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coffeewithcutcaffeine · 2 months

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talk my ear off, i'd gladly listen to you for eternity my love, tell me everything you want to say <3

My beloved Lizzie! So many emotions are bursting within me like little balloons right now — excitement, nervousness, all in an intense mixture! Thank you for granting me the opportunity to talk about this! This is a very long post (and I hope no one will consider me bonkers for what I have to say here), but I nonetheless hope someone will read this and enjoy it/find it interesting! ❤️️

I want to use this Ask to basically outline what this is all about — who I am writing about, why I am writing about him, who else is a part of the story, what the themes are, and what I am trying to avoid in my work. The man himself is a little controversial, and I hope this explains why he is worth giving a shot (if you find it being your thing). So, bear with me as I blabber about...

Voievod (a.k.a. it's Vlad Dracula time)

Why am I writing Voievod?

Voievod is essentially my attempt to rehabilitate a historical figure who has become a prototypical villain through a series of betrayals and deliberate propaganda against him, which has tarnished his reputation so significantly that the world thinks very poorly of him even hundreds of years after his death. When someone mentions Vlad the Impaler, the immediate image that comes to mind is “a bloodthirsty tyrant with psychopathic tendencies who killed hundreds of thousands of people in his lifetime out of sheer bloodlust”... and that is a very inaccurate portrayal of his character that stems from intentionally crafted slander that was created during his lifetime, for clear political purposes. While Vlad is far from being an innocent angel, I strive to portray him with the full complexity that his persona embodies. My goal is to give voice to this legendary figure who was, at his core, a man — a man who experienced love, sorrow, victories, losses, and betrayals; a ruler who lived in a cruel world and had to be cruel himself in order to survive.

Also, this historical fiction is by no means a way of a random girlie trying to glorify a despicable person but is instead a thoroughly researched work based on available facts (and a work that keeps being researched still). I am not trying to turn a bloodthirsty tyrant into a hero through silly antics because the current works I am writing for Voievod are the result of almost ten years of research. My initial interest in Vlad began in 2015, and at first, I was also exposed to the portrayal of him as an “evil psychopath” — then I started digging deeper, educating myself, and exposing myself to anything and everything I could that has been written about him so far. Once you start reading works from historians who have dedicated their lives to studying history and have the expertise to analyse historical sources and distinguish between truths and falsehoods, they explain that Vlad was a victim of cruel injustice.

I believe there has been a significant change in the perception of him in the last decade alone. When I first became interested in his story, his English Wikipedia page primarily focused on the “psychopath” stereotype. However, if you visit the page today, you will find a much more detailed biography of the man (although some facts may be missing or not entirely accurate, given that he is a complex subject to summarize in a single Wiki page). In popular culture, there has been a rise in generally positive and complex portrayals of him, and many works attempt to add depth to his character. Even in the second season of the Turkish series Rise of Empires: Ottoman, Vlad is portrayed in a positive and nuanced manner — while he is clearly the enemy of the Ottoman Sultan, his history, character, and motives are explained in a complex way that honours his personality.

All the historical figures who are seen as fierce warriors worthy of admiration were also cruel. Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Charlemagne, Stephen the Great, Mehmed the Conqueror, Napoleon — all of these men are regarded as great warriors and heroes, but they also committed great acts of cruelty during their lives. So I hope people will give Vlad a chance and learn more about his extraordinary life. Or at least be interested in reading something darker about a badass man.

Vlad Drăculea — who, when, where, why.

To sum up his extensive biography in a “brief” introduction, Vlad III, also known as Vlad the Impaler or Vlad Dracula, was a 15th-century ruler of Wallachia, a region in present-day Romania. Born in 1431, he ruled intermittently from 1448 until his death in 1476 or 1477. Vlad earned his nickname “the Impaler” due to impaling his enemies on stakes, and the first mention of this nickname comes from the Turks who called him Kazıklı Voyvoda (Voivode Impaler). He is often associated with the fictional character Dracula, created by Bram Stoker, although the connection is more based on inspiration than historical accuracy. Vlad III is remembered for his fierce resistance against the Ottoman Empire and his brutal methods of maintaining order within his realm. His reign was marked by both acts of cruelty and efforts to defend his kingdom against foreign invaders.

To understand Vlad within the right context, it is important to understand that his actions were not motivated by any wicked “bloodlust” but by his circumstances. From the very beginning, he was a product of his times and a person thrust into a life of intrigue and cruelty. After the death of Mircea cel Bătrân (his grandfather) in 1418, a bitter war of succession started among his numerous sons (including Vlad Dracul, Vlad’s father), which was further complicated by claims made by distant members of the family. This threw the principality into disarray and bloodshed. The average time a voivode spent on the throne during this period was only six to twelve months, and their rule was often marked by power struggles, usurpations, and conflicts with neighbouring powers. At the same time, what had once been a strong and independent principality became a vassal state to two dominant powers of the time — the Kingdom of Hungary and the Ottoman Empire.

Vlad’s main objectives as a ruler were to weaken the power of noblemen in his country (who, in order to keep power in their hands, tried to support the weaknesses of the voivodes to use them as puppets), implement reforms to bring order and progress, strengthen Wallachia’s position and self-sufficiency, and ultimately extricate his land from the intense dependency of being a vassal state to two powers. In a country where your life is constantly in danger and many people seek to manipulate and control you, it is not surprising that Vlad ruled with an iron fist. The late Middle Ages were already violent and brutal, and the volatile and turbulent region of the Balkans only added to the challenges. Survival depended on strength, and rulers had to be ruthless in order to endure.

As for the spread of the Impaler propaganda, there is one man to blame — Matthias Corvinus, the King of Hungary. The monarch arrested Vlad and began to propaganda and lies about Vlad Dracula primarily due to political motivations. Vlad III was a neighbouring ruler who posed a threat to Corvinus’ ambitions for expansion and consolidation of power in the region. At the same time, he used Vlad’s willingness to fight the Ottomans in 1462 to get money for a new crusade from the Pope… and then used the money to buy back the Holy Crown of Hungary which had been in the possession of Frederick III, Holy Roman Emperor for almost two decades. The Emperor was to return the Holy Crown of Hungary for 80,000 golden florins, which is around $ 11,200,000 to $ 80,000,000 in today’s worth. Corvinus’ actions started to seem suspicious to the Christian world, and the king needed a scapegoat to avoid a scandal. Vlad, a man who always remained loyal to his allegiances and promises, was used by the Hungarian king and disposed of when he was standing in the way.

The Wallachian voivode had just defeated the Ottomans all on his own, without the promised help, when he was imprisoned by Corvinus for allegedly siding with the Ottomans. According to the letters Corvinus provided as proof of the ruler’s imprisonment, Vlad offered to join his forces with the sultan’s army against Hungary if the sultan restored him to his throne. Most historians agree that the documents were forged to give grounds for Vlad’s imprisonment, and even Corvinus’ court historian, Antonio Bonfini, admitted that the reason for Vlad’s imprisonment was never clarified. In fact, the lack of proof meant that Vlad was eventually put on house arrest and allowed to marry into the king’s family twice, which is a suspiciously luxurious punishment for a man who allegedly committed high treason. By vilifying Vlad through propaganda and painting him as a cruel and monstrous figure served Corvinus’ political agenda by justifying his actions against Vlad and solidifying his own authority.

Last but not least, it is also important to take into consideration what Romanians have to say on this topic since Vlad is their national hero, and this beautiful post by @/vladvodashitposts perfectly sums it up — highly recommend reading it!

Important characters in Voievod.

Vlad Drăculea: The protagonist of the story, a fierce and determined enigmatic voivode whose life turns into a battle in the treacherous political landscape of 15th-century Wallachia. A man whose destiny is largely determined by unconditional love for his family, a sense of loyalty and justice, and a desire for freedom. Haunted by his past and driven by a desire to protect his homeland from losing its liberty, Vlad must confront his inner demons while battling external threats. As he struggles to maintain order amidst chaos, Vlad’s quest for power and redemption leaves a lasting mark on history.

Vlad Dracul: Vlad’s father, a savvy and just voivode and a skilled diplomat known as “the Dragon”. Having travelled extensively in his life and served on various European courts, Vlad has ambitious plans that he believes will help maintain order and balance in his war-torn homeland. For a while, it seems he might be successful — but pleasing one powerful side only enrages another. When his two sons Vlad and Radu are taken hostages by the Ottoman Sultan to ensure the ruler’s loyalty and obedience, Vlad gets into a precarious — and agonising — position.

Mircea Drăculea: The eldest of the Drăculești siblings, Mircea is raised by his father to become the future Voivode of Wallachia. A good-natured and observant boy, Mircea is considered to be the bright future of the country. When his younger brothers are taken hostages, and his father is held a prisoner, any remnants of innocence are abruptly taken from him and, at thirteen, he briefly becomes the ruler of Wallachia. The tumultuous days swiftly turn the innocent boy into a competent voivode and a formidable warrior — and he would certainly become a hero of the nation if he were not viciously murdered by his family’s enemies.

Alexandra Drăculescu: As the only daughter of Vlad Dracul, Alexandra is destined to live in the shadows of her brothers. However, she always strives to step away from them. Being forced into marriage to survive after the massacre inflicted upon her family does not stop the sharp-minded and intelligent Dragon’s daughter to try to live her life despite the societal pressures. Throughout her life, she becomes indispensable to her brothers, each of whom sits on the Wallachian throne at some point.

Radu Drăculea: The youngest of the Drăculești siblings and a man who becomes known as “the Beautiful” proves to be one of Vlad’s most dangerous rivals — no one loves or hates him with more intensity than his younger brother. Radu’s journey is one of conflicting loyalties, torn between his allegiance to his family and his desire for a different path. As he navigates the intrigues and anguishes of the Ottoman Empire, Radu must grapple with his own identity and ambitions, ultimately facing the stark realities of power, betrayal, and the legacy of his infamous brother. Known to be a highly ambitious and calculating diplomat, Radu knows how to survive — and how to orchestrate his brother’s demise to earn his own freedom.

Cătălina Costescu: The enchanting mistress of Vlad Drăculea possesses a beauty that rivals the dawn’s first light and a cunning wit sharper than any warrior’s blade. Her grace and charm veil a shrewd mind, guiding her through the treacherous politics of the court as she wields her influence with finesse — but her grit and rational approach stem from having suffered great hardship in her past. Even in moments of despair, Cătălina always finds a way to survive and to protect her children, no matter the cost.

Mircea, Mihnea and Vlad Drăculești: The three sons of Vlad Drăculea, the last of whom has a different mother, are all unique yet similar in their own ways. As they navigate the world of cruelty, each of them seeks to forge his own path.

Mehmed II: A formidable and ambitious ruler, Mehmed ascends to power in the Ottoman Empire with a burning desire to expand his realm. Motivated by a vision of uniting the newly conquered lands under his rule and creating a magnificent empire unlike any the world has seen, he orchestrates strategic military campaigns that demonstrate both brilliance and ruthlessness. Over time, Mehmed transforms from a young ruler with audacious dreams into a legendary figure who reshapes the course of history with his conquest of Constantinople and the unification of the Eastern Mediterranean.

Ștefan III: Hailed as the “Athlete of Christ”, Vlad’s cousin Ștefan proves to be a cunning ruler and a marvellous military strategist. The young Moldavian voivode becomes famous for his restless nature, ambitious visions, and zeal that drives him forward to defend his land against the relentless onslaughts. As he battles adversaries both on and off the battlefield, Ștefan’s determination and devotion to his people shape him into a legendary figure of courage and resilience. However, he realises that the price for power sometimes costs a man his humanity — especially when he must betray his cherished cousin.

János Hunyadi: Fueled by ambition and a fervent desire to defend Christendom, Hunyadi navigates the treacherous politics of medieval Europe in search of finding the right opportunities to lead his troops into battles against the Ottoman Empire. With his indomitable spirit, cunning intellect, and unwavering determination, he becomes a symbol of hope and resilience of the Christian world. Despite being involved in Vlad Dracul’s murder, changing circumstances in the world compel him to seek the assistance of young Vlad Drăculea — and a bitter enemy unexpectedly becomes an indispensable advisor.

Matthias Corvinus: The younger son of János Hunyadi becomes the ambitious and cunning King of Hungary — partially through the help of the Wallachian voivode he eventually destroys. With a keen intellect and a thirst for power, Corvinus employs strategic tactics to expand his kingdom, ruthlessly manipulating allies and enemies alike, often resorting to the art of diplomacy and manipulation. His shrewd political manoeuvres and prowess pose a formidable challenge to Vlad Drăculea, testing his resilience in the face of the young king’s relentless ambition.

Themes Voievod focuses on.

Violence and cruelty. I mean… when one writes about Vlad Dracula, you cannot avoid the gore of the surrounding events — his life (and the lives of everyone around him) was no picnics and rainbows. My works include explicit descriptions of torture, battlefield scenes, killings, all things you cannot really omit when writing about such a dark period. I also try to delve into the psychological motivations behind the violent actions of the characters mentioned in my works, and the impact on those around them. However, I always provide warnings and use a tagging system to alert readers in advance, so if someone does not feel comfortable with the explicit nature of these scenes, they can skip them and maybe give a try to other works from Voievod that do not contain any explicit violence.

Politics, intrigues, and betrayal. Sometimes, it is necessary for me to temporarily leave Wallachia and explore the politics and issues of other countries. For the work on Voievod, I have had to do my research on four different countries from that time. Vlad’s interactions with other rulers and his dealings with the Ottoman Empire and other European powers provide quite a nicely fertile ground for exploring themes of political manoeuvring, alliances, and betrayals. Throughout his life, the man experiences numerous betrayals — some that are easier to handle, others that impact him on a visceral level. For a writer who loves exploring the psychology of her characters, this offers a nice opportunity to truly explore just how many different shades a betrayal can have; it can range from personal vendettas and malice up to the heart-wrenching betrayals that are necessary for the greater good.

Power and ambition. Vlad Dracula’s rise to power and his determination to defend his realm against invaders is a prominent theme, but these themes are not necessarily unique to him alone. They also belong to all of Vlad’s contemporaries who seize power at some point in their lives and have their own methods of maintaining and executing it. Vlad’s ambitions and objectives differ significantly from those of Mehmed the Conqueror or Matthias Corvinus, but each of these figures is highly fascinating in their own right.

Identity and legacy. These are prominent themes in the context of Voievod because they apply to both the characters as individual human beings and as public figures. They demonstrate the internal conflicts that arise when these identities clash, as well as the sacrifices that may need to be made at the expense of someone’s values. I also explore how individuals associate themselves with their surroundings and personal values, and how the expectations placed upon them might redefine or distort these values. Additionally, I try to highlight the complexity and contradiction that hide within a person, such as the ability to love fiercely while also being capable of mercilessly taking a life, or the contrast between a joyful and boastful exterior and hidden anguish. Lastly, the themes delve into the idea of what individuals wish to leave behind in the world, and how external factors beyond their control can heavily distort the legacy they desire to leave behind.

Family relations. Voievod manages to map the lives of three generations — that of Vlad’s parents, of Vlad and his contemporaries, and eventually of Vlad’s children. The works heavily focus on the diversity of family dynamics within a single family. It portrays parents who love their children wholeheartedly and yet have to watch themselves fail them, siblings who love each other just as fiercely as they hate each other, and lovers whose lives must continue even when they are forbidden from seeing each other. It highlights how a family can provide immense strength and weaken one at the same time. This is one of my favourite topics to write about because, within the Drăculești family, the emotions that its members have for each other are incredibly rich, conflicting, and painful, and truly showcase the depth and complexity of human emotions.

Psychology of characters. Those who are already familiar with my style of writing know that I love nothing more than looking inside my characters’ brains and dissecting their thoughts one by one sksksk and Voievod provides me with plenty of opportunities to do just that! Delving into the characters’ psyche, motivations, and inner conflicts adds layers of complexity to the personalities and deepens the narrative, as well as explores themes of trauma, vengeance, and the human capacity for both good and evil. The interaction between characters from diverse cultures and environments adds to the enjoyment of the story. It is fascinating to see how they can sympathize with each other despite their differences, or how these differences create barriers that prevent them from understanding each other’s perspectives.

Things Voievod wants to avoid.

One of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to some portrayals of Vlad Dracula is the blatant Islamophobia that some authors insert into their stories which I want to avoid as much as I possibly can, also by doing my research and staying true to facts. Yes yes yes, I know some people will come at me and say that Vlad was a religious man and the “defender of Faith” and called the Ottomans “infidels” — but strong religious semantics were standard for that time and often did not tell us anything about what the person truly thought about these matters (and Mehmed also called himself the “defender of Faith” and called the Christians “infidels”, so it was a mutual thing). Some people use religion and Islamophobia in these depictions to defend their own beliefs, and while it is true that Vlad went to war against the Ottomans, he had far more conflicts with his brothers in Christ — which is why I believe it is important to avoid being hateful towards some of the characters on the basis of different religions and cultures and focus more on the fact that these were conflicts largely based on politics and geographical expansion.

Here is how a writer can avoid slipping into Islamophobia (because, yes, by approaching the story with empathy, accuracy, and a commitment to portraying diverse perspectives, you can create a compelling narrative about Vlad Dracula that avoids perpetuating Islamophobia):

Historical accuracy: One should adhere to the facts about Vlad Dracula’s life and reign without great embellishments or distortions of historical events to fit a narrative that vilifies Islam or Muslims. Also, when you study about one side to understand them better (written accounts, societal beliefs, religion, etc.), it is also important to learn as much as one can about and from the other side. If you want Vlad Dracula to be treated with respect and without all the blatant slander and propaganda thrown at him, you should approach everything and everyone the same way. The works should also educate, so it is crucial to provide context for the historical events depicted in the story, including the complex political and religious dynamics of the time period, to help readers understand the motivations behind the characters’ actions without demonizing any particular group.

Avoid stereotypes: It is super important to ensure that any Muslim characters in the story are portrayed as diverse individuals with their own motivations, beliefs, and personalities, rather than as one-dimensional villains or caricatures (which is what some works tend to slip into and which feels very wrong). What individuals do does not stem from their religion, but rather from their own personality. Even among the Christian characters, there are some despicable people, as evidenced by certain powerful noblemen from Wallachia or one scheming king from Hungary.

Highlight complexities: All of the characters’ motivations and actions should be explored in a nuanced way and with minimal to zero personal bias. These historical figures were multifaceted human beings, just like us, and cannot be reduced to simple labels of “good” or “evil”. The world is complicated now, and imagine how complicated it must have been during the bloodshed of the 15th century.

Include diverse perspectives: What I enjoy working on is incorporating viewpoints from different characters, including Muslims, to present a balanced portrayal of the historical context and its impact on diverse communities. Through extensive learning about the Ottoman Empire, I have gained valuable insight into a religion that is foreign to the predominant one in my country, which has made me more open-minded and knowledgeable about the world’s differences. Additionally, to create a multi-dimensional character, it is beneficial to include the perspectives of those around them, even if they are impartial or hold negative opinions.

