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mingtinys · 4 months

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lost for words

pairing : lee jihoon x gn!reader

fluff , drabble , ultimate simp jihoon

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

requested ? no

a/n : this is what i imagine it would sound like if woozi wrote his own "shall i compare thee to a summers day"

Jihoon is nothing short of talented. A maestro amongst artists and a musical prodigy to his peers.

He can pluck strings until they sing and make his fingertips fly across piano keys in a way that makes them melt together into a symphony. He can breathe life into a school child's recorder that could charm a brewing storm and he can fit together words like a jigsaw to reveal a lyrical masterpiece worthy of the Louvre. Trust, Jihoon has no qualms over his musical competence.

But how is it that he struggles to find any combination of words suitable to the occasion? Why now does his brain falter when it thinks of ways to encompass just how much he loves you? Not a dictionary in the world would be adequate enough to measure that of which he feels.

Because what he feels for you could not possibly be contained to ink on paper, you're much too special for something as archaic as that. Everything about you is so breathtaking. An enigma he's simply been blessed to experience in this lifetime. Jihoon could carve your likeness into crystal under the moonlight and it wouldn't be nearly as mesmerizing as the real thing.

Jihoon believes you outshine even the brightest stars against a jet-black sky. He'd choose the ones in your eyes to stare at for hours over the Milky Way in a heartbeat. Your voice sings a sweeter melody than Apollo's harp on a warm summer day. One he wishes he could capture and play on a loop for all of eternity. If all of history's greatest composers put their minds to one piece, still, they could not conduct a symphony worthy of your essence.

And, oh, how you call his name has him hearing bells. You light a fire inside him like flint dragged across steel— like a bow across strings. Your hand fits into his palm like the bout of a violin and he can't get enough of the harmony you bring to his life. Just your presence alone grounds him in ways he never knew possible.

When he kisses your lips, Jihoon can taste a song so decedent it leaves him full for days. Soft and delicate touches that crescendo into passion personified pluck at the strings of his heart in the late hours. The feeling of his arms around your waist as you sleep provides an indomitable security. Your even breaths fan against his collarbone like a lullaby, easing him to sleep. Then, when he wakes, you're still there, greeting him like a songbird.

You are his muse, his life, and everything more.

Jihoon understands now why so many of history's greatest ballads are written for lovers. Because the human language is a fickle thing. Always changing, never quite perfect, unsatisfactory in the eyes of man. Music lives on for centuries beyond their composers. It is, by all definitions of the word, immortal. There will always be someone to enjoy its tune and pass it down for years to come.

A song is but a time capsule of the memories that brought it to life. And Jihoon is not a man selfish enough to deny future generations of your beauty. He would write a song a day if it meant cementing your memory in history.

If only he could find the words.

"Are you ready?" Seungcheol's deep voice pierces through the thin silence.

"Not at all." Jihoon inhales as deeply as he can in his suit that feels one away thread from being too tight, then exhales slowly. The parchment with his vows crinkles and folds at the bend between his fingers.

The words in his palm are no soliloquy, but his heart bled them with every ounce of love he could muster through shaky hands. And the gold band on his finger is a gentle reminder he has a lifetime to spend writing ballads in your honor. There are only two words he needs to worry about right now.

I do.

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ninibeingdelulu · 3 months

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Mimicking his mannerisms ✧

Plot: You mimic your boyfriend’s mannerisms.

The first few times you copied the way his brows furrowed into a scowling vee or how he pursed those sculpted lips in a tight, thin line after getting flustered, Cloud didn't seem to take much notice.

Figured you were just being your typical bubbly, mischievous self poking fun.

But when he unleashed a bristling torrent of gravelly curses after mashing his thumb with the Buster Sword's pommel, only for you to parrot the same salty tirade with startling accuracy right down to his gruff intonation? He stopped dead in his tracks, penetrating mako eyes widening a fraction.

Wheeling around, Cloud didn't bother smothering his bemused chuckle at catching you standing there doing your best imitation - brows knit fiercely, plush lips twisted into a scowl even as you tried stifling your own giggles behind your palm.

You simply flashed those doe eyes up at him, the picture of faux innocence.

"Think that's funny, do you?"

Despite the stern words, you could hear the begrudging warmth rumbling in his baritone as Cloud closed the distance between you two. Before you could squirm away, one of those sinewy arms looped low around your waist, reeling your squirming form flush against his chiseled torso.

"Go ahead and laugh it up while you can," he husked against the crown of your hair, sounding almost...proud?

"Reckon you've got me down pat. Just don't go picking up any other bad habits from your dumb boyfriend."

After that, it became your favorite game - randomly spouting off one of Cloud's trademark gruff remarks or emulating his rigid posture and flinty-eyed glower out of nowhere.

Each time, you'd be rewarded with a lopsided smirk and a shake of that spiky blond head accompanied by a fond eyeroll.

That unbreakable composure he ordinarily maintains only seems to genuinely fracture whenever you mimic the few exceedingly rare glimpses of vulnerability Cloud permits to slip past his sky-high defenses.

So the first time you caught him in the shower fresh from another night terror, haunted mako-infused gaze glassy and dull...and decided to parrot the hollowed-out, deadened murmurs of broken fragments like "don't...wake...not real..." barely above a whimper?

You swear you saw his heroic facade shatter for an instant.

In a blink, Cloud closed the distance between you two, stout fingers cupping your jaw with surprising tenderness. Peering down at you with those luminous eyes swimming in sorrow and self-recrimination, he rasped your name with tangible pain lacing every syllable.

"Fuck, don't...don't ever do that again." Just like that, any lingering threads of mirth dissipated entirely.

"Please?"

He exhaled shakily, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

After snagging a searing yet chaste kiss, Cloud tugged you into the circle of his embrace, chin nestled atop your crown.

"You wanna mimic your dumb jackass mercenary? Fine, copy the stupid stuff. But not..." Another tremor wracked his powerful frame. "Not that. Not the darkest parts of this mess inside me. Those can stay buried."

Burrowing closer into his soothing warmth, you simply nodded wordlessly against the broad expanse of his chest.

Because as adept as you've become at perfectly emulating every facet of Cloud Strife, you know better than to pry deeper into the darkest recesses of his haunted psyche.

Some wounds are better off left unexhumed and undisturbed - cauterized with unspoken tenderness.

So you vowed to keep the mimicry lighthearted and silly, restoring those flashes of pure contentment and boyish grins his mercenary persona suppresses as penance for more sins than any one man should bear.

Those rare, fleeting slivers of joy were more than worth playfully shouldering his brooding stoicism, after all - if only to remind both of you that indomitable heroes can find refuge in simple delights, too.

#cloud x you #cloud strife angst #cloud strife fluff #cloud strife x reader #cloud x reader #cloud headcanons #cloud ffvii #cloud #ff7 cloud #cloud strife #cloud x y/n #cloud strife x you #ff7 x reader #ff7 headcanons #ff7 rebirth #final fantasy x reader

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thedinanshiral · 1 month

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Inside you there are two wolves..

