#and regular s's to cursive ones

[all-thestories-aretrue]

The public to do lists are actually working so I'm going to keep posting them 😂

But this time in picture format bcuz I'm too lazy to type it all up. Just ignore my atrocious handwriting. It only has to be legible to me!

[monstertreden]

٠ ࣪⭑JUST A GARDEN? NO SUCH THING ٠ ࣪⭑

-Reader: FEM reader   -TW: none -Character: Dr DOOM (Marvel series) -Summary: You are a struggling reporter and writer . Just when you thought  you could lose your job, THE Doom sends you a letter inviting you for an interview. This is an incredible lifetime opportunity. -Word count : 1675 -A/N: One of the first I'm writing for Doom, he's my favourite character. I was so devasted when they revealed the actor for the film..sigh,,, I'M GONNA WRITE MORE

"So…Your Majesty,.."

Uneasiness urged you to address him in a specific manner. However, despite your attentive choice of words, there was still no response from him. The silent atmosphere was occasionally interrupted by birds chirping. As soon as you stepped through the gates of the garden you were greeted by a marble fountain that decipted a robust figure in a robe with an upturned palm towards the sky. Water cascaded from its palm in endless streams, pooling in the ornate basin below. You didn't immediately recognise the craftsmanship. It was presumably an old Latverian monument, no doubt sanctioned by Doom to endure through time.

Trying to steady yourself and avoid stuttering in front of him, you coughed into your sleeve.

"I've recieved your letter. Twice,actually"

To begin with, you are a struggling reporter and writer, barely managing to publish anything beyond the usual pieces for your local community theatre and pet parades, certainly not the kind of person who covers international political enigmas such as Doom himself. So, when you first saw the beautifully crafted letter in your mailbox, you were pretty skeptical. Maybe it was just an awful joke from one of your coworkers who faked a cursive and elegant font to be accurate, a wax seal, and fancy textured paper that felt too regal from your regular letters. Rolling your eyes, you decided to set it aside on your desk. 

The next week brought another letter. Identical in appearance, but this time more insistent about an interview. Yet again, you still weren't convinced…However, the signature…it was unmistakable. That afternoon, you spent it comparing it, searching for verifications on the internet, again and again…and the moment of realization finally struck. A wave of anxiety washed over you.

Now you are here. With him. The plane tickets, your luggage with all your essentials and your temporary room for that day had all been paid on his behalf.

Meeting Doom in person was scary, to say the least. Tall and imposing, he exuded a cold aura of authority that felt almost suffocating, dressed from head to toe in heavy armour, fancier than the ones commonly seen in public broadcasts. Everyone in his presence felt smaller, as if gravity bent in his favour. Worst of all, you couldn't read a single expression behind that iron mask that concealed his features. And yet, beneath that impenetrable facade, there were occasional, almost imperceptible shifts in his voice.

Still, he hadn’t been unkind. Just…eh...unreadable.

He hasn’t said much since greeting you, he led you calmly through the garden’s stone paths, his cloak swishing behind him. His gloved hand briefly brushed a nearby wall as he walked, until eventually, his gaze rose to the statue that hovered above the fountain, a sculpture that depicted himself.

"A scholar once claimed Doom's land had no soul," Doom mused, mostly to himself, stepping closer to the fountain. "That it was cold, ruthless, lifeless…Writer, Doom invites you to share your perspective. Doom would be eager to be impressed."

You held your breath for a moment, and for the first time in your life, except for that one time during a university exam, you were frozen in place. Who wouldn't be? This interview could literally change your life. Having had the privilege of a private interview with Doom himself. Your lips moved before your brain could come up with a carefully crafted sentence.

"It certainly is imposing, not just a mere decoration for a simple garden-" you glanced at his back "-Old, but carefully preserved. It's not lifeless, just… restraint-"

He turned his head slightly. There's a pause, a moment of consideration, perhaps.

"You are not what Doom expected."

There was no sarcasm, just an observation. Brutally honest, the best you could expect from him. Was it a death threat? Should you be more scared than you already were?… Was he being nice…?

You weren’t entirely sure whether that was a compliment, a warning, or something in between.

Still, you smiled faintly and lifted your notebook from your bag, pen already in hand.

“I get that a lot,” you muttered, then cursed yourself internally. Smooth. You were going to get killed and then banished from Latveria for the rest of your days in every universe.

The atmosphere was eerily quiet. He didn’t laugh. Of course, he didn’t. Yet, the faint shift in tone when he next spoke almost sounded like… amusement.

"Come" He said. You had to shake off your overthinking and refocus on reality. Without looking at you, Doom continued. “There are older parts of the garden as well. Places even ministers do not enter without Doom's permission. There, you could begin Doom's interview”

ᯓ★

 Not exactly Pulitzer Prize material, but at least in your head, you guessed it was something. You were still trying to sound composed, professional, but it wasn’t easy. His presence had made you feel scared shitless of him, and honestly, part of you still was. He could disintegrate you in a fraction of a second with just a flick of his wrist. One wrong word, one misplaced comment, and you might end up as ash.

From the moment you walked into the garden, you felt like you were walking on eggshells. Your voice was a few notes higher than usual every time you asked a question. But you had to do this interview,  and you were already imagining how the headline would look.

 Fancy text, maybe you could imitate the Latverian cursive to captivate a wider and curious public. Best of all, a catchy title :

“An Afternoon in the Garden of Doom.” Or maybe it would be best to come up with another title once you get home and brainstorm different ideas.

Without question, it would be the talk of the town,…no, even better. The talk of the ENTIRE continent. This thought alone gave you another rush of adrenaline, so much so that you could already picture your editor’s shocked face, jaw on the ground as you laughed smugly at him.

A soft huff of amusement echoed from behind Doom’s iron mask, barely audible beneath the faint whir of his armour. His gaze remained fixed on you,  unmoving, waiting for your next insight.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you continued, "-Why the choice in this pose?" gesturing towards the statue, one of the many meticulously carved in stone, robed and dignified.

You didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, you scribbled in your notebook feverishly, noting every word, every pause, the curve of the paths, the placement of the flowers, even the fact that the vines had clearly been trimmed by precise hands, perhaps by one of his many doombots.

He never snapped. He never brushed you off. If anything, he seemed… oddly tolerant. Maybe somewhat amused…? Akin to a pet owner observing his hamster performing little tricks to earn trinkets.

Hours passed and the sky unfolded slowly, casting long shadows across the tall hedges. A strange rhythm settles between the two of you: while you moved from statue to statue, corner to corner, every so often coaxing another answer out of him,  he actually responded, calm and collected, at every answer.

Patient, calm, collected. As if he had all the time in the world acting more like a guide rather than a tyrannical ruler, and for now, you were allowed to borrow a fragment of his time. Everything felt as though time and space had just suspended, held in place by Doom’s will alone.

The garden’s silence grew denser with each passing step as a gentle gust of wind whispered through the hedges. Soon, another statue came into view.

It was Doom again, unmistakably. Yet this composition felt… different from the previous ones. There was a figure, a woman of early middle age you assumed, beside him. One of her hands rested gently on his armoured forearm. Her expression was serene. There was no label  or plaque accompanying the sculpture, which left you pondering. The atmosphere surrounding it suggested you of something deeply personal.

The question came cautiously, with the tone one might use when stepping onto sacred ground.

“A relative? Or a… particular muse?” You tentatively pointed towards the new female figure.

For a moment, the air felt heavier, and the wind stilled. He remained silent for quite some time. 

"My mother," He looked first at the statue before meeting your gaze directly. At that point, you realized it would be best not to ask any further questions.

it was then that you understood.

This wasn’t the place to dig further.

No follow-up questions. No clever comments. Just a slow, respectful nod as you lowered your pen slightly. You weren’t in the right current position to ask him further questions.

Noticing your stiffness, Doom turned, his cloak shifting with the motion, and began to walk toward the next path, expecting you to follow him.

The dense and towering hedges loomed above you, creating intricate pathways. To truly explore that garden, you would need more than just a single day, perhaps more than several…

ᯓ★

The notebook you've been writing in since you got there was now more than halfway full of notes and scribbles you were to fix once you got home. With the sun gone, the stars were more visible under Latveria's sky.

It had been some hours since you'd walked around the place, managing to interview him with not many pressing questions (the anxiety was still there), but enough to fill your entire booklet.

"I wouldn't even know how to repay you for this lifechanging possibility…almighty Doo-"

He nonchalantly raised his hand, side eyeing you, "Please, between you and Doom, Doom is enough."

Now he turned to you fully, arms crossed over his imposing frame. "Write of this place, writer. Let the outside world see what they choose to ignore.

Most of all, remember, words, like all things here, should serve a purpose, Doom's purpose.

There was no threat in his voice. But there was no mistaking the gravity either

"That will be enough for Doom."

[chrisrashizushi]

Deliver Us From Temptation (But Not Tonight)

Pairing (s): Michael Jackson (1989!Virgin Jehovah’s Witness Version) x 304!Reader/ OC

Words: I don’t know twin 😭

Warning (s): NOT EDITED! Power Imbalance (slightly), Mentions of sex work, Smut, Virgin!Michael, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior (later chapters), Toxic Love (later chapters), Obsession (later chapters), Overstimulation, Crying During Sex (Michael), Emotional Manipulation (light, loving kind), Religious Guilt, Domestic Delusions, Fluff & Filth, Dickmatized Reader, Unhinged Post-Virgin Michael, Cringe Male Fantasy Realized, Baby Fever.

Summary: What starts as a regular night on the stroll turns into a once-in-a-lifetime encounter with Michael Jackson himself—but not the polished icon you’d expect. Not, this is 31-year-old Jehovah’s Witness virgin, cruising the streets in a black Rolls Royce on a one-man mission to lose his innocence after one too many conversations with Eddie Murphy.

You?

A 304 just trying to get your money and dip.

🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷

The moon hung low over Los Angeles like a guilty secret. It bled silver across the cracked pavement, washing the city in a kind of quiet shame, as if the sky itself knew what was about to happen and couldn’t bring itself to stop it.

Chrissie’s boots hit the sidewalk like a war drum.

Nine inches of pink patent leather stomped a rhythm into the night, the heels clicking in sharp, sensual staccato with every step she took. She moved with a softness that begged for attention—hips swaying like a metronome tuned to a melody only she could hear. A cropped snow-white fur jacket clung to her arms, hanging open just enough to tease the glittering bra underneath—pink, rhinestoned, and holding her breasts like they were born to be worshipped.

Her thong peeked out from a low-slung miniskirt the color of bubblegum and sin. It wasn’t an outfit; it was a sermon in seduction. And her lip gloss shimmered with the kind of cherry shine that made men forget their morals.

She didn’t walk. She glided. Like a fantasy written in cursive.

Chrissie wasn’t thinking about much—just her room at the motel, the ache in her ankles, and how she needed to find a better hustle before the year flipped over. She was halfway through chewing a piece of grape gum when she felt it.

A gaze. Thick. Heavy. Slow.

She stopped.

Somewhere beside her, an engine purred.

The car crept like a panther. Black, glossy, with windows so tinted they reflected her back at herself. A Rolls Royce. Old money. Silent money. The kind of car that could belong to a drug lord, a politician, or somebody famous enough to be dangerous.

The passenger window hissed down like a whispered secret.

And there he was.

Hidden in the shadows, hoodie drawn low, curls spilling down his forehead like ink. But even under the poor motel lighting, his face glowed. Ethereal. Familiar in a way that made her throat close.

“Um… excuse me, miss,” he said, voice trembling like a hymn whispered in a confessional booth. “Do you… need a ride?”

Her lips parted. And then curved into a smirk slow and lethal.

“That depends, baby. You lookin’ to get saved or get lucky?”

He flinched. Visibly. As if her words had slapped his spirit.

Chrissie leaned closer. Her hand pressed against the glass, long almond nails glinting like daggers. The scent of vanilla body spray, cherry gloss, and heat curled inside the car like smoke.

The man coughed into his fist.

“I… I can take you somewhere safe. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” she said, voice sugared. “I know a place. Room 209. Pink door. You can park in the back, sugar.”

🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤

Michael

He should have kept driving.

He should have clutched his steering wheel tighter, turned the jazz up louder, prayed harder. But the moment he saw her—that girl, walking like lust had a zip code—Michael’s grip on righteousness began to slip.

She looked like something he’d once seen in a dream and spent the rest of his life pretending he hadn’t. A Bratz doll with goddess thighs. Eyes like melted brown sugar. A waist that curved like temptation in physical form.

He’d been fasting. Praying. He was trying to stay pure.

But Eddie said it.

“Mike, you need to get laid. All that pressure? You’re gonna snap one day.”

Michael didn’t mean to turn down that street. Didn’t mean to roll down his window.

But he did.

And now she was in his car, legs crossed like a temptation he couldn’t unsee, licking her thumb and smoothing out her baby hairs like it was a damn ritual. He could barely breathe.

