#;; mama swann

[little-buggy-beetle]

Mama and Papa 🥰🥰🥰

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi I got an ask about subby Criston and I’m here to fill it but I accidentally deleted the ask itself. So I hope you see this😭😭I kinda went cuckoo bonkers word to Wyn but anyways! Pookie bear cries and nuts like 40 times🧸🧸

Knock ‘em out - C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

WC: 3k

Tags: Boxer!Criston, Manager!Reader, Criss priss prob needed to be in an institution but now gets paid for beating ass, a little bit of manipulation from reader, marathon sex, overstimulation, sub space, soft domme, 🚨CRISTON BIG ASS PRAISE KINK🚨, he’s puppy your honor, Dom/sub, sub drop, aftercare, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms, intercrural sex, cumming in pants, lil bit of background story but mainly P O R N

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @sugarpoppss2 @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @moncherrii @bambitas @targaryenbarbie @fairysluna @thought--bubble @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @gemini-mama @valeskafics

Thanks @tumblin-theworldaway for helping my mind crank up heheheheeh

Criston knew he was off— something never wired right in his brain. Most people would interview him and see the rags-to-riches story. He came from trash, really, his dad was the janitor at the big boxing gym in the city. Coach Dondarrion told people they let Criston train for free as his father worked so tirelessly.

In reality, he couldn’t stop getting into fights at school. It was unchecked anger growing out of control. Criston’s mother and father begged Dondarrion to take him on and help channel that aggression. It likely saved his life. He was only 10 and beating kids’ faces in over slights— imagined or real. He was horribly possessive, jealous, and lost. Boxing seemed to put a lid on that.

Occasionally he’d have to be ripped off an opponent. Whispers of Criston Cole being a psycho were rampant. He was twenty-three when he got his current manager. She worked miracles. His everything— Criston loved the woman so much that sometimes it hurt his head, thoughts too intense to siphon through.

He’d known her from the Blackhaven gym, she was a daughter of Coach Swann and knew the realm of boxing pretty well. Coach Dondarrion brought her into the picture when Criston almost killed a man in the ring.

She didn’t bat an eye when Criston snarled and tried to intimidate her— only cocking her head and snorting like he was an unruly animal. He’ll never forget the words she said after. It was a shift for the boxer.

“Do that again and you won’t fight this week. I’m in charge now. You’re my prize pet. If you want to keep being a prize pet then you’ll listen to me,” she stated, manicured nail poking his chest.

The bigger man still had no clue what came over him, but her words were like a balm. This was what Criston needed— firm orders and guidance. He hoped at the time she could help him with all the mess in his head. Criston nodded and replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy. Let’s come up with some rules. You like rules don’t you?”

No unnecessary jabs, no yelling, work on riding the bike and going through footwork, and no cumming until he had won.

Those were the rules before a fight. Criston abided by them religiously. Even if he was like a caged animal towards the lead-up to the big event. He would feel himself grow more and more agitated— actively restraining from ripping his opponent's jaw off. Cole probably looked psycho, with dark eyes intense, jaw clenching. But his expression remained eerily placid. His manager liked that and said she could smell the fear off the other guy.

Criston remained undefeated, she must be right he thought. Coach Dondarrion said Swann was a goddamn genius. She was perfect like that. He hated she wouldn’t go public with their relationship, Criston would wind himself up into an obsessive tizzy over it.

But when he won again, and again, she was there to take care of him. They’d get through the usual press, Criston would shower, and they’d ride back to the hotel together. The air was charged in the back seat. She’d slapped his wandering hands away the first couple of times.

Now he knew to stay put and she’d tend to his face or scratch his hair, careful of any knots and bruising. It felt so fucking good the first time she touched him, he had cum in his sweats before even reaching the hotel. Whining and writhing as she cooed and put ice on his black eye or taped a busted nose— he couldn’t remember exactly.

His manager had cooed in surprise when he seized up and gasped, wetting the inside of his briefs, “Oh, baby? You came? Needed that, didn’t you? Criston Cole, my prized pet, big bad man, didn’t know you liked being loved on. You deserve it, baby, I’m here for you, always.”

Her words had simultaneously embarrassed and made Criston want to kneel at her feet, awaiting her next command. He remained quiet, cheeks flushing heavily, worried internally his nose would start bleeding. Swann curled at his side and stroked his messy curls.

“Don’t be ashamed, you deserve to feel good. ‘Sides I know you have more to go, gotta be pretty full from going a week. You want me to take care of that, empty you out?”

Criston gritted his teeth and whined. He wanted it so bad. The demon in his head teased and prodded him, spitting lies. “She thinks you’re a weak little bitch, you really gonna spread your legs and bare your neck like a slut?” the voice said. He moaned softly, pained from the dissonance.

His manager whispered gently, a small hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest.

“Criston, baby, stop thinking so much, and let me do it for you.”

He melted into her warm embrace, the proposition flicking on a switch he didn’t know existed. She smiled as he slurred out a ‘yes’ and went lax under her palms. Criston didn’t know at the time— that submitting completely to another made his mind stop for a bit.

He was euphoric, eyes focused on her as they entered the hotel. She waved off any reporters and led him by the hand. Criston clung to her like a needy child in the elevator, his cock swelled up again. The manager let him rut a bit on her tight skirt and giggled at his desperation.

When they finally, finally gotten to the room— she stripped Criston down and made him cum until he cried, all the adrenaline sapped out of his body. He lost count of how many times her mouth and hand brought him to completion. He got to float in his head, tongue too thick and limbs too heavy to do anything but whine and be coddled.

Criston woke up later as a new man. He felt he could breathe. Then the games began as his record kept going up, Cole escalating to the fucking top. He didn’t know what to do with all the money except buy his family a house and Swann anything she desired.

He’d won again. Shaking his fist and snarling obscenities at Strong on the ground. He’d get another fuck-ton of money and go home happy. He’d picked up the belt and grinned, elated at his thirtieth win. On the top of the world.

Criston’s mind began to whirl as he stalked down the hallway. He briskly showered and answered a couple of questions to the press. She waited to the side, sinful red lips curled upwards. Swann was wearing the red bottoms he bought her, pretty legs shown off in her little dress and blazer.

When she nodded toward the exit he followed, agitated at the annoying reporter still asking questions. Criston didn’t want to upset her, so he kept his mouth shut and followed along, pulling his hoodie up. His balls fucking throbbed. He wanted to fuck his angel so bad, maybe she’d let him on a special occasion like this.

He got into the dark luxury vehicle, inhaling her sweet scent. Criston was close to getting feral, mouth watering at the possibilities. Still, he remained mute. Until she shifted, facing him in the dark, eyes full of affection. Criston couldn’t help the thin whine that burst from his chest at her attention.

“Look’it you. Took down Breakbones, got thirty wins, fucking hell baby,” she drew closer to him, “Criston Cole, you’re the real deal! You wanna fuck me, baby boy? I think you’ve earned it.”

“Pleaseplease, yes, fucking yes,” he pled.

A stagnant pause fell over the back of the car.

“Thank you,” he moaned, “Thank you.”

“Good boy, don’t forget your manners.”

She placed a warm hand high on his thigh, massaging the sore muscle. Her other palm caressed Criston’s patched-up cheek. She hummed “A kiss?” He nodded eagerly, vibrating in place, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. But Criston knew he had to be her good boy.

The woman softly pecked his lips, pulling back to watch Criston chase with a sad noise. She smiled and kissed him again, deeper this time. He eagerly opened his mouth for her, shivering as her nimble tongue playfully lapped at his own. Criston’s hands balled up in his sweats— no touching, no touching unless given permission.

Their lips wetly smacked in the dark car, her hand moving up to rub maddeningly at his straining cock. Criston cried out into her mouth, hips bucking helplessly. She laughed and nibbled on his shapely lower lip, hand squeezing his manhood.

“S’all mine isn’t it? My cock, just for me.”

He nodded in misery, his body wanted to let go, but it was a bit of a process to get Criston in the headspace he wanted. She knew how to get him there. Like her lips against his ear, tits pressed against his chest as she purred, “Easy love, relax, I’ve got you honey.”

“Mmm- gods, need it,” he gritted out, dark eyes lolling.

