#singer milky way dress

[misskittyhart]

CHAPTER 1: Crescent City Where The Jazz Is Gritty

It was a rainy afternoon in New Orleans, the year 1924. The city changed from a sleepy town to a loud, wild night. The cacophonous sound of jazz blared into the streets of the French quarter. The music was hot and blaring crashing down around any one who passed by it’s warm lit streets. Consuming you with the promise of a good time.

The rain had caught up many who were on the way to their jobs at the French Quarter, a gaggle of people huddled under an awning of a local business hoping for a break in this down pour. One of the faces in this crowd was a stunning milky skinned woman with auburn hair and the most stunning emerald green eyes. Her hair was partially pulled back in finger waves, a bright crystal encrusted magnolia adoring her red locks. She had a black fur coat pulled tight around her trying desperately to keep her beautiful dark sapphire beaded dress from getting wet. The dress was shin length, and was accompanied by fine black hosiery and dark blue heels that seemed to glimmer in the street light.

Her name was Kitty, she was a marvelous jazz singer at one of the largest jazz clubs in the quarter, The Silver Magnolia. She was looking at her delicate watch on her wrist wondering if she should risk the down pour as she would be late. People whispered around her, realizing who she was. She was new to the scene, only singing for a year now but she was the head lining act, especially on a Saturday where the joint was so packed it sucked the air from the room. Hot, loud and heavy music filled that room, a room you could lose yourself completely with the sweet taste of rye, you could forget everything. She was terribly worried if the rain didn’t let up soon she would be late for sound check.

A voice startled her suddenly, “you look like you could use an umbrella. You seem to be in a hurry to get somewhere, darling.” A sultry honeyed tone spoke from her side. She turned her face to the stranger to see who was talking to her. He was tall, slender and striking. He wore a bright grin on his handsome features, that made his light brown skin glow. His hazel eyes stared through small round glasses frames as he looked upon her. He was wearing a loud but dashing dark red suit fit with a charming dark red bow tie. He held the umbrella up over her. “I wouldn’t suppose you’d offer me the pleasure of walking you to your destination and allow me to keep you out of this mess.” He said in a very charming tone.

“Oh, yes. That would be very kind, mister?” She said wondering who this man was. Though he seemed very kind, there was an air of pride and arrogance about him.

“Ahhah! You can call me Alastor.” He said offering her his hand in a graceful manner.

“I’m kitty.” She said taking his hand. Which he so smoothly brought to his lips giving her knuckles a chaste kiss. His amber eyes keeping contact with her. He was extremely charming, She thought to her self.

“Well Miss Kitty it is a pleasure to run into such a stunning young woman like yourself!” That smile still on his face. He offered her his arm to take so he could walk her to her destination. She took it after a pause, and began walking along side him. “Tell me pretty one~ where are you headed? It would be my delight to make sure you arrive dry and safe~”

She looked up at him curiously. Alastor. He wouldn’t happen to be the famous radio host would he? She wondered. His question stopped her thoughts. “Oh I’m headed to the Silver Magnolia” she said simply, “I really appreciate your kindness I thought I might be late for sound check”

His eyes glistened with interest now. His smile widening as he looked down at her, almost towering over her smaller stature. “My, my! You wouldn’t happen to be a singer would you?” He asked interested in her.

“I would. I’m the star of the club you could say. At least that’s what they say in the posters and flyers.” She said walking in stride with him. She could feel rain splashing her feet slightly as they walked the water logged sidewalks arm in arm.

“My! That is so wonderful! You must be an amazing singer, I know the magnolia is a very popular jazz club. I may have to come and listen sometime. I’ve been known to cut a rug~” he said looking down at her studying her face, putting it to memory.

“We would love to have you some time.” She said looking at him, “I’m on in an hour if you have nothing to do.”

He grinned wider, “my if I couldn’t say any better, are you asking me out Miss Kitty?”

Kitty let out a silvery airy laugh at his words. “Oh heavens no darling~ I was just offering since you are providing such a service to me and the club.” She really felt like she heard his voice before. “Say…Mr. Alastor, you wouldn’t happen to be the Alastor, the radio host?” She asked him

His grin sparkled and his eyes lit up at being recognized so suddenly. “Why yes my darling! Have you listened to my broadcasts?” He asked now intrigued.

“Oh yes! I catch it quite regularly. You are very entertaining.” She said smiling warmly

“Ah how kind of you my dear! Well if you insist I have time to spare today before my broadcast late tonight. I would love to hear you sing” he offered. What a charming young woman she was, and quite the stunner. He could feel the jealous glances of men in the street and it made him swell with pride.

“I would be delighted to treat you to a stiff drink as a thanks, as well.” She said patting his arm lightly.

He grinned down at her his eyes studying her, “well my darling that would be a treat! I appreciate the offer. I suppose I can take you up on that, it would be rude to leave such a gorgeous creature to drink alone.”

Kitty laughed again “you certainly have a way with words darling~ I’m sure you have women wrapped around your pinky.” She teased him.

He grinned wide eyes focused on her.

Before much longer they arrived at a stunning bright white building with golden filigree on the outside. The bright street lights sparkled down on the name “The Silver Magnolia” It was a bright beacon in the dreary twilight downpour.

Kitty opened the doors walking in with him out of the rain. She sighed taking her coat off and draping it over her arm. Her dress was a stunning off the shoulder number that hugged in all the right ways and showed off her beautiful creamy white bosom. She was wearing a glittering crystal necklace that sat around her collar bone, and her earrings matched perfectly. He couldn’t help but give her a cheeky look over.

“My you are just stunning, darling~” he said teasing her with that tone dripping with honey. He was certainly the charmer.

Kitty laughed softly “why aren’t you just the charmer~” she teased.

“Kitty cat!” A male voice called out. It was a large man behind the bar with striking features and slicked back blonde hair.

“Hey Mike!” She said waving towards him

Mike looked over curiously at Alastor. “Oh? Who’s this? It’s rare for you to bring anyone around.” He smirked.

“Oh this is Alastor, you know the famous radio host. Fate would have it he showed up with an umbrella to keep me out of the mess out there.” She said smiling at him.

“Wow a local celebrity! Well welcome Alastor!” He smiled warmly.

Alastor offered him a grin. His pride swelling in his chest as his ego was stroked by the bar tender. “It’s a pleasure to be in this lovely establishment~ and a treat to have walked Miss Kitty here on my arm.”

Kitty shook her head at him. He sure was a silver tongued talker. His words dripped with confidence. “Would you pour us a drink before I sound check?” She asked walking to the bar and having a seat.

“Oh I’d be honored!” Mike grinned, “two fingers of rye as always?” He asked her

“You know me so well~” she said leaning her chin on her elegant hand.

“And for you mister Alastor?” Mike asked looking at him.

He sat down next to Kitty on the stool, “I’ll have what the lady is having~”

Mike nodded and turned to pour two glasses of rye. He slid them to each of them respectively.

Kitty took the glass in her hand swirling the brown liquid in her cup admiring it before taking a sip. She closed her eyes sighing enjoying the burn in her throat. Ah what a feeling.

Alastor watched her curiously, before taking a sip himself. “Ah~ that is some deliciously high quality whiskey.” He grinned, “you certainly have great taste, Miss Kitty~”

She laughed, “I suppose I do.”

His eyes were transfixed on the diva. His eyes had a glint of danger in them, but she seemed to not notice as she finished her whiskey. His ears pricked as he heard the sound of the band suddenly tuning their instruments. The faint tickle of piano keys got his attention, he turned looking over his shoulder at the stage. The lights now up as a jazz band collecting in front of the dark green velvet curtains. He raised a brow in interest.

Kitty set her glass down, it now drained of its contents. “That’s my queue” she said sliding off her stool. Show time was soon.

Alastor watched her walk toward the stage looking in her element.

“My dear Kitty!” A boisterous voice called.

Kitty looked over at the stage. “Glen!” She smiled brightly. Alastor paid close attention to how everyone seemed to light up when seeing her. It seem she brought starlight to the room when she entered. He raised a brow, what a charming woman indeed. He grinned.

“Who’s that young man over there? Is he your new boyfriend?” Glen asked taking his cigar from his mouth, “you better treat my little Kitty with care young man!”

Kitty flushed “Glen! That is not it at all, Mr. Alastor was kind enough to sheild me with his umbrella from the weather.”

Glen laughed softly, “I was wondering. I’ve never seen you bring a man here before.”

Kitty rolled her eyes. They’re relationship almost seemed like father and daughter, but he was the manager of the club.

Alastor laughed at the comment “I would be too lucky to have such a lovely creature on my arm~” he said with that charming honey dipped tone.

Kitty looked at him with contempt in her eyes. Men! She thought. “Time for the show.” She said climbing the stairs onto the stage. Her demeanor changed. She commanded that stage with great grace and power. Alastor admired the way she went about talking with the band going over notes, and there was an air of pride about her. Interesting~

She did a few warm ups into the mic as they tested sound. The band played a few small snippets of a song to make sure everything was good to go. Before they knew it the house was packed. Alastor was sat at a side table close to the stage where he could study all the action there. Kitty looked marvelous up there, like she belonged in that lime light. Her beads sparkled like stars in the night sky, her skin glowed like moon light. She certainly was a stunning creature. He rested his chin on his hands studying her intensely.

Kitty grabbed the mic like she would a lover. Cradling it with her delicate fingers, caressing the sparkling brace tenderly. When she sang and the music swelled she commanded every eye in that room. She was powerful. Her husky, sultry tones filled the room. He smiled brightly enjoying her command of the stage. A very interesting woman indeed. His eyes narrowed with intrigue. It wasn’t every day you ran into a dame like this. What a fun game this could be~

The music was coming down as she came to her final song. Her skin was glistening like diamonds in the hot stage light, as sweat trickling down her skin. She was pouring her heart and soul into her performance and it had the room holding its breath.

The trumpets whined, and the trombones roared, the piano tinkled their ivory keys, the drums pounding and the sound of the bass were crescendoing in anticipation to lead her voice to explode into the room.

She cupped the mic tenderly her red lips so close to the mic, ghosting against it as if it was her lover. Alastor watched hungrily and his eyes flickered with danger. When her husky voice erupted into song he felt a sense of desire swell in his chest.

To be or not to be~

That is not the question!

I decided long ago to be!

With me, it’s what to be~

Now, make me some suggestions~

Good or baaad

Which is the best for me?

When you’re after fun and laughter, oh this aggravates you~

Some reformers say a warmer climate awaits you~

If it’s naughty to your lips~

Shake your shoulders and shake your hips~

Let a lady convince, oh I want to be bad~

If it’s naughty to vamp the men~

Sleep each morning til after 10~

Then the answer is yes, I want to be baaad~

The thing is being a good little goodie is all very well~

What can you do when you’re loaded with plenty of health and vigor~

When you’re learning what lips are for~

And it’s naughty to ask for more ~

Let a lady confess~

I

Want

To

Be

Baaaaaad~

Her song ended on that loud sultry high note. The band culled the music down until the room stilled to silence. The room exploded into thunderous applause and whistling. Kitty graciously took her bow as the curtains closed before her. She panted softly dabbing her face free of sweat with her handkerchief. She felt pride and the high of preforming buzzing in her body.

Alastor clapped so hard his hands hurt. She was so very stunning. Her voice commanded all attention in that room, it was thrilling. She looked like a goddess on that stage. Powerful and prideful. The way her lips grazed the microphone was so alluring. What a flirtatious and delicious creature she was. He couldn’t take his eyes from her.

Oh yes this little game of cat and mouse would be so fun~

He had a new fascination to occupy his time.

“Just lovely, darling~” he said watching her disappear behind the curtain.

His lips twisted into a wicked grin.

To be continued!

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #New Orleans #1920s #Spotify

[blackyote]

"On three?"

Hunter flexed his hand on the mic and gave Luz a nod over his shoulder. It was just a practice session, but still, the venue was technically open, which meant a couple employees bouncing between tasks and some people who had seemingly wandered in off the street, perhaps having heard the bass thumping and gotten curious.

The next song on their setlist was one they hadn't performed together yet. It was a cover of an older pop song, basically their bread and butter, and Hunter had made sure to listen to both versions, starting with the original then moving to the punk rock cover. He had practiced at home (singing in the shower, singing into his computer's microphone so he could play it back) and rehearsed the lyrics in his head as he walked downtown. Honestly, he preferred the original, but the cover undeniably had more punch, suited the Bad Girl Coven's style better.

Luz tapped her drumsticks, one two three, and the band came alive around him: Amity jumping into the main riff, Willow strumming the bass line at his side, Luz setting the rhythm, and Gus working his synthesizer.

"Kiss me, out of the bearded barley Nightly, beside the green, green grass Swing, swing, swing the spinning step I'll wear those shoes and you will wear that dress"

His voice started out a little warbling and uncertain, maybe just to his own ears, but that's what practice was for. No one down on the floor stopped what they were doing, but continued to mill around, consigning him to background music. As the first verse bled into the chorus, he intentionally loosened up, let himself sing as confidently as he had to the showerhead.

"Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight Lead me out on the moonlit floor Lift your open hand Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance Silver moon's sparkling So kiss me"

For a split second he caught Willow's eye and almost froze like a deer in the headlights. No no no. He wasn't ready to sing this to anyone. Least of all her. On reflex he glanced the other way, at Amity, who smiled encouragingly. The band was sounding flawless. He didn't want to mess this up.

"Kiss me, down by the broken treehouse Swing me, upon its hanging tire Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat We'll take the trail marked on your father's map"

He let himself pretend the lights were dimmed, that the floor was packed with people singing and bouncing. While Amity had been coaching him on his singing, Luz was the one to remind him to go out and have a good time. How could the audience have fun if he wasn't? Maybe it was an oxymoron to focus on having fun, but he tried to let the self-consciousness slip away, replaced by the music filling his bones. He moved around the stage, let all of him be part of the performance.

"Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight Lead me out on the moonlit floor Lift your open hand Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance Silver moon's sparkling So kiss me"

He was feeling it now, gesticulating striking up the band, pointing to the imagined moon, rocking forward with the end of the chorus, pumping the mic along with Luz's drums as the instrumental bridge took over.

Then he made the mistake of looking over at their bassist. It was like her whole body moved with every strum of the strings, her skirt swishing around her legs. This came so easily to her, and with the lights making her hair a beautiful indigo, the brightness in her eyes, Hunter was transfixed.

"Kiss him already, jeez!" someone down near the bar shouted, just for a laugh.

It worked on Willow, her teeth flashing prettily, and Hunter felt his whole face heat up.

Distantly, he realized the band had stopped playing, with only Luz still working the drums. Willow gave him a quizzical look.

"Hunter!" Amity called, trying to get his attention.

"Dude, you were zoning out again. You forgot your cue." Gus seemed equal parts concerned and amused, perhaps noticing who had snared their singer's attention.

Hunter started, shaking himself out of it. "Sorry! I got... distracted."

"Maybe Willow and I should trade places," Gus teased, which did nothing to help the embarrassed flush on Hunter's face.

"Leave him alone, Gus," Willow said. "He's still adjusting, that's all."

Hunter attempted a laugh, but it was more a squeak. "Uh. Sorry, guys." He rubbed his neck, chagrined. "From the top?"

Luz counted them down. This time, Hunter nailed it.

---

Inspired by Sol's awesome Band AU art! It's so cute, I'm obsessed!

#the owl house #hunter toh #toh hunter #willow park #gus porter #huntlow #my writing #band au

[lunabunry]

PLANETXY - 5418

Finally posting what i've been working on orz I've been making a boy band/music group with their concept based on the 8 planets. Here's the first half in order of their rainbow order I gave based on the irl planets (as best I can do tbh)

Below are some early concepts i was playing with before landing on their current designs.

Next Post - 6372

Venus was the fifth member to join the group and takes care of most of the fashion and make-up aspects for the band. He loves fashion and dressing up in sorts of clothes regardless of gender. His goal is to be recognized by his favorite fashion brand.