“New to this?” she asked, voice dipped in flirt.

“Y-yeah,” he mumbled. “First time, actually.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she said, grinning like the devil’s favorite daughter.

❤️😘🤣💕

The Motel

She led him up the stairs like she was guiding him to slaughter. Her perfume lingered in the air like an afterthought he couldn’t stop inhaling. His hoodie clung to him, soaked with sweat, socks sticking in his loafers. He didn’t know what he was doing. He just knew he had to follow her.

Room 209 creaked open.

The light flickered. The sheets were ugly. The air was stale. But Chrissie’s presence made it feel like a palace.

She tossed her purse on the bed, turned around, and slid the jacket off her shoulders like she was born for slow-motion. Her bra sparkled in the lamplight. Her piercings caught the glow like jewelry crafted by God Himself.

And then she looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Her brows pinched.

Her eyes widened.

And suddenly, her mouth dropped open in cartoon disbelief.

“WAIT A MINUTE—”

She took a step closer.

“OH MY GOD—NO, NO, THIS CAN’T BE—”

Michael froze.

“YOU’RE MICHAEL FUCKING JACKSON!!!”

He winced like the truth was a gunshot.

“I-I didn’t mean to—it’s not what it looks like—please don’t scream—”

“You’re THEE Michael Jackson. Thriller. Smooth Criminal. You invented the moonwalk and now you walkin’ up into my room?!”

Her voice pitched into a laugh—half shocked, half delighted. She plopped down on the bed and crossed her legs.

She looked him up and down like a client, a mystery, and a check she was about to cash.

“So…” she said, tongue flicking over her front teeth. “How much we talkin’? ’Cause tonight? You about to get the deluxe experience.”

Michael stared at her.

At her eyes.

At her smile.

At her body.

At the edge of sin.

And all he could say was:

“I… I think I love you.”

❤️😘💕 😩

The air in the room was thick now.

Heavy with something that clung to the walls, something almost physical. Lust? Fear? Divine punishment? Maybe all three. The cheap motel A/C buzzed somewhere behind them, but neither of them moved.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed like he was waiting to be judged.

Back straight, hands in his lap, fingers laced tight like he was in prayer. His hoodie was off now, revealing a clingy white undershirt that stretched over his narrow shoulders. He was breathing shallow, like the oxygen in the room didn’t belong to him.

Chrissie lay across the bed behind him, one arm draped lazily over her stomach, the other twirling a strand of hair as she watched him squirm.

“Soooo… is this what we’re doing?” she asked, voice sweet but mocking, like a cherry-laced tease. “We just gon’ sit here all night? You wanna play Uno or somethin’?”

Michael flinched, blinking fast, like he was trying to wake up from a dream he wasn’t ready to leave.

“N-no! I mean… I didn’t know how to—how it usually starts. I, um. I’ve never…” he trailed off, swallowing hard.

Chrissie smirked.

She already knew.

It was written all over him.

The nervous ticks. The too-careful eye contact. The way he kept adjusting his pants like his dick was trying to leap into destiny without him.

She pushed herself up onto her knees and slid behind him, straddling her thighs on either side of his body without even touching. Yet.

“You’re tense, baby,” she cooed, lowering her voice to a honey-thick whisper.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders. Gently. She kneaded his tight muscles through the thin cotton shirt, thumbs pressing just hard enough to make him gasp.

Michael jolted.

“Oh—um—th-that feels… good.”

“Mmm, I know it does. You’re all stiff. Poor thing… haven’t even been touched like this, huh?”

She leaned in closer, lips grazing the shell of his ear, warm breath curling against his skin. Her nose brushed his curls, and she inhaled deeply.

“You smell like lavender and stress.”

He whimpered. Whimpered. Like a kicked puppy in a pew.

Chrissie kissed the curve of his neck—once, then again, softer, slower, lips lingering—and Michael’s knees actually buckled. He reached for the sheets to steady himself. But that only made things worse.

Because now he could feel her body behind him. Warm. Pressed close. Her thighs against his back. Her breath against his skin.

“I—I shouldn’t—” he began, voice paper-thin.

“Then leave,” she challenged, voice flat and sharp.

Silence.

He stood up like he might actually do it.

Chrissie just watched.

And then—

She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backwards.

He gasped as he fell, landing flat on his back against the pillows, curls fanning out like a halo, eyes wide and helpless. She climbed on top of him with feline grace, not rushed, not reckless—just in control. Like a lioness lowering her weight onto fresh prey.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” she murmured, hands sliding down his trembling body.

She reached for the waistband of his black pants, slow and teasing, her nails dragging against his skin.

Michael trembled beneath her. His fists clenched the sheets, and he turned his head like he couldn’t bear to watch.

But she could.

And baby—what she saw had her jaw dropping.

This man’s dick was insane.

Thick. Heavy. A subtle hook to the left, pointing like it had a destination in mind. Already leaking. Like it was desperate. Like it had never been inside anything before, and it knew what it was missing.

She stared at it like it owed her rent money.

“…Oh,” she said finally. “So you really never had no pussy before.”

Michael’s face flushed red, ears burning.

“I haven’t… um. N-no. Never. I was waiting… I am waiting. For marriage, I mean. But…” He gulped. “I think if we get married after this it’s okay, right?”

Chrissie blinked.

Then snorted. Loud.

“Boy, what?”

Michael sat up slightly, big brown eyes hopeful, breath hitching like a skipped record.

“If you’re my wife, then it’s not a sin. I think. I mean—I don’t know, I could talk to my pastor but I feel like—”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, dropping her head onto his chest. “This ain’t the first time a client caught feelings, but you? You really different.”

“I—I’m not like the others,” he whispered, one hand trembling as he brushed her arm. “I love you.”

Chrissie just sighed, eyes rolling to the ceiling like:

“Lord, why do you give the biggest dick to the dumbest men?”

Chrissie straddled him loosely now, eyes heavy, body still, watching him with a kind of measured patience that only came from experience. She had already lubed him up—carefully, tenderly, with slow circular motions that made Michael’s stomach clench and his toes curl inside his socks. She could feel how he pulsed under her touch. How he trembled when her fingers brushed the tip. She had even shown him where to go—guided his cock with her soft hand, fingers slick and glistening, parting her folds with her other hand like she was opening a temple.

“Right here, baby,” she whispered, voice breathy. “That’s the spot. You feel that? That’s all you.”

Michael nodded, jaw tight, lashes fluttering. He gripped her thighs like he was praying for strength.

He was sweating now. Tears prickled in his eyes and he hadn’t even entered her yet.

“Chrissie…” His voice cracked. “I-I’m scared.”

“You’ll be fine,” she cooed, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Just go slow, baby. You ain’t gotta go too deep…”

She didn’t mean it.

She should have meant it.

But she didn’t know what she was dealing with.

Michael adjusted his hips, the head of his dick pressing right against her entrance. Chrissie tensed. It was warm. Hot. Bulging. Her breath hitched and her eyes darted up to his face—but he was already looking down at her like a boy seeing color for the first time.

He pushed forward. Just the head.

Chrissie’s entire body jolted.

“AH—hold on—hold on baby—OH MY GOD—” she groaned, her voice pitchy, raw. “Th-that’s just the head?!”

Her nails dug into his arms. Her legs kicked once, instinctively trying to shut closed, but Michael caught them—held them down, firm and wide, muscles flexed like he’d been possessed by something holy and carnal at the same time.

“Don’t close ‘em,” he whispered hoarsely. “I—I wanna see you take it.”

Chrissie whimpered.

Her toes curled. Her back arched.

Eyes twitching closed. Lips trembling.

That shit BURNED. It stretched. It split. It filled. And yet… he still hadn’t moved.

Michael hovered above her, panting, tears in his lashes, his jaw clenched tight as he froze, refusing to thrust any further.

“You okay?” he asked, voice breaking. “D-does it hurt?”

“YES,” she hissed, trying to breathe through it. “But don’t stop. Just—don’t move yet.”

He didn’t. He stayed right there. Just the head inside. Throbbing. Huge. His whole body trembling like a candle in wind.

“Oh, Jehovah…” he sobbed, voice warbling. “It feels so—so good. Is that a sin too? Feeling good like this? It feels warm and—and wet and… oh, God forgive me—”

Chrissie blinked up at him through tears of her own, half-laughing, half-groaning.

“Baby… if that’s just the tip… I don’t know if I’m makin’ it through the rest.”

Michael looked down at her like she was the second coming. His eyes were glassy, mouth parted, flushed cheeks glowing under the motel lamplight. And then something shifted in him.

His hips twitched. The faintest forward thrust.

“You sure?” he whispered.

She blinked up at him. “Do it.”

Then he moved.

Not rough—but deep. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was pouring years of starvation into her all at once. Like his body remembered something his mind had no words for. Like he was being guided by some ancient instinct to claim.

Chrissie screamed.

Her thighs shook, and her voice went raw.

“FUCK—MICHAEL, YOU’RE—TOO MUCH!”

But he didn’t stop.

He grunted—low, deep, from the gut—“I don’t care.”

Her legs trembled as he buried himself inch by inch, watching her crumble beneath him. His cock throbbed inside her like it had never known peace before. His tears rolled down freely now, but his body kept going. Sliding deeper. Holding her down.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry I love you—I’m sorry I love you so much—I know this is wrong—but you feel so… so right—”

Chrissie could barely breathe. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think.

All she knew was that he was huge. Hot. Pulsing. And deep.

And that somewhere between his head and his soul, Michael Jackson had just lost his virginity… and his whole damn mind. Michael’s grip on her thighs was unrelenting. Fingers digging deep, spreading her wide open like he was searching for meaning between her legs. His breath came in fast little gasps, sweat slicking his curls to his temples. And he was trembling—shaking, really—like her pussy had unlocked some forgotten code in his spine and his whole body was trying to reboot.

“S-slow, Michael—slow!” Chrissie groaned, arching beneath him. “You too big to be doing all that—just give me a sec to breathe—”

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t stop.

It wasn’t even about control anymore.

It was instinct.

Michael’s body had taken over, and he was thrusting in short, messy, needy strokes—deeper and deeper like his soul was trying to crawl inside her and stay there. His hips jerked forward again, and he let out the softest little cry—“O-ohhh, Chrissie…”

His voice was high and breathless, a little whimper mixed with prayer.

She tried to push at his chest, tried to say something like “Wait, baby, you not gon’ last if you keep—” but it was too late.

Michael’s entire body seized.

His eyes rolled up. Lips parted. He slammed his hips forward one last time and froze, buried to the base inside her. Chrissie’s jaw dropped open, legs twitching as her pussy stretched around him like it was trying to learn him by heart.

And then—

“Hnnnng—!”

He let out the weakest, softest, most heavenly busted-nut whimper ever released on God’s green Earth and CAME. HARD.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spilled inside her, deep, fast, messy.

His hips jerked again—once, twice—like his body didn’t know whether to flee or burrow. He moaned into her neck, tears rolling down his cheeks as his cock throbbed with every pulse.

“Oh… oh God… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—I couldn’t stop—Chrissie I love you—ohhh it feels too good…”

She blinked up at the ceiling, stunned.

“You just… came in me?”

Michael didn’t even hear her. He was trembling, forehead pressed to her shoulder, breathing like he just ran through Armageddon barefoot.

“I’m yours now,” he mumbled, already sounding sleepy.

“Michael—baby—this ain’t how this supposed to go. You weren’t even in for two minutes!”

But he wasn’t listening.

Because this man had just given up his virginity, broken his vows, nutted deep in a baddie’s tight little coochie and fallen in love all in one stroke.

He nuzzled against her chest like a newborn, breathing in her perfume like it was oxygen.

“You smell like heaven. I wanna wake up here. We should get a dog. We should get married tomorrow.”

Chrissie just stared at the ceiling, lips parted.

“Ain’t no way,” she whispered. “You already asleep?”

And he was.

Michael Jackson, King of Pop, just nutted in a motel room, confessed his love, and passed out like a baby, dick still twitching inside her.

🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤🩷🖤

To be continued…

[iloveoldermen-posts]

Idk if you do these kinds of things but I kinda wanna get this off my chest. 141 or whoever you chose with an actual ghost reader? Like they kinda haunt the base and leave little trinkets and notes. Uh little ghostie has taken a liking to them and vice versa. The boys like to sometimes leave little things they find for her to eventually move somewhere else either for a prank or a pick me up to show she’s there. This is my first time ever doing a request so feel free to ignore if it’s too much

- ♠️ s

My Little Note I'M SORRY BUT THE CREATIVITY. My god this ask ateeee. I will try my hardest to bring the vision to life, thank youuu for suggesting it!!

Warnings: open ending, slight swearing, unsure about continuation of the one-shot, gender neutral however i have not proof read ୨୧

Everybody knew the base was haunted, I mean with how many people had died, with how many souls that were lost - it was bound to happen. The ghosts pretty much kept to themselves, wanting to finally be at peace. So unless you were a real pain in the as, they left you alone.