As her firm hand jerked him over the sweats, Criston’s manager nipped and kissed at his clean-shaven cheeks and neck. She whispered, “Sweet boy, I know you are s’hard, relax, relax, you’re gonna get to cum all night baby. As much as you want, just gotta let go okay?”

She praised and played with him some more, Criston began to pant hoarsely, thighs shaking as he neared the precipice. She tutted when the car stopped, “Get yourself together baby, we’re here now.” He blinked, a tear falling down his cheek, bewildered by the way she left him.

He was so fucking close! The boxer sulked and groaned at his denied orgasm, eyes watery from how intense his balls were throbbing now. He wiped his eyes and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up again, keeping his head low. He hoped the half-assed tucking of his hard-on worked.

They walked in sync to the elevators. He sulked, “M’so hard it hurts.” Criston’s girl pouted her lips, patting his cheek, “I know, I know sweet boy, but we can’t keep the driver waiting. Almost there, don’t be so needy.”

Criston wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his face into her neck. He would be good, he wouldn’t hump or bite. He merely wanted to hold her for a second before the elevator dinged. Swann hummed and nuzzled back into his hair.

Onward they went, Criston’s mind growing fuzzier and fuzzier as his body thrummed with need. Upon entering the penthouse suite— her entire demeanor changed. She snapped, “Go get undressed and kneel for me by the bed.”

He nodded in little jerks, undressing and folding them neatly, just how his mistress liked. Criston shuddered as the cool air hit his cock, swallowing heavily as he knelt before the foot of the bed. His hands shook with need, his adrenaline still thrashing and pumping underneath the skin.

He was downright panting by the time she came out of the bathroom, naked as he was. Criston bit on his lip, eyes watering again. The angel laughed, “You sure are worked up tonight.” She padded behind Criston, winding a hand into his hair, eliciting another agonized noise from the boxer.

“You are so damn talented, the Warrior smiles on you. I’m proud.”

“Thank you, thank you ma'am,” he whispered.

“I’m going to get on the bed and you’re going to fuck all that energy and cum out okay?”

“Yes ma’am- ohmygods.”

Criston’s brows pulled together as she laid before him, legs crooked and spread, her cunt shining with slick. He growled, digging his nails into the skin of his thigh. She crooked her fingers playfully, “C’mon baby, you’re allowed to touch. Use me, my special pet earned it.”

He almost felt bad in the way he roughly had pulled her ass flush to his hips, the flesh smacking loudly. Criston had eagerly gotten on his knees in the center of the soft bed, slotting his swollen cock against her slick pussy. “F-fuck, fuck, gonna use you baby, ’m sorry,” he gritted out. She smiled and shrugged, moaning as he rutted against her a couple more times.

Criston’s dark eyes rolled up as he entered her velvet cunt, warm and sososo tight. He snarled as he snapped his hips into his baby. She was crying out and digging sharp nails into his shoulders. Cole knew he was lost in the feeling, rasping and groaning possessive, ugly things he would never say out loud.

But when legs were wrapped around his waist and she was mewling his name? Criston had lost his firm barriers. He rumbled into her ear between kisses and bites, “My godsdamn pussy, mine, you’re mine, I’ll f-fucking kill anyone who touches you, looks at you, gods I’ll do anything!”

He groaned, balls drawing up quicker than expected. She was crying out “Yes! yes! All yours!” Criston sucked in a wet breath at her neck, hips driving into her at a breakneck pace, hands bruising her pretty skin. He choked on his drool, unable to warn her— Criston’s orgasm was that intense.

She tightened around him when his cock flooded, absolutely flooded her pussy. Criston moaned and clenched his jaw, fucking through the oversensitivity. His girl dug her heels into his ass to spur him on. The boxer swallowed down a little mewl. Everything was still so swollen, he had to keep fucking, keep cumming.

“Mmm, yes! Don’t stop baby, oh Criston!”

“I-I am, fuuuck, g’nna fill you up again!"

He drove his hips upward, lifting her hips so that Criston could get at her g-spot. She raked a bloody mark across his back, gasping in delight. He rambled while thumbing desperately at her clit, “Yeah, yeah, feel s’good, cum on me baby, need to feel you, m’close again!”

Criston wasn’t sure if it was her gorgeous wail or her pussy gushing on his cock or both but he came again. She chose to mouth at his lips, shaky legs clenching around him, hand pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. Meanwhile, he whined Swann’s name, the quickness of his second orgasm turning Criston’s brain into jello.

The slick noises between them were loud and sloppy, he was stuttering and whining. She threw her pretty head back and moaned. Criston was finding words hard. He kept fucking and fucking. She felt too good and he had so much cum for her.

“That’s it, keep it up,” she grunted.

Criston slurred, “Ca-can’t stop, can’t, can't!”

He felt his eyes grow wet as his overstimulated cock was gripped and milked by her cunt. The angel, his angel, wrapped her arms around his sweaty neck, his hips forcing little 'uhs' out of her plush lips. Criston blabbered uselessly, words bordering on sobs now. It felt too good, the pain and pleasure were ecstasy to him. He bottomed out inside her, stopping to mewl long and high before returning to feverishly thrusting again.

“Oh, oh, angel- hurts- s’good ohmygods your pussy, gotta cum again, m’sorry m’so sorry!”

She nuzzled at his jaw, moaning, “It’s okay, doing so good for me, needy baby. You needed this, poor baby’s balls are so full.”

“S’full,” he agreed, mindless and shivering.

Criston’s thighs began to twitch as he felt another wave cresting. He practically wailed as the third peak licked up his spine— white hot and mean. She gasped, nails digging into his flanks, pussy pulsing around another load of Criston’s molten cum.

He was a mess, wordless and drooling. Criston began to move again, gaze unfocused and mouth agape. He whimpered, all overstimulated and still fucking frantic. Criston felt like he’d die if he didn’t stop, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks.

Her hands held his face now, her lips saying something. Criston slowly cocked his head, attempting to understand his manager’s words. She said it again, this time louder with a smack to his cheek. Criston stopped his movements, protesting with a weak noise.

“Babydoll, you gotta fuck my thighs, I'm starting to hurt. I’m going to turn over, okay precious? Got that?”

His lips trembled— Criston didn’t want to do that. He wanted her pussy. He slid out anyway, a torrent of white spend flooding out of her well-used entrance, seeping onto the bed. She marveled "Oh Criston, you still have anything left?" The woman hissed under her breath as she flipped onto her stomach. She tucked a pillow under her hips, giving him access to her thighs, slicked with their release.

Criston stared— unsure how to proceed. His cock was so flushed it purpled, aching horribly. He whined, frustrated with his stupidity, the man just wanted familiar tightness again. She sighed and reached back, ushering his knees and thighs to cage her legs in, forcing Criston forward.

He gasped in delight when his cock slid between her soft thighs, warm and wet. His depleted brain decided this would do. Criston’s thrusts were jerky and uncoordinated, he was growing too sensitive to go on much further. He kept at it, crying and sniffling like a babe.

“Awe baby, you’re hurting huh?”

“Mhm!” he replied, scrunching his face up tight. He had to cum one more time, he had to! Even if it was excruciating, the pleasure ramped up into nerves prickling all over his worn body. She watched him with lidded eyes, lips in a smirk. Criston exhaled again, throwing his head back to sob.

“Gotta- I gotta,” he mewled.

“I know sweetheart, so close, let it all out, you’ll feel so much better. You’re so pretty like this— all fucked out and still want more. Knocked your whore brain sideways. My cute slutty puppy, I love youuu.”

Criston folded under the praise, his body contracting once more, stomach cramping as he devolved into cries. His abused cock managed to dribble one little last bit. He couldn’t stop crying, falling back onto his haunches. Swann guided him down to shush and pet his hair. She murmured, "You're okay, all done now, I'm here, not going anywhere. Just breathe."

Criston’s muscles were all loose but the adrenaline had been sapped quickly. He was gutted— in a good way. Just couldn’t help the reaction, he knew it would happen after an intense romp like this. His baby curled into his heaving side, laying feathery kisses on his jaw, a relaxing hand at his diaphragm.

“That’s it, let it out, poor baby. Couldn’t help yourself hm?”

Criston nodded through the incessant tears, his shaky hand threading through her hair. He rasped, “I love you so much. You’re perfect.” He was growing more sleepy, settled by her kisses and glowing smile. He could float easy and enjoy the win, curled up with his lifesaver. Well, after she got him water and wiped down the mess. He realized with a smile— she had laid a towel underneath them.