Mars was the fourth member to join. He’s the main rapper and a part of the producing team in creating the music, his job is songwriting! He works out a lot to compensate for his height, he’s the second shortest in the band.

Jupiter was the first member to join ‘Milky Way Entertainment’ in hopes of becoming singer. Not long after more and more members started to join and soon Jupiter became the fifth oldest member. Before joining, Jupiter studied a lot about audio engineering and composing; now he works part of the producing team with Mars, Mercury, and Neptune. Jupiter is the team’s source of chaos, there’s never a dull moment when he’s around.

Saturn was the last member to join, tying the knot MME decided to make an eight-member boy group based off the planets. Saturn is the team’s choreographer and participates in most of the performance elements for the group. He was raised on ballet but soon learned urban dance styles in middle school. Saturn is a big bundle of sweet energy, and the team's mood booster on hard days.

#ghost's art #ghost's ocs #PLANETXY #VENU5 #M4RS #JUP1TER #8ATURN #original character #character art #character design #digital art

[janey-jane]

SLOW-MO SPIN TIME to show off those 80 hours of hand beading, painting, embroidery, and rhinestoning. So proud of how this ‘Milky Way’ dress design turned out 💙🌌🌠

lots more bts on the design process and construction on insta

#art by janey #i made this #singer milky way dress #space as fashion 2020 #retro style #vintage style #fashion design #fashion designer

[g00d-cr1mes-w1th-sc4r-moved]

Countries of the World asks

I’m too obsessed with the countries of the world so here y’all go! A brand new ask game

Afghanistan: what bright color would you dye your hair?

Albania: if you could buy anything for yourself, what would it be?

Algeria: do you play any sports?

Andorra: do you prefer winter or summer?

Angola: what’s your favorite holiday?

Antigua and Barbuda: what’s your preferred mode of transportation

Argentina: gold or silver?

Armenia: are you religious?

Australia: swimming or running?

Austria: favorite song?

Azerbaijan: where are you from?

Bahamas: flamingos or scarlet macaws?

Bahrain: beaches or forests?

Bangladesh: are you left or right handed?

Barbados: who’s your favorite singer?

Belarus: what’s your ideal aesthetic?

Belgium: pancakes or waffles?

Belize: black holes or the bermuda triangle?

Benin: do you prefer dresses or suits?

Bhutan: favorite mythical creature?

Bolivia: do you like the color pink?

Bosnia and Herzegovina: do you like the taste of water?

Botswana: elephants or rhinos?

Brazil: Lowe’s or Home Depot?

Brunei: dolphins or sea turtles?

Bulgaria: ice cream or frozen yogurt?

Burkina Faso: favorite book genre?

Burundi: iced or hot coffee?

Cabo Verde: succulents or flowers?

Cambodia: if you could live in any time period what would it be?

Cameroon: what’s your least favorite color?

Canada: what’s your sexuality?

Central African Republic: diamonds or rubies?

Chad: favorite fun fact?

Chile: jalapenos or bell peppers?

China: do you like ladybugs?

Colombia: hot chocolate or chocolate milk?

Comoros: is there a man or a rabbit on the face of the moon?

Costa Rica: tacos or enchiladas?

Cote d'Ivoire: Do people ever mispronounce your name?

Croatia: favorite breed of dog?

Cuba: crocodiles or alligators?

Cyprus: favorite savory food?

Czechia: what’s the strangest word you know?

Democratic Republic of the Congo: stripes or polka dots?

Denmark: what’s your favorite emoji?

Djibouti: dolphins or whales?

Dominica: red or green?

Dominican Republic: what’s your opinon on roller coasters?

Ecuador: carnivals or theme parks?

Egypt: opinion on triangles?

El Salvador: multiples of 13 or multiples of 17?

Equatorial Guinea: would you rather have a house made out of wood or stone?

Eritrea: greek or roman mythology?

Estonia: instagram or facebook?

Eswatini: black or white? (nothing to do with race, just the colors themselves)

Ethiopia: blue or lime green?

Fiji: What is your ideal vacation?

Finland: classical music or heavy metal?

France: baguettes or croissants?

Gabon: what’s your favorite book?

Gambia: what’s your favorite word?

Georgia: would you rather go into deep space or the deep ocean?

Germany: writing or drawing?

Ghana: what’s your favorite meal?

Greece: if you were the deity of anything what would it be?

Grenada: would you want to climb mount everest?

Guatemala: if you could have any exotic pet, what would it be?

Guinea: what would you do if you were trapped in a creepy forest?

Guinea-Bissau: palm trees or oak trees?

Guyana: earrings or necklaces?

Haiti: ducks or crabs?

Honduras: depths or heights?

Hungary: can you solve a rubik’s cube?

Iceland: hot springs or bubble baths?

India: do you like spicy food?

Indonesia: reptiles or amphibians?

Iran: do you call it soccer or football?

Iraq: can you garden?

Ireland: faeries or elves?

Israel: zoos or aquariums?

Italy: pizza or pasta?

Jamaica: favorite music genre?

Japan: suns or trees?

Jordan: favorite natural wonder?

Kazakhstan: Africa or Australia?

Kenya: triathlons or marathons?

Kiribati: seagulls or sea turtles?

Kosovo: what’s your gender?

Kuwait: rectangles or circles?

Kyrgyzstan: what’s the most annoying spelling of Katherine/Catherine?

Laos: rice or beans?

Latvia: opinion on denim?

Lebanon: newspapers or magazines?

Lesotho: mountains or valleys?

Liberia: are you under or over 18?

Libya: what’s your favorite ethnic cuisine? (Chinese, Mexican, etc)

Liechtenstein: going out or staying in?

Lithuania: what’s your least favorite letter?

Luxembourg: do you play any instruments?

Madagascar: favorite pixar movie?

Malawi: opinion on the Milky Way?

Malaysia: peninsulas or islands?

Maldives: stone or wood?

Mali: would you rather live in Hawaii or Alaska?

Malta: are you good at forgiving people?

Marshall Islands: would you rather go fishing or go swimming?

Mauritania: wind or still air?

Mauritius: keys or locks?

Mexico: who’s your favorite artist?

Micronesia: lagoons or atolls?

Moldova: have any strange rules ever been made because of you?

Monaco: how tall are you?

Mongolia: one or two humped camels?

Montenegro: lakes or mountains?

Morocco: would you rather live in a cottage or a castle?

Mozambique: scrabble or monopoly?

Myanmar: tea cups or mugs?

Namibia: would you rather walk super fast or super slow?

Nauru: submarines or yachts?

Nepal: solar or wind energy?

Netherlands: what’s your favorite pastry?

New Zealand: favorite fruit?

Nicaragua: main streets or back alleys?

Niger: transparent or opaque surfaces?

Nigeria: what’s your dream house?

North Korea: if you could have any haircut what would it be?

North Macedonia: do you use perfect grammar or very bad grammar?

Norway: if you won the nobel prize for anything what would it be?

Oman: what’s your favorite gemstone?

Pakistan: what’s your favorite video game?

Palau: day or night?

Palestine: if you could name yourself after any animal what would it be?

Panama: what’s your favorite palindrome?

Papua New Guinea: what’s your favorite school subject?

Paraguay: do people ever get you mixed up with other people?

Peru: if you could visit any popular landmark, what would it be?

Philippines: jellyfish or shrimp?

Poland: what’s your favorite Disney movie?

Portugal: old bookstores or cafes?

Qatar: stuffed bears or stuffed rabbits?

Republic of the Congo: are you learning any languages?

Romania: candles, fairy lights, or lamps?

Russia: opinion on public transportation?

Rwanda: if you could any animal for a pet, what would it be?

Saint Kitts and Nevis: do you like thunderstorms?

Saint Lucia: do you like coconuts?

Saint Vincent and the Grenadines

Samoa: do you have any tattoos?

San Marino: oceans or lakes?

Sao Tome and Principe: decimals or whole numbers?

Saudi Arabia: how good of a driver are you?

Senegal: what’s your favorite sport to watch?

Serbia: blueberries or raspberries?

Seychelles: owls or parrots?

Sierra Leone: what’s your favorite plant?

Singapore: what’s your favorite song?

Slovakia: planes or boats?

Slovenia: do you have an opinion on caves?

Solomon Islands: coral reefs or weeping willows?

Somalia: would you rather be a pirate or an astronaut?

South Africa: what’s your favorite weird food combination?

South Korea: what’s your dream job?

South Sudan: would you rather be a farmer or a merchant?

Spain: what would you name your child if you ever had one?

Sri Lanka: snickerdoodles or chocolate chip cookies?

Sudan: opinion of fireworks?

Suriname: watching movies in theatres or at home?

Sweden: would you rather live in an igloo or a sand castle?

Switzerland: coffee or tea?

Syria: what’s your favorite drink? (alcoholic or not)

Taiwan: what’s your favorite color?

Tajikistan: glaciers or icebergs?

Tanzania: large or small dogs?

Thailand: botanical or zen gardens?

Timor-Leste: how is your relationship with your parents?

Togo: white, milk, or dark chocolate?

Tonga: what’s the worst dad joke that you know?

Trinidad and Tobago: do you play any instruments?

Tunisia: moons or stars?

Turkey: what’s your favorite flower?

Turkmenistan: hot or cold?

Tuvalu: volcanoes or clouds?

Uganda: what’s your birthstone?

Ukraine: are you the oldest, middle, youngest, or only child?

United Arab Emirates: what’s your favorite book?

United Kingdom: do you have any siblings?

United States of America: what color are your eyes?

Uruguay: ballet or tap dancing?

Uzbekistan: what’s your favorite number?

Vanuatu: what’s your opinion on extreme sports?

Vatican City: where is your family from?

Venezuela: do you speak any other languages?

Vietnam: do you have any food allergies?

Yemen: how are you feeling right now?

Zambia: do you have any nicknames?

Zimbabwe: what’s your favorite marine mammal?

#ask game #countries of the world #countries of the world ask game

[embyrinitalics]

Whumptober 2020 No. 9 — Ritual Sacrifice

Masterlist Word count: ~1410 Universe: Breath of the Wild, prequel to “No. 14 — Fire” Pairings: Zelink Rating: T Themes: Mating instinct, nonconsensual kissing Read on ao3

---

By the time Link was born, Father was very, very old.

“My time is coming,” he would often say. “I need to teach you while I still can.”

He taught him the importance of control. He taught him the power of instinct. He taught him the art of disguise, and the destructive potential of carelessness. He taught him the necessity of loneliness. But most of all, he taught him that when he heard the song, he would be absolutely powerless to resist it.

Link fought him tooth and nail on that count. If the call of the song would overpower him anyway, what was the point of control, of loneliness, of disguises? Father would shake his head and tell him that his youth and inexperience needed to be burned out of him by fire.

And then Link helped him out to the West Mire, where he changed back into his true form and left his bones among the Ones who came Before, and Father was gone.

He slipped into his disguise and slipped back into the world, and even though he was surrounded by men and creatures of all shapes, he thought for the first time in his life he truly understood loneliness.

For years he wandered on his own, drifting among cultures and cities, watching and learning what he could. The Rito taught him to listen to the wind. The Gorons taught him the language of earth and fire. The Zoras taught him to tame water. The Hylians he avoided, though he masqueraded as one. They were the singers of the song.

Sometimes he indulged in trueshape, when he was in the most isolated places—in Hebra, or beside the Akkala Sea, where he wouldn’t be noticed or bothered. And sometimes he thought, for all the strangeness and diversity of the world, those were the times he liked best: the stolen moments of peace, of silence, where his nature didn’t feel so burdensome.

Maybe that was why Father taught him that loneliness was necessary—not just for the safety of others, but because he knew, in some small way, it would mean his own contentment.

And then he heard the song.

It struck him like a mallet to the spine, so earth-shattering his vision went red and milky and he fell to his knees. He sloughed off his disguise, writhing into the air, obeying the call. Following it east, east, east, where he could hear it clearest, where the pounding in his head eased enough that he could see where he was flying. Following it straight to Mount Lanayru.

His eyes were sharper in his trueshape. He could make out the posts they had fastened to Naydra’s altar, and the girl, dressed in white, tethered to them by the wrists, her arms spread in offering. He could see the way the ropes dug too tight, the way the exposed flesh on her arms pebbled in the mountain air, still frigid in the midst of summer. He could see the way her eyes, green, glistening, turned skyward hopelessly, the way her golden hair tangled across her shoulders when the wind struck her back. He could see the crowds around her, chanting to the rhythm of so many drums, their song torturously similar to the one screaming in his head. The one that was coming from her.

He could see his reflection looming in her irises as he got nearer, shadowy, fearsome, leathery and scaled and his wings full spread as he angled his talons to tear her from the altar.

Run, the last, lucid part of him said. Don’t do this.

But it was such a small voice, and the song was so strong.

The dragon ripped her from the mountaintop and carried her as far from there as he could.

He flew mindlessly toward Hebra, toward the loneliest peak, the loneliest place. Toward the closest thing he had to a home. The song still pounded a fierce refrain in his head, coloring his vision rosy, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been. It wasn’t dragging him east or in any other direction. It was with him, pulsing out of the girl clutched in his claws.

He barreled into the cave nestled beneath North Peak and set her down. She was shivering and gasping, her skin too red and raw from the flight and her breath escaping her in puffs of mist. He leaned closer, letting his breath wash over her in a great, white whorl and block out the perpetual Hebra winter. Her scent rushed up into his nostrils as he made to breathe on her again, heady and perfect, fueling his drunken stupor. It made the song pulse louder. It made the fire in his chest burn brighter. The ambient temperature in the cave must have gone up a few degrees.

But oh, her scent. He couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted more. He wanted to taste it. He wanted—gods, what did he want?

He shed his trueshape in a flutter of wing and shadow, receding into his disguise.

“You’re Hylian,” she breathed, and her voice and the song weaved over one another in perfect harmony.

“I can be,” he murmured, very disinterested in talking even if her voice was so lovely, closing the sudden distance between them and kneeling.

He brought her hand to his mouth, inhaling, tasting, letting her fingertips spread softly over his eyes as he experimented with her palm, tasting with his lips, with his teeth, with the flat of his tongue. It went straight to his head, clouding it until he was dizzy, until his chest was alight and bothersome. He tipped his head back and loosed the fire in a great spiral, singing his own lips in his haste, and the cave warmed a little more.

He was on her again quickly, sliding down to her wrist, and exploratorily sucked the soft flesh there. She gasped from the heat when he swirled his tongue over her pulse, and the haze got thicker, hotter. He dragged her closer by the back of the neck, ignoring the startled cry that shot up into the cavern ceiling, searching for her heartbeat in other places, savoring that tantalizing flavor when he found it in the artery in her throat. He trailed upwards in a daze, sipping her jaw, her chin, dismissing the strangeness of the salt on his tongue as inconsequential.

It was the song, drowning out everything else.

The song.

He blinked sluggishly, his eyes drawing properly into focus for the first time since that hypnotizing aria had brought him to his knees, lingering inches from her mouth. Her people had offered her up to the dragon, and he had taken her, dragged her across the world into Hebra—to what? Assault her? Devour her? He didn’t know.

He let her go. She stayed perfectly still, her breath shallow and quick—and not necessarily looking terrified of him, either, he noted with an ugly mix of curiosity and self-loathing. He stood to give her some space—to give himself some space. And as soon as he did the song crashed down on him again like a hammer, crippling and painful and insistent.

He gripped his head, falling to his knees again, and tried not to listen. He tried to hear the wind, hear the language of earth and fire, hear the mountain whispering all around him, but it was no use. The song was a river he couldn’t tame, roaring louder, and louder, and louder. He blocked his ears and clenched his teeth as it reverberated down his spine, as it shook him so hard he was sure his bones would crack. But the more he tried to get away, the farther he tried to drag himself from her, the more ear-splitting the sound.