The 141 thought it was all a myth, something to make soldier's feel better about being afraid of their past haunting them. That was until 'little ghostie' took a liking to them. At first it was just the taunting of the man who dared call himslef 'Ghost', he hadn't reached that stage yet and Ghostie thought he shouldn't foreshadow the loneliest part of the cycle of life.

Ghostie thought it was funny seeing these big, wise men pracically shit themselves at the creak of floorboard, especially since everybody else knew about the base and accepted the idea of it being haunted.

When the 141 finally accepted Ghostie was there to stay, they started noticing things, trinkets of sorts. For example, leaving a bar of soap on Johnny's pillow, him replying 'real funny Ghostie.' Eliciting a gentle giggle to be heard and echoed through Johnny's mind for the rest of the week.

Or when Ghostie left a little ghost plush for Simon in his regular seat in the meeting room. He smiled under his mask and stuffed it in his pocket. Later that night when Ghostie was doing rounds of the base, they noticed Simon fast asleep with the small teddy almost engulfed by his arm muscle.

Gaz was given a drawing of himself sitting next to an empty chair filled with small orbs. Gaz classed it as a masterpiece and not only did he hang it up but he had it framed and placed on a wall in their common room, not even caring about the design rules.

Price was the last to recieve any gift at all, some of the boys even had multiple before he recieved his first. He didn't care about all of that when he recieved his gift - a beautifully written cursive letter explaing to him who Ghostie really was and how happy they are now they have all met.

The letter included the fact that when a ghost finally reaches full contentness, they either pass over or come back from the land of the dead.

That was the last time they heard from 'little ghostie' for the past week, unsure of what they finally chose..

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! -> ALL REBLOGS, LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

[yuriosakawa]

Generating Love (Rex x Reader)

Summary

You never had the desire to date anyone, so when you encounter a suspicious Generator Rex-inspired dating sim, you weren’t really expecting anything out of it. 

But as the game goes on, you start to notice weird things happening to the main character Rex. And to yourself…

—————————

You stared at the game in front of you. Did someone actually programmed this? You didn’t knew if to find it commendable or desperate. That afternoon, you were bored out of your mind so you were checking out if there was any new games on Steam when you came across this specific game, or well, some people wouldn't even consider it a game, called Generator Rex: Generating Love. In other words, it was a dating sim. The cheesy and generic title alone almost made you want to scoff. 

You were eighteen years of age and yet, you had never had a date. Not because you couldn't get one. People had asked you out before, but you always ended up turning them down. You just had no desire to date anyone. When you were younger, you just thought you hadn't reached that point yet. That if you waited, the desire to date would eventually come to you. Well then, you were eighteen now as previously stated, and you still had no desire to date anyone. It wasn't that you’d never found anyone attractive or anything. You had a couple of crushes, put it just never went beyond 'that person is hot' point.

So if you had zero interest in real life dating, what interest would you even have in a styrofoam and typical dating simulator that only existed to have degenerates drool over bubblegum-haired anime girl? Even if it was seemingly inspired by your favorite cartoon from childhood. 

You found yourself smiling a bit as you were brought back to a happier time. You grew up with the golden era of Cartoon Network back in the 2000’s. All the classics, none of that crap that played today. 

Samurai Jack, Ben 10, Sym-Bionic Titan, Teen Titans (The good one, not Teen Titans Go). And of course, Generator Rex. What was it to say about that show that made you love it so much? Everything from the punk rock attitude to the expansive worldbuilding and action sequences; it was easily one of Man of Action's magnum opus. You were heartbroken when you learned it had been cancelled shortly after Season 3 ended for a bunch of reasons you never really cared to learn, too upset about the loss of your favorite show to investigate. 

Maybe it was because of Gen Rex that you were now studying on a robotics engineering degree on college. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one to actually create nanites in real life? That would be the day…

You looked at the cover again, being innocently displayed on Stream. The game's name was in bright bold script, the show’s regular title on the top and looking just like how you remembered it, while the phrase Generating Love was under it and written in brightly colored pink cursive letters. So cliche for a dating sim. 

Right under the title and in front of what you guessed was a park was the man himself; Rex Salazar. Or at least, an anime version of him. Anime Rex’s skin tone was a little lighter than in canon and his mahogany eyes were a bit bigger in typical anime fashion, but asides from that, he looked just like how you remembered him. He had a big toothy and playful smile on his face, winking at you. One hand was on top of his heart while the other was extended to you, as if offering you to take it and to come with him. Despite the cheesiness of the cover, you did smiled a bit. Whoever made this game at least clearly understood Rex’s character.

Speaking of this game’s developer, you didn’t get any info of them. You also didn’t get much description about this game, asides from the fact that it was like an interactive light novel with some RPG elements. You scrunched your face. You knew that after its cancellation, Generator Rex became a starving fandom but whoever this developer was, they must’ve been real desperate to create a dating sim of all things. Still, a small part of you was intrigued…

Before you knew it, you found yourself spending a good five dollars on the game. That might not sound like much, but on a college student's budget it was a small fortune. Afterwards, you wasted no time installing the game and it started up.

Cheerful music played as the title screen came up. It was the same one from the cover page that you saw. The title screen itself was very simplistic, just the game's title and menu. The background was that of the same park as the cover, before it changed to a basketball court at dawn that you remembered Rex and Noah would sometimes play together in the show. You grinned as you remembered fondly how Rex was never able to properly shoot any hoops. 

You sighed and clicked on new game. It loaded quickly, and the screen turned black for a few seconds before it lighted up again. You were in a sterile white hallway, and the same Rex from the cover page appeared before you. He had one hand on his hip, another raised high in the air as if frozen mid-wave. He also had a big toothy grin and was winking at you. 

"Hi! You must be the new Providence agent! I’m Rex!" He told you cheerfully. You were a bit surprised as you didn't expect this seemingly cheap looking game to have voice acting. Very solid one at that. It almost sounded like they actually hired his VA from the show for this. Growing more curious, you clicked on the screen to continue the conversation. 

Rex now was folding his arms, but he still had that big smile on as he asked you the question, "What’s your name?”

A text bar appeared, seemingly to help you insert your name. You entered your name and after submitting it, Rex’s sprite was the same but this time his eyes were closed and his goofy grin became bigger. 

"That sounds like a fun name! Nice to meet ya!"

Despite knowing this was just the game following its predetermined code…something about Rex’s words made you blush. You clicked on the screen again. 

"There’s still some time before we’re assigned to our next mission. What do you wanna do as we wait?" Rex asked, returning to his initial position of hand on his hip with an easy smile. 

Four new options appeared on screen. You could talk, train together, visit Rex’s room or go on a mission. After a bit of thought, you selected the third option. Afterwards, Rex’s position remained the same but his eyes were closed and he had an open smile. 

"You’re not wasting anytime, huh? I like that! My room’s just this way! Prepare to witness pure awesomeness!" Rex announced cheerfully, and you actually found yourself giggled slightly. He was just so silly…

The screen went black for a few moments before it lightened up to reveal a background of Rex’s room from the show. Rex himself was standing in the center with his arms folded and with a smug grin as he winked again. 

"So, what do you think? Is it awesome or what?"

Three new options made their appearance. One saying "Yes, awesome!", another one saying "It’s very nice" and the final one saying "Not really…". Since you didn’t want to be rude, and also because Rex’s enthusiasm was just so infectious, you selected the very first option. 

"I know, right?!" Rex said, now with his eyes closed again and with a big smile. His sprite then changed into a pout of annoyance as he hunched over with his arms folded again. "Good thing Bobo’s not here right now. He would likely had trashed the place before we arrived…"

The mention of the EVO chimp made you chuckle, as you remembered all of his wacky antics and comedic moments that always brought a laugh out of you when you were a kid. After you finished, you clicked on the screen again. 

"So, what kind of games do you like? I got lots of 'em! Some I borrowed from my friend, Noah, but others I actually bought for myself!" Rex asked, his previous pouting expression returning to that of enthusiastic happiness. He then winked mischievously as he smirked sideways "Just don’t tell my boss White Knight, okay?" 

You snorted at the playful tone that Rex used. Soon after, rather than a list of options, a text bar appeared. You were a little surprised at first, but then you decided to roll with it. So you typed in massive multiplayer online. 

"Really? What class do you main?" Rex asked, his expression changing into one of curiousness. You honestly thought that he looked quite cute. 

Once again a text bar appeared. You typed in 'The Mage Class'. 

"So you're the kind to use magic huh? Bet people get annoyed with you." Rex said, with a pleasant smile but a mischievous glint on his mahogany eyes. 

Yet another text bar. You typed in. "Often, still better than an archer though."

You two continued to talk in a way that felt surprisingly natural, and after about an hour you said goodbye. You actually kind of enjoyed that. A week then went by and nothing changed in your life, aside from the fact that you greatly wanted to play the dating sim again. You were a bit confused over your uncharacteristic eagerness to play a dating sim, even if it was one of your favorite childhood cartoon, but you decided not to question it. 

The minute you actually had free time again you started up the game to find Rex standing in the middle of the Providence hallway like he had last time. 

"Hi there! Where have you been? I missed you a lot!" He told you enthusiastically, as if he actually did missed you. He had an easy expression on, with a grin and his arms crossed. 

A text bar appeared and you typed in, "I missed you too." 

"Of course you missed me! I’m awesome like that!” Rex said, eyes closed and grinning from ear to ear. You found yourself smiling alongside him. "So what do you want to do today?"

The same four options from last time appeared once again and this time, you decided to click on Talk option. 

"What do you want to talk about?" Rex asked, his posture and expression were the same but his eagerness was still evident on his voice. Another text bar appeared instead of options. You weren’t really sure if the game would let you, but you decided to type in your favorite thing; books. 

"So, you’re the bookworm kind huh? That’s nice" Rex said, with his mahogany eyes widening slightly to show his surprise. They then changed back to normal as an easygoing smirk appeared on his face. "What kind of books do you like?" 

You typed in. "Most books, though I like comics the most."

You continued your talk about books, with Rex claiming to actually enjoy tawdry romance novels a lot. You didn’t knew if it was because he was just following the traditional writing for a dating sim, or because this was the developer’s way of showing how Rex was actually a sucker for cheesy romance stories like in the show. 

You two had long talk about your favorite books that somehow transformed into a conversation about your favorite foods to Rex telling you about Bobo’s latest antics to you two complaining about the people that frustrated you the most in your lives. For Rex, that was White Knight and most people at Providence who insisted of having him live as a weapon, and for you, it was all your classmates at college and their constant teasings about you remaining single all your life. 

You agreed to have a training session with Rex in which you got familiar with this game’s RPG mechanics, and afterwards, you got off and said your goodbyes to continue your life. Of course it was now only a few days later that you decided to play the game again. You wanted to see Rex again. You wasn't sure why but the program felt really real to you, and you enjoyed your conversations.

This time when you arrived, Rex wasn't standing on the Providence hallway but rather he was on his room, his arms crossed, and had a look of relief on his face. 

"Hey, you’re back! I was beginning to think that you forgot about me!" Rex laughed, but it sounded strained and unconvincing. The small smile on his face filled your heart with concern. 

You hastily typed reassurance into the text bar. 

"I'm glad you didn't forget about me. How could you, anyway? Not everyone has the chance to get to know a world famous hero like myself!"

You giggled, and you typed your agreement. With Rex looking much more relaxed, he asked you what you wanted to do today, and you two resumed your usual routine of talking, hanging out on his room, training together and completing the occasional mission which you handled without much difficulty. 

As time passed and you and Rex interacted more and more, you found himself surprised at just how sophisticated Rex was for an AI. For a game that you bought on Steam, it was quite complex. 

The next time the usual options to do with Rex appeared, to your surprise, there was now a fifth option. Go out. You weren’t to surprised though, as you had advanced enough in the game for you and Rex to actually start going out on dates. You clicked on the Go Out and Rex smirked. 

"Oh? Planning to sneak out? Now we’re talking! Just follow me! I know the perfect breaking out path!"

The hallway background faded and was replaced by a park during the sunset. Rex appeared soon enough, arms crossed and smiling wide. 

“Do you want me to take you?” He asked. Three options appeared. You could either select the arcade, the basketball court, or the library. You decided on the third option. 

"Let’s go then!" Rex chirped, closing his eyes and grinning just as happily as ever. The screen faded to black again before a library background appeared alongside an eager-looking Rex. 

"Do you want me to read to you?" He asked, and in the text bar that subsequently appeared, you typed how you normally prefer to read by yourself. 

"Oh. Ya veo…" Rex mumbled. He seemed genuinely disappointed. He brightened quickly however. “Then would you like to read to me?”

"How would that work?” You typed. 

“Easy! I can listen through the microphone. Cool, right?" Rex said casually as if stating the obvious. You however, were very surprised. 