She’d have to help him function tomorrow, Criston knew he’d be scrambled eggs, sore, and a bit grumpy. But that’s why they kept a suite for three days. After the kick off he would rest up and replenish. They would fuck sensually, cuddle, and watch a in some order of that fashion.

His addled mind conjured up a big diamond ring he’d buy for her.

[tortoisesshells]

Jimothy and 26. sacrifice? Thank you very much!

Three months late, and perhaps a marble or two short of a full bag, but:

James Norrington regretted, sometimes, the irregular circumstances of his education as an officer; he was certainly not crowning himself in glories in his correspondence with Fanny, who signed herself still as Yr. Dedecated Virgil And Sister when she felt particularly superior. Mrs. Frances Everitt would be the person to turn to with the idle question haunting him now – about the Romans and their gods, and what passed between the two camps. He marshaled what he knew, or thought he remembered – their pantheon of gods, the dilapidated temples he had seen as a boy in the Med: stripped by disuse, the progress of time and piety, the remains of those places so much weathered stone. They had strange ideas about gods, but appealing ones. What wouldn’t any man give for a clear contract with the world – with power itself? He remembered – that boy he had been in the Med, voice half-breaking and wrists too far from his cuffs, drawing a picture of an ancient altar, and, with his extraordinarily halting Italian (cobbled together from school-boy Latin and martial Spanish and French) being given to understand that, hundreds of years before, bulls and pigs and sheep and birds of all kinds had been led here, washed and adorned. By the ceremonial blade, they were given to the gods as pact. A healthy bull – a good harvest, a just tenure, a successful campaign.

Did they really believe that? And, numbly, disbelievingly, was such a world possible? It seemed to him unlikely that the Romans had understood something that the English could not – or that the world had ever been anything other than what it was. They had been great builders, but sadly deluded as to the willingness of divinity to listen to prayers.

But (pen hesitating, carefully over the inkwell, not wanting to ruin the start he had made) – Fanny would know, or would know who to ask. Was that all there was? And what kind of sacrifice would a man make, and to which god (To Venus? To the household lares and penates?), on such an occasion as – as to guarantee Elizabeth’s good favor?

If he were to write her, he would have to explain – that he hoped to be married, and, maybe, by the time the letter made its way to England, he would be. That all this had happened without consulting her, or even hinting, would certainly bring down a ringing scold – but he had written to his widowed mother, and to his brother, as he ought to have, of what they cared to know: the Swanns, their cousins in Parliament, Elizabeth’s dowry. He had sat with a letter that was more inkblots than lettering for many hours, intending that he should – that there was something Fanny could tell him about the institution of marriage than Mama and Lawrence never could, if he would only ask her.

Mortified at every sentence, he hadn’t – and the days in Port Royal were so busy that he could easily bury his shame and unease in endless tasks. His promotion ceremony was tomorrow. Too late for advice on the asking now – he felt he could not go along in this world bargaining away against Elizabeth’s own will – however much he longed for the clear order of do ut des.

[honeyxmonkey]

[long sigh] I think I need to join a support group for people addicted to writing aus.

The bell over the door rang. Lorraine barely looked up from drying dishes, calling, "Welcome to the Wild Swann Inn, I'll be with you in a moment!"

The sound of heavy footsteps crossing the floor made her perk up. She looked up when a strange young man stopped in front of the bar. He looked nervous, eyes shifting about like he expected the shadows to leap out and attack him. A dark cloak covered most of his features, but she could just see his eyes. Shaded by the hood he was wearing, they were almost gold in the lowlight...

"Hello," she greeted kindly, smiling despite her initial unease. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm traveling with a group," he said quietly. He had a strange accent. She wondered what region he was from. "Three rooms, please?"

Lorraine slowly nodded, reaching below the counter for the room keys. "Alright then."

"And," he took in a breath, clearly nervous, but by what she didn't know. "I was wondering if you knew this girl. I'm looking for her."

He placed a hand sketched drawing in front of her. Lorraine gasped. The girl was clearly Serilda, right down to the details of her eyes.

She peered up at the stranger again, her eyes narrowing. "Serilda Moller?"

"... Yes," he confirmed after a moments hesitation. "I... I heard she moved here."

Lorraine regarded him suspiciously, unsure if she should tell him to go away. He was strange, that was clear enough. And while she didn't want to put Serilda in danger, she also knew that girl was very capable of handling herself.

"Mama," Leyna called, poking her head out from the backroom where Gild had set up a spinning wheel and a loom. Serilda was back there with him now, the three working on a special project. "Gild says we need another basket."

"In the kitchen," Lorraine said, watching her daughter skitter off to go fetch it. She turned back to the stranger, noticing the way he stared at the now ajar door, something strange lingering in the lines of his face. "What do you want with her?"

He slowly looked back at her, fingers twitching nervously against his cloak. "I'm an old friend of her mother's."

Lorraine stared back in confusion. She didn't know much about Serilda's mother, though she knew there was something Serilda herself had found out during her time with the Wild Hunt that she hadn't told anyone but Gild. And possibly Erlen. "If you wait at that table," she said, pointing. "I'll go fetch her."

A relieved look crossed his features. "Thank you."

[msc-ddv-ss]

Character Request Sheet:

The list of all the characters I will write/take requests for:

Walt Disney Animated Movies:

Mickey Mouse and Friends:

Mickey Mouse

Donald Duck

Goofy

Minnie Mouse

Daisy Duck

Pluto

Pete

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs:

Snow White

The Evil Queen

The Seven Dwarfs

Pinocchio:

Pinocchio

Jiminy Cricket

Dumbo:

Dumbo

Timothy Q. Mouse

Bambi:

Bambi

Thumper

Flower

The Three Caballeros:

Panchito Pistoles

Jose Carioca

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad:

Ichabod Crane

Mr. Toad

Cinderella:

Cinderella

Prince Charming

The Fairy Godmother

Alice in Wonderland:

Alice

The Mad Hatter

The Queen of Hearts

The Cheshire Cat

Peter Pan:

Peter Pan

Captain Hook

Tinkerbell

Wendy / John / Michael

Lady and the Tramp:

Lady

Tramp (Butch)

Sleeping Beauty:

Aurora

Prince Philip

Fauna / Flora / Merryweather

Maleficent

101 Dalmations:

Pongo

Perdita

Cruella De Vil

The Sword and The Stone:

Merlin

Wart (Arthur)

Madam Mim

The Jungle Book:

Baloo

Mowgli

Bagheera

King Louie

Shere Khan

The Aristocats:

Thomas O’Malley

Duchess

Marie / Toulouse / Berlioz

Robin Hood:

Robin Hood

Maid Marian

Little John

Prince John

Winnie the Pooh:

Winnie the Pooh

Christopher Robin

Tigger

Piglet

Eeyore

Rabbit

Kanga / Roo

Owl

The Rescuers:

Bernard

Miss Bianca

The Fox and The Hound:

Tod

Copper

The Black Cauldron:

Taran

Eilonwy

Fflewddur Fflam

Gurgi

The Horned King

The Great Mouse Detective:

Basil of Baker Street

Professor Ratigan

Oliver & Company:

Oliver

Dodger

Bill Cykes

The Little Mermaid:

Ariel

Prince Eric

Ursula

King Triton

Sebastian

Flounder

Beauty and The Beast:

Belle

The Beast

Gaston

Lumiere

Cogsworth

Aladdin:

Aladdin

Jasmine

The Genie

Jafar

The Nightmare Before Christmas:

Jack Skellington

Sally

Oogie Boogie

The Lion King:

Simba

Nala

Scar

Timon / Pumba

Rafiki

A Goofy Movie:

Goofy

Max Goof

Roxanne

Pocahontas:

Pocahontas

John Smith

Governor Ratcliffe

The Hunchback of Notre Dame:

Quasimodo

Esmeralda

Captain Phoebus

Claude Frollo

Hercules:

Hercules

Megara

Hades

Phil

Mulan:

Fa Mulan

Li Shang

Mushu

Shan Yu

Tarzan:

Tarzan

Jane

Clayton

The Emperor's New Groove:

Emperor Kuzco

Pacha

Yzma

Kronk

Atlantis: The Lost Empire

Milo Thatch

Princess Kida

Commander Rourke

Helga Sinclair

Lilo & Stitch:

Stitch

Lilo Pelekai

Nani Pelekai

Jumba

Pleakley

Treasure Planet: (Please Gameloft, I'm begging you...)