I recently made a tweet simply sharing a fraction of my thoughts on the Solavellan motif of wolf&halla. I decided to expand on it here.

I never adhered to the whole wolf/halla Solavellan thing. That dynamic is simply not for me, not with them. I think Solas is more likely to fall for an equal; even if Lavellan technically isn't, she's definitely the closest he's met in a thousand years. She's the white wolf [in his romanced tarot card] Adding to this, he respects her opinion and counsel, she inadvertently may help him make up his mind about what he'll do next (woops) aka giving him purpose, and she can also vow to save him from himself. She's both his guide and guardian. This is his romanced card for a reason.

I can understand why many people may like to frame Solavellan in the wolf&halla motif. He's an ancient elvhen, she's literally thousands of years younger than him. He's wise beyond her imagination and she knows by comparison basically nothing of their own history. He's the deciever and she's the deceived. The predator/prey dynamic is right there, at first.

Solas is a proud man, one may argue even arrogant, but he's also a serious man, focused, disciplined, he wouldn't fall for just anyone, he wouldn't open his heart to someone he may consider lesser even in the slightest. While he refused to acknowledge present elves as people and maybe thought of them as little else than a bad dream he had to wake up from at any cost, Lavellan earned his trust, his respect and admiration, through her actions, her own "indomitable focus", and by showing him the respect and admiration other Dalish denied him on sight. She gave him hope for the future of his people and that must have been priceless, she literally changed his whole world.

At that point there was no hunting, no preying, no seeing Lavellan as another chesspiece on the board, even if she couldn't be allowed to be anything else. She defied all his preconceptions and rendered him vulnerable. Their relationship is consensual, up to a certain point it ends when Lavellan says it ends, he doesn't pursue further if rejected. Actually, it's Lavellan who pursues him most of the time, why isn't Solas the halla here? He's the one being chased!

Lavellan is a wolf too, the white wolf.

The Exalted Plains has shrines to Fen'harel, one in particular is flanked by two wolf figures, one white and the other black. His dual nature is always present; in Dalish lore he's despised as the betrayer but also revered and his favour still sought after. As the Dreadwolf he was both friend and enemy to the people, depending on which side they were on. He's prideful but can also be crushingly selfless.

I really like this shrine because of these statues

The white and black wolves also appear in his tarot cards.

When he falls for Lavellan, he's locked in for good; even as he ends the relationship before even giving it a name, his card changes to his romanced one, and there's no going back. Lavellan can't undo it, he won't even though he's the one insisting their love can not be. But it is, and it is for life. Wolves mate for life. This immediately tells me Lavellan is also a wolf, and she's represented in his romanced card as the white one.

At the forefront, walking next to him, watching, guarding him. Colours are light, golden, the scene is calm, serene.

If he's never romanced then the other card of his give us a very different image:

His shadow becomes a giant black wolf that towers over him, right behind him, leaning forward almost as if about to engluf him, consume him. This is possibly a representation of his Dinan'shiral, and more clearly of his Dreadwolf aspect. He's set himself on a journey he can not stop and from which he can not return.

Interestingly enough there's an alternative version of this card that was discarded:

In it his head isn't covered by a hood, he carries no staff and there is no moon. The menacing wolf haunting him remains the same.

While the black wolf walks behind him, the white wolf walks beside him. He considers Lavellan his equal, even in all their differences. While the black wolf seems about to consume him, the white wolf is guarding him, staring at the viewer as if asying "Do not dare disturb his peace". He knows she'd do anything to protect him out of love even as he's decided to destroy himself out of love for his people (and tons upon tons of guilt).

Lavellan made him vulnerable in a way he had not foreseen and so he had no defenses against that love. I strongly believe only a romanced Lavellan can change his mind, at the very least make him doubt at the last moment. As much as he respects and appreciates a friend Inquisitor, it simply isnt' the same. Lavellan is to him a light so bright he had to force himself to look away lest he became blind and lost in it.

I remember people were puzzled at first, why if his romanced card is The Hierophant it had almost all elements of The Fool? There's two simple reasons i can think of. First of all, he's a fool in love. Falling in love with Lavellan is probably the stupidest thing he's done since he woke up, considering he's on a suicide mission to end her world. But that he did speaks of trust, opened up possibilities he hadn't imagined, Lavellan's innocence was contagious and powerful enough that he really had to struggle to turn away from her.

At the same time, the Hierophant is a teacher of tradition, which really had been his role all throughout Inquisition, and the last thing he does before cutting the romance was share more of that lost knowledge to Lavellan, the truth of the vallaslin.

Solas' romanced card is two cards combined referencing multiple aspects of their character and relationship, and we could also consider the Fool to be Lavellan, because the defining element in the card design that can make people wonder which card is it is the white wolf. She's the fool mortal that fell for a god, she's the Keeper who fell for Fen'harel, and she didn't know it until it was too late.

As for his final card, The Tower, it doesn't necessarily have to be so terrible. Much like Death, The Tower is about change. The end of the old to allow for the new, and changes can be positive or negative, they can be gentle or earth-shattering. In Solas' case we know he's aiming for the resurgence of the world he knew by destroying the one he inadvertently created when he put up the Veil, but this card may also symbolize the destruction of all his preconceptions and ideas, the realization that the world he knew was gone and another strange one he couldn't accept had taken its place, the symbolic death of a part of himself as he changed in his time with the Inquisition.

I imagine the white wolf represents his soul, in a way, the thing by which he may be redeemed. And that is Lavellan. No halla, but a wolf that's been tracking him for years, hunting him down to stop him because she and she alone has the power to do so. And he's been running away from her for as many years because he knows this even better than she does, he knows she's his last remaning weakness, the one that makes him vulnerable enough to break his resolve because in the end hers is stronger.

I really don't think he'd be capable of harming Lavellan, and if he does i feel it would drive him mad and cause him to lose whatever control he'd have left. He'd lose his light, his soul, his heart, leaving behind only the shadows. He chose to leave rather than take Lavellan out of the equation here and that tells me he can't bring himself to do it, it's too late now, he feels too much for her.

Now I'm extra curious and anxious to see what role the Inquisitor will play in The Veilguard, if they'll meet Solas again, what effect that would have on both of them.

And I hope neither tries to do something stupid..