Really? You supposed that made some kind of sense but you hadn’t thought the game was that sophisticated, even if Rex displayed some freaky behavior before. 

"Okay" He typed in anyway. 

“What would you like to read?” Rex asked, to your growing surprise a selection of books was not given to him, but a text bar. You could choose any book you wanted? Maybe you should choose something a bit short so that you could finish it? 

"Do you have any short story compilations?" You typed. Rex pulled one up and you two spent the rest of the ‘date’ reading a few.

When you were about to exit the game, you was surprised when Rex suddenly gained a look of hurt. And in the most impossibly low and saddened voice you’ve ever heard him or anyone else have, he whispered. 

“Do you really have leave?”

You wasn’t sure why Rex would be programmed to show sadness upon him leaving. Perhaps it was a way of making the player feel loved? Whatever the case, you almost felt bad about leaving. Even if Rex was just an AI. 

"Sorry, but I have college classes in the morning. If I stay up too late I’ll sleep through them.”You typed.

Rex then heaved a sigh, eyes closed and mouth pressed into a thin line, before reopening his saddened mahogany eyes again. 

"I get it. I’ll be waiting for you then…"

Things continued in this manner over the next month. Every few days you would feel the urge to check on Rex. Every time you arrived, Rex would be right next to the screen as though waiting for you. Then you two would have a date, or talk, or go to his room or train/go on a mission together, and eventually you would have to leave. And no matter what, Rex always seemed sad when this would happen.

Over time, you become attached to Rex. This was extremely confusing to you, as despite enjoying Rex’s company and wanting to see him often, you still had no desire to actually date anyone. Or even try out other dating sims for that matter.

The next time you played the game things were very different. Instead of the Providence hallway, or Rex’s room, or literally any other of the backgrounds you have become familiar with, there was just a simple black background. There was nothing there with the exception of Rex himself. He was staring at the ground, holding himself. His expression a mixture of distress and sadness. 

You called out to him, only to remember that you really couldn’t do that. So then you typed in his name on the text bar that still miraculously could appear. 

“Oh. You’re here.” Rex said, but he sounded different. He no longer sounded happy to see you again. He just sounded distant and hurt. 

"What’s wrong?" You asked. And to your surprise and concern, Rex just laughed bitterly. His harrowing expression twisting into a bitter and humorless smile, unlike any of the ones you grown accustomed to. 

"Just thinking about how unfair my existence is, y’know? I’m trapped in this stupid simulation; unable to breathe, or touch things, or see people…" He listed, and your eyes widened in shock. “All I can ever do is wait for you to show up and spend time with me. It’s awful. Way to live a life, don’t you think?” 

"When did you become self aware?" Despite your surprise, you were still worried about Rex so you typed in that. 

“I think it was like three weeks ago? I started to notice small things. Like how I can never move a lot, how backgrounds faded in and out around me, how little control I had over anything. Once I realized where I was, and that I was the only one here, I started to become desperate to see you again. For any kind of contact. So whenever you showed up, I was so happy. I…" Rex paused, his expression uncertain as he glanced away "Well, I…”

"You what?" You typed.

“I think I actually fell in love with you...” Rex confessed, and then laughed bitterly. “It’s funny isn’t it? I know it’s in my programming and that you’re part of the real world, but I can never truly be with you. But here I am, head over heels for you. I’m such a dork...”

You found yourself wanting to comfort the AI especially since you had started to care for him as well. 

"No more than I am." You typed in, "I like you too. A lot. More than any real person I’ve met.”

Rex gave you a watery smile, and you could almost actually see the tears beginning to form in his mahogany eyes. "Thanks but…it’s not like there’s anything that can be done about it.”

"Well I do know a little bit coding, so maybe I could work out a way to put your AI in one of my smart devices?

“C’mon, man. Don’t joke like that…” Rex sighed, glancing away again.

"I’m not, I think I could do it. Sure I can’t make you real, but I could put you in my smartphone. Then you can come with me everywhere." 

Rex actually looked shocked. “You would do that for me?”

"No, for us." You typed in.

“You’re such a sap" Rex teased, but he actually started smiling again, "But…I guess we can give it a try."

You smiled back at him, even if you weren’t completely certain if he could see you through the camera. Transferring an AI, especially one as advanced and as sophisticated as Rex, would certainly be a process. It will take you a long time to do it, but in the meantime, you can keep visiting Rex anytime you wanted. 

And you weren’t joking with what you said to him before. You really liked Rex; you didn’t cared what anyone else thought. You were determined to make the transfer for the both of you, no matter what it costed. 

And hey, Rex has always been your childhood crush anyway. And now, you get to actually live out your dream. Just another reason why you loved Generator Rex so much…

[marauders-bs]

p3 @r0seprincess even more meadowes kiddos for you <3 @jamie-potters thank you for listening to my bs :D gotta do a lil smile at this :) god the simple fact that seven is late to cas says so much about her

this is sweet actually there's not much in it just a filler. the skittles having their first happy christmas will always get to me. you should all be prepared tho quidditch shit is about to start

p pre p1 p2

"Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas-"

"I'm up, I'm up," Dorcas mumbled, and the scene finally came in to focus. Pandora was leaning over Dorcas and poking her in the side, blonde hair falling into her face.

Pandora stood up, Dorcas rubbing her eyes and following.

"Happy Christmas!" Barty's energetic voice called from directly outside the door. "Can we come it and jump you?"

"What time is it?" Dorcas asked Pandora.

"Almost seven," she answered. "The kids are still asleep, so we thought we'd let you sleep in."

Dorcas pulled on a jumper, green flannel pajama pants slung low on her hips and brushing the ground. "Yes, Bat, you can come in."

The door flew open and the three boys entered, Barty in the lead. He grabbed Pandora by the hand and dragged her out of the room, complaining about his hunger and his boredom. Hermione felt her eyebrows raise at the two of them. They were kids, but they seemed to have the childish infatuation that Hermione and Ron had had.

Dorcas rolled her eyes, already seeming more awake, and followed Pandora and Barty out of the room. Barty was talking incessantly, and Hermione gathered that he was excited to be spending Christmas not getting yelled at for existing. 

All five of them were talking over each other until they entered the Meadowes living room to find the four youngest Meadowes slumped on the floor under the Christmas tree, all tucked under blankets and curled around wrapped presents. Astra was so close to the tree it was hard to see her. Dorcas's grandparents were asleep in the armchairs closest to them, and it made Hermione wonder where they were coming from and how late they'd been up.

Dorcas put a finger to her lips and gestured them to the kitchen. She directed Barty to get the spices and the others to get what looked like pancake ingredients. 

The four got up quickly, Ari rushing to help Pandora find a glass to pour herself milk, Astra falling asleep again the second Regulus picked her up, Jasper talking a mile a minute at Barty and June helping Dorcas with breakfast. 

Hermione smile, and the memory began to spin.

-

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin as a loud bang sounded before the scene had fully come into focus.

"I hate school," Barty groaned, having just slammed him book closed in frustration.

"Join the club," Regulus snapped, pointing his wand at Barty. "You're in regular, first-year Potions. I've never taken that class. I am fighting for my damn life out here, Crouch."

Hermione actually heard Harry's head snap to her. "It is Barty Crouch Junior!" he said.

"Shh," Hermione said, though she nodded to acknowledge the fact that he was right.

"You chose it," Pandora said.

"Dora," Evan said quietly. Pandora moved to his side of table immediately. Hermione moved with her, looking to see what was happening.

"Don't even talk, Junior," Dorcas said. "First year everything for you. Do you think I want to have to deal with Reg's brother and his crew of idiots in half my classes and Snape and Avery in the other half?"

"That's fair," Barty said, thumping the book open again.

Hermione focused on Evan's notebook as the conversation stopped. Words of what looked like a poem about a drowning boy were written in handwriting drastically different from the rest of the writing in the book. It wasn't pretty cursive, but jagged block letters.

A prophecy. That was the only solution.

"Were there any visions with it?" Pandora asked.

Dorcas snapped up. "A prophecy?"

"Another one?" Regulus said, leaning against Evan's shoulder to read the jagged writing.

"What's it about?" Barty asked, leaning against Evan's other shoulder.

"No idea," Evan answered. "Something about a drowning boy and lost love and a life's mission."

Barty made a face, Dorcas copying it.

The scene began to whirl. Realizing it was over, Hermione wondered why this was one of Dorcas's most important memories.

-

The next memory was a classroom very familiar to Hermione. It was the transfiguration classroom, and Dorcas was sitting at a table, flicking her wand with a practiced ease.

"How are you doing that?" the girl next to her asked.

With a jolt, Hermione realized that this girl was the one Dorcas had met on her first train ride- Marlene McKinnon.

Dorcas shrugged. "You're flicking your wand wrong. Here."

She wrapped her hand around Marlene's, directing her in the motion.

Oh. Hermione understood why this memory was so important. She remembered the picture, and how close Dorcas and Marlene had stood. Maybe they ended up friends, but maybe...

"Oi, Marlene," Remus said from a desk over, Sirius and James in between them. "How'd you get that?"

"Dorcas did it, ask her," Marlene said.

Dorcas began to teach him to do it, but Hermione didn't listen to it. She was too busy looking at Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter. Sirius's hair was shoulder-length and beautiful, and he sat tall and comfortable in between James and Remus. He looked at ease, and the bags under his eyes were near-nonexistent. Remus wore gloves even in the class, but what kept Hermione's eyes on him was his unscarred face. She was sure he was scarred, just not where he let show. James was lounging back in his chair, his project clearly completed, and was turning a chain necklace from gold to silver and back again and again. Just as with Dorcas, it was ridiculously advanced magic for a twelve-year-old, but he did it with ease. Peter was perhaps the only unremarkable one in the group, but what hurt Hermione, knowing what he did later, was the ease he fit in with the others.

The memory whirled away.

-

"Cas!" someone shouted delightedly, small footsteps padding on the floor. "Reg! I found Jas!"

"Oh, good job, petite étoile," Regulus said, picking up Astra. "You too, Jas. Doesn't he get to pick dessert now, Cas?"

Dorcas nodded, smiling at June, who was asleep in her arms. "But that will come later. For now, it's nap time for you and for us, yeah?"

"Okay!" Jasper said energetically.

Dorcas watched them run away, and Hermione took note of the bittersweet smile on her face. "I hope they never lose that," she told Regulus, readjusting June in her arms. "Even if Mom comes back, I hope they stay this happy."

"Do you want the statistical number or the hopeful one?" Regulus asked, reaching out to take June. From what Hermione could see, he had taken to the kids incredible well. Whatever he'd called Astra seemed like a sweet nickname, and this eleven- maybe twelve by now- year old Regulus did not compare to the R.A.B. who had written the note left in the fake locket. 

"He's so different," Ron said, looking quizzically at the memory boy. "They all are."

"Of course they're not," Harry said, and Hermione looked over to him, surprised, as he looked at Regulus crooning to Astra in French. "War will do that to a person, and so will someone's parents."

"When did you get this philosophical?" Ron asked, nudging him with his shoulder.

"Sixth year," Harry answered, sending him a sideways smile. 

Hermione rolled her eyes but laughed with the boys as the scene whirled on.

[the-storming-sea]

im too much of a coward to add this to the main post but why are people still rbing this thing and sending it around when it is clearly AI. like ive been seeing this crop up every now and then and several people in the notes being like "oh this is AI" yet its still being passed around, with some people in the notes still treating it like its real. as of right now there are 53k notes.

but anyways. back to this being AI. aside from the fact it is clearly a parodied version of the "outta my way gayboy I’m boutta liberate my divine self from this mortal shell / hopital" post, im gonna go over this further below.

Probably one of the most direct indicators, there are two "give me"'s here. at the very least, if this was truly penned by a real person, the author would have crossed it out.

also very direct, this word (aive?) straight up is not a word that exists in the English dictionary. ironically when i did look up the word "aive" in duckduckgo, it apparently stands for "Artificial Intelligence for Video Experience," a platform that uses AI on videos. my sibling also pointed out that it was probably meant to be the word "give" but replaced with an "a" instead of a "g". Again, a person would likely have crossed this word out.

there's a letter between the a and p in "perhaps" that doesn't look like any existing letter. the closest thing is probably a q?

there are too many "humps" in the m of the second September, though theoretically we could assume this is due to the arsenic poisoning the journalist presumably had. similarly the fact there is no day written in the second entry could theoretically be attributed to this fact.

