ so I understand why fanon strays so far away, it's just that fanon also can't seem to agree on the degree of morally grey he is?? idk someone save Jason it's the worst custody battle of the century between canon and fanon.

Miguel O'Hara

he is dj internalized homophobia. he is so so sick in the head

#misrepresented morally grey #round 2 #bracket c #both bracket #batman #jason todd #spider man across the spider verse #miguel o'hara

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