#solas #lavellan #solavellan #DAI tarot #dragon age

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hotvintagepoll · 6 months

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Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Maureen O’Hara (The Parent Trap, The Quiet Man)—They called her the Queen of Technicolor. That right there should help introduce people to the fiery, wonderful, stunning Maureen O’Hara. She was from Ireland, born in 1920, and started in theater at the age of ten. At 15, she was winning drama awards, including one for her performance as Portia in the Merchant of Venice. At 16, she was the youngest pupil to graduate from the Guildhall School of Music. By 18, she transitioned to film, starting off with a bang alongside Charles Laughton in Hitchcock’s Jamaica Inn, and proceeded to work steadily up through the early 1970s. She was in adventures and comedies and romances, spent a lot of time in westerns giving merry hell to John Wayne (and less merry hell to the indomitable John Ford — she held her own even when he was verbally abusive and demeaning to her). She was in The Quiet Man, which was the first American-made film entirely filmed in a foreign country. She helped make American Christmas what it is with Miracle on 34th Street. She played a lineup of headstrong, forthright women second only, perhaps, to Katharine Hepburn. She was married three times, lived for a while with a boyfriend in Mexico, sued for custody of her daughter in the 1950s, AND sued a magazine for libel in the same era. After mostly retiring from acting, she edited a magazine. She eventually sold the magazine to spend more time with her grandson, but even then ran a ladies fashion store. She was an outspoken, brilliant, passionate lady, with amazing red hair, a career to envy, and — well — that face!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Maureen O'Hara:

I thought she was one of the most beautiful women in the world when I was a kid and I have yet to really change my mind. Always loved her temper and her red hair. Plus she was kind of a MILF in The Parent Trap

Haughty, red hair, hot.

I would have to give up my passport if I didn't submit Maureen O'Hara but also have you seen her? Not only did she look like that (she was called the Queen of Technicolor, though she wasn't a big fan of that sobriquet), she was also very funny and tough as nails. She faced off against Walt Disney in a contract dispute and the legend goes that when someone mentioned her at his deathbed, he sat up and said 'That bitch!'. Her comment on that story is "At least he didn't think of me and say, 'That wimp'." She struggled to get serious roles for a time, saying ""Hollywood would never allow my talent to triumph over my face," so she plays the sexy princess/pirate/harem girl in a LOT of early movies that she referred to as "Tits and Sand" films, she being the tits in question. She also turned down so many leading men and studio bosses (Errol Flynn and Howard Hughes are among her rejects) that there were rumours spread that she was a lesbian. Many egos were battered it seems. I'm including the infamous Lady Godiva scene in the photo propaganda for the sheer Moment of it [link] . It was a bit of a flop critically, but it was one of Clint Eastwood's first film appearances and she said he told her later that he was very glad of the money at the time.

She was a very proud Irish woman and when she went for her American citizenship they insisted on referring to her as British (the timeline of Irish independence is a bit wibbly wobbly, we won't get into it here). She refused to accept American citizenship under that condition and argued her way through every level of US immigration she could find, supposedly saying "I'm not responsible for your antiquated records here in Washington", until a judge finally gave up and said "Give her what she wants, just get her out of here". This made her the first ever person seeking US citizenship to be proclaimed Irish on the record!

The hair. The accent. The figure. The acting chops. The perfection.

#maureen o'hara #maría félix #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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precious-little-scoundrel · 7 months

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Dear John || Tell me you didn’t

Dear John || Masters of the Air fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

Circa: August 1943

Plot: Gale Cleven learns that not only did his best friend send dubious fanmail while blind drunk, he seems to have singled out with his indomitable luck the one starlet of the silver screen capable of matching his depravity

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive and crass content, it’s pretty much two boys acting like a couple of girls at a sleepover deciphering a dirty text from one’s crush

My thanks to my baby Bri for literally being the brains behind the plot and for Christi for assuring me this ain’t trash. We shall if y’all share those sentiments…

The referenced letter link 💌

“Tell me you didn’t.” Gale managed to keep his tone calm but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit his fingertips had gone a little chilly.

“I-“ Egan threw his arms out as if a better truth might form with a little more gesticulation but nothing came, “I did, Buck.” he admitted.

“You wrote it blind drunk.” Gale reminded him with urgency, as if the reminder of its ill calculated circumstances could snatch back his letter from out of Lana Tierney’s posh mailbox.

“I did!” He agreed, “-And I sent it blind drunk. And I never thought she’d read it.”

“I saw you eat it!” Cleven’s voice was growing angry, “I made you-“

“That may have been a botched first draft to Donny’s folks instead.” Egan winced.

Both of them lapsed again into silence, staring warily at the unopened and daintily addressed envelope in Egan’s hand like it might explode at any moment.

“You sonuvabitch.” Gale breathed, two frantic pink splotches appearing on his cherub cheeked face, judgment and disbelief making a whirlpool of his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute. What all did you even say?”

“I didn’t tell her about ACORN!” John vowed like a child swearing to their sibling regarding secrets kept from mother, “I mean, i called her that but I didn’t explai-“

“-John!”

“-and I said a lotta nice things too, I think, but, I also-“ Egan scrunched his eyes up as if to either better recall or maybe banish entirely all memory of his sentiments, “-I may have mentioned wanting to give her children.”

“JOHN!”

“It can’t have been that bad, she wrote back!” Egan defended with wounded hope, holding up his still sealed prize. “Buck, swear to God, I never thought she’d read it.”

Gale slumped down next to him on the bed as if the ordeal in voyeuristic stupidity had taken something out of him. “Maybe she didn’t.” he suggested grimly. “Maybe it’s from her attorney tellin’ you to never contact her again.”

He was enjoying ruining this moment a little too much, and now Egan was growing angry he had waited to open it until confiding in his friend. Not a little anxious, and not a little smug, Egan flipped the envelope over, ready to tear its flap. That’s when he saw the kiss print. “Ha!” he barked, flipping it back up and shoving it directly in front of Gale’s crossing eyes, “Do lawyers leave lip prints?” he questioned cockily and when Gale pulled far enough away to ascertain for himself, he gave a conceding nod.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.” John goaded but his heart beat a crazy and skittish rhythm as he slipped his finger inside the fold and tore at the slip.

Lovely, scented, gold embossed stationery came into view, it made Egan question how well he had washed his hands the paper was so white and pristine.

“Well?” Gale kept to a respectful distance of half a foot away from his friend on the bed, and being a good sort of man, he was not snooping or side eyeing private correspondence.

“Uh, yeah, right.” Bucky rallied himself and unfolded the missive fully, forcing his eyes to focus on deciphering charming, school girl cursive. “Get over here, Buck.” he griped at last as it was hopeless to make headway between his own nerves and Cleven’s hovering presence.

Gale didn’t move and Bucky didn’t expect him to so he scooted over herself, smashing him on the edge and held the letter out as they both leaned in.

“Dear John, -I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to.”

“Oh shit.” Bucky swore in realization.

“She’s funny.” Gale’s tone was ever so mild.

“Nah she’s, Buck, she’s quoting me back to me I told her -nevermind, let’s see-“

They peered back at the letter together, Cleven more invested that he’d ever admit and Bucky’s heart doing the oddest little flips at the realization that someone gave enough of a damn to write this sorta thing back to him.