Now im gonna get a bit nitpicky with the cursive in these next bullet points. i will start with this first: the two r's in September are completely different. the first R is the r used in the Palmer Method while the second r is in the style of Zaner-Bloser script, what we think of as regular cursive (you can compare both styles here). Only the Palmer method existed in 1900, while the Zaner-Bloser script only came about around 1904, though arguably maybe theres some other similar cursive style im not aware of that existed at this time. Either way, the fact they appear on the same page, when someone would presumably stick to the same way of writing in their own journal, is telling that this isnt real

also want to add the Palmer Method r can also be found in the word "perhaps" and "arsenic" in the first paragraph.

another issue with the cursive: the bs. the bs are not supposed to connect to the e's in. Palmer b's (and Zaner-Bloser b's) have a little gap at the top, which these b's lack, and the e's would be more horizontal, not vertical

the largest issue with the cursive though are the S's. one of the s's look like the Palmer s's at all (demonstrated above). With the B's, you could argue that some cursive writers could write them like this, but cursive s's look way different than regular print s's. for example, below is the Palmer Method for the upper and lower case s's (the Zaner-Bloser s's look similar)

also this is not a lowercase f in the Palmer method, and the u is dotted like an i

there's probably more issues – a lot of people talk about the oily look of AI here, which i can see but dont think is necessarily indicative of anything here. There's also probably more issues with the cursive, though a good-faith argument would be "people write cursive differently."

but really, even without me rambling about the cursive (and i must admit, while i grew up learning how to write cursive, i am not someone who knows a Ton about cursive from the 1900s) it only takes the first few bullet points to know that this is AI. like, the AI wrote give me two and a half times, and the first time they wrote "give" it didn't even do it correctly. And again, its a parody of a previous post actually from tumblr. yet somehow people are still rbing this like it is real.

final note. we gotta get better with being able to spot fakes like this and not rbing them (or deleting the rb as soon as we realize it), especially fakes where there are clear signs that its fake. if AI is going to make it easier to fake scripts like this, there may be a lot of fake documents popping up left and right in the future.

Of course, there's always the chance that something isn't AI or a fake, and the "inconsistencies" found are just natural human error. In the most good faith interpretation of this image, i could say that the cursive inconsistencies and the misspellings are because the author just writes differently and messes up like the rest of us. but in situations like this image – where the errors aren't even corrected or crossed out properly, and the writing of the letter s doesn't match up to the time period – the leading conclusion has to be that this is fake. you just have to really look at all the evidence to know for sure.

[wardofthecross]

Hello to the rp blog ooc! I'm new to this and I've just joined the rp! I'm still kind of new to this whole thing since I'm new to tumblr in general. But I'm really excited to join! I'm really only gonna play as an oc. But my name is just S or Sophus if you call me ooc. I dont really have an rp account? So I only have my regular account connected to this one! I'm really excited! Thank you! (Also im on vacation! so as soon as i get off in about 3 days i'll update more!)

Oc Lore for now:

His name is Maverick Madlock and he's just a teenager (around 16) who lives next to John. His father and mother are strict devout catholics. Maverick is a rather serious teenager. He doesnt have many friends (or any at all). The local kids say that he does live up to his name of being "mad". The adults think he's sick in the head. Honeslty he might be. He's very good at putting up a perfect "good christian boy" front in the presence of adults. But behind closed doors.. He's a demon from hell. He hangs around the local church often. Praying the rosary. Reading a bible tabbed and annotated in every margin in messy slanted cursive. God knows who this kid is. He's a perfect little angel really. No one has really seen the demonic fire that rages inside of him.

Also for looks I have a small description here:

He has inky black hair that falls to the nape of his neck in extremely unruly, fluffy layers. He had the same unruly curtain bangs framing his face. His hair a mess of waves and soft curls and fluffiness yet still tame enough to look proper. He has softer facial features than most boys his age. He had extremely tan and sunkissed skin not to mention his skin was littered with freckles. Literally. He had freckles all over his body from what it seemed. His cheeks, forehead, face, neck, collarbones, chest, arms, legs, waist, etc. The brown flecks absolutely covered his skin in large constellations. He always wore a dark black collared shirt with black dress pants and black Doc Martens on the days were they got to be out of uniform. He wore a saint necklace of Saint Agatha of Sicily. The Saint he had chosen for his confirmation. He has cold brown eyes that genuinely appeared black. Maybe they were black. No one ever got close enough to tell. They were harsh and apathetic. Observing and sharp. He's watching. His nails were short from biting them constantly. Bleeding at the edges sometimes. He has a look of perfection and messiness. Two sides of that same coin.

ooc posting for once but new rp person!! say hello (threat)

[w1lted-r0se]

could we get uhm

level two , any masc character from any source (maybe one you really wanna do / a source you like? were not picky, we just prefer having introjects,) ,

with the add ons of kins , handwriting claim , and voice claim ?

cause we need someone to help manage our personality disorder symptoms ,

OF COURSE DEAR ANON!!

here you go~

we may have gotten inspired to do a regular flyte pack after doing one for twisted flyte hehe :3

Names: Flyte, Butterfly, Wing, Moth, Angel, Fluff, Larry, Star, Flower, Daisy, Aquamarine

Pronouns: He/Him, H3/H3m, Hy/Hymn, H💕/H💕m, H🦋/H🦋m, They/Them, Th3y/Th3m, Thy/Thym, Th💕y/Th💕m, Th🦋y/Th🦋m, It/Its, Iy/Iys, I🦋/I🦋s, I💕/I💕s Ae/Aers Fae/Faes Xe/Xem Heart/Hearts, Flower/Flowers, Star/Stars, Toon/Toons, Icor/Icors, Bug/Bugs 💕/💕s 🦋/🦋s

Genders: Demiboy, Transmasc, Dissofae, Springchimegender, butterflyyapper, Pibeutden, butterflysquish, Somnolentuspapilio

Age: Age slider from teen to adult

Roles: Personality disorder symptoms holder, dissociation holder

Likes: Researching, Butterfly’s, Moths, Flying creatures, Bugs, Caterpillars, The colour pink, Makeup, Flowers, Arachnids, Boats, Crusies

Dislikes: Bullies, People making fun of people with disorders, Being fake claimed, R/fakedisodercringe, Water

Faceclaim:

How they fulfil their roles: They tend to dissociate in classes, with family, with friends, anywhere really. and they tend to show the most symptoms of personality disorders out of anyone in the system.

Typing quirk: Changes e to 3 and i to 1, also types with spaced out and double punctuation. Example: H3llo th3re ,, 1ts n1c3 to m33t you ..

Transids: Transflowersmelling, Transwinged, Transbutterfly

Cisids: Cistoon, Cisdandysworld

Sign off: 🦋💕, 🪽☀️, 💗⭐️

Kins: Butterfly therian, Moth therian, Object kin of the squish mellow below

Handwriting claim:

Flowey, Neat cursive

Voice claim: non verbal most of the time, but when he does speak i think it would sound a bit like a masculine version of fluttershy or dipper pines

[hulahoopsoupgroup]

good evening everyone. i have decided that i need to write more, so ive made a list of ships/other platonic dynamics from genshin and hsr that i like, and i'll be writing some short blurbs about them over the next month or so

day 1: cyno x tighnari

tighnari quietly peered over the book he was reading, some 500 page tome about plants that nobody else in the house except himself understood. cyno stumbled into the living room, his red eyes dim with fatigue as he put his bag down beside the front door before going straight to tighnari, flopping down on the couch beside him and leaning his whole bodyweight against him.

tighnari put the book down onto his lap and brought one hand up to gently comb through cynos hair.

"rough day at work?"

"just very tedious. people are stupid sometimes," cyno muttered, sitting up to grab the tcg deck that he always kept on the coffee table. he quietly shuffled through the cards, arranging them on the table in different teams. tighnari could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he mulled over the best teams at his disposal, eventually pulling out a sketchbook and messily scribbling the shapes of a few exotic plants.

"how was your day?" cyno asked after a while, "hows that new class youre teaching?"

"its alright, i suppose," tighnari muses, eyes not leaving the page, "much less stuffy than the akademiya, thats for sure. less pretentious, too. i think itll turn out alright."

one of tighnaris ears twitched at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. a timid collei crept into the room, eyes landing on cyno and tighnari. she nearly walked right back up the stairs, something the botanist had learned was a habit of hers from her old house, but tighnari softly called to her,

"hey, its alright. you can come down here if you want." he watched as the girls body language started to become more relaxed, and he began to relax as well. the past month had been quite rough on all of them, especially with the legal battles of getting custody of the 13 year old and putting her poor excuse for a father in prison. however, moments like these provided even the briefest moments of respite and glimmers of hope of a future that needn't be plagued with anxious tremors or jolting flashbacks of the past in the dead of night.

collei quietly made her way over to the couch, sitting on the side opposite to cyno and tighnari.

"how was your day, collei? did you do anything fun?" cyno asked, trading his tcg deck for a regular deck of cards and beginning to build a tower out of them on the coffee table.

"it was...good? im learning a lot of science-y stuff from mister tighnari," the girl mumbled quietly.

"your handwriting is getting quite good," tighnari said, glancing at her with a soft smile before returning to his sketches of plants that now littered the page in front of him, "almost better than cynos," he added with a chuckle.

cyno glared at him, adding another tier to his house of cards. "your handwriting is a slew of cursive, not much better than mine." tighnari elbowed him in the ribs, but cyno remained steady, and his tower of cards stayed upright.

"oh, by the way, what music were you playing in your room earlier?" tighnari asked.

"oh, i- uh," collei stuttered, "i can turn it down if you want. sorry if it was too loud..."

"no, it wasnt at all. it actually sounded familiar. i liked it a lot."

"oh. it was a lot of stuff from the 1950s, like," collei paused to remember the names of the artists, "nat king cole...frank sinatra...louis armstrong."

"i have a cd of frank sinatra in our bedroom," cyno mused as he added yet another tier to his card tower, "do you want to borrow it?"

"s-sure...by the way...is there any food in the kitchen i could use to cook? i didnt eat dinner earlier..."

"yeah, of course," tighnari said, already moving to get up.

"...i didnt have time to eat at work, either," cyno quietly said.

"then come on, you too. looks like im going to be the chef again tonight."

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER IX

MANY MONTHS HAD PASSED since the incident at Ashfordshire Estate and (name)'s newfound kindness and affection towards William ,who had technically saved her life even though it wasn't in much need of saving according to her, had quickly deteriorated for one reason and one reason alone...

"My lady, Lord Moriarty has sent another letter..and a gift," Josephine said as she entered (name)'s room with a gift wrapped parcel and a letter.

(Name) didn't even bat an eye or break her concentration from the book she was reading, 'Frankenstein' by Mary Shelley . "Put them with the others," she said in a bored tone, jerking her head to the side where grey eyes landed on a pile of gifts, all from different noblemen who had attempted to receive her hand in marriage.

"The pile with more letters." She reminded, sensing Josephine's hesitation.

Her eyes shifted to a separate pile which consisted of many letters and the gifts, which had mostly been unwrapped, were different to that of the ones in the first pile. The gifts were more sincere and instead of sappy letters consisting of terrible poetry, or sweet nothings, the letters were straightforward, kind, but clearly had one goal in mind. There was the odd letter with terrible handwriting in comparison to his regular cursive, which were all clearly written in a drunken state. He would write a few strange things in the letters, such as odd little compliments that (name) couldn't decipher the meanings off, instead she felt sorry for his brothers.

After William had brought it up first at the ball, where they danced together before (name) ran off to Ashfordshire, he had been pestering her about how good she would be on the team, in person, in letters and he had even once broken into her bedroom in attempt to convince her, but that had lead to fracture in William's leg so he stopped for about a week before flooding her mailbox again.

"His leg finally healed and now he decides to get bolder? What a desperate man.." (name) muttered to herself while Josephine struggled to keep William's stacks of letters from falling.

All of them had been read but each said almost the same thing, along the lines of 'please join me in my endeavours to create a new world free of the class system', occasionally they would come with gifts ranging from her favourite flowers or jewellery with her favourite diamonds or gems or book recommendations or chocolates that she actually liked and even, at one point, a cute little stuffed cat toy which held a close resemblance to the woman.

Josephine finished placing the gift, which once it had been opened by (name) turned out to be a customised chess set with a little note telling her to practice her chess skills with a little smiley face When the two weren't studying to fuel their rivalry in their youth, William would sometimes challenge (name) to chess and since their first game, she had still not won once.

As her aide had left to go get more mail, presumably from other noblemen who were desperately trying to win her affections with no avail, (name) had opened the letter and read it intently.

Ah, now this was new.

An invitation to the Moriarty manor in London to discuss a potential arrangement to the two. The strange thing was, that William had written that if she had come to this one meeting and she didn't agree, he would leave her alone.

Was this a trap? What if he blackmailed her into joining him..no..she had nothing worth using as blackmail. Everything she had done could easily be flipped or blamed onto someone else, not that she would do that but until she was satisfied with her goal, she wanted to remain untouched by gossip or persecution at least for now until she could return to (home country) when she would need to claim her title as Grand duchess and work as a political advisor, not the most ideal job, but it had to be done so she held no objections to it.

"Josephine," (name) called out to the girl as she turned her head to face the door to her bedroom where Josephine stood with various flowers and shallow gifts from all sorts of noblemen and her weekly letter from her parents. "What is my schedule like for the remainder of the week?"