Jim Hawkins

John Silver

Captain Amelia

Dr. Delbert Doppler

Brother Bear:

Kenai

Koda

Home on the Range:

Maggie

Mrs. Calloway

Grace

Alameda Slim

Chicken Little:

Chicken Little

Buck Cluck

Meet the Robinsons:

Lewis

Wilbur Robinson

The Bowler Hat Guy

Bolt:

Bolt

Mittens

Rhino

The Princess and The Frog:

Tiana

Prince Naveen

Dr. Facilier

Louis

Mama Odie

Tangled:

Rapunzel

Flynn Rider / Eugene Fitzherbert

Mother Gothel

Wreck-It Ralph:

Wreck-It Ralph

Vanellope Von Schweetz

Fix It Felix

Sergeant Calhoun

King Candy / Turbo

Frozen:

Anna

Elsa

Kristoff

Olaf

Hans

Big Hero 6:

Hiro Hamada

Baymax

Gogo

Wasabi

Honey Lemon

Fred

Zootopia:

Judy Hopps

Nick Wilde

Chief Bogo

Moana:

Moana

Maui

Raya and the Last Dragon:

Raya

Sisu

Namaari

Encanto:

Mirabel Madrigal

The Madrigal Family

Strange World:

Searcher Clade

Ethan Clade

Meridian Clade

Jaeger Clade

Splat

Wish:

Asha

Valentino

King Magnifico

Live Action Movies:

Pirates of the Caribbean:

Captain Jack Sparrow

Will Turner

Elizabeth Swann

Hector Barbossa

Davy Jones

Enchanted:

Giselle

Robert Phillip

Prince Edward

Hocus Pocus:

Mary Sanderson

Sarah Sanderson

Winfred Sanderson

Pixar Movies:

Toy Story:

Woody

Buzz

Jessie

Bo Peep

Monsters Inc.:

James P. Sullivan

Mike Wazowski

Celia Mae

Randall Boggs

Boo

Finding Nemo:

Marlin

Nemo

Dory

Bruce

Hank

The Incredibles:

Mr Incredible

Elastigirl

Dash

Violet

Jack-Jack

Frozone

Syndrome

Edna Mode

Cars:

Lightning McQueen

Ratatouille:

Remy

Wall-E:

Wall-E

EVE

Up:

Carl Fredrickson

Russel

Dug

Kevin

Charles Muntz

Brave:

Merida

Coco:

Miguel Rivera

Hector Rivera

Mama Imelda Rivera

Ernesto De La Cruz

Onward:

Ian Lightfoot

Barley Lightfoot

Soul:

Joe Gardner

22

Luca:

Luca

Alberto

Giulia

Turning Red:

Meilin “Mei” Lee

Elemental:

Ember

Wade

Disney Television Animation Shows:

DuckTales:

Scrooge McDuck

Louie / Dewey / Huey Duck

Launchpad McQuack

Webby Vanderquack

Bentina Beakley

Phineas and Ferb:

Phineas Flynn

Ferb Fletcher

Candace Flynn

Perry the Platypus

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz

Gravity Falls:

Dipper Pines

Mabel Pines

Grunkle Stan

Soos Ramirez

Wendy Corduroy

Bill Cipher

Amphibia:

Anne Boonchuy

Sprig Plantar

Polly Plantar

Hop Pop Plantar

Sasha Waybright

Marcy Wu

Owl House:

Luz Noceda

Edalyn Clawthorne

King Clawthorne

Amity Blight

Gus Porter

Willow Park

Hunter 

Hooty

(The list will be updated whenever any new films release, new characters release in Dreamlight Valley, and when I feel comfortable writing for some of the other shows)

[soulmusicsongs]

Bee Gees Got Soul

Soul Covers of famous Bee Gees Songs: Bee Gees Got Soul

Emotion - Johnny Mathis Duet With Deniece Williams (How Deep Is Your Love, 1978)

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart - Al Green (Let’s Stay Together, 1972)

How Deep Is Your Love - Johnny Mathis (How Deep Is Your Love, 1978)

I Started A Joke - Richie Havens ‎(Stonehenge, 1969)

Jive Talkin’ - Rufus featuring Chaka Khan (Rufus Featuring Chaka Khan, 1975)

More Than A Woman - Tavares (Future Bound, 1978)

Nights on Broadway - Candi Staton (Music Speaks Louder Than Words, 1977)

Run To Me - Sarah Vaughan (Feelin' Good, 1972)

To Love Somebody - Janis Joplin ‎(I Got Dem Ol’ Kozmic Blues Again Mama!, 1969)

To Love Somebody - The Sweet Inspirations (What The World Needs Now Is Love, 1968)

To Love Somebody - Sunday’s Child (Sunday’s Child, 1970)

Words - Bettye Swann (The Soul View Now, 1969)

You Stepped Into My Life - Melba Moore (This Is It, 1976)

More Soul Songs

20 Cover Versions

Bill Withers Covered

Neil Young Got Soul

Beatles Got Soul: Soul renditions of Beatles songs

Bob Dylan Got Soul: 20 Awesome Soul Covers

[arrthurpendragon]

Prologue Sneak Peek!

Since a few of you asked . . . 

A grey impenetrable wall of fog masked the H.M.S. Dauntless as she made her voyage across the Atlantic bound for Port Royal.  Governor Weatherby Swann had been appointed by the King of Great Britain as governor of the bustling harbour town and was making the trek with his two young daughters. While Elizabeth had been excited about their new adventure, Georgianna had to be dragged kicking and screaming aboard the vessel. Seeing his youngest daughter screaming for her dear late mama broke Governor Swann’s heart, but leaving their sorrows behind and starting anew was what he deemed necessary for their small family.

Young Georgianna spent most of her time below deck during the voyage.  The young lass hadn’t developed her sea legs and therefore confined herself to her bed as her remedy for the seasickness. Even though the remedies of mint and ginger tea seemed to lessen her ailment. 

Whereas Elizabeth appeared quite put together despite the voyage, Georgianna’s appearance was much more dishevelled.  Her hair was matted, her face paler than at the start of the journey, and her clothes hung a bit looser than before.  Young Georgianna looked as miserable on the outside as she felt on the inside. But Elizabeth took it upon herself to rectify that.

“Georgie, up,” Elizabeth said shaking her sister by the shoulders.

Georgianna simply groaned and rolled over, still dressed in her nightclothes and buried beneath the quilts.

“Georgie!”  

Elizabeth yanked the quilts off her sister which tossed young Georgianna from her bed.  She squealed as she fell to the floor before hitting it with a thud.

“Lieutenant Norrington said some fresh air might do you some good,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly as she rested her hands on her hips.

Georgianna glared up at her sister with her arms folded across her chest. “I do not wish to go above deck,” Georgianna retorted.

“And I wish you would willingly do what I say.” Elizabeth looked at her sister pointedly. “Come now, Georgie. We might see pirates!  Would you truly want to be below deck should we see them?” 

Elizabeth reached down and pulled her sister reluctantly to her feet. Of course Georgianna wanted to see pirates. Although she wa not quite as fascinated with them as her sister.  When the sisters had discovered they would be making the voyage, they played pirates in the garden.  Much to Georgianna’s dismay, Elizabeth even made her walk the plank!

“We’d better see some pirates,” Georgianna muttered as Elizabeth forced her to sit on a stool so that her older sister could brush the rat’s nest from her hair.

After several passes of the brush through Georgianna’s hair, Elizabeth tugged at a knot. “Ouch!” Georgianna hissed, reaching for the back of her head.  She attempted to pull away from her sister, but Elizabeth pulled her back. “Pirates will not care what my hair looks like!”

“No, but Father will.”

Georgianna rolled her eyes.  She knew that as the new governor’s daughters they had appearances to keep.  While her father had been a little more lax on the journey thus far, Georgianna knew that once they were in Port Royal they would have people who cared about such things. Why couldn’t girls wear their hair shorter like boys? It would make things much simpler. Why hadn’t she been born a boy?