He trapped himself against a wall and collapsed beside it, hands still clawing at his head even though he knew it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. His throat was parched and his lungs were seared from the heat. His skull felt like it was splintering. He wanted to melt back into his trueshape, but he was afraid of thrashing, of accidentally crushing the girl with a whip of his tail or beat of his wing.

He looked for her, watched her rise to her feet through dappling red and blinding flares.

Even through all that, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

#Whumptober2020 #No.9 #Ritual Sacrifice #Legend of Zelda #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #Mating instinct #nonconsensual kissing #BotW #Zelink #Dragon!Link #Sacrificial Virgin!Zelda #JUST BECAUSE I WANTED TO! #my writing #embyr writes

[sinceileftyoublog]

Emily Barker & Lukas Drinkwater Live Stream Review: 1/16, YouTube

BY JORDAN MAINZER

For many, the pandemic has presented an opportunity to reflect on one’s own past, musical or otherwise. Singer-songwriter Emily Barker, based in the UK but from Australia, had been wanting to record an album of covers by Australian artists for a long time, giving new life to the music of her childhood and teenage years. A quarantine with her husband Lukas Drinkwater provided ample opportunity, and out came Room 822.

In order to visit her family in Australia for the first time in two years, Barker and Drinkwater had to isolate for 2 weeks at The Westin on Victoria Square in Perth. Bringing with them a guitar and a folding double bass, and receiving microphones and a keyboard from a friend, the two spent 12 days knocking out covers of songs by artists they both loved and grew up with (Silverchair, Nick Cave) and artists Barker shared with the Drinkwater, who is from Cornwall, for the first time (Deborah Conway, The Waifs). They also picked a few Australian artists they discovered together only a few years ago, like singer-songwriter Stella Donnelly. Though the recording process presented challenges that were both logistical (a humming fridge, a chopper landing on top of the hospital next door, a rowing machine in the room above them) and mental/emotional (not being able to have windows open or spend any time apart), Barker and Drinkwater knocked it out of the park. Drinkwater mixed the record during their two final days of quarantine, and they were able to feature a couple guest vocalists (Fanny Lumsden on The Church’s “Under the Milky Way and Jack Carty on Alex Lloyd’s “Black The Sun”) by sending them the tunes over email.

As a frustrating reminder that the pandemic is still affecting almost every aspect of our lives, including touring and seeing concerts, Barker and Drinkwater celebrated the release of Room 822 last Thursday via a livestream, as they had to postpone their entire tour of the East Coast of Australia. Relying on PayPal donations and broadcasting the stream on YouTube via Barker’s iPhone due to hours of technical issues preceding it, the stream was nonetheless as intimately curated and delivered as the covers themselves. Sure, they were missing the keyboards from their stark cover of Donnelly’s powerful rape culture diatribe “Boys Will Be Boys”, but with Barker’s acoustic guitar, harmonica, and percussion and Drinkwater’s guitar and double bass, they were able to add even rootsier elements to the songs. The two also shined on songs whose original recordings sported great harmonies, like Conway’s “Will You Miss Me When You’re Sober” and Kasey Chambers’ “The Captain”. Of course, at the center of it all was Barker’s powerful voice, voluminous and moving on “Boys Will Be Boys” and Silverchair’s “Tomorrow”, mournful and minimal on “Under the Milky Way”. During that last one, you could hear a siren from outside the space from which the two were streaming, an almost too-perfect coincidental callback to where they recorded the album.

Barker and Drinkwater ended the stream with two requests from Barker’s original catalog, "Blackbird” from 2007′s Photos.Fires.Fables and “Any More Goodbyes” from 2020′s A Dark Murmurations of Words. Barker described the latter as “a love letter to non-human species in planet,” a sort of sibling to Paul Kelly’s “Sleep, Australia, Sleep” from Room 822. Barker and Drinkwater could have chosen one of many songs in Kelly’s vast catalog, but “Sleep, Australia, Sleep” is, as Barker describes, a song about climate change “dressed up as a lullaby.” Her wail in her performance of the song proved even more urgent than Kelly’s original sneer. In a time where a deadly global pandemic seems like it could be a forebear of greater disasters to come, it’s the simultaneous comfort and eeriness of a song like this, as delivered by a beautiful voice, that maybe best encapsulates our need for consolation.

#live music #emily barker #room 822 #lukas drinkwater #emily barker & lukas drinkwater #the westin #youtube #silverchair #nick cave #deborah conway #the waifs #stella donnelly #fanny lumsden #the church #jack carty #alex lloyd #paypal #iphone #kasey chambers #photos.fires.fables #a dark murmuration of words #paul kelly

[iimitan-blog]

I will not say if this is kind of tips, but tricks. Yea, trick for you to constantly win the Fashion Contest.

Idk if its illegal to write it all here, because it'll make players easily winning the contest. LOOOLL.

(updated continuously)

(The first and second are Main Tags)

1 more thing, I recommend you to use browser which have a "Find in Page" feature (eg. Chrome, OperaMini).

Fashion Contest Themes List

A Lazy Morning (Simple, Sexy, Sweet, Cute, Elegant)

A Night of Wonders (Sweet, Cute, Gorgeous, Pure, Lively)

A Simple Smile (Simple, Elegant, Sweet, Mature, Pure)

A Spring Afternoon (Simple, Pure, Sweet, Mature, Elegant)

A Witch's Verdict (Mature, Sexy, Gorgeous, Cool, Elegant)

Alice and Rabbit's Tea Party (Cute, Lively, Gorgeous, Sweet, Pure)

Angels Love Beauty (Pure, Elegant, Simple, Sweet, Mature)

Around the World Together (Simple, Pure, Sweet, Cute, Lively)

Assassin Waiting in the Night (Simple, Cool, Mature, Sexy, Elegant)

Athena, Goddess of Wisdom (Cool, Elegant, Gorgeous, Mature, Sexy)

Ballroom Chic Set (Gorgeous, Elegant, Sweet, Mature, Sexy)

Battlefield Angel (Simple, Pure, Sweet, Mature, Lively)

Bike at 17 (Simple, Pure, Sweet, Cute, Lively)

Black Graffiti (Simple, Cool, Cute, Pure, Lively)

Bohemian Romance (Sweet, Sexy, Gorgeous, Mature, Elegant)

Brand Launch (Gorgeous, Elegant, Sweet, Mature, Sexy)

Bright Night (Gorgeous, Sweet, Cute, Pure, Elegant)

Captivating as A Summer Flower (Gorgeous, Sweet, Mature, Sexy, Elegant)

Children's Songs (Cute, Lively, Simple, Sweet, Pure)

Chinese Acrobatic Performance (Pure, Lively, Gorgeous, Cool, Mature)

Chinese Style Pavillion (Mature, Elegant, Gorgeous, Sweet, Pure)

Christmas Family Meeting (Sweet, Cute, Gorgeous, Pure, Lively)

Cool and Elegant Romeo (Cool, Elegant, Simple, Mature, Pure)

Dance of the Black Swan (Gorgeous, Sexy, Sweet, Mature, Elegant)

Dark Queen of the Elven Kingdom (Cool, Mature, Gorgeous, Sexy, Elegant)

Do You Want to Build a Snowman? (Simple, Lively, Sweet, Cute, Pure)

Dream of Versailles (Gorgeous, Sexy, Sweet, Mature, Elegant)

Equestrian Genius (Simple, Cool, Mature, Sexy, Lively)

Fantasy Fairy Style (Sweet, Pure, Gorgeous, Cute, Elegant)

Fantasy Waltz (Pure, Elegant, Gorgeous, Sweet, Mature)

Fresh and Simple Rural Style (Cute, Pure, Simple, Sweet, Elegant)

Girl Growing Up (Cute, Pure, Simple, Sweet, Elegant)

Hero of the City (Simple, Cool, Mature, Sexy, Elegant)

Holidays in Rome (Gorgeous, Elegant, Sweet, Mature, Sexy)

Holy Plumes (Gorgeous, Elegant, Sweet, Mature, Pure)

Hot Dance Party (Mature, Sexy, Gorgeous, Cool, Lively)

Hottest Rapper on the Streets (Cool, Sexy, Simple, Mature, Lively)

Jazz Singer (Cool, Mature, Simple, Sexy, Elegant)

Japanese Way of Dressing (Cute, Pure, Simple, Sweet, Lively)

Kaito Kid in the Night (Cool, Mature, Gorgeous, Sexy, Lively)

Lass Next Door (Cute, Lively, Simple, Sweet, Pure)

Life is Sport (Cute, Lively, Simple, Sweet, Pure)

Little Prince (Cool, Lively, Gorgeous, Cute, Pure)

Magical Candy Apprentice (Sweet, Cute, Gorgeous, Pure, Lively)

Magical Girl Cosplay (Gorgeous, Cute, Sweet, Pure, Lively)

Mediterranean Love (Gorgeous, Sexy, Sweet, Mature, Elegant)

Meeting Him in the Misty Rain (Sweet, Pure, Gorgeous, Mature, Elegant)

Milan Fashion Week (Cool, Elegant, Simple, Mature, Sexy)

Milky Way Romance (Gorgeous, Pure, Sweet, Cute, Elegant)

Miss Bodybuilder Contest (Mature, Sexy, Simple, Cool, Elegant)

Miss World (Sexy, Elegant, Gorgeous, Sweet, Mature)

Moonlight Cherry Blossoms (Sweet, Pure, Gorgeous, Cute, Elegant)

Move to the Beat (Simple, Cool, Cute, Pure, Lively)

Museum of Broken Hearts (Pure, Elegant, Simple, Sweet)

New Star in Music (Cool, Sexy, Simple, Mature, Lively)

Paris Fashion Awards (Gorgeous, Mature, Cool, Sexy, Elegant)

Phantom Agents (Cool, Sexy, Simple, Mature, Elegant)

Pink Lady (Sweet, Elegant, Simple, Mature, Sexy)

Pumpkin Witch (Cute, Lively, Gorgeous, Sweet, Pure)

Queen of Frost (Mature, Elegant, Gorgeous, Sweet, Sexy)

Realistic Illusions (Mature, Pure, Gorgeous, Sweet, Elegant)

Refreshing Pool Party (Sexy, Lively, Simple, Sweet, Mature)

Requiem for a Dream (Sweet, Elegant, Gorgeous, Cute, Pure)

Romantic Fluorescent Beach (Gorgeous, Elegant, Sweet, Mature, Sexy)

Seashell Girl (Cute, Pure, Simple, Sweet, Lively)

Silhouette in the Sky (Gorgeous, Pure, Sweet, Mature, Elegant)

Superhero (Cool, Mature, Simple, Sexy, Elegant)

Soft and Sweet Candy (Sweet, Cute, Gorgeous, Pure, Lively)

Springtime Embrace (Sweet, Lively, Simple, Cute, Pure)

Steampunk Fantasy (Gorgeous, Cool, Mature, Sexy, Lively)

Student Council President (Simple, Lively, Sweet, Cute, Pure)

Sweet Arrow of Cupid (Sweet, Cute, Gorgeous, Sexy, Lively)

Sweet Cats (Sweet, Cute, Gorgeous, Sexy, Lively)

Sweet Magic Themed Ball (Gorgeous, Sweet, Cute, Pure, Elegant)

Sweetest Little Love Song (Sweet, Cute, Simple, Pure, Lively)

Talk Show Queen (Cool, Elegant, Simple, Mature, Sexy)

The Nutcracker (Cute, Pure, Gorgeous, Sweet, Elegant)

The Temptation of Eve (Mature, Sexy, Gorgeous, Sweet, Elegant)

Tropical Island Getaway (Mature, Sexy, Simple, Sweet, Lively)

Tunnel of Love (Sweet, Pure, Gorgeous, Cute, Lively)

Wanderer Chronicles (Simple, Lively, Sweet, Cute, Pure)

Wandering Flowers (Mature, Pure, Simple, Sweet, Elegant)

Warmth in Winter (Sweet, Cute, Simple, Pure, Lively)

Wedding Dress (Gorgeous, Mature, Sweet, Sexy, Elegant)

World's Core Calling for Love (Sweet, Pure, Gorgeous, Cute, Lively)

Vacation Fireworks (Gorgeous, Sweet, Cute, Pure, Lively)

Zoo of Wonders (Cute, Lively, Simple, Sweet, Pure)

#FashionDream #Android #Game #Fashion Dream Contest #Fashion Dream Contest Themes

[dragonleesupporter]

Incomplete Without You (Part 1)

Hey guys! Sorry I’ve been dead for so long. I wanted to make this for a loong time but lost motivation multiple times and nearly lost the whole damn file.

WARNING: Triggers for disablement, depression, talk of a suicide attempt, and panic attacks.

He grumbled as he was pushed along the sidewalk. He had every reason to complain, every reason to be upset, especially when a jogger moved past them. He was always told to be thankful to still be alive with his strange condition. Well, at least he could move his head and face muscles.

            “C’mon man, you said a view of the lake would make you feel better!” Remy prodded his cheek. “Where’s that smile?”

            “Dead. Long dead. Like the rest of my soul.” Virgil growled.

            “Ugh. This job’s sooo boring!” The sunglass-wearing punk complained.

            “Then forfeit your salary so the rest of me can die in peace.”

            Virgil was paralyzed from the shoulders, down. He couldn’t feel his body and needed constant assistance from those willing to put up with his acidic, pessimist attitude to help him do… pretty much everything. He couldn’t even hold his goddamn diploma when he graduated high school. Remy had to hold it for him. He had to give the coffee lover credit where credit was due. He was the one who had lasted the longest as his caretaker. Taking him on “walks” as to not make him feel helplessly alone. Thankfully, his parents did everything else, like dress him and clean him and lay him down to sleep.

            Even though he didn’t feel as alone with Remy keeping up gossipy conversations, he did feel piercing envy for anyone he saw around him. Laughing with their friends, running, swimming, riding bicycles, dancing… Not to mention the people that made fun of him, and yet he was supposed to be more positive that he wasn’t dead? Death would merciful to someone in Virgil’s position. He couldn’t even kill himself. Not to say he didn’t try. The closest he had gotten was when he had annoyed someone enough to shove him into the lake, who was unaware of his condition, while Remy was in the bathroom. Little did he know that the sassy teen was a fast pisser and was able to rescue him.

 Why couldn’t he just be fucking normal? Even for a day?

 “Oh hey, that man child texted you again.” Remy’s naturally condescending voice interrupted his thoughts. But he couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Puppylover99? What did he say?”

 “Work is super fun today! Got to hug a lot of people! Every time I hugged someone, I thought of you, kiddo!” Remy put on a high-pitched feminine-like voice, which made Virgil laugh, no matter how much he hated it.

            “You ass!” He would’ve hit him playfully if he could.

            “Is that what you want me to say?” Remy gave a cocky smirk, opening up messages.

            “No no no!” He shook his head madly, making his caretaker laugh even harder than Virgil did.

            “So… what- oh! He sent another.” Virgil’s smile widened as a small blush made its way onto his face, even though he was trying his best to fight it. “Anyway, I was wondering when I’d be able to hug you in person! I know we both live in Purble County.”

            Virgil’s smile was gone instantly. He had never physically met with any of his online friends before… What would he think? That he… wouldn’t be able to hug him back? Tears filled his eyes, and he couldn’t even wipe them away.

            Remy quickly pulled onto an alleyway so no one would see him like this. The caretaker quickly wiped his face and massaged the base of his neck to calm him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve read it and warned you first.”

            “It’s fine, Remy…” He sniffled.

            He was just about calmed down when he saw two people cheering just outside the alley, diving into each other’s arms.

            “It’s you!”

          “I can’t believe I found you!”