Condemn prejudice: It is one of the golden rules of any storytelling that if the story addresses themes of discrimination or prejudice, the author should make it clear that such attitudes are harmful and unjust, regardless of the historical setting.

Additionally, it is important to remember that Vlad spent approximately seven years living with the Ottomans during his formative years. This exposure to different cultures and religions undoubtedly influenced his perception of the world, and while we will never truly know Vlad’s exact thoughts, I strive to shape his character in a way that highlights how the diversity of cultures he was exposed to became a natural part of his life and customs. Here we circle back to the complexity of one’s portrayal — just because he hated being the hostage and was rebelling against his surroundings does not automatically mean he despised and refused everything and everyone new around him. He was an intelligent man, so it is natural to portray him as a curious boy who decides for himself that he enjoys certain things, and these things in turn only make sense to incorporate into his life.

A few mini HCs to show his “Ottoman influence”:

I have elaborated here on my thoughts about how the Muslim culture of the time influences his sexuality and his treatment of women.

We know that he spoke fluent Turkish and Arabic and continued to converse in these languages without any issues long after leaving the Ottoman Empire… which implies that he must have deliberately practised, as one’s vocabulary decreases over time with infrequent use of a language.

He will always appreciate the Ottomans’ advanced sanitation infrastructure and medical knowledge.

Just as Mehmed the Conqueror is interested in theoretical studies of Christianity, Vlad voluntarily studies a bit of theory behind Islam (I want to highlight voluntarily because the Ottomans very rarely forced Christians into becoming Muslims, so Vlad would do so of his own volition). At the same time, Vlad is a pretty strong believer in kismet in certain matters, as opposed to the Christian definition of destiny. His free-spirited nature gravitates more towards the dynamic interplay between divine sovereignty and human agency where individuals are called to make choices and play an active role in shaping their destinies (while also trusting in God’s overarching plan), but the fatalism of kismet, where events are seen as immutable and predetermined by divine will, appeal to him as he believes his mission in life — to push his beloved homeland towards prosperity — is written in his bones and ensconced around his neck.

When he is gifted his beloved Turkoman horse by the Ottoman Sultan (truly the love of his life), he is given the nazar boncuğu talisman to protect him and his new horse from evil spirits. Though it does not protect him from the evils of the world, he keeps it in his possession his whole life.

He knows several poems of Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī by heart.

WARFARE STUFF. He was trained in military tactics and fighting there, so he has grown accustomed to the Ottoman weapons (generally lighter) and fighting style (based on agility, mobility, and adaptability). In adulthood, he prefers using kılıç (one-handed, single-edged and curved scimitar) to the standard hand-and-a-half European sword — and even Corpus Draculianum admit that it was pretty possible he used an Oriental-style weapon! Also, he still keeps a hançer (the Oriental curved dagger) he was gifted there.

In the Ottoman Empire, there existed a practice of requiring noblemen, particularly those in the administrative and military elite, to learn a craft or trade. Vlad likes the idea of learning a skill on his own and picks forging (some historical sources claim that he even learnt tailoring during his imprisonment in Hungary, so the man was full of talents!). Learning a craft had several purposes, but among them:

By learning a craft, Ottoman noblemen could develop practical skills that could be useful both within and outside the context of their official duties. This versatility allowed them to even possibly contribute to various aspects of the empire’s economy and administration, making them less reliant on external sources for certain goods or services.

The Ottoman Empire was a diverse and multi-ethnic state, encompassing various cultures, languages, and religious communities, and requiring noblemen to learn a craft helped integrate them into Ottoman society by fostering connections with artisans, merchants, and other segments of the population. This integration contributed to social cohesion and stability within the empire.

In general, I also aim to avoid being influenced by personal opinions and unintentionally portraying a character as solely good or bad. If a character has done something terrible, I make sure to mention it. Likewise, if they have done something extraordinary, I also make sure to mention it. (This only applies to the character of Matthias Corvinus whom I genuinely despise, so you can imagine the anguish and torment of my heart… But commitments are commitments.) The only explicitly bad characters are some of the side characters who play no great role in the story other than being Vlad’s enemies or the characters that are explicitly mentioned in historical accounts as being the bad guys within the specific context.

Another thing I vow to avoid like the plague is the distorted portrayal of Radu, Vlad’s brother. Because of Radu’s sexuality and affair with Mehmed, he is often portrayed as a deeply feminine, submissive, weak, and overly emotional tender flower who is the exact opposite of his elder badass brother and who only achieves things thanks to Mehmed — and that is very wrong and frankly reeks of blatant homophobia. He is also often portrayed as incredibly incompetent, which is also far from true. Another extreme is that a very traumatic event of Radu’s life (it is a historical fact that Mehmed tried to rape Radu) is glorified by some people and turned into a dark forbidden romance, which disregards the horrific situation of a human being that most likely influenced the rest of his life. We do not know as much about Radu as we know about Vlad, but we can take the facts we have available when portraying him, and that is what I am trying to do.

Radu is in fact one of the dearest characters to me because of how complicated and full of contradictions he is, maybe even more than Vlad. He grows up adoring and idolizing his elder brother and has a hard time accepting their differences as time goes on, when their different approaches to life with the Ottomans create a rift between them. He may not possess the same level of brilliance as his elder brothers in terms of warfare, but he is undoubtedly a highly perceptive tactician and an incredibly skilled diplomat. What sets Radu apart from Vlad is his remarkable charm, which he can utilise and adapt as needed — he has a unique ability to disarm people with his words, often without them even realizing it. Where Vlad refuses to lie and prefers the type of honesty that cuts to the bone, Radu is more adjustable as it buys him time to navigate obstacles without engaging in direct confrontation. His stay with the Ottomans is also very complicated because, on the one hand, he desires to build a life for himself there, but on the other hand, he tries to find his way out when the right opportunity presents itself. He has the bravery and determination of his siblings, he just has his own means of surviving and reaching his goals. In theory, these differences would be perfect if they ever managed to become co-rulers as one would excel in qualities the other did not have, creating a perfect balance — in practice, it leads them to fight against each other.

But Radu also shares many similar traits with Vlad, especially when emotionally pushed into a corner, and the more he tries to suppress these similarities, the more they shine forth. In a way, he will always be the polar opposite of Vlad, as well as his mirror. He will never stop loving his brother with all his heart but will always hate him ferociously, and he will never stop wanting to protect him from everything while yearning to be the one to deliver Vlad’s blow of death. On several occasions, he tries to help Vlad, just to want to make him suffer. Their relationship is bittersweet and conflicting, yet beautiful because it exemplifies the complexity of sibling relationships, especially when disagreements and betrayals arise and grievances cannot be addressed.

And that would be all from me today! Sksksk I hope I will not be condemned by the community and Vlad gets his chance among others. Now let me hide in a dark cave for a while. 🙈❤️️

#ask reply #( work: voievod )#additional asks are always welcome y'all!

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lucky-draws · 3 years

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what if every Friday (penis Friday) I posted nsft stuff.....a weekly dose of horny on main.....it would be nice to have a schedule for something on this blog maybe

#it doesn't have to be Friday actually it could easily be on touch my body tuesdays #manhole monday?#any thoughts my treasured tumblrinas??#maybe every other Friday actually ...that could work #i may stop posting as much in the coming months anyway depending on if i can find work etc so. hm #much as i enjoy coming on here and posting silly images full time i may have to post a slightly more normal amount. once a week or less #anyway what do we think troops what day of the week shall lisette-draws draw dick (and other features)#i suppose suck her dick sunday works too

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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Memory - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where Bucky's a vampire but still manages to develop a breeding kink

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, vampire!AU, creampie, daddy kink, mention of blood because of biting

A/N: this is for my darling cousin @whisperlullaby‘s challenge, and also my own! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. I hope you guys will enjoy this silly idea of a vampire with a breeding kink 💛 I had a blast writing it! Unbeta’ed because I almost died this week and cannot be bothered to stare at my writing for any longer.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Okay, let’s play truth or dare!” I groaned as silently as possible at the proposition. One of the downsides of dating someone in college was having to deal with the immaturity of their friends, especially when I was unable to escape yet another invitation for a weekend getaway.

There were only so many encounters a man could refuse before mysterious became annoying, and I knew I was toeing the line, even if my girlfriend never complained.

She understood just how irritating these gatherings could be to me. It would have been easy to imagine if there was a realistic age gap between us, but considering the centuries that separated our birth dates, it was laughable that anyone would entertain the idea of me with a bunch of young adults who only wanted to get laid, smoke some weed and drink their asses off.

Of course, her friends didn’t know my true age, so they only thought I was a little bit irked by their behavior. Y/N knew the truth, and so evidently she tried to get me out of it, but I resisted.

I wanted her to take part in the normal experiences people her age were having. There was already so much that she was missing out on just by being with me - and I wasn’t even referring to the blood that she granted me every night.

I’d accepted to be there with her that evening. I was going to immerse myself in the full experience, if only to learn a bit more about her and those she surrounded herself with.

Her best friend let out a little excited yell when she noticed that we were joining the circle and I forced myself to smile at her. “Alright, let’s do this.” One of the male friends rubbed his hands before reaching for the bottle, making it spin as I frowned. I thought that was a different game, but apparently I was mistaken.

It landed on a girl I had yet to get acquainted with, and so I disconnected myself from the conversation as I watched my beloved laugh and have fun with her friends. It made me feel warm. It made me grateful I had decided to join.

A few more rounds went by without anything of essence actually happening. I was about to excuse myself when the bottle surprisingly stopped while pointing at Y/N.

She gasped as she stared at the man who was responsible for deciding her fate, and I already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming next. But she was smart, so she avoided the dare that would undoubtedly enrage me, leaving her to answer a question that I also would have preferred not to hear.

“So… Y/N…” He began, taking far too much pleasure at the situation, and by the way she rolled her eyes, I knew she was thinking the same.

“Yes, Simon.” He opened his mouth to say something, but instinctively looked my way. I was trying my best not to let any emotion slip through the cracks of my perfectly constructed mask, but whatever it was that he saw seemed to make him change his mind.

He closed his mouth and frowned, for a second deep in thought, before he sighed and finally voiced his question. “Just tell us one of your kinks.”

It sounded like he was trying to get this over with, and although Y/N seemed just as confused, she cleared her throat and gave him an answer.

“Oh, I don’t know… I guess.. Creampie?” Little giggles and comments rose around the circle, but nothing really stuck out and they were quick to motion her to spin the bottle so another person could have a turn.

It was a different reaction that I was expecting, especially considering what everyone did for much tamer answers, but the explanation for the lukewarm crowd was made clear by a groaned comment from Simon to the man beside him.

“This is no fun now that she isn’t single.” A small giggle resonated by my side, and I turned in the direction it came from to find my girlfriend trying to suppress her amusement behind her palm.

“Something funny, little one?” I knew they’d take notice of the pet name, but I honestly couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care, and the fact that she smiled openly up at me showed me that she didn’t, either.

“Not at all.” She pulled me closer to deposit a quick peck on my lips and I was sure if my heart was still beating, it would have fluttered at the way she looked at me. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course.” Thankfully, the game didn’t last much longer - for us, at least. Somehow, the bottle didn’t land on me once, and Y/N started to yawn, her head resting against my shoulder after the third consecutive “Who would you rather bang?” question.

“I think we’re gonna leave for the night,” she excused us even though I knew she wasn’t really sleepy. She really could be an excellent actress when she wanted to.

We walked up the stairs to where the bedrooms were located, quickly getting in what had been assigned as ours for the weekend. She smiled softly at me as she reached for her backpack, no doubt looking for the one shirt of mine she always slept in, but I had a few things in my mind I wanted to ask her about.

“Why do you like creampies to much?” The words spilled out at me so unusually, considering the silence in the room, it didn’t surprise me that it took her a while to answer. When she did though, I was surprised to find her biting her lip, a look between amused and horny in her eyes when she approached me.

“Dunno.” She shrugged, taking my hands in her and playing with my fingers. I knew it was a way to avoid my intense gaze. “Guess I have a bit of a breeding kink, actually. It just felt too personal to share with those guys.”

The answer took me by surprise as I stared down at her, blinking a couple of times as I made sure to really process what she had said.

“A breeding kink?” I confirmed, and she rolled her eyes in that way I knew she did when she was embarrassed but trying to play it off as annoyed.

“Yeah, you know.” She pulled away from me to sit on the bed, legs dangling off of it almost like a child. “I like the idea of being bred. Even though I’m in no way ready to become a mother,” she added in a serious tone, making sure I understood what she meant.

But I didn’t. I didn’t and I guess it was clear in my face, because she quirked an eyebrow and jumped out of the bed, coming to stand before me once more.

“Why is this so weird to you?” She inquired, head tilted in amusement. “You’re over a century old, I’m sure your expectations regarding sexual relationships were related to impregnation for most of your life.”

And I mean… she wasn’t wrong. But I hadn’t thought about that for so long, I guess it didn’t occur to me that there was an actual term for it these days.

“There’s no way you don’t have a breeding kink.” The affirmation sounded almost like a dare, so my instinct was to fight it, wrap my arms around her torso so I’d keep her close to me, but deny it.

“You know I can’t ‘breed’ anyone anymore, darling.” But she wasn’t giving up. Her fingers softly traced my jawline, eyes sparkling with a dangerous glint as she countered, “Doesn’t mean you can’t like the idea of it.”

Even though I didn’t need the oxygen, I inhaled sharply, suddenly fascinated by her every movement, the way she gently unwrapped herself from my arms to slowly unbutton her simple dress, the one she made it look like a fucking gown.

“Think about it, Buck…” Every inch of skin that became exposed to my eyes still had my mouth watering, desperate to taste her all over.

“Wouldn’t you want to see me round with your child?” The question provoked my imagination, playing with her features as I thought about what she proposed. Her breasts fuller, stomach protuberant, and maybe a little feet rubbing against the skin, something I could kiss.

“See me carry your genes, continue your lineage… Wouldn’t you want that?” Her innocent eyes spelled trouble when she stood before me again, close enough to touch.

And I couldn’t deny that the idea did something to my heart - even though it didn’t beat anymore. Most undeniably, it definitely did something to my cock, which now strained against my pants, the arousal that the image of her impregnated by me provoked bursting as I looked at the creature that I loved in wonder and fascination.

“Are you trying to tempt me, doll?” She bit on her lower lip to stop herself from giggling before I pulled it away from her teeth when I took her in my arms again, naked breasts rubbing against my shirt.

“Is it working?” She breathed out, eyes connected to mine while she tried to gather my feelings about her attempt. I pressed her body closer, making sure she’d feel the hardness in my pants before I even voiced it.

“Very well,” I whispered in her ear, enjoying the way my cold breath awakened goosebumps all over her warm skin. She never complained about the difference in temperature, something that I was profoundly grateful for, since I loved to feel her hot blood pumping underneath my fingertips whenever I trailed my digits over her flesh.

“So tell me,” she pressed, still going for seductive even though she sounded slightly out of breath, her desire evident in the way her pupils had dilated. “Would you like to breed me, James?”

A shiver went down my spine at the question and I closed my eyes for just one second, just to relish in this sensation before I opened them to confess, “You have no idea how much I’d like that.”

My hand easily spread her lower lips, middle finger running between them to test her wetness and finding her soaked, like she always seemed to be for me. The knowledge had me smiling as I lifted my hand to taste her before making quick work of my belt, observing her slowly walking backwards towards the bed as I followed, almost like there was a thread connecting us, keeping us close.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned against my ear as he buried himself inside of me and I clutched at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him connected to every part of me.

Only he could get me this way. Chest heaving, mouth open just from the simple act of feeling him stretching me open. It didn’t matter how many times he took me, it still burned the same - and I loved it.

“Tell me, doll,” he panted, hypnotizing eyes connected to mine, unwilling to let my gaze escape his hold. “Tell me you’d want to have my child. You’d look so beautiful with your body changing because of me, wouldn’t you want that?”

I groaned, throwing my head back as James fucked me senseless, his cock ramming against my sweet spot over and over again. He knew no mercy, I knew that. I just never anticipated to have such an overwhelming reaction to a silly little kink I never even thought I’d ever get to explore.

“Answer me, little one.” His fangs came into play then, piercing around the nipple that he sucked, galvanizing me into actually responding, “I would, I would, daddy,” while pulling on his hair without even realizing.

He let go of my breasts to look at me with dark eyes - not because he had come in contact with my blood, oh no. It was clear that this was the reaction to the name that escaped me so easily, waving its way into him until it broke the last bit of his control and left him completely undone, only determined to fuck me.

I watched him lick his lips before he ordered, “tell daddy you want his cum inside of you.” Hearing him acknowledge this other secret kink, refer to himself as it had me delirious, unable to formulate any words to obey him, so I opted to hide my face in the crook of his neck, hoping the feeling of my burning cheeks would satiate him.

What a mistake.

“Oh, so now you’re shy?” He mocked, rubbing his jaw against my cheek as I whined against him. “Want daddy’s cum so much but can’t be a good girl and beg for it?”

I came with a long drawn-out gasp right then, my body twitching underneath his as his cock dragged along my walls once, twice, a third time until it spilled his cum inside of my channel. The act was so hot to me that it had me pulling on his hair, whispers of “I love you, I love you,” tumbling out of my lips.

He silenced me with a kiss, still managing to keep on thrusting until I had to push him away because of my sensitivity.

“Spread your legs for me, little one…” He ordered, brushing his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation. “Let me see the mess I left there.”

I was still a bit nervous about the whole ordeal now that the wave of horniness had left me, but I did eventually spread my legs for him, whimpering as he bit down on his own lip at the sight of his spent dripping from my abused pussy.

“Oh, you look so good like that, darling.” I could barely contain my giddiness as he laid down by my side and pulled me to rest on his chest, pressing a kiss to my temple while he caressed my arm. “But one question remains unanswered.” To my almost sleepy hum, he proceeded, “Why do you like the idea of breeding so much?”

That got me thinking, wiping the tiredness off of my muscles like a bucket of cold water. It felt weird to admit it, but at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to bare my soul to the man I loved, to have him aware of every little thing about me…

So I admitted, “I like the idea of being yours… in this very scary, slightly territorial way.” At his silence, I giggled, hiding my face on his chest as I waited for his response.

“But you are mine,” he reminded me, and even as I rolled my eyes, a silly smile painted my lips, loving that he felt like he needed to tell me that.

“I know I am,” I recognized. “It’s just another way I’d like to be claimed by you. Besides, I can just imagine how well you’d take care of me…”

Silence filled the room as we both got lost in the images of what could never be. Me with a fully-grown belly, walking like a penguin as he held up tiny onesies that looked ridiculous in his huge hands.

My heart ached for what could never be, surely, but I couldn’t really grieve a future I’d never have while I was so happy with the man who wanted to give me one.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed the back of my hand, and even though he knew it wasn’t exactly what I meant, it was just enough. “I’m sorry that I can’t ever give you children.”