“Heartfelt.” Gale murmured her choice of words for Bucky’s letter aloud with something close to relief, only to be then followed by a groan- “you did not write the word ‘knockers’ in a letter to a woman!”

“You're right, you’re right,” Egan ducked his head, repentant, he wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he got a wallop from Cleven for it, “awful of me. I admitted it even then. She admits it. Let’s move on.”

“RACK!” Cleven growled moments later in growing disbelief. “Jesus, John.”

“Oh don’t act better than all of it, you know she’s got the best melons out there-“

“-you’re the one who felt compelled to write a nice young lady and tell her as much.” Buck stabbed an accusatory finger dangerously close to Egan’s nose, “And used vulgarities while at it.”

Egan gave a defensive shrug and began his reading anew. “She said she’s fizzing…over making babies.” he whispered, “With me.” John was awed and this time Cleven had no rebuttal, just ever growing wonderment on his ever reddening face. “And she says here, look! she says you’re a bad boy for breaking us up that night! HA!”

“She’s being polite Bucky,” Gale cautioned, worried at where this surge of confidence might lead, “she didn’t admit to remembering a bit of it. They send girls to school to let fellas like you down easy.”

“Aww, now she says to give ya a kiss.” Egan cooed, saccharine and wicked, “See, she’s so nice and you’re the one who’s awful, doubting her like that. She says to give ya one if you’re the sort to take it well, are ya Buck, huh? Are you? Huh?”

“No, no! Jesus, get off me!” Cleven exerted every bit of his wiry strength to lug off the sudden onslaught of Egan’s heavy embrace as they folded together back onto the bed, John’s mouth making sickening smooching noises against Cleven’s baby smooth cheek, mustache a foreign and terrifying tickle on his jaw. “Get the hell off me, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m riled, just like her, that’s what’s wrong.” Egan replied vehemently, pulling his face away but keeping a perturbed Buck beneath his greater weight. “And maybe one day you’ll know what that feels like, Goldilocks. See, says right here: *I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists* Do you hear that?” He demanded, still holding the letter aloft as Gale looked up at him with the sort of patience people reserve for lunatics liable to murder them at the least hint of movement. “I’ve made her horny.” he spelled it out and Gale’s face somehow flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. “She wants to know what acorn means.”

“Don’t you ever tell her.” Gale warned.

“Why not?”

“It’s not even a good acronym, it’s misspelled and missing a whole word.”

“She wants it to be ‘salacious’ -says so herself.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Bucky flipped the letter over for Gale to see and judging by the panic in his eyes he caught more lines than that one alone.

“Jesus.” he repeated, it was starting to sound like a genuine beg for divine intervention. “Get off me.”

That itching physical impulse to roughhouse remained but Egan obligingly rolled to the side, aware Buck didn’t have what would cure his own riled self. “She says she enclosed something for the morale, said to keep it safe. But there’s not anything else. You see anything else?”

“I don’t.” Buck sounded worn down but he made an effort to look around amongst the sheets.

“Julia Jean.” Egan pondered, “Says that’s her real name.”

“Yeah, well, maybe now you can stop calling her acorn every damn time she comes on screen.”

“Don’t count on it.” Egan grinned back.

“Maybe it’s still in the envelope.” Gale suggested, tentatively picking up the air mail slip and handing it to Bucky.

Egan sat up and shook the paper between them, wondering if it was really something worth hiding from the censors like some OSS spy shit. A couple of shakes and sure enough, some slippery little card shaped thing fluttered out of a crease and wafted to the ground, settling between Buck’s boots. John’s stoic young friend bent over and retrieved it, but not without his entire spine stiffening like he’d been hit as soon as he’d caught it.

“Jesus.” it was more of a wheeze this time. Gale’s slow hand raised it and passed it over.

There wasn’t anything to say, not when confronted with such perfection. Not even a shielding arm to cheat him of the whole display, nothin’ at all but a carefully cropped photograph of the ripest pair of-

“Goddamn.” John’s tongue finally materialized a sentiment and he heard Gale’s appreciative sharp intake of breath beside him as if he’d forgotten to breathe here lately. “They’re wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Gale’s own throat sounded dry as dust, “W-we should probably stop starin’.”

“Whadda ya think she sent ‘em for?” John laughed, a rough, victorious laugh, never once dragging his admiring eyes away from them or ceasing to thumb over the shiny print. He could almost feel her warm, giving flesh under the pad of his finger, could almost imagine the pebble of a rosy nipple responding to his swipes.

“Yeah, they’re alright-“

“Alright? Alright!?” Egan repeated, incensed for his beloved’s reputation, “THESE ARE THE BEST TITS IN THE NATION!”

Gale actually looked mildly chastened, especially as his eyes strayed guiltily back to the photograph like twin marbles gravitating to the corner of a box when tipped.

“I know you haven’t seen many, Buck,” Egan goaded him further, “but take it from me -they don’t get better than this. And you better enjoy this look, it’s your last, she told me to keep them safe. So see this? These? This pair? S’why we fight, Buck.”

“Don’t be crass, John,” Gale stood up abruptly, less angry at his friend than at himself for his momentary lapse of discipline, “we fight for the people we love.”

“Course we do,” John grinned, “but I also happen to love these, told her so myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did.” Bucky was pretty chuffed, bouncing on the edge of the bed like he had her seated in his lap right now, “Everybody’s got to have a goal, Buck, you wanna marry Marj and I wanna aggressively come on ripe knock-“

“-A.C.O.R.N. yeah, yeah.”

“Acorn.” Bucky grinned in agreement.

“You gonna admit to her you didn’t know knockers was spelled with a k?”

“I did, too! Just couldn’t make it work.”

“Still doesn't work.” Buck informed, but his smile was returning, he’d not been this close with Bucky for this long not to learn to roll with the differences and appreciate that what made his best friend tick was a very different sort of morale than his own. “I’m happy for ya, John.” he conceded, as he turned to leave, “But when you write her back -and you gotta, she’s been too kind -promise me you’ll be a gentleman about it. Apologize, like the man I know you are. Drink got the better of you, just, explain it that way.”

“Uhuh.” John gave him a sober nod, still a little dazed this wasn’t some fever dream. “Kinda already did. In the one I sent.”

“She wasn’t deterred.” Gale mused, “Either you were shit at it or she’s-“

“Zesty.” Egan deduced, sucking his teeth with a manic gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, as an orange peel.” Gale snarked and walked away, past the rows of empty beds and outside into the rain, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky fell back against his mattress, sudden peace and aloneness giving him a chance to soak it in a second time, carefully reading over it all again, savoring each quip, each earnest prayer and naughty subtext. Which naturally led him back to admiring her little picture, groaning in unrestrained appreciation for her assets. She’d hinted about him taking it to his bunk -well wasn’t he fast to obey! Something possessed him to flip it over and there in the corner of the photograph, written in tiny little script, were doodles of music notes along with the ever so familiar lyrics:

“Beat me daddy, eight to the bar.”