            Soulmates were a natural part of life in this world. Usually in the form of blanked out tattoos on someone’s skin that gets filled in when they meet their soulmate. There are other soulmates whose signs are a bit different, however. There was a case ten years ago where two people, one blind in the right eye, and the other blind in the left that magically gained full sight upon meeting each other. They were pronounced soulmates and are still together to this day. There were other cases where individuals didn’t have tattoos or anything of the sort, and lived their whole life out without a lover, claiming it was meant to be that way. Others have multiple soulmates. The subject is so complex, Virgil had to take multiple classes on it in high school.

 Virgil had been told by scientists and priests alike that he most likely wouldn’t have a soulmate based on the religious belief that cripples couldn’t contribute enough to a relationship, (welcome to Virgil’s church-hell) and the scientific data doctors collected from him on a weekly basis. Most of the population that was physically disabled in a 2018 case study found that they never found soulmates. Since Virgil was such a rare case, the doctors demanded data be collected from him every week to see if they couldn’t figure out what had caused it and if a cure couldn’t be found. His parents greatly profited from this, and so did he to an extent, but it just made him feel like a specimen instead of a living person.

 And seeing two people unite in the soulmate tradition only made him break down more. It wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair…

 Remy did his best trying to distract him and take his mind away from it, wiping his tears and hugging him around his neck, where he could feel the comfort of it. After the whole meltdown finally was over, Remy suggested going to a food attraction place for lunch, and Virgil reluctantly agreed, eyes bloodshot from all his crying.

 Afternoon Benedict was a place he had never gone before, but since Remy said he knew people who worked there, he didn’t feel as anxious going. Plus, some afternoon breakfast didn’t sound half bad.

 He was wheeled in and saw a very friendly person up front with a pink apron on, saying “free hugs!” on it. He greeted them warmly, bright blue eyes, blondish-brown hair, milky white baby skin, with so many freckles dancing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, his face looked like a sprinkled birthday cake. Virgil had to resist the smile that was tugging at his lips.

 “Hi! Where would you like to be seated?” His voice was so sugary sweet, the emo could feel his teeth rotting.

 “Anyplace with chairs that pull out. He can’t leave this one.” Remy gestured to his friend.

 Internal sigh.

 “Okay! Coming right up!” He dashed away and got a nice table ready before beckoning them over.

 Virgil got wheeled over and situated. “Now, what can I get for you two?” His honey-dripped voice asked them.

 “I guess… some scrambled eggs with toast? And apple juice with a long straw if you can manage?” Virgil kept the quiver of anxiety out of his voice well enough.

 “I’ll have my usual, bud.” Remy winked at the friendly employee.

 “Okay! It’ll be out soon!” He danced away to Virgil’s humor.

 Now came the part he dreaded about eating out. Remy took a couple bites of his food when it arrived, then started feeding Virgil. The coffee lover had quickly learned not to tease Virgil about having to be fed like an infant, as he’d either get a bite on his finger, or he’d have to help him calm from another meltdown.

 Virgil was thankful that no odd glares had been sent his way yet. Maybe Remy had set this whole thing up so he didn’t have to worry about anybody judging. No matter how tough the sunglass-wearing nerd acted, Virgil knew he had a soft side. A love for kittens, an admiration for children pop star singers, a small addiction to baby sugar sticks… he knew it was there.

 As the cooks were preparing the meal, the cheerful waiter was told to take his last 10-minute break. He skipped to the back and checked his phone excitedly. He was a little saddened that MCR10150 hadn’t responded to him yet, but he kept his hopes high and ate a quick snack while listening to music.

 Even if he couldn’t taste anything, the happy music made the food go down better, like a spoon full of sugar.

 Virgil was just about full when the bubbly waiter came over again. “Are you two ready for the bill? Or would you like to see our dessert menu?” He looked over at Virgil, who was being fed another forkful of scrambled eggs.

 “Luckyyy!” He squealed.

 The emo nearly spit his food out at that, but managed to swallow it.

 “Excuse me?”

 “I’d kill to be in your seat! Being fed without a worry in the word! You must feel like royalty! Nonono-wait!” He suddenly bowed. “My highness.”

 Virgil couldn’t help it. He bursted out laughing. Just the sheer ridiculousness and confusion-not to mention the irony- of the whole situation made him utterly crack up.

 Remy sighed with relief. He knew Patton could be overbearing at times. Yesterday, when he had told the staff and usual visitors about Virgil and how to act around him when he brought him in, Patton wasn’t there, but he was glad Virgil wasn’t offended or distraught over his behavior. It was hard to predict that kid.

 “Well… he doesn’t have much of a choice.” He explained after Virgil started to calm from his laughter. “He can’t feel any of his body other than his head and neck.”

 “Oh! I’m so sorr-“

 “No! Please don’t pity me…” Virgil growled out, interrupting the poor employee.

 Patton gave a quiet whimper, his smile becoming forced. “S-so, will that be bill or dessert?”

 Virgil felt bad now. Even though he hardly knew this living cartoon, seeing his bright cute face darken with sadness made him feel even more dead inside.

 God dammit, he thought to himself.

 “Virgil? It’s up to you.” Remy murmured. He tried to give Virgil a choice whenever he had the chance. He was indifferent to having dessert or not, but he wanted Virgil to feel like he was in control, even if it was for little things.

 “What kind of dessert menu comes out of a breakfast place?”

 To be continued…

  @cefsticklestoo @thestarswelcomemewithopenarms @my-anxiety-hasanxiety

@poptartsaysurloved @leedrop-angel @lavenders-loveforthings @ I’m sorry I forgot everyone else. O.o

#sanders sides #moxiety #soulmates #fic

[hedgefairy]

Well hello there. While I'm waiting for that breeches video I've been talking about to finally upload, here's

Bridgerton, Episode 4

Phew, half time!

If you've missed the other ones, the tag is Bridgerbore, btw.

Okay, so we start of with Dukey who's going home-ish because drama and heartbreak in the last episode. Stop pretending, nobody takes your pouting seriously! We all know it's twu wuv!

Erm. So, I know, I'm white and this is a delicate matter, but I gotta say I'm not super happy about the whole POC-justifying explanation here. I'd much rather have no explanation at all, it worked perfectly well in Merlin, and this is just as much historically inspired fantasy just with less magic, which I'm honestly quite upset about. I'd be far more okayer with the costumes and overall ugh-ness if there was magic.

But honestly, I'm not a fan of shoehorning that explanation in (it doesn't seem to come up in the books, either, where everyone is basically a baguette in terms of whiteness). The fact that the implications aren't discussed any further makes it even worse. We're talking about the British empire here, and while POC are apparently part of the society (but with more pressure, which... no, this is not how nobility works) the wealth and luxury of this age still stems from the exploitation of POC everywhere else. How isn't there a revolution going on? How is this not talked about? From all I see, Bridgerton is a fluffy, pastel, nice alternate version of the 1800s, and I don't get why anyone would put politics in there instead of just doing what TV tropes refers to as "colourblind casting" and be done with it. Either you do the alternate history thing thoroughly, or you just cast people for being pretty (and maybe good actors) instead of the idea the audience might have about a character's skin colour and have weird costumes and just roll with it.

Also the Queen's marriage seems to suck. I would have liked a deeper, more heartbreaking connection between George III and her, especially because I saw how my Grandmother suffered when she gradually lost my Grandfather to dementia, and it would have been a scene where we could see Charlotte as a person rather than a weird plot device in tafetta and bling, but no, she just seems as annoyed and bored and snappish as ever.

This is getting far too serious. Where's the snark?

We get some Tchaikovsky in the background, which is weird, tbh. Yes, I'm perfectly fine with them covering Top 40s hits and using waltzes from the 1950s, but I draw the line at something from the second half of the 19th century! It's not right! It screams its time of origin all over the place, and even worse, most of the characters would probably actually get to hear it later in their lives, it's not a decent anachronism, it just feels like bad research! This is serious business!

No really, where's the snark?

Oooh, I get it now. That was when I was really, really done with bingeing this show. Yes, I tried to get through as much of it as possible in one sitting. The notes read, in very shaky handwriting

I cannot possibly take more than that

in one day

, so let's continue a few days later when I felt like I could muster the courage to face it again.

So yes, I'm pretty sure this waltz is to young for this show.

Aww, look at that, flirting over cheese! I also like that one of the Featherington girls (I can't really tell the non-Pennys apart) has a suitor, they deserve nice things, too.

The musicians are a mood.

WTF with the hair and the strass. We don't like the strass. Make it go away.

I love Prince Freddy. The poor boy. It's doomed from the start!

Ah, Dukey (also at the ball, even though he was whining about things earlier) gets a heartbeat in the background, because twu wuv.

Middle Bridgerbro goes and meets with the Bohéme. I want more of that! That's finally interesting! That's my people! There's a cool bohemian lady with a pretty dress! People look interesting! Aaaah!

There's a random 18th century burlesque singer at this Regency ball, we need to talk about this. Oooh, it's Opera Girl! Cue Lord B turning into even more of an idiot while Ma Bridgerton tries to hook him up otherwise.

Of course Philippa (that's one of the Featherington Girls) can't possibly have anything nice. Thanks, Dad. You don't get to marry someone you like, that's the people across the street's thing! (by which I of course mean the Bridgertons, just in case anyone forgot the location layout here.)

Eloise is being weird to the housekeeper.

"Are you not supposed to be the smart one", the housekeeper retorts and I'm feeling it, followed by a "WTH, hero" about how servants are too busy to be Gossip Girl, you privileged prat. I think I actually snorted.

Penny gossips with Ducktail Colin, but he's more interested in Cousin, whose dress looks like it was made from the cheap curtains my ex best friend had in his first semester at uni, and God, I hate Daphne's kerchief.

Poor Prince Freddie is trying to propose to Protagonis Girl but of course there's Dukey in the background so she simply must run outside as dramatically as possible where he can find her as she equally dramatically rips the necklace Freddie gave her from her milky white throat. P&P-ish banter ensues. Yawn.

Dukey: * broods *

Daphne: * dramatically exits *

Dukey: * romantically follows her*, and oooh, snogging ensues, oooooh, instant second base, but Bridgerbro the Eldest (known also as Lord B) intervenes.

Lord B: "Marry her!"

Dukey: "I can't!"

Lord B: "Bitch!"

Dukey: "I can't!"

Lord B: "I want satisfaction!"

Me: "Don't we all"

Daphne: "You'd rather die than marry me?!"

(the fuck with her hair)

Middle Bridgerbro is still at the Bohéme-party, and still draws (naked people!). Gay vibes ensue, it's cute. This is Netflix after all, and it took four episodes to get some LGBTQ+ representation!

The Featherington's housekeeper looks a lot like O'Brien from Downton.

Cousin tells Penny about what a cutie Ducktail Colin is, also Penny's "night gown" is really cute (it's not a night gown. She's still wearing stays. It's also the only thing in the whole series that fits her well so far). Penny is super upset but gets interrupted by a hyperfocused Eloise. They fight, and Penny goes on about being mature and not being a "pretty Bridgerton", and that Eloise wouldn't understand. I get her, though, and really, having a perfect family and a "bad" family is such lazy writing.

Somber blah blah between Lord B and Daphne happens and Middle Bridgerbro gets dragged into it. He's informed that his life is pretty much over either way (either way being Lord B dying or being exiled for killing Dukey in the scheduled duel) because his oder bro basically just wants out of his duties. Sucks to be him.

Boxing Bro has to host a frustrated, possibly blueballed Dukey and offers himself up as a second for the duel.

Lord B goes and pleads with Opera Girl to get back with him (doooooon't) because of his little duelling plot and of course intercourse ensues. Girl, where's your self-respect?

Lord F comes into his dark study (we haven't seen much of him yet overall, he probably was too busy gambling) and hark, there's Lady F like the mafia boss I feel she should be, wo berates him about said gambling and that they're broke and how much he sucks. He starts crying, thumbs up for male vulnerability!, but it's kinda played for laughs via her awkward patting of him. Because of course (and I bet the late Daddy Bridgerton would never have lost his composure like that, but he didn't gamble, either, and these are the Featheringtons)

Lord B leaves Opera Girl for THE DUEL (I feel like this almost deserves a ™ by now).

We get gallopping horses! The drama! The panache! Daphne asks Ducktail Colin where it's going down because she wants to stop them, insert pandering feminist ranting about her choosing her own life but I don't really feel it and I wonde where her bangs go when she sleeps because her hair looks so different all of a sudden.

Lord B makes Middle Bridgerbro promise to care for Opera Girl in case he dies.

More gallopping horses! Daphne and her billowing cloak are pretty epic, to be honest, and there's Ducktail Colin on her heels. It's basically a family outing now!

Ugh, I like the seconds in this duel so much more. They should just off and go for a pint or something and leave Lord B and Dukey to their misery.

Duelling protocol ensues. Ten steps, blah blah, nice camera work, though.

Daphne full on rides into her brother's bullet, but she's fine (it would have been so dramatic, can you imagine? It would have been interesting!).

Oh no, they were seen (by her romantic rival, back when they had the dramatic make-outery in the park at the ball after the botched proposal. Sorry, Cressida is such a much better name than Daaaaphneeee. I have a RPG character called Cressida, I might be biased.), she's ruined if they don't marry!. and so she is basically emotionally blackmailing him into marrying her. But he can "never give [her] children!", and goes on how she deserves a household full of love like her family home because the Bridgertons are such a perfect family. God, they all annoy me so much.

Daphne ends the duel by saying that the Duke and her are to be married, with a pained facial expression, no less. I think I just wanna throw a pie in her face or something.

And that concludes Episode 4. That was a long one! Only four more to go! So this is

To be Continued!

Thank you for making it this far with me!

[zodiyack]

Soundtrack To A Rom Com Surprise

Requested over discord by Honey Kisses: Richie x reader ? And suprise me- you never fail at doing that 😉

Pairing: Richie Tozier x reader

Warnings: Swearing, singing, wine (that isn’t drank), after IT 2 events- so no spoilers

Disclaimer: HERE!

Note: Based off of The Late Late Show with James Corden, don’t know if this was needed but to me-  I thought it was a good idea I guess, but surprise! It’s not what you thought it was.

masterlist

original video

‘Richie. I need you to do this. Please, I beg of you. It’s just one simple show, one simple favor, p l e a s e.’

The text had been spamming his phone. Once. Twice. Three times, over and over again. Y/n, his girlfriend, was a singer and actress. Kind of funny since he was a comedian, but still. She did a show every once in a while where she would have a special guest sing with her. The songs were in a routine, one song after another in a special order.

‘fine. can’t promise i’ll b pretty.’

‘Rich-’

‘Sorry, I meant that I can’t promise my voice’ll be pretty.’

‘That’s better. Thank you babe, also I’ll be over with pizza in about 10 minutes.’

He loved her, ever so much. So this show, he guess he owed to her.

. . .

“Welcome everybody to the late late show, for all of you kiddos, thank your parents for letting you stay up to see this, for all of you non kiddos...thank yourselves I guess?” Laughter rang in the audience. Y/n was opening the show, Richie was running to the stage in his costume. “Anyways, hope y’all enjoy the show! We’ve got 10 songs, 9 sets, 1 take and 0 pressure. This, is Richie Tozier, in a Soundtrack to a Rom Com!”

the crowd cheered as Y/n ran to the stage, she grabbed her phone and an empty coffee cup. The music started playing.

“Where have all the good men gone? And where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn, And I dream of what I need... I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night! And-”

She bumped into him when he exited out of the elevator. He took a deep breath and looked up into her eyes for reassurance. Of course he told her before the show of his nervousness, so he was gonna need some sign. And a sign he received, a small nod and an, “Oh, heh...I’m sorry!”

“Just one look. And I fell so hard, hard, hard! In love, with you! Oh, oh!” They walked backwards into the elevator and kept eye contact. When Richie finished singing, both he and Y/n faced the camera with semi-wide smiles.

“Can’t keep my hands to myself.” The elevator doors closed as Y/n pressed a rough kiss to Richie’s lips and threw her arms around his neck. While the doors were closed she tore some of his outfit off and messed up his hair and glasses. She did the same to herself before the door opened, “I mean I could, but why would I want to?” The doors closed again and another kiss was shared. They fixed up their clothes a bit and prepared to grab an item to walk out with.