The guilt in his tone was almost palpable, and I wanted to do anything in my power to make it disappear. This wasn’t what I intended when I shared my sexual fantasies with him. They were just that - fantasies. I wouldn’t trade my reality for any alternative version the universe could offer me.

“It’s alright, babe,” I assured him, depositing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart would be beating for me if it could. “I think the way you want to claim me is just as territorial… and much more final.”

Bucky held me close, breathing me in - even if he didn’t need to do that to survive - before he asked me the last doubt that still hovered in his mind.

“Aren’t you scared?” And as I laid there in his embrace, feeling loved and cared for, I knew the only acceptable answer that I could give him was, “It’ll be worth it.”

#whispers700challenge #my 2k challenge #my fics #bucky barnes smut #smut #vampire au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes reader inserts #bucky barnes fanfiction

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qianinterprises · 3 years

Text

Fated To You

Pairing | Kitsune!Yuta x Human, gn!Reader

Warning(s) | depictions of violence, minor character death, supernatural character, blood, mentions of stabbing, mentions of murder

Synopsis | You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you found the injured fox hiding away in the forest. However, after accepting the fox pup into your life as a new member of your home, you quickly realized that there was more to him than just an adorable fox with an odd number of tails.

Genre: supernatural au, fluff, angst, soulmates au

Author's Notes | I have had quite a longing to write a supernatural character, and, while my favorite supernatural creatures are werewolves (they're majestic amazing creatures, shush), I wanted to do something a little different, thus, Kitsune Yuta was born! This has also been posted on NCTA under the name Tori, so if you see it there, it's me. I really hope you enjoy this piece!

Word Count | 6.5k

Tag List: @treasuretaeil

The moon began to rise over the land, casting grotesque shadows over the forest as your feet moved carefully over roots that protruded from the mossy earth. Your hands held strong to the green flashlight clasped tightly in your fingers, lighting the way through the darkened trees as the sun continued to fade.

It had never been your intention to stay out this late. Fresh air. That’s all you had needed. Air to clear your head and calm you down from the near panic attack you’d thrust yourself into as you thought about all the papers and assignments you’d have to complete within the next few weeks.

It was a lot; juggling a full-time job and part-time university. You’d known it was going to be when you’d decided to finally finish your degree. What you hadn’t anticipated was everything piling up at the end, making you truly stretch yourself to get everything done correctly and on time without losing your job and crumbling under the impending weight of unemployment.

Luckily for you, behind your rented out house, was a forest. You weren’t exactly sure how far it stretched, nor had you ever explored it before, but you had a certain affinity for nature. When you began to lose yourself, you slammed your book shut and got up with a huff, grabbing your unused backpack out of the closet and setting out into the woods, hoping immersing yourself in nature would calm you down.

It had. Walking about, listening to the birds sing and the trees grow had soothed your mind and allowed you to relax for the first time in several weeks. You’d gotten so relaxed that, as you sat against a sturdy oak for water and a snack, you found yourself drifting off.

It was only recently that you had awoken. Your eyes blinked open as the sounds changed and the peaceful chirping birds were replaced with the soft, yet creepy, hoots of owls and the howls of wolves.

You’d never meant to be out there that long, but as you pulled yourself off the ground, you were thankful you were smart enough to have a packed back full of extra water, a few snacks, a rope just in case, a compass, a hunting knife, and a flashlight along with batteries.

As the sun descended, you pulled the flashlight from your backpack and here you were, wandering the woods at dusk, navigating your way back to your house in a forest you’d never been in before.

Perhaps it was the start of a disaster. Or perhaps it was keeping you away from your books for just a little longer.

Whatever the reason, you tried not to panic as you made your way through the woods in a direction you assumed was home but honestly, you were too sure.

You scanned your beaming light over varying trees, looking for the mark you’d left on a particularly girthy oak, a mark that would signal your correct direction and your soon entrance into the backyard of your home.

As your light hit along the trees, searching high and low, it caught the glow of a pair of glassy eyes not three feet from where you stood. With a shriek, you jumped back, stumbling over a tree root and falling back onto your bum, letting out a whine at the pain.

You shined your light back on the spot you’d saw the eyes and found them again, wide, yellow eyes staring back at you in, what you could only assume was fear. Fear that pulled at your heartstrings, because this wasn’t any regular fear of humans. This was absolute terror.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up onto your knees, dusting the dirt off of the bottom of your jeans as you carefully inched forward, careful not to spook the animal which you assumed to be a mistreated cat or an abused dog.

The animal didn’t move, seeming to be frozen in place as you moved closer. It was only when you managed to shift the bush it was hiding in that you realized what it actually was.

A fox. A small, dull orange fox that still resembled a pup. It had greying pointed ears and a dirt covered orange coat. As your eyes trailed over the body of the fox, they landed on the tail, or shall you say, tails! By your count, nine, although you knew that couldn’t be right! It’s tail was likely matted in nine big places! You pushed the question of tails out of your mind and roved over its body, finding surprisingly small paws and a muzzle covered in a crusty red which you quickly realized was blood. That fact alone should have sent you running, but as your eyes scanned it’s body, you quickly realized the source. An opened gash on the foxes side, just above it’s hip, steadily weeped a bright red liquid that would claim the fox’s life if kept untreated.

Your heart broke for the poor animal and you knew you couldn’t simply leave it to die. Carefully, you offered your hand for the fox to sniff and, as soon as he did, he seemed to trust you a little more.

You’d taken several animal science classes while pursuing your degree, and you knew the technical way animals seemed to trust a human just by sniffing them, but you always found yourself fascinated by the way an animal could get to know someone simply by sniffing their palm.

“I can’t leave you out here. You’ll die from your wounds if I do. Would it be alright if you come home with me?” you asked softly.

Part of you felt silly for speaking to a fox that couldn’t understand you, but as the fox nodded to your question, you felt relieved-

Wait… nodded?!

You stared wide eyed as the fox, who apparently could understand you, slowly crept from under the bush, small whimpers leaving it’s throat as it moved its hind legs. It no doubt hurt, especially with the placement of the wound.

“I doubt any animal hospital would be open right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than anything, but the fox froze in place, fear once again in its eyes.

“You don’t want to go to the animal hospital, do you?” you asked.

The fox shook his head-- you were really going to have to get used to that.

Sighing to yourself, you reached a hand out to gently stroke the orange fur, something the fox stiffened at before all together relaxing in your touch.

That was all it took for you to know you couldn’t let anything happen to this gentle fox.

“Can I pick you up?” you asked. “It may help get you back home with minimal bleeding.”

The fox seemed to pause, as if pondering and you were beginning to odd just how strange this fox truly was. Not like any other wild animal you’d ever happened upon, which, in turn, led you to believe that this was not just another wild animal.

The fox moved closer to you and touched its nose lightly to your hand. You took this as the ‘go-ahead’ and, very gently, you lifted to fox pup up into your arms.

It whimpered slightly, but as you pressed it’s wounded side purposely against your torso to still the bleeding, it relaxed in your arms.

You didn’t know how you were going to get him home. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure where home was, but as you shined your flashlight carefully clenched between your teeth, your eyes landed on the jagged ‘X’ you’d etched into the pine.

With a breath of hope, you moved toward the mark and within a few paces, you were standing in the yard of your house.

Carrying the fox through the yard was made easier by the darkness. You flicked off your flashlight, relying on memory so as not to draw your neighbor’s attention to yourself or the orange mass in your arms. When you finally made it to the front door, you opened the latch and let yourself into your messy living room covered in stay books and disposable coffee cups you hadn’t yet gotten rid of.

You latched the door behind you carefully and carried the fox going scarily limp in your arms through the house and into the bathroom.

“Don’t go to sleep, please,” you begged the droopy-eyed fox as you placed it in the bathtub.

It seemed to struggle to stand and you knew you had to work fast. Helping it lay down surrounded by the porcelain walls, you moved to the sing, ripping open the medicine cabinets and began rifling through everything you had, which wasn’t too much. You may have been training to be a veterinarian, but that didn’t mean you were already practicing.

Luckily, after shuffling around, you managed to find basic rubbing alcohol and peroxide along with several large bandages, gauze, and, the best find yet, suture thread with a needle.

Pulling on a pair of gloves you usually used to dye your hair, you turned back to the tub with your utensils only to find the fox had drifted off to sleep, pants leaving its mouth. It didn’t have much time left and you’d be damned if you let it die in your house.

Grabbing a towel and a pair of scissors, you knelt by the tub. With the scissors, you hastily cut away the fur surrounding the wound, getting yourself a better image of the wound itself while also making it easier to clean.

Once the wound was exposed, you didn’t know whether you were relieved or panicked, staring at the long gash clearly having been made from a sharp knife. This was no animal fight as you’d first thought. This was intentional and likely had been done by a human. No wonder it had been so scared, yet it begged the question, why had it trusted you?

You pressed a towel to the still weeping wound, pressing down hard to still the bleeding. Once it was mostly halted, you poured peroxide on the wound, flushing out any dirt and grime before washing it with rubbing alcohol that surely would have hurt like hell had the animal been conscious.

With the wound cleaned, you sterilized the suture kit with the rubbing alcohol and threaded your needle. You’d done suture’s before, but only on test dummies. Having a real patient had your stomach twisting in knots, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

Bringing the needle to the skin, you began to stitch up the now cleaned wound, careful not to injure the fox further. The stitches weren’t pretty by the time you’d finished. A professional could have done a much better job, but at least the wound was closed. You placed a bandage over the wound before wrapping the gauze carefully around the fox’s waist, keeping it loose enough it didn’t constrict him, but tight enough to keep pressure on the wound.

Time was still sensitive. You very well may not have gotten to it before it lost too much blood and you had no way of administering a transfusion. It was solely up to the fox now whether it lived or died.

As it slept in the tub, you ran your fingers through it’s fur, too scared to leave it alone. As you stroked around the foxes neck, your fingers gazed over metal beads buried deep in the fur. Curiosity got the better of you and carefully, you pulled at the beads until you unveiled a dark metal necklace that resembled a collar only slightly.

Inquisitively, you trailed your fingers along the beaded necklace of a collar until you gripped the base, the end that hung down at the fox’s chest. It was then that you saw it.

Resting at the base of the necklace was a dog tag with only one marking. A marking that spelled out a name.

Yuta.

As you ran the tag over in your hands, careful to not disturb the fox, you found no address or number to call. There was nothing to give you any information about who this pup belonged to. However, you supposed, whoever it was wasn’t a very good owner if the knife wound were anything to go by.

Letting the necklace drop from your hold, you ran your hands over the fox’s head.

“Yuta,” you mumbled to yourself.

The name had a nice ring. A name that seemed to roll off your tongue as though your tongue was meant to speak it. And perhaps that holds true as the moment the last syllable left your throat, the fox was stirring, shifting as it-he slowly regained consciousness until his yellow eyes met yours.

Something seemed to stir inside you at that moment and you found yourself reaching out to touch the animal again, a touch the fox shifted into, nuzzling against your hand as if he wholly trusted you. You didn’t really know why the fox would trust you, but your heart beamed with joy. A joy that you knew meant you wouldn’t be letting this fox run back out into the wild unless it’s something he truly wanted, but you could already tell, the fox was going nowhere.

That statement seemed to hold true as the next few days passed and Yuta was finally able to walk around a bit more. He tired easily and had a bit of a limp, but he’d managed to walk from one room to another easy enough before giving you a look that begged you to pick him up. Even now, as you sat on the living room couch, laptop perched on your thighs, surrounded by mountains of resource material books, Yuta made his way from napping in the bedroom to where you sat.

You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in your work that you were slightly unaware of your surroundings, but as he pressed his cold nose against your exposed ankle, you took in a sharp breath, eyes glancing down at the mischievous fox who had learned just how to get his way.

“What do you want?” you asked.

It had become normal for you to ask him questions you’d ask a human. The fox seemed more and more human every day, which made him likely the most intelligent animal you’d ever encountered. He truly was one of a kind.

‘Pick me up.’

A masculine voice suddenly permeated your made, making you yelp out at the suddenness of it all, head shaking as you dropped your computer onto the ground, hand coming up to hit lightly against your head.

That was a voice you’d never heard before and most definitely was not your consciousness.

‘Calm down human, it’s only me.’

The voice spoke again, eliciting yet another yelp from your lips as you looked around. There was no one in your house save for yourself and Yuta. No windows or doors were left open and, unless someone was hiding in your closet and speaking, there was no one around. The voice itself was too vivid, too clear to be heard through your ears anyways which ultimately lead you to the conclusion that the voice was in your head, although that didn’t make anything better.

“I’ve finally gone crazy!” you murmured to yourself, eyes wide with worry and fear. “I’m hearing voices! It’s only a matter of time before they lock me up!”

‘(y/n), calm down! It’s only me! Yuta!’

“What?!” you screeched.

You didn’t bother looking down at the fox on the floor. There was absolutely no possible way the voice in your mind was the voice of an injured fox named Yuta who’d come to live with you a few days ago! There was no possible way! You were just-

‘Would you stop saying you're crazy before you really upset me!’

“Leave me alone!” you squealed.

You jumped up off the couch when suddenly, a rush of tranquility washed over you, ebbing the panic away as the masculine voice was once again in your mind, this time, in a much gentler tone.

‘Calm down before you hurt yourself. Look down at me on the floor. Look into my eyes and you’ll understand.’

You don’t know whether it was the sudden sense of calm that had you keeping cool, curiosity, or sheer trust that had you lowering your gaze to the floor where they met Yuta’s yellow ones. As soon as your eyes locked on his, a rush of comforting heat surged through your body, spreading from your eyes down to your toes while washing over your brain. Your knees buckled and your body crashed against the couch as thoughts and memories surged through you, eventually knocking you unconscious, head lulling against the couch cushions.

Two Hundred Years Earlier

When you opened your eyes, your living room was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were standing in a deep, open space painted a galaxy shade of purple. Beside you was a handsome man with long, dark hair that touched his shoulders. He had a lean face and boxy jaw leading to a square chin that only added to his handsomeness. His shoulders were broad but he wasn’t all that muscular, rather, he was lean. A grey shirt wrapped around his frame, long black shorts flowed to a stop below his knees.

“Who are you?” your voice cracked.

“I am Yuta,” said the man, the voice the same one you’d heard in your mind earlier.

“W-what- How-...?” you couldn’t seem to conjugate the words properly.

“I wasn’t going to tell you until later. But I am Yuta, and the fox version of myself… well that’s technically my natural form. While injured, I take that form,” he explained.

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. This Yuta was your Yuta… Your Yuta had a human form… Your Yuta… the fox you’d been sharing your bed with… had a human form…

“Easy now, I’m not sure what happens if you pass out when you're not awake!” the man said, hands grabbing your shoulders to still your wobbling form.

“But how-- I…”

“I’m going to show you,” he spoke softly.

With that, he snapped his fingers and the purple room evaporated from sight. You let out a small screech as it was replaced with air rushing around your face as your bodies hurtled straight from the sky into a forest you’d never seen before. A forest that certainly wasn’t in your backyard.

You touched ground without so much of a wince, your feet settling gently on the plush, mossy earth.

“You’ll get used to that,” Yuta promised as he clasped an arm around your waist to hold your quivering body steady.

“W-where are we…”

“Japan. 200 years in the past.”

“WHAT?! But-”

You trailed off as your eyes caught sight of a beautiful fox with nine tails flowing proudly from her backside strode up in front of your prying eyes, a young fox pup not too far behind, accompanied by his father who kept nudging at the pups hindquarters playfully, earning small little yips from the pup.

“They’re so adorable! Who are they?!”

Yuta didn’t answer for a long moment and when you looked at his face, you caught the fading wisps of a painful memory.

“The pup is me…” he spoke. “And my parents.”

You were about to open your mouth to ask about them when there was a rustle in the trees and a group of six men appeared, each one looking meaner than the next.

Yuta’s father turned away from the pup, who was drawn closer by his mother, as his father approached the men.

“Do you wish to honor our son?” you could hear the father ask although you knew he wasn’t physically speaking.

“Freak!! Unnatural piece of nature!!” screamed one of the men, drawing his sword.

“Hey! Show some respect!” you wailed, fist clenched as you glared at the man who seemed to not even notice you.

Yuta’s arm tugged on your waist, pulling you against his side.

“This is a memory… My memory… There’s nothing we can do or say that will change the past…” he whispered.

“You don’t want to do that!” Yuta’s father exclaimed. “We are kitsunes! We are luck and fortune!”

“Freak!!” the man squealed, swinging his sword at Yuta’s father, who turned to flee from the men, ready to protect his family with his power when another man slashed a sword at the fox’s backside, slashing through all nine tails.

You let out a squeak, hands coming to cover your mouth as a pained cry left the fox’s mouth moments before his body hit the ground and life left his body. You could see the spirit of the fox lifting, rising into the trees, where it would rest as a ghost, keeping watch on it’s family.

The men howled with glee and charged over the fox’s body, trampling it as they made their way for the mother and her pup.

The blaze of a campfire suddenly sparked from the place Yuta’s mother was planning on cooking dinner. A ball of fire lunged at the men, who dodged, and the fire only made them angrier.

The female, just as strong as her husband, held the men at bay with a wall of fire, managing to severely burn four of the six men before the kindling in the fire had died and all was left was embers. She could bend fire, but not without a fire.

“Looks like you’re all out of ideas,” one man, the man who’d killed his father chuckled.

The pup whimpered and burrowed itself in his mothers side, not quite old enough to possess all the powers of his parents.

Frantically, the female fox turned to the pup and, without hesitating, bit down onto its scruff. The pup cried out at the sudden jostle, but his mother did nothing but squeeze tighter. With her pup held close, she leaped over the fallen men and darted into the forest, putting as much distance between herself and the men as she could.

The air around you and Yuta rustled past your faces and suddenly, without moving your feet, your bodies were standing beside a fox and her pup who were now both panting, far from the men that would come searching for them.

“Yuta, listen to me child. The humans are turning on us, but you mustn’t let that stop you from being yourself, from being a true and great kitsune!” the fox’s voice permeated your mind. “The humans will hurt you, try to kill you as it has been prophesied, but you mustn’t let their ways sway you from your duties.”

“Mom!” the fox cried.

He could tell, even at such a tender age, what his mother was about to do.

“You will find your soulmate, who will be human, and you must make the human understand who and what you are. They must understand where you come from. And, if they accept you, bonds between man and fox will be restored once more!”

Her voice was urgent as the sounds of the men tracking them grew louder. Your heart hammered in your chest. You knew what was going to happen, but your heart wept at the fate of the family torn apart. Yuta’s arm around your waist fastened to you tighter, although you weren’t sure if he was holding you or himself together.

You don’t know what spurred you to move, but you turned toward him slightly, enough to unpin your arm from your side, and wrapped both of your arms around his middle, hugging him tightly as together, you watched his mother kiss her pups head softly before dashing off toward the men.