[fevilleter]

𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐎𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐋

― you are terrifying & strange & beautiful ; something NOT EVERYONE knows how to love.

sophie  skelton,  cis  woman,  she/her,  twenty-nine  —  dear  all  nations,  CHLOÉ  FRISEAL  has  crossed  the  city  borders  to  edinburgh  to  the  sound  of  MIRRORBALL  by  TAYLOR  SWIFT.  the  princess  of  scotland  is  known  to  be  in  favor  of  making  peace.  she  reminds  me  of  a  pretty  smile  that  covers  unsavory  words  &  the  kind  of  confidence  that  drives  stuffy  ladies  maids  crazy  however  did  you  know  that  she  has  a  secret  identity  which  she  uses  to  travel  &  see  the  world  ?

character  inspirations:  benedict  bridgerton  (  bridgerton  series  )  ;  natasha  romanov  (  marvel  comics  )  ;  ella  (  enchanted  )  ;  diana  prince  (  dc  comics  )  ;  &  elizabeth  swann  (  pirates  of  the  caribbean  ) 

about / tl;dr :

chloé  grew  up  knowing  the  title  of  queen  would  never  be  hers,  unless  a  lot  of  very  unfortunate  things  happened.  as  such,  she  never  quite  cared  to  "act  like  a  lady."  of  course,  she  cared  what  her  parents  thought  of  her,  and  she'll  usually  still  act  respectful  in  front  of  them,  but  that  won't  stop  her  from  seeing  the  world.   after  the  passing  of  her  mother  ,  the  scottish  king  arranged  chloé’s  betrothal  to  the  eldest  son  of  clan  eskilsen,  she  thinks  he  is  the  literal  worst  &  is  inwardly  kicking  and  screaming  about  it  .  outwardly  ,  she  is  the  picture  of  a  happy  girl  in  love  .  

biography :

TW: mentions abuse & parental death

you  are  never  the  picture  of  a  proper  princess  .  you  look  the  part  ,  of  course  ,  that  much  is  very  clear  .  with  fiery  red  hair  and  delicate  features  ,  you  are  easily  recognizable  as  a  princess  of  the  braveheart  country  .  

you  succeed  two  older  brothers  ,  both  already  have  very  clear  places  in  this  world  :  lachlan  is  the  oldest  ,  the  heir  .  then  ,  there’s  your second oldest brother  ,  a  ‘  plan  b  ’  if  something  were  to  happen  to  lachlan  .  and  then  ,  there  is  you  .  for  three  years  ,  you  are  the  youngest  .  you  were  too  young  to  remember  that  .  finally  ,  there  is  william  ,  the  very  image  of  the  baby  of  a  family  .  you  are  not  the  oldest  ,  not  the  youngest  .  you  are  not  the  most  well  behaved  or  the  most  rebellious  .  you  are  not  the  smartest  or  the  most  charming  .  the  only  thing  you  are  extraordinary  at  is  being  extra  ordinary  .  you  are  wedged  in  the  middle  of  your  family  ,  in  the  middle  of  everything  .  

and  for  a  while  ,  this  is  a  good  thing  .  you  can  slip  through  the  cracks  ,  your  father  has  less  of  an  iron  grip  on  you  ,  and  you  can  follow  your  mother  around  as  you  please  .  your  mother  is  your  favorite  person  in  the  entire  world  .  she  is  singularly  kind  ,  beautiful  ,  and  opinionated  .  other  women  aren’t  like  that  .  she  is  your  biggest  inspiration  in  this  life  ,  and  if  you  were  ever  a  queen  ,  you  would  want  to  be  just  like  her  .  

(  one  night  ,  when  you  are  around  six  ,  she  holds  your  face  in  her  hands  ,  tears  on  your  cheeks  ,  you’ve  never  felt  this  sad  before  –  scolded  by  your  father  for  tearing  up  your  skirts  &  trying  to  play  with  your  brothers  .  stupid  girl  ,  he  had  called  you  .  over  &  over  &  over  again  ,  stupid  girl  ,  stupid  girl  ,  stupid  girl  .  there’s  only  one  way  you  can  think  to  describe  this  feeling  to  her  :  “  mama  ,  it  hurts  everywhere  “  she  gives  you  a  soft  smile  ,  like  there  is  so  much  she  wants  to  tell  you  about  your  father  ,  and  wipes  a  bundle  of  fresh  tears  away  with  her  thumb  “  you  have  done  nothing  wrong  my  angel  .  nothing  at  all  .    ”  if  your  father  is  a  dark  storm  cloud  ,  your  mother  is  a  warm  light  .  you  think,  if  your  mother  were  in  charge,  things  would  be  much  better  .  )

you’ve  never  had  any  desire  to  be  queen  ,  no  desire  for  power  ,  only  a  desire  for  good  .  to  be  a  good  person  ,  be  a  good  princess  ,  be  a  good  daughter  .  you  place  the  rebellion  in  a  box  and  only  take  it  out  when  it’s  time  to  be  someone  else  .  the  very  act  of  being  someone  else  is  an  act  of  rebellion  ,  however  ,  and  in  your  heart  you  know  you  shouldn’t  be  sneaking  out  .  that  you  shouldn’t  want  to  experience  everything  you  have  .  but  it’s  fun  ,  isn’t  it  ?  it’s  so  fun  being  free  .

it  starts  when  you  are  sixteen  ,  and  it’s  just  a  quick  trip  into  town  .  for  just  one  day  ,  you  want  to  be  normal  .  one  day  turns  into  another  &  another  &  another  &  it  repeats  itself  until  one  night  ,  your  mother  finds  you  on  your  way  back  in  .  she  doesn’t  say  anything  .  nods  her  head  ,  and  closes  your  door  .  you  know  she  will  not  be  upset  ,  you  know  she  will  not  tell  your  father  .  

your  mother  leaves  you  a  letter  ,  before  she  goes  .  you  don’t  know  if  she  left  your  siblings  one  ,  you  don’t  ask  .  you  keep  yours  close  to  your  chest  ,  it’s  a  secret  between  the  two  of  you  .  she  tells  you  to  be  kind  ,  be  loving  ,  be  trusting  .  trust  yourself  ,  she  writes  ,  trust  yourself  above  anyone  else  .  you  know  what  is  best  ,  dear  girl  .  she  finishes  the  letter,  i  love  you,  fly  free.  

your  father  seals  your  fate  with  a  sip  of  viking  ale  and  a  smile  .  were  you  really  so  insignificant  to  him  ?  were  you  really  so  replaceable  ?  so  inconsequential  that  he  could  ship  you  to  a  different  country  ,  only  to  see  you  when  you’re  allowed  to  come  back  ?  is  it  really  that  easy  ?

you  feel  something  for  your  future  husband  ,  among  those  feelings  are  :  contempt  ,  anger  ,  resentment  .  you’ve  never  felt  this  kind  of  vexation  before  ,  it  fills  you  from  the  top  down  .  you  find  him  singularly  brutish  &  cruel  .  in  all  your  years  dreaming  of  prince  charming  ,  you  had  never  pictured  him  a  viking  warrior  ,  a  killer  .

your  engagement  is  the  nail  in  the  coffin  --  it  means  your  mother  is  truly  gone  .  you  can  sense  that  your  brothers  are  plotting  .  you  don’t  ask  questions  .  you’ve  never  wanted  to  run  away  more  .

you  will  not  be  free  for  much  longer  . 

[mortalfaerie]

like a thief in the night, pt. v

aemond targaryen x oc

wordcount: 2.1k

description: elissa adjusts to the red keep as its occupants prepare for a siege

warnings: mama bear alicent (she means well?), a sexy (suggestive) dagger tutorial

She let her arm flop back on the sheets, and looked around the room. Servants were carrying buckets of water, and a large tub was brought into the room. In the far end of the room, a door was flung open to reveal a closet of clothes - probably a younger Princess Rhaenyra’s as well.

She let her arm flop back on the sheets, and looked around the room. Servants were carrying buckets of water, and a large tub was brought into the room. In the far end of the room, a door was flung open to reveal a closet of clothes - probably a younger Princess Rhaenyra’s as well.

“My lady,” a maid said, standing at her bedside. “The dowager queen has requested an audience. Will you bathe?”

Elissa stretched and nodded her assent to the maid, who offered her an arm to leverage herself out of bed. When the bath was drawn, the maids stood to the side expectantly, and she looked suspiciously at each of them. Crow's Nest was a small manor, and she was accustomed to bathing without a retinue of servants.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Thank you, but I can manage myself.”