Y/n skipped off to the next set, which was a park with a night setting. “Ohhh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight!” Her hands touched his shoulders, triggering a smile to find it’s way onto his face. She twirled and held out her hands as if it was raining. “Lead me, out on the moonlit floor. Lift your open hands,”

Richie’s cue to grab and open the umbrella came and he started to sing along with his lover, “Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance. Silvermoon’s sparkling!” Y/n kissed and then booped his nose with a wide smile. He returned it, adding in a wink. “So kiss me”

They both ran the next set. A bathroom and some toothbrushes waited for them, and secretly, a prop phone. The cheers in the audience grew louder when he took off his jacket and Y/n put on a bathrobe. Richie, feeling strength and confidence for the first time in the show, started singing loud and proud.

“No I won’t hesitate no more, no more, it cannot wait I’m sure.”

Y/n put the toothbrush in her mouth and rested her arm on Richie’s shoulder while she sang, it coming out as mumbled words. The crowd laughed and Richie’s smile grew larger. She spat out the water from her mouth into the sink and sang with Richie, “I’m yours!”

She put her hand on the prop phone and lifted it up, meeting his eyes with wide ones. “Oh baby you. You got what I need, but you say-”

“She’s just a friend!”

“You say!” Y/n threw the phone into the toilet and ran to the next set with a believable sadness in her voice.

“She’s just a friend!”

Dressed in the bathrobe still, Y/n messed up her hair a bit, grabbed a glass of wine and started acting tipsy. “When I was young, I never needed anyone,” Her hand that held the glass moved sideways, allowing the wine to spill onto the floor and the crowd to giggle. “No need for makin’ love. Was just for fun, those days are gone.” 

She put the glass to her lips and made a face like she realized there was no wine left. The drums sounded and her limbs moved to imitate it. “All by myself!” Y/n ran a hand through her hair as the crowd cheered, “Don’t wanna be all by myself anymore!” 

A prop, which was a fake photo of her and Richie, was picked up then thrown to the ground as Richie’s cue to enter after she ran offset. He opened the curtains to the fake window and stepped in, “All by myself! Don’t wanna be all by myself,” The comedian bent down and picked up the photo. “Anymore.”

Attention was turned to Y/n’s new set. A fake taxi with her in the back wearing a trench coat and sunglasses. “’Cause I’m leavin’, on a jet plane.” She got out of the prop and walked over to the airport set, “Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh babe, I hate to go.” Her head turned to the entrance of the set while she passed the fake ticket to the man behind the counter. Y/n shook her head and ran off to the “boarding area” in a hurry.

The next set was Richie in a house sitting under a blanket with noodles hanging out of his mouth. His eyes snapped open and he let the noodles fall into the food box, “When I wake up. Well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.” He threw the blanket off and scrambled to get up. “And when I go out,” he left the set in a similar hurry to Y/n’s exit.

Richie ran over to the taxi set and continued his song. “Yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.” Rich jumped out of the taxi and raced to the airport with his set of fake tickets. “But I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more, just to be the man who walked 1000 miles,” finally he was in the plane set. The lights turned up a bit and Richie kneeled in front of Y/n, who acted surprised and took off her sunglasses. “To fall down at your door...”

The final song. It was time for the final show, and they were both ready, ready to sing their hearts out and ready to go home, throw their shoes at the ground and eat leftovers while cuddling to a scary movie. ‘Break a leg Richie.’ He was ready to finish and make Y/n proud. Also to earn a kiss, but that was off topic.

“I’m so in love with you, whatever you wanna do, is alright with me.” She joined in after he stopped singing, “Cause you make me feel so brand new. I wanna spend, my life with you. Oh baby,”

They grabbed each other’s hands and spun to the center of the stage. Their voices danced with each others in genuine romance. “Let’s, let’s stay together!” “Together!” “Loving you whether,” “Whether!” “Times are good or bad, happy or sad!” Y/n stopped singing and pointed at Richie while looking at the camera, “Richie Tozier everybody!”

She dropped to her knee and grinned at Richie. “Wait wait wait, before you guys keep cheering, I have something to ask you Rich. I know it’s usually the guy, but let’s just agree that I’m more manly than you.” She paused for the audience and Richie’s laughter. “Anyways, we’ve been together for a while now, your friends have said they approve... I really do wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Will you, Richard ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier, marry me?”

The crowd screamed with cheers and wolf whistles. He nodded quickly and helped Y/n up. He pressed a sweet kiss to his fiancé’s lips and smiled at her expression when he pulled away. “Not so manly now, are we? Well this was a Soundtrack To a Rom Com with a surprise everybody!”

#richie tozier #richie toizer x reader #richard tozier #trashmouth tozier #richie trashmouth #richie x reader #trashmouth x reader #richard x reader #james corden #it x reader #it 2019 #bill harder x reader #it 2019 imagine #it imagine #richie imagine #richie tozier imagine #richard imagine #richard tozier imagine #richard tozier x reader #bill hader imagine #trashmouth #trashmouth imagine #the losers club #x reader #reader insert #character x you #character x reader #character imagine #x you #x y/n

[headoverhiddles]

Grotesk Burlesk - Hans Landa x Marilyn Manson [Smut]

Synopsis: Colonel Landa finds himself a fish out of water as a patron at a racy club in Berlin, but his affections are stolen by a tall, dark and mysterious performer who is more than meets the eye. This fic is also available on ao3!

Notes: Special thanks to @ninavantastisch​ for saving me with the German translation! 

This is the song performed in this fic, and this is the style in which it is performed. Give it a watch/listen before you read. Also, warning for mild period-typical homophobia and accidental misgendering! 

Tagging: @blueinkblot​ @daughterofdesire​ @wingsy-keeper-of-songs​ (and @skin-slave​ you might like this!) 

Everything had been getting on Landa's nerves. The job, his subordinates making even the slightest mistake. He was on edge, moody, and short-- this is how he came to visit Das Haus des Gold during his time off, a nightclub not typically frequented by those of his social standing.  

"Schöner Laden," (Lovely place) Lt. Schmidt observed, as his fellow lieutenant grinned widely at a passing waitress dressed in a black corset.

"Ein bisschen klein aber in Ordnung," (A little small, but alright) Captain Von Wolff nodded, narrowing his eyes, and turned to Hans. "Wenn es Ihnen nicht zusagt, Oberst dann können wir auch woanders hingehen." (If this does not please you, colonel, we can find another place.)

“Ich denke es ist schon in Ordnung,” (I think it is alright) Lt. Orlock said, still watching the young lady in black, and earned a quick smack to the back of the head from Von Wolff.

Hans thought about this. It was obviously not an establishment he would have picked out. It was filled with dada-esque low art, which would normally disgust him. Still. Was this such a bad thing? Art is to be appreciated in any form, and Landa knew that better than any in his company, being a man of culture himself. Furthermore, it was to be expected of every member of the army that they, in their recreation, find something on the side to amuse them, keep them in good spirits. But Hans, he could hardly bear the idea of getting too chummy with his fellow officers in a place like this. He was an authority figure to be feared, not "one of the men".

That really wasn’t any reason to turn down a nice night on the town, however. It was better than another night of interrogation of those dim-witted enough to believe they could outsmart him.

Von Wolff took Landa's silence as apprehension, and began to back them away to the door. "Ich hätte Schmidt nicht die Planung, für diesen Abend, überlassen sollen…" (I shouldn't have let Schmidt plan this night...)

"Nein," Hans put up a hand with a small smile, "Nein. Es ist ein schönes Établissement." (No, no. It is a fine establishment.)

“Aber, Colonel Landa—”

“Das klingt schrecklich nach einem Kapitän, der die Entscheidung seines Vorgesetzten in Frage stellt. Oder bin ich nur empfindlich?” (This sounds an awful lot like a captain questioning his superior's decision. Or am I just sensitive?)

“…Nein, Herr Colonel. Natürlich nicht.” (No, Colonel. Of course not.)

The three entered the nightclub, and were seated.

A young blonde lady in a small black dress came over. Landa could see her garter belt, and gave her a once over.

"Was kann ich Ihnen bringen?" (What can I get for you?)

"Nur ein schönes, kaltes Glass Milch für mich. Danke." Hans smiled warmly at her. (Just a nice cold glass of milk for me, thanks.) If she was at all confused over his order, she didn’t show it, as the rest of the men ordered tall beers. She departed to promptly to fill their orders.

"Die Damen hier sind reizend," Landa commented. (The women here are lovely.) Just then, the black curtains drew, and the lights dimmed. Two girls shimmied out onstage, bound together as Siamese twins by a stitched up straight jacket. Interesting visual display. They started to play piano, a dark, sexy melody, and a tall figure came out.

She was dressed in heels, long smooth legs running up to black pantyhose and a small black dress covering what could not be left to the imagination. She had a bowler hat down over her eyes, but her lips were luscious and deep red, contrasting against her vampirically pale skin. Strands of short black hair protruded from beneath the hat as she reached up with fingerless gloved hands to move the hat up. Long faux eyelashes were revealed, as they barely dusted the crystals that adorned her cheeks. She lifted her chin, and with a sultry little spin, began to sing.

"Well our monkeys have monkeys, we drive our death crushed diamond jaguar limousine... we're not fantastic mother-fuckers, but we play them on TV..."

Hans was lost in the sway of her hips, her deeper-than-most voice, and the provocative movements of her body. She came to the front of the stage, saluting while parting her long, slender legs. "It's a dirty word, 'Reich', say... what you like, it's a dirty word, 'Reich', say... what you like." She winked the officers' way with that line after noticing their uniforms, and launched into a chorus that was just as sexy.

"We're the low art gloominati, and we... aim to depress... the scab-aret sacrilegends, this is the golden age of grotesque..."

She got up on a platform of sorts, and began to grind her hips against the microphone stand, something that got a considerable rise out of the crowd.

"I got the jigger to make all you bigger, ladies und gentlemen... so drop your piss room bait and make sure you're not late you tramps and lunatics." She held up a finger gun to her forehead, and licked her red lips as she looked directly at Hans.

"Cause the trick... 'sgonna make you.... click."

Landa readjusted in his seat, hoping his men couldn’t see how affected by the performance he really was. This performer was absolutely beautiful. Oh, what those red lips could do around him. Where those slender fingers could touch. This was true art, no doubt in Landa's mind, not Goebbels' drivel propaganda he peddles to the Fuehrer for praise. Landa may be an officer, but he wasn’t blind. This singer could enthrall the entire country with a look alone.

"We sing la, la la la... la la la, we sing la la la la la." The dark haired beauty smirked, tipping that bowler hat back. "La, la la la... la la la, we sing la la la, la la..." She finished off her song with a little bow, and a kiss blown out to the audience. Landa toiled during her next number, a song she introduced as Doll Dagga Buzz Buzz Ziggety Zag. Watching her dance, he narrowed his eyes. There's something about that performer he couldn’t shake. Something different, something... secret. And make no mistake, there was no better man in the country at detecting secrets than Hans Landa. He sat, frozen in reverie as she went on to her third and final song, something about a mobscene.

"Sie ist unglaublich!” (She's incredible!) Schmidt whispered, “Tiefe Stimme, aber.... wunderschön.” (Low voice, but… beautiful.)

Hans wondered what it could be that he was picking up on with this singer. Usually he was better at figuring out what people are hiding. It could just be the fact that one of her eyes was white, while the other was dark… that could be throwing him off.

Interrupting his contemplation a few minutes later, the music picked up a little to a raunchy jazz number, as a curvy, radiant black haired beauty came strutting onstage in a glittery dress and top hat. She winked at the crowd as she shrugged off her feather boa to the music, and began to unzip her dress from behind.

"Was für eine Art von Club ist das hier, Schmidt?” (What kind of club is this, Schmidt?) Von Wolff demanded, though he was unable to take his eyes off the stage.

"Meine liebste Art!” (My favourite kind!) Orlock answered for him, clapping for the girl and laughing. Though this one was beautiful too, Landa simply could not get the mystery and allure of the last performer's eyes out of his mind. As the brunette began to strip, Hans excused himself from his officers, and slipped backstage. He searched around for a moment, then found who he was looking for. The captivating singer from the stage.

"Guten abend, schöne Fraulein."

"I don't speak German," the performer said, taking down one of the stockings on a long, pale leg, "My songs back there were in English, in case you didn't notice."

Hans adjusted his speech accordingly. "Your music still, is very much influenced by German culture, is it not?"

The singer began to lift up the little dress past their undergarments. "Yeah. You're right about that."

"So. An American out of his comfort zone."

And a man, so it would seem. So that's what they were hiding. Hans' gaze lingered for more than a few seconds.

"I wouldn't say I'm out of my comfort zone," the crossdresser tilted his head, "I've got you in the palm of my hand in a small dressing room, small enough for me to either suck your cock or stab you with my hairpin. If I stabbed you, I could go home a war hero." He reached down to unlace his g-string, then looked up, raising his shaved eyebrows. "Mind if I readjust my crotch?"

Hans smiled slightly at the man's blunt language, finding it refreshing. He held up a hand to show he did not mind, and steered the conversation back. "What is stopping you from using... what did you say? A hairpin, to murder me?" Hans smiled. He was rather enjoying this man already. The performer pursed his painted lips.

"I don't get involved in wars. I just do what I do best. Drink expensive absinthe, look pretty, and perform."

"You do certainly do the last two well, yes," Landa nodded, "Do you have any proof of the first point?"

Manson smirked, realizing what the man was asking. He reached behind his vanity, and pulled out a thin bottle. He took two glasses, pouring a bit in each.

“What is your name?”

“…Marilyn.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Is it your real one?”

“Nothing in this world is for real.” He pulled out some distilled water, and added that to both glasses, watching the liquid go a milky green. "Here. Sorry, no sugar spoons around."

"Oh, I prefer to drink milk, thank you."

"You went through all the effort of finding me backstage. Now you have to drink what I drink."

Landa reluctantly accepted the offer, mainly because he was a curious man by nature, but also because the man offering it to him was ridiculously good looking. "Hm. Very well. Do you mind at all if I smoke, to enjoy the drink with it?" Landa asked.

"Go ahead."

Landa lit up a German cigarette, offering one to Marilyn, who declined. Then Landa takes a sip, and marvels at how strong the drink is. Odd flavours dance across his taste buds, and he feels his head begin to swim almost immediately.

"It's different from being drunk," Marilyn commented, cutting through the haze as he took the generous sip of a seasoned drinker, "It's like you can lose your body, but not your mind."

"I see what you mean," Landa nodded, rubbing his chest, "Exquisite taste, however. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it."

Marilyn took another sip. "It's alright. You can say it tastes like herbal acid. It only tastes good when it's pretty much all you drink." He gestured to himself. Hans chuckled, set his drink aside, and carefully cleared some makeup off of a stool. "Eh, may I sit down?" The performer nodded, and stared for a second at the curiously benevolent officer.

"…You don't care that I'm a man, huh?"

Hans mulled this over. "I will not lie, it did surprise me. But then, why should I care?" he shrugged, straightening out his uniform, "You put on a beautiful performance, and you are a beautiful person. There is no reason to shy away from that fact."

"You liked the show?" Marilyn asked, not immune to a little praise.

"It was magnificent. You took my breath away." The man didn’t let the officer see his smile-- he turned away to finish taking down his other stocking.

"I only ask, cause... a lot of men like you see my show, get all hot and bothered, come back here like you did expecting a nice happy ending, then they blame me for seducing them when they find out I'm not the pretty little German woman of their dreams. Makeup only covers up so many black eyes, so I've started warning people before they, uh... bunch up my skirt."

His smile was joking, but his eyes conveyed a weariness only someone as sharp as Hans could detect.