There were yells along with a high pitched whimper before her spirit rose into the air to join her mates, leaving the young pup all alone.

You buried your face in Yuta’s shoulder, squeezing him tighter as a few tears slipped from your eyes, dropping onto his shirt. You’d only witnessed a memory. Yuta had been there. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt the day both of his parents were killed by greedy, uneducated humans.

Present Day

You stood there, embracing Yuta for what seemed like hours before the air was shifting around you again and, by this time, you knew what that meant.

When the air stopped and you opened your eyes, pulling your face from Yuta’s neck, you were standing against the wall of a small little shop that resembled what you would have imagined to be an apothecary’s shop. White-wicked candles burned around the tiny, clutter-filled room, casting a smoky glow around the shop, surrounding the shelved knick-knacks and bottles of liquid medicine. Inside the shop, sitting behind a desk stacked with papers, was a middle-aged man with snow white hair and tan, wrinkled skin, so many wrinkles it looked as though he were shedding. The bags under his eyes were drooping low on his face, making his entire face seem to sag.

“Who is he?” you asked.

“His name’s Mr. Huang.”

Yuta seemed to know that that didn’t answer your question, but you didn’t have time to inquire further before the door to the shop was opening and Yuta, your Yuta, walked in, dressed the exact same as he was now.

This must have been recent…

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang,” Yuta greeted, giving him a respectful bow.

“What do you want, boy?”

Mr. Huang’s voice was mean and cruel, riddled with an angry snarl as his now beady snake eyes looked up to pierce Yuta’s brown ones.

“Is Mrs. Huang nearby? I had a few more questions about the prophecy regarding my soulmate,” Yuta said, seemingly unfazed by the man's harsh tone.

The question only seemed to make Mr. Huang angrier as stood up with, slamming his hands down on the desk.

“Mrs. Huang died this morning,” he snarled.

Yuta’s face dropped, skin growing pale as the man stalked toward him.

“You promised us she wouldn’t die!” the man hissed, slowly approaching Yuta.

Yuta backed up slowly, his eyes racing around the room, looking for something he could use for leverage when his eyes landed on an envelope with his name scrawled onto it.

Discreetly, he picked up the envelope and slid it into his back pocket.

“Mr. Huang, I did everything that I could do. I promised you’d I’d do my best to heal her! But she had lung cancer! I gave her as much life as I could!” Yuta said.

“That’s not good enough!” Mr. Huang yelled.

He reached into his back pocket and produced a long knife with a jagged edge. You gasped loudly as the man lunged at Yuta. Yuta, carefully dodged the first and the second jab, but by the third, his back was pressed against a wall. Mr. Huang stabbed the knife into Yuta’s side, right above his hip. Yuta cried out on pain, clutching his side.

“Let’s see how you fare against pure silver!” Mr. Huang snarled.

Silver wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow his healing way down. His body could be unable to atone for the wound. That coupled with his young form without having a soulmate to help him heal faster would prohibit him from healing much faster than a normal human.

With the blade still lodged in his side, Yuta shoved past the man and bolted for the door, running straight into the forest, careful not to be seen by any other human.

You followed this Yuta’s movements, your Yuta holding close to you as together, you watched this Yuta drop to his knees and pull the blade from his side, crying out at the pain before dropping it.

The boy cried out as he clutched his side in pain, slowing the bleeding as much as he could before leaning himself against a tree, the same tree near the bush where you’d found him.

His body began to shake with the weight of blood loss and you wanted to run to him, but your Yuta held you back.

“It gets better,” he whispered in your ear.

You didn’t like it. You hated watching the man die, but there was nothing you could do. This may be happening in front of you, but it had already happened in the past.

With shaky fingers, Yuta used his free hand to dig the now wrinkled envelope out of his pocket, specks of blood dotting the starch white.

He opened the envelope with that one hand and pulled out the letter inside. Somehow, you managed to see the letter from here.

Yuta,

If you can find it in your heart to forgive my husband for what he has done, please do. I know that he can have a temper, and he isn’t the best when it comes to dealing with his emotions, but he means well, usually anyways. I have no doubt that he has tried (if not succeeded) to commit bodily harm after my passing. He will likely be unable to handle himself after my death.

The truth is, I’ve always known there was nothing you could do about my condition. Guess that comes with the territory of being an old witch. You know when you’re going to die. But don’t worry, sweetheart, today is not your time. You still have that soulmate of yours to meet.

Your mother was right about the prophecy. I do apologize that I could not speak of it with you. The fact is, my husband is one of those humans that will be swayed when you meet your soulmate, and as such, I couldn’t have you or him finding too much information out. The future is tricky like that.

I just thought you should know, dear boy, that your soulmate will appear to you soon. I cannot say when. Yes, I know, but again, the future can be a tricky thing. When they do show up, they won’t hesitate to show you compassion and kindness. You will also find yourself drawn to their gentle soul. And they will be drawn to you, although they will not be able to explain. Go easy on them, hun. They are human after all. Humans are not as good at understanding things like this as you and I are. Be gentle. Ease them into it.

While all of this is nice, I do also have to give you a warning. When your soulmate is revealed to you, you will know almost immediately. However, it may take them a bit, especially if you aren’t as a human. Be patient. However, if all else fails, show them this letter. I will write your soulmate's name at the bottom. The future will allow that.

My second warning is to tell them your past. The burden is not yours to bear alone. Prophecy says that when you meet your human soulmate, humans will stop trying to kill you and those like you. Conspiracy says this is because they will understand who you are and what you are set on this earth to do. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

The gods have seen what terrible things humans can do, and it has swayed their opinions (for the better in my opinion). Rather than revealing your purpose to the humans, only a varying few will know the truth, your soulmate being one of them. The memories of Kitsune’s and other supernatural creatures will be erased from the minds of most humans, so you must be careful with this new chance in life. You must hide your identity as a Kitsune from everyone except family.

Now Yuta, I want you to know that these last two years have meant the world to me. I love you my dear boy and I will always be watching over you along with your parents.

Find your soulmate, and love them as hard and as deeply as you can.

Love,

Mrs. Huang

Ps: your soulmate's name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Treat them well.

Your eyes widened at the last note of the letter before Yuta folded it up and put it back in his pocket.

“(Y-Y/N)... but… that’s my name…” you muttered.

The man beside you didn’t utter a word as the Yuta you were watching suddenly began to quiver even harder than he already was and, within a few seconds, in his place was the same fox pup you’d rescued a few days ago.

“Wait… so… the pup… you really are the pup!” you exclaimed.

Yuta turned to stare at you, eyebrow raised.

“Tell me you didn’t just get that.”

You didn’t say anything back, instead trained your eyes back on the pup who was crawling under the bush to hide. Time suddenly began to speed up and within a few moments, you saw yourself kneeling in front of the bush in the dark, peering at the fox.

“So I… I was meant to find you… We’re connected…”

Yuta nodded.

“You’re my soulmate, and I am yours.”

You didn’t say anything. Your voice felt like it was locked in your throat as a rush of air once again brushed past your face, taking you somewhere new, although you weren’t sure what else was left to see.

“The future is a tricky thing,” Yuta’s voice whispered as the world became a blur of shapes and colors as you were taken to someplace new to see more sights that would expand your outlook on life itself.

Undetermined time in the future

The wind stopped brushing past your cheek and you stood in front of a small, cozy house with a broad backyard and a large forest filled with thick trees, perfect for running. You saw yourself, or rather, an older version of yourself, sitting on a pink and purple throw blanket in the middle of the backyard. Beside you sat a brown picnic basket waiting to be opened and a vacant seat on the other side of the blanket. The older you smiled softly as the clouds in the sky parted and a beam of sunlight shone down, warming your body naturally.

Older you looked far too happy to be on that picnic alone, so your eyes scanned the valley for someone you hoped was there.

“I haven’t seen this yet either,” Yuta whispered.

He brought his arm back around your waist, keeping you fixed to his side, not that you were complaining. Somehow, it felt you belonged at his side.

As your eyes scanned the yard, you almost missed the two bodies emerging from the forest. One was the body of a tall man, a body you immediately recognized to be Yuta’s. The other was a much smaller body, the body of a young girl whom you couldn’t see all that clearly.

Yuta’s breath hitched and you turned to look at him.

“Do you know her?”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the two as they approached the picnic blanket where the older you waited, waving your hand to the two with a bright grin on your face.

Yuta’s reaction to the girl had you pausing to take a closer look at him, waiting for him to tell you who this young girl was. When he seemingly noticed you staring, he turned to look at you.

“I honestly don’t know her. But she has been prophesied many times,” he spoke, voice shaking with emotion.

“She wasn’t in the prophecy I heard,” you conjured.

Yuta shook his head, a smile breaking out across his face.

“There’s not just one prophecy,” he answered. “There are many, about many different things that allow us a glimpse into our fate, but somehow, they never play out the way you think they will.”

“Can you tell me the other prophecies?”

Yuta turned his attention back to the scene and urged you to do the same, but you caught him nodding to your question as the little girl jumped into your lap, laughing and giggling as you began to tickle her.

“I will tell you all of them,” he promised.

The scene before you was nothing like what you’d seen earlier. There was no blood or death or attempted murder. No sacrifices or ominous warnings. There was nothing but peace and love, and if that was your fate, you were happy with it.

The older Yuta sat down beside you on the picnic blanket and, as the young girl became distracted chasing a butterfly, he dipped a finger under your chin and lifted your face to his.

“I love you, my Flower,” he spoke softly.

“I love you too, my Fox.”

He pressed a soft kiss against your lips, a kiss so soft you felt as though you were prying just by watching, and, although it didn’t last long and your own lips hadn’t felt the gentle touch, you knew there was no kiss quite as sweet as the ones from Yuta.

The backyard disintegrated into an array of pickles before your eyes fluttered open and you were staring at the ceiling of the same rental house you’d spent the last three years.

“Was it all a dream?”

“Yes and no,” a familiar voice spoke next to you.

This time, you didn’t jump at the sound of the voice, although you weren’t sure if it was because it was familiar, or if it was because it wasn’t in your head this time.

Turning your head, you caught the sight of Yuta, standing just as he had been in your dream, wearing clothes that were coated in blood, likely the same ones he’d been wearing when he was stabbed.

“How are you not a fox anymore?” you asked.

He smiled as he knelt down on the couch where you were still sprawled out.

“Your human mind couldn't accept the truth earlier. That’s why you freaked out when I began speaking into your mind, which is something I can only do in fox form,” he added. “When I calmed you down by accessing your nervous system, I realized you were going to have to see the truth, so I knocked you out and took you on the journey with me. You had to live through that one way or another,” he explained.

You didn’t understand, not really anyways, not the full story, at least. What you did understand was 1) Yuta was a kitsune, 2) he had a very dark past, and 3) you were his soulmate and, although you hadn’t known him for very long, you were 100% ok with that.

“Now, do you think you can stay calm long enough for me to do something I was dying to do the entire time?” he asked.

“What?”

“This.”

Without further exchange of words, Yuta’s plump lips were on yours and, for the first time through the whole ordeal, you could feel it. And you knew it wouldn’t take much until you were addicted. Because he was Nakamoto Yuta. Kitsune. And your soulmate.

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theirloveisgross · 3 years

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I started a little Twitter project 20 days ago, and it's been consuming me, but it's all good, I'm fine. I'M FINE. I just thought it would be a great and fun way to get some education on what's happened in the last 11 years. Yes, it's focused on Louis (because we're WHIPPED AF, people) but where there's a Louis, there's a Harry, so- same thing. i will not start a harry account, or maybe next year if i manage to keep up with louis' until i complete it full circle.

ANYWAY, the reason for this post was me finding some possible clothes sharing shenanigans in the middle of August 2014. People had made the connection already, and even question it, I'm not claiming to be the first one, but I hadn't seen it in an organized manner so... here we go!

/POSSIBLE SCENARIO: I think it's Louis' hoodie, and Harry just grabbed it. Oh, but not because they share a closet or anything, they barely talk to each other let alone share a living space, ha-ha. It was because Harry was on the tour bus before going to the gym, and as you know, Louis used to live in the tour bus, obviously, so his sweater was just lying around and Harry was chilly from the rain and he was like "this will do", and then Louis came back to the bus and was like "where is me jumpah?!" and then when he found out Harry had worn it the whole day, he was mad, and so he put it through three washes and four drying cycles to get the stench of his mortal enemy off it, and so it shrunk a bit. /end crack

Now, seriously...

WARNING: This post will end in a DEBUNK. yes i started this post and when i was almost done BOOM a photo debunking the whole shit so enjoy the ride

Meme by meme queen @justmybeautifulthings.

✨ Beautiful context under the cut! ✨

It's the morning of August 12 2014 in Washington DC and Harry goes out for a run in the pouring rain! Or did it start raining after he'd started his run? It's an important question. Anyway, fans spot him and he agrees to take a cute photo with them.

Since apparently a run is not enough exercise for a day, he goes to Soul Cycle (it's a chain of indoor cycling gyms, if you're new to the fandom and, like me, thought they were only fancy gyms (which- they are), and apparently H had some sort of promo thing going on with them (haven't looked too much into it)) for MORE EXERCISE! He then gets stalked from Soul Cycle down to his hotel garage by a bunch of "fans". He did not want to take photos and they got mad, and he was so gracious about it all, we don't deserve him. Anyway, here's a post explaining the situation, it was kinda gross. They managed to snap two photos despite him saying no, and this one was one of them:

Then later that night, he was out and about in Georgetown, and took a couple of pics with fans (they have both deleted their twitter accounts by now).

After that, he went back to his hotel and there were probably hundreds of fans waiting for him there because there are hundreds of pics like these ones:

The girl in the first photo is the same girl from the stalker group that talked to him earlier that day. Again, the fact that Harry went ahead and spent a good chunk of time taking photos late at night, even after most likely the same group of people disrespected him earlier, and then they were still there waiting for him to come back... it's just... we don't deserve him, he's way too nice.

Why am I talking about all this if I wanted to talk about the stupid grey sweater? I guess, maybe, because in my head he didn't want photos in that sweater? Nah... I guess it's because I'm more and more impressed by the kind of person Harry is and I guess I wanted it archived. Whatever.

So! People made the connection of this sweater to Louis wearing a very similar one at a show in Dublin on May 24 2014.

I was on the fence, because the light grey on the sweater looked darker, but then on photos with a lot of light it looked like the same grey on Harry's sweater, because even if it's a shitty photo, it seems like there was a lot of light in that parking lot. I was ready to CLOWN!

Then I was like... well, it does look longer on Harry than on Louis, so that doesn't make much sense, but I was still in very much clown mode.

Then on August 23 2014 Louis met some fans somewhere in Dallas late at night, and that's when my brain reminded me of Harry's sweater on the 12th.

Yes, let's appreciate Louis' perfect silly face. How he manages to look this extremely cute is beyond me. Also, his hair. And his pants.

ENOUGH SIMPING.

Ehem, the sweater. SO! Now it looks even shorter on Louis, but it IS the same sweater he wore on stage some 3 months ago, I'm 99.28% sure. Yes, it's probably been washed several times so my made-up crack story from the beginning of the post might not be that far-fetched.

I clowned and clowned and was already claiming this was the same fucking sweater. It belonged to Louis and Harry borrowed it. Yes. Again, hence my crack story from the beginning. So I started making this post to be like "lalala this is cute it's a silly sweater, it might be the same one, or it might be a very similar one but i think it's the same one, because they're disgusting and share everything lalala".

Then this photo from the morning of August 13 2014 jumped at me:

There are two huge letters on the back of the sweater. And...

Yeah. No big ass letters on Louis' sweater.

I'm pretty confident Harry is the person wearing the sweater on that photo and not the person with the white shirt, but we will never know for sure unless we somehow get better pics.

Now, according to this post, they think the sweater is from Soul Cycle. I couldn't find any image from the back, so I'm not sure if it would have had those letters. Or maaaybe the sweater he wore the first time was actually Louis' and then this one was his... LMAO. Nah, nah, I'm not that terrible. I'm gonna for debunking this.

So there it is, not the same sweater, but the same viiiibes. ✌️

P.S.: I love debunking stuff, it's my passion. However, I really did not want to debunk this one, but then it just laid out itself in front of me, so fiiine, I guess it's debunked. Bye.

#the way i debunked this when i was almost done with the post lol #but hey don't want no false information out there #what even is my life #i spent way too much time on this today #now i gotta go set up the tweets for my louis' account #and it's already late #but you know what?#i was happy doing this so... leave me alone!#mine #lh #lh pics #shared clothing #debunkity #oh #you know what's undebunkable?#the motherfucking umbro shirt #umbro shirt my beloved my kingdom my home #august 2014 #may 2014

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tumblingdowntheway2019 · 3 years

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Sleepless Nights, Part One (1).

Heelloooo my beautiful pps, how are we all today? Back again with another Head-Canon. 💪😎💕

So this one is when Donna is adopted by Lady Dimitriscu as a new daughter. This is based on the wonderful @charlottefairchildbranwell's story based on a couple of my Head-Canons. Go check check her out, charlottefairchildbranwell wrote some amazing and entertaining stories for them! Here is a link to one of them.

WARNING: BELOW THE CUT, THIS POST WILL CONTAIN TRIGGERS, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION/PTSD/PANIC ATTACKS/GORE, CHILD TRAUMA, TRAUMATIC EVENTS, ETC.

I MAY NOT BE GOOD AT WRITING THESE THINGS, BUT EVEN THEN IT'S BETTER TO WARN YOU.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

With that said, let's begin. Sorry in advance.

😭🙏

LADY DIMITRISCU'S P.O.V.

It had been over a year since Donna started living in Castle Dimitrescu. A full year since Mother Miranda's reign had come to an end.

Things have been going so well for the Doll Maker. She gained more confidence, can hold a conversation with her family and even the Winters' Family without the aid of Angie anymore.

The Lady of the Castle however, began noticing something strange happening with Donna lately. It was small things, but they became more noticeable as of late.

Donna has been more sluggish in her movements, making small and silly mistakes in her everyday tasks and had been spotted dozing off whilst in the middle of tasks or activities.

Lady Dimitrescu tried to ask many times if she was ok, but Donna has been dodging the questions. Her daughters and Angie noted that she was unable to sleep a full night the past few days, but hasn't explained why.

The fact that Angie doesn't have that usual strong mental connection to her closest friend is worrying. But Angie had mentioned at the beginning that these happen occasionally and it will pass soon enough.

DONNA'S P.O.V

It's happening again, she knew it was too good to be true. The nightmares are back with a vengeance.

Donna deliberately severed most of her connection with Angie as to not draw attention to herself. She hates it.

Those nightmares, no, memories? She can't tell now. They are just too real to tell.

The Doll Maker doesn't know what triggered this, but she didn't want to worry her family.

She tried to act normal in order to to fend off any suspicion, but she was just so tired. Mistakes over simple tasks have been more noticeable.