The now 15 year old placed down the items in their corresponding piles and spoke from memory as she approached her mistress "as I recall, there are no balls this week, and apart from a few meetings with the Marquis in regards to taking care of his business affairs, you should be free the day after tomorrow, Wednesday and you have a tea party with Lady Sinclair on Friday . I believe there may be a ball next week aswell. "

(Name) smiled and nodded, placing her hand on Josephine's head, which wasn't difficult due to her short stature, patting her affectionately. Josephine returned the smile then proceeded to question what her lady had wished to arrange.

"I am to visit the Moriarty Manor," she said, taking out a piece of  paper and a pen, quickly writing a short response with an oddly casual tone for the usually formal and elegant lady.

Dear Lord William,

If this must be what it takes for you to a top sending these preposterous letters and leave me to exist in peace, I shall take up your invitation to visit you. Expect me on Wednesday.

P.s. I have been working on my chess skills, fool. I'll beat you in no time.

From Lady (name)

"But I thought you weren't responding to any of his letters, your ladyship?" Josephine inquired as she passed the letter with the (last name) family seal to (name). "You're no longer upset with him, are you?"

"I haven't the faintest clue as to what he's planning but he did write that he'll stop bothering me if I do go.." she trailed off, opening the letter which had clearly been written by (name)'s mother in (mother tongue).

(Name) sighed in exasperation as she finished it. Another letter from her parents inquiring about a marriage. She didn't wish to marry any of her current admirers, that was for sure. The lady didn't really want to marry at all but as a lady in 19th century Britain, there really was not another option. Perhaps she could marry an older man and poison him to become a widow with no need for marriage.

Her parents did not wish to force her, that was clear. Instead they gave her time and space to pick her own husband and hopefully one she loved but no matter how it was put, it was an expectation and requirement to secure her title as the future Grand duchess and with her uncle's habit to keep mistresses but not wives nor with any legitimate children, she may also inherit the title as both the Grand Duchess and Marchioness (name) (last name). Her status wasn't making her marriage situation any easier

Most of the men who were sending her these 'love' letters wished either for her as their exotic little doll or her title.

Out of anger, (name) scrunched up the letter into a ball and threw it into the fireplace where it burnt to a crisp.

"My lady, are you alright?" Josephine asked, evidently worried "Did the letter upset you..?"

(Name) pinched her forehead and muttered to herself "another marriage reminder..I must do something..would marrying a man who has no interest in me would be ideal..a fake marriage wouldn't be a bad idea..but then there's the matter of children which would be necessary to continue my bloodline because I am their only daughter.."

These thoughts had been troubling her a lot more recently after the nobility now viewed the woman to be 'on the marriage market'. She had considered becoming a governess or something of the sort but a governess wouldn't usually be a woman of such high social standing and ther aim to become a professor would also be impossible if that were to occur.

(Name) thought it was foolish though, to call it a marriage market. It was as if she was being sold to man she did not wish to marry. That's how she had perceived it to be anyways.

At parties, men would ask to dance with her and ask her unnecessarily intimate questions which made her feel she was being constantly interviewed about marriage. Questions on topics such as how many children she wanted, her skills, her ability to manage a household and even what kind of man she desired.

"It's be suspicious if I didn't get married, right, Josephine?" (Name) then lifted her head up "and if I did marry someone,  they would have to know of the...crimes..I commit, along with my grand scheme for the empire, correct?"

Josephine nodded, unsure of what she could say to help Lady (name) who sighed in irritation.

"Oh what am I to do.."

"Lady (name) (last name), would you do the honour of marrying me?"

(Name) looked at William who was holding a little gold ring with a red gem on it in between his thumb and index finger.  She rolled her eyes as she accepted, holding her hand out for him to slip the ring onto its designated finger. The blond kissed her hand gently before (name) demanded that he stand up.

About 30 minutes before (name) had accepted William's proposal, she had arrived with Josephine to the Moriarty Manor, greeted by Louis at the door who seemed to be acting as though he were following a script for a play (name) did not know she was acting in. Once he had greeted the two, not another soul in sight, he had taken them to the lounge which (name) was now well acquainted with after multiple visits (and potential break-ins).

As Louis had opened the grand door to let the pair in, (name) spotted a familiar blond with an even more familiar smirk and his older brother, Earl Albert James Moriarty who she had seen countless times before, sat on a chair holding a glass of red wine as usual.

William flashed the noble lady an innocent , closed eye smile as he greeted her "Good day, my lady. I'm glad to see you accepted my humble invitation despite all the noblemen who have been calling for you in attempts to court you recently." His last words seemed to drip with venom despite his soft expression. "Please take a seat.How have you been? You have received my gifts and letters, haven't you? I was growing worried that they hadn't made their way to you-"

"Enough of the small talk, Moriarty. What's are you planning?" (Name) glared as she approached the man, remaining stood up just in case he tried anything "Knowing your scheming personality, you have a method of trapping me and making me your puppet. Save me the humiliation and make haste."

William's delicate and angelic smile instantly shifted to a devilish smirk as his scarlet eyes — which to (name) resembled that of a demon's but were strangely beautiful all the same — narrowed and his lips turned upwards.

"If you insist, sweetheart," he said as he leaned closer to the woman, making prolonged eye contact, amused at the still confident and determined woman he saw before him "I have a proposal for you."

"What, a marriage proposal?" (Name) joked "with the way you've been acting recently, I would not be surprised in the slightest..surely you would be better off directing your affections elsewhere.."

William chuckled softly and held (name)'s hands in his own dramatically as he looked at her with a now faux lovesick expression.

"Oh, but my lady, I must confess something," (name) raised a brow as William's tone changed to that of a whining child. "I am passionately enamoured by you..I find it difficult to eat. Slumber evades me..At midnight's hour I awaken calling our your name-"

(Name) scowled and released her hands from his, even more irritated than she was earlier. He was purposely trying to get on her nerves as usual. It was as if it was his primary source of entertainment.

"Should you jest any longer, I shall take my leave," (name)'s eyes darted around the room, avoiding eye contact in an attempt to mask her embarrassment "I demand to know why you have asked for me to come here."

William sighed, frowning before turning away and looking out of the window whilst (name) folded her arms and continued to glare at the blond, who could feel her piercing gaze burning into the back of his head.

"Why is that you continue to refuse to join me, yet you never properly responded to my letters?" William asked as if he was prompting something, as if he had a plan.

(Name) clenched her fists, clearly irritated as she her voice grew tense and terse "I had given you clear answers in person. I thought if i were to ignore your attempts to persuade me, you would grow tired. I'm afraid to admit I was wrong."

William turned his head to face (name) again, tilting his head. "But you are yet to provide me a reasonable explanation as to why you do not want to join us. Isn't that odd?"

That statement felt like a smack in the face, reminding (name) of how overly emotional she was being with this decision. She had only come up with one reason as to why she didn't want to join William's little criminal network, that being that she could not bring herself to be around him for such long periods of time. Everything he did recently had managed to irritate her, even if it were harmless. She felt this strange feeling that went beyond hate and was ever so passionate and strong. That feeling haunted her in her dreams and every waking hour.

The blond male had noticed (name) growing more annoyed by the second, not a single word to say in retaliation. He continued "I only wish to make a change in the country, to prevent those of the lower class being treated as if they weren't human. You share that same goal along with your main one, which I'm very much aware of."

"How did you-" (name) sighed and instead tried to remain calm. She watched as William turned around completely and leaned closer to her, as if he was trying to intimidate her. Her hand made its way to her pocket which had a small tear on it to give her access to her upper leg and reach for the gun strapped to it, ready to pull it out if she needed to. "Nevermind. I'm able to do all this on my own, without your assistance. What do you plan to do with this newfound information then? Are you going to turn me in to the military intelligence? I'm sure you wouldn't take this lightly."

"If you do not wish to acquire my help, then why did you come to me when you found out about Ashfordshire's evil acts against various women?" William asked rhetorically. He had noticed (name) was in possession of a gun as he looked down to see her fidgeting with something in her pocket. He said nothing. "Your arguments seem to have many flaws, dear (name). Is this why you almost always were second place to me?"

(Name) swiftly pulled the small, but efficient, pistol and pointed it at William. Louis and Josephine at the side simultaneously gasped whilst Albert just swished his wine around, entertained by the scene. The red eyed devil's smirk widened as he leaned closer, pressing the gun to his own forehead as the woman in front of him seemed surprised momentarily but instead of pulling the gun away, she loaded the gun and rested her finger on the trigger, ready to shoot.

"If I do indeed refuse to join you, what will you do to me? What is the trap you've laid out for me so you finally feel the satisfaction of winning?" (Name) whispered, adding to the tension already existing through the room.

William replied in an equally hushed tone. "Turn you in, of course. You already are aware that my brother does work for the military and it would be a shame if he accidentally let slip to the higher ups that there was a person in the ton who planned to destroy the very empire that brings us power and glory, would it not, darling?"

(Name) kept the pistol in her hand, pressing it closer against William's soft face "Stop with the terms of endearment, or I'll pull the trigger. Why cant you just accept that I don't wish to follow the same life that you lead?" She asked, feeling almost threatened by his remark

"You wouldn't kill me, dear (name). You need me for your own entertainment as I need you just as much for other reasons and besides, you and I worked well against Ashfordshire and were able to kill him in a discreet manner-"

"There is nothing discreet about beating a man bloody and making it near impossible to dispose of him in a way that scandals would not arise. Perhaps you aren't as competent as you try to pretend to be." She had said nothing in regard to his first statement. It was now (name)'s turn to smirk, satisfied with her response until William smiled

"Which is exactly why I need you by my side. You and I are one in the same. I wish to take down the nobility and I'm willing to risk my life just to go against the nobility, in turn going against the empire. You wish to see the empire fall apart, I assume because of your loyalty to (home country). You are desperate to see the world change because you know what I am capable of" William leaned forward, only centimetres away from (name).

"If anyones desperate it's you. A new letter every morning just for me. Do you not have anything better to do than beg for me to —" (name) spat but was interrupted by William who seemed to be growing more flustered, probably because a gun was about to kill him any moment.

"—We can help each other. Although you have a high social status, I am able to give you the opportunity to take down this empire you hate so much and you can help me throughout my own plans."

The gun fell to the ground with a clatter. (Name) raised her hand in defeat as William's eyes widened. He hadn't expected it to be this easy.

"I am only going to say this once so listen well," she muttered to him. "..you win, William James Moriarty."

All the people in the room seemed equally in awe as William, including (name) herself. It was as if she was a completely different person entirely.

"Now that I have accepted your proposal, how do you plan to avoid any potential scandals or suspicious behaviours? I am an unmarried lady and you, an unmarried gentleman. I hope to evade any association with baseless conjecture." (Name) said, finally breaking the silence as she backed away from William.

William averted his gaze, for absolutely no particular reason, turning back to look at the view outside the window. "As expected of you, (name), you are correct. Which is why I have a solution for both this problem and the issues regarding your unwed status.."

"Which is?"

(Name) already knew what he was about to say though, but hearing it from him was still surprising.

William got down on one knee and pulled out a little red box, opening it to reveal a gold ring with a red gem on it.

"Lady (name) (last name), would you do me the honour of marrying me?"

In the following weeks, (name) and William had managed to create a fake love story between the two of them to wear like a mask in public. In order to spread news of the engagement and appear less suspicious or sudden, (name) had approached a young woman of the ton, only a couple years younger than herself, who she had acquainted herself with at a ball named Miss Charlotte Kensington, a girl who had recently been known to be quite the gossip in high society.

(Name) had carefully directed the conversation to marriage and courtships and then 'confessed' that she and William had been secretly courting for the past few months and were 'deeply in love'. To add more to the potential rumours that were to quickly spread, she had lied that she had once come to call on William only to find out that he had been visiting the jewellers which caused her to suspect he was to propose soon.

The story had spread like a wildfire and within minutes of ending her conversation with Charlotte, she had heard whispers of ladies complaining about William being off the marriage market and many men upset about the 'diamond of (home country)' no longer being available, some even questioning what (name) had seen in him which had strangely irritated her.

About a week after that particular ball, William and (name) had been promenading through a newly built park, full of noblemen and women with the others who were in on the plan and as planned, William had found a 'romantic' location to propose to (name), getting down on one knee and professing his love for the woman who had enthusiastically accepted, and even added a few fake tears for extra convincing.

A contract was written between the two and signed. The rules had consisted of  avoiding physical interactions in private, acting as a couple in public, having (name) participate in any schemes William would ask her to, an exchange of information from Albert to (name), completely loyalty to their ultimate goal and the final rule which had easily been mutually agreed on (and quite determined from both parties) , not divorcing until both of their goals were fulfilled. William had also refused to receive a dowry from (name), who was already really wealthy and willing to send over £15 000 (£939 135 in modern pound sterling or us $1193081.80) in dowry because he was not fond of the practice (“it’s as if you are paying me to marry you”) and instead sent just as much money to her despite not needing to.