"I'm not complaining, but… why do you continue to perform then?" the German asked softly. "Your performance is art, and so are you. You should be treated as such."

"Yeah, well contrary to popular belief, I don't perform to fuck people," Marilyn said, an undertone of sarcasm present, "I actually do enjoy the art of getting up onstage and putting on a show that'll get people talking. Make people think about how they respond to my art. Fucking attractive people is just a bonus." He undid his corset in front of the mirror.

"Here. Allow me to assist you," Landa said, and put out his cigarette before getting up. He was shorter than the performer, but their eyes still met in the mirror as Landa unlaced the contraption one whalebone hook by one, slowly, deliberately down his back. Shivers ran down Marilyn’s spine, the officer's gaze penetrating. Landa's finger grazed down Marilyn's back, down and up again to unlace the final hook.

A bubbly brunette strode in from the stage. She was the charming burlesque dancer who had gone on after Marilyn.

"You were fantastic," she said, leaning in. She was topless from her striptease—Hans admired the freedom of it all, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy officer’s life he led. It was like being in a whole different world, the exciting underbelly of the artist’s hideout. She and Marilyn shared a European kiss on both cheeks, and she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He smiled.

"So were you, Dita."

"Gotta run, honey. I see you're indisposed, anyway." She shot off a wink, waving playfully at Hans, and hurried off to her own dressing room, breasts bouncing with every poised step.

"She is charming," Landa commented, shaking his head. "She is American too?" Manson looked back to him, suspicious of the question. He didn't give a fuck about himself, but when it came to the people close to him... Landa smirked. "I am not in the business of turning over American burlesque dancers to the Fuhrer. I am simply curious."

For whatever reason, Manson believed him.

"Dita and I came here to Berlin from Los Angeles to perform. We brought along a couple others to support our shows. We felt like we belonged here more than we did there, with all the uptight, patriotic isolationist nonsense in America." He changed the subject. "You wanna give me your name too, or is that breaching German military code?"

"Colonel Hans Landa, of the SS."

"Colonel," Marilyn nodded, "I'm impressed." He did not seem impressed. Landa gave him a look of amusement.

"Would you rather I be a general?"

Manson sighs, sucking in his cheekbones and powdering his face with a large fluffy powder puff. "I'd rather you be pulling my hair and shouting whatever the f word is in German repeatedly, but wishful thinking gets me nowhere. Especially not with some SS colonel who had the audacity to drop into my boudoir." Landa raised his eyebrows. Watching the performer's graceful limbs and trailing his gaze down to admire the black lace contrasting against Marilyn's backside, Landa started to work the night out in his mind, examining how this could look from all angles. In order to keep his credibility (and his reputation) he'd need to think up an elaborate story that would get the both of them to a spot safe to carry out any fantasies that begged to be indulged. He had to convince Marilyn of it too—he couldn’t risk any slip ups.

"I have the authority to go anywhere I like in this country," he said, smile still on his face but quickly contorting into something ominous, "I hope you know that, my pretty American." Marilyn hesitated, picking up on the sudden shift in the mood, but thought nothing of it as he continued to undress. "I must confess, I have not been entirely truthful with you tonight," Hans went on, folding his hands in his lap. Marilyn tucked his hair behind his ears, inspecting his reflection.

"No? You gonna tell me you're a woman?"

Despite himself, Landa chuckled. "That situation would make for a good stage play, would it not?" His smile slowly ebbed away, as he replaced it with a cold gaze of sinister intent. "Do you know what they call me?"

"I can't say that I do."

"They call me the Jew Hunter."

"I'm not Jewish."

"No. But you are American. An allied country, and an enemy of the state. What you have told me here tonight, and the simple fact of you being a crossdresser by profession, gives me the authority to take you and keep you in holding until your identity has been confirmed by the embassy of the United States of America." At this, Marilyn turned around sharply, dropping his red lipstick with a clatter. "Ah," Landa put up a hand, "There's nowhere for you to go but with me, unless you wish to be shot down like a dog in the street."

Marilyn tried to escape anyway, dodging past him in an attempt to warn the others. Landa however, was too fast. He grabbed the taller by the bicep, and dragged him in with strength unbefitting of a man of his physicality.

"If you run or make any noise at all, I will have the lovely Miss Von Teese kept here as not only a prisoner of war, but a comfort girl. How would she like to strip for the Fuhrer? Hm?"

Manson ripped his arm away as he realized there was no way out of this, snarling. "Fuckin' bastard."

Landa's mouth twitched up. "If you'll be a good boy and cooperate, we can do this the easy way, without a scene." He leaned in. "Remember. What is it you said on stage? Be obscene... not heard."

Marilyn resisted the urge to growl again, and let Landa lead him out from backstage. Dita was busy in her own area, and none of the other performers took his departure on a stranger’s arm as particularly out of the ordinary. Tim Sköld, a Swedish man Marilyn had met in America who had followed his company out here, watched after him lazily, grazing the arm of one of the Siamese twins who was currently staining kisses all over his face.

“There he goes again,” Tim murmured, and took one of her fingers into his mouth.

Landa approached his men again, who were now about three drinks in and having a good old time at the table.

"Ah, Landa!" Orlock laughed, red in his puffy face from too much schnapps, "Da sind Sie ja wieder! Sie haben es verpasst-- Schmidt, der verdammte Narr, hat die Bardame zum Wetttrinken herausgefordert. Hat gesagt, wenn sie verliert, dann zeigt sie ihm ihre großen Brüste! Natürlich hat er--” (Rejoined us at long last! You missed it-- Schmidt, the damned fool, challenged the pretty barmaid to a drinking contest, said if she lost, she'd have to show her big tits! Of course he--)

"Wer ist das, Landa?” (Who is this, Landa?) Von Wolff asked, cutting in with a stern glare.

"Don't you recognize our costumed friend?" Landa asked in English. Marilyn looked up with a sneer, and the other men noticed his lipstick, his clip on earrings, and the sultry shadowed eyes all three of them were unabashedly admiring an hour ago.

"Sie war ein Mann?!” (She was a man?!) Von Wolff growled, “Schmidt, du Narr! Du hast uns in einen entarteten Club gebracht!” (Schmidt, you fool! You brought us to a degenerate club!) Schmidt looked notably sheepish, which made Landa question why he hadn’t clued into the young lieutenant’s predilections sooner; no matter now. Lt. Orlock got up, fist at the ready. Marilyn for his part, didn’t shy away.

"Yeah? You wanna fight me, you pieces of shit?" he blurted, breaking free of Landa's grasp for a moment, "Come on. Come on! Why don’t you teach me what it's like to be a man?!" Landa put a stop to Marilyn's antagonistic behavior by grabbing his arm again, tighter this time.

"And the queer is American," Von Wolff mentioned in English, giving Marilyn the dirtiest look.

“That’s me, everyone’s favorite American slut,” Marilyn sighed. Orlock threatened to punch him again, so Marilyn spat in his face. This had the same effect as waving a red flag in front of a bull.

“Ah ah,” Von Wolff growled, holding Orlock back. “He will get what he deserves behind bars, Lieutenant. He is a person of interest, especially having broken the law in such a… repulsive, lewd manner.”

“I think it’s repulsive and lewd how you’re gonna jerk off later thinking of my ass,” Marilyn mouthed off, and Landa yanked his arm roughly in warning.

"No doubt he is of interest to us," Landa nodded slightly, "I could tell instantly the moment he stepped onstage."

"Bullshit," Marilyn snapped, and that finally earned him a hard slap across the face from Landa. The colonel kept his expression hard, but cringed a little inwardly. He didn't mean to hit the younger man that hard. Marilyn though, shut his mouth, the sting of the slap sending a wave of arousal through him. Perfect. Now he had an inappropriate erection to deal with in his lacy little panties, on top of being taken to see goddamn Adolf Hitler over a little drag performance. Let's go to Germany, Dita said. It'll be fun, she said.

“Und wieder einmal,” (Once again) Von Wolff said, bowing his head, “Ihr Talent Dinge zu erkennen sucht seinesgleichen, Herr Oberst Landa. Ich werde ihnen versichern dass in weniger als fünf Minuten ein Wagen bereit steht und sich um dieses Schwein kümmert.” (Your talents of detection are unmatched, Herr Colonel Landa. I will ensure an automobile for you in less than five minutes to take care of this swine.)

Landa nodded, and escorted Marilyn outside. He kept a firm grip on the performer's arm, and prompted him to get into the car first. Landa then closed the door, keeping his expression calm. They were driven to Landa's private residence in the automobile, the place where he conducted some of his higher profile interrogations.

On his side of the car, Marilyn was mentally kicking himself over being so goddamn naïve. Years of experience, and he still hadn’t learned that not every man or woman that throws a compliment or two his way and seems like the sweetest thing to walk the earth was trustworthy. Maybe he had had too many unrequited affairs—unrequited in the end, that is. He gave affection-starved a whole new meaning… but affection wasn’t all he wanted in this case. Being this close to the Colonel was warming him up... he recalled the gaze he met in the mirror, what was behind it. It was as if the Colonel had been undressing him with his eyes. Could that really have all been an act after all to lure him in? If so, this Landa guy was very good at what he did.

“So. You believe in your cause here?”

“I thought you didn’t like to get political.”

“Well I just figured, before you kill me, I wanna know that it means something to you.”

Landa looked out the window of the car. “I am a part of this organization by uniform only. I am an opportunist. Not a fascist slave.”

“Huh. You sound more like an American than I do.”

The decoration of the old mansion was ornate, beautiful, and Marilyn tried not to get too distracted by it all. At last, Landa followed him in and shut the front door, the two protected by the privacy of his own home. "You can rest easy. I am not holding you prisoner, or murdering you."

"Then why the fuck did you kidnap me?!" Marilyn demanded, rubbing his arm where Landa had had it in a death grip.

"Don’t be so dramatic. I did not kidnap you, I merely removed you from our primary location.  Do not forget, I still have jurisdiction in this region to select anyone whom I deem to be an enemy of the state in hiding, to question them and to kill them at my bidding."

Marilyn huffed. "You really want to kill me?"

"No. I do not want to kill you."

“Nah, you wanna fuck me first.”

“Will you learn to speak with better etiquette?”

“Just because I say fuck, doesn’t mean I don’t have better etiquette than you. You’re actually the first man I’ve met in a long time I can carry on an intelligent conversation with.”

Hans considers this. “Your intellect is prominent, I will admit.”

“The only difference between you and me is a little lipstick, and the fact that I say what I mean.” Marilyn strutted in to tug Hans’ tie. “I’d like to get my lipstick all over you, though.”

Hans tugged his tie loose, swallowing. “Red was never my colour.”

“It will be tonight.”

“Scheisse…”

Marilyn looked down and inspected his nails. "Anyway. I don't know why your friends were all so shocked to see I was a man," he muttered, "You military guys might wanna check the part of town they’re spending your evenings in next time you go out and decide to have a good time kidnapping performers for the glory of the state."

“Watch your tongue.”

“You watch my tongue, it’ll be all over your body in a second.”

Hans got pinker in the face. "I've told you, this is not kidnapping, and that was all a show that was necessary to move locations," he sighed, locking his door.

"You couldn't have just fucked me there, in my dressing room?"

"Of course not, it was an open dressing room, there was no door! I will not risk my reputation for that, good god."

"Awww... I'm not worth it?" Marilyn asked, and Landa clenched his jaw.

"Do not push your luck."

"I've already done that, Herr Colonel."

Landa was affected the name, and melted into the touch as Marilyn started to undo his pants, getting between his legs. The same fantasies from earlier swirled in Landa's head, imagining the taller man’s red lips closing around his cock. This fantasy would evidently come true. Marilyn dropped to his knees, and finally got him out of his pants. His false eyelashes blinked up, and he gave the head a kitten lick, before obscenely taking the whole thing to the back of his throat.

"Oh, meine liebe, you have a talent..."

"Keep talking."

He went back down on Hans, his tongue working magic on the Colonel. Hans admired him. "Look at how beautiful you are... you are gorgeous."

"If I run my mouth about it, I gotta have the goods to back it up." Marilyn grinned and hollowed out his cheeks, moaning a little and getting off on being used. “Slap me?”

“For what?”

“I like it. Like you did earlier, slap me in the face while you’re face fucking me.” Landa bit his lip, and Marilyn looked up, fire burning in those mismatched eyes. “Did I stutter? Now!” The slap was sharp, and echoed in the large house. Marilyn went even faster on Landa’s dick, his pale cheek immediately taking on the pink imprint of Landa’s hand. “Again.”

Another slap hit him, and Marilyn licked back to Landa’s balls, grazing his perineum and making the German hiss. After a second, he started to feel Landa throb, and popped off, standing up. Marilyn put a slender hand on his arm. He then leaned in, and connected their lips in a chaste kiss, gently working a little deeper until Landa's mouth was open and gasping. Marilyn pulled back, smirking down at him. "My lipstick looks good on you after all."

Landa ran his tongue along his bottom lip, and felt his cock throb. He didn’t want to ask it...

"What's on your mind?" Marilyn asked, voice soft and smooth as the green velvet cabriole he was lowering Hans onto. "Never slept with a man?"

"No," Landa said, "I have." They continued to kiss heatedly, and Marilyn wandered his hand down between the two, pressing on Landa's erection. When he snapped his hips down in a purely instinctual thrust, Landa dropped his head back, mouth falling open.

"You want me inside you," Marilyn realized, trailing his fingers down Landa's heaving chest. "Don't you? Hm? You wanna feel my big cock pounding your ass, don't you, you dirty motherfucker?"

"Ah, scheisse," Landa muttered again, and reached down to touch his aching erection. Marilyn slapped his hand away, and replaced it with his own.    

"Nuh uh. That’s all mine." Marilyn stood, smirking. “This what you want?” Hans lay back against the couch cushions, eyes hooded as Marilyn snapped the fabric of his panties against that porcelain skin. “You want this cock, pretty boy?” He teased his thinly veiled erection in Landa’s face, rubbing himself slowly through the black lace. Landa wanted to reach out and touch it, but Marilyn danced his hips away every time he did. “Is this what you want me to do to you…?” Marilyn turned, as if giving Landa his own private strip show, and slid two fingers between his asscheeks, moaning a little as he played with his entrance for a second. “You want me to play with your hole like this, Herr Colonel? You want me to---ohhh--- touch you like this, fuck you like this?”

Landa could barely breathe. The sound of the taller man’s voice alone did things to him that no other had before. Marilyn turned back around to lightly bump his cock against the German man’s face, grinding it so close to his lips, daring him to try and touch. When the performer was good and satisfied with how well he had trained Landa, he smugly relented, crawling back between his legs.

Landa watched the man on top of him, watched his long lashes blink, his crimson lips part to make way for his tongue to swipe. He really was beautiful.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Marilyn whispered against his skin as he leaned in again, echoing Landa's unspoken sentiments, "I'm gonna wreck this body so hard." Landa let out a strangled moan, and Marilyn looked around. "Please say you have something I can lube up with. I have two morals. One, never make music that confuses strippers like me, and two, never go into a guy dry—the blood is impossible to get out of lingerie."

"The oil is over there."

"Mm." He grabbed the oil, and started to gently prepare Landa, watching him writhe. "You finger yourself often, Colonel? You get the girls you bring back here to fuck you with their fingers? Big strap-ons? Do they go running their mouths all over the place, telling everyone how Hans Landa the cockslut likes taking it up the ass?"

Landa couldn’t respond... he could only clench his jaw. Marilyn jerked his cock a few times, and used the oil to cover himself generously. He then turned Landa over onto his stomach, giving his ass a good smack before sinking into him.

"Take this dick, Landa," Marilyn growled, "You're a powerful man out there. But in here you're my little bitch, aren't you?"

"Oh," Landa moaned. He was already approaching his orgasm, golden hair matted to his forehead and lips pink and stained.

"Close already? Huh? Imagine if you were fucking me. Hm? You'd leave me hard, wouldn't you? You'd just cum in my ass right now, wouldn’t you?"