Naps are too and far between during the day. The Bat Trio had been trying to cheer her up, Donna's been doing her best to keep them happy. It was a good distraction for a while.

Unfortunately, the nightmares had been making sure that Donna didn't forget in the waking world.

LADY DIMITRISCU'S P.O.V

Lady Dimitriscu had been keeping a closer eye on her daughter. Made sure to be close by should anything happen.

She observed that Donna has been flinching at random shadows or reflections, dozing off with book in hand, nearly dropping it as she jerked herself up and shaking her head.

Something's wrong, but Donna won't speak about it and won't be forced to.

It had been like any other night, Angie decided to join in on a sleepover with the Bat Trio in the Dungeons.

They wanted to tell scary stories and those particular dungeons was always warm enough for them to stay down there.

It had been in the middle of the night, The Lady had been reading one of the many books, ones that she had read many times before.

She was about to turn the oil lantern off when the sound of breaking glass caused her hand to freeze just inches from the dial.

Sharpening her sense, Alcina close her eyes to allow her to focus more on her hearing.

Quiet hitches of breathing was heard.

DONNA'S P.O.V

The Doll Maker woke with a start, it hasn't even been an hour yet. She couldn't even hold onto Angie as she allowed the Bride Doll to go hang out with Bela, Cassandra and Daniela.

It felt all too real. It started off pleasant enough. Donna was in House Beneviento again, opening the door revealed her mother in a rocking chair, knitting.

Donna approached her, hesitant to reach out to the unaware woman.

A call of another girl caught their attention. They look up to see a teenage girl, who was the spitting image of a younger Donna.

"Bernadette?" She quietly says.

Bernadette comes skipping down, unaware of her younger sister's presence as she skips down the stairs and through Donna, as if she were made of mist.

Donna turns to see Bernadette skip off to meet her friends in the village. Their mother calling after her to be sure to return home before the sun begins to set.

In her near forgotten instinct, The Doll Maker silently makes her way to the elevator.

When she entered the elevator, the button was level with her elbow. Something that came in handy as she was always carrying materials that requires both hands to hold.

The elevator reached the basement, she found that everything was bigger than before.

As she walked down the hallway, Donna barely caught her reflection off the glass cabinet. The bottom of the glass was just at eye level.

Upon looking at her reflection, a young girl stared back with her two (2) dark brown eyes. She was a little girl again, maybe no older than seven (7) years old?

She continued to the end of the hallway and through one of the double doors and found her father hunched over one of his latest creations.

Donna knew what was about to happen next, it didn't surprise her any more. She begins to back away as her father slowly sets down his tools.

"Why?" He hoarsely croaked out as dripping sounds were heard. "Why did you do this to us?"

Donna tried to push against the shut door with all her might, but her small frame barely made it budge.

She looked over her shoulder, gasping and began to shake as her father's bloated corpse stood up slowly, movements strongly resembling a puppet being pulled by their strings.

Small waterfalls were coming through the walls and ceiling as father trudged through the ankle deep water.

With one final charge, Donna finally burst through the door and makes a bee-line toward the elevator. The water rising all around her.

Streams of water burst through the ceiling in many spots. Some appearing with such force in front of her that Donna nearly lost her footing on a few occasions.

Her father close behind in his pursuits as the water appeared to allow him to glide in the rising water.

The water was now at the young girl's knees by the time she reached the elevator.

How did the button get so high up?!

After many frantic attempts, Donna successfully jumps up and up against the elevator's wall to press the button.

The grated door shuts, her father's blue, bloated corpse stared at her with angry bloodshot eyes as he slammed and pulled against the grate.

The water descending and emptying the higher the elevator went. Leaving behind a mostly soaked to the bones Donna.

The elevator dutifully opens on the ground floor, Donna reluctantly steps out. The Doll Maker once again knows what's coming next as she trekked through the hallway.

Opening the door to the Living Room, she found her Mother, standing and looking at the ground with a sharpened out knitting needles in each hand.

Eyes filled with rage look up at her as her mother raises her head, voiceless as her mother's mouth moved. But she heard it so many times before that Donna knew what she was saying.

"Your fault."

Barely able to dodge the sudden attack, Donna sprints to the front door. Last obstacle.

Bernadette, now aged twenty-one (21) was now blocking the entrance.

END OF PART ONE (1)

_____________________

Edit: Heyo pps, edited some errors, finished the last point and took away the extra blank ones to helps space it out better. Tags were also added in.

A/N - You guys are gonna laugh, I didn't intend on posting this until later. I accidentally posted it before the last point (Bernadette being at the entrance) was done and no tags. 🤣🤣

But I am glad I did, however. Cause this would have been so much longer and I didn't want to bore you guys with so many points. So a part two (2) will be out later on, either tonight or tomorrow. 🤔 Sorry about that. 🤣

Hope you all enjoyed Part One (1) of 'Sleepless Nights.'

Remember, if you wish to use this or the ideas/H.Cs mentioned above, you are always free to do so under the conditions that you credit back to this and myself. That and to please tag me when you are done because I would love to see how it was able to help you out in your stories/art!!

💪😎💕

Hope you all have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening my lovelies!💪😎💕

Part Two (2) linked here! 💕🥰💕

#donna beneviento #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil #video games #angie beneviento #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #headcanon #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #family dynamic #angst

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starrynite7114 · 4 years

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Headcanon: Art Day

A/N: A headacanon! This idea was given to me by @carlaangel86 and @justahopelessssromantic . We were watching some Tiktoks and well, here it is. Hope you all enjoy this update!

Laughter and Snapshots will be posted next!

Hope you guys had a good week!

Masterlist

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CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

You and Angel have had a good quarantine so far.

Meaning you two didn’t kill one another and actually enjoyed one another’s company.

Maybe the reason you two have yet to kill one another was due to the fact Angel locking himself in the third bedroom in your house, painting.

Which you two recently purchased at the end of last year and now, you two were able to renovate as you two had planned.

With the quarantine, your days were spent either painting a room, placing the hardwood floors in the kitchen and living room, or changing the cabinets in the kitchen.

Overall, it’s been a productive first two months of quarantine

Now, the Santo Padre head was seeping in and you were not a happy camper.

Though, another reason quarantine didn’t make you two hate one another, was because you and Angel love being in each other’s company.

You two appreciated the days you two have together since you were always at work and he was always on a run.

Living apart the first three, living together the last three, six years together in total, you and Angel knew how to avoid killing one another.

Also, it helped that you were a respiratory therapist and worked almost six days a week. They tried to push you for more hours, but there was so much your body could take.

Now, after being on for six, you were off for four.

On your first day, you were nursing a margarite that Angel made for you while you watched a 90s Romcom on Netflix while he was in his art room.

You loved coming in Angel’s art room since his masterpieces gave you glimpses of how he was feeling.

When the whole thing with EZ went down? Everything was dark, upsetting, but you knew he had to let it out.

It lasted for a few months, but eventually the colors came back.

You didn’t know how to help him, you knew Angel was hurting then, but the best thing to do for him was to be here and you were.

Angel never changed towards you, he was always silly, loving, and your Angel.

But you knew he missed his family as well.

Your glad EZ manned up and spoke to Angel.

You were in your room, waiting for glasses to break, but you didn’t hear anything. When you came out after EZ left, Angel held you, sleeping on the couch that night.

And you also loved the artwork you inspired for Angel.

It always made you smile shyly at him when he would tell you about the artwork you inspired him to do.

They were vibrant, so full of life. They varied as well.

Some were sketches of you that you knew he was doing since he asked you to model for him.

Others were candid sketches he took of you. Some of them you don’t even remember him doing since there was no sketchbook in his hand then.

“It’s from memory baby, EZ isn’t the only one with photographic memory. Though, you’re the most prominent image in my mind, it isn’t hard.”

You would blush and kiss him.

Angel was too sweet for his own good.

He didn’t draw often since the club took him away often.

So when he could, he dedicated a day for his artwork

And today was that day.

While you enjoyed your margarita, Angel was enjoying his beer in his room.

You wanted to take a peek since he’s been in there since eight this morning and it was already one in the afternoon.

You figured you should think of making lunch soon, but you weren’t hungry since you and Angel had a big breakfast.

“Babe!” You called out to Angel who left his door slightly ajar in case you needed him.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“You hungry?”

There was no response and just as you were about to get up, you felt Angel hold your shoulders down and kiss you.

“Jesus Christ Angel!” You placed your hand on your chest.

He sat down next to you, your shirt was now dirty with the paint he was using.

“Babe, you got my shirt dirty.” You pouted, not really caring, but you loved to give Angel flack every once in a while.

“You mean my shirt?” He teased.

“We’re partners, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.” You paused. “Except for the GT, that’s all mine.”

Angel laughed. “I swear, you love that car more than me.”

“No, of course not,” you looked at him. “Maybe just a little bit, but you’re still the number person to me.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay.” He looked at what you were watching before taking a sip of your margarita. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really, but I know you’re a bottomless pit.”

“I’m not that hungry yet, we can swing by Pop’s store and get a few steaks.”

“We do need some meat, we might as well stock up so we don’t have to go out again.”

“Great idea.” Angel kissed your cheek. “But, before we go, can we do something real quick?”

“Sure.”

He took your hand and pulled you up. You two made your way towards his art room where there was a plastic table at the center and a LunaBean in the middle. You looked over at Angel who smiled at you.

“Oh god, are you sculpting me again?”

Angel chuckled. “No, and you literally we’re not complaining the two times we did.”

“Angel, we ended up fucking both times.”

“Like I said, no complaints.”

You laughed.

You stopped in front of the table, Angel letting go of your hand so he could stand across from you.

Looking inside the bucket, your nose scrunched up at the mixture below. You weren’t sure what the material was, but it was light pink in color.

“Um, I’m not sure I want to know what we’re going to do.” You eyed him suspiciously.

Angel chuckled. “Come mi corazon, you trust me?”

“Um, that’s a hit or miss.” You stuck out your tongue playfully. “Alright, I do, what are we doing baby?”

You love being a part of Angel’s art process. It wasn’t rare you were able to do it, but you were glad you could do it now.

“Give me your hand.” You gave him your left hand, his right hand intertwining with yours. He dipped your hands inside the bucket till it was on the bottom. “Stay still.” He instructed you.

For five minutes, you and Angel remained still, Angel watching your hands, while you watched him. He was a perfectionist with his art. Everything else, he was laid back, but when it came to art, he was a perfectionist.

He pulled your hands out, wiping your hands, he handed the cloth to you so he could pour the casting stone mix inside. Once he filled it, he placed the second bucket down and smiled at you.

“Let’s go.”

“Is that supposed to create a mold?”

“Maybe, you kind of moved, so you might have fucked it up.” He teased.

“You’re so lucky I love you.”

You two went to Carniceria Reyes, and kept your social distancing as instructed along with your mask. You missed Felipe and the stories he told you about Angel.

How much of a pain of the ass Angel was, but how he was such a sweet kid who always looked out of his younger brother.

He also told you how much Angel loved drawing more than he did sports, but Angel also liked popularity and art wouldn’t win girls over.

EZ was at the store helping their father as well.

It’s been a rough year between EZ and Angel, but you were glad that things were better.

“So, am I getting a quarantine niece or nephew?” EZ called out before you two exited the story.

You blushed while Angel just laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

When you two arrived home, Angel put the groceries you two decided to get since you two were out anyway.

You sat back down on the couch, resuming your movie.

Angel eventually joined you and soon, you two fell asleep.

Angel woke up first, watching you as you slept. His favorite sketches of you were of ones while you were sleeping. You looked so peaceful and carefree.

He carefully maneuvered you, so he could lay your head on the pillow.

Once he was certain you wouldn’t wake up, he took his sketchbook, sat on the armchair and began to sketch you.

A few hours later, you woke up to Angel banging around the kitchen.

“Babe, if you were trying to wake me up, you’ve succeeded.”

“Good, dinner is ready.”

Angel was a tremendous cook and one of the things you two picked up whenever you were off work was cooking together. It was definitely fun.

And you may or may not have started painting with Angel, though, he was a strict teacher, sort of.

You two always ended up naked.

After dinner, you washed the dishes as Angel busied himself in his art room again.

His art ventures were usually an all day thing, so you were surprised you two even went out.

But with quarantine, he had more opportunity to work on his art.

He always told you, art was a process, so you never went inside his room unless there was an emergency.

When you were done, you sat back on the couch and browsed through your phone, seeing what you missed in the social media world while you were asleep.

“Mi dulce, can you come over here?” You heard Angel call for you.

“Sure babe.”

You entered the room and found Angel standing beside the plastic table. You joined him, looking down at the molding of your hands together.

“Babe, this looks amazing.” You studied the molding. Your hands were perfectly intertwined, the details were absolutely amazing.

You then noticed there was a sketching of you in front of it. Curiously, you picked it up.

You took in the details, always in awe of Angel’s work.

You loved it when he shared his work with you whenever he finished.

Self-esteem issues were a bitch, but every time you saw a piece Angel did of you, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Turning it over, there was a note behind it.

‘Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of our meeting at the carniceria years ago. How you gave me that shy smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, thanking me for the suggestions I made. I began to look forward to your visits, trying to work at my pops’ shop as often as I could just so I could get a glimpse of you. After our first date, I knew this was it for me, which was fucking insane. These past six years have been the happiest I’ve been since my mother passed away. I’m not really certain what I did to deserve your presence, but I’m thankful every day. We’ve had our ups and down, but this quarantine made me realize that you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, especially since you haven’t killed me. I love you, mi vida, mi alma, mi sol, mi todo, will you marry me?’

You looked over at Angel, and he was on his knee, a black velvet box in his hand.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” He asked, the nervousness clearly evident on his face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Angel stood up, picked you up and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling away so you could bury your face on the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t believe it, it was finally happening. Angel proposed to you.

Placing you back down on the floor, you smiled up at him, looking back down at your left hand.

“Fuck, babe, I can’t believe it.”

“You better, because once this quarantine is done, we’re getting married.”

You laughed.

“Guess we gotta make a new molding once we’re married.”

“No babe, this can be our memorabilia of the day we got engaged.”

Angel took one of his thin brushes, writing the date on your hand molding.

“This is the beginning of our forever.”

Angel smiled. “It’s been us since the first day we met at the carniceria.” He softly began kissing your neck, making you moan. “What do you say we end this day like how we always do during art days?”

You two always ended Angel’s art days with sex.

You never asked questions, you were a willing participant.

And you were a willing participant again.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfic #Mayans MC #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic

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zhuhongs · 3 years

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なんか私の想いが溢れ出した. i went out with some friends last night and every time i go out i always realize just how bad i am at communicating and how bad I am with people. (long meandering post under the cut. feel free to ignore its unfocused and long.. like 2k words under there)

I’ve mentioned this before but I don’t really talk much irl. I don’t talk, I can’t connect properly. Every time I’m out with people I just feel fundamentally, like… different. So a group of my irls friends plus me were going to the movie theatre and I personally really hate movie theatres. I knew we were going to one and prepared myself thinking “oh it’ll be fine bc you'll be with friends, just enjoy their company '' But god I really hate movie theaters. It’s been so long, i forgot how much I really really hated them. They’re so loud and bright. I’d much rather watch a movie at home but tbh I also just don’t like movies bc I can’t sit through them and I can’t focus and I don’t get invested easily and I need to be doing something with my hands at all times. To make matters worse, my friend's friend that I really don’t like came along. I just, I don’t like her. She’s just too loud and attention seeking and childish. Like she says things for a reaction, like rlly not okay things sometimes and I just can’t stand her. like we went to see godzilla vs king kong and then entire movie she kept YELLING "IF THEY DONT KISS I WANT MY MONEY BACK" and i was like... you are 21 yrs old oh my god.. this isnt ur tumblr blog in middle school. shut up. But here’s the thing, I don’t know how to tell her or anyone that. Like I just can’t figure out a good way to say it, so I put up with it. Things like this just make me feel incredibly annoyed. I always talk on here about how if I have an issue with anyone, I’ll just say it like an adult. But in face to face situations I just don’t know how to say things. Well I do know how to say it - it’d be easy. I just hate having to do it. Like I don't have to say the whole thing about how I don’t like her but when she says like “simp” when she’s nonblack I could just be like. “Hey don’t say that, here’s why” and I’m sure she’d stop. Yet I can’t bring myself to have that one moment of discomfort to tell her to stop yelling in my ear or stop saying things that make me annoyed. I feel useless in a way. ちゃんとできない。ちゃんと伝えない。During the entire movie I was thinking to myself that I’d rather be home watching a drama by myself and doing hw. I also hate going out for other reasons. I hate being seen. I hate my appearance. I know I don’t have to be pretty, I only need to exist for me. Like wow, I just have so many body image issues, and they all manifest heavily as soon as I go out in public.

But afterwards I changed my mind a bit. There was a moment where we were outside running around in the street and it reminded me of that one scene in AIB episode one with Chota, Karube, and Arisu in the street and I was rlly like… wow… maybe human connection really is good. It doesn’t matter if I’m pretty or good at talking, sometimes, to laugh and be silly wth others is all you need to make your night. Just one moment, just one person really is all it takes. We all went out for dinner afterwards and it was really really fun. I enjoyed it, there really is something about eating with someone that brings you closer to them.

The entire time though, I didn’t talk much. I don’t really know when to cut in in a conversation to a point where it feels right. I feel like by saying my piece I’m interrupting others just to say something that wasn’t really of any use. Really, I prefer silence with others. I’m bad at talking in social situations but I’m great at talking in classes and at work because of the context. Because I’m expected to engage there. The pretense is different. Like you’re supposed to contribute in those places. It’s acceptable to talk there. But for me, it doesn’t really feel acceptable to just share about myself like that in a social group setting. I wish I could always communicate like how I am doing here. It’s so much nicer online. I get to post my full complete thoughts without bothering any of you. My words can easily be disregarded and just flipped through. It’s passive. Posting is passive, talking is active. And sometimes, people don't really want to talk to others, they just want to say their piece. Like when talking about their problems, often we just want to say it and the act of saying those words is all we need. We don’t want input, it annoys us. I don’t like to cut in, and I can never find the right words to say. Even right now, none of this feels like it’s coming out correctly. None of my words feel like they’re coming out correctly nowadays, but this is the only way I know how to be. If I can’t post my thoughts on here, even if they come out crooked and ugly, I may never speak again. I have to keep talking, and typing, and trying otherwise I’ll never get any better. And I know it’s okay to do things wrong, but still, I can’t let myself do that. Again, I do fine when I’m at work and school. I’m functional, normal, you would never be able to tell how much is going on in my head. But in private, I may never speak again if I wasn’t spoken to.