“My lady,” began a maid, but Elissa interjected, “I insist. Please, give me twenty minutes and I will be ready. Leave me.”

Reluctantly, they shuffled out of the door, seething down the pitcher, towels, and soaps they had held.

On a rack nearby, a dress had been pulled out of the closet and hung for her to dress in. It was a black wool dress with sleeves attached with laces, and lace closures at the sides so that she could dress unassisted. A white shift had been set aside next to it, along with a pair of stockings, two ribbons to tie her stockings above the knee, and her boots had been cleaned and rid of the mud for the trek into the woods.

She picked up the soap cakes the maids had brought and settled on one that had a scent of mint. She shrugged off the top-big clothes she had been lent by the prince and slipped into the wooden tub. The water was hot and felt amazing on her ribs, which still were sore from her coughing fit the night before. She also realized that her thighs and bottom were sore from the ride on Vhagar, who, as it happened, was not unlike riding a particularly large and cantankerous horse.

She set to work diligently scrubbing her skin and did the best she could to detangle the wind knots in her hair with the comb provided. When she had done that, she dunked herself fully in the water and held her breath, savoring the warmth, before forcing herself to get out and dry off.

She dressed as quickly as the garment would allow, and after rummaging through the drawers, found a loose ribbon that she could use to secure her hair back. In the end, she settled to loosely braid it and let it sit over her shoulder, hoping that the end result was more effortless in look than messy. Considering for a moment, she went to grab the dagger Aemond had given her, tucking it into the garter of her stocking.

When she was presentable, she strode to the grand doors and pushed them open. Ser Cole stood on the other side, waiting.

“Lady Elissa.” he said in acknowledgment. “Follow me.”

Elissa took in the hallway in the daylight and saw that the guard patrol seemed to have been doubled, with pikes having supplied in lieu of their usual sheathed swords. She shivered - in her life, she had been blessed by the seven to never have been exposed firsthand to war. For assurance, she brushed her fingers against the form of the dagger under her skirts, taking comfort in its presence.

As they approached a set of doors, the guards posted outside beat the floor with their pikes and announced, “The Lady Elissa Swann of Crow’s Nest!”

Ser Criston opened the doors and waived Elissa in.

The dowager queen sat at a desk by the window, rubbing circles into her temples as she poured over a piece of parchment. Ser Criston cleared his throat and announced, “The Lady Elissa to see you, your grace.” The dowager looked up, and offered a tight, tired smile.

“My lady,” she said, gesturing to a chair opposite her. “Do sit.”

Ill at ease, Elissa made her curtsy and took the seat.

Alicent set the paper to one side and steepled her fingers on the table. “I would like to once again express my condolences for your present situation, however, I expect that your chamber is acceptable?”

“Yes, your grace.” Elissa nodded. Really, it was well and beyond acceptable, but she felt to say so would be redundant.

“Very well. I understand you are Lord Byron Swann’s granddaughter, correct?” she asked.

Elissa nodded again. “Yes, your grace.”

Alicent smiled that courtier’s smile again. “House Swann has long been a dependable ally of the crown. I recall that your forebears even stepped aside to bend the knee to the conqueror without bloodshed.”

It was true, as far as she knew, though at the time it had been viewed as an act of cowardice, with time, it was honored.

Changing the subject, Alicent added, “What lovely hair you have, Lady Swann.”

Elissa stomach twisted, and she forced a nervous smile. “Thank you, your grace. I am told my mother shared my complexion.”

“Yes,” the dowager nodded, “Though I don’t believe I or my late husband had the opportunity to meet her.”

“She was lowborn, your grace.” Elissa clarified.

“Ah, yes,” the other woman nodded. “Even still, what a rare color for a stormlander. Are not they known for their dark features?”

Below the table, Elissa wrung her hands. “Yes, often they are.” she said.

“I met the late Ser Orwen once, at the last tourney before my predecessor, Queen Aemma, sadly passed away.” Alicent said. “I recall that he was strikingly raven of hair.”

“So I am told, alas, he died before my birth, your grace.” Elissa offered.

“How difficult it must be to determine with certainty the parentage of a child, when such is the case?” the dowager queen asked, leaning back in her chair.

Elissa’s palms were slick with sweat. “Ah, yes, but my grandmother and eye share such distinct features, she knew me for her granddaughter at first sight.”

“And how lovely that she did. A mother’s love, her desire to ensure the safety of her children and grandchildren, is a remarkable force. With the passing of Lady Swann’s only child, she must have been delighted to have a grandchild, so much to overlook the circumstances of your birth.” Alicent smiled.

“I am grateful to her,” Elissa nodded.

“Indeed.” the older woman said. “Your mother must have been a striking woman, to have such fair hair in the stormlands.” She laughed dryly, “Why, it's nearly the same hue as that of my daughter, Queen Heleana.”

Elissa nearly choked. “I am certain the comparison is undue, your grace.”

“Hmm.” the dowager replied, studying Elissa’s face. “You do indeed have the eyes of Lady Swann. I understand that they are a defining feature of her line - her sister, the seven rest her soul, was present at my wedding to the late king. It is a pity that she was taken so young.”

Mierelle, the kid-sister of Elissa’s grandmother, had also died not long before Elissa came to Crow’s Nest, a factor which had made the Lady Swann especially fond of a granddaughter.

“Indeed, your grace,” Elissa smiled thinly.

“Well,” Alicent said, ringing a bell on the table. “I must be off, the small council has matters to attend. I look forward to your acquaintance, Lady Elissa.”

Ser Criston was at the door. “You rang, your grace?”

“Yes,” she said, “Please see the Lady Elissa back to her chamber.”

“Of course, your grace.” He said, and nodded to Elissa. Again, she followed him through the halls.

“Ser Criston,” Elissa ventured.

“Yes, my lady?” he answered, looking sideways to her.

“Might I visit the library, as I am here?” she asked.

Ser Criston looked ahead again. “I am certain that anything you desire to read can be brought to you, and spare your ladyship the effort of the trip.”

Elissa’s stomach dropped. Her fears were forming into suspicion that this palace might yet be a gilded cage.

-

A maid brought lunch to Elissa’s room around mid-day and brought with her a selection of tomes on different topics - history, natural sciences, philosophy, fiction - and asked her if there was anything else she could do to be of service.

“Yes,” she said, “I would like to speak to Prince Aemond.”

The maid smiled apologetically. “His grace the prince is in conference with the small council, and they are not to be disturbed, my lady.”

“Will you inform me when they are out of session?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady,” the maid smiled and made her exit.

Elissa ate the soup and bread at a slow pace, looking up at the chamber door with every shuffle of feet outside, but each time was disappointed. She drank a glass of light wine, read a convoluted chapter from the philosophy treatise, and read a longer portion from the history book about the seven kingdoms before the conquest.

She turned over the coals in the fireplace, arranged the trinkets on the mantle in ascending order of size, stacked the used dishes, organized the dresses in the wardrobe by hue, and lacking anything else to do after three long hours in confinement, resigned herself to yell into a luxurious feather pillow.

She didn’t typically have an issue being alone - in fact, sometimes preferred it - but to be alone in a stranger’s home, unable to go or see anything was nothing short of maddening. She spied a mirror on the dressing table and grabbed the dagger from her stockings. Cautiously, she went over to the mirror and held up the blade. She had only seen jousts before, which were far from the close combat that required daggers, so she turned the hilt over in her hand until it felt comfortable, and watched herself give a few experimental parries in the reflection.

“You’re holding it like a steak knife.” Came a voice from behind.

Elissa jumped, nearly dropping the dagger. “Seven hells!” she exclaimed, blood rushing to her cheeks.

Prince Aemond lounged against the wall by the door, his expression like a cat toying with its prey.

“How long have you been standing there?” she demanded.

“Long enough to see you lose a fight with yourself, my lady,” he said, pushing off the wall and strolling over. “Here, let me,” he offered, holding his hand out for the dagger.

Begrudgingly, Elissa dropped it in his palm. He rolled his wrist in an elaborate movement that shifted his hold on the hilt. “There are only two ways you use a dagger,” he said.