"I- I can't..."

"Useless. You're fucking pathetic, you can't even last five minutes."

Landa gasped, trying to contain his moans. He never mentioned anything about humiliation being something he was aroused by in bed, but Marilyn was right—intuition is a part of being good at this, and Marilyn was good at this.

“I’m…” Landa couldn’t finish his sentence. He stifled his next groan in his arm, breath hitching.

"Nah ah. I want you to moan like every bit of the slut you are. COME ON, let me heat it! I want all of Germany to know it.” Marilyn’s voice rose until he was practically screaming himself hoarse, tugging Landa’s hair back roughly. “I want the whole fucking world to know it, goddamnit, let me hear you!"  

"Scheisse, scheisse, bitte!" Landa cried, feeling himself tip over the edge. With his brutal pace, the performer hit his prostate, and Hans finally came in Marilyn’s fist. Marilyn waited for him to finish, then pulled out, jerking off onto him with his fist a blur. Hans felt Marilyn's cum paint his back, and bit his fist. The performer then sat back on his heels, wiping his brow.

"All you military men have great asses."

Landa, regaining his usual confidence with his breath, scoffs at this. "And how would you know this beyond your experience with me?"

Marilyn gave him a look. "Dita, Tim and I have done nothing but drink and sleep our way around Berlin for the past few months. We have enough experience.”

Landa sat up, doing his shirt buttons up to his lower chest. "I thought you said all the other officers would beat you for 'seducing' them."

"Doesn't mean I can't look at their backsides after they beat me."

Landa shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "You really are something, Marilyn... eh, what was your last name?"

"That will remain a mystery. I’m not giving you any more than you need to know after... all that."

"It was a happy ending for the both of us," Landa protested.

"Sure, after a big fucking hassle. I don't even know if it was worth it."

"Remember," Landa growled, "I can still have you arrested if I choose to."  

"Right," Marilyn whispered, sauntering over to him to help him do up the rest of his buttons, "While you’re feeling like a big man again, let's not forget who made you moan like the little whore your men think I am ten minutes ago." He kissed Landa's cheek tenderly, grazed his hand down to give the German's clothed cock a pat, and smirked as he walked off to Landa's bar in search of more absinthe.

“Well,” the Colonel sighed, smoothing his hair back to a respectable style, “What is that American expression? You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

Das Haus Des Gold would most likely be his nightclub of choice from now on... but next time, Landa would be sure to attend alone for, perhaps, a more private show.

#hans landa #marilyn manson #hans landa x marilyn manson #marilyn manson x hans landa #inglorious basterds imagine #inglourious basterds #tarantino #quentin tarantino #the golden age of grotesque #golden age of grotesque era #golden age of grotesque #the golden age of grotesque era #crossdressing #wwII #inglorious basterds #inglourious basterds fanfiction #tarantino fanfiction #marilyn manson fanfiction #mansonite #mansonites #weimar germany #brian warner #brian hugh warner #dita von teese #tim skold #tim sköld #christoph waltz

[miralandisgay]

You remember that Every Makeup Challenge I was doing? Yeah I forgot about that, but I'm gonna try to do it again.

Starting from the beginning. Instead of images, I'm working with the actual names of the makeups, adding to this list as I get more. I'm going by how they rank in rare, with new things added while I do this on the end of the list.

Swan of Desire

Glory Without Regret

Sword and Poem

Pigeon Maid

Peach Sweetheart

Northern Soldier

Cloud Lady

Blue Icy Eye

Swan of Innocence

Scented Snow

Meditative Moon

Sapphire

Extraordinary Elf

Carrot Dream

Endless Miss

Sepulchral Eyes

Innocent Angel

Sunny Star

Dream Nocturne

Zephyr

Ethereal Faith

Salvation of Blood

Affectionate Eyes

Downcast Soul

Queen Saint Phoenix

King Saint Cloud

Queen Saint Obscure

Pupil of Silver Wings

Hippie Clown

Dressed Up Clown

Wound of Nirvana

Wounds of War

Winter Awake

Frown in Despair

Arch Brows

Jade Elegance

Slender

Awakening Spring

Forced Bitter Smile

Help Laughing

Rich Makeup

Peachy Kiss

Nightmare Foreword

Deep Stars

Fallen Star's Shadow

Feather Fantasy

Light Mist Brow

Goddess's Favor

Night Sakura

Warm Smile

Poem of Wind and Moon

Naughty and Lovely Bear

Little Fairy Cat

Endless Love

Love with No Excuse

Summer of Secret Love

Hidden Serpent

Blood red Pupils

Superpower of Love

Flower Beauty

Rainbow Sundown

Sky Pursuit

Night Shadow

Figure of the City

Cold Pond Eyes

Moon of Whirlwind

Youth Storm

Youth Trend

Simple Twist of Fate

Bone Painting Night/Day

Radiance of Heart

Me in Another Time

Cat Earl

Echo of Galaxy

Supersonic Frequency

Silent Lamb

Shadow Ice Stone

Burning Will

Compassion

Lament

Flower of Sin

Sweet Demon

Obstinanceness

Daydreamer

Legendary Singer

Legendary Artist

Legendary Music

Legendary Show

Her Word

God's Messenger

Breathtaking

Lantern Date

Aim at the World

Honest Heart Tested by Heaven and Ground

Look of Dragon

Tide of Fog

Pupils of Night

Early Rabbit

Vain Longing

Whisper

Sly Pupil

Sunset Butterfly Dream

Rain from the Heaven

Thoughts at Silent Night

Living in the Wilderness

Shiny Smile

Kagamine Len

Kagamine Rin

Crane's Eyes

Soul Draining

Yohko

Undead Singer

Beautiful Soul

Peak of Soul

Tonight's Poem

Back to Past

Demon hunting

Mortal Game

Deep Nebula

Kaidan Girl

Radiant Poem

Divine Look

Rose Star

Heavenly Snow

Scattering Splendor

Spring Water Lunar

Carefree Singing

Original Aspiration

Pure Pursuit

Secret Gift

Single-minded Nightingale

Thorny Roses

Sincere Wish

Resplendent Starlight

Glory in Night

Beyond the Mist

Midnight Affection

Mighty Milky Way

Banished to Eden

Walk in Wilds

Sly Black Cat

Innocent Sleeping

Midnight Slumber

Shared Dream

Dream Chaser-Honey

Clear Dreamland

Caring Eyes

Silent Stone

Slumber of Eons

Tears of Joy

Future Prayer

Holly After Snow

Adventurer's Will ♡Anna

Icy Way ♡Elsa

Ai Emotion

Perception

Poet in the Wild

Endless Ruins

Fairy's Tale

Pinkish Candy

Liquid Heart Tempt

Seagulls Under Sky

Shadow of Poet

Clear Hope

Green Dawn

Impermanence

Floating Moon

Advent of Devils

Heartfelt Wish

Moon Tonight

Fairy Tale Cutie

Spring Elf

Love of Roses

Cute Sweetheart

Shed Tears

Soul Divination

Thunder Faith

Secret of Little Devil

Bright Spots

Blue Longing

Six Principle Yin and Yang

Mysterious Young Girl

Ocean Beacon

Kindred Earl

Seducing

Fall on Earth

Blood Lunar Eclipse

Demonic Beauty

War Grandmaster

Supreme Power

writing all these down made me realize this is gonna take a while.

I'll post one style a day until I'm out of makeups, hopefully I'll keep getting makeups for a while. Check the #oneaday and #everymakeup tags to find them. I'll post today's in a little while...

#oneaday #everymakeup #ln #love nikki

[beckzorz]

A Private Tour (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 2020 Summary: Captain America and his brooding friend get a private tour of an art museum. As an intern, your only job is to keep a low profile. Oops? A/N: Happy Fluff Friday! Wrote this in a flash and wanted to share :3 For anyone curious, the museum is the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. All the descriptions of the art are sourced from the museum website. Thanks (as always) to my amazing beta reader @kentuckybarnes, who is more patient than any saint <3

“And here we have the 1888 portrait of Isabella Stewart Gardner by John Singer Sargent. After its initial showing, her husband asked it to not be publicly shown again until after his death.”

“Fascinating,” Captain America said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head as he peered up at the milky face of the museum’s mastermind. The curator studied him with blatant interest.

You rolled your eyes.

“What?”

You flinched. You’d been invited to accompany the curator on Captain America’s private tour, to shadow her and learn—a high honor for a lowly intern such as yourself. You were just supposed to keep a low profile and pay attention to how the curator conducted the tour.

Of course, you’d blown it now. Captain America’s friend, the dark, brooding fellow trailing at an uneasy distance, was staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” he repeated.

“I didn’t say anything,” you whispered.

“You rolled your eyes,” he whispered back.

“Er…” Your face burned.

He cracked a grin. “I won’t tell.” He winked conspiratorially at you and strolled up beside Captain America, who started to point out some brushwork to the strange man.

Martha, the curator, joined you by the far wall as the two men chatted.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

“I’m curious why you picked the pieces you did,” you said. “But I guess I have weird taste.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I get why you’d point out the Sargent—it’s a classic. Plus, the whole idea of locking something splendid away for ages does kinda resonate. But a few of the others you picked were pretty obscure.”

“Well, I like to highlight some of the things that speak to me.” Martha tapped her chin. “And you do get some extra autonomy on these private tours. No need to follow a strict script like with the regular tours.”

“Mm.”

You eyed the two guests speculatively. Captain America was still staring up at the Sargent while talking to his friend. His friend, on the other hand, had his head turned towards you and Martha. You raised your eyebrows when he glanced back at you, but he looked away so fast you weren’t sure if he’d even noticed. He was dressed like Captain America in a button-down shirt and jeans, though he had his sleeves rolled down and gloves on as well. His shirt wasn’t quite straining over the muscles of his back, but it was a close call. The black jeans across his butt, on the other hand…

“What’s the other one’s name again?” you asked Martha in a whisper.

“Don’t you recognize him? That’s Bucky Barnes!”

Bucky Barnes definitely looked back at you this time. You ignored his badly disguised smirk.

“I guess I’m not up-to-date on the real world,” you said lightly. “Not that I’m so up-to-date in the art world, either…”

“Ah yes, your penchant for impressionist landscapes.” Martha’s lips twitched with amusement. Captain America turned back to her with a smile, and Martha hurried forward to lead on.

You kept to a reasonable distance. Bucky Barnes stood by the Sargent until you pass by.

“So,” he drawled. “Impressionist landscapes?”

“I’d say they’re classic, but that’s a couple millenia off-base,” you told him.

Bucky grinned. He hooked his fingers in the loops of his snug jeans and kept pace with you as you followed Martha and Steve.

“What about art of people?”

“Eh,” you said with a shrug. “ I see people every day. We’re all works of art, in my opinion. You just have to look at people the right way to see it.”

“So how should I pose?” Bucky stopped short and twisted his legs and torso, raising his arms in a fair facsimile of the composite pose of ancient Egypt. His muscles strained against his shirt, and you stepped back to try and take in the whole picture and not just the stark outline of his abs. His long hair brushed his cheekbones, and his cheeky grin was nothing like the serene profiles depicted in tomb chapels or on palace walls.

He looked… ridiculous.

“A good effort,” you said, trying not to laugh. “But I prefer contrapposto.”

Bucky chuckled, and Steve glanced back at you both with a smile. You blushed and hurried after your boss.

Martha was already telling Steve about the seventeenth century Japanese fold screens by the time you were back in earshot. It was the standard fare, a speech you’d already mostly memorized. You studied the illustrations, wondering vaguely if you’d ever get around to reading more than a synopsis of the source novel.

“Wanna catch me up?” Bucky asked.

You glanced at him, trying to ignore your racing pulse at the sight of his bright blue eyes. “Illustrations from the Tale of Genji,” you said quickly—Martha was almost done with her speech. “Kano Tsunenobu, 1677.”

“Isn’t that the first novel ever written?” Bucky leaned forward and peered at the bottom left corner. His arm brushed your sleeve, and you bit your tongue to keep cool as a whiff of his spicy scent flooded your senses. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a man named Genji, who was the ideal man. A really talented artist, super attractive, and—” you flushed— “a great lover.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky stood up, still dangerously close. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he gazed at you. You were frozen in place, barely able to breathe. There were sweet crinkles around his eyes, and gosh, his lips were pink as anything. He was barely a foot away. You swallowed.

“And so as we move on…”

Martha and Steve were wandering off. You took the opportunity to step back, breaking the spell, and follow your boss. A deep breath took the edge off your sudden hyper-awareness of the man behind you. Then you remembered Bucky had asked a question.

“The book spends a lot of time on his relationships. I guess things haven’t changed much,” you shot back over your shoulder. Your voice sounded normal. You hoped.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true,” Bucky murmured. “But I hope you never change.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Martha made quick work of the chapel and the long gallery, and now you were all clustered in the Titian room. Martha and Steve made their way to the far wall, but Bucky grabbed your elbow and steered you to a table by a window. You recognized the painting propped in a dark wooden frame.

Giovanni Bellini, Christ Carrying the Cross, about 1505-1510.

“He looks like he’s wearing a backwards baseball hat,” Bucky whispered.

You clapped a hand to your mouth before you laughed out loud. “Shh!” you scolded.

“What?” he said, blinking innocently. Gosh, what eyes! “I’m just sayin’.”

“Well, you’re not wrong, but I’m supposed to be paying attention,” you said. You extricated your arm from his hold and hurried over to where Martha was going over Titian’s Rape of Europa with Steve.

“Crazy to think how much European art developed in a hundred and fifty years,” Steve mused. “This is so different from the Proto-Renaissance stuff. The motion, the colors…”

“It’s fascinating,” Martha agreed.

You blinked. Did Martha realize she was echoing what Steve had said not ten minutes ago?

Maybe. Martha was good at reading a room.

Hopefully she wouldn’t scold you for not paying attention to her tour.

Your eyes slid back to Bucky, who mimed spinning a cap around his head, and you pressed your lips together to keep from smiling. What a goof.

By the time you all headed back downstairs, Bucky had attached himself to your side again.

“So,” he said as you made your way down the stairs, “what’s your deal?”

“I’m interning,” you said. “Summertime gig and all that.”

“Do they pay you?” he asked.

“Uh, no, this is an art museum,” you said, startled.

“So how do you live?”

“Grants, and other paid jobs. I’m a grad student in my spare time.”

“Oh yeah? Art history?”

“Whoa, how did you guess?” you joked.

Bucky leaned in to whisper, “It’s hard to tell, but I’m secretly brilliant.”

You giggled. “You know,” you said, “I believe it.” Your eyes lingered on his smile before you looked away as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

This all had been fun, and Bucky Barnes was definitely the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, but it wasn’t real. Captain America’s private tour was over, and now that it was, you and Martha and the rest of the skeleton crew still left behind could go home.

Except Steve was still talking to Martha.

Well, you weren’t going home yet. You turned back to Bucky with a smile.

“Art is more Steve’s thing, but I had fun,” he said, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Good!” You smiled brightly at him.

Bucky blinked, a hint of pink coming to his cheeks as he looked at you. The silence held a few seconds too long, and your smile faded slightly. He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“So what’s your end goal, then?” he asked.

“Make something magical out of other people’s work,” you said promptly. “And…” You glanced hesitantly up at him. Why not tell him your secret dream? You’d never see him again, and his eyes and face were so guileless that you couldn’t imagine any harm would come from telling. “And it’s never gonna happen, but I want to be the one to find the paintings that got stolen from here.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes,” you confessed. “I always love heist stories, and when I found out someone had done it in a museum, I was so excited. I’ve wanted to figure it out since I was a kid. I minored in criminal justice, even.”

“So… bring the thieves to justice and restore the paintings to their rightful place?”

“Exactly.”

“Sounds fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “When do we start?”

“Oh, please.” You laughed.

“No, seriously, when do we start?”