John threw back his head and let out a roar of appreciation for finding a mirrored soul. “Oh Julie Jean, honey baby, don’t you worry, I’ll beat out somethin’ for ya, that’s for sure.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank y’all for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, please scream at me, I thrive off it. 💋

Taglist (Lemme know in a comment below if you’d like to be added or subtracted for MOTA fics)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

#mota fanfic #masters of the air #john egan x oc #dear John #john egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x oc #callum turner

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redvexillum · 2 months

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SUMMARY: You royally pissed someone off because you were receiving anonymous hate emails for the past fifteen years. How incredibly petty and...entertaining. At first, you decided to ignore them but as their hate comments got increasingly creative, the more you couldn't help but add oil to the burning, passionate flame of their hatred towards you.

Until one day, the mysterious anonymous hater (probably) accidentally revealed themselves to be the one and only TV demon, an Overlord and CEO of everything technological and modern.

WARNING/TAGS: f!reader, dual POV, enemies to f*ck buddies to something indescribable, Vox is a bratty sub, dom!reader, Vox takes a lot of L's but he secretly enjoys it, reader is sexually liberal and confident, Vox is bad with feelings, Vox has a humiliation kink, slow burn, masturb*tion (Vox)

<- PREV

Pride.

It had been Vox’s anchor through every storm, the bedrock upon which he rebuilt his empire time and time again. When everything else failed – fame, wealth, power – his pride would always remain. It was his impenetrable shield against defeat; it was his sharpened sword in the face of adversity.

Pride goes before a fall?

To that, Vox would laugh in mockery.

In life, in damnation, where everything else – his mind, his body, even his treacherous heart – crumbled to dust, his pride would endure, unwavering and indomitable. He would sooner die than surrender it.

Despite Vox’s resolve, he had once again succumbed to his damn weakness, his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. Memories flooded back, warning him of the same path he was about to tread once again.

Moments of shameful releases played in a loop.

Moments where he had sobbed and vowed to never repeat.

Moments where that fucking old-timey radio prick’s name rested on his tongue while his hand was coated in his sticky release.

He had promised, sworn, that he would never sacrifice his pride for a fleeting moment of hollow pleasure.

But today, surrounded by the evidence of his obsession with her, he found himself once more in the mercy of his desire, his resolve crumbling like the ashes of his once glorious empire.

Vox knelt there in supplication, head bowed, clutching his cock like a goddamn lifeline. He realized with a sinking heart that his pride had been the first casualty in this war. The war he waged against her, against himself, against the very fucking essence of who he thought he was.

He should just find Val and fuck him senseless, let out all the pent-up frustration in a mindless, carnal release. But as he made up his mind, his eyes drifted back to the picture she had sent him. Her playful little smirk pulled him back as a prisoner of his obsession.

His hand moved almost to its accord, slowly, gently stroking up and down his strained cock. He hissed in relief, the tension easing slightly with each stroke, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control.

Closing his eyes, he felt like a drug-addled addict, convincing himself that just one more hit would be enough.

“Just one more,” he whispered. “One more stroke, and I’ll fucking stop.”

With each repetition of the motion, his supposed impenetrable fortress that housed his resolve chipped away. One, two, three breaths – his hand moved once, twice, thrice, and he moaned, the sound torn from his throat as he succumbed to the pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, consuming him whole.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “This…feels real fucking good.”

Vox had a terabyte worth of images and videos of her stored in his internal hard drive. A digital shrine he had created to self-flagellate himself as he reminded himself that he shouldn’t and didn’t want her.

Every day, he fought the temptation to give in, to fuck himself with his hand while he pulled up images and videos of her — let the very image of her sear into his mind.

But he had resisted.

Always.

Instead, he channelled his frustration into writing her emails filled with hate and vitriol. Some days, when the want, the desire reached to unbearable heights, he would write to her about how much he despised her, how much he didn’t want her, how much he didn’t think of her.

It never helped. It never fucking did. But it became a ritual, a futile attempt to reclaim what little dignity remained within him.

A pathetic whimper escaped him as he forced his hand off his weeping cock, denying himself the release he so desperately craved. The photo slipped from his claws, fluttering to the floor as he pressed both hands against the ground, panting heavily.

Pride.

That was all he had left.

Everything else could be rebuilt from the ashes, but without his pride, he was nothing. He’d be damned if he let another fucking soul strip that away from him.

Vox glared at the photo; its edges crumpled from his desperate grip. It taunted him with her sweet yet mocking smile. “Fuck you,” he said in vain, knowing she didn’t give two shits of what she was doing to an Overlord – to him.

It was then that he noticed another small scrap of paper, or rather a business card, among the shredded pieces of the package he must’ve missed. Despite doing nothing today, his body felt like it had just run a marathon. His hand trembled as he grunted, forcing himself to stretch his arm to grab the card.

Whatever restraint he had completely shattered once he read the words on it. “Fucking, fuck, fuck,” he cursed out loud, his voice a mix of rage and despair. “Damn you, damn you to fucking hell,” his whine blended with a shameful moan as his hand went back to clutching his throbbing cock.

The business card read:

Vox couldn’t believe this fucking bitch had made a custom order of her own fucking cunt and sent it to him. God, that fucking whore. He cursed her and praised her depravity in a single breath as his eyes fell back to the fleshlight – her gift to him.

It was the same colour as her skin.

God fucking dammit.

He hated her. He wanted her. His emotions swirled in a chaotic storm, tearing at his sanity. His hand moved on its own, gripping the fleshlight with a desperate intensity. It was soft, warm, and he could almost imagine it was her.

The tip of his claw traced the lips of the synthetic pussy, and he inserted one finger in. He shuddered as he felt his finger enveloped by the soft, wet, plush walls. He had never used a fleshlight before, believing his hand or Val’s ass was good enough.

His teeth gnashed together, trying to force the words back, but before he could swallow them down, he blurted out his thoughts. “Fuck you,” he hissed as he inserted a second finger. “You’re thinking quite highly of yourself, huh?” He started to fuck his fingers in and out of the fleshlight, relishing the way the walls seemed to tighten, as if not wanting to let go.

“You think your cunt is this tight?” Vox let out a dark chuckle, recalling how three years ago, there was a huge scandal where sex tapes of her fucking some no-name guys were released on the net. His fingers withdrew from the fleshlight, dripping with its artificial juices, and he traced the lips of her pussy with the head of his cock.

The very thought of her, the memory of those tapes, the sight of her in that bikini – all of it drove him to the brink of madness. His breath was ragged, a mix of anger and arousal shrouding his mind.

He hated her.

He wanted her.

She tore him apart.

When that sex scandal broke out and plastered her face all over every platform on social media, Vox felt a rush of vindictive joy. This bitch, who had been a thorn in his side for so long, was finally going down. Instead of gloating in another email to her, he offered her a deal.