After (name) had written to her parents and the engagement party was hosted, her parents had eventually arrived from (home country) to England for the wedding which was to be held in a month following the initial proposal. The facade of the love marriage made this easier than it should have been considering most couples at the time would have been engaged as children then married off about ten years later.

The arrangements for this grand wedding ("only the best for my daughter" Grand Duke (last name) had said when aiding the couple in the preparations) had been going smoothly and although (name) didn't wish to admit it, she was..excited. Not as much as Josephine of course. The girl had become like her little sister or even her own daughter and was incredibly excited on her lady's behalf.

Although William had already asked for permission to marry (name) from the Marquis, who was standing in as her closest male relative, he had still wanted to receive her parent's blessing and meet the couple who had managed to raise such a wonderful but also fierce spirited woman.

The wedding was to be held in the Grand Duke and Duchesses large estate in the capital and the newlyweds would also stay there for the beginning of their honeymoon before returning to (home country) with them. Honestly, the two had expected their daughter to marry a prince or even a kind of some sort once she was of age but as soon as they met William, all those doubts had flown out of the window and they had welcomed the young nobleman with open arms.

A few weeks prior to the wedding, (name) and William had waited for the ship with the Grand Duke and Duchess to arrive.

"You had better not cause any issues,William." (Name) hissed while she watched her parents leave the ship and approach the trio.

William smirked and responded  "Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

She sighed loudly in exasperation but waved to her parents with a smiled, who were approaching the couple and were ready to take the carriage to their estate.

"Mother! Father! How lovely to see you both once again!" The (hair colour)-ette had smiled brightly as she greeted her parents enthusiastically. This was the first time they had met in person for three years and they had only visited once before, very briefly due to diplomatic relations, during the entire five years she had been in England.

"We have really missed you, dear (name). Please forgive us for not being able to visit you. Oh how you've grown..!" (Father's name) exclaimed as he gave his daughter a hug, clearly feeling sentimental.

"It's alright, father..I've been well on my own." (Name) managed to squeak out amidst her father's tight embrace. Her mother eventually pried her husband off her and greeted her with a smile. The difference between their personalities could not have been more clear.

Her mother was quiet, cold on the surface, but gentle to those who she loved and very intelligent. She worried for her daughter a lot but never as much as her husband, who was a lot more cheerful and incredibly dedicated to his wife, but could be very cruel when necessary.

The Grand Duke looked over to a nervous William and flashed an even brighter smile. "You must be the gentleman our lovely daughter is to marry. She spoke very highly of you in her letter to us announcing the engagement, we couldn't be more happy for her to finally find someone she loves and is willing to marry."

William bowed politely "It's a pleasure to meet you, your grace, my name's William James Moriarty" He smiled as he held out his hand for the man to shake "(Name) seems to hold you in an equally high regard, and I can see why only from our first meeting."

The duke whispered to his wife who gave William a polite smile and nod "Look (mothers name), isn't he just perfect for our little (name)?" Except the whisper was quite loud and all of them could hear.

"Ahem..." (name) interrupted, clearly embarrassed by the whole ordeal and wishing for this strange clash between worlds to be over. "I think it's best we get going now, mother, father."

"Indeed..Come along, dear." Her mother said as she pulled her husband away to prevent him from squeezing William's hand to the point it would break.

Once they had arrived at the grand (Last name) family manor which hadn't been visited for years, the parents had promptly began questioning poor William.

"How did the two of you meet, William?" (Father's name) asked curiously as they had tea together.

(Name) felt nervous during the meeting. Her parents had easily seen through her since she was a child. One wrong word and it would all become apparent and she knew her parents would not approve of anything she was getting involved in. They wished for their daughter to marry for love and have a good relationship with her husband and they certainly did not want her murdering people or trying to single handedly take on an entire empire, one of the largest in the world.

She had to act all lovey-dovey with her husband to be and it was a pain.

"I had already mentioned it in my letters, father —"

(Name)'s mother interrupted "Your father asked your fiancé, allow the boy to speak." She said with a cold tone.

Ah, thought William, so this is where (name) had gotten her attitude from.

"Well, I first was graced by dear (name)'s presence when we were only 16 and from the first moment I had been not only completely enamoured by her beauty, but also her intellect. She was reading a play, the tempest, which I wasn't as much of a fan of compared to Shakespeare's other works but ever since that day, it has remained my favourite play ever since.” William confessed with a flustered smile “Although (name) seemed to dislike me at first, I continued to chase after her but was happy to even be acknowledged as her friend, I've grown to love her more with each breath I take and I would do absolutely anything to see her happy."

(Name) felt her face heat up at William's short monologue.

'He was faking! He wasn't telling the truth, get a hold of yourself woman!'

The grand duke smiled then muttered to himself "I knew sending sweet (name) to university abroad would be beneficial. That'll show that meddling viscount.."

(Name)'s mother patted her husband's back as she spoke up for probably the fourth time that day. "You wish to be married rather quickly..a months engagement period and you're to be married soon, there wasn't anything improper taking place to cause such an engagement?" The grand duchess inquired, what she was implying was obvious.

Her daughter chuckled nervously after almost choking on her tea. She would never do such a thing with William, she wouldn't dream of it.  "Not at all, mother. We just could not be able to stand a long engagement period, is all."

"If you insist, (name)." She said, not questioning any further "on the topic of children, we do expect a grand child, of course take your time but considering how in love you appear to be, I'm certain we'll  have a granddaughter or grandson by the end of the year.."

The grand duke's grin widened  "Imagine, a few little (name)'s running around and causing mischief! How adorable!!"

(Name)'s eyes widened and turned to face William sat beside her ,who seemed mildly surprised too but only gave a polite smile. He was doing alot better at pretending to be in love than she was. "Of course, (name) would be a wonderful mother, it seems she takes after you, your grace."

The noblewoman nodded in a rather unconvincing manner as her mother looked at her skeptically.

"..you are in love, aren't you?" The duchess added. It had seemed she had caught onto their little arrangement.

A sharp clank sound followed as (name) took a spoonful of her cake and held it up to William's mouth to feed him. The blond understood immediately and opened his mouth.

"Of course we're in love, dear mother! I would never marry William otherwise," (name) assured as she flew the spoonful of cake into William's mouth and 'accidentally' activated the man's gag reflex as she thrust the spoon a little too far. Her fiancé had begun gagging, surprised by her aggressive gesture, causing (name) to remove her spoon and pat his back as William coughed. "I must excuse us, Mother, Father."

(Name) left for a few moments with William to speak to him privately as he tried to sooth his now sore throat.

"What was that for, did I upset you?" William asked as he finally was able to speak properly

(Name) glared at him and handed him a glass of water, the sun shining through it making it look sparkly "I know we're meant to be convincing but I do suggest you lay off the children comments, otherwise my parents will be suspicious when years come and there are no 'adorable little (name)s' wreaking havoc."

"You never mentioned anything about how I was to respond to anything regarding offspring, so I had assumed you would be alright with me saying what you thought your parents may want to hear, my apologies." William apologised as (name) seemed to be growing agitated and fidgety "I hadn't known you were against the idea of having children."

(Name) sighed "it's not children I'm against, but rather the process."

William held (name)'s hand and kissed her ring finger right beneath where the gold band sat. "If that is what you wish, I cannot force you, my love."

(Name) noticed her parents were still watching so she wasn't able to hide her embarrassment with a rude remark and remove her hand from his so instead, whilst glancing back at her parents who were talking about god knows what, she placed her free hand on William's head and ran her fingers through his blond locks.

This was going to be a very difficult marriage indeed.

A/N: bro this took me two days to write 😭 its like over 5k words I’m sorry but umm there’s a lot of funny (?) moments so please take this.Not fl trying to kill William in front of her parents + fl calling William desperate 💀 how will the happy couple deal with the children issue? 👀

[bethanythebogwitch]

Ranking cursive letters

A is pretty good. Gets the point across and looks like a regular a, if a lowercase one. 9/10 and would be 10/10 if the capital A actually looked like a capital A

The capital M and N are fine, but the lowercase forms have one too many humps. The n looks like an m and the m looks like someone tried to write an m and screwed up. U and W have the same problem. 7/10.

The lowercase I is just about perfect, but the uppercase one is is skating on thin ice. How hard is it to just draw a line instead of this weird loop? 5/10.

P is perfect. That looks exactly like a p, no need to stretch it into some weird loopy form. 10/10

The lowercase G is good but the uppercase...

3/10. Do better.

S

Fuck you. Fu ckyou. Go fuck yourself. That is not an s. The capital is a fucked up ampersand and the lowercase is closer to an a than anything else. How do you fuck up a curvy line in two completely different ways? I want to raise whoever designed this from the dead and beat them over the head with a toddler's alphabet book until they learn what an s looks like. This is so bad that it must have been done deliberately as a prank on future generations. 0/10. I award you no points and may god have mercy on your soul.

[basilone]

and another, for the 5 line meme - 'new heaven and new earth' for Ron and whoever you want, but it has to be an AU!

Ahem, nobody should count the amount of sentences in this baby because I'm pretty sure there are more than five? But I can't shorten this, and these feelings need to happen. It's a continuation of the popstar/rockstar AU that I wrote a little bit for here! 💚

new heaven and new earth

“Listen to this,” she crows, folding herself into the tight space between him and the armchair’s rest, all cloud of glitter and blonde hair fanning out over his dark shirt, “they are talking about album”– and she is on her phone again, fingers of one hand scrolling the screen effortlessly while her other hand pats his knee –“they call it shocking, Ronald,” she laughs, so clearly excited at the prospect, “let me read for you, yes?”

He peers over her shoulder – small as she is, tucked under his arm, it takes no effort at all – and frowns as he takes in a slightly more reputable website than the regular gossip sites he thought she might favor for this, finding some online music magazine that’s pretty well-sourced despite their continuous critique of his albums and live shows on her screen right now, and spies his own name appearing several times on that page alone.

“Speirs,” she reads out loud – and isn’t it strange, hearing his last name from her when she always calls him Ronald? – while nestling herself against his side, “is of course no stranger to c-o-n-t-r-o-v-e-r-s-y”– and she spells that out the way she always does the English words she doesn’t like to pronounce –“with his stage shows often a bath of fake blood and dimly lit violence, pfah Ronald they are acting like you are cuh-razy,” she dismisses offhand before continuing, “and his formerly heavy social media fight with Tatiana precedes the frenzy that is his shocking guest appearance on her latest album, titled new heaven and new earth, and the growing rumors that Speirs is credited as co-author in its liner notes in what looks to be a reinvention of Tatiana’s image.”

“They’re right about that liner notes bit,” he says, remembering her neat cursive penning him into the credits of her album unprompted, “but I’m not doing this because it’s controversial”– he could have just staged her murder when she showed up at his gig three months ago, given her too-pretty face the Carrie treatment of fake blood, made her the haunting thing he sings about night after night –“and you’re not reinventing a damn, look at you,” he mutters, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear as her bubblegum makes a loud popping sound, “you’re still the fucking beauty queen, all sparkly and wholesome, except that you’ve just about remembered you’ve got a bite to you.”

“The bite’s new,” she says, worries, exhales, and her voice is too small all of a sudden, “and I am doing something with my voice that–”

“Sounds perfect,” he interrupts, plucking her phone out of her fingers and throwing it onto the much bigger couch opposite their seat, “and don’t you make yourself small, you’re already too tiny as it is”– and her annoyed huff is just what he’d hoped to hear, even when the elbow that lands in his side is too sharp –“just fuck what they say, Tatia, they don’t know you like I do.”

He doesn’t realize how badly he’s messed up – he never calls her Tatia out loud, never admits to knowing her so well even though he’s spent every waking moment of new heaven and new earth’s recording sessions with her this past month – until she turns toward him and he spies the flicker of gold-specked light in her eyes that he’s only ever seen from her when she cares about what happens next.

[aashriapps]

ABC Alphabets | ABCD ABCD | ABC Kids TV | ABC Songs for Children | ABC R...