Your mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious,” you said, but he ignored you.

“I suppose we could start with dinner, but we can stick with a good old-fashion briefing room if you prefer,” he said with a wink. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I like dinner,” you said weakly. “Briefing rooms sound boring.”

“God, you have no idea,” he said fervently. He rolled his eyes, but when he was done, all he smiled. “So do you have plans tonight?”

“Well, I was going to just hang out at home, but I guess I need to solve a decades-old mystery with a stranger first,” you teased.

“Having been a decades-old mystery, I think I can offer a unique perspective,” Bucky declared, still smiling. He reached out and squeezed your hand briefly. “I’m glad Steve dragged me along. Never woulda come on my own.”

“Is it too soon to say I’m glad too?”

Bucky’s grin was infectious. “Nope. Besides, I think your boss will be impressed if you can get the paintings home safe.”

“You do know they’ve been missing for almost thirty years, right?” you said.

“After a century, that doesn’t sound so bad.” Bucky glanced behind you at Martha and Steve, but before you could check what they were up to, he grabbed your hand and pulled you around a corner.

“Excuse you!” But your protest was half-hearted. Bucky’s right hand was still linked in yours, his eyes bright and happy, and you couldn’t help but catch your breath at the wonderful sight of him so close. “You know,” you murmured, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, “you’re a work of art just as you are.”

Bucky’s eyes smoldered as he tugged you closer until your chest brushed his.

“Well,” he said, dropping a kiss on your nose, “maybe for my next pose I’ll try a reclining nude.”

He stifled your laugh with a searing kiss. Warmth burst in your chest, and you hummed happily into his mouth. When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen but his eyes were gleaming.

“So,” he said, “dinner?”

“Dinner,” you agreed.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fic #becca writes

[boxdyed]

More Concept Playlists

+ You walk out of your shitty roadside motel room that you’ve been staying in since you ran away from home. It hasn’t been cleaned since the 50s but at least no one will find you out here, in the middle of the desert. You head towards the ice machine, but someone is already there. It’s the most popular girl in school, who you’ve had a crush on since 6th grade. She’s run away too.

+ You and your fed-up punk friends attempt to summon a demon at your all girls catholic boarding school, determined to wreck some wacky havoc on the oppressive staff. But the fun doesn't last long as you realize you have unleashed something far more sinister. Something that doesn't slam doors or break windows but drips deep into your psyche and reveals the meaning of pure evil.

+ The year is 1987, You’re part of a ragtag band of misfits that have been friends since childhood. All of you are gay, but no one has admitted it yet so rifts are forming in the gang. One summer morning you roller skate over to your best friend, the only other girl in the groups house to tell her you’re in love with her. Will it tear group apart once and for all or bring you back together?

+ You're 17 and in love with your manic pixie dream girl of a best friend. It's a wednesday night in early june and you can't sleep because all you can think about is her stupid perfect crooked smile and just when you think you can't stand it anymore you hear a tapping at your window. You open it and there she is, with that smile. She asks you if you want to go on an adventure. You've never wanted anything more.  

+ July is the season of rabid dogs. There's something about the constantness of the heat that drives spikes into the head. This year there's a new plague: the teenage girls. They are sick. The are restless. They are hungry. Their bare feet burn on the hot concrete but they won't stop until they have tasted the blood of every abusive man in town.

+  You and your closest friends sit on the roof of your suburban house watching the sunset. The crisp, nearly-autumn breeze blows against your oversized hoodie while you sip cheap, lukewarm beer from a paper bag. No one says anything, no one has to.

+ It’s 1:30 am and you’re driving out of the city with your girlfriend asleep in the passenger seat. there are lights glowing on the highway and in the city behind you but it feels like it's just the two of you, and you wish it could last forever

+ The year is 1975. The Russians went ahead and nuked us and well, just about everyone died. But don't worry! There were a few survivors. You and your gang find yourselves with the entirety of west Hollywood all to yourselves and nothing keeping you from the thousands of mansions and all the goodies they might hold

+ You’re on the road with a crappy RV you bought somewhere sketchy with your best friend and her dog on the trip of a lifetime trying to make it as a bluegrass singer. You fall in love over crumpled maps, roadside lemonade, campfire sing alongs, and grimy dive bars where you pay for meals by washing dishes.

+ You walk into your room, satin gown flowing in your wake,You dramatically collapse into a dark velvet chair as if the cameras are rolling. You put on a record and pour your fourth glass of red wine. Your fifth husband has mysteriously died, good thing he left everything to you in the will.

+ You’re at a Halloween party in the basement of a seedy punk club, so wasted you can’t see straight. The ground starts shaking. More than it was before, are you imagining it? No. The bands screaming has gone from angry to terrified. The apocalypse is happening right now.

+ You stand in front of the house at the edge of town. The house with boarded up windows. The house with broken glass in the yard instead of flowers, like everyone else in your small misty mountain town. The house no one talks about. The house you only go when you have nowhere else to go. You have someone to find in there, someone you need to bring home.

+ Is there any place better to dissociate than a roller rink?

+ Everything is perfect here. It's a nice cabin, tucked away in the depths of the Ozarks. The lake is right out back so she can swim whenever she wants. Swimming makes her happy. And all of this is to make her happy. This morning you wake up early to watch the sun rise over the water. It's a perfect morning for a perfect place, golden light seeping through everything. Highlighting orange starting to creep into the leaves. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s almost October. Yes, this place is perfect. But it's time to go home.

+ You’re a music producer who died overdosing on cocaine at a club in the 70s. You awaken in the exact spot you died in the year 2073. You’re hungry, thirsty, and hornier than you’ve ever been. But most importantly, you look as fly as you always have and you’re surrounded by beautiful women.

+ She’s an urban witch. A drugstore sorceress, mixing potions of Xanax and gasoline. Selling them on a street corner in the east village. No one knows her name, few know her face, But they say you’ll know her when you see her. You approach her on a chilled November night and offer a pack of cigarettes for a love potion. Hands shaking with anxiety and cold. She looks you in the eye and tells you you don’t need love potion. She’ll give you everything you want for free.

+ My boyfriend Oliver. I know this isn't a concept but he's super cute and i love him so let me live......DM me if you wanna see pics

+ You're driving through the depths of the Appalachian mountains on a foggy night. You see a dark figure with glowing eyes up ahead at the edge of your headlights and your heart stops beating. No. It can't be him…. He wasn't supposed to be able to find you all the way up here I. You get closer and your shoulders relax, It's just an old man. He smiles when you pass, his milky eyes reflecting back at you like stars. probably just a friendly local out for a late night stroll. You're safe. It's fine. Only 10 miles to go. Your engine dies the moment you realize that human eyes dont glow.

+ You’re a nerd, a nobody, the kid who sits by herself at lunch. The kid who never talks and never gets noticed by anyone. Yet here you are, dressed in your big sisters clothes, standing in the coolest girl in schools living room while a party rages around you. Tonight you’re going to be cool. Tonight you’re going to be the life of the party. Tonight she’s finally going to realize you exist. This is either the bravest thing you’ve ever done or the stupidest.

+ You’ve been climbing the mountain for three days and three nights. Out of food, out of water, and utterly, painfully alone. Just when you think you can walk no farther, you hear a waterfall in the distance. With your remaining ounce of strength you launch yourself the final few yards. You collapse to your knees and peer into the clear, cool water. But Instead of seeing your face your entire life is reflected back at you.

#concept playlist #TA DA! #I put all the ones from the last post on here too #because i updated them #so make sure you check those out too #im super proud of these! #pls reblog #they all slap #sapphic #wlw #lesbian #playlists #mixtape #jams #music

[beyond-the-mirror]

Remember that concept I made about V as the Phantom of the Opera?

So I decided to start on it because the idea was literally consuming me and I wouldn’t rest until I tried. This is a small introduction to the story so I hope you all like it.

As for my other fic Nocturnal Encounters, don’t worry! The next chapter is almost ready, just finishing the final part and polishing it (I know it’s taking me some time but english is not my native language so please be patient 😰)

Tagging @thedyingmoon and @minteyeddemon because they looked very excited for this thing, thanks for your support lovelies!

---

Prologue:  Meeting you

Another beautiful morning blessed the streets of Fortuna, the city bustling with activity and radiance. Along one of the main streets your little form ran, a bag of freshly baked bread on your arms. Your father had sent you to the bakery a while ago, and since you had been a very good child by helping him with the family music store, he even gave you some extra coins for you to buy your favorite chocolate filled pastry, and not just one but two of them!

Soon enough your running slowed down to a walk as you reached Fortuna’s Opera House, a magnificent building that stood proud and pristine among others. The rococo architecture never ceased to amaze you, the ornaments and decorations in the walls and statues carved in the purest gold you had ever seen in your life. You considered yourself lucky that your house was just a couple of streets away from the opera, every time you passed it you would always observe the building in complete awe and wonder.

Oh how you dreamed of performing there, music was your true calling after all. Maybe you could perform as a ballet dancer, you remembered how your instructor at the ballet academy would often praise your talent and skills, though what you really wanted to become was a singer. There was a bit of a problem though, as confident as you were with your dancing, the same couldn’t be said about your singing skills. The only ones who had ever heard you sing were your parents, and although they would always tell you that your voice was truly gifted and stunning, you definitely felt insecure about it.

Cutting your daydream short, you once again started walking towards your house, you didn’t want your parents worrying about you taking too long. However, as you passed the alley next to the opera house an abrupt noise startled you. Turning around towards the noise, you caught sight of a child running behind some wooden boxes, a fallen barrel near them being the source of it. You definitely didn’t expect seeing a child in such a dark alley, they must be lost or something like that you figured.

Carefully approaching the crates, you called out for the kid “Hello? Are you alright?”

After a few moments, a small head peaked from behind, but as soon as they noticed you looking at them, they immediately hid once again.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. You can come out.” You called out as softly as possible, the kid was probably feeling scared or maybe they were just very timid.

Slowly but surely, the child eventually came out their hiding place. It was a boy, probably a couple of years older than you since he was very tall, his short black hair fell in graceful waves just above his chin, making a beautiful contrast with his milky white skin. A worn and battered shirt that looked too large for him covered most of his frail body, his trousers were torn at the ankles and his feet were barely covered by an old pair of sandals.

You made eye contact for a while before his gaze lowered towards the floor.

“Are you ok?”

You asked worryingly. The boy simply nodded silently.

“Are you lost?”

This time he shook his head.

“Oh. Then, where do you live?”

Without muttering a single word, he pointed towards the opposite wall of the alley. Following his finger, you noticed what looked like trapdoor, it was slightly open, revealing a set of stairs that lead to some sort of basement.

You were staring at the trapdoor in curiosity when a small rumble surprised you. Once you turned towards the boy, he was looking directly at the bread you were carrying while holding his tummy in slight embarrassment.

“Oh! Are you hungry?” Once the boy nodded confirming your suspicion, you immediately rummaged in the bag before pulling out what you were looking for. “Here! I want you to have this.”

You handed him one of the pastries you had bought for yourself, you figured that the child needed it more than you considering how thin he looked.

“This one’s filled with chocolate. They are freshly out of the oven and they are absolutely delicious! Try it.”

The child looked at the pastry and then at you. For the first time, he spoke “T-thanks… but… what about you?”

You felt your heart ache, this poor boy looked like he was starving and yet he still worried about you. You assured him that it was nothing and then pulled the other pastry from the paper bag.

“How about we eat together? If it’s okay with you that is.”

The boy nodded, an adorable blush tainting his cheeks and a slight smile appearing on his lips.

You both sat next to each other on top of the crates, eating your pastries in comfortable silence.

It was then that you realized something “Ah! How rude of me! I forgot to introduce myself!” Your mother would always lecture you about the importance of manners, of course sometimes your easily distracted self would often forget about them. After clearing your throat, you extended your free hand towards the boy. “My name is (Y/N), may I know yours too?”

He started at your hand for a moment before hesitantly raising his, taking your hand gently between his fingers. “… V”

“Vee?” You dragged a bit too much on the word “Like the letter? You have a very curious name but I like it! It sounds mysterious and pretty…”

The boy let out a soft chuckle, it sounded so authentic and adorable, and with that pink blush adorning his cheeks you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle too, glad that you managed to make him happy.

Now that you were looking at him more attentively, you noticed how pretty his eyes were. They were a deep but vibrant shade of green, like a precious gemstone or a forest full of life. His eyes were also a bit droopy, giving them an air of gentleness and calm you had never seen before. Such eyes you shall remember forever, there was no way you could ever forget about them.

You continued eating and simply enjoying each other’s presence, time seemed to have ceased existing for you both.

Every other day you would go to the alley to visit V, the two of you becoming close friends after that encounter. Sometimes you brought something for him to keep, like a warm blanket for the cold nights, some toys, and of course, your favorite pastries. Though he wasn’t very talkative, you were surprised to learn he was a quite polite speaker. His vocabulary and knowledge amazed you, it was as if he was being raised and educated by a noble family of the highest Rank. One day during one of your visits, he showed you his most treasured possessions, a book of poetry and a long, gorgeously crafted silver cane.

When V handed you his book you were fascinated by its contents. It was an anthology of William Blake’s prose, each poem beautifully illustrated. V told you that a kind woman who took care of him gifted it to him, and since that moment he promised to always keep it close to himself. However when you asked about the cane, V simply fell silent, that gentle smile of his transforming into an expression of sadness. Not wanting to press further, you tried to cheer him up instead by offering to read some poems together. V’s face once again lit up.

On another of your visits, you swore you saw something strange on him. You were both eating your chocolate filled pastries together when one of the long sleeves of V’s large dress shirt fell along his arm, revealing a small portion of his wrist and forearm. For a few instants, you managed to see a couple of black lines that flowed and swirled on his pale skin, like rivers of ink that moved freely on a clear canvas. As soon as V noticed, he instantly pulled his sleeve, covering the marks on his arm.

You wanted to ask him about it, but before you could mutter a sound, V turned away from you, curling over himself. Worry and concern took over you, making you get on your feet and kneeled in front of him. One of your hands took hold of his face with utmost care and cooing to him, he was visibly altered but your soft touch calmed him down a bit.

“Shhh V, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. “ His breathing eventually slowed down to a normal pace. Though you had curiosity to know what the lines on his skin meant, you respected his silence about it, you didn’t want to overwhelm him again.

He suddenly reached towards you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Thank you (Y/N)… your kindness is infinite like the universe… you have been a wonderful friend.”

You hugged him back, his words making your heart flutter.

One day, you couldn’t find V in the alley any longer.

You kept returning hoping to find him again, sometimes you would leave something for him next to the trapdoor, but he wouldn’t come out.

You started to miss him deeply, oh how you worried about your dearest friend. When you met him he looked so lonely and shy, a deep longing lingering in his pretty eyes. You were glad when he started to slowly open his heart to you, and when you shared with him your dreams of becoming a dancer or a singer, he encouraged you to keep pursuing your career no matter what happened.

When your parents told you that you were moving out, your heart broke. Although you wouldn’t really leave the city, your new house was located a little far from the opera house, meaning that you wouldn’t have a chance to visit the alley and check if V was still there. That night you cried your heart out, wishing to see him just once before leaving. If only you could see those bright eyes again, and that adorable smile.

You arrived at the alley the day before your family moved out. V wasn’t there either, making you feel sad as you hoped you could see him one last time. Fearing this would happen, you had written a short note explaining why you wouldn’t visit for an indefinite time and how you will deeply miss him. Carefully you placed the note next to the slightly ajar door, as well as a red rose and a bag containing a few chocolate pastries, the ones that became your favorites for you both, before leaving with a terrible sadness in your heart.

You hoped that one day you both will be reunited, in the meantime you committed to memory the sight of his adorable smile as well as those precious eyes of his.

You would never forget those eyes.

#phantom of the opera #devil may cry #devil may cry v #v x reader #v x you #fanfiction #fanfic #honestly i can't wait to continue this