“One,” he held the blade up so it obstructed the view of his face, poised a few inches ahead of him, “to block an opponents parries and thrust with a larger weapon, such as a sword,” and grabbing her sleeve and yanking with his free had and sending her stumbling towards him, he lifted her arm to expose her side and pointed the blade. “Or, only when you have disarmed your opponent, to deliver the final blow.”

His breath stirred the hair on her neck. “The dagger is a defensive weapon and one you wield with care. It is a dance, not a frantic flail.”

Elissa swallowed, feeling his proximity and seeing him behind her in the mirror. He lingered, and she swore he had intentionally nudged her ear with his nose, then released her. She turned to face him again, and he offered her the dagger.

“You can keep it,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, and he smiled faintly.

“Certainly,” he replied, “if you’re stuck in the fight, you ought to at least have a weapon.”

He paused and added, “Perhaps, tomorrow a swordmaster can come to tell you more.”

“And not you?” she asked.

He faltered. “I will be preoccupied tomorrow with the war council, alas.”

“And I am meant to stay here?” she asked, irritation setting in.

“For your safety, yes.” he said.

“How am I to bare your seal of protection, be your guest, if I never see you?” she pressed.

“War demands sacrifices of us all, my lady.” He said, tone firm. He sketched a bow to her, and added, “My mother has asked for your dinner to be delivered to your room. Do please let the maid know if you require anything.”

And with that, he left again. Beyond the point of polite manners, Elissa groaned and used his instruction with the dagger to stab deep into one of the feather pillows.

[widowshill]

B, D, J, K, M, T (doesn't have to be just DS if you don't want it to be!)

A -> Z FANDOM ASKS.

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

it feels like cheating to say any ships that came from rp because 90% of the time there's no way you'd consider them otherwise, but the one that stands out to me is willie and esme (ft. @retrograderesemblance) cherish them, would never have put them together on my own lol.

beyond that, and this doesn't really count for not ever considering it, but I was a w.illabeth disliker until this year, I read several persuasive defenses, and writing lizzie swayed me. so elizabeth herself changed my mind kinda.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

ok listen. it's s.parrington. i get it intellectually and i see the vision but i just don't like it and i have tried for years it is just not. idk. can't do it.

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr.

i hope this is dark shadows to all my treasured mutuals whom i single-handedly inundate with ds content all over their dashes. my answer would be e.lisabeth das musical or honestly like ? robespierre of french history kinda has a stan army on here.

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

ohhh who would i say for ds. maybe roger because he gets domesticated, and makes truly wild strides in his relationship with his son. ( go white boy break that patrilineal curse ). weirdly i also kinda wanna say joe is up there ? he has an interesting journey from Carolyn's Rejected Puppy All American Fish Boy to like ... helping vic investigate laura, being ang's chew toy, having a mental breakdown. and also deeply caring about david! maybe i just like it when people start caring about the kid.

elsewhere it's jimothy norrington. easy. character arc of all time.

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

not many people on this show because that's a death sentence but lowkey.. natalie dupres (josette's "spinster aunt") bc i think we would really get along. fancy french brunches with the gay aunt and we can talk shit about barnabas. even though she would bully me for my french, and rightfully so.

elsewhereeee hmm. alice k.ingsleigh would make a wonderful friend. sybil c.rawley. max b.lack sails.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

most of my headcanons about vicki tbh dan curtis can piss off. namely that girl has autism. she dislikes the task of setting her hair / sleeping on rollers and rarely feels like doing it, but her and carolyn will sometimes set hair for each other for some girl time. roger fencing and liz ice skating. i also know i'm right about specifically vic's and carolyn's music taste (monkees/mamas & the papas/paul revere & the raiders/herman's hermits, and jan&dean/the ventures/elvis/beach boys, respectively). vic is also added in the collins family history. david draws her in after she dies/disappears, and elizabeth has her formally added after she discovers his handiwork.

you can also pry my "elizabeth swann's burgundy dress was esme's" from my cold dead hands ! like. that's such an important one to me sdfgfd.

[ofswannsx]

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝟸𝟻; 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝙶𝙴𝙽.

                      CASPIAN MCQUEEN.

when they say like father like son they were talking about caspian mcqueen. caspian, like his dad in his younger years, is an absolute menace. he’s a troubled kid to his core. not because of his parents’ divorce or middle kid syndrome, but because of his powers. for year he spent time running away from his problems, only to cause problems in the long run. he’s now learning that facing them head on the bravest ( and smartest ) thing he can do. when he’s not playing with the band you’ll find him out at sea with the love of his life, hallie. 

INSPIRED  BY  : danny fenton / phantom ( danny phantom ) , percy jackson  (  percy jackson  ) ,  leonardo (  rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles  )  ,  shawn hunter ( boy meets world ) , stiles stilinski ( teen wolf ) ,  steve harrington  (  stranger things  )  ,  klaus hargreeves ( the umbrella academy  ) , denki kamanari (  my hero academia  )

𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻

BIRTH NAME.  caspian sawyer mcqueen NICKNAMES.  cas DATE OF BIRTH.   may 27. AGE.     twenty-six. GENDER.   cis male. PRONOUNS.  he/him SPECIES.  human. POWERS.   ability to speak to and see ghosts. full powers here.  SEXUALITY.   bisexual PLACE OF BIRTH.    elias, california. CURRENT RESIDENCE.   elias, california. OCCUPATION.   bass player for paradise on the horizon

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴

HEIGHT. 5'9" BUILD. toned. HAIR COLOUR/STYLE. brunette and curly when it grows out.  EYE COLOUR.  blue. PIERCINGS.  right ear. he wears a little sword earring.  TATTOOS. x. NOTABLE MARKINGS.   white streak in his hair he gained from dying and coming back to life. GLASSES/CONTACTS ?  neither. FACECLAIM.  brandon flynn. VOICECLAIM. brandon flynn with like a slight british dialect. ( X )

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙷

PHYSICAL AILMENTS.   none. ALLERGIES.    none. SLEEPING HABITS. his sleeping habits are terrible. EXERCISE HABITS.  he surfs, boxes, swims and skateboards. EMOTIONAL STABILITY. 6/10. BODY TEMPERATURE.  he’s ice cold. DOMINANT HAND.    right. DRUGS / SMOKE / ALCOHOL ?  no / weed / yes

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈

POSITIVE TRAITS. witty, funny, compassionate, laid-back, passionate NEGATIVE TRAITS.  refuses to take things seriously, immature, sarcastic, easily checks out. USUAL MOOD.  energized. LIKES.  sharks, skateboarding, gummy snacks, giving dante gray hair, being out at sea, his mother’s adventure stories, pirates, surfing with his dad, making pasta with mama and then eating it, nail polish, pirates, traveling with hallie, jam sessions with the band, swords DISLIKES.  feeling uncomfortable in any sense, disappointing the people he loves, when dante humbles him, when nina reads his mind, being lectured, having to be a big brother ( that’s what dante’s for ), living in his father’s and brother’s shadow, sunburns, when ghosts bother him at inconvenient times, ectoplasm episodes  BAD HABITS.  going awol without telling anyone, being inconsiderate of others feelings, not dealing with problems, doesn’t apply himself

𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿𝚂

MOTHER.   elizabeth swann, step mom fran bernoulli FATHER.      montgomery mcqueen SIBLINGS.   dante, elise, nina, athena, stefan, enzo & serafina mcqueen CHILDREN.   none. BIRTH ORDER.   third of too many kids // first child of monty & lizzie. SIGNIFICANT OTHER.  hallie santucci, partner in holy matrimony  CLOSEST FRIENDS. percy hawkins, flynn fitzherbert, katrina skellington, sofia paguro-scrofano, this could be you !

𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃𝚂

ZODIAC SIGN. gemini.  MBTI. entp TEMPERAMENT.   sagninue-melanholic. HOGWARTS HOUSE.    gryffindor. MORAL ALIGNMENT.   chaotic good.

𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚂 & 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚂

LANGUAGES SPOKEN.   english, italian & spanish. DRIVE ?        yes, speed he is speed. JUMP START A CAR ?        yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE ?        yes. RIDE A BICYCLE ?        yes .... but motorcycles are cooler don’t tell his dad.  SWIM ?       yes, are you joking me he lives in the ocean basically. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT ?       yes, it’s like his profession. PLAY CHESS ?       no. BRAID HAIR ?      yes, his sisters forced him to. TIE A TIE ?          yes. PICK A LOCK ?          yes. SEW ?        no.