He wrote to her that day as Anonymous666, every word dripping with cocksure smugness, suggesting that if she begged him and admitted on her next video that VoxTek was the greatest, he would help her make the whole scandal go away.

That bitch never fucking responded.

She never responded to any of his emails.

Instead of trying to take down the sex video and paying a company to manage her reputation, she hired a small independent programming firm to create a fucking app called “OnlySinners.” On that app, users could create accounts to post exclusive photos and videos of themselves. It quickly became popular among influencers, promising exclusive content for their fans. This so-called exclusive content was all sexual in nature.

Honestly, it was much worse than porn in terms of quality and content.

Furthermore, fans had to pay a monthly subscription to view the posts. There were also different tier systems, allowing fans to get different benefits such as a chance to converse with their idol depending on how much they were willing to pay.

Because of her, the porn sector of his company took a huge hit that year. He managed to convince the shareholders of OnlySinners to sell their stocks to VoxTek, so she and he became co-owners. But before their first OnlySinners company meeting, she offered to sell the rest of her stocks to VoxTek and his assistant purchased it.

Vox inserted the tip of his cock inside the fleshlight and moaned obscenely. Fuck, this was amazing.

She was amazing.

Why couldn’t she have contacted him to create the OnlySinners app? He had the resources, the power, the connections. They could’ve been filthy rich together. He pulled the fleshlight off, teasing himself as he panted loudly.

Why did she sell the rest of her stocks instead of co-owning the company together? He inserted the tip of his cock again before pulling out, repeating it again and again.

She was such a fucking tease.

Vox had hacked her OnlySinners account out of curiosity and nearly choked when he saw she earned a whopping thirteen figures in the first year of launching that app on the income from subscription alone. She only uploaded five fucking thirty-second clips of her getting railed by other VoxTubers, and yet she was able to earn so much.

What’s worse was that the quality of the videos was shit, and he couldn’t see her tits or ass. All he could hear was her sinful moans and the sound of skin slapping together.

Yet, Vox paid to be her one and only loyal, “supreme” fan. She made an absurd tier costing $250,000 a month, and he still hasn’t cancelled despite her account clearly being inactive. In fact, the rest of her so-called fans stopped paying a monthly premium due to the lack of content.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Vox whispered, his voice breaking from another moan ripping through him as he sank halfway into her tight, dripping cunt. “We could’ve been unstoppable together.”

Inserting himself deeper into the fleshlight, he imagined her smirking at him, taunting him with those dark, smoky eyes. “Don’t fucking kid yourself,” he thrust harder, his breath hitching with each movement.

As he fully sheathed the fleshlight on his cock, taking it all the way to the base, Vox groaned, “Oh, fuuuuck.” His voice glitched, and his head tweaked from the overwhelming sensation of her tight, simulated pussy gripping his hardened, dripping cock. If he pulled out, he might come.

Holy fuck, was he seriously going to come after one fucking full stroke?

“I always knew you were a one-pump chump,” a voice, a familiar, and taunting voice, echoed in his head. “You should be thanking me for giving you this.” She giggled, and Vox’s vision momentarily blacked out as images of that damn woman flashed before his eyes.

“How dare you drop my photo on your filthy floor? Don’t you know you hold the only copy of that photo in existence?” She whispered, her voice caressing and electrifying every nerve, every circuit that made him who he was.

As his vision returned to the small, dimly lit room, surrounded by her sex toys, filled with the scent of his arousal, he quickly reached for the photo she had sent. He could still hear her voice in the back of his mind. “You should feel special,” she whispered, a seductive undertone drenching her words.

Vox’s hand gripped the fleshlight tighter, his claws digging into the sides, and he felt his cock hardening even more under his touch and the sensation of her simulated cunt. He dragged his cock out of the plush, wet pocket, his breath heavy as he fought to control himself, trying not to spill his seed inside it. He wanted this to last. He wanted this moment to last, to drown in this euphoria, to lose himself in this sensation of pleasure.

He wanted to muffle the scream of shame that threatened to short-circuit him.

Holding the fleshlight just above the tip of his cock, he thrust his hips upward, entering her once more. He held the photo up, forcing his head to look up – to look up at her. He slowly fucked the toy, pretending she was on top of him, imagining taking her slowly, letting her feel every inch of him.

“D-does it feel good?” Vox asked her. Of course, the photo of her remained still, her lips – her smirk – unmoving. A familiar feeling of his chest being flayed open coursed through him.

In the quiet space, where it was only him, away from the paparazzi, away from the need to maintain a perfect image for society, he was back in the body of an upstart entrepreneur – a body of a scrappy nobody.

Vox was back to being the man who had groveled and begged the investors to take a chance on him. To believe in him. He had withstood the mockery and the laughter as he swallowed his pride again and again.

“Can I…” he gasped, as his hips started to pump in and out quicker and quicker, the lewd sound of his cock thrusting into the lubricated toy squelched and filled the air. “Can I…come?” he groaned, his head falling forward, his ass up in the air before he thrust mindlessly into the toy with reckless abandon.

The pleasure built with each thrust, a fevered pitch that ate away his mind. He clung to the photo; it kept him tethered to the fantasy of an alternate reality where he had her – where she wanted him.

“Please,” he whimpered, his voice breaking, a plea to the silent room. “Please let me come.”

Vox’s pace became frantic, his strokes wild and uncontrolled. The tight, wet embrace of the fleshlight, the image of her teasing smile, the imagined feel of her beneath him – “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’…” his words were lost to the sound of his filthy moans and the wet slaps of his hips against the toy.

His vision blanked with a final, desperate thrust as he released everything he had within him. “Ah, fuuuuck,” he groaned as he slowed his pace, rocking his hips against the toy, wringing his cock dry.

Once Vox controlled his heavy breath, he slowly collapsed to the floor and rolled onto his back. He stared down at his limp cock, wearing the fleshlight like a sleeve. As the high faded, and the evidence of his broken restraint leaked out from the toy and drenched the front placket of his pants, the all-too familiar sensation of shame settled on his chest.

His chest rose and fell with the aftermath of his exertion, his breath still heavy and laboured. As if he had woken up from a fever dream, he looked around the room. The shelves were lined with her toys, each one a reminder of his obsession and the depth of his humiliation. The business card, the photo, her message, the custom fleshlight – all of it ridiculed him.

Vox pressed his palms against his eyes. The cold floor seeped into his sweat-soaked back; he felt the weight of his insignificance. For all his power and wealth, he still saw himself as his scrappy, pathetic self, groveling to other men that were born into a higher status.

He enjoyed sex for what it was. It brought him a moment of pleasure. But the price was always too fucking high to pay, for at this moment when his mind retained clarity, his heart was out in the open once more.

Once again, he was back in the void, a cavernous cold space where a sense of emptiness gnawed his very soul.

Once again, he felt a pain in his chest that he could never seem to fucking name.

Once again, he had sacrificed his pride for a fleeting moment of hollow pleasure.