When I was younger, around 12 or 13, I remember something a friend posted on my first online community. They posted, quite honestly, that they never wanted to meet anyone on there irl. No matter how close we are, it would never be the same IRL. I didn’t get that sentiment at the time. To me, why wouldn’t you want to see your friends everyday in person? That would be great. But I think I get it now. I’m afraid that if I ever met any of you someday it wouldn’t be the same. I’m not really the same in person. I’m bad at talking, bad at connecting. I’m not a proper person. But I feel like that’s okay. It’s okay to just exist on here as I am. While my friend was talking to me on our drive back to her place (we carpooled) she was telling me about her life. And she was apologizing like “oh I’m sorry I keep talking about myself” but quite honestly I was glad to just be able to listen. At some point my friend kept asking me what was up so I decided maybe I’ll tell them the arcane secrets of how I’ve been into guardian and how all the characters rlly hit for me for personal reasons. That was really the only thing I thought that was of note to tell her about. Really I don’t think I’ve done or felt much new since I last talked to her. But as I was trying to explain I just wasn’t doing it right. She just didn’t get it and trying to talk about something like that just made me embarrassed to the point where I just dropped it and tried to just say, “oh yea, you got it, that’s it.” and move along bc I didn’t think she’d get it. She’s the type that doesn’t really get how you can make meaningful connections online. So whenever I try to talk to her about certain things, it just doesn’t register. I’ve learned to choose my battles. I didn’t really think she wanted to get it. So I didn’t tell her. I tried telling her about stuff I liked in the past and I just always stop halfway through. I can’t communicate properly. I can’t speak in a way that I think is worthy of being heard. So I don’t talk. It frustrates me to no end. It feels like everyone else can do it so easily, that I’m the wrong one.

I had another friend from Uni message me about something and she was like “so what’s new with you, twin” (we have similar bdays and get along well so we call each other that) and tbh I just, didn’t know what to tell her. I had talked to her in a long time, so things had happened but nothing so easily said that I could just tell her over text. SO I just was like “work, school, yk how it is” and yea. I really am the one choosing not to let people in. It frustrates me to no end but I don’t know what a good starting point is ever. I feel like I should just send all my IRLS my long reflection essays next time they wanna know what's up. All the secrets to why I am the way I am are in there.

I’m scared of telling people how I feel about anything. IRL when I say something I often speak quietly, moreso like I’m only talking to myself. People often don’t hear what I had to say. And I don’t repeat myself. If it was something someone didn’t hear, in my head, that means that it wasn’t important enough to repeat. I’m afraid of talking and being misunderstood and never being able to be interpreted the way I mean. I want to convey all my thoughts correctly the first time. So i don’t repeat myself, not bc I’m mad at the person who didn’t hear me. It’s not about them, it’s about me. I don’t believe my words to be worth repeating. I don’t want anyone to stop the conversation for me. Just keep going, it won’t come out the right way anyways. I was taking a uquiz a week or so ago and one question was “what power do you want” and one option was smth like the power of comprehension. Which would make it so every time you spoke, that person would understand you the way you intended. That is the most ideal power for me to ever possess like it was unreal. I’m still thinking about that quiz. It was good.

I know that I’m worth being listened to and that my words are valuable enough to be heard but I don’t want to do that. I’d rather listen. I only like talking when it’s safe like it is here. I’m trying my best to get better though. I keep saying that I want to be a proper adult. I want to live right and without regrets and i really think communication is key to that. I’m trying. It’s hard but I’m trying. But still, I can only talk here a lot. I can’t talk any other way. I don’t tell my friends about my interests, it embarasses me to no end.

Being on here is comforting though. When I talk about stuff like this, I always see a lot more people than usual like my post. I feel like you can all relate. Really, people are more similar than not. We all have very similar burdens and pains and baggage. It’s comforting, I'm not alone. My words might be able to help someone. Because when all of you talk about the same things, i also feel seen and comforted and since we are so similar, then the same is true for the things I say.

But anyways, I did a lot of listening tonight, and it reflects the sentiment above. People are the same. I was listening to my friend’s friend talking about her mom earlier and the entire time, I really resonated with what she was saying. I got it. Her mom’s situation was really similar to my own mom’s situation in the past. And I was just amazed at how I barely knew this girl but I felt really similar to her. I saw her differently after learning all that. It was really a great thing. ANd on the way home, my friend was telling me about her life recently and some things andi really understand what she was going through. I didn’t say anything, because again, I don't like to interrupt. And when I try and be like ‘oh me too, it's the same for me too” I feel like I’m derailing. I know I’m not but I really think she needed to say her piece. So I let her. But the entire time, I thought about the things in my life that were the same as what she was feeling and it was beautiful. Life and human bonds are beautiful. Even when they are hard and messy and annoying, people all want the same things. They want to be loved and seen and understood. And in those moments when we feel seen, it’s worth more than any of those complicated feelings that come along with it. Not to be cheesy but wow… in order to reap the rewards of being loved, you really do need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. I was glad I didn’t stay home watching a drama. I was glad that I went out. No matter how alienated I feel from others, there’s still merit in being around other people. No matter how much others may misunderstand you and annoy you, they are almost always worth more than being alone. That;s because deep down, we’re all the same.

I’m not good at reminding myself that. As I said here, I don’t let people see me. I don’t let people in, I’d rather keep them out. I’m a picky, boring person. I don’t like people easily and I don’t tell them much. I stay inside my own head and I don’t like to come out. I was raised that way. But people are worth it. Communication is worth it, no matter how hard. It’s all worth it. I need to try harder so I can be a person who is able to see and enjoy more beauty in this world. I spent my hr long drive home listening to music and ruminating on these thoughts, trying to plan out all the words I wanted to say here. I don’t think I said any of it right. I’m not satisfied with how I write nowadays. But writing, talking, conveying emotions, all of these things are worth doing. So no matter how crooked and awkward it comes out, I will keep doing it. It is my goal.

#🐌.txt #i wrote this last night bc i had a lot of thoughts driving home and the entire time i was out but they didnt translate well to type #i tried fixing it this morning and its still just off and im sock at reading it so into the void it goes #honestly i could make a playlist to describe my emotiona better at this point but ill never listen to those songs again.. ita just the like #uesterdays vibe #anyways good morning tho.. im gonna make a cup of coffee and take a shower now #i love u all im glad ur here

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jamgrlsblog · 3 years

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2020 Fic Roundup

When I started 2020, I had no idea I would write as much as I did! I was starting my first Ineffable Wives fic, which became a theme of the year 😂. When I finished District of (un-)Certainty in 2019, I thought that would be my last idea (except for a sequel I started and never finished: whoops). Instead, I completed 8 fics and 2 podfics and wrote a little more than half of an ongoing WIP I still haven’t finished. That’s a total of 11 works listed under 2020 on AO3! (And 130k words.) Here’s a roundup ☺️.

Peaches, Apples, and Other Forbidden Fruit (Fic & Podfic)

55k, E

This was my first wives fic and started with a prologue that just popped into my head one night. I really wanted to write about what it was like to be a woman, with all those little vanities and insecurities that complicate self image, and with a deep connection to classic books about women influencing and shaping how she might interact with the world. And then I made it Southern and threw Aziraphale into a sorority with Crowley 😂. And it became about internalized biphobia and about unlearning biases and about love formed of long time friendship and deep knowing.

I decided to podfic it as I was writing because I wrote Crowley as dyslexic and I decided, out of honor for her, to make a more accessible version of the fic 😅. This was a total whim- I had no idea what I was getting into, but boy did I learn on the job! I read the entire fic in a Southern accent and had a lot of fun. I also drove my spouse crazy because I made him stay quiet while I was recording, but he bought me a “how to podcast” book for Christmas, so maybe you’ll get more podfic in the future 😉.

I made friends, thanks to this fic, including @miss-minnelli and @tawnyontumblr, who I can’t imagine not knowing now! I also made friends with @leoswork, who made 3 art pieces inspired by this fic, which I am still amazed by!

Oil Paint Stains

498 words, G

This was written for a “Name that Author” game in the Good Omens Events discord server and was such fun! I hardly knew anyone at that time and threw myself in anyways. It was a great way to get started making friends and a great little challenge to write a fic under 500 words! This, I think, is when I firmly established myself as a Wives writer 😂.

Class Action

500 words, M

Listen, this was another “Name that Author” game, and I wanted to try a new pairing to change things up (I knew if I wrote wives again, I would be known) and I wanted to try writing exactly 500 words as an extra challenge. I didn’t know I would post it. I certainly didn’t know it would have the most kudos of 2020. Literally just a silly Warlock/Adam thing.

Strawberries Aren’t Forbidden (Fic & Podfic)

8k, E

This is a companion piece to Peaches, Apples, and Other Forbidden Fruit about just how Crowley was doing all that time that Zira was pining 😂 (hint: she was also pining). Writing this on the side tempered my writing of the first fic by helping me remember how Crowley was feeling the whole time! This is pretty angsty, tbh, but we’ve got a fun and happy ending. I podficced this because I had to to keep with the first one! This one is in Crowley’s valley girl accent (aka, mostly just how I usually talk 😅.)

Summer Swims and Strings

5k, M

I wrote this for @suvroc as part of the Wives October gift exchange. This was my first exchange and I was so nervous about my giftee liking it! I really enjoyed writing reconnected lovers. The general tone and feel of this fic was heavily influenced by Folklore, which I was very into when writing this, so we’ve got a calm, reflective, and full of love lakeside fic!

Frights and Feelings

4k, T

This one was for @sk3tchid, also for the Wives gift exchange! I got to do something spooky and Halloweeny, which I was thrilled about. I took a big risk with this fic- I wrote two stories in one fic. I decided “ooh, what if they are watching a spooky movie!” so I could somehow fit spooky and cozy homey feels in one fic. And it worked? I guess 😂. Regardless, it was lots of fun!

cowgirl like me

6k, T

This fic started as me shouting about Evermore on the Wives discord server and I happened to mention that cowboy like me was giving me ineffable spouses feels, and being on the wives server, I got the response of wives? Wives! And I was like, nah, I don’t have time. And then I thought, well, and I wrote this fic over the course of one weekend. @tawnyontumblr made it readable 😂.

lover

4k, T

This was a companion to cowgirl like me. I had just gotten married and was having feels about Crowley and the late husband I invented for the first fic (which is Eric the Disposable Demon! So cute!) and also feels about marriage in general. So I wrote this little vignette thing, and my first f/m fic! I didn’t think anyone would read it, but @tawnyontumblr encouraged me to write it anyways ☺️. She really made this readable. I gave her a skeleton of a fic that she encouraged me to actually flesh out!

Star of the Wooded Mountain

WIP, 46k+, T

Listing this one last, even though it was 4th to start posting and the 2nd to start writing. I started posting this in June!! I actually believed that I would be able to write and post my entire summer camp fic during the summer and it would be like “ooh, seasonally appropriate!”. Lol. I’ve got 6/10 chapters up currently.

This is part of the Good AUmens event and how I was introduced to the Good Omens Events discord server!! I’m so glad I signed up for this event because this server has become such a huge part of my life and has been a place where I’ve made so many friends!

I signed up for the event saying I was going to write a wives fic, as was my 2020 theme. But when I actually sat down to write, I started writing Crowley as a non-binary/agender character instead. This fic became an exploration of gender and identity and navigating early adulthood. I met @parmejeannecheese thanks to this fic, who stepped up, never having sensitivity read before, and has put so much time and thought into helping me with this fic. I cannot overstate how amazing they are and how lucky I was to find them.

I have learned so much writing this fic!! And it has become so much bigger and better than I could have imagined. I’m excited to keep posting this one into 2021 ☺️.

And that’s all my fics of 2020! I hope some of you have enjoyed them or might enjoy them in the future! Here’s to what may come in 2021! Maybe I’ll write a husbands fic again one day? Literally wrote none in 2020 😂.

#my fanfiction #good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable spouses #fic roundup

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Visitor” pt.2 -Bronson x reader

So a couple of you requested a part two of the Bronson imagine after I’d posted it. And while I didn’t mean for it to have one, I recently found inspiration to write it lol. So here it is. I guess you can say that I’m in mood to write smut lol, don’t know if I’m any good at it, considering that it’s like the second time maybe that I write a heated scene. So let me know! Hearing your thoughts is priceless to me!

Tag list:@of-love-and-of-the-sea, @mollybegger-blog, @deaflikehawkeye, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @evelynshelby, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @shadow-of-wonder, @sopxhiea (let me know it you wanna be added)

Part 1

Warning: SMUT, porn without plot?

While for others Friday may be a synonym of drinks and wild nights, for y/n it pretty much consisted in her choosing which cake to make so that she could enjoy it all over the weekend. She wasn't one for strict and no carbs diets by any means, however, she did try to have a healthy and balanced lifestyle. And that included reserving sweet goods for the end of the week.

She had a peaceful life, especially since Charlie had been in prison. Yes, work and friends kept her busy but the neverending buzz of society was left behind the closed door of her apartment, now silent and quiet, when it had been so full of life and noisy once. Charlie had the habit of watching the tv at an impossible high audio level. Every day she’d get home, she’d unmistakably hear the program he was watching as soon as she stepped outside the elevator.

Even if she didn’t want it to be true, a part of her already knew what the officer’s words were going to be before he even opened his mouth when she asked about Charlie about a week ago.

“The inmate is not allowed any visitors.”

Shooing away her disappointment, y/n knew it was silly to think that she could change his temperament with the promise of sex. It was all rather foolish, she had to admit it but it was a desperate attempt to get him back. Desperate and unsuccessful. It had hurt like hell but in fact, her life, her daily life, hadn’t changed that much. It was more the disappointment that got to her.

Nevertheless, nothing a good old chocolate pie couldn’t fix. Taking the list of the ingredients you will be needing, you set off to the store. Switching all the lights off, she opened the door before looking for an umbrella in the very likely case it’d start to rain. In doing so, she turned your back to the door consequently failing to notice the man standing on her doorstep. And she didn't until she turned around. The umbrella hitting the floor, the only sound.

Charlie, her Charlie, the man who she was always thinking about, the man she missed so much, was finally standing before her. But what was he doing here? Shouldn't he be in prison? Had he escaped? Wait-was he even real or was it just her imagination playing her?

Waiting for him to speak, y/n just focused on him trying to spot anything that could tell her that she was hallucinating. However, Charlie didn't speak. He too was frozen on the spot, taking her in. So, she was the one to break the ice.

"Charlie?" Her voice came out like nothing more than a whisper. Afraid that if she spoke a little louder, she would send him away. Even if she was hallucinating, she didn't want the image in front of her to disappear. She missed him so much…

"Yeah," the ghost finally spoke clearing his voice, "that's me." His voice quiet like hers but for an entirely different reason.

He knew that she had gone by the prison to see him as she had promised and he was also painfully aware that he hadn't held his end of the bargain. Charlie knew that she was tired and lonely and every fibre of his being hoped that he hadn't pushed her too far.

"What are you doing here?" So she wasn't seeing things…

"I'm home." The honesty and fragility in his voice were so painfully evident for y/n that she gasped loudly. Charlie had always said that she was his home. Although, after what happened she had started questioning everything.

"You promised Charlie." Relieving that day in her mind and what it had implied made it impossible for her to keep her voice from breaking.

"I know. But I have a valuable reason for that." He said taking a step forward, "just hear me out, will you?" Opening his arms to show that he was being honest, he stayed where he was. A step away from her, his home and the life the had made together. When he received a nod from her, he started speaking. It wasn't much but it was still something.

"They offered me a deal. Stay two weeks in isolation and behave and they'd let me leave." Now he could only wait to see her reaction.

"So, you did actually behave." She mused looking at his sceptically

"I did love. A fucking angel I was." His lips twitched, the only indication the movement of his moustache

"Of course you were." She snickered at the thought. More like a devil he was.

"Well then. I guess good boys do get rewarded." And that's was all she needed to say to set him off. A malicious look and the words that promised him his most ardent desire.

"They fucking do." Muttering under his breath, y/n had only the time to pick the umbrella up before he had his hands on her. The object was soon discarded as Charlie took her in his arms holding her up by her waist. Kicking the door shut behind him, he literally wasted no time and pushed her on the hallways hall desperately kissing her neck.

"You've no idea how much I fucking missed you, love." He mumbled in between kisses. But y/n was just as much desperate for him as he was for her and knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I think I do." Taking his head in her hand she made him shift his focus from her neck to her lips. They kissed for the first time after ages and it felt better than it ever did before. Moaning when he swiped his tongue on her lower lip, she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss while her hands started undressing him. His hands were already under her skirt and took no time to join her in undressing each other.

Leaving a trail of clothes behind them, they finally reached their bedroom. He threw her on their bed, immediately climbing over her and entering her.

"Oh my god." she moaned

"Oh fuck." he hissed instead and it was clear how both of them were starved for the other.

Charlie started to thrust into her with increasing speed. It didn't matter if it was quick, he was sure he wasn't going to last long anyway. Y/n was tight as if it was her first time, and while it helped him reach his high it also meant that she was more sensitive than ever. It had been too long for both of them.

"Harder." She moaned at him, she ached for him. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she clutched at him afraid that he would leave her again. He was hers and this was where he was meant to be. With her.

"Y/n." Her name on his lips sounded like the most beautiful word and aroused her to no end. Hearing the dedication in his voice, the yearning. It set her off and he soon followed her.

“Oh, Charlie, what did you do.” y/n sighed when she felt him come inside her. Charlie wasn’t as bothered though. Collecting some of his cum that dripped out of her, he smeared it all over her core.

“I love seeing you covered in my cum.” He mumbled huskily whilst taking some more of his semen and taking it all over her body, as a matter of fact.

“Charlie,” she complained wiggling to try and get away from his dirty fingers, “cum is sticky, stop.”

“Well, I better hope it sticks. So that everyone we’ll see the stain and know that you’re taken.” Y/n could see him getting worked up again and reached out to his face so that her caress could calm him. Pulling him down so she could kiss him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. However, Charlie wasn’t done with his little speech. His hand went back to her core.

“This is mine,” he said putting two of his long fingers inside her. Kneeling between her legs, he lowered his head so to kiss her clit. “This is mine.” He continued this way, leaving a trail of kisses all over her body while mumbling “this too” until he reached her chest where he stopped.

“This,” he pointed with his nose to where her heart was, “is fucking mine. Right?” and gave her a little kiss. Too overwhelmed by his sweet yet erotic stunt, y/n didn’t answer making Charlie make a wrong assumption.

“Is it not, y/n?” He almost growled when she didn’t answer and despite how menacing he could look like in this moment, she couldn’t help but smile sweetly at him. Charlie had always been insecure when it came to her and their relationship. And after months in prison, she could only imagine how worse it had gotten.

“Of course it is, Charlie.” She whispered finally putting him out of his misery, “It has been yours from the moment I met you.” she admitted.

“It needs good care though,” she continued talking in a soft tone, knowing that it was best with his volatile moods, “ and you’ve been away so long. It felt neglected, like you didn’t care for it anymore,” she delivered the blow adding a pout to seal the deal. Charlie’s eyes shone the way they always did when he would look at her, with admiration and protectiveness, and she knew she had finally got through to him.