COMPASSION.          8/10.

EMPATHY.         7/10.

CREATIVITY.         7/10.

MENTAL FLEXIBILITY.          6/10.

PASSION.          10/10.

LUCK.         5/10.

MOTIVATION.  5/10.

EDUCATION.          10/10.

INTELLIGENCE.          7/10.

CHARISMA.         9/10.

REFLEXES.          7/10.

WILLPOWER.          5/10.

STAMINA.         8/10.

PHYSICAL STRENGTH.          7/10.

BATTLE SKILL.          5/10.

INITIATIVE.         5/10.

RESTRAINT.         5/10.

STRATEGY.         4/10.

TEAM WORK.         5/10.

(  PINTEREST, HIS TAG, PLAYLIST. )

[anklesalltheway]

Mama Swann threw a vase at me to return to tumblr.

So here I am. ;D

[pamb]

Water Water Everywhere #221

I’ve not participated in Water Water Everywhere before so this would be my first submission. I thought I’d share a variety. I found this challenge through Mama Cormier’s website. Great site! Water Water Everywhere – Mama Cormier Swann Covered Bridge @2002 Cleveland Alabama. The longest surviving covered bridge in Alabama. Built in 1933, the bridge spans across Locust Fork and is 330 feet…

[reignfms]

new wanted connections have been added / edited + can be found on the page !

lucerys targaryen ( ben barnes ) is looking for their familial connection of an unknown bastard. they would be in the age range of 23/24 with the possible faces of utp, any gender. honey does not require prior contact at stxrfclls. this would be the product of one of luc's very first relationships. they were never meant to last, but it was a longstanding hook up for a good solid months. however, it ended, why is honestly irrelevant but we can dive into it if you want or make her playable once this is taken ! but basically she got pregnant and went to his mother about it. his mother, fearing for her son having offspring and always harking on him to not father a bastard, paid the woman off and agreed to keep sending money to raise the child. to this day, luc does not know he has this child. i'd like for this to be revealed + just be drama all around ! they could be a bastard of another house as well, or the child of a commonfolk. could even be from essos ! honestly, the where they are from is super up to be determined because luc travelled a lot at this age. the only requirement is that they know luc is their father somehow and intend to tell him !

lucerys targaryen ( ben barnes ) is looking for their familial connection of his ex wife // ruling lady of house swann. they would be in the age range of 40+ with the possible faces of utp, ethnicity should be easily matched for children but she does not have to be white. honey does not require prior contact at stxrfclls. this woman and luc were arranged to wed despite luc having been a master at breaking betrothals. they were married for 6 years, had three children, and ultimately split for reasons we can plot, but will likely boil down to neither ever wishing to be forced into a marriage. she remained ruling her house + raising the children while he returned to summerhall + would still visit to be in their lives. they get along well and would consider one another among their closest friends / people they trust. she can have remarried + had more children if you wish !

daegon greyjoy ( thomas doherty ) is looking for their familial connection of their first baby mama with the possible faces of utp, must be aged 23+. honey does not require prior contact at stxrfclls. the mom to his oldest bastards ( twins lorren + roryn pyke, 4 years old, lil boys ). they were together fresh into their adulthood but getting someone pregnant at 19 and the idea of fatherhood terrified him as did tying his life with another under the pressure to marry her. he was shitty, left to go sail the seas and came back to a letter from her saying she had left + when he was ready to be a father he could reach out. he did a year later, and she’s lived in pyke for the past 3 years. how they get along / if they even get along is utp !

[itismissswann]

“ who did this to you? “ [silence] “ Elizabeth, look at me. look at me. who did this to you? “ // mama "protective motherbear mode" swann 👀

"The squidface did!" points at papa Jones. "And now that we are pointing fingers, he also killed my husband."

[scottishoctopus]

The Calm Before The Storm

@anklesalltheway

"Hadras' almost lost 'is head overboard earlier but we all managed to lift up the busted cannon and transport it below deck for repairs."

It had been a rather rough morning, but wasn't every single day like that? Full of work and stress upon the muscles in all the crew's already exhausted bodies as they continued the harsh duty that they had always done for many long and tiresome years. The day would be finished and the next day was basically a repeat of the previous which did not help the gloomy mood of the crew.

Maccus was stood in Davy Jones' quarters, his captain was sat facing him with his back to the pipe organ as his first mate informed him on the current work situation.

Jones sat there with a tired expression, noticable purplish bags underneath his eyes as he listened to Maccus, his beard of tentacles slowly moving against his chest. He rubbed the back of his aching neck for a couple of seconds before resting his hand back onto his leg.

A cannon had become jammed with all sorts of fauna such as seaweed and rocks from the ocean during it's sail underwater, and it could not be fired unless the crew mates wanted the weapon blowing up in their cursed, monstrous faces. This was a reoccurring problem from time to time, with the crew having to remove the cannon from its main deck so it could be tended on by perhaps two men and have it cleaned out.

"Good, though Ah am startin' tah become irritated by this ongoin' issue with all the cannons." Jones sighed and clicked his left claw together a couple times, mostly out of habit when he used to fidget his fingers together. "Have yeh ordered fer a full inspection on them all- uh?"

"Aye, cap'n. Some be lookin' at em now. Hopefully we can come up with a solution soon." Maccus scratched at the barnacles scattered around on his neck with his right hand and nodded in response.

"Very well. Make sure they do come up with one or Ah will be orderin' the bosun tah start crackin' his whip soon."

"I'll make sure. If there anythin' else ye need me for?"

"Naw," Jones shook his head, and took out his pipe from one of his tattered pockets of his coat. "Ye're dismissed- ah."

Maccus nodded again and turned to the doors just as Jones lit his pipe and stuck it into his mouth. The first mate exited the captain's quarters and started making his path towards the steps down below the main deck where currently most of the crew-members were grumbling as they started to examine the cannons.

Jimmylegs was stood nearby learning against one of the masts of the ship with an annoyed expression, apparently he was keeping a eye on them, the new crew mates especially.

"Keep working, you lot." The bosun growled through his teeth as he kept a firm grip on the whip around his ripped belt. Maccus wouldn't be surprised if Jimmylegs was a little bit jealous of the new faces on board the Dutchman. They still had their humanity and their warm human faces. Yet the rest of his crew had transformed into hideous beings and their humanity taken away from them forever.

Soon the new bunch of souls on board the dreaded Flying Dutchman would go through the same ordeals that the crew had done.

"What did captain Jones want?" The bosun questioned with a tired gaze as Maccus approached him.

"Nothin' much, Jim. He wanted to know what the problem with the cannons was all about and he demands a solution soon." The first mate crossed his arms and looked towards the men pulling out the cannons out from the gun ports so that they could inspect them.

"Don' we all?" Jimmylegs mumbled with a roll of his eyes. His eyes then widened with anger as one of the new men aboard rolled one of the cannons into his knee.

"Oi! Watch what yer doin', maggot!"

The bosun yelled furiously and walked off from his and Maccus' short conversation to shout at the poor man.

Maccus groaned and rubbed his pale and cold forehead, he felt yet another headache beginning to develop. However, before the mild pain in his head could grow any further, the first mate spotted a very familiar woman entering Davy Jones' quarters.

"Mrs Swann?" He asked softly to himself.

Maccus tilted his head to the side slightly and slowly followed after her. He was also mildly impressed that the crew didn't even noticed the woman getting on board the ship. What could Margaret be doing here? Obviously she was visiting Jones there was no doubt about that, but what did she want to talk about?

Maybe it was personal and she trusted Jones to talk about it with him.

Maccus stopped in his tracks as he stood right in front of the door to the captain's cabin. If it was on personal matters, then she would certainly not want somebody else in the room with her and the captain.

And so the first mate was now conflicted on the matter as he pondered on whether he should follow or not. He didn't know what to do. One half of him wanted to continue walking to Jones' quarters to see what was happening, and the other half didn't want to interfere which just confused him even more as his hand was holding onto the doorknob.

Why did this have to be so confusing and annoying at the same time?! Maccus could feel the weirded out stares from some of the crew nearby, and that had embarrassed him even more.

Letting out a conflicted sigh of defeat, he opened the door after minutes of staring at it and quietly followed Mrs Swann.

He would most certainly regret this later on.