NEXT ->

💠 MASTERLIST 💠

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woolmasterleel · 3 months

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Kae's deity form (●'◡'●)

#Art #digital art #artists on tumblr #original character #oc #my art #leel's art #Indomitable Vows #Kaegora Cogitonis #On my silly little jester arc I love Kae so much

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the-squeege · 9 months

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Merry Christmas @woolmasterleel !!! Love Story has prepared some tasty treats for a limbo celebration….. ignore the little spot on the ground there’s nothing to see there :)

LOOK AT THE CREATURE SHE DREW FOR ME IM SOBBING HES SO PERFECT LEEL YOU. ARE AWESOME.

#my art #oc #not my ocs!#indomitable vows #love story #alpha decay kisaki #fate #nightmare personified #medlodaunious mayonaka #they’re here in cookie form…….. so silly…#okay not to gush but GOD I had SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS PIECE #extra merry Christmas to you man… you’re the best and I’m so happy to spend the day with you <3 #also very happy to present you with a treat you enjoy so much I am SO HONORED #anyway rambling over.. this was so much fun I love them all so much 😳

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l0uterstella · 1 month

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BOUQUET OF WISHES ENG TL

BADOBARM, CHACO My gift to you, bloom your smile with ARUPEK, TUXAM My gift to you, bloom your smile with HANGYON, PIKERO My gift to you, bloom your smile with BADOBARM This affection

ALL Their love Our love

PURUTH They say it's a natural thing to fall apart ROMARRICHE In a whirlpool of growing anxiety MEROLD Without being able to understand, at random points I make a vow

SANAH I can't even trust myself HALLRITT That half-heartedness isn't the way RIMICHA No matter who, no matter when, what inspires us is…

CIELOMORT, MYUNNA Softly wrap it up KURODE, WILLMESH The two standing side by side KLARKSTELLA, LOUTERSTELLA I'll protect you with a shining light

HALLRITT, MEROLD My gift to you, bloom your smile with PURUTH, ROMARRICHE My gift to you, bloom your smile with SANAH, RIMICHA My gift to you, bloom your smile with HALLRITT With this love…

RED BOUQUET Best wishes, I hope to see you After giving me such a miracle BLUE BOUQUET From season to season NOIR BOUQUET Through the shades of time RED BOUQUET They're all colored in

ALL And to wish for good Loving them blooms new meanings The emotions that bind us together Destiny repeats itself That face breaks into a smile until it becomes a flower

CIELOMORT, WILLMESH It's bright, isn't it, the end of the act It leaves a lasting impression KURODE, MYUNNA If you want to call it some kind of story KLARKSTELLA It passes by quietly, with little significance LOUTERSTELLA I was caught up in one scene CIELOMORT It's fine, even if you adorn a supporting role

BADOBARM No pain, no gain If that's the case, that's just right PIKERO Cut it in half You've got gains, take this!(1) Get in HANGYON Little differences aren't that bad Mr. Oni, right here, come and get me homie(2) CHACO You've never realized it, you're shiny ARUPEK With unbounded and indomitable genius

TUXAM My wish, selfish What about it? Now finish CHACO Not for anyone else I'll only protect you, as your knight ARUPEK Call it an ego, just a desire to protect is good Here we go, believe in my way BADOBARM Just go through with it on my road I'll make it happen, yes my lord

CIELOMORT, KURODE My gift to you, bloom your smile with WILLMESH, KLARKSTELLA My gift to you, bloom your smile with LOUTERSTELLA, MYUNNA My gift to you, bloom your smile with CIELOMORT With these emotions…

HALLRITT With those tears like a gift It blurs my heart

My beloved you, forever, gently, please, I beg you, don't cry

ALL Best wishes, however you like Hold the memories in your hand

BLUE BOUQUET The smiling flowers NOIR BOUQUET I'll make them bloom RED BOUQUET I'll call them "happiness"

ALL We're always connected, it'll be okay I won't forget this The touch of your gentle hand, a straightforward gaze I'll watch over that world of yours

HALLRITT It's an image of love ALL This bouquet of wishes

ALL Their love Our love

- - - - - - - - -

1. I don't know how to directly translate this but it's so funny it basically sounds like Pikero beating someone up to take their stuff/"gains" 😭

2. "Oni-san kochira" is an old blindfolded hide and seek game where "it" is called as "Oni-san" and other players call out for the oni to catch them while blindfolded

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daitranscripts · 22 days

Text

Solas Romance

The Truth

Solas Masterpost

Solas leads the PC to a grotto in Crestwood.

Solas: The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?

They stop, and Solas places a hand on the PC’s face.

Solas: I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.

Dialogue options:

General: I already know. [1]

Flirt: Interesting! [2]

General: You don’t have to do that. [3]

1 - General: I already know. PC: That’s not necessary, Solas. You’re my… Solas: That is the question, is it not? [4]

2 - Flirt: Interesting! PC: I’m listening, and I can offer a few suggestions. Solas: I shall bear that in mind. [4]

3 - General: You don’t have to do that. PC: I know what we mean to each other. Solas: Even so. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Solas: For now, the best gift I can offer is… the truth. You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.

Dialogue options:

End relationship: I don’t think this will work. [5]

I feel the same way. [6]

5 - End relationship: I don’t think this will work. PC: Solas, I’m sorry. I’m afraid you were right. I was too impulsive earlier. Solas: (Sighs.) Even in this, you surprise me. Solas: I shall speak no more of it. Still, know that whatever happens, you are a rare spirit in this world. Goodbye. He leaves. Scene ends.

6 - I feel the same way. PC: As you are to me. Solas: Then what I must tell you… the truth… Your face. The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean. PC: They honor the elven gods. Solas: No. They are slave markings, or at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.

7 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: That can’t be right. [8]

Stoic: That doesn’t matter. [9]

Angry: That’s a lie! [10]

Sad: We were wrong? [11]

8 - Investigate: That can’t be right. PC: My clan’s Keeper said they honored the gods. These are their symbols. Solas: Yes. That’s right. A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot. [back to 7]

9 - Stoic: That doesn’t matter. PC: Whatever the marks were before, the Dalish have reclaimed them. They mark me as one of them. Solas: I know. For everything I have said about the Dalish, I admire that indomitable spirit. [12]

10 - Angry: That’s a lie! PC: Why would you say that? Solas: Because it’s true. PC: Bullshit! That’s bullshit! Is there anything in this world you won’t tear down just to prove how smart you are? Why would you tell me this? Solas: Because you deserve better! [12]

11 - Sad: We were wrong? PC: So this is… what? Just one more thing the Dalish got wrong? Solas: I’m sorry. PC: (Breathes.) We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter? Solas: Don’t say that. For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right. They made you. [12]

12 - Scene continues.

Solas: I didn’t tell you this to hurt you. If you like, I know a spell… I can remove the vallaslin.