“Never.” He matched her soft voice, his eyes meeting her, his mouth kissing his way to her mouth. “I can never stop caring for it.” His solemn tone made it almost sound like a promise but she needed to be sure.

“Promise me, Charlie.” She demanded softly planting a small kiss on his plumpy juicy lips. Growling Charlie’s head followed hers when she pulled away, wanting nothing more than to get lost in the kiss. “I fucking promise love.”

“No more prison Charlie, no more leaving me. Promise me.” She continued, her tone getting a little firmer, but he was too lost in the feeling of her lips on his face and neck to notice.

He wanted her. He had been deprived of her for too long. He wanted nothing more than ravishing her all night, to kiss all of her body and then start again. He couldn’t resist anymore. His head lowered between her shoulder and neck and started kissing the skin there almost automatically.

She was losing him, she could feel it. Y/n could feel his erection growing again but her appetite matched his and was more than ready for round two. However, she needed to hear him saying it. Promising her that he wouldn’t leave again, that it was the last time she had to go through all of that.

Wrapping her hand around him, she squeezed hard enough to get his attention. “Promise me, Charlie,” she whispered in his ear.

“You’re fucking mad if you think I’m going to leave you again, y/n.” And that’s what all she needed to hear.

Moaning when his lips finally touched hers, she got all that she needed, and eagerly direct him to her warm and awaiting core.

Seems like she was going to enjoy another kind of sweet this weekend. Not that she was going to complain of course.

#charlie bronson #bronson #bronson imagine #bronson imagines #charlie bronson x reader #bronson x reader #bronson movie #tom hardy #tom hardy imagine

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fwoopersongs · 3 years

Text

何必诗债换酒钱 - Notes

youtube

Clean version here and thoughts under the cut.

I saw the song translation notes made by @shelterfromrain a while back and thought, wow! what a fantastic idea it is to share the results of the rabbit holing (that you inevitably end up engaging in when doing this) and leave a record for your future self while at it too! Currently some of the song and poetry translations on fwoopersongs do have little notes, but those were casually written on the fly and after so long, the thought process behind certain choices often get forgotten, which is such a waste... Long story short - I’m doing it this way from now on!

This song was requested by @peerlesssqq on twitter - which may or may not have bumped it up by like a year on my list (yes, I’ve been sitting on it since 2018 and you’ll see why) - and I had WAY more fun than expected, so 谢啦 ~ It was a delight to receive your DM request. I was happy for days!

Some background: 《何必诗债换酒钱》 is the theme song of 【文定乾坤】- a collection of musical works that feature notable contributors to Chinese literature in ancient times, poets and the like. Oh, and I did notice that the MV on bilibili looks like it could be a promo for a webtoon or game. Who knows? I’ll be checking out the rest of the songs, that’s for sure!

The following part of this post will be my thoughts for first the title, then each section - the intro, verse 1 & 2 and the chorus, ending off with some final comments.

Disclaimer first though (otherwise later you read already then feel like beating me up): Everything in this post is only my interpretation of the song. I have quite limited familiarity with mainland literature and culture, so of course don’t expect much xD Here you’ll only find a story-loving banana who jiak-ed kantang too much in her youth and now regrets it a whole lot. 说好了哈 I’m pants at analysis, worse at Chinese, and am not at all good with words ok?

Title

So《何必诗债换酒钱》, let’s start off with the word here that’s unfamiliar to most of us:

诗债 | shī zhài or a debt of poems/poetry debt is a legit thing! - All you authors and artists out there might be familiar with it - It’s what you call the resulting debt when a poet promises to write something for another person but hasn’t done it yet. Procrastination has apparently always been the curse of content creators.

In fact, in the Bai Juyi’s poem that came up on the 诗债 baidu page《晚春欲携酒寻沉四著作先以六韵寄之》- possibly addressed to a friend he owes - he was complaining of illness, old age and writer’s block. But then oh, he goes on and then I passed by a party where they had drinks, and was quite up to my gills & totally out of it for some time, and THAT’S why I’ve done you dirty and owe you ever so many poems. I don’t really understand the last two lines but apparently he then offers to bring a drink for this person he’s talking to, mentions a wish to meet a winter goddess (????? pretty girl? or the snow? idk which), and starts reminiscing the times that were like a precious string of pearls they had singing at Yang Pass. Most likely farewells, but without context I just don’t get it. Anyway bribery and misdirection huh? I see what you did there bro, and I’m sure the person you attempted to distract saw it coming too...

何必 | hé bì, is a rhetorical question of Must you really? In the case of this word, 何 functions as roughly ‘is it that’ and 必 as ‘it must be so’.

换酒钱 | huàn jiǔ qián is of course, exchange for money to purchase wine.

‘Must you really promise poems in exchange for money to buy wine?’ then is the literal translation of 何必诗债换酒钱.

So here is the question: Is alcohol worth a poetry debt? Onwards to the answer!

Intro

生就诗骨算来三百篇 Born and already a poet to the bones, (with) three hundred works counting up to now.

浪掷秦淮长安风流李杜王白 Spending lavishly in Qinhuai and Chang’an, free/unrestrained as Li and Du, Wang and Bai;

余下十分便随意肩上担 whatever left is divided in ten parts, casually thrown over a shoulder

权作金玉铜板相谢好人间 and taken for jade, gold and coin, a big thank you to this good world!

I interpreted the 生 in the first line as 天生 i.e. innate, natural born talent, so this first line describes someone born with a gift for poetry with ‘three hundred’ works to their name. Although... that three hundred should not be taken too literally, it’s more likely to be an allusion to collected works like the 16th century anthology of poems, Three Hundred Tang Poems. After all, Li Bai, Du Fu, Wang Wei and Bai Juyi are the most famous Tang Dynasty poets… and they were all name-dropped in the next line!

浪掷 | làng zhì was a new phrase for me, and means something like spending freely and lavishly or willfully wasted. Of course Chang’an was the capital during the Tang Dynasty and it was the world's most populous city at the time. One can only imagine how prosperous it must have been… and what fun things were there to spend your money on! The banks of Qinhuai river and that general area was once a gathering place for noble/wealthy families, scholars looking for a good time (and some say, the red light district xD). Though by Sui/Tang, that area was no longer doing as well due to political shifts. So the mental image I got from 浪掷秦淮长安 is of someone gallivanting through places of interest, from the bustling and prosperous to the dilapidated.

风流 | fēng liú is as always, hard to translate with no full equivalent in english. The feel it gives me ranges from, ‘cool, dashing bloke on a galloping horse with their cloak/robes/hair flowing elegantly in the wind’ to ‘pleasure seeking dandy who totally knows how to enjoy life, all the courtesans know him by courtesy name!’.

The third line started with 余下十分, which will not make any sense - why leftover? Divide what by ten? - until its put in context with the following:

Three hundred poems 算来三百篇 + 权作金玉铜板 pretend they are gold/jade/money (权作 | quán zuò just means to take one thing for another temporarily.)

The load thrown over the shoulder 肩上担

Spendthrift behaviour on tour 浪掷秦淮长安

The TITLE: bro so u wanna promise poetry in exchange for money to drink? why.

Let’s take those precious poems that can be exchanged for gold - a whole bagful of scrolls, and now I’m so rich I can scatter my money down the streets of entertainment districts and the capital! The very image of a 风流 poet, reckless and free spirited.

// Folks, please learn from this silly girl and do not read songs (or poems) line by line. They need to be appreciated at a distance, not one inch from your eyeballs.

Verse 1

两分与月劳烦身前打点 Two parts to the moon, (may I) trouble you to take care of me while I’m alive.

哪处巍峨峰峦当借我悬来观 Wherever there are majestic peaks and ranges, do lend me (your light) to hang and see by.

三分典高楼好与长风赴宴 Three parts pawned for the tall building, good for attending the banquet alongside the wind,

遍寻可爱星子唾手一把玩 searching for charming little stars, easily caught to play with.

Now we get to see how the poet is spending his ‘wealth’. This verse is a lot more literal as compared to the introduction, so there’s not much to say.

打点 used here is so interesting! Because it’s what you call bribing someone in a superior position to smoothen your path ahead (so to speak). Thanks to a childhood of tvb drama, I vaguely associate the type of people who would 打点 with rich merchant or minor noble fathers who want to give their sons an easier time at court. Either that or lower ranked officials with less moral scruples. Anyway, what’s being said in the song is something like: here is 20% dear moon, I’ll have to trouble you to bless me for the rest of this lifetime, and also please lend me your light to see by when I have need of it at scenic spots *for art*. The moon is a muse for many poets in all its forms after all… 明月, 圆月, 孤月, 残月, 冷月, 江月, 秋月 and so on.

Actually that whole sentence 劳烦身前打点 is so playful and fun that I put it in quotation marks to emphasize it. We’ve only just begun. Is the speaker already drunk?

And with the third line, 30% has been spent. Just noting here that 典 | diǎn can be read as pawn or mortgage. Another interesting thing to note would be that this imagery of ascending a tall building 高楼 and reaching out for stars 星子 in the last two lines of Verse 1 brings to mind one particular poem, famously attributed to Li Bai. Following translation by yours truly.

《夜宿山寺》- Overnight at the Mountain Temple 危楼高百尺 | dangerously towering a hundred feet high 手可摘星辰 | the stars are within reach 不敢高声语 | one dares not raise their voice 恐惊天上人 | for fear of disturbing the deities

Though the two probably have nothing to do with each other, doesn’t the reverence in the tone of this one bring out the playful irreverence of the other? So. Much. Fun. I adore the whole feel of 遍寻可爱星子唾手一把玩 SO MUCH.

Verse 2

两分与桥歇脚南北行船 Two parts to the bridge where travellers on foot and by boat from the north and south can rest,

欣然八方风物闲话半日茶碗 delighted by the scenery all around, idly chatting half the day away over bowls of tea.

三分典流水润色枯瘦石山 Three parts for the running water, moistening the gaunt stone mountains

又将天地一展伸手试浓淡 and again spreading heaven and earth wide, reaching out to test the viscosity (of the water).

It took a few listens, but in the end I really enjoyed the aesthetics here. And again, this verse is quite straight to the point albeit with two things I cannot understand.

The first point of confusion for me is why the lyricist chose to use 桥 | qiáo, a bridge as the place for people to rest on their journeys. I assumed here that this in reference to a pier or dock, assumed also that he is donating funds for this structure to be built or repaired. However, if that were the case 坞 | wù would have been enough - 船坞 was supposedly invented only in the Song Dynasty though, so maybe that’s why another word was chosen. But it’s not like there is any incidence of 桥 being used to mean ‘dock’ either!

The second thing that confuses me is the use of 典 for 流水. In verse one, that 典 was referring to the poetry works sold to reserve the venue for a banquet. That usage was apt. Here I suspect it might be for parallel structure, because there is no alternative reading for 典 that might allow one to use their 30% 三分 to do anything to flowing water 流水. That’s the literal reading, of course.

If we’re taking this a little less literally, it can be interpreted as borrowing the scenery (figuratively, since the place would not belong to anyone in the way you might own a property) to admire. It also expands on the second line’s mention of the surrounding view 欣然八方风物; there is running water which completes 润色 and brings the appearance of the gaunt and rocky mountains 枯瘦石山 closer to perfection.

润色 | rùn sè means to polish, to bring to greater heights. When you say something has been 润色 it is made more brilliant and closer to perfection by that addition. It can also mean moisten.

We always hear ‘rivers and mountains like a painting’ 江山如画 - originating from Su Dongpo’s《念奴娇·赤壁怀古》- used when the scenery is wonderful, because how often is real life as ideal as what we can imagine and depict? And that is exactly what is described here. The feeling out if the ‘water’ is concentrated or diluted 试浓淡 is used in answer to 一展 unfurling. 浓淡 of ink to 一展 of painting scroll. The land and sky seem like an ink wash painting, so beautiful that the viewer cannot help but reach out to run their hand through the water.

Chorus

Chorus Part 1

若趁游兴直到酣 If we take advantage of our wanderlust and go roaming till it is sated,

千字文章不值钱 classics and essays shan’t be worth a coin.

诗换花词换雪 A poem for a flower! A song for snow!

再作檄文斗天官 Another denunciation for those heavenly officials!

Starting off with three new terms for me: 游兴 | yóu xìng means enthusiasm for travel. 酣 | hān can mean having a great time drinking, or being very satisfied and satiated. 檄文 | xí wén is a type of official document written for important announcements, declaration of war, or denunciation and condemnation of certain people or actions.

While I still feel this need to go out to see the world, I shall keep on the road until I am satisfied. Who cares about writing, who cares for study, it’s all worthless to me. I do what I want. And what I want is to write a little poem in exchange for a flower, some lyrics for a flake of snow. I’ll even write a denunciation against those officials in heaven (immortals). Fight me!!!!

I point again at Verse 1 with climbing the tower to play with stars. It’s no longer just playing nearby, now he wants a go at the gods.

Among the four parts of the chorus, this one is the simplest for sure. The lines mean exactly what is said. It also feels the most chaotic and mischievous. Is the speaker drunk? Is he high on something? One thing’s for sure. He’s out of money.

Chorus Part 2

何愁不得一样我 Why feel troubled that (I) cannot have another just like me?

知交尽向话中添 for one who understands you and is understood, look entirely towards stories to fill that place

唐解元嵇中散 people like Tang Bohu (first in provincial examinations) and proud, upright and stubborn Ji Kang

且驰大梦任疯癫 Just chase that great dream, allow yourself to go mad.

I feel like the first two lines are quite straightforward, though they might not appear so on first reading: How could there be a need to feel sad or troubled that I have no like-minded equal. To find a true friend who understands you without need for words, and whom you understand in return, all you need to do is turn to those tales and stories 话中 for people to fill 添 that place.

唐解元 - People like Tang Yin, courtesy name: Bohu 唐寅, 字伯虎 (1470–1524 AD), noted painter, calligrapher and poet of the Ming Dynasty. Tang Yin led a life full of ups and downs that really cannot be covered in a paragraph’s worth of song translation notes. You can check out his wiki page if you’re curious though! There’s a little more on him where I cover the last line of this section. He is addressed as 解元 | jiè yuán here which is the term for the top scorer of the provincial examinations (second stage in the Imperial examination ladder). It is also an honorific for scholars. Tang Bohu is both.

嵇中散 - People like Ji Kang, courtesy name: Shuye 嵇康, 字叔夜, (223–262 AD), one of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove - a group of friends who wisely kept themselves aloof from the dangerous politics of the Court, and devoted themselves to art, refinement and debate, of the Three Kingdoms period. He was a Daoist philosopher, musician, writer and poet.

An accomplished musician, the qin composition 廣凌散 | guǎnglíng sàn is attributed to Ji Kang, though some versions of the story claim he learned it from a ghost while stopping at a pavillion on his way home. 嵇中散 was one of the names he was known by because of his appointment to the position of Attendant Counsellor, 中散大夫 | zhōng sàn dàfū, a civil official unspecified duties in the court of Cao Wei.

When Ji Kang was sentenced to death for his attempt to testify for a wrongly accused friend, three thousand scholars petitioned for his pardon to no avail. It’s said that at the execution ground, while they waited for the appointed hour, he had his favourite qin brought out and played a brilliant interpretation of Guanglin San that is now forever lost.

Do go read about them both if you have the time!

I would like to point out for the last line that 任 is to allow, to indulge, and it’s just such a heady sensation to say 任疯癫 - indulge in the madness! throw yourself in and don’t look back!

There is an easter egg here too. A nod to a poem by Tang Yin which can be read as his stance on his lifestyle choice after the alleged accusations of bribery in the final step of the Imperial examinations left him disgraced, and unable to pursue a civil career. Thematically the line does not call back to the poem at all, similarities end with the choice of words: chasing the dream 驰大梦 and indulging madness 任疯癫. I leave an excerpt below. Translation again by me.

《桃花庵歌》- Song of a Plum Blossom Cottage // 若将花酒比车马 | if tawdriness and wine were compared against fine carriage and steed 他得驱驰我得闲 | he would have to drive and work hard for speed whilst I have my idle rest 别人笑我太疯癫 | others mock me for my madness 我笑他人看不穿 | i am amused for they do not perceive 不见五陵豪杰墓 | can’t you see that at the Emperors’ mausoleums and heroes’ graves 无花无酒锄做田 | there are no flowers, no wine, only land ploughed for farming

The second part of the chorus isn’t related to the first, but it has the same theme of showcasing the untamable (unhinged xD) spirit of the speaker. This time, the people he admires ‘intellectual equals’ and kindred spirits are featured, the 任性 feeling here has been pushed to greater heights.

Chorus Part 3

敢夸洒落何须酒 If one dares to boast of carefreeness, why, they hardly need wine.

不煮黄粱也称仙 Even without brewing millet they would still be called Immortal.

镜湖桌白梅盏 The tables in the mirror-like lake, white plum blossoms in the cups,

等来春风恰开宴 await the spring breeze which arrives just in time for the feast to start!

Li Bai is regarded as both the god of poetry 诗仙 and god of drunkards wine 酒仙 because he wrote some of his greatest poems while drinking. The first two lines seem to be gently poking fun at that. Like hey, if you dare to claim to be all groovy, surely you have no need for alcohol? Just like how an immortal would still be an immortal without wine, your writing talent should not need any stimulants. This would be the time to mention that 黄粱 | huáng liáng is also known as millet, a type of grain that can be used to brew wine.

洒落 | sǎ luò has a few meanings, like shower down or blame, but the relevant one here would be 洒脱 generous, uninhibited and open. For me it feels similar to 风流 in that there is that ‘free, and exhilaratingly unrestrained’ element. 洒落 is in the most positive sense, being always open to having a good time, but without that dissolute or vaguely whirlwind-romance like connotation of 风流.

It feels like the intensity is letting up a little here - this is a light-hearted and frivolous song all the way through, but the words 洒落, 称仙 and imagery of a clear lake, white plum blossoms and the crisp spring breeze are grounding and sweet. Spirited in a different way from before.

Chorus Part 4

四角天地也醺然 The four corners and heaven and earth are also tipsy,

醉极自有桃李搀 when I’ve overindulged, my students will be there to help.

快意只笔下讨 Gratification can only be claimed from beneath the brush;

何必诗债换酒钱 is falling into poetry debt worth that money for drink?

New words: 醺然 | xūn rán just means drunk. A new word for me though! 桃李 | táo lǐ is literally peach 桃 and plum 李 (李花, also known as 玉梅) flowers, and is a metaphor for students. The term originates from a story in 《韩诗外传》which was set in the Wei Kingdom of the Spring and Autumn period (771 to 476 BCE). There was once a highly ranked official who was sacked from his post and left for the north. He met another gentleman and remarked that the people he helped before did not lift a finger when he was in need. This person replied that, if someone were to plant peach and plum trees in spring, he could relax under their shade in the Summer and taste their fruit in the Autumn. But if that person were to plant weeds, nothing can be done with their leaves in Spring and there would only be burrs to hurt himself on in Autumn. Clearly the people the unfortunate gentlemen had helped before were not worth his effort. Students ought to be carefully selected and carefully cultivated as one would a tree.