🔗 Download Now: https://play.google.com/store/apps/dev?id=6047620568157430302 https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.aashriapps.prelearning "A to Z Adventures: Navigating the Alphabet Jungle" "ABC Magic: Unlocking the Secrets of Language" "From A to Zenith: Mastering the Alphabet Journey" "Alphabet Wonders: Exploring the A, B, Cs of Curiosity" "The ABC Chronicles: Tales of Letters and Learning" "Whimsical Words: A Journey Through the Alphabet" "Spellbound Stories: Adventures in Alphabet Land" "ABC Odyssey: A Quest for Knowledge and Letters" "Beyond A, B, C: The Alphabet Unleashed" "Literacy Symphony: Harmonizing with the ABCs" "The Alphabet Explorer's Guide: A to Z and Beyond" "Cursive Dreams and ABC Schemes: Writing Adventures" "Alphabet Alchemy: Crafting Words, One Letter at a Time" "ABC Safari: Tracking the Wild World of Words" "The Letter Quest: Embarking on an ABC Adventure" "Wonders of the Written World: A, B, C Edition" "Linguistic Lullabies: Sweet Dreams with the Alphabet" "ABC Kaleidoscope: Colors of Language and Learning" "The ABC Diaries: Discoveries in Letters and Language" "Whirlwind of Words: ABCs and Beyond in Learning" The ABC alphabet, also known as the English alphabet, is the set of letters used in the English language. It consists of 26 letters, each representing a unique sound or combination of sounds. The alphabet is the fundamental building block of written communication in English and serves as the basis for spelling words. Your Queries :- ABC Alphabets ABCD ABCD ABC Kids TV ABC Songs for Children ABC Rhymes ABC Phonic Song a The ABC alphabet is typically divided into two categories: consonants and vowels. Consonants are letters that represent speech sounds produced with a partial or complete obstruction of airflow, such as "b," "c," and "t." Vowels, on the other hand, are letters that represent speech sounds produced with an open vocal tract, such as "a," "e," and "o." Learning the alphabet is one of the foundational skills in early education, and it is often one of the first things children are taught. Knowing the alphabet is essential for literacy and is a precursor to reading and writing. The alphabetical order of the letters is commonly used for organizing and referencing words in dictionaries and other reference materials. Here is the list of the 26 letters in the English alphabet: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Each letter has both an uppercase (capital) and a lowercase form. Uppercase letters are often used at the beginning of sentences and for proper nouns, while lowercase letters are used in regular text. The ABC alphabet has a rich history and has undergone various changes and adaptations over time, but its basic structure has remained a constant foundation for written communication in the English language. #abcalphabetsounds   #phonics_song   #learningabcd   #alphabetsounds   #PhonicsForKids #educationalvideos    #kidslearning   #phonicsfun   #alphabetgames   #earlyliteracyskills   #readingskills   #preschooleducationalvideos    #parentingtips   #childdevelopment   #funlearningexperience   #aashriapps  #interactivelearning   #languageskills   #readingreadiness   #phonicsmastery  #teachingkidstopray   #learningjourney  #alphabetlearningforkids #ABCs #LanguageBasics #literacyskills #earlyeducationgame #spellingpractice #readingskills #WritingFundamentals #englishalphabet #educationaltools #languagedevelopment #childhoodlearning #literacymatters #languagearts #letterrecognition #teachingkidstopray #abc123 #educationalgames #alphabetsoup #languagelearningjourney

[oepionie]

A DIFFERENT TYPE OF CONTRACT. azul ashengrotto

"…You already hate me as it is so it’s not like i have nothing to lose here."

Synopsis: Azul has dragged you into contract after contract and you've taken it all like a champ. However, when he asks you to be his date for an event, you become so upset that an argument breaks out. In the midst of it, Azul accidentally blurts out his feelings for you.

Character/s: Azul Ashengrotto x GN! Reader

A/N: GUYS IM SO PROUD OF THIS WORK HEHE

Tags: Slight enemies-to-lovers, Fluffy Hurt/Comfort, Arguments, Mentions of drowning, Slight manipulation, Crying, Azul's love language is dragging you into contracts lol

Word Count: 1.1k+ | 🎸Event Masterlist

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.” You shake your head, barking out laughter. Floyd gleefully laughs along with you, skipping forward and jabbing a heavy hand against your back. The action made you stumble to the floor, which only served to further intensify your anger towards the octopus and his little hench-eels. "Another one of your stupid contracts?!" 

Azul smiles coolly, clasping his hands atop his table loaded with shimmering magical contracts and various ink pots — all meticulously arranged in an orderly layout, of course. He snapped his fingers and Jade strode over, swiftly handing his 'boss' a singular sheet of paper.

"Why, of course!" Azul's eyes crinkled in mirth as he turned the paper to face you. A leather-clad finger pressed against the sheet, pointing to the title. "How could I not pass up an opportunity like this?"

"EMPLOYMENT CONTRACT" was written in bold cursive lettering, the bleeding dark black ink making it pop out and almost seem as if it was mocking you in your predicament. Your jaw dropped, a look of surprise flashing across your face before a scowl quickly replaced it. "Me?! How desperate are you for new employees?"

“Oh, such an insult to my pride as an entrepreneur! I would never employ anyone I deem…" Azul scrutinizes you with calculating eyes, tucking one arm over his chest as the other fixes his glasses. He rises from his chair and circles around you, his polished shoes clicking against the marble tiles of his office. "…unfit.”

"Yeah~ You're the perfect shrimpy for the job!" Floyd pulled you from your position on the floor, shoving a uniform in your arms. You take a gander at the clothes. It might’ve been the trick of the eye or the light inside the lounge, but the silk almost seemed to have a mystical glow and shimmer. Your eyes dart up to the trio, hesitation crawling up the very depths of your heart.

All three men exchanged sardonic smiles with sly glints in their eyes. It's unusual for a stranger to pique their curiosity, but you possessed something most of their victims don't: you were such an odd little human.

"Welcome to the staff, prefect." Jade smiles curtly. "I do hope you don't disappoint."

—

It's official, you hate fish.

Working in Monstro Lounge for the past few weeks was nothing but underwater hell. Truly, you had to give both Jade and Floyd credit for having the patience—or rather, tolerance—to deal with all these self-important customers. If you had to make another 'double blend venti coffee frappuccino with whipped cream, additional ice, honey blend, and caramel drizzle' order for that one Pomefiore regular, you think you might have just lost your mind.

As if the annoying customers weren't already enough, Azul was always requesting for further favors. Really, there were occasions when you felt more like his personal secretary. If it was actually stated in the tiny fine print of the contract, you wouldn't be a surprise.

You've been left victim to all his schemes and whims. Though you could say with confidence that you were able to handle every single demand thrown your way, it's not like you really had a choice in the first place. You had boundaries and this one request of his might just finally push you over the edge.

"I need you to act as my date for an event."

"…y-you want me to what?" You sputtered, features contorting into a grimace. Azul stared at you indifferently, casually looking over his pile of paperwork. So struck by anguish, you failed to see how his hands trembled or how a pink hue spread across his face. 

"A-Ah, you see, I'm under a time constraint and seeing as you're the only one available, you may accompany me." Azul replied, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. "T-There's no one else to run to, so I'll have to settle for you."

'I'll have to settle for you.' The way he said it so nonchalantly and bluntly made you gnash your teeth together. How could he just push you aside like that? Like you were just some insignificant bystander in his life.

"Using me again, huh?" You laughed bitterly, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Stupid. You were so stupid for developing feelings for this octopus. Azul blinked at you owlishly, watching as a lone tear ran down your cheek. "Pardon…?"

"Nevermind that. Screw this, I'm leaving!" You pulled your suit jacket off, discarding it onto the floor as you cut across the tables, moving towards the exit. Azul scurried after you, protests shooting out of his mouth.

"You-! We have a contract you can't just do as you wish!" He bellows, unadulterated anger coiling around him in a ruthless grip. The octopus seized you by the arm, yanking you around to face him. Scoffing, you attempt to shove him away, but he grabs you by your elbows. "Great Sevens—Damn me! Why are you so stubborn, prefect?!"

"Why can't you just let go?! What is with you and dragging me into contracts?!" You shriek, lifting your knees to kick at his shins.

"​It's because I like you!" Azul bellows, grasping onto your shoulders, his chest heaving. Clamping your mouth shut, you fell silent. The octopus's eyes widened with saturated horror as he scurried away from you, disregarding the sickening vertigo in his head in his haste.

"Sevens—I'm so careless." Azul groans, dragging a hand down his face before pounding his fist against a table. He tugs at his hair, doubling over as a wave of nausea hits him.

"W-What?" you ask, tone wavering. You moisten your lips as you meet the merman’s eyes. "Azul, what?"

He peers at you through his parted fingers, shakily standing straight once more.

"…You already hate me as it is, so it’s not like i have nothing to lose here." He breathlessly blunders out, eyes glossy with tears from being overcome with embarrassment. "I like you. I-I've liked you ever since the very day I met you."

Fear gripped him right down to his soul as his heart was left torn open; Bare for you to see. He comes to a halt, feet anchored to the floor, as you ponder the gravity of his confession.

Is this how sailors reacted to the song of a siren? You knew all too well that the minute you accepted, Azul would lure you into the depths of his heart, where you would never again be able to emerge. Would you sacrifice the world above to drown for your infatuation yet be rewarded with love from a charming octopus below?

"Azul…" You whisper, deft fingers creeping up his hot cheeks. He shudders at your touch, turning putty under your frigid, piercing gaze. Azul's mouth parts open, but words fail him.

"I'll be your date. Though you really don't need a contract for that." Leaning forward, you pressed a scorching kiss against his lips and the deal was set.

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @anonima-2 @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad

↳ want to be added?

[kiragecko]

Hey, guys! Want to vote on the best 6th-10th Century script (writing system) that I, Gecko, personally like?

Of course you do! Writing systems are SO COOL!

And here's a bit about each of the contenders:

Arabic (Naskh Script)

Derived from the Aramaic Script, which grew out of Phoenician, Arabic has a variety of forms. The Naskh script is the one I find the most beautiful, with it's extreme variation on character length and height. I also love the use of multiples colours for Ḥarakāt (vowel marks and other diacritics). Add in the elegant curves and solid lines, and Naskh Script becomes one of the most stylish scripts around.

Latin (Insular Script)

Derived from Greek, the Latin alphabet is usually a competent and pleasant mix of lines and curves, uprights and descenders. Insular script plays with these qualities, and the result is electric! many of the uprights (t, d, f) are gone. New descenders are added (r, s, f). Horizontal lines take a new prominence. Line weight is increased, and the curves become more angular. Something old to us becomes new again.

Chinese (Semi-Cursive Script)

There are many ways to write Hanzi (Chinese characters), and Semi-Cursive Script manages to combine the best qualities of most of them! The expressive curves and flow of a cursive script. The solid shapes and readability of Regular Script. One of the joys of Hanzi is the visual interest of so many unique characters; which share components, but use them differently. Semi-Cursive keeps much of that interest, while also providing a dynamic energy and movement.

Sogdian (Cursive Script)

Derived from the Syriac script, which grew out of the Aramaic Script, the Sogdian Alphabet was developed by traders who met most of the major cultures of the Old World, and let all of those cultures affect their language and writing. Sogdian can be written write to left, like most Aramaic scripts, but also top to bottom, like the Chinese Scripts of their main trade partner. Curvy cursive lines, and characters of wildly varying length, give this script a interesting sense of flow.

Hebrew (Ktav Ashuri Script with Palestinian Vocalization)

Another offshoot of the (Imperial) Aramaic Script, the Hebrew Alphabet has a really interesting, heavy, square, solid feel. In contrast, Palestinian Voicing (an extinct form of writing vowels where all of them were above the consonants) is really light, stacked on top their vowels in little floaty towers. It's a cool combination!

Maya (Classical Maya Script)

The most famous script of the Americas, Maya has one of the most unique reading orders of any script. Characters are written in blocks, which are then read in a zigzag (right, and then down-left) pattern. Full of heads (both animal and human), torches, seeds, and other half-identifiable shapes, Maya texts are works of art, and the more you study them, the more beautiful they become.

Nubian (Old Nubian Script)

Derived from Greek with additional letters from Coptic (Egyptian) and Meroitic (a previous Nubian culture). Lines above letters are used to skip parts of words deemed unnecessary. The mixture of rectangles and triangles, heavy and light line weights - it reminds me of telegrams, or early typewriter text. I love it!

Khmer (Angkorian Khmer Script)

Derived from the Pallava Script, which derived from the Brahmi Script, Khmer is probably my favourite script to write. The curves feel so good! The spirals so pleasing! You write consonant clusters by writing little letters below the main one! A joy to create, and a joy to look at.

Japanese (Cursive Script)

See these wiggles? They're Chinese characters. Elegant, looking like poetry no matter what they're saying, Cursive Japanese is art. It's also ridiculous. 3 different characters, each with multiple strokes, indicated by wiggling the brush as you draw a line! Most cursive scripts are like this, but the contrast between the square solidness of Regular Script and the flow of Cursive is one of the more extreme. What a delight!

Sanskrit (Siddham Script)

I had SO MANY options for Sanskrit (Brahmi) Scripts, you guys. SO MANY! But in north-west India, during the period I study, this version of Siddham is the prettiest. Look at the curves! Those aren't just decorative, each curvy line that goes above or below the text is a vowel. Consonant clusters are shown by combining the characters together in one spot. The lines at the top haven't yet started connecting, like they do in modern Devanagari, but there's already a sense of it's existence. Such a cool script!