Dialogue options:

General: I’m not sure. [13]

General: I’d like that. [14]

General: No. They matter to me. [15]

General: No. Forget the past. [16]

13 - General: I’m not sure. PC: These marks have been part of me for so long. I don’t know if… [17]

14 - General: I’d like that. PC: If what you’re saying is true… Solas: It is. PC: Then… my people vowed never to submit to slavery. [17]

15 - General: No. They matter to me. PC: Even if what you’re saying is true, I don’t think I can just let you erase them. [17]

16 - General: No. Forget the past. PC: I don’t wear the vallaslin for the ancient elves. I wear it for me. Solas: I know. [17]

17 - Scene continues.

Solas: I’m so sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me. I look at you, and I see what you truly are… And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.

Dialogue options:

Remove the vallaslin. [18]

I want to keep the vallaslin. [19]

18 - Remove the vallaslin. PC: Then cast your spell. Take the vallaslin away. Solas: Sit. Solas leads the PC to the waterside, and they kneel. He passed his hands over the PC’s face, and the vallaslin are gone. Solas: Ar lasa mala revas. You are free. They stand. Solas: You are so beautiful. They kiss.

19 - I want to keep the vallaslin. PC: I know you told me because you wanted to help, but the vallaslin is part of who I am. I hope you can see past— Solas: Stop. You are perfect exactly as you are. They kiss.

20 - Scene continues.

Solas: And I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.

Dialogue options:

General: I don’t want to lose you. [21]

General: Are you kidding me? [22]

General: If you must. [23]

21 - General: I don’t want to lose you. PC: Solas… Solas steps back. Solas: Please, vhenan.

Dialogue options:

Sad: I love you. [24]

Angry: Don’t do this to me! [25]

Stoic: I believe in us. [26]

24 - Sad: I love you. PC: Solas… don’t leave me. Not now. I love you. He shakes his head, and continues to back away. Solas: You have a rare and marvelous spirit. In another world— PC: Why not this one? He raises his hands between them. Solas: I can’t. I’m sorry. Solas leaves. Scene ends.

25 - Angry: Don’t do this to me! PC: Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. The PC shoves him. PC: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a coldhearted son of a bitch and move on! They leave Solas standing there. Solas: I’m sorry. Scene ends.

26 - Stoic: I believe in us. PC: I’m not giving up on you, Solas. Solas: You truly should. PC: Whatever you need, we can find together. Solas: No, we can’t. You’ll see. Solas turns. Solas: I’m sorry. He walks away. Scene ends.

22 - General: Are you kidding me? PC: Wait. What?

kept vallaslin PC: I say no to you altering my face, and just like that we’re done? Solas: It’s not that. I’m sorry. I should have ended this long before. I never wanted to hurt you. [27]

let Solas remove the vallaslin PC: You bring me here, take the vallaslin from my face, and now you just end it? Solas: I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. [27]

23 - General: If you must. PC: All right. If that’s your decision, so be it. Solas: I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. [27]

27 - Dialogue options:

Stoic: You did. [28]

Sad: Great job. [29]

Angry: Your loss, asshole! [30]

28 - Stoic: You did. PC: Everyone makes mistakes. Solas turns and leaves. Solas: I will see you back at Skyhold. Scene ends.

29 - Sad: Great job. PC: Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we? Solas turns and leaves. Solas: I will see you back at Skyhold. Scene ends.

30 - Angry: Your loss, asshole! PC: Banal’abelas, banal’vhenan! Solas turns and leaves. Solas: I will see you back at Skyhold. Scene ends.

#dragon age inquisition #dai transcripts #dragon age #dragon age transcripts #dragon age dialogue #dai #long post #dai dialogue #solas #solas romance

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skyminsworld · 4 months

Text

We are of Fire

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Oc Aelyx Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen and her sister-wife Aelyx Targaryen stood on the windswept cliffs of Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of House Targaryen, where the great Valyrian lords had first settled after the Doom. The sky above was a tapestry of swirling gray clouds, reflecting the ancient magic that still lingered in the air, and the sea below roared its approval as waves crashed against the black stone of the island.

The ceremony was steeped in the traditions of Old Valyria, a tribute to their heritage and a reminder of the dragons’ might. Rhaenyra, with her silver-gold hair cascading down her back and her violet eyes shimmering with resolve, stood proud in a gown of red and white. Beside her, Aelyx, her sister-wife, matched her in a similar gown, their hands entwined in a bond stronger than the most unyielding Valyrian steel.

The ritual began at dusk, under the auspices of the Blood Moon, a celestial event said to bless the union of two souls destined for greatness. The High Valyrian words of the priestess echoed through the stillness, invoking the favor of the gods. "Jal Wun Azantys," she chanted, "by blood and fire."

Their dragons, Syrax and Vermithor, stood sentinel nearby, their eyes glowing like molten gold in the dim light. The presence of the dragons was vital, for they were not only mounts but symbols of the Targaryens' dominion and their unbreakable bond. As the ceremony progressed, the dragons roared in unison, sending chills down the spines of all present, a clear sign that the old gods were watching.

A sacred blade, forged in the fires of Dragonstone itself, was brought forth. Rhaenyra and Aelyx each pricked a finger, letting their blood mingle on the blade. "A binding of blood," the priestess intoned, "as it was in Valyria, so it shall be now." The blood was then mixed with fire, a small pyre lit by the dragonflame, representing the unity of their house and their shared destiny.

The final vows were taken in High Valyrian, their voices strong and unwavering despite the howling winds. "Nyke ēdrutas ao," Rhaenyra pledged, "I am yours." Aelyx responded, "Nyke ēdrutas ao," echoing the eternal promise. As the flames flared brighter, they clasped hands, their fingers stained with each other’s blood, and kissed, sealing their vows not only to each other but to the legacy they would forge together.

The feast that followed was a lavish affair, with roasted meats, exotic fruits, and the finest Dornish wines, a celebration worthy of their union. Songs of Old Valyria were sung, and the air was filled with laughter and the roar of dragons. In the great hall of Dragonstone, banners bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen fluttered, illuminated by the flickering torchlight.

As the night drew on, Rhaenyra and Aelyx slipped away to the heights of Dragonstone, where they could be alone under the stars and moon up the sky. The future was uncertain, filled with both promise and peril, but in that moment, they were together, bound by ancient tradition and their indomitable will.

Thus, under the watchful eyes of their dragons and the ancient gods, Rhaenyra Targaryen and Aelyx Targaryen began their journey as sister-wives, their fates intertwined, their hearts aflame with the promise of the legacy they would create together.They knew what will come ,lots of hardship but they had each other

A promise of life ,once a dragon has it's treasure it will keep it to itself burning anyone who tries to steal what is rightfully theirs.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x aelyx #rhaenyra x oc #wlw #tumblr fyp #asoiaf #queen rhaenyra #aelyx targaryen #syrax #vermithor #hotd fanfic

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