Reading the four corners and heaven and earth 四角天地 are also tipsy 也醺然, I imagine the world sort of spinning around the speaker because he is drunk. But that’s okay, because his students (or the trees xD) will be there to support him.

快意 | kuài yì is the feeling of sudden relaxation, and then lightheartedness and joy. In this line, I felt like the intention would be closer to 畅快，爽快 and so chose gratification, because really writing is like scratching an itch isn’t it? Pleasure from satisfaction of a desire. Phrasing it as 笔下讨 is so very fitting though, because 讨 can be interpreted - somewhat contradicting - as either to demand or to beg. What could be more gratifying than having squeezed out the perfect sentence or word under your figurative pen?

So so so after all that, 何必诗债换酒钱? What do you think, is alcohol worth the poetry debt? Is Mr. Poet actually drunk and about to dig himself a deeper hole of owed poems to get even MORE drunk, or has he just been thinking about it all along? :)

Thoughts

This has been such a fun adventure following our madcap big spender from the shining Chang’an to the inviting Qinhuai, shadow of great poets in tow and all. We’ve done everything from talking to the moon and seeing the sights by her light, to boating down a river, dragging fingers through the water. It was sort of like being on a backpacking tour, except with with someone contemplating opening (or perhaps regretting opening this can of worms?) poetry commissions instead of singing in the streets?

Dear reader, if you’ve reached this point of my post, thank you. I hope you enjoy the song as much as I do now!

#何必诗债换酒钱 #translation notes #i made a new years resolution and this is step one #i had so many more things to say lol but it's like 1 am and i need to go to bed #this took way longer than i thought it might

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mytwistedhome · 4 years

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𝘙𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 ~ 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭

a Riddle x Female Reader story

A ballroom scenario inspired by the Ghost Marriage event <3 Written in the present tense with a second-person POV!

(I’m also thinking of doing something with a masquerade theme for Rook... The idea just seems so romantic to me!)

A quick note before I begin:

I know that @jangmi-latte (I’m tagging as a way to have others easily find them... I hope it is not a bother) had a very similar idea to write these types of stories inspired by the event, and I did see their post before writing this. However, my intention was not at all to copy or plagiarize their idea. I genuinely adore ballroom scenarios, and I just wanted to have my go at it. I was more so inspired by seeing the new cards the morning they were shared on Tumblr. I really just love everything about it. I’m sorry if it’s annoying to see this idea repeated (as I know my writing probably can’t even compare latte’s), but this really was just for my enjoyment. I have absolutely zero intention of scraping off someone else’s idea, as I know that can feel like such a kick to the gut. My full support and admiration goes to latte, and once again, my intention is not to produce a copy.

Oh, gosh... sorry that was so long.

Anyways, I hope that some people may enjoy! And, thank you all so, so much for a hundred followers! I just reached that number yesterday, and I am so happy <3 It means a lot to me! Thank you all!

(I was going to use the image of Riddle's new card, but I decided against it in case of spoiling others... I chose just to use this gif because the girl here almost fully embodies the “reader” character that I envisioned🤍 Though, unfortunately, I do not know the source of it.)

Gentle music of the harp and piano sounds through the ballroom's walls, and a several couples sway to the melody, much to their delight, yet much to your bore. You look around, trying to find something of entertainment in this vibrant and beautiful setting. Riddle is standing at the other end of the ballroom, his lips curving slightly down as he greets all those he knows with polite words and a nod of his head. Do you see him? Standing there among the others? Dressed so finely in a suit of red and black?

You lean your body to the side to peer past the other guests standing in front of you, and--yes! You do see him! He, with a pleasant face and a stare so cold. He, with his vibrant hair and whispy ribbons of gold. Your eyes widen with a gasp for breath, and your heart starts to hammer in your chest. The speeding pace of your heart rushes blood to your cheeks and through every pulsing vein. How lovely. So fluttery. This feeling of blissful lightness.

You role your eyes up, gazing at that shining silver ceiling of the ballroom as you release a warm breath. With that sigh, you consent yourself to the dizzy feelings of fondness that grow in your mind. And then, as if walking on air, you weave your way through the crowd of guests.

Stepping gracefully, you pass through everyone in your way as your body turns and sways. The skirt of your gown sweeps around your legs with every motion of your hips, and you can't help the simple smile that graces your lips as you gaze into the eyes of every person you go by. Yet, you do not hold the eyes of anyone. Only a glance, and then you pass. Some even begin to part a path as they see you moving by. An enchanting look charms anyone, doesn't it?

You smile in courtesy as you make your way over, though still so focused on the young man of your desire--the one of whom you decided is wonderful and handsome before you've even met him.

And--oh! There he is! Just several feet away! You hadn't even realized that you made it this far, did you? And, now that you are so much closer to him, you are suddenly overcome by a severe nervousness. It seizes your veins, quickens your pulse, and tightens your throat. You take in a sharp breath as a sweat rolls down your back. Butterflies emerge from their cocoons inside your stomach, stretching their wings out inside of you. What are you to do? You hadn't thought of what to say. Oh goodness, oh my, just what are you to say?

And, right then, Riddle glances your way. His brows raise, eyes widen; interest and admiration are completely captured at that brief moment. That second your eyes meet his, you give a wide grin. Nervousness floods into excitement and adrenaline, and it pushes you further, further to walk to him.

You see Riddle smile politely as you approach him. Though his expression is not nearly as enthusiastic as yours, he still holds a starstruck twinkle in his gaze. "Hello," he greats with all gentleness and ease, right before he's struck with awareness and recognition, "Oh... Is it you?"

"Yes, Riddle," you answer eagerly, "It is me."

Of course, you know Riddle well because of his family tittle, and he knows of you as the daughter of his family's friend, yet this was the first time for the two of you to be formerly introduced. Every time your name was mentioned in his home, Riddle wold not think much of it. You do not know this, but from the little information he heard of you, he thought you to be a silly, ditsy girl who did not much care for responsibility. He did not ever imagine you to be so gorgeous, or to be so warm, or to look at him with such welcome in your expression. Looking at you now, he regrets all the judgement he ever made when he was younger. How could he think so lightly of you whom he hadn't even known?

Riddle is quick to now conceal his surprise, smiling at you wider with a shimmer in his eyes. "It's really a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face. Would you like to dance while the music is still slow? It's only proper for us to get acquainted through a dance, as I'm sure you know."

Your expression falters, lip quivers, and you take a slight step back as you hesitate what to answer, "I really do love to dance, but I am not very good..." you admit with a shy smile as you lower your head to the ground, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. "I'd much prefer to skip that for now, if you don't mind."

Riddle tilts his head, looking at you strangely, as he's a bit perplexed to hear you admit to your lack of skill in the common tradition. You worry at that expression of devastation, but, well, what were you expecting?

"I see..." he says after a pause, "Well, you are young, so I'm not too surprised. But, weren't your parents ever strict on you to learn?"

"Oh...? No, not really," you shake your head solemnly, "my parents never really minded if I didn't know to dance, though I sometimes wish they made me practice more..."

You see Riddle's eyes widen ever slightly in strange alarm, and you wonder for a moment if you had said something wrong.

"So I see," his expression darkens as he takes on a harsher tone, "That would never go over in my home." He's beginning to reconsider his presumptions, and you are so unaware. Perhaps he was right? Perhaps you are just a silly girl who's careless towards your duty? Though, maybe he shouldn't jump to conclusions...

Riddle sighs, releasing the thoughts from his mind. "Have you been here before? I believe this is my first time seeing you attend this place."

"No," you shake your head so that your hair bounces over your shoulders, and you show a wide grin as all excitement suddenly rush up through your veins and pours out onto your ecstatic face, "I have never been to this ballroom before. But, it's so beautiful! I love it very much already."

Riddle returns your smile with one of reverence, "Come with me, then. There is something here I think you would like to see."

You beam, and your heart beats faster as butterflies turn into a warmth that spreads up your chest and up your throat. You keenly follow Riddle as he turns toward the back of the ballroom, keeping close to him, almost touching. The ball is, really, so spectacular. The golden fractures of the floor seem to shimmer, and the setting sun reflects off the shining pillars. Everything is shrouded in royal shades of silver and pale grays. The music echoes from the walls that stretch up, up to the ceiling, filling every person with serenity and charm. You turn your head to Riddle and see how the light gleams off the golden details that adorn his vest. Oh, how beautiful...! You think to yourself, for he truly radiates in such a grand place.

In silence, you follow Riddle out to the garden. That setting sun embellishes the sky with gentle colors of pink and orange, illuminating the atmosphere as the distant sun glows red. The garden is just as magnificent as the inside of the ballroom. There are flowers beds of lilies, bushes of azaleas, and roses of all colors. Your eyes grow wide at the sight of all the pretty plants and the scent of all the fruity fragrances, and Riddle smiles at you, so delighted to see you happy.

A white archway wrapped in green vines leads onto a stone path, and Riddle gestures for you to entwine your arm with his as he leads you down that path. You smile and obey, blissfully linking your arm to his. The fabric of his sleeve is soft against your bare arm, and the small butterflies that float from flower to flower somehow seem to find their way into your stomach once more as you grow nervous and excited to have Riddle so near to you.

"This garden is so lovely," you say with a grin, "I'm enjoying everything. Thank you for showing me."

Riddle turns his head towards you, his face so close to your own, and responds with a gentle smile, "I'm glad you like it, but this isn't all. Just be patient until we get further down."

You nod your head and turn your face away from his to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. With your eyes to the ground and your lips still smiling, you allow yourself to be overcome with affection towards the young man who was, right now, treating you so kindly. Your heart pounds yet again, hammering away until it drives you into a dizzy, dreamy state of elation. And, before you know it, you are in the place that Riddle had intended for your to see, and he gently tugs at your arm with his own to get you to look up.

You lift your chin, and what you see takes your breath away. Before you, a circular garden table with many fancy little chairs surrounding it is beautifully ornamented with everything needed for a perfect tea party. But, not just that, everything on that table is moving all on their own! The teapots pour their tea into the cups, which then go flying from chair to chair, waiting for someone who isn't there. The miniature cakes all dance around the table as they hop onto every plate, and the cookies follow their lead. The spoons cling themselves onto the empty teacups, making light noises that sound so delicate and pretty, and everything else moves with a madness that somehow blends and complements into an odd harmony.

"Oh, Riddle...!" you breathe out, your soft voice full of glee, "This is incredible!"

You hear him give the smallest of laughs as he looks at you with such fondness and care. "I'm glad you're happy with it," is all he says before he turns his own attention to the remarkable tea party.

Such a sight really is unbelievable. Things like this can only happen with the aid of magic, isn't that right? Could it be that Riddle had done this? Had you shown you because he was proud? Because he wanted you to be pleased? Your smile widens and the idea that this could all be due to Riddle's talent, for he's truly so wonderful with magic. Yet, despite your delight, you cannot help but wonder... Is he doing all of this from his heart, or just to be polite?

But, just then, a new type of music sounds from the ballroom and reaches your ears, even this deep in the garden. It's much louder and now, and it seems to be... violins? Something beautiful and passionate...

From the corner of your eye, you see Riddle shifting himself towards you, pressing himself ever closer. He places his hand at your waist, which causes another blush to rise to your face. He leans closer, closer... Closer until his lips are right at your ear. "Do you hear the new music? The violins have begun. How about we share that dance now?"

"Oh...!" you gasp softly at having his whispering warm breath breeze past your ear. "Oh, no, I couldn't. I might step on you..."

Riddle quickly turns his head away and laughs in joy. At this very moment, you openly believe that his is one of the most beautiful things you've ever heard, and his genuine smile the most gorgeous sight to behold. He faces you now once again, and he says to you in a voice so sweet, "Do not worry, please. It would be my honor to have a lady practice her dancing on my feet."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wondereland oneshot #twst #disney twst #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #ballroom scene

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ingek73 · 4 years

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1/2

The Royal KAREN Has Come Out To Play

By Irene May 28, 2020

Samir Hussein/Getty Images

The Royal KAREN Has Come Out To Play.

It’s silly season for Karens the world over. For some reason, they are everywhere. Not a day passes without some account of an entitled white woman exhibiting peak privilege, by making their own choices and then playing victim and acting a complete fool, when it doesn’t go to plan. When in full Karen mode, they are an outright danger to whoever is in their path.

They will cough or spit in your face with the hopes that you catch a virus that they may knowingly or unknowingly be carrying because, they say it’s their right to not wear a mask and you questioned it. They will call the police and put on a dramatic act to feign danger or a threat because, they expect that when the police show up, your life can literally be taken from you. They will make a huge song and dance about why your success is not worthy or deserved because, their own lives suck and they wish they were in your position.

As if we didn’t already have enough to deal with, a royal Karen said hold my coatdress. She called her royal media police, to do a number on a lady who is minding her own business, probably enjoying some avocado toast by the pool on a sunny California day. She did that because, she expects the “police” to take her side. I for one am tired of this constant scapegoating and am having no parts of this latest royal propaganda lynch mob.

Kate Middleton feels exhausted

Kate Middleton blames Meghan

Catherine The Great cover

Karen is KEEN to be ‘KWEEEN’

She wants the moon. Once upon a time, a young lady grew up in an upper- middle class family. She was fortunate to be enrolled in private school, where it is reported that, in her teen years she had a poster of a certain young prince on her wall. Harmless teenage fantasy right? What young lady doesn’t have a poster of a guy she admired? After her A-levels, this lady reportedly got admission into her dream university(Edinburgh). Around that time, it was announced that the prince she likely admired was to attend St. Andrews University, after he has taken a gap year . For reasons that still remain unclear, the young lady made an about turn, and rejected her already confirmed place at her dream university. She decided to take a gap year and apply to St. Andrews University.

Kate turned down dream college to chase William

Kate attends same college as William

It was described as a gamble, as St. Andrews had become very competitive once it was known that the young prince would be attending there. Also, the young lady wanted to be an art history major and Edinburgh’s art history program was said to be among the best in Britain.

Kate's decistion to decline admission

Kate chases William

Whether by a stroke of luck or fate, the young lady got into St. Andrews University, where she went on to become friends with said prince. The subsequently embarked on an almost decade long courtship, including a short period of separation. She was bestowed a nickname on account of the perception that, she had waited for a long while and had yet to be rewarded with the much coveted royal engagement. Wasn’t that cold, considering that after Uni, she literally put her career on hold to be available to the prince at a moment’s notice? But all is well that end well. The waiting paid off. She and the prince became affianced and subsequently married. This put her squarely in the path to be future queen consort.

Waity Katy

Tatler shades Middleton family

Riding on their wave of pre and post nuptial publicity, the lady and the prince settled into a quiet life in the countryside. The now duchess did not assume full time royal duties because, her prince was holding a ‘regular’ job and not a full-time working royal himself. Their stint in the countryside was dotted with a handful of royal engagements here and a few tours there. She even got a new nickname, Duchess Doolittle. She and her prince were described as ‘work shy’ and were under pressure to step up to the plate.

workshy William

workshy Kate Middleton

workshy William and Kate

This was all BEFORE her brother-in-law, Prince Harry met and fell in love with his then girlfriend Meghan Markle. Karen was enjoying her cushy life, with all eyes on her. Then in rolls this strong, gorgeous, and accomplished woman on her brother-in-law’s arm. Their engagement and ensuing marriage captivates the attention of the world. Together, they are dynamite. The world and its media can’t get enough of them.

Karen is ANGRY

She wants the moon, with no stars in the sky. The newest Duchess was magnetic. She seemed to just naturally ease into her duties. She exuded warmth and had an easy and natural way with people , that endeared her to them. She took on her first foreign visit to Ireland like a duck to water. Wait, who is this girl and where is her learning curve? Its four months after she became a working royal and she already has a project ready to launch? Oh no, no, no! Karen is on a mission to save Britain’s kids at a yet to be decided date but, can we just tell everyone now? I’m working too you know.

Kate's broken Britain

Meghan launches cookbook

It’s now the autumn of 2018 and the world is watching a dynamic royal couple take Oceania by storm on a packed two and a half week tour. Thick crowds, meaningful engagements, funny, heartfelt and memorable moments, captivating speeches, showstopping fashion. It’s all a bit much for Karen, and this time Kevin, and they have taken notice. Something must be done. “Kenablers” in the Kingdom concur. Before the couple could wrap their tour, the palace all of a sudden developed a curious plumbing issue. Drip, drip, drip… “ Meghan made Kate Cry”, “Meghan was rude to Kate’s staff”, “Meghan was rude to Windsor castle staff”, “ Meghan wanted air fresheners in the church”, “ Meghan is demanding”. Thus begun an orchestrated campaign to dim the stars. It came thick and fast.

Meghan makes Kawte cry headline

smear article Meghan makes Kate cry

Kate attacks Meghan

Karen’s mother even tried throw some shade at Meghan in an interview saying, “royalty is not just about giving speeches”. Curiously though, Karen all of a sudden was delivering speeches at every turn. That is, provided she could flip the notecards quickly enough, to get to the next line. She even “designed” a garden and became a pro at climbing into tree houses and oscillating on rope swings. Every outfit change and accompanying smile became an engagement. There was even a groundbreaking log design. Whew! I tell you it’s the stuff of CEOs. Top notch executive stuff. Catapulting the British monarchy into modernity, one log at a time.

Kate's garden flower show

Harry and Meghan flower Chelsea flower show

The palace even prevented CAMFED from using pictures they took with Prince Harry the previous year. Why? It would be a tragedy if the future queen’s garden is overshadowed by Meghan. Note that, Harry and Meghan had no involvement with the CAMFED garden, and Meghan does not appear in the images in question. But that was the PR line. Meghan, who was home nursing her baby and editing British Vogue, was somehow threatening to overshadow Kate’s garden.

Through all of this, Kate’s pregnant and now post-partum sister-in-law was being raked over the coals. Mostly for things she supposedly did to Kate, or for being the source of a feud, for doing everything wrong that Kate did right and for supposedly causing war and drought among other things. Kate, despite being a self-proclaimed champion of new mothers bit her tongue and never once offered a word of support to her sister-in-law. The Kingdom was silent too.

As the year drew to a close and the Sussexes took a break from the royal Christmas to spend time in Canada, it was time for the K-team to reclaim the spotlight. At least that’s what the propaganda machine told us. It turns out that the spotlight is not just bright and shiny, it reveals things and “pigeons” like to keep things under wraps.

As it turned out, The Sussexes had decided that their family’s well-being was paramount and said, here is where we draw the line. We are out. What? What do you mean? Are we going to have to do more work? I don’t know Karen, you have the stage. For the time being, the ‘Kenablers’ told us that Karen was relieved now that Meghan had left. She now feels more relaxed that she doesn’t have to be compared to Meghan. Sure.

Kate's time to shine

Kate happy Meghan left

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